#He is very tuned in to whats happening. If you talked to him his ass wouldnt be listening

[oodlesodoodles]

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

W.C › 12k

Warnings › bottom male reader. Reader is a bit immature. If you wanted an example of the bands music: Love Countdown vs Black Rose. Translations at the end. Some homophobia with a slur but very light. Unhinged OC, he’s crazy

Plot › This post I had but expanded.

Kinks › size difference, pain, possessive, lite spanking, toxic, dacryphilia, dubcon

Words to know › maknae (막내) — youngest. Hyung (형) — a term a younger male with call an older male. Jagiya/Jagi (자기야) — “sweetie/baby.” Seonbae (선배) — title of respect for someone in a higher position of you, usually work/school. Dongsaeng (동생) — little brother/sister, doesn’t have to be a biological sibling/can be a friend.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

안녕하세요, 러브카운다운입니다!

박도현

Leader, 1997, Bassist, main vocalist

신원식

1998, Guitarist, lead vocalist

유키

1999, Drummer

양준호

2000, keyboardist, lead vocalist

이영재

2002, guitarist, sub vocalist

초 (Name)

Maknae, (B.Year), guitarist, violinist, main vocalist

Festival performance this Friday at Yellow Wood University, 8 PM KST

A giddy grin spread on your lips as you looked at the social media post your company posted not even an hour ago. There were mainly positive comments, everyone excited to see you all live after listening to the debut album.

You debuted into Love Countdown just five months and your band was already getting love most bands would kill for.

Your music was certainly good but it did help most of your band mates were practically model material. Any type of fans were fine with you, even if all they cared about was one of your band mates abs.

The sound of the front door opening caught your attention as you exited out of Twitter and looked up. As with most groups, you lived in an apartment with your band mates. Lucky for you, your company wasn’t inhumane and forced six men to group in one small apartment.

You roomed with Junho and Young-Jae. While Dohyun, Yuki, and Won-Shik roomed together right next door.

“Hey, Hyung. You bought any dinner?” You asked, watching as Young-Jae only had to walk two steps to get into the kitchen. Hey, your company wasn’t that rich.

“Just pizza because I’m not buying your picky ass anything else ever again.” He said, placing it on the kitchen countertop. “Can’t believe you didn’t even attempt to eat the expensive Italian food I bought last time.”

“No one told you to buy me Italian food.” You rebutted, walking over to grab a slice.

“Ungrateful brat.”

“Love you too, Hyung.”

You grabbed two pizzas slices as Young-Jae put away the groceries he bought.

“Hey, is your violin tuned? Dohyun Hyung was on my ass because of what happened last time.”

Last time meaning you pulled out your violin to play a song from your album and it sounded like absolute shit. You were lucky the crowd found it cute and were just laughing as you hurriedly tried to tune the violin. The perks of being the cute maknae!

“Of course, I wouldn’t want Dohyun Hyung to spank you again.”

“He did not spank me, stop being weird.” Young-Jae rolled his eyes, reaching over to deliver a smack to the back your head. You cried out in pain as you glared at him.

“Do you know who else is playing at the festival? I didn’t pay attention when Manager Nayoung was talking.”

“Of course you didn’t. Mostly solo artists. I think a rock band is playing there… can’t remember their name. Starts… like uh…” Young-Jae sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Le..? No… Uh. Damn. It was something edgy.”

“Edgy?”

“Yeah. Their music is all rock and emo. The made the OST to that crime kdrama you watched. Seriously… their name isn’t long, why can’t I remember?”

“You’re getting old.”

Young-Jae looked up at you, his eyes narrowing. “Say that again?”

“What?”

“(Name)….”

“Hyung…”

You both stared at each other as a slight smirk pulled on your lips.

“You fucking……!”

“I’m home.”

The door opened just before Young-Jae could attack you. You shrieked and immediately ran to your savior, clinging to Junho. Junho was unfazed as he wrapped his free arm around your waist and tugged you close, closing the door with his foot.

“Pizza for dinner? Thanks.” Junho said, placing his bags down on the kitchen counter.

“Stop protecting that little shit, Hyung. I need to give him a spanking.” Young-Jae glared at you with a murderous intent in his eyes.

You giggled. “Oh~ so kinky Hyungie~! Should I pull my pants down?”

“You…!!!”

Junho maneuvered you away just as Young-Jae made an attempt to grab you. You wrapped your arm around Junho’s neck and grinned, sticking your tongue out at Young-Jae as a sign of victory.

“Hm, Junnie Hyung, do you know that emo band that’s playing at the festival this Friday?” You asked, looking up at Junho.

“Hm. Black Rose?”

Black Rose? Hm… Why did that sound familiar?

You were about to think more until your stomach growled.

Forget it. It’s probably nothing important anyway.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Looking good boys. Your first ever festival performance. Let’s do great okay?! Fighting!” Manager Nayoung said as she patted you on the back.

You gave her a smile as you glanced at yourself in the mirror. There were hearts drawn over your nose, almost like freckles. Being the maknae meant you usually got the more cutesy makeup compared to the others.

Dohyun was always… more naked compared to everyone else. You glanced over at your leader and couldn’t help but stare at his ass. He was wearing a crop top with no sleeves, a waist chain and sinfully tight leather pants. You were almost jealous of his abs but also wanted to touch them again.

Your eyes flickered over to Young-Jae and you almost laughed to see him unabashedly staring right at Dohyun’s ass. You sauntered over to him and smacked his head.

“Hey, are you trying to burn a hole through his pants?” You whispered, snickering as Young-Jae’s face practically turned red.

“Shut it!” He weakly retorted, turning his attention to the mirror to fix his dyed red hair. “I was just looking at his outfit. The stylists love putting him tight clothing. What if he’s uncomfortable?”

You hummed. “Dohyun Hyung!”

“Hey—!”

“Yes,” Dohyun looked up from the book he was reading, smiling over at you. He had red lipstick with dark eyeliner that brought out the blue colored contacts he wore. He’s lucky he’s handsome, blue contacts just freak you out.

“Are you uncomfortable in your pants?”

“Hm, no? I won’t be moving much anyway.” He answered. “Why?”

“Just asking!”

You turned back around to see a furious Young-Jae staring at you. You only giggled. “See? He’s fine. You’re just enjoying his ass.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, Hyungie~!”

A tap on your shoulder caught your attention as you turned back to see Yuki behind you. He was wearing a more tamed version of Dohyun’s outfit with lighter makeup. “Some snacks I stole from the staff table.” He handed you a chocolate bar, a bag of chips, and a soda.

“What about me?” Young-Jae asked.

“What about you? Love you, (Name).” Yuki patted you on the head before walking away to join Junho on the couch. Favoritism. You loved being the maknae.

You smirked. “Maybe try being cuter. Then your hyungs will want to take care of you.”

“I’m going to smother you in your sleep.”

“Kinky~!”

Young-Jae rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the mirror, fixing his collar. “I’m not even sure why we’re dressed like this. Our concept isn’t this dark.”

“It’s just for the event. Manager Nayoung was telling me that the event organizers wanted a darker theme.”

“Our songs are literally all about being in love and being happy. We have no emo or rock songs.”

“Stop complaining. At least they still wanted us. We’re first for a reason. We just need to get everyone upbeat.”

You glanced over at Young-Jae, taking in his outfit. It was similar to yours. A white lace shirt with black detailing. Basic black slacks with combat boots. Except he had a choker while you had a necklace. The hearts across your nose were red, brightening your face in comparison to the dark eyeliner.

Won-Shik and Junho had similar outfits as well, an inverse of yours and Young-Jae. You preferred the more colorful clothing you wore during your regular performances but it is what it is. As you flicked at a lint on your cheek, the door to the dressing room opened.

“You’re going to preform in twenty minutes, boys. Get going!”

As your band mates got ready to set up their instruments, you saw the next band come in to get dressed. And to your horror, a familiar face walked right in.

Kim Ye-Jun.

You felt your heart drop to your ass as you stared at him. He didn’t seem to notice you at first, busy directing his band mates to get dressed. It wasn’t until he turned around that he froze at the sight of you.

“Let’s go, (Name)-Ah.” Young-Jae said, grabbing your arm as he began to pull you out of the room. Your gaze was still locked on Ye-Jun before you quickly turned away, the memories of him flooding your brain.

That fucking dick. He’s in that band?!

Shit. You wanted to delete their OST off your playlist stat. Why were they even playing at such a small event, they weren’t mainstream by any means but they were big in the band scene.

“Violin tuned?” Dohyun suddenly asked as you assumed your position, fixing the mic to your height.

“Yea. It’s tuned…”

“You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

You wished he was a ghost.

“I’ll be fine. Just a little nervous.”

Dohyun took your word for it and simply patted you on the back, turning his attention back to his own mic. It only took a few minutes before the MC was announcing the band and the yells from the crowd increased.

You stood tall, clutching the guitar to your chest just as the lights shined on you all. Dohyun began his usual speech while you couldn’t help but smile at attention. A few girls were screaming your name!

Yuki tapped his drumsticks together before starting off the beat. You were only going to be performing five songs so you weren’t worried in the slightest. Of course you forgot you were the one that started this song off.

Despite the slight hiccup and Dohyun’s swift glare at you, you continued on, earning a few giggles from the crowd. As you played, you didn’t notice the pair of eyes watching you from the side of the stage.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“You were great, boys! I think you gained some new fans,” Nayoung said, handing each of you a bottle water. “Go get changed and enjoy the rest of the festival! Do anything to get fans.”

Won-Shik smirked as he wrapped his arm around your neck, “anything?” You grinned, rolling your eyes.

“Absolute not! Get your mind out of the gutter!” Nayoung yelled, glaring at Won-Shik. “Yuki, watch him! I don’t want a scandal before you’re even a year old yet! Matter of fact, stick with one other person.”

Young-Jae groaned. “Guess I’m stuck with you,” he said, glaring at you.

You smirked before glancing over at Dohyun as he began wiping off his makeup. “Well… Dohyun Hyung!”

“What do you—!”

“—Can you pair with Jae Hyung? I wanna hang out with Junnie Hyung!”

“You little—!!!”

“—Sure. You okay with spending time with me Jae-Ah? I don’t think I’ll be much fun.” Dohyun laughed, turning over to face you and Young-Jae. His makeup was smudge now—lipstick off completely. His eyes resembling deer eyes by how round they were. Boba eyes, that’s what Won-Shik called them once.

Because of how perverted you were, you couldn’t help but imagine if that’s how he would look after having sex.

A quick glance at Young-Jae told you he was thinking the same thing.

“C..Course, Hyung!! You’re great, amazing even! I mean… you’re great to hang out with… Yeah… I’ll go change.” Young-Jae grabbed his duffle bag and quickly sprinted to the bathroom.

“What’s with him?”

You shrugged, “Dunno. Maybe he has diarrhea.”

“Oh no… I’ll get him some tea.” Dohyun said, taking you seriously. Before you could even tell him it was a joke he already left the dressing room. You sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose. He was so weirdly naive sometimes.

A tap on your shoulder caught your attention as you looked over to see Junho smiling at you. “You gonna change or go out like that?” He was already changed—dressed in a black t-shirt with washed out jeans. His styled hair purposely brushed out, now just a brown mop on his head.

“No, I’ll change. Wait for me, Hyungie!” You blew him a kiss that he quickly caught, laughing.

You and Junho seamlessly blended into the crowd of college students as a the next band began to play. Black Rose had already played while you were getting undressed so you ended up missing it.

You tried to ignore the odd feeling in your stomach at the disappointment you weren’t fast enough. But you didn’t care! You didn’t…

Certainly not.

“Shots?” Junho suddenly asked, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. You hummed in agreement. He left and was quick to come back with two shots. About an hour passed on you just listening to each act perform before the DJ came out and everyone started dancing.

The cool October breeze made you shiver as you felt Junho wrap his arms around you. You grinned and turned around to press your chest against him. Junho was not only taller than you but muscular in comparison—having worked out religiously with Dohyun and Won-Shik.

He was warm so you eagerly pressed as close as possible against him, burying your face in his chest. Junho simply swayed to the upbeat noise music. If the music wasn’t there, people would’ve assumed you both were slow dancing to a ballad.

“Feed me a shot?” You suddenly asked, tilting your head back.

“What are you, a baby?”

“Yup, your baby.”

Junho simply hummed as he used his free hand to grab your face, keeping it still as he slowly tipped the plastic cup’s rim against your lips. You squeezed at his shirt as the cool liquid rushed down your throat, causing you the cough once you swallowed.

“Wow… again!” You laughed, ignoring the judgmental look Junho gave you.

“You’re so weird, (Name)-Ah. I’ll be back, stay right here.” His hand trailed down your waist before he pulled away, poking you on the cheek as he walked away. You hummed and swayed slightly, feeling a bit buzzed from the amount of shots you took by now.

You subconsciously began to whisper the lyrics to one of your songs when a hand wrapped itself around your wrist. The words couldn’t even leave your mouth before you’re tugged away from the crowd. You whined and was about to scream when one of the street lamps illuminated your attacker.

Kim Ye-Jun.

A groan left your lips, no longer feeling the need to put up a fight. At least it’s not a saesang.

Ye-Jun dragged you all the way back go where the dressing room was. You assumed he was going to drag you in there but he suddenly took a sharp left turn and pulled open the storage closet, shoving you inside. A gasp left your lips as you bumped into the wall, groaning in pain.

Your eyes felt heavy, especially with the bright ceiling light shining down on you. “Seriously..? I was about to get another shot!”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes narrowing at you.

You bristled, standing up straight. “What?! I’m of legal age, dick. Anyway, I need to go back before my friends start worrying about me.” You moved to push past him but he grabbed your shoulder and slammed you right back against the wall.

The force knocked you sober as you stared at Ye-Jun in shock. “What.. What the fuck is your problem?!”

“I thought you wanted to be an Idol.” Ye-Jun suddenly said.

You tilted your head. “Wha..? The company thought I fit the band aesthetic better. Besides, I can’t dance well anyway. Why do you even care? You could’ve asked me this in front of everyone else..”

Ye-Jun stared at you for a moment, as if he was thinking about what to say. You took the moment to really take him in. He was taller than you, his buzz cut had grown out from university, though still short and spiky. A worn out leather jacket with a wife beater. Leather pants that hugged his thighs. Wow, he was working out.

You shook your head. Nope, you weren’t about to fall back into his arms. “Well, if you’re just gonna stare at me, you can follow our band’s instagram. I post on there. It’s TheRealLoveCountdown.”

A bitter laugh left Ye-Jun just as you were about to push him. You wanted to ask what’s his problem was when he surged forward and slammed his lips against yours. A strangled gasp left you and your hands quickly moved to push him away. But he was stronger, grabbing your wrists as he slammed them against the wall.

He kissed you hungrily, pressing his crotch against yours. You couldn’t help the soft moans that left your throat as he bit your lip. The pain sent a shockwave through your spine. His hands released your wrists and shoved themselves into your jeans.

“Kim Ye-Jun!” You managed to stutter out as you pulled away from the kiss. He paid you no mind, grabbing a fist full of your ass. An embarrassing whine left your lips as finger teased your hole.

“Why are you speaking respectfully?”

“Aren’t you my seonbae now? You debuted first.”

Ye-Jun looked down at you, his grip tightening on your ass. “Seonbae? I told you to call me Hyung.”

“You lost that privilege, Seonbae. We aren’t friends.”

“Mhm,” Ye-Jun hummed. “Yeah, you weren’t ever a friend. You’re mine.”

You shivered and felt your hips buck against his, your bulge rubbing against his own. Ye-Jun smirked as he pulled you, hands gripping your waist, as he turned you around. A grunt left you as you’re pushed against the wall.

The feeling of cool air touches your lower half before you can even complain. He pulled your fucking pants down. You gasped as he pried your ass open and you felt a puff of air tease your hole.

“You… Yah, what the hell do you think you’re doing, bastard?!”

The air stilled in the closet as your lips pressed into a tight thin line. Oh god. You really said that.

“Sae…kki…ya?” Ye-Jun whispered, his grip loosening on your skin. You were grateful that your back was facing him so you couldn’t see the face he must be making.

Young-Jae was right. You really needed to work on having a filter.

“I’m a son of a bitch? I’ll fucking show you a son of a bitch, Cho (Name).”

It was silent for a moment—you almost believed Ye-Jun was getting ready to leave when you felt two fingers shove themselves inside your hole. The fingers were slick so it wasn’t in there dry but the intrusions felt like it was the worst thing you could ever experience.

Ye-Jun waited for a moment before slowing flexing his index and pointer finger inside. You grunted and gripped at the wall for some type of purpose. What the hell was he looking for?

A guttural scream left your throat as his fingers rub against your prostate. You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together as you looked behind to try and get a look at Ye-Jun.

His head was down so you could only see his hair. He patted your ass before leaning forward and pressing his lips against your right ass cheek. It felt oddly sweet—it almost made you short circuit.

Until you felt teeth sinking into your skin.

“Fuck!” You cried out, pressing your head against the wall as his fingers began to repeatedly press against your prostate. His teeth felt sharp on your skin as if he was biting to break skin.

Ye-Jun didn’t allow you to breathe or take in the pleasure, pumping his fingers to attack and abuse your prostate. He moved to your left ass cheek and left a matching bite mark—you were sure that one broke skin.

You weren’t even sure how long it had been. Your legs were shaky as you had to use your hands to keep yourself help. The leaking from your dejectedly cock made you whimper at being unable to bring yourself to true pleasure.

There were bite marks not just on your ass but on your thighs. You had weakly tried to keep him off but he easily stopped you with a painfully slow rub against your prostate that sent you into a frenzy.

It was building—the tell tale sign of you reaching your peak. Your toes curled as you hiccuped. You didn’t even notice you were crying.

Just as you felt the orgasm coming to its peak… Ye-Jun pulled away.

You whined, looking back at him in shock as he wiped his fingers on your t-shirt. He looked unbothered as he fixed his clothes. His eyes flickered over to you when you made another pathetic whine to get his attention. It almost hurt to talk. He only smirked.

“You can take care of the rest, right?” He asked, his lips moving into a slight snarl as his eyes narrowed. “Or maybe call that band mate of yours. You were practically on his dick earlier.”

Your eyes widen as you watched him leave, slamming the door shut behind him. You slid down the wall and could only just sit there in pure shock.

The dryness of your throat was beginning to affect you as you reached down to pull your boxers up.

You just wanted to go home.

❝ 목이 메어 ❞

It had been two weeks since the “incident” and you had made a clear effort to never listen to Black Rose. You blocked them everywhere—going as far as to block them on your other members phones as well.

Yuki and Won-Shik didn’t seem to care that much.

Young-Jae called you insane.

While Junho and Dohyun were the only two that seemed worried about your behavior.

Which led to now. You were curled up on Dohyun’s bed as he sat at his desk, working on some lyrics for your comeback that was four months away. He always liked getting ahead in work. The band wouldn’t start recording until December. It was only November 3rd.

The lyrics were technically done and approved by the company but Dohyun was always a perfectionist so everyone had let him be at this point.

Junho was beside you on the bed, occasionally giving Dohyun some of his opinions on the lyrics.

This album was going to be more ballad heavy. Focusing solely on heartbreak and toxic relationships. You almost scoffed to yourself.

You had so many lyrics you wanted to put but knew they would end up being too personal so you kept them in your journal for safe keeping.

“Oh, we’re trending on Twitter…” Junho suddenly said, earning both yours and Dohyun’s attention.

“What? What did we do?” Dohyun questioned, quickly moving to sit on the bed. You sat up and curled close to Junho, worried that someone on a random forum made an insane rumor that the Korean netizens would eat up in a heartbeat.

“Oh, it’s mainly (Name)-Ah and that guy from Black Rose.”

Your heart dropped to your ass. “W..Why?!”

Junho glanced down at you curiously before showing you a Twitter post that had almost 20k likes. He soon clicked on the link of the forum posts that was talking about it.

@_Dohyungotafatty (↑4599 ↓235)

↳ guys, have yall seen who’s been liking (Name)’s posts on Instagram??

Below the text was a collage of your Instagram posts on the band’s account. You and Yuki were the only ones that really posted selfies religiously. But it wasn’t the pictures that caught people’s attention.

No it was the fact that the account that seemed to like every single one of your selfies was no other than fucking Kim Ye-Jun.

You balked. You didn’t think he had a public Instagram account that didn’t belong to the company. Fuck, you should’ve checked!!! Of course an older group had more freedom than your own.

You couldn’t even try to assume it was someone else. The next reply to the post was someone clicking on the account and lo and behold, Ye-Jun’s face showed up in the accounts posts.

They even showed that the official band account was following him—as well as his other band members.

Yeah… that was him.

@BRkim_yejun — 589k followers, 6 following

The video checked his following and he was even following the band’s account. You groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

“He likes Yuki’s posts too right..? It’s not just me!” You muttered, scrolling to see the other accounts.

@junhoswhore (↑239 ↓26)

↳ if (Name) was a girl, netizens would’ve started a dating rumor ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@jaesflatass (↑102 ↓34)

↳ he doesn’t even likes Yuki’s posts. He wants him so bad ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@yukiwukii (↑20 ↓2)

↳ aren’t they alumnis from the same university??

@lovewonshiik (↑1020 ↓125)

↳ girl they’re college dropouts ㅋㅋㅋ

@_loveandfear (↑409 ↓89)

↳ Ye-Jun doesn’t even like his own members posts. He must really like Cho (Name). I wanna see them interact!!

@freakfundashi (↑2987 ↓3082)

↳ I wanna see them fuck on stage

“Okay that’s enough.” Dohyun suddenly said, grabbing Junho phone as he exited out of the forum. “You shouldn’t pay attention to them. They’re just weirdos. What does ‘Dohyun got a fatty’ even mean?”

Junho glanced over at you. You both tried to hold in your laughter.

“I’m not sure, Hyung. I can ask around.”

Dohyun shook his head. “I don’t think I even want to know. Anyway, do you know Kim Ye-Jun, (Name)-Ah? He seems to know you.”

“Yeah, why would you block the Black Rose account if you know him? You aren’t friends?”

You blushed slightly as you tried to come up with an excuse. “We.. we did go to the same college but I dropped out to pursue music. I lost contact with him after that! I wouldn’t even say we were friends.. we were just both music majors!”

Junho and Dohyun didn’t seem too convinced but they got the message that this was all you were going to tell them at the moment.

“If you do feel uncomfortable around him, I can block him, y’know? I want my maknae to be comfortable.” Junho said, leaning over to caress your cheek. You leaned into his touch and hummed in appreciation.

Ye-Jun’s words suddenly got to you. The hyung he was talking about had to be Junho. But you don’t remember ever being on his “dick.” You didn’t like Junho romantically. Besides, you were pretty sure him and Yuki had something going on despite their attempts of being discrete.

Won-Shik seemed to be the resident straight man of the band.

“Manager Nayoung can always speak to Black Rose’s manager and make them get Ye-Jun to back off as well. Just tell us, alright?” Dohyun said, rubbing your head.

You gave him a grin that wasn’t forced and cuddled closer to Junho’s touch. Ye-Jun would probably back off sooner or later. It wasn’t like you would have to see him again any time soon.

Oh how wrong you were.

❝ 매달려 봤는데 상처 발더러고 ❞

The memory is hazy by now, but you still remember the exact date, time, and weather when you first met Kim Ye-Jun.

November 3rd, 20XX. 5:30 pm. Heavy rain and scattered thunderstorms.

You had just came from school, wanting to just plop down on bed and cry. Your future uncertain with your parents refusal to allow you to try out at a company to pursue your dreams on being a musician.

Your umbrella was big, a bit hard to hold upright because of how old it was. There was a hole in it that allowed small drops of rain to drip on your shoulder. You couldn’t even afford to pay for a new one. The wind suddenly picked up just as you were getting to cross the street.

“Shit…!” Your grip loosened as the wind folded your umbrella upwards. It slipped from your grip and twirled across the crosswalk. You made the step to run after it until a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you right back onto the curb.

A car breezed past you, splashing water over you and your savior. You coughed as the savior pressed you against their chest. They were saying something but it wasn’t hard to hear anything in the heavy rain.

You looked up, pushing away the wet hair that clung to your face. There he was: Kim Ye-Jun. A shaved head while dressed in a Korean military uniform. He looked young but you knew lots of boys your age that were going to do their Korean service before college to get it over with.

The first meeting hardly meant anything to Kim Ye-Jun while it meant everything to you. He released his grip on your waist and bent down to grab your backpack, handing it over to you.

Before you could even say anything else, he handed over his umbrella. You tried to refuse but he forced your hand open and wrapped it around the handle. You watched with wide eyes as he reached up and wiped something off your face before pulling away.

You were so happy that the rain hid the fact you were crying just a few minutes earlier. But judging by the soft smile he gave you, your red eyes must’ve given it away.

Your eyes flickered to his name tag just as he was leaving, sprinting away to what you assumed was the nearby convenience store.

❝ 김예준 ❞

You would see him again at your college welcoming party. He was also a freshman just like you despite being twenty years old. A few freshman teased him about it while he just laughed it off, saying they’re gonna wish they got their service over with.

You didn’t originally want to seek him out, worried he wouldn’t even remember you. But he ended up speaking to you first. Those first nine months you spent with him almost felt like a dream.

He wasn’t your first kiss but he was your first boyfriend, your first time, the first boy you believed you could spend a lifetime with.

But it seemed you were the only one who thought that.

“Cho (Name)? Is he your boyfriend or something? He’s so clingy with you.”

“I don’t know how you do it! He acts so childish, it’s gross. Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you need to act like a fag. I’m gay and I act fucking normal.”

“Does he even know about the band you got accepted in? Whenever I see you guys interact, it’s literally all about him! He hardly lets you speak.”

You expected Ye-Jun to say something in your defense.

“Yeah… He’s clingy. I didn’t expect him to be when we started hanging out.”

“—Hanging out? You’re not even dating him? You’re fuck buddies?”

“Well it’s only been nine months. We’ve only been fucking. He just whines a lot about his parents before I can even talk. The only way he stops is when we fuck.”

“Really? Why do you even keep him around?”

“Nine months is a long time, haha. It has to be sex, right??”

“He makes me feel good about myself. Plus he is cute despite how annoying he can be—”

“—How is he in bed? Whiny? Bet he’s a slut—”

You couldn’t take it anymore, walking away from the wall as you rubbed at your face. Fuck buddies. You were Kim Ye-Jun’s fuck buddy.

A bitter laugh left you as you pulled your phone, opening website you were on earlier. It was auditions for a new company. If Ye-Jun thought all you did was complain, you would show him you have drive.

You blocked his number and signed up for the audition, dropping out of school the next week. Your parents disowned you but you pushed through, staying at your aunt’s before you got the acceptance call.

It’s just a shame you had to see him again after four years.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

‘ COMEBACK ’ 러브카운다운 - Love’s Fool

After an intense music video recording, it was released three hours ago. It was your groups first comeback so to say you were nervous was an understatement. The music video was different from the debut’s sunshine and happy vibes from the single debut album.

This 1st mini album, named after the title track, was darker and certainly more depressing. Though it seemed the fans were eating it up. A few even saying they cried to the song.

You straightened your back as the hair stylist pulled at your hair. It was the first performance at a music show. Online so many fans were staying they were going to get the band its first music show win so you couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought.

Switching the phone onto the camera, you held it up and smiled, taking a few pictures. You immediately posted them onto Instagram, choosing the ones where you looked the cutest. It was only a second before the first like came in.

@BRkim_yejun liked your post

You almost threw your phone. But that wasn’t the worst. He actually commented. In the past three months that’s he’s been religiously liking your posts, and only yours, he’s never commented on it.

@BRkim_yejun commented : 귀여워, 자기야… 셀키 더 찍어 주세요… 뽀뽀하고 싶어요 ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Kiss?? You almost passed out as you reread his comment over and over again. You couldn’t believe he was asking for more selfies! You’re just happy he didn’t use “키스” as that would’ve been too romantic. But the nerve to call you jagiya was pissing you off. You haven’t been his baby in few years now!

@TheRealLoveCountdown responded : 꺼져

Sure, it’s petty to tell him to go away but you weren’t feeling generous to be nice right now. You turned off your phone and placed it on the table in front of you. The hair stylist had finally finished your hair as she walked away. Dohyun came up to you, smiling slightly.

“(Name)-Ah, you okay? That’s the first time he commented on your post right?”

“Yeah… But it’s fine, I told him to go away. Maybe he’ll listen.”

Dohyun only chuckled in response. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around you as he rubbed his cheek against yours. You giggled and basked in his warmth, sighing in relief.

But you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering about how Ye-Jun used to hug you just like this. Especially when you were slaving away on your assignments and he wanted you to take a break.

He’d press kisses on your neck before your cheek, inching close to your lips before pressing a wet slobbery kiss on your lips. Because that would always disgust you and make you chase after him to deliver another wet slobbery dog kiss on his cheeks.

Then he’d always hug you close on the couch and force you to watch tv. He’d always get you. And you’d always fall asleep in his arms.

“Are you method acting again? No one’s expecting us to cry on stage, dumbass.”

You flinched as a napkin taps at the edge of your eyes. You glanced over to see Young-Jae gently dapping the tears away before they have the chance to fall and ruin your makeup. Dohyun just tightens his hug and comfortingly rubbed your shoulders before pulling away.

“Thanks, Hyungie~!” You grinned, moving to pull Young-Jae into a hug that he swiftly dodged.

“You’re not messing up my outfit! Stay back!”

“Hyung… I want to hug you!!! Come here!!”

“Stay back, Cho (Name)!!!”

The performance was great if you had to toot your own horn. This was one of the first songs that you played the violin for entirely—the other time it was sort of a gimmick. You even had a violin solo with Junho’s keyboard.

Now it was wining down time. You took another selfie, even one with Won-Shik and Young-Jae. Young-Jae practically never posted so you usually forced him to join your selfies for his starving fans.

You tried to ignore the weird feeling in your heart when Ye-Jun didn’t immediately like your post. You didn’t care! Nope… You did not.

But you didn’t stop yourself as you typed in the Black Rose Instagram to check the account. You had unblocked a month ago at the request of Nayoung since it looked weird on your part when there’s no history between you and the band.

There wasn’t much pictures beside promotional material. Photos for their comeback. It was only five members, Ye-Jun as the leader but he wasn’t the oldest. You wondered if this was the band he was talking about back then.

@TheBlackRose

(블랙로즈) 4.9M Followers 6 Following

Six following? You clicked on it and sat up straight on the couch to see that the account was following Love Countdown! Though the fact they were so close to five million followers shocked you. They really were popular. Love Countdown only reached 320k followers just recently.

Did Ye-Jun make the account follow you? You tried to push away the giddy feeling in your chest. Deciding you had nothing to lose, you checked the band members account.

@BRpark_shion

(박시온) 518k Followers 5 following

@BRim_roha

(임로하) 538k followers 6 following

@BRseo_minji

(서민지) 515k followers 5 following

@BRhwang_hanbin

(황한빈) 529k followers 5 following

“Roha..?” You muttered, confused on why he was following the account as well.

“Who’s Roha?”

You jumped, looking up to see Yuki sitting down beside you. “Yuki Hyung! Ah.. I was just..”

“Snooping?” He chuckled, leaning over. “Im Roha? Oh, he’s cute.”

“Who’s cute?!” Junho suddenly asked, turning his head abruptly from his phone. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re cuter, Junnie.” Yuki placated, snickering. “Very Kawaii.”

“Oh! Yuki, can you still teach me Japanese? I want to be confident in my pronunciation for our Japanese debut!” You asked, subtly trying to change the conversation.

“Yea.” He said, pushing back his overgrown bangs. “But I still want to know what you’re doing. I thought you hated Black Rose.”

“I do! I really hate them…”

“Or do you hate Kim Ye-Jun? Did he do something to you?”

You frowned. The word hate next to Ye-Jun’s name made you upset. Despite everything, you couldn’t hate him. Fuck, you were pathetic.

“He just… We just ended things badly. But it’s mostly my own fault. I thought we were something special—he didn’t think the same.”

Yuki blinked for a moment as if he was taking in your words. “Oh. You dated him?”

“Wha?! How’d you?!”

“What else could you have meant?” Yuki chuckled. “Do you wanna stay at Hyung’s tonight? We can have a movie marathon.”

You grinned, nodding your head. “Mhm. I would like that.”

The door to the dressing room opened as the next group to preform came in. Dohyun and the others had already gotten ready to leave so they moved to the side so the group could get ready. Much to your shock, it was the Black Rose.

Your eyes stopped on Roha. He was tall, slim, with dyed purple hair. Your body flinched when his eyes fell on yours and a grin pulled on his lips as he waved to you.

Roha looked so familiar but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Was he from your university? It’s been five years at this point. You shook your head, deciding it wasn’t important.

You grabbed your bag and stood up, looking over at Junho. The others were already leaving.

“Junnie Hyung—”

“—Yes?”

“—Yeah?”

Your body froze as a voice was heard behind you. Junho looked up confused at who else would answer to your call. You didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. Before Junho, you had called someone else “Junnie Hyung.”

Yeah, Kim Ye-Jun.

“You call him my name?” Ye-Jun suddenly said, walking right up in front of you. Your eyes quickly looked down. Embarrassment swirled in your stomach as you felt Junho’s and Ye-Jun’s eyes on you as they waited for you to speak.

You took a deep breath and managed to look up at him. “Yeah… he’s my hyung.. and his name is Junho. So, Junnie Hyung. You’re not the only man named Jun.”

Ye-Jun laughed, a smirk playing on his lips. “I don’t remember allowing you to do that. His name is Junho, yeah? So call him Junho Hyung.”

“Uhm,” Junho muttered, a look of confusion on his face. His brows furrowed as his lips pulled into a frown. “I don’t like how you’re speaking to my dongsaeng.”

“Dongsaeng?” Ye-Jun tilted his head before turning his attention back over to you. “Cute. That’s real cute. (Name)-Ah, my number hasn’t changed. I’ll be waiting, Jagiya.”

He gave a slight nod at Junho before walking away to join his members to get his hair and makeup down. Junho looked more confused than angry as he glanced over at you.

“Jagiya?”

You blushed. “He’s just.. teasing me! Yeah.. he didn’t mean it.”

A tap on your shoulder caught your attention. You looked over to see Roha grinning at you.

“(Name), my number is the same as well, okay? Talk to you later.” Roha lovingly patted your head before walking away.

Junho blinked. “Wow. I thought you didn’t know anyone in Black Rose.”

“Me neither…”

You were so fucking screwed.

Why was your heart beating so fast?

❝ 진지하진 않잖아 가벼운 간보기잖아 ❞

You unblocked him. Mainly because you had no back bone. You laid on Yuki’s bed, wondering if you should text first. Yuki had some Jpop song playing as he folded up his laundry. He had dumped it on his bed a few days ago but didn’t really do it until you were now gonna stay the night.

“Is it normal to still have feelings for your ex..? Oh well, ex fuck buddy.”

“Yeah. If you really loved him.” Yuki said, muttering something to himself in Japanese before putting away the last of his clothes. He turned off his music and sat down on the bed.

You frowned and sat up. “I’m so confused. He hurt me. He.. He said I complained too much. I was clingy… I didn’t let him speak in our relationship. Said I only shut up when he fucked me…”

“Maybe he was right. Maybe you weren’t the best boyfriend.”

“What?”

Yuki gave you a small smile. “Even if you weren’t, he should’ve talked to you. He should’ve told you instead of bad mouth you to your friends. And.. maybe you should’ve spoken to him about how you were feeling instead of just ghosting him.”

“I… Well he embarrassed me in front of his friends.”

“He was wrong for that. But how can a relationship work if you let one problem ruin it?”

You frowned. Yuki was making sense and you didn’t necessarily want that right now.

“You don’t have to get back with him. He did hurt you. Not everyone can forgive something like that. But how old were you when you dated him?”

“Eighteen…”

“First ever relationship?”

“Mhm…”

“Well, I hope in those five years you know that you can’t just go silent during a relationship problem. You had the right to cuss him out but to also see if you could fix the problem he was feeling.”

“Man… I was hoping you would’ve just let me complain. I didn’t want this philosophical shit.”

Yuki grinned. “You should’ve went to Won-Shik Hyung if you wanted to complain. Do you want to text him?”

You glanced over at your phone, sighing. “Maybe.. But he was acting really weird before we left. He got mad at Junho Hyung because I called him Junnie Hyung.”

Yuki smirked. “He’s just jealous. Then he really does still like you. Wah, you have yourself a possessive boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You whined, biting your lip.

“He probably doesn’t think that way. I’ll pick the movie while you text your honey.”

You glared at Yuki but still grabbed your phone, staring at the contact of Kim Ye-Jun. It still had a heart on the name. The name proudly written in as “주니형.” You exited out of his contact and went to look at the other blocked numbers you had. It was mostly spam until a familiar named showed up.

Im Suyoung.

Im…

A gasp left your lips. Suyoung was Ye-Jin’s friend, they were practically brothers. You had gotten close to Suyoung by association but soon felt as if he was the big brother you never had. There was a distant memory you had when he said he wanted to change his name to something cooler.

Roha.

Ah. You unblocked his number and saw the loads of messages that didn’t end up going through to you. It had stopped four years ago. But before, it was loads of them asking where you were, if you’re okay, if something had happened to you.

The last message made you laugh at how stupid it was.

↳ Ye-Jun’s worried. He’s going crazy over a nine month relationship, what did you do to him? ㅎㅎ He’s gonna find you one day, (Name)-Ah, be ready.

Find you? Be ready? What the hell was Ye-Jun gonna do to you? You were mainly shocked that he was even going crazy over you being gone. Why would he care when he himself said you were “hanging out?”

You sighed, sending a quick message to Roha to tell him he’s unblocked. Your fingers moved on their own and you found yourself on Ye-Jun’s contact. The profile picture was of him and you, faces pressed together as you grinned at the camera while Ye-Jun looked as if he was mid grimace, eyes squeezed shut from the flash.

You scrolled up to five years ago, to the day you had blocked him. It was tamed for a moment until Ye-Jun seemed to notice his texts weren’t going through.

It was panic after that. Multiple texts with spams if you’re dead, if you’re okay, that he’s freaking out. You couldn’t help but laugh. It felt surreal to see this side of him. After a few months, he only kept sending hello, as if checking everyday to see when you’d unblock him.

A few times he’d type a message. Asking if you ate, if you’re doing okay wherever you are. The next year, he started sending pictures. It was of him and the band. He was talking about how nervous he was being the leader.

Ye-Jun never took selfies, he hated pictures which was why most pictures of him he had a grimace or frown.

But the ones he was sending you, he smiled. Well, as best as he could. It looked forced but you still felt giddy that he was trying.

You scrolled through the messages until finding one on the day of the festival at the university.

↳ you didn’t move on, right? You wouldn’t move on, Jagiya… put cream on the bite marks, I don’t want you to scar. Don’t get so close to that bean pole with the fried hair again, okay? It made me upset ㅠㅠ

↳ you know how to piss me off, Jagi. I wanna keep you locked up so you won’t ever run away from me again. Hah, Love Countdown is a cute name. I wish I went to your debut performance. I think I’m insane at this point, Jagi. Nine month relationship and I’m acting like this ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

↳ it’s weird, I liked seeing you cry. Back then, when that bastard called you a slut I almost killed him ㅋㅋ … I like putting you in your place. If it’s just an act, it’s okay right?

“Back then… Did he… Did he defend me after I left?” You whispered, shame suddenly rose in your heart.

“Hm?” Yuki asked, looking back over at you.

“Nothing… Nothing. Did you find the movie?”

“Not yet.”

You scrolled down, the rest of the messages going back to being little tidbits on his day to date life. It wasn’t until you made it to today that you tried to read what he sent.

↳ Junnie Hyung to another man? Jagi, are you trying to piss me off??? I’ve been staying calm these past for months when all I’ve wanted to do was drag you home and punish you for abandoning me for five years

↳ don’t do that again… you are always mine, no man should be touching you again like he did. I don’t know what made you leave me, but I hope you know I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again

↳ …Those pants you wore on stage were nice. can you buy your own pair, Jagiya? I wanna tear them off you.

↳ you unblocked me?

A gasp left your lips. What the fuck? How did he already know that? You watched as he began typing, the three dots causing unnecessary panic in your heart.

↳ Did you eat?

Huh? You waited to see if he’d send anything else but he didn’t. It took a moment but you soon replied with a sort yes. The anxiety was building within you and you wanted to just block him again. But your heart wanted him back. Even if the messages he was sending you were insane to the normal person.

It was radio silence before he sent a picture.

It was of him in what you could assume was his bedroom. He was lying on his bed and an LED light illuminated his face. His hair messy while a slight smile pulled on his lips. You couldn’t help but smile.

You wanted to ask about that day. If maybe after you left, he realized he wanted you. That maybe he just didn’t know how to word his feelings properly.

But you felt as if it would be better in person. So, you did what you thought was the best response. You sent a selfie to him, making sure to smile.

It didn’t even take a minute before he started sending hearts. He usually never reacted like this before whenever you sent selfies. Did he change when you were gone?

Roha was right. He did go insane when you left him.

“Found the movie. You better leave before you even think about sexting him.” Yuki suddenly said, laying down on the bed.

You blushed. “What?! I wasn’t going to sext him!!”

Though you were feeling giddy at the thought of being close to him again. You couldn’t help but feel a bit worried about how… odd Ye-Jun was acting.

He really did change. And you weren’t sure if it was for the better.

❝ 이러면 안 되는데 머리론 아는데 ❞

It had only been a week and you had kept a small conversation going with Ye-Jun—he texted you every morning and night. He was more confident as well. Leading to the incident that happened a few days ago.

Black Rose had won on the fan voting for the music show win. Everyone on stage was clapping as Black Rose came to the center to grab the reward. You and your band mates were close so you were right in arms reach when Ye-Jun came over to you.

“Thanks to all of our fans for voting. I’m happy I get to make my dongsaeng proud with our twentieth music show win on our four year anniversary.” Ye-Jun said, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you close.

He kept his attention on the camera recording him. “Please send some love to my dongsaeng’s group, Love Countdown!” He squeezed you tightly before pressing a quick peck on your cheek, earning yells from the crowd.

Your band mates, and Black Rose themselves, looked absolutely shocked to say the least.

Including Korean forums not even a day later.

@_Dohyungotafatty (↑645 ↓320)

↳ dongsaeng my ass.. they fucking ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@jaesflatass (↑236 ↓67)

↳ he wanted to call him Jagiya so bad…

@junhoswhore (↑127 ↓378)

↳ I know skinship is normal but I’ve never wanted to kiss my homies

@_loveandfear (↑564 ↓24)

↳ you not a real homie then. I love kissing my boys good night. Tongue action too

@yukiwukii (↑764 ↓203)

↳ he’s so gay, i wanna call him the f slur ㅠㅠ

@lovewonshiik (↑389 ↓27)

↳ college drop out and gay, pick a struggle ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@freakfundashi (↑386 ↓867)

↳ everyday I get closer to seeing Cho (Name) get creampied on stage

@_Dohyungotafatty (↑433 ↓189)

↳ you’re insane ㅎㅎ but Cho (Name) is definitely the bottom

@jaesflatass (↑330 ↓219)

↳ Kim Ye-Jun makes Cho (Name) bounce on his cock… wonder if it’s big ㅎㅎㅎ

@freakyfundashi (↑3980 ↓340)

↳ I have fanfics of them on AO3. Here’s my username ******

“Is Kim Ye-Jun your boyfriend or something? He keeps commenting on your posts.” Young-Jae asked, sitting down beside you on the couch. You glanced up from your phone and shook your head, blushing slightly.

“What are you even talking about? Kim Ye-Jun is just my seonbae. Don’t be so rude, Hyung.”

“Rude? Look at this.” Young-Jae pulled up on your more recent selfies, one you literally took not even an hour ago. It was of you in the fitting room, getting dressed in a fluffy white sweater and white trousers.

Today the band was doing a photoshoot for your upcoming Japanese debut.

@BRkim_yejun commented : 나는 너를 먹고 싶어…!! 왜 그렇개 귀여워? ㄷㄷ

“Dude, he likes you. He literally called you cute,” Young-Jae said, shaking his head. “If you were a girl, knets would’ve exploded with dating rumors already.”

@BRim_roha replied : 죽을래, 새끼야!!! GET OFF YOUR PHONE AND PICK UP THE PEN!!!

@BRpark_shion replied : 떨 떨?? I’ll give you something to tremble about

@BRseo_minji replied : IM GETTING MY ASS BEAT BECAUSE YOU WANNA GET YOUR DICK WET?!?

@BRhwang_hanbin replied : don’t you guys think you’re as weird as him for spamming the Instagram account? Everyone can see this, you stupid fucks.

Young-Jae looked over at you. “His band mates are as equally as insane. They deserve each other.” He turned off his phone and placed it on the coffee table in front of you both.

You only forced a tight grin. “They’re just eccentric people. Though Roha Hyung wasn’t like this back in university.”

“Hyung? You call Im Roha Hyung but not Kim Ye-Jun? Special treatment.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I heard that.”

You and Young-Jae sat up straight as Dohyun walked over to you both. He shook his head in disapproval before pulling out his phone. Your gaze flickered over to Young-Jae to see him ogling Dohyun. It wasn’t shocking. Dohyun was in a cropped t shirt once again with tight jeans.

Someone on the stylist team wanted to fuck Dohyun so bad at this point.

“Anyway,” Dohyun muttered, frowning at a text message he read before turning his attention over to you and Young-Jae. “The company is holding a birthday party after this for Manager Nayoung. Make sure to come.”

You gave him a quick thumbs up, “course, Hyungie~!”

“Yeah I’ll be there.” Young-Jae muttered.

“To stare at your ass.” You coughed out, earning a swift glare from Young-Jae.

Dohyun raised an eyebrow. “Stare at my slacks? When did you start using the work slacks, Jae-Ah? I can give you the website I buy them from.” He said, smiling.

Young-Jae sighed. “Sure…”

You gave a comforting pat on Young-Jae’s shoulder. Poor guy.

Party. You couldn’t help but briefly wonder if he’d be there…

❝ 거기 멈춰 줄래 빠지기 싫어 싫어 싫어 ❞

The party, of course, was nothing big. Manager Nayoung had asked for something small and chill. So the DJ was playing more 90s and 2000s Kpop. You were glued to Young-Jae for the most part until he got too drunk, somehow, and had to be taken home by Dohyun.

Won-Shik was being weirdly flirty with the older female staff who were enjoying his attention.

Yuki was somewhere, you remembered him saying he wanted to speak to someone.

That just left you and Junho together. You leaned closer to him and sighed, glancing up at him. Junho was staring straight ahead, watching the older people dance as much as their bones could handle before his eyes flickered down to you.

A soft smile spread on his lips. “Enjoying the party?”

“It’s cool.” You giggled. “I know how old people party now.”

“Hey, don’t judge. This is gonna be you in a couple of years. Just you wait.”

You snuggled closer and hummed, reaching up to wipe something off Junho’s cheek. Junho leaned in closer so you didn’t have to stand up on your toes to reach him. It was only a second, just a split second to where it almost looked like you kissed him when an hand grabbed your arm.

A shocked wince left your throat as you looked over to see who your aggressor was.

“Kim Ye-Jun? You were invited?” Junho asked, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of him.

Ye-Jun’s upper lip was pulled into a snarl as he glared at Junho but turned his attention over to you. “What did I tell you, Cho (Name)? Did you forget?”

“What..? I’m just talking to Junnie Hyung…?” You whispered, glad that you were all in the corner of the party so no eyes could see this altercation.

“Excuse me?” Ye-Jun tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he leaned close to you. His hand tightened its grip on your arm. You felt an odd sense of dread as you shut your mouth, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Junho reached over and grabbed your free arm, tugging you back over. “Yah, I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m not going to allow you to manhandle my dongsaeng. Speak to him nicely.”

“Who I think I am?” Ye-Jun turned his attention over to Junho, standing up tall to look straight in the eye. Junho was only two inches taller than Ye-Jun but was carrying more muscle mass in comparison.

It wasn’t even that Ye-Jun didn’t have muscle. Junho was just a bit too buff for his own good.

You knew deep down in your heart Junho would certainly win the fight but judging by how unhinged Ye-Jun has been… you wouldn’t put it past him to act dirty.

“Junho Hyung…” You whispered, catching his attention. “It’s okay… I’ll talk to him in private.”

“I don’t think it’s smart to be alone with him.”

Ye-Jun scoffed. “Why? And you’re safer?”

“Yeah, I am. You haven’t been in his life for five years and only had him for nine months. What claim do you really have over him, Kim Ye-Jun? Do you really know him? Do you know Cho (Name)?”

You balked, wondering how Junho knew that but realized Yuki must’ve mentioned it in passing. It makes sense, Yuki told Junho everything. You should’ve been a bit angry at that but couldn’t help but be happy that Junho was indirectly speaking what you felt deep down inside.

Why was Ye-Jun so set on keeping you as if you’d known him for years?

Ye-Jun’s jaw clinched. “I know how it feels to be without him.” You looked over at him as he tightened his grip on your arm. “And I’m not going through that again.”

“You’re being pretty selfish, Kim Ye-Jun. Did you not even make him your boyfriend? You only realized how much you came to love him when he left?” Junho released your arm, frowning slightly.

“I am selfish. I never said I wasn’t. I want him for myself. It just took for him daring to leave me to truly realize that I can’t be without him.”

“Uhm.” You squeaked out, causing the two men to look down at you. Gosh, it felt so awkward being shorter than them that you only reached their chests. “I’ll be okay… Just let me talk to him so we can resolve our issue.”

Junho sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Okay. You’re an adult. Call me if he does anything.”

You glanced over at Ye-Jun, seeing a slight smirk tugging on his lips. Can’t have him think you’re crawling back so easily.

“Thanks, Junnie Hyung!” You grinned, enjoying the sight of Ye-Jun’s smirk dropping in a millisecond. “I’ll have you on speed dial!”

Once you got the okay from Junho, Ye-Jun practically dragged you out of the building. You waved goodbye to Junho before trying to make Ye-Jun slow down.

Maybe Junho is right.

Kim Ye-Jun doesn’t seem safe in the slightest

❝ 단지 너의 외로움을 단래긴 싫거든 ❞

“A hotel? What? Am I not worthy enough to enter your home?” You laughed, allowing Ye-Jun to push you inside the hotel room. The room was fancier than anything you were used to. Black Rose must be making money.

Ye-Jun slammed the door shut behind him. He tugged off his jacket and tossed it on the ground, his feet heavy as he walked over to you.

“I didn’t take you home because I didn’t want to bother Roha with your screaming.” He said, grabbing your waist.

You blushed, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Screaming? You’re overly confident… Who’s to say I was going to sleep with you?”

Ye-Jun didn’t answer, leaning down as he began pressing kisses against your neck. You whimpered. Your hands gripping at his shirt as he nipped and bit at your skin.

“I don’t need to be confident. I know your body. I know I’m the only one who gets it.” His hands reached down and tugged at your shirt. You stared at him before raising your arms, letting him take off your shirt.

You tried to ignore the hungry look he gave you as he practically clawed at your jeans. Your voice was barely above a whisper, as if you were a bit too nervous to say it. “You act like you’re the only man that’s fucked me.”

His body froze, his eyes narrowing in on your face. You couldn’t help the cockiness that began to build within you at the look on his face.

“What? It was five years. Did you really think I was going to turn celibate because my first ever boyfriend… no, first ever fuck buddy allowed his friends to call me a slut? When asked what you liked about me, all you said was that I made you feel good about yourself.”

Ye-Jun’s eyebrows furrowed as he pulled away, tilting his head as if he was thinking about what you were saying. You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“You forgot? Forgot that you wouldn’t even call me your boyfriend? That I was annoying?!” You couldn’t help yourself, the past anger beginning to bubble up, ready to spill out. “Did those nine months mean anything to you? Or was I… was I just romanticizing our relationship?”

You sighed, rubbing your head. Your throat burned. Shit, were you really about to cry?

A laugh caught your attention as you looked up at Ye-Jun. “You’re laughing…?” You whispered, eyes widening. “You’re laughing after I just poured my heart out?!”

Ye-Jun hummed nonchalantly, tugging off his own shirt. “Yeah. You left me for that? For five years I thought I did something wrong but it was just you getting emotional.”

“Getting emotional?! Yah, Kim Ye-Jun—!”

“—Cho (Name).” His voice sharp. “That day, November 3rd, when I first saw you—I thought you were cute but stupid. Who would run head first into a busy intersection for a stupid umbrella? It was my luck that when I finished my service and you were at my university.”

The calm atmosphere around Ye-Jun made you feel uneasy as you watched him pull off his bracelet. He looked over at you and grinned.

“That first day I got to truly know you, I thought you were the most selfish annoying little shit ever. Me, Me, Me. That’s all you talked about—didn’t ask me any questions about myself.”

You frowned, throat tightening as you tried to fight back the tears welling in your eyes.

“But you know what made me come back? Guess, Jagi.”

“Sex…?”

“Jagiya… Don’t sell yourself so short.” Ye-Jun laughed, shaking his head. His hand reached over and grabbed the belt hoops of your jeans, pulling you flushed against his chest. You let out a shocked gasp. “I saw you. Outside at the college park, crying your eyes out. You looked so cute.”

You shuddered, glancing down as you felt his hand move to your button, pulling it loose.

“You saw me and then immediately ran over to me. Jumped into my arms without even asking me and just cried, begging for comfort.” Ye-Jun chuckled as if he was remembering the moment. “I almost pushed you off but you were cute… So cute. I liked seeing your face ruined with tears.”

“I don’t understand.” You whispered, unable to stop him as he slowly pulled down your zipper.

“I wanted you after seeing you cry and cling onto me. I’ll be honest, I was going to stop seeing you after we first fucked. But then you suddenly said I was your first time… that you didn’t want any other man to touch you.” He laughed. “But you didn’t seem to keep that promise, did you?”

Ye-Jun pushed you onto the bed, grabbing your jeans as he pulled them off. You whimpered, unable to move as you watch him stand tall over you. A small smirk pulled on his lips.

“Everyday, you practically threw yourself at me. So cute and innocent. Whiny in bed as you begged me to fuck you. Slowly you ruined me, Jagiya. I liked how overly dependent you were on me.”

A strangled gasp left your lips as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room. You looked down to see Ye-Jun’s hands tearing open your boxers, creating a hole right at your ass. It was practically ruined.

“I didn’t think at first to make us ‘official.’ My mistake, huh? I didn’t think you’d run off so quickly without speaking to me just because of other people.” His hand gripped at your thighs. “When you didn’t immediately text me back I knew something was wrong. But I tried to think that it’d be good to not have you up under me.”

He laughed, looking down at you. “It was lonely. The first night without you made me never want to be alone again. But you left me alone for five years. Jagiya, did you not think about how I’d feel?”

“But… You didn’t…”

“Didn’t what? Defend you? Is that what you want from me? To be your knight? I’ll be him. Anything to make you stay.”

You gasped, clutching the bedsheets as you’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach, back arched. It was silent for a moment before you felt something cool coat your ass. Your body flinched, a pained whimper leaving your throat.

“Who was it?”

“H..Huh..? Ngh!” You cried out, feeling two fingers sink inside your hole. There was no build up or even a second for you to get used to it. Ye-Jun began to pump his finger in and out, using his free hand to deliver a smack to your ass.

“Who was it? Yang Junho? Did he get to touch you?”

“N..No! No, never..!” You whined, crying at the repeated thrusting against your prostate. The fact he was able to find it so easily scared you. Why could he remember stuff about you after five years?

“Then who, Jagi?”

“Ngh…! It… Mmh!! Ah… Hah.. Y..Young-Jae Hyung…”

“Lee Young-Jae..?” Ye-Jun whispered, his thrusting suddenly slowing down. “You had sex with him?”

“Mhm…” You whined, missing the feeling despite the tears threatening to fall. “We.. We were bored during our trainee years and we couldn’t date so we just became fuck buddies for about a year or so.. Ngh.. We stopped when we met Dohyun Hyung because Jae Hyung caught feelings for him…”

“Only him?”

“…Uhm…”

“Jagi.”

“No… I… I slept with someone after that. But then I couldn’t do it anymore because I got so busy with our debut.”

“Who?”

“You wouldn’t know him. Why do you even care? You probably slept with people during these five years!”

Ye-Jun chuckled. “Mhm. I didn’t. Well, I tried at least.” His finger slipped out of your ass, both hands now spreading you open. “But no one could compare to the pretty face you make whenever you cum on my cock.”

You gasped as you were forced back onto your back and dragged so your lower half of your body hung off the bed. Ye-Jun tilted his head as he drank you on, a slow smile creeping on his lips.

“I missed see you like this. Scared and complainant to my touch. You didn’t fight me at all, Cho (Name). You still want me, don’t you?”

Your hands gripped at the bedsheets as you turned your head to the side, clamping your eyes shut. He only laughed.

“Keep pretending you hate me. I heard sex feels good with hate.” The sound of the zipper and his belt buckle made you flinch, legs instinctively clamping together. You were scared but made no real attempt to move away.

A strangled gasp left your throat as he began to slowly thrust inside of you. It had been up to a year at this point—you almost forgot how much it hurts the first time. Forgot about how big he was.

Ye-Jun groaned, his hands reached up to grab your wrists as he brought them together over your stomach. “Mhm. You still feel so good, Jagiya. How can I live without this?”

You whimpered, eyes shut tight as you feel tears threatening to fall. It was silent for a moment. Your hole repeatedly clenching around his cock as you tried to get used to the feeling. Just as you were about to feel just a smidge of calmness, Ye-Jun slammed into you.

The sound of skin slapping filled the room in tandem with your hiccuped gasps. Tears were freely flowing as your lips parted, trying to say something. You couldn’t even remember what you were going to say.

Your toes curled as the repeated thrusting got you to finally open your eyes and glance down.

Ye-Jun looked downright sinful. His gaze never left your face as his hips slammed into your ass. Hands tightening around your wrists. A smirk pulled on his lips when he noticed you were finally paying attention to him.

“You really are so cute.” He muttered, a crazed look in his eyes as he took you in. “You’re crazy for trying to deprive me of you, Cho (Name). I shouldn’t have let you leave so easily.”

“Ngh… Wh..! Mhm, you act… hah.. act like you could’ve stopped me..!” You managed to finally speak, though it was short lived when his cock finally grazed against your prostate. Ye-Jun moved his hands so only one held both your wrists while the other held your right leg up.

“Oh, you’re still able to talk.” He said, completely ignoring your comment. “Can’t have that.”

He pulled out, much to your dismay, and released his grip on your body. You looked at him with wide eyes, tears staining your face as you wondered what he was going to do. Ye-Jun hummed as he maneuvered you to rest on your stomach once more.

You grunted at the force. “Stop…! Manhandling me!” You whined.

Ye-Jun ignored you again, forcing you to bend your knees on the bed so he could force your ass up high. His hand slipped underneath your boxers and gripped the band. You wondered if he was going to finally just take them off when he thrusted his cock inside your slick hole.

A stuttered high pitched gasp left your throat as he began to repeatedly slam his hips against your ass. He tugged at the hand of boxers, forcing your body to move back on his cock whenever you attempted to pull away just for a second of clarity.

It was repeated attacks on your prostate. The squelching from the lube and the sounds of skin slapping together with the sound of your high pitched moans filled the hotel room. Shit, you were so sure you would be getting a complaint tomorrow.

“I have so many things I want to do to you, Jagiya. To make up for lost time. Because you aren’t ever leaving me again. But I’ll be nice tonight… You have a Japanese debut to prepare for.”

You only whimpered, trying to form some type of words but could only rest your head against the bed.

“But after, I’m going to make you feel the pain you made me feel when you left me for those five years. What happened at the festival was only a taste.”

Ye-Jun delivered a harsh smack to your ass as you let out a shocked gasp. You couldn’t think clearly anymore—just babbling nonsense as your cock rubbed against the bedsheets dejectedly.

You were so close… You hoped Ye-Jun would be kind enough to let you cum tonight.

It seems your prayers were answered as a hand suddenly wrapped itself around your cock. A appreciative mewl escaped you as he began to pump your cock in sync with his thrusting.

The pleasure became too much as a long cry left you as your body began to slump. Your cock squirted against the covers, messing up your stomach in the process. But Ye-Jun didn’t stop, he continued fucking you despite your whines of overstimulation.

His grunting got louder as his hand gripped your ass. You gasped when he slammed deep inside one last time, hips flushed against your ass you began to feel something hot coat your inner walls.

He didn’t wear a condom… You hadn’t even noticed. This was the first time you ever had sex without a condom. Your first ever creampie.

Of course, Kim Ye-Jun was the one to do it.

Your body slumped against the bed, falling onto your side as he pulled out. You couldn’t even complain, too tired to do anything beside sleep.

Ye-Jun leaned over your body and leaned down, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “Don’t sleep yet. You can’t sleep on the sheets.” He wrapped his arms around your legs and upper body, easily lifting you up.

You were in and out as he got a bath ready. Your eyes fluttering close just as he lowered you into the water. He flicked your forehead, jolting you awake as you whined.

“Wha…tsthatfor?” You whispered.

“You can’t fall asleep. I don’t want you to drown in the bath.”

You must’ve ended up falling asleep anyway because you awoke on the bed, dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe. It was dark in the room, only a little light shining through the cracks of the shades from the street lamps.

A hand tightened its grip on your waist as you looked over, seeing Ye-Jun’s face buried in your neck as he clung to your body. You managed to free one hand and reached over to check your messages on your phone.

Roha Hyung

↳ make sure that homosexual is back by 10 am, we have practice in the morning

Jun Jun Hyung

↳ Are you safe? Please make sure you’re safe. Text me in the morning.

Ki Ki Hyung

↳ when did you leave? Are you okay? You better be in your room by 8 am when I visit

Dohyunie Hyung

↳ please don’t come home until after 10 am!!!!! Stay in my room tonight!! PleSjheja!!!

Wonnie Hyung

↳ was I the only one that didn’t know Yuki and Junho are fucking?!? wtf??? Am I only the one who likes girls in this damn band?!??

Jae Hyung

↳ !!!! DOHYUN HYUNG IS SUCKING MY DICK!!!!

↳ IM SO FUCKING HIS ASS TONIGHT!!!!

↳ anyway don’t come home, we’re gonna fuck all night ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

You shut your phone off and gently placed it back on the nightstand. You’d deal with that mess in the morning.

Your body shifted as you glanced down at Ye-Jun.

Surely you didn’t think he was serious. He couldn’t be this obsessed with you after nine months.

Right?

Poor, naive Cho (Name).

❝ 시작해 버린 순간 못 헤어나올 걸 아니까 ❞

He thought he was seeing things that day.

Love Countdown’s Cho (Name). You stood right there in front of him. He almost ran over to you and hugged you so tight, hoping it wasn’t just a dream. You looked so cute with those heart freckles.

He didn’t think you’d debut in a band. He didn’t remember anything about you being able to play any instrument.

Roha would tell him of course he didn’t. He only knew you for nine months. That wasn’t enough time to get to know someone that well. Especially someone like you who seemed unable to talk about anything besides your family drama or love for Ye-Jun.

Ye-Jun almost thought you just looked oddly similar to his (Name). Until Lee Young-Jae called your name. Until he saw how you looked at him with fear but also some type of love? Like you also wanted to just run into his arms.

No matter.

He was used to having total control of the relationship. He should’ve never allowed you to just take control so suddenly. You broke the relationship without even talking to him.

He’d get you back. No matter what. Because you were his.

Even if you didn’t know that.

@BRkim_yejun started following @TheRealLoveCountdown

❝ 점�� 멈추기 힘들어 갈 수록 중독돼 ❞

…. Don’t make fun of me, this wasn’t supposed to be so long lmfao. Anyway don’t even ask, I’ll be using Ye-Jun again and make a part two in future. He’s too toxic to pass up on

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo @star-3214 @tehyunnie @flurrina @ofclyde @iwishtobeacrow @love-kha1 @mooncarvers-world @smellwell @tomoeroi @remdayz @cherry-blossoms-187 @rhetorical-conscience @mello-life25

Translations:

ㅎㅎㅎ (하하하) — hahaha

ㅋㅋㅋㅋ (크크크크) — LOL

ㄷ ㄷ (떨딸) — trembling

❝ 목이 메어 ❞ — my throat is tight

❝ 매달려 봤는데 상처 발더러고 ❞ — I clung onto that person, and I ended up getting hurt

귀여워, 자기야… 셀키 더 찍어 주세요… 뽀뽀하고 싶어요 ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ — cute, baby. Please take more selfies!! I wanna kiss you, lolol

❝ 진지하진 않잖아 가벼운 간보기잖아 ❞ — you’re not being serious, it’s just a test, isn’t it?

❝ 이러면 안 되는데 머리론 아는데 ❞ — I shouldn’t be like this, I know in my mind

나는 너를 먹고 싶어…!! 왜 그렇개 귀여워? ㄷㄷ — I wanna eat you. Why are you so cute? *shaking*

죽을래, 새끼야!!! — do you wanna die, son of a bitch (this is where sae kki ya came from)

❝ 거기 멈춰 줄래 빠지기 싫어 싫어 싫어 ❞ — please stop right there, I don’t don’t don’t want to fall for you

❝ 단지 너의 외로움을 단래긴 싫거든 ❞ — I don’t only want to soothe your loneliness

❝ 시작해 버린 순간 못 헤어나올 걸 아니까 ❞ — because from the moment it starts, I know I can’t break free

❝ 점점 멈추기 힘들어 갈 수록 중독돼 ❞ — it’s getting harder to stop, I’m getting more addicted to you

Songs used — 121u by Day6 and sOng Of ice and fire by OnlyOneOf

[madaqueue]

PUSH AND PULL

something silent and intangible ties you to sukuna, and has for as long as you've known each other. but you can't help but wonder what would happen if you pull on that little red string of fate, bringing him closer than just friends.

pairing: ryomen sukuna x f!reader

themes/content: modern non-curse au, best friends to ???. suggestive/smut. language, pet names (pretty, baby, sweetheart), he calls you a slut but like as a joke, alcohol consumption, semi-public. 18+, MDNI (wc: 2.6k)

It was always just you and Sukuna, for as long as you could remember. Even as kids, the two of you found your home in the corner of the playground after he pushed someone off a swing you wanted to use; in highschool, you etched your names into the desks during some mundane class, landing both of you in detention. He wove his way into your life, and you into his, mending the frayed threads left behind by scissors and rough hands.

So of course neither of you ever dated - you didn’t need anybody else. Nobody would put up with (nor could handle) him and his moods. And you, well, nobody would dare get near you so long as you had him around.

To his credit, it took very little to scare any potential suitors off, oftentimes nothing more than a glare or a firm hand on their shoulder. And he seemed to understand that no one would ever quite compare to you, everyone else too boring, too bland, too pathetic to deserve his attention.

And so, you played along, this little game of pushing and testing and teasing and almost almost almost.

Yet, there was always something in the way, some invisible force keeping you from ever bridging the gap. “Just friends,” you both called it, a name for the insurmountable chasm between you. It was silent, unspoken, but always felt, a magnetic pull that kept you close but never allowed you to touch.

Tonight in particular, at this shitty house party of a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, that pull feels almost tangible, lingering in the hazy air.

Music blares, flashing LEDs illuminating the thin layer of sweat covering both of your bodies. Every thump of the bass electrifies the air, your heartbeat vibrating in tune. Tattooed hands hold your hips firmly against his body, your ass pressed to his pelvis.

You love this song. He loves you loving it.

That smug grin plays across his face, shadows cast by the flickering party lights above making it appear far more sinister to someone who doesn’t know Sukuna. But to you, he’s perfectly content.

When the chorus hits, you bend at the waist, dropping forward and grinding against him. Always such a fucking tease, he thinks as a quiet laugh escapes his lips. His fingertips tighten their hold but he shows no other sign of his sinful desires (he was proud of his restraint, even after all these years).

Bending your knees, the pathetically thin material of your dress rides up just enough that a prouder man would feel obligated to look away. Sukuna, of course, just chuckles as you look over your shoulder.

“You look like a slut.” Bright white teeth shine through his grin.

“At least I can dance,” you retort, hips circling against the front of his jeans. “You look stiffer than a dead guy’s dick.”

Throwing his head back, a laugh overtakes him, seemingly louder than the shitty pop song playing through the speakers. Pink hair catches under the red lights, absolutely electrifying. “Jesus, I forgot how filthy that fuckin’ mouth of yours can get.”

Fully turning around, you press your chest against his, your dress doing little to hide the way your nipples harden at the mild friction. The now-empty cup in your hand dangles at your side as you stand on your toes, lips brushing against his ear. “I’m gonna go get another drink to wash out this ‘filthy fuckin’ mouth,’” you shout over the music.

Instead of verbally responding, Sukuna steps back, slapping your ass as you make your way to the kitchen.

You know, of course, that he wouldn’t let anyone else talk to him the way you do, and you, of course, wouldn’t dare let anyone touch you the way he does (and he sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone else do it, either).

The kitchen is brighter than the surrounding chaos, your eyes blurry as they adjust. Finding your way to the stash of bottles, you pour yourself some combination of juice and liquor. The fake marble of the table is cold against your skin as you hop onto it, crossing your legs as the liquid hits your lips.

It’s certainly palatable, you shrug.

You bask in the muted silence for a moment before it’s broken by Sukuna’s loud footsteps marching towards you.

He always commanded attention so effortlessly, eyes turning to follow his path. At first you thought it was the visible tattoos lining his skin and notably unnatural hair, but over time you grew to wonder if there was something more innate, something living within his soul that evoked the unyielding focus from those around him.

Ruby eyes lock on yours (surely an effect of the colored LEDs still flashing nearby) as he glides in front of you. Your legs part, dangling over the edge of the countertop as he slots himself between them, arms encircling you.

Placing his palms onto the table behind your waist, the scent of whatever expensive cologne he probably stole this week hangs on his clothes as he leans closer.

“Thought I finally got rid of you when you didn’t come back.” His voice is gravelly, lips pulled into a leering smile.

“Maybe I just finally got sick of dancing with someone who only wants to paw at me,” you chuckle sarcastically. Lifting the cup to your mouth, you take another swig. “And you’re awfully close for someone who smells like shitty beer and sweat.”

“Oh really?”

Before you can respond, his lips are trailing up your neck, his nose pushing your hair to the side as he nuzzles into your skin.

His breath is hot, tickling your earlobe as he lowly whispers, “Well you smell lovely.”

On instinct your legs try to close around him, a desperate attempt to quell the ache growing between them. You hate his stupid fucking voice, his annoying flirting, how he always goes just a little too far pushing your buttons.

But he’s your friend.

(And that’s all you’ll ever be to him, too).

All you can do is chug your drink, hoping the alcohol dampens the racing pulse of your heart.

“Thanks, I actually pay for my perfume, unlike you, you fucking delinquent,” you manage to spit out.

Finally he pulls back, eyes locked on you. There’s an intensity behind them you can’t quite name, but one you’ve grown familiar with.

He’s playing with you.

A low hum vibrates from his throat in response, his gaze traveling down to your lips. “What’re you drinking?”

He changes the subject, as he always does when things threaten to get too serious, too real. Always running away, afraid to face the ever-insistent voice inside him that evokes a pause the moment before he hurls himself over the edge into desire.

You smirk. “Why don’t you try it?”

Bringing the cup to his face, it rests on his lower lip as you tilt it upwards, the saccharine liquid pouring down his throat. His eyes never leave yours as he swallows. A small trail dribbles down his chin while you place the empty plastic cup onto the counter beside you.

“Messy boy,” you coo, tone as falsely sweet as the drink lingering on his lips.

Grabbing his face, you pull him towards you, close enough you can make out the faint freckles decorating his cheeks. You collect the sugary liquor on your tongue as it travels along his skin, slightly rough from his freshly-shaved stubble. When you reach the corner of his mouth, you place a teasing peck before releasing your grasp.

“Someone should really teach you some manners, ‘Kuna.” And that devilish smile spreads across your face.

You see, you can play with him, too.

He stifles the giddy laugh building in his chest as he fixes his gaze back on you. “And someone should teach you how to make a drink, that shit was nasty.”

“You entitled brat,” you snap back, pushing him away with a hand against his chest. “I make excellent drinks, otherwise why else would you end up drunk on my couch every weekend, hm?”

“Maybe I just like the couch’s company,” he grins, dimples poking through the darkened lines spanning his face.

You’re both just staring at each other, waiting for something to happen, for someone to make a move. The air is electric, buzzing with that imperceptible desire.

Fuck it.

Just as you move to lean into him, a noise cuts through the static.

“Sukuna!” someone calls from the depths of the party.

His head whips around before shooting you an almost apologetic glance. “Guess someone else requires my attention.”

“Wouldn’t wanna keep them waiting for everyone’s favorite asshole,” you mock. With a mirrored smack of his ass, you send him away into the chaos surrounding you.

In his absence, your head swirls, overwhelmed with the alcohol and the lights and the sudden heat in your core.

Just friends.

You’re just friends.

Taking in a steadying breath, your hands shake as you pour another drink.

But at what point does it stop being a game? When do you decide to stop playing?

With a sigh you knock it back in one gulp before wandering between the bodies crowding the space.

The rest of the party is all skin and noise. It’s fluid and blurry and utterly debaucherous, the way you throw your arms around your friends, the way your body moves with each increasingly loud and repetitive song.

By the time the next few hours have passed, your feet start to ache as you make your way from the swath of strangers crowding the makeshift DJ booth at the front of the house.

Stumbling towards the back, a familiar voice calls your name.

“Where ya goin’, pretty?”

Sukuna is sprawled across one of the stained couches lining the walls, an unfamiliar girl hanging on his side. Her hands rest across his chest as her eyes cover you disapprovingly, nails digging into his shirt when you refuse to give her an ounce of attention.

“Lookin’ for somewhere to sit down,” you sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

“Got a free seat right here,” he smirks, patting his thigh. This fucker.

An angry glare forms along the girl’s face as she stares at you with a displeased grunt. Crossing your arms, you let out a breathy chuckle. “I would, but I wouldn’t wanna interrupt anything.”

Sukuna never even turns towards the girl who now traces her fingertips down his chest. “Nothin’ to interrupt here, baby.”

Exchanging a quick glance at the increasingly unhappy stranger lounged across him, she lets out an annoyed scoff as she rolls her eyes, finally removing herself from Sukuna. Brushing past you, she tries to shove into your shoulder before she misses, tumbling forward and back onto the dance floor.

You can’t help but giggle at the failed show of dominance, your eyes now finding their way back to Sukuna. He pats his thighs again expectantly, eyebrows quirking as he awaits your response.

He’s fucking with you, of course.

But before you know it, you’re standing between his legs. With a small sigh, you seat yourself on his lap, bare legs straddling him. A whisper of mischief dances behind his eyes while his hands make their way to your hips, holding you firmly in place.

“See? Isn’t this much more comfortable?” he taunts.

Heat builds in your core at how low his voice is, the rumbling of thunder just before a storm.

“Mmm,” you hum, letting your dissatisfaction show as you click your tongue. Wrapping your arms easily around his neck, your fingertips absentmindedly trace the lines of his tattoos to where they end at the neckline of his t-shirt. “It’s a bit better, but something’s still missing.”

“Oh yeah?” When he smiles, the lines adorning his skin crease invitingly. “And what’s that, sweetheart?”

You can’t help but grin silently. Because you can fuck with him, too.

Rolling your hips forward, your clothed pussy drags along the outline of his cock. The firm denim of his jeans provides just enough friction to have you stifling a moan. He inhales sharply through his nose, the soft sound cutting through the static noise surrounding you.

“Isn’t that better?” you coo teasingly as his fingertips dig into your waist.

A choked groan leaves his throat, his inability to let you have the upperhand fighting against the sudden desire to pin you down on this shitty couch and fuck you right here. Attempting to shake the thought off, his head falls forward into your neck.

Of course he’s thought about you like that before - you’re gorgeous, fucking hilarious, and somehow just as stubborn as he is. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

But some small part of him worries that the moment he pushes you too far, you’ll run, just like everyone else in his life. He was always too intense, too angry, too much. But not to you - you seemed to love him in spite of it, maybe even because of it.

Maybe that’s why he lets himself play this eternal game of cat and mouse, the push and pull.

But fuck, right now he wants to pull.

He wants to pull you against him, dragging you along the length of his hardening cock through his boxers. He wants to pull you up and down as he fucks into you, feeling your warm walls meld around him. He wants to pull your lips apart with his, tasting how sweet you are, whispering things he wouldn’t dare say to anyone else. Anyone but you.

The words feel heavy on the tip of his tongue. I want you. I want you. I want you. They’re too weighted, he worries. Instead, he settles for biting at your neck, hoping that your skin between his teeth will be enough to satiate his body’s need.

“S-shit,” you stammer at the sensations of his canines digging into your flesh. “Acting like a fuckin’ teething puppy, hm? Need someone to train some manners into you? Or do you want me to tell you to sit, stay, tell you you’re doing a good job?”

And he does. But of course, he’d never tell you that.

Instead, he bites harder, leaving dark bruises in his wake, a reminder of his mark on you.

As his lips trace up your neck, he pauses to nibble along your earlobe. “Just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” he whispers, his breath hot. “Wouldn’t want anyone taking what’s mine.”

You nearly whimper at the words - his? - but you manage to hold back, instead letting your neediness out with another circle of your hips. He hopes you miss the way his breath catches in his throat at the movement.

“Oh? I’m yours now?” you tease, silently pleading he doesn’t notice the lingering waver in your voice. “Quite possessive, don’t you think, ‘Kuna?”

You feel him chuckle more than you hear it, the warm puffs of air gently blowing against your hair. “I’m only possessive of things I want,” he growls. God, you always loved that rasp in his voice, like a gravel road lining the way home.

At this point, you’re sure your panties are soaked through, the tip of his cock dragging along your clit through them. You’ve never gone this far with him before, never been so bold, so desperate.

And he fucking loves it.

“And what do you want?” Your voice is airy, breathless, as your pace seems to pick up. You’re grateful for the dim LEDs flashing distantly from the depths of the party for hiding the blush undoubtedly dusting your cheeks.

Trailing wet kisses along your jawline, his mouth comes to rest just in front of you. His lips are soft, barely brushing against yours, a few millimeters apart. So close. So fucking close.

“I think it’s rather obvious.” His breath smells like liquor and desire as he whispers, “I want you.”

a/n: getting out of my writing slump by going back to my roots (wanting to fuck sukuna)

[berryunho]

THE ANSWER: XXVIII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 14,305 chapter warnings: alcohol consumption

Your month drags on. Despite the heightened activity around the farm, nothing much changes in your day-to-day schedule. You wake up at the same time, listen to Hongjoong ramble for the same amount of time, eat the same meals with the same people, and eventually sleep at the same time. Even book club is monotonous, barely even happening— but that might have more to do with the fact that Seonghwa (who conducts most of your lessons) seems even less enthused about having to spend an hour talking to you than you are. 

Which is strange— ish. Not that you expected much different from him, but you had thought that… or, well, at least, you weren’t feeling such a burning hatred for him anymore, so, maybe… 

But that’s silly. Of course Seonghwa still doesn’t give a rat's ass about you, why would he? All you’ve ever done is be a pain in his side. Even when he’s… comforted you in the past… its been to relieve his own discomfort or guilty conscious, not to actually help you. Probably.

You truly have no idea. Seonghwa is an enigma. 

In a way, though, you’re glad that he’s at least mostly off your case. Maybe due to your slight mental breakdown after seeing the… thing… Seonghwa seems to be less eager to poke fun at you. Not nice by any standards, but he’s certainly less devious around you. 

Which also means that he hasn’t been prying into your personal life. Thankfully. With the secret of your escape looming over your every thought, it would be just like you to accidentally slip-up in front of Seonghwa and blow the whole thing. 

Instead, he keeps things very formal. He doesn’t put his hands on you, he doesn’t stare at your face with that scrunched-up look, he doesn’t ask questions about you or your day or San or anything else. He talks to you about The Answer and lets you leave after. 

Though the arrangement is a bit startling at first, you get used to it quickly. Hongjoong appears less and less at these meetings, not even making an appearance in the last two weeks of the month. You have no idea what he could possibly be so busy doing, but you’re not complaining. 

Over the course of the month, there were several more rituals, similar to the tune of the one that you had participated in. Luckily, you were not called to participate in any of them, and no more— and your hesitant to even give whatever happened a name, but— Guardians appear to confuse and scare the everliving fuck out of you. 

More and more, you find yourself absentmindedly reaching to touch the pins on the collar of your shirt, fiddling with them whenever your hands are free. You want to think that it has nothing to do with Hongjoong’s bullshit about the Sign protecting you… and it doesn’t! Not at all! That would be crazy! It’s just a habit. Like spinning a ring or twisting a necklace. 

… You’ll go with that, anyways. 

Occasionally, you still have nightmares about your encounter. What a horrible night that all was. Obviously, there still is nothing in you that can believe that Guardians are real. That would be silly. And insane. But it’s only natural that you’re still upset about the whole situation. Whatever had happened, it had scared the shit out of you. It affected you— it makes sense that your subconscious would be fixated on such a traumatic memory. 

Right…? Or maybe you’re still actively thinking about that night and what the fuck had happened. Could it have been what Hongjoong said? Could he be right? Or were you blitzed out on some mysterious drug and everyone else was just lying about what they saw? Could Hongjoong manage that?

He probably could. It couldn’t be that hard for him to convince the entire cult into gaslighting you into believing that they had all seen the thing, too. But San… He wouldn’t lie to you about it, right? You find that very hard to believe. 

Thinking on it, San had, of course, never outright said that he had seen the same thing as you— you had never spoken in detail with him about it… But he was disturbed enough to set your escape into motion, which must count for something. Maybe he had seen a Guardian and was terrified enough to run. 

These sorts of thoughts dominate your month. 

You had volunteered to help out with the harvest, almost pleading with San for something to do. You were sure that Wooyoung would take your help back in the kitchens, but Hongjoong denied you any opportunity that seemed to come your way. He wanted you with San, where he could see you. 

Which is stupid, in your opinion. Hongjoong has the Followers, all of whom are incredibly devoted to him; any of them would give you up in a heartbeat if they saw you trying anything that you shouldn’t. He could assign literally anyone to watch you while you did a task, and it would achieve the same thing as having San at your side. But no. You were forced to rot in your apartment, glancing over San’s shoulder to his laptop on occasion, hoping to see something that could brighten your mood (or give you more information). 

Most of the time, you watch out your window, hoping to snag another glance at Mingi. There are a few times when you can see him in the field, but the Followers make quick work of the harvest nearest the compound, and move farther and farther away as the month rolls onward. Sometimes, you swear you can see his hair in the distance, reflecting the sun so brightly. It gets harder and harder to remember why you fought. Why you were holding a grudge. Could you really blame him for having your best interests at heart?

Sure, he had been a little possessive and freaky, but, like, he was kind of telling the truth. And he was just trying to make sure that San wasn’t hurting you.

You’re probably just making excuses for him, now, as you miss his company. Here you were, a cult member, locked away in an apartment, all for him— and you don’t even have him. You can’t even speak with him freely. The irony isn’t lost on you. 

Anyways, it doesn’t come as much of a shock when Hongjoong announces that the harvest is complete. Though the month might have been one of the longest of your life, watching the field workers get farther and farther away everyday at least gave you a sense of time passing. When even their tractors were tiny specks that you could hardly see without squinting, it was clear that the work was almost finished. 

The announcement is met with much fanfare, though you’re not sure why. From what you make of it, Halloween is always the date on which the harvest celebration occurs. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise that the harvest is over, especially with the date looming so soon, but the Followers all seem overjoyed. Maybe they’re all just ready to relax after a long, toiling month. 

That said, the day itself comes much faster than you anticipated. Hongjoong made the announcement of the end of the Harvest on the 25th of the month, leaving six days between the sermon for celebration and the actual ceremony itself. 

Which left you with six days to finish your mental preparations for your escape. 

San had refined your plan over the month, including making a timeline of the night and the places you should find yourself. He took over the entire plan, which you really couldn’t be more thankful for. His knowledge of the farm and the workings of the cult provided a level of security that you would have never been able to achieve on your own. 

In essence, the plan remained the same. When the ceremonial party began at 6pm, you would have nothing to worry about… besides socializing for the next nine hours. Just follow the vibes, and you would be okay. San was sure that you would have free reign during the party, that you’d be allowed to be away from a higher-ups side once the alcohol was flowing. At three, you would meet with San near the front doors, trying to not be seen, and make your way into the woods beyond the compound, where San will have stashed your car in the days leading up to the ceremony (it was as he was telling you this that he admitted to having the keys to your car in his office this entire time). 

Despite the simplicity of the plan, you figured that it would probably work. As long as you didn’t raise any suspicions in the coming days, and as long as everything went smoothly on Halloween, there was no reason to dwell on the possibility of it failing. 

Another failed escape attempt was unlikely to be something that you would survive, you knew this. Even with Hongjoong’s delusional belief that you are someone important to him and his religion, you weren’t sure he could tolerate this level of disobedience— at the very least, it would be disastrous if you failed. At worst, you would be leading San and yourself to early graves. 

Maybe Hongjoong’s twisted dependence on you would mean that he couldn’t kill you… But you weren’t going to count on it. He had threatened your life in the past, and you were quite certain that he meant it. He would be able to reason out a way that killing you made sense, if you pissed him off enough.

So. You simply had to make sure that you did not fail. Because you didn’t want to find out what Hongjoong would do with you if you did. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

Much like the rest of the month, the few days leading up to Halloween also fly by before you can appreciate the gravity of your situation. 

Your stomach churns all morning. You chalk it up to nerves, the most obvious explanation for an upset stomach, but part of you wonders if there wasn’t something wrong with your dinner last night. 

Hongjoong announces the party to be held that evening during the morning service, like San had said that he would. You wring your hands together at San’s side, avoiding Hongjoong’s eyes. There’s a small part of you that is so sure that he would be able to figure you out entirely if he got a glimpse into your eyes. You just try to focus on the activity at hand, listening to Hongjoong with an impassive look on your face. 

You must do an alright job, as Hongjoong allows you to leave the chapel with San at the conclusion of the service. You’re even able to eat breakfast in peace, which actually does surprise you. Though Hongjoong had been exceedingly busy over the month, he still typically made time to freak you out most days. 

But San and you are able to sneak away after breakfast, back to your apartment, without a word from anyone. 

As soon as San shuts and locks the door behind him, he asks, “Are you still feeling alright? Up to this?” 

You blink across the room at him, hardly needing a moment to assure him that you very much still are ready to make your escape. You ask if he’s feeling the same way, to which he agrees. 

“Just a little nervous, I guess,” he explains, shrugging. “That’s normal, right?” 

“Of course it is.” You’re sure that San is no stranger to Hongjoong’s wrath; you don’t need to wonder why he’s nervous. Once again, you’re struck by emotion as you realize what San is doing for you, what he’s risking and what he’s giving up. 

He smiles. “What should we do, after we’re out of here?” 

You sit down on the couch, thinking through your answer, “I think we should just show up on one of my friend’s doorsteps and freak the shit out of them.” 

San laughs, rolling his eyes. “I meant more long-term, but we can do that, too.” 

Oh… Long-term. You still hadn’t broached the subject about… well, blowing the whistle on this place again, ever since San flipped out when you suggested it. You certainly still planned on doing exactly that, and you really don’t think that you need San’s approval to do so, either. Like, if you escape and just let this be, aren’t you basically an accomplice to all of the crime? 

The last thing you plan to do with your life is go to prison for Hongjoong, so you’re very much resolved in what you have to do… whether San agrees with you or not. 

“Well,” you start, “when’s the last time you saw your parents? Where did you live before you came here?” 

San sighs dramatically, making his way to sit next to you. “Sheesh, don’t remind me. They’re gonna kill me.” 

“They’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure.” You think of your own parents, who will probably also be a little upset… but hopefully mostly pleased that you’re still alive. 

San agrees with you easily enough about his parents, before adding, “Is this a bad time to mention that the Followers have been paying your rent since you went missing?” He asks, “So everything should still be there.” 

You gape at him. “Are you serious? How?” 

You know for a fact that your rent could only be paid through a pain in the ass portal with a very specific and strange ID and password. 

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “You had the info saved in your phone… so…” 

Puzzled. You are puzzled. Why would they go to such lengths to just keep your shit in your apartment? You had long since assumed that your landlord had probably broken down the door and left your stuff on the curb. 

Well, you remind yourself, it actually hasn’t been that long. Though it feels like you’ve been on this farm for the better part of your life, it has really only been… what, two and a half months? Maybe your landlord would give you some leeway, but… no need to worry about it, you guess. 

But why would they even do that? It’s not like your rent was cheap. What would they gain from keeping your apartment intact? The illusion of life? 

That’s probably it, you realize. Just a front to make it look like you, in fact, weren’t a missing person. Part of you wants to freak out at San, realizing that he must be the person that orchestrated all of this, but you’re too far past that. If you start being mad at him for doing his job, you’re going to have to be mad about a lot of things. Things that you can look past for the fact of what he’s helping you do tonight. 

“Speaking of my phone, can I get that back?” 

San, relieved that you don’t seem mad, smiles. “I’ll grab it tonight.” 

“Can’t I have it now?” 

He hesitates at that, inclining his head in question, “any particular reason?” 

You shouldn’t need to give him a reason, so you shake your head. 

“It’s probably best to keep it where it is, in case someone goes looking for it.” 

… Ominous. Who would be looking for your phone? 

But he’s probably right. And it’s not like there would be much to do on it, anyways. You’re not going to call the cops now, not when your escape is looming closer and closer with each minute that passes. You can’t jeopardize it now. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

You’re a little surprised that dinner carries on as normal, without any extra fanfare. Though no one had mentioned one, you had kind of expected there to be another ceremony of sorts. But, no, dinner is normal. You sit with San and Wooyoung, the rest of the table almost awkwardly empty as the three of you eat in relative silence.

How is Wooyoung going to react when he wakes up tomorrow and you’re both gone? He’s going to be pissed. But, maybe, he’ll realize that you wouldn’t leave him here. Surely, after what he told you, he knows that you wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t have it in your heart to let him rot here, knowing what Hongjoong did to bend him to his will… or, at least, having an inkling of an idea. 

Before you know it, Hongjoong is standing at the head of the room, commanding the attention of the cafeteria. The room falls into a hush, no one speaks as Hongjoong starts his speech. 

“Everyone,” he addresses the room, “Loyal Followers of the Answer, it is with great joy that I officially conclude our harvest season.”

The room bursts into a polite applause, smiles shared around the tables as the Followers celebrate their leader’s message. 

“Despite a rocky start, we were very fortunate to remain safe for the duration of the month.” Hongjoong, for the first time that day, finds your eyes. “I put my thanks in the faith of our Followers, those who kept our protections strong all month long. Though it may seem that there was no danger at all, this is only thanks to their courage.” 

San reaches across the table to squeeze your hand, giving you a small smile. 

“As always, we will celebrate our safety and our bountiful harvest— which Jongho assures me will last us through the winter and beyond— tonight. Everyone of age shall participate; I do not expect anyone to hold back on anyone’s account, especially not my own. This success is as much yours as it is mine.

“Please, imbibe freely, socialize freely, celebrate your victory over evil. We start now, and we will not stop until dawn.” Hongjoong grabs his glass from the table behind him, saluting the room with it before downing the amber liquid. 

Again, the room applauds, though more raucously. Wooyoung excuses himself from your table, headed back to the kitchens. Soon after, Followers emerge with trays and trays of various specialty glassware, each filled with their respective (you assume) alcohols. Not long after, Wooyoung exits the kitchen with a rolling cart filled with, perhaps, more bottles of alcohol than you have ever seen in one place at one time (which was saying a lot, considering the bars you had frequented with Mingi in college). 

Without anyone’s encouragement, Followers begin congregating at the front of the room, helping themselves to the multitude of drinks available. You’re even surprised to see that someone brought out a case of Coke, presumably for mixing. When was the last time you saw coke? They must’ve made a run into town recently, you realize, though it couldn’t have had the same importance as when San went. 

You shrug it off. Not like it matters much, anyhow. San stands, offering his hand to you. You take it, graciously, prepared to get this night started. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

There is an attempt to pace yourself, considering that you’re going to need to be at least a little coherent later tonight, but… well… it’s been a long time. And you are well aware of the fact that you have, like, basically 10 hours. That’s enough time to get drunk and then sober, if you play your cards right. 

So play them, you do. San sticks to your side like glue for the first couple hours, watching you carefully as you put away more than your fair share of drinks. He drinks, as well, but nowhere near at the speed or quantity you do. You’re vaguely aware that you probably should slow down, but why would you, when you’re surrounded by… like, tons of dudes that would protect you, and you include Hongjoong in that count. 

By nine, you are positively drunk, blissfully unaware of the worries from the morning. What is there to worry about? You’re having the time of your life, do you even want to leave? Why would you leave? The thought makes you laugh, not surprisingly. 

You flit around the cafeteria, having lost San a while ago. Or maybe it was only a few minutes ago… It doesn’t matter. You talk to a lot of people, introducing yourself and smiling when they tell you they know who you are. It almost makes you feel a little guilty, but it mostly makes you happy. So many lovely people know your name and your face and they know that Hongjoong thinks you're so important. How amazing! Tomorrow, you probably wouldn’t be able to repeat a single one of their names, but that doesn’t matter. 

The time flies as you keep talking to new people, your mind completely distracted from the plans you have for later. You do slow down your drinking, eventually, though that’s more so due to the fact that you’re too far away from the bar table to bother going back to it than anything else. 

More than a few times, you find yourself staring at Mingi, and, more often than not, he’s staring at you, as well. Maybe he’s worried about you…? The thought makes you blush. Mingi… Oh, Mingi. He looks so handsome tonight, too. His hair is still red, still bright, and his outfit is beautifully fitted to his bulky body. Phew. You almost need to fan yourself. 

Eventually, sometime, you’re not sure what time, you end up talking with Yunho. He is clearly not even a little bit drunk, you might even say he was stone-cold sober if not for the glass in his hands. Though you thought that he hated your guts, he still seemed a little amused by your presence, a small smile on his face as he has to catch your forearm a couple times. The drunk part of you wonders if you could get away with feeling his biceps, he’s just so tall and so handsome, but even you know it would probably be wrong to feel him up. 

You couldn’t repeat a word of your conversation to anyone, not even seconds after it happened; not that you think it particularly matters. After Yunho, you find Wooyoung and Yeosang, and you can distinctly remember thanking Wooyoung for the incredible selection, but… yeah, that’s about it. 

While you’re about to go talk to Jongho, who looks like he could use some company, a hand wraps around your elbow, tugging you backwards. Not one to argue, you spin around, ready to follow whoever it is. Seonghwa stares down at you, an incredulous expression on his face. 

“Hi, Hwa,” you smile up at him, grabbing his free hand with yours. 

His expression morphs from confusion to disgust. “Do not call me that. How much have you had to drink?” 

You shrug, swinging your conjoined hands back and forth. “Enough to have a good time. What about you?” 

“Certainly less than that,” he tugs you back toward the cafeteria tables that had, apparently, been mostly moved out of the way at one point. “Trust me, you don’t want to bother Jongho tonight.” 

You hadn’t planned on bothering him, just keeping him company, but you figured that Seonghwa wouldn’t see it the same way. 

“What time is it?” You ask him, only remembering that you’re wearing a watch after the words leave your mouth. 

“10:44. Got somewhere to be?” 

“Nope,” you pop the p sound, following his lead as he ushers for you to sit down at the table. 

Time continues to fly by, though Seonghwa isn’t as good of a conversation partner as the other people you’ve been spending your time with. He also doesn’t let you drink anymore, instead insisting that you drink water, refilling your glass every time you empty it. Lame. 

As the minutes pass, though, you can feel yourself coming back to reality. You definitely aren’t sober, very far from sober, but the lights stop being bright and you stop being amused by everything that Seonghwa says and does pretty quickly. You also excuse yourself to the restroom more than a few times, though you dutifully return to the same table each time. 

The night progresses, and you find yourself making eye contact with Mingi more and more. Like, seriously, basically everytime that you happen to look at him, he’s already looking at you. Besides the one time you look over and see him engaged in conversation with Hongjoong, you appear to have his rapt attention. 

You try to look around the room for San, but there are so many Followers and it’s kind of dark and you’re still not in your right mind, so you give up pretty quickly. You have no idea what it is that he could be doing, besides preparing for your escape, so you just let it be. Better to not ask after him and then have the others asking the same questions. 

Though he had stopped you from drinking, Seonghwa had not stopped himself. He paces himself much better than you had, but he keeps drinking as the night wears on, eventually starting to open up a bit more with you. He also lets you get another drink, which you happily allow yourself, as you start to feel much too aware of your situation once more. 

“You know,” Seonghwa mutters, leaning closer to you, “this is, essentially, Hongjoong’s birthday party.”

You pull away from him, confusion evident on your face. “It’s his birthday?” 

“In a week.” He sips his drink, grimacing at the taste. “But he doesn’t make a big deal of it on the actual day, so here we are.” 

You’re actually rather surprised to hear this, and from Seonghwa no less. It’s strange that Hongjoong doesn’t want his birthday to be a huge thing considering his, you know, enormous ego and narcissism issue. Maybe he doesn’t like everyone knowing how old he is. Kind of takes away the appeal, knowing that he’s… how old is he? He can’t be much older than you, just given what you know about him and Seonghwa (who you know to be the same age). You’d ask Seonghwa, but it kind of seems like he wants you to ask, so you’re not going to. 

Instead, you sip your own drink, trying to look like you’re thoughtfully processing and tucking this information away for later. Why would you ever need to remember Hongjoong’s birthday, especially after tonight? Your stomach rolls over as you have this thought, the reminder of your plan being truly nauseating. 

“When's your birthday?” You ask instead, propping your elbow onto the table. 

Seonghwa looks momentarily taken aback, but responds easily enough, “April third.” 

“Far away, then,” you frown. Another realization hits you. “You’re older than Hongjoong.” 

He shrugs, “Believe it or not.” 

For whatever reason, this is, in fact, slightly disconcerting. 

But you ignore that feeling, opting to look around the crowded room. Hongjoong himself is mingling with Yeosang and Wooyoung, both of whom look incredibly pleased to have their leader's attention. Wooyoung is not shy with his hands, clutching the Hongjoong’s arm close to his chest as they speak. Vaguely, you wonder if he’s feeling okay. You’re still not sure how he can be so loyal to someone that apparently had him… what? Tortured? Who even knows. Stockholm syndrome is a real thing, you guess. For once, Hongjoong doesn't sense your gaze, staying completely unaware until your eyes shift away. 

Immediately, perhaps unsurprisingly, at this point, you make eye contact with Mingi. You hold it this time, tilting your head in question as if asking him if he needs something. He’s certainly acting like it, with all this staring, but he looks away from you, resuming his conversation with a Follower you haven't met before. Like everyone else, he still sports a drink in his hand, dutifully sipping it every lull. 

“Princess, can I ask you a question?” Seonghwa speaks across from you, calling your attention back to him. You incline your head in the affirmative, and he asks, “Why did it take you so long to come after him?” 

The question takes you off guard, probably for the fact that you wonder it yourself. You take another drink, looking down at the wood grain on the table. 

“Too personal? I figured.” Seonghwa takes your silence as an unwillingness to respond.

“No,” you're quick to deny him, “it's not that. I just don't know the answer.” 

As horrible as it sounds, the real answer to the question is simply… you were busy. Life happened. You didn’t have any reason to suspect that he disappeared due to malicious circumstances. Finishing university was your top priority— plenty of your friendships fell to the wayside as you wrapped up your degree. And, by the time you graduated, it didn’t seem pertinent. You always figured that, if you reached out, he would answer. Hell, his mom told you where he was, if she knew about this place, at least to some extent, you couldn’t blame yourself for not knowing what it would end up being. 

If you had known the truth, you think, you would’ve come sooner. Of course you would have. There is no universe where you let Mingi go through this terror alone… though that’s essentially what’s happened since your argument and the rift in your relationship. 

Whatever the case, it seems silly to worry about now. You're here. There were a few months where Mingi was here alone, and the idea of those few months horrifies you. Knowing that Mingi went through a Choosing ceremony without any kind of internal support system makes you feel sick… but, you have to admit, he did pretty alright. Sure, he's traumatized and changed and brainwashed, but at least he has friends and a purpose and, well, he seems happy… ish. There's nothing you could've done if you had been here earlier, so it's no use dreading on it. You still would've been kept apart, and there still would've been the same circumstances. 

You take a look at your watch, sighing as it informs you that the time is 11:52 p.m., not nearly as late as you were hoping that it would be. 

Seonghwa huffs at your non-answer, tucking his hair away from his face to stare at you harder. “Sometimes I feel like I can hear your thoughts just from watching your expression change. Mingi wasn’t better off before you got here, if that is what you were thinking.” 

It wasn’t, but, like, that’s kind of close. 

You shake your head, sliding your drink across the table between your hands. “It’s not that I think he was better off… Just that he did alright for himself in the meantime.” 

His face twists, though you’re not sure what emotion he’s trying to convey. “Do you even remember what happened when you tried to leave?” 

Your eyes meet his. 

“He had you back for, what, two days, and then completely broke down.” Seonghwa glances back over at Mingi. “I don’t think he’s been the same since you did that.” 

“You can’t guilt trip me into forgetting my need for self-preservation,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray any sense of, well, guilt. 

He rolls his eyes, looking back at you. “In case you haven’t noticed, Princess, you are very much still alive.” He mutters something else under his breath as he picks up his drink, taking quite a few consecutive swallows. 

You mirror his actions. Hopefully, you can keep it that way.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

In a stroke of luck, Seonghwa let you keep drinking until you found yourself teetering between tipsy and drunk, again. He kept drinking, but he didn’t really keep entertaining you, instead wandering off to do his own socializing. You do try to keep yourself under control, though considering that it’s almost time. 

You take a look at your watch, surprised to see that it’s already 2:15. Blinking through the haze of your tipsiness, it sure seems like 2:15 is an okay time to get a move on, right? Like, surely no one will notice if you slip out now instead of in, like, twenty minutes or whenever you and San had agreed he would grab you. 

Plus, if anyone did notice, you could just say that you needed some air. It wouldn’t be hard to believe, looking at the state of you. You would quite enjoy a nice breath of fresh air. You could always come back inside if it felt like it was too early, or if you got a bad feeling. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to sneak off for just a moment. 

In a brief look around the room, you don’t find anyone paying any particular attention to yourself. In fact, you can see Hongjoong and Seonghwa engrossed in conversation, about as far away as could be. Seonghwa’s hand rests on Hongjoong’s shoulder, a demure smile on his face as he listens to Hongjoong speak. Most of the other Followers in the room all seem significantly more drunk than yourself, with hardly a person meeting your eyes for any longer than a second. 

No one will notice, you’re positive. 

As you begin your attempt to shuffle your way through the crowd toward the hall, a hand grasps your elbow, stopping you in place, for the second time that night. 

Despite the looks that he had been giving you all night, you’re still a bit surprised to see Mingi looking down at you when you spin around to see who the hand belongs to. Your plans to go get a breath of fresh air fall out the window at the sight of him. Why would you need fresh air when Mingi is standing in front of you? He has just about the same effect on you. 

At first, he doesn’t seem to have anything to say, but, if you know anything about Mingi, it’s that he yaps when he’s drunk. And he clearly is, judging from the rosy tinge of his face and the awkward smile he wears as he looks at you, a smile that sends you straight back to college. It’s as if he’s completely forgotten everything that’s happened in the past couple months, forgotten the arguments and the anger and the time that has passed. 

“Hey,” he greets you, having to raise his voice over the din of the party. 

“Hey,” you greet him in turn, politely waiting for him to continue. 

“Can I—” he stops, opting to lean his head closer to yours so that he can talk into your ear. His hand stays on your elbow, locking you in place (not that you would’ve moved away from him, anyways, being tipsy and all). “Can we talk in private?” He asks, his voice deep in a way that you had almost forgotten. 

Nodding, you allow him to retract himself and lead you away, toward the hall that you had originally been aiming for. When the door shuts behind the two of you, the party sounds fade; the two of you isolated from the rest of the world. 

Well, the two of you and a few other Followers that linger in the hall, but close enough. Mingi doesn’t seem bothered by their presence, and you really aren’t either. You’re sure that you haven’t had a truly private conversation with Mingi since before he went missing, given that he apparently seeks Hongjoong’s advice for everything. Anyways, the presence of a few stragglers doesn’t worry you. 

Mingi drops your arm, awkwardly smoothing his dress shirt. “You look nice. Pretty.” 

“Thanks,” you smile, leaning your back against the wall— partly in an effort to keep your balance.  “What did you wanna talk about?” 

He shrugs, observing the hallway like he had never seen it before. “Just wanted to talk. We haven’t talked in a looooooonnngggggggggg time.” 

Part of you wants to ask him who’s fault that is, but that would be cruel, so you don’t. “It has been a while now.” You agree instead, glancing at your watch. 2:22… which is basically 2:25, which is basically 2:30… already. Nerves wash over you again as you clench your hands in front of you. 

“If I’m being honest— and I always want to be honest with you, you know— Hongjoong said that I should talk to you because he thought it would be good for you to hear my thoughts about the situation and also because he said that he thought that you seemed bummed out that we haven’t been talking and that made me sad so I’m taking his advice and talking to you.” Mingi says after taking one deep breath, not stopping for a moment. “Also Yunho said that you still seemed kind of mad and I can’t take the thought of you being mad at me anymore so basically what I wanted to say was that I’m sorry.” 

Blinking, a pout forms on your face at his explanation. He had been worrying about you and your relationship. You could’ve reached out to him at any point in the last month, but hadn’t out of fear that he was still upset with you. And here he was, apologizing. 

“Mingi,” you wring your hands harder together, “it really isn’t important anymore. I stopped being angry a long time ago.” 

He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “It is important, (Y/n), I don’t want this to go unsaid. I’m sorry for confronting you and acting like a douchebag, I’m sorry for scaring you, I’m sorry for questioning you about San, which was absolutely none of my business, I’m sorry for yelling and fighting him and ignoring you for weeks and sending San dirty looks whenever I saw him.” He pauses. “You probably didn’t know about that last one, but, still, I’m sorry.” 

Your frown only grows deeper with each apology, your eyes starting to sting. You don’t want to cry, not when you’re sure that this night will steal plenty of tears already, but Mingi is making it hard. If you had known that he was beating himself up equally as hard as you had been, you would’ve apologized a long, long time ago. If you had known… isn’t that just the statement of your life? 

“When you were attacked at the start of the month, I was terrified.” He swallows. “I wanted to be at your side, but Hongjoong wouldn’t allow it, and I was sure that you would be pissed if you woke up and I was there, so I left. But that solitude left me a lot of time to think, to think about who you are and what you mean to me.

“You might not think of me as your best friend anymore, but I value our friendship more than anything else in my life, (Y/n). More than Hongjoong, more than The Answer, more than all of this; you are what I thank God for everyday. If something happened to you, I don’t think I would survive it.” Mingi swallows again, harder, tearing up himself. “I’m so glad that you’re here. I know you still are on the fence about Hongjoong, but I need you to trust me when I say that he loves us and he lives to make us better people.” 

Finally, you allow a few stray tears to spill onto your cheeks. Mingi’s confession is touching, truly, making your stomach do all sorts of gymnastics, but Hongjoong. How does he weasel his way into absolutely everything? Again, you’re struck by the thought that Mingi will be plagued by Hongjoong for the rest of his life. This… grip he has on Mingi won’t disappear overnight. 

Thankful for the wall behind you, considering your dizziness, you lift a hand to wipe at your cheeks before responding. “Mingi, no matter what happens or how much we fight or if I’m here or not, you’ll always be my best friend.” You smile weakly, hoping that he doesn’t read too deeply into your words. “Nothing can come between us for long.” 

Mingi wipes at his own tears, sniffling. “Can I hug you?” 

Before you can fully nod your head yes, Mingi is pulling you away from the wall and into his arms, crushing you to his chest. You’re quick to reciprocate, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, savoring the feeling. You hadn’t been able to hug him in ages, but his arms feel just like you remember them— if not a little bit more muscled. Inhaling deeply, you rub your face against his shirt, probably ruining the crisp-ness that he had been trying to preserve. His tears wet your scalp, but you don’t mind as you only squeeze him tighter. 

The moment could not be more perfect; reconciling with Mingi fills your heart with such a certainty that you’re doing the right thing. Knowing that he isn’t upset with you, isn’t harboring any ill-will any longer reassures you that it will all be okay. He knows that you wouldn’t just leave him behind— he’ll know that you’re coming back for him (if he ever even finds out that you’ve left). 

That is, of course, ignoring the bit of his speech where he encouraged you to stay and adapt to Hongjoong, but, like, whatever. It’ll be irrelevant in a few hours, now. He’ll be thankful, eventually. 

But no moment can be perfect and last forever. 

A throat clearing from behind Mingi calls your attention back to the world. The two of you separate, though Mingi puts a hand on your cheek as you pull away, wiping away your tears with a tight smile. 

San looks behind Mingi’s shoulder, his face hard as he watches the two of you. You could almost chuckle at his jealousy, but the seriousness of the situation suddenly rises into your awareness once again. 

“I'm sorry, Mingi, you'll have to excuse us,” San says, despite the fact that Mingi hasn't acknowledged his presence. 

Mingi leans close to press a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he says, quietly enough so that you're the only one who hears. 

Nodding, you untangle yourself from his arms, taking a few steps towards San before offering your hand to him. 

He takes it, offering no final remarks to Mingi as he pulls you further away from the cafeteria. Further away from Hongjoong and Seonghwa and Mingi and the rest of them. Closer to the forest and your car and freedom. 

Your heartbeat picks up in your chest again. Had you lost track of time talking with Mingi? Were you running behind? Why does it seem like San is in such a rush to get you away? It’s almost hard to keep up with his stride, your boots feeling heavier with each step that you take. 

Vaguely, you find yourself worrying over if Mingi will get in trouble for being the last one to speak to you. Surely not… How would he know what you were planning? There wouldn’t be a way for him to… unless they suspected that you had confided your plans to him. 

Which you hadn’t done, but if they were desperate enough to need a scapegoat… No. Hongjoong wouldn’t go that far. He may never even find out that you had the conversation in the first place. Mingi might mention it, but he probably wouldn’t have the opportunity to in the chaos that is sure to ensue when your absence was realized. 

They were bound to figure out what had happened easily enough; they wouldn’t have to interrogate your friends to come to the most obvious conclusion: that you and San had run away in the night, without outside help. 

Before you know it, San is opening the front door, ushering you into the night. 

As you had suspected, the cool air does feel amazing on your skin. Lacking a coat, you know that you’ll grow colder the longer that you’re outside. It’s almost November, now, the air is almost strikingly cold after the stuffiness of the cafeteria. Even the hallway had hardly felt relieving compared to this. 

Taking a few deep breaths, you allow San to continue wordlessly leading you forward. If you weren’t still rather tipsy, maybe you would question his silence. But it doesn’t bother you very much, if you’re being honest. He probably just doesn’t want to risk drawing any unnecessary attention…

He had assured you that there would be absolutely no one outside of the compound at this point in the night, though… 

But, still, he has his reasons, you’re sure. Instead of continuing to walk in front of the building, he veers dramatically to the right, walking the distance until you both turn the corner to round to the side and eventually the back.

Though you had never seen the woods at the back of the compound directly, you had known it was there. The ancient, old-growth trees loomed from behind the building, their leaves able to be seen from a far distance, even from the road. To actually be in front of them was a new sensation, a new emotion. The sight of their trunks startled you into realization.

This is real. You’re doing this. You’re running. You’re getting out of here. 

San stops at the edge of the trees, finally turning to address you in a low voice, “You still want to do this?” 

Nodding, you squeeze his hand in yours, bringing your free hand to grip your joined hands as well. 

He looks at the dirt, kicking a loose pebble at his feet. “Don’t look too hard at anything you might see in these trees, (Y/n).” 

However foreboding that is, you agree with his request, “I won’t take my eyes off of you.” 

San allows himself a small smile, squeezing your hands back. 

Whatever it is that San doesn’t want you seeing, you don’t think you ever had any hope of being able to see in the trees, anyways. It’s pitch black outside, the moon doing little to help you as you walk deeper and deeper. 

You’re almost kind of amazed that he’s able to lead you so confidently. He must not have consumed anywhere near the same quantity of alcohol as everyone else. Which actually makes quite a bit of sense, considering you hadn’t seen him very much at all following dinner. What had he been up to? Was Hongjoong not suspicious of his absence? He must’ve made something up… explained it away… 

More than a few times, you stumble over a tree root or loose brush, twigs snapping underfoot with each step that you take. San holds you steady, slowing his pace when you need it. 

After what feels like forever, but is probably more like a couple minutes, you reach a clearing. At first, you think that you spot your car right away… but then you realize that you can’t be sure. In the clearing, there’s no fewer than twenty vehicles, of all makes and models and sizes. Some look like they haven’t run in years, a thick, dusty coat over their windshields that you can even see in the dark. 

San doesn’t pause to let you take in the clearing for very long, however. He quickly pulls you along with him, between a row of cars, before you’re able to find your own. It looks just as you remember it, albeit a bit dirty. Your heart leaps as you realize what this means.

You’re at your car. Your car. It’s right here, right in front of you. You’re going to fucking get out of here. Holy shit. 

San lets go of your hand, fishing into his pocket before pulling out the keys and handing them to you. “We don’t lock the cars, but…” 

Clutching the keys in your hands, you can’t help but smile. “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

He awkwardly mirrors your smile, glancing behind you before pointing it out. You turn to look, not all that surprised to see that the clearing opens to a dirt road, leading back off into the trees. “We’ll go that way. It meets up with the main road after a couple miles.” 

Nodding, you turn back to your car, almost giddy as you approach the passenger’s side door. Gently, you pull on the handle, hoping the door doesn’t creak too loud as you do so. Thankfully, it’s no louder than normal, and you eagerly sit yourself down in the seat. San stands in the door, his hands resting on either side of the opening. “Ready, then?” He chuckles as you settle yourself into the seat, adjusting the recline to lay back. 

“Let’s go.” 

He gives you a thumbs up, pushing himself off of the car before patting at his pockets. 

His smile falls, his face paling. 

Your heart drops into your stomach, “What is it?” You ask, sitting back up. “Is something wrong?” 

San blinks, twisting to look back the way that you came. “I have to go back.” 

“What?” You almost shout, “Are you crazy? You can’t go back!” 

He shakes his head, leaning down toward you. He grips both of your shoulders tight in his hands, looking in your eyes, “It’ll be fine. I will be right back, I promise.” 

“San, no,” you gape at him, “what could possibly be so important?” 

San closes his eyes, shaking his head at your question. “It’s hard to explain, I— Just, I,” his eyes open as he squeezes you one last time before dropping your shoulders. “I’ll be back, I swear.” 

“Let me come with you,” you plead, attempting to grab one of his hands as he pulls away. “Don’t leave me here, alone, please, San.” 

Shushing you, he shakes his head again. “You’ll slow me down. I swear, (Y/n), it will be fine. I’ll see you in a minute.” 

He takes a step back, shutting the door before you can come up with a response. You’re too dumbfounded to even attempt to open the door again, too confused to try and follow. What could possibly be so important to him? What if someone finds you here? How are you going to explain that, huh? 

But the possibility of that is so remote. No one knows that you’re out here, how could they? Even if someone notices your absence at the party, they’ll just assume that you’ve retired to your room, right? And even if they feel inclined to check, that’ll take a few minutes, in which time San should return to you and get a move on. 

Still, you find it very hard to swallow your panic. 

What if this is it? What if you die because San had to go back for something that he wouldn’t even tell you about? Your breathing grows shallow with each new terrible thought that invades your mind. You can see it now, Hongjoong walking into the clearing, rage in his eyes, knife in his hands. Making you grovel and beg and plead with him only to end it right then and there, anyways. San would come back and find your still-warm body, soon to join you in death. 

You try to blink away the images that flit across your mind, realizing that your eyes burn as if you’d been crying. Your hand flies to your cheek, unsurprised to find it wet. Taking a deep breath, you do anything you can think of to distract yourself. 

The air in your car is so stale, your months old air-freshener doing little to help the dry, bitter smell. You fumble with the glove box, pulling it open while praying that there is anything in it that can distract you from the horror of the moment. 

Papers spill out as you indiscriminately pull everything out, ushering it onto your lap. You throw aside the car manuals and your outdated insurance, searching for just one thing, anything that could remind you of what you were enduring these terrors for. 

A brochure for The Bean slides out, your own face smiling from behind the coffee bar. Adam can be seen in the background. It almost makes you sick, that horrible reminder of the life that you had been forced to give up. You keep sliding the papers around, cutting your finger in your desperation. 

Sucking your paper cut into your mouth, you realize that you're not going to find anything in the glove box. You make a half hearted attempt to shove everything back inside before deciding that it's not worth it. 

Tears still pouring down your face, you reach for the driver's side sun visor, flicking it down to reveal the photos you kept in the sunglass clip. 

On top is a picture of Jungeun and yourself, embracing with your faces pressed together. You quickly slide it back, knowing for certain that you have a picture of Mingi in the stack. 

Seeing the picture will wake you up, you're certain. It will give you the courage to keep going. 

Finally, a polaroid emerges. It's the first picture you had clipped to the visor, a testament to how much time had passed before you started looking for Mingi. How had you waited so long? You pry the polaroid free, it having stuck to the metal after so long. 

Though your hands shake, you don't really need to see the photo in detail to appreciate it. Mingi stands in the center, a peace sign next to his eyes. He's not smiling, rather giving you a sour look. He wasn't pleased to be the first test subject of his gift to you. The second photo was of yourself, taken by him, you remember. The third was a selfie of the both of you. 

You don't have either of the other photos, but you have this one. Something compels you to protect the picture, to keep it on you, so you slide it into your waistline and pray that your pants don't distort it too much. 

A knock on the window almost kills you on the spot, with the way your heart leaps into your throat.

The shock of who you see through the window makes you gag. 

No sooner after seeing his face does he open the door, falling onto his knees next to the car to be eye level with you. 

Seonghwa is drunk, much more drunk than he had been when you were with him earlier, you realize this very quickly with the way his voice wavers as he asks, “What are you doing?”

You have no response. You open and close your mouth a few times, but only choked sounds of fear come out. 

He grabs your hands, holding them in your lap. “Why are you crying? Are you leaving?” 

He sounds so sad that your heart nearly shatters. Your heart should shatter, now, knowing that escape is impossible. But you can only focus on Seonghwa, on his knees, in front of you. 

His bangs brush his eyelids. “You're leaving?” He asks again, “without me?” 

Seonghwa hiccups, frowning. The question is so absurd you can't pay any mind to it. Why would you bring Seonghwa with you? His forehead comes to rest on your thigh. 

“Seonghwa, go back to the party,” you manage to get out, clearing your throat after. 

“I can't,” he pouts, “Hongjoong is mad at me. I can't tell why.” 

You think Hongjoong always seems a little mad at Seonghwa, but you're not going to say that to him now.

“Please, Seonghwa, go.” 

He shifts his face and blinks up at you, his eyes reflecting the moonlight so prettily it almost hurts. “Come with me, then.” 

Seonghwa gets to his feet, but he doesn't release your hands. They dangle between the two of you, the height different causing yours to float up. “We can fix this. Just come with me,” he says. 

You're shaking your head before you realize it. “I can't go back. I can't do this anymore.” 

Seonghwa bites his lip, looking around. “This isn't going to end well; please,” he looks back at you, “just come back with me. I won't say anything, Hongjoong will never know, we'll both be fine. We'll be fine. Nothing has to change.” 

“I can't go back.” Your heart beats wildly in your chest, you can feel its thrum. When San returns, what will he do about Seonghwa? How will he possibly get past him? Seonghwa won't let you leave, but you have to. To what length would San go to get you free? 

You don't want Seonghwa hurt. You realize now, staring up at him, that you care about him. More than you would've ever thought you would. Who is Seonghwa if not the ultimate victim? Is he not just a reflection of yourself?

“Get in the car, Seonghwa.”

He frowns again, pouting his lower lip. “I can't leave Hongjoong.” 

“Yes, you can. Get in the car.”

You don't give a second thought to your proposition, nodding your head toward the back seat.

“I won't leave Hongjoong.” Seonghwa clarifies, dropping your hands. They smack down onto your thighs, stinging. 

You'd question him, start yelling at him if you could. But you can hardly form a coherent thought and every word feels like risking the contents of your stomach coming up. Instead, you frown, looking down at your lap rather than at his confused face. 

“You can't leave Hongjoong, either,” he says. “Even if you run, he'll find you, always. You'd come back on your own, you won't know how to live without him anymore.” He tells you this eerily flat. “Just come back with me, he doesn't have to know about this.” 

Seonghwa is speaking nonsense. Even your flurried mind understands this.

“Please.” He begs. “(Y/n), please.” 

You shake your head. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head as singular tears run down his cheeks. “I'm sorry. I tried to help you, I did.” 

Seonghwa turns away from the car as the sinking feeling in your stomach solidifies into a rock of dread. 

Of course, you knew what it meant to see Seonghwa out here. There was never any chance, not after he had found you. If he knew where you were, Hongjoong did, too. Surely, he wouldn’t risk you getting away. He would drag the moment on, though. Making Seonghwa come here, making him plead with you, what sort of torture was that? What was the point? Isn’t he just going to kill you, now? 

Why is it that, when Hongjoong enters the clearing, you aren’t scared? You hardly feel anything. You knew this was coming. You knew that this would happen, didn’t you? There wasn’t any other possible ending to this night. You wanted to believe that it was possible, that you could escape, but it was futile. It was never a possibility. Even with San’s help. You knew it, deep down. 

Like Seongwha said, there is no getting away from Hongjoong. You were foolish to think that you could, and you know it, now. 

Instead of watching Hongjoong approach, you watch Seonghwa slink away. He doesn’t go far, stopping to rest his head against the roof of a car a few down from your own. You can imagine how good the cool metal must feel. 

You snivel, wiping at your eyes as Hongjoong stops in front of you, standing where San had stood, where Seonghwa kneeled. He’s silent. You don’t look up at him, instead focusing on his hands as they hang at his sides. They’re empty, though clenched into tight fists. 

“You have ignored every. Single. Opportunity. I have given you.” He emphasizes each word. “Chances I gave you to make the right decision.” 

It’s not even worth your energy to respond, is it? Obviously, you should’ve known that the various conversations you had over the night were warnings. How else would everyone manage to bring up something that would make you want to stay? And Seonghwa… 

How humiliating. 

“I’m disappointed in you.” Hongjoong says, and it’s so much worse than if he had been screaming and violent. “I thought you were starting to fit in.” 

You glance at Seonghwa, who still has his back turned to you. He seems to be shaking, but you find it hard to believe that, even in this scenario, he would cry for you. This has to be part of it, right? Part of making you feel guilty? 

Looking at him is a mistake, though. Hongjoong harshly grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Look at me when I'm speaking to you.”

You still have no idea what to say to him. It all seems so stupid, in retrospect. 

It's only as you look up at Hongjoong that you start to wonder where San is. If you asked, you'd surely get your ass handed to you. But the terrible feeling in your stomach only gets worse. What if he comes back to this scene? How will he react? Poor San, he was so desperate for you. How will he feel, with the plan destroyed? Does Hongjoong know the depth of his involvement? 

So, you break your silence. It couldn’t get much worse, could it? “Where is San?” You ask. 

Hongjoong lets go of your face, but only to bury a hand in your hair, yanking you into standing. Instinctively you bring your hands to his, crying out in pain. He only smirks, releasing his grasp on you. 

You collapse onto your knees, catching yourself with your hands at his feet. Your nice pants, they're dirty, now, you catch yourself thinking. Like that's the biggest issue right now. 

“Where is San?” He repeats your question, spitting the words out like they leave a vile taste in his mouth. 

Reduced to a heap at his feet, you can't bring yourself to look up at him. This night has turned up just as your last failure had. You're not all that surprised when Hongjoong's boot comes down on your hand, though not hard enough to hurt. “Look at me.” 

You do. From even further beneath him, he looks more Biblical than ever. 

“Who do you think told me where you were?” 

Ah. 

Of course. 

That makes sense. 

Your face contorts, though with what emotion, you’re not sure. 

You want to think that there might be an explanation, one that doesn’t involve San betraying you to a homicidal maniac, but you know that there isn’t. Instantly, you know. 

He never meant to help you. He never cared about you. He had laid a pretty trap for you, at Hongjoong’s request, and had sprung it just as planned.

And he couldn’t even be here to see the fruits of his labor. Pathetic. Your mind swims with everything you had told him, everything you confessed to him, the times you had been warned about him. You fought with Mingi over him, you defended him to Mingi. 

“Yes,” Hongjoong smiles down at you. “All of this has been planned since the day I made you live with him.” 

You nod up at him, realizing that he must want something else from you. 

“You must understand, (Y/n), that I control everything. You can’t trust in anything besides this fact.” Hongjoong kneels to meet your eye line, inadvertently crushing your hand under his foot as his weight shifts. 

Gritting your teeth, you suck in any sound of pain that threatens to escape. The last thing you plan on doing tonight is letting Hongjoong realize the depths of your pain. 

He tilts his head in question. “Do you have anything you want to say to me?” 

Even in your haze of emotions, you can hardly resist spitting a few choice curses at him. “Fuck you.” 

He grimaces, though he’s clearly not actually affected. “Not what I was thinking, Princess, but I’ll give you a pass.”

His hands are suddenly gripping into your shirt at the shoulders, yanking you onto your feet. He hardly allows you to catch yourself before he begins dragging you across the clearing, away from your car, into the trees, away from your last shred of dignity. 

There isn’t a single thing on your mind as he pulls you through the trees and eventually back around to the front of the compound. He’s groveling under his breath, probably cursing you out in any and every way that he knows how. And you deserve it. You deserve every stumble of your feet, every tear burning your cheeks, every horrible thing that Hongjoong can fling at you. 

You failed. Not only yourself, but everyone stuck here in this cult. You’ve utterly failed. No one is going to be rescued, no one is going to be saved. You cling onto Hongjoong’s blazer as he guides you to the barns, having no idea what could be waiting for you there.

Maybe this is it, huh? Maybe he has finally realized that you’re more trouble than you’re worth. For a second there, it had looked like he was going to keep you alive, but maybe not. That was probably just wishful thinking. He’s probably delivering you to Jongho, too disgusted to even deal with you himself. 

Hongjoong releases you to throw open the barn doors. You have to catch yourself on the siding to remain standing, but Hongjoong quickly returns his grip on you, hauling you further inside the barn. 

It’s the animal barn. He walks you into the center aisle, dropping you unceremoniously. You fall into a heap at his feet. Again.

You can hardly hear Hongjoong over the general animal sounds, but especially over the oinking of the pigs. “I’m going to leave you here,” he starts, glaring down at you. “When I come back, you’re going to still be in this building.”

Sniffling, you nod in agreement. 

He scoffs. “You’re lucky, (Y/n), very lucky. If you had made it even an inch down that road, what do you think would’ve happened to you? To Mingi? Haseul?”

There isn’t anything for you to say. The pigs fill the silence. 

“Selfish. Utterly, disgustingly, selfish.” Hongjoong spits. “Stay here— before you try and lure anyone else to their certain deaths.” 

With that, he turns on his heel and exits the barn, shutting the door behind him. The overhead lights remained on, but you barely even found yourself capable of caring. The dark wouldn’t make any difference. You failed.

And Hongjoong was right. You are selfish. Even though you knew the truth about San’s intentions now, you hadn’t known before. You had thought he was risking his life to help you, and you had been fine with it. What was wrong with you? Why is this just occurring to you now? Had you really been so desperate as to involve another person? What’s the matter with you? Have you no shame? No consideration? Were you such a narcissist that you would put your freedom above someone’s life?

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you wipe your cheeks with your hands. The sensation is calming, allowing you to take a few deep breaths as you collect your bearings. As hard as it is, you should try to keep your head on straight… there’s still no telling how the night will end, and something tells you that it’s far from over. 

One thing you know for certain, though, is that you cannot do this again. You can’t. No matter what. Something else will have to give. There is no more escape. There is no more saving yourself. How the fuck could you, after this? 

Standing, you brush your hands off on your pants. Hongjoong hadn’t said anything about not moving from the spot. Might as well look at the animals. Animals can be calming, right? Therapeutic? Maybe?

Wishful thinking. 

Your tears keep flowing, but you find your breathing to be coming back to your control. You stumble with your first step, but quickly regain your balance, tottering over to the nearest animal pen— which happens to be the pigs.

This is where you had confronted Jongho about Haneul. How long ago was that, now? That horrible confrontation lingers as you grip the metal fencing keeping the pigs in place. The bar is cooling, demanding your attention. You realize now that the air itself, though warmed by the animals' presence, is getting rather chilly, as well. 

Tugging your sleeves lower over your hands, you peer down at the animals. Some of them are sleeping, but most of them aren’t. Each sow is separated from the next, in neat, orderly rows. Last time you had seen them, there weren’t individual pens. Jongho had been feeding them in one huge, disorderly mess. It had been rather disgusting. 

You had also fought with Mingi, that day. About so many things that just seem stupid, now. What was there to even be mad about? Mingi is just Mingi. You can’t fault him for being a victim.

And the fact that he was just looking out for you, and, in fact, turned out to be absolutely correct. 

As you turn to walk to a different pen, the feeling of the polaroid at your waist recaptures your attention. Stopping in place, you fish it out of your waistline, cupping it in your hands. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be damaged. You stare down at it once more. It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes since you had put it in your pants, and, yet, here you are. Completely changed. 

Mingi’s face frowns up at you, but your eyes catch on something outside of the photo. Your own expression melts into a frown as you lower your hands, shoving the picture back into your pants. 

Wiping your tears again, you kneel down to the ground next to the pen. 

What had caught your attention was a scrap of white, so starkly bright against the packed dirt floor of the barn. 

You reach out to grab it, suddenly overcome with an even worse feeling of dread. Your scalp goes cold, a shiver spreading across your body as you touch the… fabric. 

Fabric. 

Blinking your tears away as fast as you can manage, you pull, feeling your stomach drop as the piece grows into a cuff. Buttons and all. A white cuff. 

There’s nothing that you can do to stop yourself from thinking the thoughts that come— attacking you at nearly instantaneous moments. 

It’s Haseul’s. This is from Haseul’s shirt. What did Hongjoong say would happen? About the pigs? The pigs? Haseul? This is Haseul’s shirt? It can’t be. She’s in her room. She’s been in her room this whole time. This could belong to anyone. This could’ve been cut off of anyone’s shirt. It doesn’t have to be hers. It could be anyone’s. Why would it be hers? It isn’t possible. San said she was fine. He failed, but she was fine. Hongjoong said she was fine. Mingi said— what did he say? Did he say something? Anything? It doesn’t matter. San said—

“You shouldn’t be in here,” a familiar voice calls from behind you. 

You fall onto your butt, forgoing your pants. They were ruined, anyway. Clutching the cuff in your hand, you don’t even reply to Jongho’s warning. Your breathing is out of control, again. Each breath you take is tighter, harder, less satisfying, more panic inducing. The fabric in your hand burns with the tightness of your grip. 

Jongho grabs your shoulder. “Can you even hear me?” 

A fully-fledged sob leaves you as you look up at him. 

His eyebrows furrow in some emotion— probably disgust— as he frowns at you. “Get out of here.”

Shaking your head, you try to say even a single word about Hongjoong telling you to stay here, but you can’t get anything out. If anything, you cry harder, shaking your head back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, shutting your eyes as tightly as you can. 

This cannot be real. This can’t be happening. It can’t be Haseul’s shirt. Even if it is, it doesn’t mean that she’s—

No, you won’t even think it. You just keep shaking your head. It can’t be. It cannot be. 

Jongho’s hand leaves your shoulder.

“This is your punishment, (Y/n).” Hongjoong’s voice booms from behind you. It’s so shocking that you open your eyes, spinning around in the dirt to face him. He’s not alone. Seonghwa and San are with him, both of them looking incredibly uncomfortable. 

Seeing San doesn’t relieve you at all. Seonghwa’s face is puffy, his clothing disheveled and dirty. Neither of them look at you, instead looking at the ground in front of them. Jongho remains at your side, seemingly caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

You don’t know what Hongjoong means, though. Or, rather, your mind completely refuses to see what is in front of it until it is irrefutable. There is still hope, now. There is hope. The cuff doesn’t mean anything until Hongjoong says that it does. There is nothing in you that can accept this until… 

“Haseul is dead.” Hongjoong says. “And San killed her.” 

The wind is completely knocked out of your lungs as you fall onto your hands, heaving. 

Though you can’t see San, you can hear him. His protests are immediate, “What? Hongjoong, why would you say that? I didn’t do that. I didn’t even touch her. I swear, (Y/n), why would I lie—”

“Not to mention that he orchestrated your entire escape attempt at my request,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through San’s pleas to be heard. 

The reminder calls you back into your body. Hongjoong had to say it in front of San, you realize, he had to make sure San knew that you knew of his betrayal. You look up at the three men in front of you as you gasp for air. The cuff lays in the dirt before you, momentarily forgotten. 

San is gaping at Hongjoong, his hands outstretched as if he was in the middle of trying to reach for you. “Are you fucking crazy?” San barely squeezes out in his apparent anger. 

“I am, in fact.” Hongjoong replies, though he doesn’t bother to address San. He smiles down at you instead, watching your facial expression change from one of despair to one of hatred. 

Your eye twitches as you stare at San, who starts to plead for you to hear him out once more. 

“I swear, (Y/n), it wasn’t like that! You heard him! He’s crazy! He only has something to gain if you don’t trust me, right? Why would I ever do that? I love you, you kno—” 

San had been crouching down to your level as he made this speech, which was probably a horrible idea. Using your hands as your leverage, you launch yourself at him, toppling him over into the dirt. 

Pinning him to the ground with your weight, you stare down at his (very surprised) face. 

It takes you all of five seconds to realize what you couldn’t in the past month. 

Hongjoong is right. Again. 

Your tears drip down onto his own face. San tries to speak, but evidently can’t think of anything to say to you. 

Hongjoong laughs at your side. 

You pull your hand back, bringing it back down and slapping San as hard as you can muster across his face. The smack rings through the barn, your hand stinging all the way up your forearm. 

San tries to clutch his cheek, but your knees keep his arms at his sides, and he instead looks up at you, stunned. 

“Say something.” You demand, finding your voice. 

He opens and closes his mouth, grasping for anything to say. “He’s lying to you— I swear it, I had nothing to do with Haseul, and I would never set you up, I would never, you can’t trust him, can’t trust anything that he says, (Y/n), really—” 

You hit him again. This time, he exclaims in pain as you feel your hand go numb. Seonghwa flinches in your peripheral vision and Hongjoong laughs once more.

“Fuck you.” You blink, more tears falling. “Fuck you.” You lean back, freeing his arms, which immediately come up to rest on your waist. “Hit me.” 

San’s face contorts, confused, “why would I hit you?” 

Absurdly, you smile. You smile wide. “Hit me. Do it.” You hit him in the chest, though lighter than you had his face. “What? Are you a coward? You can kill my best friend, but you can’t hit me?” Your voice raises, reaching a shrilling quality. “Come on! Hit me! Do anything!” 

San’s hands remain holding your waist, not moving. 

“Hit me so that I don’t fucking kill you! Hit me to show you at least think your miserable life is worth living! Hit me! Hit me! Hit me! Hi—”

“That’s really enough, (Y/n),” Seonghwa’s voice cuts in as he grabs your arm, keeping you from landing another blow to San’s chest. “You’re being childish.” 

You scoff, but it devolves into a laugh. “Childish? I’m being CHILDISH?” You wrench your hand out of Seonghwa’s grip. “Tell me, Seonghwa, please, how is someone supposed to react in this situation? What is the normal reaction? Enlighten me, please!” 

When Seonghwa doesn’t respond, you stand, turning your full attention to him. San’s hands easily slide off of you, though you remain hovering over him. He finally starts cradling his red cheeks. 

Seonghwa looms over you, his back to Hongjoong as he stares over his shoulder at you. You feel guilty for lashing out at Seonghwa, somehow, but it doesn’t stop you from fanning the flames. There’s nothing that could stop you, not in this moment, from bringing anyone else to your level. 

You make eye contact with Hongjoong, who has his arms crossed nonchalantly, an enormous smile on his face. You imagine that this night is just going peachy for him. Just how he wanted it to. Maybe, just maybe, you can ruin his fun. 

At Seonghwa’s expense. You hardly feel bad about it, though, as your eyes snap back to Seonghwa’s. 

“Without turning around, take a guess. Is Hongjoong watching you, his perfect little whore, or me, the spoiled brat who doesn’t behave?” 

Seonghwa sneers, a small laugh escaping him. Of course, he plays right into your hands. He exhales one shaky breath before grabbing your shoulders, using the grip to shove you as hard as he can, sending you falling back to the floor. You practically land on top of San, your legs resting over his waist, but you can only laugh. 

Seonghwa falls onto his knees in front of you, crawling until he can reach your legs. He grabs you by your calves, pulling you off of San until you’re practically underneath himself. You’re sure that he’s planning on strangling you, there’s a sweet little look in his eyes that tells you everything you need to know.

And you’re excited, you want him to kill you, you realize. Your laughing becomes intermixed with your sobbing as Seonghwa puts his weight on your stomach, the fury in his eyes blazing harder with each sound you make. 

Before you can truly get your way, though, San is grabbing Seonghwa by the back of his shirt, using all of his strength to pull him off of you. You hear the fabric rip as Seonghwa sprawls onto his back in front of you, and San takes the same position that Seonghwa had just had on you. 

You can’t find it in yourself to sit up, so you opt to just turn your head until you can see San. Vaguely, you can hear the sound of him hitting Seonghwa as you had just pleaded with him to do to you, and this only makes you cry harder. 

You turn your head in the opposite direction, and you’re greeted with the image of Hongjoong, still sitting contentedly. He glances down at you, but he doesn’t betray anything.

“Can’t you just kill me?” You whisper to him, hoping the others can’t hear it, “won’t you please just kill me?” 

Hongjoong frowns, then, slowly rising to his feet to come to your side. He holds his hand out, waiting for you to take it. 

You don’t at first, opting to continue looking pathetically up at him. From this angle, with the blurriness of your tears and the extreme perspective, Hongjoong really does look… ethereal. Angelic. Godly. Whatever the word is. You take his hand, allowing him to heave you into a sitting position just in time to see San land the punch that you’re sure breaks Seonghwa’s nose. 

It’s only in this moment that you realize San is screaming at Seonghwa, mostly incomprehensible phrases of anger. Seonghwa is trying to fight back, his hands clenching onto San’s shirt, slapping at his shoulders and face, thrashing underneath him, but San is too pissed to let any of it stop him. 

Hongjoong squats at your side, resting one of his knees on the floor. He doesn’t drop your hand, instead using it to pull you closer to him. He puts his face next to yours, making sure you’re watching the scene unfolding in front of you. 

“Doesn't this make you feel good? Seeing what San would do for you? Even after it’s all over?” He whispers so close that his breath tickles your ear. “It could always be like this. Everyone could love you like this.” 

Love? This is love? Your ploy to upset Hongjoong by including Seonghwa failed. If there isn’t love lost between the two of them, then what on earth about this is love?

Still, your heart skips a beat. 

You had completely forgotten (or, maybe, ignored) Jongho’s presence until Hongjoong turns to give him some sort of look that must tell him to stop whatever is going on. In the next moment, Jongho is resting a hand on San’s shoulder, barely having to pull at him to get him to cease his movements. 

Seonghwa turns his face toward you and Hongjoong, blood pouring from his nose and split lips. 

A sob escapes him, this time, before he turns to face the other direction. 

You really hadn’t meant for Seonghwa to get hurt from this. You just wanted to goad someone into giving you what you wanted, and he was easiest. You avert your eyes from him, wanting to give him the privacy he clearly desires. 

Hongjoong doesn’t care. He drops your hand, standing to go to Seonghwa. 

You look at San and Jongho. San is also sobbing, his knuckles torn to shreds in his lap. 

You don’t feel bad for him. You don’t feel anything for him. You’re sure the upset will come in the next few days. The bomb will drop, the emotions will explode, but now, in this moment, you couldn’t care less if he lived or died. 

Frankly, you couldn’t even care less about your own life. Haseul is dead. She’s dead. And she’s never coming back. You’ll never see her smile again, never text her that you’re bored at work, never hear her complain about her parents arguing again. Her parents. Her own parents. They’ll never see her again, and it’s your fault. Entirely. 

You look back at Seonghwa and Hongjoong just in time to see Seonghwa slap Hongjoong’s hand away from him, groaning as he turns his body to fully face away from his God. 

That can’t be a good sign. 

Hongjoong sighs, crossing his arms over his chest before turning on his heel to come back to you. 

Great. Just what you wanted. 

“Is she really dead?” You can’t help the question, squeezing your eyes shut as they fill with more tears. 

Hongjoong sits beside you, taking both of your hands in his this time. “She is.” 

“For how long?” You don’t open your eyes.

He takes a few seconds to answer, as if contemplating whether you should hear the truth or not. “She died the day she arrived.” 

You’re not sure if this is the best or the worst news that he could’ve given you. You’d believed lies for weeks, but at least she hadn’t been suffering the entire time, like you pictured. 

“Was it really San?” You still had a hard time believing it. Could San kill? Had you really shared a bed with him for over a month, not knowing that he had killed Haseul himself, believing that he hadn’t?

“No,” He admits, letting go of one of your hands, using his newly freed hand to rest on your cheek. You open your eyes, feeling your lips quivering with… every emotion on this goddamn planet. Anger. Fear. Sadness. Whatever. “Jongho killed her, and humanely at that. But San helped with the mess. I didn’t want it to be like this, (Y/n), I warned you.” 

And what could you say. He warned you. Very plainly. And you had disobeyed him. And look at what it cost. 

Hongjoong moves his hand away from your face, using it to wrap around you and pull you back into a hug. 

There's nothing to do anymore. Nothing to say. You cry into his shoulder, finally wrapping your own arms around him in acceptance. 

He rocks you, there, on the ground. “It might be hard to understand now, (Y/n), but everything I do, I do for you.” 

You nod. “Please don't make me see him again.” 

Hongjoong knows who. He strokes your head, smoothing your hair, “Of course, love. Of course.” 

Though you know that this is all because of Hongjoong, you still find his words comforting, his embrace grounding. You squeeze him tighter to you, appreciating the feeling of having at least one person on your side. He’s right, he’s so right, you can’t trust anyone else, not when this is how it turns out. 

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[sttm99]

CW...? majorly fluff, suggestive scenes.

The first time Bakugo sees you, he's having a random ass conversation with Kirishima, some students from the other classes walking in and out to collect test scores or something from Aizawa, and the you walk in, and he catches sight of you in his peripheral.

You're hot, he thinks. So much so that he's tuning out Kirishima, and his eyes are following you as you walk to Aizawa's table, your friend next to you, almost blocking his view of you, but he manages to catch the jiggle of your thighs, the lift of your skirt.

It makes him slightly feral.

He doesn't even know you, but he's so focused on the purse of your lips as you look at your score.

Then Kirishima's snapping his fingers infront of his face and he's jolting in his seat because of it.

"Dude? You've been staring at that girl since she walked in." Kirishima says, almost in awe that someone had managed to grab Bakugo's attention, much less someone from another class, because the angry blonde thought everyone not in the Hero course was a boring extra.

So this came as a shock, and Kirishima expected to be met with loud yells of negativity. But that's not what happens.

Nope.

Bakugo's looking back at you as you walk away. "Who is she?" He whispers to Kiri.

And Kiri shrugs, "I don't know." There's a pause as he tries to internalise everything that just happened. "You like her?"

"She's pretty," Bakugo says, cause he doesn't know if he likes you likes you yet.

But he wants to talk to you.

Then Kiri's calling Mina over, and though Bakugo wants to be against it, not wanting her to know about his interest, he knows she's his best bet at finding out who you are.

"The girl that just walked in? Which one? There were two." Mina says, bending forward over Kirishima's table.

And then Bakugo goes into a mini rant about your appearance to Mina, describing your hair and your facial features, and she's kind of shocked that he managed to get the color of your eyes from where he was sitting.

"YN? That's YN." She says slowly. "You like her?" She asks like it's some crazy phenomenon.

Cause it kind of is. Bakugo? Crushing?

He nods slowly, thinking. "I wanna talk to her."

Mins purses her lips for a moment, thinking it through. "I know some of her friends. I'll get them to talk to her. She's a bit... shy. So it'd probably be best if we prepared her a bit. You're kind of intense, Bakugo."

And he understood that a bit, though that didn't stop him from glaring daggers at Mina and Kirishima. But he relents, allowing her get your friends to butter you up a bit.

It's basically just them asking you if you'd be into meeting someone... in the romantic sense. And asking about what you like, and what you find attractive.

Near the end of the week, Kiri and Mina show up at Bakugo's table with little smiles. "You wanna talk to her?" Mina asked with a wiggle of her brows. "You can today, at lunch. Talked to her friends about it."

And Bakugo nods, a tiny bit of enthusiasm seeped into the movement of his head. And before he knows it, the bell for lunch is ringing, and he's hastily packing his things cause he really does want to talk to you.

He sees you sitting alone in the cafeteria, tray of food before you, but your attention on your phone in your hand.

"She knows someone is meeting her, but she doesn't know who." Kiri says, pointing in your direction.

Bakugo rolls his eyes at it. It was basically them setting up a blind date for both of you. He doesn't exactly mind though, cause he gets to talk to you at least.

He makes his way over to your table, dropping his bag on it and taking the seat right opposite yours.

"Hi," comes his raspy, deep voice.

You look up at him, and he thinks you're even prettier up close. You smiled a bit, kind of nervous. He understands. His presence is not always very comforting or approachable.

"Hey," you reply softly, and he likes the sound of your voice.

Turns out you're kind of cool. He likes that. He doesn't have many hobbies in common with you, but you two have similar tastes; in movies, books, music.

But more importantly, he likes talking to you. He likes hearing you speak, cause he likes your voice, and your opinions, and the way you articulate your thoughts is cool.

He likes you.

You both exchange numbers, and begin to talk a bit more, having lunch together and even walking around the school together some times.

Of course people talk. Bakugo Katsuki. The walking cannon that had to be chained to the podium during his first sports festival, was seen walking to the cafeteria with a girl from the general studies/support/management course?

Not just that. Eating together, studying at the library.

You don't mind though. You're quick to defend him too, saying he's really calm, and he's smart, plus he's handsome, so that's a bonus. He's a little rough around the edges, a bit brash and loud, and very aggressive. But it's fine. It's cute. You find that you like those things about him.

You know he likes you though.

You've known for a while, a long while. He doesn't hide it at all. And you know he's trying to win you over. He's not just trying to be your friend. It's obvious in how he stares away guys that flock around you, always looking for excuses to walk you wherever it is you're going, and takes you out a lot. To movies, restaurants.

He's possessive a bit. When you go for parties, and even though you don't go together, he finds you either way, sits you right next to him or on his lap if he feels you're cool with it. Has his hands on your thighs, or gripping your waist.

You're walking down the school hallway and someone looks at you suggestively? He's glaring them away, walking closer to you, having a hand on your back.

You're Bakugo's girl. You have been for a while, even though you guys haven't put a label on it. And you're waiting for him to do that.

You guys have kissed, many times, some heavy petting at an empty staircase, his hands dancing on your thighs underneath your skirt during lunch. He calls you 'his baby', 'his', and you know damn well neither of you are letting other people kiss or touch you the way you allow each other.

But he's a bit stupid, thinking that you guys had been dating for a while now, since he first kissed you at a carnival he invited you to. It was atop a ferris wheel! He wasn't stupid when he did it! How didn't you know that was him telling you he liked you and wanted to date you?

It's when Kiri and Mina ask why you aren't dating yet, and he says that you guys are, but they say that you don't think so. And you're still waiting for him to ask you out.

Then he's glowering when you both have your weekly hangout at the back of the library. And you ask him what's wrong.

"Did you really not know we were dating this whole time?" He asks, frowning up at you.

"We are?" You ask.

"We are!" He says.

"But you never asked me!"

"I kissed you at the top of the ferris wheel! That's like... the textbook confession!"

"Confession, sure. But not dating."

You're giggling at him, covering your mouth with your hands to control your laugh. And after a while, he's no longer pouting, he's smiling at you, holding your hands softly in his, and asking,

"Will you be my girlfriend? I fucking like you a lot."

And you're grinning and nodding yes, and then he's kissing you stupid, and he's really really happy about it all.

[lizzy019]

𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔.

Soft Dom!Darrel Curtis x Sweet Fem!Reader

cw -> hold the moan, rewarding??, INTIMATE SEX!, body worship, lotus position, light aftercare

Word Count -> 2.9K

I wanna pamper him 😔

Effortless.

The hands of a young man disciplined into a mature adult were doing the dishes while lost within the neverending blimps of his thoughts. A man toughened and moulded into a sculpture of what he is as you watch him with concern.

Poor Darrel hadn’t got a break at all this week.

You watched silently from the dimly lit dining room table as he moved in tune to whatever humming tune was being played from the television. Something of Ponyboy’s, his brain helpfully supplied him.

It didn’t take you long to tip-toe your way beside him, the soft creaks of the old floorboards underneath your feet acting as an alert for him that someone was nearing. Once he managed to tilt his head in your direction, a soft grin formed on his pretty lips. Darry was glad you actually took the time to notice how tired he was despite not ever vociferating that thought.

“Hey sweetie..” He mumbled, gently snatching your chin within his fingers to press a peck to your forehead. How could you look so darn cute with just a hint of colour on your cheeks and a pouty bottom lip? You simply beamed at his little kiss to your hairline, maybe he was okay? No, you couldn’t just assume that and move on! Darrel had grown the ability to store all his stress away in a separate container and hide it when talking to people he loved, even if it leaked sometimes due to it being a bit overfilled.

“D’you want me to do the dishes for you? Maybe you should go rest with Pony and Soda for a bit, maybe even lend Johnny a hand and drive him home since he’s stayin’ with Pony.” You tried so hard to convince him while remaining as subtle as possible. 

You knew very well though, that this Curtis was a tough one to crack.

“You sure? I bet you’re tired too, honey.” He hummed, playing around with a silly strand of your hair that strayed away from the rest of it. You knew this would happen as well, he always managed to scoot away from what you were trying to get at.

“Darrel,” You spoke rather firmly, more than he was used to hearing. “Take a break, go sit down. I’ll handle the dishes, okay? Maybe go take a shower while you’re at it, you deserve to unwind.”

The brown in his eyes seemed to sparkle at your words, you really were some angel sent to Earth just for him. Even if he always tried to push away your kindness to take care of you, it would be a straight lie if he said he didn’t appreciate you helping pay off the monthly bills alongside him.

So without much hesitation, a rare smile graced his face, eyes crinkling happily as he managed to snag you into a hug. It erupted loud laughter from the both of you, and he couldn’t find it in him to let go until you started playfully berating him.

“Get off, get off! Go shower, you smell.” You teased, watching him nod and loosen his grip before he trotted off.

Your new chore of doing the dishes wasn’t actually as bad as you thought it was going to be. Helping someone who did so much for you, it felt like you were finally being useful. The time ticked endlessly, the sound of the aged clock annoying you over time from its duration of noise, but soon enough, the dishes were practically shining!

Darry was now out of the shower, the towel he once used to dry his body now hanging limply around his neck to make sure the water from his hair didn’t drip down and wet his shirt. He popped into the kitchen to grab a beer, specifically the kind Two-Bit and Steve disliked so he had it all to himself before popping it open and heading your way.

“Kitchen is damn near spotless, sweetie.” He chuckled dryly, but smiled rather shyly at you. 

In all honesty, he had to be thankful. You were doing the chores he knew she should’ve been doing, and yet your cute little ass always had to intervene. While he wasn’t complaining, sometimes he found himself being bored doing nothing, or maybe it was just his worker’s mindset.

You smiled pridefully up at him, happy with the work you managed to do in under 20 minutes. Clean dishes, clean counters and emptied garbage bins. Call it a bit overdramatic, but you were genuinely proud of what you had accomplished in that short span of time. 

“I can be a good little housewife once in a while, can I not?” You joked, smiling as he gave a warmer expression at your little playful comment.

“Whatever you say. You’re still the one that manages to leave clothes all over the floor of my bedroom, so I dunno ‘bout that.” He joked back, watching you feign offence at his comment before snickering softly to himself.

How had he gotten so lucky with you?

Soon the clock had reached 10PM, you shooed Pony off to bed since it was a school night. While Soda was allowed to stay up later than Pony, Soda was tired and trotted off not long after Pony had left. Johnny said his goodbyes before leaving, and finally it was just you and Darrel getting your much deserved rest.

Seated on the sofa sharing a cigarette with your dearest, the silence and dim lighting was somehow quite romantic despite your situation. His hand gently squeezing your waist, occasionally passing you the cig to take a drag all while he talked about his day and how tiring it was keeping his brothers in line. You felt nothing but admiration for the fact that he managed to work so hard under such conditions and never suddenly collapse or give up.

“Thank you again for helpin’ with the dishes. Thought that pile would never end, if I’m bein’ honest.” He hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek as he put the nub of useless leftover cigarette onto the small navy ashtray. 

You nodded, smiling up at him with those pretty lips of yours and glowing eyes. Your hands gently pawed at the fabric of his shirt, tugging him just a bit lower for you to snatch a chaste kiss from his lips. Like your little reward, in a way.

Your lips tingled after that, and you giggled to yourself when Darry gave you a playful naughty expression. Soon, the giggles were turned into mild laughter as he grabbed your precious body and slung you over his shoulder, causing you to flail and kick rather helplessly.

“Darry, stop!” You laughed although quietly to not wake anyone up. But Darry didn’t listen to you, simply giving your rear a light slap as he hauled you into his bedroom. The door was shut once he was inside, and he oh so gently placed you onto the cushiony mattress of his.

Darry was grinning happily as you smiled up at him, hands gently rubbing the firm muscle of his shoulders and teasing underneath the fabric of his taut biceps. 

You really didn’t seem to understand how much he loved you, did he?

“Takin’ such good care of me, sweetie. What did I ever do to deserve you?” He hummed against the skin of your neck, peppering the softest kisses to the flesh while his big hands mapped out your precious body.

Every curve, every contour, every dip and bump that he’s come to admire so fully. A man like him, a greaser, an emotionally constipated man like him managed to snag something as precious, as porcelain and gentle as you. He questioned himself every time he woke up with you beside him in his bed. 

You smiled almost bashfully up at him, admiring every feature that laid perfectly on his face. Almond eyes as warm as ever, the slight Greek nose of his and that sharp jawline you wore could cut diamonds. Great heavens, he could have just about anyone with those looks, you thought.

“I dunno.. what did I ever do to deserve you?” You asked so sweetly, so pleasantly as your hands trailed down to gently knead at his triceps.

A groan, deep in pitch, vibrated from within the canal of his throat and falling onto your ear. It didn’t go unheard, and it made you giggle a bit. Poor man was probably so stiff and so tired. 

“Dunno sweetie, but I love you so much. Love you...” He murmured as he gently pressed his lips to yours. So tender, like he was scared he’d hurt you.

The soft kisses were like a balm to your lips, the warm saliva of his mixed with yours as your tongues started to entangle with each other seeming to ease the dryness of your mouth. 

Your fingers found their way into the soft curls of his hair, gently tugging on them for purchase as you practically kissed his lips off. Hungry, voracious almost. You craved him more than just physically. For once, you felt a deep, raging desire. Something that threatened to burn all of your senses with the taste and feel of simply Darrel.

But his lips escaped yours, and you tried oh so hard to get his lips back to yours. They were like a lifeline in a way, the way they breathed life back into the dullness.

But his lips made contact with your jaw, made a trail leading down your neck, suckling colourless marks into your shoulder as his big palms mapped around your body. Exploring you was an adventure he’d never get tired of, the mere touch of your soft flesh made him go crazy.

His hands managed to snag onto the elastic of your pants and panties, teasingly wiggling them off of you until you raised your hips for him to tug them off. Useless fabrics, they didn’t do anything to help him in your moment.

“So pretty, sweetie... Look atchu.” He murmured, mainly to himself but he hoped you heard him too. 

Cooing soft nothings as his hands wandered across your thighs, squeezing the flesh desperately as his kisses lingered along the lines of your collarbone. You were like jelly in his hands, putty even. You gave into his whims, soft moans and breaths escaping your mouth like whispers. 

Before you could even register it, his hands began to gently slide off your top and peel off your bra. But no words of disdain or discontentment for his actions seemed to be voiced. You let it happen. After all, you thought Darry deserved unwrapping you like a gift.

“Listen though, we gotta keep it quiet though, okay? Soda and Pony are in the next room, I really don’t want them to hear us. Last time they heard, Pony kept lookin’ at me funny.” Darry rattled you gently, getting a nod from you as agreement before he continued.

Like walking along an unknown path, Darry was more than happy to trail and trace every part of your body. Like worship, like you were some goddess. It wasn’t long until the tightness in Darry’s pants got uncomfortable, and what kind of man would he be if he couldn’t use what he had to please his beloved? 

Tenderly, his hands travelled away from your body to tend to his own. The ache in his lower abdomen felt like it was threatening to eat his insides, just from how aggravating the pain was. So he unbuckled the black belt he wore and tugged it off only to chuck it off and toss it to the floor with the rest of the unnecessary garments.

Your hands grasped steadily as his hands wandered down to unbutton the zipper of his jeans. You were so ready, you wanted to do it yourself. A man like him needed pampering too, right?

Nimble and flimsy hands managed to snag the zipper down, and you hastily wriggled his jeans down just so they were on the upper part of his thighs. A soft sigh escaped Darry, you presumed it was out of relief for his cock to be free from its tight confines.

Darrel wasted no time getting into a good position. He wanted to see you in your full glory, to see those lovely expressions cross your face or even feel how you’d use his shoulder to muffle the dulcet sounds you’d make. So he chose something comfortable, something that wouldn’t strain his already exhausted legs.

Patient, precise.

He handled you with grace, elegance. There was no need to rush such intimate and gentle moments when he was showing you his utter gratitude towards you.

Your bodies collided, moulded into one as you relished in the warmth emanating from under your flesh. Seeping into one another, your shared warmth spread all through you as Darry eyed you like you were the most precious piece of gold he owned. 

And in a way, you were. 

Gently, he weaved his way into the lovely tightness of that pretty cunt of yours. Rough fingers gripping his own base while he tried oh so hard to gently nudge his reddening tip up into your welcoming core. The little bit of wetness you produced had made it a bit easier, maybe foreplay would’ve made it better.

Ah, but you finally tried to sit yourself down properly onto his lap, trying to fit the fullness of his length into your dripping cunny. What a pretty sight. Nipples hard from the coldness, goosebumps along your arms and legs from him caressing you so gently. In what heaven did the Gods choose to send you to him?

Soft sounds of delight left you both once you fully settled down onto his lap. Darry could feel each little involuntary squeeze, the occasional squirm due to you adjusting to his size. Darry was no small man, he knew this clearly. But... you did make his ego inflate just a bit.

“Shh, I know, sweetie. Gimme a sec, yeah? ‘S gonna feel good, promise.” He hummed into your ear, hands finding the fat of your ass as he scooped it up for some leverage.

And soon enough, with the solid grip he had on your rear, he gently began rocking you. Up and down more than left and right, but regardless he was doing the work and it made you pout a bit. But great heavens, the way his length so perfectly knocked at your cervix and made your insides burn with glee...

Maybe you could allow yourself to let him do the work for a bit, right?

Soft noises escaped you both, grunts and huffs you were unable to silence even if you wished to. Darry was never one for things like bondage, blindfolds, all that junk. Just some real, raw enjoyment with you.

And that’s what he got. Your pussy, unwavering in its joy, didn’t cease to flutter or squeeze around him whenever he knocked at the little g-spot you had. In fact, he quite liked seeing your expression go from neutral to a scrunched eyebrow.

“You like it, sweetie? It’s all for you, take what you need from it. Been so helpful.. little minx in those damn shorts whenever you’re cleaning the livin’ room. Take what you need from me, want you to feel my thanks.” He huffed, ragged breaths causing the sentence to sound breathy and shaky.

You nodded lazily, lethargy making your legs ache but you kept yourself hanging onto him. Hips met his in a needy attempt to get more friction, and Darry happily complied to give you what you wanted. To give you what you needed.

And it wasn’t long after that you found yourself addicted to a rhythm that had your spine trembling and hands seizing onto any flesh of his you could grab. The warm skin helped to ground you, even if it wasn’t exactly what you needed. 

Darry was holding you so tight, resorting from gripping your ass to just simply holding you in a half-hug so he could still move you around. He managed to stuff his head into the crook of your neck, the area clear except for the little bit of natural hair growth on your neck. He had to stop himself from moaning somehow, right?

But he couldn’t hold on for long once he felt the aggressive tightness your cunt was squeezing onto him when you came, he just couldn’t hold on. And soon his cock was pouring out his fresh, fertile seed into your welcoming womb, the obscene noises you both tried to silence finally escaping as heavy breaths and low whimpers.

Good grief, that was a bone-rattling orgasm for you both.

Darry couldn’t pull his face away from your neck, a bit embarrassed for making such kiddy noises just from cumming. But once he finally pulled away to clean himself up and you in the process, that warm smile lining your lips was all he needed to confirm that it didn’t matter.

So like the gentleman he was, Darry gently pulled away from you and laid you back onto his mattress before grabbing some tissues and wiping away the excess mess in between your legs. So gentle, so tender. And once he cleaned himself off too, you both spent the night in each other’s arms.

Silent, but in a good way.

Hopefully no one heard...

[ataliagold]

I Just Wanna Get To Know Ya

For @astrangersummer week 9 prompt 'different meeting au.' Title from Red Wine Supernova by Chappell Roan.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson (pre-relationship)

Rating: T

W/C: 1281

Tags: Pre-Steddie, alternate meeting, modern au, no upside down, Steve's an indoor climbing instructor, it's love at first sight for Eddie, flirting, fluff, Eddie's horny af

Summary: Dustin convinces Eddie to drive them to the indoor climbing gym where his old babysitter works. Eddie's reluctant at first, but changes his tune when he lays eyes on the instructor...

___

It’s barely nine am when Eddie’s phone starts vibrating beside him, buzzing along his bedside table.

He groans, slaps at it, tries to shut it the fuck up because surely it was too early for his alarm to be going off?

Looking at the display, he blinks several times, trying to clear the fog of sleep from his brain.

It isn’t his alarm - it’s Dustin calling.

“What, Henderson?” Eddie snaps into the phone, flopping back against his pillow.

“Can you take us bouldering?” Dustin’s voice, loud and imploring, hits Eddie’s ear.

“Huh?”

“Bouldering,” Dustin repeats, slowly as though talking to an imbecile. “Can you drive us? This guy Steve, he was meant to take us, he used to baby sit me and he works there and he said we’d need to do the normal climbing wall first but then we could try bouldering but he had to go in early to cover a shift and he couldn’t pick us all up in time, so…”

Eddie takes a moment to process the info dump from Dustin.

“You…want me to drive you somewhere?” He finally catches up.

“Yes,” Dustin says, exasperated. “You’re not busy, right?”

“Well…”

“Eddie, it’s a Saturday morning, I know you’re not busy.”

And ok, a little rude, but…Dustin was right.

“Fine, whatever. Where am I taking you?”

“Bouldering. In Bloomington.”

“What the fuck is bouldering?”

“Like rock climbing. But this one’s inside, it’s like a climbing wall, Lucas has been before and he convinced us it might actually be fun and Steve said he could get us in for free.”

“You want to go…climbing? In this heat?”

“It’s inside,” Dustin repeats, “and there’s good AC.”

Eddie sighs. It’s too damn early for him to have the energy to argue with Dustin. “Whatever, but you little shits are giving me gas money.”

“Thanks Eddie! See you in…twenty minutes?”

Dustin ends the call, and Eddie scrambles out of bed, cursing, barely with enough time to brush his teeth.

*****

Thank fuck he brushed his teeth, was Eddie’s first thought upon walking inside the climbing gym.

Because the kids are waving at a guy standing by one of the walls, Dustin calling “Steve!” and when he turns around and grins and gives a goofy little waggle of his fingers in greeting Eddie’s brain short-circuits.

Steve is fucking stunning, and Eddie can think of little else but getting his mouth on any part of him.

Steve is tall, he’s wearing a white tank top with those low holes that dip down and expose tanned skin over a lean torso. His hair is artfully mussed in several directions, all soft and golden and perfect for Eddie’s fingers, he thinks. He’s got a beautiful smile and enormous hands and don’t even get Eddie started on the harness clinging sinfully to his thighs and ass.

Eddie swallows before he can literally dribble.

“Hey guys, glad you could make it! Sorry about that,” Steve was saying to the kids. “Here, let me show you how to get your harnesses on, I’ll get you guys to start on the normal wall first and then we can look at moving you on to bouldering...”

Eddie forces his feet to move. Steps closer to this fucking god of a man, brings himself into his orbit and tries to kick-start his vocal chords again.

Steve looks up. Smiles wide at Eddie, eyes twinkling and Eddie thought that was something that only happened in books but this guy’s deep brown eyes are actually shining and Eddie doesn’t think any of this is very fair.

“Hey man, I’m Steve.” He sticks his hand out, and Eddie’s eyes lock on the veins in his wrist and the sheer girth of the man’s fingers, and he feels his brain stumble again. ��You gave these little shrimps a ride? Appreciate it, sorry if it messed up your plans or anything.”

“No,” Eddie squeaks, writhing internally. “No plans, nope. S’fine. I’m, ah, I’m Eddie.”

Steve’s hand is still awkwardly outstretched. Eddie takes it, squeezes maybe a little too firmly and god his hand is big and warm and there’s callouses on his fingers and Eddie is fucked.

After a moment, Steve takes his hand back. Brushes it against the back of his neck, right where Eddie sort of wanted to sink his teeth in.

Get your shit together, his brain hisses.

“You, ah…you want to climb, too?” Steve asks, gesturing to the wall.

Eddie glances up, takes in the sheer height of the thing, the multi-coloured grips, watches as some kid near the top slips off and is yanked upwards by his harness. On the other side of the room, someone is scaling a wall without a damn harness, the floor beneath them soft and padded but Eddie really wasn’t sure about that…

“Eddie doesn’t do physical activity,” Mike pipes up, waiting while Lucas helps him with his harness. “He complained the whole way here, he didn’t even know what bouldering was.”

Eddie could murder the kid.

Steve smiles, a little sheepish. “That’s ok. You can watch, if you’d prefer.”

“I want to try,” Eddie blurts.

Steve’s face lights up again. “You do? Cool, let me just…yeah this one’ll do, c’mere, I’ll help you.” Steve selects a harness, briefly adjusting the straps, and then he fucking kneels down in front of Eddie.

Eddie’s heart slams in his chest. He’s only a man, a very gay man, and Steve’s crouched down there and looking up at him with liquid-honey eyes through heavy lashes and what the fuck is he supposed to do?

“Um…I need you to step into these loops,” Steve prompts, wiggling the harness a little.

Eddie breathes out. Sees Dustin a short distance away rolling his eyes at him, catches Max smirking.

Those two were going to be banished to the back seat on the way home.

Eddie does as he’s told, but then Steve’s fingers are scraping against his thighs as he pulls the harness up, delving dangerously close to the current center of Eddie’s bloodflow and fuck if he gets any closer then Eddie’s probably going to get himself permanently banned from this place because there’s children around…

Steve stands up. Places his hands over the loose straps at Eddie’s hips, yanks them tight, Eddie stumbling a little bit as he does.

Instinctively, he reaches out, grasping at Steve’s waist with one hand to steady himself and oh god that was nice – he’s firm and warm and solid under Eddie’s grip, and Eddie finds his hand lingering, thinks about how nice it would be to trace his fingers across soft skin rather than white cotton…

Steve looks down at him, throat clicking as he swallows, lips slightly parted. Is he…blushing? Just a little, Eddie thinks, Steve’s blushing with Eddie’s hand on him…

“Just gotta…tighten this last one up,” Steve breathes, and reaches around behind Eddie to tug on a buckle resting above his ass.

Eddie never thought he’d find heaven in a gym, but he thinks maybe he’s died and gone there.

“Ok, you’re all ready,” Steve says, stepping back a little, Eddie’s hand slipping mournfully from him.

Eddie’s tongue darts out over his bottom lip, wetting it.

Finally, he finds his voice.

“Maybe you could…give me a little demonstration first?” Eddie asks with a small smirk. “The wall is really high, and I just wanna see how it’s done.”

Steve bites his lip, returns Eddie’s smirk, leans in a little to say, “Sure thing, Eds.”

Steve’s halfway up the wall, Eddie’s eyes glued to his ass, when Dustin leans over and stage-whispers, “You happy you came along now?”

“Henderson,” Eddie says appreciatively, “this might be the best Saturday morning I’ve ever had.”

___

[chuulyssa]

stalker!dazai x reader, dark content, obsessive love, mentions of a casual relationship, breaking and entering, creepy ass behaviour by dazai

You never knew that one night could change your life forever - that the man whom you considered as merely a casual fling would suddenly show up everywhere you went, trying to find every reason to be around you and talk to you.

In your eyes, it had just been a few kisses here and there to make your ex jealous. You had never seriously considered a relationship with this man. Yet here he was, inside your locked house as you slept soundly, completely oblivious to the stranger admiring your beauty.

Osamu Dazai was the owner of a bar you went to once with your friends. Or at least, that's what he had told you. He had seemed pretty nice when you had told him what you wanted. So there was no way he would end up stalking you after you told him specifically that he was just a fling, right?

Right?

But little did you know, the soft caresses you felt were imaginary were very much real. The gentle kiss that gave you shivers in your sleep was real. The unknown presence you thought surrounded you was real. And this would happen every night. Every night right after you fell asleep.

Dazai was in your bedroom. He was sitting on your bed currently, one hand on your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He was staring down at you with a fond look on his face, kissing your nose and forehead as you shifted around in your slumber.

But he never made a sound. He simply watched. Seldom, a phone call or two from a few irrelevant people at the Port Mafia would interrupt the moment. Still, his calm grip would only tighten on your waist, lips humming a comforting tune to lull you back to sleep gently. He would attempt to rub your chest and pat it to get you even drowsier. And it would work each time too.

Why didn't you seem to realize that you lived alone?

[kooksbunnnn]

Helping Hands - Min Yoongi

masterlist

Summary: an innocent intention of helping you with your back pain, turns out to be a breaking point of Yoongi's resistance. 

Warning: a very torturing massage (for the masseuse lol), SMUT, unprotected sex (be more sensible than that people), fingering, clit stimulation, oc crying due to overstimulation, YOONGI FUCKS YOUR THROAT, his long fingers making you cum, ass slapping, sloppy kisses, multiple orgasm, slight dirty talk, its basically filth, porn with slight plot, fluff in the end because we love aftercare right?

Words: 3.2k

Rating: 18+

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Mmh. Fuck yea-"

Okay, this was not a good idea. When Yoongi tried to help, he didn't think it would be this tough. But you were in pain, he couldn't help it. He never felt his fingers shake, especially on a girl. But this? You?!

The muffled voices, the short-relieved moans, and the deep humming were making him go feral. He cant even see your face and he is so glad he doesn't because that would definitely make him give in. 

He knows you feel good, fuck, you sound so fucking good. The skin under his hands feels smooth, soft, and biteable. He wonders how he could bite and leave purple marks on the inside of your thighs. Fuck, he would make you writhe on his tongue, make your whole body squirm. 

Dammit!? Think of something else Yoongi. Anything!

Jin doing aegyo. Yes. Its works, he just needs to keep thinking about his Jin hyung making cute faces, while he keeps kneading the flesh of your strained waist, without making his crotch touch your ass. Oh, that perfect, round, plum ass. 

Fuck.

While he is trying his best to divert his mind, you're being a complete menace. Knowingly or unknowingly you're giving him a boner and it feels so wrong. He can't help it. He is literally hovering over your thighs, with a boner he wants to let go but the sounds, the groans, oh god help him. 

He looks at the clock and his eyes widen at how only 4 mins have gone. If only he could've kept his mouth fucking shut. 

I could help you with the pain y/n. Trust me.

Fuck his help. He needs it more that you now. He should've called a physiotherapist for fucks sake, when you told him how strained your back is. 

Shifting the pressure to your lower back, he kneads the tense spot on the small of your back. Balancing the pressure in his index and thumb fingers he massages it in circular motions.

You groan at the pressure and your thighs rub against each other. He doesn't want to think over the possibility that you might be wet because fuck that would be so hot. He spreads his palm and slightly pushes against the tight muscle, slight jerks against the skin but maybe it was the wrong move because it makes your hand clutch the pillow in a tight fist. "Mmph" you groan, the way you hold the pillow case makes his mind run wild. 

"Fucking stop." He growls. 

"What happened?"

You try turning over to get up, but he pushes you down with a hand on your neck. Gasping, you turn your head sideways, looking up at him, his eyes were already on you. You feel shivers running up your spine at the darkness visible in his eyes.

"Yoongi? Is everything okay? Did I make you uncomfortable?" You ask with a pout, with feigned innocence in your voice. You're playing dirty. 

His lips turn into a sneer and he sees how your lips twitch at his reaction, smirking at this, he asks bending forward a little. "Are you really playing dumb right now?"

He can see through you, the smile you try to keep in, the way your cheeks turn slightly red at his close proximity. Breaths turning ragged slowly. He knew you were up to something, with the amount of sexual tension going on between you two, this was bound to happen. 

Being roommates was not very easy for you two, him walking in on you taking a shower, then the shorts resting just below your ass while you cook the breakfast in the kitchen, moving your hips slightly to the tune playing in the background.

It was fucking frustrating. 

Later he realized, that you were doing it on purpose after he called the drunken kiss a mistake two weeks earlier. He didn't want to make you feel awkward since you both were roommates. But you were on a damn mission.  

He even had to take a cold shower the day before because apparently, you were into popsicles now. Sucking the soul out of it, he wanted to feel your lips around him so much, he wanted you to lick his dick just the way you were licking the Popsicle's tip. He had to hold in a whimper when you made eye contact with him, hollowing your cheeks. How did Joon and Tae not see your ministrations? He doesn't fucking know. 

But today? He really wanted to help. You came home late after an overtime shift at the restaurant. He knows how hectic being a chef is because he saw his older brother complain of back aches very often. You were complaining about the no chair policy in the kitchens lately too! So he thought he should help. Well, your plan worked, cause he was gonna fuck the shit out of you. 

Chuckling, he sits up and flips you on your back. 

"You think you're very slick with this push and pull, huh?"

Your hands automatically try to reach up to him but he hold your wrists and brings them beside your head. Leaning in, he drags your hands against the couch leading them above your head. His warm breath fanning on your skin, making it flush.

"I don't know what you're saying, Yoongi."

Smiling at your devilishly innocent doe eyes, he bites lightly at the apple of your cheeks. You squeeze your eyes shut when he moves his lips to the spot beneath your ear. He bites at your earlobe and you squirm in his hold. 

Spreading your legs with his knee he makes himself comfortable between your thighs and its then, when you feel how hard he is. You whimper involuntarily and he chuckles near your ear deeply. 

"I wanna fucking ruin you, princess." He says rutting his hips in your clothed core and you gasp. He is not rushing anything. He is very slow with his thrusts, you can feel how hard he is and you wanna rip both your clothes off but damn his strength, he is holding your arms down with one hand. 

You feel yourself leak, you feel it ooze out of you making you clench your thighs together but its of no use because min yoongi is nestled between your legs. He ruts into you and arch your back. 

"Fuck, yoongi t-touch me, please"

He licks down to your collarbone, biting and sucking in his way. His other free hand comes to your waist, going inside your spaghetti top and you gasp lightly at his cold fingertips. 

He comes up and looks into your eyes, your mouth is slightly parted and you shut your eyes in embaressment. His eyes are too observant for you, you feel too vulnerable. 

"Ah-ah, sweetie. Keep your eyes on me"

You open your eyes hesitantly, which makes him smile. Leaning down he kisses you softly, lips moving in sync, its so soft that it makes you melt. You're kissing Yoongi, your roommate. The kiss makes you feel like floating and you moan whenhis tongue enters your mouth. So much warmth and overwhelming feelings that your head feels dizzy. 

You feel his fingers reach your underboob and you shiver at his touch on your bare chest. He detaches from your lips cursing under his breath, he cups your breast, eyes flicking twice between your face and chest. 

Gasping at his fingers rubbing your perked up bud, your back arches slightly and your eyes squeeze again. Suddenly he pinches your sensitive nipple making you moan, "You sound so perfect, baby."

Giving your cheek a wet sloppy kiss, he drags his tongue down your neck slightly loosening his grip on your hands. He leans down and rips the strap on one side of your top, making your boob pop out. Freeing your hands in the process, they fly straight to his head wanting eagerly to touch him. 

But he pins them back, getting up suddenly, looking straight into your eyes. 

"Hold them still, and keep watching me." He says as he leaves your hands and gets back to your chest. Locking eyes with you he smirks and puts his tongue out. You watch as he uses his long ass tongue to give kitten licks to your perked up buds and your body jerks. His other hand busy rolling your nipple in between his index finger and thumb. 

He chuckles at your red face and how flustered you look. The way he licks at your nipple, you feel so exposed. Not that you dont like it, you just feel so open to his eyes and his hungry gaze is making you heat up. 

You feel his hand moving from inside your tank top to the waist band of your joggers. He circles the tip of his tongue around your nipple, making shivers travel down your body. Lifting his head, his hand goes inside your pants and panties at the same time cupping your soaked core making you moan.

He rests his forehead against your collarbone with a deep groan. His middle finger parting your folds and you clutch your hair in order to not move your hands. Your stomach twitches at the sensitivity and his deep voice. Breathing shakily, the room is only filled with the sound of deep shaky breathes and groans. 

"You're so wet, so warm."

"Y-yoongi please please fuck do somethin- ah!"

He slides his middle finger on your clit raising his head at the same time, locking his eyes with yours. "So fucking greedy." He bites your skin with a growl and you cry out at the sensitiveness all around your body. 

His tongue at your collarbones, his fingers on your clit, rubbing you so deliciously, hands under his command, the eye contact and the anticipation of not knowing his next move makes your body shake. 

"Yoongi please I need you inside me, please." You gasp because you feel like you're hyperventilating and you might faint if you dont cum anytime soon.

"Do you now?" 

He starts rubbing your clit in smaller sharper circles and a moan escapes from the back of your throat, eyes shutting, you feel like your body is on fire. 

"Fuck fuck please fucking hell-"

He inserts two of his fingers and latches his mouth on your nipple at the same time. You moan lewdly and he just chuckles around the nipple while he fucks you with his fingers. 

Your high pitched 'ah ahs' makes him want to destroy you, he twists his finger in a come hither motion while his thumb rubs at your clit. He sits up and removes your joggers along with your panties. Leaning back down and latching his mouth to the other ignored nipple, renetering you with his fingers as you breathe heavily. 

"P-Please make me come fuck, pleasepleasepleas-"

His fingers hit the spongy spot in your walls and he groans. He looks up, as you twist in oversensitivity, rubbing constantly against that one spot which makes you see stars. 

He wants to see you, see you come and writhe beneath him. He lifts his face off your boob and grits out, "Eyes on me, if you ever wanna come, baby." You sob as your body arches, he holds your hips down as he works his fingers with his other hand. 

"Look at me." He says firmly. 

You squeeze you eyes tightly gathering enough strength to make eye contact with him, opening your eyes you look at him and he smiles, watching you through the black bangs covering his eyes, he is so evil. Sitting up, he shifts his weight on his legs and uses the other hand to rub at your clit and the other to fuck against your spot. Your pussy gushes at this and he knows you're close. 

Your body tightens and your eyes roll back, he groans at the sight as you clutch your hair with one hand and gripping his wrist with the other. 

"F-Fuck yeah. Come all over my fingers, baby. You're fucking soaking."

Your body twitches and whatever he says is white sound to you as you hear your heartbeat in your ear. Your nails digging in his hand, and the other digging in your scalp. You came after so long and you came so much. 

You push his hand away at the overstimulation, and close your thighs due to the sensitivity. He leans in to kiss you but its a very brief one because you needed to breathe. 

"Fuck, I knew you had good hands." You chuckle breathily and he laughs at your comment. 

"You take a minute, princess, cause I am nowhere done with you." 

You giggle as you watch him get up. Removing his trousers and boxers to sloppily work up his cock. He strokes it slow and your mouth waters at the sight. His cock is pretty just like him. The prominent vein on his cock makes your tongue come out to wet your lips. 

You watch hungrily as he uses his thumb to gather the precum and use it make the strokes easier and sloppier. 

"You know?"

He says stepping forward towards you and you sit up on the couch, he comes up and rests his hand on your head, weaving his fingers through your hair. Titling your head, he wipes the wetness on your cheek with his thumb. 

"I used to love popsicles"

He uses the same thumb to run over your bottom lip as he pulls it downwards. You open your mouth slightly and he scoffs, stroking his cock with the other hand. You gasp when he grips your hair in a tight grip, wincing at the pain and pleasure combo. 

"But fuck them for making me feel so helpless that day." He grits out as he leaves his length to grab your hair in a ponytail, you part your lips and push your tongue out. Scoffing at your face he brings his dick to your mouth and you raise your hand to rest at his thighs. 

"Tap my thigh if it's too much okay?"

You nod. And he pushes in, groaning at your warmth, "fucking hell, baby" he groans with his eyes shut. You try to control your gag reflex but his length touches the back of your throat and you let out a lewd gag making him moan. He shudders as you roll your tongue around his length brushing against the vein as he pushes back and forth. Pulling back he enters your mouth once again and your eyes tear up when you feel his dick in your throat. 

"Yes. Thats it."

He says while gathering your hair and holding them as your eyes let out tears. Your slightly smudged mascara now covering your cheeks in blotches. 

"So warm. So fucking warm." He says through his teeth and you relax your throat before swallowing around him.

He moans deeply at that and you feel your cunt clench at the sound. Pulling out, he leans down at your face level and asks, "Are you on the pill?" You nod before taking deep breaths and looking at him through blurry eyes. 

He smiles before kissing you, almost falling back on the couch. He kisses you wet and urgently before lifting and flipping you on all your fours. Getting up on the couch, he gets behind you, smacking your ass cheek with a scoff bringing out a moan from you. He parts your legs and brings his fingers to your pussy to rub it in rough circles, making you whine out in frustration. 

He chuckles at your impatience and slaps your ass once again. You are about to turn and tell him to please fuck you but you get cut off when he pushes his dick inside you in one smooth thrust. You lose your balance and your head falls onto the cushion giving Yoongi the perfect arch of your back. He puts his palm on your neck and keeps the pressure there as he sets a pace that makes your eyes water, and drool forming in your mouth. 

He doesnt say anything, nor could you, the room is filled with pornographic skin slapping sounds and deep groans and moans along with high pitched whines.

Snaking his hand around your waist he pulls you up against himself, the couch cushions making squeaks as he fucks you into oblivion, you whine at the building orgasm and he chases his own high. You clench around him when he wraps one hand around your throat.

He puts more pressure around your neck. Not blocking your air passage and making it hard to breath, just making you light headed. 

"Yes. Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum. You're gonna make me cum. "

His breathy voice makes you clench. His words gritted out of his teeth indicating his climax. You reach your hand around and tug at his hair which makes him growl and reach his hand down to rub at your clit. 

Your thighs shake and you cum around his cock with a long and deep moan, making him fall off the edge too. He stills inside you and you fall on the cushions in front of you as he grips your hips while releasing. You both groan at the warm feeling of his cum spurting inside you and he gives two harsh thrusts to milk his cock entirely. 

You both stay in the same position panting and heaving until both of your highs go away. Pulling out he winces at the sensitivity and plops down on the sofa with heavy breaths. You turn around half naked with just a half torn tank top on your stomach. 

Kicking at his arm playfully, you ask for something to cover you up. "I feel cold, help me out. I cant feel my fucking legs." You chuckle and he smiles at you. You lift your leg again to kick him, but he stops it mid-air and bites your ankle. You laugh at him as he smiles and picks you up in bridal style. 

"I am a gentleman, for your information, if you didnt notice it yet."

"Oh I did notice it when you offered me a massage, you softie."

"I will drop your ass down if you say that again." He says playfully, smiling and you laugh along with him. 

After getting a nice hot bath, making out for 15 mins in the bathtub, you both change into fresh pair of clothing and play stone paper scissors to decide in whose bed you want to cuddle in. Him being the champion of this game, he won.

Laying in his bed, him spooning you, you whisper. "Yoongi?"

"Mm?" He mumbles.

"You know I like you right?" Your heart beats fast as you say this cause this would get complicated if it turned out to be a one night thing for him, because you actually had feelings.

When he doesnt answer for two seconds, you feel your heart sink and regret starts forming in you, wishing that you didnt provoke him for a meaningless fuck. 

"Me too, princess." He mumbles against your ear and you audibly sigh out in relief to which he squeezes you with his hands around your waist, nuzzling his head into your neck, pecking the top of your head. You smile as you feel sleep take over your mind, the warmth of each others bodies making you both fall into a slumber. 

The next morning you woke up with not only a sore back, but a lot of sore muscles, but at least it was worth it. 

[lesservillain]

inmate!eddie munson x teacher!reader

cw: smut, miscommunications

January 19th, 1995 

“And when you take the line that Romeo-”

With ten minutes left in class, you were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door. All eyes turn to see Mr.Bridges standing with his bright smile and a crisp new tie. He gives a friendly wave and stands there waiting for you to greet him. He gets the hint when you give him a questioning look.

“Hell, all! I hope you had a good holiday season,” he waves, a stack of envelopes in his hand. You did your best to keep your excitement contained, watching his hand as he made his way to you, “I have your newest letters here. And I just want to say that the boys at the jail loved the cards, guys. You all wrote some very nice things and they all had a light in their eyes when they read them.”

When you went to grab the stack from his hands, he stopped you, stepping close enough to whisper. “Can I talk with you in the hallway for a moment, please?” Your heart raced at how serious his tone was. Nodding, you let the class know you’d be stepping out, and to do some self study in the meantime. Mr.Bridges closed the door behind you, clearing his throat before turning to face you.

“Is everything okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not smiling. It’s kind of creeping me out.” You joke, trying to lighten the tense vibes this interaction is giving. 

He looks down and the ground for a moment before looking back up to you, “So, I have some bad news. About one of the inmates.”

Your heart dropped to your ass.

“W-what happened?”

“There was an…incident over the holidays,” he starts, “one of the inmates was attacked and, unfortunately, didn’t survive.”

Your head reeled back, suddenly dizzy. He kept speaking before you could think much more.

“We don’t know how it happened, but we are looking into making sure that our security measures don’t let it happen again. But,” he perks up again, easily slipping back into his sunny disposition, “in the meantime, that means you don’t have to worry about writing to your inmate anymore!”

Oh, god you wanted to puke.

“E-Eddie died?” You could barely get out the words and your vision started to go blurry as tears welled up in your eyes.

“What, oh, no, another inmate,” he said nonchalantly, “Eddie’s fine, but he’s just going to be reassigned to the student who had the inmate who passed. Wasn’t very happy when we told him about the switch, but when we told him that you weren’t super keen on the whole project to begin with, his tune seemed to change.”

It was too much coming at you all at once. It felt like the worst case of the spins. Relief hit first, and then mortification. Bridges was talking but you couldn’t hear the words. He handed you the stack of letters as the students started pouring out of the classrooms before disappearing amongst the crowd.

The rest of the morning you were in a funk. Only on your lunch break were you finally able to sit down and process everything. Eddie is alive. A positive. Eddie probably hates you. A negative. Anger bubbled in your body. Why would they even tell him about your disapproval for the program anyway? Sure, you had your reservations, but you’ve had a change of heart in the last few months.

“Fuck,” you bury your face in your hands and run them down to your neck. The stack of envelopes sit on your desk. You’re not sure which student got Eddie in the mix, so you flip through the envelopes to see if the handwriting looks familiar. Sure enough you see a name in the familiar chicken scratch handwriting. You sit back in your chair with a huff, throwing the envelopes on your desk.

Tears started to fall. You looked up to the ceiling to try and cease their descent but it was too late. 

It’s always just when it starts to get good that it’s all ripped away from you. Just when you started getting good at soccer, you broke your foot. Just when your dad started coming around, he relapsed and ran off again. Just when you got to see your moms face light up when she found out she was getting her first grandchild, you had a miscarriage. Just when you thought your life was going to be normal for once in your life, your husband had to have an affair. And just when you thought you had something in your life to look forward to, that was taken away from you, too. 

“Hey, Marcus ordered pizza, it’s in the breakroom-” The chipper voice of Mr.Clark made you jump, bringing your sleeved wrists to your eyes to hide the evidence. “Woah, hey, what’s going on? Did Carl Thompson try to set his paper on fire again? I told Ester that he needed to be searched when he gets off the bus in the morning.”

You let out a light chuckle at his attempt at humor, though there was some truth in his words…Regardless, you just shake your head and give him the best smile you can muster. “No, not today, Scott. I’m just, um, still a little emotional from the holidays?”

“Ah, yeah, I get it,” he nods his head in solidarity, “I was pretty blue after Jen left. Still not much better, really.” The thousand yard stare he gives as he says those last words make you feel a little concerned for him in the moment. You give him a look, and he instantly goes back to his normal self, “But, hey, it does get better. Valentines day probably wont help,” his eyes widen in momentary distress, “but, the staff usually have a little party at Bennigan’s, so that will be fun!”

You just nod your head, “Yeah, sure, sounds like fun…”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Scott tsks and slowly starts moving out of the doorway to your classroom. “Well, yeah, anyway, uh, pizza’s in the breakroom.” Then he’s gone.

You wait a moment before letting out a laugh you desperately needed.

January 21st, 1995

“Open up, you’re not skipping out on another weekend!”

A groan pours from your chest, muffled by the pillow you’ve got your face buried in. Another knock comes from the front door, Robin’s voice booming from the other side. 

“Alright, alright!” You barely lift yourself from the couch to lean over the arm, twisting the knob of your front door to let your beloved friends in. As they make their way inside, you twist your body to look at the clock on the stove, but your vision is too blurry to see. “What time is it?” 

“Nine in the morning,” Steve says as he lifts up your feet to sit at the end of your couch, placing them back in his lap, “we’re going to brunch, then we’re hitting up the mall. Robin is in desperate need of a new pair of shoes.”

“I’m pretty sure I have the back of an 80 year old. Probably from carrying the weight burden of being Steve’s only friend.”

Your whole body shakes from laughter, Steve’s face only making you laugh harder, “You are not my only friend!” He gestures to you, still laying on the couch, boneless in you lack of effort to peel yourself from the couch, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Robin. 

“Oh, yeah, this barnacle of a human is totally worth calling your friend,” She says jokingly as she grabs your arm in an attempt to pull you from the couch.

“Hey,” you say defensively before starting to maneuver yourself upright, “I still move around. If I’m any sea creature I’m at least a starfish.”

“Pardon me, I’ll make sure to properly address you next time.”

After getting properly dressed and piling into Steve’s car, you let them drag you around to brunch, letting yourself have a few mimosas and eating enough appetizers that you barely touch the food you ordered. 

At the mall, you let Steve and Robin drag you from store to store. They stop and laugh at the empty spot in the food court where their old ice cream job used to be before it caught fire (neither of them would tell you how it caught fire). Eventually, Steve ran to the bathroom, leaving you and Robin to wander around the mall. 

“Why don’t you get yourself something nice?” She nudged you, tilting her head in the direction of a fancy underwear store, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Why? Who am I gonna wear it for? You and Steve?”

Her shoulders shrug, “Hey I’m not complaining. But, you never know. Love will soon be in the air, and maybe you’ll get asked out on a date. Wouldn’t it be nice to wear something cute like that,” she points to a mauve coloured bra and panty set on one of the mannequins in the window, “rather than the same $2 pack of granny panties and K-Mart bra all the time?”

“Are you suggesting I’m going to be putting out on the first date?” You look at her with a deadpan expression.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” her hands go up defensively, “But, you’d probably feel better knowing that if you did get lucky, at least you came prepared.”

Looking into the store, then back to your friend, who gives you the best convincing face she can muster, you slump your shoulders and make your way into the store. You try on a few things, using Robin’s expert opinion to find something that pops on your colour wise and fits your body’s curves the best. 

When you emerge from the store after making your purchase, you find Steve sitting on a bench a few feet away, eyes scanning around him. Once his eyes meet the two of you, he jumps from his seat and makes his way over. 

“What the hell, you guys totally disappeared on me!”

“Relax mother bear,” Robin pats Steve on the back, “We just wanted to make a quick pit stop before we go.”

Steve eyes the bag in your hand when you lift it up for him, and his cheeks get a dusting of pink to them. “Ah, I see. Well, I guess that means we’re ready to go then?”

After making one more stop on the way home to pick up dinner, the three of you settled on Steve’s couch. Just as he went to take his spot next to Robin, the phone rang. Steve lets out a groan before making his way into the kitchen. “Harrington’s residence,” he says with his fake customer service voice, you and Robin to stifle your giggles. His face goes from annoyed to wide eyed, and a smile blooms across his face.

“You mean tonight?” He asks, eyes flicking over to yours for a moment, “Yeah, yeah, we’re just about to watch a movie, but it can wait. Do you know what time? No, no it’s fine, I know you’re busy, sir.”

Steve looks at his watch and nods his head. “Yeah, okay. We’ll be right here when he does. Thanks, Mr. Munson. Bye-bye.”

You feel your eyes go wide. Munson? Steve answers your questions before you can even think to ask them.

“So, Eddie is gonna call in, like,” he looks at his watch again, “20 minutes. His uncle said he meant to call sooner but hadn’t had the chance,” he looks at you with a quirked brow, “Is that going to be okay? You don’t have to be in the room when we talk to him if you don’t want to-”

“No, no, I’ll be fine!” You wave your hands, “Don’t do anything different on my account.”

“Are you sure?” Robin’s voice has a more teasing tone compared to Steve’s. 

“Yeah, no, it’s cool,” you sit back on the couch, trying to disguise your nerves, “Just…pretend I’m not here.” Your attention is now on the cuticles on your nails, and you miss the look of mischief on Robin’s face, along with Steve’s nod in return.

To avoid the awkwardness that started to build, you jumped up from Steve’s couch and made your way to his fridge to get a drink. Taking a long sip, you almost drop the bottle entirely when the sound of the phone ringing again makes you jump. 

A lump in your throat forms, and you feel butterflies instantly in your stomach. Shit, is that sweat on the back of your neck? You watch as Robin springs up from the couch and makes her way to stand next to Steve. When Steve picks up the phone a woman’s voice can be heard on the other end. He gives a short “yes” and the phone is quiet for a moment. Robin looks at you from over Steve’s shoulder with a smile. Then, you can hear a voice.

“Hello?”

Robin and Steve adjust themselves so that the phone is between both of their ears. “Hey, Eddie,” Robin says with a cheerful enthusiasm. 

“Sup, man,” Steve says cooly, “How’s it going?”

Your heart flutters when you hear a soft laugh from the speaker of the phone. 

“Same thing, different day. Been trying to keep myself occupied. Old man got sent to solitary again so I had to be on my toes last week. But,” he said the last word with a sing-songy voice, “I did get some good news.”

Robin and Steve look at each other, visible excitement in their eyes.

“Did you get a set date?” Robin’s ask, becoming excited and pulling the phone closer to her ear. Steve pulls it back and gives her a look.

“Yep! Only five more miserable months and then I’m a free man,” you can hear the relief in Eddie’s tone as he practically shouts into the phone. Whoops and hollers come from your two friends as they bounce around in front of you. You can’t help but feel excited for him too, eyes meeting with Robin in mutual excitement.

“That’s so awesome man,” Steve laughs into the phone, “just in time for your birthday, too.” 

“Oh, yeah! We’re definitely going to terrorize the Hideout,” Robin says.

“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to it. Can’t wait to drink with the kids, too,” Eddie laughs.

The three of them continue their back and forth for a few minutes, talking about their mutual friends and what shenanigans that they can all get into.

“Hey, are they doing a rose festival this year?” 

You perk up at this, still standing idly by and sipping on your beer. Robin notices and smirks, “Yeah, I think so. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a couple months. You remember that pen pal thing I was telling you guys about?”

Now both sets of eyes are on you. A slight blush covers your cheeks, and you feel your heart beating faster. 

“Oh, yeah, with that teacher? Are you still doing that?” Steve winks at you. You look at him wide eyed, mouthing “what the fuck” but he just brushes you off. 

Eddie’s tone shifts, “Still writing letters, but not to her.” There’s a clear malice in his voice. Like just the thought of you made his mood sour. All the butterflies die instantly and fall into your ass at his words. Steve and Robin look at the phone confused. “What? Why?”

There’s a pause for a moment. “I can’t really go into the details. But they told me I couldn’t write her anymore. I got pissed off and told them that the reason why wasn’t fair, that I wanted to keep writing to her. Well, turns out she never liked writing to me anyway. The guy running the whole thing said that she was only “doing it out of obligation” and wasn’t the nicest person in the first place. Said she was trying to get canceled from the start, made it seem like it was a chore.”

“That’s not true!” You finally speak up, tears welling in your eyes. “I mean, it’s not totally true.”

There’s a pause, the three of you standing in complete silence for a moment.

“What?” Eddie’s voice, crackling in the receiver, is riddled with confusion, “Is someone else there? Hello?”

Grabbing the phone from Steve’s hand, you take a deep breath before bringing it to your ear. “I like getting letters from you, Eddie.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Then, he says your name softly, but like it’s a question.

“Yeah…surprise?” Your voice is small, and it matches the smile on your face. You wait for Eddie to say something in response, but there is a sudden commotion coming from his end. All you hear is him yelling back at someone before the line goes dead.

“Eddie? Eddie, hello?” Your panicked voice makes Steve grab the phone from your hand, bringing it up to his own ear. “Did he hang up?” He asks, looking at you confused, placing the phone back on the receiver.

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, “It was quiet and then I heard some muffling and yelling. Then the line went dead.”

“Shit,” Robin places a hand on your shoulder, “You think he’s okay?”

“Can you call him back?” you look to Steve, pleading for him to do something. 

Steve shakes his head dismally, eyes darting between floor tiles, “No, only he can call us.” He shrugs, lifting his head just enough to look at you through his lashes, “We did talk for a while, maybe his time was up?”

You couldn’t help but frown at his words, your mind going to the worst case scenario of what could have happened.

“Hey,” Robin’s words brought you back, “He’s fine, don’t worry about him. He’s always been able to hold his own.” She gives you a questioning look, “You didn’t tell us that you weren’t writing to each other anymore.”

Your head rolls in frustration, “I only just found out on Thursday. Some guy died and it fucked everything up. One of my students gets to write to him now and I don’t get to do anything about it.”

Fist slamming on the counter, you feel your blood starting to boil. “I never said it was a chore to write to him. Sure, I was skeptical at first, but I haven’t said a single negative thing since the damn thing started. I just…Fuck, I knew he was going to be mad at me.”

The warmth of Steve’s hand on your back along with the weight of Robin’s head on your shoulder as she link arms with yours grounded you. You expected them to say something, but they just let you cry it out, moving you to the couch. They knew that the tears falling weren’t just because you lost a pen pal. It was a break down that was a long time coming. Everything came pouring out, letting your wound be open and exposed to the air. 

February 3rd, 1995

“-Then, you’re going to write his name, his booking number and his cell block. That’s all the stuff I told you before.”

You nod your head, as if the voice on the phone could see you. “Okay, got it. So I just write the address and stamp it now, correct?”

“Yeah,” Dustin Henderson squeaks on the other end, “And it should work. I write letters to him all the time since we don’t have a phone in our dorm. I tried to stick some blank papers in there once for him but he said they confiscated it and still made him pay for the paper he does write on. Messed up, isn’t it?”

“I know, right,” you say with an ire, placing your letter in the envelope before licking it closed, “What a way to squeeze money out of someone.”

“Totally! Anyway, I’m sure Eddie will be stoked to get your letter. Steve gave me some of the details, but when he reads what you said there’s no way Eddie can stay mad. He pretends to be a tough guy but he’s a total softy -- Don’t tell him I said that, please.”

“I promise,” you laugh, “It’s the least I can do for all your help, Dustin.”

“Hey, who am I to keep two people from falling in love,” the suave suggestion in his voice makes you blush, but you keep yourself together.

“We’re not in love, we’re barely even friends.”

“Yeah, yeah, save it for the wedding. Which I better be the best man for!” 

“I think you’re breaking up, Dustin! Thank you for your help! Byeeee!”

Leaning against the wall next to the phone, you take in a deep breath before letting it out and up with exasperation. Holding the envelope between your fingers, smoothing your thumbs over the edges, you stare at his name for a moment. The envelope feels heavier than normal, but that’s the difference that writing three front and back pages will do. 

Three pages, all written with your heart. The invisible eye of judgment that looked over you when you wrote your letters before had disappeared. You felt the need to explain yourself after everything that had transpired. You didn’t sugar coat anything, because that wouldn’t be fair. But, you hoped that when you explained your background a little that he would understand your reservations. It only seemed fair to tell him that you knew more about him than you let on in your last letter, hoping that when you explained how Robin and Steve had entered your lives that it would clear up any misunderstandings.

It was hard to write, but you concluded the letter by telling him that you would understand if he still hated you. If he didn’t want to talk to you ever again, you would respect that, even if it meant having to distance yourself from your friends. You signed with your own rendition of a small rose next to it, and made the last minute decision to add your apartment phone number at the very bottom. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you put it there just in case.

February 14th, 1995

As the final bell rang for the day, you wished your students a safe trip home, reminding them to have their homework packets done by Thursday. Once the last student filed out, you wasted no time getting to tearing down the pink and red decor that had been haunting you for the last two weeks. You’d not been a big fan of Valentine’s Day to begin with. Even when you and Henry were still together he had only really put in any effort the first year or two. Then it just became mundane and predictable. He’d take you to dinner, get a little wine in you, and expect you on your knees once you got home. 

It was almost nice to spend a year doing something different for once.

“Hey, Anita wanted to get a head count tonight to make sure we have enough seats. You’re still good to go, right?” 

“Yeah,” you turned to see Scott at your door, “I’ll be there, 6 sharp! Just going to run home and get out of my teacher costume.”

Mr.Clark laughed at that, “Alright, see you later then!” He gave a little wave before he tucked himself back out into the hall. 

After cleansing your classroom of any signs of love, you made your way home to get ready. Even though Steve was a little bummed you wouldn’t be joining him and Robin for a night of cheap chocolate and shitty made for TV movies, Robin was more than happy to hear that you wanted to get out of your shell and make more friends. “Don’t forget to wear that set you got!”

And you did. Not that you expected anything to happen, but she was right about feeling good in it, even if it was just for yourself. Self love counts on Valentine’s Day.

When you came home later that night, you were still in a fit of giggles from the excitement at dinner. Between the surprise karaoke set up and the look on Scott's face when Mrs.Blaine pulled him back to the bathrooms during the peak of the night, you’d dare to say that you’d had a good time. You’d even limited yourself to one drink before switching to water.

As you peeled your jacket and boots off the red flashing of your answering machine caught your eye. You walk over to the machine, letting it play as you walk around the apartment.

“You have: two missed messages. First message.”

BEEP.

“Hi, darling.”

You stop mid step. Goosebumps cover all of your body at the sound of his voice. You hadn’t heard it in months. Almost a year now.

“I’m sorry I missed you…In more ways than one I suppose. I’m guessing you’re probably out with Stephen tonight. I saw the two of you out with your friend at the mall a few weeks back.”

A pause in the message has you wondering if he hung up after that.

“I…I guess I just wanted to say that I hope you’re doing well. You looked as much, and they way he looked at you…Well, I guess I can’t comment. Hope you have a good night. Love you.”

Love you.

You scoff. 

“Second message.”

BEEP.

“This call is coming from Pendleton Correctional Facility from:”

“Eddie Munson.”

Quicker than you’ve ever moved before, you’re sure your feet barely touch the ground as you make your way to your living room. 

“Hello? Oh was that a beep? Shit, sorry.” He was clearly flustered, his fumbling only made you feel giddy like you were listening to a voicemail from your crush.

“Let me start over. Hi, it’s Eddie,” he laughs, “I hope it’s not weird for me to call today. They only make you pay half as much if you tell them you’re calling your old lady. Not that I’m saying you are my-my, uh, girl or whatever.” You could almost picture how red he must have been as he was talking. You couldn’t help but bury your face in your hands and falling over on your couch, floundering around at the implication.

“I would have called sooner, but I had to wait for your number to be added to my approved call list. Just, uh, wanted to let you know I got your letter. I wrote you one back, but I’m waiting on a stamp. The freaking ran out since everyone is sending love letters. So as soon as they get more I’ll be shipping that out to you. But…I wanted to tell you that I’m not mad. That Bridges, he’s a real asshole. He keeps bragging about how as long as the project goes well then he gets a bonus.”

You were shocked at first, but it all made sense when you thought about it. In your gut, you knew there was no way his sunny demeanor was genuine. His insistence on your participation as well. He probably would have lost money if you hadn’t taken on his offer.

“And as much as I hate the guy, I gotta admit that we wouldn’t be…whatever this is without him. On that note, I also feel like I need to get something off my chest.”

Heart beating a million beats per second, you sit up straight, keeping your eyes on the machine as if it would disappear if you looked away for even a second. 

“I may or may not have known a little bit about you before all of this happened, too. Before we started writing to each other actually, thanks to the wonder twins telling me all about their new friend whose asshole husband cheated on her with a girl 15 years younger than him. They would talk about you any time I called and I started to look forward to meeting you when I got out. That hasn’t really changed…” The audio is muffled for a moment, where he probably put his hand over the receiver, “Alright, jeez get off my back, Tony. I’ll be done in a fucking minute. Sorry,” his voice becomes clear again, “these guys are jerks. Anyway, to make a long story short, I think that we should just put the stupid shit with Bridges behind us, start over, or pick up where we left off. I think that it’ll make more sense when you read my letter. So, yeah. Um, have a happy Valentine’s day and…live long and prosper. Bye!”

BEEP.

“No new messages. Two old messages.”

May 27th, 1995

A breeze blows gently through your apartment, billowing your curtains lightly. Lightening Crashes by Live transitions into Only Wanna Be With You by Hootie and the Blowfish on the little radio that you picked up from Melvald’s on clearance. You hum along, wiping sweat from your forehead as you continue to mop your kitchen floor. “I only wanna be with youuuuuu~,” you belt out into the empty apartment.

The phone rings in the living room, and you look at the clock. Shit, it was noon already? You scramble to turn the radio down, careful not to knock over the empty wine bottles that sat next to the sink, drain rung red. You hop over the coffee table, planting your butt on the cushion and picking up the phone. The automated message plays, and you mutter a little yeah, yeah, yeah as it speaks. Hearing Eddie’s voice gets you curling up against the arm of the couch. You give a quick yes, and soon you’re connected.

“Hello?” 

You try and hide your excitement, but fail miserably as you reply. “Hi, Eddie!” 

“Happy first day of no school! How did last night go?” His voice was full of genuine interest, you could almost imagine the grin he has on his face.

“It went really well! I had to take Mr.Clark home afterwards, but I didn’t have a single drink! I also don’t think I’ve had a single migraine since we last talked.”

Eddie’s laugh told you that he was definitely cheesing on his end. “That’s so awesome, Sweetheart! I’m super proud of you.”

His praises made you melt, his smooth voice not helping.

After Eddie’s message on Valentine’s day in combination of his letter, the two of you agreed to try your friendship again from scratch. It was never spoken between you two, but you’re sure that after all the things you’ discussed on that first real phone call just between the two of you that Robin and Steve were planning to set you two up, even before the prison project. When you asked them about it, they just played dumb so you just put it to rest. 

Your dreams had also changed. Once the door that was closed was now open, the two of you sit facing each other. Sometimes you would talk, sometimes the dream would only last for a few moments. Either way, the feeling was different now. There was no fear, he just needed to cross the threshold to get to you.

Eddie has been calling every other Saturday at noon since. You’d drive to his uncle’s trailer after every call to give him money to put on Eddie’s commissary, shocked the first time to see the man you spent some of Christmas Day with. You had been too far gone to remember his name, which you apologized profusely for. He told you it was no big deal, and insisted on showing you some hospitality and some old photos of Eddie when he was younger.

Eventually it became routine. Wake up, get everything prepped, talk to Eddie until eventually Tony (who apparently thinks he gets to tell people how long that can use the phone) kicks him off, take food to Wayne’s, and then spend the evening with Steve and Robin. It took a lot of energy out of you at first, but when you confided in your friends about your drinking problem, it started to feel like less of a chore as your energy started to come back. 

“What have ya got made up for Wayne today?” Eddie asks.

“He told me he really liked my hash brown casserole I made a few weeks ago, so I got that ready for him before I started cleaning this morning.”

“Damn, he did say somethin’ about you making a good casserole. I’m gonna get a belly on me if you’re gonna be cookin’ like that,” his pained sounds at missing out on your food has you squirming in your seat. You couldn’t pinpoint when it really started, but as your phone calls became more frequent, the two of you talked more and more about things that you wanted to do together.

It started out as group activities. He wanted you to come to a D&D game. You wanted to go with him and Steve and Robin to this cute farmers market your coworker told you about. He wanted to try and get a gig at the hideout so he could show you how good his band sounds. You wanted to have a get together at Steve’s when he comes home. He wants to take you to this really nice restaurant in town. You want to bring him with you to Chicago some time when you are out visiting your brother. He wants to take you to the movies. You want to take him to the new record store opening this summer. 

It would be a lie to say that his promises didn’t make you hopeful. You had to constantly remind yourself that he didn’t even know what you looked like. He could say all these things to you on the phone, and he could just as easily book it if you weren’t what he was expecting. 

“Oh, I was thinking-” you started.

“That’s never a good sign,” he teased.

“Ha ha, so funny, Munson,” you fake offense, “Anyway, I was thinking we could go see the new Batman movie when you get out. Robin and Steve keep debating on if Val Kilmer is going to play a good Batman, but I just want to see Jim Carry as the Riddler.”

“I don’t know, have you ever sat through a movie with them?” He questions.

“Uh, yeah, plenty--oh, okay I see your point,” you say, thinking about how much the two of them talk during a movie just at Steve’s. They were probably menaces in a movie theater. 

“Yeah, it would probably be better if just the two of us go. Save us a headache,” he suggests. 

“Sounds like a date, then,” you say, curious of his reaction. It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

“A date? Yeah, sure, yeah, that,” he sounds nervous.

“I’m just messing with you, Eddie,” you say to save face, hoping to hide any disappointment in your voice.

“Oh,” his tone sounds sad, dejected even, “Yeah, sure.”

You were going to say something until you heard Tony’s voice yelling. Both of you let out a sigh in unison. 

“Alright, I guess I’ll hear from you in two weeks?” You don’t even bother to hide your disappointment anymore.

“Yeah. Wish it was sooner…”

“Hey, only two more months, Eddie,” you try to lift his spirits.

“Two more months,” he mirrors back.

After you say your goodbyes, you quickly get cleaned up to head over to Wayne’s. His old truck sits in the driveway, and you catch him finishing up mowing the grass. You pop the casserole in the oven while he gets cleaned up, using the spare time to pick up a few things here and there. Wayne’s tried to tell you guests don’t get to clean up, but you just ignored him until he gave up, asking him if it was really the hill he wanted to die on.

The two of you chatted, eventually migrating out to the front porch to enjoy the steady nice weather. 

“Do you think Eddie will like me?” you ask nonchalantly, keeping your eyes on a crack beneath your feet.

Wayne stops mid puff and looks at you confused.

“What?” you ask, trying to play it off.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” he asks, blowing the smoke away from you.

“No, I mean…What if he thinks I’m something I’m not? What if he’s disappointed when he meets me?”

Wayne barks out a laugh, “Oh, trust me, he won’t. I already know exactly what’s gonna happen, and it’s not him running away with his tail between his legs.”

“What do you thinks going to happen?” you ask with concern.

He just smiles, eyes fixed on the sunset.

July 26th, 1995

Your hands smooth out the fabric of your dress for the hundredth time, opting for something simple yet flattering and pairing it with some nice jewelry. “Are you sure this is okay?”

Robin was laying across Steve’s bed, swinging her legs and staring at the ceiling. “For the millionth time, yes, you look hot. He’s gonna fall to his knees when he sees you.”

You walk over to the bed and plop down next to her, “And for the millionth time, it’s not like that Robin. I…,” you fiddle with your rings as you stare at Steve’s ceiling fan spinning above you, “What if I’m not what he’s expecting? I know what he looks like, but he’s only going off of what he’s been told about me. What if when he gets here, he takes one look at me and-”

“Okay, listen,” Robin places a hand delicately over your mouth, “First of all, Eddie is going to have to pick his jaw off the floor when he sees you. I promise you that.” You look over to her next to you, smiling under her hand. “Second, if it’s not “like that,” then why are you wearing that matching set you got when we went to the mall?” The hand on your mouth moves to your shoulder where she snaps your bra strap against your skin.

You jump up from the bed trying to hide the blush in your face when a knock on the door draws both of your attention.

“Hey, are you two done playing dress up in there? Jane and Max need help getting all the food set up.”

“On it,” you say as you open the bedroom door, sliding past Steve to get away from Robin before she can ask any more questions. 

You wipe the sweat from the back of your neck, bouncing Nancy and Jonathan’s two year old daughter on your hip. Nancy was telling you about her latest article in the New York times when Dustin’s shrieking voice caught everyone’s attention.

“HE’S HERE! HE’S HERE!” Dustin yells from the front yard, and you can hear the sound of a car playing metal music on full blast getting closer, before cutting off completely.

You hand Nancy her toddler back, not trusting yourself to be able to hold her as your hands start to shake. A lump fills your throat, and it suddenly feels way hotter than it did a second ago. You’re surrounded by excited whispers and the rustling of Gareth getting into a cooler to grab a beer. 

And then it’s the skin to skin contact of Mike brushing past you and the squealing of Max and Jane from the other side of the yard as two bodies emerge from around the side of the house. A usually bald head covered in a dark brown cowboy hat, followed by a mop of curls that bounce with excitement. Bodies flocked around him; you note that he’s taller than most, say for Mike and Argyle. Everyone is taking their turns to greet him, and you’re hit with a realization that this is a family. A weird, mixed found family, who clearly have a bond that can’t be broken by time, and you were lucky enough to be accepted by them.

“Hey, there little missy,” Wayne’s voice breaks you from your trance, his arms open expectantly. The normally gruff and distant man was all smiles today, for good reason.

“Hi Wayne,” you wrap your arms around him, patting him on the back before pulling away, “How was the drive?”

“Lord,” he says, shaking his head, “That boy ain’t changed a bit. Either talked my ear off or played music loud enough that I’ll need hearing aids.” He looked over to Eddie, who was still being mobbed by the other party guests, “But, it was worth it.”

You hum in agreement, watching as Robin talks to Eddie. She points your way, and before you can prepare yourself his gaze meets yours. Even from a distance you can see the sun hitting his eyes just right, honey brown orbs locked on you. You lift your hand up to give him a small wave, and the biggest grin you’ve ever seen spreads across his face. You’re sure your face must be beat red, and you shift your eyes suddenly feeling shy. Eddie places a hand on Dustin’s shoulder and moves him to the side, making a beeline to you and Wayne.

Gravity felt like it was magnifying with each step he made, and everything around him was blurry. Every nerve in your body felt like a live wire. You’re sure you weren’t even this nervous on your wedding day. You smooth out your dress again, the fabric brushing against your skin leaving a tingling feeling behind. Each stride he takes gives you an opportunity to examine him further, to see the dimples in his cheeks, the lines in the corners of his eyes where his smile reaches them, the littering of light freckles and other imperfections.

He stopped just in front of you, his body rocking back to maintain a space between you. His hands were tucked in his jean pockets with his arms tight to his body. It reminded you of a kid trying his hardest to keep his hands to himself. 

“Hey,” his voice was even nicer in person.

“Hi.” It came out small. You were trying to be cool, but kept your head low to hide the smile on your face. He shifted where he stood, bending and twisting to force himself into your vision. The girlish giggle that came out of you was unrecognizable. You look up to him as he makes himself upright again. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

He shuffles his feet, probably a nervous habit. “Yeah, no kidding,” his head tilts and he looks at you with one eye, “I know being locked up for 5 years didn’t really do a lot of good to me, but, uh, I hope that I still hold up to the pictures you’ve seen of me.” 

 “I’d say it wasn’t all bad,” you look him up and down playfully, “You look…mature. I’d venture to even call you handsome.” It was his turn to act bashful now, bringing a hand to rub against his stubble. The both of you laugh, exchanging glances before you speak again, “Was I what you were expecting?”

He leans his body back, the huge smile returning to dimple his cheeks again. “Are you kidding me? Even better than I imagined. You didn’t do yourself justice, ya know.”

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush,” you whine and curl into yourself, kicking at the ground.

“Too late for that,” Steve says as he slaps Eddie’s shoulder, “Now, if the two of you are done pretending not to like each other over here, we got food to eat. Who wants a hamburger!”

The yard is alive with chatter and Eddie makes his rounds to catch up. One of the guys who you’re pretty sure is named Jeff, makes him shotgun a beer with him and everyone cheers when Eddie crushes the can on his head. “Henderson,” he yells pointing at Dustin in the pool, “you’re next! Gotta make up for all the lost time since I missed your 21st birthday!” 

“That’s a lot of drinking to do,” Jane says with a worried look on her face. You look at her where she sits next to you on the edge of the pool and pat her back.

“It was nice knowing them, I guess.”

Max snorts from the other side of El, making all three of you erupt in a fit of giggles. You stop when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up into the sweet chocolate eyes, he kneels down and you can smell the beer on his breath. “Hey, you doing okay? Me drinking isn’t gonna bother you, right? Do you want another water bottle?”

He’s been doing this for the last 2 hours, leaving his conversations to check in on  you, even before he started drinking. Not that you were complaining, you relished in the attention he was giving you. Where at parties with Henry you were there to be seen and not heard, Eddie made you feel like the party was for you. Putting your plate together for you, standing just behind you when you talked in a group, undoing your shoes for you when you said you wanted to drip your feet in the pool. When you told him to stop hovering and enjoy his friends, he did so reluctantly, stealing glances your way like he was scared you’d be gone if his eyes weren’t on you.

“Eddie, I promise I can handle you and everyone else here drinking,” you give him a warm smile, “And I’m okay, thank you for asking.”

“Please drink Dustin under the table,” Lucas groans as he swims up to the edge of the pool, resting his chin on Max’s knee, “He thinks he can handle his alcohol well and I need to see you put him in his place.”

“Hey!” Dustin shouts as he exits the pool. 

The night starts to wind down a few hours later. Some people are gone and others are sitting by the fire pit reminiscing on times you weren’t present for. You take it upon yourself as one of the only sober people to start picking up the stray cans and solo cups that had been scattered around the pool area and putting away any of the food that was still good. The sound of the sliding glass door opening caught your attention as you were cleaning up Steve’s kitchen. Eddie shut the door behind him, walking over to stand on the other side of the island.

“I was wondering where you ran off to,” he leaned on the counter top, propping his head in his hands with the dopiest grin.

“You’ve been slacking,” you tease as you place some dishes in the sink, “I think I’ve been cleaning for at least an hour now. Not doing a very good job at keeping tabs on me.”

“Okay, for the record,” he points a finger up and staggers a bit, “I could see you, and I wanted to stop you from cleaning. Buuuuuuuut, Robin told me you always clean up and get upset if anyone tries to stop you. So I figured I’d let you enjoy yourself.” He shrugged.

“I just respect Steve enough to not leave a mess. It is a little therapeutic in a way.” You move to stand closer to him, leaning against the edge of the counter perpendicular to him, arms just shy of touching. You watched as he fidgeted with a ring on his finger. “How is it going out there? It looked like Dustin and Gareth were passed out in their chairs.”

When he didn’t respond, you brought your attention up to meet his stare. His eyes were dark, the shine of the sun no longer bringing out the umber, now almost black under the warm light above him. They flickered as they stared into yours, back and forth like he was searching for an answer only you could give him. If you weren’t so acutely aware of your close proximity, you might not notice how he subtly leans closer, closer. You close your eyes.

“ED-DAYYYYYYYYYYY!”

The sudden noise was enough to make you jump almost out of your skin. You’re white knuckling the counter as you turn to see Dustin, Lucas, and Steve stumble inside, with Jane, Mike, and Max not far behind trying to help keep all three of them from falling over each other. 

“Jesus H. CHRIST, Henderson!” Eddie screeches, slapping the top of the counter. 

“Oh, there he is!” Dustin leans backwards, Jane holding him up, “Hey, guys, I found Eddie! He’s in here with his girlfriend! Oh shit where you guys in here suckin’ face? My bad my-”

“Okay, okay, come on lets get your shit together,” Eddie interrupts waving his hands around, “Or else you’re all sleeping on the floor.”

“I don’t wanna sleep on the floooor,” Steve whines like a child, throwing himself into Mike where they almost fall over.

“Well, it’s a good thing you have a bedroom here, dingus,” Robin walks backwards through the doorway, carrying a pair of feet with her. The feet belong to a very passed out Gareth, whose top half was being carried in by Jeff.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Eddie runs over to Gareth's side, picking him up and carrying him bridal style to the couch. You reel back as you watch him carry Gareth like he weighs nothing, his biceps flexing catching your attention. Damn, did it get hot in here?

You helped Robin get Steve up the stairs so she could put him to bed while the others got themselves situated. When you came down, you said your goodbyes to Mike, Will and Jane as they made their departure for the night. Max elected to stay with Lucas since she didn’t see well at night to drive, dragging him up to the spare bedroom. Gareth is still passed out on the couch, propped up with a towel under him in case he pukes. Jeff says he’s going to sit with him until he sobers up enough that he won’t ruin the interior of his new car.

Eddie got Dustin set up in another spare bedroom and made his way down the stairs. “God, my first day back and I can already tell nothing has changed.” He’s shaking his head, but the smile on his face gives him away.

“Are you usually the dad of the friend group?” You lean against the entryway wall, watching him as he walks over to you.

“How did you know?” He chuckled, putting up an arm and leaning into the doorway over you. The move was so smooth, and you felt the butterflies go straight from your stomach to between your legs. You sucked in a breath, “Oh, just a hunch.”

His eyes lock with yours for a moment, and his smile falters. He looks around for a moment, leaning over you to look into the living room, his chest pressing into you softly. Whatever he was looking for must not have been too important, bringing his attention back to you.

“So, I really hope I haven’t been reading into this wrong,” he says lowly, head nodding between the two of you, “‘cause I’ve been dying to do this all night.”

His hand cups your cheek as he leans in. He moves slowly, to give you an out if this isn’t what you want. But when you lean into him, he wastes no time closing the gap the rest of the way. His other hand moves from above you and lands on that spot on your neck and under your ear. His weight shifts, pressing you into the frame with his body and your hands to his chest, fisting the fabric to keep him in place. Your senses are flooded with dollar store detergent and his sweat after being out in the sun.

You never believed in that spark when you kissed someone before, but the way his plump, chapped lips move with yours has your body feeling like the 4th of July. And when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, the taste of cheap beer mixes with the lemonade you were sipping earlier. He pulls away, just far enough to kiss you over and over and over and over amplified by the stickiness of your lip gloss that’s transferred to him. But you’re insatiable, and you chase him. Touch starved doesn’t even begin to touch it. 

His hands move from your face down to your hips, moving you from the doorway to the darkness of the small hallway. Just in time as you heard the sliding glass door open and shut, then the sound of Jeff plopping down in one of the recliners. Eddie didn’t give you time to dwell on anything other than him, pulling your hips flush into his and grinding against you. 

And, lord, you felt it. 

The small gasp you let out has Eddie smirking into your kiss. He breaks away, leaning into your neck to whisper in your ear. “I’ve had a long time to think about all the things I want to do to you,” he bites at your earlobe and you moan, clenching your thighs. 

“All the ways I want to touch you,” he kisses down your neck, “tease you. I bet you like being teased, don’t you?”

 “N-no,” you whisper with a shake of your head. A whimper falls from your lips as his teeth gently scrape over a spot on your neck. “Don’t wanna be teased.”

He hums, kissing back up your neck to your lips again. “Awe,” he chuckles, eyes meeting with yours again, heavy lidded and pupils blown out, “you just want me to ruin that pussy, don’t you?” 

Frantically nodding you press your lips back into his, but he pulls away leaving you to whine in frustration. “Easy, now, sweetheart. I’m just as eager as you, but I wanna do this right.” He grabs the skirt of your dress, pulling it up to get access to your legs. You don’t get the chance to protest before he’s picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. The hardness in his pants is pressing directly into your core where you’re sure your panties must be soaked. 

Not bothering to be stealthy Eddie carries you as fast as he can up the stairs. You can’t contain your giggles as he pushes you up against the door to his new bedroom. While stealing a few more kisses, he goes to grab the knob, but doesn’t get the chance when the door swings open behind you. He puts you down quickly to keep you from falling backwards, and you whip around to be met with a half awake Max.

“What the fuck,” she asks rubbing sleep from her eyes, “what’s going on?”

Eddie looks like a kicked puppy,  his jaw slack and eyebrows knit together in a pout.

“I thought you guys left?”

“What? No? It’s way too dark. You know I can’t drive at night,” she crosses her arms looking at him confused.

“Damn it,” he looks at the door to his right, “and I put Henderson in the extra room.”

“Sorry, Max,” you speak up, “he was just trying to figure out where he was sleeping tonight. You can go back to sleep. Good night!”

She eyes you suspiciously before wishing you a goodnight and closing the door. When you turn to look at Eddie, you see that he’s about to open the other bedroom door.

“Eddie, what are you doing,” you whisper yell. He hesitates before he reaches the door knob.

“I’m gonna get Henderson and put him in bed with Harrington.” He goes to grab the knob and you reach for his hand to stop him. He looks distressed, but you can’t help but laugh. It had only been a little over a year that you’d gone without any sexual contact with another person, but you could clearly tell that Eddie was struggling after going as long as he had with the opportunity dangling right in front of his face. 

“Can I make a suggestion before you start displacing people in their sleep?”

He nods, hopeful eyes on you.

“My apartment is like 10 minutes away,” you step closer to press yourself against him, “There’s a gas station on the way. We can stop and-”

Before you can finish he’s grabbing you by the middle and carrying you over his shoulder down the stairs and straight out the door, not bothering to close the front door behind him.

“Which car is yours?” He’s swinging you around playfully as he looks at all the cars lined up on the street and in the driveway.

“I’ll tell you, but we’re not going to get anywhere without my keys!” 

“Fuck!” He smacks your ass before placing you on the ground. “Where are they?”

“In my purse on the counter-”

He takes off, running through the front door and back faster than you think you’ve ever seen anyone move. Tossing your purse to you he follows you as you move to where you parked on the road, pulling out your keys and unlocking the door. 

“Eddie, hold on,” you giggle, pushing your butt into him in a futile attempt to get your door open. Your keys jingle as you try and get the right one into the lock to your apartment. Eddie’s hands were everywhere as he pressed himself further into you, kissing up and down your neck and shoulder. “It’s only going to take longer to get inside if you’re distracting me-hee~”

He relented with a whine, chin resting on your shoulder and hands lingering on your hips as he waited patiently. Once you finally opened the door you stepped in and flicked on a light, Eddie hot on your trail. When you turned around to face him, you were expecting to be met with his lust filled eyes, but you were surprised to find him looking around your apartment with wide eyes. You took the time to admire him again, much like you did earlier. He looked like he belonged there, like he fit with the cozy atmosphere you had cultivated since you moved in. He would have looked so out of place in the sterile white of your home with Henry. 

“It’s cute,” he says looking at some of the artwork you have hanging on the walls, “exactly what I was expecting.”

“Oh, so you were expecting me to take you back to my apartment?” You eye him with a smirk. He looks down at his feet before tilting his head to look at you.

“Only for the last four months.”

Chills run up your body. He’s been thinking about you, like…this, for 4 months.

“Only four months?” You step to him, craning your neck to look into his eyes. The pink on his cheeks more prominent this close.

“Well, sort of. Honestly been thinking about you since you sent me that letter about yourself, what you looked like. Again, you didn’t do yourself justice,” he leans down to kiss your nose, “But, I, uh, didn’t really start thinking about you until we got to talk for real.” His hands snaked around your waist, sliding down to grab handfuls of your ass. 

“Something about your voice,” he leaned in for a quick kiss, “hearing you laugh at my dumb jokes,” another kiss, “the way you say my name. “Hi Eddie.”” He mocks you, exaggerating the sultry inflection of your words. Smacking a hand on his chest, you both laugh, and he pulls you in closer. 

“Well I’ve been thinking about you longer,” you say as you pull on the hem of his shirt. His brows quirk up at you in surprise.

“Really? And I thought I was pushing my luck tonight. Was worried all our talking was just you being nice to me.”

“God, Eddie, you’ve been away for way too long if you couldn’t tell I’ve been flirting with you by now.”

“Hey,” he raises his hands defensively, “I’ve never gotten my hopes up about a girl flirting with me before, and I wasn’t about to start.”

It hurt your heart to hear him say that. Robin said Eddie wasn’t super popular in high school, and didn’t have the best luck in the dating department before he was incarcerated. Which was a shame because he’s such a sweet guy and deserves to feel wanted. The ache between your legs came back when you realized that you might get to be the first person ever to make him feel that way.

You lean up to kiss him again, lingering there for a moment before you take a step back. He leans in to chase you,but you keep taking steps back. When he opens his eyes, he sees the mischievous look on your face and smiles wildly. Just as you turn to take off to your room, he launches after you, making you squeal as he chases you down the short hallway. Once passed the threshold of your bedroom doorway he wrapped his arms around you, planting kisses all over your face. You giggled as he walked you to the edge of your bed, planting a kiss on your lips and guiding you down, down, until you were sat. 

The mood shifted from playful to hot the moment his tongue slipped out in search of yours. His hands were suddenly on your knees, bunching and shifting the fabric of your dress. The metal of his rings was cold against the hot skin of your thighs. His fingertips felt rough to the touch compared to your smooth skin, the sensation lingering as his hand crept closer and closer to where you wanted him, needed him. 

“Holy shit,,” he inhaled sharply though his nose when his fingers reached the fabric of your panties,“This is happening.” An incredulous chuckle left his lips, and he let his fingers loop the waistband, snapping it back to your skin. 

Just when you thought he was going to take the plunge, his hands continued to creep up your body. His touch was feather light, gliding up your sides, slowly, slowly, until you felt him right under your rib cage, below the cups of your bra. He hesitated for a moment, and you weren’t sure he even realized that he had stopped kissing you. The low light of the moon shining through your blinds illuminated him just enough that you could see him swallow. Where had all that big talk gone from earlier.

“Eddie.”

His shift to yours and you hold his stare. Your hands move down your own body, gliding over his hands from the top of your dress, down, until you grab the hem of the dress yourself. His grip tightens as you pull the fabric up, up, exposing your legs, your stomach, chest, until it’s up and over your head. You toss the offending garment to the floor, and meet Eddie’s eyes again. Leaning back on one hand, you grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him in so his lips just ghosted over yours.

“I thought you’d been thinking all this time about what you wanna do to me?”

That was all exactly what was needed to break Eddie of his nerves. One of his tattooed hands flew from your ribs to your chin, fingers squishing your cheeks to purse your lips. He looked down at you over his bottom lashes, lips curling into a devilish smile. 

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise to be gentle. Tell me if you need me to stop. Got it?”

You shook your head the best you could in his grip, your thighs rubbing together at his shift in demeanor. His lips were on yours in an instant, hand slipping from your face, down your neck, shoulder, before slipping behind your back. He shifted his weight, placing a leg between yours so his knee was fully pressing against your heat. His other hand snaked around your side, meeting his other hand. In one swift motion the constricting hold your bra had on you was gone, and the weight of your chest shifted as the garment lay flimsily against you. You shimmied your shoulders, lifting one arm out of the strap, and then the other. Eddie grabbed it, flinging it off of where it still covered you as if it personally offended him.

His mouth was on you again. Starting at your lips, moving down your neck, nipping, biting all the way to the swell of your breast. His hands make their move, wasting no time as they began to grope and pull. He took a nipple in one hand and did an experimental roll, the sensation causing you to arch into him, and your hips roll into his knee, hitting that hard spot just right against your clit. Your eyes cross for a moment, and you barely get time to recover before he’s taking your other nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue in tandem with the rolls of the other. All the sensations creating a perfect symphony of pleasure that you hadn’t felt in years, if ever.

You don’t hold back as moans fall from your lips, and they only egg Eddie on more. His mouth releases your nipple with a wet pop causing you to whine out in protest, only made worse when his whole body pulls away to stand at the edge of your bed. Even in the mostly dark room, you’re still able to enjoy the show as he strips himself of his shirt.

His biceps flexing already had you feeling hot, but your breath hitches in your chest as you take in Eddie’s bare chest. Some of the tattoos you recognize from the picture of him and Steve, but there are new pieces that fill in a good majority of his chest and parts of his stomach. He’s tone, even more so now than in his earlier twenties. Your head spins as you follow his happy trail down to where he’s undoing his belt. When he pushes his jeans down to the ground, your jaw hits the floor when you see the tightly pitched tent in his boxers. 

When he clears his throat, you quickly shut your jaw and look at him with embarrassment. “See something you like,” he smirks. Your head nods dumbly, still in awe at the man before you. He rubs his hand over his stubble shyly, curling into his shoulder at your admission.

However, his bashfulness didn’t last long as he leaned forward, grabbed you by the calves and pulled you until your ass was at the edge of the mattress, making you lose your balance and fall flat on the bed. He holds your legs up, moving to stand between them. Leaning forward he kissed you on the lips, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth when he pulled away. Then, in a move you weren’t expecting, he dropped on his knees and began kissing on your inner thighs.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked as you propped yourself on your elbows, watching him make little marks on your skin.

“What do you mean?” he doesn’t look up, only switching to your other leg as he moved closer to your clothed slit.

“Sh-shit,” you whimpered as his mouth landed on your mound, licking over where you’d soaked the center of your panties, “w-hat are you doing down there?”

“Oh, pretty girl,” he looked up at you from between your legs, “I’m going to eat this wonderful meal that you’ve so kindly warmed up for me.” Before you know it, he’s biting and pulling the material away from your cunt, leaning back and pulling away just enough to pull them off. 

And then he’s on you, wasting no time getting his mouth on you. A hand flew straight to the curls on the top of his head as he began in ministrations. His flattened tongue licked a slow stripe all the way from your hole to your clit, stopping on the bud to flick his tongue back and forth. 

“H-ooooohh my god,” your words came out breathy, and you subconsciously ground your hips into this tongue as he lit the fire in you. “Eddie- t-that, ah, don’t stop!”

He hummed into you as his tongue slid down to your hole, wasting no time plunging his tongue inside. Your breath hitches as the breach, curses falling from your lips as your head lulls back. He pulls away for a moment, a thumb gliding to your clit to keep you going as he speaks.

“Baby, has anyone ever eaten you out before?”

“N-no-o, ffffuck, never,” you stutter out, lifting your head to look at him again. You were met with an expression that you could only describe as wild excitement. His eyes practically had hearts in them.

“Well, shit, I was just going to get you warmed up for me, but I’m definitely gonna make you cum on my face.”

Your face was flush red with embarrassment. Henry never did anything like this with you. He barely made you cum in anyway, leaving you to get yourself off on your own. So the idea of cumming on Eddie’s face only stoked the flames in you more. 

His mouth wrapped around your clit once again, sucking and licking, making you cry his name with the remaining breath in your lungs. When you didn’t think it could get better, you felt the roughness of Eddie’s finger at your entrance, pushing in, and working you to the knuckle. The curling motion of his pointer was like throwing gas on the flame. Losing the strength in your arms, you flopped onto the bed with a gasp, hands shooting to grip in Eddie’s short curls. “Oh, oh fuck — ah!” 

Eddie let out a small moan when you pulled. He was smirking against your mound, eyes watching you wriggle and writhe before him. You were so responsive to all his touches and he was sure that he was leaving a stain on the inside of boxers from how much you were turning him on. He needed you. Bad. But he wanted to make you melt under him first. So he added another finger and could feel the way you clenched around him, how your whole body was going stiff, that he was so close to getting you right where he wanted you. 

His name spewed from your mouth between some curses when the flame finally took over and had you seeing white. You clenched your thighs around his head, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. Broken gasps and cries barely left your lips before breaking out in a pant, chest heaving as you come down from the high. 

Eddie stood from where he was between you, taking the moment to grab the condoms that he shoved in his back pocket earlier in the car. Taking one and setting on the night stand, he turned to find you watching him. You already looked so fucked out, but there was anticipation in your eyes as he approached you. Taking his time to tease you, he pulled his boxers down slowly, watching your eyes widen when it sprung out and smacked against his stomach. He wanted to say something funny at the look of concern on your face, but all that came out was, “It’ll fit, promise.”

Wordlessly you nodded. Watching Eddie saunter over to you as he put the condom on felt like watching a predator about to devour his prey. Once he was back where he belonged, he leaned down to kiss you, hand on your cheek. The lingering taste of your own release on his lips. There was hunger, passion in his kiss. No words, and yet it felt like he was pouring his heart out to you. 

You hummed in surprise as you felt the fat head of his cock nudging at your entrance, begging for permission. You rolled your hips with a small whimper against his lips. 

“Oh, fu-u-uck,” the words stuttered from his mouth as he finally pushed himself inside. Your breath caught at the feeling of him splitting you open, a new heat igniting in your body. Even with the condom you could feel every bump and curve, how hard he was as he pushed himself into you. When he was fully inside, opened your eyes and were met with the prettiest sight; Eddie’s face mere inches from yours, looking strained, yet relieved, all just from being inside of you. 

While he was trying to regain his composure, you were starting to get impatient under him. You start to grind against him, and his hands are instantly at your hips to stop you. “Ah— hold on sweetheart, I’m afraid I’m gonna bust too quick if you do that.”

You pout your lip at him, continuing to roll against him. The sureness he had when he had his mouth on you dissipated as he reveled in your movements. He dropped his head, forehead resting on your shoulder, his little noises right in your ear went straight to your core, “Shit, that’s right—oh use my big cock to fuck yourself. Fuck you feel so g-g-good.”

It didn’t take long of your movements to get him to finally snap, pulling back and trusting into you with a loud smack. You arched your back at the intensity of his movements, arms wrapping around  him as he sets a relentless pace. Each thrust into your cunt was punctuated by your quick moans as the air was being knocked out of you over and over.

His grip on your hips loosened, weight shifting as his hands snake under your arms, gripping your shoulders to amplify each thrust. When his eyes meet yours they’re wild, feral as he’s lost himself in his own pleasure. It was like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, another person’s carnal need for you. 

Your second orgasm hit you like a freight train. It was back arching, toe curling, open mouth but nothing comes out pleasure that you’ve only read about in the dirty novels you’d read alone in the bathtub. You’re pretty sure your eyes crossed at one point. His eyes are locked on your face, watching it contort in pleasure as he feels you fluttering around him. He wants to hold out, but it’s too much, and his movements become erratic. Soon after he stills his movements, hips flush with your core and moans into your ear. You can feel the way he twitches inside of you, even with the condom.

Body going slack on top of you, his weight was comforting as your chests rose and fell in rhythm. His grip on your shoulders shifts to around your rib cage and pulls you into him in an embrace so he drag you up the bed with him. The two of you lay there silently, and you stare into his big brown eyes as they shine in the moonlight. Your heart swells with fondness as he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon. His stare is so intense you have to tuck your head in his chest. He wraps an arm around you, tucking his chin on the top of your head.

You didn’t want the moment to end. In less than 24 hours, this man with his arms around you has made you feel more wanted than you ever had in the entirety of your marriage. Deep down, you knew there was a possibility that this was all that it was going to be. And over the last few months, you told yourself that you would be okay if this was all he wanted. But now that you’re finally here, in the moment, you’re starting to realize that this man could ruin your life.

Gently pushing away from him, Eddie gives you a confused look as you climb out of the bed, picking up his clothes. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” He sits up from the bed cautiously.

“Oh,” his question caught you off guard, “well, I, uh, when Henry and I would, you know, he would have me wash his clothes after…”

Eddie reels back, looking at you with shock, “What the hell? I thought you were his wife, not his maid.”

You tilt your head, “What do you mean? All wives do this for their husbands? Not that you’re my husband, I just--it’s just out of habit.”

He’s got himself on the edge of the bed, leaning forward he reaches out for you, tattooed hand waiting for you to take it. You look between it and his face, before placing his clothes in a neat pile on the nightstand. When you take his hand in yours, he pulls you into him, taking your breath away with a kiss, pulling you down into the bed with him once again.

“See, I thought you were getting my clothes to kick me out,” he whispers as you nestle into his side. You shook your head, smiling against his tattooed chest.

“No, definitely not. You’re going to be lucky if I let you leave now,” you giggle as you trace the lines that cover his body. His chest jumps, and when you look up at him he’s smiling from ear to ear.

August 12th, 1995

Roses covered every shop, cart, and building at the fairgrounds today. The sun was beating down on you hard. It was practically boiling out, making you wish you could peel off the little clothing you decided to wear. The numerous bodies moving around you wasn’t helping, along with the endless food trucks putting out heat as the air filled with the smell of steak fries, hot dogs, and the food you were looking forward to the most: funnel cake.

Standing off to the side in the shade holding Eddie’s sketch book, you kept your eyes on the line, watching your boyfriend stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd of Hawkins citizens. Even though you told him you could wait in line yourself, he told you to find a nice spot for the two of you to enjoy your food out of the sun.

When you found a little spot in the grass under a tree, you waved to him to show where you were. He gave you a thumbs up, so you took that as the okay to take your seat. Just before you do, you hear some yelling coming from a few feet away.

“Mrs.Creel! Mrs.Creel!”

A group of your students from this last years class ran up to you, and you were suddenly very aware of how little clothing you were wearing.

“Oh, hi kids,” you greeted, adjusting yourself to hide a little skin. The kids didn’t seem to care much as they talked to you about their summers and how excited they were to be moving up to the eighth grade.

“Why can’t you be our teacher again next year?” Cindy asks.

“Yeah, I have Mr.Rupert this year and he’s so old and boring,” Suzy groans.

You laughed at their words, but felt a tug at your heart from their kindness. You hadn’t even noticed that Eddie was approaching until all four sets eyes widened, looking just behind you. When you turn around, you quickly take some of the load off of Eddie as he juggles your food and drinks.

“Woah,” you hear Collin say. You have to stifle your giggle as you realize that these kids probably didn’t expect boring Mrs.Creel to be with a guy like the one kissing her on the temple.

“Eddie,” you say, turning back to the group, “these are some of the kids from my class last year. Kids, this is my boyfriend, Eddie.”

Their jaws drop as their suspicions are confirmed. Eddie gives them a friendly hello, and you notice the two girls looking at each other. 

“Wait,” Paul interrupts, “Your boyfriend? I thought it was “Mrs” Creel?”

Oh lord. You were hoping that you wouldn’t have to explain much since you’d have a new class this year, but you forget how observant middle schoolers can be.

“You’re correct, Paul. I am married, but,” you look up to Eddie, who gives you a nod, “But, I won’t be much longer. Hopefully that is.”

“Oh, okay,” Paul shrugs.

“What are we supposed to call you then?” Suzy chimes.

“I’m going to be going back to my maiden name, but you can call me Mrs.Creel if you want to. I know it can be confusing-”

“It’s okay,” Cindy insists, “we’ll just tell everyone that they can suck it up and call you by the name you want to be called.”

After the kids leave and you and Eddie stuff your faces, Eddie tugs you close, kissing the top of your head, his lips moving against your scalp as he talks.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I told you before that your students didn’t think you were lame.”

You sucked in a breath and laughed, “Yeah, I guess you were right. I’ve always been hard on myself when it comes to my students, though.”

“You’re hard on yourself with everything, Sweetheart.” He takes your hand in his before you can pull away, already getting used to your antics when he teases you.

As the sun finally starts to set, the two of you start to make your way back to your car. Eddie has proven himself to be quite the gentleman in the last few weeks. He opens your car door for you once you’ve gotten Teddie Munson, the giant teddy bear that Eddie one for you throwing darts at balloons, safely placed in your back seat. Once inside, he jogs to the passenger door and jumps in. The drive home was full of laughter and conversation, only winding down as you approached Steve’s place.

This had become your least favorite part of the night. Eddie had forgotten that his newly assigned probation officer was going to come and visit him the day after he was released. So when he was at your apartment instead of the address listed on his paperwork, he almost got thrown back in jail on violation. Thankfully, between you and Steve talking with him, he let Eddie off with but with one stipulation. 

So Eddie had to stay at Steve’s house for the next six months as punishment. It wasn’t the worst thing, as you were welcomed by Steve to stay whenever you liked. But, with how vocal the two of you liked to be in bed, you could really only get away with it when Steve and Robin were both gone. And it was only going to be more difficult once the school year started.

“Hey, maybe if I’m really good, proving that I’m lookin’ for work and all that, maybe he’ll let me off my punishment early,” he shrugs as you walk into Steve’s, night bag in tow.

“Maybe,” you lament, “I wouldn’t do anything to risk it, though. You may piss him off if you even ask.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groans as you follow him up the stairs, “If I ever see Rick on the street he’s fucking dead.”

You just shake your head. He always says something to that effect whenever his probation prevents him from spending more time with you.

“I wish you could move in here. It would make things so much easier.”

That was the other thing he said.

“Sorry, babe,” you shrugged, grabbing your night clothes. You stood by the bedroom door as he rummaged around for something to wear, “I can’t afford to break my lease. Besides, you might get bored of me and kick me to the curb. It’s probably for the best that we don’t rush into anything.”

You don’t even see him coming when he grabs your arms, lightly pushing you into the wall, lips pressing firmly into yours. You hum against his lips, and when he pulls away, he looks at you with those eyes. Big, brown eyes that you wish you could stare into forever. 

“I’ll agree to the no rushing, but you told me yourself that I was gonna be hard pressed to get you to let me go. I’m keeping the same deal on my end. Only way I’m letting you leave is if I royally fuck up or I’m on my death bed. Got it, Sweetheart?”

Nodding, you pull him into you again, hoping that your lips could tell him how you feel without having to speak the words. That you were scared, nervous to give yourself to someone so wholly again. The pain of losing him would probably do you in. But with how everything felt so natural with Eddie, so not forced, that you wanted to at least try.

thanks for reading!

[cal-writes]

the last post reminded me i’ve written sth like that before and idk if i ever shared it so enjoy shinichis classmates in kyoto

-

Nakamichi had always thought Kudou was kind of strange. Like one would look at a weird ass insect and think to themselves: There is something kind of fucked up going on with this thing. But hey, Nakamichi had also met Kudou’s parents once so like, he got it, right? People like that as your parents? You were bound to end up a little strange. Plus Kudou had that whole murder solving thing going on - which was admittedly very cool but also deeply unsettling at times. But Kudou always had the best stories, he was great at soccer. Nakamichi couldn’t really ask for more from the guy. You just learned to tune him out whenever he went on a weird tangent or started to mutter to himself and let him run off. Kudou disappearing overnight without warning wasn’t even the strangest thing he had ever done that Nakamichi knew about so it was whatever. Kinda sucked to have their best player MIA but they dealt with it. Ran and Sonoko talking about him loudly in class kept most of them up to date about what shenanigans he got into so Nakamichi wasn’t all that concerned.

He was insanely surprised to find out that Kudou would be joining them on their Kyoto trip and even more so when Kudou actually showed up and didn’t immediately run off. Nakamichi found himself actually looking forward to catching up with Kudou for once because over a year of him being fuck knows where? A guy was allowed to have some questions.

The amount of questions he had only increased at Kudou getting to their room looking like death warmed over and dodging any attempt to start a conversation until he was buried in bed.

Sure, Kudou was weird. But there was a spectrum and that was definitely out of character weird. Then he started to talk with an accent too. Nakamichi wasn’t a detective but you couldn’t help but pick up a certain radar for out of wack shit once you hung around Kudou for long enough.

“What do you think happened to him?” Aizawa from their soccer club stage whispered deep in the night after most of them had already dropped off. Nakamichi paused on his way to crawl into his bed and glanced over to Kudou’s bed.

“He got game apparently.” Nakamichi said, chuckling to himself. A year ago he couldn’t have imagined Kudou ever getting the balls to actually confess to Mouri. And make out with her too.

Aizawa snorted. “What if he had to go, like, undercover or something.” Aizawa theorized and Nakamichi fell into the sweet embrace of his bed.

“Probably something like that. Dude’s got the worst luck in the world.” He muttered into the pillow. He fell asleep before hearing Aizawa’s reply.

He slept like a rock. Between one conscious thought and the next it felt like no time had passed at all. “Hattori! Wake up!” He heard Kudou’s voice shouting and Nakamichi’s first instinct was to tell him to fuck off. When his brain caught up with him, Nakamichi opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling. Who the hell was Hattori? “Something happened again.” Kudou’s voice was a hiss, now trying to be quiet. Nakamichi’s head leaned to the side and it took a while for him to understand what he was seeing.

Kudou leaned over his own bed, shaking another guy awake that Nakamichi had never seen before. The fuck? It was definitely not one of their classmates. Hattori?

“I’m up, I’m up.” Hattori? Said and threw the blankets off of him. Had he slept in Kudou’s bed? Well, obviously he had. Nakamichi shut his eyes as the two of them puttered about the room. “You good?” The guy had an accent.

“I’m fine.” Kudou said, sounding kind of breathless. “Come on, before any of them wake up.” He said as they shuffled past Nakamichi’s bed.

“Cheap ass hotel bed, my back hurts.” The new guy said earning him a scoff from Kudou.

“Your back hurts?”, Kudou said and Nakamichi’s eyes snapped open in a flash. “You’re not the one-” The rest of his sentence was lost behind the door as the two of them left the room.

Nakamichi laid there for a moment, just looking at nothing.

Fuck. Kudou had gotten game while he had been gone, just not in the way Nakamichi had thought. Who would have thought that Kudou would disappear for months and come back with a secret boyfriend? He sat up slowly. The revelation had woken him up faster than any coffee. Did Mouri know about this? Of course she would know! Kudou and her have been inseparable since forever. Ohh. Nakamichi slapped his own forehead. Of course, Mouri was the cover. That was why Kudou had reacted weirdly when they had asked him about London. Damn, had his boyfriend been in the room the whole time? Hiding under the bed? Maybe Kudou hadn’t forgotten his key, maybe he had just given it to Hattori.

This. This wasn’t what Nakamichi had expected but the more he thought about it, the more things fell into place. Of course Kudou wasn’t straight! He should have clocked that around the third lecture about Sherlock Holmes he had to endure before Kudou stopped bothering with it. Nobody was that into a fictional guy just because.

Aizawa groaned from the floor, sitting up with one of their scattered playing cards stuck to his face. “Mornin’.” He said with a wide yawn.

Nakamichi wanted to explode and tell Yoksuke everything immediately but stopped himself after inhaling. Kudou had smuggled his boyfriend into their room, probably in the middle of the night so none of them would see and ushered him outside at ass crack of dawn. Kudou wasn’t one for embarrassment but he was one that cared a lot about other people’s opinion of them. Damn, he probably thought they’d make fun of him for being gay or beat him up or something.

“You good, man?” Aizawa asked when he didn’t reply. He folded his arms over the bed, eyes tiny slits crusted with sleep.

Nakamichi nodded quickly. “Yeah. Don’t think I’ve ever slept this good.” He said.

Aizawa groaned. “Wish I could say the same.” He got onto his feet, stretching his arms above his head. “Kudou’s gone already?” He asked and Nakamichi threw his blankets off of him.

“Probably to get breakfast.” He said in a hurry and shook the other two guys that had crashed in their room awake. Aizawa didn’t question it. Nakamichi swallowed down his excitement. Whenever he got Kudou alone he’d have to tell him that his secret was safe with him. They might never had been the best of friends but hey, Nakamichi could totally understand wanting to keep being gay on the down low, especially with how much public scrutiny Kudou was under all the time. Nakamichi’s lips were sealed! Now if he could only remember why the name Hattori sounded so damn familiar.

[cabinette]

A Chilshi Selkie AU I have been thinking about for a while. (by A While i mean like 3 hours)

assorted thoughts below ! (QUITE unorganised lol)

I like to think chilchucks already formed something of a surface life. and he's so so enthralled by things like beer and alcohol and indulgence but he has to deny himself of so many things because he's utterly convinced that no one will look at him the same if he reveals he's a selkie. he keeps a lock on his heart because. he LITERALLY has such an insane secret to keep

people think that he's just an ass who doesnt like talking about himself(or a closeted queer of some kind but you didnt hear that from me ;)) and it doesnt matter if he always leaves first when at the bar. it doesn't matter that he never seems to be anywhere but the beach. it doesn't matter because he's never going to tell you and you're never going to believe him

he's left behind the life he could have possibly lived in the ocean among his friends, his family, he's still in contact with them but…. He's more in touch with his facade than his selkie form. yknow ?

and now he's got this stupid man who found out everything he was trying to hide on, what, a silly little fishing trip? His life is going to be ruined ! (he's eating nice hot fish soup and feeling the warmth in his bones. he's experiencing the understanding and acceptance of a stranger. he can't paint himself as a bad person because somehow they already know he's just a sad, lonely selkie seeking companionship far above the shallows. and how his life is going to be "ruined" because this mackrel soup tastes so good and he doesn't know how he's going to hold himself back if this is how good it can be.)

Senshi's just a guy who goes fishing sometimes :-) And he's a struggler bcause he doesnt usually socialise- people joke about him being an ocean man, yknow? Never really leaves the sea, and so he's become sort of… isolated from the people he used to know. And you know, he has his reasonings. Incidents concerning his friends that happened far too long ago and guilt that spreads him too thin, but he still loves the sea. He still loves her for all her storms and her peace and her cruelty and her kindness. When you're a lonely man there's no better place to hide than the wide blue, you know ? So what happens when he meets someone who's so intrinsically connected to the sea, who's whole life is based around the sea?

Chilchuck knows the sea. knows how dangerous it can be and how to manoeuvre it. He doesn't necessarily love it but he's very in tune with it, he knows where the current is strongest and that you'll be swept away if you're not careful, but Senshi just loves the sea because... it's the sea. he helps fish that are stuck in rocks and he thinks. oh yeah. the sea is my friend. it may have caused him pain but he knows his way around it too. Only half-accepting the sad fact that the sea isn't yknow, a person but still a very much massive thing, a force to be reckoned with, and as he learns more about Chilchuck he too learns more about the sea, and having to sort of fully accept that he's never going to know it as a friend, or an acquaintance. His love for the ocean can never be staved but it can also. never be reciprocated.

guh. but even if the sea isnt his friend he can still feel the connections he makes. he can still learn and grow and and and and and anwlihsbdjk23wbearkudwhgjA#BEUKFJHGUKAEFH theres something THERE I CANT WORD IT!!! BIUT ITS THERE

[narcissistshandler]

are you still making hobie fics 🙏

ps omg ur stuff is sooo delicious its crazy

req; please make a fic of hobie squirming from the reader's suggestive teasing/touch in a public place (diner, movie theater, school etc.) thanks so much !!!

𝗔𝗧𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗣𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗔

pairing. hobie brown x gn reader

warnings. dry humping, frottage, cumming in pants, everything happens in public, reader has no gender or genitalia mentioned.

a/n. I don't think you guys have any idea how happy I always am with your compliments, I really hope you like this.

The chaotic, loud and fast symphony reverberated through your ears, the notes that sounded between a mix of rock and hard-hitting singing echoing through the speakers and filling the small local bar that was not much more than a joint where young people gathered to drink, listening to music and criticize the government — everything Hobie liked most, and that's why you had brought him here for a 'date'. Date. This wasn't exactly most people's idea of a date, but seeing the smile that never left Hobie's face as he jumped up and down and sang along to the familiar lyrics of the famous song the band covered, you knew this was exactly the ideal type of date for your boyfriend.

Everything was perfect. The band was a little out of tune, but that was ok, the stage presence made up for it. It was too crowded, and you could barely move without bumping into someone, but people were at least polite. Although, when Hobie was wearing the tightest leather pants, tall boots, and a fishnet top under the jacket that hid absolutely nothing, it was hard to pay much attention to anything else.

You gripped Hobie's hips, fingers against the cold leather hanging right over the protruding bones, tight enough to feel like a second skin. The set of belts purposely left a little loose over his pants and the silver of the thin strap around his neck reflecting under the lights. Hobie's body was warm, sweat running down the back of the neck under the black frizzy curls and you couldn't help but lean in and press your lips there, taking in the cold of the choker and the heat of his dark skin.

It was difficult to talk here and very easy to get lost in the small, lively crowd, which made it convenient for you to stay behind your boyfriend's body, holding him close to prevent you from separating —and from anyone getting the privileged view of Hobie's round ass.

Hobie chuckled, the bass of his laugh vibrating against your chest pressed against his back, otherwise it would have been difficult to notice. "Wanting to mark territory, huh?" he teased, turning his head a little to meet your gaze. The soft lights of the bar reflected in his leering gaze as he continued, "Not that I mind, but we're in public, babe."

You smiled playfully, fingers drawing circles on his hips. "I can't be blamed for wanting to keep the competition at bay. This privileged view is reserved for my eyes only."

Hobie opened his mouth and you leaned in even closer so you could hear what he was saying over the ferocious drums, "Well, in that case, I'm all yours. But let's not make it too obvious, or we might end up stealing the show."

“You’ve never complained about being the star of the show before,” you say, tone heavy with innuendo that precedes your hands inching up the sides of his hips, towards the toned stomach that ripples under your touch.

“Not when you're my only audience,” Hobie says back, but he doesn't pull away when your thumb traces his belly button piercing.

Although it was impossible to ignore the bodies pressing against you from all sides, elbows occasionally finding a target and feet stepping on each other, the atmosphere was dark enough that it was difficult to make out faces and between the euphoria, the alcohol and the music, you knew that something was missing for this date to be the best for Hobie, unforgettable. And he knew it too.

“I’ll still be in the front seat,” you said amused. Your fingers found the hem of his pants and Hobie's body shook, as if an electric shock had coursed through him. "Watching you, adoring you. No one else matters. What if someone sees? I'll still be the only one touching you."

Hobie turned his attention forward, seeming to look to see if anyone was paying attention. “I don’t know,” he said and you almost didn’t hear him, hand already flat against the front of Hobie’s pants. "[name]-" He tensed against you. You felt his erection through the leather, feeling the delicious heat of it radiating through the fabric. The contact made Hobie shudder.

Your lips pressed against his ear, wanting to make sure every word was heard:

"But you're already hard for me. You've been practically since we arrived. Don't think I haven't noticed you rubbing your ass against me."

Despite the stiffness in his shoulders from contact, there was still amusement and pride in his tone when he answered you, "I'm sure I wanted you to notice that last part."

"I'm sure you did, dirty boy."

The music pulses and the bass chords dance at the same time as your fingers run down the front of Hobie's pants, tracing the familiar outline of the member that presses against the leather. It felt like touching bare skin. "[name]," Hobie calls again, you don't hear the sound, you just read his full lips moving.

"Yes?" you ask, giving him a chance to stop you even if you don't stop touching him, rubbing the palm of your hand against him and pinching the tip between two fingers. Your other hand holds his hips, feeling the tension that ripples through the muscles. "Come on, Hobie, you know you want this."

His hips snap at the touch, slamming against your hand, then back against your crotch and back into your hand. There's still tension there though, and maybe it's because of the danger of doing this in public, but his every movement feels restrained and hard, like a poorly oiled gear trying to work.

Hobie is all hot against you, pulse racing beneath your open lips over the salty skin of his slender neck. He turns his head back, almost bumping his head against yours and searches for your mouth. "You're wicked, [name], you know I would never say 'no' to you," he pants, drowning the words against your mouth, forcing you to swallow your own name. He kisses you then, desperately, breathless and completely weak to the pleasure coursing through his veins as you slowly run your thumb along the sensitive tip of his member, matching the rhythm of your tongue sliding into his mouth.

One of your hands slides across the smooth leather, dragging your palm against his cock as you kiss him, the lyrics that sought to remind of all the weight and filth of the society clicking in your ears. Your other hand moves up, running over the bumpy fabric of the fishnet until finds a bulge that presses against your finger. The cold metal slides against your touch, pulling with it the pointy brown nipple peeking out from under his top and Hobie moans against your mouth, asking for 'more'. It was as if today, before leaving home, Hobie had chosen his clothes thinking about how you could touch him without difficulties or real barriers.

You drink in the sounds Hobie makes against your mouth, their volume is lost beneath the music, but the vibration of every moan and every utterance of your name reverberates against your lips, right into your mouth, like a song that only you had access.

Hand wrapped awkwardly around Hobie's dick, fingers practically digging into the sides of it, digging into the leather to get enough precision to pull him hard and fast through each thrust. Hobie writhes against you and melts and it's the most beautiful show. He keeps his mouth against yours even when the kiss ends, humming along to the guitar chords, cursing and following the lyrics of the song. He seems lost in his own head, his brown eyes shining with lust and one hand reached back and gripping your hair, using the support to swivel his hips in a sensual circle, the belts slapping against your arm.

"[name]," he sings through the song's lyrics as he moves against your hand, taking what he needs. "That feels good... you are... I need more... can you...? Fuck."

In the low light you doubted anyone could see the vision of the beautiful man coming apart beneath your fingers to the point where tears glistened in the corners of his eyes. It was a good thing not. You didn't want that in the end — soon — when the night reached its climax and Hobie followed, spilling for you in his pants, anyone else could watch his mouth falling open, hips erratic and his entire body shaking as he became unable to say anything other than your name. The most beautiful spectacle of all and that belonged only to your eyes.

[matchaelette]

GIF from pinterest

when exhausted jungkook is equal to a cranky jungkook but you’re just a simple girl

summary: idol!jk and oc!ash, established relationship, both ash and jungkook are working very hard and they’re exhausted to the point where it feels like they might drop dead soon. kook gets frustrated because ash won’t pay him enough attention but soon she ends up pampering his majesty’s ass anyways. also, there’s a backdrop on ash’s life; she is a musician and a part of iu’s band.

genre: pure fluff.

warning: none. go crazy children

word count: 4.5k

notes: I know I know, like, a part of iu’s band? isn’t that a bit too much? nah it’s not. I have enough reality chasing me irl, let me have my fun here. also, I hope ya’ll are doing okay. a new year comes with a lot of expectations and responsibilities so don’t be too hard on yourselves <3 happy 2024 peeps :D

“what. do you want. jeon jungkook.”

“ooh she used the full name, have I been a bad boy?”, the words tumble down your boyfriend’s lips with a dramatic flare, followed by a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, unfazed by the sheer force of your previous sentence, “what do you mean what do I want? attention and affection, of course.”

not that you’re counting, but what you assume to be the nineteenth sigh tonight, leaves your lips. your eyelids were so heavy that you doubted if even a fire in the building could wake you up. exhaustion tore at your limbs and you didn’t have the power to lift your eyelids to shoot a glare at your golden retriever boyfriend, let alone muster enough energy to face him and provide him... what did he say again? attention and affection.

you’ve been tirelessly working throughout the week, barely having time to eat or sleep. almost every day you’re coming back home at four in the morning, when jungkook is sound asleep, and leaving again in three hours, when he is yet to wake up. it’s the first time in quite a few days that you came home at a reasonable hour and were tangled in the bed with a very much awake jungkook. but as much as you want to entertain him, your body does not seem willing to cooperate.

you’re a musician, and boy when you pursued a music career, you never thought it could ever make you tired. music has been your love and your life since you could remember and a very fundamental part of your life. whether it was humming random strings of sounds while having your diaper changed as a baby (your parents’ word) or singing meaningless lyrics to any tune you heard when you started talking (again, your parents’ word), your love for music has always just grown. you’re now a full-blown musician, having the privilege to work with all the a-rated musicians of the world. you are pretty much a regular member of iu’s band— iu being the living legend of korea and the forever-long crush of jungkook’s life— but you still worked with other artists from time to time, sometimes as a producer, sometimes as a composer.

throughout your high school years, you developed a reputation as the person who would randomly start humming during examinations, writing lyrics on her exam papers, and always playing instruments or plainly singing in every single school function. and if that wasn’t a wake-up call, getting scouted as a musician through your personal instagram was certainly one. it happened right during the end of high school when you were preparing for uni, and the single event changed everything in your life. you were scouted by an agency called bighit, and they convinced you to audition, intriguing you enough to skip school one day and show up in a rusty building in the gangnam district of seoul with a guitar hanging on your shoulder. impressed by your skills, they signed you up as a trainee.

it was one of the best things that happened in your life.

ironically, it was also where you met your boyfriend for the first time.

saying your parents weren’t happy when you decided to completely backtrack from uni and focus solely on music would be an understatement. you were always an exceptional student— part of the reason your teachers would always overlook you humming in class or using your projects as a canvas for your musical colors— and were supposed to major in business studies as your parents’ wishes. while it was never something you hated— in fact, you always thought that you’d rather be a super successful businesswoman if you couldn’t be a musician— but having your first choice being handed to you on a silver platter, you'd be a fool not to take it. your parents were enraged, they cut you off from the family entirely, but you were nothing if not stubborn. determined to make it, alone if you have to, you've worked your ass off for all these years to get into the position you’re in now, a place where your name is gold-plated in the music industry.

but success was never truly your goal. your goal was to simply stay immersed in a world of music and you can’t help but take pride of how far all alone. but working like your life depended on it became sort of a habit, sometimes to the point where a singular musical note could make you groan. you don’t sing as much as you used to back in high school, instead, you use up all your time to compose music and play the guitars for iu.

said idol is supposed to be having a comeback very soon, somewhere your boyfriend’s bandmate was also going to star— kim taehyung— and so work has been extra draining lately, with everyone trying to master every single detail and point.

“kook, stoooop”, you whine, burying your face in the soft pillow, waterfalls of hair obscuring your vision as you make a feeble attempt to wriggle out of jungkook’s grasp. but he is relentless. he rolls his eyes and manhandles you back into his arms, causing you to let out a small yelp as your back presses against his chest.

jungkook, himself, was tired as hell. while you were coming back at four in the morning, he was coming back at three, working equally hard as you. jungkook is always driven by his passions and he never hesitates to work hard for it, but despite that fact, this week has been particularly challenging, especially with the pressure of working on his own solo album. the lack of food and sleep was almost getting to him, leaving him irritable to the point where he almost snapped at the choreographer. although he apologized quickly, he noticed that he was in the mood where people pick up fights for no reason. he decided to just come back home and get some rest before something else could provoke him, but when he discovered you were at home as well, he couldn’t help but get clingy. after all, you guys haven’t properly talked for weeks.

and he missed you.

“c’mon, I can’t even see your face”, jungkook props himself up on his elbow, his breath gently fanning your face.

“we’ve already established the fact i’m pretty. let me sleep, kook.”

“aren’t pretty faces meant to be looked at?”

jungkook furrows his brows when he gets no answer from you. he blinks furiously to keep his own exhaustion at bay and studies your face to see if you’ve already drifted off to sleep. your eyes are closed, and he can feel the steady rhythm of your heart inside the hoodie of his that you’re wearing. he can also sense you’re not asleep though. not yet anyway.

“babeee”, jungkook lets out a high-pitched whimper and immediately yelps when you elbow him in the ribs but he isn’t sure which one strikes a nerve, the elbow or the words that follow.

“dude, would you please let me sleep? I am tired as fuck and I have to wake up early”, you grit your teeth in clear annoyance, not even bothering to open your eyes, “unlike some people”

jungkook feels a twinge of guilt, but he can also feel a surge of a new emotion. anger? before he can fully comprehend what is going on, inconsiderate words escape his mouth.

“so am I. but you don't see me complaining all the time.”

your eyes fly open. before you can fully discern their meaning of jungkook’s words, he moves away from you, retreating completely to his side of the bed and putting as much space between your bodies as possible. you use your last fragments of remaining energy to prop yourself up into a half-seated position to face him, but jungkook has already turned his back on you.

“what is that supposed to mean?”

silence.

“jungkook, what the hell was that supposed to mean?”

“go to sleep, okay?”, his quiet voice makes you falter and you immediately understand that he is angry. though for what, you don’t quite understand.

“jungkook, i’m sleepy, okay? and—”

“then sleep! no one’s stopping you now.”

“but you’re mad at me for being tired! how is that fair? i’ve been working like crazy—”

“geez, sorry for being unfair, ash”, sarcasm drips from jungkook’s voice and you don’t like that in the slightest, “I also have to wake up early, earlier than you in fact, so please let me sleep.”

an uncomfortable silence follows his sentence.

“alright”, you sigh and drop it after staring at his back for a few seconds. you don’t want to get into an argument now, not when both of you are on the verge of collapsing, prone to say things you don’t mean at all. you’d rather sleep and deal with it in the morning when both of you are well rested and not running on two hours of sleep and a shit ton of caffeine.

it’s not always you get to see this side of jungkook. anyone who knows him knows that the boy is crafted from starry skies and honeyed galaxies alone, always smiling a bit too easily and lighting everyone around him as bright as the evening star.

however, every time you see a crack at his easy, carefree demeanor, you can’t help but feel a sense of helplessness within. jungkook doesn’t get irritated often and certainly not easily, but when he does, his behavior takes a different turn. he doesn’t shout or scream or take his anger out on inanimate objects as you tend to do. instead, he completely shuts himself out of the world. every curt answer feels like a form of silent treatment, every word spoken laces itself with sarcasm, always hitting where it hurts the most. even though he never takes his anger out on you, you don’t like seeing him like this.

if you knew he would react like this, you would have given a little more effort to remain awake in his company. jungkook may be childish but he rarely behaves like this. and you’re just a simple girl, hopelessly in love with the boy who has his back turned to you.

“goodnight”, you draw closer to him and drape an arm around his waist hesitantly. when he doesn’t stir or reply, a dejected sigh escapes your lips. nonetheless, you tenderly wrap the blanket around him and nestle your face at the nape of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of fresh linen and mint.

despite the fatigue draping your limbs, despite jungkook starting to softly snore within minutes, it takes you an entire hour to fall asleep.

you let out yet another groan as memories from last night come flooding back into your mind. it has been like that all day, the memories coming and going as they pleased, striking you with a sense of disappointment every time they do. jungkook was already gone when you woke up in the morning and despite knowing he had an early schedule, you couldn't help but feel downhearted.

you immediately checked your phone back then, hoping to find a message from him but much to your disappointment, there was none. both you and jungkook had quite hectic schedules, but it became an unspoken agreement in the house to update each other about your days ever since you moved in together. jungkook would always leave little neon post-its on the fridge with messages— reminder to eat something before you get coffee!!! and call me after you wake up, let’s get lunch together??? — whenever he left the house before you were up and vice versa. soon, the post-its turned into text messages because it was always easier in the rush of the mornings. jungkook would always wake up to texts from you— before you get mad, I did kiss you before leaving but you wouldn’t budge— and he would instantly call you to check if your schedules aligned and if he could pick you up after work.

but having no text from jungkook this morning could mean only one thing.

he is still mad.

despite being agitated because of your lack of basic human activities, you pushed aside those emotions and called him immediately. you got more worried when jungkook didn’t pick the phone up because you knew he wasn’t one to hold petty grudges. you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed then, brushing and getting ready to face the day. now that you’ve had gained a few hours of rest, you realized how tired jungkook looked last night. you could almost hear the constant grumbles from his stomach that pointed out how hungry he was. But he kept saying that he didn’t have the energy to eat. you could see the swollen eyelids and the purple hue outlining it more clearly, how he walked unsteadily as if he was drunk.

jungkook called you back while you were on your way to work. you weren’t really surprised but it still dissipated some of your nerves. he explained that his phone was on silent and he didn’t see your call but his voice still sounded distant and his responses were short. he also mentioned that he might not come home tonight, hoping to squeeze in some extra practice hours.

he didn’t call you once for the rest of the day.

very un-jungkook of him.

and you were too busy to call him.

it is nearly midnight now. you find yourself inside your car, driving through the dimly lit streets of seoul. despite the hour, the city is bustling, alive with people and emotions. driving through the city always puts you at ease; you hated crowds but you loved observing people, the multitudes of emotions they go through every moment, making every one so much different than another but still intricately woven within love and life.

after the long day, you yearned for the warmth and comfort of your bed, considering skipping the shower part because that’s how drained you were. you didn’t eat anything all day, something that has become a routine now, save for the apple you grabbed while leaving the house in the morning. minus the seven-something cups of coffee.

yet you find yourself driving in the direction of the hybe studios.

you’re almost near the building when a sudden realization makes you click your tongue in annoyance. should have gotten some flowers. why did I not think of that before?

you park your car and make your way inside the extravagant building. the staff knew you well by now, both from your days as a trainee and your frequent visits to your boyfriend and his bandmates. you ascend to the top floor of the establishment, going straight toward one of the empty practice rooms jungkook loves to use whenever he is rehearsing on his own.

pushing the door open, you enter the room. the space is slightly dark, only illuminated with neon purple lights, ridiculously confirming your boyfriend’s presence to you. call it jungkook being jungkook, but your boyfriend hates harsh lights. you don’t doubt that he would happily reside in the darkness for the rest of his life if he was asked to.

you spot jungkook in the farthest corner of the room— hybe practice rooms are scarily huge— a blur of black sweats and bobbing hair, vigorously throwing hooks and uppercuts at the gray punching bag hanging in front of him. even from a distance you can see that he is completely absorbed in his own world, a side of him that you have come to know well over the years. this jungkook is full of energy and passion. this jungkook is the golden maknae of bts, putting his heart and soul into whatever he was working on, squeezing every last drop of capability, and surpassing every single one of his limits every minute. this is the boy who keeps on giving birth to beauty, elegance, and unparalleled talent.

you didn’t like to disrupt jungkook’s concentration when he was working so you decide to sit silently until he noticed your himself. however, concern washes over you when you see the lack of gloves in his hand. instead, his hands are wrapped with gauze and tape as he mercilessly throws jabs at the punching bag, and you can notice the blood seeping through the rips of the cloth around his knuckles.

“are you trying to piss me off on purpose?”, you hiss softly, walking towards him and putting your palm on his shoulder so as not to scare him. but jungkook yelps in shock anyways, bambi eyes wide and startled like a deer caught in front of headlights.

“ash?”

“why are you not wearing gloves?”, you take his hands into your own, flinching when you get a good look at it. his knuckles were visible through the torn cloth, red and angry, blood seeping through the gashes on his skin.

“sorry—”, jungkook throws you a sheepish glance, recovering from the initial shock, “—when did you come here? wait, why are you here?”

“to kick your ass”, you say, exasperated, “seriously jungkook, how hard is it to wear a glove? you just take the damn thing and squeeze your hand insi—”

“I did! but then it tore somehow”

you scowled.

“it’s true! look! I threw it on the ground when it ripped. it’s still there!”

“then don’t punch so hard!”

“but I have to train!”, jungkook pouted, hoping his cute facial expression would calm you down. you scowled more.

you huff, releasing his hands and making your way toward the line of closets in the back of the room. it’s where the first aid kits are usually kept. you know every practice room in the entire building has one or two of these because this is where most of the accidents happens. you can sense jungkook’s gaze following you but he remains mute.

getting what you need, you take a seat on the furnished floor and pat it, urging jungkook to do the same. he falls silent once again, any surprise from your unexpected arrival which urged him to talk normally wore off and the tension was back.

jungkook complies and sits down in front of you. he takes a good few seconds to stare at your outstretched palms before sighing in defeat and offering you his hands when he notices your enraged glare. He doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of your rage. and doesn’t matter he says, he would be lying if he said his hands didn’t throb from the pain.

you carefully remove the white gauges from his hands, wincing when more blood oozes out. looking at red cuts and bruises across his skin almost physically pains you, but jungkook stays completely silent, eyes drinking you in. he recalls being mad at you but he can’t quite recall the reason. it’s not because he can't remember now, especially with you here, tending to his wounds in such a delicate manner that you fear you would hurt him. as if something as gentle as your touch could ever cause him harm. not because you look like you were put on this earth to solely heal his hands. and not because you showed up here unannounced. because he genuinely can’t remember what made him so mad at you last night, literally out of thin air, and now he feels embarrassed at his own immaturity.

he just couldn’t figure out how to approach you after being a total jerk.

weird how humans tend to hurt the ones they love the most, almost always for no particular reason at all.

you finish your work wordlessly, putting band-aids around his knuckles and ointment on the cuts peppering his fingers. letting his hands fall onto his lap, you gather the bloodied materials from the floor and rise up to throw them in the waste paper box. jungkook follows your suit, standing up cluelessly.

“you’re gonna start throwing punches again?”

“hmm? uh no— I think I will practice the choreographies now”

“okay”, you sigh.

jungkook looks like hell, you realize. his messy hair is messier than usual, sticking out wildly at all angles, eyes droopy and rimmed with circles darker than you remember seeing last night. sweat glistened on his hunched figure tired from the physical exertion, soaking his sweatshirt.

you know you look just as worn out as him. you can feel it by the way he looks at you.

“uh so— are you gonna drive ho—”

“come with me.”

jungkook’s eyes widen as you wrap your arms around his torso, hiding your head on his chest. while a sweaty jungkook usually makes you giggle out a gross and maneuver far away, you hug him with gentle ardor, more so than usual.

you just want him to come home tonight.

“ash, sweetheart, i’m sweating”, jungkook tries to pry himself away from you but you just hold him tighter.

“don’t care. please come home.”

jungkook goes limp in your clutch for a few seconds before he’s softly hugging you back. of course, he would go home if you wanted him to, you didn’t need to ask him twice. who the heck is he to deny you? always a prisoner to your wishes, always prisoner to your love, and gladly so. how could he not? he rests his chin on your head and sways your body from side to side in a rhythm.

“okay”

“really?”

“really.”

the drive back home was short.

you drove, as jungkook was all out of it. he didn’t have the physical and mental coordination to walk down the building to the car, how the boy was gonna rehearse overnight, you had no idea.

“whoops, babe how were you gonna dance?” you supported his weight leaning down on you while you were walking, steading yourself before both of you fell on the ground, one arm wrapped around his torso, his figure hunched and head resting on your neck.

“I can walk. I am just choosing not to since you’re here”, he flashed you a grin with his eyes closed.

after arriving home, jungkook went straight to the shower and for a few seconds, you contemplated joining him. however, recalling how jungkook’s grumbling tummy throughout the whole ride, made you change your decision. he mentioned that he didn’t eat anything fulfilling all day. that is why you told him to freshen up and made a beeline towards the kitchen to make some instant ramen, not very healthy but quick and easy, and always gratifying.

so here you are now, serving ramen into two bowls with the leftover kimchi you guys had in the fridge. sleepiness makes your eyelids droop and you feel like prying them open with scotch tapes.

like tom, you snort to yourself, from tom and jerry.

man, you loved that cartoon during your childhood.

after all these years, you still don’t know if you’re team tom or team jerry.

hearing a faint clicking sound, you turn around and see jungkook approaching you, shirtless and clad in sweatpants. the shower had done marvels because he looks as attractive as he always does, with the water dripping down his damp hair onto the well-defined muscles in his chest. feeling a blush creep in, you quickly avert your eyes.

both of you are tired enough without resorting to er— any other activities for the night.

“what are you doing in the kitchen?” jungkook stares at you with confused doe eyes.

“putting food on the table like the dutiful girlfriend I am.”

“pretty sure that’s wife material”, jungkook whispers as he works his way into your arms, tugging your waist flushed with his.

“kook, you need to dry your hair properly! you’ll catch a cold”, you scold him softly, feeling greasy when you see him so fresh and glowy. you card a hand through his locks, feeling it to be more sopping than it seemed. you break free from his grasp to grab a towel from the washroom, ignoring the loud protests.

“sit”, you command, gesturing for jungkook to sit on one of the stools lining the kitchen island. when he complies, you gently massage his head with the towel, squeezing every last drop of remaining water from his hair. jungkook prefers to air dry his hair when he is at home, allowing it to get some rest from all the heat and styling he has to do on a regular basis, but he also religiously manages to forget at least soaking the water out.

he grabs you closer by pulling your waist. you stand between his thighs and continue massaging his scalp while he muffles his face on your chest, desperately seeking your warmth and comfort. a smile stretches across your face watching jungkook moan in satisfaction.

“how are the hands?”

“mmm good. need to put more band-aids”, his voice comes out hoarse being squished in your chest, “you didn’t need to cook. I know you are tired.”

“but i’m hungry too”

“oh. let’s eat then! it smells so fucking good!”

and jungkook’s sudden burst of enthusiasm prompts a hearty laugh from you, endeared to your core, just as you always find yourself enamored by his every action.

“what. do you want. jeon jungkook.”

jungkook’s soft laughter echoes inside the room in response to the aggression in your tone. he pulls you closer to himself, wrapping an arm tightly around your torso once your back is secured against his chest. after finishing your meal, jungkook volunteered to clean the dishes while we waited for you to take a shower. now that both of you are clean and full, you find yourselves tangled together in bed once again; your usual routine, you trying to sleep and jungkook trying to keep you awake.

“I want you to eat well. I want you to sleep well. you. I want you. always you”, he presses his face in your hair, taking in the aroma of wood and wild berries.

“and I am sorry”, he adds quietly.

you stir when you hear his words, turning around in his hold to face him. you know what he is apologizing for.

“well, you should be.”

“I really am.”

“i'm kidding, kook. you don’t need to be sorry. you were tired and—”

“but see, that’s the thing! every time I tell you that i’m tired and just want to sleep, you make damn sure I get some actual rest but I—”, he gestures at himself, looking at you with utmost concentration, “start acting like a spoiled child when I don’t get absolutely one hundred percent of your attention.”

“can't really disagree with that.”

“hey!”

“your words, not mine!”, you let out a squeal as jungkook tries to tickle you, holding him tighter in an attempt to make him stop, “love, that’s a part of you. and I adore that. that you feel comfortable enough to get mad at me for nothing. I don’t want you all smiley and cheery, without the bad things. I love you. and I want you as... you.”

“however annoying you may be”, you add as an afterthought.

jungkook scrunches his nose, “I am pretty annoying from time to time, aren’t I?”

“oh boy, you have no idea.”

“wow. am I imagining things or does everyone feel like you’re in a mood to constantly attack me tonight?”, he hugs you tighter if possible, shrugging, “my fault for loving you so much, I guess.”

“well, I am very lovable.”

“...oh boy, you have no idea.”

[whorbidmore]

okay, so, I've fallen victim to the leon kennedy brainrot steadily overtaking me, following me from Tumblr to Pinterest, to Instagram and even the absolutely fucking dreaded application of TikTok. I don't even use it that often??? and the algorithm is just like 'wow, yeah, this little fuckers gay as hell send in the 40 year old meow meow!!' and having watched Death Island fairly recently, I'm gonna have my opinions on what this dude would be like. Cus my brain loves to rationalize shit and think ab 'what if this mf was someone real?' so... fuck it.

Leon Soft Kennedy Headcanons

SFW

accidentally bigoted. - im sorry but let's be so fucking real here. he's a 40 something year old man who spent the majority of his life in either the military, a police training academy in the 90's, or otherwise working under the U.S Federal System with minimal/no time between missions to unpack absolutely everything he's got going on... the guys gonna have some problematic tendencies. Obviously that doesn't mean he means any of that or is incapable of change, etc. etc., but I know for damn certain this dude would laugh a little at Bill Burr's borderline to blatantly misogynistic material and has probably chuckled unironically at the attack helicopter jokes. But, he's not a complete dick, and would definitely become more critical of those kinds of jokes if it's pointed out to him.

honest to God, Dad Without Kids™ - it's not simply enough for me to leave it at 'but it's the vibes!!' so, I'm gonna break this shit down. Leon is absolutely Gen X incarnate. I can fucking guarantee you that on his off days he accidentally ends up dressing as an undercover cop; I'm talking cargo shorts, light blue button up, those fucking standard issue boots cus "they're perfectly good shoes" and those stupid ass sunglasses... you know the ones I'm talking about. Let's say you're living with him, right? And you're... you, and you wanna watch something on TV. This dude would strain himself getting up like a turtle fallen backwards on its shell, stand up, walk right in front of the TV screen and stand there with his hands on his hips. It doesn't matter that he had to piss, he needs to get a better look of what's happening! Does those really loud, obnoxious coughs and sneezes, absolutely blows his back out doing one at least five times a year.

Only watches British Reality TV - Considering he's canonically a film buff, I'll say that this is purely for whatever he gravitates towards on general streaming services. I honestly don't see him being the type to regularly tune in to standard American cable TV, or only does so under specific circumstances like American Ninja Warrior or maybe Forged in Fire if there's absolutely nothing else. It's not something that's exclusive to Americans, — I'm from New Zealand and I do this too, — but Leon absolutely falls into the category of watching British Reality and Game shows purely because of the accents. I'm talking Jeremy Kyle, The Big Fat Quiz of Everything, Taskmaster, The Great British Bake Off and so on and so forth. It doesn't matter that baking isn't his forté or a passion of his, if Josephine curdles her buttercream by over mixing, his hands are in his hair in utter disappointment. 100% tries to mimic their accents too. We all do it, don't lie.

Has... very dated music tastes - I don't know if you could guess, but the last paragraph included me calling myself out and name dropping some shows I watch anyway or grew up watching, and I'm just saying that this is gonna be no different. If anything? This'll be worse! Since I'm very passionate about the music I listen to and have the inability to keep my interests separated from the other, of course my love of particular bands will bleed over into my interpretation of Leon's character! Anyway, all that for me to say that Leon fucking LOVES 90's grunge musicians, specifically Pearl Jam and Soundgarden, as well as early nu metal bands like Korn (their dubstep phase did not happen.), TOOL, and Rage Against the Machine — and no, he unfortunately doesn't see the irony of him being a fed and listening to Rage, — but would also have a soft spot for psych rock, post-punk and shoegaze. My man's definitely laid awake at night, sobbing without expression as he struggles to accept that Ada never really wanted him like he wanted her while listening to fucking Slowdive. My hottest take here is that he doesn't really listen to Deftones. Like he'll occasionally blast My Own Summer, Change, Bored or Rosemary, but anything outside of those? He just didn't listen to 'em. My second hottest take is that he does NOT like Slipknot, which kind of pains me 'cus I do, but I fucking bet you this dude would actually adopt one piece of "Gen Z lingo" or whatever just call them cringe. Though admittedly he would've been jamming the fuck out to Psychosocial and The Devil in I when they came out. Went off the deep end in Vendetta, obviously, and drunk-cried himself to sleep on the couch listening to Linkin Park.

Very confusing spending habits - On one hand, we all understand that Leon came from money, — he was implied to have been born into a mob family from my understanding? And I doubt he'd ever really had to worry about being fully, irrevocably broke, — but I'm sure that growing up in the U.S Foster Care System made him at least a little more cautious of where his money comes from, where it's going, what he's spending it on, etc. So, on the one hand, he's apprehensive to spend recklessly, particularly on perishables. But also, if he can drop over $100,000USD on a motorcycle that got absolutely fucking cheese grated into the road, and spend a perceived, metric fuck ton of money on designer leather jackets and massive watches, it's gonna be hard for me to call him 'financially conscious'. On one hand, he gets apprehensive on spending more money than he needs to on food since he's "just gonna shit it out later", but if he sees a cool watch or a nice suit in a shop window? Money's suddenly not an issue! Not because he's materialistic, but because the one thing he really maintains a sense of control over in his life are his possessions and the way he dresses. The D.S.O can call him in for another months long mission whenever they please, and all he can realistically do is allow the government to tug on his leash and put him where he's needed. He may as well spend their money on things he wants!

Gets out... enough? But also, not really? - So, personally I've pegged Leon as more of an introverted person, — amateurly typed his MBTI as possibly ISFJ? — so he doesn't really feel the need to go out and meet new people or really hang out with anyone. If somebody invites him out? Sure, he'll go. Otherwise, it rarely occurs to him to meet up with friends or colleagues at a cafe or anywhere. I think he'd prefer to just go there alone, mostly for the sake of having somebody else cook for him as opposed to actively seeking out the atmosphere. It's pure convience in his mind. And remember when I said in the beginning about him accidentally being at least a little misogynistic? Yeah, that was me trying to say that he regularly tries to hit on younger waitresses. Not because he actually wants anything to do with them, but simply because it's an ego boost. He likes that he can make girls half his age blush or offer him their numbers, because it tells him that he's still desirable, and ultimately, that gives him the power to reject them politely and go about the rest of his day. If they don't reject him first, of course. Admittedly, Leon's audacity towards women peaked during Infinite Darkness.

Since I'm planning on posting more NSFW headcanons for this guy, — and more NSFW kinds of posts, — here is the obligatory Minors DNI attachment. For your own safety, I don't care if what I have to say is tame so far, you can hold it off I promise.

[goldessia]

RUINED REPUTATION — k. bkg x assistant reader

sum. katsuki bakugo is the #1 professional hero. because of this, he built an agency, and wound up hiring an assistant to help him with publicity and to do majority of his paperwork for him... something he didn’t expect was for that assistant to be so damn attractive.

warnings. injury, intoxication, makeouts, smut!mdni (in future chapters!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 (wip)

a/n. haii! thanks for tuning in for the second chapter :) hope you like this so far! not proofread — let me know if there’s any mistakes!

tag list: @lovra974 , @gold24fish, @bkgirl, @bigsimpo343 , @missyaess

“i.. i didn’t know where else to go.”

…

here he was, dynamight himself, standing in-front of my front door with blood pooling his shirt.

i sputter. what do i even say in this situation? my boss was at my front door, looking intoxicated and like he was near to death.

“sir?” i say in nearly a whisper, “what.. what are you doing here?”

he groaned, and i couldn’t tell if it was from pain or not. “stop.. stop calling me that.” he huffs, clutching the doorframe harder, the wood sizzling.

“sorry—“ i catch myself, “um, dynamight.”

“don’t call me that shit either.” he stares me in the eye as he says, “just.. just call me katsuki. ‘don’t care.”

i meekly nod. we’re on a first name basis now?

not wanting my doorframe to burn off, i take his hand off my doorframe and sling his arm around my shoulders. when he leans his weight onto me, i nearly collapse but manage to keep myself composed.

to think we were just talking about him merely a few hours ago, and now he’s here, as if we summoned him like some sort of demon.

.. well, demon isn’t too far off.

i shut the door behind me, katsuki’s feet stumbling as i try to lead him towards the bathroom where i kept my medical aid.

i guess my year trying to be a nurse is paying off before i switched majors, as i still have the supplies and knowledge i gained from it.

“what the hell happened?” i ask, voice low as to not wake my un-suspecting roommate.

“ts’ guy at a bar, nggh!” he hisses as we drop a step, his hand unintentionally pushing farther into his wound. i mutter an apology.

he’s breathing heavily, like he’s gasping for air. i can feel his biceps clench with every walk we take, his sharp exhale at every step he as to walk on his left-injured side.

clearing my throat, i prompt, “guy at a bar?”

“had a.. a fuckin mouth onim’.” he says heavily, “put that pussy in his place.”

if dynamight is this bad.. i wonder how the guy he was fighting was looking like right now.

“as your assistant.. fuck you for causing another scene.” i say, kicking open the bathroom door, “as your temporary.. friend, good for you.”

i cringe at the word friend. friend seems weird — off.

“good for me, my ass.” he hisses as i place him against the counter, pushing his torso to tell him to sit.

he does.

the reality of the situations continues to dawn on me; my boss is in my house, in my proximity that i live in everyday. i shower in this very bathroom. it felt.. weird.

i clear my throat, trying to ignore the butterflies of anxiousness in my stomach.

“katsuki,” i test, the name unfamiliar on my tongue, “take off your shirt.” from my peripheral vision, i can see him smirk. i send a look his way, face flushing in embarrassment.

“not like.. like that.” i stutter, “‘just take off your damn shirt.”

he stares at me, blinks, then tuts his tongue and says—“yes, ma’am.”—weak, shaken hands gripping the end of his shirt and pulling it over his head in one clean move.

it both irritates me and confuses me how simply he had done it.

he drops it in the floor, too weak to care where he put it—conveniently on my brand new white bathmat.

i try to ignore how it irritates me.

“i’ll buy you.. a new one.” he breathes, falling back against the marble wall, touching a hand to the wound on his stomach and hissing a breath through his teeth.

i rummage through the drawer of supplies, purposefully avoiding looking his way out of respect — and for my own sanity.

luckily, sutures was the unit we last worked on before i switched majors, meaning the information was still fairly fresh in my mind.

taking a step closer to the hero, i smell a waft of alcohol seep off of his skin. whiskey, no doubt.

i clear my throat. “i didn’t peg you for a whiskey guy.” i say, hoping to clear some of the overwhelming awkwardness.

he grimaces when i touch an alcohol pad around the wound, cleaning the dried blood surrounding the cut.

“i’m any typa’ guy on the right occasion.” he gives a toothy grin as he says this, abs flexing from my touch.

i blink. finally meeting his eyes, i realize just how close our bodies were, my hands on his torso, standing between his legs as he sits on the counter.

i knew he was supposed to be fit considering his work involved constantly pushing his body to the brink, but man.

he was toned, abs chiseled, biceps molded and flexing with every touch to his wound. his body resembled that of a god, and even if his body was bruised and broken it still looked perfect.

his eyes are piercing, ruby-bright red paired with a shiny, toothy grin placed between his lips.

“whatcha starin’ at, hm?” he slurs. i can feel the breathe from his lips.

my eyes flick away. i murmur a, “..nothing”, clearing my throat and picking up the needle to suture the wound. "so.. what happened for you to get this wound?"

"you're really beautiful, y'know that?" katsuki breathes, eyes scanning over my face.

"what?" i flush, momentarily freezing.

he chuckles, the scent of alcohol seeping over my face as he breathes out, "everyday, when you show up in those outfits ya got.. drives me insane.."

i am unsure what to do. staring into katsuki's eyes, i can see he's totally out of it; he doesn't mean any of this, it's just the alcohol talking!

.. then again, drunk words are sober thoughts.

i scoff, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear as i rip my gaze away. "you're drunk, katsuki," slowly, i am getting used to the name, "you're just talking nonesense."

"i'd never lie t' a pretty girl like you." he says, leaning closer, dangerously close. "anyone ever tell ya you got the most beautiful eyes?"

he reaches a hand toward me, tipping my chin up to look at him, rough and calloused hands scraping against the skin across my jaw.

suddenly, the room is too hot, his touch is too hot and i can feel myself slowly going insane. i find myself wanting more, more, his hands all over--

no! what the hell am i saying, he's drunk, and unlike himself. once he sobers up, he'll realize how stupid his words were.

but oh, his touch was addicting.

"katsuki.." i whisper, feeling his hand slowly move across my collarbone. he leans toward me, his lips resting over my ear, his breath on my skin flowing down my neck. so warm, so soothing.

"y'know, everyday when you show up in them' jeans ya wear.." he inhales, the sound loud in my ear, "makes me so fucking turned on."

i take a deep breath, trying to compose myself, trying to resist; he wouldn't want this, not if he were sober.

i swallow, "katsuki." i say with more certainty.

"mm, say that again." he rasps, kissing just below my ear with such gentleness i am surprised. his lips are hot, wet, his tongue dragging softly over my skin. i feel my body heat up, having to lean against the counter because i was afraid my legs would give out.

resist. resist, all you have to do is push away.

"you.. you wouldn't want this if you were sober." i huff, my face a bright, hot pink of fluster.

a chuckle comes from his chest, "this is all i want when i'm sober. all i can think 'bout, girl."

he pulls away from my neck, and i sigh in relief before opening my eyes to see him right in-front of me. his hand grabs my chin, slanting my head to the side, waiting painfully close as if to wait for me to make the first move.

and i know it's bad. the cliche of bosses sleeping with their assistants always irked me, and considering i was an assistant for dynamight i never considered he would ever sleep with me.

but now... if what he is saying is true, my predictions were nothing but the complete opposite.

and all i can think is: well, fuck, as i crash my lips against his. his mouth is hot, fiery, just as i assumed it to be. his tongue instantly pushes against mine, teeth grazing each other as our lips meet in a hasty battle.

tongues dancing against each other, i am instantly overwhelmed. kissing has never been this sweet, this passionate with my previous partners. a raw, thick naturalness comes between katsuki and i, as if being this close to one another was simply fate.

"this is.. bad--!" i mutter between the breathes we are forced to take, his hand instead finding my hips and pulling me against the counter. i am forced to stand on my tippy-toes as his other hand finds my hair, grasping it as if to hold him to reality.

i understand that much. i feel like if it weren't for his grasp on my skin, i would simply be in a dream instead of this being a reality.

and if this is a dream, i don't think i want to ever wake up.

i bring a hand up to his torso, my hand accidentally grazing over his wound. he groans into my lips, hand clutching my hair even tighter, yet he doesnt stop his assault to dominate my mouth.

i gasp. he's wounded! what am i thinking?!

gathering all the restraint in my body, i push away from him, my back slamming into the wall behind me. i finally take a breath, heavy pants leaving my mouth as i stare at him.

a groan of frustration leaves his lips, his back falling against the wall. it seemed the dopamine had allowed the affect of the wound to become nothing more than a little thorn in his side, but now that it had run out the pain started coming back.

"please.." katsuki whispers, "'feels better when yer kissing me.."

then, there's a knock on the door.

"y/n? is everything alright in there?" mina's voice comes from outside the door.

i look between katsuki and the door, seeing his love-drunk eyes and his current state; anyone with eyes could see he was aroused, not to mention the prominent boner tenting his pants.

"uh—“ i say, "yeah I’m—i'm okay." i say back, clearing my throat, "jus' go back to bed, mina."

"you sure..? you're talking kinda weird, i'm just gonna come in—“

"no!' i panic, before realizing my tone was still suspicious.

"that' the acid freak from school?" katsuki's brows furrow, "what's that brat doin' here?"

"who's that?!" mina calls from outside the door, "wait.. thats—!"

"OKAY!" i yell in frustration, "i'm opening the door!"

i slowly crack open the door, quickly closing it behind me and leaving katsuki in the bathroom.

mina’s eyes are wide. “what. the fuck. is katsuki bakugo doing in our apartment at three in the morning?!”

i sigh, rubbing a hand over my face, “i don’t know. he just.. he just came to the front door, injured.”

“so.. bring him to the hospital!” mina says in a duh tone.

“how do you think it’d look if his assistant was with him at three in the morning?” i say in a whisper-yell, “look, it’s just a simple cut. i can suture it up, and he’ll be fine by the morning.”

she shifts on her feet, uneasy. “okay. but it still feels weird.”

i run a hand over my face, “yeah, i know. it is weird.”

she eyes me, her head slanting ever so slightly. “are you alright? you look all… flustered..” then, her eyes widen as if in a realization, “wait—!”

before she can speak, i cut her off. “okayimleavingnowbye!” i sputter, rushing toward the bathroom and closing it behind me.

i inhale a deep breath, face flushing at the idea of being caught making out with my boss.

“how about you uh.. do me a favour and stitch me up now, huh, princess?” katsuki smiles as he says this.

i turn to him. “don’t call me that.”

“uh-huh.”