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nackrosor · 1 year

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~Midnight Healing~

𝓢𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓖𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓡𝓲𝓵𝓮𝔂 𝔁 𝓣𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓮!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

[I highly recommend to put this song on repeat as background music. It will help set the mood.]

warnings/tags: 18+ smut, p*rn with feelings & plot, unexperienced reader, first kiss, first time, oral s*x (fem receiving), p in v, soft Ghost, slow dance, mutual pining, slight angst/comfort, Soap being the best mate, the team being supporting in their own way lmao, cap. price approved 👌🏻 summary: You're at the pub, enjoying a night out with your team. The soothing lulling music, the booze, Johnny's taunts and your own repressed feelings embolden you to invite Simon to join you in a slow dance. The dance leads to long overdue confessions which in turn lead to your first time together. word count: 12.5k. (longest one yet)

A special and huge thank you to my dear @magnoliabutters who has helped me SO MUCH. You've given me so many suggestions that inspired me to write the best possible version of this story. I probably would have given up halfway through if it wasn't for your support. I love you and appreciate you a lot. ♥️

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, elbows resting on the smooth surface of the counter with a thumb circling the cold rim of your half-full glass of bourbon. The soothing blues music playing in the background adds to your sense of calm, with notes vibrating through your limbs, echoing in your ribcage, and clearing your thoughts. You let yourself be lulled by the soft melancholy tune, quietly humming along and rocking your head in rhythm.

Given your job as a task force officer, you rarely get a breather and a chance to enjoy a night out. It is a luxury for you and that is what makes it so special, a time to truly look forward to. Especially when you can share it with your brothers in arms, your family, not bonded by blood but by a profound feeling born through shared hardships and nurtured by trust, respect and understanding. One would imagine you'd prefer to spend your free nights alone or with different people, perhaps even a one-night lover, rather than with your coworkers, the very same guys you spend your entire days with, through sweat and tears, anger and frustration, and occasionally a moment of respite. This is exactly the reason why you wouldn’t dare unwind with anyone else; they are everything for you, the sole people you trust and you would gladly give your life for without hesitation. Why would you need anybody else?

Seeing them loosen up for one night, just enough to treat themselves to a pint or a glass of whiskey is such the delight. You wouldn’t even need to chug a drink of your own to feel the tension leave your body, finally allowing yourself to relax.

This time is no exception. Same place, same company, same feeling of being exactly where you need to be, of needing literally nothing else in the world.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Soap's voice sounds clear in your ear and interrupts your blues-induced trance. A lazy smile greets you as you turn to look up at him. He settles down on the barstool next to you.

"Yeah… I love this music. It feels like a lullaby but instead of making me want to sleep, it makes me want to move, you know? "

"Sounds like you want to hit the dance floor! Care to give us a show?"

"Wouldn't you like that!"

You smirk at him, bumping your shoulder against his.

"Who wouldn’t?” he returns the nudge, playfully winking at you, “But I know someone who would particularly enjoy it, more than anybody else."

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. Every time you come to the pub, you can't avoid one or two, occasionally three, drunken brash males hitting on you or simply gluing their eyes on you from afar, never stopping for the entire time you're here. You'd think that being literally surrounded by four menacing - some more than others - muscular men would prevent anyone from ever looking your way twice, especially weak-minded misogynists who don't believe a woman could take care of herself… That clearly isn't the case. Go figure! These people have no sense of shame or… self-preservation.

"What ugly old man’s ball sack-looking dude is staring at me this time?"

A chuckle escapes him. He shakes his head as he swirls the liquid in his glass before taking a sip.

“No ugly old man’s ball sack-looking dude , just a possibly ugly dude.”

"Oh?" a wry smile takes form on your lips, "well, I could get behind that."

"He's been throwing some not-so-sneaky glances your way ever since we arrived."

"Yeah?”, you ask, taking a quick glance around the room. “Coordinates, Sergeant. Don’t leave me in the dark."

Soap's eyes glint mischievously as he subtly nods to your left, then raises his glass to his lips to take another sip and mask his grin. You follow the trajectory of his nod, gaze skimming the whole length of the counter, overlooking the serene faces of Gaz, Laswell, the captain, until it locks on a familiar pair of big dark eyes. The smirk on your lips immediately falters and your stomach flips.

Simon is holding your gaze, seemingly unfazed, arms folded across his chest and muscles flexing under his black windbreaker. No matter how accustomed you are to seeing him in his casual attire, your heart always loses a beat whenever your eyes land on him. The way his skull balaclava hugs his face and the way the hood of his dark grey sweatshirt is all the way up, hiding his head, make his mesmerising eyes circled with black make-up even more striking and thus much more lethal to your poor weak heart. You’re so attracted to him, so infatuated… you’ve never felt this inexorable pull toward anyone before. It’s like a new form of gravity, so strong that you can’t even avert your gaze; it takes too much effort, like going against the laws of nature.

Soap’s giggle draws you back from the trance. Your eyes dart around aimlessly for a moment before you whip around to glare at your friend.

“You’re a bastard.”

He shrugs innocently, that stupid grin of his still tugging at his lips.

"You saw it for yourself, he was staring."

"Yeah, 'cause he probably heard you or read your lips or… something."

"Right,” he says with a scoff, elongating the word. “Didn’t know superman was part of the 141…"

His mocking tone makes you roll your eyes. Grabbing your glass, you bring it to your lips and savour the sensation of the cool, sweet but strong liquid flowing down your throat. As you knock the empty glass back onto the counter, you catch a glimpse of Ghost. Fortunately, this time he appears to be engaged in discussion with Price, providing you with the green light that allows your wistful gaze to linger on him, unnoticed.

"Well, you must admit that…”, you mutter almost to yourself, eyes reverently roaming his figure, “...if anyone had superpowers in our team, it would definitely be him."

"Heh. You certainly look at him as if he already has them."

Johnny interrupts your reveries again and you shake your head, tearing your eyes away from Simon and trying to clear your mind in the process. "Stop it. He's just, he's-"

"He's single, for all I know."

The sergeant shrugs again with an innocent smile as you give him the stink-eye.

"You’re a menace ."

You poke him hard in the ribs, causing him to wince and almost spill his drink. You both can’t help but laugh.

“I swear if you told him or anyone anything… I'll strangle you in your sleep.”

“Mmm, so passionate, y/n. He’s gonna love that.”

You roll your eyes again, yet can't help but smile.

Soap is your best mate; you're closer to him than the rest of the squad, which is saying a lot given how close the team is. You may or may not have let your feelings for Simon slip during a private conversation one night at the HQ while you were a little tipsy, and he's been a little shit about it since then, unwilling to let you live it down. You know it's all in good fun, there's no malice in his words, but his taunts do nothing to help you keep your feelings under control.

“You should tell him, by the way.”

“We’ve already talked about this, Johnny…”

“I just don’t understand why you’re keeping it to yourself. You scared of getting rejected?”

You shrug, your gaze fixed on the empty glass in front of you as you fidget with it absentmindedly. He struck a nerve. Taking the first step without being absolutely certain that your feelings are reciprocated and thus making a colossal blunder scares the shit out of you. Actually, the mere thought of taking a shot in the dark makes your stomach churn with dread.

“Y/n, he would never turn you down. Never .”

“You don’t know that.”

Soap scoffs incredulously. “C’mon! You’ve seen the way he looks at you! There’s nothing PG-13 about it.”

He pauses for a moment waiting for your retort but when you don't give him any, he draws conspiratorially close to your ear. “Although, I guess you don’t get to hear what he says about you when it’s just us boys…”

You perk up, turning toward him with a curious and clearly hopeful look on your face. Does he know something you don’t? Or is he messing with you? You can never tell with Soap.

“W-what does he say?”

Soap grins victoriously, undoubtedly pleased with himself for catching you failing, yet again, to hide your stupid little crush.

"Gave my word that I would keep my mouth shut..."

“Ugh!", you push him away with a hard smack on his arm, "you’re insufferable.”

“Go talk to him and find out on your own. In the unlikely case that what you fear the most happens, any of us smart boys would gladly take his place in your heart, love ."

You shake your head with a scoff, eyes drifting aimlessly to the other side of the room. Turns out, Johnny was trying to get under your skin, as per usual, however you can’t help but mull his words over.

Perhaps he's got a point, perhaps it is time to let it all out in the open and face the consequences , whatever they might be. Johnny said that Simon has talked about you with the guys. It might be nothing, but what if he really has let his own feelings slip during a conversation, just like when it happened to you with Soap? Or perhaps, he had a real heart to heart talk with his mates…

You have your doubts, but then again why would Johnny mention that he spoke of you? Why would he try so hard to reassure you that Simon would never reject you? Why would he stress out the fact that he often gets caught staring at you? Could your friend be doing this solely for a laugh? No, Johnny is not that kind of person. He cares about you and he clearly understands how much you care about Simon. He would not give you a friendly push merely to watch you fall face first to the ground. There must be some truth behind his jokes and teasing… but are you ready to risk it all to find out? Being rejected isn't the only fear that prevents you from acting on your feelings...

"Whatever.” You sigh at last, propping yourself up by pushing your palms against the edge of the counter. “I'm here to unwind, not get caught up in my head as usual. So… now, I’m going to dance. And, just to be clear, I'm not doing it for you or Simon or anybody other than myself."

The pointed look you give him makes Soap raise his hands in defeat, however it doesn't wipe that little smirk off his face. The glass grazes his curled up lips as he looks at you with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah… You'll thank me later.”

His words get lost in the rising bustle of the pub; the cacophony of voices and the clatter of glasses gets louder just as the music fills your ears the more you get away from the bar. The soothing tune comes out of two huge amps set at either side of an empty stage, and floods over you, the sole person standing in front of it. You feel a bit self-conscious at first, sensing everyone's eyes on you but you try your best to ignore them. Letting your eyes flutter shut, you focus solely on the music, allowing yourself to be transported by the slow lulling rhythm.

Soon, you're swaying your hips in time, your feet picking up their own pattern. You don't care about how you're moving, how it may look; all you care about is letting go, setting yourself free, feeling the music pass through you, and being completely in the moment. You dance worry-free, entirely surrendering control of your body to the enthralling and sinuous voice of the electric guitar. Few things are more freeing than dancing like nobody’s watching…

The song comes to an end almost too quickly and so does the enchantment that has seized you. When you open your eyes, chancing a look around you, you immediately meet Simon’s stare. He's still sitting at the bar but now he's turned toward you, back to the polished wood of the counter, one elbow resting on its edge. Clearly he has been watching you the whole time, enjoying the show , as Soap said. You feel a thrill run through you. Perhaps it's the alcohol kicking in, perhaps those feelings pushed deep inside you are finally emerging to the surface. Or is it just the adrenaline of the dancing still holding control over your body?

Regardless of the answer, you find yourself walking toward him; the initial notes of a new song matching your sultry and unhurried steps. He firmly holds your gaze, but you notice the shifting in his seat as you approach him with renewed confidence.

You stop when you’re right in front of him, a coy smile plays on your lips while you hold out your hand.

"Care to join me?"

His eyes flicker to your extended palm then wander over your face, as if he's looking for a cue that would tell him whether you're joking or being serious.

"You're outta your mind, princess ."

You raise your eyebrow at the word 'princess'. He knows you don’t like to be called like that but he doesn't seem to care. He keeps using that stupid term, especially when he wants to reprimand you, putting you in your place or just to tease you and get under your skin. But there is something in the way he said it just now, an endearing nuance in his tone that combined with his thick accent makes you melt like chocolate.

"Why? You seemed really interested only a minute ago."

You tease him with a challenging look on your face while you nonchalantly tug down the zip of your biker jacket. After the dance you're feeling a bit flushed, you need to let your skin breathe. No other reason for uncovering your cleavage, right? Definitely not to draw his attention to the deep neckline of your dress. Of course not, why would you do that?

"I was only-"

You interrupt him, arms folding across your chest, drawing his eyes even more to the curves of your body. " Enjoying the show , right."

"No.” He counters quickly, his voice loud and clear even over the music. Doesn’t he sound a little nervous? Or are you simply imagining it?

“I was just… glad to see this carefree side of you. It's a good look on you."

You stare into each other’s eyes, your heart thumping hard in your chest. You didn’t expect to hear him say that.

"Well…”, you bite your lip as you try to ease your racing heart, arms falling back to your sides, “...dancing is very freeing. You should try it."

"I don't think it would work for me."

"Why don't we find out?"

Shivering just a little, you take another step forward. His head slightly cranes up so that he can keep his piercing gaze on yours. You move your hand on his wrist, fingers wrapping gently around it before giving a little pull in your direction.

"C'mon…", you give him a teasing smile as you step back, head nodding back to the space behind you, “...let’s go.”

Despite your pulling, Simon doesn’t budge a single inch, but you see him hesitate. You keep tugging at his wrist, stepping backwards, even attempting to pout, until he silently relents and stands up, letting you drag him toward the stage at last. You didn't expect him to give up. You thought you'd have to put much more effort into it, or that you'd have to be the one giving up in the end. You're genuinely surprised by the turn of events but you won't let that dent your spirit now. You've just started playing with fire and you can't help but feel the thrill of it, the excitement lighting up inside of you.

You stop when you reach the spot you previously made your own during your solo dance and turn around to face him. He stands there, tall and motionless, the hood of his sweatshirt still on; he looks so out of place on the dance floor, the sight makes you chuckle.

"Don't worry Si, nobody would dare judge you."

"I don't care about that."

"No?"

With a smile on your face, a gaze fixed on him, you start to sway your hips in sync again. His eyes immediately flicker down to take in your movements. He doesn’t seem to care about the fact that he looks like a freaking pole, standing so still in front of you, not moving even one muscle. His whole focus is on you and he seems to particularly enjoy being able to watch you from the best seat in the house.

“You could move your shoulders a little bit, you know? Or even just nod your head in time with the music.”

It’s so evident that he doesn’t know what to do with his body, where to even begin. You almost feel guilty of having dragged him there, of putting him on the spot.

“Here, follow my steps.”

You pick up a simple left-to-right footwork, following the slow but steady rhythm of the drums and encourage Ghost to mirror your motions with a nod and a gentle smile. He studies you, eyes observing your body attentively, picking up every little movement you make.

He appears quite stiff as he attempts to follow along; his bulky body doesn't seem keen to make him look as graceful on the dancefloor as it does on the battlefield. But he's trying at least, and quickly getting the hang of it.

“That’s it! You’re not half bad, Si!”

A soft chuckle escapes you as you bite your bottom lip. Seeing him dance - or try to - makes you oddly giddy, euphoric even. It's just such a rare and bizarre thing to see that you can't help but smile wide and enjoy the moment to the fullest.

Raising your arms in the air, you swing your hips and bend your knees as you lower your body to the ground, only to raise up again, twisting your curves like a snake. The thrill of his probing stare piercing you causes you to shudder; his eyes are unwavering, admiring your every move with utmost devotion. Having his undivided attention makes you feel alive, it makes you feel special and bold.

You take a step closer and reach out to grab both of his hands in yours, your movements mellowing to fit his laid-back rocking. His calloused hands are surprisingly soft and warm as they wrap perfectly around yours, like matching pieces of a puzzle; his touch feels comforting, stable, safe. As you look up at him, eyes locking once again, you feel your heart pound rapidly in your chest. A small smile takes form on your lips to mask the turmoil rising within you.

“This feels… nice, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

Your heart soars upon hearing his answer, smile widening.

“I didn't know you could dance."

"I can't dance”, you correct him with a light chuckle, “I simply enjoy moving my body to the music."

"Never seen you do that before."

"Well, most of you guys don't even like listening to music, so I only get to do it when I'm on my own… which is a rare occurrence since apparently you babies can’t leave me alone for more than one minute."

You squeeze his hands playfully, a cheeky grin playing on your face. You notice his eyes crinkle lightly in response.

"You can use my office, if you want. There's enough room to… move around."

You let out a hearty laugh, head shaking softly. Your eyes lower to the floor for a moment, monitoring the way both your feet move perfectly in sync and at the same time picturing the silly image in your mind.

"You gonna sit at your desk, grumbling over your paperwork while, with music blasting in my ears, I dance like nobody’s watching right in front of you?"

"Why not,” he says with a shrug.

His voice doesn’t betray his collected demeanour, but you know he’s smiling underneath that mask.

"Well, for one…”, you raise one eyebrow, giving him a knowing look, “I think it would get pretty distracting, rather quickly." You bring your joined hands to the level of your eyes and his chest, slowly interlacing your fingers with his. The muscles of his arms seem to tense for a moment.

"...Fair enough."

"Secondly…”, you trail off, eyes flickering up to meet his serious stare, voice losing a bit of its jovial nuance, “...people might start talking."

"Who cares."

His remark is curt and blunt, and it takes you a bit by surprise. He actually sounds as though he wouldn't care less if your coworkers were to start spreading rumours about you two possibly being... intimate. Or perhaps you're merely grasping at straws. After all, you're talking about dancing. Nothing more, right?

"You’re telling me that you wouldn’t care what the others may think or say?" your tone is clearly hesitant this time, vulnerable even, eyes frantically searching his, "...watching us dance like this? Being this close?"

He keeps silent for a long moment, gaze boring into yours. His hands then pull on your wrists, tugging you closer to him. He swiftly wraps his arms around your waist, while your hands fly onto his chest for support as a surprised gasp escapes your mouth.

“How could I give a crap about them or what they think… when I have you here in my arms?”

His straightforward statement catches you off-guard, causing you to stumble upon your feet. It feels like the tables have turned. Your flirtatiousness made him take the bait and now you’re the one who doesn’t know how to act. Your boldness instantly vanishes, it’s as if you never had it in you in the first place. A tardy nervous chuckle slips out of you as you struggle to regain your synced rocking.

“You must’ve had a drink too many, huh Si?”

“Never been more lucid in my life.”

You stare deeply into his eyes, a wild-eyed look on your face, as he firmly holds your gaze. Tension soaks the air around you, you can sense it getting thicker and thicker. Suddenly, there's not a single soul in the pub but you two. Your eyes locked, bodies swaying gently together, lightly brushing against one another. Your heart thumps forcefully against your chest.

[ 2:26 min .]

…

I just want to get your head back, baby

Give you all the love I got, for sure

So, baby, if you've got that feeling

You know I wanna give you that midnight healing

Oh, I just want to make love to you all night long

…

Perhaps it's merely your perception, but the music appears to get louder. The song’s lyrics are now distinctly clear; they echo in your head, tickling your mind like a subtle hint intended specifically for you.

Returning your attention to Simon, you detect a strange glint in his eyes. Did he receive the hint as well? The way his grasp on your waist tightens, palms roving over your sides and drawing you even closer to him, seems to confirm your supposition.

You both seem to lean forward, attracted like magnets, until your faces are merely inches away. The music deafens, slowly making its way into the background, providing the perfect mood for this special moment. Neither of you says a word, instead you let your eyes speak for themselves. Everything around you seems to blur into a negligible mist. Simon has you hypnotised, just as the music did, with the intensity of his gaze and the warmth of his touch. As one of his hands slides up to your neck, fingers grazing the soft hollow area just above your pulse point, a sharp shiver travels up your spine.

The room spins around you. All of a sudden, your heart pounds hard against your chest and in your ears. You sway on your feet with fingers tugging on his jacket to keep your balance. His hands move quickly to your back, to support your body as you shift your weight on him for a moment before catching yourself. You feel hot, dizzy, and out of breath.

"Y/n?"

"J-just give me a moment, will you?" You say rather harshly, unable to keep the rising panic and tension out of your voice.

His concerned gaze is the last thing you see before you abruptly pull away and dash back towards the counter, mind buzzing, chest tightening. You notice Soap’s smile drop into a puzzling look as he watches you rush over but before he can ask you anything, you hear Gaz's hesitant voice coming from behind you.

"What's going on?"

You throw a quick glance over your shoulder, instantly meeting his perplexed look. Your actions seem to have drawn the attention of Price and Laswell, too; you find both of their gazes set on you.

You struggle to take deep breaths, your eyes darting aimlessly from one friendly face to another while your hands clutch around the table edges, fingertips turning white. It takes all your efforts to not raise your gaze toward the dance floor and rest it on the man still standing exactly where you have just left him.

"Nothing! It's all going great!"

Your voice comes out higher pitched than normal but you try to mask it with the most convincing smile you can muster.

You turn toward Johnny before you can witness the other's reactions or give them time to question your words. Your friend pierces you with a questioning look that doesn't leave room for lies.

"I-I think I'm gonna pass out."

He immediately reaches out to place a comforting hand on your arm as he slides his freshly refilled glass towards you.

"You ok? What happened?"

Your hand shakes as you grab the drink. You rub it to your forehead, cheeks, and neck before moving it to your lips. The cool sensation of the glass against your feverish skin seems to ease your panic, even if only a little. You focus completely on the cold liquid scorching down your throat as you take a long sip.

You gasp, pulling from the rim of the glass. "Nothing. It's just-" you take another deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut,"...it felt all-too real, all-too quickly, I guess. I'm not entirely sure. I panicked."

"Y/n," he coos softly, gently squeezing your arm, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to-"

"But that's the point! I want it! We were so close, I mean… you saw it! If it wasn't for the mask, I’m pretty sure he would’ve leaned in for a kiss. I-I felt my heart was about to burst!” The words fall out of your mouth in a nervous rambling. “I wanted to close the distance so bad… that I fucking ran away." A deprecating chuckle escapes you, eyes rolling in disbelief. "I'm so fucking stupid!"

Johnny squeezes your shoulder again, offering you a genuine smile.

"You are not stupid, y/n... Well, maybe just a little bit." He grins in response to your not-so-convincing glare. "Could a little more privacy help you feel better? You know there are rooms upstairs, you could always go there if you want to..."

You watch as his hand disappears inside his jacket and reappears a moment later, holding a small silver key between his fingers. He holds it out to you and you take it from him mindlessly.

Soap laughs as he detects the mute query in your stunned expression.

"I took it earlier thinking I might get lucky and use it for myself, but it looks like I’m not the lucky one tonight…"

Your gaze darts from your friend's face to the key, then back to him. Your heart starts racing again as the true meaning that small metallic object holds hits you like an unforeseen gunshot to the chest. You let out a loud groan, your hands flying to your face to hide your grimace.

"What is it now?"

"Johnny...", his name falls out of your lips in a sing-songy cry, barely audible above the music and chatter. Lips quivering both in embarrassment and fear for the confession you’re about to make. With a whisper, you share, "I've never been with anyone before... I've never even kissed anyone." You chance a look at your friend through your fingers. "What if I make a fool out of myself in front of Simon? Hell, who am I kidding? I-I already have!"

The astonished expression on Soap's face only aggravates your growing anxiety.

"Creeping Jesus! Y/n… I thought you… uhm, it’s okay-," he awkwardly shifts in his seat, his mouth opening and shutting without emitting a single sound, at least not one that you can hear. His gaze abruptly darts to the side, focusing on something far over your shoulder before moving back to rest on you with a barely concealed alarm. "Ok, take a deep breath, he's coming over."

You only have time to curse under your breath and pull your hands away from your face before you feel a presence behind you that makes every hair on your body stand on end.

When you hear your name being called, you turn warily to face the man standing by your side, stomach twisting as you meet his inquisitive stare. You believe you can also see a flicker of hurt in his eyes, too.

"Simon, I'm… I'm-"

"She needed some fuel, L.T.!" Soap rushes to your aid, grinning up at Ghost and smacking him on the arm - a little too hard. "She's all good now… right, y/n?"

He gives you a quizzical look, as if he's asking whether you're ready to handle the situation on your own or if you need more time; at least, that's what you believe he’s trying to convey.

You respond with a feeble nod before your gaze shifts to Simon. You offer him your glass. "A sip?"

He stares at you intently, seemingly studying your face, his expression now unreadable.

"No."

"A-alright, more for me..." you fake a smile and then guzzle the drink all in one go. You slam the empty glass on the counter as you suck air through your teeth, grimacing at the piercing sensation of the scorching liquor spreading inside your system. Your gaze is drawn to Soap's, and you give him a somewhat confident smile, which he returns with a little wink.

Your hand then moves on its own accord, finding Ghost's large palm and interlacing your fingers with his; the contact sends a chill up your spine. When you look up at him, a ghost of a smile appears on your lips. You're not sure what you're doing or what's going to happen, but you try not to second-guess yourself too much and risk screwing up for the second time in a row.

Taking a step back, away from the counter, you beckon him to follow you.

"Come with me…"

He does not resist your pull. He does not hesitate for even one second. He trails behind you as you lead him up the stairs and to the second floor.

Neither of you dare utter a single word as you walk through the corridor and come to a door that matches the number on the key Soap gave you. You don't dare glance at him as you walk in, taking in the dim tavern-like atmosphere of the tiny bedroom. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the king size bed in the centre, which takes up most of the space. Your mouth goes dry. You wonder what Simon might be thinking, if the same thoughts that course through your mind are pestering him as well.

The sound of the door being closed startles you and makes you whirl around. Your gaze immediately captures his, and you gulp under his piercing stare.

With slow heavy steps that mismatch your thundering heartbeat, he walks over to you, stopping only when he’s towering right over you, standing tall in all his imposing height. You keep your gaze levelled in front of you, unable to meet his eyes, however his fingers curl under your chin and nudge your head up, forcing you to face him.

" Princess… " he murmurs in a low breathy tone, his voice tinged with something akin to irritation, “why are you playing little games with me?”

Your stomach flips again. Of course he’d assume you’ve been messing with him, leading him on; it’s only fair considering the odd behaviour you’ve had all night. And probably not just tonight.

“I’m not, trust me…”

He pauses for a brief moment, his keen eyes studying your face, possibly looking for proof of your sincerity.

"You brought me here. Why ?"

"I-I don't know…"

"You don't know?"

You mentally reprimand yourself for your dumb answer and shake your head in an attempt to dissipate the haze that has settled over your mind.

"I mean, I know why, but-" you try to swallow but your throat is dry. The intensity of his dark eyes boring into yours causes you to stutter, "f-fuck Si, you make me so nervous I can't even think straight!"

Your voice comes out louder than intended and soaked with frustration. Your hand moves on his wrist, tugging at it to pry yourself free from his grasp, but his hold on you does not relent.

"You were dancing for all the pub to see until a minute ago, and I make you nervous?"

"Yes! Of course! I don't give a damn about those strangers! Why should I? Besides that's not the point! You make me nervous because you are... you are-"

You shake your head again as you let out a shuddering breath, your gaze averted from his. You know you can't really back down now. You have to tell him the truth but it's damn hard to find the right words to express exactly how you feel. And more than that, to finally find the courage to say them.

You feel like your heart is on the verge of bursting out of your chest.

"You’re someone I really care about, Simon."

His fingers squeeze your chin, urging you to look up, and when you do you notice that his eyes have softened.

“That made you panic?”

You give him a lopsided smile, but a short-lived one, for your anxieties come tumbling back, slithering into your mind and compelling you to address them, once and for all.

"T-There's something else..."

You want to tell him that you've never been with a man before, that you've never even had your first kiss yet, and that the thought of him, the only man you’ve ever loved, desired , possibly being your first, makes you incredibly nervous and self-conscious. You really want to tell him everything and free yourself of this burden but your voice gets stuck in your throat and you gape up at him, feeling your stomach churn.

Simon waits patiently for you to speak up, his fingers still holding your chin. The soft look he offers you seems to ease your tension a little.

"I have…”, you draw a sharp breath, "...no experience in this field , if you catch my drift...”. You mutter those few words in a small voice as your face twists into a grimace.

Your confession hangs in the air for what feels like eternity, your heart seems to have stopped beating altogether.

"I know."

“Wha-?!”

You are completely thrown off by his matter-of-fact tone.

"H-how? Why-" you stutter, mouth gaping, your eyes wide. How could he know? You've never told anybody, not until a few minutes ago. But he couldn't have heard you, could he? That would be impossible.

"Is it really so fucking obvious?"

"No.”

In stark contrast to yours, his voice sounds cool and collected. His fingers graze your skin as they move up from your chin to your cheek. "I figured you had no idea how this worked when suddenly you’re lacking your usual confidence and turning into a bloody school-girl. It threw me off at first. I thought you didn’t want this…”

" Hell…”, your head slowly shakes in disbelief, eyes darting to the side.

Suddenly you don’t know if you should feel relieved, ashamed or sorry for it all. Your own body chooses for you, opting for an odd mix of the three; shoulders slumping, mind buzzing, you stare into space while his words sink in.

So he's been into you the whole time but your mixed signals, caused by your stupid anxieties, have made it look like you were not into him? Or that you were just playing with him? Seriously? What kind of shitty B-rated rom com is this?

" So , you've never been held by a man.” Simon’s calm voice draws you back to the moment, his fingers taking hold of your chin once again. “ Blimey . Is that what makes you so nervous?"

"Is it really not a problem for you?" you ask out of genuine curiosity, brows furrowing as your eyes meet his.

Simon’s scoff almost turns into a hearty laugh as he holds your gaze, eyes crinkling.

"No man has ever put their filthy hands on you and I should be - what? Sad? Disappointed? For God's sake, princess..."

He shakes his head, fingertips taking better hold of your jaw as he leans down.

“You and your worries…” His tone is almost scolding but playfully so, eyes studying every feature of your face. “Stop thinking so much, you numpty . It’s not good for you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know…”, you let out a long shuddering breath, in an attempt to let go of the lingering worry still tightening your throat, "I just… don't want to fuck this up, Si. You mean too much to me..."

He hums softly.

Silence engulfs you. A silence tinged with renewed tension. Not the type of tension that fuels your anxieties but the kind that makes you warm inside. Soft distant notes coming from downstairs fill the room, washing over you in a soothing yet electric wave, reminding you of the dance you shared, of how close you were and the desire that was rising, burning hot, inside of you.

Just like a magnet the attraction between you and Simon grows.

His free hand moves on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him and just like before, out of instinct, your hands land on his chest. He holds your chin high, his gaze piercing straight to your heart.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

You bite your lip, surprised by his forwardness, a nervous giggle shaking through you. "What kind of question is that-"

"Do you want me to kiss you, princess?"

He asks a second time with a more serious tone that makes your nervous giddiness fade. Looking deep into his eyes, you take a long breath to ease your racing heart, or at least attempt to.

"Y-yeah, I want you to kiss me."

His hand moves over yours resting on his chest, and guides it up to his neck.

"Pull up my mask, uncover my mouth. Only my mouth."

You stop breathing altogether, heart jumping in your throat.

"Y-You want me to do it?"

"Aye."

Touching his mask, pulling it up to uncover his face feels like such an intimate gesture… Your eyes roam reverently over his newly uncovered skin as your fingers gently peel up the fabric of his balaclava, until his mouth is completely exposed to your sight and you can let your adoring gaze truly linger for the first time. You’ve caught glimpses of his face before, his chin looking vaguely familiar for the few times you’ve seen Simon drink or eat in front of you and the team. But that’s all it has ever been: glimpses. You’ve never been allowed to study his clean-shaved chin and alluring mouth like you are now, from so up close.

"You have pretty lips…"

Your comment slips out of your mouth before your mind could register it and you grimace out of embarrassment. "Uh, sorry, that was-"

Words die on your tongue as soon as you feel his hand firmly squeeze your jaw. Your eyes immediately dart to his, which bore into yours. Slowly - breathtakingly slow, he draws closer until his lips hover inches away from yours and you can feel his hot breath on your skin. You swallow dry. In a heartbeat he closes the distance, kissing you gently, softly but with a clear, barely-withheld passion.

You respond to the kiss after a moment of stun. The contact of his lips on yours feels like a soft dream at first, one that seizes your mind in a haze and makes you walk on cloud nine, and then grows in force, as if Simon can't contain his desire any longer.

Your lips part and his tongue slips into your hot mouth, eager to explore this new territory. You moan in the kiss and meet him in a twisting dance of control.

Every move comes surprisingly natural to you, as if you’ve done this a million times before.

His hand travels down from your back to your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a possessive squeeze, then slips even lower to lift your short black dress at its edges and tug it upward just enough to expose the back of your thighs. He doesn't waste time when moving his hand onto that newly uncovered area, kneading the tight flesh there as he bends forward, causing you to arch your back and latch your hands around his neck. Bodies tucking closer.

You take a deep breath as you slightly pull away, lips still grazing his, your hot breaths merging together.

All the words you thought would play out in your head in such an important moment are now nowhere to be found. Instead, it’s all just a feeling of rightness between you and him. None of your fantasies could have ever prepared you for a feeling so… intoxicated.

"Simon…", you usher in a barely audible whisper, slipping your hand under his jacket and feeling his muscles tense under your wandering touch. His lust clouded eyes search yours, his chest heaving hard, hands pressing against you and relenting a second later, as if he’s trying to restrain himself.

"...I want you to be my first."

A guttural sound comes out of his mouth at your words, his fingers spread again on your ass cheek, squeezing it hard and causing you to whimper. His gaze seems to get darker and he draws closer once more, teeth grazing your bottom lip, nibbling at it.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

And just like that, as if a barrier has been finally lifted, his lips crush onto yours once more but harder, hungrier than the first time. In one swift motion he yanks the biker jacket off your shoulders and tosses it on the floor. You instantly match his eagerness, returning the favour; his own windbreaker dropping at your feet.

Before your mind can register what’s happening, you find yourself back against the wall, your shoulder blades hitting the hard surface in an audible thud. You feel your guts twist as heat starts to pool in your belly.

Your lips are still connected, unwilling to separate. His hands dive on your hips, the thin fabric of your flared dress creases under his ravenous groping. One hand slides down, curling up the hem and slipping underneath, meeting the side of your bare upper thigh. His palm closes around it, firmly, possessively as he lifts your leg up to his hip; you wouldn’t be surprised if you were to find a red mark on your skin later, nor would you be displeased. You moan in his mouth in response and let your own hands wander on his body, blindly scanning the muscles of his torso from above his sweatshirt, only to slide lower and lower, until you find its edges and curl them up. Your fingers sneak under the fabric, meeting the smooth skin of his abdomen; his muscles tense up at the teasing contact. Your palms climb up his abs, his pecks, committing the tactile sensation of every inch of his taut torso to memory.

As you both pull away, gasping for air, you let your eyes fall to where your hands disappear under his clothes; you want to look at him, feast your hungry eyes on his naked body but before you can do it yourself, Simon grabs the hem of his sweatshirt and pulls it off his head, adding it to the rest of your discarded clothes. However, he doesn’t give you time to take his bare chest in, for he grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you up like you weigh nothing at all, walks you over to the bed and drops you on the mattress.

Only at this moment are you allowed to let your eyes wander over the muscles of his torso, probably the only part of his body you've already had the pleasure of seeing in the past, although mostly in not so pleasant times, when he needed to be patched up. This time it's totally different. Your hungry gaze devours every inch of him, glinting in twisted pleasure when it meets the scars that you remember having tended to yourself.

You're too eager to touch him again to keep laying there waiting. Quickly throwing your boots off the side of the bed, you crawl on your knees toward him, hands latching on the inseam of his trousers to unzip them. In the meantime he yanks his own boots off his feet and out of the way, with eyes glued to yours.

When you're done with his zip, before you can tug his jeans down, he pushes you back on the mattress and joins you on the bed, settling himself on top of your body, knees resting at either side of your legs.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time.”

The way his raspy voice breaks a little as he ushers his confession makes your stomach twist.

“Do w-what, exactly?”

His hands move on your collarbone, peeling the thin straps of your dress and your bra off your shoulders. You allow him to tug them down your chest as you look up at him with nothing but unyielding passion. His eyes wander over your freshly uncovered breasts and you can see his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, jaw setting hard.

He takes a moment to answer, staring down at you, perhaps struggling to give voice to something that has been swirling against the recesses of his mind for quite some time.

“Push you on a bed, pin your body under mine and… taste you.”

A sharp shiver runs up your spine at his words, heart skipping a beat.

One of his palms closes around your breast, firmly squeezing the soft flesh, while the other lifts the skirt of your dress up to your stomach. Without missing a beat he bends down beneath your thighs and presses his mouth against your panties, just above your lower belly.

“Oh!”

Your hips buck up on their own at the sudden stomach-churning contact. His free hand moves to rest on your upper thigh, pressing your body back against the mattress.

"This is uncharted territory, innit?"

"I-It is, Lieutenant…", you match his playful tone even though your voice is but a mere whisper, struggling to get out in between your ragged breaths, "...nobody has yet claimed that path..."

You hear him hum in appreciation and you feel his voice too, vibrating against your core.

"Don't mind if I do."

You take a sharp breath as you feel his lips press against you again, only lower this time, teasing your most sensitive part. The thin fabric of your underwear does nothing to muffle the intense touch and yet the obstacle irritates you, you want it out of the way and Simon seems to share your feelings. Both his hands move on your hips, grabbing the hem of your panties and sliding them down and off your legs. A thrill curses through your whole body at the sight of your undies being tucked inside the back pocket of his jeans. Simon’s eyes crinkle lightly as they watch your reaction, lips curving into a smirk.

You don’t really care about them now, whether he’s planning on returning them or making you walk out of here butt naked. All your attention is drawn to the cool breath blowing against your delicate skin, turning hot only a second later as Simon leans closer, until you feel his lips meet your heat and cause you to whimper. The cloth of his mask grazing against your folds only adds to the stimulating touch.

His hot tongue swipes up your core once, twice, with hands spreading you wider for him to reach every inch of you. Another slow stripe from your entrance up to your clitoris and your body shakes in ecstasy. He latches his lips to you and starts to suck hard, swirling his tongue around your nub and dragging it up and down along your wetness.

He said it. He wanted to taste you. And that is exactly what he’s doing, with no hesitation whatsoever, nor waste of time. You’re already a quivering mess beneath him, pathetic whines falling from your parted lips, hands closing in fists as fingers dig into the sheets.

“F-Fuck, Simon…”

You feel his soft chuckle against you; it drives you mad.

He shifts from his position, lips pulling away as he grabs the back of your thighs to tug you closer and pin your spread legs to your stomach. You chance a look at him through your heavy lidded eyes. His lips and chin are wet with your juices, the sight ignites a fire inside you that you’ve never felt before. The way you’re spread for him, your privateness so thoroughly exposed for the first time in your life… you thought that you’d be embarrassed, that you’d be awfully shy to show yourself like this, especially to him. You do sense a faint tightness in your stomach and a warmth spreading in your face, yet there’s another feeling prevailing over the rest. A feeling that surges from Simon himself; the way he leans back down, hands travelling up your body to grab your breasts, the way he’s devouring you like a starved man, the way he’s taking care of you, making sure to pleasure you, to make you feel good… It allows no room for awkwardness or discomfort, only a warm pervasive and soothing feeling of pure care and devotion to wash over you and envelope you whole.

The lewd sound of his mouth working against you has long prevailed over the music and it only seems to grow in tone the more the tightening of the heat in your belly grows in intensity. You feel it coming, the high is close. Your hands fly toward him, landing on his head. You grab his mask, tug at it, feeling it slip from its place, then you freeze abruptly, as soon as you realise what you’re doing. You look down again, instantly meeting Simon’s hard stare. A strange glint passes over his eyes; he seems to ponder something for a moment then come to a final decision. In a few dismissive moves, he pulls away from you, grabs the dark fabric curled under his nose and yanks it off his head, throwing it carelessly on the floor.

Your heart is sent into a frenzy. It no longer knows what to do; whether it should keep thundering in your heart for the intense and building pleasure or stopping altogether for the shock of what you have just witnessed. Your wide eyes wander toward him, curious and hesitant at the same time but they only catch a glimpse of his bare face before he disappears between your legs once again, latching his mouth on you even more greedily than before, possibly feeling more free in his movements without the mask impediment. You want to watch him, stare at him as he drives you to heaven but your head falls back on the mattress, eyes squeezing shut and back arching sharply as a wave of skin-crawling chills sets your entire body aflame. It is nothing like the orgasms you’ve had before, when you touch yourself. This is a new feeling; it’s intense, it goes to your head, it makes you dizzy and wordless. It makes you feel loved.

Simon keeps moving against you, tongue curling at your entrance, gathering up the fruits of his hard work. His hands still pinning your thighs close to your stomach, fingers digging in your soft flesh as he eases your shakes.

Your mind is still struggling to come out of the haze when your hand blindly travels down in search of him. Fingers tug at his short locks of hair, urging him to come up to meet you. He lingers a moment longer to press a soft kiss on your swollen bundle of nerves, then on your lower belly and between your breasts as he makes his ascent. Finally he faces you, eyes meeting again.

If your body wasn't already heavily overwhelmed, the sight of his beautiful sharp features would send all your senses into overdrive.

He looks at you so openly, dark eyes twinkling with adoration and what you can only read as vulnerability, that you find yourself unsure of how to act.

Would this special moment turn awkward if you were to make a comment on his looks? You wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Removing his mask must take such an effort… you don’t want to risk making this more stressful for him. You opt for keeping your comments to yourself, at least for now.

Instead, you let your hand rest on his face, caressing his skin, softly, slowly, as if it’s the most fragile thing in the world and you have to handle it with utmost care. You hope that by doing this you can show him and reassure him that everything is ok, nothing has changed, surely not for the worse. That you deeply appreciate the fact that he decided to let his guards down, to be vulnerable with you. That’s what you try to convey with your adoring gaze and your tender touch, and you sincerely hope it reaches him.

When you feel him lean into your touch, a content smile spreads on your face and you instinctively tilt your head up, capturing his damp lips in a passionate kiss that instantly rekindles the desire inside of you. Simon matches your eagerness, hands travelling down your body to caress, grab, squeeze, grope and tease anything he finds on his path. You do the same, mapping his muscular torso, skimming your fingers down to his navel.

For a moment, only a moment, you hesitate to go lower as you get caught up in your head, worries threatening to hold you back again, but the way he interrupts the contact of your lips to place a trail of sloppy kisses down the sensitive skin of your neck makes your worries fade again and you slip your hand inside his unzipped jeans. You relish in hearing the guttural sound that rewards your action; it compels you to rub your hand over his boxers with more confidence, feeling his bulge with a light squeeze.

Simon hastily brings his hand to his waistband and tugs it down, his boxers receive the same treatment. Your hand now closes around his erection, giving it a few tentative strokes. He draws a sharp breath.

“ Bloody hell , princess…”

He mutters in the crook of your neck and you shiver. His reaction encourages you to increase the vigour of your movements.

“Is this ok?”

He hums softly, hips starting to buck in sync with your hand. He lets you fondle him, drag your fingers on the tip wet with precum, make him moan in pleasure as your hold around his girth tightens… then he pulls away, grabs your hand and brings it to his lips for a soft peck on its back.

You follow his movements, eyes drawn to his lips then flickering down to his cock. By the touch you assumed it was pretty big and the sight only confirms your thoughts but it shocks you anyway.

You hear him huff a laugh through his nose.

“Do you think you can take me, mh?”

Your eyes dart back to his face, meeting his amused look.

“I don’t know…”, you bite your lips, the angles of your mouth curling up in a playful smirk, “but I sure as hell ain’t gonna back down from a challenge.”

Your heart soars with joy seeing his face crack into a pleasantly surprised expression, a chuckle coming out of his mouth.

“Good girl.”

He pins you with his mesmerising gaze, bending down on you again. He leans on the side, toward the bedside table. You crane your neck to watch. His hand slips into a black smoking-bowl and comes back with a small metallic sachet. Protection. Of course. This place is well-equipped. Your curious eyes keep following his movements as he takes the condom and secures it onto his throbbing erection. You swallow as his gaze moves back on your face, your stomach starts churning again. He seems to sense your nervousness and leans down, hand grabbing your jaw, eyes piercing right into yours.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll be gentle.”

You nod with a smile, then take a deep breath.

“It’s okay. I trust you, Si.”

He leans in for a quick soft kiss, hand guiding his erection between your legs, tip rubbing against your slit to coat it in your wetness. Your whole body tingles in anticipation.

“Stop me anytime if you need to.”

He waits for your confirmation before he slides in, bit by bit, easing you to the intrusion. An instant groan comes out of his mouth.

“Oh, you’re so fucking tight!”

Your brows furrow, your jaw sets, soft cries come out of you as he settles inside your walls but you don’t stop him. He kisses your neck, right on the spot he learned that makes you quiver the most, your hands clutched at his sides. It doesn’t take long for the nagging feeling to fade and for you to get accustomed to the sensation as your core stretches to welcome him fully.

Simon feels your body relax and starts to push into you, slowly, carefully, letting out pleased grunts of his own. His hands wrap around the back of your thighs and lift them up to his waist. You latch your legs around his body, a maneuver that allows him to bury his cock deeper inside you and that causes a loud moan to erupt from you.

“G-God… That’s…”

His lips trail back from your neck to your jaw, teasingly brushing your skin, until they hover on your open mouth; his eyes take in your contorting features with a pleased smile.

He rocks at a steady pace against you while his hands roam your body, travel up your hips, caress your breasts, skim along the shape of your arms, stopping only to let his fingers interlace with yours, and pin your hands down to the mattress, at either side of your head.

You feel your lucidity slip from you completely. No coherent words come out of you, only a nonsensical mumbling. The way he’s thrusting inside of you, so deep and precise, hitting that perfect spot at each push, it takes every fiber in your being not to scream out loud and make the whole pub know how Simon’s fucking you sensless.

You can only focus on how you’re connected to him, how he is filling you up so beautifully, how your bodies move wonderfully together; it’s almost like a dance, a primal animalistic dance that belongs to you two only. You even have the music to accompany your dance moves, a soft sensual melody that perfectly complements your passion-imbued union of trembling bodies.

So this is how it feels to have sex? This is how it feels to be wholly consumed by lust and desire? Or could this overwhelming sensation simply be Simon’s doing? To have him make love to you?

“Y/n…”

It takes a lot of effort for you to hum back in response.

Simon’s lips crush clumsily against yours as his movements become frantic and sloppier. He must be close to reaching the high. And so are you. Your eyelids are heavy, your sight slightly blurred and unfocused.

“Si, I think I’m about to-”

He pulls away from your lips, spine straightening, piercing eyes landing on your face as one of his hands slips from yours and travels along your body, down toward your core. He deliberately rubs your slit with his palm before he picks up a hectic waving motion to stroke your swollen nub, immediately triggering a shock wave of shivers to spiral up your back. Your head spins at the additional stimuli. Your eyes squeeze shut, cries fall out of your mouth as you contort in pleasure.

You feel his other hand grab your jaw and shake it lightly, demanding your attention.

“Eyes on me, beautiful.”

You look up at him with glazed eyes, dizzy and yearning for your release. With every stroke and every thrust you lose yourself more and more into the bliss.

His hand settles on your neck, closing around your throat, not hard enough to delay your breathing but providing you with such a thrilling and wicked pressure that makes you salivate and that instantly sends heat flaring in your belly, causing your need to build faster and even more intense.

Panting hard, your hands now free, you grip onto Simon’s strong arms while you progressively lose focus on every way he’s indulging your desire, instead centring your heightened senses on the feelings he’s awakening. The last thread of restraint then finally snaps and you reach the peak, core lightening with an answering flame that you’ve never felt before. You lose yourself in the waves of pleasure overtaking you, barely taking notice of Simon’s rutting inside you once, twice, three more times before his body goes still against you and a deep groan erupts from him. Both of you anchor the other’s body, pressing together, relishing in the other’s shudders and panting breaths. You’re so flush against him that you can feel his heart, challenging your own in a speed race and then gradually slowing down.

Chest heaving, you cradle the back of his head, letting your fingers thread between the roots of his hair, while he blows his hot breath on the crook of your neck as you both ease down from your highs. The warmth of his body is comforting against yours, you never want him to let go. The rousing feeling of his cock still buried inside you, resting between your fluttering walls is one you could easily get used to. It almost takes your breath away when Simon slides out of you, leaving you bare.

His damp lips press against your boiling skin, trailing up your jaw. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, committing this idyllic moment to memory.

His thumb gently strokes your chin, fingers resting upon your cheek. When you open your eyes, he's already looking at you with the loveliest smile you've ever seen graze his face. You return it with one of your own.

"Si..." you pause, staring deep into his eyes. There's so much you want to say, a multitude of emotions running wild and untamed inside of you that needs to be addressed and yet you struggle to find the right words to tell him how you feel.

The realisation of what has just happened downs on you. You've spent years fantasising about this moment, fearing the real thing wouldn't even come close to your idealised perfect first time. Wondering when, where, with whom you would live through this experience. You're euphoric to admit to yourself that the real thing has surpassed the fantasy by a landslide.

"I'm... glad it was you."

It sounds silly when you say it. You could have chosen from a billion other thoughts you had swirling in your head, yet this one drowned out the rest. But as silly as it may sound, it’s the truth: you’re beyond thrilled he was your first. There’s no other man in your life that you trust, respect, and love as much as him with whom you could share such intimacy.

You see the angle of his lips curl up to one side, the pad of his thumb softly brushing the outline of your bottom lip.

" I'm glad it was me ."

Your face cracks as you erupt in a giggle. With your palm against his cheek, you gently push him away. "Simon..."

He smiles down at you, his eyes crinkling as he leans down again to kiss the crown of your head before drawing all the way back and getting off the bed.

Your gaze follows him as he tosses the used condom into the trash can and pulls up his underwear and jeans. As he picks up the rest of his clothes from the floor and gets dressed again, your devoted gaze glides up and down his body, a permanent smile engraved to your lips. You feel so lucky to be able to witness such a sight… You still have a hard time believing your eyes.

“Now, who’s enjoying the show ?”

His amused glance meets yours, and you give him a sheepish smile, followed by a shrug.

"I'm just taking it all in..."

"Oh, you've already taken it all in , princess."

You let out a shocked scoff, your mouth wide open. You dismissively wave your hand in front of your face and shake your head, as you feel a crawl of heat flooding to your cheeks.

"Oh, shut up..."

You love his sense of humour. It’s one of the qualities you like the most about him. And now that you’re… well, even closer to him, the sarcasm is only bound to get more pungent. Not that you’d complain about it.

His low chuckle fills your ears as you distract yourself by adjusting your bra and dress, then taking a seat on the side of the bed to slip your boots back on. You notice a heap of black and white fabric on the floor at your feet and bend down to pick it up. It's his balaclava.

The thought doesn’t even have time to fully form in your mind that you’re already pulling the mask over your head. Unfortunately there’s no mirror in the room to check your reflection, to see how the skull fits you but the cloth feels surprisingly nice against your skin and… you can smell his scent.

The sudden lack of rustling from behind you causes you to spin around and you find Simon staring at you, holding your jacket. He walks toward you, handing you the garment, reaching then for your face to adjust the fabric on your nose and on your chin. He stops to give you an appraising look.

"It looks better on me."

You chuckle, smacking him playfully on the chest. “Oh, c’mon… what if I want to wear one, too?”

"And hide your beautiful face? Negative.”

“Well, then…”, you pin him with a challenging look, palms pressing hard against your cheeks, securing the mask on your head. “I won’t let you hide your beautiful face, either.”

You see him softly shake his head as he huffs a chuckle through his nose. After a moment, he reaches for his back pocket and retrieves your undies, waving them high above your head.

“What? You’ll put those on your head instead?”

You try to suppress the laugh by biting on your lips but it erupts out of you anyway, like a river in flood. The pointed look he gives you only makes it worse.

“Alright, alright…”

Still snickering, you pull on the fabric and peel it off your head, holding it out to him.

He takes the mask from you but doesn’t let go of your undies. He puts them back in his pocket as casually as he took them out.

You scoff, tilting your head to the side. "Really?"

“I’m keeping them, as a memento.”

You stare at him, appraising his solemn expression. If he wants them then you’ll let him have them - the fabric is ruined anyway. They're not even your favourite pair, thankfully.

“First and last time you steal something from me, Si!”

“Can’t make promises, princess.”

Your chest swells as you try to read between the lines. It's inevitable. You can't help but wonder if he means to tell you something else. Will there be a next time, or multiple next times? Does he plan on stealing something else? Like, your heart? To be honest, he's already halfway there, but he doesn't need to know that. At least not yet.

You keep on looking into each other's eyes for a bit longer. You think you can detect the profound fondness behind his look. Your lips curl up in a shy smile.

“Ehm… I believe we kept the guys waiting long enough." you say, breaking the silence. "We should get back downstairs."

He gives you a curt nod but instead of moving away, he draws closer to you. Taking your chin between his fingers, he leans down and angles your head to brush one more kiss against your lips. The contact is strikingly gentle and it takes your breath away. It’s a kiss infused with unspoken words of devotion, promises, feelings which are too strong to be shared so early on but that are already there, growing, blossoming. Both your hearts are gardens in bloom.

He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours for a lingering moment before taking a step back and disguising his face once again.

The action saddens you but at the same time it fills your chest with pride; you're the only one who has been blessed to bask in the beauty of his seldom-seen bare face and no one else will receive such special treatment. Not today. Hopefully never. Is it selfish of you to wish that? Perhaps, but you don't care. Not when images of your lovemaking are still so fresh in your mind. Not when you can still feel the worshipping touch of his hands and tongue on your body. Certainly not when the cool, humid air of the room hits the wetness of your exposed core beneath the dress.

You exchange a knowing look before moving towards the door and walking down the stairs together. That soothing tune, now linked with poignant core memories, floods in your ears once again, growing louder as you return to the main area and towards the bar. Your team is still at the counter, exactly where you left them... how long ago? You have no idea how much time has passed. You were too engrossed in your passion to pay attention to the outside world and its trivialities.

Johnny glances behind his shoulder just as you and Simon make a beeline toward the group. You can see his lips moving; he must be saying something to the others because they all crane their heads to look at you before returning to their drinks. Soap is the only one who whirls around, bivouacing on his seat and all over the counter like a fucking braggart as he meets your eyes and winks at you.

Oh, he'll take yours and Simon's hookup as a personal victory, and he'll brag about it; you already know it. But you're far too happy right now to be bothered by it. Let him gloat. You're the one who got the reward, anyway.

When you eventually make it to the bar, no one acknowledges your arrival. Nobody says anything about your absence or the dance prior to that. Their silence only serves to emphasise that they are all aware of what happened. The furtive glances they cast your way, some more mischievous than others, serve as plain confirmation.

"Now that we're all here, I suppose we can head out."

The captain's voice calls out to everyone as he stands up from the barstool. "Unless the two lovebirds fancy one last drink?"

You try to ignore the appellation he used and the way your stomach flipped in response. You raise one hand and shake your head, avoiding his eyes as well as the urge to glance up at Simon. "I'm good."

A beat.

"Alright then. Off we go."

On cue, everyone gets off their seats, some knocking back their glasses, others stretching their legs. You take advantage of the shuffle to walk over to Johnny and hold out the key to him. He takes it back without a word but the sly smile playing on his face is hard to miss. You hope at least he has the decency to hold off of grilling you for deets until you’re back at the HQ.

You seem to catch a movement in your peripheral vision: Price giving Simon a firm pat on the shoulder? You’re tempted to turn your head to take a better look when a loud scoff interrupts you and draws your attention back to your best mate.

"Bloody hell, y/n! You and L.T. are not joking around!"

Your brows furrow upon hearing his remark and when you follow the trajectory of his stunned look, your eyes widen as they meet the cloth of your undies poking out of his back pocket. You spring into action right away, grasping the exposed edge to yank it farther inside his jeans. Simon’s own hand reaches behind him to wrap around yours, fingers interlacing, as he maintains his focus on Price in front of him. Your chest swells at the gesture, heat rising in your cheeks, but you manage to turn around and zap Johnny with a fierce glare anyway.

He makes a show of zipping his lips and throwing away the key. However, the grin he flashes you is so contagious that you find yourself returning one of your own.

It appears like you're in for a ride full of taunts, jokes, knowing looks and funny name-calling. Your mates will give you two no rest… but who gives a shit about it? Simon said it first. Why should you care? You'll take this and much worse if it means getting the chance to explore your feelings with the man of your dreams and spending many more nights out - or inside his spacious office - dancing together.

MORE STORIES 🥀

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ambrosialdesire · 1 year

Text

bounded

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 eren x fem!reader word count: 2.5k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, one-sided pining, childhood friends, p*rn w/ plot, non-con, manipulation, guilt-tripping, loss of virginity, forced fingering, forced f oral sex, vaginal sex, bounded hands (kinda), panty-gag, praise & degradation, slight edging, spitting, hair-pulling, forced cheating, all characters are 18+ synopsis: ignoring the romantic feelings of the man you thought was your beloved childhood best friend was never your intention, but you should have given eren a shot. maybe then you wouldn't be begging for forgiveness underneath the star-filled sky. a/n: continuation of boundless, as requested by many anons hehe so this is just straight up smut, mostly cause i'm still practicing how to write it. no i will not write a third part of this little series but i will accept asks about it just like any other fic i've written. i also reached over 500 likes since the start of this blog and i wanna thank y'all sm for the support!! i really didn't expect this much love towards my silly writing and i'm really grateful to be able to share a small piece of what i like to do. have fun with the read! i would love some feedback on the smut and how to improve it cause i feel like it's not up to par lol note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

A good god would never hurt their creations.

A good god would never bestow pain, sickness, or selfishness within their creations.

A good god would be morally just.

If there was a god here, they wouldn't have created this hellhole called Paradis. If there was one, what a cruel and merciless creator they'd be for letting thousands upon thousands of cannibalistic monsters live across the land.

No amount of written literature or street-wide sermons could convince you that any sort of higher being would create this generational agony out of the kindness of their heart. What was the lesson that humanity needed to learn? Why create this animosity towards the beings that you supposedly love?

You believed in no god. No merciful god was able to exist on this forsaken island.

Yet as Eren pressed the pads of his fingertips against the nub of your clit, the pleading incantations for something or someone — anyone — could not cease from spilling out from behind the cloth.

He sighed in annoyance but still rubbed it in slow circles. "I'd love to hear your voice but you know the rules up here. You don't want to get in trouble do you?"

The amount of pressure around your wrists tightened to the point that you thought he was going to break them, hot tears spilling out of your cheeks. To the best of your ability, you tried relaxing but your legs tensed and squeezed around Eren's waist as he began to pick up the pacing. You wanted to believe that he wouldn't hurt you, the dearest boy that you've loved ever since the two of you were little.

"Good girl." He quietly praised under his breath and you couldn't help but feel your heart ignorantly skip from those simple words, parts of his now-long brown hair falling over his eyes as he focused on your lower half.

His eyes had always reminded you of a clear morning sky, bright and confidently focused on the future ahead of him. You've adored those turquoise-blue eyes of his for years, admiration running through your veins whenever you shared a look with him. Now as you were able to catch a glance of them as he played with your now-throbbing clit, only dread crawled up your spine.

He was unrecognizable, a build-up of years of pain and resentment rippling off in a dark stormy sky. This was someone who simply existed to get revenge, tearing through everything to get what he wanted in the end.

This man wasn't your best friend. This man was not your Eren. This was no longer the boy that you playfully chased after over hills and through alleys. Whoever this was on top of you is a stranger.

A monster.

A demon.

He began to dip two of his fingers into your hole, a small shudder of breath escaping you as he slowly pushed one of his digits in. "Fuck, you're tight. That asshole doesn't know what the hell he's doing with you."

It hurt, the stretch from only two of his lithe fingers was foreign to your body. The sound of them going in and out with the slightest sounds of squelching made you cringe internally.

Your boyfriend never touched you once, both you and him promised to save each other until marriage. The idea gave you comfort at the time that no matter what, this fight will be worth it in the end. Since the Titans started to slowly thin out, the chance of finally starting a family with him became even more likely. It seemed that the world thought otherwise, digging its claws deep within your flesh. You shook your head towards Eren, who raised a confused eyebrow before grinning ear-to-ear.

"Don't tell me he never touched you?" He let go of your wrists and the warmth of his hand left from between your thighs. You thought he was letting you go scot-free. The two of you would just forget this night ever happened and go back to pretending that you were the best of friends. Unfortunately, you thought wrong.

Once Eren got an idea in his head, it was difficult to convince him otherwise.

He suddenly grabbed your waist, pulling your lower body close to his face, your legs dangling on-top of his shoulders. His arms tightly wrapped around your stomach and held you upside down, blood rushing to your head. You struggled around for a little bit, confusion and terror melding into your expression before he pressed his mouth against your hardened clit and sucked.

"He's missing out then." He groaned and the vibrations shot through your body, hands gripping at the blanket underneath you. Like a starved man, he lapped up your fluids like it was going to be his last meal. You felt dizzy, from the position you were in and how feverishly focused he was as he continued to lick your folds. A muffled whine came out of your mouth as his tongue started to tease around your slick opening, your head shaking back and forth as you stared at him with scared eyes.

Eren ignored you, squeezing your body even closer to his, tongue now slipping in. He started to hold you with one arm and reached over to play with your clit as he prodded the muscle in you, your legs squeezing around his head. You tried to ignore the pulse in your core when you felt him press against your back, the tears coming back in full force. Never in years have you felt this powerless, especially when it was coming from the very person that you've always looked highly upon.

You felt disgusted as his saliva intertwined with your slick began to drip down your pussy, the flesh becoming glistened in the moonlight. Feeling his fingers soon dip in along with his tongue had you loudly exhale into the gag, your legs shaking as the tips of his fingers brushed against a particular spot with you. He kept poking and prodding till you could feel a heavy pressure build up in the pit of your stomach, an exploding desire to finally release something in your body had your eyes tightly closed shut.

You tried imagining the man that was enjoying you was your boyfriend, that this was your honeymoon and that he was the one that was pleasing you. Yet your body and mind refused to think picture him. The hands and fingers that touched you was far too calloused to be his. The hair that brushed against your inner thighs was too long. The body against yours was more muscular than his.

No matter what you tried to deny, this was Eren. Completely and wholly Eren.

A throaty groan made your whole body tense up and your eyes shoot back open. Eren finally pulled away from your lower half, his eyes half-lidded and dazed with lust. You were in a haze, confused and partially irritated that the pleasure was suddenly stopped, leaving you horridly unsatisfied. His mouth was covered with your fluids and you watched him run a tongue over his lips, a grin forming as he knew what you were thinking.

"I wanna feel you cum on my mouth another time. If I waited any longer, I would've came in my pants." He teased, letting you finally rest flat back on the blanket. You heard the click of his belt and the shuffle of his pants being pulled down, his lower half settling back in-between you.

"Watch me put it in." You shook your head in refusal and closed your eyes once more, but he didn't take that response well from the way he grabbed the top of your head and pulled at the hair roughly for you to look down.

"I said watch." He bore his teeth at you as tears formed in the corners of your eyes, the pain making you open them back up. You wished that you kept them closed, your breaths beginning to quicken as you realized his cockhead was getting close to your entrance.

It was a pretty cock, not too girthy nor was it too short. The tip was flushed a soft pink from what you could see in the moonlight, already dripping and glossy with precum. Tufts of dark brown hair trailed down towards the base of it and there was a shadow of a protruding vein that you were able to see on the side of his shaft.

Eren used his other hand to align himself to your hole, and you begrudgingly watched and felt him slowly sheath himself into your pussy. Agony was the first sensation that shot through your body, hands twisting the filthy sheet underneath you. The stretch burned your core and you painfully whined against the gag.

"Fuck — fuckkk — you're so warm and tight." He moaned as he released his hand from your hair. You felt grateful that he hadn't made any sudden movements, letting you at least adjust to the insertion. Perhaps there was still some form of compassion in the man you knew.

His hands went to your hips, gripping and kneading around the fat. You could feel him shaking, his cock twitching against your walls. Eren was never good at restraining himself and it showed, a muffled cry slipping out of you as he began to thrust without warning. You watched as his dick rhythmically slid in and out of you, splitting you in two.

"You're fucking mine, you hear me?" He hissed as he continued to rapidly plunge into your slopping cunt. You let out a muted cry as the palm of his hand made contact against the side of your ass, a stinging pain forming. "From the moment we were kids to now, you were and have always been mine."

He was relentless as he pounded into your pussy, every thrust caused sharp but muffled moans into the gag. You wanted to fight back but when you looked back into his eyes, your heart sank down to the pit of your stomach.

Desperation.

The most recognizable expression you've witnessed on others on numerous occasions. He fucked you like it was the last thing he'd ever get to do, as if this was a necessity. The tormented expression in his face, the way he bit down on his lip and dug his nails into your hips. No doubt he felt guilty for taking you like this, it was like he had no other option left.

His fingers reached over in between your lips and ripped out your spit-soaked panty, tossing it to the side. You took in heavy gulps of fresh air before he pressed his lips against yours, sloppily rubbing his tongue against yours. It was like he was trying to devour you whole, almost taking the air away from your lungs.

Eren pulled away with a pant, letting you moan out to the world without any more obstruction. "You're a cruel bitch, ignoring my feelings for years like this. Running to some bastard that'll never understand you."

His hips started to slam angrily against yours and reflectively, you wrapped your legs around his waist tightly. You could feel the tip of his cock nudging and poking against your cervix, whines slipping out of your lips as he continued to push his dick against it.

"E-eren, I'm s-sorry." You begged, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes, hoping that he'd ease up on your poor hole. You heard him breathily scoff at your weak apology.

"Yeah? You're sorry?" He half-heartedly laughed and put one of his hands under your jaw, squeezing your cheeks together. "If you're really sorry, open your mouth for me then slut."

You hesitantly obeyed, confused with his request but at least he stopped thrusting so violently. He grinned cockily and spat on your tongue, your face contorting to a grimace as you felt the warm and thick liquid rest on the surface. You wanted to spit it out, almost gagging as it was nearly sliding down your throat but Eren stopped you from turning your head to eject it out.

"Swallow it." He absolutely lost his mind if he thought you were going to do that. You glared at him but he simply smiled smugly, running his fingers through your hair, lightly tugging at the strands.

"Swallow it and I won't cum in you." The second he said that, your blood ran cold, eyes widening in fear. He can't be serious, can he? This was Eren you were talking about, of course he'd be serious.

You hated this, you hated how it felt like you knew him but at the same time, knew nothing about him at all.

With one swift motion, you swallowed and started coughing, trying not to throw up the dinner you had nearly an hour ago. He pried open your mouth with his fingers, checking as if you really did do it and kissed you once more after he finished his inspection.

"Good, you're doing so good." He whispered into your ear as he rolled his hips, plunging you once more with his cock. You unintentionally squeezed him as he angled himself more to hit a spongy spot within your cunt, a dragged out moan coming out as the tip rubbed it.

"You like that, you whore?" You nodded wordlessly as you rolled your head back, pleasure swimming in your muddled brain. You could feel his fingers slip in-between your drenched pussy, curling against your throbbing clit.

"Ha— What would your boyfriend think? His so-called innocent girlfriend being a filthy cock-slut for her best friend." He teased as he rolled his fingertips around the nub, your core clenching around him. You wanted to tell him off — to stop mentioning your boyfriend — but you were so close to that release from earlier that you couldn't focus on what he was saying about him.

You could feel Eren start to speed up, his thrusts becoming more deeper and erratic, his fingers moving faster and faster against your clit until you couldn't hold it in anymore. You could barely hear him tell you that you can do it, that he was almost there too. Your walls gripped around his moving cock and your vision went white, every single muscle in your body became pulled taut as you finally came.

He didn't stop throughout your orgasm, letting out a broken cry as he finally stopped moving. You felt nothing until he sat up and pulled away from your body, whining quietly as he slipped his now-soft cock out of your still-sensitive pussy. With that, you could feel a warm liquid spill out of your hole.

"You p-promised." You sobbed out in a whisper and he silently stroked the side of your face.

"I didn't promise you anything, but I meant what I said earlier. I love you, I won't let anyone or anything take you away from me. Not even fate will tear us apart." Eren laid next to you, your bodies sweaty and sticky. You couldn't stop crying, letting the tears fall down your face as you stared up at the night sky with him.

"I'll take care of you, okay? You won't need anyone else but me from now on." His calloused hand took in yours, interlocking his fingers with yours and holding it firmly.

"Me, you, and our baby. That's all that matters in the world." You couldn't help but cry aloud at that.

If there was a god, good or bad, may they never let this child live through this hell.

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 1 year

Note

May or may not have a bit of Clay Roach brain rot rn, and I'm thinking like.. hurt/comfort thing where reader knew Clay some years ago before the drugs and everything but lost contact, but they run into eachother again and reader is just.. heartbroken at the way he's ended up. So it leads to some old feelings coming up and some possible smut so they both can get away from their problems for a bit

My beloved nonnie, I knew I'd have a field day with this ask, but still, it somehow got rather out of hand 😅🫶🏻🖤

Old Habits Die Hard

Summary: It’s said that your pupils dilate when you look at someone you love, but is it really love or just the drugs this time?

Pairing: sub!Clay Roach x using!fem!Reader

Word Count: -4k (Y’all know I have a lot to say about Clay)

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat!, Drugged-Up Smut 18+!, Biting, Bruising, Choking, Riding, Unprotected P In V, Slapping, Scratching, Degradation, Explicit Consumption of Drugs (Codeine & Paracetamol), Explicit Mentions Of Other Substances, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions Of Withdrawal, Talk About Track Marks, Clay Being A Tripsitter For Reader, Emotional Constipation And Rather Questionable Ways To Deal With That

A/N: Buckle up, friends, this will be….a trip.

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp

No more alone or myself could I be

Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open

No shortage of sordid, no protest from me

With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean

She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene

- The Angel Of Small Death & The Codeine Scene By Hozier

With a cotton-dry mouth, your raspy tongue practically sticking to the roof, you cleared your throat, feeling clumps of nicotine-infused mucus rumbling in your lungs. Turning your lazy body from your back to your side, your thoroughly fogged-up mind started scrambling for a memory, a shard of something to hold on to. There was barely anything, but a comfortably perfume-doused pillow against your cheek and a warm blanket around your shoulders, both indicating that you found yourself at home at least.

The crusty residue around your weary eyes let you know that you must’ve slept like a log and upon slowly opening them up to the dimly lit bedroom you very well knew why. It should’ve sent a jostle of shock through your nerve endings but instead, a blubbered laugh trickled out of a sly grin as you studied the scene of the crime.

You knew you hated drugs, really, really despised and detested them…that was up to the point something, some not-so-minor inconvenience, rendered you desperate for something to escape yourself with for a little while. Ever since the first glass of sparkly sweet white wine at the tender age of 15 years or the first secretly smoked joint on a children's playground in the dead of night with your best friend during high school, you knew about the marvelous powers of substances and their quite excellent capability of shutting off your always-firing neurons.

Right now, as your thoughts scrambled around inside your skull, it felt as if thick tar clogged your mental gears from turning properly, and with your eyes counting at least half a dozen cough syrup bottles scattered between a blister pack of good ol’ paracetamol pills it made a whole lot of sense to you.

“Well, don’t mind if I do…” You chuckled to yourself before slipping your body from under the blanket, letting your legs dangle over the edge before searching for a somewhat still halfway-full bottle of cough syrup with one hand while the other was busy pressing two white, circular-shaped paracetamol pills out of their aluminum confines.

The decision to continue this little bender was already made but just to check in, you threw your little, digital alarm clock a brief glance.

“Yes, perfect!” You quipped in amusement upon the information that it was only Saturday afternoon, more than enough time to treat yourself to another buzz or maybe even two before winding down to be back on track and a part of the office desk machinery like every Monday.

After washing the pills down with a carefully curated overload of somewhat oily cough syrup, that stuck to the back of your throat, you moved to lean your back against the headboard to light yourself a cigarette, the sad rest of a halfway-smoked one still dangling on the brim of the stained glass ashtray on your nightstand. Just in the very moment in which you found yourself about to light the cigarette, pulling the lighter to your lips, you noticed something or much more someone out of the corner of your eye.

“What the fuck…” You muttered to yourself, discarding lighter and cigarette right back to where they came from as your eyes widened in a muffled-down sensation of surprise.

It wouldn’t have been the first time that you brought yourself a little something something back home from a bender, but it happened rather rarely still. However, something inside, down at the depths of your chest started whirring as your eyes wandered over a glossy brown mess of disheveled, curly hair. Something distinct about its color and the way the ends coiled up to bouncy curls had you feeling just too much for being intoxicated like this. For a moment, you pondered over simply evacuating your own apartment but that would’ve been nothing but ridiculous. In addition, you didn’t exactly feel like riding out your next high in broad sunlight with people nattering, chatting and buzzing all around you, nope. The surge of mellow euphoria was meant for a cold diet Coke and a Led Zeppelin record running on the player right opposite from you on the dusty TV stand.

“Hey there?”, You nudged the body to your left carefully with your elbow, “Wakey, wakey…”

“Huh?” The someone reciprocated in a slightly startled groan, the tone of his voice causing your brows to furrow because it was somehow terribly familiar to you.

This sort of raspy, sleep-drunk sigh had your mind reeling to remember the person it belonged to and as soon as the man next to you started turning himself onto his back, you nearly choked on your own breath.

“Hi…” You croaked out, your throat rendering dry and if it hadn’t been for the meticulously measured-out amount of paracetamol and codeine in your bloodstream, you would’ve plummeted into a pitch-black puddle of emotional hurt as your eyes just couldn’t get away from a pair of bright blue ones staring right back.

“Hi…” The man you knew since way before he had grown just the first stubble on his chin murmured back, a softly lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his lip to curl up.

For what seemed to be endless minutes, the both of you just stared at each other. Something led you to believe that Clay knew a bit more about how both of you had ended up at your place and you felt yourself being not completely indifferent to asking about it.

“You…huh?” You pointed your head towards him in a soft movement, resting your chin on your pulled-up knees afterward.

With a sigh, the smile on Clay’s face died away.

“I was afraid about you not remembering anything from last night, got you home.” Clay nodded whilst pulling himself up to lean against the headboard of your bed just as well, the blanket gliding down over his front and giving free sight to a severely malnourished body.

“You brought me home?” You arched your brows at him a little further, your thoughts still very busy with piecing just anything together until you eventually came to the conclusion that you’d blacked out at some point.

“Yeah, and I’m glad I did. You were there and at the same time you really really weren’t.” Whilst looking at him, the feeling of being berated by him of all people grew inside of you.

“Hmhm..judgy.” You sneered, feeling the discomfort rising in your chest.

“I’m not judging. I was worried.” Clay brushed vagrant strands of his now much longer hair out of his face.

The last time you had seen him, about two…maybe three years ago, his hair had hardly reached over his earlobes and now the curled-up ends cascaded over his skinny collarbones.

“Oh, I get it, Clay, okay. So you are allowed to be worried but I wasn’t, huh? Wasn’t allowed to maybe point out that a needle in your arm for breakfast is too far off, even for us, no, yeah fuck you!” Rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him, you got your buzzing body off the bed to waddle into the kitchen to grab yourself one of the cans of fizzy diet Coke you craved so much right now.

“I’ve gotten myself out of that if you do so much as care about it.” Clay called after you, trying to not set even more fire to the whole situation.

“ ‘S that all you have to say about that? Fucking hypocrite.” Metallic creaking and the sound of soda bubbling in an aluminum can followed right after, the noises not able to drown out the breaking and cracking inside of you in the slightest.

You hated talking down to him like that but your hurt ego and damaged pride just couldn’t handle it any differently right now, the pain of forcefully having to split ways with Clay was still much too prominent in your memory. You went to detox and he drowned himself out in the endless shadows of whatever shady alleyway or shooting gallery out there. For quite a while before his slip-ups eventually, had you questioning everything enough to get your own ass into rehab, you had watched him getting worse with every passing week. You most certainly weren’t a saint yourself, no, but you still knew how you had begged him to go to rehab with you, to get the help the both of you needed desperately at that point but it hadn’t been to any avail. Stubborn and head-strong Clay Roach had made his choice and that one had broken your heart so hard that you’d promised yourself to never ever entertain his company ever again. Nights had been spent with nothing but ugly crying and sobbing about his stupid ass in rehab, you worried sick with the countless what-ifs fuelled by detrimental withdrawal anxiety until you had gradually killed every little bit of sympathy for him inside of you. It had been tedious and endlessly painful work but you had managed it to a point where you felt like you could breathe again without your body longing for him like your lungs did for oxygen.

“This is not me belittling you, okay?”, Clay looked up at you with pleading eyes the second you stepped back out of the kitchen, the can of soda tightly in your grasp, “This is me being a self-righteous bastard that’s too proud to say sorry.”

“That’s more like it.”, You scoffed, brows knit together as your gaze wandered over his torso, “Somehow I don’t trust you, arm’s up.”

For a second, Clay frowned at your demand but acted upon it equally quickly.

“There, no track marks, happy? Haven’t touched that shit in over a year.” He waited for your approval but you didn’t really feel like trusting him still.

“What else are you on? You don’t just run into somebody on the scene because you got lost on the way…” With an almost irritating smile on his face, Clay shrugged his shoulders.

“Funny how we didn’t bump into one another on the scene but at the damned 7/11 down the road at around 3 A.M. I had a few drinks, yeah, and maybe I was a bit starstruck as you squeezed yourself out of the entrance right next to me without even so much as taking notice of me. And maybe, just maybe, I turned on my heels to run after you before you vanished off into the night again.”, With his eyes, Clay pointed down his front, “And about that…I’m on a Methadone prescription that massively fucks with my appetite, thank you for asking.”

“Methadone?” You asked quietly, trying to play right over the part where you felt like breaking down and crawling into his arms that practically called out to you.

“Yeah, I’m slowly getting off of that, too, but I’m not quite there just yet. Maybe 3 to 6 months longer and that’s also a done deal. How about you?” Clay’s eyes darted toward the mess of small brown bottles and confetti of aluminum foil on your nightstand.

“Rare weekend bender. Had a shitty week, y’know.” You answered before taking a swig from the can.

“Uh-huh.”, Clay nodded, “Guilty pleasure, hm?”

“Yeah, something like that.” The heavily carbonated drink bubbled in your stomach, pressing a tiny, choked-back burp out of you.

“Listen…”, Clay sighed and with that, your ears perked up, “ I know, I hurt you…a lot, to say the least, and not a single day went by where I didn’t regret being such a bastard, okay? I know I fucked it up, spectacularly.”

“I appreciate the apology but…” You mumbled reluctantly.

“But, what?” Clay allowed his arms to slump down onto the bed again, his form slowly relaxing.

“But… I don’t know, Clay. To be perfectly real with you here, I’m losing my train of thought right now.” You shrugged your shoulders, taking another mouthful of diet Coke before placing the can on the nightstand.

“It’s okay…maybe come’ere then?” He carefully invited you to ride your growing buzz out right next to him under the soft blankets.

“Uh-huh, yeah…” A soft yawn snaked out of your mouth as the increasing drowsiness washed through your muscles with every beat of your heart.

Exhaling an even longer yawn right after the first, you just gave in to the pull his presence had on you and snuck yourself under your duvet and into his careful embrace. His heartbeat thumbing in a slow and steady pace against your ear pulled all of your focus towards him and the comfortably warm rush spreading from your stomach throughout the rest of your body. Feeling his skin against your cheek took you right back to those times when something along the lines of this used to be the regular weekend activity but then quickly morphed into something more dangerous than just a weekend trip of numbed-out euphoria. You tried not to think about it but the memories plopped up inside your mind all by themselves, making you physically cringe.

"What's that now?" Clay murmured to you, his voice soft and breathing calm.

"It's…memories." You sighed, trying to relax and to simply let go of them.

"That's okay. Remind yourself that they can't hurt you, those times are over, I promise." You struggled a little with following his words as your brain started to come up with more or less random thoughts.

"Why…why didn't you just let me be last night? What gave you the audacity to sneak yourself back into not only my life but…but also my apartment, huh?" The words slipped from your tongue, halfway muzzled by his chest.

"I dunno.", It sounded like he almost laughed it out gently, "Maybe it was really just audacity and the stubborn hopes of an idiot like me."

"Hmhmm…" You mumbled away, eyes fluttering shut as you felt yourself gradually drifting into sensory oblivion, a far-off place where nothing really bothered you anymore.

With a barely even there grin, you had to admit to yourself that Clay's chest was a much more comfortable thing to fall into than just your pillow as the buzz eventually took over. Your mind and muscle memory went straight back to feeling safe with him, taken care of and protected because even though back then it had been the two of you knocked out of your socks, Clay had never failed to cradle you in his arms and keep you sheltered from everything and anything.

After your eyes had fallen shut and your pulse calmed down to a low beat, you lost track of just how long you had dozed off. It could've been just a few hours or half a day, regardless, it was dark outside and a nice, crisp breeze went through the halfway-open window of your bedroom. Now that the tiring numbness slowly wore off, a pampering flush of warm euphoria followed, the kind of feeling that encouraged you to prolong it by having a couple of drinks or tempted you to get teasingly touchy with either yourself or whoever was with you. An arguably treacherous slippery slope having Clay, whose fingers were busy playing through your hair, right next to you.

“What time is it?” You sighed, shamelessly nuzzling your face further into his shoulder until the tip of your nose stroked against his neck, inhaling his scent and allowing it to fill up your nostrils.

“Hey there, sunshine.”, He yawned in return, the smile on his face audible, “About half past 8. How are you feeling, hm?”

“Surprisingly rested…” You replied, your voice still a little drowsy whilst your lips were eagerly creeping up to brush over his pulse point, the faint taste of salty sweat seeping into your mouth upon contact.

“Oh…I wouldn’t mind you doing that again…” Clay breathed against the crown of your head, picking right up on your nonverbal invitation whilst his hand roamed underneath the blanket, searching for yours.

“You mean that?” You led your lips to plant a kiss on his neck, sucking the sensitive skin between your teeth to leave a small hickey.

“Uh-huh…”, It rolled over his tongue as his lean fingers closed down around your wrist to pull your hand up to his exposed throat, silently proposing to you to press your palm around it, “Wouldn’t mind you being a little mean to me either. I do believe I deserve that, no?”

“Bold of you to assume what you deserve in the first place.” You teasingly sneered back, hand carefully yet firmly closing down around his throat whilst your lips latched onto his earlobe.

Clay had played it smart and that drew a sly smile from you. Line, hook and sinker.

“I thought, I-” The imminent wash of pain emitting from his earlobe as you bit down on it had him gagging on his words.

“Yet another mistake.”, You hummed against the shell of his ear, clicking your tongue tauntingly after letting the warm flesh between your teeth scrape out of your mouth.

“What do you want me to do then?” Clay croaked, his voice gradually cut off by your carefully tightening grasp around his throat.

“Much better.”, You cooed in return whilst the buzzing warmth from your stomach gradually shot down amidst your thighs in increasingly needy jolts, “I want you to take your shorts off and then you shut the fuck up, got that?”

He nodded vigorously, his chin nearly meeting the back of your hand as you felt his Adam’s apple bobbing against your palm. Just like you told him to, Clay shimmied out of his shorts whilst your free hand was busy pulling your own panties down until you were able to smoothly slip out of them.

For a split second, your thoughts halted, the flood of countless, well-familiar memories rushing through overworked synapses leading you to question if this whole endeavor was the right road to take right now before the excitement and your own physical need to feel him took over again. Forcing any doubt into the nothingness at the very back of your mind, you threw your right leg over his hips to straddle his lap, Clay’s already eager hard-on pressing against your soaked cunt.

“Fuck..” He gasped out, his eyes beaming at you through a half-lidded gaze.

As soon as you let your crotch slide down a little, allowing his pulsing cock to push into you at once, you served his cheek a hefty slap.

“I told you to shut the fuck up, didn’t I?” Clay’s head lolled to the side upon impact, a deep grunt rippling through his chest as he nodded again.

“Not a single whine…” You stated, starting to rock your hips against his.

You barely allowed your own body to adjust to his full girth, resulting in a comfortably painful stretch to accommodate his size. For a blissful moment, your pulse throbbed through your walls as the tip of his cock thrusted against that particularly sensitive spot inside of you, sending pleasure buzzing like an electric current through your muscles.

With every sensation amplified by the cocktail of substances flooding your bloodstream, you released Clay’s throat from your grip, a single shred of reason reminding you not to choke him out in an unfortunate accident. Instead, both of your hands clawed down on his chest, nails digging into his pale skin, drilling until you left an array of angry, red streaks that made him twist and twitch under your fingertips as not one singular noise left his trembling lips.

“Look at you, hedonistic traitor, finally understanding the assignment, nuh?” It was undeniable that your words cut deep but in that very instance, you wanted them to, needed Clay to suffer just as much as you did and in the way his eyes got glossed over with a tell-tale watery sheen you know he did.

“Oh, you know you don’t deserve any of that right now, don’t you? Don’t deserve to be balls deep inside of me, no.” You pushed it further, borderline hurting yourself by spewing those vile words right at him, the malevolence oozing right out of every single one.

To somehow, haphazardly counteract the emotional dread, you picked up the pace, pounding his back into the mattress underneath over and over, repeatedly sending shots of physical pleasure through the both of you.

“Good god, fuck…” It left your mouth in a shaky moan, your body most certainly not used to so many bodily sensations since you very much opted right out of any sort of long-term dating after having to split from Clay.

The vast majority of orgasms that had rippled through you since then were your own doings and none of them could just barely reach the state of growing bliss you found yourself in right now. If it hadn’t been for your own needy desperation, you’d dragged it out longer, toyed with him a little more but as of now you just couldn’t be bothered with any of that. Rocking your waist against his lap again and again, you felt the rapidly tightening coil in your lower abdomen growing ready to snap, your walls clenching down around his cock and pulling him in impossibly deep with every further thrust.

The very thing that eventually pushed you right past your threshold was the dire expression on his face. Clay was biting down on his bottom lip so hard to remain silent that his teeth nearly dug deep enough to draw blood.

“Issok…” You huffed out, your own breath nearly getting stuck in your throat as you felt the first contractions rendering you cockdrunk, waves of trashing release washing through you like an uncontrollable tide.

With your permission given, Clay whined out in pleasure himself, his head pushing back into the pillow as he shoved himself into you as deep as possible, spilling his pent-up seed in heavy pumps.

“Fuck!” He cussed out, his hands reaching towards your waist to hold you right in place as his cock throbbed and twitched inside of you, shooting ropes of his release into your oozing cunt.

You felt the warmth of his cum pushing past, trickling out of you to pool between your slightly shaking, sweat-soaked thighs. Minutes appeared to pass in silence until both of you slowly came back from your orgasmic highs, breaths trying to be caught again.

“How do you feel about grabbing a drink?” Out of all things it was that what splattered out of your mouth.

“Sure as fuck wouldn’t say no to that…” Clay laughed back from underneath you.

#tam rambles #asks are appreciated #asks are always open #rory culkin #clay roach #city on a hill #clay roach smut #clay roach × you #clay roach x reader #clay roach x fem!reader #dead dove do not eat

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just-another-author-i-guess · 2 years

Note

hi i really love how you wrote marshall lee!! i couldn't stop thinking about your writing, youre just truly talented!!! it was the dog reader personality that really made me weak at the knees. is it possible you could do a lambgirl reader? half girl half lamb? i saw this idea somewhere and this sorta dynamic with bad boy marshall makes me go😫😫!!! but you can push it down on the list if u want. no rush or anything! you dont owe us anything and remember to take breaks. love you❤️

I love you tooo ty for the encouragement <333

Ty for requesting, sorry I’m it takes me so long to get them done D:

I have recently started writing on ao3 so if you want to read what I have on there my name is just “justanotherauthorig”. Rn I only have a Heisenberg and a Hobbir fanfic so if that’s interesting to you pls check them out ^^ I will post more information soon

Marshall Lee x Lamb Girl! Reader

Tags: fem!reader, Marshall Lee is so hot bruh I can’t, reader is kinda stupid but it’s okay bc she’s nice, idk what to say about this, I didn’t edit it through but are we really surprised?, this would make a good smut :P sorry it’s kinda short tho

Authors note: this was fun :D I googled a bunch of adventure time slang and they’re actually so fun to use lol

Word count; 1,1k

I think he originally started flirting with you just to mess with you

Sure, he thought you were cute as hell

But he wasn’t really looking for anything but a good laugh

You hang out with Fionna and Cake a lot, both of them are very protective of you

The three of you and sometimes BMO have a lil girls night out

On this particular night, you went to the dark forest bc Marshall Lee was having a concert and Fionna really wanted to go

Not so much to hear Marshall Lee, but bc flame prince would be there lol

Anyways, you immediately caught Marshall’s eye as he stood on stage

Both Fionna and Cake had branched off, leaving you alone in the crowd

Your eyes glued to your feet, not even daring to look up at Marshall’s performance as you fiddled nervously with your sleeves

When he finally had a break from the stage, he soundlessly floated up besides you

I kid you not, you almost bleated when you turned around to find the vampire king right besides you as you turned your head

You jumped, scrambled to get away as your lower lip quivered, white ears flattened to your head

“Woah, woah. Calm down there, sweetheart,” Marshall laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender

You quickly realized that he didn’t intend to harm you and somewhat calmed down, still slightly worried as he flashed his shiny white fangs to you

Your brows furrowed, fists clenching your dress as you fought to keep back the angry tears

“I-I am calm! Have you not heard that it’s rude to go around scaring people like that?” You huffed, sending him the most intimidating glare you could muster which to Marshall Lee looked more like a scared bunny

He smiled wider. “Well, I’m not exactly known for being nice,” He said, voice slightly deepening

You felt threatened, he looked at you like a predator looked at it’s prey and you finally understood why Cake was always bad-mouthing him

“I only hang out with nice people, sorry.” You muttered, turning away from him just to get a break from his all-consuming stare

He laughed again, clearly finding your reacting to be the most hilarious thing he had heard in a long time

You jumped again when you felt his hand creepy up the back of your neck, lips ghosting over your pulse point

Your breath caught in your throat, tears springing to your eyes again at the thought of being bitten. “P-please don’t bite me! Fionna will get m-mad!” You hiccuped, twisting the fabric of your dress even more until it was wrinkled and warm.

He blew on your neck and you felt him pout. “Fionna, huh?”

He pushed himself away from you a bit, finally getting himself out of your close personal space as he floated around you to face you again

“Aw, baby. Don’t cry,” he grinned when he saw your flushed cheek and quivering lips. “I just wanted to have a bit of fun, can you blame me?”

You shook your head defiantly as an answer, making him laugh again. “I promise I won’t bite you, little lady. On one condition,” he said, placing a large hand on your head

You mentally slapped yourself for the way you wanted to lean into his hand, ears twitching ever so slightly as his cold hand touched them

You wrinkled your nose. “On what condition?”

“Sing the next song on stage with me.”

Your eyes widened comically. “No way! I- I don’t even know how to sing! And I don’t know any of your songs,”

Marshall pouted, dramatically holding a hand over his non-beating heart. “And here I thought you were enjoying my show! I’m hurt!” Then he winked at you. “But don’t worry, all you have to do is follow my lead.” And before you knew it, he had an arm around your neck waist and legs as he hoisted you up in his arms

He carried you to the stage, floating above the crowd as you clutched him tightly in fear of falling

He sat you gently down on stage, grabbing his axe-bass and the crown immediately erupted in cheers

You were frozen in fear, face caught in between an angry flush and hysteric cries as you stood before the crowd

You already hated standing down before the scene, with all the people pushing and shoving it quickly overwhelmed you

But standing in front of at least a hundred candy kingdom citizens and a bunch of princes topped the chart of things you hated

You desperately pulled your cardigan around you, attempting to hide as your tail twitched and your ears once again laid themselves flat against your hair

“Follow my lead,” you choked on a gasp when Marshall was suddenly besides you again, whispering in your ear with that deep voice of his

“Good little girl, always picking a fight with me, you know that I’m bad” Marshall hummed, hands leaving his bass for a moment to gently sway your hips

You turned at least ten shades redder, burning up as he made you sway sultrily in front of the mesmerized crowd.

Well, luckily he had picked a song you actually knew.

“But your spending the night with me. What do you want from my world? You’re good little girl,” his hands left you to play his bass again, you gently swayed your hips to the rhythm

You looked intently at Marshall, figuring it was better to look at the troublemaker himself than the large crowd

He made a motion with his head, signaling you to start singing

“Uh-“ you started, inhaling deeply to not stumble over the words. “B-Bad little boy, that’s what you’re acting like, I really don’t buy,” you had to yet again stop yourself from bleating again, taking quick breaths as your hands shook

“That you’re t-that kind of guy-y,” you closed your eyes tightly, hating the way you could help hiccuping up the words. “And if you are, why do you want to hang out with me?”

Suddenly Marshall was by your ear again, chuckling darkly. “You did so well, little lady.” He murmured, before floating away from you a bit to continue the show

“Hey! Isn’t that Y/n?” You breathed out heavily in relief upon hearing Fionna’s voice.

“Come here, sugar,” suddenly Cake enveloped you and you welcomed her happily, snuggling yourself into her warm fur

She stretched, setting you down on the ground besides Fionna before taking your place on stage, cutting Marshall Lee’s verse short as she started singing about hot tomatoes and good sauces

“Hey, are you okay, Y/n? You look pretty jacked up,” Fionna said, pulling you to her side

“Marshall Lee told me to sing with him or he would bite me,” you mumbled bitterly, leaning onto Fionna’s shoulders

She clenched her teeth, face flushing angrily. “That son of a blee-blob!” She hissed. “I’ll kick his buns,”

You smiled slightly. “I told him you would get mad if he bit me,”

“Of course I would! What a butt-guy..”

When the concert ended Fionna was quick to find Marshall and give him a piece of her mind, however the vampire king only laughed her off, telling her that next time he would you wouldn’t be so lucky

Both Fionna and Cake insisted you slept at the treehouse that night and you happily agreed

Of course, it didn’t take Marshall long to seek you out again

He honestly doesn’t have that much going on, a bored guy needs entertainment

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t my favorite little lamb,” Marshall grinned, suddenly appearing in a tree as you were walking home from one of Tree Trunk’s apple pie dinners

This time you pretended not to jump, huffing as you held your head high, refusing to look at him

“I-if it isn’t my least favorite vampire king,” you said, half of your words coming out as a whisper. You mentally slapped yourself, if you were going to give him a comeback you you at least sound like you weren’t absolutely shaking in your boots

“Now that really hurt!” Marshall pouted as he spoke, coming down from the tree to walk besides you “you smell like apple pie,” he noted, sniffing the air

You wrung your hands nervously. “Tree Trunks made me apple pie,” you muttered, still refusing to directly look at the vampire

He cackled. “Jeez. That must have been so boring,”

You frowned, even though your face was turned the other way Marshall Lee noticed, filled with glee. “Tree Trunks is really nice! And his apple pie is amazing,” you huffed, defending your dear friend

“Tree Trunk’s is bunk, dude. Let’s go somewhere,” He grabbed your shoulders and spun you around to finally face him. “Come with me to this undead party, it’s rad. I know you want to,”

You finally had enough, angry heat flooding your face. “L-Leave me alone! And stop acting like such a mr. cool-guy you.. you! Ding-wad!”

To your utter surprise, your little outburst just made Marshall laugh loudly. “I’m a ding-wad, huh? Alright, alright. Give me a chance to show you something cool and I bet you won’t think I’m a ding-wad after,” he grinned, cocking his head like a puppy

A very threatening puppy, in your opinion

You took a moment to regain yourself, noticing he was being somewhat sincere. The goodness in your heart won and you shyly looked at your feet. “A-alright. But no funny tricks,” you mumbled.

“You got it, sweetheart!” He said as he lifted you bridal-style, taking off into the air.

To your utter surprise, you ended up having a good time with Marshall Lee.

He took you to a party in a graveyard, ghosts was actually a lot more chill than most living ppl and you actually managed to socialize

When you got tired and socially exhausted all you had to do was gently tuck on Marshall’s sleeve and he happily flew you home

To his house, I mean. You protested at first, as you didn’t know him that well and it seemed like a pretty bad idea to sleep over at a blood-thirsty vampires house

But all your sleepy protests died down as he tucked you into his bed, gently wrapping you in the sheets and quietly humming as you drifted off to sleep.

As he watched you sleep, ears twitching and cheeks puffed out, he realize that what started as a joke had turned real pretty fast

He felt an overwhelming urge to protect you, not that he would stop mercilessly teasing you, but he quickly discarded the idea that you were just a new plaything

He was also pretty sure Fionna would actually skin him alive (or dead I suppose) if he upset you

When you hung out at the tree house the next day and told them about how you slept over at Marshall’s she was already pretty read to beat his guts

Slowly, and I mean slowly, bc Marshall is a huge tease and you couldn’t stand looking at him for more than 5 minutes without getting so embarrassed you could melt, the two of you eventually started dating

Rest assured, Fionna and Cake both threatened him on multiple occasions, making sure he was on his best behavior

Even Prince Gumball had a few choice words with him lol

Everyone is was extremely worried lmfao (with good reason)

Marshall can be sweet tho, he actually is sometimes

Especially in public, since he knows you get overwhelmed super quickly

All you have to do is look at him with those doe-eyes of yours and he gets the message immediately

Doesn’t matter if you’re in the middle of a fancy dinner in a castle or if he’s playing a concert, he will get you to a place with less people immediately

He really does love you lol

omg bc both of you are so emotionally constipated- like you’re too shy to express your feelings and Marshall has just been taught to believe that expressing feelings is a taboo

If he ever did anything to hurt you tho he would hate himself so much, you’re the purest person he has ever met and hurting you is just a no-no

Sure, he teases you constantly bc that’s just how he is

But if he ever sees upset for real, he will beat himself up over it for the the next decade or so

Fionna will not hesitate to let him know if he messed up either

As I said before, the vampire king will be on his best behavior

You’re his cute little girlfriend and he will treat you as good as he possibly can <3

Hiya ^^ I hope you enjoyed this, sorry it was kinda short D:

I have a confession.. I srsly considered making it into a smut but I stopped myself bc it’s 1 am and I have school tomorrow lol

Lemme know if you would like a part 2 smut version of this :D

Anyways, thank you for reading!

Love, author

#adventure time x reader #adventure time #marshall lee hc #marshall lee #marshall lee x reader #lamb girl reader #fionna and cake #prince gumball #flame princess #i love Marshall lee help #i need sleep #requests are open

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dojunie · 2 years

Text

MISDIAL; LJN [CH3] LIKE A MORNING CALL

[★]; [MISDIAL MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

info;

lee jeno x fem!reader

college au

chaptered

slow burn

genre; not-quite-friends to lovers, older brother mark lee, brothers best friend lee jeno, light angst, eventual smut, yn is a menace to society, story/character driven

warnings for this chapter; alcohol mentions

chapter wc: 11.4k (i'm sorry ;-P)/ comment on this post for taglist!

taglist: @hibernatinghamster @jenoxygen @eaglesnotravens @donutswithjaminthemiddle @jvjsssnaa @huangrenhyucks @luvenshiti @shiningdery @jaeminsbebu @aliceinwhateverland @bebsky@gem-gem @jkjkseo @jenosbliss @pewpewpwe00 @ti--red @philanarose @softbbyg0rl @aaasteroidsky @carelessshootanonymous @en-boyz @jlsavyy @roseymerrie @bangchanisemo @skuezk @jaehyuns-adorable-dimples @ourbeautifulaffair@jeonnyread @jvjsssnaa @episkeyjeno @bockhyun @jenojammin @zarastrawberry @peachie-bear @itadaramaterasu @alymii @cuteejeno @episkeyjeno

unable to tag: @nohunlee @ooojisoo @luv4jeno @not-clemb @jydivrs @pinkysinnerbaby @jenojenoyes

[a/n]: i dont even have an explanation for why this took so long besides the fact that work is kicking my ass rn LOL, but i'm so excited about this fic that ive been glued to my laptop every hour that i'm free. enjoy, chapter three, my friends

THE APARTMENTS HOUSED INSIDE OF THE PALISADES TOWER ARE MYTHICAL FOR GOOD REASON, because the penthouse in which Jeon Somi lives is easily something out of a melodrama. Cleancut modern black and gray, polished gold metals, and endlessly high ceilings with windows so large that it was easy to forget there was even glass there at all (which, when you’re so high up, is a pretty freaky feeling).

If this wasn’t your hundredth time being here you’d probably be just as awed as the guys behind you are. Their eyes are wide as they shuffle out of their shoes in the entranceway, faces slack at the absolutely bonkers state of her home— but as it stands, you don’t even bat an eye. You just fling your sneakers in the front closet and slap the living room light switch on, the weight of this disastrous day settling on your shoulders all at once.

“I’m going to go and wash my face,” you announce, forcing a pleasant smile and turning to face the guys in the foyer. “If you have any questions—” Donghyuck nods, already opening his mouth to interrupt you, “— Somi dearest will answer them.”

He pouts. You can feel Jeno’s eyes on you, but you avoid looking in his direction like the plague.

What he must think of you after all this, huh? The second time he’s spoken to you in years and here you are yet again— embarrassed half to death and terribly out of your element, floundering in his presence like you did when you were fifteen and had no concept of confidence or coolness.

You were so sure that the night of the Nabi Bar incident was going to be a one time thing, and yet here you were again. Wasn’t last week supposed to be a once in a lifetime event? Something that you’d think of in a few months and laugh about— reminiscing over that time the guy you’d once been stupidly in love with came running out of the dark to save you, scooping you away from danger and patching your bruises up like some kind of romance novel prince? But now?

Now it was starting to look like nothing about this, nothing about him was shaping up to be temporary.

Things you hadn’t felt in years were starting to pick at your insides. You’d felt it that night when he’d dropped you off and you couldn’t sleep because your mind was racing so much. The cloying scent of his cologne was stuck in your nose and every brush against your bruised knuckles reminded you of how close you’d been in his bathroom, the sickeningly familiar feeling in your chest— Fluttering, fluttering, fluttering— And you’d felt it again in the car just now, an actual swoosh in your gut when you caught how he looked at you after Somi mentioned the Aegon competition.

His gaze was soft.

Knowing, almost, if you wanted to get completely delusional about it. As if he’s always understood something about you that everyone else didn’t.

(…Knowing, like the look he’s giving you right now as you take a step towards the other end of the penthouse and make the mistake of catching his eye. God. There’s no way he doesn’t know you’re just trying to get the hell out of here; It feels like he’s seeing right through you.)

“Right,” you say to no one in particular. “Then I’m off.”

Somi— who’d wound up in the kitchen somehow during all this— whines your name along with something about the jajangmyeon when she sees you leaving, but you don’t even stop in your stride out of the foyer. “Jaemin will help you, Som, he knows how to cook better than I do. You’ll help her won’t you, Na? You wouldn’t leave a tipsy, defenseless maiden alone in a space full of danger and sharp things and fire, right?”

You hear the distant click of the stovetop turning on as you’re walking away, quickly followed by a bunch of clattering, like someone throwing around a few metal pots. You hear no response or movement and flick a warning look over your shoulder.

“I’m not kidding. If you don’t want this place to catch on fire you’d better help her quickly.”

“What?” Jaemin finally splutters, “You’re serious? You’re really going to just leave us alone out here with— Hey, hey, wait! Somi, you don’t need a knife that big to cut up scallions!”

He darts out of your sight. Okay. One out of three, occupied.

You snatch up the television remote from the couch and turn it on, the giant flatscreen instantly lighting up the two remaining guys in the foyer as they stare after you. “You guys are into basketball, right? Knock yourselves out.”

“You’re… Cocomelon-ing us?” asks Donghyuck indignantly. “You think you can just put on ESPN and you’ll be absolved from helping cook? Do you think we’re five years old?!”

“Not five. Maybe like… eleven, or twelve? You strike me as more of a preteen.”

All that follows this is stunned silence. Great. That’s good enough of a reply for you. You toss the remote back onto the couch and continue farther into the rest of the house, face falling into a quiet grimace as you try to figure out just how you’re going to get through this night alone.

You feel it goes without saying that you do not only wash your face. You scrub everything above your neck, wash your hands, clean and cut your nails, pilfer through Somi’s extensive skincare shelf to rub some sort of moisture back into your now dry skin, comb your hair (and comb your eyebrows), worry at a speck of dirt on the shoulder of your top, take your socks off when you realize they’re a bit askew and then put slowly them back on, all in an attempt to drag out the time before you have to go back out there… only to look at your phone when you’re all done and realize only six minutes have passed since you’d first step foot in the bathroom.

With a shameful sigh, you stop pilfering.

What is your actual game plan to get through this night in one piece? Because the awkward way you’ve started this surely isn’t going to cut it, if this sad stint in the bathroom means anything. Could acting normal be your ticket? Everyone else is already pretending that the rest of the night didn’t happen, like this is really just some sleepover— the echo of Donghyuck’s laughter out in the living room proves that he’s at least having a swell time— so why can’t you pretend this is all normal too? You could just act your ass off. (What is it they say? Fake it ‘till you make it?)

Normal, normal, normal. You can do that.

So normal in fact, that when you wander back out into the house, eyes down and lazily picking at your nails (like a normal person would do), you don’t notice right away that you have no audience.

Jeno and Donghyuck aren’t on the couch where you’d left them. A laugh from the other side of the living room drags your eyes over until you’re staring into the kitchen where Donghyuck now is, apparently roped into helping by the looks of it, sleeves of his sweater pulled up his forearms and dutifully scrubbing at a handful of baby carrots in the sink. Slightly surprised, your gaze drifts over to the other movements happening behind him; a bedraggled-looking Jaemin following behind Somi as she wanders around her kitchen with a knife in each hand. His suggestions of safety seem to be going in one of her ears and out the other.

You spot movement on the balcony right as you think to wonder where the last boy has disappeared to.

The glass door leading to the overlook is cracked open an inch. The shadow of one gray flannel is briefly illuminated by the flash of lightning a few miles away, and with it comes the cool scent of rain into the house that you only notice now. The balcony is more like a porch with the size of it, nearly a full wraparound, and the figure blends in so well that it’s no wonder you didn’t see him out there at first. He’s leaning lazily on the railing, safe and dry from the retractable awning Somi always leaves out.

Of course. Figures he’d be out admiring the weather during a thunderstorm advisory warning.

Your stomach swirls a little bit at the sight of him, and you briefly consider leaving him alone and going to, like… help wash carrots or something, but your body knows you better. You’re wandering across the room before you can even think about moving.

“Having fun?”

If Jeno flinches from your intrusion he covers it very well. When he turns halfway to greet you he’s nothing but an easy smile, face just barely illuminated in the warm yellow light from inside. He beckons you outside with a small head nod and you, a little surprised he actually wants company, push the door open a little wider.

“Having fun,” he confirms as you wander up beside him. “You’re back?”

“I suppose so. Why are you out here by yourself?”

“Wasn’t really my choice,” he says, laughing, albeit a little sheepish.

“It wasn’t your choice? To come out here?”

“I offered to help cook, but Jaemin said I’d just take up space since I apparently take fifteen minutes to rinse a single potato. He banned me from touching anything.”

Oh. Is he notoriously slow in the kitchen? The most you’ve ever seen him make is burgers on your parents grill, but that was just flipping them every minute because Jaemin and Mark had done all the preparation. “Does it take you fifteen minutes to rinse a potato?”

“I like to be thorough when I wash produce. They come from the dirt, you know.”

Oops. You hit a nerve. He sounds slightly miffed by the humor in your voice. Maybe your smile is still too obvious, because he squints when he catches the line of your mouth.

“Right,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Forgot you’re the type who eats grapes out of the bag in grocery stores.”

“What— Why did you say it like that? I wipe them off first!”

“Yeah, you wipe them off onto your clothes. Do you know how many different surfaces your shirt will rub up against in a day? At that point aren’t you just swapping germs?”

He’s not wrong, but you’re a little caught off guard by the fact he remembers that so clearly. It seemed like every grocery trip he used to tag along to when your family would go shopping, he would catch you slipping something into your mouth as you pushed the cart— a stray grape or cherry, otherwise small and easily sneakable fruit. He’d always just smile, looking away like he didn’t see anything at all, but you always had a feeling he’d known what you were doing; and this was just confirmation that not only had he seen you, but he’d also permanently catalogued it into his memory. Ugh.

You cross your arms over the railing, turning away with a small huff. “Didn’t know you’d become a cleanfreak while I was gone. Slowpoke.”

The rain continues to pour.

After the grape conversation the silence stretches on for so long that you think that’s going to be it, that you’ll both just stand out here and exist in the chilly air, the wind occasionally whipping a flurry of tiny droplets onto the sleeves of your clothes— but he hums right as you’re about to suggest going back inside.

"Even with the storm, the view up here is insane. I’ve never been this high up without glass in the way. That's Namsan over there, isn't it?"

"Namsan?" you echo, a little annoyed by how quickly your body turns to the sound of his voice, "Uh. Probably… not? Namsan Tower is completely east from here, almost a literal ninety degree angle from this side of the building. You might be seeing something else."

"You didn't even look,” he says. “How can you be so sure?"

"Because it should be impossible to see it from here. This is an inlay. Unless Palisades is skewed like, one degree south, there shouldn't be any way—"

"Okay, wise girl, what's that light I'm seeing over there then? Since you're so smart."

You scowl at him, clicking your tongue at the pleased squint of his eyes, and ignore how he laughs when you all but shove him out of the way to get a better look. You're squished into the very corner of the balcony railing in the attempt to see what damn light he's talking about— forgetting, like you did at his apartment last week, that you’re not close, and that you probably shouldn’t be so comfortable around with him like this— craning your neck almost painfully towards downtown.

"There’s nothing there. Do you not have your contacts in or something?"

"I got Lasik a few years back, so I'd bet money my vision is better than yours. How are you not seeing it?"

Lasik? This is news to you. If you weren't still trying to find this dot he's talking about you'd whip around, staring deep into his pupils like Lasik would have somehow left a mark that confirms what he's saying, a brand of some sort, but you keep your gaze sharp on the horizon of this fabled Namsan.

You do end up speaking out loud though, absentmindedly. "I guess that’s not super surprising.”

"What?"

"It’s not surprising that you got Lasik. You used to talk about it a lot in highschool."

"I did?"

"Yeah, you used to complain about those big goggles they'd make you use during your games. And that putting in contacts every morning was annoying and took forever, but how you hated using glasses too, cause the glass was so thick that they made your eyes look funny."

You’re not paying attention to how odd it might be that you just... remember all that stuff. Especially because he'd never really been talking to you when he said these things. You'd just overheard by chance, during the myriad of times you’d wind up in the same place as him somehow; whether it was the kitchen before school whenever he’d drop by a little too early and your mom forced him to eat breakfast with you and Mark, or when you’d hide on the stairs and eavesdrop on all of your brothers friends when they’d come over after basketball games.

"But I never really got it," you add, "’Cause to me you always looked pretty either way. Glasses and Goggles and whatnot. They were cute.”

You squint at a blinking red speck hovering right on the edge, near the corner of the building.

“Christ, is that seriously it, Lee? That tiny red thing all the way over there? How the hell did you even see that through all these clouds?”

He says nothing. Another few moments go by as you try to confirm if that's really what you're seeing, and you think it is Namsan Tower, there’s even a few more little white lights you hadn’t paid attention to at first because you’d thought they were just very persistent stars. Shit. His vision is better than yours.

What a normal person would do now is turn around and relent— because, you remember belatedly, you’re still attempting to be normal— and tell him you’d miraculously been wrong, maybe rib him a little for his bionic eyes cheating for him, something friendly and nice and casual, but you don’t get the chance.

Why? Because when you turn, there’s less than two feet of space between you both.

As if Jeno had also been trying to look for the tower, he is now crowding you against the corner of the balcony— arm still curled around the railing, but now limp as he stares down at you instead. Which means, since you've turned around, you're practically face to face.

And he looks... surprised.

"What?" you blurt quickly, “What happened?”

He blinks hard and then looks away altogether, back into the black night of rain. His mouth is pursed into a very thin line, like he’s trying not to either laugh or frown.

"You thought I was pretty?" he asks.

Oh? Oh. “What?”

You stare at him for a very long moment, completely not following, and his lip only twitches in response.

Is he… smiling?

And then it hits you like a sack of bricks. You thought I was pretty?

Oh, God. Instantly, your expression sours— you almost want to hit him when you finally realize what that dumb, pleased look on his face is for (although it’s definitely more out of embarrassment at your own slip up because shit, did you really say that? Outloud?)

"You’ve got to be kidding,” you groan. “That’s what you’re looking all shellshocked for? Like that's something you need to hear from me, when you hear it all the time!”

You’d have thought you called him ugly with how Jeno’s smile suddenly vanishes. "All the time?"

Your mouth opens quickly to respond, already indignant, but when you catch the look on his face no sound comes out. His expression has turned into something much more curious than teasing now, eyebrows furrowed as you say nothing— He speaks again before you can figure out how to answer, yet another question, soft enough that it’s nearly lost in the thundering of the rain over the awning.

"And what makes you think that’s something I wouldn’t want to hear from you?"

You hear it loud and clear, yes, but as soon as the words are out of his mouth you’re still positive you’ve misheard him.

Is he insinuating that he would’ve wanted to know you thought he was pretty? No. There’s no way that’s what he said. Are you still drunk? (Or has Lee Jeno’s presence in your life just been so brain-breaking lately that your mind is starting to pull illusions on you? Because why… Why would Lee Jeno ever give a shit what you thought about him?)

"I mean, it's— It’s not like it's a secret that you look like this," you eventually force out, both audibly and visibly flustered, which you hate yourself for. “I thought it was a given, that you know…. You’re obviously…”

“That I’m what?”

Hot, your traitorous brain supplies quickly. Cute? Pretty, attractive, stunning, chiseled from marble and yet soft and warm like watercolor, annoyingly beautiful—

You glance away from him. "You know what.”

You’re embarrassed. Your voice has hardened a little with it, almost petulant, which is immediately annoying for multiple reasons, the biggest being that he’s even able to affect you like this at all after one stupid question. All those guys flirting with you at Wooyoung’s party a few hours ago and you’d brushed it off with ease, but Lee Jeno only looks at you and you can’t even meet his eyes? When did you become so uncool?

After a few awkwardly intense seconds you see him shift like he’s finally going to say something, and it’s merely a gift from the heavens that Jaemin’s voice rings out just then. It careens right through the crack in the balcony door, a sing-songy “Jeeeeno!” that shatters the atmosphere like tempered glass— quickly followed by, "And you too, Rockstar! Food is ready, come and get it before we eat it all! You’ll both catch a cold out there!”, and with the sudden reminder that, oh, yeah, you’re actually not alone in this house, you regain some of your lost composure.

You blast Jeno with a smile wide enough to signal airplanes and take one large step away from him. “Right. Food. Food! You’re hungry, right?”

Needless to say you do not wait for an answer. With haste you maneuver back into the house, quickly finding your way to the coffee table that Jaemin is in the middle of setting with plates and dishes, plastering a (hopefully) convincing look of wonder on your face. Your cheeks are already aching from the pull. How much faking have you had to do today?

“Smells great!” you say saccharinely, “Which one is mine?”

“The one with the extra sauce and chives,” Jaemin replies as you sit down, but peeks over his shoulder in his walk back to the kitchen to fix you with a warning glare. (He remembered that you like extra greens. Nice.) “But don’t you dare start eating before I get back with the sides, I know how you get. Sit and wait.”

“Wait? What do you mean wait? I thought you said it was done—”

“Sit and wait!”

Frowning, you abide by his scolding, still too scattered to argue.

Donghyuck stirs when you plop down beside him. “I helped too,” he says to you proudly. Somi is on his other side, splayed out on the ground swiping away at her phone, one foot crossed lazily over his legs. He doesn’t seem to care (or realize) that they’re there. Huh. You’re pleased that they seem to be getting along well, but they’re both pretty much the most outgoing people you know so it’s not earth-shattering that in the few hours they’ve become acquaintances they’ve also somehow already evolved to getting touchy. Jeno is sitting at the metaphorical head of the coffee table on your left, and Jaemin’s steaming bowl is directly across from yours.

“All I saw you do was wash a baby carrot.”

“All of the baby carrots. And the chives, which was way more difficult to do after Somi already cut them up into microscopic pieces. I boiled the eggs and fried the onions, too. You love eggs, so when you eat them and your face falls off with how good they taste, I’m definitely taking credit for that.”

You and Donghyuck used to argue a lot when you were younger. He was the loudest of your brother's friends and loved to rile you up just as much as you loved to prove him wrong, especially during those rare afternoons spent in his presence when you’d been in too good of a mood to pretend Mark’s commune were the bane of your existence. A handful of times, you spared an hour or two to watch TV with them or steal some of their food. (They always happily offered you some, but it made you feel better about avoiding them when you assumed they were feeding you begrudgingly.)

“I used to love eggs,” you tell Donghyuck snootily, that old squabbling-habit kicking in full force. “Who says I still do?”

“It’s not hard to tell, though,” Jeno pipes up. The last person you’re expecting to speak right now is him and it shows pretty obviously in how your head whips around. “Mark has been buying eggs like crazy because you eat through them so fast, which makes it obvious because Mark hates eggs. Every time I come over there’s a whole new box in the fridge. You’re like Dwane The Rock Johnson. That guy eats a carton of raw eggs a day.”

Silence.

Your mouth opens, then closes. Dwayne the rock…?

“Busted! Looks like you’re not as opaque as you think, Rockstar—”

Perfect. An outlet. You whirl back around and sock Donghyuck in the shoulder the second the last word leaves his lips, and his dumb grin is immediately replaced with a grimace as he squeals and jolts. “Stop calling me that.”

“Right! Right, got it, fuck,” he groans. “Christ, I swear your punches didn’t hurt this bad before! Have you taken up Muay Thai or something recently…?!”

Muay Thai? You look down at your first for some reason like the answer will just be laying there across your skin, but all that happens is you see the faded remnants of the scratches on your knuckles from your unfortunate meeting behind Nabi Bar.

Oh.

…Nabi Bar. Nabi bar. Right. The night of Nabi Bar. Jeno’s quick how-to-punch lesson. Apparently, it’s had some effect.

“I didn’t do anything special. I was just like, sixteen the last time I hit you. A lot can change in four years.”

“Liar!” Somi suddenly blurts from the ground, startling both of you. If she wasn’t so hidden behind Donghyuck you’d instantly reach over to pinch her mouth closed. “She works out now. Got a hell of a kick, too, you should see her on those little sandbag things at the gym. Piss her off a little more an’ she’ll show you, I bet, ‘cause— Oh my god, there was this guy once a few weeks ago who got it good when he—”

“Food first,” a voice exclaims.

Jaemin appears from behind you like a ghost holding a tray of little bowls and plates, and oh, you could kiss him for cutting that conversation short. “You will be free to display whatever sadistic desires you please after we eat, okay? Now. Who wants dumplings?”

Somi senses the food and sits up straight, forgetting momentarily about reminiscing, thank god, and you, already famished and now reeling to change the subject, waste no time picking up your utensils to shovel noodles into your mouth.

Midnight Dinner goes relatively peacefully after this. Jaemin and Hyuck argue about some basketball thing you don’t care to tune into, and later Somi cheerily informs the group that half the people at Wooyoung's party got stuck at the airBnB overnight when the weather advisory warning went out and that it’s chaos over there— people allegedly sleeping on the dancefloor and holing up in pantry closets. Thankfully (because your group chat probably would have been awash with death threats from Ryujin if not), Lia managed to get all of your girlfriends the hell out of there in time, and they were now safe and sound at Lia’s place a few blocks away from the party.

However. When the food is eventually finished and Somi’s mouth is no longer occupied, life becomes difficult once again.

Foolishly, you thought you were in the clear. In your head the night’s end would have come like this: you’d peacefully tidy up the table, using your last bit of hospitality to do the dishes while Somi showed the guests their rooms like the good host she is— and while they were off doing that, you’d sneak into the room you always slept in when you were staying over, jump into the shower for just long enough for everyone else to forget about you and go to bed, proceed to go to bed yourself, and finish this seemingly endless fucking day underneath a fluffy, ten-thousand-count threaded duvet, never (or at least for a few hours before they inevitably showed up at Mark’s apartment tomorrow) to see Donghyuck, Jaemin and Jeno, ever again. It was the perfect plan. Infallible. Who could stop you, right?

Netflix could.

Right as you were about to put your plan into action and suggest cleaning up, Hyuck gasped so loudly at your side that you startled and choked on your own spit.

“Did you guys know that all of the Paranormal Activity movies dropped on Netflix tonight at midnight?” he exclaimed, “Like, all of them?”

And that had been the single nail in your perfect plan’s coffin. Whether he already knew that Somi happened to be a horror movie freak or if his outburst was pure coincidence, it didn’t matter. All it took for your friend to catch her second wind of energy was the mention of this fabled ‘Paranormal Activity’, and you watched your plan drift away into Valhalla as Somi insisted that after everyone clean up, you all finish the sleepover with a movie.

It wasn’t the type of insistence that one could simply deny. Somi brought out the puppy-dog eyes. She used her trump card, and it worked. Donghyuck agreed immediately, the adrenaline junkie he is, and none of the rest of you objected either— even though you could even see it in Jaemin’s face that he wasn’t super enthusiastic about a horror movie right before bed, but what was he going to do? Say no to Somi? Who could charm the rosary off of a priest?

So it was with a heavy heart that you trudged through cleaning up, and trudged into your room to shower, and trudged into your duffel to put the pajamas on that you’d brought along (which, thank god, you’d decided to go with a pair of basketball shorts and an old highschool hoodie this time instead of only the big t-shirts you usually just brought to her house), and finally trudged back outside to throw yourself down onto the couch, exhausted and feeling very unlucky.

But at least you get to close your eyes for a little bit before everyone else comes out, right? Right. You bask in the beautiful, dark, ambient living room for… seven entire seconds before a voice rings out above your head.

“Is her brother a bodybuilder?”

God damn it. You crack your eyes open.

Jeno is standing over you with a small frown on his face as he looks at his hands— or where his hands would be, if the sleeves of Somi’s brother's crewneck weren't completely covering them. He’s upside down when you look at him this way, but you can’t be bothered to roll over, so you just tilt your head up (or down?) until you can see him a little better.

“Her brother is a gym rat, yes. But he’s actually not that big. He’s not that much taller than you, actually.”

“He’s not that much taller than me? How is that possible? I look like a kid in this.”

A kid? This causes you to perk up a little bit. You turn slightly, just enough to get a right-side-up idea of what Jeno is talking about— and immediately have to press your lips into a line to keep from laughing. Or coo-ing. Whichever sound would escape first.

He wasn’t wrong about looking like a kid; the black crewneck almost reaches his thighs it’s so long, hanging loosely over his body like he got tangled in a windsail, the sleeves of which folding easily over his hands in what may be the most effective sweater-paws of all time. The sweatpants he’s got on aren’t helping either since they’re dragging on the floor under his socked feet, Jeno’s legs absolutely undistinguishable from cloth as he stands there and… scowls at you?

“What?” you blurt. But as the word comes out, you know exactly why he’s frowning. You’re smiling. He knows you’re trying not to crack up. Oops.

“I knew you were going to laugh,” he mutters, but he doesn’t sound as salty about it as you’d have thought from his glare. “I look stupid. Somi didn’t have anything else, you know. I asked.”

“Why are you explaining yourself to me?” you snicker, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking it.”

Jeno sounded so petulant that you almost felt a little bad for him, but then he folded his arms, adorably haughty, the movement of which making the little sweater-paws comically flop over each other, and the pity is instantaneously obliterated by the intense urge to squish him into a ball and put him in your pocket. Holy shit. Could he get cuter than this? Thankfully, your restraint doesn’t have to last long (you’re pretty sure a vein is about to pop out of your forehead from the sheer force of not trying to cackle) because a sudden booming thud from the guest bedroom hallway snaps both of your attention to the other side of the house.

“No fucking way,” Donghyuck howls. And then all of a sudden he’s here. That’s the thumping— he’s… running? “No way!”

No time to take full note of what he’s wearing (another gigantic hoodie and sweatpants combo) because he’s looking so frantic that his fashion takes the backburner.

“You’re… overreacting,” you hear Jaemin say, following not soon after him, but for some reason not even he sounds sure about his own words. What the hell?

“Why didn’t you tell me— Why— Traitor! Traitor in my own home!”

It’s only when his wide eyes find yours that you realize he’s yelling at you.

“I— I’ve never been to your house,” you attempt quickly, stunned. Unsure, you glance at Jeno, but he seems just as alarmed as you do.

Jaemin grimaces. His steps make no sound because the fabric of his borrowed flannel pajama pants are so long that you actually can't see his feet at all. “Ignore him,” he says. “He… Somi just…”

“I told him who’s clothes he’s wearing,” Somi interrupts casually, coming from the same hallway they’d just come from, most likely her own bathroom. She’s the only one with clothes that fit, obviously; the usual pajama set you’re used to seeing her in, fuzzy and pink, blonde hair tied up into a bun on the very top of her head. It takes you a second to put her words together, the meaning of ‘who’s clothes’, before all of this hubbub makes sense.

“Oh,” you murmur. “Oh. Yeah. Big Jeon. Jeongguk.”

“Jeon Jeongguk!?” Donghyuck wails in exasperation. “Does that make sense?! Grammy award winning soloist Jeon Jeongguk!? Are you crazy! That man is my profile picture on SoundCloud and you didn’t think to tell me that your best friend is his little sister?!”

“I didn’t know you liked him that much,” you hazard lightly, rising to your knees on the couch.

This is a lie. You knew how much Donghyuck idolized Somi’s brother. It was kind of hard not to know when Hyuck had the man’s entire discography memorized. But being that you weren’t really in the business of exposing celebrities (and the fact that never in a million years would you have thought you’d end up in a situation like this) you’d never had the incentive to, you know, tell him.

Which may have been a mistake, because now Donghyuck looks crazed.

He makes a staggered lurch to the couch and you tense, holding your hands out like he might try to tackle you or something, but the fight seems to leave him all at once. He completely bypasses your outstretched arms to flop into the space you’d just occupied on the cushion. The ripple causes you to stumble back into sitting, and you stare down at him. “I’m wearing Jeon Jeongguk’s clothes…”

“Your shoes are in his entryway,” you tell him, just to rub it in. “And you ate his food, and sat on his furniture. You showered with Jeon Jeongguk’s soap. Does that normalize it for you?”

Donghyuck makes a weak sound, like he’s drifting away, all the air being pressed out of a blow-up mattress, and you snicker a little bit. For some reason, you pat his head— it’s instinctual, a soothing gesture you’d express to any friend— but he’s not your friend. And you realize this almost immediately after your hand makes contact with his (surprisingly soft) hair.

So why are you continuing to pat his head?

“Right,” Jaemin says with a sigh, pinching fruitlessly at his nose bridge. “Bomb defused. Or… Bomb exploded, technically. Let’s get this slumber party tied up nicely, yeah?”

You look up, nodding in agreement, and immediately make eye contact with Jeno. It feels like he’d already been looking at you, but he then proceeds to act like he wasn’t when you catch his gaze.

…Okay. Weird. You stop petting Donghyuck’s head. Somi bounds towards the couch, reinvigorated with the mention of the movie, and you try not to side-eye Jeno too much when he plops down onto the couch next to you— at a considerable distance, might you add, like he hadn’t just been on top of you on the balcony an hour ago, but you instantly feel stupid for making that connection and whip your eyes away, once again agitated for some indiscernible reason.

The movie starts normally enough. With an entire couch-full of people and Donghyuck’s warmth at your side, since he’d never really moved from his dent next to you— if anything, sidling up closer once the oh-so-spooky-door-slammings started to happen in the film, because even if he likes to play coy, he’s really a big baby— it was pretty easy to stay grounded and not get too scared by the jumps and bumps on the screen.

Too easy, maybe. Because at one point you swear you were just going to rest your eyes for a little, just take a tiny little break during a slow point in the plot…

And the next time you opened them, everything was dark.

It’s quiet. The TV is off. And you’re… alone? You’re alone.

Groggily, you try to sit up from where you’ve apparently laid down, and your neck aches like you’ve been stuck in this position for hours, but no way it’s been hours, right? You didn’t seriously fall asleep?

However. The more you look around, the more signs point to the fact that, yeah, you totally blitzed it. You fell asleep. During a horror movie, no less. And it seems like everyone else made it through the film, as there’s not a single other person still out here on the couch. (So they couldn’t wake you up when they went to bed? Bastards.)

Once your eyes focus you glare across the house into the kitchen, and spy the time on the oven clock. 5:35AM.

Too early for you to have risen by yourself. You usually won’t wake up even if someone is banging pots and pans together outside of your bedroom door, so what… and why is it so cold in here? Your toes are freezing. The rest of you, not quite as much, because there’s a blanket draped over you that you don’t remember being there when you fell asleep. You sit up all the way, rubbing the crusties from your eyes and looking around again once your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and find the answer to all of your questions in one look over to the source of the chill.

The balcony door is open again, and somebody is out there. Somebody in a big dark sweater, dwarfing their shape behind the fabric, but you’d recognize that pretty profile pretty much anywhere.

Lee Jeno. Again.

“Why are you awake,” you mutter nasally, throat still not completely woken up. This time he does jump at your intrusion— the big eyes and jolt would be funny if it weren’t so chilly out here. The blanket you wrapped around your head and body is doing well to deter the cold, but your feet and face aren’t happy.

“Did I wake you up?” Jeno asks, turning around fully. The black of his hair is just barely distinguishable from the dark blue of early morning.

You stand stiffly in the doorway again, not as confident to join him by the railing as you’d been last night.

“I don’t know. How long have you been out here?”

“Give or take fifteen minutes.”

You shrug. “Then probably not. Fifteen minutes, though? Out here? You must be trying to get sick for real.”

You’re squinting for no good reason other than the fact that you can’t quite open your eyes all the way yet. “And old people don’t fare well with colds, you know.”

He cracks a smile at this, bigger than you’re expecting for that weak of a joke. Before he can respond though, you surprise yourself by speaking first.

“Do you want to share my blanket?”

A beat of silence. It takes a second for your words to catch up with your obviously quite lagging brain, but when they do, you’re hit with a jolt of surprise that almost wakes you up fully. Shit! Again, saying things before you think— this is what got you in hot water last night!

“Actually— Sorry, you probably want to be alone right? Right, I’ll—”

“I wouldn’t mind sharing,” Jeno interrupts with a small smile, and you freeze. “It’s colder out here than I thought it would be. You might as well watch the sunrise with me, right? You’re already up.”

“Sunrise?”

“Yep. Should pop over the horizon any minute now.”

Oh. Your spine de-rigifies.

That is… actually, a very Jeno thing to do. Waking up at the crack of dawn just to see the sunrise.

Now you feel a little dumb for that not being one of the first things you assumed when you first saw him out here. Another second passes before you build the courage to step out again, right back into the spot you’d been last night— but this time, you shrug the edge of the (thankfully) rather large blanket open, and fling it wantonly over Jeno’s head, unsure how this has become your life. Highschool You would be crying tears of blood. (From envy or pride, you’re not sure.)

“Do it so no air gets in,” you instruct, and he obeys easily.

Soon enough you’re two peas in a blanket pod, only your faces poking out, but you’re… closer than you’d anticipated. Even with the size of the blanket. You can feel the fabric of his sweatpants brushing against your leg. If you look up too fast, you might headbutt him.

“This was a good idea,” Jeno murmurs suddenly, and you actually almost do heatbutt him when you jump at how close his voice is. “I forgot you burn like a furnace. I feel like there’s a space heater in here with me.”

You only nod. Anything more than that feels obscene with how quiet it is.

For a few minutes neither of you say anything, silent while the sky slowly blues, purples, and then turns the slightest shade of pink around the edges, a tiny little ray of sunlight peeking through the streets but not quite reaching through the skyscrapers yet. And this is… fine. Just two people watching the sunrise, alone. Acquaintances. Sharing a blanket to detract from the chill morning wind of September, just like regular people do.

“Do you remember Mark’s twentieth birthday?” Jeno asks, out of nowhere.

“His… twentieth?” you echo. “You mean the one you and him had to spend in the ER, because of that longboard Donghyuck got him?”

“That one was also pretty funny,” Jeno smiles, and you roll your eyes. Boys. Of course he’d think getting a matching broken arm cast with Mark Lee would be funny. “But no, that was eighteen. I’m talking about when you and I accidentally locked ourselves out of your house trying to sneak his cake inside. When we had to wait in your old treehouse for an hour for him to come home, in the dark, in the middle of a monsoon?”

Once he mentions the treehouse, the memory hits you like a punch to the gut.

That birthday. Jeez… yeah, how could you forget that? Jeno might as well have just said, ‘Remember the day you realized you had more than just a crush on me?’

With the caliber of feelings you’d had for him at that point, being stuck in that small space had been the highlight of your whole month, forget the fact that you’d torn a hole in your favorite shirt from clamoring up the wooden ladder and your toes had gotten so wet and pruney in your shoes that they bled. If you’d asked highschool you though, if you’d relive all of that bullshit— sprinting across the backyard while a torrential downpour hailed from the sky, laughing at how his glasses fogged completely over by the time you collapsed into the only marginally more sheltered treehouse, the hour you spent in there pressed against his side while you waited for your brother to get home— Yeah, you’d have done it again.

Splinters in your palms, cobwebs and leaves in your hair, the ruined pair of sneakers, all of it. A hundred times over. Just because you were with him, and that was all that ever mattered back then.

Your stomach twists at the recollection, an unfamiliar feeling stirring somewhere under your skin. God. How lame, huh? You’d really been head over heels.

“That was the first time I realized you doubled as a human fireplace,” Jeno says finally, snapping you out of it, and only then do you understand where this is coming from. “I was soaked to the bone, and yet I felt like I was sweating because I was sitting so close to you.”

“You caught the cold so badly the next day that we all genuinely thought you were going to die,” you remind with a short, weak laugh. “If I was supposed to be keeping you warm, I wasn’t doing a very good job of it.”

He hums softly. “You’re doing a pretty good job right now.”

It’s here where you make the first of many mistakes.

Without thinking, you look up at him. The sun has crested over the horizon now, orange rays of sunlight fully peeking through the buildings, and the glow of it is lighting Jeno up a blurred golden, filtering through his black hair and turning it bronze as he smiles off into the distance. It’s such a pretty picture that your thoughts, admittedly, falter quite hard at the sight— and it doesn’t help that when he senses your eyes on him, he glances down.

And again. You’re huddled up under the same blanket. You are very close. Close enough to feel his arm brushing up against yours, and to see the pools of honey brown in the eyes that had looked like such an intense, endless black last night.

(Maybe you’d reminisced too hard. Maybe the memory of that night in the treehouse pulled some feelings up from the long forgotten pit in your chest, the same place that used to flutter when you’d hear Lee Jeno’s name and pound like crazy in the rare times he’d call yours, the place that you’d thought died when he graduated and was never going to bother you again. The place you thought died. Because after what you say next? The only explanation for it is that your pit of love-struck stupidity is still thriving and fucking well.)

“We had an emergency key taped under the porch swing,” you blurt thoughtlessly.

Jeno blinks a few times in quick succession, like those had been the last words he was expecting you to mutter after staring at him so fiercely. “You… What?”

“A key to the front door. I remembered that it was there about fifteen minutes after we climbed into the treehouse.”

Self-preservation finally shows up to the word-vomit party, belatedly locking the key to your mouth so no other stupid confessions can escape— But it’s too late. Despite the intense confusion on his face, it’s clear that he heard you perfectly. You don’t have to be looking at him to feel how hard he’s thinking either; putting the pieces together, trying to understand what exactly you’re telling him— and after what feels like half an hour, Jeno finally speaks.

“So we could have gone inside before Mark got home?”

You cringe a little bit. “Yeah.”

“And you didn’t tell me on purpose?”

“...Yes.”

“Well. Okay,” Jeno eventually says, sounding thankfully only slightly bewildered, and not mad like he’d be well within his rights to be. “Can I ask why you’re telling me this now? Guilty conscience?”

“I don’t… know,” you tell him honestly. “Maybe. You reminded me of it when you brought it up and I guess my brain realized I’d never told you about that. I wasn’t really thinking when I mentioned it. It’s— It’s still very early, I’m not functioning all the way yet. Sorry.”

“Sorry for your brain trying to get you in trouble, or sorry for trapping us in the rain for an hour and a half because you were too embarrassed to tell me that you forgot about the spare key?”

This gets you to look up. What?

“Embarrassed?”

“I mean, after we’d already been soaked through, I don’t think I’d want to bring up the spare either. Why else wouldn’t you say anything?”

Jeno is simply smiling at you again, eyes shaped into those little knowing crescents you used to daydream about, but you can’t stop to admire them right now. That’s why he thought you didn’t tell him?

When you analyze the emotions swirling in your chest you realize that you’re oddly… disappointed. Because you were embarrassed? It wasn’t like you didn’t know Jeno was humble (or just dense, as Donghuck would say), but come on. Is that really the first thing his mind would come to for why a girl would willingly stay up in some wet, old, gross treehouse with a guy when she obviously had the means to go back into her own home? Is it so impossible to guess that it was him you were there for?

Why you’re so disgruntled by his response is unclear, and it seems Jeno has caught on to your displeasure.

“Why are you frowning at me like that?”

“Like what?” you reply hastily. “I’m not frowning at you.”

He squints, and you glance away from his suddenly very analytical stare. “...You are, though. You’re frowning at me right now. You said you weren’t frowning at me while you were frowning. Did I miss something?”

Yeah. You missed everything apparently. The last six years, even.

“No.”

“That’s a lie,” he says immediately. You’re so surprised by the certainty in his voice that you almost forget that you’re trying not to look at him. “You’re doing that thing. With your forehead.”

“Excuse me? I’m not doing anything with my—”

Jeno raises one finger to press right between your eyebrows, relaying the tension you’d unknowingly been holding there, and your words pretty much die in your throat alongside the memory of why you’re even pissy in the first place. “This thing,” he says. “When you lie, your eyebrows get all raised and angry looking. You have a pretty bad poker-face, Rockstar.”

“Stop calling me that,” you mutter automatically, but it has no real heat behind it. God damn it. Could you be more lame? Losing your fight and ire just because he put his finger on your forehead? “And stop stabbing me.”

He takes his finger back. “Are you going to tell me why you didn’t say anything about the key?”

“You answered your own question. I was embarrassed.”

“Liar. Your forehead—” You slap a hand over your eyebrows, and Jeno actually laughs. “... actually isn’t doing anything this time, but now because you did that I know you’re lying anyway. Got you.”

Fuck! Ripping your hand away from your skin, you scowl at him, embarrassed that he figured you out so easily. “Why do you even give a shit, Jeno?”

“I mean, I didn’t until your forehead started telling me differently.”

“My forehead is not— I don't—”

Jeno snickers at your indignance, smiling deviously like he’s enjoying teasing you more than he’s letting on, and your stress worsens.

“You’re the one who brought it up, you know—”

“I know,” you bark, “It’s just—”

“Did you think I’d be mad?”

“No! I— God, is it so hard to believe that I did it because I liked you?”

The words are out before you even realize what you’re saying. Or what you’re doing, should you say which is completely destroying six years of secrecy in one fell, sleep deficient, Forehead-Poking-Fueled haze.

You stare at him, breathing a little hard at both the outburst and in shock, and Jeno stares right back, no longer looking quite as amused. There’s such a long beat of silence at first that you, in your stupor, have the gall to wonder if he didn’t hear you— like that would be possible when you’d basically shouted your half-baked confession in his face— but then Jeno shifts, blinking hard, and all of a sudden the silence did not last long enough.

“You liked me?”

God, it sounds even more delusional out loud. Damage control, Gremlin Brain spits, Damage control! Backtrack, now! Your only saving grace, the only reason you’re not currently trying to find a way to throw yourself off of this balcony, is because he doesn’t sound completely disgusted with you. You force the most indifferent mask you can muster onto your face, attempting to blink the panic out of your expression.

“Liked you? So, maybe— Maybe it was a little, small thing. A kiddie crush, really, nothing to be… talked about…”

“Back then?” Jeno clarifies, sounding… Well, you’re not sure how he sounds and that’s so much worse. “You felt that way in the treehouse? When you were a junior?”

“Yes? Yeah, I mean. Yes. It was a little thing. A tiny thing. Listen—”

“But I thought you stopped liking me after Sungchan asked you out?”

Those twelve words are the equivalent of getting splashed in the face with a cup of ice water.

(Jeno frowns, lips thinning as he thinks. “Or was his name Seunghan?”)

For the first time in probably your entire life, you actually ignore what Lee Jeno is saying to you. As he mumbles to himself about the prospective name of this alleged ‘date’, his previous words echo in your head over and over again like someone replaying the same three-second stretch on a vinyl record— And with each iteration, your skin warms another degree. By the time you finally collect yourself enough to speak, paralyzed with shock, your face is burning so warm with something— disbelief, surprise, straight up fear, you’re not sure yet— that you’re positive that steam is curling out of your pores.

But I thought you stopped liking me after Sungchan asked you out?

(“I swear it was something with an S...”)

Jeno is looking elsewhere as he thinks— Until the incredulity in your voice brings his attention back to the present.

“You… knew?”

“Knew?” His lips twitch with a small smile. Seemingly still not grasping the severity of the shitstorm occuring in your mind, Jeno laughs softly, bashful. “About how you felt? Well. Yeah? You've never really been that subtle about… anything, you know.”

You can’t move. It’s actually beginning to get a little unbearable under this blanket with the sun starting to beam down on you and the added heat from your own ebbing horror, but you can’t move.

You’re being hit with every glaringly obvious cue you've probably ever given him, a rolling tape of embarrassing memories. It’s an attempt happening completely in vain, as trying to find the one that tipped him off is impossible; sifting through years worth of moony-eyes you thought were hidden by your undetectable stealth, the times you’d ‘randomly’ maneuver yourself sitting near him when the chance arose, all the times he’s probably caught you just staring and known exactly why while you thought he was none the wiser.

Holy shit. So the last six years of your life, the two years you’d stopped being obsessed with him included, have been a complete and utter show? A clown show, with you as the main act? Horror overtakes you. Fuck, what you’d give to go back a few minutes and stop yourself from even coming out here in the first place, to keep living in ignorance— he’d known. He’d known! Jeno knew about the giant, stupid crush you had on him, which probably meant that every single time you got flustered or clammed up or been weird around him recently he knew why, and…

Wait. You freeze, current freak-out taken over by another thought that bursts into your mind.

I thought you stopped liking me after Sungchan asked you out?

Sungchan? You rack your brain. Sungchan, the classmate you’d become fast friends with during the first semester of junior year, your sky-scraper tall, smartass of a deskmate for the few months before he grew the courage to ask you out. You’d both tried it out for a few days before realizing that maybe the dating life wasn’t the best avenue for your relationship and amicably returned to being friends, still close even when he ended up transferring to another highschool a few cities away over the summer. Even now you still kept in touch, sending the occasional ‘this deer looks like u’ and ‘omg i just found this polaroid in my old notebook, look at how babie u were’ texts to one another, but that had really been it.

You dated Sungchan for about four and a half days in the grand scheme of things. Not nearly long enough to even dent the ocean of unresolved feelings you’d had about Lee Jeno. Those feelings would continue to haunt you until the ripe old age of eighteen, up until when he and your brother graduated— But if Jeno thought that you completely stopped liking him after Sungchan that meant he didn’t have a clue about the years you still idolized him after that, didn’t it?

For a second you almost feel ill.

(Of course, however. Of course, right as your failing mask of indifference hits its weakest point, that’s when your luck would have Jeno belatedly notice that you are not having nearly as good a time reminiscing about this as he is.)

He finally reads the look on your face, the tightness of your lips and the unmistakable mortification, and his eyes widen so quickly with understanding that you would have laughed if you could release your mouth from its grimace.

“There wasn’t anything wrong with that though,” he blurts, backpedaling, “I mean— It was nice to be thought of so highly by someone like you. It was cute.”

Your smile tightens further.

You know he’s trying. Very hard. To rectify what he must see as him unknowingly upsetting you or something. But his words do exactly the opposite, and the second after he calls it that— the nearly five years you’d spent falling over yourself over someone, who you are now being told, has always just thought your feelings were ‘cute’— something splinters a little bitterly in your chest.

Jeno, to his credit, realizes immediately that he’s misspoken.

You can practically see it in his expression, the wince when you take a step back. It causes the blanket to fall away from you completely, now left hanging lopsidedly on Jeno’s shoulders— the movement of which seems to concern him more than you’re expecting.

“Wait,” he says quickly. “That didn’t come out properly. Y/N—”

Nope. No. You take another step back.

Time to go. What a perfect moment this could be to go back inside. Yep! A convincing yawn here, a shiver, a thanks for the sunset-watching-invitation, and then you can abscond back into the house to the comforting loneliness of your bedroom to immediately and until further notice pretend you never came out here and that none of this ever—

“I would’ve taken you seriously,” Jeno finishes in one short breath, like the words are escaping his mouth without the permission of his brain, “If I could’ve. You know that, right?”

Record scratch.

His mouth opens and closes when you freeze, visibly struggling to find the words to explain what he’s just said (or dropped on you, it feels more like), and you just stare at him, uncomprehending.

“No, I… I don’t know? If you could have? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You— You’re my best friend's baby sister,” he grinds out quietly, like it’s somehow supposed to explain everything, but you’re only left more confused. Confused and, suddenly, at the random mention of Mark at a time like this, on edge. “Not to mention you were like, sixteen—”

“I’m only one year under you though,” you interrupt.

“You skipped a grade in elementary school, I’m aware, but that doesn't make you any older. Two years is a big difference.”

“It really isn’t? Especially not when both people involved are adults, and did you forget about Yooa? The girl who confessed to you when you were a senior, that you dated, who was definitely only a few months older than me?”

Jeno’s eyebrows furrow like you’d just asked him if he remembered the eye color of somebody he met when he was five. He frowns like he’s trying to recall exactly who you’re talking about, this girl who’s entire name, history, and zodiac sign you’d had emblazoned into your mind because when she first started dating Jeno you’d cried for an hour straight and then proceeded to cyber-investigate the girl’s twitter to torture yourself a little more.

“So unless four or five months really makes all the difference to you, I’m calling bullshit on the age thing, which now begs the question— what the hell does ‘taking me seriously’ have to do with my brother?”

“It has everything to do with your brother,” Jeno replies eventually, voice taut. “And you and I both know you and Mark don’t always see eye to eye, so I really think it would be best if we just dropped—

“Did he say something to you?” you mutter, accusatory. “About me?”

“He—It’s not that easy, Y/N. Mark wasn’t—”

You scoff, boiling over. “Mark didn’t this, Mark doesn’t that, does being ‘best friends’ also mean that you’re obligated to be his lapdog? What is it with you guys and deferring to his every whim?”

Jeno’s words cut short. You’re pushing it, even for someone as controlled and notoriously difficult-to-rile as Jeno, and the burgeoning tick in his jaw is telling you as much, but you’ve never really been one to heed warnings. And now you’re pissed, so the tense pull between his eyebrows is peas to you. “Or are you going to be a big boy and tell me what he—”

“Mark didn’t tell me anything,” Jeno finally relents, sharper than you’re used to, but you hold your ground when he takes a step forward. “I acted like I didn’t know how you felt on my own, because what else was I supposed to do when Mark only ever spoke about you like you put the stars in the sky? Once I met you he started telling me about your grades. He’d get so excited to tell me how you were doing in dance, or what new music you were blasting in your room, or whatever new achievement you got and thought he didn’t notice, and after a while I found myself thinking about you when I wasn't even with him and that scared the shit out of me. Why? Because he's my best friend. Do you think I didn’t already know exactly how he felt about anyone that even so much as looked at you?”

And so the dam breaks. These are the most words you think he’s ever spoken in one setting and stunned by the intensity in his voice, you can only listen.

“Not to mention that by the time I figured out whatever I was feeling, there were only a few weeks left before I moved to Seoul for university. So I left it alone.”

He blinks, hard. “And eventually you got over me. So it’s—"

“If you say it’s alright, Lee Jeno, I’ll deck you.”

You don’t know where the fury comes from. Maybe it’s not anger at all. Maybe it’s the wave of disappointment, regret, resignation, and sadness from what could have been, all rolled into one. But it comes out as rage, the flare in your eyes and the resentful edge to your words.

“Have you ever wondered why Mark and I don’t see ‘eye to eye’, Jeno?”

His lips part, but no sound comes out. Whether it’s because he knows better than to answer right now or because he genuinely doesn’t know, you’re not aware.

“Because of this,” you mutter, “Because of this. Did you know that there was a point in my childhood where the feeling was mutual? A point where Mark was my favorite person in the entire world? I couldn’t imagine a single day where I’d want to be anywhere but with him. He was my brother, my friend— but then, as most people do, I got older. And when I got older and ceased to be the little thing that followed his every suggestion, when I stopped wanting to do everything the same safe way he did it, he stopped seeing me as that friend and started treating me like something he needed to protect. Instead of being brave, I became reckless. Everything I wanted to do became dangerous. Everyone I hung out with was a bad influence, every place I went was unsafe. He stopped trusting me.”

The laugh between your words is humorless.

“And for years, I thought it was my fault. That I did something to make him lose so much faith in me. Do you know what that feels like?”

The crack in your voice makes Jeno look away sharply. It’s quick, as though the sound had physically grabbed him, and the movement is what snaps you back to the painful present.

You take a step back, hastily blinking the very unwelcome burn from your eyes— It’s 7AM on a Saturday morning and you’re yelling at Lee Jeno on your best friend's balcony. When did your life get to this point?

“For the better part of four years, all I looked for was you. But because I’m your best friend's little sister, even though you knew, you did nothing, right? Because Mark said so?”

Jeno bristles again. “Mark didn’t say—”

“He didn’t have to say it!” you shout. “Mark doesn’t trust me to make my own decisions and somehow that ended up making the only boy I’ve ever loved keep his mouth shut when he could’ve liked me back. Does that make sense?”

Jeno’s eyes fly back to your face. If you thought he’d been surprised when you told him you liked him, then the look on his face right now would be one to snap a picture of. Oops. Guess you weren’t supposed to let that word slip— only four letters and yet such a big, big difference. But it probably doesn’t matter since you’ve already gone and fucked it all up by accidentally confessing.

You gather what little boldness you have left and look him right in the eyes.

"I’m only going to ask you this now,” your voice is wavering, but you ignore it, “Because a younger me used to lose sleep wondering what your answer would be.”

He must know what’s coming. You watch his eyes flash a million things, none of them decipherable.

“Am I only ever going to be Mark's little sister to you? No matter what?"

One beat.

Two beats.

His lips part as though to speak,

Three.

But nothing comes out.

A car honks down on the street below. A strong breeze sends goosebumps rising across your skin. A song goes off somewhere inside the house, a sudden singing twinkle; Jaemin’s alarm. You’re able to recognize it from the dozens of times he’s slept over at Mark’s place. He’d said something last night about having to leave super early, swim team practice or the like; he must’ve left his phone out in the living room somewhere, but the guy has ears like a hawk and has no doubt heard the tune from whatever blanket he’s under. He’ll come out to turn it off any second now, and you don’t want to be out here when he does.

“At least you’re honest,” you tell a very troubled-looking Jeno with a small, plastic smile.

You don’t wait for an answer, and you don’t turn back for the entirety of the walk back inside— and then, once you’re out of eyesight, the glazed over stumble— to your guest room. You slowly take out the extra duvet from the closet, wrap it around yourself like the world's saddest burrito, collapse onto the bed, and try your damndest not to cry.

(Safe to say that after about ten seconds, you lose that fight terribly.)

[♥︎]: and there it is, folks! please leave a like if you enjoyed! it REALLY gives me the motivation to work on this faster! [chapter edited & updated on 12/20/23!]

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mostlikelytofangirl · 10 days

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Fic Writer Q&A

Got tagged by @jgydidnothingwrong :D

How many wips do you have currently?

Oooooh boy, way too many ^^;. Gonna list them in order from most to least likely to see the light of day orz

Ruoyao fake dating sugar daddy AU - currently ongoing

Omegaverse modern sangcheng - currently ongoing

Nieyao reconnecting by taking care of drunk LXC - for nieyao week

Xiyao endgame Mamma mia AU - planned for when the sc one ends

MY helping xusang by distracting WRH after accidentally getting betrothed to WX - I just think it's hilarious

Modern chengyao giving JL a puppy - a whole chapter long already

WRH trapped in a loop until he convices MY not to kill him - two whole chapters long already

A weird ass modern chengyao shared custody that can either be sangcheng&3zun or actual chengyao endgame - structure done and a few chapters

JZX is Madam Jin's bastard - one long chapter almost done

JGY as surrogate for xuanli - half chapter done

Post-nieyao revenge dating sangyao - got two chapters done

I have ideas for other fics too, but those don't have a sole word written yet, and this list is long enough lol

Which one are you finding the hardest to finish?

Everyone has their own reasons why they are still WIPs :'). But rn the omegaverse shangcheng one bc it's almost done but my brain is fixated on the ruoyao one bc it's HUGE, so it won't focus on the other one and let me finish it already.

What does it usually look like when inspiration strikes for you?

It looks like me either forcing myself to work on something and finding my mojo along the way so I actually get a good chunk done... or opening yet another new file to pour down all my sudden ideas and feels for a new WIP :P

Do you curate playlists for each fic or is your process different?

Not really. I used to, but unless the mood of a song matches the story perfectly, I normally don't bother anymore or just put background jazz to cancel outside noises. If I'm very into a song at that moment, then I just play it and somehow my brain will manage to make it match what I'm writing XD

Do you go balls to the wall and write as you go or are you more organized?

Normally I just roll with it. I have a general idea of where is it going and how I want it to go and let Jesus take the wheel :'D. Only when I have WAY too many ideas for a fic that is going to be LONG I get organized with a proper structure and timeline, like the ruoyao one and the possibly two endings one.

I tag @wishthefish, @thebiscuiteternal and @hereticcryptid

#tagged #I'm sick rn and should be using my time to get work done #but I'm not #even if I have a lot of wips #bc it's break month #and damn is it hard

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maladaptive-day-dreams · 2 years

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Wet Dream

Eddie x fem!reader, smut 18+, 2.8k words Inspired by these lyrics from Wet Dream by Wet Leg: What makes you think you're good enough / To think about me when you're touching yourself?

CW: mutual masturbation, sub!Eddie and then not so subby Eddie(so technically switch!eddie?), praise, enemies to lovers vibes, hate sex (unprotected p in v, wrap it up kiddos)

here ya go ya filthy animals (me included bc I wrote this and am feelin a lil depraved rn)

Eddie Tags: @eddiemunsonfuxks

You and Eddie Munson have had a rivalry since he started at Hawkins Elementary in 5th grade. Neither of you are sure how it started or why but both of you were always so annoyed with each other whenever you were in the same room with each other—so much so that the Principle was on a first name basis with your parents and Eddie’s Uncle Wayne, and they were on a first name basis with each other.

You won’t deny that Eddie is hot. You even agree to it when your girlfriends all fawn over him and his hair and his voice and his waist and his hands, god his hands. But you only ever admitted to you slight attraction to Eddie in the secrecy of girl’s night—and all your gal pals know not to say a word about it to anyone.

And then, Eddie started dealing drugs once you both started High School and Reefer Rick stopped selling to you and other high schoolers since he had an inside guy now. Taking away your go to dealer gave you a new reason to dislike Eddie. Now your attraction was annoyance and while picturing his lithe body and rough hands had definitely become a part of your ‘self care’ routine, just the thought of him soured your mood.

Your friend Paul was happy to be your little deal mule once you offered to throw in an extra $20 for his ‘services’ though. But then Paul got a lil greedy and only gave you half of your order the last two times you asked him to get you weed from Eddie. You obviously gave him a lil knockabout that might’ve resulted in a black eye and a busted lip, and you having to get your weed yourself now.

So that’s why you’re here. Pounding on Eddie’s trailer door at 11pm on a Friday night after you worked up the guts to get your own weed since you smoked your last mini joint—your attempt at making your last ounce last—yesterday night. But Eddie won’t open the fucking door.

“Eddie!” you berate through the door as you knock again.

No answer.

“Stupid, fucking asshole, he probably won’t open the door because it’s me. What a dick,” you mutter under your breath. “Paul mentioned a key somewhere on the porch for in case Eddie was asleep or in the bathroom or something when he came by. But where the fuck did he say it was?”

You lift up the doormat, nothing. Check in the mailbox by the door, nothing. Raise up one plant, nothing, next plant, nothing. The only thing left is a giant stone that looks way too heavy, but as you go to lift it it comes right up.

“Styrofoam with a wood insert for weight. Clever,” you laugh as you remove the key from its spot under the fake rock.

You knock three times again before giving a warning, “Eddie I’m coming in! You’ve got 20 seconds to put away any porn magazines!”

Putting the key in the handle, you turn it until theres a click and open the door. Stepping inside, you notice that it’s surprisingly clean compared to what you thought Eddie’s place would be like. You walk further inside and drop the key on the table by the door. Shoving your hands in your jean jacket pockets you call out again.

“Eddie? I know you’re here, your van is parked outside.”

You don’t get a response but you do hear noises coming from a room down the hall. Curious, you move towards it. The giant DIO poster on the door obviously means it’s Eddie’s room, but you could also tell because the door was cracked just enough for you to see Eddie face twisted up in concentration, forehead a little slick with sweat.

Realizing what he’s probably doing, you turn around quickly and start to step away and towards the front door but you stop dead in your tracks because Eddie just moaned your name.

“Y/N, fuck me, yes.” His voice was rougher than usual, laced with lust. You squeeze your thighs together, because even though you despise him that was fucking hot as hell to hear. But then you remember that you despise him and instead of walk away you swing open his door and ask a very hard and very surprised Eddie a question.

“What makes you think you’re good enough to think about me when you’re touching yourself?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide as he removes his hands from his hard dick and quickly tries to cover himself with a blanket.

“Fuck! Y/N what the fuck are you doing here?” He asks frantically.

“I came to get weed because I ran out and can’t trust Paul to give me what I pay for anymore.”

“You could’ve fucking knocked!” he yells in annoyance.

“I did! A lot! For like 10 minutes straight! It’s not my fault you were horny and too busy thinking about me to stop touching your cock and come sell me an ounce of weed!” Your chest rises up and down quickly after your outburst. “And again, Eddie. What makes you think you’re good enough to think about me when you’re touching yourself, huh?”

Eddie shrinks beneath your domineering gaze, trying to curl away from you. “I–“

“Ah ah ah,” you tsk, shifting closer to the edge of his bed. “Look at me, and answer my question.”

Eddie’s eyes meet yours and you can tell he’s a little subby baby, which brings a smile to your face.

“I–I’m sorry. I just, I won’t, I–“

“Why are you such a nervous lil boy, Eds? Do you think I’m mad at you?”

Eddie looks at you slightly confused, “you’re not mad?”

“Oh no baby, I’m not mad. I’m just surprised, and a little upset you didn’t ask for permission first.” His eyes go wide as you toe off your shoes and sit in front of him on his bed.

“‘m sorry,” he whimpers, bowing his head. “Can I?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you say, running a hand up his bare leg towards the blanket bundled on his lap. “Do you think you deserve to imagine me sucking you off when you rub yourself?”

His leg twitches under your soft touch and you can see his lower stomach muscles tighten at your dirty question.

“Tell me, Eddie baby, do you think of my mouth on your cock or my pussy?”

He groans and bucks his hips into the blanket slightly, muttering a silent apology.

“Answer me.”

“Both,” he gasps as your hand finds its way under the blanket, fingertips brushing his balls.

“Good boy,” you praise and Eddie whines. “I think I’ll let you finish fucking your hand.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide again, big brown eyes searching your face for a lie.

“But,” you pause. “You have to follow my directions, and look at me the whole time. Ok?”

He nods silently and eagerly.

“Words, Eddie. Gimmie your words.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Now take off the blanket and let me see you.”

Eddie’s hand reaches for the blanket covering himself and removes it slowly, dick jumping as he does.

“Fuck, your cock is so pretty Eds,” you say shifting a pillow behind you so you can sit comfortably, legs criss crossed. “You wanna touch yourself?”

“Please.”

“Ok, go ahead and stroke yourself, but keep it slow. Don’t want you cumming too soon.”

He does as you say, his dominant hand coming to grip himself at the base of his dick and slowly bringing it to the tip. He repeats the motion three times, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“Good, now squeeze at the top this time.”

He does, and lets out the deepest groan you’ve heard from him yet. It grows from the center of his chest and releases as he squeezes his sensitive tip. You shift your hips at the sound, slightly grinding yourself on his bed. His eyes flick to your center as you do so and you decide in that moment to give him some fodder for his imagination. His eyes follow your hands as you reach down to rub yourself over your jean shorts, your strokes matching Eddie’s speed.

“Slow down baby,” you say as you unbutton your shorts and pull the zipper down. He doesn’t follow your directions and instead moves a little faster, so you halt your own movements. “Hey, Eddie, eyes up here.”

His eyes flick up immediately to meet yours. “Good boy. Slow down.” He nods and does as he’s told.

“Eye’s up still okay?” you half say, half ask. Once you’re certain he won’t look away, you resume your movements, placing your feet on the bed and lifting your hips to remove your shorts and panties. Settling back into the pillows with your legs butterflied to make sure Eddie can see you, you nod at him, allowing him to watch your hands as they trail down your clothed stomach to your mound.

You lightly trail your pointer and ring fingers down your lips, and run your middle finger through your slit on the upward stroke, Eddie sighing at the sight and sound of your arousal. You tease and circle your clit a few times before giving him his next instruction.

“Play with your balls while you watch me.”

Eddie’s free hand that was previously strangling the sheets to his side reaches below his dick to play with his heavy sack. The two of you stay like this for a few minutes, watching each other intently. Eddie touching and teasing and squeezing his balls while you circle and pinch your clit, working yourself into a heady haze, the coil in your belly starting to tighten.

“Ok baby. Stroke yourself to my rhythm,” you gasp shifting your fingers from your clit to your entrance. You circle yourself once, twice, before inserting a finger.

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters at the sight of you fingering yourself. His hand resumes it’s place on his throbbing cock. You match each other’s pacing, Eddie fucking his hand as fast as you ride your own.

Both of you are panting as you watch each other, Eddie’s eyes glued to where your fingers disappear into your cunt, and yours glued to the rough fuck of Eddie’s hand on his dick. “I–fuck–I’m close baby. Are you almost there? Are you ready to let go?”

Eddie can’t talk, his hazy desire covers him in want, but his eyes meet yours, his mouth dropped open in a moan. “Let go, Eds.”

He does, covering his stomach in his release as the coil in your stomach snaps and you coat your hand with your own release. Your moans echo through the room, paired with the wet sounds of you finger fucking yourself through your orgasm, Eddie’s eyes still glued to your glistening cunt.

“Fuck,” you say, pulling your fingers from your pussy and wiping them on Eddie’s now very dirty comforter. A sigh falls from your lips as you smile at Eddie.

“I want to be in you so badly,” he admits in his post-nut haze.

“Is that so?” you tease, shifting your legs behind you and getting up on your knees. “Wanna feel my pretty pussy on your cock? Squeezing you so good?”

“I fucking hate you,” he laughs as his dick begins to harden again.

“Mmm but you were such a good boy just a few minutes ago. Doing as your told? Such an obedient baby.”

Eddie’s eyes flick to yours as you crawl closer to him on the bed.

“I wouldn’t mind riding your pretty cock,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You hover just over his dick, hands braced on his bare chest, and you can feel the heat of it on your pussy as you slowly lower yourself onto him, running your wet cunt over him. He hisses as his tip catches your hole.

“Just fucking ride me already, Y/N. Stop fucking teasing,” he says through gritted teeth.

“What happened to my nice boy that was just begging for permission to think about me while he touched himself?”

“He came. And now he wants to fuck you.”

“Ah what a real gentleman. This is why I don’t like you,” you spit out, rubbing yourself over his cock again to rile him up.

“You don’t have to like me to ride me,” he smirks up at you.

“Yeah but I don’t know if I want to give it to you now. I kind of want to make you beg—oh fuck.”

Eddie didn’t let you finish. He grabbed your hips and slammed up into you, knocking the air from your lungs in a throaty moan.

“Not so hot when you’re not in control huh?” he teases. Smiling up at you as he fucks up into you. You move your hands from his chest to his thighs behind you, and start to bounce on his hard cock.

“Fuck Eddie, you’re so fucking big,” you gasp as his mushroom tip hits your g-spot with every bounce. Eddie’s hands grip your hips tightly, sure to leave a bruise.

“Yeah? Do I feel good?”

“Shut up.”

“Awe but I wanted another compliment,” he laughs as one hand leaves your hip to find your clit. He rubs circles around the engorged bud and lets you ride him at your own pace now.

“I still despise you Munson.”

“Feeling is still mutual, Y/L/N. We’ll just fuck and go back to hating each other. No big deal.”

Your thighs begin to burn and your movements slow. Eddie notices and lifts you up and off of his cock.

“What are you–?”

He flips you on to all fours and kneels behind you, lining himself up and entering you again, slowly this time. You squeeze around him once he’s buried to the hilt, and then he’s pounding into you at a relentless pace. His body engulfs yours as he leans over you, hand pushing your upper back into the bed as he continues to bottom out with every thrust into your wet pussy.

The sounds in the room are animalistic. The squelching from his dick moving in and out of your cunt, your moans muffled in the comforter, Eddie’s hot and heavy breath coming out in puffs on your shoulder. He leans back up, wrapping one hand in your hair to bring you up with him. Untangling his hand from your hair he wraps it around your stomach to keep your back to his chest while his other hand reaches down to give attention to your clit again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant out, coil in your belly tightening again. “I’m so close.”

“Yeah,” he laughs teasingly. “I can tell, your cunt is gripping me so hard right now.”

“Shut it, Munson, and make me cum.”

“Fuck, fine, but god knows I’ll bust as soon as you do so where do you want me?”

“Inside, I’m on the pill and impatient.”

“Shit,” he mutters into your neck. Eddie puts more pressure on your clit as his thrusts become sloppier. “Cum, come on, let go.”

And you do. You both do. As soon as Eddie feels your release cover his cock, his release coats your walls. He ruts up into you a few more times before pulling out of your warm, wet cunt and leaning back on his headboard. “Never took you for a domme-type, Y/N.”

“Never took you for a hard switch. I definitely prefer you as the sweet little obedient sub from earlier though.”

“Not a word of that to anyone, okay. I’m the dom with most hookups, you just caught me in the moment.”

“You really think I’d admit to people that we fucked?” You reach for and grab your panties and shorts before sliding off the bed to slip them on. “I can’t let people know I caved,” you laugh. “So, how much for an ounce?”

Eddie laughs, “not gonna lie, I forgot that’s why you were here.”

“How much for an ounce, Munson,” you sigh slipping your shoes back on.

“Why do you want so much?”

“The fewer times I have to see you outside of school the better.”

Eddie feigns heartbreak, “ouch, Y/N, that hurts.” He pouts as he reaches into his bedside table and pulls out a bag of weed. “I’ll do it for $80. We can call it the Wet Dick Discount.”

“This is another reason why I don’t like you,” you mutter, handing him the money.

“Listen, I got off, you got off, I got money, you got your weed. I think it was a solid interaction.”

“Yeah well, don’t expect it to happen again.”

“Have $160 next time then. Or plan to see me a little more often in your free time.”

…it definitely happened again…a few times…of course the Wet Dick Discount was only ever given to you…

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