#Like I should have noticed that dude what the hell | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yameoto · 7 months

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HELL IS A (FUCKING) ROOMMATE. JORDAN LI.

synopsis ; your roommate has the libido of a goddamn animal and it's driving you insane. not to mention the fact they have an annoying habit of jerking off in your dorm. to you.

they want you? fine—they can have you. only on your terms, though.

✗ warnings ; dom!reader, sub!jordan. fem!reader, perv!roomate!jordan, dubcon, voyeurism, excessive masturbation (soz). wc ; 4.2k

YOU can do this. you can do this.

you grunt as you fumble for the key. cursing as, with an extreme lack of coordination—you begin to forcibly ram the bloody thing into the lock with the grace and precision of a sledgehammer. what you lack in motor control you make up for with inner beauty—or something.

the do not disturb sign rattles mockingly off the handle, meaning your roommate is definitely inside and definitely not helping out. you grit your teeth, entire body off kilter as you're preoccupied with balancing the boxes cramful of belongings in your arms; big and bulky and absolutely not helping your aim. you curse, loudly as they almost almost tumble out of your grasp the moment the key miraculously jams into place, jerking wildly to catch them. (note: super strength does not come with super-hand-eye-coordination.)

“fucking– stupid- key– fucking better– woah!”

without warning, the door swings open, inwards. a montage of your entire life flits before your eyes as you hurtle forward, boxes and all. you just about barely manage to catch yourself with an undignified stumble before drawing yourself up; coming face to face with—oh.

two figures. bodies very noticeably.. inside. each other. naked. on, what you realise after a bout of disbelief; your fucking bed.

"what the fuck?"

one of them growls, mop of black hair flopping as their head snaps up, even though you're pretty sure you should be the one slinging expletives around. with a frustrated scowl they pull out of the dude, sending a withering glare to the poor guy they were fucking into the bedspread—to which he.. disappears? glitches out? phases out of existence? because suddenly he’s not there anymore, and you’re stranded alone with a very attractive, very threatening looking college student.

who is also—uh, very, very naked.

“um, hi–”

“why do you have a key to my fucking dorm?”

oh, shit.

they are, frankly, gorgeous – like, one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen. their hair is black, mussed, and you can’t help the way your gaze follows its way down the threshold of an.. extremely muscled, slick torso before snapping upwards to find a mildly paralysing glare that reminds yourself that you are not in a very good position right now.

“i’m uh- your new.. roommate?'' you don't mean for it to come out like a question, but by the way they're staring down at you like you're a cockroach that just flew onto their windshield, you almost aren't so sure.

"i'm a fucking TA— i don't have roommates." their eyes narrow, which is like—alright, way to be real welcoming.

“i’m a.. last minute transfer..?” you offer, wincing as you meet their stare. their eyes are unflinching, yet still lidded in a post-sex haze. you can feel your body involuntarily holding its breath; though from the steel in their gaze or the way their biceps flex when they run a hand through their dishevelled locks, you can’t tell.

fuck, you hate hot people.

“oh, yeah. fuck, i forgot about that.” their shoulders slacken, mouth settling into an unimpressed line; which is only slightly more welcoming than the look of murderous intent of two seconds ago. “jordan. jordan li." they say, last name and all—which is how you know they're a prick. "make yourself at home, i guess.” they don’t sound all too enthused as they skirt away from the door, seemingly satisfied with the fact that you're not a home invader—dorm invader? whatever. you just pray that the sigh of relief you breathe isn’t audible.

“great! nice to meet you, i’m–”

“s’on the sheet." jordan cuts in with supreme disinterest as they move across the room, leaning down to pick their boxers from the floor. you’re struck once again with the realisation that they are still fucking naked, and you pointedly tear your eyes away.

“um, yeah.. hey, uh—what’s your-”

“third year, crime-fighting. don't touch my shit. no pets, obviously. if you have a dog, get rid of it. give it to the animal shelter, don’t care. don’t snoop, don't make a mess, and definitely don’t take off the goddamn do not disturb sign. got it?”

you've barely opened your mouth to reply; probably with something along the lines of what the fuck? or animal shelter? before jordan's already turned away, back muscles flexing as they sink back onto the end of their bed, scrunching their briefs up in one hand and—

“hey, uh,” jordan interjects, turning round with an unreadable expression as they glance down, and like a fucking idiot, you follow; giving you front row seat to the massive, throbbing boner that they’re still sporting—pulsing an angry, flushed red as the tip drools with precum.

“mind if i take care of this? couldn’t exactly finish, if you know what i—”

you slam the door after you, and you swear a snicker follows you down the corridor.

over the next week, it quickly becomes apparent that jordan either a): forgets you live in the same room as them, or b): simply does not care.

for starters, there’s their apparent aversion to doing laundry until their entire closet is out of commission, the coke stash underneath their mattress and also—oh. their need to get their dick wet at least four times a day. (irrespective of whether they have a dick or not).

“what?” jordan scoffs through a mouthful of cereal. “‘m not lettin’ some fuckin’ freshie cockblock me.”

“i’m a transfer, not a fucking freshman.” you scowl, and jordan’s lips curl to form a lazy little ‘o’. it twitches upwards into that infuriating little smirk, like they enjoy seeing you squirm.

“whatever. my libido stops for nobody, not even you. besides,” they set their bowl on the bedside table, wagging their fingers suggestively into a ‘V’ shape and licking the air between. "a bigender supe has needs too."

they’re slouching against their headboard, free arm stretching lazily above their head. your cheeks flush traitorously as their biceps flex—muscles visibly popping against their frame “you can just say 'a girl has needs'. i'm not an idiot, i know what you mean." is what you grumble back, if only to ignore the inane, stupid heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.

"but i have needs when i'm a dude, too." jordan grins, propping themselves up by their elbow, eyes gleaming impishly as they curl their hand into a fist and making a fucking wanking motion over their (currently) non-existent dick. which is—yeah. that pretty much sums up your roommate for you.

the thing is about jordan, is despite all their excessive lockerroom talk and relatively abrasive personality; they’re still rank two in all of godolkin. ergo, they’re a surprisingly busy person; being preoccupied with either studying, sparring or partying ninety of the time.

thus, like all horny, single college students, when you don’t have time to squeeze a good fuck in, you’re left with second-best option—yourself. this would otherwise be fine, except jordan’s compound v must have seeped through their bloodstream and into their libido because jesus fucking christ are they horny.

it’s not like they make an effort of hiding it, either. they seem to have zero qualms about rolling out of bed, morning wood popping out from their briefs like a fucking beacon.

“oh, shit,” jordan yawns when slide the covers off, giving way to the immense boner throbbing against their boxer-briefs. they don’t even have the decency to look sheepish when they walk past you, adjusting themselves lazily. you don’t miss the grunt of relief that escapes them as their hand palms their crotch before they disappear into the bathroom, either. or the little groans of relief that sound behind the door before they saunter out, towelling their hands with the stupidest grin on their face.

it shouldn’t piss you off as much as it does, except for the fact that even when jordan rouses without morning wood (or wood in general); they end up making their usual bathroom trip anyways. noises slipping from a half-ajar door and toilet lid left slippery, as always.

they have to be doing it on purpose. they have to be. like, they left their strap-on on your desk once. which, first of all, gross. second of all, why was it so fucking big?

“jordan!” you holler, aghast as you nudge the thing on your desk, conveniently placed right next to your laptop.

“oh! that’s where i left it. sick.” jordan grins as they saunter over, veined hands reaching over to wrap around the shiny, plastic length and fuck, since when were their palms so massive—

“thanks, roomie.” they ruffle your hair with an impish glint in their eyes, smile only growing when you jerk away with a scowl.

and that’s not even the worst of it.

“oh, shit—was that yours?” to their credit, jordan looks somewhat sheepish as they pinch a rock-hard pair of socks off the floor. your fucking socks, which have clearly been well-loved and cared for in places other than your shoes.

“those were my favourite!” they weren’t your favourites. they’re socks. however, it makes jordan wince, which almost makes it worth it.

hey, a little remorse is better than nothing.

“..i’ll buy you a new pair?” jordan offers, scratching the nape of their neck. you’re almost content to let the awkwardness linger just give them just a piece of the torture you’ve been subjected to for the past several weeks — except the sliver of satisfaction is completely negated by the way jordan’s lip twitches upwards, like they’re fighting back a smirk.

“you little fuck—“

anyways, the point is jordan wanks. a lot.

you can’t stop thinking about it. because it’s annoying. and disrespectful. and god, do they think you want to hear every pretty little moan that falls from their mouth? every grunt and groan that slips from their throat in that raspy, godforsaken timber—

long story short; if you have to find a wadded up sock or sticky residue at the bottom of the computer desk one more time, you’re going to lose it.

you think jordan knows it, too.

it’s midnight when you wake up to the sound of a bed creaking.

you’re an early sleeper, jordan isn’t. it works. you’re typically long knocked out before they even make it back in the dorm, out there doing god knows what. today, though, you’d far overestimated your ability to finish your latest assignment; so when jordan finally staggered through the door, slumping into bed with a little grunt, you thought nothing of it.

minutes pass, and the bed shifts. jordan groans. under the moonlight you can see the shadowed visage of their figure, splayed out on their bed with one hand underneath the covers; moving, repeatedly.

jordan grunts again, and you squint; bleary eyes adjusting to the darkness. the muffled, wet sound of slapping resounds, subdued by the weight of the blanket. if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were—

“mm, fuck—” jordan moans, blanket slipping down their hips and—oh my fucking god.

like pulling back a curtain, jordan’s cock springs enthusiastically to the surface; standing tall and proud as their fist pumps up and down the thick, veined girth of their length. it’s practically pulsating with need, bordering on desperate—they must be desperate, because jordan’s shameless, sure, but.. jacking off in the same room as you?

you didn’t think they were that much of a fucking perv.

but maybe you’re a perv too, because the moment jordan’s hips rock upwards and their tip glimmers in a thick sheen of pre-cum; you can feel the telltale surge of heat in your stomach, the fabric of your panties dampening and oh, this can’t seriously be happening right now.

“fuck—motherfucker..” jordan hisses, drawing your bleary-eyed gaze from the flushed, throbbing bob of their cock to their pink cheeks and fucked-out face, mouth lolling in pleasure. they twist their head, nosing into something tossed onto their pillow that makes you stop in their tracks.

that’s.. you thought you lost that!

“need ‘m—so—fucking bad..” jordan slurs stiltedly, nuzzling into your shirt like their life depends on it. “fuckin’—stupid fucking—”

your stomach tightens, and you can’t help it when your fingers dip down under your shorts, slipping into your cunt. you should be mad, should be disgusted, should be shoving open the door and ripping them out of their covers and.. wrapping your mouth around their adorably flushed tip? seizing their hips and yanking their cock into your tight, wet little—

"oh, fuck," jordan interrupts your thought process by growling through their teeth, precum spilling from the slit of their dick and glazing their palms. there’s so much of it, so wet that even in the dark you can see the stain pooling in their sweatpants, their bedsheets.

you’re so entranced you barely even register when it when their grip releases; length arcing and splattering thick ropes of cum against their abdomen. the sight is so mesmerising that you almost don’t pick up on the sound of your fucking name that tears out of their throat—husky and half gargled as jordan’s chest heaves. you don’t even realise you’ve been holding your breath until jordan’s figure simply lays there, pants echoing in the silent room.

they wrap your shirt around their dick and wipe it clean. it’s only when they murmur something unintelligible—burying their nose back into your jumper that you finally, finally turn away, fingers curling deep inside your cunt.

fucking hell.

the second time it happens, you are wide, wide awake. which unfortunately means you have no excuse for the minutes seared into your memory and sticky residue on your thighs.

granted, at first you didn’t know. as always, the bathroom door hangs carelessly agape. steam curls from the room, wafting up and dispersing in the stuffy dorm air. what lingers, however, is the fresh note of jordan’s shampoo, body wash, and something.. saltier, headier.

whatever. with nothing more than an arched brow, you pick over the discarded basketball shorts and tank tops that litter the floor, intending to kick the bathroom door shut and be on your way. it’s when your hand reaches out, closing around the cool metal that you see it.

jordan’s slumped against the slick shower wall, fingers buried knuckle-deep into their pussy.

oh, shit shit shit—

“shit..” jordan hisses, muscles working like well-oiled sprigs as they pump into their cunt, droplets of water trickling down their skin and pooling into the divots of their body.

your hand tightens around the doorknob. god, their moans.. if they think the sound of the showerhead can disguise the filthy nothings spilling out of their mouth, they are very, very wrong.

somewhere between the fuck’s and annoying’s and pretty fuckin’ prude’s their full-weight crumples against the shower wall, plush ass pressing up against steaming glass like some (high-quality) porn ad as they ram their fingers in one last time, free hand shooting out wildly to grasp at nothing before the shower wall splatters with something you only catch a glimpse of before you’re slamming the bathroom door, cheeks burning and fingers trembling. with a start, you realise you’ve almost wrenched the goddamn metal off.

the doorknob is always a little bit loose, after that.

you’re getting ready for a party.

well, you’re supposed to be getting ready for a party, hence the sultry eyeshadow, glossy press of your lips and sheer amount of skin laid bare. your crop-top is just a little bit too high, mini-skirt more than a little too short.

in reality? you’re enacting your fucking vegeance.

jordan likes you. it’s a fact that stares you right in the face. and if not a crush, it’s a massive, raging hard-on. for you—only you—citing a certain roommate’s post-nut ramblings you’ve heard one too many times.

as it turns out, jordan becomes considerably less insufferable when you know you’re the only thing that gets their dick wet.

“how do i look?” you call, doing a little twirl. it’s impossible to keep the smirk off your face, skirt flipping very purposely upwards as you spin, revealing a tad more than they ever (usually) get to see.

jordan glances up, and their breath fucking hitches.

bingo.

“what?” you cock your head, lashes batting innocuously as they stare. playing the oblivious role is just too sweet, especially when your eyes flicker down, just for a moment, and you can see the bulge in their sweatpants growing.

poor little jordan, hard because their roommate flashed a millisecond of ass.

“you look—good.” they grunt, tone carefully measured. their gaze lingers, only for another moment before they abruptly snap their vision back to their screen. an admirable effort, really. if only their cheeks were a little less red, cock a little less needy.

“well don’t flatter me too much,” you twist away, lips twitching upwards. feigning normalcy is easy, seeing as how you’ve been doing so ever since that first night. you're practically buzzing with anticipation when you make a big show of leaving the room, snarky comment and all.

and really, jordan could've waited for longer than two minutes before moaning that raspy, broken moan (you're so intimately familiar with) from behind the door.

your lips split into a grin, and when you slide the door back open, the look on jordan's face is so priceless you hope it'll be seared into your memory forever.

“shit!"

it’s undeniable, this time. you’re no longer a fly on the wall, and they’re no longer blanketed by the illusion of secrecy; caught red-handed with their cock in their fist and head on your pillow.

“wait—fuck—i can expl—!”

like clockwork, jordan's cock twitches as if in reaction, and a drop of fresh semen spurts from their tip before trickling down to join the messy puddle on their stomach.

“i thought—fuck! you said you were going!”

“that doesn’t sound like an apology to me.”

you delight in the way jordan flushes, their breath hitching. they take a ragged breath before they make a valiant attempt to cover up their falter with aggression. "doesn't mean anything," they retort through gritted teeth, mustering up as much conviction as they can.

it’s adorable, how much they pretend they don’t want you as if they don’t jack off to the smell of your sweatshirt every night.

“shut the fuck up.” you roll your eyes, novelty of the movement finally wearing thin. you have needs too—and with a fluid movement, you slide onto the bed and yank their hips against yours, pulling them into a straddle over your torso.

jordan can't help but hiss at the sudden contact, hips jerking instinctively. "fuck, you're cold," they mutter under their breath, though there's no denying the thrill running through them; hips bucking forward into the touch of your cool fingers as they wrap around their hard member. it feels euphoric—the contrast between your heat and coldness heightening every single nerve ending in their body. the tip of their cockhead brushing against your belly button, dripping a thin line of hot, sticky fluid after it.

“go on.” you coo, eyebrows raised.

jorda’s hands fly almost immediately to the hem of your skirt. so eager, like an impatient puppy.

before you curl your hand around their wrist, grip firm and punishing.

they freeze, head cocking like a confused puppy. “huh?” they say, biting back a noise of complaint. they want you so bad its goddamn gruelling; their fingers twitching around nothing, screaming in impatience, let me fuck you, let me ruin you already. don’t you know how long i’ve been waiting? how long you’ve kept me fucking waiting?

of course you know. they don’t know that, though.

“you’re not gonna do anything?” despite all their irritating, fratboy-esque bravado; jordan’s unable to prevent the whininess from seeping into their tone, hands tugging insistently at the hem of your skirt. their cock pulses, painful and needy.

“you have hands, don’t you?” your lips quirk at the way jordan’s expression drops and their mouth opens again, probably to protest until you yank their thighs open and press them forward, dick pressing flush against your torso.

"unnhnnngh.." jordan grunts, gasping for air while trying to maintain eye contact with you—an impossible task considering how goddamn desperate they are. their free hand grabs hold of your waist, grinding sloppily as precum spurts all over your chest. “f-fuck off," they hiss, lips crashing against yours, teeth knocking at their eagerness.

“goddamn tease—” they groan, rutting against your torso, to no avail. they bury their face into your collar, utterly miserable, fingers twisting into the hem of your shirt. “just get the fuck on with it—ahnnn.. f-fuck—”

“so mouthy,” you tease, delighted at the mewl that slips past jordan’s lips when your hand wraps around their tip. their chain necklace swings wildly, bucking their hips desperately into your fist.

“hands feel so fuckin’ good,” jordan sputters, drooling almost as much as their dick is. their fumbling grasp finds purchase in your shoulders as they pump themselves into your hand; you barely even have to move, with them doing most of the work.

“need to be— inside—“ jordan grunts; glassy eyes blinking down at you like it’ll change your mind just like that. it’s cute, how they look when they’re not scowling or fucking smirking at you. it’s even cuter, the way they inhale sharply when you shake your head and deliver a cool “no, baby,” their back arching when you cup one of their balls and squeeze, forced into dismal acceptance with a keening whine.

jordan’s movements are getting unsteady, now. eyes glazing over by the second. “y’gonna make me cum,” they slur, grip on your hips tightening. it only takes a moment before their movements stutter and they’re muttering “fuck fuck fuck oh, fuck!“ and a long, gargled moan rips from their throat and all of a sudden hands wrapped around cock are sinking in wet, sloppy heat; your fingers sliding knuckle-deep into their pussy with almost breath-taking ease.

“jesus christ!” jordan croons in sheer, unexpected pleasure as they feel you shove yourself inside them, cum spurting and squeezing out helplessly from between their walls and your fingers. they squirt so fucking messily, their leaking cock replaced by a cunt spilling out out all over your palm.

“i didn’t—didn’t mean to—” they slur, panic two steps behind their mouth. struggling to sling anything coherent together with you kneading your fingers into their pussy like its goddamn putty. “oh?” you arch a brow, and jordan visibly flushes, moaning openly when your digits curl.

“can’t–don’t really—”

“what? fuck yourself?” is your reply, because you both know they fucking do; it’s not like you don’t how their pussy sounds when it’s sliding slick against their pillow, how your name sounds cried out, thick through the muzzle of your jumper.

it’s a dual guilty pleasure—you watch, they do. at this point, you can’t tell who’s the more perverted out of the two of you.

jordan. definitely jordan.

“too busy humping my clothes, is that it?” you purr, and jordan honest to god whimpers, squirming away from your fingers both out of overstimulation and plaintive shame. “ah, ah,” you tut, nails digging into their hips as you hold them in place, finger thumbing harshly against their clit as they cry out a gargled moan.

“f-fuck off—” jordan hisses, practically an admission of guilt itself. they seem to know it, too, with the way they abandon all pretence and pound violently against your knuckles—their gaze burning into yours like they’re daring you to say another word. “don’t act like you didn’t—shit—fucking like it.” jordan gasps out between sputters, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

“hm?” you pause, eyes meeting jordan’s heated, quivering stare. “jerk off to watching me?” they choke, eyes glossing over when you thrust “did you fuck yourself to my—mmhnn—!”

an easy, all-too-familiar eye roll graces your face before you shut them up with your fingers. their pussy clenches; hot, slippery walls gripping your digits as if afraid to let go. oh, this is too easy.

“don’t get cute with me, roomie.” the nickname tastes sweet on your tongue, and jordan’s face grows hotter. a well-timed thumb to their clit flickers their bravado out like a light. “fucking hell!” they gasp, mouth gaping into a moan and eyes rolling back into their skull.

“you wanted me to watch, didn’t you?” you coo, and jordan squirms; mouth open in protest—or at least attempts at them, what with the way they keep gasping out in pleasure as you roll your fingers against their clit.

“shut the fuck—i didn’t—”

“a pervert and a liar now, are we?”

jordan makes a noise somewhere between a hiss and a whine, crying out when you slide two more fingers into the slick canal of their core. their eyes screw shut, hands seizing so wildly into the mattress you almost think they’re about to tear a hole through the bedsheets.

“god! fuck—i can’t—”

they cry out your name when they cum, and even if its a sound you’ve heard countless times by now you don’t think it’ll ever get old. “that’s it, baby.” you coo, lips curling upwards at the way they bury their face into your collar.

they lie there, panting, for what feels like forever before a muffled, half-delusional groan leaves their lips.

“oh, fuuuckk..”

“what?”

“..i thought i would top.”

#yameoto #yam's favs #(っ ‘o’)ﾉ⌒💥my works !#૮ smut🔞#inbox !#jordan li #jordan li x reader #jordan li fanfic #jordan li headcanons #jordan li smut #gen v #gen v smut #gen v x reader #gen v fanfic #gen v headcanons

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petew21-blog · 21 days

Text

Love thy neighbor

Jerry:"Oh look he posted again. And look at the quote '

Instagram - Clark_779:'Luke 6:31: Do to others as you would have them do to you. We all have to remember to be kind to each other'

Harvey:"I can't stand him anymore. Such a fucking hypocrite. Pretending to be a good christian and at the same time making our lives at school a living hell."

Jerry:"Yeah, you're right. But he won't change. He'll be the same asshole as he is now"

Harvey:"Maybe not"

Jerry:"Yeah right. You're gonna give him a lesson on ethics and he's gonna be kind. How about Red Riding Hood. That's a good story too. Maybe you should tell me that one"

Harvey:"If you'd let me talk I would explain it to you. I have been visiting this bookstore that seels antique stuff"

Jerry:"Aaaaand you found a love option that's gonna make him fall in love with you. Great"

Harvey:"You know I'm not gay and no. Something better. I got these two rings to swap our bodies"

Jerry:"Sure. And you know they work?"

Harvey:"We could try it out right now"

Jerry:"What if we don't change back?"

Harvey:"The man said that it should be fully reversible as long as both of them are wearing the ring"

Jerry:"Ok, fine. It's not like I believe your. But why not"

The took the rings and put them on their fingers. But nothing happened

Jerry:"Look, man. I know you wanted to believe it, but you gotta learn that there are scammers in the world and they...."

"...just want to rob you." Jerry finished the sentence but now from Harvey's body

Jerry:"What?!?"

Harvey:"Told you:

Jerry:"Dude, thus changes everything. We could ne the most popular people in the entire school. No, we can be anybody"

Harvey:"Calm down. We got a lot of time ahead of us. But for now I think we should stick with low profile dudes like Clark"

Jerry:"Ok, let's see if we can swap back"

The exchanged the rings again and after a moment were looking back at the other person. Harvey noticed that his dick was now hard in his briefs, but decided not to comment on in so that he wouldn't leave embarassed and his plan would go to shit

Jerry:"Ok. So how do you wanna do it?"

Harvey:"I got a plan"

Jerry:"I don't want to get beat up"

Harvey:"Someone has to sacrifice. Now go and provoke him. I'll intervene as soon as he would start beating you"

Clark was talking with his bros near the lockers. Jerry didn't have to say a thing and Clark noticed his presence:"Hey, fag. Got my lunch money?"

Jerry sped up and went on as if he didn't say anything. Clark ran out to get him as his bros stood behind. He shoved Jerry against a locker, making him collapse on the ground. That was a big hit. Jerry felt his back aching

Clark:"I was talking to you, nerd. Give ne your money"

Jerry:"I don't have any money today"

Harvey came closer and offered him the ring. "You can sell this for a better price than just lunch". Clark grabbed Harvey's sweatshirt and lifted him up against the locker. "Who said you can talk to me?"

Harvey stayed calm:"Please, just take it and let us be". Clark took the ring and looked at it. It seemed manly. Not like one for woman. He liked it. "Fine. Only this time" he let go of Harvey.

Harvey was next to Jerry now. Jerry was aching. While Harvey looked surprisingly confident. Jerry:"So? What now? What if he sells it or throws it away." Harvey:"Now we wait"

They were sitting at the front of the class along with the rest of the seniors. Clark was with his bros at the back. Harvey was trying to observe him, but everytime he did some of his bros noticed.

Jerry:"He's playing with the ring" And he was. History class probably borec him so much that he had to take a look at it.

Harvey turned around and noticed as another jock took it from him. "Oh no" he noticed as he was about to slip it on his finger and immediately took off his. Jock looked how the ring fit. He said to Clark:"Can I keep it?". "NO, it's mine. Echoed silently through the class"

The teacher didn't care that they were shouting. He was in support of our school jock and was in their favour so he let a lot of things pass

Clark took the ring back from the other guy and put it on his finger. Jerry said:"Now Harvey!" Harvey slipped on the ring as well and waited

Few seconds later. Jerry looked at Harvey's face that changed expression. He even spoke out loud:"What're you looking at, fag?" Jerry was shocked. This was real. He looked back to see Clark smiling back at him. "Holy shit" Jerry said out loud

The teacher scolded him Jerry. Mister Barren. There will be no such talk in my class. Go visit the prinicipal right now and take your things. Jerry had a hard time trying not to smile

Clark was so dull that he still didn't notice yet. Jerry went to the principal where he got his detention. Message arrived to his phone from unkwon number:"Clark is really passed. He screamed out at the class. He made me look like a crazy person. Come to my NEW car"

Jerry was nervous. He was always scared to even get close to Clark's car and now he was about to go in. He opened the door and sat down. There He was. Clark, but not really Clark

"Sup, fag" Harvey said. They both laughed

Jerry:"Holy shit dude, this is crazy. I can't believe it"

Harvey:"No, this is crazy. Check these out" he said as he flexed Clark's arm right into Jerry's face

Jerry:"Holy shit. Dude? Can I...?

Harvey:"Sure thing. Go ahead"

Jerry squeezed Clark's biceps and let his fingers go along the lines of his muscles. "This is incredible"

Harvey:"So what now. Wanna get your new body?"

Jerry:"I think we should wait until the drama about your body is done. Your body looks crazy right now and if there were the two of us, It might be more suspicious. I say we go to your new place. We should check it out"

Harvey:"Right on, mister. Hold your glasses"

Harvey wasn't a really good driver and it showed. The ride was... a bit dangerous

They entered the house. It was completely empty

Now the boys inspected the modern kitchen with a fridge full of great food.

Jerry:"Dude, this is amazing. It must be crazy good to be this rich"

Harvey:"You know what's also amazing? Check it" he lifted up his shirt and swestshirt, pulling his jeans down a bit

Jerry:"Wow. Dude. Those are really hot. Can I touch them?"

Harvey:"Why are you even asking at this point? Haha"

Jerry went closer to give it a feel. He was so close to his tormentor/friends face now. He expected a hit from his body or that his body would betray him and he would start kissing him instead. "Ehm... wanna maybe go upstairs to see his room?"

Harvey:"Sure. I mean, we'll be spending a lot of time there. Playing video games and so on. So we should atleast check it out"

After an hour of playing Harvey let go of the controler. Jerry:"Anything wrong Harvey?"

Harvey:"I'm Clark now. And I'm sice of not appreciating this body" he started undressing

Jerry couldn't look away. He was so hard right now. " Harv... Clark? Maybe you should wait before I leave?"

Harvey:"Don't pretend like you don't wanna see these guns and the rest. I know you do"

Jerry:"Oh... you do?"

Harvey:"Sure. I know you're gay. I could even feel my dick hard when we swapped before. Can't really hide that"

"Now look at this beautiful big dick" Harvey said as he held it over his boxer briefs. "No wonder he keep fucking everyone at the entire school. If I had this body and dick I would too. Oh wait... now I do. Haha"

"Let's take a proper look at it. Oh wow. It's so thick. Wanna check it out?" Harvey said with a seductive look at Jerry

Harvey didn't wait and got over Jerry. Sliding down his boxer briefs.

"Come on. Touch it. I know you want to"

Jerry hesitated, but Harvey put his dick into his face. Jerry took the dick into his hand. It really was big. "Oh wow, Harvey"

Harvey:"I told you, I'm Clark now. And you should suck it" he said and pushed his dick towards Jerry's mouth

He smiled:"I knew you'd like it you little, fag"

Jerry couldn't help it, but this talk. Pretending to be Clark and sucking him off was so amazing. He wanted this moment to last forever. Or atleast to be repeated several times

Jerry swallowed all of the cum. Harvey was now in the bathroom cleaning himself off and taking photos

Jerry at Harvey in the bathroom:"I think we should talk about it, Harv... Clark."

Harvey:"Talk about what? That you just sucked my dick?"

Jerry:"Yeah. You said you are straight and now you let me do this. Did you do it just to cheer me up or because of the attention"

Harvey was still around the corner in the bathroom:"Kinda both. But do you really think that I would be straight in a body like this. Especially when his body looks so good in this?"

He entered in a maid's dress. Showing off and flexing his muscles right at Jerry

Harvey:"I couldn't let this body be straight. I would just limit my options.

Jerry pushed down his hard on

Harvey;"And if you'd want we can pick you a nice girl's bldy and be a cute couple fucking around at home and at school. But I think you'd rather let me fuck another hot stud and get revenge on these hypocrites. Am i right?"

Jerry nodded in approval

Harvey:"Good. Then let's pick you a hot body. I can't wait to fuck you"

Anonymous request in inbox

Can you do a classic swap story between a nerd and a straight jock? I always find those to be super hot

#Striaght to gay #jock to nerd #nerd to jock #Body swap #Body swap ring #male body swap #male body switch #body switch #Revenge body swap #friends body swap

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sunrisesfromthewest · 3 months

Text

First Encounter

|Summary: Your first encounter with Armando; based off of that one scene from bad boys ride or die. | Warnings: Getting shot at/slight suggestive language/Curse words/Slight Movie Spoilers | Trope: One sided interest or Enemies to Lovers| Notes: Hopefully you guys enjoy it's my first-time writing a x reader. | (Y/N/N=Your Nickname)

Here's all the parts I have so far: 1 2 3 4 5 6

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After seeing the news about your dad, Uncle Mike, and some guy, you decided to leave work early. Confused on why there all the sudden wanted fugitives,you quickly drive over to Dorns place knowing that he’ll have answers.

Parking your car, you grab your purse and make your way towards his lake house. Since you hang out with him and Kelly 24/7 outside of work, you just walk in without knocking. Which was a mistake on your end because not even a second later you’re being shot at, and you could hear a few people yell in shock. Dropping to the floor you curse and yell "It's me stop fucking shooting it’s me Y/N!” Looking up you see Kelly pointing the gun at the place you were just standing at with a shock expression. “Girl what the hell you got going on” you said, scared to stand up. Lowering her gun she said “OMG, Y/N, I’m so so—” Before she could finish you hear “Oh lord, you shooting at my baby!", recognizing the voice you look around to spot your father Marcus, running towards you with a worried look.

As he’s checking over you, you hear him sigh with relief after seeing you were fine. " Dad? what the fuck is going on!", standing up you dust off your nurse uniform, with a confused expression.

Looking around the room you noticed shocked expressions from Dorn and Kelly who had put her gun down. Spotting Uncle Mike and the man that was with him on the news your eyes squint even more, Tryna put two to two together. “Y/N/N, aren’t you supposed to be at work, "Marcus says confused on why his daughter was there. Still shaking up from being shot at you say, “I was at work but when I was making my rounds with my patients, I seen you guys on the news ......but shit! I should be asking the questions! why are you, Uncle Mike and this dude, wanted fugitives …. matter of fact," turning towards the man, "Who are you?”. Seeing the man smirk he says," Someone you can get well acquainted with.” Just as you’re about to say something smart, your dad cuts in dramatically "Aye hell nah man! No hitting on my daughter, Mike get your son!”

Shocked you run your eyes over the Latino man which you can now see have some of Mike's features, “Uncle Mike since when you have a son, and why the hell is he dressed up like a redneck.” Running your eyes frantically over their forms you back up while pointing your hands at them and say, “matter of fact why are you all dress up like that.” Feeling your dad pull you aside to calm you down, he explains everything that happened these past few days. After getting the run down on what was going on, you rub at your eyes with a stressed sigh." So that’s Armando," you said shaking your head "I would’ve pulled my gun out as well if I’ve seen him, dad didn’t he almost kill you and Uncle Mike!", you said feeling frustrated about the situation. “Y/n,I know this is awkward, but he has evidence to prove that Captain Conrad is innocent.” Sighing again “Okay, fine but if he tries some shit just know Imma make him taste the rainbow.” Hearing laughter you look back to see the Latino leaning against the kitchen counter looking at you with a smirk on his face. Seeing your father look at you with a don’t do it expression made you huff and ignore Armando’s laughter. Before you could move to grab your purse off the floor your dad stops you again and whispered, "How long Kelly and Dorn been messing around, "letting out a short laugh you say, “For a minute now” Seeing your father smirk, and send a look to Mike, you knew they were up to no good but chose to ignore it.

Walking to the door to grab your purse and its spilled contents you feel eyes on you, gazing up you see Armando watching you with an unreadable expression. Rolling your eyes you pick up the rest of your stuff, but as you reach for your lip gloss, a hand grabs it. Looking up your face to face with the Latino himself, annoyed you extend your hand out, while raising an eyebrow. Watching his amused expression, you sigh and roll your eyes.

“Boy if you don’t give me my stuff,Imma punch you in the throat." Hearing him chuckle made you more agitated, but you kept your cool. As he holds out the gloss to you with a smirk you huff and reach out to snatch it, only for him to pull it back in a teasing manner.

Looking at him as if he’s grown two heads, you’re about to cuss him out when he says”Demasiado bonita para una boca como esa”. Furrowing your eyebrows you say “What?” Armando’s smirk widens as he says, “I said to pretty for a mouth like that.” Scoffing you snatch your lip gloss out his hands, putting it in your purse as you stand up and say, “First of all, my mouth is only like this because you almost killed my dad not too long ago, and secondly I can say whatever the fuck I want cause last I checked imma grown women.” Watching his eyes glance down at your body, you hear a low whistle, "You sure are, but if you ever wanna fix that mouth of yours, "he pauses allowing his pretty brown eyes to trail back up to yours,”aquí estaré mami” (I’ll be here mommy)

Shocked slightly at his boldness, you say “Boy if you don’t get out of m---,” but before you could finish, he was called over by Mike. At first Armando ignores him and continues to admire you until your dad says, “Boy get your ass over here," which made you break eye contact with him and look away.

Glancing back up you couldn't help but admire his physique as well but as he reaches the others by the computer set up. He glances back to see you staring which resulted in him sending you a wink. Rolling your eyes you turn away with a smirk," You your daddy son for sure," you say to yourself with a smile.

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Notes: Let me know if you guys want a part 2 :) and pls go see the movie it's so good

#armando aretas #bad boys ride or die #x black fem reader #Armando #jacob scipio #armando armas #bad boys #new writers on tumblr #Armando aretas x black reader #mike lowrey #marcus burnett #Will smith #martin lawrence #Armando x daughter Burnett reader #First Encounter Series

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juniperdugong · 2 months

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Relationship Quirks 96s ver.

Aka habits I can see the boys doing in a relationship || 95s || 96s || 97s || Maknae line ||

Junhui

Avoids foods you don't like or are allergic to

You thought it was weird when after you had mentioned that you were allergic or didn't like a certain food that you would never encounter it when you were with Jun. Of course, you would always avoid it but you knew Jun to not be that picky, in fact, he's quite an adventurous eater. So it just struck you as odd.

That is until you overhear him on the phone with the restaurant you guys were having a date at later tonight asking about the ingredients used in certain dishes and if {insert food here} was used. When you talk to him about this he casually says that he just wants to make sure that you eat well and like what you eat. (THE SWEETEST BOY IN THE WORLD)

Little do you know that he's started to exclude those foods from his diet as well, especially if it's an allergy you have. If it's a food you don't like then he doesn't want you to avoid kissing him if he's eaten it. BUT IF IT'S AN ALLERGY, red alert red alert, he thinks you'll go into anaphylactic shock if he eats something you're allergic to and then he touches/kisses you.

If you're not by his side when he's making decisions then it feels like the balance of the universe is off. Could be halfway across the world from each other and dude is calling you at 3am to ask which magnet he should bring home as a souvenir.

Hoshi

Needs your input on almost every decision he makes

Ooh it's bad, like looking at your parents when the doctor asks what your age is type of bad. He will know exactly what he wants at a restaurant but as soon as the waiter comes he's looking at you like a sheep and you have to mouth what he said he wanted seconds ago as he repeats you blindly. Almost all his decisions must have you're input or else he doesn't know what to do. This might be annoying to some but he values what you have to say so much. And honestly, if you disagree with something he takes it into genuine consideration and thinks about it a lot before making the final call.

His mindset can be summed up like this, "If y/n doesn't think I'll like that pasta then I probably won't like it, they know me very well."

Dude is clingy but not in a physical way... just in the way that he follows you around like a cat that wants your attention but can't say it. He does it unconsciously and to be honest it takes a mutual friend or one of the boys to point it out for either of y'all to notice. Truly it feels like he has to stay within a 30ft. radius of you sometimes.

Wonwoo

Follows you everywhere

The reason this behavior even started was because he missed you so much after tours and arduous schedules that he just HAD to be near you but he never wanted to initiate physical contact. (Being near you is enough for him) It's gotten to the point though that he ASSUMES you're taking him everywhere with you. You're upset and need "space"? Good luck! You'll be in another room for max 5mins before he's in there sitting the farthest possible distance he can while keeping you in sight.

"I can't do this right now, Wonwoo." "Fine then." "I'm going to my mom's place for a while." *Magically has both your suitcases and bags packed* "When are we leaving?"

I know I know... it's unexpected but true! The thing that I don't think a ton of carats realize is that this man does not fear affection AT ALL. He just doesn't like it in public displays. So in the privacy of his studio or at either of your homes, he is clingy, 100%.

Woozi

Needs to feel your touch

Has a computer chair that is specifically for you to be next to him while he's in the studio. If you're in the same room as him or HELL even the same building and there are no cameras or minimal people and you're not next to him then what even is the point? Might as well tell him you hate him or something, at least that's how he treats it.

The crazy part is that he doesn't even ask you for affection! He'll just say things out loud and expect you to get the message or he'll say things directly towards you but won't look in your direction. His number one phrase is, "I miss you..." all while you're feet away from him on the couch in the studio. You can be sitting in your designated chair BUT YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR LEGS DRAPED OVER HIS???? Suddenly, you hear a constant loop of "Damn, I miss my partner sooooo much, right now.", like sir? They're right there?

A/N: I am clinically insane over the 96 line. ALSO EVERYONE SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO WONWOO!!!! (Even though it's literally 10pm and his day is nearly over) I'll try to have the next 2 parts out sometime tmrw. Stay sweet lovelies!! Reblogs and comments are like power surges for my writing so they are much appreciated!

TAGLIST (open): @bemybabiibish

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noxioussim · 7 months

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LUCIFER X DOM READER (reader has a cock)

Hello pervs, it's been a fat second since I've really posted anything. Which I hope I've gotten slightly better since than - reading my slightly older posts on here are so messy and disorganized.

So I've resorted to porn without much plot (pwmp) I think I'll start doing this more often than not because im not the greatest at storyline writing. Unfortunately I've been hooked on this godforsaken app for 2 days straight and I'm motivated as FUCK rn, so let's do this.

You

Lucifer

CW; Dom reader, reader has a dick/strap-on, Lucifers a whiney little bitch, nipple play, readers kind of sadistic(?), choking, belly bulge, size kink, creampie, petnames, lucifers kinda Pervy, degrading, readers kinda Pervy too.

🍎✨

You've been apart of the hazbin hotels staff for awhile now, being with her since the beginning, so finding out she decided to have to dad come over for the first time was a bit confusing - since when did he have time for her?

The whole entrance of her father was a bit dramatic and over the top as a whole musically charged argument between Lucifer and alastor happened.

Although...while Lucifer was here you couldn't help but notice him sneaking glances at you, his eyes wondering over your body without shame, you've caught him looking below your belt a few times, not complaining though, having a dilf check you out wasn't a bad thing, you couldn't help but wonder a few things.. like him on his knees sucking your big cock while he chokes on it, with teary eyes, knowing he's getting off on it aswell.

Through Lucifers eyes - he couldn't stop looking at you, you were so much more taller than him, the fact you tower and loom over him...fuck it turned him on so much. Just knowing you could pick him up and use him as a toy for your own pleasures made it all the more exhilarating.. although his pride and stubbornness would never allow him to admit that out loud...but he just couldn't help but to wonder how'd it feel to be underneath you while you fuck him dumb.

Speaking of him looking at you..you were sleeping in your bed, you lived in the hotel as well as the other staff. You kept waking up with a paranoid feeling but you shrugged it off as you couldn't care less, this was hell, your always being watched by your past mistakes anyways. But..no, it was him, Lucifer, watching you through the crack in the door, his red pupil being barely visible as he gently opened the door.

He quietly entered the room as he locked the door behind him with a small ‘click’. He sauntered to the side of your bed as he stared down at you with a lidded look. He had a wet dream about you..of course he did..he's a dirty whore who hasn't had sex in a while..let alone with a guy so when he felt himself lusting after you..he needed to fill that need. He gently palmed himself through his pants as he stared down at your sleeping form, soft grunts and moans left his pump lips as his cheeks flushed slightly.

Just then you blinked a few times as you slowly woke up, feeling paranoid once again, Lucifer on the other hand swiftly moved his hand away from himself as he just stood there. You looked up at him as you raised an eyebrow, his flushed face and glazed over eyes caused you confusion.

"Dude- what the hell are you doing?? It's like 4am." You glared tiredly at him as you weren't really shocked..just confused if Anything. What's this twink doing in YOUR room this late?

Lucifer flinched a bit as his usual wide grinned masked his embarrassment - he then replied in a slightly sheepish tone, "I just ..wanted to check up on you..make sure your doing okay and all..is it so bad i wanted to check in on my .. favorite guy ever?"

He played it off in a friendly tone as he sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at you, his eyes never leaving your as you sat up in bed..that made his eyes leave yours, is gaze followed down to your exposed chest as the blanket slid down your torso, the thin blanket covering your lap and leaving a soft outline of your dick, why should you care? Your dick pics are surrounding the Internet (by choice) and plus! It's late, your tired.

He bit his lip as he shamelessly stared at that outline before he snapped his gaze back up to yours, you raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him and rolled your eyes, "seriously? I have a hard time believing that, what do you actually want."

Lucifer realized this wouldn't go anywhere unless he initiated it, he put his hand on your cheek and leaned in just a bit, "..I've been .. watching you and thinking about you..I had a dream about you and all..I just wanted to see you." He answered truthfully but his trembling tone made you believe there was more than just an innocent dream that made him wanna see you.

"Really hm? What typa' dream? Wet dream?" Your eyebrows raised in amusement as you felt more awake, a small smirk made a way to your lips as you stared at him expectantly, you knew you were right, your not an idiot - you can tell who's being a horny fuck underneath.

A small blush crept onto his face as he chuckled gently, his hand still on your cheek as he mumbled a small, “Maybe…” His eyes were starting to roam around the room, checking everything from his side as if he was thinking of something. “..You do look ..tempting, you know.”

His finger hooked around the thin blanket covering your lap as he went to pull his down just a bit to tease himself like the masochistic bitch he is. His face flushed once more as your felt yourself getting aroused by this sudden advancement.. Lucifer couldn't help but wonder how you'd feel inside him, hitting his prostate and making him cum an unholy amount of times...god that made his dick twitch as he looked back into your eyes,

"I..I need you so bad."

That's how you got here. He's underneath you as you kiss his jawline, your lips trailing down to his neck as you bit into his soft flesh, leaving a mark as you did so, he let out a moan that made your dick twitch so good,

"A-Ahh! Oh Fuck your gonna-..I'm gonna oh- please..no..no more teasing please..ohgodohgod.."

you couldn't help but feel the need to ruin him. Your fingers gently pinched his nipple before your lips trailed down his collarbone to his chest as your tongue swirled around his sensitive nipple - earning a moan from him.

"Pleaseplease! sir..I need you so so bad..please...AH- oh fuck!" He whined, his back arched as you bit down gently on his sensitive bud, it caught him off guard as your hand trailed down to his boxers, your finger hooked around his waistband before pulling back and letting go - letting it snap against his hip, a sharp hiss left his lips as he felt that slight pain. "Please! Oh god I think- I think I'm gonna-"

You smirked at him approaching his orgasm just from some touches from your tongue and hands.

"no no.. sweetheart, were just getting started and your already so riled up.." You smirked as your eyes lidded into a smug grin, "Look at you.. already a mess underneath me..I'll be sure to punish you for sneaking into my room all because of some dirty fantasy you had of me..how perverted of you, luci."

Lucifer groans softly as his dick twitched uncontrollably just from your words and sexy voice..he was so turned on, “please... Stop. Don't... I'll do anything, just please-please! Oh fuckfuck.....” Everything you're giving is making him crazy. He is losing control every second.

“Y-You're making me crazy....”

Your smirk widened almost sadistically as you tilted your head, "awe..look at you, baby...how pathetic." You grinned down at him, you wanted to make him cry and loose his mind, "Crazy.. already? Your so sensitive..at this rate you'll be a blubbering incoherent mess the time I'm done with you."

Lucifer groans as he clutches your poor sheets tightly. The way you're making him feel, oh boy it's too much! He feels himself hanging on by a thread and you've only just started. "Please... I'm barely hanging on, just give me a break." He breathes heavily as all of those kisses and bites are making him crazy, and all he can do are these pathetic whines.

"hmmm no..now that wouldn't be too fun..now would it?" You ripped his boxers off almost immediately, you were already naked and now he was too, god he looks so pretty so needy..his bruised porcelain skin making it hard for you to hold back. "God your so pathetic.. its like you want me to overstimulate you like the whore you are."

Lucifer's body shuddered at the touch. Oh, this is just unbelievable. He was actually getting desperate for you now. You could tell he was at his breaking point. Lucifer was breathing heavily from all the arousal and the pleasure you were giving him, as he was unable to say a single word.

"I... i-i Can't... Take... It.. Anymore..please sir I need you..I need you in me so so..deep."

Please let me cum in you..was all you could think, you absolutely need to be in him but your holding back for the sake of teasing him, "Hmm? And who came into my room? Who made the first move?~ can't back out now Sweetheart..you know you want me to use you like a toy..I see the way you look at me like the pervert you are.."

Lucifer is breathing heavily. Every single move you're making is driving him crazy, he is a total mess right now, and he is loving every single second of it. "You... don't... understand... What... you're... doing... t'me... Please.." His hands grip the sheets tightly almost ripping them as he tries so hard to be in control but this feels good, way too good.

"good boy-.." you spit on your middle finger and pointer finger as you went to prep him but before you did, your eyebrows raised in slight amusement and surprise, your smirk widened as you held his hip and thigh so he couldn't squirm away from you, "..did you already prep yourself? ..Did you expect me to do this too you, slut?"

Lucifer's cheeks turned even brighter red at that revelation. He couldn't speak as he continued to squirm, his breathing was heavy, but he wasn't struggling anymore. His body was letting all of these feelings flow through. Lucifer's whole body was twitching slightly, as his whole body was so close to being overwhelmed. He bit his lip once again, he was trying so hard... "Yes... I did expect.."

"god your really a slut for me, huh." Your grip on him tightened as your smirk widened, your eyes narrowed as he looked down at you..that pleading look in his teary eyes turned you on beyond belief,

"You think you can handle me?"

"I.... I-I think I can, b-but..." He moaned and whined as his mind was absolutely overwhelmed, as you had now completely taken control over him. Lucifer was now fully under your grasp and there was nothing he can do about it. He was yours and all yours to claim. "I.. Will be a good... Slut... For you..."

Your hand snaked up his torso as you wrapped your hand around his throat, applying a bit of pressure as his breath hitched, a jolt went through his whole body as you applied that pressure to his throat. His breathing became more shallow as his heart was pounding in his chest.

It felt like his whole body was being overwhelmed right now, but at the same time, it felt so good. Lucifer's eyes locked with yours, as you can see that he's trying very hard to just relax, to just surrender and let you have your way so you could penetrate him without much problem..you lifted his thigh and placed it over your shoulder as you aligned your dick with his hole, precum flowing out of both of your cocks. With that - you pushed into his eager hole going around halfway as Lucifer moan loudly,

"Ahh! Ahh- oh- goddamnit! Ahh, what the FUCK?! Your huge!" He groaned and moaned as he squirmed at the sudden feeling of you entering him,

"shhh ..shhh..relax sweetheart..I'm only halfway in." You kissed his cheek which was a drastic change from your previous behavior although it did work in calming him down, this was all Lucifer could hope for...sorta, when he heard you were only halfway in he felt himself feel a tad bit of fear.

Lucifer's eyes widen and his body starts trembling a bit. You can easily tell that the sensation is too intense for him to handle right now. His breathing is shallow and you can see he is a total mess right now. His grip on the sheets are all that seems to be holding him to one place at the moment, "holy fuck I'm gonna die...your gonna kill me.."

"oh don't be so dramatic." You pushed in all the way as a bulge was prominent in his lower stomach from you going balls deep within him, your dick hitting his prostate as his walls clenched around your cock as you let out a quiet groan, you rubbed his hips as you continued. both of you felt so much pleasure it was so so good..

His whole body is trembling as his breath catches. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he moans loudly. His grip on the sheets are now tightening, his teeth are clenched as he tries to remain conscious. He looks at you with shaky eyes, his cheeks flushed and sweaty. A sudden jolt went through his body in that moment. He is just losing it at this point, his mind is blank with no actual thoughts other than this. Every single movement of yours felt like an overwhelming feeling and his body was responding to that. His fingers were digging deep into the sheet while his whole body quivered with pleasure.

You started to thrust in and out of him deeply, hitting his prostate as he moaned relentlessly, "ah! Ah! Ah! Goddamnitttt- fuck! Fuck! Don't- don't stop-" his eyes rolled back, he looked so pretty - tears streaming down his cheeks, his puffy lips pink and his face was red as you wrapped your hand around his throat, pounding into his slutty man cunt, giving him no time to take a breath. He came in which you chuckled, "awe... already? Did my slut already cum?"

He choked out a sob as you continued to hit his prostate repeatedly, your hand only applied more pressure on his pretty throat as he moaned and whimpered, "plea- Ohhhuh!..can't..can..sooo..i can't; I can't ..take it sir.." his speech was slurred as you didnt have any remorse.

"too bad. We just started."

#dom male reader #lucifer morningstar #seme male reader #dom reader #hazbin hotel x reader #smut #lucifer smut

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chaniceroses · 3 months

Text

Bad Boys Ride or Die (ARMANDO X READER) PART NINE

After some time of being on the road, you finally made it to downtown Miami. It was now hitting night time, meaning that you were on the road all day. You watched as the world around you lit up with the Miami city lights, allowing your skin to turn different colors as you passed each building. You were so caught up with looking at each building that you didn’t even notice that the car came to a stop.

“So are you going to keep daydreaming or are you going to get out the truck?”Armando said mockingly, turning his head around, to look at the buildings.

You stood up and walked towards the end of the truck, when Armando lifted his hands up to help you down. You looked at him then over at Marcus and Mike.

“Marcus and Mike can you help me, please.”, you smiled, giving your hands out for them to grab. You knew that you could get down by yourself and that you wanted Armando to help you, however you were still salty from earlier.

You watched as Marcus and Mike looked over to Armando as he walked away. You hated having to play games with him but you couldn’t help it. That’s just who you are, and you were finally accepting it.

“You know, you shouldn’t play with him like that. Being toxic isn’t cute, it’s immature.”, Mike sighed, grabbing you and setting you down softly.

“Mike, I don’t think she’s being toxic. I think she just doesn’t know how to express her feelings for him.”, Marcus added, looking over at him.

You knew that he was right and they knew it too so you stood there and watched as Marcus and Mike went up to Armando. Leading to you having to trail behind them.

“Hey…”, multiple voices yelled near you. You turned around to see a group of guys heading towards you. You whipped your head back around and kept walking, you didn’t have time to be entertaining strangers. So you ignored them.

“Oh so you’re one of those snobby bitches.”, one of the men yelled. By the sound of his voice he was pretty close to you so you decided to turn around.

ARMANDO’S POV

I was annoyed with y/n and with everything that’s going on. First, she played games with me and made me feel as if she wanted me but then said she doesn’t. Then she says something is wrong with me. ME. When she’s the one with psychological problems and now wants to give me the silent treatment. When I should be the one giving HER the silent treatment. Maybe it was because I called her a bitch? That was probably it. Damn, Armando. I didn’t mean to call her that, I've never called a woman that. She had gotten under my skin so well, it was an accident.

I looked back to see her turned around looking at a group of guys walking towards her. They were talking to her, maybe I should step in or just let her deal with them. Then again, I wouldn’t dare. I began to slow down my pace and started listening to what was going on behind me. I couldn’t help but to be intrigued. A group of guys on the streets of Miami, walking up to a woman. Nothing good was going to come from that. That’s when I noticed Y/n's voice, she sounded tense. Something was happening.

“Yo what the hell are you doing?!”, one of the guys yelled.

“Don’t touch me.”

I turned around to see a guy on the ground and y/n turned, looking at me while wiping her lips. I was livid, who the hell did these guys think were? So I sprinted towards him as hard as I could while he was on the sidewalk and started punching him. Punching him so hard that all you could see was blood across his face but I didn’t stop. I kept going, I wanted his whole face to be covered, his lips and nose to be broken and busted and for his eyes to look like a panda.

“Armando!”, y/n yelled, pulling me off of the guy. I stood up to see the guy waving his hands out for me to not touch him anymore.

“Please, I'm sorry. I’m sorry.”, he cried, apologizing. I looked up to see y/n and the dudes looking at me.

“Yo, Armando?”Marcus whispered, looking down at the guy and then at me.

It wouldn’t have been me to stand there and watch y/n defend herself against all of those boys. I wouldn’t dare let her do that, ever. Her battles were mine, no matter how I felt about her right now.

I scanned over to y/n and grabbed her hand. I didn’t care if she didn’t want to hold it or be by me because right now, she had no choice. So I gently yanked her over towards me and pulled her behind me.

“Leave, now or end up like him.”, Mike demanded, pointing at the group of guys and then at their friend that were on the ground. Observing as they scattered like roaches, I set free my hand that y/n was holding and turned to look at Marcus and Mike. She wasn’t going to get anything from me until we could actually talk.

“Where are we heading now?”I asked, looking down to my hands that were now bruised and covered with blood. I wiped them against my pants, hissing from the pain.

“Soooo….we’re not going to talk about what just—”

“Marcus…”, Mike interrupted, looking at him. “Listen…I have an old associate that owns that club right there. She should be able to get us some guns and supplies that’ll help us out.”, he continued looking at us and then pointing at the club down the street.

“Well, let's go.”, I replied, stepping to the side to allow y/n to be in front of me. I watched as she stepped in front of me and then grabbed my hand to hold it. So now she wants to hold it.

“ You may not want to hold my hand but this is my way of saying thank you.”, she sighed looking at me. Her eyes twinkled like the city lights, making them stand out. I couldn’t allow myself to say no so I just held on to it.

Y/N POV

You held on to Armando’s hand, the whole time. The walk to the club was near you guys so it didn’t take forever to reach it. Once you guys made it, you were greeted by the loud noise of music and people being loud.

“Your friend must be famous or something the way this place is packed.”, Marcus yelled over the loud music.

“She’s just known, that’s all. Y’all stay behind me, you don’t want to get lost with all of these people in here.”, Mike explained, waving his hands towards you, Armando and Marcus.

You then pulled Armando closer to you as he kept his distance while holding your hand so he wouldn’t be behind.

You watched as Mike walked up to a section that was surrounded with heavy security. There were beads hanging from the walls indicating that it could be representing an entrance.

“I’m here to see Tabitha. It’s Mike.”, Mike said to the guards.

“She rolls like this Mike.”, Marcus whispered, pointing at how many people were guarding her area.

“She’s special.”

You observed as her security left and came back then started patting down each of you as you entered. First it was Mike, then Marcus and now you were next. A tall, curly hair, polynesian guy, holding a backpack came up to you and scanned your body. He was cute and you watched as he looked at you.

“Arms up.”, he demanded with a smile. He watched as you let go of Armando’s hand and raised your arms up so that you could be searched. “You two together?”He laughed, twirling his finger for you to turn around.

You stayed silent and looked at Armando as he stayed silent as well.

“So I guess that’s a no.”, he laughed.

You allowed the guy to finish his job by patting you down. You didn’t realize how close you pulled Armando to you until you looked up to see Armando near your chest.

“Too close.”, he whispered, while hovering over you.

“Was he talking about the guy or me?”, you thought, looking off to the side while watching people dance.

“You’re good.”

You walked inside the section that Tabitha was in and sat down. There were a lot of half-naked strippers near her while some guards surrounded the furniture that you all were on. You were uncomfortable and alarmed. Tabitha’s mouth was like a motor and vulgar things were flying out of it. You watched as Armando finally walked in and sat on top of one of the chairs at the end, away from you, Mike and Marcus.

“I can most definitely help you out Mike but I’m going to need something in return baby.”, Tabitha replied, looking at Mike while rubbing the side of his neck.

You could tell that he felt awkward by the way she was carrying herself. You would’ve been too.

“And…what would that be?”Mike replied, clearing his throat.

“Eat my pussy.”, she replied, throwing her tongue around.

You watched as the women around you laughed, however you found it disgusting. Does receiving head sound good to you? Yeah, however you were more private when it came to anything sexual and hearing it like that, grossed you out.

“Tabitha, you know I can’t do that…I’m married.”

“So? Head isn’t cheating, that’d be different if I asked you to fuck or for us all to have an orgy.”

“An orgy, Mike…just give the head.”, Marcus replied, inching his head towards Mike and Tabitha's conversation.

“MARCUS! I am not…giving her head. I’m sorry Tabitha but no, there has to be a different route.”, Marcus argued standing up.

“Well then I can’t help you…but you can help me.”, she responded, standing up and pulling a gun from her back and pointing towards Mike. Observing everyone else, the guards that were in the section followed her lead. Now you, Armando, Mike and Marcus had guns from all directions pointing at you. Damn.

You sat there and watched as Marcus, Mike and Armando stood up, you turned to look at Tabitha to see her staring at you.

“Get your ass up, I don’t know why you’re still sitting down. Y’all are about to make me some money.”, she laughed, motioning the gun up and down at you.

You stood up and turned to look at Mike to see him having a confused look on his face. We were all lost.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t know Mike? You four are wanted, and have fifty million on your head. Everybody is after you guys.”, she smiled, taking quick glances at everyone in the room.

Those who were in the room were smiling and whispering. You knew it was going to be hard to find McGrath but now having fifty million over our head just made it difficult.

“I would hate for there to be a bloodbath in here, so walk towards the back.”, She continued, pointing towards the back of the section that had an exit door.

You went around the table that was in the middle of the room and followed Mike and Marcus while Armando followed behind you. You couldn’t help but to hear what Tabitha was saying behind you about Armando.

“Hell, you could give me head too.. You’re fine as hell.”, Tabitha growled, walking towards Armando.

You turned around to see Armando giving her a side eye with a shocking expression. Who was this lady?

“What?”, he replied, confusingly.

“You can give me head, you and your daddy are fine. I’d take both of y’all.”

You were getting sick of her, of the disrespect and the way she was throwing herself at Armando. You got ready to turn around and say something until you felt Armando faintly shove you back around and wrapped his hands around your waist, while walking. Instant butterflies.

“Don’t y/n”, he whispered. You could feel his hands caress your waistline as he was slowly removing his hands. The way he always calmly took control of your emotions, even if you didn’t want to comply, made you hot inside.

The door swung open and they made all four of you walk towards the middle of the open parking lot near a gray van to get on your knees.

You kept your attention on Mike as he tried to talk us out of whatever was about to happen.

“You know I can’t do that baby, I—”, before Tabitha could finish she was interrupted by a group of people walking towards us in a direction.

“MIKE LOWREY!!! YOU KNOW I DIDN’T FORGET ABOUT YOU SMASHING MY HAND IN LAST YEAR!!”, a short plus size man yelled walking towards us. There were a lot of people, different sizes and different races, dressed in different colors with guns in their hands. Had to be gangs.

“Sorry Tabitha but we’re going to have split this!”

“No, I got them so that money is mine!”Tabitha debated, pointing her gun at the plus sized man.

All four of you were looking at each other now, you were surrounded by so many people who were hungry to have you guys. It didn’t help that they had guns and you guys didn’t.

You watched as they got so caught up about the money, that they didn’t even notice the police cars coming towards all of you.

“WATCH OUT!!”Mike yelled, getting up and running towards the van.

You watched as Marcus and Armando followed. You had no weapons, none of you did and you knew that it would be needed right now. So you ran towards one of the guards and fought him as hard as you could. He was strong but eventually you were able to knock him down and take his gun. You started shooting at every person that was in your line of vision, when something was thrown at you from the side.

You turned to see the guy who patted you down earlier, he was pointing at the bag near you. You watched as he blew you a kiss and then ran back inside. You gave him a quick smile in return, picked it up and then ran towards the van, jumping in.

“WHAT IS THAT!!!?”Armando yelled as we were being swung around due to Marcus’s driving, trying to leave the parking lot.

“THE GUY FROM EARLIER THREW IT TO ME!”, you replied, setting it down and opening it to see the bag filled with all kinds of handguns and passing them out.

You watched as Armando grabbed the gun and then got up to open the back of the van. Marcus was speeding and turning the corners fast and deadly, making you and Armando lose your balance. Pulling the trigger, you started shooting at the people who were shooting at the police. You didn’t want to kill your own people, you considered them family.

“Y/N WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”Armando yelled while shooting.

“WHAT?”

“SHOOT AT THE COPS, THEY’RE THE ONES THAT WANTS US DEAD!” “EVERYONE WANTS US DEAD, ARMANDO!!!”, you argued back, so you kept shooting until every person that was at the back of the club was dead or was off the road and then you worked your way up.

“SHIT…KEEP SHOOTING, I'M OUT!”,

You ran towards the front of the van and reached for the bag, when the van nearly flew and tipped over.

“MARCUS!!!”, Mike yelled

“Sorry, there were pedestrians.”

You ran back to help Armando when you noticed him looking at someone intensively, it was Judy, Howard’s daughter. She had her arms out of the window, trying to get a perfect shot at Armando. You remembered how a couple days ago she promised to kill Armando, therefore you knew that you had to do something about it. So you started shooting, holding down the trigger while allowing every bullet to aim at the car. You weren’t trying to kill Judy because you knew that she was just hurt but you knew you weren't going to allow her to kill him either.

You saw as the bullets went through the tires, making them turn and hit an electricity pole, causing a huge blowout to happen where you were.

“Oh shit…”, you whispered, watching as the pole fell to the ground on top of other police cars leading to things flying while on fire.

“WATCH OUT!”, before you could react, Armando flew into you, knocking you down towards the front of the van. You didn’t know what was going on until you noticed a door from a police car was on fire. So you kicked it out of the back of the van and shifted to Armando’s legs being on fire also.

“ARMANDO!”, you shockingly yelled, kneeling over to help Mike put the fire out before it could cause any damage to Armando’s leg. He was shocked as well, hitting it with his hands hoping that it would help. You noticed that it wasn’t doing it any good so you took off your t-shirt and started wildly slamming it against his leg. Once you noticed that the fire was gone, you threw your shirt to the side not caring about the fact that you weren’t covered. Only in your bra.

“Well…”, Armando croaked, while getting up. You could see him looking at you, his eyes now turning lustful. However you ignored him and watched as Marcus driving started getting out of control. We were heading straight towards a wall

“JUMP OUT NOW!”Marcus screamed, trying to avoid hitting cars but failing.

You observed as Mike climbed through the front and jumped out of the passenger door, while Marcus jumped out of the driver's side.

“C’MON!”, Armando commanded, grabbing your hand while running towards the back of the van. You knew that this was going to be painful but there was no other way out, so you jumped. Rolling onto the concrete, hands first, you could feel the wind being knocked out of you. So you laid there, allowing yourself to catch your breath. You didn’t bother looking down because you knew that you may have scratches across your upper body.

“Shit…that hurt.”, you moaned, using half of your body to finally get up.

“Are you okay?”Armando asked, putting his hand on your butt to push you up.

You were going to say something but you had secretly liked it so you ignored it.

“Yeah, just small scratches, that’s all.”, you laughed looking down at your stomach. You turned to see Mike and Marcus running over towards you and Armando. People were slowly coming up towards the crash and you knew at some point the police would be called so you decided to examine the Miami streets to see what direction to go.

“Here y/n, cover yourself up okay.”, Mike said, handing over a flannel that he was wearing. Grabbing it and putting it on, the first thing you noticed was the smell that lingered on it. You couldn’t help but to sniff the collar of it.

“Do I stink?”, Mike worriedly asked turning towards you

“No, you smell really good.”, you laughed. “So…where are we going to go, the guns are in the van.Which are no good now.”, you continued looking towards the van that was now on fire.

“Hold on.”, Mike replied, leaving and walking up to one of the strangers on the street. You guys watched as he talked to them and then grabbed the phone that the stranger handed him.

“Smooth talker I see.”, you smiled looking at Armando and then back at Mike. You couldn’t help but to try and make him jealous, that was something that you knew you were good at. And it worked. Armando was now standing in front of you, blocking Mike from your vision.

“You never answered my question, are you okay?”, Armando repeated, looking down at you.

“Yeah, I am. You?”, you replied looking up at him. You noticed a small bruise on the side of his cheek, must've happened when you guys landed.

“Yeah… I know those scratches probably hurt tho.”

You looked down at your stomach and shrugged your shoulders. There was a more uncomfortable feeling rather than pain. Luckily they were small so the healing process will be fast.

“Kelly and Dorn are going to pick us up so we can go over to the public patio that’s about three blocks away from here and they can meet us there.”, Mike explained, grabbing Armando on the shoulder.

The four of you began running, just to get as far away from the scene as possible before the cops came. Once you guys felt that you were far enough, you walked the rest of the way. Eventually you guys made it to where the patio was when you noticed a dock a couple feet away from it.

“I’m going to go sit over there… just to clear my head.”, you pointed, showing them the dock. You watched as they nodded and then left to go and sit down. There was something about being near water and listening to it, although you couldn’t swim, it brought you peace and you felt it being a bonus with it being night and the stars and moon shining across the waves.

Taking your socks and shoes off, and setting them behind you. You allowed the water to gently touch your toes. It was cold and had a sharp feeling to it. You were so lost into how the water felt against your feet, that you didn’t even notice Armando standing beside you.

“Can I sit next to you?”, he gently asked, pointing to the open space beside you.

You stared at it and then back at the water in front of you, not sure what you wanted to say.

“Sure.”, you sighed, scooting over to allow him to sit next to you.

You watched as he took off his shoes and sat them next to yours, when you noticed how big his feet were.

“Yeah, I have big feet.”, he sighed, noticing that you were looking at his shoes.

“I don’t see anything wrong with that. Some men have big feet for a reason, at least that’s what my grandmother used to say.”, you chuckled, watching the waves hug each other.

“Well, your grandmother was a freak..if she said that.”, he laughed, turning to look at you. You slightly turned your head with a bewildered look on your face.

“What do you mean?”you asked, genuinely confused. You always thought that meant some men's feet just being bigger than others, because that’s basically what she would always say.

“You don’t get it?”, he replied looking at you shockingly

You shook your head no and watched as he turned his face back towards the body of water.

“You’ll understand later.”, he smirked, leaning his hands back to lean his weight onto his forearms.

“You’re weird.”, you sighed, shaking your head in disappointment.

There was silence between the two of you however, the sound of the waves made up for it. You shifted your head over to Armando, not being able to stop yourself from looking at how he was sitting. He kept moving his hips forward so that he could get comfortable. The way he controlled his body, throwing it up and down made your heart race. Think of something y/n, take control.

“So..what made you come over here, I thought you were mad at me.”, you said, interrupting the silence that was happening between the two of you.

“Honestly, I don’t know…I just felt like it.”, he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head however you never turned around. You feel him shifting again, this time he was sitting up and was closer to you.

“Can I ask you a question…”, he asked bringing his hands closer to him

You turned to see him fidgeting his fingers with his shoulders hovered over. You looked up at him and then shook your head, yes. You weren’t sure what he was about to ask you; however, you were happy that he was talking to you. Even if you didn’t know how to show it.

“My dad…Mike. Said that you said that you, “Needed Me”. What did you mean about that?”, he continued looking out at the water.

You couldn’t help but to remain silent, you weren’t sure what you meant by it. You were freaked out after LadyBug was killed and was bruised up so you were saying anything that was crossing your mind.

“It’s okay if you don’t—”

“When I first saw you at the prison, there was something about you. I don’t know exactly what it was…if it’s just how you looked or the heavy energy that you carry but I couldn’t stop looking at you. Even when I left, I kept visioning you and thinking about you.”, you halted. You were finally being honest to him.

“And to be completely honest with you, I still feel this way.”, you finally said it. You were finally honest with yourself and became aligned with your emotions. A thousand bricks felt like it was lifted off of your chest. Like you weren’t suffocating anymore. You could see Armando looking at you from your peripheral vision however you kept your eyes focused on the water.

“So why did you tell Mike that you didn’t care about me then the next day? Why have you been so cold towards me y/n?”he asked, leaning his head towards you. At this point, he was in your face but you continued to ignore his stare and he knew it.

“Y/n, why did you say those things ... .there had to be a reason.”, he continued scooting closer to you. Now you guys thighs were rubbing against each other and you knew that he was growing impatient with you so you looked over to where Armando wasn’t sitting , trying to avoid his eye-contact when you felt his finger on your chin. Forcing your head to turn and for you to look at him.

“Armando”, you sighed, gently taking his finger off of your chin. You weren’t sure whether or not to tell him what McGrath said.

“Tell me y/n, is there something I should know? Are you seeing someone?”, he replied, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“No Armando, I am not and I had a reason okay. It has to do with McGrath, that’s all.”, you sighed, worriedly. McGrath had a hold on you, and you knew it. So did the boys and everytime you talk to them, you’re reminded of what he said the night that he was in your home.

“Okay, well what happened the night before you randomly came to the plane. Mike told me you weren’t coming, why weren’t you on the bus?”he asked, stopping you from playing with your fingers and holding your hands in his hands. They were warm and gave you a soothing feeling.

You turned to look at it and then at him.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me love, what happened?”

“McGrath had been coming over to my house while I was asleep. Had to be for a while because everytime I would wake up and get ready to leave. I always saw my window slightly lifted in the living room. However I never paid it any mind since I used to leave it open myself sometimes.”, you explained, at this point in the conversation, the both of you were playing with each other's fingers without even realizing it.

“Okay, but who was LadyBug?”he asked intensively. He was looking at you, trying to search for answers and help you at the same time.

“LadyBug was a little kid who would come over and pick up ladybug’s in my yard. He had these thick black glasses that would make his eyes bigger than what they were. He was so adorable and was around six or seven, maybe five. I don’t know, I never bothered to ask. McGrath had to be watching every time he would come over because when I got home after chasing him on the highway for killing Fletcher, he was in my home and had LadyBug tied up in my room. I didn’t know..”, you answered, looking at him.

“Him and his people. They hit me across my head, punched me and threw me onto my couch, as soon as I walked in. I tried fighting back but couldn’t so I stopped. And the whole time McGrath and I talked, it was nothing but about him hating me and saving me for last. He then went to my room and brought out LadyBug, I don’t have anything in remembrance of him…”, you continued, swallowing the bricks that were now in your throat. You couldn’t help but to picture LadyBug’s face. You continued to tell Armando about that night and could feel his energy shift.

“And before he left, he told me that I had a decision to make, and that he wants all of us, especially you. I’m tired of losing people, Armando, especially those who are close to me. You’re important to me and so are the boys and now McGrath is threatening me.”, you explained, watching the water throw itself across your feet.

“I have to protect you guys, especially you.”, you sighed. “I don’t need anything to happen, Armando, I am tired.”

You could hear him grunt in frustration as he sat next to you. Before you knew it, he quickly but gently grabbed your face, keeping it between the palms of his hands and kissed you on your lips. You were stunned…they were soft and you could feel his goatee mustache against your face. You looked up to see that his eyes were closed, he was in the moment so you closed yours. You wanted to get deeper into it, until he stopped and pulled away.

“This is what I need you to understand y/n. It is not your job to protect me. it's my job to protect you and I need you to get that through that beautiful head of yours”, he replied, looking deeply into your eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed, while his lips were pressed firmly together. He was being serious.

“Nothing is going to happen to you, me or those donkey’s behind us. I’ll make sure of that, okay love..”, he laughed, letting go of your head and giving you a slight push.

Shockness was still slapped on your face, you didn’t have anything to say so you just stared at him.

“I guess you liked that.”, he smiled, slapping you on your thigh.

You couldn’t help but to blush, forgetting everything that you had just said.

“Oh and I like you too, even though you never said it so I will. You’re mine now so I need you to act like it… okay, even around other people. Let us boys, deal with McGrath because that’s our job as men.”, he continued throwing his arm around your shoulders.

You were hesitant but you decided to give him a chance, you leaned over towards him and placed your head onto his shoulders. You felt protected being in his arms and the way his heart rhythm slowed down and matched yours, it gave you peace. Which has always been important to you.

“I’m not trying to break the silence but…I need confirmation y/n, I want to hear you say ”I’m Yours”...loud and proud, he continued looking down at you.

You looked up at him and then down at his legs, you know what they like to say…thick thighs, saves lives.

“I’ll think about it Armando, I need you to be patient with me.”, you replied rubbing his thigh, it must’ve been making him feel some kind of way because you spotted something trying to peek through his pants.

“I got you excited.”, you laughed, quickly sitting up, and pointing over towards his dick.

He quickly pushed you off of him and you watched as he fastly put on his socks and shoes and stood up. Was he embarrassed because you accidentally turned him on?

“Y’ALL LET'S GO!!”Mike yelled. You turned to see Kelly and Dorn pulling up. Mike and Marcus were already walking towards the car so you quickly bent over to get your shoes, when Armando grabbed them and ran off.

“ARMANDO, WHAT THE HELL?!”, you yelled getting up.

“I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT, CLOCK IS TICKING!!”, he screamed back, flinging your shoes around. You couldn’t be mad because you were secretly enjoying it, so you laughed and ran towards the car. Allowing time to be in control.

#armando x reader #jacob scipio #armando armas #bad boys armando #bad boys ride or die #bad boys ride or die armando #x reader #bad boys #armando aretas #armando aretas x reader

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xoxoladyaz · 3 months

Text

locked in lowercase (inside a vault)

For @steddie-week Day 3: Longing (1,032 words)

Tags: Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Light Angst, Hopeful Ending

��Eddie, man. I think you should talk to him.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh, really? What’s with the sudden change of heart, Emerson? That desperate to knock me down a peg?”

“Dude,” Gareth sighs, and the defenses he’d so easily garnered up fall just a little. “Look, I know I wasn’t all that thrilled about Harrington in the first place – ”

“Oh, that’s the understatement of the fucking century, Gare-bear - ”

“ – but,” Gareth ignores Eddie’s attempts at cutting him off, “that was before I saw how miserable you are without him. Like, dude. We made it. We’re on tour right now, and all you wanna do when we’re not on stage is sit on the bus and play Patsy Cline. You,” Gareth taps Eddie on the chest, “you should be having the time of your fucking life right now, but it’s like you’re not really here with us, man.”

Eddie lets Gareth’s words sink in for a moment. The kid’s not wrong, of course, but he doesn’t get it. He can’t. Eddie barely has the words to describe how the feelings started or what his feelings even are, but any time he bumps into anyone that has that look in their eye, that whole I wanna take an up-and-coming rock star for a ride shine, Eddie turns tail and practically runs the other way. It’s not to say that he hasn’t tried – oh, he tried, especially in those first few cities after first leaving Indiana – but it either didn’t happen or it didn’t end well for either party and eventually he just stopped trying.

Because none of them were Steve.

And the worst part is, it’s fucking hopeless. The King never, ever gave Eddie even the slightest inclination that it wasn’t just “babes” for him. (Although, to be fair to Steve, Eddie himself didn’t really know until he was too far away to do anything about it, and that’s assuming Eddie’s balls got big enough to even fucking try something.) Steve was kind to Eddie, sure; hell, he was even calling Harrington his best friend at the end, before they left for tour. But then Eddie started wanting and, even worse, started knowing that he wanted any eyes that looked at him in pleasure to be big and brown and belong to Steve and – well, he hasn’t been playing on this side of the field for long, but even a newbie like him knows just how this is going to play out.

(Which translates to: he slowly stops calling Steve until he isn’t calling him at all. He takes “Head Over Heels” off the set list. He puts the swim team sweater he stole from Steve’s closet at the bottom of the “extra clothes” pile in the back of the bus. And instead of going out after every show, instead of trying and failing to find some peace in the bottom of a bottle like his dad, he sits in the tour bus and plays Patsy Cline on his acoustic under his fingers bleed.)

“It’ll only make things worse, Gare,” Eddie replies, fishing aimlessly in his pockets for the last of his Camels. “I’ll get over it. Eventually.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you will, but he won’t.”

Eddie’s fingers still in his pocket. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me. You don’t think Robin chews my head off every time I call to check in?”

(It’s just Eddie’s luck, of course, that Gareth’s first-cousin-and-childhood-best-friend happens to be Steve’s other half.)

“Then why don’t you stop calling?” Eddie finally finds a cig and pulls it out of his pocket, only for it to get snatched out of his fingers.

“Because I’m not an asshole, asshole,” Gareth snaps. “And I’m getting really sick and tired of getting yelled at every time I call home because somebody refuses to man up and deal with his feelings.”

Eddie turns in place, glaring at Gareth. “I am dealing with my feelings!”

“By not dealing with them, dumbass! And for the record, you’re making it even more noticeable by notdealing with them! Hell, even Byers asked me about it the last time he called, because why else would you just drop Harrington all together? It’s been like a year, man, you have to deal with this at some point.”

“I – I didn’t know until a month and a half ago, Gareth, what the hell do you mean by the last year?”

Gareth snorts. “Seriously? Seriously. Holy shit, you’re serious. Fucking – really, man? Now I owe Jeff money.”

“GARETH!” Eddie snaps. “What do you mean, the last year?”

Something is on Eddie’s face, some expression that he can’t control, because Gareth’s eyes soften and grow sad. “Eds, man, you wear your heart on your fuckin’ sleeve and your feelings all over your face. All anyone gotta do is see you look at Steve and know.”

“Know? Know what?”

Gareth’s voice is almost a whisper now. “Do I really need to say it?”

The wounded beast in Eddie’s chest shudders. “No.” He pulls his eyes away from Gareth, refocuses on the rings on his hands – and more specifically, the ring made from an antique spoon that Steve had made him when they were going through his parents’ shit.

(It was the only piece of Steve he couldn’t bear to hide away these last six weeks.)

“Does – does he?”

(Eddie can’t finish the question; hell, Eddie doesn’t even know what he’s asking.

Thankfully, somehow Gareth does.)

“Go call him, Eds,” Gareth says. He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, a benediction for courage, and then leaves the tour bus, leaving Eddie alone and staring at the phone at the end of the bus.

(Maybe there’s a world where Steve feels, can feel, has felt the same. Maybe there’s a world where, when he told Eddie that he’s taking a break from dating that it meant taking a break from dating someone who wasn’t Eddie. Maybe Steve’s been trying and failing to get past this too, and is spending his nights by the phone like Eddie, waiting for someone to call.)

The phone only rings twice.

“This is Steve.”

(And maybe that world is this one.

But he won’t know until he tries.)

“Hey, Stevie. Got a minute?”

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #rock star eddie munson #steddie angst #steddie week #guilty as sin?

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trippinsorrows · 1 month

Text

give me a reason + two

authors note: wow! so humbled by people's interest in this one! forgot to mention that i'll be playing around with joe's career, in terms of the timeline and whatnot.

also, if ya'll ever watched the bernie mac show, i was very much inspired in one section by that scene where vanessa and them was doing that car wash at bernie's house lmaooo

in addition (last point, i swear lmao), i can do faceclaims for the character, mainly mariella's family. if ya'll want. i know some people prefer to visualize for themselves. just lmk.

i don't own any lyrics used.

previous chapter

words: 7k

song inspo: just give me a reason by p!nk and nate ruess

warnings: language, fluff, some angst, blink and you'll miss it sexy time.

Spring, 2005

Spring break.

The time looked forward to by most students, especially college students, who are granted a free week to get into all kinds of trouble, mischief and then return to campus like nothing ever happened.

Joe and Byron can’t deny that they’ve definitely had their fair share of that the first part of college, but now with two years under their belts and only two years left to go, they’re focused on having killer seasons and landing their dreams of going into the NFL.

It’s why when coach decides to give the players a break, canceling all practices during said break, there’s not even an initial question about what they should do with their time.

Home.

They’re going home.

Because while being away is nice at times, there’s absolutely no place like home and being surrounded by the people you love the most.

Byron glances at Joe who’s looking down at his phone. “You gonna see Brianna while we in town?”

Joe looks up. He can’t say he hasn’t thought about it. Brianna, Joe’s last high school girlfriend, was inarguably the easiest of all the girls he’s ever dated. And if not for him not wanting to be tied down while away at college, he would have tried to make it work.

“I don’t know,” he answers, truthfully. “We’ll see.”

“Well, I’m definitely hitting up Tamia. Heard she and ole’ dude broke up.”

Joe shakes his head. Tamia has been Byron’s on and off girlfriend since freaking middle school. They date, break up, date other people, break up with said other people and start right back over. Truthfully, Joe can see Tamia being the one for Byron considering how long they’ve been in this little cycle.

“Just make sure you’re safe, man.”

Byron looks like he’s just been told to make sure he wears a seatbelt. “Always, bro. You know me.”

Joe knows him alright. Knows he can be reckless at times. And with so much at stake in the next upcoming two years, they can’t afford to be reckless.

“I do. That’s why I’m saying it.”

“Man….” Joe laughs at Byron’s dismissal. “What do we have here?” Joe turns his attention to where Byron has set his gaze only to quickly scowl with disgust. “Ugh, they in high school.”

Joe is also instantly repulsed. “That’s fucking gross.”

Byron shakes in his seat, as if trying to shake the disgust off himself when he sees something. “Wait a minute…” Joe again tries to see what’s triggered the exclamation of irritation. “Oh hell no.”

“What are you—what the hell!” Joe shouts out as Byron suddenly swerves into the next turn lane, barely missing hitting a car. “The fuck are you doing, man!”

“That’s Ella out there!” He answers, speeding near the station where a bunch of high school girls are operating a car wash, trying to raise money for who knows what.

At the mention of Ri, Joe’s attention is snatched. “What?” He’s looking around as Byron looks to quickly park the truck, clearly eager to get out. Joe doesn’t see her just yet. It’s not until they’re parked and out of the car that his eyes land on her.

Her smile is the first thing he notices. She’s laughing. Not surprising. For as long as he’s known her, which has been his whole life essentially, she’s always the one in the group to make everyone laugh.

Usually from her klutziness.

It’s never a dull moment with Mariella Holmes.

Moving closer, he can see that it’s definitely Ri, and she’s giggling along with the other girls, dancing to what he recognizes is Black Eyed Peas latest song, “My Humps.”

It’s that realization that helps Joe understand why Byron is so annoyed.

The dancing could be seen as a bit provocative.

“Ella!”

Her head snaps up at Byron’s voice, easily landing on him. Joe watches her mouth drop open in shock before she shouts, “BJ!”

Dropping the soapy rag in the bucket, she’s nearly sprinting over to the two of them, tackling Byron with a hug first. “What are you doing here?”

It’s when she steps back that she moves over to him. She smirks, crossing her arms. “Should have known you wouldn’t turn down a chance to come see me.”

Joe laughs, pulling her in for a hug. “Never.”

“What am I doing here?” Byron cuts in, angrily gesturing to her. “What are you doing out here dressed like this?”

She looks down at her outfit, frowning. Joe does the same. It’s a bathing suit top with jean shorts and flip flops. What’s so bad about that?

And she expresses as such.

“Ummm, the dance team is having a car wash. We’re trying to raise money for travel costs this season.”

This doesn’t seem acceptable to Byron as he asks, “well, you ain’t having nothing else to wear? All exposed and everything.”

That’s when she rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so annoying.”

He starts to pull his shirt off when even Joe chimes in, “dude, come on.”

“She’s half naked!”

“I’m wearing a bathing suit, BJ.” Mariella says it like he’s slow. Like he was on the short bus. “I know you’ve been away at school, so you haven’t been around as much, but I have boobs now—”

At that, both Joe and Byron turn up their nose. The last thing they need is that type of visual.

She continues, gesturing to her body. “I hit puberty, and allll the areas started filling out. It happens!”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Byron covers his mouth. “I don’t give a damn. You’re sixteen, not twenty-one.”

She gives a sly smile. “That’s not what my fake ID says.”

Joe catches her gaze, seeing that she’s just messing with him. It makes him laugh.

“Your what? Girl, you done lost your damn mind.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Relax, BJ. You know I can’t get a fake ID. My dumbass would feel too bad and turn myself in.”

“That’s true,” Joe chimes, and she glares, reaching over to hit him. She starts to say something, only for her eyes to go wide. “What’s wrong?”

She says nothing, just awkwardly shifting her weight from one leg to another. He starts to ask again when a new voice joins the conversation.

“Hey, babe.”

Byron jumps to a new level of annoyance. “Babe?” He and Joe watch as some scrawny looking little boy, who’s really not that scrawny in actuality but looks it compared to Byron and Joe, walks up to Mariella, kissing her.

Byron looks like he’s about to have a stroke. He asks with all the smoke. “Who the hell are you?”

Scrawny scoffs and has the audacity to throw the question back at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh my god.” Mariella murmurs, slapping her hand against her forehead. “BJ, this is my boyfriend, Derrick—”

Mariella having a boyfriend makes sense to Joe. She’s 16 now. Why wouldn’t she be dating? It’s normal and expected.

If only Byron saw it that way. “Boyfriend? Since when do you have a boy—”

“Derrick, this is my brother, BJ or Byron, and basically like my non-blood brother, Joe.”

Scrawny AKA Derrick looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Oh shit, my bad—”

If only he knew that Byron doesn’t forgive nor does he forget when it comes to his little sisters, especially Mariella.

He steps toward the shorter young man. “Naw. You bad. You wanted to know who the hell I was, so let me tell you, I’m the nigga that’s gon fuck you up if you ever—”

“Byron!” Mariella is now fuming, grabbing him by his arm as she tugs him in a different direction. “Give us a couple minutes.” She flashes a sweet smile at Derrick and a pleading expression to Joe for him to also be nice.

Joe waits until they’re out of hearing distance. He then slaps Derrick on the arm. “Don’t take it personally. That’s just Byron. He’s always been a hothead.”

Derrick gives a nervous laugh, showing off braces that Joe didn’t notice before. He refrains from frowning. Ri could definitely do better than this dweeb. “You like Ri?”

Derrick shrugs, offering an unimpressive. “She’s alright.”

And that’s all Joe needs to hear to know what this kid is really about. Stepping toward him, he keeps his voice leveled and expression ice cold. “Do anything to hurt her, and you won’t have to worry about Byron.” He gives a steel smile. “I’m the one you’ll never see coming.”

———-

Present

Post-traumatic amnesia (PTA)

Or some milder form of it.

Amnesia, at the very least.

That’s what Dr. Reynolds says is the cause of Mari’s complete loss of memory. A result of the head trauma she received from the accident. A prognosis that somehow feels almost worse than the coma, at least to Joe.

Because for the life of him, he doesn’t know how to look at the woman he’s known his entire life, and have her look back at him like he’s a stranger, like she has no idea who he is.

Because she doesn’t have any idea who he is.

As devastating as that blow is, he knows it hits harder for her parents. April nearly collapsed in Byron Sr’s arms as Dr. Reynolds informed them of Mari’s memory loss.

She was in tears, desperately asking, “but—but she’ll get them back, right, doctor?”

And Joe only has to glance at the doctor, the way his lips press together before he informs sympathetically, “we don’t know. Some patients do eventually retrieve their memories. Others….others never do.”

Joe can’t even allow himself to think of the latter option.

A couple days post coma, he knocks on her door, seeing she’s alone, her parents most likely grabbing food or something.

She glances at the door offering a small smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. It’s insincere, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that either, because one of the things he’s always loved about her has always been her smile. So big and infectious. Just like her personality.

“Hey.” There’s nothing big and infectious about her almost unsure tone.

“Hey.” He doesn’t wait for her to welcome him in, just walks in, taking the seat on the side of her bed. “How you feeling?”

She gives a one sided shrug. He notices the cuts and bruising on her face have gone down tremendously. That's a plus in a situation full of minuses. “Don’t know.” After obviously thinking about the question more, she offers a more descriptive answer. “Very...confused.”

“About?” He then adds. “Maybe I can clear it up for you.”

“I don’t know. It’s….it’s mostly about who I am.” He could definitely answer that one for her. She shakes her head, providing an example. “Like, I’m apparently this big singer, but I can’t even think about singing right now. It doesn’t—it doesn’t even feel like me.” She chuckles bitterly. “Not that I know who me is.”

“You love music. Always have. And you’re good at it. Singing. Writing. Producing. Dancing. All of it.” She looks over at him as he says with all the honesty and sincerity, “there’s nothing, creatively, you can’t do.”

Mariella nods, as if taking in the information to analyze later on. “What about you?” She asks. “What do you do?”

A lot of things. A lot of things he now regrets deeply. But, that’s not her question. “Professional wrestler.” He starts to say WWE to see if she knows what that is, but that isn’t important. Shit about him isn’t the priority.

Mariella looks him over, nodding. “It fits.”

He smiles a bit. The first he’s done in weeks. “What else do you want to know?”

She’s quiet for a few moments before asking the question he didn’t know he was dreading until now. “How did I end up here?”

What a loaded question he was absolutely not prepared for.

There’s a lot of things that led them to where they are right now. A lot of which he blames himself for, and her as well, but not nearly as much as he blames himself. They both played a role in how badly their relationship deteriorated, but Joe puts the bulk of it on himself.

He’s older and should know better.

But, the specific incident that resulted in her accident, the blowout that ended with her requesting the one thing she always swore she never wanted to have happened when they got married…that’s it.

That is the truth she is probably looking for. It’s a truth, however, he can’t find it in him to tell her.

Because selfishly, he doesn’t want that to be the thing to trigger her memories, or any memories of all the things that have gone so terribly wrong the past two years. He doesn’t want that for her.

Doesn’t want it for them.

It’s why he settles on an answer that’s neither a lie but also not the full truth.

“You had a lot on your mind and went for a drive.” His voice shifts into something quiet. He’s still trying to process his feelings about that part of this whole thing. “You were hit head on by a drunk driver.”

Silence.

For a brief second, he’s unsure if he should have just told the truth. Been honest with her and let the cards fall as they may.

And then she speaks.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” He looks up. Joe sees it. That sense of humor that some could only take in doses, but for him, it’s always been a highlight. She’s always been able to put a smile on his face even in the darkest of his days. “How long have we been married?”

Another unexpected question, but he answers truthfully. “This March makes 11 years.”

“Wow.” This seems to take her by surprise. “And how long have we been together?”

“That….that’s a bit of a long story.”

She lifts her brow, gesturing to her hospital bed. “Not like I have anywhere to be.”

He chuckles. She has a point, but the story of them…that seems too complicated or detailed to share in a freaking hospital. Because in his mind, he’s started to sort the different ways and things he can do to help remind her of who she is.

Of who they were.

Finally, he answers, “I just—I think you should—”

There’s a knock on the door, Joe turning to see April and Byron Sr.

April is the first to speak, walking over to them. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She’s almost hesitant to move too close. Joe can see she wants nothing more to engulf her youngest in a hug but recognizes the same almost uncomfortable expression Mariella wore the minute he walked in.

“It’s okay.” He assures, going to stand up. “I’ll leave you guys—”

“Actually,” Byron Sr. interjects, shooting Joe a sympathetic expression. “We were hoping to speak with you.” He looks toward Mariella, and Joe hates it. Hates the almost discomfort that exists between them. She’s always been super close with her parents. Especially her dad. “If that’s alright, sweetheart?”

Mariella shrugs, clearly unbothered. “Sure.” She starts to lay back in her bed a little. “I’m kinda tired anyway.”

Joe wonders how much of that is truth, and how much of it is her just wanting to be alone from people who are virtual strangers.

Strangers…

That’s definitely a word he never thought could be used in any context regarding Mariella.

Once outside the room and in the private waiting area, her parents wait until a set of nurses pass before April is the first to speak. She reaches over and places a comforting hand. “How are you doing, Joe? Really?”

A mess. He’s a fucking mess. Joe has seen much, much better days than the past few weeks. But, he also doesn’t want to make this about him, about his mental state, so he provides a half truth.

“Been better.” His response is gruff as he quickly moves to change topics. “What about you guys?”

Having his wife have no idea who he is is brutal, but he can’t even begin to imagine what it’s been like for two parents to not have their youngest child recognize them, to have no idea who they are.

Byron Sr. is the first to answer, mirroring his son-in-law’s words. “Been better.”

April shifts in her seat, bringing her hand back to her lap. “We umm—we spoke to Dr. Reynolds earlier today.”

Joe looks up, partially wondering why he wasn’t present for that meeting. “Okay.”

“She doesn’t remember anything, Joe. Not her childhood. Not her family. Not…not even us.” April voice breaks at the end of her statement as Joe looks away. Hearing this again isn’t exactly helpful, though he would never disrespect her parents by asking them to shut up. Even if it’s what he wants. “And we—well, we just think—”

Byron Sr. cuts in, hand on his wife’s knee. “We want to take her back home with us, Joe.” Joe’s stomach drops. “We want to take her back to Florida.”

———-

Spring, 2022

Cameras.

That’s the one thing Mariella, Mari, still struggles to get used to. The bright lights flashing in her face as her photo is taken, whether on the red carpet, on the stage, or even when she’s just making a run to the grocery store. The latter one hasn’t happened as much as it used to, for which she’s grateful, but still.

So there’s a bit of an adjustment as she looks around the room, the hair and makeup team touching up her face once more before they kick off the segment.

She doesn’t regret it. Doesn’t regret it at all. It’s a good look for him. For her too. And beyond any type of benefit for their careers, she’s just happy she gets to see him.

Because that’s the part she doesn’t think she’ll ever truly get over or be okay with.

The distance.

As directed, she walks down the hall, making sure not to look directly into the camera. This is made infinitely easier by pretending she’s shooting a music video. Which, truth be told, it isn’t very different.

Mari wears the confused expression perfectly, looking down at her phone as if it has information that could help her when she ‘accidentally’ walks into him.

Head up, she gasps and immediately gets to apologizing, just as was in the script. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I wasn’t even looking where I was going.”

His eyes widen as he ‘realizes’ who she is. “Wow. No, you are absolutely fine. Wow. You’re Mari!”

Smiling, she points at him, “and you are…..”

He seems a bit taken back at first, like he’s waiting for her to also recognize him. When that doesn’t happen, he offers his hand. “Sami Zayn. Master strategist and locker room leader.”

She nods, perfectly conveying another confused look at just what that means. “Does—does that mean you’re good with directions? Cause I suck at them.”

“It absolutely does, and you are in luck, because I just so happen to be free right now and would love to give you a tour.”

She opens her mouth to protest, “oh, that’s so sweet, but I really should—” she looks down at her phone. “You know what, I’m a little early, so why not?”

“Awesome.” He claps his hands together and offers his arm. Mari smiles and links hers in his as he starts leading them down the hall, pointing out the most obvious of things.

The camera cuts, and she engages in conversation with Sami, who’s actually a lot like the ‘character’ he plays. Super charismatic and engaging. Kinda reminds her of herself. So much so that before she realizes, they’re back to recording after having moved across the arena.

“And lastly we have—” His eyes suddenly widen as he realizes where they are, Sami moving his hand to her back as he directs them in the opposite direction. “Wait, we do not want to go—”

“There it is!” Mari, however, is smiling brightly as she walks toward the door.

Sami looks like he’s about to have a panic attack, frantically warning, “Mari, I know you’re like an international mega star, but trust me, you do not want to bother that man—” He’s silenced by her knocking on the door.

His face is turning red as he urgently whispers to her, “we should really get out of here. Like right now!.”

She turns to him, confused. “Why?”

And before Sami can respond, the door is ripped open, the scowling faces of the Usos the first thing Sami lands on. He’s preparing to get chewed out only for them to look at Mari and instantly start smiling.

“Whassup, Mari!” Jimmy is the first to greet her, pulling her in for a hug. Followed by Jey, the two of them engaging in some secret handshake that ends with a ‘Yeet’.

Sami, however, laughs nervously, gesturing between the three. “Wait, you—you guys know Mari?”

Jimmy answers, slinging his arm around her. “Man, of course. This family!”

“You’re related to them?” Sami asks, eyes wide.

Mari opens her mouth to answer when another person emerges from the private locker room, taking up almost the entire door frame, face stoic and eyes cold.

Sami looks like he’s about to piss himself. He swallows. “My Tribal Chief, I’m so sorry—”

He’s interrupted by Mari who smiles and pulls away from Jimmy to walk up to Roman.“Hi, baby.” Sami looks on stunned as she leans up and kisses his cheek, pressing her body into his, hand on his abs. “Sorry, I’m a bit late.” She grins over at Sami. “Sami was giving me a tour of the place.”

The reddening of his cheeks is about what and what with the red of his hair. “I don’t—I’m not—”

Playfully rolling her eyes as Roman continues to look like he’s contemplating murder, she lifts her left hand, showing off a beautiful diamond ring. “Roman’s my husband.”

Mouth open like a child who just found out Santa isn’t real, Sami does his best to reel in his surprise. “Of course, you’re married. I totally knew that!” He laughs nervously, hands on his hips. “That’s why I gladly brought you to the Tribal Chief myself. Wanted to ensure nothing but the best for the Bloodline’s first lady.”

“That was really sweet of you. Thank you.” She continues to smile, and Roman continues to send daggers with just one, stolid expression. Mari peers up, kissing him again as she reaches for his hand. “Come on.” She tugs him toward the inside of the locker room, Roman finally budging as he gives Sami one last look that has the redhead contemplating requesting a switch to Raw.

However, as Jimmy and Jey go to follow along with their cousin, Roman is quick to slam the door in their faces.

“Hey, Uce, uhhh,—” Jimmy tries to jangle the knob only to realize it’s locked. He starts knocking. “Roman! Hey, you gon let us in?”

A couple seconds later the door does open, but it’s Solo, followed by Paul Heyman. Wise Man closes the door behind him. He looks around, briefly bewildered and clears his throat, announcing, “The Tribal Chief has requested to be left alone this evening.”

Sami is the only one to laugh, playfully shoving Solo and pointing to the locker room. “I bet he has.” Solo, however, also looks like he’s also contemplating murder. Sami coughs awkwardly and turns to walk away, just as the camera crew announces ‘cut’.

The remaining men share laughs about the promo, meanwhile inside the locker room Mariella relishes in the feel of being reunited with her husband in real life, and now in the WWE kayfabe verse.

She’s pressed against his body, arms around his neck with his locked around her waist, holding her to him. “Hey, Big Daddy.”

Roman, Joe, rolls his eyes. Mariella giggles. She knows he has such a love/hate relationship with the term of endearment, one of many she has for the massive man before her. “You miss me?”

He makes a sound, leaning down to connect their lips. “Always, baby.”

She smiles into their kiss, “good answer.” His big hands venture down to squeeze her ass, Mariella moaning into his mouth which triggers something for him. He lifts her up, her legs locking around his waist as he goes to sit back down in the big leather chair. Joe’s tongue entering her mouth is enough to elicit another moan but also alert her to the fact of where he wants to take this.

“Baby, we cannot do the nasty at your job.”

“I don’t know why you still call it that.” His fake irritation makes her giggle. It’s an inside joke between them that she’ll never let die so long as she lives. “And who says we can’t?”

“I don’t know. The FCC?” He rolls his eyes as she grasps at his beard that she can tell he dyed recently. Most likely because of his job. She wishes he could leave it be. She likes the gray. It does….things to her. “Besides, you know the deal. If we do it right now, we can’t do it tonight.” He continues to move his hands across her ass. “Mama’s got a show this Sunday, and I’d rather not be rendered immobile because my husband impaled me on his big ole’ dick.”

Again, Joe rolls his eyes, even though there’s more truth to her statement than the typical playful jokes she cracks at any given time. Joe has a high sex drive. She’s known this for some years. Mariella, however, does not. And it’s not even that she doesn’t enjoy sex with her husband. It’s that her husband doesn’t know how to stop, doesn’t know how to come, make her come one time for the one time, and just be done with it.

No. This man wants rounds. And truthfully, she just doesn’t have the stamina to keep up with him. Outside of porn stars, she doesn’t know who would.

Man is an absolute beast.

“So damn dramatic,” he chuckles against her neck. “You know I be doing most of the work anyway.”

She opens her mouth to protest. “Okay, that may or may not be true.” She can feel him smiling against her. It’s not like he minds. Joe is dominant in the sheets, wanting to be in control at all times. Her preference given he’s much more well versed in the sexual arts than she is. “But, in my defense, you’re built like a Greek god.” A Samoan god. “I get winded walking up the staircase in our house.”

“Bullshit.” He pulls back, pointing out. “You be on that stage dancing your ass off for damn near three hours.”

She rolls her eyes, murmuring, “okay, that also may or may not be true.” Mari’s eyes flutter as he moves his hand under her dress. Long, thick fingers easily pushing aside her underwear, feeling the pool of her arousal. She squeezes his shoulders. “Joe….”

He grunts almost, gliding his fingers across her wet folds. She exhales sharply. “You this wet already and really want me to think you don’t want Big Daddy to fuck this tight lil’ pussy?”

Whining against him, Mariella unconsciously tries to move around on his lap to get his fingers back on her. In her, preferably. And it’s when he enters one of those deliciously talented fingers inside of her gushy opening, she caves. “Fine.” He smirks as she warns, “but you’re pushing me around in the wheelchair after!”

———-

Between a rock and a hard place.

That’s how Joe has felt the past few weeks, maybe even longer. But especially now.

He knows Ri’s parents are right. That they have every right to want her to spend time at home with them, in the place where she grew up, where most of her formative years and subsequent formative memories lie. Logically, it makes sense.

But, he can’t seem to get past his discomfort at the fact that Ri won’t be getting discharged and coming home with him. No, she’ll be discharged and hop on a plane with them back to Florida. Selfishly, he was hoping the doctor wouldn’t clear her to fly, but that plan went out the window. Dr. Reynolds is clearly on the same page with her parents about the potential benefit of being around constant triggers. Triggers that could help generate memories.

And Joe isn’t against that. At all.

It’s just the fact that he won’t be there that rubs him the right way.

“Joe.”

His eyes shut, an instant headache coming on. This is the last thing he needs.

Turning around, he’s met with Olivia “Liv” Holmes default stare of icy indifference. Out of all of Mariella’s siblings, her family in general, Liv has always been his least favorite.

For a lot of different reasons. The main one being how she always treated Mariella when they were younger. Not mean, per se. But not kindly either. She always acted like Mariella was annoying, and she definitely could be at times, but not to the extent that Liv made it seem.

Like Mariella was just this big nuisance. It’s part of the reason she always wanted to hang out with him and Byron when they were growing up, because Liv spent most of her time with her twin sister, Everly, and her own friend group.

“Liv.” He really doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, let alone her. Their interactions have always been brief and limited to what is essential. For good reason too.

“I take it my parents told you we’re taking Ella back home to Florida with us.”

Joe has to bite back a smartass comment. Liv’s smirk and the almost smug tone of her voice isn’t what he needs right now.

“Yes.” He matches her energy a bit, reminding. “For the first couple weeks, at least. Then I’m going to bring her back home with me.”

Where she belongs.

Liv smiles, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “We’ll see.”

Joe gives her a look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know she called me.” He freezes. “The night of the accident.” Joe manages to keep a calm face despite his surprise at her words. Mariella has never been close with Liv, most of their communication occurring via texts and family group chats.

There’s only one reason she would call her sister who happens to be a divorce attorney.

“I want a divorce.”

Liv continuing to speak is ironically appreciated, as it pulls him from the memories of what is now an infamous argument. “I was sleeping and missed her call, but she didn’t leave a message. Kinda wishing she did, because I’m still trying to figure out just what the hell she was doing out on the road that late at night.”

He keeps his cool. Somehow. “I already told you—”

“I know what you said, Joe.” Her interruption is sharp. “I also don’t believe you, because what the hell could she have so heavy on her mind after winning 5 Grammys?” She crosses her arms. “It doesn’t make sense.”

When he doesn’t say anything, she continues her accusatory assault. “You seem to forget that we were in high school together, Joe. I know how you were.” At this, he can’t say anything, can’t necessarily defend himself against truth. “You and Byron fucked damn near half the girls in our school, probably at college too, and then all of a sudden you turn in your hoe card to be with my baby sister? Because you love her? I never bought that shit for a minute.”

While he can’t deny his promiscuous past, Joe isn’t about to stand here and let this woman act like he’s this horrible person who took advantage of Mariella. “What’s your point, Liv? Huh? I’m not fucking stupid. I know you never approved of me being with Ri, but just like I didn’t give a fuck then, I still don’t give a fuck now.”

Liv does relatively well hiding her disapproval among her family, to some extent. But Joe has always been hip to her truth. She thinks Mariella should have gotten with someone else, anyone else probably. Anyone who wasn’t him.

Liv, who has never done well with being challenged, steps forward, glare intense and purposeful. “I’m gonna find out what happened that night, Joe. Because I know there’s something you’re not telling us.” He keeps up his unreadable expression, though there’s a small chunk of guilt swimming around the back of his head. Not even about not being completely honest with Mariella’s family.

More about not being honest with her.

She lowers her voice. “And when I do find out—”

“Liv.”

Joe and Liv turn to see Byron Jr. standing before them with a disappointed expression.

Arms crossed, he steps toward them, focused more on Liv than Joe. “Don’t be starting no shit today, alright? This the last thing we need.”

In recent years, especially since becoming a father, BJ has matured from his hotheaded days, often even a voice of reason. One of the reasons he’s been voted Locker Room captain for his team, the 49ers, 3 years in a row.

Liv rolls her eyes. “You’ve always been blinded by your friendship with him—”

“Hey.” Byron raises his voice a bit. “I mean it. You blaming people doesn’t change what happened, and you know damn well Ella would have a fit at you coming at Joe like this.”

Not really. Maybe before. Before everything collapsed so tragically between the two of them.

“Whatever.” She gives a final almost warning glare to the two of them before stalking off, probably to go see Mariella.

BJ places a comforting hand on Joe’s shoulder once she’s gone. “You good, man?”

Not at all. “Yeah.” He clears his throat.

BJ gives a sad smile. “Don’t let Olevil get to you.” Her nickname from back when they were in high school makes Joe chuckle. “You going back to work next week?”

Joe blows out a breath. That hasn’t even crossed his mind the past couple weeks. He doesn’t even really know what storyline they came up with to cover his absence. Nor does he care really. “I haven’t even thought about that, man.”

“I think you should.” And before Joe can protest, Byron lifts his hand. “Hear me out. She’s gonna be with our parents for a few weeks, so you know she’ll be in good hands. What you gon’ do while she’s gone? Sit around the house sad and moping and shit? You know she would be chewing you out for that, telling you that you gotta get back in the game.”

Joe gives a bit of a smile. Byron is right. Knowing Mariella, she’d have a whole theatrical ass presentation as to why he should return to work, song and dance included.

“Yeah…”

Byron slaps him on his shoulder. “Just think about it, alright?”

Joe nods, because he will. And not for himself, not even for his job, because he doesn’t give a fuck about that right now.

But for Mariella.

His Ri.

Because she’ll always be his Ri.

And he’s determined to make sure she doesn’t forget it this time.

———-

Spring, 2022 [cont.]

“Baby!” It’s a distant voice that becomes closer as it's repeatedly conjoined with a small hand shaking at his shoulder. “Baby, wake up.”

And he does. Eyes fluttering open, his vision is blurred initially, gradually clearing up to reveal the face of his beautiful wife. Cognizant of his surroundings, Joe realizes she’s sitting on top of him, notebook and pen in hand.

He smiles. It’s been a while since she’s woken him up for this. And while he’ll regret it in the morning, he’s grateful for it now. Grateful for these little callbacks to when they were broke, living in a crappy apartment, trying to chase the dream as inspiration struck her at all hours of the night. And she would wake him up, wanting his feedback.

He didn’t really mind then.

And he doesn’t really mind now.

That’s just his Ri.

Eyes squinting, she asks, “you up?”

He chuckles, also enjoying the sight of her straddling him wearing only his shirt. “Yes, baby. I’m up.”

“About time,” she complains, and he rolls his eyes. So damn dramatic. “I’m feeling inspired.” She says it while giving almost jazz hands, pretty brown eyes landing back on him. “Wanna hear the lyrics?”

He yawns, glancing at the digital clock that reads 2:37AM. “What else would I be doing at this time?”

She glares. “Is that sarcasm I detect, mister? Is it my fault my musical muse comes alive at night? That she flourishes when most—”

“Ri.”

“Huh?”

He closes his eyes. Joe loves Mariella with everything in him, but he’s not in the mood for one of her theatrical tangents at damn near 3 o’clock in the morning. “Lyrics.”

“Oh! Right!” Chuckling, he watches as she reads over whatever she’s written to herself at first. A bit of a habit. She’s always initially self-conscious about her lyrics. “Now, it’s just off the top of my head, so be nice, okay?”

“I’m always nice to you, Ri.” It’s the truth. As annoyed as he can get sometimes, she’s never been on that list. “And I’m sure it’s fine.”

She smiles appreciatively, slightly taking him by surprise as she quietly sings the lyrics versus just reading them to him.

Yellow diamonds in the light

Now we're standing side by side

As your shadow crosses mine

What it takes to come alive

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny

But I've gotta let it go

We found love in a hopeless place

Finished, she looks down at him, expectantly, “well?”

“I love it.” He loves most of what she writes though. He especially loves to hear her sing. “What inspired it?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking about us. About how far we come.” She shrugs, his hands rubbing circles on her hips. “Your show was sold out tonight, Joe. Mine is sold out too. Like, we both sold out Madison Square Garden. That feels almost too perfect to be true.”

He makes a sound. “But, it is, baby.”

“I know.” She sighs heavily and asks in a partial hypothetical tone. “We’re like really hot shit, huh?” Joe chuckles as she gasps and places her tablet down on his chest, quickly writing something down. He says nothing, having been with her for so long that none of her quirky ways really surprise him anymore.

“Also.”

“Also?”

She glares but moves to place the notebook and pen on the nightstand, resting her hands on his chest. “I was thinking about our conversation earlier…” He’s quiet, waiting patiently for her to finish her sentence even if it does have him a bit on edge. He’s never been good with waiting. “Let’s do it.”

Her answer takes him by surprise. “You sure?”

She nods, tugging at his beard. “We’re not getting any younger.” She giggles, eyes playfully narrowing. “Especially you, old man.”

At that, he sucks his teeth. “Who you calling old?” He squeezes her side, and she squeals. He knows that’s where she’s ticklish. She falls out, laughing, and he takes the advantage of her being distracted to flip them so she’s flat on her back. “Naw, say it again. I ain’t hear you.”

“Joe, stop,” she giggles as he hovers over her, tickling her until she pushes back against his shoulder. He grabs her hand, restricting her when she opens her eyes. Her laughter quietly dies down when their eyes lock.

Love.

So much love.

Joe leans down and connects their lips, softly, slowly, just as meaningful as any other kiss they’ve shared. She moans into his mouth, feeling his hardened length graze against her opening, her essence already making its way down her inner thighs.

He feels this too, groaning and lifting her thigh to widen her as he carefully enters her, watching her arch her back at the entrance. She whimpers, hands moving around his shoulders.

He kisses her wrist, watching the pleasure on her face as he gives her deep strokes, slow and plunging, just how he knows she likes it. “Shhhh….let me take care of you, baby.”

And he does.

He always has.

He always will.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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riality-check · 1 year

Text

Eddie needs this to go perfectly.

He’s… okay, saying he’s not an anxious person would be a lie. Eddie is very acquainted with the fight or flight instinct, with the latter of those two options being far more familiar. He’s vaguely obsessive and twitchy and, frankly, puts way too much thought and time into planning one-shots, nevermind regular campaign sessions.

Majority of the time, he likes to have control of a situation. There are reasons for that, plenty of which he knows, some of which he’s gone to therapy for, and more that are on the bedroom and currently irrelevant side of things.

The relevant side of things is the guy in front of him who doesn’t have any sort of ear protection on.

Eddie should mind his business. He really should. Corroded Coffin isn’t even headlining. They’re the openers for the tour of a much bigger band that noticed them and asked if they wanted to tour with them and Archie fangirled so hard he passed out. It was a whole thing.

Still, it’s their first real tour, and Eddie is a control freak, and he needs it to be perfect, which means no one gets hurt. This random guy - probably a roadie of some sort from how he’s plugging cables into something Eddie doesn’t know the name of - not having any sort of ear protection counts as someone maybe getting hurt.

Eddie doesn’t even know him, but he can’t have that happen.

Hell, this guy’s friend has her earplugs looped around her neck on a string like Eddie does. But Hottie - yeah, he’s hot and Eddie’s queer with a healthy sex drive, get over it - has none in sight.

That’s a problem. Eddie can’t have problems, not tonight, not before the first show.

“Hey!” he calls, walking over to Hottie and his friend, who are setting up equipment away from the stage. “You gotta have something for your ears, dude!”

Hottie and his friend exchange a look that Eddie can’t make heads or tails of.

“Thanks man,” Hottie says, and that nickname applies to his voice, too. “But I’m good.”

Eddie frowns. “You need to protect your hearing.”

“Trust me,” Hottie says. “I’ve worked a lot of gigs. Never wore anything then, won’t wear anything now, probably won’t wear anything at the next one.”

Okay. It’s fine. Eddie should walk away now. He’s totally capable of walking away. It is, quite obviously, the better alternative to this circular conversation.

But Hottie is gonna hurt himself this way. Potentially really badly if it’s not a one time thing. This is a metal show, for G-d’s sake. He’ll do some serious damage over time.

Eddie needs this to go perfectly, and for things to go perfectly, he can’t be responsible for that.

“I don’t think you get it,” he says. “You’re gonna destroy your ears that way, especially if you do this for a long time. This show is gonna be really intense, hell, the whole tour is! You can get cheap shit at the hardware store, it’s better than nothing-”

At the beginning of his rant, lecture, whatever, Hottie stares right at him. He has a really intense stare. Pretty brown eyes set in a prettier face with even prettier hair on top of his head. Eddie gets distracted by all that pretty and by trying to make his point.

And he doesn’t notice until halfway through that Hottie isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at his friend.

Eddie looks at her, too. Looks at her confused and focused expression. Looks at her hands moving rapidly.

Oh. G-d.

Hottie’s deaf, isn’t he?

“Trying my best but I’m not fluent, Steve,” she says. Her hands pause, and she looks down at them, confused.

Hottie - Steve - shrugs, and his hands move as he talks. “I’m not either. You were doing pretty good, though. I think. Or our mistakes just line up that well.”

“What’s the sign for reverb? It’s the last word he said.”

“No clue. You can just fingerspell it.”

“I can’t remember R.”

“How do you forget R? It’s in your name, Robin!”

The friend - Robin - throws her hands up. “You know I get it mixed up with X!”

Eddie wants to die. This is it. He’s going to melt into a puddle due to sheer embarrassment, fifteen minutes before the doors open to let in the biggest crowd Corroded Coffin has ever played for.

What a shitty way to go.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t-”

Steve cuts him off. “Normally, I can lip read enough to get the gist. But you speak too fast and trip over your words.”

Ouch. Okay.

“I do lights,” he continues. “Robin does sound. We know what we’re doing, and we don’t need you to tell us how to do our jobs, even if you mean well.”

Seriously?

Eddie should have minded his business. He knows that. But G-ddamn, that’s blunt.

He’s saved, thankfully, from digging himself into a bigger hole.

“Eddie!” Jeff hollers from the stage. “Get your ass over here!”

He turns to walk away, then turns back to Steve and Robin. “Sorry,” he says again.

He turns back around before he can see their reactions and runs back toward the stage. Intimately familiar with flight, and all that.

Shit. First night of tour, and he’s already made an enemy of the light and sound people.

And the light guy is hot.

Really hot.

And he hates Eddie.

This is gonna be a long few weeks.

Now with a continuation and a part 3!

ao3

#ria writes #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #corroded coffin #hoh steve harrington #jewish eddie munson #(he snuck his way in here)#rockstar eddie munson #stranger things #st #steanger things #stranger things ficlet #st ficlet #gi;pe au

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hannie-dul-set · 2 months

Text

나비 / NABI — TWO.

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, rumors as a plot device, mentions of sex, a few minor injuries, hospital scare, bullying. WORD COUNT. 12k (out of 40k).

NOTE. kachow, it’s out. i’ll cut the yapping short this time HAHAHAH but please please please let me know your thoughts on this work especially if you enjoyed it!!! thank you!!!

모기 / MOGI — ONE — TWO — THREE

#2: YOU STILL DON’T LIKE HIM FOR FORCING YOU TO SWALLOW SO MUCH OF YOUR PRIDE. Upon returning to campus for the second semester, you’re smacked square in the face with a second wave of rumors. As if the ones that plagued you at the latter part of last semester weren’t enough to drive you insane.

The bigger problem with second waves is that the onslaught just becomes marginally worse. Apparently Choi Beomgyu was caught in the act hooking up with a girl at Jung Sungchan’s party. Apparently it was the same girl he was seen coming home with the previous semester. And apparently he got a black eye after hearing someone talk shit about said girl.

You’re speechless. It’s seriously beyond you how gossip snowballs into high hell like this. If the entire sphere of humanity directs their imaginations to more productive things, climate change might not be a problem anymore. Still, humanity is bound to be stupid, and expecting people to be reasonable will only lead to disappointment. You had to assure Sungchan three times that no— you did not fuck on his parents’ bed. What the hell does he think of you?

“I keep telling everyone you two weren’t having sex!” screams Minjeong in the middle of the hallway on the way to class. “I was literally right there!”

You catch some eyes pointed at your direction as you two pass through. “Yeah, maybe you should stop before people start construing it as a threesome.”

Usually, this would bother you. But after living your entire life being concerned about what other people think of you, it starts to get dull and tiresome. You’re pretty shocked to find yourself so unbothered, and you’re not getting a lot of attention anyway the moment you and Minjeong enter the lecture hall and find yourselves some seats.

That is, until Choi Beomgyu also walks into the hall, sees you, and immediately darts over.

You can literally feel the ten million eyes swooping back and forth between him and you. He stops right in front of your table, arms crossed, frowning. You look up and wish he gets on with it already.

“You didn’t tell me you’re taking this class.”

“You didn’t either,” you snark back.

He huffs. “Touche.”

You sneer. “Get away from my view.”

“Hey, dude, wait up!”

Your attention gets ripped away from each other by the voice of Heeseung. He’s panting and jogging up to your area, Jeongin trailing behind him, then lands a hand on Beomgyu’s shoulder before he looks down and notices you.

“Oh, hey,” he greets. “No wonder he was in such a hurry.”

“Hi, Jeongin,” you greet Jeongin who still flinches whenever you look at him for a little too long. “Hello, bane of my existence.”

Heeseung lets your insult fly above his head. “Hey, friend. Heard you had fun at Sungchan’s party the other week.” Emphasis on the fun. With a wiggle of his brows. You want to bonk him with your water bottle, but your attempt at an assault gets refrained by a boisterous voice.

“Obviously, everyone had fun! It was a sick fucking party!”

You’re physically wobbled by Sungchan suddenly sliding into the seat next to yours. “It wasn’t fun when we had to help you clean up,” snides Minjeong. You notice Beomgyu eyeing your friend to your left as he reaches out an arm behind you, resting on the top of your chair.

“That’s what friends are for, right?” Sungchan pesters, then looks up, noticing the three other boys loitering in front of you. “Oh, hey, dudes,” he says. There’s a pause. Sungchan looks at Beomgyu, then you, then abruptly jerks his arm off the backrest of your seat. “Oh. Oh, shit! Sorry you can sit here—”

Sungchan flinches out of the chair next to you until Beomgyu stops him with a smile. “Why would you give me your seat?” Sungchan freezes. Then Beomgyu slides out the chair right in front of your table, a scratching noise on the tiles, and sets himself down. You hear Heeseung go ‘ooooh, drama,” before sitting next to Beomgyu, followed by Jeongin. Beomgyu tips his chair back, turns around, and then taps on the pencil case you’ve set out on your table. He bats his eyes. He gives you a cute (blegh) smile.

“Ugh.” You dig into the case and hand him an extra pen.

“Thank you,” he happily hums and turns back around.

“Whoa, did I just witness telepathy?” says Sungchan, mouth open.

“I guess when you’re in love you can just read each other’s mind—ack!” You hear a rattle. Beomgyu kicks the leg of Heeseung’s seat and the former falls dramatically to the ground. You snort. Heeseung attempts to retaliate but the arrival of your professor, Prof Ma, forces him to behave.

“Good morning, everyone.”

The minutes go by slowly. It’s syllabus week, so most of the period is spent by Professor Ma giving you an introduction to the course outline, grading system, requirements and projects, the works— of which includes two group assignments for both the mid and final term, eliciting a chorus of groans from the class. He decides to give the first project in advance for early preparation. At least he’s letting you pick your own members. Sort of.

“Work with the people around you. No need to get up to form your groups.”

You look at Minjeong and Sungchan. Beomgyu, Heeseung, and Jeongin turn around, facing you three. You stifle a sigh. Choi Beomgyu plagues you wherever you go.

“I guess the six of us are working together!”

Sungchan’s way too enthusiastic about this. Heesung takes the project sheet from Prof Ma and returns to your circle, containing the instructions, guidelines, and topics for the project. It’s due two weeks before midterms and there will be a presentation the week after. Minjeong speaks up. “There’s three parts, so I guess we’ll work on each in pairs.”

“We’ll take the first part,” you say, almost automatically. Five pairs of eyes land on your. Four, actually, because Beomgyu is already scribbling your names next to each other on the guide sheet under the first roman numeral.

Heeseung chortles out a giggle. “Jeongin, do you wanna work with me?”

“Wait, I—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Minjeong laments, shaking her head with a hand on your back. You want to eat your words. It just came out naturally since for every group or paired project throughout highschool, you and Beomgyu have always worked together since it’s convenient. Your schedules are nearly identical, your houses are next to each other— it’s just logical. You’ve never thought about it at all until Lee Heeseung’s stupid, insinuating reaction.

Class is dismissed. A few people approach Beomgyu, asking if he has a group, and he apologizes saying that he does.

You schedule a meeting sometime next week to plan the assignment before parting ways to your respective classes, schedules, and appointments. It’s the same routine for a while— save for some instances where you catch people you don’t even know looking at you for a little too long, glancing at you from afar in between inaudible conversations, and of course, the handful of moments where they’d come up to you just to ask if you’re dating Choi Beomgyu.

Surprisingly, you haven’t blown up. Beomgyu himself has started to eye you suspiciously due to your lack of reaction, save for the polite smile and ‘no, I’m not,’ combo you’d always give as a response. Maybe you’d just stopped caring. Beomgyu says he can’t wait until you inevitably explode. Heeseung hasn’t stopped finding enjoyment in teasing the living hell out of you though.

“Your boyfriend isn’t driving you home today?” asks Heeseung with a grin that you’re starting to get sick of seeing upon leaving your last class for the day, three weeks after the start of the semester.

Usually, Beomgyu would be found outside your classroom around this time, lugging you off to his car for another free ride home whenever it works for him. Doesn’t help the rumors at all, you know. Heeseung making comments about it each time without fail is also greatly unhelpful.

“He’s having dinner with his seniors,” you tell him, already having given up.

“Poor you.”

“I can get home by myself,” you spit, using the notebook and stack of printouts you’re carrying to smack him on the ass. He runs off to the coding club after very politely messing up your hair. “Go to hell!”

“See you tomorrow!”

He’s gone, finally. You release a sigh and realign the stack of notes in your hands, about to bring it up to your chest until someone darts by— passing beside you with a bump on your shoulder, and the papers, notebook, and copies stumble out of your arms and onto the floor. “Hey!” you snap your head back, catching only the silhouette of the individual from behind and as you kneel down to pat around for your things. It’s annoying, but you let it go. You let it go with a fruitful amount of profanities sputtering from your mouth while you restack the papers.

One piece of paper managed to fly away a bit farther away. You grunt and pull yourself off the floor. Your eyes don’t leave the sheet. You watch as it gets picked up from the ground and gets handed over to you, eyes trailing further up to meet the face of a guy you don’t really recognize.

“Oh,” you release. “Thanks a lot.”

“No problem. Some people really need to watch where they’re going.” He smiles. You nod and ready to walk past, but much to your surprise, you hear him utter your name. “That’s you, right?”

Huh. You try to get a better look of the guy’s face, trying to grasp a hint of recollection of who he could be, and if you actually know him, but nothing rings a bell. Zilch. “Yeah? How’d you know me?”

“I, uh—” The hand he once used to pick up your things disappears to the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “I saw you at Sungchan’s party the other week. For, like, five seconds because I never got to see you again, so I asked around about you.”

You’re taken aback. Whoa. This is new. This is very new. When was the last time a guy has shown interest in you? You can’t fucking recall because that’s never ever happened before— not when there’s the false fact that you’re dating Choi Beomgyu perpetually fluttering around you despite your countless attempts to swat it away. You feel your heart jog a little quicker, the buzzing on your fingertips making your senses feel a lot duller. It’s either he doesn’t believe in the rumors, or he just doesn’t give a fuck about them.

Well. It doesn’t even matter because those rumors aren’t true.

“Ah, well I’m not really surprised. I was holed up in a room the entire time. Parties aren’t my thing,” you hum. “What’s your name again?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he laughed. “Jang Seung. First name Seung, last name Jang.”

“Oh! I don’t think I’ve met someone with a one-syllable name before.”

He smiles. “Well, I’m honored to be the first.”

It doesn’t ring a bell, really. That means Jang Seung’s name hasn’t fallen out of Choi Beomgyu’s big mouth before whenever he endlessly yaps about people you barely even know. You thank Seung one more time before heading off to class. It’s not the last time you meet him. You bump into him at the cafeteria a few days later, then the library the week after that. Somehow, you ended up exchanging numbers along the way. He’s an economics major, second-year, but you’re the same age so honorifics were dropped pretty quickly. And before you knew it— you and Seung have started texting casually on the daily.

“Hey!”

Your eyes snap up from your phone. You see Beomgyu snapping his fingers right in front of your face.

“Focus,” he glares, an impatient tap on the pile of textbooks you borrowed from the reference section for your group project. It’s been three weeks since the assignment was given out. You and Beomgyu have decided to do your initial research at Horangnabi today. “If you get distracted again, I’m confiscating your phone.”

“Sorry.” You tamp your phone face-down onto the table.

There’s a sneer on Beomgyu’s face. You raise a brow, pulling your laptop closer to you. He scoffs and starts flipping through the pages of one of the books, and at that moment Julie walks up to your table with a tray in her hands. “A treat for two hard working kids,” she hums, setting two drinks down onto the table— a matcha latte for you and an iced americano for him.

You smile at her. “Thanks, seon—”

“Hard working my ass.” Beomgyu snatches your drink before you can even lift it up, sliding it down to his side of the table with a very disappointed look on his face. “Noona, she’s been glued to her phone the entire time instead of working. I don’t think she deserves a free drink.”

“Leave me alone,” you simmer back. “This is my first shot at romance ever since you’ve started unintentionally sabotaging my love life for the past twenty years.”

“Twenty years? Are you saying you’ve been boy crazy since we were toddlers?”

“Don’t twist my words, fuckface.”

“Nyenye, don’t twist my word—”

Clap!

“Okay,” Julie interrupts, a resounding sound coming from her colliding palms. You and Beomgyu shut your mouths and cock your heads at her. “Settle that problem between yourselves, alrighty? Beomgyu, give her her drink back. Ring me up if you want any snacks.”

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue, sliding your latte back to you. “What was that guy’s name again?”

You catch the plastic cup with your hands and bring the straw to your lips. “Jang Seung.”

A sound scratches out of his throat. Beomgyu takes a sip from his coffee while looking to the side. “I don’t know him.”

“I thought so,” you hum in response. “Pretty surprising considering your web of connections. He doesn’t seem to believe in all the gossip surrounding us, either.”

He shakes the drink in his hand, ice clicking against themselves with a sour look on his face. Is he actually drinking lemonade or some shit? you stifle a light laugh. “Either he doesn’t believe it, or he just doesn’t mind fucking around with a girl who’s in a relationship.”

“But we’re not,” you say.

“Yeah. Duh. But everyone else thinks we are,” he answers. “You don’t even know him that well. Who’s to say he doesn’t believe them just because he’s trying to get close to you.”

Julie comes by again with a plate of salted fries. You two thank her. The perks of being friends with the staff here. “Stop overreacting,” you tell him, helping yourself to a few bites. “I haven’t completely gotten over my trauma with Lim Jimin yet so I’m not raising my hopes too high up. Watch Seung ask me for tips on how to become friends with you in three days time.”

“Just shut up and start working,” he grunts, shoving even more fries into your mouth to stop you from talking any further. You muffle out a swear. Seriously, why can’t this guy be normal?

Anyhow, you finish your session at the cafe, still pretty confident about your conjecture on Jang Seung’s real intentions with you.

But after three weeks instead of three days, you’re delightfully proven wrong.

“Holy shit.”

You, Beomgyu, Heeseung, and Minjeong are in the living room of your apartment. The four of you had been working on your project until thirty minutes ago. You’ve been working since one in the afternoon. It’s almost eight in the evening right now and Jeongin and Sungchan had already left early. Now you’re all just withering on the floor. Minjeong’s laying down on your lap, phone hovering above her face. Heeseung and Beomgyu had picked up a guitar from his apartment to fill the tired silence.

That is until they heard your very eloquent remark. Beomgyu stops strumming. “What?” he asks.

“Holy shit,” you repeat, gaping at your phone. “Seung just asked me out on a date.”

Minjeong jerks off of your lap with a shriek. “What?!”

“Look!”

You shove your phone into her face. The bluelight blinds her eyes but they remain wide and frantically open. Heeseung’s eyes flit over from you, to Beomgyu, then back to you. “Wow, I’d never ask someone out over the phone. Right, Beom?” He gets ignored because Minjeong lets out another squeal and tosses your phone aside.

“Tomorrow! You’re going on a date tomorrow!” she jumps at you. “Do you need help getting ready?”

“Hey,” Beomgyu sets his guitar down on the floor, looking at you. “Did you two forget? We still have to finalize our presentation tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, retrieving your phone from the ground. “I’m gonna schedule the date after that.”

Minjeong tells him to unknot his undies and let you live a little, messing with the documents scattered all around you, and you join her after shooting Seung a reply, [sounds good. see you tomorrow 🙂]. Heeseung has taken ownership of the guitar and is now strumming some melodies. Beomgyu is still grumpy. His grumpiness culminates into the question— “How much do you actually like the guy?”

This catches Heeseung and Minjeong’s attention. Their ears perk up, waiting for your response. “Well.” You take your nose out of a reference sheet. “He’s fun to talk to. And he doesn’t look half bad. Other than that, I don’t think I have any strong feelings for him, you know. But that could change. I don’t know.”

Minjeong hums in response. “Yeah, don’t overthink it. Just go have fun, girl. It’s not a big deal,” she says, the last part particularly directed to Beomgyu, who just sticks his tongue out at her.

“That’s the plan,” you say, leaning back against the couch seat. “I’ve never gone on a date before because everyone thinks I’m already dating you.” That was also directed to Beomgyu. He makes a complaint that he’s being ganged up on. A few more back and forths go down with Heeseung plucking arpeggios as background music. It’s a mess.

“Turn on your location, alright?”

“Yes.”

“And don’t go with him if he wants to take you to his place or anywhere that isn’t public.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And make sure to call whenever—”

“Dude, you’re not her mom,” Minjeong cuts him off. You snort. “She can take care of herself.”

“She’s never been on a date before! Can’t I be worried?!” Beomgyu interjects, offended. “What if she dies? What if she trips on the stairs on the way and dies before she can even experience her first date?”

“Fuck you, as if you’ve been on a date before,” you retort.

Beomgyu lets out a huff, mouth twitching from incredulity. “For your information, I have,” he says proudly. “Keep up, dipshit."

“You? As if.”

“I can attest to that,” Heeseung jumps in. “But it was way before I found out you two were friends though. We went on a double date with some girls from tourism. The girl swore he was her soulmate after a cup of coffee and Beomgyu ghosted her.”

This is the first time you’re hearing about this. You’re feeling betrayed and Beomgyu’s arrogance suddenly shifts to guilt. “Don’t give me that look. We weren’t on speaking terms then. Don’t you dare get upset over this.”

“Soulmate, huh?” Minjeong muses. “Do you guys believe in soulmates?”

There’s a pause. “That came from fucking nowhere,” Beomgyu says.

“If they exist, then I hope mine hurries the hell up,” says Heeseung. Right. He got dumped by the girl from computer science a while ago. He says he’s already healed but just yesterday he borrowed your phone just to see her Instagram stories that are now hidden from him. You pity him. “Fuck, I need to start dating again.”

“No, you don’t. You need to fucking get over her,” you tell him before shifting your attention to Minjeong. “I’ve never really thought about the idea of soulmates. I don’t know, it just seems like a far-fetched idea to me.”

“Boring,” provokes Beomgyu from across the coffee table. “You really don’t think there’s someone out there destined for you? Someone who understands you without even trying, someone who connects with you so deeply and in one click, you just know it’s going to be them for eternity?”

There’s a palpable silence. Beomgyu notices this. He clears his throat and picks up the printout in front of him, fumbling through the pages with a click of his tongue.

“No wonder you’re still single. There’s not one romance bone in your body.”

Minjeong stares at him. “That was...out of character.”

“This guy’s actually a hopeless romantic,” Heeseung slides in. “You should hear all the songs he plays and sings in the clubroom. Dude thinks he’s in a coming of age—”

“Hey, why don’t you shut the fuck up?”

A fight(?) on the couch ensues. It’s Beomgyu and Heeseung wrestling like toddlers while you and Minjeong start working on your project again. Waiting for your laptop to start up, your eyes catch a buzzing phone on the table, sitting right next to a coffee mug. It’s not your phone. The caller ID says Ugly Oaf. “Beomgyu,” you call out. “Your brother is calling.”

You hear a yelp from a couch. “Can you answer?” Beomgyu says, grunting. “I’m kind of— ow! I’m kind of busy here.”

Children. They’re both children. You tap on the phone and put the device to your ears. “Hyung,” you greet. Yes, you call his brother hyung. You’ve known their family since you were a child and since you kept hearing Choi Beomgyu call his brother hyung as a toddler, you thought that was the appropriate term to call him too. He doesn’t mind. Anything else sounds awkward too so you’ve just kept calling him that until now. “Oh, yes he’s here. Give me a sec. Choi Beomgyu!”

Your eyes flit up to the couch. Your friend is being suffocated by Heeseung while he yells out surrenders.

“Beomgyu, he wants you on the phone.”

“Ugh. Hey, get the fuck off me.”

“Another win for the Heemeister!”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes at him as he trudges off the couch, walking over to you with an outstretched hand, and you pass the phone to him. “Hyung,” he starts, his free hand on his hip. You stifle a snort and busy yourself with a word document, half-listening to their conversation. “What do you want? Why couldn’t you just text—”

He cuts himself off and you stop typing. You look up to see Beomgyu standing near you, eyes wide and staring into space.

His other hand falls to his side.

“What?”

There’s a crack and a strain in his voice.

“H—hyung, what are you saying?”

You shut your laptop and race to your feet. “Beomgyu” you say, marching up to him. “Beomgyu, what did your brother tell you?” You notice his hands are shaking— trembling fingers drop his phone face-up on the ground and you see that the call has ended. Your gaze travels back to Beomgyu. His eyes are damp. You pull him closer by the arm and fix your hands on the sides of his shoulders. “Beomgyu, what’s wrong?”

“M—my mom,” he stammers out. “He—he says she’s in the hospital, why would she be in the hospital, why—”

From the corner of your eyes, you can see Heeseung jolting straight up and Minjeong looking up at the both of you. You bite down your lip. You can hear your heart inside your ears. “Beomgyu,” you say, trying to quell the tremor in your voice. His breathing is already short, his eyes are blinking down rapidly to chase away the stinging tears. You can’t start panicking too. “Did hyung say anything else? What happened? Can you tell me?”

“I—I don’t know, I’m not— I’m not sure, I—”

Oh no. Oh no, this isn’t good. You leave for a moment, rushing to your room to grab two jackets— one you drape over Beomgyu, the other you wear for yourself to stuff your wallet and keys into. “Hey, guys,” you say, securing the coat around his neck. “Sorry, I think we need to cut this session short. Do you mind cleaning up here?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. We’ll take care of it,” answers Heeseung.

“Give us an update, okay?” adds Minjeong. You give them a nod and a smile.

You grab onto Beomgyu’s sleeve and start dragging him out of your building, the cold, late evening air hitting your cheeks as you rush out into the sidewalk, just in time for a taxi to show up from the far end of the road, and you hold your arm out to hail it. You knock on the window and the driver rolls it down. “Sir, do you think you can take us to Daegu?”

“Daegu? This late?” he says. You press your lips together. You turn your head and see Beomgyu’s expression. You let go of your drip from his sleeve, dropping it down to give his hand a squeeze.

“It’s an emergency.”

“All right. It’s not gonna be cheap, though.”

“That’s alright. Thank you!”

The entire ride to Daegu, Beomgyu is squeezing your hand. He hasn’t said a word. Red lights from the streets burn into the side of his face. Then white. Then it’s dark again. “It’s gonna be fine,” you tell him. He just holds you even tighter. You feel like shit. You can’t even call his brother or his parents or yours because your phones were left behind at your place, and it’s too late to go back for them now.

You arrive at Daegu by eleven o’clock. The moment the cab pulls up at the district hospital, Beomgyu rushes out and runs inside. You pay the fare, thank the driver before catching up to him. The scent of citrus and bleach hits your senses. He’s stuck at the front desk, asking for his mother’s room. “Fourth floor. Ward 23,” says the receptionist. Beomgyu wastes no time in sprinting into a still-open elevator before it could close, tugging you along with him.

He’s antsy all throughout the ride. The moment you land on the fourth floor, he rushes out immediately upon the opening of the doors. You apologize to people he shoved past through, squeezing your way out to see Beomgyu’s back racing down the hallway, single mindedly running to the end of it where you see his dad pushing his mother on a wheelchair, about to enter one of the wards.

“Mom!” Beomgyu yells out. You break into a light jog and head into the same direction.

It’s been a while since you’ve last seen his parents. A million thoughts bombard your head. You yourself are pretty shocked to see his mother in a wheelchair— you can’t imagine what’s going on inside his head as you witness his eyes shake, lips quiver when his steps slow down, walking up to them.

“Oh, dear,” his mom says with an exhale, sounding stressed for some reason. His dad turns the wheelchair to face the hallway instead of the door. “Why are you here?!”

Beomgyu knits his brows. “Hyung told me you were hospitalized! Why wouldn’t I be here?!”

His mom lets out a sigh. She massages her temples. “This is why I told him not to tell you.”

“Mom is fine, son,” his dead assures. “She just fell a little.”

This isn’t received well by Beomgyu. “She’s in a wheelchair!” he exclaims.

And right then, his mom stands up. She gets off the wheelchair, a tired look on her face. Oh. Oh, wow. Beomgyu was about to add something, but his mouth is now left hanging open. There’s a moment of silence, until his mom decides to break it. “I just wanted to try it out,” she says. “Honey, I’m fine.”

The tension quickly fizzles out. Beomgyu is still aghast and confused and conflicted. His dad ushers you all into the ward, in which Beomgyu forces his mother to rest in the bed instead of going out and about before things finally get explained. His mom was prepping for dinner, and she fell from a chair while reaching for something far up in the cabinet. They just went to the hospital to get a check-up just in case. Luckily, nothing is broken, but the doctor recommended for her to be admitted overnight for further observation.

His dad called his brother to explain why Choi Beomgyu was freaking out so much too. Apparently hyung said the same things but just made the unfortunate choice by prefacing it with, “mom is in the hospital,” causing Beomgyu’s ears to go out of order upon hearing that.

Beomgyu is still frowning. He’s sitting petulantly beside the hospital bed. “Oh, my sweet baby bear,” his mom says. “I thought you were all grown up. Turns out you’re still a child.”

“I was scared! Hyung should’ve explained better!”

“You didn’t give him the chance,” she sighs. Then, her eyes flit up, seeing you.”Hi, sweetheart. How have you been? I’m sorry for the late greeting. This kid is such a handful.”

You smile at her. “It’s good to see you’re all right, auntie.”

“Do your parents know that you’re here?” she asks. You tell her no, because you left your phones back home in the rush to get here, and she gives Beomgyu a side eye because of that. He simply grumbles and continues twiddling with the blanket. “Use my phone. It’s on the side table. You should give them a call now.”

Beomgyu passes the phone to you. It unlocks without a passcode. “Thanks, auntie.”

She smiles. “Oh, and can you ask your parents if Beomgyu can stay at your place for the night?”

“What?” he starts. “What do you mean? I’m staying here.”

“Your dad’s already staying with me. I’m afraid I’d suffocate with the both of you hovering around me.”

“Why are you trying to kick me out?”

You give them some privacy to talk (read: bicker). It’s already late in the night, so the hallway is quiet but brightly illuminated. The phone rings in your ears as you out into the dark, blanketed sky through the window. There’s a click and you hear your dad at the end of the line.

The conversation lasts for a while, and you find that you’ve somehow found yourself in the open courtyard behind the hospital building after you’ve finished explaining everything to your dad and catching up for a bit. He’s gonna pick you two up in a few minutes. You let yourself simmer in the cold air for a few more moments before getting back inside.

Minjeong asked you to update them earlier, but you can’t because you don’t have your phone. They’ve probably found out that you left it behind already, but that’s not the problem. Seung must’ve texted you about the date plans already and you’re unintentionally ignoring him right now. But, oh well. You’ll reply tomorrow when you get back to Seoul.

“Auntie, thanks for lending me your phone. Dad said yes. He’s gonna arrive in a—”

You pause. Upon returning to his mom’s corner in the ward, you see Beomgyu fast asleep on the same spot he was in earlier. His head is resting on the bed, eyes fluttered shut while holding his mom’s hand. The lights have dimmed. You see auntie smiling at him. “He’s really still a child.”

“The shock really hit him,” you say, quietly setting the phone back on the table. “He was crying a lot on the way here.”

She hums, then looks up at you. “Can you help me pry him off?”

You laugh. Waking up Beomgyu is always a task. You get near and start shaking him. “Hey. Hey, dip— I mean, Beomgyu. Wake up.” You hear him let out a groan and he nuzzles himself further into the blanket. You get an idea. “Choi Beomgyu, do you remember the time you started a pretty fun lightshow in your kitch—”

“I’m up, I’m up,” he groans, still groggy. He does sit up, but he’s very much still trying to start up his brain. His joints are creaking. He holds onto your arm to help him stand up, brows knitted together as he rubs his eyes.

“We’ll get going now, auntie. Get well soon.”

She smiles at you. “Thank you for alway taking care of him.”

You feel a swell of warmth in your chest. You nod, mirroring her smile before hauling a sleepy Beomgyu out the ward. The moment you’re out into the hallway, the urge to smack his face awake nearly overtakes you, but you decide against it. Instead, you wring your arms together, lugging him into the elevator so he doesn’t trip over his own feet.

During the elevator ride, you feel him pile all of his weight onto you, his cheek resting on the side-top of your head. From the reflection, you can see that his eyes are barely open, slowly closing and barely opening again. You breathe out a laugh. The elevator opens. You walk out into the lobby and out the hospital, where you see your dad waiting by the driveway.

It’s a quick drive home. It would be nice to stop by the playground, but the guy you’re with in the backseat right now is pretty much out of commission. Poor boy must’ve been exhausted from the scare.

Beomgyu finally wakes up a bit more upon reaching the building. He mumbles a thank you to your dad, and your dad simply smiles and gives him a pat on the back while ushering him up the stairs. There’s already an extra change of sleeping clothes on the living room table. Your dad tells you to take care of him before disappearing off into his room.

“Go take a shower, stinky,” you tell him. He grunts and snatches the clothes from you anyway. While he’s in the bathroom, you set up the sofa bed in the living room for him to sleep on, pushing the coffee table away, grabbing some extra pillows and blankets from your room, knees sinking into the mattress as you pat down the sheets. You hear the bathroom door creak open. “Hey, I couldn’t find any other extra blankets except for these Ninja Turtle ones, so I hope you don’t mind—”

The words fizzle out from your throat upon seeing Beomgyu walk into the living area. His hair is still damp, clothes a little too big for him, and his eyes are evidently puffy. You shake your head, a light laugh escaping your lips. What a crybaby, but then again, if you heard the same news— the news that your mother got hospitalized out of the blue, with no discernable explanation, you’re not confident enough to say that you won’t react the same way as he did.

You’d also probably start bawling. And you’re pretty sure Beomgyu would do the same things you’d done tonight too.

He’s still standing there, right in the middle of the open mouth of the short hallway that he’d just emerged from. You let the blanket fall to the floor to stretch out your arms. “Come here,” you say. Footsteps pad down the wooden floor. Beomgyu sinks himself into you, cold skin fresh from the shower melting into the warmth of yours as you fall back into the mattress with a thud.

You two stay like this for a while, the sound of quiet nights lingering in the air. “Your mom will be fine,” you tell him, drawing circles on his back.

“Mhm,” he mumbles into your hair.

“You’re such a crybaby.” He responds with an annoyed grunt, but his hold on your remains firm. “This is the second time I’ve seen you cry.”

“Shut up,” he rasps, finally pulling away just enough for you to see his face, settling into the spot next to you instead. You roll over to look at him. His left arm is wedged in between your elbow and torso, the other gently holding onto your forearm as his damp hair hovers over his eyes. You have your hands pressed to your chest, feeling each thump on your knuckles for each second your eyes linger on his face. Two thumps. Three. Since when did you get this close?

Your throat is dry, but you can’t swallow. Your eyes flit down. “Hey,” he says. You can feel his breath on your lips. “Thanks.”

The world stops for a moment.

You offer him a smile before pulling yourself up. The air returns to your lungs. You toss a pillow at him before getting back on your feet. “Get some sleep, crybaby. We gotta be up early for class tomorrow.”

That’s when you finally retreat to your old bedroom to get a maximum of four hours of sleep. You’re pretty sure you weren’t even able to get a single hour in because the next thing you know, the sunrise is already leaking into your bedroom, prompting you to get up and retrieve from the drying your clothes from last night. You make a quick egg and bacon breakfast before heading out, leaving some for your parents, and you two stop by the hospital once more before finally leaving for Seoul at seven-thirty.

“Doesn’t this remind you of high school?” Beomgyu muses while you two hang on to your dear lives standing in the bus commute to the station.

“Yeah. I don’t ever wanna go back.”

He laughs at that. You smile. He’s finally feeling like himself again. The trip back to Seoul takes ages and you two have no time to go back to your apartment, so you decide to head straight to campus instead to make it to your first class.

That was a mistake though. The moment you and he walk into the lecture hall— together— Jung Sungchan makes the astute observation that you two are wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Heeseung knows what happened. He was fucking there, but starts teasing you about it anyway. It’s like he thrives off of your despair.

You tell them to shut the fuck up and take your seat, borrowing a pen from Minjeong who asks you about what happened. In your defense, Beomgyu obviously didn’t bring his key to their Daegu house, and you brought all of your nicer clothes here in Seoul. So unless you wanted to wear your atrocious high school fashion sense to uni, you had no choice but to rewear your outfit from yesterday. And, by the way, you washed them! They were in the dryer overnight!

That doesn’t matter to the people around you though. Because it’s almost standard protocol that whatever’s going on with Choi Beomgyu spreads like wildfire within campus grounds. Funny enough, this isn’t the first groundless gossip that you and him are fucking. But you’re less angry this time and just more of just being simply tired of this kind of shit.

You don’t know how well Beomgyu is taking it though. Normally, you can read his face like an open book, but this time you’re not quite sure.

At the end of your class, you quickly rushed off to your apartment while Beomgyu left to attend another class. “Can you bring me my phone when you get back?” he asked you before leaving.

“Sure. We still have to finalize our presentation this afternoon, right?”

“Yeah. See you later.”

The moment you arrive at your apartment, you immediately check your messages. The last text Seung sent you was at 11:37 p.m. [anyway, just tell me if you change your mind haha. no worries]. Ah, shit. You quickly type down an explanation for what happened last night, and that no, you’re not trying to call the date off while you wiggle into a new set of clothes. You leave again quickly after snatching Beomgyu’s phone from the counter. When you get back to campus again, the tick mark next to your text tells you that Seung has read your message. But he hasn’t replied.

Minjeong tells you that maybe he’s just busy. The afternoon rolls around and you’re walking with her and Sungchan to Horangnabi, and Seung still hasn’t replied, but you set that problem aside for now. Beomgyu, Heeseung, and Jeongin are already there by the time you three arrive. You toss Beomgyu his phone and take one of the available seats across from him.

“Prof Ma says only two people need to present,” you say. “Heeseung, can you do it?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Choi Beomgyu, you present too,” says Minjeong. “Use your people pleasing powers for something productive this time.”

He whines, but agrees anyway. While working on the PPT, you notice that he keeps glancing at you. You raise a brow. He says nothing and busies himself with something else, until 5:00 p.m. rolls around— an hour before your supposed date with Seung.

You haven’t told Beomgyu about probably getting ghosted yet because you don’t want him to fucking gloat and snark saying, ha! I told you he was bad news! Instead, you part ways from the group, make a stop back home to get dressed into prettier clothes and retouch your makeup, and shoot one last text to Seung before heading to the restaurant you two had agreed to have dinner at.

“Welcome!”

The sound of a mental clock is ticking inside your head. It’s thirty minutes past six. You’ve already ordered and eaten a meal, and Jang Seung is still nowhere in sight.

This whole situation feels like a shitty sense of deja vu. Your thoughts are verbalized when you see someone walk up to your table just when you’re about to leave. Of course. Who else would show up at your lowest if not Choi Beomgyu? “Wow,” he remarks, taking the liberty to drag the chair in front of you back, and he plops right down. “Deja vu much. Why do you always go on dates with shitty men? Are you cursed or something?”

“Shut up. Maybe you’re the harbinger of my bad luck actually,” you say. “I think he caught whiff of the rumors that we slept together last night. Gosh. Don’t people have anything better to talk about?”

There’s a look on his face. You can’t quite pinpoint what it means. Beomgyu lets out a scoff, tipping back and forth the empty glass on your table with a sneer. “If he was a decent enough person, he wouldn’t flake out on you just because of that,” he says, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “He’d ask you outright if the rumors were true instead of ghosting you like a douchebag.”

You laugh. “That’s true.”

He points his gaze at you. “You’re not sad?”

“No. I’m just a little miffed,” you say. Really. Surprisingly, you don’t feel like shit at all. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Mhm. I was having dinner with some friends, but I got a text from Sungchan that you got stood up again.”

Again. Ouch. No fucking wonder Sungchan messaged you earlier asking where you were. “I cleared up my schedule tonight,” you tell him, getting ready to get up. “Let’s hit the arcade. I need to release some stress.” Your anger gets received by the innocent moles on the whack machine. At least you got something in return— two cheap and shitty keychains, wherein one you end up hooking on the zipper of your bag later that night, the other one you give to Beomgyu as a thank you for yet again, swooping in to save the time you would’ve wasted, had you waited any longer for another failed date.

The only good thing that happens that week is that your group project went really well. Honestly, you had zero hopes from the beginning considering Choi Beomgyu, Lee Heeseung, and Jung Sungchan are notorious for not taking things seriously, but somehow, they’ve managed to prove you wrong. Prof Ma gave you a handful of compliments for the analysis. That’s another dose of helium to inflate Beomgyu’s and Heeseung’s already overly inflated heads.

“Great job,” Minjeong compliments them. Then they turn to you, expecting the same.

You sigh, rolling your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face. “I guess you two were better than I expected.”

Leaving the classroom, you have to split from your group because of a paper you need to submit to the faculty office. Minjeong hugs you goodbye and Beomgyu says he’ll be waiting for you at the parking lot. You hum and turn to the opposite end of the hallway. And that’s when you suddenly hear your name get called out the moment you pass by a group of three girls.

“Hey, you,” one of them hollers again. You spin your heels, a little confused, then point a finger to your chest. “Yeah. Come here for a sec.”

Yet again you’re hit with a distasteful sense of deja vu. Cautiously, you walk towards the group. Vaguely familiar faces. You think you’ve seen one of them before, but you’re not quite sure. They say nothing once you stop a few steps closer. The one in the middle looks you up and down. And then a laugh brushes past her lips, twitching into a bitter smile.

What the actual fuck. “I don’t get what he sees in you,” is all she says before walking away. Again, what the actual fuck.

The interaction lingers in the back of your mind until Choi Beomgyu texts you at two in the morning to join him at the nearby 90s themed diner just a few walks away from your apartment. You two share a rootbeer float with burgers and fries as a mini celebration for your successful presentation, he says. You squint at his face as he takes a bite from his burger. He mimics your squint, albeit his looks more confused and suspicious than investigative. “What?” he asks.

“We really need to do something about these rumors,” you start. Beomgyu simply lets out a sigh and sets his burger down while you tell him what happened earlier, and while you’re chattering on about your story, Beomgyu takes a single fry, dips it in the ice cream of your float, and reaches his arm out across the table to feed it to you. “Wasn’t she one of your friends? The one who—” you stop your rambling, looking down at the food offering in front of you.

Your gaze flits up. Gosh. This is why people think you’re dating.

Still, you open your mouth and let him feed you anyway. Beomgyu hums out a smile, satisfied and grabs a fry for himself. “So what do you wanna do?” he asks. “Are you gonna put some distance between us again? Ask me to act like I don’t know you.”

You kick him from underneath the table. He lets out a pained yelp.

“I know what I need to do,” you say, determined.

Beomgyu lifts his chin up in anticipation. There’s a hint of mockery in his tone. “What do you need to do?”

“I need to get a boyfriend.”

Then he starts choking. You toss him a napkin and he calls for a server for a glass of water. You wait until he finally recovers before you continue your piece. Beomgyu glugs down the entire glass and slams it down the table. “What kind of mental gymnastics are you pulling?” he asks. “I think you need to get your head checked.”

You ignore his insult. Instead, you push forward. “You’ve got a lot of friends. Set me up with one of them.”

Beomgyu’s face is flat. “No. No way.”

“C’mon!”

“Have you gotten over Jeong Seung, or whatever, ghosting you already? How can you hop onto a new guy so quickly? You know you can’t trust men nowadays.”

You click your tongue. “We weren’t even talking for that long, and I know you won’t set me up with a bad guy! Please? Do this for me, just once, and I won’t bring up something like this ever again.”

Choi Beomgyu looks like he’s judging you to the ends of the earth, but his lack of verbal response tells you he’s actually considering it, and he’s not quite happy about it. He lets out a grumble and slides up the wrinkled receipt you have on your table. Then starts scoring unintelligible marks on it with his index nail.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask, craning your head forward.

“Listing down your candidates,” he says, and your eyes widen in pleasant surprise.

“Holy shit, I didn’t think you’d actually agree.” He grunts in response. You try your best to make out his shitty handwriting, but when you do manage to decipher one the names listed, you snatch the receipt from him and your face quickly contorts into disgust. You squint your eyes at the scribble to confirm you read it right. You are unfortunately proven correct. “Heeseung? Seriously?”

Beomgyu simply shrugs. “His compsci girl dumped him. It’s time for you to sweep him off his feet.”

“I’d rather kill myself, thank you. Have you forgotten he’s the reason why the rumors are as bad as they are?” you say, bringing the list closer to your face while your eyes quickly scan through them.

“How about Hyunjin hyung?” he asks. Oh, yeah. He’s definitely listed here.

“I make his heart race, but not for the good reasons,” you answer, and you reach the end of his stupid fucking list. “Wait a minute. Only your club buddies are in this. All of them are less than human. How dare you?”

He lets out a huff. “Even Hanbin?” Well. Hanbin is definitely better than all of them combined, for sure. “I thought you had eyes for him.”

That completely catches you off guard that your breath stutters a little. Yeah, Sung Hanbin has definitely proven himself as boyfriend material while you worked with him at Horangnabi, but you’re pretty sure he has something going on with Julie seonbae and you have no plans on being a third-party— not matter how desperate you are to just find a quick and easy date.

“Then, you thought wrong,” you retort. What even gave him that idea? “Anyway, nevermind. I realized that I’d rather not outsource my future boyfriend from you because none of your recommendations are good enough.”

He snorts, taking a sip from the float. “Boyfriends are definitely outsourced, sure.”

You snatch it from him before his lips can even touch the straw. “You’re so unsupportive. I’ll ask Minjeong to set me up on a blind date instead.”

Beomgyu wonders if you can even trust Minjeong’s eye for men considering that she didn’t even guess that Jang Seung was actually a jerk. You shoot him a glare. The coming morning, you actually do end up bumping into Seung again for the first time since he ghosted you. You walk up to him for a hello— for some closure maybe, but all he does is shove past you before you can even let a syllable out. Heeseung is with you when that happens. His mouth drops in outrage, head snapping back at Seung’s direction, and he almost starts marching after him. “Hey, what the fuck—”

“Leave it be.” You grab onto Heeseung’s arm, stopping him from causing a scene. “It’s not worth it. Let’s just head to class.”

“What a douche,” he huffs out, sending Seung one last glare drilled into the back of his head before matching your pace.

Minjeong pulls through with arranging you a date with a friend of a friend of a friend. She says he’s hot. You trust her judgment because, well, third time’s the charm, right? You’re headed to a newly opened board game cafe downtown five minutes later than scheduled because if you’re gonna get stood up again, you might as well waste five minutes less of your time. A text from Beomgyu alerts you the moment you lay your hands on the door— [i can’t swoop in this time once you get ghosted again. they won’t let me leave the clubroom 😢]. Once you get ghosted. Asshole. You don’t bother replying and head inside.

Much to your surprise, your date is already there, introducing himself as Song Eunseok and you do the same. Now, he seems nice and all— and holy shit he looks like he could be an actor— but the biting feeling that you’ve heard of him before is preventing you from feeling guilty. You order a light meal. Eunseok does the same and tries to make small talk in a light mood. Eunseok. Eunseok. Where the fuck did you hear that name from again?

“Ah!” you exclaim, preemptively dropping the dice on the snakes and ladders board. “Do you know Lee Heeseung by any chance?”

He looks surprised. “Oh, I do, actually. Are you friends—”

Then it hits him. And then his face grows pale. You lean back, arms crossed, something patronizing tugging on your gums that forms your mouth into a half-smile, riddled with incredulity and offense. Go on. Explain, your face says. This was the guy Heeseung set you up with last semester and ditched you. Of course you never have one normal, decent date. You’re actually cursed.

“Uh. Wow. Haha. What a coincidence.”

Beomgyu’s soulmate talk from the other day comes to mind. You’ve smuggled a blind date with this guy twice, which has to be a weird string of fate, right? It should be romantic, but the only thing you’re feeling right now is mild annoyance and a surge of satisfaction after seeing this guy’s guilt ridden face. See, soulmates are bullcrap. Choi Beomgyu can eat shit.

“There— there was an emergency,” he sputters out. “The guys who I asked to watch my dog while I was out canceled last minute. I couldn’t just leave Charlie alone at home.”

Well. He did show you pictures of Charlie, so that amended your opinion about him a but. Just a little bit because from that revelation, the any hope of things progressing into something more was magnanimously ruined, but neither of you wanted to waste your meal, and you two were still in the middle of a 1v1 snakes and ladders competition so you went on with the date, and he walked you to the bus stop

He was cool. Kind of. You tell Heeseing about it at Horangnabi the next day, and he falls to the floor crying and slamming his fists to the ground. “It’s not fucking funny,” you say.

“It’s so fucking funny,” he wheezes. “Holy shit. What are the odds? This is amazing.”

A chortle-snort huffs out of you beyond your control. Okay. Maybe it is a little funny. Until it’s not, because later that evening you receive a text from an acquaintance you have in one of your GE courses, a picture of you and Eunseok attached from that night, asking [hey is this you? did you break up with choi beomgyu?]

That was when the third wave of rumors started.

And it’s arguably the worst wave yet.

“Once I find out who fucking posted this, I swear to god—”

Minjeong is stomping the ground. You’re sitting on a bench at the courtyard, face-to-face with an anonymous post on the student board. It’s a big block of text, glaring straight at you from Sungchan’s laptop screen with a heading in thick, bold letters saying Do you think some people just cheat as a hobby? You don’t know why they’re showing this to you. That is until you read the first few lines, and it hits you.

[Post: I’m not naming any names, but there was this girl I was talking to for a while. We hit it off immediately and she acted like she was super into me so I asked her out on a date after a few weeks of talking. Lmao. She said yes but didn’t reply to my texts for the rest of the night, and the next morning I find out she has a boyfriend who she’s been too busy fucking the entire night so that’s why she that’s why she wasn’t replying. Sure. Okay. Whatever. But today I got the news that she’d been cheating on him with another guy again. Guess some bitches are just born as whores. Ifykyk lol].

[Comment from Anon 1: LMAO the way I know exactly who this is referring to. you dodged a bullet, buddy. the bf’s dumb too for not dumping her yet]. [Reply from Anon 2: to think the guy has flaked out on us so many times just because of his serial cheater girlfriend. buddy, get the fuck up. open your eyes].

[Comment from Anon 3: ain’t it weird how she’s always in and out of a clubroom full of guys? lol, must be wild in there].

[Comment from Anon 4: drop names! people need to know which freaks to avoid!]

There’s a lot more comments. Sungchan shuts his laptop before you can read any more. Minjeong is fuming from behind you. Sure, there weren’t any names, but it’s obvious who the poster is referring to. It’s obvious who posted this. But you’re not even angry. Your chest doesn’t sting, you don’t feel your head throbbing. All you’re thinking is wow— you can’t just expect everyone to mature the moment they leave high school. Some people still mentally belong to the playground.

“I’ve reported it,” says Sungchan. “Don’t think about it too much. It’s all bullshit anyway.”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” you smile, getting up from the bench seat and landing a ruffle on his head. “It’s fine. Thank god I’ve grown out of my anger issues. The guy would be dead if he pulled this stunt last sem.”

Minjeong and Sungchan escort you halfway to the coding club room because you mean to check on how Beomgyu’s faring. On the way, you pass by a group of people— a few familiar faces amongst them— their eyes trained on you as you pass by. “Fucking whore,” you hear one of them gruffly whisper, followed by hushed laughs, and you and Sungchan have to stop Minjeong from throttling them. It’s like high school all over again. This is ridiculous.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?” Sungchan asks, a hallway away from their clubroom. You tell them it’s fine and shoo them off to head to their classes. They leave, albeit hesitantly, and you finally make your way to the room, the old gray door right in front of you.

Your hand reaches out for the handle. But you don’t twist it open. You pause, lips pressed together, deep in thought.

These guys only tease you and Choi Beomgyu just for the hell of it— you know that. You truly know that. But because of you, some anonymous fucks are talking shit about their friend online right now, and you know they’re his friends before yours. You hesitate for a moment, hand letting go of the handle, until you hear someone walk up from behind.

“Oh, sorry, I—uh, I was just—”

“You’re not coming in?”

It’s Hanbin. You blink at him. He’s still smiling at you pleasantly, like he always has. Maybe he hasn’t seen the post yet. He hums and nudges himself beside you, opening the door in your stead, and holds an arm out, ushering you in.

You hesitate for a moment. You suck in a deep breath and charge in, expecting maybe an awkward bout of silence from your intrusion. Or the noise pollution they usually emit. But no. You don’t think you’d have ever predicted to see all of them standing in formation right in front of you— two lines, front and back with Heeseung and Jeongin at the head of the back. Beomgyu’s in there too, wedged far left at the very back. What is this? What the hell is going on?

Suddenly, Heeseung stomps his feet, four fingers pointed to his temple in a salute. This is just confusing you even further. “Atten—tion!” he hollers. The rest follow with a resounding, chest-heavy exhale, posing in the same manner.

You’re about to ask what in the world they’re up to. Until Heeseung and Jeongin suddenly break out into an oath of speech.

Nothing will ever prepare you for this moment. They’re all crazy.

“We, the honorable members of Kool Kids Koding Klub—”

“We, the honorable members of Kool Kids Koding Klub.”

You were never informed that that was their club’s name. That’s so fucking stupid. You have to hold in a burst of laughter.

“After a long moment of thoughtful reflection and inward-consideration—”

“After a long moment of thoughtful reflection and inward-consideration.”

“Do humbly realize that we have fucked up and have been abominably stupid—”

“Do humbly realize that we have fucked up and have been abominably stupid.”

“In the following ways.”

This is stupid. This is insane. You turn to Hanbin. He just gives you a look that says, “let them finish.” You cup your mouth with a hand, cheeks protruding. Gosh, they’re a bunch of idiots.

“Number one. For making constant jokes and teasing you and our fellow member Choi Beomgyu about a relationship that we know has never existed despite your evident and consistent expression of disapproval— we are sorry.”

“We are sorry!”

Wow. So they are capable of self-reflection.

“Two. For bringing said stupid and dumb and distasteful jokes in public— which may or may not have reached the ears of susceptible bystanders who do not know the true and full truth— we are sorry.”

“We are sorry!”

How’d they memorize all this? You’re honestly impressed.

“Lastly, we—”

“—Lee Heeseung—”

“—and Yang Jeongin—”

“—duly acknowledge and take responsibility for the fact that we, unintentional or otherwise, may have inadvertently started and exacerbated these horrible rumors, which eventually caused a butterfly effect and snowballed to an extent and severity that we lacked the foresight to predict and prevent. For this, we are truly, deeply sorry.”

“We are sorry!”

They all bow in unison. Ninety degrees. It’s quiet now. Dead quiet. Your eyes scan the number of heads turned down, some bobbing ever the slightest, some dead still and frozen. “W—we…we’re done,” you hear Jeongin say. You bite down a laugh. The moment you utter a semblance of forgiveness— not even able to finish your sentence yet— Heeseung immediately springs out of formation and throws himself into you.

“Don’t worry! We’re on your side!” he declares. “We know you’d never ever cheat on Beomgyu!”

There’s a cough. You stare at him, his arms wrapped around your shoulders in silence. No one says anything. Heeseung shamefully pries himself off of you.

“Sorry. I’m not making those jokes ever again. Please don’t hate me.”

You give him a push. “Too bad. I already hate you.” Heeseung whimpers. Then you turn to the rest of the boys, all patiently waiting for you to give them the greenlight. “You guys didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t blame any of you.”

And it’s like the oxygen returns into the room and they release sighs in a chorus. Yeonjun walks up to you for a hug and tells you to cheer up. Hyunjin says that they’ve been trying to track the original poster’s and commenter’s IP addresses and connected accounts since this morning. They’re actually doing something club related for once. You’re shocked and proud.

“Thanks, but there’s really no need. I already know who posted it,” you say. Your eyes are trained to the back of the room, where Beomgyu is hovering around. He hasn’t come up to you yet. You really need to talk to him.

“Still,” Hanbin says. “It’s better to get concrete evidence. We can report them to student affairs for this, you know. This isn’t just some minor issue.”

You point your chin up, giving him a smile in response before excusing himself to corner the guy in the corner.

He’s not going anywhere. You move in one straight direction. Heeseung and Jeongin step aside to make way for you. Old plastic bottles and tattered furniture are no obstacles to you. You march up to Choi Beomgyu. He doesn’t move, but he doesn’t look at you either until you’re already standing in front of him, shoes pointed a mere inches away from each other. He’s fidgeting with his fingers. His eyes peer up— hesitant, unsure. You can clearly see what’s troubling him.

It’s like he’s bracing himself for you to push him away. Again. Like he’s always causing you trouble. Like he’s always been the root of all your problems.

Your throat tightens, but you swallow it down. What should you do to make it clear to him that that’s really not the case?

“I’m borrowing him for a moment.”

You don’t wait for an assent when you grab him by the arm and pull him out of the clubroom for some privacy. The hallway is full of people. You pay no mind to the dozens of eyes drilling into you as you tug Beomgyu’s jacket sleeve through the turns and corners, stairs and exits until you find yourselves at the back of the building, devoid of anybody else. You let go of him with a push. Beomgyu’s heels scrape against the ground. You cross your arms, looking at him with a huff.

“Spit it out,” you say. “What’s going on inside your head?”

His face is tense. He lifts up his hand— barely. Just barely in an attempt to reach out to yours, but a hesitant quiver forces it back down. Fuck. You really don’t like this. You don’t like this at all.

“I’ve been thinking,” he starts.

“Shocker,” you respond, trying to lighten things up.

“Shut up.” It works for a second because he shoots you an annoyed glare. Only for a second because he gets serious again, and your stomach feels heavy. Like the earth wants to swallow you whole. “Can you be honest with me? Am I giving you a hard time?”

You feel a squeeze in your lungs. You press your lips together. You force in a breath.

“I think— I think I won’t be too mad this time if you ask me to act like I don’t know you again,” he says. “It was more peaceful for you, wasn’t it? Nobody bothered you and you spent your uni life without having to hear anything painful or mean from people you don’t even know. I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I should’ve tried harder to protect you. I’m sorry.”

Beomgyu says nothing more. It gets quiet. You run the words he just said over and over again in your head wondering why the hell would he ever think that? Why would he think you’d want that? “Hey, fuckface,” you say. He flinches. “Do you remember what you said to me the day we made up?”

He stiffens. There’s no way he wouldn’t remember. There’s no way you’d ever forget.

“You said you couldn’t live without me.”

A tinge of red stains his ears. You pull on the arm he held back earlier, forcing him to finally look at you in the eye. They’re stained red too. The back of your throat burns. You don’t care. You push the words out of your mouth even if it ends up killing you.

“If you can’t live without me, what makes you think that I can live without you?”

Beomgyu’s eyes widen— like it’s a surprise for him to hear that. Like it’s a surprise for him to still be near you, hovering around in a circle that he thought was temporary. It’s not. That’s one thing you’re sure of. That’s one thing you can say with confidence that’s never going to change.

“You’re so stupid,” you say, roughly letting go of him. “Take back your apology. You’re uglier when you’re about to cry than when you’re actually crying.” He responds by pushing himself back into your space, and you’re taken aback when he suddenly swallows you with his arms.

He’s squeezing you so tightly. He isn’t even giving you the wiggle room to hug him back.

“Thank fucking god,” he breathes out, voice muffled into your shoulder.

You do what you can to pat what you can reach. Beomgyu finally releases you after fifteen, twenty seconds. His eyes still look a little irritated, but he didn’t cry. There aren’t any snot marks on your shirt. He’s such a baby.

“But, you know,” he says with a sniffle. “I’ll do whatever I can to fix this, but this is really gonna ruin your chances of getting a boyfriend.”

“Rumors stand nothing against my nightly eleven-eleven wishes.”

He laughs a little. You smile. “You’re so fucking lame.”

The fruits of the coding club’s labor materialized two days later. You receive a text early in the morning to head to the clubroom. Jeongin welcomes you with a list of all the people who made malicious comments on the post and, of course, the poster himself— Jang Seung. No shit. That was expected. But what came as a bit more of a surprise not only to you, but to Beomgyu as well, is the fact that many of his many many many friends were on that list, their corresponding comments attached.

It doesn’t really bother you since you don’t even know them. But you can’t say the same for Choi Beomgyu.

“I didn’t see it coming either— wait! Beomgyu, where are you going?”

Beomgyu storms out of the club room, shoving off Yeonjun’s hand when the former tried stopping him— much to no avail, because he’s already gone before you know it. Some of the guys follow him out. You’re not too worried. You’re pretty sure he’s got a sound head on his shoulders. He’s never gotten into a fight since he was, like, twelve.

But maybe you overestimated his impulse control. Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to his expression when they revealed the list, because you later find him sitting on the stairs to the entrance of your apartment building with two unmistakable, vivid, and well-formed bruises on his cheekbone and jaw.

You stop at the foot of the stone stairs. He looks up at you with a grin. “You’re home.”

Spinning. Your head is spinning. “You’re a mess,” you tell him. Beomgyu gets up and follows you into the building, into your apartment, and you sit him down on the sofa before you make a beeline for the fridge to grab a bag of frozen vegetables, wrapping it with a fresh dishcloth.

Beomgyu refuses to tell you what happened when you start icing his face. You look at him, the makeshift ice pack retracted from his bruise while you give him your most done expression you can muster. He won’t budge. You put Jeongin on the phone. The guy spills everything to the table without even needing a nudge.

“You just lost a good chunk of your friends,” you say, as a matter of fact, while tapping the cold cloth to his face.

Jeongin had just informed you that he blew up on his so called friends earlier, causing a minor, uh, altercation to break out, with one of them landing a fist to his face because Beomgyu allegedly dropped the terms pathetic and disgusting pieces of shits, as your informant quotes. Beomgyu doesn’t look bothered at all. His eyes just wander around the corners of your apartment as you tell him that his social circle just shrunk overnight.

“You think I care about that?” he says, leaning back against your couch. Your arm stretches out to chase after his face. “I really don’t give a shit. I can live without them.” But it stutters mid-air after hearing that. You clear your throat. You tell him to scoot over and make room because you can’t reach the bruise.

“This is gonna look pretty ugly tomorrow,” you remark. He says his hands got a little fucked too. You sit up, face scrunching. Indeed, his knuckles aren’t looking pretty. You grunt and fish for a first aid kit from your bathroom cabinet. When you get back to the living room, Beomgyu is sitting patiently with the vegetable pack pressed to his face.

“I’d like you to be angrier, honestly,” he says while you put some ointment on the hills of his knuckles. “This is all my fault.”

You set his hand down on your tangled legs on the couch, still barely grazing over his fingers. “I already told you, it’s not,” you sternly say. Beomgyu fiddles with your fingers. He’s not looking at you. “It’s not your fault everyone’s so far up in your business.”

“Well. That’s true.” Beomgyu simply lets out a lamenting sigh. “Why am I so perfect? It’s so hard being a wanted man.”

You roughly let go of his hand, tossing the ointment at him too. “If you’re so perfect, go fix yourself up, you fuck.”

He whines and tells you you’re a heartless meanie, picking on an injured man, and you feel a weight lift off your shoulders because he’s being annoying again. Because he’s acting like his usual self again— and to you that’s the only thing that matters right now. Even if the entire world thinks you’re a whore and a bitch and a cheater, there’s still one person who’s willing to get his face bruised and battered just to tell them they’re wrong.

That’s enough, you think. That’s more than enough.

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