#I want him to tell me everything is going to be okay

[hwajin]

☆°. — aphrodite ; hhj

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

wc: 4.4k

warnings/ content: established relationship, hyunjin is very needy and obsessive, body worship (feet stuff..... hear me out y'all), oral (f receiving), SLIGHT foot job HEAR ME OUT Y'ALL, also not edited because i'm lazy

author's note: okay. you all need to hear me out because i didn't know this fic woul dabble into unknown territory but trust me it's NOT a feet kink kinda fic it's a body worship fic!!!! don't let the mention of feet stop you from this fic pls i swear it makes sense with hyunjin ( @astraystayyh can confirm i converted her). also this fic is inspired by so many different things i can't name them all, but one of them is this song.

Your body registered the deep grunt before your brain properly did; you tensed, the hairs on your skin standing straight, your core tingling with delight. You gave the man in your bed a curious look, one eyebrow raised; and you almost sighed out in response. Hyunjin was in nothing but boxers, your blanket – long smelling of him, or a mixture of you and him, or sex and him – lazily draped over his lean body, not necessarily to cover him but just because it was there. And it was barely covering him, in the first place; revealing his entire upper body and one leg which he couldn’t hold still, digging it into your mattress, or stretching. His shaved head was buried in your pillows – also holding his scent, reminding you of the times you pulled it close to your body and breathed it in whenever he couldn’t stay overnight – and he looked tortured, somehow. Laying on his side but writhing, half of his face hidden in the pillowcase before he sighed out hopelessly, and threw himself on his back. His body tensed with the movement, abdomen clenching and revealing muscle, shoulders protruding, the skin there stretching thinly, and it gave you the godliest sight. And then he looked at you. Finally. Deep eyes locking with yours, reading you, pleading you, begging you for something yet unspoken. But you could tell he was; his telltale puppy eyes, his blown out pupils, his quivering lip. His scrunched, full brows. Not only could you look at him forever, you also knew he wanted something. Something from you.  

You cocked your head, stopped in your work – assignments you needed to complete, deadlines you had to meet, and Hyunjin had complained about it plenty when you had left the bed to sit at your desk. His hand had not let go of you until the very last moment, tracing your curves while you had stood up and put on a shirt of his, having been thrown to the floor mindlessly last night, or earlier that day, you weren’t quite sure. Time was hardly ever separable with him, minutes becoming hours becoming days, and nights, and you never knew when one ended and the other began. Hyunjin’s fingers had caressed your body up until the very point you’d been unreachable to him, and you had felt his touch linger on your skin, hot and scorching, when you sat before your laptop. You had also heard his moans and grunts of protest, but you had done your best to tease at him; despite everything in your body screaming to just slide back into his arms, warm and long and inviting, steady. 

And your body was screaming now, too. He looked so adoring, so comfortable. He looked so desperate looking at you, chest heaving with his breathing, as if to tempt you on purpose, as if to navigate your attention towards it. To the smooth skin of his body, his prominent collarbones scattered with love bites, his hardened nipples. It wasn’t cold in the room. 

You caught his face again. If he’d noticed you staring he didn’t let you know, and you broke under his gaze, eventually. 

“What’s up babe.” The tone of you voice didn’t ask a question, and you chuckled when he groaned again and let his hand drag over his face. Utterly tortured. So dramatic. You rolled your eyes with a smile even though he couldn’t see, too busy being tragic. He huffed out, looked at you again. 

Suddenly shy; you thought you caught him blush. 

“This song makes me so horny.”, he muffled into the pillow, turning in your bed again, stomach now hidden, exposing his back instead. He had barely spoken the words when you started laughing, brightly. You registered the song playing on your speakers, one on your joined playlist, the deep bass and sensual melody filling the room, the echoes and lazy voices setting a nice mood if combined with the vanilla scented candles you had lit, the dim lights you had turned on. The sunset you had opened the blinds for. You laughed because it was absurd. Because Hyunjin looking so pained, so desperate and tense because of a song was amusing; but it made sense. 

Of course he would get horny over a song. Of course he would remember how you had stood between his legs just hours prior while he sat on the closed toilet seat, only a towel wrapped around his waist while this very song was playing from your phone. Of course he would remember how you had dried your hair right in front of him, chest inches away from his face, how he had tried to continue the oh so innocent conversation you had started, adamant to look into your eyes, to look up, to not let himself get distracted, how he had grown weak and started kissing your breasts, instead, eventually. As if he’d been bound to. With the song setting the mood hours prior too, how he had started letting his fingers dance upon your outer thighs before finding your core, asking for permission with big, dark eyes. It made sense that he would remember how you had sighed his name when the tongue of his had found your nipple, when his free hand started softly caressing your sides, your waist, your hips, cupping your chest, licking you, kissing you, fingering you so softly only minutes after you’d had made love in the shower. And in bed before that. And on the couch in your living room before that. 

Of course Hyunjin would remember how the song had played every time your lips clashed together, when his hands found your mounds, intertwined with your fingers, when your scent, your taste met his mouth; he was your hopeless romantic, after all, always caught on the mundane, fixated on the very nihil and it always meant the world to him. A song. Of course a song would mean the world to him; if only it reminded him of you. 

But still you laughed. Teased him. Because sometimes you liked to, and sometimes you just couldn’t let him distract you, as much as you would want him to. You watched his writhing figure, but couldn’t for too long; the muscles in his back spasmed with every bass in the song, and his arms tensed when he let them disappear beneath the pillow, hugging it. Something about it was sinful, suggestive. You imagined your own body there, between his arms, in place of the pillow, how his face would lay on your stomach, how his hot breath would fan over your skin, how good he would make you- 

“Don’t laugh at me.”, he whined. He hadn’t seen you stare. Thankfully. He would have been the one teasing long already, and you converted your eyes back to your laptop. Deep breaths. Taking deep. Deep. Breaths. 

“It is kinda funny, you have to admit.”, you breathed, huffing amusement past your nose. If you weren’t looking at him, teasing was far easier. And then he groaned again, deep, a little raspy, and it reminded you that, no, it was never easier with him. Your ears were as much slave to his eros as your eyes were, his voice as tantalising as his body was. He tsked, and you heard him ruffle again. “It’s not… fuck…”, he sighed, and a magnet pulled your eyes towards him. His own ones were buried in his elbow, as though hiding his face from you would make him less embarrassed, or less horny, or gave you less a reason to laugh at him. His brows scrunched, and he hummed before his body moved. Before his hips rolled a little into the mattress, into your mattress; at least that’s what you think they were doing. You couldn’t tell for sure under the thick blanket, but you knew him enough to guess. You knew the patterns of his muscles enough to recognize it, and you almost copied him, almost rubbed yourself against nothing, onto thin air. Another hum, and he moved to turn around again. 

“I’m so hard.” This time he said it with a self-deprecating laugh himself, hiding his face in his hand, and you wanted to lick it, each of his fingers, reminded of how he had pushed two of them past your lips under the shower. How he had looked at you while doing so. How he had fucked your mouth with them, slowly, making you gag on digits so long with eyes so hooded and dark that you had come moments later. You were sure the chair beneath you was wet now. Your panties sure as hell were. 

He looked up at you from beneath his lashes. Fuck. Hyunjin turned to his side, to face you, to be closer to you; his face contorted in pain or pleasure then, you couldn’t decipher, but it had the same effect on you anyways. One arm of his reached out, falling over the edge of the mattress. Calling you silently. Tempting you. 

“Please, babe. Come back to bed.”

You considered it. Your work wasn’t even half-way done and it was calling you, your laptop screaming your name loudly, but Hyunjin was screaming it louder. With his eyes, with his body. With his fingers that reached you, fanning over your shivering leg. Lulling you, intoxicating you. 

You considered it, but you only smiled at your lover. “I have to finish this, love.” You weren’t lying. But you wanted him at the very edge. Not normally the one to behave the way you did this moment, but you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the whine which tore through Hyunjin’s throat, frustrated and dissatisfied. As if you were all the salvation in the world. As if you were the only one capable of releasing him from the depths of hell. 

“Please. It hurts.” 

His words were but a whisper, pout written over his features, lips so plump and pink and you thought you heard him downright pant. Maybe he was at the very edge already, had been for longer you initially believed. 

You chuckled, feigning coyness, pretended to understand whatever the hell you had written on your Word Document when you looked at it again. The words were a blur, the meaning more so; you only felt Hyunjin’s fingers on your leg, pleading. 

“I have to finish this, babe. You can… relieve yourself. Can’t you?��� Giving him a bashful look over the shoulder, and it was Hyunjin’s turn to laugh now. A deep laugh, not so much amused as surprised. He turned to lay on his back again; when you glinted over at his body, you believed to see the faint outline of his erection when the blanket betrayed him. He let his palm smooth over his body, over his stomach down to his abdomen, looking sultry while doing so, his body tensing due to his very own ministrations. He knew you were looking at him; and you really, really shouldn’t have. Because there was no way you would finish your work now.

“Oh yeah? You would like that, wouldn’t you? If I touched myself?”

As if to emphasize his words he let his hand wander further down, palming himself over his boxers. You could only half see, the blanket covering him mostly, but you saw enough. You saw his veiny hands on his sex, alluring, calling you when he gave himself a squeeze which tickled a moan out of him. You hummed in response; neither affirmative nor negative, and you heard Hyunjin turn around in your sheets again when you discarded your eyes from him completely. Felt his fingers on your calf again. Felt his hand – warm, slightly sweaty, trembling – close around your ankle then, suddenly, catching you off guard. He turned you around in your working chair and pulled you closer by your leg, and you giggled when you faced him, his face by your feet you rested on the edge of the bed, hand still enclosing your ankle. 

Something deep, something in the pit of your stomach fluttered when you watched Hyunjin look up at you. When you noticed how his touch felt on your skin. How it ignited you. How it weakened you. A gasp turned to a breathless chuckle when Hyunjin’s lips connected to the foot he yet held in his palm. One kiss atop it and his hand slid slightly upwards, up your calf, up where he knew you were sensitive. Always along the inner side, with fingers delicate, with touches featherlight because he knew you liked the way it tickled. He caressed your foot with his lips, giving it wet kisses. Along every inch and he loved the way you tensed beneath his touch. He loved to watch your brows furrow when he gave your toe a kitten lick before kissing it, lavishing, bathing in the feeling of you. In the intimacy you provided. In the fact that you allowed him to love you like this, so openly, so desperately. 

So obsessively. Hyunjin would say that a lot; that he was obsessed with you. Obsessed with everything about you. In between kisses he would whisper it into your ear, or mumble it into your neck before biting down at the skin there, or sighing it into your pussy when he couldn’t seem to disconnect from it for hours. You would hear it so often, and yet you never grew used to it. Initially, you failed to understand just how obsessed your lover was with you; because the first time he had kissed your foot – his hard erection had been deep inside you and one leg of yours had lay atop his shoulder so he could reach even deeper, and he had pecked it, mindlessly, as though a bodily instinct, a biological reaction – you had flinched, drew back your leg in surprise. He had apologized, you had reassured him. Had confronted him later, though; because you had been perplexed. 

“No.”, he had said, “it’s not a… fetish. I just love you. I don’t know.”, upon your question why he hadn’t told you sooner if this was something he liked. 

“I like that, though.”, he had breathed when you had looked embarrassed, that part of your surprise had been the sheer fact that you hadn’t prepared for it. That your feet had been calloused, wearing long weeks of work. Your nails had been cut carelessly, they hadn’t been painted. “I would have, like, gotten a pedicure, if you told me you were into that.” Hyunjin had shook his head, almost frantically. “I love the way they are right now. They’re… natural. They show how hard you work. That you, like… walk on this earth. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Not a fetish, you had realized then; adoration. He carried a deep adoration for your body. For every part of it. And ever since then you had understood his obsession a little better. 

So you let him kiss your feet now. Because he did so eagerly. Humming against your skin, lost in you as if kissing you, tickling you, licking and lapping you up was bringing him pleasure beyond human comprehension. And you could only watch, mesmerized. Baffled. That a man so beautiful loved you. That a man so perfect obsessed over you. That he now looked up at you, deer eyes beneath deep lashes, and he was breathless, panting. 

“Let me taste your pussy, please.” 

You hissed at his voice, at his hot breath against your ankle, at his brows which formed a line from how much he was frowning in frustration. You hissed from the implication of his words; no, not the implication. He wasn’t implying anything; he was downright begging. Shamelessly. Openly. For something so vulnerable, something which was so intimately, so carnally a part of you. He was begging for the most carnal part, and he was doing it so helplessly. So prettily. You thought he had never looked more beautiful than this. Than when he was loving you.

You nodded with heaving chest, spread your legs on the chair, shuffled forward a little; Hyunjin didn’t even bother with your underwear. He pulled your panties to the side, quickly, as though you were granting him a wish he would have never expected to come true, jaw hanging slack with anticipation, eyes blown out a deep black. He lapped you up. He didn’t wait for another word, didn’t waste another second. You gasped when you felt his mouth on your soaked warmth, now even warmer, now that he was breathing against you. Breathing deeply, breathing hotly. Whispering a low, throaty “Fuuck.” right into your pussy which muffled most of his noises, which absorbed all of them and made it her own. Which fluttered when he licked at your clit, mouth open so widely as though he couldn’t get enough of you. As though he would never taste you enough, never stuff himself enough with you, never be close enough to you. Mouth open so widely as though he wanted to inhale you whole, not only your sex, your clit, your wetness. You. To make you part of him, to make you connected to him through some sort of outer force.

It was when he kissed up and down your lips that you lost your heart a little. It was then when you noticed he was lost in his own pleasure. That he was kissing you because he wanted to kiss you. Not because he knew you liked it. Not solely. That he was making out with your pussy, mouth latching onto your labia, wandering up to the hood over your clit and down the puffy skin again to kiss near your slit because he was losing himself in you. Because he wasn’t even looking at you. Hyunjin’s eyes were closed, shut so tight the skin between his brows was wrinkled, his jaw trembling. His breath shaking against you. His deep grunts resonating somewhere deep inside your core. Depths only he ever reached. Only he was capable to.

When you moaned his name, called it out desperately and let it materialize in the room, letting it take space in the relative silence, he finally looked at you. Finally granted you his entire attention. Finally blessed you with the sight of him; eyes bloodshot, hooded, almost sleepy. Almost as if he had awoken from a trance. Hyunjin hummed in response, knowingly. Breathed you in deeper, licked a heavy stripe from your slit up. That was for you now. Now he was pushing your buttons, pushing them so knowingly, so aware it made you dizzy. He knew you, he chased your high with you.

His hand – big, warm, steady – pushed against your inner thigh, gently but you complied. You spread your legs further, granted Hyunjin more space. More space to make you feel good, more space to show love. He sucked at your clit, watching as you threw your head back. Smiling to no one but himself because he had expected it. Your legs twitched, your muscles spasming against your will, but you let them. Your right leg resting on the mattress lazily and Hyunjin played with it. Letting his fingers slide up and down your calf, always on the inner side, until he tickled at the underside of your knee, until you whined out and he knew to wander down with his fingers again. He caressed your ankle then. Scratching your skin with his nails, a little, slightly. Not enough to hurt, only to elicit wanted reaction; a hiss, a breath caught in your throat.

You hadn’t paid attention, so you didn’t know when exactly your foot touched Hyunjin’s erection, accidentally. You must have spread your legs just a little further – it was never enough, the pleasure he granted you intoxicating and you chased it with every nerve in your body, with everything you had in you – and you had only heard the heart-ripping moan from the man. So loud it scared you at first, before you understood, before you looked down at him, at his erection, at him again. Down his body, down his toned chest and tensed abdomen and at his erection again; you were able to see the wet patch on his boxers. The desperation in his eyes when you locked them again. He had put his own pleasure to the side for your own; and if he hadn’t lied to you about the pain, then he had been hurting for quite a while. Looking at you to just ease him off the pain. Any way you wanted to, any way possible, he didn’t care. As long as you eased him off it, as long as you freed him from the torment.

It was awkward, but you tried to get past his waistband with your toe. It must have tickled more than it did anything else because you caught Hyunjin’s skin shiver, the toned lines on his stomach protruding suddenly as the muscles there tightened. But he understood. Without breaking his lips off you, without even looking away from you – hungry eyes still following your every move, every expression in your face – he freed himself quickly with one hand, and your mouth filled with water you could barely keep behind your lips. You moaned out, too; simply at the sight of him, because he had shoved away his boxers so carelessly, because he was showing himself to you so readily, for you to take him with all you had. Even if it was pathetic. Even if he seemed desperate. Even if his precum was dripping down in thick beads onto your mattress, looking like a pearl necklace was adorning him. Hyunjin rolled his hips into nothing, searching for your touch when he saw the look in your eyes. The hunger there. When he saw how you bit your lip, how you cursed out.

“You’re not hard babe; you’re basically cumming.”

And Hyunjin hummed into your pussy, eyes closing, making him see stars, more even when you touched him. Delicate foot on his tip, and you didn’t even need to move; the man started chasing his high momentarily. He was so eager, grinding against the little contact of skin you granted him, but it was enough. And you knew he wouldn’t last long. His fingers dug into your thigh, his other feeling you up, feeling you everywhere, reaching to cup your breast above your shirt, higher up then when the lack of your skin disturbed him, when he found home on your neck, closed his palm around it softly.

You let your hand slide across his short hair, nails on his scalp at his touches. There wasn’t much to pull on anymore; Hyunjin had admitted that he missed the feeling, that the only downside to his new hairstyle was the fact you couldn’t tug at it anymore. He had admitted that he missed the pressure, the sting of pain. He had mumbled it into your neck while he’d been deep inside you, the very first day after he’d shaved it, after you’d confessed how good he looked. You had pulled him closer back then, had arched your back to connect your chest with his; Hyunjin had whined when your nails had dug into the sensitive skin of his scalp, and had kissed you feverishly after.

And he was now whining without control, too. Whining at the sting of pain, whining because he was so, so close, rolling and rolling himself against you, quick and quicker and with a body so tense, so shivering, so trembling. He was whining because he couldn’t get enough of your taste, of your scent, because as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Because he felt so, so good. But he wanted to watch you. He wanted to see your mouth while it breathed his name, while it fell slack before a scream ripped through it. Wanted to see how you threw your head back, how your body convulsed against him, back arching, thighs closing, your free hand finding the one he had on your throat. Because you needed something to hold on to. Because he knew you were so, so close. He felt you shake, your legs quiver, he heard his name out of your mouth a couple notes higher, a little breathier, a little more carnal. He loved it when you said his name like that. He loved how it sounded in your mouth, sensual, pleading. Sweet.

And he came. Without much warning, but with spasms, because he just couldn’t take it anymore. Not with how mindlessly your foot lay on his now softening cock, with how hard you were groping at him; not just his head, everywhere. How much closer you seemed to need him. He couldn’t help it with how you smelled, sweeter now that you were close and wetter, oh so wet, drowning his chin in your essence, and he didn’t bother to clean himself up. He let himself be wet; let his own release stick to his abdomen, let it trickle down to his hips, let his chin be wet with you, wettened it even more by pushing himself deeper into you, nose wet too now, lips long soaked, mouth so full of you he grunted deeply, lapped you up, sucked your clit; and he felt you cumming, too.

And he finally looked up at you, needed to see you. And the sight was heavenly, wishing he could look at you forever. When you were like this. When you moved like this. When you felt this good; felt this good because of him. Because of his mouth which drank you up, cleaned you, inhaled you. Your eyes in the back of your head, your face contracting, your jaw tightening so hard that it shivered, that your lips quivered with it. You were flush, your hair all over you; knowing you, Hyunjin was sure you wouldn’t like the sight of yourself, wouldn’t understand why he grew hard again simply watching you. Why his breath caught in his throat when you looked at him, lashes damp, lip spit-laced, and whispering your name because it was “Too much.”. Just because Hyunjin could never stop when he started. Because he never got enough of your taste, long after you finished. Because he always drove you over the edge a second, a third time, only until his jaw pained him, when his lips went numb. When his heart filled with you so much he swore he couldn’t take it; and yet swore greedily, swore selfishly, that it would never be enough. 

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @ppiri-bahng @cherrrywon @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @junebug032 @noellllslut @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife

[ivyues]

First-Night-Nerves and Quite Moments: Stray Kids' reactions to first sleepovers

Bang Chan

Chris arrived at your place after a tiring recording session but smiled when he greeted you. "You look dead on your feet," you teased, pulling him inside.

He chuckled, rubbing his neck. "I didn’t want to miss seeing you."

As the night went on, you could see his exhaustion growing. "Why don’t you just stay over? You can't drive home like this." He hesitated for a moment before responding, "Only if you're okay with it."

He offered to sleep on the couch, but you insisted that you share the bed. After a few more moments of uncertainty, he finally agreed, lying down beside you but keeping a respectful distance. He stayed rigid, his heart raced every time he heard you shift.

Finally, you whispered, "Channie, are you uncomfortable?"

He sighed softly. "I don’t want to overstep or make you uncomfortable." Smiling, you gently nudged his arm. "You’re not. Relax."

After a long pause, he put an arm around you, his voice barely a whisper. "Is this okay?" You nodded, leaning into him. "Much better."

Lee Know

Lee Know had suggested the sleepover a few days earlier, jokingly adding, "Bring snacks, though. And make sure they're the good kind."

The evening was full of both of your playful banter, but when it came time to settle in, he was oddly quiet. He flopped onto the bed first, leaving ample space for you. He mumbled a quick, "Goodnight," avoiding eye contact.

After a few moments, you shifted in bed, pulling the blanked tighter around yourself. 

"You cold?" he asked quietly.

When you nodded, he threw an arm over you, mumbling, "Don't hog the blanket though." His tone was playful, but you could tell he was still a bit nervous, as if trying to seem nonchalant.

You smiled to yourself in the dark, knowing he was more anxious than he let on.

Changbin

When Changbin invited you over, his casual attitude almost masked the amount of thought he’d put into it. His place was spotless, a soft playlist playing in the background, and the bed piled high with pillows.

"You didn't have to go all out," you teased, settling on his freshly fluffed couch.

He laughed nervously. "It's nothing. Just wanted it to be nice."

As the night wore on, he seemed to become more fidgety, checking everything multiple times. "Pillow good? Too much blanket? Too little blanket?"

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Everything’s perfect, Binnie. Let's just sleep."

When you settled in bed, Changbin stayed awake for a while, marveling at how surreal it felt to have you there beside him. It was a quiet, content moment, and he couldn’t help but smile softly to himself.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin suggested the sleepover during a late-night call, his voice laced with excitement. "We could paint, watch a movie, just hang out."

When you arrived, the room was already set up – soft fairy lights glowing and paints neatly arranged. The evening felt like something out of a dream, filled with laughter and gentle kisses as you painted side by side.

When it was time to sleep, Hyunjin grew quiet, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "I... uh... set up the bed for us," he said, his voice soft.

You smiled and took his hand, guiding him to lie down beside you. He laid awake for a while, stealing nervous glances at you, overwhelmed by how lucky he felt to have you there. It felt like something so special and intimate, yet so natural.

Han

Han had come over for an anime night, and after binging a whole series, it was well past midnight. You casually suggested him to stay.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"Yeah, it’s late. I don’t want you going back."

He agreed, but the nervous energy practically radiated off him. "So, uh... where do you want me to sleep?" he asked, glancing between the couch and your bedroom door.

"The bed’s big enough for both of us. It’s no big deal." You said softly.

His eyes widened, and he nodded. "Right. Totally normal."

Once in bed, he lay stiffly, staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes, he whispered, "Thanks for letting me stay. I feared it might be... weird."

You smiled, turning to face him. "You’re overthinking it, Hannie. Just relax."

His nervous laugh was soft, and eventually, his body relaxed. By the time you fell asleep, he was already snoring lightly, a peaceful smile on his lips.

Felix

Felix had shyly suggested the sleepover after you both talked about wanting to spend more time together. "Only if you’re comfortable, of course," he’d said, his voice soft. "I’ll make pancakes in the morning."

When the night arrived, he welcomed you with a warm hug and a beaming smile. The evening was filled with cookie baking and watching your favorite movies.

Later, as you cautiously laid in bed next to each other, he hesitated before asking, "Is it okay if I...?" His hand hovered near yours, waiting for you to take it.

You smiled and nodded, and he gently wrapped his fingers around yours. As you drifted off to sleep, he stayed awake for a while, his heart full and his cheeks glowing with happiness.

Seungmin

The evening you agreed on staying over, Seungmin’s room was immaculate, every detail carefully thought out. He handed you an extra pillow with a smile. "Just let me know if you need anything."

As the night went on, his calm demeanor started to falter. When it came time to lie down, he placed a noticeable gap between you.

"You don’t have to stay all the way over there," you teased.

His ears turned bright red, but he slowly moved closer. Over time, the initial awkwardness faded, and he found himself relaxing in your presence.

By morning, you woke to find his hand resting just inches from yours, a quiet but undeniable sign of his affection.

I.N

Jeongin had been thrilled about the sleepover, texting you excitedly about movies, snacks, and possibly even a pillow fight.

When you arrived, he greeted you with an eager grin, his energy infectious. The night was filled with laughter as you watched old comedies and built a blanket fort together.

During a snack pause, Jeongin suddenly stood up and headed toward his closet.

"Here," he said, pulling out one of his favorite hoodies. He tossed it over to you, a little shy but still smiling. "You can wear it while we watch the next movie."

When it was time to sleep, Jeongin grew quieter, his confidence replaced by a shy smile. "I hope the bed’s okay," he said softly, glancing at you.

masterlist

[cherryxbooo]

I’ll do anything to make you happy

Summary: You were excited for winter break to start because it meant one thing: spending more time with Lando. But little did you know, that was the one thing you wouldn't be getting.

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff/angst

Winter always held a special kind of charm for me.

The frosty mornings, cozy blankets, and steaming cups of cocoa had always made this season my favorite.

But this year, it held a different promise: Lando finally had a break from racing.

After months of hectic schedules, jet-setting across the globe, and stolen moments in between races, I was looking forward to having him all to myself.

At first, it was everything I’d imagined and more.

We spent lazy mornings tangled in bed, with me teasing him about his messy hair while he pulled me closer, claiming I was his personal heater.

Breakfasts turned into brunches because we couldn’t stop talking or joking around.

We watched movies, baked cookies that turned out terrible, and played endless rounds of Mario Kart, which I always managed to win.

“You’re only winning because I’m letting you,” Lando said one evening, his grin teasing as he tossed the controller onto the couch.

“Sure you are,” I replied, laughing as I grabbed my victory snack from the table.

Those first few days felt like we were in our own little world, where nothing else mattered but us.

But soon, reality began creeping in.

It started innocently enough.

“Babe, Max just called,” Lando said one morning, leaning against the counter with his coffee mug in hand.

“He’s organizing a karting session. Shouldn’t take long.”

I smiled, my heart swelling with pride.

Racing was his passion, and I loved seeing him happy. “Go have fun. Just don’t let him beat you.”

“Never,” he said with a wink, kissing my temple quickly before heading out.

That day, I didn’t mind the quiet. I worked on some projects, caught up with friends, and even took a long bath.

By the time he got home, his cheeks were flushed with cold, and he couldn’t stop talking about how much fun he’d had.

But karting soon turned into golf.

Golf turned into poker nights. And poker nights turned into outings that stretched late into the night.

“I’ll be back soon,” he’d text, always with a heart emoji. But “soon” became later and later each time.

I told myself it was fine. He deserved this break.

He’d worked so hard all year, and if spending time with his friends helped him unwind, who was I to complain?

But as the days wore on, the house began to feel emptier, and so did I.

One evening, I decided to surprise him with his favorite dinner.

I spent hours in the kitchen, setting the table with candles and dimming the lights for a cozy atmosphere.

When Lando walked through the door, his expression softened as he took in the setup.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

“I wanted to,” I replied, smiling up at him.

“You’ve been so busy, and I thought it’d be nice to have a quiet night together.”

“That’s so sweet,” he said, leaning down to kiss me.

“But the guys are waiting for me. I promised I’d meet them for drinks tonight. Let’s rain check this?”

My smile faltered, but I nodded. “Of course.”

He kissed me again and was out the door before I could say anything more.

I sat down at the table, staring at the empty chair across from me.

The candles flickered, their light reflecting off the untouched plates. I took a deep breath, telling myself it was okay.

But deep down, a tiny crack had formed in my heart.

Days turned into weeks, and the cracks only deepened.

Lando’s absence became more noticeable, and I began to feel like a ghost in our own home.

One evening, after scrolling through endless photos of him with his friends on Instagram, I called Mia, my best friend.

“What’s wrong?” she asked the moment she picked up.

I sighed, the weight of my emotions pressing down on me.

“It’s Lando. He’s been spending so much time with his friends lately, and I feel like I’m… invisible.”

Mia was quiet for a moment before saying, “Y/N, you’re not invisible. But you need to talk to him. He’s not a mind reader.”

“I don’t want to seem clingy,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re not clingy. You’re his girlfriend. He should want to spend time with you. Talk to him.”

Her words gave me the push I needed. That night, when Lando came home, I gathered my courage.

“Can we talk?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Of course,” he said, sitting down next to me.

I took a deep breath.

“I’ve been feeling… neglected lately. I know you’re enjoying your break, and I want you to have fun, but I miss us. I miss you.”

He frowned, reaching for my hand.

“Babe, I’m sorry if it feels that way. But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

I nodded, but his words didn’t ease the ache in my chest. Before I could say more, he kissed me and stood up.

“Max needs help with something,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Love you!”

And just like that, he was gone. Again.

I tried my best to push away all negative thoughts until I thought about the positive ones.

Our second anniversary was just days away, and I held onto the hope that he’d make it special.

I told myself the late nights didn’t matter. He was probably planning something incredible for our anniversary.

The next day,

The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft golden hues.

I stretched lazily, a content smile curling my lips as I reached across the bed.

My fingers met cold sheets. The space beside me was empty.

I frowned, the giddy excitement I had woken up with faltering.

Today was our second anniversary.

I had imagined waking up wrapped in Lando’s arms, whispering sleepy “Happy anniversary” wishes before sharing breakfast together.

Instead, he was gone.

I also realized that I hadn't heard him come back last night.

He told me he was just helping Max out with something, but he probably went out partying with his friends afterward, again.

I tried to shake off the disappointment as I climbed out of bed, brushing my hair out of my face.

Maybe he had planned a surprise and needed to step out early.

A flutter of hope lifted my spirits as I grabbed my robe and headed toward the kitchen.

The scent of coffee greeted me, but there was no sign of Lando.

Instead, on the counter, I found a note written in his familiar scrawl:

“Gone golfing with the guys. Be back later. Love you.”

My heart sank. Golfing? On our anniversary?

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, trying to focus on the fact that he had said he’d be back later.

He wouldn’t forget our dinner, right?

We’d planned this evening together weeks ago, and I’d been looking forward to it ever since.

I folded the note and placed it aside, telling myself not to overthink it. He would be back in time.

He promised.

After a quick breakfast, I set to work preparing for the evening.

My heart thudded with a mix of excitement and nervousness as I laid out my plans.

Lando had been so busy lately, and this was my chance to remind him how much I loved him, despite everything.

I spent hours in the kitchen, cooking all his favorite dishes: his go-to pasta, a roasted chicken dish he always requested, and even the dessert I’d failed at three times before finally perfecting.

The smells of herbs, garlic, and chocolate filled the apartment, making it feel warm and inviting.

Between stirring pots and chopping vegetables, I took breaks to set up the dining table.

I draped it with a soft cream tablecloth, adding candles and a scattering of rose petals for a romantic touch.

Fairy lights hung along the walls, casting a cozy glow that made the space feel magical.

On the counter, I carefully placed his gift, a sleek watch he had admired months ago but never bought for himself.

Not forgetting to attach a handwritten note to the box.

With everything ready, I checked the clock.

It was almost evening. So I had to hurry up to get ready.

I slipped into the dress I had chosen weeks ago, a soft, fitted number I knew he loved on me.

My makeup was simple yet elegant, and I added the finishing touch, a spritz of the perfume Lando had gifted me for my last birthday.

I felt beautiful, excited, and nervous all at once as I sat on the couch, watching the clock.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

By the time twenty minutes had gone by, I grabbed my phone, texting him a quick, “Hey, are you on your way?”

No response.

An hour later, I texted again. Then called. Still nothing.

My excitement turned into a gnawing worry that sat heavy in my chest.

Where was he? Had he forgotten?

Two hours passed.

The candles on the table had burned down halfway, their flickering flames reflecting off the now-cold plates of food.

The fairy lights, once magical, now felt like mockery.

Finally, three hours later, I gave up.

Tears stung my eyes as I blew out the candles, packed away the food, and removed my dress, exchanging it for soft pajamas.

My makeup was smeared with tears by the time I climbed into bed.

I grabbed my phone one last time, and my heart shattered when I saw the Instagram story.

It was one of Lando’s friends, showing a clip of him laughing, drink in hand, surrounded by his friends.

He looked happy. Carefree.

And completely oblivious that tonight was our anniversary.

The tears came faster, hot and uncontrollable. I buried my face in the pillow, the ache in my chest overwhelming.

I had been so sure he’d come back, that he’d remember. But I was wrong.

Later that night,

The apartment was cloaked in silence when Lando opened the front door, the click of the lock echoing faintly in the stillness.

He stumbled inside the weight of exhaustion and faint traces of guilt tugging at his chest.

The soft glow of the streetlights outside illuminated the darkened space just enough for him to make out his surroundings.

Something felt… off.

He reached for the light switch, and as the room was bathed in warm light, his eyes landed on the dining table across from him.

He froze.

The table was beautifully decorated, candles placed strategically, now melted into small stubs, surrounded by rose petals that had been artfully scattered.

Plates of food were neatly covered with lids to keep them from going bad, but even from a distance, Lando could tell they were his favorites.

He took a tentative step forward, his stomach sinking further with each movement.

Resting near the center of the table was a small, wrapped box with a note attached to it.

The sight made his chest tighten, a creeping realization clawing at the edges of his mind.

His fingers trembled as he picked up the note. Unfolding it carefully, he read the words in her familiar handwriting:

"To my Lando, the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you for being my partner, my love, my everything. Happy anniversary, baby. Love, Y/N."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart sank as the full weight of the evening’s significance crashed over him.

Anniversary. He’d forgotten their second anniversary.

Lando stood there, the note still clutched in his hand, his throat tightening as shame washed over him.

He thought back to the past few weeks, to the times he’d brushed you off or come home late without so much as an explanation.

He couldn’t even recall the last time you two spent real, quality time together.

You had tried to talk to him about it, about how you felt neglected, and he had dismissed your concerns every single time.

Now, standing there amidst the evidence of your effort and love, he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world.

Lando exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair as regret threatened to overwhelm him.

He couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

He glanced around the room, noticing how quiet it was. He knew you were asleep.

His eyes landed on his phone, dead from the night’s events.

With a heavy sigh, he plugged it into the charger, pacing nervously as he waited for it to turn back on.

When it finally lit up, the screen was flooded with notifications, missed calls and unread messages from Y/N.

The time stamps told the story of your evening:

“Hey, are you on your way?” - 8 p.m. “I’m waiting for you… everything’s ready.” -8:30 p.m. “Lando, please call me.” -9 p.m. “Are you okay? I’m starting to worry.” -10 p.m.

The last message was hours old, her tone shifting from hopeful to concerned.

Each notification felt like another jab to his heart, the guilt almost unbearable.

He dropped his phone onto the counter and made his way toward their shared bedroom.

Pushing the door open quietly, he stepped into the dimly lit room.

His gaze immediately found her curled up under the covers, her face half-buried in the pillow.

His breath hitched when he noticed the faint streaks on her cheeks, traces of tears she hadn’t been able to hide.

The sight made his heart clench painfully. She’d cried herself to sleep, and it was his fault.

Lando approached the bed slowly, kneeling beside her as he took in her tear-streaked face.

She looked so peaceful yet so vulnerable, her chest rising and falling softly with each breath.

Guilt swirled in his chest as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, thick with regret.

Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, lingering for a moment as if hoping it could somehow convey all the apologies he couldn’t say while she was awake.

His thumb grazed her cheek, and he sighed deeply.

“You didn’t deserve this,” he murmured, his voice breaking.

“I’ve been such an ass… the worst boyfriend. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I love you so much.”

She stirred slightly at his touch but didn’t wake.

Lando watched her for a moment longer before standing, his mind racing with plans to fix what he’d broken.

Tomorrow, he vowed, would be all about her.

The next morning, I woke up with a dull ache in my chest, my body heavy from the night before.

My eyes were sore and puffy from crying myself to sleep.

I glanced at the empty side of the bed, already prepared for the familiar sting of disappointment.

Figured he’d leave again before I woke up, I thought bitterly.

Dragging myself out of bed, I moved to the bathroom to freshen up.

The cold water on my face didn’t do much to wash away the exhaustion or the emotional weight from the previous night.

With a sigh, I tied my hair back and made my way downstairs, expecting another day of hurt to unfold.

Halfway down the stairs, though, something unusual stopped me in my tracks.

The smell of coffee, rich and inviting, wafted through the air.

There was another scent too, pancakes? My brow furrowed in confusion.

"That can’t be right. Lando doesn’t cook... does he? Who am i kidding he can't even boil eggs."

I cautiously descended the rest of the stairs, each step filling me with equal parts curiosity and hesitation.

As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I froze at the sight before me.

There he was, standing by the stove, flipping a pancake with a focused but slightly clumsy determination.

Plates of food lined the table, croissants, fresh fruit, juice, and what looked like store-bought pastries.

It didn’t take long to figure out most of the spread wasn’t homemade, but the effort was unmistakably his.

“Morning, love,” Lando greeted me, his tone soft and tentative, his lips curling into a nervous smile.

I raised an eyebrow, my arms crossing instinctively. “What’s all this?”

He put the spatula down and stepped closer, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

“It’s breakfast... and an apology,” he said, his voice earnest.

My eyes flickered between him and the spread on the table.

I could see he was trying, but the hurt from last night still lingered like a heavy cloud over my chest.

“Come sit,” he said gently, pulling a chair out for me.

I hesitated for a moment before sitting down, my arms still crossed defensively.

Lando grabbed a plate, placing a pancake in front of me before adding a small pile of fruit and a croissant on the side.

I eyed him suspiciously as he poured me a cup of coffee, then sat across from me.

“What are you doing, Lando?” I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of confusion and frustration.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he met my gaze.

“I messed up, Y/N. Big time. And I need you to know how sorry I am.” His voice was steady but filled with regret.

I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“Last night,” he began, his brows furrowing,

“I forgot our anniversary. I forgot the one day I should’ve been making you feel like the most important person in the world. And it’s not just last night, I’ve been neglecting you for weeks. You told me how you felt, and I brushed it off like an idiot.”

His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and I could see the weight of his guilt etched into every line on his face.

“I’ve been selfish, caught up in my own world, and I didn’t see how much I was hurting you. You deserve so much better than that, Y/N. Better than me.”

I felt my throat tighten as his words sank in. The sincerity in his tone chipped away at the walls I’d put up.

“I was so hurt, Lando,” I said, my voice trembling.

“I waited for you all night. I planned everything because I thought… I thought you’d come home and we’d celebrate together. I stayed up, hoping you’d walk through that door with a smile, ready to tell me how much you love me. But you didn’t.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I continued.

“I saw that video of you and your friends. You were laughing and having fun while I sat here, alone, on what was supposed to be our night.”

Lando’s face fell, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if grounding himself from the weight of my words.

“I know,” he whispered.

“And I hate myself for it. Seeing what you did for me last night, the decorations, the food, the note. I realized just how much I’ve been taking you for granted. I never want you to feel that way again, Y/N. You’re the most important thing in my life. I need you to believe that.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, sliding it across the table to me.

“What’s this?” I asked, my voice softer now, though my heart still carried the sting of last night.

“Open it,” he urged.

I carefully lifted the lid, revealing a delicate necklace with a sparkling pendant.

The intricate design caught the morning light, making it shimmer.

“Lando…” I trailed off, overwhelmed.

“It’s not enough to make up for what I’ve done,” he said quickly,

“but it’s a start. And today, it’s all about you. Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go, we’ll do it.”

I stared at the necklace for a moment before meeting his eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

“But,” I added, my tone firm, “this doesn’t mean I’ve fully forgiven you yet.”

“I know,” he said, nodding.

“And I don’t expect you to. But I’ll spend every day proving to you how much I care, how much I love you. I won’t stop until you believe me again.”

The determination in his voice made my chest tighten.

I wanted to hold onto my anger, to make him feel the depth of my hurt, but seeing him now, vulnerable, regretful, and desperate to make things right.

I couldn’t help but feel the smallest crack in my resolve.

As the morning unfolded, Lando’s sincerity shone through.

He insisted on clearing the table and cleaning up, stealing small glances at me as if trying to gauge my mood.

I wasn’t ready to let go of all the hurt just yet, but for the first time in weeks, I felt a glimmer of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.

The morning's heartfelt apology set the tone for what became one of the most memorable days Lando and I had spent together in weeks.

While I was still guarded, I couldn’t deny that he was trying, really trying, to make things right.

As I got ready to leave the house, he was already by my side, holding my hand, his other arm slung casually around my shoulder.

“I promised today would be all about you,” he said, giving me that signature soft smile.

“So, where to first?”

We started with a trip to the mall. At first, I felt a little awkward, hesitant to fully enjoy the experience.

But Lando was like a lovesick puppy, following me from store to store, holding my bags, and insisting I buy anything that caught my eye.

“Do you like this dress?” I asked, holding up a flowy sundress against myself.

“I love it,” he said without hesitation. “But I’d probably love anything on you.”

I rolled my eyes at his smooth comment but couldn’t help the blush creeping up my cheeks. “You’re just saying that.”

“Nope,” he replied, grabbing the dress and adding it to the pile of things he’d insisted on buying.

From clothes to accessories, he didn’t say no to anything.

When I protested, saying he was spending too much, he brushed it off.

“I’d spend everything on you, Y/N,” he said with such sincerity it made my heart ache.

Afterward, he took me to my favorite café for lunch.

The cozy little place was one we often went to in the early days of our relationship, and the nostalgia hit me hard as we sat down.

“I missed this,” I admitted as I sipped my coffee.

“Me too,” Lando said, reaching across the table to hold my hand.

“And I’m going to make sure we never lose this again.”

Next, he surprised me with a visit to a local pottery studio.

I couldn’t help but laugh when Lando struggled to shape a vase, the clay slipping through his fingers.

“Okay, you’re supposed to keep your hands steady,” I teased, leaning over to guide him.

“Oh, so now you’re an expert?” he joked, though his grin softened as I showed him how to shape the clay.

It was messy, chaotic, and perfect.

By the end, we both had clay smudged on our faces, and we were laughing like we hadn’t in weeks.

From there, we stopped at a flower shop.

Lando picked out the biggest bouquet of my favorite flowers, holding it out to me with a boyish grin.

“For you,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops today, aren’t you?” I teased, though my heart swelled as I buried my nose in the fragrant blooms.

“Only the best for my girl,” he replied, his tone playful but his eyes serious.

For the rest of the day, he didn’t leave my side.

He held my hand as we walked through the streets, his arm draped protectively around me whenever we stopped to rest.

He peppered me with kisses at every opportunity; on my cheek, my forehead, my temple.

“You’re being extra clingy today,” I said with a small laugh as he pulled me into another hug.

“Making up for lost time,” he murmured, his chin resting on the top of my head.

Bit by bit, the walls I’d built around my heart began to crumble.

His efforts felt genuine, and I found myself smiling more easily, the hurt from the night before slowly fading into the background.

By the time we got home, the sun was setting, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and orange.

We were both tired but happy as we curled up on the couch together.

Lando tucked me under his arm, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my shoulder.

“Y/N,” he said after a long moment of silence.

His tone was serious, and I looked up at him curiously.

“Yeah?”

“I need to say this again because you deserve to hear it,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“I’m so sorry for everything, for neglecting you, for forgetting our anniversary, for making you feel like you weren’t my priority. You are my priority, Y/N. You’re the best thing in my life, and I hate that I made you feel otherwise.”

His words hit me straight in the chest, and I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

“I know I hurt you,” he continued, his hand cupping my cheek as he looked into my eyes.

“But I swear, I’ll spend every day proving how much I love you. I’ll never let you feel like that again.”

My heart felt full as I reached up to hold his hand.

“You’ve done a lot for me today, Lando,” I said softly.

“And it’s helped. I can see how much you mean it.”

“So... does that mean you forgive me?” he asked, his tone hopeful but cautious.

I smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “Yeah, I forgive you.”

The relief on his face was almost comical, and he immediately began peppering my face with kisses, my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, even the corners of my lips.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he murmured between kisses, his joy infectious.

Just when I thought the day was over, Lando suddenly sat up.

“Wait, I have one last thing,” he said, standing and disappearing into the other room.

I frowned, confused, as he returned with a small envelope in hand.

“What is this?” I asked as he handed it to me.

“Open it,” he urged, a playful but nervous glint in his eyes.

I carefully tore open the envelope, and my breath caught as I pulled out two plane tickets.

My eyes widened as I read the destination: Maldives.

“Lando… are you serious?” I asked, my voice trembling with disbelief.

He grinned. “You’ve always said you wanted to go. So, I booked us a two-week stay. Just you and me. No distractions.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at him, overwhelmed.

“You didn’t have to do this…”

“Yes, I did,” he said firmly, pulling me into his arms.

“I’ll do anything to make you happy, Y/N. Anything.”

I hugged him tightly, burying my face in his chest.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“I love you too,” I replied, my voice muffled but sincere.

We settled back into the couch, cuddled up together, the weight of the past few weeks finally lifting.

After a long silence, I broke it with a playful smile.

“If you ever neglect me like that again, I’m breaking up with your ass,” I teased.

Lando laughed, his arms tightening around me. “Fair enough. But don’t worry, I won’t. Not ever again.”

And for the first time in weeks, I believed him.

The end

[darkmatilda]

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when you find out spencer has never been to new york you decide to do everything you can to make him fall in love with the city that raised you. and maybe, just maybe, fall in love with you too.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: early seasons spencer reid x bau!female reader, reader is kinda tough, description of the case (stalking), spencer is so blind you'll want to kick him, idiots in love

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 9k

𝐚/𝐧: this is a request i got from @written-in-the-stars06 ! thank you for this amazing idea <3 i hope it meets your expectations (even if only a little)

"JJ, I need your help."

The blonde woman froze in the doorway.

"Did you kill someone?" she asked after a moment. And though she seemed surprised, her voice had already adjusted to the situation, lowering into a conspiratorial whisper. As if signaling her readiness to help hide a body. A friend in crime is a friend indeed.

Or however it goes. 

If your eyebrows competed in the Olympic high jump, they’d win a gold medal.

"What? How did you even…wait, is that seriously the first thing that crossed your mind when you saw me?" You watched as your friend shrugged. Her posture relaxed slightly, and the corner of her mouth twitched upward at the sight of your expression. "Anyway, never mind. Are you going to let me in, or are we just going to stand here?"

For a moment, she studied you intently before stepping aside. You’d known she would; it was exactly why you’d come to her. You crossed into her apartment with heavy, restless steps, stopping only when you reached the living room—and only then realizing you hadn’t even taken off your coat.

Pressing a hand to your forehead, you turned to face JJ, whose worry was written all over her face.

“Well? Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

You inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself as you prepared to say the words out loud.

Words that felt absurd.

Words that had invaded your mind, refusing to let go.

Words you couldn’t decide whether to embrace or reject entirely.

“I’m in love.”

Silence filled the room. A soft, disbelieving snort escaped her lips, quickly morphing into loud, unabashed laughter.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“I’m not. Why? Is it really that strange for me to be in love?”

JJ snorted again, shaking her head from side to side.

“No. What’s strange is you storming into my apartment like a hurricane, nervous and… terrified, just to tell me you’re in love. Seriously, I thought something was wrong!”

“Because something is wrong,” you hissed through clenched teeth.

You weren’t angry—not at JJ, not at yourself, not at anyone. It was more… the weight of it all, the unfamiliar feelings that left you overwhelmed, spilling out in sudden bursts of frustration.

Your romantic life up until now had always existed on the fringes of your attention. Present, but without all the…symptoms. The dry throat whenever they were around, the inability to get them out of your head.

It all felt like something out of a sugar-coated entry in a teenager’s pink diary, not the mind of a grown woman.

“I’ll make you some tea,” JJ offered suddenly. The worry that had been etched on her face earlier was completely gone, replaced by genuine amusement at your behavior, visible in the soft smile tugging at her lips. “You’ll tell me everything. But now, take off that coat before you overheat…”

True to her word, fifteen minutes later, the two of you were sitting on the couch with steaming mugs of tea in your hands.

While JJ had been in the kitchen preparing it, doubts began to creep in. Was it really a good idea to tell anyone about this? About your…infatuation?

Even though you were friends, the whole thing made you feel a little pathetic. 

“So…” she began after a long moment of silence. “Are you going to say anything?”

You couldn’t find the right words. Instead of answering, you took a big sip of hot tea and winced as it burned your throat.

“Okay,” JJ sighed, setting her mug down on the table and folding her arms across her chest. “If you’re not going to, let me just guess.”

“Since when are you a psychic?”

“Not a psychic. Just someone who spends most of her life around profilers. That should be enough to figure out why my friend is acting so weird about a simple crush.”

“Can we please not call it a crush?”

“Love interest. Better?” You muttered not really but she completely ignored it and continued. “Let’s start with the fact that you came here. To me. Considering how private you are, it must mean you’re totally losing it over this. You seem confused, like you don’t know what to feel. You’re unsure whether they feel the same, so you don’t know what to do. And it doesn’t help that you’ve never had to chase anyone before. You’ve always been the one that guys chased after, not the other way around. And…” she hesitated, taking a breath. “The fact that you seem embarrassed, plus how much you work, leaving no time for dating, leads me to think… it’s probably someone from our team.”

With every sentence that left her lips, your hands tightened more around the mug. When she fell silent, your knuckles turned completely white. Everything she said was true.

"What should I do?" you asked quietly.

"Well, it would definitely be easier for me to advise you if you tell me who it’s about."

Instinctively, you shook your head. You didn’t want to reveal your feelings that much. Surprisingly, you weren’t worried that she would figure it out. After all, it wasn’t that obvious...

"Is it Spencer?"

"Fuck, is it really that obvious?" you blurted out in panic. If she could notice, who else could? The rest of the team? Reid himself?

JJ made a sound somewhere between a cough and a choked laugh.

"Actually, I was just going to randomly list all the options one by one," she said, then let out a short sigh, raising her eyebrows. "You surprised me a little. I mean, it's not that I think you two don’t fit together..."

You knew exactly what she meant. Your specialty at work was kidnappings, often handling negotiations and providing detailed instructions to the families of victims. You had learned to project an aura of calm control, and more often than not, you came across as stiff in the eyes of others. Something that had been pointed out to you multiple times in life, whether in jest or not. Reid, in many ways, was your complete opposite. While you surrounded yourself with a shield of silence due to stress, his mouth never seemed to stop. While you marched forward with apparent indifference, he seemed genuinely interested in everything happening around him, every tiny process on this planet. And maybe that was what fascinated you most about him? Or perhaps it was more about his extraordinary mind, knowing the answer to every question that ever drifted through your thoughts? Or how effortlessly he could make you laugh? Or maybe it was the ease with which you could gently tug at the edge of that serious mask, always settled upon your face, and lift it just enough to let a certain lightness slip inside? To breathe?

"You should just invite him somewhere," JJ snapped you out of your thoughts.

"I tried," you said, wincing slightly at the memory of that failed attempt. Well, not entirely failed...

"Are you talking about how you asked in the office, in front of everyone, if anyone would like to go to the movies with you on Friday, and almost everyone volunteered?" she asked, amused. "That's not how you ask someone out on a date!"

"What else was I supposed to do? Walk up and ask if he wants to go to the movies with me?"

JJ blinked.

"Yes? Exactly like that? I mean, that’s how it usually goes. I don’t know what’s so weird about it for you."

"I’m just not made for this," you blurted out, pressing your lips together. "I can’t stand the thought that he might say no, because maybe he’s not interested in me. Not like I am in him."

"No offense, but you're such a hopeless case," she sighed heavily. "In that case, you need to find out. Invite him somewhere, not necessarily on a date, just a casual hangout. Spend some time together and you'll find out if he likes you."

"What if he doesn't?"

"What if he does?"

After a moment of silence, you managed to smile weakly.

"Maybe you're right," you said, emphasizing the first word. And before saying anything else, you nodded, as if giving yourself courage. "I'll give it a try."

*

Well, you didn’t get a chance to put that plan into motion.

Work didn’t slow down for even a moment, throwing you back onto the jet with your team, deep in discussion about everything uncovered so far regarding the unsub and the victims. Hardly the right time to ask someone on a date.

As usual, the case file commanded your full attention, isolating you from the buzz of conversation around you. You always needed a moment to absorb and analyze the details on your own. The voices of your teammates reached your ears faintly, their words blending into background noise—until one particular sentence jolted your brain awake, cutting through like a baseball slicing the air.

"You’ve never been to New York?" you asked, directing the question to Spencer, seated beside you, shoulder to shoulder.

All eyes turned to him. Startled by the attention, he gave a small shrug and absently picked up the deck of cards from the table, the ones you’d been playing with before the discussion began.

“We’ve never had a case there before,” he admitted simply. 

You closed the folder, and the slight breeze it caused swept a few cards off the table from the game you’d been playing earlier.

“Why am I only now finding out that you’ve never, ever, ever been to New York?” you asked, shaking your head in disbelief. He furrowed his brows, clearly surprised by your emotional reaction.

“I grew up there,” you added.

“And why am I only now finding out that you grew up in New York?” he mimicked your earlier tone. Rolling your eyes, you tried to swat him with the folder, but he deftly dodged it.

“Seriously though, you never told me,” he said.

“Don’t worry, man,” Morgan chimed in from across the table. “She never told me, either. In fact, I’d bet she never told any of us.”

You raised your hands in a defensive gesture.

“None of you ever asked.”

"Does that bother you?" Reid asked, his gaze fixed on you, intense and unwavering. A strand of his slightly too-long hair had slipped out from behind his ear. You had the sudden urge to reach out, tuck it back where it belonged, away from his line of sight. "That I’ve never been there?"

"Of course not," you assured him with a quick huff of laughter. "You just have a lot—and I mean a lot—to catch up on."

"If only I knew someone who knew the city well," he sighed dramatically. "Someone who, for example, grew up there and kept that fact a secret for as long as we know each other. Someone who could show me around..."

"You’d want me to show you around?" The words escaped your mouth a little too quickly, a little too eagerly. Your mind flashed back to your conversation with JJ, to her suggestion that you should invite him somewhere. You’d been too nervous to ask outright, but this? Showing him around the city was a perfect excuse to spend time together!

You felt like an evil mastermind rubbing your hands together in triumph over a new invention that could turn half of humanity into rubber ducks. Quickly, you shook your head, trying to mask the disproportionate excitement now threatening to take over your face. 

"I mean, if we had the time. Who knows how demanding this case might end up being."

"Right," he admitted. Some flicker of emotion crossed his face—a flash of something unplaceable. Could it have been a disappointment? 

He cleared his throat, a soft, tentative smile tugging at his lips. "But if it turns out we do have time... I’d be very happy if you’d show me a few places."

You couldn’t hold back any longer and allowed yourself a brief smile.

“But just so we’re clear,” you began after a moment, your tone carrying a seriousness that didn’t quite match the expression on your face. “I wasn’t keeping it a secret. Just no one ever asked me!”

Spencer let out a small snort at that.

"You know, I think you're the type of person who could go over a decade without revealing your name just because no one bothered to ask..."

“Are you done with discussing your secrets? Could we get back to focusing on the case?” Hotch’s voice suddenly cut in, sharp and calm, as he glanced at the two of you over the top of his file.

In perfect unison, you both turned toward him, sitting straighter than ever. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Reid’s gaze for one more fleeting moment.

He wanted you to show him around.

Of course, that didn’t automatically mean he liked you. But it felt like it brought you a step closer to figuring out if there was even the smallest, most microscopic chance that he might feel the same way.

That hopeful thought was quickly chased by doubts—what if he didn’t?

You knew such thoughts would haunt you, tormenting and humiliating you in the quiet moments you were alone with yourself. So, you resolved not to dwell on them for the duration of your time in New York. Instead, you would focus on one thing —making him fall in love with the city where you’d grown up, the city that still held your heart even years after you’d left.

The discussion about the case had ended, but despite that, you continued to carefully examine the files. Well, not exactly them. On the back of the last page, a blank piece of paper, you started writing with the pen you had pulled out of your jacket pocket all the places you could take Spencer. You drifted through memories, trying to recall those places you had visited with your parents, the ones you had gone to with friends after school, the places you were taken on dates...

You crossed them all out. You doubted a sandwich bar would impress him. You didn’t know how many chances you’d have to go anywhere, so you had to aim for something really special. Maybe something that fit more with his interests. A museum? Or something more characteristic of the neighborhood where you’d be staying. A walk on the Brooklyn Bridge?

You felt someone’s gaze on you. You snapped the folder shut as if you had been caught doing something and saw Morgan staring at you with a slightly mocking smile on his lips.

"If you’re playing a tour guide, maybe you’d like to show me around too?" he asked.

You leaned slightly over the table, your face expressionless.

"I’m sure if you ask Garcia nicely, she’ll find you a guide online. At a good price."

"And here she is. The Ice Queen back in shape. Tell me, how’s it that just fifteen minutes ago you were acting completely differently?"

Amused, he shook his head, leaving you with the unsettling thought that maybe it really was that obvious.

*

“Alright. I’m a serial killer and a rapist. I stalk my victims by placing cameras in their apartment. Where do I hide them to get a good view of everything, but at the same time, make sure they're not noticed?”

"Reid, I’m begging you, never say something like that out loud again."

You and Spencer had been sent to the apartment of one of, unfortunately, many victims. All of them had been attacked in their own homes, with no visible signs of forced entry. That was the first puzzling element of this case. The second were the emails Garcia had found in each of the women’s inboxes. Emails suggesting they had been watched for a long time.

You made my favorite pasta for dinner. You should wear the red dress, sweetheart. Actually, who are you planning to meet?

The very thought of someone watching you in your own home sent a shiver down your spine.

“Apologies,” he muttered. “But I’m not under arrest, am I?”

“Who knows? It’d make for some interesting headlines. Or for the title of a true-crime documentary about you. FBI Agent on a Dark Path of Crime…”

“It’s Doctor.”

“My eternal apologies. Does mistaking your title also come with a sentence?”

“Well, we probably wouldn’t be sharing a cell, but maybe we’d run into each other in the cafeteria a few times.”

"I can't wait." You wandered around the apartment, peeking into every spot that came to mind. Since your back was turned to him, he couldn’t see the corners of your mouth curling upward. “You check the bathroom, alright? I don’t even want to imagine where that creep might have hidden a camera. I’ll be terrified to shower in my own place.”

Spencer gave a mock salute, as if you’d just given him an order. Well, in your tone, even polite requests rarely left room for refusal. But before he disappeared into the small bathroom with green-tiled walls, he paused for a moment, his fingers brushing the doorframe.

“That was a joke, right?” he asked, his voice shifting from light to soft and slightly concerned.

You turned toward him, arms crossed over your chest, not entirely sure what he meant.

“I mean…” he started, briefly scratching his forehead. “I just hope you’re not getting too involved in this case. I mean, you are, but not to the point where… where you’re scared afterward. Of being home alone. Taking a shower or…Does that even make sense?”

"That’s..." you began, trying your hardest not to say that’s sweet. The hint of concern that had flickered across his face, present in the way his eyes lingered on you. The fact that your offhand comment had moved him enough to bring it up at all. “Yeah, that does make sense. You know, considering all these women were my age and lived alone, just like me, it does feel a little personal. But don’t worry, I won’t let it stop me from maintaining proper hygiene.”

You tried to steer the conversation away from the unexpected seriousness, to shake off the weight that had suddenly settled over it. Well, you didn’t quite succeed. Spencer didn’t look particularly convinced—or amused. He gave a slight nod, barely noticeable and likely unconscious.

“I just wanted to make sure. That it’s not getting to you. Not… too much,” he clarified. His words grew tangled again. He dropped his gaze to the doorframe, as if contemplating whether to knock his forehead against it. “I’ll check the bathroom.”

You had spent far too long staring at the door behind which he had disappeared. Only shaking your head helped you force yourself to return to work. The victim's apartment wasn't huge; the living room, kitchen, and bedroom were all part of one room. You stopped by the kitchen area, where a large bowl on the counter still contained fresh fruit. Right next to it lay the apartment key, and although you should have been looking for cameras, you hesitantly picked it up. There was no keychain attached to it, nor was it part of a set of several other keys, as people usually did to keep from losing them. A number of disordered conclusions and theories crossed your mind, even though it was just a key, not a significant piece of evidence or something that shouldn't be there. Maybe the apartment's owner had lost the keys not long ago and had had one copied just before her disappearance, which would explain the lack of wear on it.

That lost set might have ended up in the wrong hands. Or it might not have been lost at all, but stolen.

Absentmindedly, you turned it in your hands, your gaze wandering across your surroundings. A very small space, with a real brick wall on one side and a shelf of dishes above the sink. You knew that the camera had to be somewhere in here, after all, one of the emails had referred to a meal cooked by the victim. Eventually, you stopped at a green plant on the shelf, just beside a stack of clean plates. It was artificial, meaning the victim didn't need to water it, which meant it probably hadn't been paid much attention to, and that meant it was a good hiding spot for a hidden camera.

You parted the leaves and took the small black device in your hand.

Instead of calling Spencer, who was still in the bathroom, you tilted your head back and with a sigh, headed toward the balcony doors, feeling a slight ringing in your ears. It was awful. The very thought of being watched in your own apartment, a place where you should feel safest, for an unknown amount of time.

You leaned against the black railing of the small balcony, which was probably there only because of the fire escape stairs running along the entire building. You just needed to breathe in some fresh air, spend literally a minute outside, but as soon as you looked ahead, that minute started turning into minutes.

After you arrived in New York, you immediately got to work on the case; there had been no time for nostalgic sighs over familiar streets.

You tore your gaze away from them only when someone’s silhouette appeared beside you, turned sideways to face you.

“Two cameras in the bathroom,” Spencer announced. As per your earlier request, he didn’t say exactly where they were placed, and after his words, a moment of silence fell.

You tried your hardest to ensure that no grimace passed across your face. You considered it unprofessional, getting too emotionally involved in the investigation, imagining yourself in the victim's place. But apparently, it even happened to the best of them.

“You really value your privacy, don’t you?”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, stopping yourself from rolling them.

"Are you still dwelling on what I said earlier? I'm fine, Spencer."

"I’m only dwelling on what I’ve noticed a long time ago," he said, ignoring your dismissive response. "Well, and also making sure you’re okay. But what I really mean is that you don’t talk much about yourself. I only just found out today that you grew up here. I’m not saying this in a bad way, I get that you might not want to tell me everything about yourself…"

"It’s not about you," you interrupted him, finally turning so you were fully facing him. You once again took note that the balcony was really small. You realized how close you were standing. The closeness that made honesty a bit more necessary. The closeness that made you swallow more often from the dryness in your throat. You cleared your throat, wanting to clarify your somewhat vague words. "I mean, it’s not like I have a problem telling you about me, it’s just… I don’t know, I’ve always been like this. I never really know what’s worth sharing and what’s not. I’ve always been better at listening to what others have to say."

Reid listened to your words with understanding written on his face. You had the feeling that he had become a little bit lighter. He glanced briefly at the railing, and when he looked back at you, he squinted against the sunlight that was streaming onto the balcony.

"I was a bit worried that your silence was because it tires you how much I can talk," he admitted, his tone betraying a hint of hesitation.

You almost let out a laugh.

"It’s actually quite the opposite, trust me."

With those words, you turned back towards the city, trying to avoid his gaze.

"I like listening to you," you added quietly.

You thought he wouldn't add anything more. That you'd both remain frozen for another prolonged moment on this balcony, with the cameras you'd found tucked into your pockets and the looming return to work on the case. That you'd step back inside the apartment, letting the chill in your cheeks fade along with their faintly rosy hue.

"And I..." he began, nervously shifting his grip on the railing. "I really like talking to you."

You strained your memory, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't recall any other day at work when you'd smiled so many times.

“The rest is probably still in the other victims’ apartments,” you stated cautiously, recalling the locations of those places. Speaking each word slowly helped you build the courage to voice the spontaneous idea that had just come to you. “We’ve found what we were looking for. Hotch hasn’t called us yet, so I guess we’re free. Are you...are you maybe hungry?”

*

Your knees had brushed against each other.

“Sorry,” Spencer muttered immediately, shifting his chair back slightly.

You pretended to be preoccupied with surveying the interior of the café. To be fair, there was a lot to take in. The décor defied categorization, with every wall covered in a different material and painted a different color. One wall was entirely obscured by an antique bookshelf. From what you could tell, the mismatch extended to the furniture; no two chairs were alike. Some were made of different types of wood, others upholstered in leather, and one even spun on a swivel.

In short, the place looked like the kind of room you’d stumble into during a fever dream—where two chubby cats braid your hair while you have a very serious conversation with a purple teapot trying to convince you to take out a loan at its bank. And somehow, none of it feels the least bit strange. In fact, you’d wake up from the dream genuinely considering the loan.

One of your hands rested on your knee, the same one his had accidentally grazed. You tapped your fingers lightly on it, keeping rhythm with the pop song playing faintly in the background. The other hand was tucked beneath your chin in a classic thinker’s pose. Except, instead of contemplating the mysteries of the universe or arriving at profound insights, you were solely focused on one pressing question: Who on earth decided to use such narrow tables? Tables that constantly forced you to be hyper-aware of the risk of touching his leg. Again.

“There used to be a sandwich bar here,” you said, tearing the croissant apart with your fingers. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t even consider that anything could have changed. Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Spencer assured you. “Actually, I didn’t realize how much I needed coffee until I caught the smell. Did you come here often?”

“All the time,” you admitted briefly.

You noticed him looking at you with a hint of amusement, which made you furrow your brows.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he replied dismissively, turning the cup in his hands. “It’s just…I remembered what we were talking about earlier, and I thought this might be one of those things worth sharing.”

“Alright,” you said, rolling your eyes, though there wasn’t an ounce of irritation in the gesture. “I used to come here with my friends literally every Friday. It was cheap and relatively close to our school, and none of us had a driver’s license yet, so we walked everywhere, complaining about sweaty people on the subway. Do you think that piece of information is going to be useful to you in any way? Was it worth sharing?”

“Well, believe it or not, I absolutely do,” he chuckled. “Besides, you never know which piece of information might come in handy someday.”

You summed it up with another roll of your eyes, but a soft smile remained stubbornly on your lips. You were genuinely pleased with yourself for breaking the ice and inviting him somewhere, even if at any moment this brief reprieve could be interrupted by a call from your boss, demanding your immediate return. JJ had been right. All it took was just doing it.

“I promised to show you around a bit, remember?” you asked. Having scored a small victory, you decided to keep the momentum going and suggest taking him to a truly special place.

“The offer hasn’t expired, right?”

“It doesn’t have an expiration date. It just depends on, well, our work. I doubt we’ll be able to visit many places. So I’ve made…” you hesitated, unsure if you should admit to spending two full hours obsessively considering where you could take him and even writing it down in the case files. “I’ve thought it through and picked out a few key ones. Places I think you’ll like. So, whenever we have time, maybe in the evening… though no, some of them might be closed then…”

"Places you think I might like?" Spencer interjected gently. You stopped, surprised, unsure why he focused on that particular part of your sentence. "What about the ones that are important to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." he trailed off, making some vague gesture with his hand. "I was curious about the places you used to visit when you lived here. The ones that meant something to you. Are they on the list, too?"

You didn’t need to physically glance at the list; you had it memorized entirely and knew they weren’t on it. You had chosen the places solely with him in mind—his interests and your desire to impress him. You cleared your throat.

“We don’t have much time,” you gently reminded him. “I wanted to show you the really important places. The highlights of New York or something that would stick in your memory. Not some sandwich bar that, by the way, doesn’t even exist anymore, or a drive-in theater...”

“A drive-in theater?”

“You know, you drive up to a spot and watch a movie being projected. I absolutely loved it, really, but it doesn’t matter because there’s no way we could arrange something like that now.” you explained, your thoughts oddly lingering on the idea of spending time with him in a similar way. "God, I didn’t expect being a tour guide to be this hard. Not only do we barely have time for anything I planned, but my client keeps complaining the whole time..."

"Okay, fine, sorry," he raised his hands in a defensive gesture, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. "Apologies for wanting to spend time the way you would enjoy. What a jerk I am."

"Exactly, you should be ashamed. I’ll add it to your bill," you teased, taking a sip of your coffee, which you’d completely forgotten about. It had gone cold during your conversation.

"And now, completely seriously," Spencer began again, the sarcastic expression disappearing from his face as he looked at you with genuine interest, those brown eyes steady and curious. "I’ll let you take me anywhere you want. So, what places did you pick?"

You were internally excited to finally tell him about them.

But then, your phone rang.

*

The rest of the day was intense and entirely consumed by the investigation. Unfortunately, you didn’t uncover anything that could genuinely bring you closer to catching the perpetrator. In fact, you didn’t even have a profile yet.

Each of you felt a bit disheartened by the lack of progress. After all, every passing day meant a greater risk that another victim could be harmed in her own home. It was even more unsettling knowing that some woman was likely being stalked at that very moment.

Still, despite the mediocre morale and mounting exhaustion, you managed to summon enough energy and resolve to visit one particular place.

You were just returning from there, walking one behind the other down the narrow hallway of the hotel where you'd been stationed. You could feel Spencer's presence and hear his footsteps just behind you. In your mind, you stubbornly tried to figure out what you should say before you both retreated to your respective rooms.

There was a certain lightness in you, brought on by the release of tension through a pleasant evening, but also a heaviness caused by the weight of your feelings. It had been nice. It had been... wonderful. Yet, it hadn’t brought you any closer to knowing whether he liked you.

Maybe you should talk to JJ again.

You stopped suddenly, hearing Spencer let out a quiet sigh as he almost bumped into your back. You turned on your heel, slowly, feeling a dryness creep into your throat.

Spencer was standing just in front of you, his gaze shifting uncertainly between your face and the floor. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but immediately closed it, lost in thought. You pressed your lips into a thin line, determined to wait for whatever he might want to say.

“Where are you two coming from at this hour?”

The door to the room next to you suddenly swung open, and Morgan’s head poked out, a smirk plastered across his face as he looked at the two of you.

You both exchanged a brief glance before locking your eyes on him. The sudden presence of another person, standing in front of you with his arms crossed and curiosity in his gaze, made it painfully clear how close you had become to each other.

The most awkward thing you could possibly do now was to step away from each other. And, well, that’s exactly what Spencer did.

You didn’t even flinch, glancing briefly at your colleague.

“From the library,” you replied.

It was the truth. In a compromise between places that might interest him and those that were important to you, you had ended up there. And not just any library, but the largest one in the entire district.

As soon as the thought crossed your mind, a warmth spread inside you. The warmth of walking among the shelves, barely catching glimpses of each other’s faces through the surrounding orange light of the lamps fighting to dominate over the engulfing shadows. The warmth of your clumsy attempts to focus on the environment, not on Spencer’s face, which was so mesmerized as he studied the books. His brow slightly furrowed, hair escaping from its place and falling across his face. Eyes fixed on one spot, pupils stretching across the entire surface of his irises, creating two truly hypnotizing points on his face, which you struggled to avoid staring into.

“From the library at night?” Morgan repeated, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “I knew you were a nerd, Reid, but you… I’m really disappointed in you.”

“Oh no, how will I survive this?” you scoffed. You saw Spencer briefly smile as well. “Anyway, goodnight, my dear coworkers. See you tomorrow.”

With those words, you made your way to your room, feeling somewhat like an escapee.

You knew that there were only a few hours of sleep left, and you needed to at least function a bit in the morning, so you immediately headed for the shower, grabbing something to change into on the way. Two things were on your mind. Was Morgan still torturing Spencer with questions in the hallway? And did Spencer enjoy your time together as much as you did?

As you analyzed your interactions with him, you realized there was an awkwardness you hadn’t noticed before. You never realized that awkwardness could be sweet. You’d always seen it as a purely negative feeling, something that caused embarrassment. But it could also make your heart race and cause your breathing to quicken. And dizziness, when you tried to control it all.

You felt like you had regressed to your high school days. You almost wanted to run to your friend and excitedly tell her all about the evening. For a moment, you even considered it, but JJ was probably already asleep.

You stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, and when you pulled on a tank top and some loose pajama pants, you started gathering the clothes you’d worn earlier that day. As you lifted your pants, something small fell out of the pocket and clinked as it hit the floor.

A single key.

It took you a moment to realize that you must have accidentally taken it from one of the victims' apartments. Back when you discovered the hidden camera in the plant, you must have mindlessly shoved it into your pocket. A nervous pang of anxiety shot through your chest. You shouldn’t have taken anything from that place. Another sharp pang followed quickly after, as the sight in front of your eyes suddenly blurred, and something started to form in your mind.

At first, it was a shy thought. But almost immediately, it became a thought that needed to be discussed. Because it could push the investigation forward.

You rushed into the hallway before even deciding where to go. There, you turned in circles, unsure of what to do. This wasn’t an idea that warranted waking Hotch; honestly, you would’ve felt foolish going to him in the middle of the night with just a flicker of an insight in your head. So you thought of someone else—sharp in the way you needed, incredibly intelligent, and probably still awake, since you had just parted ways a mere fifteen minutes ago.

You knocked on Spencer's door.

“I have a theory,” you announced, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

His face registered surprise at the sight of you at this hour, his hand—still rubbing sleep from his eye—froze in place before dropping to his side. He must’ve just been lying down.

“A theory about what?” he asked, his voice a little rough with sleep.

Quite a pleasant rasp. Wait, no, refocusing…

“About who built the pyramids in Giza,” you huffed, the potential solution to the case accompanied by a little stress, and stress, for you, always came out in the form of a biting sarcasm as soon as you opened your mouth.

You slipped past him, effectively inviting yourself inside. Spencer was too surprised to step aside in time, so you inadvertently brushed against his side. Well, you didn’t want to have this conversation in the hallway, for fear that your voices would attract Morgan or anyone else.

“Well, it’s not really a secret, despite what some people like to think,” Spencer started, closing the door behind you and turning uncertainly toward you. His gaze quickly darted to you, sweeping over your body. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to focus. He must’ve been sleepy, and it probably wasn’t coming easily. “The construction of those monumental structures required the labor of many workers…”

“I have a theory about the case.”

You didn’t really think it would need further clarification. Without fully controlling your movements, you collapsed onto his bed, sitting at the edge. Suddenly, the confidence you had felt in the bathroom vanished.

He didn’t sit down, instead standing in front of you, his hands constantly shifting position. At one moment, they were crossed over his chest, and then, after a brief pause, he dropped them back to his sides. His gaze seemed restless too—almost strange. Sometimes it dropped to you, but then quickly changed direction, as though he was trying to find the right exit off a roundabout before giving up and returning to the starting point. That is, back to you. But you were too lost in your own thoughts to wonder what it was about your appearance that so intensely drew his gaze.

"Okay," he said slowly, coughing into his clenched fist to clear the roughness in his voice. "Okay. I guess that's a good thing. What's the theory? Do you need to talk it through?"

“That’s why I came here,” you replied, taking in a little more air than necessary, trying to logically connect the scattered conclusions that had formed in your mind. “Listen, it might turn out that what I’m saying makes absolutely no sense. But it might also turn out that it does have some logic to it. I want you to tell me which of these options you think is true. So... I couldn’t stop thinking about that key in the victim’s apartment, the one we were in. It looked brand new, like it had just been made. At first, I thought maybe she’d lost the old one somewhere. It ended up in the wrong hands. The unsub’s hands. That would explain how he got inside without leaving any signs of forced entry. But that would make sense if there had only been one victim. There were many, though, and it’s impossible for each one of them to have lost their keys recently. Unless they were stolen. Or maybe it was the loss of the keys that led to them becoming victims in the first place.”

The biggest mystery that had come up on your team’s path was how the unsub was even choosing his victims. They were all around the same age, all women, and lived alone. Other than that, they were completely different. They lived in different places, looked nothing alike, had different professions, and were of different races.

“So…” you continued, searching his face for any sign. Any trace of understanding, a hint that he was connecting the dots. Some confirmation. But Spencer just stood there, motionless, looking like he was only half present, his gaze fixed on you.

“I came to what might be...a bit of a bold conclusion. Maybe the unsub works as someone who makes spare keys. People come to him, including women. He picks the ones that fit his preferences, makes himself a copy, and that’s how he gets in to install hidden cameras. And then... well, to…” You paused, noticing his unwavering stare. “What? What are you looking at me like that for? Do you think I’m talking nonsense?”

He looked like he had suddenly snapped out of some daydream. He shook his head, scratching his chin, and taking a step in place, all of these actions flowing together in an incoherent, chaotic manner.

“I don’t think so,” he said after a moment. “It’s... interesting, and…you know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you in something other than a formal outfit.”

Your eyebrows shot up. That was the last thing you expected him to say. While he had been fidgeting earlier, now he stood completely still. It was true, you usually dressed quite elegantly, not just for work. But you didn’t know why it seemed to impress him so much.

You didn’t know until you looked down and remembered your top. The one hastily thrown on, with a deep neckline. Seriously, was that really all about it? 

You sighed in disbelief and stood up from the bed.

"Sure," you let out a biting chuckle, though, despite not wanting to admit it to yourself, you could feel a tingling sensation creeping under your skin. "Tell a guy about your breakthrough discovery, and he won't even listen, too busy staring at your boobs."

You took two steps toward the door, but Spencer blocked your way, grabbing your forearm.

“Th-that's not what I meant!” he stammered in an unusually high-pitched tone, his wide eyes reflecting panic. Whether from your sudden reaction or the fact that you caught him.

His hand loosened its grip on your arm, just below your elbow, but he didn't let go. The way he held on brought you closer together, and the realization of how near you were, along with his face right in front of yours, stole the breath from your chest. You couldn't help but reflect on how everything so far had made you both close in proximity. First the narrow balcony where your shoulders almost brushed against each other, then the tiny table in the café where your knees kept knocking, even the way you accidentally brushed past him when you entered his room.

But this closeness wasn’t accidental. It was his doing, controlled by him, and, judging by the shock on his face after a quick glance, it seemed to surprise him as well.

He didn’t let go of you.

Instead, he focused his gaze on your face. You kept your head lowered, staring at his fingers gently holding your arm. You could hear him swallow softly before he spoke, his voice slightly raspy again, but this time not from sleep.

"I think your theory makes a lot of sense," he said. "And...it’s given me a lot to think about. It’s probably a man around forty years old. He works as a locksmith, using that job to gain access to his victims’ homes where he installs cameras. He sees these women as objects of his fantasies, and watching them provides him with some sort of fulfillment. His behavior stems from an unfulfilled need for closeness and control, which he can’t find in normal relationships. He’s socially inept, has low self-esteem, and a poor sense of self-worth. He writes to these women, idealizes them, sees them as his chosen ones, living in an alternate reality where he doesn’t see the boundary between fantasy and reality."

There was a moment of silence between you, as you analyzed the profile he had just presented.

"That's...impressive," you confessed slowly, still dazed by the sudden closeness, your gaze stubbornly avoiding his face.

"And that's all..." he began, but then suddenly stopped. The word simply dissolved in a hesitant, trembling way. You heard him take a deep breath. "And that's all while looking at your breast."

You suddenly lifted your head.

Never, not in a million years, did you think you’d find yourself in a situation where you’d hear such words coming from him. Your jaw slightly dropped, and a strange feeling spread through your stomach. You were not only shocked but also, in a way, on the verge of laughter because of the surprise on his face. It was as if he had said it by accident and didn't quite believe it himself. At the same time, something inside you tickled.

You let out a short sigh, sounding almost like a burst of laughter.

Spencer released your forearm, and as your silence dragged on, deep embarrassment began to consume his expression.

"Sorry...I don't know why I said that..."

You interrupted him by raising your hand.

"No," you said briefly, shaking your head slightly. "That was really impressive."

Confused, he studied your face. When you smiled, he hesitantly mirrored it, though he probably didn’t even know why—he was simply mimicking your expression.

Without turning back, you took two slow steps toward the door.

"You’ll have to present that profile to Hotch," you announced, resting your hand on the doorknob. Spencer still hadn’t moved, and his face bore a hard-to-decipher expression—part apology, part embarrassment, and part... something else. A certain spark.

Before stepping out and leaving him in that state, you glanced back at him one last time with a smirk.

"Just do me a favor and don’t mention the circumstances under which it was developed, alright?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, allowing himself one more smile—this time a genuine one.

"Trust me. I wasn’t planning on it.” 

*

Hotch stared at you for a moment in silence, and the corner of his mouth…twitched?! For the first time since you started working at the BAU, you managed to make your boss smile.

 It would be nice to know why.

The next day, thanks to the conclusions you and Spencer had reached in his room, you finally managed to catch the unsub. Your theory about the locksmith turned out to be correct. And when you realized it was Friday, a certain thought crossed your mind. You just needed to clear it with the boss. Well, actually, you only needed to inform him that you and one other team member wouldn't be on the jet that day. Taking advantage of the upcoming weekend, you decided to extend your stay in New York for one more day.

A day that you could spend however you wanted.

The idea came to you so spontaneously that you hadn’t even discussed it with Spencer yet, but you felt, you hoped, that he wouldn't surprise you by turning it down.

The only thing standing in your way was that mysterious smile on Hotch’s face.

“Is that a problem?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

He just shook his head, returning to his usual expression. Though it seemed slightly softer, or maybe it was just your impression.

“It’s not a problem,” he assured. “Reid actually asked me the same thing about ten minutes ago.”

*

“Just, for the record, don’t mention to anyone what we used the company car for,”

"Do you really think I'd go bragging to the office that we used an unmarked police car just to have a place to watch movies at a drive-in?"

He barely caught the bag of chips you tossed at him.

"Just making sure," you said, climbing into the back of the car.

Well, it was definitely a pastime much more popular in the summer, which is why there weren’t many other vehicles around. And also why you immediately curled up under your cozy blanket, claiming almost all of it for yourself. The only source of light in that peaceful spot was the large screen ahead of you, with the movie beginning. But even in the dim lighting, you could see him tilt his head and slightly pout.

You sighed and shared the blanket with him. Or rather, you moved closer enough that the fabric could cover both of you. You added it to the list of situations where, once again, you found yourselves in circumstances that somehow required physical contact. It made you wonder if, somewhere up there, some force was orchestrating the universe’s chessboard in such a way that these moments seemed to happen more often than not.

Of course, not that it bothered you.

While you were still struggling with the blanket, trying to find the most comfortable position, Spencer told you a little about the awards that Roman Holiday had won.

“Sorry if I’m disturbing you,” he suddenly said.

“I told you, I like listening to you,” you reminded him, turning your face slightly toward his.

Finally, everything was perfect. The blanket wrapped around you in the most comfortable way, you could lean your back against the trunk and your shoulder against his. He was there.

“Yeah, but the movie just started.”

“I’ve seen it,” you announced. Somehow, you couldn’t take your eyes off his profile, even though all you could see was the outline of his jaw and nose, and the barely noticeable glint in his eye. “And I really like it. But just so you know, I didn’t pick it just to... you know.”

“Know what?”

“It’s a romantic comedy.”

He turned toward you, and you saw him flinch slightly, realizing that your gaze had been on him for quite some time. Spencer gave a slight shake of his head, furrowing his brows in confusion. You could have easily brushed it off, accepted that he didn’t understand what you meant. Probably, with anyone else, you would have. But you noticed that the more time you spent with him, the surprisingly more talkative you became. So, you continued without thinking too much about your words.

“What I mean is, I didn’t pick this movie to fit a date. It just so happens that today…”

“Is this a date?” he blurted out.

You stiffened completely, not just because of his question, but because of the genuine surprise in his voice. You wanted to ask, isn’t this a date? but your lips refused to open. Instead, you just stared at him motionless for a moment, hoping he might laugh it off.

After the conversation in his room, after he decided to stay one more day in New York for you, after you both chose to watch the movie just the two of you…Officially, neither of you had called it a date, but you had assumed that deep down, you both saw it that way. Apparently, you were wrong.

"The movie has already started," you muttered, nodding toward the screen. It had begun some time ago, but you had no idea how to change the topic. You had to do it because of the growing sense of embarrassment consuming you from the inside.

 You had told him you thought it was a date. It was like telling him you liked him. Which, in fact, was true, but you didn’t want him to be aware of it, especially since he didn’t feel the same!

“Hey,” he suddenly began, his voice a little strained. You pretended not to hear, staring at the screen. Spencer sighed and leaned forward to block your view of it, forcing you to look at him. His eyes nervously searched your face, you saw him swallow. “Is this a date for you?”

You wanted to push him away for asking the same question again.

"It doesn’t matter," you replied. Your tone was sharp but not aggressive. It was the same tone you used most days at work to make it clear to others that you expected to be treated with respect and that the situation or case you were working on was serious. "If this isn’t a date for you, then it isn’t a date. End of story. Can you move? I can’t see…”

“But I…” he began, not moving an inch. His forehead remained furrowed, and his brows slightly lowered over his eyes—genuine, still somewhat surprised eyes, trying to connect with yours. Finally, under their silent pressure, you gave in and looked at him. Spencer’s expression softened. "I didn't even dare to hope that this was a date!"

Something—some feeling—clung tightly to your shoulders, pulling them both forward, toward him, and backward, against the wall of the trunk.

“You’re only saying that to spare me from feeling awkward. And so we don’t have to spend the next few hours… the next day in an unbearably embarrassing atmosphere,” you stated, genuinely believing those words to be true. “Which I’m probably not making any easier. Maybe we should just forget it…”

 “Do you wish this was a date?” he asked, and you barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, you did. You wanted to scream it into his beautiful face. Spencer exhaled loudly. “Because I’d want it to be. I really would.”

You lingered in a moment of suspension, unable to decide whether to believe him. Your job had taught you not to always trust words. Just words.

 “Prove it,” you said softly but firmly.

Deep down, you didn’t know what you expected. And neither did Spencer, standing opposite you. Like you, he didn’t move at all. Only subtle changes flickered across his expression. Another crease formed on his forehead as he tried to decipher what lay behind your words. After a long moment, during which neither of you seemed to breathe, his gaze dropped to your lips. That’s when he understood.

You knew he was going to kiss you. You waited for it, ready to meet him, to gently place your hand on his cheek and feel the warmth of his lips against yours. You waited to sweep away the lingering question mark hanging above you both with one decisive motion, replacing it with a firm period.

Was this a date?

It was a date.

Spencer placed his hand under your chin, holding it close to him. Preventing you from pulling away when he momentarily broke the kiss. You saw the smooth flutter of his eyelashes as he shifted his sparkling gaze from your lips to your eyes.

“Sorry,” he rasped.

You couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“Are you apologizing for kissing me?” you asked, raising your eyebrows slightly.

He shook his head, a fleeting smile appearing on his face as well.

“I’m sorry for sometimes being so stupid,” he replied. “About these things.”

You closed your eyes again, letting out a soft snort of laughter. Suddenly, all of it—this whole dance you had been performing around each other, the panic when you realized you liked him, and the fear that he wouldn’t feel the same—seemed utterly absurd. But that’s just how people are, isn’t it? Looking back at the past with a touch of pity.

"Let’s agree on this. We’re both complete idiots."

Spencer was silent for a moment, lost in thought.

“We were,” he corrected you.

"We aren’t anymore?” you asked.

He answered by placing another kiss on your lips.

taglist:

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@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch @trulymadlydarling @cynbx @penelopegarciaismygf

[wonderjanga]

Ms. Kent and Billy

it’s 1959 and it’s been a year ever since Billy got his powers. Life is good and he found out about a pie eating contest happening in some little town in Kansas called Smallville. If you were to win, you’d get a whole $100.

Billy: “A hundred whole dollars… I could get food for weeks- no, months with that!”

Martha(Ma Kent): *appeared behind him* “Are you gonna participate in the contest?”

Billy: *startles* “Uh… Yes?”

Martha: “Aren’t you a little skinny for that?”

Billy: “Wha- I’m not skinny! I don’t think I’m too skinny at least.”

Martha: *looks him up and down wondering if he’d let her cook a bunch of food for him* “Sure. Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Are you new to Smallville?”

Billy: “Yes. This is my first time here actually.”

Martha: “Oh? So you’re just here for the pie contest?”

Billy: “Yup. I’m gonna eat as much pie as I can, and then I’m gonna get the money.”

Martha: “Will you tell me if they’re good?”

Billy: “Sure? Why?”

Martha: “Cause me and my mom made all the pies for the competition!”

Billy: “Oh, that’s amazing!” *looks starstruck*

Martha: *sounds proud* “I know.”

Billy didn’t end up winning the competition. He actually ended up vomiting after his first pie because his little malnourished self couldn’t handle all of that. Martha was there though to clean him up with a rag. They got to know each other better after that and soon enough, Billy would transform into Marvel, fly over to Smallville, and hang out with her. Martha even got to know Freddy because he would sometimes fly over with Billy too. Then the time bubble happened and fast forward 50 years. Billy, after panicking about his entire life and everything he knows it being over, went to go see Martha, who was conveniently still near Smallville.

Billy: *knocks on the door*

Martha: “Coming!” *opens the door and looks around seeing no one*

Billy: “Down here.”

Martha: *looks down to Billy and pauses to stare*

Billy: “Heeeeeeeey Martha.” *awkward wave*

Martha continued to stare at him for a solid minute before she rubbed her eyes, and then rubbed them again for good measure.

Martha: “Billy…?”

Billy: “Martha…?”

Martha: “Oh- my… Oh my Gosh!” *kneels down so she can look him over even going as far as to pinch his little cheeks to make sure he’s real*

Billy: “Ow! Martha, stop!” *bats away her hands*

Martha: *keeps trying to pinch him aways* “Are you real?”

Billy: “Yes?”

Martha: *has seen too much nonsense due to Clark* “Well, if you’re the real Billy uhm… Where did we first meet?”

Billy: “A pie eating contest here?”

Martha: “Hmm… That might be too easy… What pies did I make for the contest?”

Billy: “Wha- I don’t know!? How am I supposed to remember that??”

Martha: “Okay… Too hard. How about you tell me something only you would’ve known about a fourteen year old me.”

Billy: “Like what?”

Martha: “Like something secret I told you.”

Billy: “Uhm… You had a crush on Elvis and said you wanted your future husband to be just like him?”

Martha: *stares before feeling herself cringe at her teenage self* “Okay, I’ll assume you’re the real Billy. Come in, bud.”

They caught up after that. They even decided to make pies together again. It was fun. You would just see them in the kitchen together talking about whatever, normally old lady stuff, and baking. Then, when Grandpa Kent came home…

Jonathan(Pa Kent): “Martha, I’m home!” *walks to the kitchen and pauses when he sees Billy and Martha*

Martha and Billy: *stare back at him*

Jonathan: “Martha is that an another grandbaby, clone, or cousin of Clark’s?”

Martha: “None of those. This is Billy. He’s a friend of mine.”

Jonathan: “Martha, you’re just befriending eight-year-olds now? Where are his parents?”

Billy: “They’re dead, mister! But don’t worry, me and Martha met back in ‘59. We go way back.”

Jonathan: *stares for a solid minute* “Wait a darn moment… were you caught up in all that Fawcett business?” *heard about it on the news*

Billy: “Yup!”

Martha: “What Fawcett business?”

That’s how Billy was led to explain the entirety of the time bubble and suspendium and all that. The Kents thankfully welcomed him with open arms. After this entire incident, Billy showing up to the farm was a regular occurrence. He could bake with Martha and help Mr. Jonathan out as much as he could on the farm. Then, one of the Kents other grandchildren showed up. (Billy was basically their grandbaby too, not that the Batson knew)

Jonathan: *trying to fix their tractor because it broke down for whatever reason*

Billy: *standing to the side, holding a toolbox and giving him tools whenever he asks*

Jon: *flies over from Metropolis* “Grandpa! Grandpa-” *does a double take when he sees Billy* “Wait, who’re you?”

Billy: “I’m Billy!”

Jonathan: “You heard him Jon. He’s Billy.”

Jon: *suddenly self-conscious of the fact that he’s flying in front of this kid and kinda just revealed his identity* “I’m uh… Jon.” *slowly floats down to land on the ground*

Billy and Jon: *stare at each other*

Jonathan: “Billy, can you pass me the diamond tip screwdriver?”

Billy: “Sure!” *passes it to him*

Yeah… Jon was a little confused as to who this random kid was. He was also a little confused as to why he refers to Jon’s grandpa has Mr. Jonathan but refers to Jon’s grandma as Martha. Did he live with grandma and grandpa? Is he another one of his dad’s cousins? Jon doesn’t think the boy’s a kryptonian but he might be wrong. Anyways, he’s making everything weird! Though it’s a sort of good kind of weird? His grandma is acting… younger? They also keep referencing things Jon has no idea about. (Late 50s pop culture) The kid- Billy, seems nice enough though. He has no problems playing with Jon so that’s awesome! Jon is so happy to have a friend away from home, but he’s still confused as to why Billy is at the farm.

Jon: “Dad, why do some people live on farms?”

Supes: “Because they’re farmers…?”

Jon: “No, but like what if they aren’t farmers, and they just help the farmers that are already there? Like one day they just showed up and decided to help around.”

Supes: “Well, I guess the closest thing you’re looking for would be a farmhand. Why are you asking?”

Jon: “Well, there’s this kid that lives with grandma and grandpa now-”

Supes: “WHAT?!”

Yeah, neither Ma Kent or Pa Kent have told Clark about this. It kind of slipped their minds.

Bonus interactions:

Before Pa Kent Came Home…

Billy: “Who’s that?” *looking at a photo of Pa and Ma Kent together*

Martha: “My husband.”

Billy: “Husband…?” *suddenly sad he missed a bunch of stuff from Martha’s life* “Oh…”

Martha: You sound upset. What’s wrong?

Billy: “Nothing.”

Twenty Years Ago When Clark Was Still a Kid…

Supes: Ma, who’s that? *looking at a photo of a nine year old Billy and a fourteen year old Martha*

Martha: “Oh, that’s Billy and I.”

Supes: “Who’s Billy?”

Martha: “An old friend of mine. He uhm… disappeared one day. I don’t know what happened to him.”

[notjustjavierpena]

Parents

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Merry belated Christmas from me! I know this is my second Christmas fic this time around but I finally got the courage to write about Wife’s awful parents. 

Summary: Javier puts his foot down during Christmas with your toxic family. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Toxic family dynamics, psychological abuse, childhood trauma, Christmas, conflict and confrontation, sobbing, declarations of love, hurt/comfort, body/fat shaming

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61942318

Parents

You get a call from your parents’ home number a few weeks before Christmas. Your mother and father haven't actually bothered seeing you since your wedding day last year but Lucas is four months old now and there’s suddenly a strange interest from them in being grandparents to your firstborn. Somehow, they talk you into spending Christmas with them and reassure you that they’ll take care of everything as long as you bring their grandson. The whole idea causes a ball of anxiety to settle in your stomach, almost imitating getting hit right in the solar plexus with how much your breath struggles to even out as you tell Javier about it. Your husband agrees reluctantly but not without raising a concerned brow, asking you several times - and with days between each time - if you are absolutely sure. 

He even asks you now as he parks the car in your parents’ driveway, looking at you with a serious expression, brows furrowed while you sit stiffly in the passenger seat. You glance towards the front door, trying to act casual as if you’re staring at a wild animal who might pounce if it notices your anxiety. It is an odd feeling you get, staring at your childhood home but feeling more as if it is the scene of a crime. This house is not a memory of warm and fuzzy feelings but rather a place of constant criticism and unjust pain. 

Javier says your name softly beside you. On the backseat, Lucas hiccups.

“Do I look okay?” You quickly ask instead of acknowledging the tone of his voice, fixing your hair without changing anything. 

“Yeah,” he answers and tries not to comment on your nerves, “You look beautiful, mi amor (my love).”

The call from two weeks ago had your shoulders tensing up before you even answered the phone but the way they had reasoned you into revisiting the place of your hardest years has made your shoulders not come down again. 

You sigh gently and unbuckle your seatbelt, “Okay. I can do this for just an afternoon. Let’s get this over with.”

You climb out of the car, Javier following you after carefully unbuckling Lucas and cradling him in one arm while balancing the diaper bag on the other shoulder. You leave his car seat, knowing how much easier it would have been to transport your son inside in it but Lucas has been fussy all night. You really wish he hadn’t because you don’t want to go inside with only half the energy that a good night’s sleep could have provided. 

As you ring the doorbell, you take a look at Javier one last time, “Please don’t interfere. I don’t want to make everyone uncomfortable.”

“Baby, are you sure that—“

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother exclaims when she opens the door with a syrupy smile, “We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“Sorry. Life with a baby and all,” you shake your head with an embarrassed chuckle and try to ignore the tension in your muscles, shrugging your coat off your shoulders to reveal your wine-red button-up and dark skirt. 

“Honey, I thought you knew we always dress up a little during the Holidays,” your mother says while glancing at your outfit with veiled disdain, “Where’s that nice blue dress? With the ribbons?”

“This is all that fits me right now, that isn’t maternity clothes,” you answer apologetically at the first jab of many. Beside you, Javier takes a step closer to you without saying anything. 

“Anyway! Where’s the little man?” Your mother chirps, already having moved on and looking to Lucas who has started stirring in Javier’s arms. When she gets closer, about to reach out to run a hand over his little head, Lucas immediately starts whimpering as if he is aware of the unpleasantries that his mother has had to endure at the mercy of this woman. He knows the culprits before they’ve even revealed themselves. 

“Oh, he’s a little fussy, isn’t he?” She laughs it off and retreats much to your relief, letting Javier bounce your son to make him settle down again. When he quietens down again, you share a glance with your husband who signals that everything is okay. You take a deep breath and let him handle the situation. 

“Where’s Dad?” You ask to turn your attention away from your crying child, smoothing out a nonexistent crease in your skirt. 

“I think he’s just about to get the turkey out of the oven,” your mother says, wagging a finger in Lucas’ face with a little smile, “Why don’t you go say hi and I talk to my grandson for a moment? Oh, look at you, Lucas! You’re just perfect, aren’t you?”

You reluctantly leave the three of them to head for the kitchen. You can feel each family photograph staring back at you as you walk through the hallway to your destination; a picture of your five-year-old self on a bike but somehow no picture of your graduation ceremony as if it has been decided where things went wrong before you could acknowledge it yourself. 

“Hey Dad, smells so good in here,” the kitchen does indeed smell wonderfully as you walk through the door. Your father looks at you over his shoulder, giving you a little smile and you try not to think about how he didn’t bother to come out to greet you. 

“Mom and I were wondering if you were ever coming,” he notes while plating pieces of turkey meat. In the hallway, you can hear Javier striking up polite conversation. He’s handling your mother with his usual calmness, and you feel grateful for his presence yet embarrassed that you aren’t strong enough to handle it yourself.

You shrug a little, Javier’s presence giving you the courage to try and mirror said calmness, “Newborns, you know.”

“He’s four months,” he corrects. 

“Right, time flies,” you reply with your confidence fading fast, the words coming out in a way that doesn’t quite carry the quick wit that Javier usually loves about you. You touch your arm, standing awkwardly by the counter, “Still figuring it out as we go.”

Your father doesn’t turn around, “Parenting’s not rocket science, you know. Your mother and I managed just fine without all the made-up nonsense you young people talk about these days.”

You jump a little as your mother puts a hand on your shoulder and says your name to get your attention. You look back at her, “Can you set the table? I put the tablecloth ready on the silverware cabinet.”

“Sure, Mom,” you smile, already heading for the dining room to escape from your father’s subtle judgments. You find Javier has already gone, an irrational thought popping into your head of how he has bolted and left you to deal with your mom and dad by yourself. 

You glance into the kitchen as you start placing the plates in each of their respective places, “Where’s Javier?”

“He went to get the presents from the car,” your mother replies from the kitchen. You hear her take out a serving bowl from a cabinet. 

“Oh, I should go help him wi—“ 

“He’s your husband, sweetie. Let him handle it. There’s no need to emasculate him like that,” she is suddenly in the doorway, staring you down in a way that makes your hands shake. Her gaze drops to the table and her brows furrow, “You’re using the wrong plates!”

You look up with a racing heartbeat, “What?”

She sighs your name audibly, “These aren’t the Christmas plates. We don’t use regular plates for special occasions. Honestly, I thought you’d know better.”

The words sting and you set down the plates you have been holding in case the littlest twitch will make you drop it onto the floor, “Sorry, Mom.” 

“Ah well, now you’ll never forget it,” she jokes without humor in her voice as she opens the door to the china cabinet, pulling out the plates adorned with what you recognize to be hand-painted holly. You shamefully realize you know them from childhood Christmases and that they are exactly where they’ve always been. 

Automatically, you gather the wrong plates to make room for the right ones. It’s Christmas, you remind yourself as you do it. It is one day. You can survive one day. 

“See? Isn’t this much better?” She says cheerfully when your mistake has been corrected and while you nod, Javier reenters the house. 

He joins the two of you, carrying a large gift bag in one hand and holding Lucas on the other arm. You immediately go to take him, doing a careful transfer until you can lay his tiny body against your shoulder while supporting his bottom. 

“¿Todo bien? (Everything okay?)” Javier asks quietly when you follow him into the living room where the tree stands. He sets down the bag and tries to act casual, laying out the gifts and waiting for your honest response in the meantime. Apparently, you haven’t been as successful in hiding the distress on your face as you thought you had. 

You force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes and Lucas starts whining again. You bounce him gently, “It’s nothing. Just… Christmas stuff.”

Javier glances toward the hallway to the kitchen where your parents’ voices can be heard faintly over the sounds of cooking. His jaw tightens slightly and his mouth becomes a thin line. 

“Don’t,” you say as firmly as you can muster because you wish he would, “It’ll only make it worse.”

“Dame un beso (give me a kiss),” he says instead, and you shyly lean in to peck him on the lips. Afterward, he pulls back but only after stroking Lucas’ back, “You’re both doing great, okay? Don’t let them get in your head.”

You are interrupted by your mother’s voice ringing out from the dining room, telling you that dinner is ready. Javier kisses you one last time before reassuring you that everything will be okay and that he is in your corner. You try to smile, tense as you take a seat with Lucas still in your arms. 

The Christmas meal begins with polite conversation, your father asking Javier about work and your mother telling you about neighbors that you haven’t spoken to in years. You mostly just speak when spoken to, having decided to focus on your baby as he keeps wriggling in your arms in discomfort. You try to rub his belly, try to make him settle by giving him your attention but still, his tiny face crumbles and he lets out a string of small complaints. 

“Maybe we could open presents while he naps?” You suggest hesitantly when your mother has given you enough judgemental advice, “He’s been so fussy all night, and I don’t want him to get more overwhelmed than he—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” your mother says your name with a sigh. You hear Javier’s chair scrape against the floor, almost as if he is about to get up and get ready for a physical altercation.

“Let’s do whatever is easiest for the baby,” your father interrupts, placing a hand on your mother’s wrist. Her annoyance shines through her eyes but she nods with a smile nonetheless. 

“Of course,” you hear her grit out, “It’s just… We’d love to spend time with him. We’ve already missed so much, and Luke needs his grandparents.”

“We’ll see,” Javier answers for you. 

The dinner continues in mostly silence with turkey being substituted by pie, cutlery clinking against plates, and glasses being lifted and set down again. There’s tension so thick that it can be cut with a knife, your mother glancing at Lucas with a smile before it disappears from her face when she shifts her gaze to your direction.  

Mercilessly, she finally speaks, “So, honey, have you thought about when you’ll start losing the baby weight?”

“Mom!” You exclaim in shock, surprised that sound comes out when your throat feels like it is about to close up completely.

In the same manner as one would spit out a drink in shock, Javier’s fork scrapes unpleasantly against his plate, and suddenly, your mother’s name falls from his lips like the sound itself leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth. She looks startled by the interruption, almost like a deer in the headlights of a car, but it doesn’t faze your husband, “My wife looks beautiful and she has just given me - us - the greatest gift which is our son. Let’s not diminish that, shall we?”

You try to feel the weight of Lucas against your chest instead of how you don’t feel safe within this house, with its bruises on the walls and its ghosts of a youth spent walking on eggshells. Lucas’ body is warm, a reminder that this doesn’t matter. He matters. 

“I’m focused on taking care of my son right now, Mom,” you reply coolly with your lips resting on the soft hairs on Lucas’ head. 

“Right, of course. I didn’t mean anything by it,” your mother argues, clearly flustered, “You know how important it is to stay healthy for the baby.”

“Your mother just wants what’s best for you, honey,” your father intervenes, trying to steer the conversation onto friendlier and safer topics but she has already gotten up from her seat. 

“Why don’t I clear the table so we can move into the living room and open presents?” She mumbles, putting on a show by letting her voice waver. She has begun stacking plates before anyone can even say anything, practically fleeing the room and leaving you all looking slightly sheepish. Javier hides the roll of his eyes exceptionally well and he smiles when you catch him.

“I’ll put Lucas down for a nap,” you announce to what is left of the party.

Javier gets up alongside you to help you. He walks upstairs right behind you, a calming presence with the diaper bag in hand as you head for the guest room.

When you close the door behind the three of you, the tension seeps out of your body at having a quiet moment with your boys. The lighting in the room is soft and calming, almost making you want to lie down to nap with your son. 

“There we go,” you say as you gently place Lucas on the bed while Javier rummages through the bag for his pacifier. Lucas blinks up at you, his tiny fists balled and his chubby legs kicking excitedly. He lets out a happy gurgle.

“Oh, now you’re happy,” you tease softly and kneel by the bed to rub his tummy, “Picky with who we’re smiling at, are we?” 

Javier joins you by the bed and offers Lucas his pacifier. Your son stretches his arms and reaches for his father, letting out a high-pitched giggle around the pacifier. However, as he suckles gently, accompanied by your soft touch that has now moved to his chubby cheeks too, his eyelids start to grow heavy. 

When his breaths have slowed, you do whatever you can with the pillows to create a safe space for him to sleep. You create a barrier around him, ensuring as well as possible that he won’t roll over. 

“You know, you’d think that they would have set up a crib for him if they’re so desperate to see him,” you murmur bitterly as you adjust the last pillow.

“You sure you want to go back down there?” Javier asks carefully. 

“Can you grab the baby monitor?” You ignore his question at first but Javier is already handing you the monitor, ruining your attempt at not addressing the situation further. You sigh and get up from the floor, “I can get through it. If it’ll make them stop pestering me for a visit for a while.”

“I swear, one more word out of her mouth and I’ll open my own,” Javier says with anger simmering just beneath the surface. He drags you into his arms when you stand up again, hears your sigh of relief at being squeezed. It calms your nervous system so effectively that you slump. 

“Believe me, I feel like I am going insane,” you whisper into his neck and shoulder, grabbing aimlessly at his strong frame and inhaling his scent. He returns the desperate touch by simply rubbing your back in slow circles. 

“Yeah, I don’t know how you stay so calm,” he kisses your temple a few times. 

“Trust me, humans can endure a lot when they know there’s a time limit,” you chuckle humorlessly and pull away, “Let’s just do the gift exchange and leave.”

Downstairs, your parents are waiting for you by the tree. The collection of presents is sparse this year due to the short notice but you find it relieving to know that the gift exchange will be over quickly. 

Placing the baby monitor on the coffee table, you sit down on the sofa but don’t allow yourself to relax into it. Javier drops down beside you but leans back into his seat, his hand resting casually on your thigh to ground you. 

“Let’s get to the gifts. It’ll be nice to end this day on a happy note,” your mother says overly cheerfully, pretending to have forgiven and forgotten all about the situation earlier. She reaches for the first gift under the tree while your father stands ready with a bag for the wrapping paper. 

“That’s mine,” Javier tells her with a little smirk in your direction. He holds out his hand until she gives it to him, “To my beautiful wife. Merry Christmas, baby.”

“How thoughtful,” your mother mumbles and sits on the edge of her armchair. 

“Javi, I thought we weren’t on gifts this year,” you scold playfully but there’s no seriousness to your voice. You finally smile and this time it is genuine, feeling his gaze on you while you impatiently rip the wrapping. 

“I know what I said but I know you’ll love it. It’s more for Lucas anyway,” he informs you shyly. 

Inside, you find two pairs of identical fuzzy and comfortable socks with a dinosaur print on them. However, one pair fits Lucas’ tiny feet and the other fits yours. Your whole demeanor changes with the sight of your gift, your face lighting up with a bright smile, “These are so cute!”

“For your cold feet. Thought you could use something cozy while you take care of Luke at home,” he moves his hand to rest just above the small of your back, his palm smoothing over you on top of the fabric of your blouse. 

Your parents sit idly by. They stare at the gift with confusion and arrogance, clearly holding their tongue over how ridiculous they find it. Your mother picks at her fingers, “Interesting.”

“Interesting? Aren’t they adorable?” You hold the matching socks up happily, not sure what to expect but not even your mother’s judgmental expression can bring you down right now. To really rub it in, you kiss Javier’s mouth gently in front of them, “Gracias, esposo (Thank you, husband).”

But the happiness is short-lived as your father goes to get the next present from the small pile. He searches for a moment amongst the few there are, deliberately seeking out the present that you have brought them, most likely to be able to leave the room soon due to the obvious tension. He has never been one to intervene. 

“You shouldn’t have,” your mother tuts with a small smile as she carefully unwraps it in her lap, her fingers doing everything they can to not tear the paper so she can reuse it. 

When the framed picture of Lucas is revealed - a photo taken during an afternoon when he was particularly happy and smiling - her smile develops into a slightly wider one even if it looks against her will. She studies the picture with your father looking over her shoulder. 

“We thought you’d like something to remember him by,” you encourage her to say something. 

Your mother places the photo on the coffee table, her hands smoothing out the wrapping paper while she talks, “It’s lovely, sweetie. Though I’m sure we’d have more memories if we got to see him more often.”

You tense up beside Javier. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him do the same but he squeezes your hip to tell you that he is right there. Anxiously, you curl your fingers into your skirt but your mother isn’t finished.

“I just don’t understand why you’ve been so distant,” she continues, cold in her tone. “You hardly call, which would be fine but you visit even less than that, and now you’re letting Lucas sleep through his first Christmas. It’s not like you’ve gone back to work, so what is it?”

“Mom, please,” you say quietly but it doesn’t veil the wavering of your words, “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Are you?” She challenges, “Lucas has been fussing all night, hasn’t he? Maybe he’s picking up on your stress.”

You hear Javier say your mother’s name as he had during dinner, low and with warning. At the same moment, the baby monitor crackles with the sound of Lucas’ tiny complaints. The sound pulls you from your seat, your instincts to go to him overriding your desire to defend yourself from further abuse. However, your mother’s voice rings out behind you just as you take your first step.

She rolls her eyes, “Oh, just let him cry a little. You’ll make him clingy if you keep running to him every time he whimpers.”

You stop in your tracks, finally turning around to look her in the eye with your own eyes narrowed. You can see Javier watching you closely while you talk, “Mom, if he cries, he needs me.”

According to you, she has already gone too far but it seems that she cannot stop once she has started, “You know, you really should stop babying him so much. He needs to learn to self-soothe.”

Tears of frustration start to build in your chest and you can feel the muscles of your throat start to tighten as they rise to your eyes, “Jesus Christ, Mom, I’m not going to stop babying my baby.”

Her final blow comes out with a deliberate intention to hurt you, “There you go overthinking again and snapping at your mother. He is whimpering. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how Javier puts up with it. You can be such a bitch when you’re stressed.”

The room falls dead silent and the first tear escapes your eye at the cruel nickname… then a second and then a third until you start to cry silently and hopelessly. You suddenly feel like a teenager again, suffering from forced proximity. Your father opens his mouth but nothing comes out, seemingly not able to figure out how to defend his wife for once. It is the final straw for Javier.

“What did you just say?” He firmly cuts through the silence. He has gotten up from his seat and has stepped in front of you to shield you protectively from your mother’s line of sight. His nostrils flare with anger that might explode into rage at any moment but he keeps his voice steady, “You better not have said what I think you did or I am wondering why you haven’t apologized already.”

Your mother’s eyes widen at the idea of consequences. She splutters, caught off guard, “Apologize? Javier, don’t be ridiculous! I’m her mother—“

Javier laughs dangerously and condescendingly and looks away with a roll of his eyes. He shakes his head, not afraid to let the room know that he thinks she sounds pathetic without even calling her out on it. He crosses his arms over his chest, “You got a hell of a way of showing motherly love then; all you have done is tear her down today.”

“Javier,” your father tries to interject, “Let’s not make this into a scene.”

“No,” Javier turns to him, his jaw muscles flexing slightly underneath his skin with how much anger is flowing through him. The simple word makes your father sit up straighter than before - a testament to Javier’s days in Colombia - but Javier is not done, “You don’t get to lecture me about making a scene. Not after sitting there and letting this happen. She is your daughter.”

When your father has shut his mouth, looking uncomfortable by his defeat while he leans back into his seat with no intention to follow up on his words, Javier’s fury settles on your mother once more, “What’s your goal here, exactly?”

You’re aware that it isn’t just a simple few tears falling from your eyes anymore but rather a silent stream that has your face puffy and sensitive. It is accompanied by grief over your younger self not having had someone like Javier in her corner. You sniffle audibly, feeling as if you have been punched in the gut with how much it hurts and humiliates you to sit idly by. Your mother catches a glimpse of you behind your husband but it doesn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever. 

“There’s no secret agenda here, for God’s sake. I didn’t mean anything by it,” she sneers, trying to keep her demeanor straight despite the humiliation of getting called out being evident on her face. 

“Yes, you did,” Javier argues immediately and fiercely, pointing his index finger at her in an accusing manner, “You knew exactly what you were saying. You wanted her to hurt. Well congratulations, you’ve succeeded. Unfortunately, your daughter is a lot nicer than me and handled your words with a lot more grace than you deserve. I will not be doing the same thing.”

Your mother’s composure falters. She says your father’s name helplessly but he looks at her with tired eyes, full of quiet disappointment. Even if he is absent and passive like always, his refusal to intervene further is a sign that he would never go as far as his wife has just done. He shakes his head in disapproval, “Why’d you do it? We were having such a nice time too.”

She gapes at your father while his gaze drops to his lap, shrinking herself slightly at the realization that she is outnumbered and has to face your husband alone. Javier takes a step closer, radiating authority when she tries to avoid further confrontation, distaste so clear on his face for how he has lost her attention for a moment. When you let out a quiet sob, too paralyzed in your spot on the couch to go to your whimpering child, his face hardens further and he continues, “Listen to me.”

Your mother looks up reluctantly. She appears to be on the brink of an attempt to turn his words against him and argue right back once more, but Javier cuts her off before she can even start. 

“You don’t talk to her like that again. Ever. And you most certainly do not question her ability to be a mother. She is a perfect mother and God knows, she hasn’t gotten it from you. Lucas is a happy, healthy, and thriving baby because of her,” he takes a breath, and for a second, it seems like he might be done but then, “You hurt my girl, you understand that? And if you ever speak to her like that again - actually if you even speak about her like that again -  I will personally make sure you don’t get to have Lucas in your life.”

“Are you threatening us?” Her composure slips even more. 

“No, ma’am, I am instructing you,” he replies coldly, “If you can’t respect his mother, we’re done here.”

Javier turns to you now, his face softening immediately at the sight of you sitting teary-eyed on the couch with your hands clutching the baby monitor. He says your name so softly, a sound that has always felt like an unfamiliar and unwelcome sound within this house, and gently pulls the piece of technology out of your hands. 

“Listen to me, baby. Go wait in the car. I’ll get Lucas and his things,” he instructs you, placing the baby monitor on the coffee table behind him without looking away from you. He helps you to stand when you find yourself nodding. 

When you’re up from your seat, he puts a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let you linger in the room. 

“You don’t have to leave,” your mother protests with obvious surprise that you and Javier are carrying out the promise of consequences. She begins pushing herself to stand. 

“Sit down, I will not let you disturb any of the peace she has left,” he commands harshly when she tries to take a step toward you. 

Your mother falters, stunned by his audacity, and sinks back into her seat.

The moment you’re out of the front door, your legs start shaking so badly beneath you that you aren’t sure if you’ll even make it to the car. The walk feels endless, like climbing a mountain, the neighborhood surrounding your childhood home quiet because everyone is inside with the happy family that you never got to have growing up. 

Until now. You have it now. However, you have left them to fend for themselves on the battlefield to slide into the front seat of the car. You rub your chest as it feels tight but it soothes nothing and suddenly, the tears come harder than they had in the living room. You rest your head against the glass window, screwing your eyes shut and feeling drips of hot tears on your cheeks.

Memories come flooding and you have no power to stop them, pictures of many nights spent in solitude in your room because it was the only illusion of sanctuary in the house before you. The sound of your mother’s scoffs, her unbearable ability to make you feel small, inadequate, and unwanted. Her year-long cruelty feels like a knife in your chest but your father’s silent complicity twists its blade too, makes you think that you were never worthy of defending. 

Yet Javier had done it so effortlessly, had done what you’d wished someone would have done for you in your entire life, and he had done it without any hesitation. You are shattered by another night believing the worst about yourself, yes, but you realize that a part of your sobs comes from relief too. Suddenly, it all feels silly and you don’t know why you have always stopped Javier from speaking up for you since you met because his words - she is a perfect mother - have taken the power out of your mother’s incredibly fast. 

You hear the front door open and a shaky sob leaves you at seeing the two of your boys approach the car. Javier has the diaper bag over his shoulder whilst cradling Lucas against his chest, his face serious. He moves in long strides to get to you fast, not saying anything as he buckles Lucas’ sleeping form into his car seat before climbing into his own seat in the front. 

You sit up again, eyes still brimming with tears that streak your face. You feel overwhelmed like you have run a marathon or fought a bear or a monster. 

Javier puts on his seatbelt but doesn’t put the key in the ignition yet. He looks out of the windshield for a moment, breathes a sigh of relief. The car is quiet except for Lucas’ soft breaths as he sleeps.

Right until Javier says your name when you don’t automatically turn your head to look at him, ashamed of how the day has progressed. It is Christmas, after all, and Lucas’ first one ever too. 

“Mírame (Look at me),” he says in a gentle murmur. 

You shake your head, unable to answer with how tightly wound you are. You feel his hand under your chin, carefully pulling you by your chin until your eyes meet his. His outline is blurry from all the tears but his voice cuts through the fog in gentle firmness. 

“I love you so much, and I love our son, okay?” He says it like it is a promise, “They aren't ever gonna to talk to you like that again because I won't allow them to. Do you understand me?”

You silently look at him through your tears, nodding weakly. He reaches to brush your tears away with a knuckle. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay because you don’t have to see them if you don’t want to. You just have to let me take care of you,” he continues and cups your cheek instead, “And right now, I say you’re done with them for tonight. Actually, for as long as you fucking want.”

“I want… I don’t…” You say at first but then, “I’m sorry.”

Javier furrows his brows, “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because that’s my mom,” you try to speak around a fresh sob, “And you married me and I trapped you with my fucked up family.”

“Hey, heyheyhey,” he shakes his head, moving his other hand to cup your whole face now. He leans over the console of the car and rests his forehead against yours. When you simply cry harder, he pulls you into a hug, “You didn’t trap me, okay? You didn’t. I’m here because you make me happy. You make me so happy, baby, and Hell knows, I needed a bit of taking care of when you met me. Let me return the favor.”

His body is warm, soothing, and grounding. His embrace squeezes you hard enough to make you calm down, giving you a moment of quiet peace in your mind as you begin to take in his words. You feel the same. You want to say it but you’re afraid that you’ll never stop crying tonight, so instead you find the courage to say those words that you should have told yourself years ago, “I don’t think I want to go back.”

“What do you want to do then?” Javier pulls back to look at you. He moves back into his own seat again and starts the car to give you time to think clearly about his question. 

“Can we go to your dad’s?” You ask hesitantly. 

Javier’s brows rise slightly but he doesn’t argue, just nods as he puts the car in reverse. Before reversing out of the driveway, he pulls you in to kiss your forehead softly. 

“Claro, mi amor (Sure, my love),” he says simply, “He’d love to see us.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[entitled-fangirl]

Apologies.

Jason Todd x deaf!reader

Summary: Dick says something too far to the reader, prompting Jason to kick his ass.

A/n: cursing, blood, teasing about being deaf

Masterlist

...............................................

"I'm not kidding, baby. Move."

Y/n stood between Jason and Dick, her hands out in a pleading motion against Jason's chest.

It started out innocent. Dick and Y/n had always gotten along. The two truly clicked like siblings. But like everything else, the teasing became too much.

He kept his eyes on the tear stains on her red cheeks- his motivation to beat Dick's ass.

She was always so lighthearted about the ordeal: having hearing aids. They were obvious on her head but after a while, they blended in. And Jason still had moments when he forgot they were needed. Mostly when waking in the morning next to her, accidentally frightening her when his arm snaked around her half asleep body.

But this was the line.

Dick had said a joke that was just a step too far. Jason watched something snap inside her, a wall finally caving in. Her eyes dulled and she excused herself.

That was twenty minutes ago. And now…

"I swear, I didn't mean anything by it," Dick pleaded from the other side of her.

Jason's jaw set harshly. "That's not a good enough reason for me, Dickybird." He stepped a bit further against Y/n to menacingly glare at Dick.

"Hey, hey," he pleaded.

"No. No." Jason knew she had left her hearing aids in the bathroom down the hall, so he held a large hand over her eyes to keep her from reading his lips. In a different scenario, that would be more amusing than it was now. "I'll fucking gut you."

"Tim, please tell him," Dick begged. "Help me out here."

Tim leaned over the side of the couch and craned his neck to see them. He watched for a moment, taking in each person. "Nah."

Y/n's hands patted Jason's chest to bring his attention back to her. Her voice came out in a slow, breathy whisper. "S-Stop." 

The brick wall that was Jason Todd paused. His hand rested on her cheek. His thumb brushed away the watery pathways the tears had left behind. He wanted to beat the shit out of Dick. He really did. But he'd do anything to cease the hurt look in her eyes. He reluctantly nodded.

Her eyes filled with relief. She leaned against his chest completely. 

He sighed and grabbed her hand that rested on his chest. He brought it up to his lips, kissing the palm softly.

…

A few hours later, Dick stood in front of Y/n, who was just trying to watch TV in the living room. Her body instinctively leaned over to try to see more of the TV but she soon realized he meant to talk to her. She opened her phone and disconnected her hearing aids from the TV to give Dick her full attention.

Dick stood with a defeat in his shoulders, a guilty look in his eyes, and a small ring of red around the inside of his left nostril. And now that she was really looking at it, there was a pink path soaked into his skin under that nostril as well. Like a past nosebleed.

"I know an apology does nothing but I can still try." He awkwardly rubbed his bicep. "I took my words too far. You're different from teasing Jason or Tim or Steph or…" his voice trailed off. "I just mean that I overstepped. You're like a sister to me but I still need to respect the fact that you're not. What I said was hurtful. Please forgive me."

He sounded so sincere. Like a hurt puppy. It would be hard to not forgive him when he's like this. 

"Course, Dick. I know you meant it as a joke. You'd never mean to hurt m-"

"-oh thank god," he collapses in front of her in pure relief. "Okay, I gotta thank you. I really do. I think he would've really killed me otherwise."

Brothers were so strange. "He wouldn't go that far."

"He'd go pretty far, Y/n. You make him nice."

She smiled. "No, I don't. He's just nice when he wants to be."

Dick's eyes almost fell out of his head his eyes became so wide. "Jason was NEVER nice. Not even before. You make him gentle."

…

"There you are," Jason mused as he entered his bedroom in the manor. 

She was lying on his old bed, a book in her hands. She was entirely engrossed in it. Only then did Jason realize her hearing aids were off. 

"Baby?" He cautiously stepped to her and pressed a hand on her shin. 

She jumped, almost throwing the book. Upon seeing him, she relaxed with a mockingly annoyed expression. 

Jason smiled and mouthed 'sorry' before grabbing her hearing aids off the nightstand. He tilted her head to the side. His fingers gently placed one on her before leaning in and kissing her cheek. "Dinner's in ten," he spoke softly against her skin.

She smiled and gave him a small peck to his lips. 

He was so glad her mood had shifted. As his hand placed the other on her, he asked. "How long have you been in here?"

She hummed. "Hour or so."

"Thought you wanted to watch TV," he pointed out. "You were on the couch when I left ya and now here you are." He was fishing for something.

She sat up a little more. "I had an odd conversation with Dick."

His brows shot up amusingly high. "Oh?" He asked. "And what did he say that was so odd?"

"He apologized."

"Hm. Good for him. Glad he came to his senses."

Leaning into him, she continued to feed him everything he wanted to hear. "It was rather sweet."

He nuzzled his nose into her hair, muffling his voice. "Just glad you feel better about it."

She let out a breathy chuckle, grabbing his hand and running her fingers over his knuckles. "Does it hurt?"

His shoulders tensed slightly. "'S what hurt, baby?"

"Your raw knuckles. From punching Dick in the nose."

He smiled widely at getting caught. It was all amusing to him now that things had passed. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Right," she huffed. 

"Dinner's soon. C'mon," he tutted, pulling her up from the bed.

…

At dinner, things continued as if nothing had happened. The tension was gone from everywhere but Jason's shoulders.

Y/n had remarked something quick-witted against Dick, prompting him to huff out, "C'mon! Listen to yourself!"

The entire table went from all laughs to dead silent, watching as if their favorite soap opera had just come on.

Jason's gaze hardened, his head tilting.

"Woah," Dick realized. "That wasn't even- That was just something I always say! Jason? No, Jason!"

Jason reached around Y/n's head, pulling her hearing aids off and keeping them safely in his hand. He stood over the table and pointed a finger at Dick, yelling god-knows-what at him.

Y/n looked to Cass for an interpretation, but even she shook her head with wide eyes.

She'd be expecting another apology from Dick later.

.............................................

[enhaeil]

BLOOM! ☆ 엔하이픈

"everything you do, how you call my name sunday afternoon, come and make it rain. let the flowers bloom, ease my pain. always tell the truth, can you answer me?"

bloom - aqyila

lovesick boyfriend! enhypen ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

c/w: suggestive parts in everyone's but niki's. otherwise fluff

heeseung

boyfriend heeseung, who loves that he can be boring and nerdy with you. you guys can just sit there in silence or cuddle while he plays video games and not say anything. he doesn't always have to try to tell a joke or be interesting. he can be his full, authentic self. + you let him talk about his buzz lightyear toys, so he wins.

boyfriend heeseung who is actually obsessed with you, and everything about you. your smile, your laugh, your scent, your body, you name it. he never misses a day of telling you how in love he is with you.

boyfriend heeseung, who is shameless when you turn him on. his hands will be everywhere but where they're supposed to be. he has no problem pressing up against you or whispering filth in your ear. you know what hell yea

jay

boyfriend jay, who is the biggest gentleman. he always walks closest to the sidewalk. he always holds the door and pulls out your chair. he buckles your heels for you every time y'all go out. and even after so long together, he still asks for permission to kiss you.

boyfriend jay, who loves taking you to his hometown, seattle. y'all know that video of him taking a late night walk there 💔 im sick he takes walks with you at night all the time he just loves you so much and wants to show you where he grew up.

boyfriend jay, who's gentle even in bed. he won't ever hurt or degrade you unless you REALLY enjoy it. he might be slightly rougher on more stressed or pent-up days, but other than that, he literally makes love.

jake

boyfriend jake, who feels like he doesn't always have to think around you. he's so comfortable with you that he knows it's okay to say something that doesn't make sense or something that might not be correct because you won't judge him and you probably get exactly what he means.

boyfriend jake, who is literally your shadow. he gives you your space, of course, but he loves you and loves being around you. he's literally like a lost puppy just following you around the house.

boyfriend jake, who's obsessed with your butt. don't get me wrong, he loves your boobs too, constantly face planting into them— but that ass though. his pillow. his bongos. his dinner, i fear.

sunghoon

boyfriend sunghoon, who's literally your best friend. like you got a boyfriend and bestie in one. you guys will just sit there and talk to each other for hours about nonsense. sometimes when you get bored, you'll help him with his english too.

boyfriend sunghoon, who thinks you're the funniest person on earth. if they asked who makes him the laugh the most he'd say you. sometimes you're not even telling a joke, and he's in the corner giggling like a school girl.

boyfriend sunghoon, who's the best kisser. i mean he a DEEP kisser, like sometimes you'll withold from even a quick smooch cuz you know freakhoon gon jump out, and you'll end up naked.

sunoo

boyfriend sunoo who's your best friend, pt2. but not only that; he's your best friend, boyfriend, therapist, makeup artist, pillow, chef. he will be whatever you need him to be that day. he'd genuinely would do anything for you, he ADORES you.

boyfriend sunoo, who will always take your side even if you might be wrong. coworker getting on your nerves ? she should leave you alone. you cussed out some man at the club? he had it coming! a mosquito bit you? wtf is it's problem? NOT ON SUNOO'S WATCH.

boyfriend sunoo who is versatile when it comes to the bedroom. whatever you're feeling that day he will do. if you want him on top that night, he'll joyfully do it. you in a rough mood? give him 2 minutes, and he'll get into mode. as long as you feel good, he feels great.

jungwon

boyfriend jungwon, who is literally your other half. y'all are the goofiest duo on the planet, i swear. the type of couple to make up their own language while everybody else looks at you like you're insane. you guys have so many inside jokes, too.

boyfriend jungwon, who's always given you the first bite or last bite of his food. even when you say 'no' or tell him you're not hungry, he will stilk feed you. he loves you so much and wants to make sure you're never hungry and always content.

boyfriend jungwon, who touches your boobs and butt a lot but somehow makes it in the most innocent way possible... like he's not even being a freak he's just holding your boobs as if this is normal. hands reaching out to give your ass a jiggle or make a beat on it like it's a drumset.

niki

boyfriend niki, who tries so hard to be nonchalant around you, but somebody tell him he is NOT that guy 🙏🏽. you're too funny and too pretty for him to be nonchalant, he be smiling like a big ol' goofy around you. he still tries to act like he doesn't care in front of his members, though. can't let them know !

boyfriend niki, who won't let anybody else touch his stuff except for you. whatever's his is yours once you guys are together. he even lets you play on his game console if you're bored while he's away. he especially loves when you steal his clothes, but he won't let you know that.

boyfriend niki who always tries to impress you. performing extra hard on stage, being really good at a game, walking around in a tanktop and sweats to show off his muscles; anything to get you to compliment him. Please compliment him, or he'll sulk and say you hate him and think he's ugly.

a/n: hi ill answer the asks in my box soon

[muniimyg]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ SUPERNOVA // JJK ੈ✩‧₊˚

01 | 02 | ♡ 03

— stuck in an unspoken love triangle, oc and jungkook face the end of it all

au/genre:

mean girl au

love triangle

childhood friends to lovers

note: omg ! the end <3

//

jungkook had a plan. 

he was going to show you around the new exhibit, confess, and ask to be your boyfriend. his entire life, he waited for signs and for the perfect time—only for him to realize that there will never be a moment where bells ring and tell him; now. 

no. 

you see, after all this time—for his entire life—you have been the quiet. 

his quiet. 

all his life, it’s like his eyes only focused on you. everything and everyone around him was blurry and the only real clarity he had in his life was art and you… and as corny as it is; that’s what you are to him entirely. 

art. 

from your pottery, to the way you look, and to the way you simple are—you are his favourite masterpiece. 

the canvas gallery is where you two ran around as kids, amazed at all the pieces other artists made. so, it only made sense that this would be the place where he kicks his anxiety in the ass and finally fucking goes for it. 

so, he waited. 

and waited. 

…. and waited.

and right when he was about to call you—

hana showed up. 

she grabbed his arm and yapped all about how excited she is to be here with him. to that, jungkook shook off her grip and stepped away.

...

“what are you doing here?”

“___ gave me her ticket—”

“fuck that. hana, why do you always do this? why do you always take things from ___?”

with distant yet jealous eyes, hana replied; “because she has better things than me. i like her things. is it so wrong to like her things?” 

“are you insane?”

“maybe.” hana scoffed. “i don’t get it. what does she have that i don’t? we grew up together and did everything together—yet, it’s like… i’m not even half of her.”

“because you aren’t.” he growled. “you hate ___, right?”

silence. 

“that’s okay,” jungkook exhaled. “cos i fucking hate you. with all my being. ever since you blew out ___’s 14th birthday candles. ever since you always kissed the guys she was into. ever since her pottery business bloomed and you accidently knocked over a piece she was working on for two months. god, hana. i have and will always hate you.”

“shit, jungkook. is that it? are you done—”

“no,” he sighed. “i will never be done hating you for taking every opportunity to turn anything good for ___ into something bad. you want to play mean girl? fine by me. let’s fucking play. get this through your fucking head; i will never be yours but i will forever be ___'s."

...

jungkook gave you time.

partly because he was mad—mad that you gave hana your ticket so easily, mad at how quickly you folded like you always do. but mostly, because he knows how you are in moments like this. you don’t talk. you retreat, giving yourself space to breathe, to think. he hopes you’re using the time to clear your head, making space for him.

by the third week of awkward text exchanges—his dry "good night" met with your overly polite “you too"—and no more nightly facetime calls where he fell asleep to your voice, jungkook snaps.

he gets into his car and drives to your studio.

the late afternoon light spills through the frosted windows as he parks outside. his stomach twists at the sight of the closed sign hanging on the door, but the faint hum of a song playing inside tells him you’re there. jungkook knocks, loud and insistent.

for a moment, he worries you won’t answer.

that you’ll pretend not to hear him or let the music drown him out. but then, he hears the soft shuffle of slippers and the click of the lock.

when the door creaks open, you’re there.

cheeks flushed from the warmth of the studio, hair tied back messily, and streaks of dried clay smudged across your forearms. your apron is dusted in powdery beige, a damp hand towel clutched in your fingers.

“jungkook—”

he doesn’t let you finish.

his name on your lips is enough to tip him over the edge. stepping forward, he pushes the door shut behind him and closes the space between you in one fluid motion.

your back hits the sink behind you with a soft thud, the cool porcelain biting through the thin fabric of your apron. his hands find your waist first, firm and grounding, as though he’s anchoring himself to you.

“w-what are you—”

“i can’t do this anymore,” he mutters, his voice low and trembling, the words spilling out as though they’ve been trapped inside for years.

he shifts closer, one hand leaving your waist to cradle your jaw. his thumb grazes your cheek, where a smear of dried clay clings to your skin. you’re so warm, and so unbearably soft that it makes his chest ache. his other hand brushes against the edge of your apron, his knuckles bumping against the damp streaks of clay still drying on your fingers.

“jungkook—” you try again, but your voice falters when he leans in. his forehead brushes yours, and he’s so close you can see the strain in his jaw, the tension pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“i’ve had enough, ___,” he breathes, his voice trembling with something between desperation and exhaustion. “i’m tired of bending backwards to see you. i'm tired of people standing in front of you and i'm sick of you letting them. most of all, i’m tired of waiting for the right time. i—i’ve been in love with you since we were seven, and you know that.”

his hand leaves your cheek to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers trembling slightly as they linger there. “i haven’t done much to hide it, have i? i'm sorry. i've been a coward but... maybe i never did anything because i always knew how you felt about me too.”

your hands tighten on the towel, the wet clay squelching under your fingers. you glance down, unable to meet his gaze, but he doesn’t let you escape.

“look at me,” he pleads softly, tilting your chin upward until your eyes lock with his. the raw intensity in his stare steals the air from your lungs.

��please, ___... i'm fucking begging to you see me through this,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he leans his forehead against yours again. “i'm begging you to take my heart and mold it yours.”

and that’s exactly what you do.

your hands tremble, damp with clay and nerves, as you reach for him. you cradle his jaw gently, your thumbs brushing over the faint stubble along his cheeks.

then you kiss him.

jungkook freezes at first, his breath hitching in surprise, but it takes only a heartbeat before he softens. his lips move against yours, slow and deep, like he’s memorizing every second of this moment.

he’s hesitant—his hands stay planted on your waist, his grip cautious, almost shy. but when you sigh against him, his restraint snaps. his fingers curl into the fabric of your apron as he steps closer, pressing his body firmly against yours.

he bends his knees slightly, his arms sliding down to wrap around your thighs. with a quiet grunt, he lifts you effortlessly, settling you on the edge of the sink. your legs part instinctively, making room for him to step closer, his body slotting perfectly between yours.

you gasp softly as his hands find the back of your thighs, pulling you flush against him. your fingers slip into his hair, still streaked with clay, and he laughs quietly against your lips at the mess you're making.

his laugh fades quickly, replaced by a deep hum as he kisses you harder, with more certainty. the kiss grows messy, your breaths mingling and the faint taste of salt lingering between you.

when he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, and his eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your heart stutter. he doesn’t move far—his forehead rests against yours, his nose brushing yours as his fingers trace small circles on your thighs.

“so…” he whispers, his lips curling into a boyish grin as his gaze flicks to your apron, your hands still smeared with clay. “about that mug?”

[sanakiras]

BOUND BY BLOOD

PAIRING — yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

❝ WHO WILL YOU BE WHEN NO ONE CAN STOP YOU? ❞

WORD COUNT — 23k

SYNOPSIS — in an attempt to escape your past, you join your mother when she moves in with her soon-to-be husband at the other side of the country. the only downside is that your new stepbrother causes you to sink deeper into the rabbit hole you were so desperately trying to leave behind.

TAGS — depictions of death, dark content (stepcest + incestuous undertones), mc and jeonghan are two fucked up pervs coming together to maximize their joint slay, explicit sexual content, red hair!jeonghan, author hates her fucking writing and is a raging perfectionist, do with this information what you will!

♪ — ethel cain - family tree,, charli xcx - apple,, ruelle - monsters,, boy harsher - pain,, lana del rey - in my feelings,, unloved - danger,, twin tribes - monolith,, banks - the fall

NOTE — title is not what u think it is i promise. do keep in mind that this is just fictional and nothing more than a silly idea i wanted to make into a story, so please (!) skip if the tags make you uncomfortable <3

PROLOGUE

when he checks her pulse to see if she’s still alive, you see a single car nearing the scene, the driver of which you then recognize as the last person that should see this.

joshua hits the brakes and hurries out of the car. “i saw you drive off like crazy, what the hell happened—”

his words are caught in his throat when he sees the body.

“shua. she’s gone.” your voice is strained as the sobs remain choked-up in your throat, your shaky hands tugging at his arm.

tears well up in his eyes. “what the—how did this happen?”

jeonghan forces himself to sound remotely shaken up. “i just drove here and she ran in front of the car. it was an accident, i swear.”

but a part of joshua doesn’t buy it. “out of nowhere? what the fuck is this, jeonghan? are you lying to me?”

“no. i swear to you—”

but he doesn’t let him finish. “this is insane. we have to do something, tell the cops what happened here, and with her brother—”

it’s then that jeonghan’s softer approach fades into something meaner. he pushes him against the hood of the car, trying to talk some sense into him. “and what do you think the cops will say, huh? you think they’ll just smile at you for fessing up and let you walk out freely? you’re an accomplice to murder, shua. everyone you know will hate you. this will haunt your name for the rest of your life ― get it into your thick skull once and for all.”

joshua’s breathing quickens with his sobs. “i can’t deal with this the way you can. i can’t do it.”

“you can, and you will.” he grabs his face, wiping the fresh tears away. “you just have to breathe, and you deny. you deny everything. you were not here, okay? i need you to go home, she and i will fix this.”

“you can’t keep making me go through this. how many more deaths do i need to have on my conscience?”

jeonghan shakes his head calmly, embracing him, his one hand on the back of joshua’s neck. “it’s not your fault, shua. it’ll be okay, promise.”

I. STRANGERS

[ SEVERAL MONTHS EARLIER ]

your mother has always had a habit of moving from relationship to relationship. the passing of your father, which happened when you were too young to remember, left her trying to find something in the men around her you highly doubted she ever would.

but that changed a few weeks ago. because apparently, she’s finally found herself a man she wants to stay with. or so she told you. you’ll have to take her word for it.

the one wish of yours she’s always respected was to keep her boyfriends away from you — the last thing you wanted was some guy trying to be a father figure, and since her frequent relationships were often short-lived, there wasn’t really a point to getting to know them. seeing as you departed from home for your freshman year of college nearly two years ago, it’s no surprise that you were barely able to keep up with your mom’s romantic life.

when you arrived home for the summer break, she told you she finally found someone she was madly in love with, happily showing off the shiny diamond sitting on her finger. her fiancé is apparently some rich man living a few hours away, in a huge house at the outskirts of the city.

she initially didn’t expect or plan for you to come live there with her, nor for you to transfer to a different university, though she figured it must’ve been because of what happened last year.

nevertheless, she was happy to have you with her.

and now, two days before starting your third year at a different school, you’re seated in the backseat of the rolls-royce with your mother, and all you can do is stare out the window while the car pulls through the tall gates.

the place is even bigger than you were expecting — a manor straight out of the movies. the last sunbeams of august shine on your face through the glass window as you gaze to the outside.

well, you suppose living here for a little while before you find your own place isn’t the worst thing in the world.

you’ve only met your mother’s future husband once prior to the engagement. you remember he introduced himself as the owner of a successful international hotel franchise. he’s not too bad, clearly doing his best to not act like a father to you whilst simultaneously trying to show you that you’re more than welcome.

once you’ve arrived and said your greetings, your mother looks around for a moment. “where’s your son? is he inside?” she asks, but her fiancé sighs in disappointment.

“no, his flight was delayed, unfortunately, so he’s staying there for the night. he’ll be home tomorrow.”

right, you almost forgot. the fiancé has a son who’s a couple months younger than you, and since university is only twenty minutes away from the house, he still lives here as well.

yeah, you’re not looking too forward to meeting the guy. your mom hasn’t met him yet either, nor do you have any idea what he looks like, but from what she’s told you, he’s around your age, wicked smart, and friendly.

as you go inside the house, you quickly realize that your mother managed to land herself a man with a massive bank account. expensive chandeliers, marble tiled floors with big carpets that don’t have a speck of dirt on them, staff that’s taking your belongings upstairs — you’re impressed.

a member of said staff shows you to your room, which could honestly be considered an apartment, given its size. aside from the spacious bed that could easily fit three people, the room is decorated with dim lighting, big glass windows with a view of the courtyard, a fireplace, and your own private walk-in closet and bathroom.

well, shit. maybe you should just ask your mom if her future husband would pay your tuition as well.

despite getting to sleep in the most beautiful room you’ve ever seen, your first night in the manor is restless, and you arrive at university with tired eyes, hoping the caffeine will kick in soon.

traffic was so shitty that you’re now running late as well, so you rush to the elevators to get to your class in time.

you have a lecture scheduled on the seventh floor, yet you don’t see the number on the display, and you don’t particularly feel like walking up a ridiculous number of stairs.

“you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

you look down at your phone to see if you got the number right, only to be greeted by a guy with dark hair and tiny silver hoop earrings standing beside you, clearly looking you in the eye. “everything okay?”

“i just—i’m new, and i gotta get to the seventh floor, and i don’t understand why this elevator doesn’t go there—”

he quickly interrupts you. “we have two elevator blocks. this one is for even-numbered floors, you need the other one. c’mon, i’ll show you.”

you walk after him, passing two corners before getting to the elevators that take you to the odd-numbered floors. he presses the button, gesturing to the free elevator about to go up.

“thanks for the help. you got a class too?”

“yeah. ninth floor, though,” he replies, smiling at you, “i’m joshua, by the way.”

joshua’s hair is neatly gelled back with one or two strands hanging out at the front. you notice his slightly red lips, strong jawline, and gentle smile.

the door of the elevator opens again, and you realize you’ve already made it to your stop.

“sorry, i gotta go. it was nice meeting you.” you tell him before getting out, failing to introduce yourself.

you faintly hear him say bye as you head into the lecture hall, a big sigh escaping you once you’re finally seated.

your first day consists of a lecture of two hours followed by a regular class of three hours. the experience of a long first day in a constantly crowded space has made you both anxious and tired, so you go outside, stumbling upon a secluded spot between the buildings you’ve had class in today.

it’s the quietest place you’ve come across so far. it allows you to take a breather, a moment to yourself in the hot mess that’s been the past couple weeks, if not months.

although you don’t smoke often, you do have a pack of cigarettes sitting in your bag — and you find yourself reaching for it. unfortunately, your lighter doesn’t really seem to be working today, and you can’t help but groan in annoyance. “fucking hell—”

“you know that’s against the rules, right?”

when you look to the side, you spot some guy standing across from you, his hands sitting in his pockets as if he’s got all the time in the world to have this conversation with you.

a snarky reply works its way out of your throat. “what, you planning to rat me out?”

he pretends to think about it for a moment. “wouldn’t be a lot of fun if i did that, right?”

all you do is shrug your shoulders as you attempt to light your cigarette again, but he suddenly stretches his arm out, holding up his own lighter to let him do it for you.

the gesture makes you stare at him from under your brows for a few seconds, but he doesn’t move a muscle, waiting for you to accept.

so you slightly lean forward, allowing him to light it, and he looks at you with a certain level of intrigue.

he’s got something interesting about him, aside from the fact that he’s ridiculously handsome. his hair is dyed in the shade of a dark red — burgundy, in this bright sunlight — where you guess his natural hair color must be a dark brown, given the color of his eyebrows.

while he’s not the tallest guy you’ve seen here so far, he still sticks out above you, his long legs and lean physique doing enough to make him appear quite tall. he wears a lazy smirk like it’s his default expression, and you’ll give it to him — if he was trying to get your attention, it worked.

he leans against the wall, watching you exhale the smoke. “i don’t think i’ve seen you around. are you a first-year?”

“there’s thousands of people attending here. of course you haven’t seen me before.”

“how straightforward of you.”

“do you prefer small talk?”

the corner of his lips curl up. “i don’t. my question still stands, though.”

“i’m in my third year. just transferred.”

“well, i guess you fit right in. this is the place where i always come to get away from everyone else.”

“is this your way of telling me i gotta go elsewhere next time?”

“took the words right out of my mouth.” the chuckle he lets out sounds low and relaxed. “no, you can come here and join me whenever you want. only if you’re good company, of course.”

you finally take the bait of engaging in the conversation with him and roll your eyes. “sorry to disappoint.”

“i doubt you’d disappoint me.”

“oh, please. you don’t even know me.”

“i do now.” jesus christ — does he always talk like that? like he knows more than you do? “but, if you want me to get to know you, you should tell me your name.”

his gaze becomes surprisingly intense in the blink of an eye, and something suddenly weighs down your body like feet glued to the floor. “i’d love to stay and chat, but i have a class to get to. i’m sure i’ll see you around, though.”

he hums in a bit of a smug way, as if he can look directly into your thoughts and see what you’re thinking. you feel his eyes burning in your back as you walk away from him, into the building, and you force yourself to regain your composure.

several hours later, just in time for dinner, you get back to the house, utterly drained.

the living room has dark walls with a few shiny brown bookcases that reach the ceiling, a comfortable sofa and several other chairs. if anything, the house is styled with rich, darker colors, creating a moody atmosphere, especially at night with the dim lighting.

your mother calls out to you once she notices you standing there. “honey, come here and introduce yourself, will you?”

she’s standing next to her fiancé, but there’s another person with them, whose back is facing you — and you suddenly spot the color of his hair.

when he turns around to face you, it feels as if the air is knocked out of your lungs.

you can’t be serious.

it’s so ridiculously cliché that part of you wants to laugh. what the fuck are the odds of the guy you met earlier today becoming your stepbrother?

though judging by the way his face falls, he was just as unaware of your identity as you were of his. not for long, of course — that damned grin is back on his face in seconds.

he takes a few steps over to you, extending his hand to formally introduce himself, as if you didn’t meet hours before. “i’m jeonghan.”

you stare at him with a deep frown but play along nonetheless, so you shake his hand, curtly saying your own name in response. he repeats it to himself with a softer voice than before, and you hate that you like the way your name sounds when he says it.

then you look down, realizing he’s still holding your hand, and you almost push him away, trying to act like his presence doesn’t affect you in any way whatsoever.

dinner goes by achingly slowly. your mother is being all social and just so damn eager to get to know her future stepson, asking him questions, clearly taking a liking towards him.

jeonghan tells her all kinds of stories, making sure to infuse his words with all the charm he’s probably got in that frail body of his. as you watch from the sidelines, you can tell he knows exactly what she’d like him to be, and he plays the role wonderfully.

well-mannered, friendly, charming, intelligent. he gives your mother subtle yet sickeningly sweet compliments and she just eats it all up.

every now and then, he glances at you, even shamelessly eyeing your chest up and down.

you hate that you’re still intrigued by him.

he asks you questions as well — small talk, of course. probably just for show. your answers are shorter than necessary, and he quickly notices you don’t feel like talking at all.

once dessert is over, you excuse yourself, saying you still have some work to do for tomorrow, and you exit the room immediately to ensure your mother isn’t able to protest.

the sound of footsteps behind you makes you quicken your pace up the stairs.

as you’re walking down the hall, heading to your room, his familiar voice pops up from behind you. “you should’ve just told me your name.”

of course he’s the one going after you.

you scoff at him. “wouldn’t have changed anything.”

jeonghan has his hands sitting in his pockets when he steps towards you. “you would’ve known who i was.”

“did you know who i was?”

“i didn’t, actually. when my dad told me i’d be getting a sister, i didn’t know what to expect.”

“sister?” the way you say it makes it sound like an insult. perhaps it is in this case. “we’re just strangers. nothing more than that.”

oh, jeonghan already likes you much more than he anticipated. there’s a certain sharpness to every single thing that comes out of your mouth ― you’re surprisingly cold. he wonders if you do it on purpose.

“such hostility.” he remarks, enjoying the fact that he’s standing so close to you.

“maybe i just don’t like you.”

“maybe. but you’re not all that talkative with my dad either, nor do you seem to plan on it.”

“so?”

“so, for someone who voluntarily came with her mom to live with complete strangers, you don’t come across as willing to bond with anyone. unless that’s not what you’re here for, of course.”

“what are you saying?”

“you’re a smart girl. if you already built a life for yourself in another place, why come here? you don’t seem ecstatic to be part of a new family.”

“i wanted the change.”

“did you?”

“yes. what does it matter?”

jeonghan won’t outright tell you he finds it strange you get so hostile when asked about your reasons for coming here. “i’m just curious.”

“has anyone ever told you it’s impolite to poke your nose into other people’s business?”

“if you’re going to hide something, at least come up with a better lie.”

waiting for you to respond, he resists the urge to bite his lip, and the two of you stare at each other for a moment, a palpable tension rising between you.

“look, i’m not hiding anything. i’m happy for my mom that she found someone she loves, but as for everything else that comes with it, you couldn’t pay me to care. so i suggest you go and play with someone who does.”

truth be told, you do sound convincing, but then he catches you eyeing his body, and he makes up his mind just like that.

the only person jeonghan wants to play with right now is you, and he’s not one to give up easily.

his voice is all sultry when he bids you goodnight. “good luck studying, sweetheart. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

as he walks away, you grab the handle of your door, but you still look at him going back down the hall, and you find yourself wondering what his room looks like, what he thinks of you ― and perhaps more importantly, what it is he’s planning.

II. BEWARE OF YOUR BROTHER

“hey. jeonghan. d’you know her?”

joshua points to the other side of the hall, at which his best friend curiously looks in said direction, only to find you standing there, typing away at your phone while looking as bored as ever.

“why?” jeonghan asks, curious as to why joshua would ask for you, since he hasn’t yet mentioned the news of his dad’s fiancée having a daughter.

“i bumped into her last week, on monday. she’s new. i introduced myself to her but didn’t get her name ‘cause she was running late for a lecture.”

well, that’s unexpected.

of course you met both him and his best friend on the same day. fate has such a way of bringing people together, it’s laughable.

jeonghan just gestures for his friend to follow him, and the two of them walk over to you, after which he greets you. “hey, sis.”

you look up at him with pure annoyance. “i told you to stop calling me that.”

“i told you i wasn’t planning on it.” he retorts with one corner of his mouth curled upwards ― he reminds you of the cheshire cat.

joshua watches the interaction with a deep frown set into his forehead. “am i missing something here?”

“the woman my dad is marrying has a daughter. daughter being her.”

the younger of the two looks wildly surprised as he processes it. “you’re gonna be his stepsister?”

“so he likes to remind me, yes.” you answer, vaguely recognizing him. “wait, didn’t i meet you last week?”

“you did, yeah. though i didn’t catch your name.”

jeonghan watches as joshua’s tone becomes even sweeter than it already is, his smile only growing bigger once you’ve given him your name.

oh.

oh, no.

the discovery that joshua thinks you’re cute flips a switch in him. you are cute, don’t get him wrong, but he doesn’t like that his friend is looking at you that way.

“well, i gotta go to class. it was nice seeing you again, though, joshua.” you smile, proceeding to shoot your future stepbrother a glare, and he’ll take any attention you give him.

as soon as you’re out of earshot, joshua hits his shoulder. “why the hell didn’t you tell me this sooner? is she living with you?”

“well, i had other priorities. and yes, she is.”

“i can’t believe she’s gonna be your sister. what’s she like? she doesn’t seem to wanna be around you all that much.”

“she’s distant. keeps to herself a lot.”

“so she’s awfully similar to you, then.”

similar to him? he doubts you are.

jeonghan averts his gaze to the courtyard, absentmindedly replying, “i suppose she is.”

a few days later, your mother’s scheduled an appointment for both you and jeonghan at a clothing store in the city to get your measurements taken for the wedding.

which is why jeonghan finds himself standing outside the classroom you’re currently having a lecture in. his class ended about fifteen minutes earlier than anticipated, so he figured he could just wait for you here, since you’d agreed to go to the store together and meet your mom there.

once your class is finished, the door opens, and a huge number of students walks out of the hall, passing him by. to his surprise, though, he hasn’t been able to spot you yet.

when it seems the last students have left, he frowns to himself. just for good measure, he peeks inside the lecture hall to check if anyone’s still inside.

the hall is almost completely empty, save for you and some other girl who’s talking to you.

but there’s something off about the conversation you’re having, because it doesn’t seem like you and her are friends ― matter of fact, you look colder than ever, and he feels the harshness of your glare even when it’s not directed at him.

but then you look his way, and he realizes he spoke too soon, because you certainly don’t seem to be softening up the slightest bit.

you abruptly walk down the stairs, moving right out of the lecture hall, blatantly ignoring him as if he’s not even there.

he turns around and follows you with a chuckle. “trouble in paradise?”

“why do you care?”

“well, i like a bit of drama.”

“i’m sure you do.”

“seriously though — you’ve been here for two weeks now and already made enemies? going for a new record?”

“why the hell were you even outside my classroom? we were supposed to meet by the entrance at the ground floor.”

“my class ended early. and you’re dodging the question.”

finally stopping in your tracks, you stare at him. that cockiness in his attitude is really starting to get on your nerves.

so you grab his arm, and he looks pleasantly surprised at the way you grab him, pulling him around the corner, away from the crowded corridor.

but then jeonghan suddenly finds himself backed into a corner ― no one has ever backed him into a corner. “what are you doing?”

your fingers glide across his double-breasted blazer, and you have such a tight hold on the fabric that it almost knocks the air out of his lungs.

the expression painted on your face is unreadable to him. cold, perhaps a bit smug, but not sharp.

“you know, i’m starting to think you have a thing for me. being unnecessarily nosy about my reasons for coming here, now listening in on my conversations… i don’t like being put under a loupe,” you shrug, “i’d prefer it if you stayed away from my private life.”

“your private life? we live in the same house.”

“we do. but the thing is ― i’ve seen what you do. observing from the sidelines, watching everyone and everything. you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

he tilts his head. this is a challenge he’s never had before, and it actually excites him in a way. because who the fuck is this girl who’s onto him and his ways?

“is being observant a bad thing?”

“not with other people, no. with me, it is.”

“you sound self-serving.”

“i am self-serving. i’m also mean, condescending, maybe even a bitch. the only reason i’m tolerating your presence is because i have to.”

jeonghan finds your self-awareness admirable. he doesn’t move from his spot by the wall you’ve pushed him against, but he does lean his face a bit closer to yours. “see, that’s the thing, sis. you don’t have to, just like you didn’t have to move here.”

fuck. he’s got you there, and it causes you to get hostile towards him again. “stay out of my private life, jeonghan.”

“or what? afraid i’ll find something interesting?”

“we may be family now, but that doesn’t mean you can bother me as you please. everyone has secrets ― either you respect mine, or you don’t. i’m not as friendly when people pry into business that clearly isn’t theirs.”

the smug smile you have on your face is borderline provoking. it almost makes him want to pry into your business. something about the way you look at him and touch him just riles him up like nothing else.

he mirrors your expression. “are you threatening me?”

“consider it a piece of advice. it’s all your choice.” you shrug indifferently, and you shoot him a fake smile before backing away from him, heading down the hall by yourself, and jeonghan huffs, leaning his head back against the wall.

well, so much for bonding with you. he’ll admit that perhaps he’s been a bit too persistent in his teasing ― for all he knows, you could’ve been deeply unhappy back home. he should probably hold back on pushing you about your past for now. maybe you’ll even start liking him at some point. even if you haven’t shown much interest in him, he certainly finds you interesting, and he’d like to become closer with you.

and besides, he’s not one to back down from a challenge.

the ride to the store is completely silent. neither of you bother to say a word to each other, and upon your arrival, your mother happily greets you both, pushing you inside the luxurious shop. an employee smiles at you, handing you all a glass of champagne.

it’s a little early in the day, but fuck it. calming your nerves a bit would do you good.

while jeonghan gets his measurements taken, your mother tells you to pick out a few dresses you like, mainly to see what style of dress you’d like to wear to the wedding. once you’ve decided on something, you’ll be getting one custom-made, tailored to your body, all courtesy of jeonghan’s father.

eventually, once they’re done with jeonghan ― since he’s wearing a simple suit to the wedding ― he plops down on one of the soft, velvet chairs, scrolling through his phone, only putting it down when he hears you stepping out of the changing room to show the piece you’ve put on.

by the time you’re changing into your fourth dress, your mother mentions she’ll just quickly head into the bathroom, and once she’s gone, he hears you call out from inside the changing room. “mom! can you zip me up? i think it might be stuck halfway.”

he doesn’t hesitate to walk up to you, pushing the curtain to the side, but it’s only when you notice it’s him doing it that you jump in your spot.

“what the hell are you doing?” you ask with furrowed brows, and he motions for you to turn around.

“your mom went to the bathroom, so the only one currently around to fix your zipper is me.”

you scoff. “well, aren’t i lucky.”

jeonghan tells himself not to focus on your deep cleavage, so he looks down to where his hands are.

as he gently tries to get the zipper to move, since a piece of fabric seems stuck in it, he bites his lip. “i thought about what you said, and i… i think we may have started off on the wrong foot. i’ve been pestering you for… no real reason. sorry about that.”

you’re certainly surprised by the change in approach — but you’re not exactly trusting. “does this mean you’ll stop asking about it?”

“yeah, i will. promise.”

“okay. in that case, i should apologize for being a little too hostile. when something upsets me, i get mean. sorry.”

he lets out a low chuckle, finally managing to separate the fabric from the zipper. “don’t worry. i can handle a mean girl.”

his hand pushes your hair over your shoulder to avoid getting it caught before slowly zipping you up, and the sensation of his cold fingers brushing past your warm skin makes you shiver.

“turn around.” he says, and you raise your hands, not expecting him to compliment you, but jeonghan appears to be full of surprises. “this color looks pretty on you.”

with a raised brow, you say, “don’t push it.”

he laughs at your response, “i’m serious. really, you do. aren’t i supposed to be your overly honest brother?”

unfortunately, he is.

so you cross your arms. “what’d you think of the other dresses?”

“that second one was terrible. you still looked gorgeous, though.”

the comment comes so unexpected that it renders you speechless for a moment, which makes him smirk in satisfaction again.

when the curtain suddenly whips open behind him, you both turn to your mother, who appears ecstatic to hear her ever-so-charming future stepson is being so helpful to her daughter already.

which makes jeonghan figure she must’ve missed the way he’s been eyeing your curves in every single dress you’ve shown so far, just as she’s been missing how your cheeks heat up when you catch him staring at you with that glass of champagne still sitting in his hand.

it’s all you’re able to think about during the ride home, and the rest of the evening.

the house is huge, yet it feels empty when jeonghan isn’t home. he left to go meet up with some friends for dinner after you were done at the store, and you find yourself restless over the things he said today.

you have difficulty trusting people, and you probably shouldn’t trust a guy like him, yet a part of you wants to ― badly, for whatever reason.

it’s the middle of the night when you reach for your bathroom cabinet to get some aspirin, and you come to the realization that you forgot to buy a new pack, so your only option is to either suck it up or head down to the kitchen.

in a white tank top and loose-fitted sweatpants, you quietly make your way down the stairs, huffing when you see all the different cabinets you’re still not used to. it takes you a few minutes of searching until you stumble upon the drawer with medicine, and you take the new pack to smuggle it to your own room.

“what’re you doing?”

the voice behind you popping out of nowhere nearly gives you a heart attack. “jesus fucking christ―can you stop?”

“stop what? i just walked in.” jeonghan replies in the same tone, grabbing your lower arms as if to make sure you remain standing. “i thought you’d be asleep, not ransacking a kitchen drawer.”

“i was supposed to be asleep, but i got a headache. obviously.”

he watches you gesture to the strip of aspirin on the counter and lets out a noise of understanding. “want me to make you a cup of tea? it might help you sleep.”

if you weren’t so tired already, you’d let him, but you shake your head. “no, it’s fine. thanks for offering though. you had a fun night?”

“yeah. maybe you should come with next time. i’m sure my friends would like you.” he almost makes the mistake of mentioning joshua asked for you, remembering to keep that to himself.

there’s something you’re dying to ask him, and you decide to just do it, since he’s standing in front of you anyways.

“are you being this nice to me ‘cause you like me or just for the sake of your father’s marriage?”

he doesn’t reply right away, grabbing a bottle of juice from the fridge first. “my father’s been in serious relationships with other women before. i never cared much for them or their families. does that answer your question?”

“somewhat.”

“you don’t sound convinced.”

“that’s ‘cause you’re not convincing.”

jeonghan’s buttons are easily pushed, at times. you like pushing him.

he smiles to himself, averting his gaze for a moment, only looking back at you once he’s significantly closed the distance between your bodies. “i like you. a lot, actually, even though you’ve mostly just been cussing me out.”

“which you probably deserved.”

“i guess so.” he hums playfully, and you mimic his mannerisms, nearly skipping over the fact that this is the closest you’ve stood to him since meeting each other.

part of you wants him to be even closer.

then his gaze moves down, and you follow it.

even though the top you’re wearing isn’t see-through, its fabric is thin, and you didn’t put on a bra before leaving your room because you didn’t expect you’d be running into anyone, especially not him.

as soon as you realize he’s looking at your breasts, you cover your chest, immediately scolding him. “oh my god, you’re such a pervert.”

of course, he’s hardly impressed, not appearing to care in the slightest that you caught him staring. “cussing me out again? really?”

“i’m heading up to my room. don’t even think about following me.”

“well, shoot. there go my plans for the night.” he remarks, grinning at you. “sleep tight, sis.”

“yeah, whatever. night, hannie.”

hannie. that’s cute. he doesn’t think you’ve ever called him that before.

once you’re gone from his field of view, he bites his lower lip, unable to wipe that damn expression off his face as he thinks of you.

he can’t get enough.

III. WHO IS NOT WITHOUT SIN?

despite being an adult, your mother’s authority still has a hold on you sometimes.

which is why instead of being in bed all morning like you’d planned, you’re currently in a grand church, seated on a bench in the back of the spacious hall with jeonghan next to you.

your parents were adamant on sitting near the front, but when you were walking into the hall just ten minutes ago, it was jeonghan who quickly grabbed you by your arm so that you and him could sit in the back together, and you’re honestly thankful for it.

it’s only been a few weeks since he told you he’d stop bothering you with questions about your past and start being nice to you, and so far, he’s kept his promise.

you wouldn’t say you fully trust him yet, but you definitely are growing fond of him. he’s been showing you around the city, taking you out to lunch, studying with you in the library at university, and it’d be a lie to say you haven’t enjoyed every second of it.

physical touch is clearly a habit of his with people he’s close to — joshua, his father on occasion, as well as some of his other friends he’s introduced you to.

for some reason, you’re always hyper-aware when someone touches you, and you have to admit, he does a great job at easing into the physical contact. it started with some simple touches on your shoulders and upper arms, slowly but smoothly continuing, allowing his hands to sit on your waist and lower back.

and he enjoys the dynamic he has going on with you. it’s mostly lots of sarcastic comments, teasing and joking around, but there’s moments where you just quietly appreciate the other’s presence.

with a sigh, you don’t know if you’re talking to yourself, or him. “i have no idea what i’m doing here. i’m not even catholic. pretty sure my mom isn’t, either.”

“no? not a fan of monotonous singing in a cold hall on sunday mornings?”

a scoff escapes you, followed by a sarcastic quip. “such a way with words, brother dearest.”

jeonghan shrugs, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. “maybe you should pretend to be sick next time our parents want us to tag along. i’ll have no other option but to stay home and take care of you.”

is it so wrong of him to want you all to himself?

“creative.” you mutter with a grin, simultaneously hiding the effect his words have on your body.

he only gives you that mischievous smile, looking at you from the corner of his eye, and you can’t resist the soft chuckles escaping you.

not much later, he’s sitting closer to you, using it as an excuse to whisper in your ear. “me and my dad aren’t catholic either. i’m guessing it’s just about appearances.”

“of course,” you roll your eyes, “maybe they wanna get married here and this is their way of checking it out.”

jeonghan, very selfishly, doesn’t want to think about his father and your mother getting married. he just smiles at you as a way to conceal his true feelings, and all he can think about is that he should’ve met you first, that you should’ve been his.

so he averts his gaze, attempting to focus on whatever the pastor is saying, hoping it’ll take his mind off it.

the preaching is grim and anything but welcoming. words like hell and damnation are thrown around numerous times in a speech that feels almost like it’s spoken in a foreign language, and he hates it — he hates being here.

but perhaps not as much as you do.

“we must and will all pay for our sins, one way or another—” the pastor’s voice rings through your ears. his words keep replaying in your head, and it begins to make you feel dizzy, heavy existential suffering overtaking your chest, like a loud scream being pushed down but fighting to work its way up your throat.

you have to stop thinking about it.

you have to let it go.

jeonghan takes notice of your change in body language. where you were previously hardly moving a muscle, your breathing has become irregular, chest rising and falling more visibly, and you’re digging your nails into the skin of your thigh.

what he’d do to know what’s going on in that head of yours.

he puts his hand just above your knee to comfort you, and when you look up at him with almost disturbed eyes, all you find in his gaze is — understanding.

jeonghan doesn’t know what it is you’re hiding from him, but he figures you must’ve done something wrong in your past, if this is your reaction to the speech currently being given.

but he’s done wrong too.

his palm is still resting comfortably on your bare skin, and your shaky hand reaches out for his instinctively; it feels so right. instead of letting you put your hand on top of his, he raises it to hold yours, intertwining your fingers.

when you look at him with the corners of your mouth downturned and eyes glossy, your hand clenching his like you need it as much as you need to breathe, he chooses not to give a damn whether your parents choose to get married or not.

he’ll be there for you when you need it — he’ll make you his.

the mass is over before you know it, and as you’ve just walked out of the church, you spot your mother excitedly chatting away with her fiancé, not paying you any mind.

jeonghan catches up with you and gently puts his hand on your lower back. “are you okay?”

blinking a few times, you nod, trying to sound more cheerful than you are. “yeah. it was just… getting to me, is all. i don’t know why.”

but even you know the excuse is not gonna fly with him. he knows you’re hiding something — but he refuses to press you any more than he already has. “i want you to know that… you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. but i’m here for you, okay? i want you to be happy.”

god, you could actually cry.

the words affect you, and you move to hug him, which he embraces like his life depends on it. “thanks, hannie.”

“anytime, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his heart racing when he realizes this is the first time you’ve hugged him like this, and that’s special to him.

the two of you hold one another for a little longer until you release him, and you loop your arm through his. “i’m drained after hearing that speech. wanna go get coffee?”

“you read my mind.”

leaving your parents behind, jeonghan takes you with him, hoping to spend the rest of his day with you.

the café you’ve just arrived at is relatively small, with a few people seated on the terrace outside and an older couple inside. jeonghan urges you to sit down at one of the tables and relax ― he figures you might like that after getting upset in the church.

with your go-to order already in mind, he goes up to the counter to order for both of you, and you’re staring at the people passing by on the sidewalk until a high-pitched shriek pulls you out of it.

“jeonghan? oh my god! it’s been so long, how are you?” the girl at the counter says cheerfully to him, and he’s pretty sure she would’ve pulled him in for a hug if it weren’t for the counter separating them. “i almost didn’t recognize you with the red hair! suits you, though.”

he gives her a polite smile in return. “i wanted the change, i guess.”

“what can i get you?”

“a regular cappuccino and a decaf, please.”

“oh, you got company?”

“girl by the window.”

her expression falters a bit. “is she your date?”

a question he’d prefer not to answer, really. she doesn’t need to know you’re the stepsister he has a massive crush on, so he just gives a vague answer like he always does. “something like that.”

she seems intrigued but refrains from asking any further questions. “alright. you got a stamp card?”

about three minutes later, he puts two cups of coffee on your table, sitting down across from you.

“thanks.” you mention, and jeonghan notices just a slight difference in your behavior. “the barista, is she a friend?”

jeonghan puts two and two together ― or so he thinks ― before taking a first tentative sip of his coffee. “her name’s bitna. we went to high school together.”

“oh, i know her name. she’s in my class, unfortunately.” you mumble mostly to yourself, but he hears it, gesturing for you to tell him more. “you remember when you saw me arguing with a girl before we went to the store a while back? it’s her i was arguing with.”

that raises questions in him. “what was she bothering you for?”

“fuck if i know. she was pressuring me about my reason for transferring, i just… i don’t know.”

“if she bothers you again, just come to me. i’ll deal with her.”

“well, contrary to how she spoke to me, she seemed pretty excited to see you.”

“well, this was our first time seeing each other in two or three years. but she’s always been… expressive.”

“ah.” you hum, averting your gaze when you take your cup, secretly cheering that she’s not some girl he’s seeing. when he taps his fingers on the surface, you watch him leaning forward over the small, wooden table.

“not jealous, are you, sis?” he asks you with a brief quirk of his brow, and you shrug.

“what should i be jealous of?”

“you? nothing. ‘cause you already have me,” he drawls, “from what a friend told me, bitna liked me when we were still in school together, but i highly doubt she still does. i mean, it’s been years.”

“you didn’t like her back?”

“nope. not my type.”

“so what is your type?”

a few strands of his dark red hair dangle before his eyelids when he looks up at you from under his brows. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’ve ever been in love.” but maybe he is now.

even though he doesn’t say the last part out loud, it’s like you can still hear it, and the way he looks at you ― god, has anyone ever looked at you like that?

the silent eye contact speaks volumes, and he moves to stick out his index finger, pointing at your cup. “i think your coffee might be getting a bit cold.”

rolling your eyes at his attempt of taking your attention off him, he just chuckles, and while you and him enjoy each other’s company, you fail to notice how the barista has barely taken her eyes off the two of you since jeonghan sat down.

two weeks pass by, and as your mother’s wedding approaches, you try to ignore the growing feelings for your stepbrother.

you thought it’d go away if you repressed it as much as you could.

which was a big mistake to think. huge.

the relationship you have with jeonghan becomes more complicated by the day. people around you, especially your parents, encourage you and him to bond like a brother and sister would, they even seem to act like you are related in that way — even though you most certainly aren’t — but whenever you’re alone with him, it’s completely different.

every touch you give each other feels more intimate, every kiss he presses to your cheek gets closer to your lips. with every passing day, the boundaries of what should be a familial connection get pushed further, the lines blurring.

and it, frankly, drives you insane.

jeonghan hasn’t directly expressed how he feels about you ― not that you have either, for that matter ― but the way he acts around you and talks to you feels like he’s definitely insinuating it, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep it up.

but you have to, because he can’t be anything but a brother to you.

is it really that selfish of you to just want to have him kiss you? just once?

“honey, it’d be great if you could focus on standing still and upright.” your mother’s stern voice suddenly rings through your ears, shaking you awake from your thoughts.

“right. sorry.” you mutter, glancing at the dressing mirror in front of you. on your bare feet, you’re standing on a small, round display platform so the two assistants of the designer can perfectly see whether the dress you’re gonna be wearing to the wedding fits well and if it needs any adjustments.

the dark navy satin dress just about reaches your knees, and you have to admit ― you feel very pretty in it.

“the waist just needs to be stitched a bit tighter; it’ll enhance her features more.”

“i agree. we could also adjust the straps a bit.”

the assistants converse with your mother about their thoughts, and they follow her out of the living room not much later, leaving you in the same spot, admiring how the dress hugs your curves in the mirror since you’re by yourself anyways ― though not for long.

jeonghan, who’s just arrived home, peeks around the corner, and he leans against the doorframe to gaze at you, even if you’ve already spotted him.

“that dress is gorgeous on you.”

turning around to look at him, you smile at the compliment. “you think?”

he nods, taking a few steps over to you. “i do. looks like the bottom is a bit twisted, though.”

then you face forward again, to the mirror in front of you, and you watch as he’s standing behind you, feeling him tug at the fabric a little as he fixes the back of your dress.

goosebumps erupt on your arms when he suddenly touches your skin. the way his fingers slide from above the knee to your upper thigh is slow, and his voice is a lot closer to you than before.

“how does that feel?” he whispers, lips brushing past your ear, and you make eye contact with him in the mirror, your back pressed against his front.

you have to force yourself not to squeeze your legs together to give yourself some friction. the way he teases you has you aching to be touched. “feels… good.”

ironically, he needs to force himself to have self-restraint more than you do right now. he wants nothing more than to just rip that fabric off your body and get on his knees to taste you, but he can’t. he shouldn’t.

you’re the forbidden fruit, after all.

“i’ve thought about doing this since the day i met you. wrong of me, right?” he rasps, the cold metal of the silver ring sitting around his index finger causing you to shiver.

“yeah—you shouldn’t.” you tell him, yet you grab his arm and lean into his touch, allowing him to roam your body.

if anything, the way you give in to him like this only gets him hotter. “where do you want me to touch you?”

“hannie…”

the nickname has him inhaling sharply, “answer me.”

swallowing, you give him what he wants. “higher.”

your wish is his command — so he moves his fingers up higher, towards your underwear, and you let out a soft gasp, which nearly has him moaning in your ear.

then he rubs over your clothed pussy, and when you lean your head back, on his shoulder, he presses kisses all over your neck and cheek.

with a low voice, he whispers, “you’d let me have you right here, right now? when anyone could walk in?”

when you hum in response, he wonders how the hell he managed to come across a girl this perfect.

he pushes your underwear to the side and watches your lips part as he slides two of his fingers into you.

feeling you squeeze around his fingers makes him ridiculously hard in his jeans. “that’s it, pretty girl. relax for me.”

the gasps leaving your mouth are hot and erotic. hearing his breathing get louder and uneven turns you on even more, and you can only imagine the idea of having his cock inside you instead of his fingers — god, what you’d do to have him in your bed.

his eyes remain on your face. he thinks you just look so fucking pretty when your eyes roll back in pleasure, and it makes him want to drop everyone and everything just to be able to keep watching you like this.

right when he’s about to add another finger, you hear your mother’s voice approaching again, and jeonghan steps away from you, hiding his hands behind his back.

your mother looks surprised at the sight of her stepson standing near you but forgets about it once she notices your red cheeks.

“everything okay, honey? you look like you’re burning up.”

all you can do is stumble out an excuse. “yeah, i’m fine. just, uh… is it warm in here? it’s warm in here.”

she only raises a brow but continues talking to the assistants about the changes to your dress, and jeonghan subtly backs away from you, shooting you a satisfied grin.

it’s hard not to catch the smirk on his face when he leaves the room, sucking the taste of you from his wet fingers once no one but you is looking at him.

when he’s actually gone, you realize what just happened — he didn’t just make a move, he actually went as far as to touch you.

fuck.

IV. SUCCUMB TO YOUR GREED

much to your frustration, you’ve hardly seen jeonghan since he stuck his fingers in you.

he went on a trip to the other side of the country for one of his courses, which took four days, and he only got back from said trip last week. while you’ve seen him around at certain moments since his return, it’s only been briefly or when your parents were in the room.

so, to put it shortly, you pretty much haven’t talked about it.

if anything, nothing has changed in his behavior towards you. he’s still as smug and sarcastic as ever — you’d think nothing happened.

reality begins to kick in when your parents announce they’ll be getting married in a mere two weeks, and the smile you have on your face is so utterly fake that it almost hurts.

all you can think of is how much you want him to yourself.

later that night, when your parents have gone to bed, you head into the kitchen for a snack, and jeonghan stands there, downing a glass of alcohol, it seems.

he lazily eyes you as you come up to him, and you turn the bottle to read the label. “whiskey? pretty sure you shouldn’t be drinking that like you’re doing a shot of vodka.”

“i know. if i’m drinking like this, it’s to get drunk. or at least tipsy.”

“by yourself? at home? you’re not secretly an alcoholic, are you?”

he rolls his eyes with a huff, pinching at your skin, at which you laugh and push him away. “no, i’m not. just wanna stop my mind from racing.”

“is something bothering you?”

he can’t stand how pretty you look, even in the darkness of the kitchen.

“yes.”

“wanna talk about it?”

“no.” he responds, and he swears he finds something of disappointment in your features.

his sweet girl ― how could he not give in?

the glass hits the countertop with a clink when he puts it away. jeonghan moves in to kiss you with full force, his hand behind your head to make sure it doesn’t hurt when your back hits the fridge.

what kills him is that you immediately kiss him back, because this is all he wants. you.

when he pulls away, his lips are swollen and tainted with your lip balm. your hands are on the back of his neck, and he has his one hand on the side of yours, thumb sitting underneath your jaw.

your heavy breathing matches his, and you lean in to kiss him again, but he hesitantly stops you — as if he needs to restrain both of you from letting this get out of hand.

“i’m sorry.” he has to push the words out, letting go of you, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and its matching glass before disappearing from the kitchen.

in disbelief of what just happened, you can only blink, dumbfounded.

the kiss is all you can think about whenever you see him the following days. despite everything that’s happened between you when you were alone, neither of you has brought it up, nor has your behavior towards each other changed in any way.

perhaps it’s the lavish wedding your mother’s so busy with that you can barely even think about it properly. the two weeks pass by so fast that you begin to process it on the day of the event itself, and just like that, you’re standing beside jeonghan by the church’s altar, watching with a blank stare as his father says the vows you couldn’t care less about.

what you do care about, though, is how criminally dashing your stepbrother looks in his suit, which matches with your dress. you can’t help yourself, glancing at him from the corner of your eye every now and then, and when he momentarily shifts his weight from one leg to the other, he purposefully brushes past your leg.

as your parents walk down the aisle together after being pronounced husband and wife, everyone’s attention being on them, jeonghan leans down to whisper in your ear, “we’re officially brother and sister now.”

“lucky me.”

he plays with your earring for a moment until you swat his hand away. “oh, don’t act as if you don’t like me.”

“i find you highly annoying, actually.”

“whatever makes you sleep at night, pretty girl.”

he’s given you so many compliments at this point that you’re able to hide the redness of your cheeks, but it still makes you feel like a schoolgirl getting praised by her crush on the inside.

all you can do is ache for him. have you ever pined for someone like this? you doubt it.

the wedding and everything that comes with it goes by smoothly, just as planned — except for your own agenda.

maybe it was selfish of you to hope that jeonghan would touch you again during the night of the wedding.

but he still hasn’t. and it’s starting to piss you off. first he nearly has sex with you, then radio silence, then he kisses you, followed by radio silence again — and you’re planning to find out just how far you need to go to make him cave.

it’s only a week later when the perfect opportunity arises, all courtesy of joshua.

would you consider yourself a party girl? once a month, maybe. you overall like to stay in more, but you welcome the occasional night of letting loose.

you very subtly mention the event to jeonghan on purpose. “are you also going to the party one of joshua’s friends is hosting tomorrow night? i forgot the guy’s name—”

“you’re going to mingyu’s party? with who?”

oh, you definitely detect that surprise in his tone. “just a few friends from class. they asked me if i wanted to come with, and joshua asked if i came as well, so… will i see you there?”

“maybe.” he answers with a furrowed brow, leaving the room, immediately texting mingyu about the details of the party, despite having declined the invitation two days prior because he wasn’t really feeling it.

and just like that, around eleven o’clock, he finds himself getting ready for the party, cursing himself for the way you make him act.

he hasn’t seen you since this afternoon, since you told him you’d go with one of your friends after class and get ready with her.

with his hair slicked back — save for a few strands hanging in front of his forehead — and a leather jacket thrown on, he heads out to mingyu’s place.

it’s the host of the party who comes up to greet him. “jeonghan! good to see you, i almost thought you weren’t coming.”

“i’m not planning on staying long. just wanted to say hi since life’s been busy recently.”

“i met your sister. she’s nice.” mingyu says, and it feels as if a switch flips in his head.

“yeah. where is she, by the way? i actually gotta talk to her about something.”

the taller of the two points to the kitchen. “i think she was getting herself a drink.”

“alright, thanks. i’ll talk to you later, yeah?” jeonghan says, giving mingyu a squeeze in his arm, which he reciprocates.

the party started about an hour and a half ago, the room already warm and reeking of alcohol and sweat.

when he enters the kitchen, he doesn’t see you anywhere at first — that is, until you turn around.

you look like a dream. perhaps even that’s an understatement.

a tight, black satin mini-dress with a sweet-heart neckline and a gold necklace sitting on top of your exposed collarbones. your makeup suits you perfectly — you look gorgeous.

what tops it all off is that sweet smile that rises to your face as soon as you recognize him.

“when did you get here, hannie?”

“i, um…” he looks you up and down once more, almost forgetting to answer you, “just now.”

you move in to give him a quick hug, and he has to hold back from letting his hands roam too low, sucking in a breath when you press your body against his even more than usual.

“wanna do a shot with me?”

“depends on how many you’ve had already.”

“only two. i’m a big girl, jeonghan. i don’t need my brother to take care of me.”

a funny statement, considering you’d actually like him to take care of you.

“it’s not you i’m worried about, baby.” he responds, mimicking your tone and attitude, which makes you grin.

you’ve shoved the tiny glass filled with vodka into his hand in the blink of an eye, and he clinks his glass with yours before downing the bitter liquid, feeling it burning in his throat.

“that was my only alcohol for the night. i drove here,” he informs you as he’s putting the glass on the counter, “you’re coming with me after this, right?”

you push your tongue against the inside of your cheek as you think of the best way to answer him. “well, it depends.”

the tension between you grows when he looks you in the eye. “depends on what?”

“don’t play dumb.”

he’s about to say something when he catches you briefly glancing at joshua, who’s absentmindedly checking his phone at the other side of the room.

oh, hell no.

“you’re kidding, right?” jeonghan scoffs, appalled at the idea of you landing in his best friend’s bed. “him, of all people?”

you’ve come to be so comfortable with him that you don’t mind being a little spiteful. “what? he’s cute.”

“i don’t care if he is,” he gets closer to you, his tone lower and sterner than before, “he’s my closest friend.”

“so? he doesn’t seem to mind that i’m your sister. besides, plenty of girls have a thing for being with their brother’s best friend, and vice versa. what’re you gonna do about it?”

jeonghan’s frustration suddenly dies down like a fire being put out, because he’s finally realizing what you’re doing, and his cockiness comes right back to his features. “you don’t even like him like that. you’re just trying to provoke me.”

well, shit. there goes plan a.

“no i’m not.”

“you definitely are.” he smirks gleefully, knowing damn well he’s right.

“i like joshua enough to let him give me a fun night.”

he has to dig his nails into the palm of his hand to stop himself from saying he’d give you a better one, but a part of him doesn’t think you’ll go as far as to go home with joshua.

“if you say so. have fun, sweetheart.”

“i will.” you tell him, leaving him by himself in the kitchen, and he rolls his eyes.

being at this party is slowly but steadily pissing him off. he can’t have fun or focus on anyone or anything else as long as you’re in this room, knowing you’re preparing to make use of joshua’s little crush on you. and to what end? to make him jealous?

he figures this, in a way, is the result of his own actions. he’s been sending mixed signals towards you about his feelings. the stunt he pulled at your dress fitting was uncharacteristically impulsive of him, as was that late-night kiss in the kitchen, and it’s not that he doesn’t want you like that ― it’s that he can’t.

or shouldn’t.

after two hours of unbearable small talk and several glasses of non-alcoholic beer, jeonghan decides he’s had enough. he will be taking you home tonight, one way or another.

from the other side of the room, he watches joshua lean closer to your face just to say something in your ear over the loud music — and he’s touchy. shua only gets touchy with those who are either friends, family, or people he wants to pursue.

a raw sense of possessiveness begins to swirl in his gut, the feeling of it reaching the tips of his fingers.

envy is a rare thing for jeonghan. usually, he’s the one people are envious of, as arrogant as that may sound. it’s not something he brags about, really.

but when he’s envious, he gets selfish. a little manipulative, even, if necessary to get what he wants.

so his legs move to get to you before joshua can do anything he doesn’t approve of, but then someone calls out his name.

“jeonghan? hey!”

he turns his head to find the last person he cares about right now. matter of fact, he really doesn’t want to talk to her, since she’s bothered you a while ago, yet out of good manners, he doesn’t show it, remaining somewhat friendly. “bitna. nice to see you again.”

the girl smiles a little too brightly at him for his liking. “are you in a hurry? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“no, i just… it’s nothing.”

while his head is spinning from sheer jealousy, he’s about to walk away from bitna when she speaks up again.

“i actually wanted to ask you something.” just the mere sound of her voice makes him press his lips together out of annoyance ― is it not obvious to her he has other matters to attend to?

“you do?”

“look, i, um… i’ve liked you for a while now, and i was just wondering if you wanted to… go out with me sometime?”

the confession falls on deaf ears, since jeonghan can only focus on the fact that his best friend is making a move on you across the room. “i’m—i’m sorry. i can’t really talk right now. see you later?”

bitna lets out a baffled scoff when he pushes past her to walk to the other side of the room, and she begins to get a faint idea of the reason behind his hasty behavior when she notices him approaching you and joshua, and she watches the interaction from afar like a hawk.

jeonghan runs a hand through his half-long hair and walks over to you, one hand on joshua’s shoulder and the other on your upper arm, as if greeting two friends.

“there you guys are. been looking all over for you.” he puts up a smile relatively naturally to appear convincing.

joshua, with a drink still in hand, looks a little bummed that his best friend had to come over to interrupt the conversation, but his fondness for him quickly returns.

“ready to go?” jeonghan turns his attention to you, and you have a hard time keeping your balance.

“already? i just got here, hannie!” you exclaim, your usual calm and quiet demeanor replaced by an outgoing and giggly one. he thinks it’s cute to see the effect alcohol has on you, though he doesn’t think you’re drunk, just very tipsy.

“i know, i’d prefer to stay too, but i promised your mom i’d get you home at a… somewhat reasonable hour. got the family gathering in the morning, remember?”

honestly, you can hardly even call it a gathering. you simply made the deal you’d be home to see your parents off before they go on their honeymoon, and it’s a perfect excuse to take you home now ― though you certainly could refuse him. if you wanted to.

but jeonghan knows better. you want only one person here, and it’s not joshua.

you let out an exaggerated huff. “fuck, i forgot.” but even in your less-than-sober state of mind, your infatuation for your stepbrother floods your senses, and you desperately want to be around him, ready to leave everyone and everything behind.

so you take a step towards him, nearly losing your balance, yet he catches you with ease. for someone appearing on the frail side, he’s actually a lot stronger than you’d think.

he puts his arm around your waist to ensure you don’t fall, and you happily wave at his best friend, who’s still standing beside you. “bye, shua.”

his friendly smile briefly returns to his face at your sweetness. “bye. drink some water when you get home, okay?”

you nod, walking out of the place with jeonghan’s arm still around you.

the road back home is quiet, and a bit of a blur to you, if you’re honest. he helped put your seatbelt on when you were struggling with the buckle and proceeded to force you to down an entire bottle of water, which you did with a pout.

with barely suppressed laughter, you and jeonghan walk up to the front door of the manor, and he has to constantly shush you to keep it down so your parents don’t wake up.

the house is completely quiet, save for the creaking of the chandelier above the stairs in the main hall. he guides you up until you finally make it to your room, where you let yourself fall onto the bed with a loud thud, eliciting a snort from him. “nope. to the bathroom you go.”

“ugh, to do what?”

“to drink some water, brush your teeth, et cetera. c’mon.”

“but ‘m so tired, hannie.”

“i know, baby. i’ll help you.” he coos, and your heart beats just a bit faster at the nickname.

so he helps you up and gets you to the bathroom, holding your jaw to brush your teeth. he’s awfully focused on the task, and you’re just staring at him the entire time, causing him to laugh.

“staring is rude.”

“maybe i am rude.”

he laughs again. “sure.”

you spit the toothpaste out in the sink and finally get some water in your system, and it feels like the sobering up of your senses is already happening.

it doesn’t make you act any less bold, though.

when he wants to say goodnight, you grab his arm. “wait—can you just—help me with one last thing?”

“what?”

“my dress. it’s so fucking tight that i barely got it on myself, my friend helped put it on. please?”

he looks down at the dress and back up at your face, and either you’re playing him to get him to undress you or you’re genuinely clueless.

but jeonghan tells himself he can do this. “turn around.” his voice is a bit lower than before, and you shiver at his tone before doing as he says.

the faint sound of the laces slowly being undone brings goosebumps to your skin, and you know it means he’s looking at the now visible clasp of the lacy black bra you’re wearing underneath the dress.

“were you hoping to impress someone with this tonight?” he somehow still manages to sound sweet despite the snark in his attitude. “joshua?”

it makes you look at him over your shoulder. “he’s cute. just… not really my type.”

he chuckles to himself, your back still facing him. “yeah, i could’ve told you that.”

you beat around the bush just for the sake of doing so. “why? how would you know what my type is?”

as he moves on to the laces covering your lower back, he pulls on them a little harder than before. “it’s unlike you to play the fool. especially with me.”

all you can do is scoff.

once he’s reached the last lace, he glances at your body for a moment before backing away from you. “change into some comfortable clothes and get some sleep, alright?”

with the dress still on, you turn around to face him again. “are you serious?”

“what?”

“you bring me home early as soon as your best friend is about to kiss me, and now you’re just not gonna act on your feelings? all of that for nothing?”

“not for nothing,” he says coolly, tilting his head, “i made sure joshua didn’t get to make his move on you.”

honestly, you’d be pissed off at him if you actually liked shua in that way. what does piss you off, though, is that he won’t make a move on you.

“i could always call him,” you suggest, though you wouldn’t act on it, but he doesn’t need to know that, “maybe he’ll give me what you won’t.”

but as always, jeonghan sounds unfazed. always the smartest guy in the room. “he’s too sweet for you. a good catholic kid. he probably wouldn’t even know what to do with you.”

“like you would.”

“i think we both know the answer to that question.”

“oh, please. you barely even touched me.”

“true. but you must’ve enjoyed it, since you’re here, asking for more.”

“and what’s stopping you from giving me that?”

“we’re family now.”

“says the guy who calls me baby and kisses me on the lips,” you scoff, making it your mission to get him to give in.

so you shrug off the dress that was loosely clinging onto your body to drop it to the floor, and the second he lays eyes on the lacy lingerie, you know he’s practically done for.

“it’s simple. say you don’t want me, and i’ll let it go.”

there’s something charming about his brain short-cutting now that you’re standing in front of him like this, and you’re backing him into the corner so easily. “sweetheart―”

“have you thought about it, since you touched me? having me like this?” you interrupt teasingly, and when he doesn’t say anything, you can’t help but smile in realization. “oh my god, you have.”

he’s clearly doing his best to maintain the untouchable persona, but even you see the truth. “it doesn’t change anything.”

you want him to act out for once, see what’s underneath that exterior. something about him makes you want to be bold — yet completely you.

so you reach behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra, and he has to swallow to keep it together.

if anything, he’s a bit baffled. he didn’t expect you to undress right here, right now, in front of him. but you just do it, looking as confident as ever.

with two small steps forward, you put your hands on his chest to push him back on the chair behind him. his breath hitches, and he tries to hold you back, failing to sound convincing in the slightest. “we shouldn’t.”

“you touched me first. you started it.” you shrug, moving to sit in his lap, and he does his best to focus on anything but your bare chest.

“i know that, but… i can’t. regardless of how much i want to.” he breathes out while your hands move from his cheeks to the back of his neck.

“i wore this set for you, y’know. just like that dress. hell, why do you think i even went to that party?”

oh.

oh.

sure, he figured you messed with joshua on purpose to rile him up — but he didn’t think you’d planned the whole night like this.

it’s something he would do, and a certain sense of pride rushes through him.

he makes the mistake of looking down where your nearly naked body grinds against his clothed crotch, and it makes him sick.

because the feeling of it is so much better than it already was in his wet dream.

“if i fuck you now—” he inhales sharply with his hand trembling on your lower back, “it won’t end there. i’ll want you again, and again, and again.”

it’s the only reason he hasn’t given in fully yet, something he realized after touching you the way he did and nearly getting caught.

he likes you more than he’s ever liked anyone, you’re addictive to him, and he knows that once he crosses this line with you, it’s over for him. he’ll want nothing more than to be with you, to fuck you and love you and have you be his.

even more than he already does.

“did you think i wanted this to be a one-time thing?” you ask, putting your hands on his jaw. “fuck me, hannie. please.”

jeonghan takes one look at your eyes and decides to say goodbye to that last thread his honor was hanging onto.

your kiss is gentler than anticipated. perhaps it’s because this is the first time you both fully get to savor it, taste it ― it’s so sickeningly sweet that he almost forgets you’re practically naked on top of him, while he’s still fully clothed.

he shrugs his jacket off with ease, throwing it onto the floor, your lips on his again before he can comprehend it. his hands roam all over your body, his breathing speeding up as his kisses trail down your jaw, to your neck, the sensation of his tongue on the skin by your collarbone making you feel weak.

with your legs around him, he gets up from the chair and puts you down on your bed. “i didn’t get to make you cum last time, so i should probably finish that, right?”

“but i want―”

“i know what you want.” he cuts you off, removing his shirt, smirking to himself when you shamelessly stare at his abs. “i’ll give it to you, but i wanna taste you first.”

he gets on the mattress in just his jeans, the waistband of his underwear peeking out from the top of his pants, and you like the sight of his bare chest.

unlike his usual patient self, jeonghan refuses to waste any more time. the way he acts isn’t rushed, but he’s got a certain hunger clawing at his chest that’s fighting to get out ― and it only really wants one thing.

your hands quickly reach out to grab his dark red hair once he’s got his head between your legs, his fingers firmly clasped on your thighs. he’s greedy, mouth and nose buried in your wetness.

“fuck—jeonghan—”

it’s when he hums in satisfaction that your eyes roll back. you prop yourself onto your elbows to watch him run his tongue over your pussy, savoring the taste of you.

the sheer emptiness in your gut while you’re getting wetter by the second is driving you insane. you’re clenching around nothing, aching to be filled up, and he’s so mean for not doing so already.

his lips latch onto your clit, and you inhale sharply, your hold on his hair even harder than before, making him moan. he’s rubbing his clothed cock against the mattress while his hands and mouth are on your body, and he’s close to feeling fucking ecstasy.

when he comes back up for air, he’s breathing heavily, moving upwards to kiss your stomach. you take his wrists to bring his hands up to your breasts, and he’s almost hypnotized by your greed.

“fuck, hannie, ‘m so wet—just take me. please?” you beg, and he just can’t help it; he can’t refuse you.

he sits up on his knees to unbutton his jeans, fingers trembling in anticipation as he watches you glance at him.

shrugging off the last of his clothes, he reaches for the condom he’s got sitting in his wallet, rolling it on swiftly. he almost laughs at the way your eyes follow his every move.

“put your legs up.” he mutters, and you mindlessly follow his command, feeling the warm buds of his fingertips on your calves as he puts your legs over his shoulders.

jeonghan pushes into you slowly and gently, allowing you to adjust. you bite your lower lip with a soft grunt while your heat wraps around him.

your hands immediately reach for him, and he enjoys the feeling of your hands on his skin.

“i can’t believe you orchestrated this whole night. were you thinking about this when you nearly kissed my best friend?”

all you can do is let out a playful laugh. “would it be so terrible if i said i was?”

“a little. but i like terrible,” he shrugs casually, and you force yourself not to get caught up in the silver chain dangling above your face.

it’s then that you realize it’s a cross necklace.

the irony of it makes you chuckle, and jeonghan catches you staring at it, his eyes lighting up dauntingly.

“to think our parents got such a wonderful wedding in that church, and all i wanted was to fuck you right then and there,” his fingers dig into your thighs as he keeps his pace slow but deep, teasing you to no end, “i fucking knew you wanted me too. decided to make me jealous just to get me to fuck you — so dirty.”

“you’re the one fucking your sister—”

“says the girl who begged to be fucked by her brother,” he moves his hips harder, making you moan, “but don’t worry, baby. i don’t judge.”

he’s awfully cocky about the situation, which you do think is hot, but it also riles you up.

completely taken aback when you flip the two of you over, he’s suddenly got you sitting on top of him, and you’re shaking your head. “don’t start things you can’t finish, hannie.”

the lazy smirk he always sports falters when you slowly rock back and forth, his cock twitching inside you.

“fine. then you should finish it,” he mutters breathily, failing to come across as smug as usual, giving you full control to do whatever you want with him.

he hisses through gritted teeth when you clench around him, his hands finding their way to your hips.

“oh, fuck.” he grunts, briefly closing his eyes in pleasure, and you think it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. “you feel so fucking good, baby.”

as his breathing begins to quicken, he circles your clit with his thumb, causing you to shudder on top of him.

“shit! don’t—don’t do that, not yet—”

“i want you to cum around me. you can do that, right?” he urges you, feeling close to begging you simply because he wants to see your face and feel your body shake on him.

humming a response, you move your hips faster, trying to give him what he wants while simultaneously chasing your own high.

“oh my god, jeonghan—”

“that’s it, baby. doing so well for me.”

his praise is enough for you to hit your climax, your thighs trembling beside him, and the tightening of your muscles hits him to the point it makes him hit his peak as well.

once you’ve come down from it, he flips you over, going right at it again and again, until it’s deep into the night and you’re both spent.

your head lies comfortably on his chest, trailing his warm skin with your finger.

he’s softly stroking through your hair. “i can’t believe you did all of that. poor joshua became collateral damage.”

“you don’t sound like you care that much.”

“he’ll get over it.”

“you’re so mean.”

“hey, you took part in it too, sweetheart.”

“ugh, you’re right. you know, maybe i should go to the church. commit to the catholic confessions and all that.”

jeonghan scoffs. “what would you even say?”

you shrug, the sarcasm dripping from your words. “forgive me father, for i have sinned. i was at this party, and this guy who likes me was about to make a move on me, but i pretty much just left him by himself to go home with my evil stepbrother, who then proceeded to rail me into another dimension—”

“since when am i evil?”

“since the day i met you, if not long before.”

he laughs at the irony of it. “perhaps.”

V. FAMILY TREE

life is surprisingly good when you’re in a secret relationship, jeonghan finds.

whenever your parents are asleep, he quietly moves to your room, slipping under the covers to find you naked and wet and aching for him. he’ll have his hand under your jaw as he buries himself inside you to the hilt with slow, deep strokes.

at breakfast, while your parents are completely oblivious, jeonghan has to fight the urge to smirk, knowing he was inside you a mere hour before.

the sex is ridiculously good ― but he feels as if you’re still closed-off to him. that distance that he felt in those first weeks of being around you has decreased, but it’s still there. he wants nothing more than to be trusted with whatever’s clearly on your mind, but he figures you don’t. not completely.

as jeonghan repeatedly knocks on your door to get you to hurry up for your trip to the cinema, he’s suddenly greeted by your mother walking down the hall, motioning for him to come over to her, away from your door.

“jeonghan,” your mother says softly, “i wanted to thank you for taking such good care of my daughter. she seems… happier, these days. she’s fond of you.”

the heartfelt words make him smile genuinely. “i’m fond of her, too. she’s good company, and i… well, i’ve never had a sister, so…”

“it’s wonderful to see you two get along so well, especially after last year. she was so torn up about it.”

“last year?” he asks, confused.

your mother in turn looks confused as well. “she hasn’t told you?”

“no, i don’t think so.”

she looks behind her for a second to check if the hallway is still empty, proceeding to speak in a more hushed tone. “oh, it was terrible. one of the girls who was a member of her sports team fell to her death while they were all gathered at a party together. the police officers weren’t on the scene quick enough, so all the girls saw the body, and the blood... it took a toll on her, she cuts me off whenever i try to talk to her about it. but since moving here, i suppose she’s gotten the fresh start she needed.”

well, that’s an interesting twist, to say the least.

how traumatic that experience must’ve been for you ― he doesn’t know why you wouldn’t tell him something like that. do you really not trust him at all?

when he takes you out to the city just five minutes later, he pretends not to know a thing about your mother’s words to him. he’s eager to wait and see when you’ll open up.

it takes you several weeks more to do so. you’re in his room, and he’s laying down on his back while you’re on your stomach next to him, pushing yourself up on your elbows, fiddling with your fingers. “do you think what we’re doing is wrong?”

“million-dollar question, isn’t it?” he shrugs while looking up at the ceiling. “it feels good to us. why would it be wrong?”

“everyone would disapprove. our parents would probably disown us, one might argue it’s even, you know… morally wrong.”

he blinks at your words slowly, voice slightly gentler than before.

“perhaps you should start looking at things differently. y’know, i ask myself a certain question sometimes.” jeonghan finally meets your gaze, and it’s almost hypnotic. “who will you be when no one can stop you?”

“and what’s your answer?”

“as for me — someone who doesn’t live by the rules. i live my life however i want. if that means doing something other people consider to be ‘wrong’… so be it.”

“how far would you take that? how wrong?”

“as wrong as you want it.”

he notices your breathing quicken. his eyes flick down to your collarbone before moving back up again. your hand faintly brushes past his, and he goes out of his way to put your hand on his chest, so utterly desperate to have that intimacy with you at every possible opportunity.

“can i ask you something, hannie?”

“always.”

“would you still like me if i said i was guilty of something?”

jeonghan refrains from making a playful comment when he takes notice of the seriousness in your tone, like you’re about to confess something. “what’re you guilty of?”

“i…” your breath hitches in your throat, and your impulsivity fails you, “no, forget i said anything.”

that’s when he turns his head to look at you. “hey, don’t do that. you can tell me anything.”

“i want you to still like me, jeonghan.”

he feels genuinely touched that you value the bond you two have as much as he does. “sweetheart, you could tell me you’re secretly the head of a drug cartel and i’d still like you. c’mon, tell me.”

you fiddle with his fingers to avoid looking at him, but you do begin to open up. “last year, i was a member of the university hockey club. i was close with a couple of my teammates, but not all of them. in february, there was a party on campus to celebrate the nearing end of the sports season, just like every year.”

jeonghan can almost see your throat tightening up. your struggle is so utterly visible that it makes him grow worried.

but he stays quiet.

“at a certain point that night, it was so hot inside that i went up to the rooftop to get some fresh air, since we were high up in the building with the party. about ten minutes later, one of my teammates also came up to the roof. we hated each other’s guts since the start. it was pretty obvious that she had too much to drink, but she began to just… talk shit to me, saying the team was better off without me and other teammates i was close with, and i got riled up, ‘cause i knew she didn’t like me at all. so our fight eventually became physical ― she tried to claw at my hair and face, and i pushed her away from me in the heat of the moment, i didn’t see that she was standing at the edge until she…”

he finishes the sentence as you refuse to do so yourself.

“until she’d already fallen to her death.”

you nod as a confirmation, and he finally manages to catch your gaze, a pair of glossy eyes staring back at him.

all kinds of questions run through his head. “what happened afterwards?”

“hannie…” you softly protest, heart crumbling with every word that comes out of your mouth, because it makes you feel so fucking vulnerable ― you can’t bear the thought of him leaving you or judging you.

he hums, tilting your chin upwards so you keep facing him. “no, baby. tell me.”

the nickname rolls off his tongue so naturally that you nearly miss it. “everyone who was there that night was questioned. there were no cameras, no witnesses, everyone knew she had a problem with alcohol… so i… i just said the same as everyone else. i lied. when the police ruled it an accident, everyone believed it.”

“it was.”

“except it wasn’t, because i pushed her.” you bury your face in your hands for a moment. “the shock hit me so hard that i went to the bathroom and threw up everything i ate that night. but once it wore off, i just… i didn’t feel guilty. i don’t care that she fell to her death ― it was unfortunate but bound to happen. and that’s what scares me, ‘cause i’m―i’m supposed to feel guilty about this, right? what kind of shitty person am i that i just don’t feel that? what the fuck is wrong with me?”

everything suddenly falls into place. the threatening arguments you had with bitna, the way you nearly had a breakdown at the church, the distance you’ve been so eager to keep since the day you stepped foot in this place.

this is what you were trying to run away from by coming here.

you don’t feel guilty because you pushed a girl plummeting to her death ― you feel guilt because you simply can’t bring yourself to care.

“did you want to push her?”

“jeonghan.” your tone is close to hostile, but his calm demeanor somehow pushes through.

“answer the question.”

“i—”

the stumble of an answer makes him smirk, and his face inches closer to yours, not allowing you to try and give the answer that’s clearly not the truth. “you did. you’re glad she’s dead.”

“stop. just stop.”

“you’re just saying this because you feel obligated to, not because you mean it. tell me how you really feel. i won’t judge you.”

every word coming out of his mouth tears you open little by little, exposing your biggest secret and darkest thoughts. but if he’s already deducted it — why not tell him?

it’s like you hit an internal switch. the stress begins to leave your features like he’s never seen before.

he finds it intriguing.

you finally give in and tell him the truth. “okay, fine. i hated that bitch to the bone, and i’m glad she’s dead. but i guess i still have some level of guilt, because now that i’ve done what i did… what kind of person does that make me?”

jeonghan flinches. he’s heard those words before — in his own head.

he wants to tell you that it makes you a lot more like him than he thought, to the point that it almost scares him. you’ve just trusted him with your darkest secret, yet he’s afraid to trust you with his.

what would you think of him? would you still want him the way he wants you?

“it makes you someone who had no choice. she was drunk, looking to start a fight, and you defended yourself.”

“do you really believe that?”

“i do. good and bad are a matter of perspective, and i believe you did the right thing. you’ll let go of that guilt with time. trust me.”

finally telling someone what you’ve had on your chest for so long is freeing, and he hardly appears as repulsed as you’d imagined him to be.

your voice becomes smaller. “but what if i don’t?”

“then i’ll help you. you’re my sister; i’ll take care of you, always.” he promises you, intertwining his fingers with yours, and you don’t know how to respond at first, solely because you don’t think you’ve ever been loved like this ― unconditionally.

with his free hand, he gently runs his hand through your hair, and it’s like you can finally relax now that you know jeonghan sees you as you are and cares for you just as much as before.

“thank you, hannie.” you mutter, laying your head down on his chest, and he presses a kiss on top of your head.

“anytime, sweetheart.”

his shoulders sink in relief under you. all he wants is the people he cares for to put their faith in him, and you’ve just proved you trust him with everything you have.

with you on his mind and in his arms, he drifts off into a deep slumber.

it’s remarkable how your parents remain completely oblivious of everything that’s been going on right underneath their noses. there’s been a few close calls, but nothing serious.

the last thing you expected after opening up to him was for you to grow even closer than you already were, yet that’s exactly what happened.

jeonghan has been particularly insatiable over the course of the past weeks. being all handsy, urging you to stay in his bed a little longer in the mornings, begging you to let him bury his head between your legs when he’s already done so several times — whatever’s in his system these days, it is strong.

not that you’re complaining.

being so comfortable with each other apparently also means pushing limits; the limits to possibly being caught, that is.

pushing his fingers inside you underneath the table when you’re having lunch with your parents, sneaking off into an empty classroom at university, showering together despite everyone being home ― the list goes on. there’s something thrilling about the idea of indulging in something you know you shouldn’t.

one line you haven’t crossed yet is slipping away from a charity event hosted by jeonghan’s father, though it seems that’ll be changing tonight.

jeonghan wasn’t planning on fucking you while the guests are still here, in his own home ― but you just look so gorgeous in that dress, and his jealousy is slowly but steadily going through the roof with every man coming up to you, clearly eyeing your dangerously low neckline.

as you’re heading to grab a new glass of champagne, you’re greeted by your dear stepbrother, and you’ve come to know him well enough to recognize that smug expression painted on his face.

“no.” you immediately tell him, and he huffs.

“oh, c’mon. you’re so not having fun right now.”

“can’t we just wait until everyone’s left?”

“on the contrary. this is the perfect timing.”

“yeah, for you, i bet. are you all hot and bothered, hannie?”

“i am, and you’re the only one who can fix it.”

the sarcasm might as well drip from your tongue. “wow, i feel so flattered.”

while your full attention is on jeonghan, and his attention is on you, neither of you are aware that joshua, who was invited alongside his parents, has been staring at you two since jeonghan approached you.

truth be told, joshua’s had the idea something was off about your dynamic that first moment he ever saw you interact with him, in the hallway at university.

jeonghan has never looked at anyone like he looks at you — full of intrigue, full of longing for something he can’t quite put his finger on. which he dismissed at first.

in spite of their close friendship, there is a certain barrier between them. there’s certain lines joshua won’t cross that jeonghan most definitely will, and perhaps he’s found his match in you.

but he still assumes that the relationship you have is platonic. surely it has to be.

only with each passing day, he begins to doubt that.

he’s itching to find out how you are with each other when you’re alone, and it’s a terrible thing to listen in on a conversation, but he wants this. desperately, for whatever reason.

he can’t help himself when he notices you going after him. following you from a distance, he quickly recognizes the room you head into is jeonghan’s.

the walls prove relatively thick, and his attempt to listen in from the outside fails, because he can’t hear anything.

so he blames the three glasses of champagne he downed earlier for making him go on with hasty decision-making as he quietly pushes the door handle down, not planning on actually entering the room, only having the door ajar.

jeonghan’s room is as big as a spacious apartment, so it’s no surprise joshua doesn’t see you anywhere at first.

it’s relatively quiet, with the crackling fireplace making the most noise, and he’s about to turn away from the door when he hears your voice in the background.

“you’re so impatient.”

then there’s jeonghan’s voice. “sue me.”

it remains somewhat quiet after that, until joshua hears noise he can’t make anything out of.

his curiosity gets the better of him, so he takes a few steps forward, peeking around the corner — only to find you together on top of the bed with messy hair and hands all over each other.

he’s taken aback with eyes blown wide as he watches the girl he likes half-naked and writhing underneath his best friend.

he hates how pretty you both look with the light of the fire reflecting on your skin.

jeonghan is completely caught up in the feeling of your heat around him when he throws his head back, but then he catches movement near the corner — and suddenly the two of them lock eyes.

of course he sees how borderline horrified joshua looks at the scene in front of him; he just can’t bring himself to care.

if anything, he simply ensures you keep your head turned the other way while burying himself deeper inside you, shooting his friend one of his classic lazy grins. your moans are the last thing joshua hears before he blinks to himself, leaving the room, nearly stumbling over his own feet in the process.

and jeonghan can only let out a satisfactory chuckle to himself, continuing to fuck you as if he didn’t just catch his best friend staring at the two of you.

matter of fact, it’s not until several days later that he sees him again, at university.

the hallway is as good as empty when joshua shakes his head at the sight of him. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

“no? why’s that?”

shua grits his teeth. “how long has this been going on between you and her?”

“not long before our parents got married.”

“that’s several months.” he exclaims with his face even more horrified than before. “why the fuck would you hide something like this from me for so long?”

“why would i tell you at all, shua?”

a pang of hurt shoots through joshua’s chest, and he presses his lips together. “because i liked her.”

“and how was i supposed to know that?”

“you always know these things before i know them myself. don’t tell me you weren’t aware.”

jeonghan catches the hurt in his voice and decides to tone things down. “you’re right. i knew how you felt. i guess i didn’t know how to tell you.”

“look, whatever you’re doing with her needs to stop.”

well, so much for toning things down. he thinks he much prefers being clear and forward instead. “no it doesn’t.”

“jesus christ — you’re fucking your stepsister, jeonghan! how can you be remotely normal about this?”

where joshua’s anger rises, all that surges through jeonghan’s body is pride.

yeah, perhaps the whole thing should make him feel ashamed instead of boosting his ego, but it’s not like he hasn’t already crossed the line of what is and isn’t right. what’s the harm in going even further?

“i’m normal about it ‘cause i like doing it,” he shrugs, hardly attempting to hide his enjoyment, “we’re both adults. we already were when we met several months ago, we weren’t raised together, we’re not related in the slightest. so what does it matter?”

“oh, c’mon. she’s family to you now.”

“true. but i don’t care if i have to break up my father’s marriage for this, shua. she’s mine, one way or another.”

“is it just physical?”

“you’re asking me if i love her?” he nods for a moment, admitting how he feels about you. “i do. a lot. i don’t think i’ve ever felt this way about anyone else.”

that certainly puts a halt to joshua’s snarky comments for the time being. jeonghan is not the type of person to say something like that easily, which also means that no matter what he says, his best friend is not planning on giving you up anytime soon.

but joshua feels hurt ― so he’s going to test that love jeonghan harbors for you, even if it means stooping lower than he ever thought he would.

it’s silent, briefly. he leans closer to his face, narrowing his eyes. “does she know what you did?”

jeonghan’s blood runs cold at the sentence alone. his entire demeanor changes like the flip of a switch ― his lips are pressed together in sheer anger, and he visibly has to hold back from shoving his best friend against the wall. “the fuck did you just say to me?”

“she deserves to know.”

“oh, so now is the moment you suddenly have morals again? what happened to ‘taking it to the grave’, huh?”

“i don’t care what you do, it’s not my secret to tell. but like you said, she’s your family. if you two care about each other so much, then she should know.”

“shua, i value our friendship, which is why i won’t cuss the shit out of you right now, but this is not your business to meddle with. we keep this between us, just like we promised back then. got it?”

“sure.” the sound of joshua’s humorless chuckle rings through his ears. “you know, i used to wonder when you’d finally break. when the burden of what you did might get too much for your conscience. but eventually i realized that’s never gonna happen, because that conscience i thought you had? it doesn’t fucking exist.”

with those words, his best friend leaves him behind. jeonghan has to take a second to comprehend what just happened ― hell, he’s still not sure he heard it right.

neither joshua nor jeonghan are aware that you’ve been listening in on nearly the whole conversation from the other side of the corner, and you’re left asking yourself if you made a mistake trusting jeonghan with your secret.

because he clearly doesn’t trust you with his.

VI. WHEN PUSH COMES TO SHOVE

jeonghan stares at the screen of his laptop with a hollow chest and overflowing thoughts.

truth be told, he doubts he’s ever felt this vulnerable.

ever since his falling out with joshua two weeks ago, life has been particularly shitty. his best friend still isn’t speaking to him, and you’ve suddenly started to distance yourself from him too, for whatever reason.

he’s pretty sure he’s going insane. it’s not like he said something to offend you, and you don’t even appear to be angry with him at all ― you’re still as lovely as ever, except you keep yourself far away from him.

every time he’s tried to talk to you, you managed to worm your way out of it, leaving him no choice but to speak to you when you’re about to go to bed.

“you’ve been avoiding me.”

as you’re taking your earrings out in front of the mirror, he watches you raise your brows in annoyance. “yeah, i have.”

“have i done something to upset you?” he hesitantly asks with a gentle voice and big eyes, and you almost begin to feel bad because of it.

you consider denying it and brushing it off but decide not to. “i overheard your conversation with joshua.”

he digs his nails into the palm of his hand. fuck.

“right.”

“that’s it? no witty remark?” you shrug, and jeonghan doesn’t miss the sharp edge to your words.

when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. it’s rare for him to be speechless, but he simply doesn’t know what to say to you.

it makes you even more annoyed than you already are. “you’re not going to tell me about the little secret you share with him, are you?”

he shoots you an apologetic look. “i can’t. i’m sorry.”

“why not?”

“because—” because he’s even worse than you are, “—i just can’t. and it’s not ‘cause i don’t trust you—”

“are you serious?” you frown at his sad attempt of making up an excuse. “look at what i’ve told you about me. i trusted you with something like that, but you don’t trust me.”

“i do.” he firmly interrupts. “i trust you more than anyone.”

“well, forgive me if i don’t believe that. if you’re not gonna tell me whatever it is you’re hiding, there’s the door.”

he waits for a second, the spasm in his fingertips being the only visible sign that he’s itching to tell you what’s been sitting on his conscience for so long ― yet not a single word comes out of his mouth.

with shoulders slumped in defeat, he hesitantly takes a step backwards, leaving you behind as he exits your room.

while walking down the hallway to get to his own room, he takes a deep breath. all he can tell himself is that this will probably blow over soon, and perhaps you’ll even forget about it, with time.

several weeks later, he realizes that those thoughts couldn’t be less true.

in the days that have passed since the argument, you’ve hardly even looked at him. he can’t stand this sudden distance between you ― he wishes you understood why he hasn’t told you the truth, but he’s afraid you’ll only understand that once he actually tells you. in which lies the problem.

he doesn’t do that kind of honesty. not usually, anyways.

now, for the first time in weeks, the crippling sense of loneliness he’s been feeling is replaced by annoyance.

he’s always hated the parties hosted by his father’s social circle ― but if he wants his inheritance, he’ll have to bear it. so he finds himself attending a gala in his tailored tuxedo, his hands sitting in his pockets, a deep frown set into his forehead.

maybe it was uncharacteristically naive of him to think everything could go back to the way things were before that conversation with joshua. the last thing he expected, though, was that he’d be the one left behind.

from a distance, he’s been keeping his eye on you. and from what he’s seen, you and joshua are friendly with each other again, and jeonghan gets the feeling his best friend only holds him accountable for the fact that you’re fucking.

truthfully, you came up to joshua a few days after overhearing their conversation, and you apologized he had to see you and his best friend together in the way that he did. with shua still holding a bit of a soft spot for you, he accepted your apology, and you’ve been enjoying his company ever since.

but he’s not jeonghan.

while anxiously tapping your finger against the champagne glass, you look around the room, since you’ve hardly even seen him tonight.

it’s as if joshua can read your mind. he leans down to speak in a hushed tone. “trouble in paradise?”

him taking notice of it makes you shrug. “no, everything’s fine.”

“sure.” he chuckles knowingly. “i get it. why do you think he’s still my best friend after all these years?”

“what do you mean?”

“i know you overheard our conversation a couple weeks ago. i saw you slip away, and now that i know you’re not on speaking terms with him, well… you put two and two together.”

“i’m guessing you’re not gonna tell me either?”

“i can’t. unfortunately.”

the cryptic response has you rolling your eyes at him. “i don’t understand why you guys are being so secretive about it.”

“because if he told you, you’d see him for who he really is.”

“and who would that be?”

“someone who…” he swallows for a moment. “someone who will make you question your own sanity. he’s willing to do the worst things you could possibly think of and then act like it’s completely normal. he’s the worst person i know.”

the brutal honesty catches you off guard. “so why do you keep going back to him?”

“i’ve asked myself the same question. there’s something about him that… i don’t know―just pulls you in, i guess.”

the short-lived silence makes you look at your glass of alcohol with a certain distaste.

“why are you telling me this, joshua? are you saying i should distance myself from him?”

“that’s the thing. there is no distancing yourself from him.”

“you make him sound like a monster.”

joshua doesn’t meet your eyes. “perhaps he is.”

the bitter statement leaves you baffled for a second — until you decide you’re sick of it. “for fuck’s sake, joshua, you can’t say something like that and not elaborate. i live in the same house as him.”

he’s clearly surprised by your sudden and strong grip on his arm, but all it takes is catching a single glance from jeonghan across the room for him to backtrack.

“i’m sorry.” is all he says to you before leaving you behind, hoping to find some peace and quiet in the empty hallway.

all he finds there is the opposite.

“you seem awfully close with my sister. thought you’d try again now that she’s not talking to me?”

joshua stops dead in his tracks. he turns around, seeing his best friend casually leaning against the wall, the soft light of the lamp above his head reflecting on his face. the red circles under his eyes almost match his hair.

“i’m not trying anything. i know she doesn’t like me like that.”

“i’m aware. but perhaps she’d naturally gravitate more towards liking you if you told her… our secret.” jeonghan manipulatively emphasizes, which his best friend fails to register.

joshua clenches his fist. “that’s something you would do. not me.”

“right. you’re a much better person than me.”

“i didn’t say that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

“just―just tell her the truth. i can’t stand that she knows we’re hiding something.”

“we’re not guilty of anything, shua. i told you that.”

“then why won’t you tell her?”

“because she wasn’t there. she wouldn’t understand.”

but his own worry clouds his judgement and shifts the conversation into a different direction. “i saw bitna tonight. it’s like she fucking knows what we did to her brother―”

jeonghan’s anger comes swift and harsh, causing joshua to flinch. “we agreed to remain silent on this, shua, so you need to keep your end of the deal.”

but jeonghan suddenly notices his best friend is now focused on something behind him, and as his body language changes into something smaller, jeonghan turns his head.

only to see you standing behind him with confused eyes.

fucking hell, he thinks to himself. what is it with everyone and eavesdropping these days?

“joshua, go outside, take a breather. i’ll be back.” he says, taking charge of the situation, barely making eye contact with you when he takes a few steps toward you, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him to an empty room he finds after opening one of the doors, shutting the door behind you. the jealousy is painfully obvious in his face.

“you can’t avoid me forever. and what the fuck are you doing ― being besties with joshua all of a sudden? seriously?”

“oh, so i need your approval on who i befriend now?”

“you know damn well that’s not what i’m saying. it makes zero sense for you to be mad at me but all buddy-buddy with him.”

“because you’re the one i trust! i never put my faith in him the way i put it in you!”

“do you really think i don’t feel the same way? if you actually believe i don’t trust you, you’re not as smart as i thought you to be.”

“fuck you, jeonghan. if you think i’ll ever open up to you again in the way that i did, you’re wrong.”

when you’re about to leave him behind, he stops you, tugging at your arm, and you sigh.

“please don’t leave. please.” he begs, his voice turning small. “i wanna tell you — i’m just scared to lose you when i do. and that’s the one thing i cannot handle.”

you scoff. “oh, c’mon, after what i did, how much worse can it possibly get?”

when he keeps quiet, looking you in the eye with a stern face, yours drops.

“jeonghan, what did you do?”

after opening the door to check if anyone’s there, then closing it again, he rubs his forehead. “me and joshua went on vacation to a winter retreat over our november break with a group of twenty, it was an initiative from a classmate. it ended up being a couple days of a lot of drinking, and then one night, someone pulled out the harddrugs. shua and i didn’t want any, and the guys who brought it clearly thought it was stupid. one of them was bitna’s brother.”

you just listen intently, gesturing for him to continue.

“eventually, he went outside to grab more beer from the storage by himself, which was about a five-minute walk from the house. i slipped out of the room without anyone noticing and went after him. there was a snow storm outside, so the weather was shit. once i got to the storage, i told him to stop harassing shua about taking any drugs, but he reacted badly to it. we got into a fight, i don’t even remember who threw the first punch, but… i pushed him, and when he fell backwards, it’s like i could hear the crack in his skull. he was bleeding from the back of his head, unable to get up. i grabbed my phone to call for help, but all i did was stare at my screen. the guy was bleeding out in front of me and i let him die instead of letting anyone know. and it would’ve been fine — had joshua not come outside.”

“did he watch everything?”

“no, i don’t think he did. i told him exactly what had happened, and he… he came up with the idea of framing it as an unfortunate accident. so that’s what we did. the other guys were so coked out that night that they only found the body the next day, buried under a layer of snow. the cops found the drugs in his system, and he clearly hit his head, so they ruled it an accident like we’d hoped.”

“and you swore to take it to the grave.” you fill in the blanks, and he nods at you. “why didn’t you tell me this when i asked you? what were you so afraid of?”

you see something in him you’ve never seen before — tears. nervousness. panic.

his eyes turn red and his throat tightens up. “when you told me your secret, i was… happy. because the person i care for the most is the only one who’s experienced what i have. but what you had to do was nothing more than an accident, and what i did was on purpose. i could’ve saved that guy, yet i chose not to. i don’t care if that makes me a bad person — i just don’t want you to see me that way. as selfish as that may be.”

he’s on the verge of sobbing, trembling fingers sitting on your waist.

little does he know that you don’t view him as a bad person at all. “you had to make a choice, and you made the right one. who knows what they would’ve done to you if you’d told the truth.”

all he can do is nod, his throat too closed-off to talk.

“you’re my brother. you’ll always have me, jeonghan.” you tell him, remembering the words he said to you after you confessed what was weighing so heavily on your conscience.

and jeonghan cannot help gazing at you ― he realizes that you understand him more than anyone else ever will. he’s free to completely be himself with you as you are with him, and he’s finally processing that.

he cups your face, staring at your lips before pressing his own on them.

the kiss is slow but hungry — full of greed and care and wanting. his hands move from your face to your back, pressing your body closer to his, aching for your bodies to mold together and become one.

his whole body trembles when you break the kiss, and you cup his face as he did yours.

he can’t believe he gave you his bare heart on a silver platter and you chose to stay. you see him for all he is, and in spite of his many flaws, you want him just as much as before.

yoon jeonghan, for the first time in his life, finally knows what it’s like to be loved in the way he so desperately yearned for.

and he wants to show you that he loves you just as much. he leans in to kiss you again, but just when his lips are about to touch yours, the door whips open, and you’re greeted by a phone shoved in front of you.

the vulnerability on your faces is gone the second you recognize the person holding the phone as bitna — who seems horrified.

“what the fuck are you doing?” jeonghan sneers when he realizes she made a picture of your near-kiss.

she stumbles in her step, and it seems like she’s had one too many glasses of champagne. “at first i thought i was imagining things at the party, but i was right. i was trying to finally tell you how much i liked you, even after all these years, and you ditched me for your fucking stepsister!”

that makes you raise your brow. jeonghan just confessed to killing her brother, yet this is what she chooses to talk about — she probably wasn’t eavesdropping, then.

“and how is that any of your business? we’ve barely even spoken to each other since high school.” he responds, his voice to her colder than he’s ever been to you.

“maybe it’s not my business. but the rest of your friends here deserve to know what you’ve been up to, if you ask me.” she says, attempting to make her tone sound just as mean as his, but the tremble in her voice gives her away.

when she grabs her phone and begins to type like she’s on a timer, you both realize what she’s about to do — she’s gonna upload the picture.

if that photo of you and jeonghan gets out, it’ll have serious consequences.

you attempt to snatch the phone out of her hand, but she’s quicker, her sharp nails leaving a scratch on your wrist.

jeonghan sees you hiss from the pain, and he pushes her up against the wall, his hand wrapped around her throat.

“don’t even fucking try it.”

bitna panics and shoves her knee right into his crotch, causing him to grunt from the impact, forced to let go of her neck as he collapses on the floor.

she grabs her phone and runs out of the hallway, and you don’t waste a second, running after her.

with the gala taking place at a mansion by the countryside, you’re far away from civilization, mostly just surrounded by the forest and some badly lit roads.

you go after her even when she runs outside through the backdoor, right between the tall trees. it’s when she trips over her heels that you’re finally able to catch up with her, and you flip her around to choke her unconscious, but she uses her nails to scratch across your face this time.

“fuck!” you yell, and she uses the moment to escape once more.

with a few drops of blood on your face, you get up to go after her again, fueled by the adrenaline and blazing hatred in your system.

she keeps running, looking back to you from over her shoulder, and it’s right at that moment that she runs onto the road, forgetting to check whether there’s any traffic in her haste — and she gets pushed over by an incoming car.

shock hits you briefly, and you contemplate hiding between the trees to leave the scene of the crime until you recognize the car as well as its driver.

jeonghan gets out, and you run over to him, finding him standing by bitna’s body, which is now several meters away from the car due to the crash.

“fucking hell — what just happened? i wasn’t even trying to hit her, she just ran in front of the car out of fucking nowhere—did she do that to your face?”

with your breathing slowing bit by bit, you nod, and you both look down at the body, only to realize she’s still breathing, but her injuries are so bad that she can’t get up, and she’s coughing up blood. hell, it looks like she can hardly even move at all.

the sound of her pained grunts hardly affect you when you take her phone out of her pocket to delete the picture before putting it back again.

“sweetheart.” jeonghan says to you, and you look at each other for a moment. “she knows too much.”

you sigh, turning around to check if there’s any cars coming, but the road is remote and empty, and it’s late at night.

“who’s gonna do it?”

he wordlessly sinks down to one knee, staring down at bitna even when his hand squeezes her throat and the life leaves her eyes. he only closes his eyes when some splatters of the blood she was coughing up hits his cheek, which he wipes away with his other hand.

when he checks her pulse to see if she’s still alive, you see a single car nearing the scene, the driver of which you then recognize as the last person that should see this.

joshua hits the brakes and hurries out of the car. “i saw you drive off like crazy, what the hell happened—”

his words are caught in his throat when he sees the body.

“shua. she’s gone.” your voice is strained as the sobs remain choked-up in your throat, your shaky hands tugging at his arm.

tears well up in his eyes. “what the—how did this happen?”

jeonghan forces himself to sound remotely shaken up. “i just drove here and she ran in front of the car. it was an accident, i swear.”

but a part of joshua doesn’t buy it. “out of nowhere? what the fuck is this, jeonghan? are you lying to me?”

“no. i swear to you—”

but he doesn���t let him finish. “this is insane. we have to do something, tell the cops what happened here, and with her brother—”

it’s then that jeonghan’s softer approach fades into something meaner. he pushes him against the hood of the car, trying to talk some sense into him. “and what do you think the cops will say, huh? you think they’ll just smile at you for fessing up and let you walk out freely? you’re an accomplice to murder, shua. everyone you know will hate you. this will haunt your name for the rest of your life ― get it into your thick skull once and for all.”

joshua’s breathing quickens with his sobs. “i can’t deal with this the way you can. i can’t do it.”

“you can, and you will.” he grabs his face, wiping the fresh tears away. “you just have to breathe, and you deny. you deny everything. you were not here, okay? i need you to go home, she and i will fix this.”

“you can’t keep making me go through this. how many more deaths do i need to have on my conscience before it’s enough?”

jeonghan shakes his head calmly, embracing him, his one hand on the back of joshua’s neck. “it’s not your fault, shua. it’ll be okay, promise.”

joshua glances at you, seeing your distraught face, and the portion of trust he lost in his best friend, he chooses to find in you.

and so he believes it. he tells himself it was an accident, and does what he’s told.

the moment joshua walks back to get into his car, jeonghan peers at you, the flickering red light reflecting on your tear-streaked face. the emotions you were displaying mere seconds ago are entirely gone, replaced by something numb and indifferent in the blink of an eye.

it’s like looking into a mirror.

as joshua’s in the driver’s seat, jeonghan tells him what to do one last time before the younger of the two drives off, leaving only you and your brother behind.

what happens next is like a blur. jeonghan tells you something about a nearby lake, which is where he takes the body to get rid of it. once he returns, he’s empty-handed, save for the fresh blood on his conscience.

you’re in the driver’s seat, watching him get in beside you, his clothes stained with red spots.

he sits still for a moment, but as soon as you turn your head, he holds your chin and kisses you.

it’s far less gentle than before, more lust than anything, but it’s something you both need right now.

with your forehead leaning against his, you breathe into each other’s mouths. “we gotta go home, hannie. before our parents get back.” you whisper.

all he can do is hum in agreement, kissing you one more time before you start the car.

once you’re home, you park the car out of sight, as it needs to be cleaned and repaired.

you eventually manage to get into jeonghan’s room unseen. he yanks his stained shirt over his head, throwing it into the fireplace to get rid of every piece of evidence he can think of. you immediately go on to wash your hands by the sink.

it’s interesting for you to watch how he behaves at a moment like this — it’s hard to tell whether his thoughts are racing or completely frozen. he moves to the bathroom to scrub the blood off his hands and nails, going at it for several minutes until there’s not a speck of red left.

then he comes walking back, heading straight for the whiskey bottle on top of the coffee table to down two glasses in one go.

“you put up a show for joshua.” he states.

“what do you mean?”

“the crying. it stopped the second you knew he wasn’t paying attention to it anymore.”

kudos to him for being so perceptive. you didn’t think he noticed.

“so?”

he takes a few steps over to you. “i saw it. that moment your expression completely changed… i used to think we were different, in a way. but we’re really not.”

it only makes you shrug your shoulders. “and now? am i no longer a good person to you, little brother?”

jeonghan mimics the teasing in your tone. “i think being a good person is overrated.”

his tone and gaze and grip on your hips is harsher than usual, and as soon as he’s got you pressed against the wall, you realize he’s rock-hard.

“you looked so fucking good doing that. the way you talked to joshua, saying the exact things you needed to say to get him to believe you, the blood on your face—” he mutters, completely lost in his desires now that you’ve made them a reality, “you were perfect. my sweet sister.”

your nails harshly dig into his skin, hot arousal dripping between your legs. you pull your dress of and discard it onto the floor, taking a few steps back to his desk, pulling him with you with your finger at the waistband of his boxers.

“need you in me. please, i’m so fucking wet—”

after laying you back on his desk, he rubs his cock against your entrance, finding you soaking for him, and he has to force himself to keep his composure and not completely fall apart already.

a shameless moan escapes him when he pushes himself inside you, and his pace quickly increases, his mouth moving to your sensitive nipples. you wrap your legs around his waist at the sensation, and his warm saliva coats your breasts while he keeps fucking into you.

you don’t think the coil in your stomach has ever built up this fast. all you want is for him to keep fucking you throughout the night, and by the looks of it, he’s far from done with you.

he leaves hickeys all over your upper body, feeling more possessive of you than ever before, and you suck his cock so tightly into your cunt that he wants to stay like this forever.

“let me cum inside you, baby, please. wanna see it drip out of you — oh my god, please, let me have it—”

the sound of his begging turns you even wetter. “yes, yes, cum in me, hannie.”

it’s a mere matter of seconds before you feel him shudder, emptying himself inside you, and he looks down to see drops of his white cum seeping out of your dripping pussy. he watches you rub at your clit before you dip your finger inside, pushing his cum back into you, and his breath visibly hitches in his throat.

his cock has never been hard faster, and he rubs himself at the sight of your pussy, moaning when you begin to finger yourself in front of him, the wet noise ringing through his ears.

“let me fuck you again. wanna fuck you again so bad, baby, look at how wet you are, jesus christ—”

“want it harder this time, hannie.” you nod, pulling him closer to you again, and he’s utterly hypnotized, as if you’re some holy being speaking to someone beneath you.

and as always, he’ll gladly oblige you, so he sheathes himself inside, giving you exactly what you want.

you both lose complete track of time in his room, lost in your own world, waking up the next day to the news that the girl whose body you dumped into the lake is considered missing by the authorities.

it’s two days later when they discover her body, and as you’d hoped, the police appear to believe her death was an unfortunate accident rather than cold-blooded murder.

bitna’s funeral is grim.

it’s more crowded than you anticipated, but the majority of people attending are either family, current classmates or former classmates, you and jeonghan falling into the latter categories. you blend in well with the other attendees.

with your black coats and leather gloves on, you stare at the casket being lowered into the ground.

once the people leaving are out of earshot, the two of you glance at the tombstone. “what a shame. she was young.”

jeonghan nods slowly. “and she made a mistake by trying to meddle with business that wasn’t hers.”

“do you have any regrets? about the things that happened?”

“no. do you?”

“i should, probably. but i don’t.” you shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. “i have a feeling joshua is gonna lose his shit, though. he’s fragile.”

“you’d be surprised, actually.” he leans toward you, making sure that no one can hear him. “when bitna’s brother died, it was his idea to frame it as suicide.”

“seriously? i thought it was yours.”

“to be fair, i’d come up with the idea already, but i wanted him to be the one to say it. all he needed was me mentioning what the consequences would be — were we to confess what happened. the image of spending a solid part of your life in prison does wonders for some.”

deadpanning a stare, you snort. “you manipulated him into coming up with the suicide so he couldn’t blame you later on.”

a smirk tugs at his lips, yet he tilts his head. “don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“fine, you got me there.”

you both chuckle quietly, after which it’s briefly quiet. shifting your gaze down to the ground, you huff to yourself.

“well, i guess this is who we are when no one can stop us.” you sigh. “somehow always at the scene of the crime.”

“this is who we are when we take care of each other.” he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you to his side, rubbing at your clothed skin as he holds you. “you’re my sister. i’ll do anything for you — i want you to know that.”

“i do.” you nod, laying your head down on his shoulder. “i also know you don’t want me to protect you, but… i will. always.”

with a kiss pressed to your temple, he gives you his response to the sentiment.

sure, you and jeonghan may not share the same blood, but you are bound by the secrets you’ve shared and the blood you’ve spilled, and all you can feel for the future is… excitement.

thank u for reading. please let me know if u enjoyed it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

Kill my time // Quinn Hughes

In a city full of lonely people, I just want you all to myself

summary: birthday celebrations causing jealousy while struggling to turn a certain age

warnings: drinking, clubbing, smut (18+)

── ∘◦ ⛤ ◦∘ ──

“I can’t believe I’m going to a bar like I’m in my early twenties again.”

I smoothed my dress down, picking apart everything wrong with me as I looked in the mirror. Turning thirty felt like my world was about to collapse, and what made it worse was knowing my boyfriend was only turning twenty five just two days after me.

“Not to mention with a bunch of guys who are twenty one.” My roommate added as she fixed us a couple of drinks. I saw her bring out a bottle of tequila, knowing I was going to be in for a long night.

“Ugh, what did I get myself into?”

“Girl, it’s fine! Quinn doesn’t care about your age so why should you?” She asks, passing me whatever concoction she made. A took a small sip, realizing it was tequila and soda…more like tequila with a splash of soda.

Deep down I knew she was right, because when I told Quinn I was older than him it didn’t phase him at all, I completely expected him to run. He told me the idea of being with someone older was a big turn on for him, something he didn’t discover until he met me. As for me, it didn’t matter what age the men were I dated, they were all extremely immature. I knew it was a risk with Quinn but he definitely didn’t act like men his age. After all he was the captain of an NHL team, he had to have a strong head on his shoulders.

An hour later I was making my way through a busy drunken crowd, holding onto Quinn’s hand for dear life. For whatever reason, his teammates chose this club to celebrate his birthday tonight. Wouldn’t have been my first choice, and I don’t think Quinn was thrilled on it either but he was too quiet to say anything. We always made the best of a bad situation and I knew tonight wouldn’t be any different. House music and lights were bouncing off the walls, making it hard to focus on where we were going. We finally got into our booth and a heavy sigh left me, I definitely wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Quinn’s velvet voice echoed in my ear, calming my nerves. His eyes were bright green, almost enchanting as they peered into mine. My face grew hot, wondering how it was humanly possible for someone to be this gorgeous.

“Yeah it’s just been a while.” I wasn’t lying either. I spent most of my time in breweries with my friends since most of us were over going to clubs. Quinn likes to tell me he doesn’t like going out, but give him a few drinks and he makes a liar out of himself.

He pulled me closer to him, so close I could feel his stubble on my neck. “I won’t leave your side at all, I promise.”

“Okay.” I nodded before he gently brushed his lips over mine. I got lost in our own little world, the music melted away and I forgot we were in the middle of a busy club surrounded by strangers.

“Let’s celebrate, it’s your birthday after all.”

I rolled my eyes, “it’s also yours in two days.”

“Yeah, but …” his words trail off as he runs the pad of his thumb over my lip, “today brought me you.”

“How does it feel to be with a thirty year old?” The words falling last my lips causing my eyes to roll again. That number just didn’t sit right with me. “I’m officially an old lady.”

“Thirty has never looked better.” He mused, his hand running up my hip and pressing me closer to him. I pulled him into another kiss, his cologne hit me like a tidal wave causing butterflies in my stomach. His hand ran up my neck and gripped me tighter while his tongue begged to enter my mouth. We stayed like that, blissfully unaware of reality until his teammates came over with trays of various shots.

“Okay lover boy that’s enough. Let’s get you drunk.”

One thing about partying with hockey players is all of them have no limits when it comes to spending. I had to finally stop accepting every shot they brought around after the room began to spin. Best part of the night though was that the Devils were in town, so Jack and Luke, Quinn’s brothers were here to celebrate with everyone. This was only my second time meeting them but they were extremely welcoming and treated me like I was their sister. Jack at one point asked me to go dance with him and I couldn’t help but say yes.

“So how does it feel to be thirty?” Jack yelled into my ear as we danced to one of my favourite John Summit songs.

“Terrible. I’m almost a decade older than you!”

“You make thirty look so good though.” He smirks as Luke came behind me and picked me up, causing me to scream at him to put me down. As much as I fought he kept me over his shoulder.

“I just want you to know we fucking love you and you make my brother so happy.” Luke added as he finally put me down, the room was still spinning so I had to brace myself against him to make it stop.

“Thanks buddy.” I jumped a little, feeling Quinn’s hand on my back. His face was flushed, telling me he was taking shots without me.

“Can I have my girlfriend back now?”

“Sorry bro!” Luke kissed the top of my head before him and Jack ran off to grab more drinks.

“You okay?” I asked Quinn as I turned to him, he smelt like whiskey and honey as he brought his lips to my neck.

“I will be.” He mumbles, burrowing his face into my neck. “I’m glad my brothers like you, but you’re my girlfriend. Not theirs.”

“Do you think they’re gonna steal me?” I clasped my mouth, trying to hold in my laughter because I know he was being serious. It was downright adorable.

“Maybe.”

“But I’m yours” I assured him, pressing closer to his body. My hands teaching behind his neck, slipping stands of his hair between my fingers. “No one will ever steal me from you.”

“Prove it.” He replied with such confidence, not taking his eyes off my lips. His hands reached up to my hips, pressing me even closer to him. I gasped as I felt his erection brush up against my leg, “come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Trust me.” He mumbled, his eyes glazed with desire and whatever was in his system. I grabbed his hand, not knowing where he was taking me.

Quinn guided me into a private bathroom and locked the door. His hand brushed gently over my chest, hooking his finger under the strap of my dress. I watched him with intent, my heart pounding so fast I was surprised he didn’t feel it.

“You belong to me.” He whispered, slowly bringing me closer to him. My hands braced onto his chest as he captured my mouth into a kiss that started off sweet but grew sloppy.

“Let’s not wait then, birthday boy.”

He smirked so devilishly that I felt something more than butterflies in my stomach. Our kisses were met with biting of lower lips and Quinn grabbed my dress so tight I thought it was going to split. I wasted no time and began to unbutton his pants, dropping to my knees in the process. His dick sprung out of his boxers, dripping with pre-cum as my eyes widened.

“Stick your tongue out baby.”

My exposed tongue was met with his tip as he gently circled over my taste buds. I could taste him already, it was making my mouth salivate and run down my chin.

“Such a good girl.” He breathed as his free hand tugged on my hair. “Open your mouth for me.”

I did as I was told and Quinn slowly slid his erection into my mouth, inch by inch until his tip hit the back of my throat. He bit his lip as I began to slide my mouth up and down, his grip on my hair getting tighter.

“Fuck, baby this feels so good.” He deeply moaned, making me feel it in the back of my throat. “Such a good girl taking my whole dick in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

I could tell he was getting close with how laboured his breathing became. I removed my mouth from him and began to lick his tip that was glistening with my spit. He looked down at me with pleading eyes, as if me mouth fucking him was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Come in my mouth Quinn, I know what you want to.”

“Not yet.” His voice sounded so husky as he motioned for me to stand up. I wiped my mouth, taking a long look at him. “Your turn birthday girl.”

I couldn’t help but giggle as he picked me up and sat me on the bathroom counter. My back rested against the mirror as he spread my legs, situating himself between them. When our eyes met my heart felt like it was going to explode, I’ve never seen him like this before.

“How bad do you need me right now?” He asked, slowly taking my lip between his teeth again.

“I need you so fucking badly.”

He makes his home between my thighs and begins to tease me with his tip. I regretted wearing underwear tonight but feeling his pre cum soak the lace was the sweetest form of torture, and he knew it.


“Tell me again…how bad do you need me?” I couldn’t get a word out. His laugh was dark as he fluttered his somber eyes at me, “use your words sweetheart, what do you want for your birthday?”

“I want you.”

“That’s a good start.” He muses, applying pressure on my thighs with his thumbs, “where do you want me?”

No words were leaving me as I gasped for air. Quinn began to run his mouth over my jaw, down to my collarbone, nipping slightly at the skin. I grabbed his hand and guided it between my thighs, his thumb instantly pressing onto my underwear.

“Right there?” He asks, slowly moving my underwear to the side. A small gasp in satisfaction left him as he felt how soaked I was for him. I just nodded, whimpering already from his touch. “Tell me how much you wish this was my dick instead?”

“Quinn, I need you please … I’m yours.”

“That’s my girl.” He replied so proudly, pushing his tip inside of me slowly. His head falls back once he’s fully inside me and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. “Fuck you feel so good, so fucking good.”

Quinn started off slowly, teasing my clit simultaneously with each stroke. He leaned into my ear, continuously praising me as his strokes became faster and harder. Sweat rolled down me as the building started up in my stomach, that familiar flutter began to take over and I knew I was done for. My nails dug into his back as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder as my orgasm left my body.

“Fuck I’m gonna -“

It only took a few seconds before he spilled into me. His hands gently found my face, guiding me to look at him. My legs were still shaking as he kissed me so softly. I was in a complete haze as we broke apart, that one unruly strand of hair fell in front of his face as he studied me. He was so beautiful, there were no other words to describe him.

“Happy birthday, baby.” He mused, gently kissing all the tattoos on my arm. Funny thing,

I never thought he’d go for a girl with a full sleeve and dark hair like me. He struck me as someone who went for blonde Instagram models but, once again he proved me wrong.

“You definitely just gave me the best birthday present ever.” I lightly laughed.

He titled his head to the side, cupping my cheek, “I don’t think anything will be beat the gift you gave me.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

[cjlouwho]

This got a little long winded, so it gets its own post. The story you are about to read is based off of this poll. These are your choices.

Tommy was pretty sure he'd never felt a headache like this before. He wasn't prone to migraines, but he'd seen his mother suffer with them and this... well, this might be worse.

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning as a wave of nausea fell over him.

It wasn't just his head that hurt. It was his whole body.

Damn, he hadn't been this sick in... well, ever.

His body shook with chills. There was a heaviness in his chest that had him turning his head to the side and choking out a hard cough.

Once he finally settled, that heaviness still there, he slowly let out a raspy breath.

Pudding.

He wanted pudding.

That was odd. He used to crave pudding as a child. Every time he got sick, he would request a pudding cup. And that's what he wanted right now.

Maybe he still had one in the fridge. He'd kept a few things there for Jee back when- Well, he had some kid foods that had been sitting in his fridge for a couple months now. Surely, the pudding would still be fine.

If only he could get out of bed.

He made a mental note to order a new mattress. This one had lasted him quite a few years, but he was definitely feeling the lumps today. It was hard and painful and poked into his back.

“God, this sucks,” he breathed out, blinking his bleary eyes open and... oh.

This wasn't right.

He wasn't at home. Wasn't in his bed.

And the heaviness in his chest was actually on his chest.

That's when the memories came flooding back to him. Going for a flight on his day off. Wanting to clear his head and get his thoughts in order.

He couldn't panic. He needed to maintain focus.

That was hard to do when his brain was all jumbled.

He remembered his phone was... somewhere.

Shirt pocket! That was it!

Carefully, and painfully, he reached up and pulled out the phone.

Miraculously, it was still in one piece. Besides a few cracks to the screen, it seemed to be working fine.

He stared at the screen. The default background that was once a picture of him and Evan.

It hurt to breathe. Hurt to think. He knew he probably didn't have that much time. Not with the way this heavy piece of metal pressed against his body.

So, with fuzzy eyes, Tommy went to his contacts, hovering his finger over the name before pressing down.

“Hello?”

“H- Hey. Long time, n- no talk.”

“Tommy? What's up? Are you okay?”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. “I... Well, that's a loaded question.”

“You sound weird. What's wrong?”

“I wanted to a- apologize to you.” With a grimace, he swallowed down what was definitely blood.

“For what?”

“For everything.”

There was a pause, then, “Did you do something stupid?”

“Not intentionally,” he deadpanned. “Listen, I- I kinda got into an accident and I...” his voice trailed off as he went into a coughing fit. The movement sent a pain shooting from his leg to his back. “Damn it!” he yelled.

“Tommy! Tommy, talk to me. What do you mean you got in an accident?”

“No, it- it doesn't matter. I just wanted t- to apologize for the way I left you.”

“You apologized for that years ago, Tommy. Tell me what happened so I-”

“Abby!” he exclaimed, the hunk of metal over him creaked as it lowered slightly. “I don't... I just need to apologize. I- you loved me, didn't you?”

“Yeah, I did. Car crash, or were you flying?”

“F- Flying. I loved you too. Not... Not the same though. Sorry.”

He could hear her mumbling something to someone else, then she was back on the line. “I'm calling 911 with Sam's phone. Stay on the line with me, Tommy. Are you in LA?”

“Mhm. Do- Don't think I made it far. Abby, listen, I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you. I was so s- scared of- of everything.”

“Do you see anything around you? Any indicators for where you are? They're working on pinging your phone.”

When Tommy turned his head to the side, all he could see was trees. “Woods. I think. Can't see much. I was dating th- this guy.”

“Can you tell me where you're hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere?”

“Oh, for sure. But A- Abby, I didn't m- mean to hurt you.”

“Focus, please. Where are you bleeding?”

“Head. Leg. Mouth. Kinda e- everywhere. I was dating th- this guy,” Tommy sucked in a shaky breath, a rattling in his lungs. “Your guy, actually. O- Our guy?”

“Tommy, I think you're getting confused. I-”

“No, no. Evan. Buckley, Ev- Buck. Him.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“No, I'm here. I- You're dating Buck?”

“Was dating Buck. I- I ended it. I'm c- cold.”

“Help is on the way, Tommy, just stay with me. You broke up with Buck. Why?”

“Remember wh- when we went to karaoke nights? Th- That was fun, wasn't it?”

Abby sighed. “It was, but that's not what we're talking about.”

“Wh- What was the song we us- used to sing?”

“You were a big Queen fan. I Want to Break Free. Shoulda known,” she mumbled.

Tommy laughed, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit, where blood bubbled up in his mouth.

“Tommy! Tommy, stay calm, okay. Turn your head a little so you don't choke.”

Tommy listened, spitting out the blood before he continued. “We should karaoke again.”

“I don't think that's gonna happen. Tell me about Buck.”

“Evan.” Tears filled in Tommy's eyes and he tried his hardest to blink them away. “We were t- together six months and it all f- fell apart.”

“Why?”

“He wanted... wanted me to move in. Can you b- believe that?”

“Yeah, actually, I can,” she answered. “Buck likes to attach and you're, well, attachable.”

“No. No, I'm not.”

“You haven't changed much, Tommy. You didn't seem to think you were worthy when we were together either.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. Down his back he could feel the sensation of more blood dripping from his neck. “What d- do you mean?”

“The whole time we were together it felt like you were waiting for a bomb to drop.”

“That probably had to do with the whole being gay thing.”

“Mm,” she hummed. “Maybe. Don't think so though. Hang on a second.”

He looked up at the hunk of metal trapping him in place. “Nowhere to go.”

Tommy closed his eyes while he waited. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but the next thing he remembered, Abby was yelling in his ear. “-mmy! Tommy, talk to me!”

“Wha- I'm here, I'm here. God, you're l- loud.”

“And you're an ass. If I was there I'd smack you on the back of the head.”

“That would hurt,” he replied. “With the gaping wound an- and all the blood.”

“Back to Buck. Why'd you say no to moving in?”

“I own a home.”

“And?”

Tommy thought for a moment. “I- I wasn't enough for you, Abby. Couldn't be.”

“Mhm.”

“I hurt you. Didn't m- mean to, but I did. I saw- I saw it in your eyes, when I left, I... You loved me, and I couldn't... I'm sorry.”

“Is that why you left?” Abby asked. “You were afraid Buck would do the same thing to you?”

“I really...” he couldn't stop the tears now. His chest heaved in the little space it had left. “I really loved him, Abby, and I- I saw what I did to you and I couldn't. I just co- co- couldn't-”

“Okay, okay, Tommy, I need you to stay calm, okay? Listen, the dispatcher is telling me that the 118 is close to you. So you stay calm and you talk to me!”

“O- Okay.” He tried to calm his breathing the best he could, but the rattle persisted. He knew that didn't mean anything good. Each breath got a little harder, the blood continued to flow down his neck, and he was pretty sure something was sticking through his leg.

“Did you tell him how you felt?”

“He didn't... He never said it. That he loved me.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Maybe he was waiting on you. Did you think of that?”

“I think...” He just wanted to close his eyes. Nothing made sense, the cold feeling was fading, he was going numb. “I think I- I'm dying, Abby.”

“No! Listen to me, Tommy! They're close to you! I need you to make a noise. Let them know where you are. You hear me?! Call for help, Tommy.”

“Abb-”

“Call for help!”

Tommy groaned, more blood coming up in his throat. He managed to move one arm just enough for his hand to knock on the door of the chopper. “H- Here!” he yelled, banging on the door as hard as he could manage. “I- I'm here!”

Abby listened over the phone as the 118 arrived on scene. She could only make out bits and pieces.

“Tommy, can.... me? Talk to... There ya go! We got a...”

“What about the...”

“Hey. Hey, we're here, Tommy. Just focus on... and we'll get ya out, okay?”

“He's losing too... gotta get that off now!”

“Tommy, you look at me! We will... you just gotta promise me you'll... Promise?”

She waited, holding her breath until she heard his voice, just a touch above a whisper. “Promise.”

Things got quieter for a bit, then she heard voices again, so she yelled, “Hey! Hey, pick up the phone! Someone pick it up!”

“H- Hello?”

“Buck, is that you?”

“Yeah, Abby, it- it's me,” he answered, his voice practically shaking. “Maddie said y- you were on the line with him.”

“Is he...?”

“He's alive. We're following the ambulance to the hospital.”

“How bad?”

She could hear Buck sniffling through the line. “I don't know how he's alive, Abby,” he admitted, lip trembling. “It looks like this thing has been through a compactor.”

“And Tommy?”

"Has a gash on the back of the head, concussion, broken ribs, a pretty big piece of glass through his leg, definitely some internal bleeding. He... Chim says he should make it, but we- we barely got here in time. He might've... if he wasn't talking to you he probably...” He couldn't even bring himself to say the words.

“Hey, don't think about that now. He's gonna be fine. That's what matters.”

“Yeah.” Buck ran a hand over his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah, you're right.”

“I'll let you go, Buck, but let me know when he's stable, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks, Abby.”

“Of course. Oh, and Buck!” she quickly added before he could hangup.

“Yeah?”

“I know the guy pretty well. He loves you. He's just not great at being loved.”

“A- Abby-”

“Don't give up on him. He's worth it.” Before Buck could get in another word, she hung up.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a hospital bed.

Evan was beside him, staring down at an empty cup in his hands. Tommy figured he must've sensed the staring, because soon enough Buck was meeting his eyes. “You're awake,” he said, eyebrows rising.

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “I think so, yeah.”

“There's been a couple wake ups that didn't quite stick,” Buck explained, standing to grab cup of water. He put the straw to Tommy's mouth and had him take a sip. “Slowly,” he instructed. “Don't want you choking.”

Tommy took a few sips, then settled back in the bed. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost four days.”

Tommy's eyes widened. “You.. You haven't been here the whole time?” he asked. “Have you?”

Buck nodded. “Three nurses have tried to drag me out of here. All have failed.”

Tommy hoped the monitor didn't show how fast his heart felt like it was beating. “Wh- Why? Why'd you stay?”

Buck smiled, wrapping his shaky hand around Tommy's. “A mutual friend of ours told me you were worth it,” he said, his eyes glistening with tears. “I just so happen to agree.”

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 6

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content and language, being sick? overthinking? p being melodramatic Wordcount: 4.4K A/C: was feeling inspired :)) anyway pls be patient with me posting, i'm applying to schools rn!! anyway this went a direction i hadn't planned but... uhh... i have no excuses i was going with the flow. anyway enjoy x (also what a scare yesterday just hoping p is doing fine and i'm sure everything's okay!)

-

Before London

You need a ride to work tmr?

I don’t but thank you x

My eyes roam the texts as they had repeatedly since last night, trying to decipher each letter as if some ancient code I couldn’t understand. Is she seriously gonna be like that? Like she wasn’t the one who pulled me in. She kissed me. Why was she taking it out on me now? I don’t got time for this anyway, to be stressing about something like this. 

I hadn’t seen Izara since Saturday, not at work, not in the apartment building, hell, I’d even gone to the gym every morning praying that she might show up but it was as if the girl had disappeared from the face of the earth. I knew she was avoiding me, and I guess she had reason but fuck, I thought she’d be better than that. Not a word since Saturday, other than those strange cryptic texts. Fine. Be that way.

“My favourite girls!!” Trey’s voice blatantly interjects my spinning thoughts as me, Arike, Satou and Lou are sat at a circular table, eating lunch. Not that I had been eating per say, more so poking my fork here and there trying to stomach a piece of chicken now and then. The heaviness in the pit of my stomach made it hard to eat at all.

I lift my eyes, hoping Izara would be trailing behind the man as usual. But it’s Ava instead, holding a notepad and taking quick steps to keep up. I mean I knew it wasn’t Iz before even looking up - there was an uncomfortable void of heels tapping against the hardwood as the pair approach us eagerly.

“Oh hey!” Lou smiles from her chair next to me. “What’s up?”

“So we were thinking,” Trey starts, leaning forward against the table. “If y’all could film some clips answering comments on your own since our dear Zari isn’t here.”

“Uh, where is she anyway?” I ask as casually as I can - though the way everyone’s heads snap to me tells me it was a feeble attempt.

Trey’s dark brown eyes study me for a while with an expression I can’t quite read before answering. “She’s home sick, poor girl.”

Bullshit. She’s trying to avoid me, I know it. I can’t believe it, I thought she would be more mature than this, than faking being “sick” just to get away from an awkward conversation with me. Why was she assuming how I felt anyway? Like the kiss mattered to me? Like I’d want more?

I mean all that was true. God did it matter and God did I want, no, need more. Much more. But she didn’t know that, so why was she assuming. I thought we were friends. You know what this is? Bad friendship.

“Oh damn, hope she feels better,” Arike answers for me, noticing the way I’m gone in my thoughts.

“Y-yeah for sure,” I mumble, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’mma go to the weight room.”

I place the fork down on my half eaten plate harshly, getting up abruptly making my irritation quite clear to everyone around me.

“Paige you gotta eat a little more,” Lou encourages but I shake my head.

“Nah, m’ not hungry,” I murmur and take my plate back, preparing to take out my aggravation at some weights, ignoring the way Arike and the rest of the girls eye me as I walk away.

-

“So how are we feeling about the first game soon?” My dad’s voice echoes through the speaker but I barely hear him, pacing my apartment’s living room. Truthfully I hadn’t thought much about the upcoming game. I knew that was bad. That I should be ecstatic, or scared as hell, but I didn’t feel anything else besides the dread of what happened between me and Iz. 

Matter of fact, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else but the way she looked all night, the way her green smoked out eyes twinkled at me, the way she threw her head back when she laughed at my jokes, when she pressed her front against me. The way her full breasts felt against my chest, the way her round ass felt under my hands. God, the whimper she let out when I squeezed it as gently as I could.

“Paige?”

“Uh what?” I mumble, ears burning, completely forgotten about the call with my dad.

“What’s going on with you?” His secure, steady voice asks, grounding me.

“Nothin’ dad,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes and looking out the window into the street, eyeing every dark haired woman just in case they were Izara.

“Paige Madison.”

I groan. I might be 23-years-old but my dad’s stern voice turns me into a teenager without fail each time.

“You’re comin’ to the first game still, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Why?”

“Nothin’, just miss you,” I mumble, coming up with an excuse for my low mood - though it wasn’t far off. Everytime I felt sad or anxious I just wanted my dad.

“I miss you too, kid. You know you just say the word and I’m there, okay?”

“No I know, I know. I’m just tired I think,” I sigh, my chest warming at my dad’s comforting words.

“Uh oh,” he starts. “Paige Madison… Don’t tell me.”

“Huh? Tell you what?”

“Is this about a girl?” He asks.

I pause, coming to a halt with my pacing. “Hu- I- What?!”

“You always say “I’m just tired” when you got a girl on your mind,” my dad laughs, doing a horrible impression of me.

“No!” I argue a little too fast and a little too passionately. “I mean, no. Just tired. Long practice.”

“Mhm alright,” my dad mumbles, an amused tone in his voice that irritates me in a way only a parent could. “So no girl?”

“No dadddd,” I whine like a teenage girl. “There’s no girl.”

I didn’t like lying to him. I wanted to tell him all about Izara. I knew my dad would adore that girl. He always said I needed a woman to keep me in check - Izzie did just that. But I also didn’t want to tell my dad about this girl knowing it likely wasn’t going to go anywhere, especially now that she had been hiding from me since our kiss.

“Okay dad tell Drew I said hi and I’ll play Fortnite with him tomorrow,” I say into the phone, ready to hang up.

“Okay kid, love you.”

“Love you dad.”

The silence is deafening, again. Like it used to be before I became friends with Iz. I felt alone, anxious, my head spinning with thoughts I couldn’t turn off. I thought she was mature enough to handle this like two adults. If she just wanted to be friends then she could just tell me, at least we could continue our friendship like that.

But usually when I kissed a girl, they didn’t run away like this. Quite the opposite. Did she not like the way I kissed? Was I off my game? Maybe the tongue was too much? Maybe she didn’t like my outfit. I’m a good kisser, I know I am. Good enough to get girls into bed with ease. So what is the trouble now? And I also know that that was the best kiss I had ever had. That our lips fit together just right. Fuck this girl had me going out of my mind. And now I just had to wait for her to reach out, it didn’t feel fair.

No. It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to wait for her? Who said I had to? Fuck that.

Too frenzied to even throw a shirt over my sports bra, I walk downstairs determined, knocking on Izara’s door angrily, preparing a speech of everything I’d been thinking the past few days: Look, Izzie, we’re both adults. You clearly think the kiss was a mistake. But avoiding me and acting like this is ridiculous and stupid and we don’t need to be acting like teenage-

“Paige?” 

Izzie opens the door, voice weak and nasally. She’s in a pale pink pyjama set, hair up in a clip and nose red and irritated. She wasn’t lying. Definitely not. She is sick. 

Quick, improvise.

“Uh, hey,” I mumble, my cheeks turning pink, her red eyes staring up at me reminiscent of Saturday night and the moments before our kiss on the balcony. “Trey told me you were sick.”

She chuckles, looking down at her dishevelled appearance and returns her gaze to me. “How did you know,” she jokes. She’s acting like nothing happened between us. How could she act like that? I guess it’s better than if she actually had been avoiding me.

“Was worried, haven’t seen you since… The party,” I say unsurely.

“Uh… Yeah. Crazy party huh,” Izzie says almost to herself. “Well, anyway, thanks for checking in but I’m perfectly okay. Just a cold and I think it’s passing.”

She begins to close the door but I grab it, holding it open.

“You been resting?” I ask concerned.

The girl shrugs. “Well at first but now I’m just getting bored so I’ve been doing some work from home.”

“Izzie…”

“What?”

“You gotta be restin’ if you’re sick,” I argue, which makes the girl roll her eyes.

“I’m fine Paige,” she answers, but I step inside.

“Let me in.”

“No, you’ll get sick,” she complains but I shake my head.

“I won’t. I’m built different.”

Izzie laughs, deciding it was pointless to try to argue and lets me in.

Her apartment is spotless as always, laptop open on her dining table with schedules and notebooks piled next to it. This bitch hadn’t been resting, no she’s been working and cleaning.

“Izzie!” I groan and close the laptop.

“Shoes! Shoes shoes shoes!” She yelps, voice breaking as she does. 

“‘M sorry!” I gasp and take my sneakers off quickly, placing them neatly by the entrance. I feel her eyes fixed on me. 

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” She asks, blowing her stuffy nose, which makes me let out a single laugh.

“Why, you want me to?” I ask confidently, easily falling into the same effortlessness as before.

My words make the girl blush. Perhaps the kiss wasn’t that bad? Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I should just ask… Ask what?! If the kiss was good?! Bro… Get a grip.

“Well you’re going to get cold, it’s freezing here,” she tells me, turning away and walking to the couch where pillows are neatly arranged, an expensive looking blanket neatly folded on the armrest. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it definitely was not cold, that her apartment was scorching hot already making me sweat.

“Yo, you’re kidding right?” I laugh as I watch her somewhat pitifully curling up against the corner of the couch on her single throw pillow.

“What?”

“Iz, you’re sick!”

“Wow, thanks for rubbing it in my face,” she says nasally, blowing her nose again.

“Bro, that pillow is just sad! You need a nest,” I gasp, walking to her bedroom.

“Wait wait wait, it’s a mess in there,” she yelps, following after me. Mess, it is not. There is one hoodie on the bed, which is unmade. That’s it. I pull the heavy blanket off her bed, grabbing all four pillows and walking decisively to the couch with the dark-haired girl on my tail.

“What are you doing?” She asks as I begin to set up each pillow into a nest against the corner of the couch. She’s grabbing my arm and peeking at my actions from behind my back, clearly confused.

“I’m makin’ you a nest,” I explain, brows furrowing as I focus. This is serious business. “My stepmom does this when we’re sick.”

“A nest?” Izzie laughs.

“Yeah, get in,” I order, grabbing the girl’s shoulders and sitting her down. “Now lie back. Get comfy.”

Hesitating for a moment, Izzie curls up against the pillows as I place the blanket over her, watching as she gets comfortable with a smile on her face.

“There you go,” I coo, trying her forehead which is burning hot. “You have a fever Iz, I’m gonna get you some meds.”

“Paige, you don’t have to do this,” she sighs, looking up at me softly. I want to lean down and kiss her again. Instead, I bring my hand to her warm cheek, stroking it softly. She looks vulnerable, gentle for once. It made me want her even more.

“Lemme take care of you ma.”

She doesn’t comment on the nickname, matter of fact there’s a hint of a smile on her face when she nods. 

“The cabinet above the microwave.”

“Got it,” I tell her, pretty much scurrying to the kitchen, gathering everything you could think - water, painkillers, nose spray, I even cut up some fruit for her. But when I return the poor girl is in her nest, cuddled up, fast asleep. It hurts my heart to wake her up, but she needs these meds in her.

“Iz,” I murmur carefully, brushing dark locks away from her face. She blinks herself awake, rubbing her face. Everything about it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and never let anyone close in case they hurt her. 

“Fuck, I fell asleep,” she yawns. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”

“You’re sick ma,” I remind her, sitting next to the girl on the couch and watching as she takes her medicine.

“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs, sipping on the glass of water. Her cheeks are bright red, hair undone and eyes tired - I swear it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her look.

“Izara,” I say sternly. “You’re sick, lemme help.”

“You’re gonna get sick too, and you have your first game soon love.”

“I’ll be fine, I got mad immune system powers.”

She giggles. “Immune system powers?”

“You heard,” I nod, fighting a grin. She coughs a little.

“Paige?”

Oh God. She’s gonna bring up the kiss now. I know it. I can feel it.

“Y-yeah?”

She takes a deep breath. “Can we watch Lady and The Tramp?”

-

“How are you already crying?” Paige asks with a giggle, leaning against the opposite corner of the couch. 

“Lady as a puppy always makes me cry! How could it not?” I sniffle, wiping my nose, watching the scene where Lady doesn’t want to sleep in her dog bed, the poor puppy crying for her dad. 

The blonde is chewing on an apple in her sports bra and black Nike sweats, muscles grown more prominent over her training period with the Wings, arms bigger, shoulders wider, outline of the muscles on her abdomen faintly visible even as she slouches. 

“What kinda names are Darling and Jimmy Dear anyway?” She asks, dramatically frustrated.

“Paige, you’re slow,” I laugh. “Lady thinks those are their names because they call each other those as like, pet names darling.”

The blond thinks for a while, and then grins. “Oh.”

We both burst into a choir of laughter, though it feels rough against my scratchy throat. Still, I could feel the medication already making me feel better. Or maybe it was the company.

My mind had been a mess after I escaped the party. I felt embarrassed, childish even for running away like I did, leaving Paige high and dry. Once I woke up the next morning it was hard to figure out what truly happened and what was my mind playing tricks on me. But I knew the kiss really took place the moment I remembered it, the weight of Paige’s kiss a mere memory on my lips. One wouldn’t forget a kiss like that. It was impossible.

Getting sick had been a lucky coincidence, giving me time to think and take some distance from the situation. I found it impossible to figure out where my desire for Paige and desire for physical contact differed. I couldn’t tell if I was just lonely. Or if I really liked her. I never considered it, me having feelings (if you could call it that) for a girl again. But now as she sat there, looking like that, I wanted nothing but to get on her. To climb onto her lap and kiss her again like we had on the balcony. Without the drunken hue, just us feeling each other.

Even as sick as I am, the familiar burn and ache that always showed up around the blonde begins to grow between my legs, making me squirm. Fuck, maybe I did like her. All I knew I definitely wasn’t in a place to start anything - that no matter what this was it would have to stay casual. I haven’t gotten rid of the ghost of my past relationship. No, not at all. I could see it looming around every corner, peeking through windows, just right outside my line of vision. I wasn’t ready.

Paige’s hand comes over to my bare feet poking out of the blanket, bringing them to her lap and beginning to rub them almost as if subconsciously, like unaware of the entire thing. Except her cheeks turn red as she does. My entire body relaxes, and I let her. For almost half of the movie she massages each toe, the arch of my foot, my ankle, leaving goosebumps everywhere. 

“I’m cold,” I complain, pulling my feet back under the blanket, feeling like a block of ice.

“I’m so hot,” Paige groans, now more invested in the movie, making small comments here and there.

“Lucky,” I groan which makes her snicker.

“Scooch,” The blonde tells me. Before I can resist she’s made her way under the blanket, into the nest, lying behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. I fit in her arms perfectly, like I was made to be her counterpart, born to be in her arms like this, every curve of her body slotting with mine just right. My ass pressing into her, the blonde’s chin brushing against my shoulder, hot breath tickling against my ear nearly making me moan. Fuck.

“I- I thought you were hot,” I mumble, beginning to lose my composure.

“But you’re cold,” she murmurs into my ear, nose nuzzling into my hair as we keep watching the movie. Though I can’t concentrate. Even on my favourite movie. My head spinning too fast, speeding up even more when my pyjama top hikes up and Paige’s fingertips rub circles against my lower stomach, dangerously close to dipping into my pyjama pants.

“P-paige,” I almost whisper, my voice coming out breathy.

“Mhm?” The blonde’s voice is shaky too, a hoarse hum straight into my ear making me even wetter than I already am.

“You’re gonna get sick,” I remind her, my chest heaving.

“I’m good,” she breathes out, shifting a little, her head fitting just in the crook of my neck. Perfectly. “Are you?”

She’s asking for consent, I can tell. To dip her fingers underneath the band, to slide them into my panties. And God I want to give it to her. To let her have her way with me. The temptation is growing nearly impossible to resist.

“I-” I nearly say it. But then I shift to my back, to meet her gaze. Paige’s face is flushed, nostrils flaring as she breathes, hand remaining on my bare stomach. “How are you feeling about the game?”

“Oh, uhh,” Paige is taken aback, pulling her hand back to my dismay, bringing it to her jaw and rubbing it. “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it if I’m honest? I’m excited to see my dad and Dorka.”

“She went to Uconn with you, right?”

The blonde nods. “I mean issa big moment for sure, but I just wanna take it one day at a time.”

I hesitate. “Are you not nervous at all?”

She lets out a single laugh and looks around the room. “Nah I am. Just tryna keep my mind off it.”

I nod, understanding. I wish I could carry some of her worry, I could tell she was more nervous than she let on. But instead of talking I slide my hand into hers, which seems to comfort the girl more than words, her blue eyes locking with mine. She’s thinking, mulling something over in her head. I can tell.

“The party… Iz, I-”

“Shh,” I tell her before she can keep going, my throat going dry, the ache between my thighs nearly painful. I wasn’t ready to talk, at all. All I wanted was to feel it again, the weight of her lips on mine. So bad I felt dizzy.

“Nah, Izzie, c’mon. I think we both feel we-”

“Paige?”

“Yeah mama?”

“Kiss me.”

-

It makes no sense. But I don’t hesitate. Leaning down, my lips crashing into hers with such hunger it makes me uncharacteristically whine. My body is on fire, every inch burning up as our lips slide against one another, boxers growing damp quickly. My hand carefully holds her cheek, like the girl next to me might break. But to my surprise she pulls me on top of her by the back of my head.

I’m tasting for every inch of her, slowing down and taking my time, unlike that drunken mess on the balcony. Somehow this is even better, the kiss of the century even. Her body is cool to the touch, a sign of the fever going down. But I barely register, kissing her bottom lip affectionately, my hands holding her face. Izzie responds, her teeth pulling on my lip harshly making me groan. Her warm tongue brushes over it, soothingly.

I open my mouth further, my tongue meeting hers, other hand moving to the bare waist of the girl underneath me. I can’t believe this is real. That I’m kissing Izara. It feels like some type of dream, but the ache between my legs proves that every second is real. That she’s really underneath me. And If I’m feeling my core throbbing just from the kiss, I’m certain the dark haired girl feels something similar and the idea of my girl feeling such pain and not having it taken care of breaks my heart.

So my thumb dips underneath the band of her satin pyjama pants, feeling the lace of her underwear as it does. Zari lets out a shaky whimper, her eyes fluttering open.

“Paige,” she whines, brows furrowing.

“Yeah?” I ask breathlessly, leaning down to kiss under her ear which makes her squirm under my weight.

“C-can you keep your hands,” another moan as I suck on her neck, careful not to leave a mark. Izara didn’t seem like the type of woman you marked. “On top of the clothes.”

God she’s gonna be the death of me. But I oblige happily, pulling my hand back to her bare waist.

“Whatever you want Izzie,” I say between ragged breaths, making the girl moan as I keep kissing her neck. Izara’s hands wrap around my back, long acrylics scratching at the skin there.

“Shit,” I cuss under my breath, feeling like I might die or cum in my pants if I don’t get to have her. Still, I keep kissing her, fully aware what a privilege it was just to be on her like this. I do everything to try to stay composed, to keep my cool, to focus on putting on my best show as I return back to sloppily kissing her lips, shifting on top of her, my other hand beside Izzie’s face to hold me up. 

As I move my hips, my knee presses into her core, against the sheer fabric of the pajamas making her gasp straight into my mouth. I repeat the movement with purpose now, and can feel the heat radiating off her, the fabric between her legs growing damp. She wants this just as bad as I do.

“Lemme keep going, please,” I whimper, brows furrowed and barely conscious of what is happening at this point. “Lemme help ma, won’t even touch you.”

Her face is contorted with need, chest heaving desperately. 

“It hurts don’t it? Lemme help,” I coo, my lips wrapping around her earlobe and sucking softly. “Please.”

“Paige,” she whimpers, her body shaking with need. But I feel her shift, legs wrapping around my body. “Please.”

Oh God, I might actually cum in my sweats.

I kiss her all over, her neck, bare shoulders, mind spinning with need, my cunt growing wetter and wetter with every moan that leaves Izzie’s lips as I push my knee against her core, gently, so as to not hurt her.

“P-paige,” she moans my name. My name. 

“Ohh fuck,” I cuss, squeezing my eyes shut at the way her voice sounds, deep and gravelly, turning more high-pitched each time I grind my knee into her cunt.

“Let me get you right ma, please,” I beg breathlessly, shaking my head to myself trying to keep myself present. “Please, Iz, would do anything to fuck you,”

She’s speechless, whimpering desperately, but I can feel her muscles turning tense from the pleasure I’m giving her, legs shaking gently.

“Would be so good, just lemme eat that pussy,” I moan into her ear. “Gimme five.”

Pulling back, I meet her gaze. Her contorted face, dark brows furrowed and lips parted, green eyes blown out black. This is the most beautiful she has ever looked. Easily. Could look at her like this forever.

I can tell she’s considering, mulling it over in her head. Just as her lips part the ring of her phone interrupts the moment, the obnoxious sound blaring over the movie playing in the back. Of course. I can never have anything good. Just little tastes.

“Fuck,” Izzie mumbles and abruptly sits up as if suddenly thinking clearly. I climb off her, watching as she fumbles to find her phone.

“Here,” I catch it, handing it to her. It’s Kiran, her brother.

“Fuck, I promised I’d help him with his paper,” she groans, still trying to catch her breath.

“Uh, okay,” I murmur, attempting to catch mine, awkwardly shifting further on the couch, watching as the girl gets up and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, leaving me there once again. Wanting more.

-

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers

[unopposablethumbsao3]

Julian getting a little too enthusiastic in the gym after everybody finds out he's an augment.

He's never been able to actually push himself while working out in public before, he's always had to hold back to avoid attracting too much attention. So, horrific and traumatic as it was to have his secret revealed like that, to hold on to his career and his life and everything he cares about by the skin of his teeth, there are things he's looking forward to now, things he just couldn't do before.

All of which adds up to Julian in the gym at 0500, figuring out his absolute max deadlift, dropping it down to his 90% and doing set after set until he simply can't lift it anymore. It takes fucking ages, he's even stronger than he expected, and he's having such a good time...

Until about two hours later, right at the start of his shift, when he feels himself start to stiffen up. He tries to push through it, tries to just keep moving and get rid of all the lactic acid that's building up in his glutes, but there's only so much you can do when you've put your body through that and by lunch time, he's locked in a chair in his office and he doesn't think he can stand up anymore, actually.

Which, of course, is when Garak shows up to ask if he still wants to have lunch. And Julian would really like to say yes, but if he can't even stand up then walking to the Replimat is right out, so he just tells Garak that he's got to catch up on some research, actually, and can they take a rain cheque? And he adds his most charming smile for good measure, but now Garak is just *looking* at him, one of those inscrutable looks, with his eyes squinted and his head tilted to the side.

"My dear doctor, are you quite alright?"

And Julian could just tell him! He could just say 'no, actually, I worked out far too hard and now I can't actually stand up to go and get the muscle regenerator I would need to fix it, let alone to join you for lunch!' But that would require *admitting* that he'd overdone it, which of course is exactly what Garak warned him about that morning as he was leaving their quarters at 0430. 'Don't push yourself too hard, my dear, genetically engineered or not, human spines are simply structurally inadequate in some respects..."

And of course he was right, and of course Julian can't let him *know* he was right, and so they're at a stalemate. And Garak just keeps *looking* at him, and then he walks into the room and around the desk and he just stands there, looking down at Julian until Julian is just like "...yes?" And Garak's like, "oh, I just thought I would give you a kiss, since you can't join me. Because of your research." And Julian's like "...okay?" And Garak's just like "so why don't you stand up so I can kiss you properly?" And Julian knows he's fucked but of course he can't admit it so he just stares at Garak until Garak starts smiling and says "you can't, can you?"

And that's how Garak ends up carrying Julian out of the infirmary in the middle of the day to drop him in an Epsom salt bath while he lectures him on the importance of *moderation*, my dear, you really must learn *moderation*

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

miss raven, i must ask:

what is your opinion on the overblot monsters as a hear me out👀❓

I wasn't sure if this anon meant the Phantom designs or the OB designs themselves when they said "overblot monsters", so I decided to go ahead and drop my opinions on both things. (And if you want my opinion on the non-OB boys and non-OB boys' Phantoms... they're okay? I have no particular commentary to impart on those.)

My personal Phantoms ranking:

My favorite Phantom design is, hands down, Idia’s. I love how it is composed of shapes that closely resemble the style of the Hercules film, notably the arms and fingers. The collar and head resemble a flaring flame while the wrists seem to resemble Greek columns. But the detail I love the most is how the Phantom's arms and body seem to be made of other Phantoms' busted heads. It's really clever visual storytelling, as this tells us about how Ortho lived in Tartarus with the other Phantoms, how he wants them all to be 'friends' with Idia and the rest of the world, etc. This Phantom in of itself just has so much story significance and even seems to be alluded that the multitude of Phantoms in Tartarus yoink Idia (seen at the end of the Ignihyde CM). This Phantom also has a special physical connection to the OB boy in its design; Idia it literally hooked up to his Phantom with wires, symbolizing his close connection to it. (I didn't see something similar in the other Phantoms, but I do know in the light novel Leona is said to be attached to his Phantom by a blot chain on his ankle.)

I find the designs of Riddle, Azul, and Jamil’s Phantoms cool. They resemble their Disney inspirations, but have one or two flairs that make the designs their own. Riddle's Phantom has spade-shaped spikes protruding from its back and wields a rose tree like a hammer to deliver twisted justice. Azul's Phantom has a crown and trident, which is reminiscent of Ursula once she has robbed them from King Triton. It also has a collar that looks like coral branches jutting out and I enjoy how the ink looks like it is dripping down and forming the tentacles. Finally, Jamil's Phantom is inspired by Jafar's genie form on the torso but its lower half becomes coiled, patterned, and snake-like (like the viper form Jafar takes on when fighting Aladdin). It also has a collar unique to it.

I'm slightly disappointed with the Phantoms of Leona, Vil, and Malleus. These literally just look like the original Disney villains that they are trying to emulate, but with very few changes made to them outside of the stitches and the shape of the glass bottle heads. I do like that Vil's Phantom is the hag version of the Evil Queen (which demonstrates her inner ugliness) and how Malleus's phantom is Maleficent's dragon form (which is just cooler overall) with more exaggerated spines, but this doesn't change the fact that the designs aren't that special.

My personal OB design ranking:

I think Leona and Idia’s designs look cool for the most part.

Pretty much the only thing I dislike about Leona’s is the bare feet, which are easily ignored since the game usually only shows us the torso up. Everything else is gucci o3o)bb Slicked back hair, check! corset that calls attention to his Dorito chip shaped-body, check! The jewelry and extra stuff tied around his waist isn't too cluttered or in the way and coordinates well color-wise. Ah, also... AND I KNOW NONW OF YOU PEOPLE WILL BELIEVE ME BUT I FEEL LIKE I AHVE TO STATE THIS FOR MY OWN SANITY. I didn't realize he was shirtless for a long ass time 😭 I JUST THOGUHT THAT MANE WAS A FLUFFY SHIRT OR CROP TOP OR SOMETHING... I know the truth now, and (at the cost of sounding like Rollo) I'm thankful that the mane exists to cover up Leona's bare chest because I do NOT wanna see that out and about.

Idia has the most "different" vibes to his design, and I have to commend him for that. He looks like some futuristic gremlin come to destroy us all, especially when his electronic mask thing simulates new expressions for him. It's neat how the new armor he's equipped with sharpens his features so he, like his Phantom, more closely resembles the art style of Hercules, and there's just enough blue to balance out the black (and same with the orange-red when he gets mad). My favorite part of OB Idia has to be the lower half; it forms a cool vortex that makes me think of the lost souls swirling around in Tartarus.

I like Riddle’s well enough, but I think it’s less of me actually enjoying the look altogether and more of me having nostalgia for it + liking the Alice in Wonderland details in it. I love the ink webbing (especially in the face and its accessories), the gradient flowers decorating his hips, and the cards spilling out. However, I will admit that the design is very busy and chaotic for the head and the lower half (and maybe that was intentional), so it's hard for my eyes to know what to focus on whenever I see OB Riddle.

Azul, Vil, and Malleus are trying but look sort of awkward in several areas:

I like the shoulders and face for Azul, but below that is all downhill; I've never been a fan of his merform, and that really comes through here. The bottom half just looks kinda unadorned (which makes sense; clothing would limit his mobility). Still... it makes most of him look really uninteresting. Not only that, but his tentacles look wrong (though this is an issue with his general merform and not specifically the OB). They're way too short and the shape and size of them makes me think of inflatable mascots outside of used car dealerships.

I appreciate that Vil's OB design gives the vibes of him wandering into an abandoned castle and fastening together an outfit from a tattered curtain, but the end result is... lacking. The halo crown looks super heavy and impractical, the chest looks sort of bland compared to everything else, the waist has these really out of place protruding... spike... things???? And then there's the slapped-on looking peacock feathers on his legs and the odd feathers to blot textured cloak.

I like all the briar incorporated into Malleus’s OB even if the details are drowned out by the excessive black, but I’m not a fan of the neon green on his horns and tail. Malleus’s most focal points—his face and chest—also look kinda weird to me?? Normally I like slicked back hair, but it looks odd and almost balding on this character. The green/green-grey color of his skin is also unflattering and makes him look like a moldy cabbage.

Jamil and Grim (?) are very confused and unappealing.

In all honesty, the individual pieces of the outfit are okay?? I like the gold accessories + how the veil the skirt flares out. The recurring diamond patterns are are an interesting way to incorporate “scales” without having actual snakeskin. The literal snake hair has potential to be cute, but I hate Hate HATE how it’s styled as a turban (poor sentient hair snakes are probably all twisted up) and the little ink goatee 💀 Combined with everything else, he is way too over-designed no matter where you look. At least everyone else has their detailed elements better spread out… I think it might have looked better if it had like 1-2 less detailed elements and eradicate the goatee.

Grim (?) is a random mishmash of traits from the other OB boys. And it looks bad (even if the point is for nothing in the design to go together well). The worst part is the humanish front legs. No further comment.

[thanoskin]

FLICKERS OF YOU

( first post..kinda nervous… Enjoy! )

Pairing: Thanos x Nam-gyu

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SFW

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— It was lights out, there was a faint light down the hall of the large room, the remaining players, exhausted from the day’s game, sat in silence, no one dared to sleep after what just happened. Thanos leaned against the wall, his purple hair catching whatever small light there was. His hands were shaking, he needed to calm the fuck down.

Nam-gyu peered down at him from his bunk, the sharp click-click of the lighter was infuriatingly steady, like a clock counting down the moments to the next game. Nam-gyu clenched his fists, his nerves on high.

“Would you stop that?”

Thanos looked up at him, a grin plastered across his stupid, cute face. “What? Nervous, friend?”

“Big day tomorrow, could be your last.”

Nam-gyu scowled. “You think everythings a joke, don’t you?”

Thanos stood, pocketing his lighter as he stretched. “Not everything, just you.”

Nam-gyu glared at him, but Thanos just smirked, leaning against the bunk’s frame. “Relax,” Thanos said casually. “I’ve got a way to take the edge off. Come on.”

Nam-gyu scrambled off the bed, quickly following his lead like a lost puppy.

“where are we going?”

Thanos gestured toward the door. “The bathroom. I’ve got some cigs. Thought you might want one before… well, you know.”

Nam-gyu immediately got defensive as he continued to follow Thanos. “Why would I need….”

Thanos smirked again. “Because you need it. Or are you too scared to be alone with me?”

Nam-gyu brought his hand to his face to hide his blush as he followed Thanos, the tracksuit sleeve snug against his cheek.

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Thanos kicked open the door and leaned against the wall by the sinks, pulling a slightly crumpled cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. He took a long drag before holding the pack out to Nam-gyu.

“Here.” Thanos held out the pack, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Nam-gyu hesitated before shaking his head. “I don’t really smoke like that.”

"Figured,” Thanos said, flicking ash onto the floor. "You're too much of a good boy for that."

Nam-gyu bristled. "I'm not a 'good boy.”

Thanos chuckled, stepping closer.

“Oh, i know you’re not. But you sure like pretending to be.”

Nam-gyu's breath hitched as Thanos stopped just a step away, close enough that he could smell the faint scent of smoke.

Nam-gyu crossed his arms, leaning against the opposite wall. “You dragged me all the way here for this? You could’ve just smoked alone.”

Thanos chuckled, tapping ash onto the floor. “And miss the chance to see you squirm? Nah.”

Nam-gyu blushed again. “I’m not squirming.”

“Sure you’re not,” Thanos said, his tone amused.

“You’ve been on edge since the first game. Always looking over your shoulder, like you’re waiting for someone to stab you in the back.” He took another drag, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Let me guess, you think that someone is me, huh?”

Nam-gyu’s silence was answer enough. He loved Thanos to death, he’d do anything for him. His partner in crime, he couldn’t stand the thought of being abandoned and kicked out of his sight.

Nam-gyu’s pulse raced, his mouth dry. “Maybe you should focus on yourself instead of trying to analyze me.”

Thanos leaned in slightly, “Maybe I’d rather focus on you.”

Nam-gyu’s breath caught, his stomach twisting with anxiety and something else he didn’t want to name.

“Why are you doing this?”

Thanos hesitated for the first time.

“Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t care,” he admitted, his voice softer. “You drive me crazy. And not in the way this place does. I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Nam-gyu stared at him, his heart pounding. “You’re serious?” he felt as if Thanos was joking.

Thanos gave a lopsided grin. “Serious enough to tell you here, in the worst place imaginable.” He stepped back, giving Nam-gyu space. “I’m not expecting anything. Just thought you should know, okay?”

Nam-gyu swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. “You’re still an ass,” he muttered, his cheeks visibly burning. He covered his hands with his sleeves nervously.

Thanos smiled, flicking the cigarette into the sink. “Yeah, but you’re blushing.”

Nam-gyu looked up, scowling. “I’m not.”

“Sure you’re not,” Thanos teased, stepping past him toward the door. “Come on, let’s get back before these guards thinks we’re up to something.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Nam-gyu hesitated, the warmth in his stomach refusing to fade. With a sharp sigh, he followed, though he couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips.