#Then it just.... Appeared when I got home??

[chronicowboy]

Eddie isn't sure what he's expecting when Buck meets him at the airport. Red-rimmed eyes, splotchy face, hunched shoulders probably. Not this. Distant eyes, blank face, straight-backed. He'd been braced to catch Buck as soon as he landed, had spent his whole flight locking every bit of his own grief away to be thought about at a later date, let the guilt pool in his chest instead.

I should've been there, I could've -

He'd been ready to catch Buck, but it's Eddie who falls into Buck's waiting arms. Eddie who tears up. Eddie who clutches at the back of Buck's shirt like a scared child. And it's Buck sweeping his hands up and down Eddie's back, holding him together, murmuring:

"It's okay. I've got you. It's not your fault."

Eddie doesn't cry in LAX. His grief is a private thing. Always has been. He locks it into his bedroom and lets it out behind closed doors. But Buck is the safest space he's ever had, so he lets himself break a little. Lets himself shake apart under Buck's hands until he can ground himself with a deep breath at the junction of Buck's neck and shoulder. Until he can stand on his own.

Buck looks at him, eyes searching, deepest of furrows between his brows, so devastatingly gentle. And Eddie kind of wants to fucking scream at him for being okay. He'd needed to take care of Buck. He'd needed to have something to do. But now Buck is looking at him like he can fix him, and Eddie wants him to. So badly. But Buck knows Eddie's grief is for South Bedford Street, not LAX, so all he does is lead Eddie out to the parking lot.

It's a silent drive. Buck tells him the details of the funeral. Clinical. Sparing. And Eddie watches Buck's knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. Listens to the creak of leather under an unyielding grip. And he sees it then. The countdown over Buck's head, ticking away steadily. He's grateful in a way.

They pull up to the house silently. The engine falls quiet. And they stare at the door. The door Bobby had appeared on the other side of just a few months ago for a goodbye dinner. At the house. The house Bobby made coffee in when Eddie couldn't stomach being alone. At the home. The home Bobby helped him build in every way.

Buck gets out of the car. Eddie follows. Buck unlocks the door. Eddie locks it behind them. Buck disappears into the kitchen. Eddie pauses.

Can't quite separate Bobby from kitchens in his mind. And it's not like Bobby ever cooked anything in Eddie's kitchen, but there's some stupid grief-crazed part of his brain that thinks he'll find Bobby at the stove for a last supper. A parting gift to Eddie. Because Bobby was always too good. Too generous. Too understanding. When it came to Eddie.

When he finally makes it in there, Buck is stood staring into the fridge. Vacant. Eddie joins him, presses their shoulders together as hard as he can without knocking Buck away, and looks at Buck's fingers curled loosely around two beer bottles. Eddie knows it's not the early hour staying his hand.

It feels wrong. To find comfort in alcohol at Bobby's expense.

Carefully, Eddie unpicks Buck's fingers from the bottles and watches as Buck's arm falls limp to his side with such weight it bounces off his hip. Swings once, twice, stops suddenly. Eddie grabs the water filter. Closes the fridge.

"Sit down," he whispers. Sure, steady.

Buck sits down.

Eddie grabs two glasses. Fills them with water. Leaves the filter on the side. Who cares? Who fucking cares? Takes the glasses over to the table in shaking hands. Spills only a little. Sits opposite Buck. Stares into his cup.

"I didn't say it back," Buck rasps eventually.

Eddie picks his head up with great effort. Ony manages it because he wants to see what hurt he's caused. Their missing medic. Absent in their hour of need.

"What?"

"B-he-he told me he loved me." Buck's eyes go wide. Horrified. Haunted. Hollow. "He t-told me he l-loved me, and I could-couldn't say it back be-because that would mean..." Buck chokes a sob into his hand. "I thought we'd fix it. I-I-I thought we'd find a way. We-we always do. I couldn't say it-it. I didn't want t-to let him go. And now, he's..." Buck's face crumples first. Then, the rest of his body follows, folding in on itself in the chair until he looks almost as small as Christopher had the first time he'd ever sat at this table. "He's d-gone, and he doesn't know I love him."

"He knows, Buck." Eddie's hand curls into a fist on the tabletop. Doesn't know what to do. For all he'd been ready to hold Buck together, he's not sure how. "He knows you love him, Buck. You told him every single day."

"But I never said the words!" he snaps. Pure rage. Pure guilt. He looks up at Eddie. Blue eyes wet and red and wild. The rage and the guilt seeps away, leaves only pure grief. "I never said the words."

He sobs then. Doesn't choke it down. Lets it out. Eddie reacts like it's instinct even though he's never done this before. Just somehow knows in his bones what to do when it comes to Buck.

He stands, rounds the table, slides a hand into Buck's hair, one on his shoulder, pulls Buck's face into his stomach and holds him there, holds him together. Buck's fingers tangle themselves in Eddie's belt loops. A lifeline. And Eddie holds him tight as he can.

"All the times you cooked for him. All the times he cooked for you. The two of you cooking together. You had your own language, Buck. He knows you love him."

And all Eddie hears is: you're gonna stand there with a hundred-something bodies on you and tell me I'm not fit for duty. Did Bobby know Eddie loved him too?

Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Eddie drops his cheek to the top of Buck's head. Stops holding Buck together and starts holding on. Buck's hands grasp at his hips, twist into the back of his shirt just like Eddie's had at the airport.

And all Eddie hears is: I just want to make sure you don't think you have to lose everything before you can allow yourself to feel anything.

[tarotsoul]

Smoke & Light — Part One

SUMMARY: Your ex-boyfriend gives you his dealers number, but you don’t expect for him to be so fine. And you certainly don’t expect him to be so goddamn flirty.

WARNINGS: heavy mentions and usage of drugs and driving under the influence (weed), azriel is a drug dealer, kissing, swearing, teasing, masturbation -- don't fuck your plug guys

WORD COUNT: 9.9k

Series Masterlist

Your patience was wearing thin. Very fucking thin. Those three grey dots mocked you as they bubbled at the bottom of the screen—disappearing and reappearing again—until they were replaced with another less than satisfying message.

Brandon: are you taking the piss? Why didn’t you just ask when you were here earlier?

You scanned the message over, swallowing back the groan at the idea of another potential argument. You needed to nip his attitude in the bud, you weren’t entertaining his bullshit anymore. Gnawing at the inside of your cheek, your fingers quickly typed a response.

You: I didn’t realise I was out until I got home. Can you get any or not? Just lmk

The dots appeared again after a few moments of silence, and you prepared yourself for the snarky remark he was most likely to give you, and took a deep breath to compose yourself in advance. 

Brandon: no. I can’t get you any. Sort it out yourself for once.

There was no way in Hell you were going to let your frustrations show. Despite the pure anger and annoyance that began to bubble even more within you.

Brandon could be a lot of things. A liar. A cheat. And a fucking asshole. In all honestly, the only thing he was truly good for was the occasional above par fuck and the fact that his dealer had the best weed you’d ever smoked.

But when they were the only two good things he had going for him, it was hard to justify the disgusting behaviour he showed throughout almost your entire relationship. You broke up every few weeks as it was, but if you’d known about the cheating before, you would’ve left for good sooner.

Instead, you found out a year and half into the relationship, coming to the deafening conclusion that he had, in fact, never been faithful for a single moment of his teenage and adult life.

Fuck him. And fuck his shit sex. The weed, you could get yourself.

You: lmao ok. What’s his number?

A heartbeat after he read the text, he was calling you. And the moment you answered the call, he was his usual, un-charming self.

“What the fuck do you mean what’s his number?”

“Hello to you, too.” You murmured, tucking yourself under the blanket on your couch.

His clipped tone didn’t startle you, didn’t worry you about any form of consequences. He wasn’t scary, even when he tried to be. He was just a douche.

“What do you mean what’s his number?” He repeated himself, that agitation growing thicker and thicker with every word he spoke.

“How else am I supposed to get any?”

“Find your own dealer.”

He was being bitter now, pathetically so. You picked at the aged edges of your book, a novel you’d read five times over but one you couldn’t get enough of. Your love for it could be seen by the fading print of the front cover and the severely broken spine—despite how careful you tried to be with your readings.

“Brandon, I’m not going to find a random dealer. Your Azriel guy has good stuff and I know it’s safe. Besides, me going to the same person as you is not going to affect you in any way.”

He was silent for a moment, mulling over your words. Despite his dreadful personality and lack of love and care and compassion, he knew how little you knew about marijuana. He was the one that taught you to roll, after all.

You’d barely smoked before you met him, and on the rare occasions you did get high, it was usually in the form of gummy edibles your friends had. And you weren’t addicted or reliant on it in any way. You just enjoyed a smoke every now and then if you’d had a long day.

Alcohol had never been your favourite, and you much preferred to feel the chilled buzz from a joint than cradle a hangover for two days after a soirée.

“Fine. I’ll text you his number. Say Marco gave you his number, it’s a code he made up—had cops on him a while ago. He can be a bit of an ass, don’t let him shit talk you. Ask for a 3.5, he usually charges 40 for it. It’ll last you a couple weeks unless you’re planning on smoking heavy.”

It was easy to be pulled back in when he was like that. When he did the bare minimum of offering advice on things he knew you weren’t too sure on. But you were better than that now, smarter. You weren’t going to fall back into your old ways again.

Not with him. Not with anyone.

“I’m not. Thank you.”

The line went dead as soon as the words left your mouth and a few moments later, he texted you Azriel’s number. You would’ve appreciated a reminder of what you were supposed to ask for but at least you got his number. Small wins. You weren’t his responsibility anymore.

It took you a few minutes to figure out what to say, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you typed and erased, typed and erased. Until you settled on ‘Is this Azriel?’ and finally sent the message.

Ten minutes passed and you didn’t get a response. Your nose was tucked back into your romance novel as you chewed on the drawstring of your hoodie. In all honesty, you could’ve quite easily slipped into a peaceful slumber under the warm golden glow of your lamps.

That was another thing Brandon couldn’t respect. Your No Main Light rule. The vibes were always immaculate with gentle warmth from lamps. The main light was not allowed on under any circumstances. You much preferred the cosy feeling of golden hues that accentuated the deep green leaves of your plants and vines that scattered the walls and crevices of your home. 

Your phone chimed from your lap, a small surge of anxiety pulsing in your chest. You unlocked the screen and read over the message.

Azriel: depends who’s asking.

Ah, Brandon did warn you. You considered fucking the whole idea off. Maybe cracking open a bottle of wine and snuggling on the couch with a book or tv show would be better than having to meet this asshole, but the bottle of White Zinfandel wouldn’t give you the mellow buzz you wanted.

Not unless you had at least four glasses which was usually paired with a hangover the next day. Something you did not want to entertain. So, you bit the bullet and typed your reply.

You: y/n, got your number from Marco. You about?

The more you let your mind wander, the more you realised how little you knew. You had no clue how this sort of thing worked. Would he come to you? Your home? Would you meet at a location of his choice? Or would he just stash the weed somewhere for you to collect and you don't cross paths at all?

But the burning fire of the what-if anxiety was quickly trampled and extinguished when another text came through and instead of him deciding for you, you were given a choice. 

Azriel: sure, I can meet you at old tower in 20 if that’s good for you? If not I can drop to your location. 

He didn’t seem as much of an ass now. No, quite the opposite. But you supposed that offer was something he probably gave to all new, female clients. If he truly was an ass or not, you couldn’t fault him for the consideration. 

Old Tower was the old old watermill tucked slightly away in the centre of the city. It had been derelict for years, but due to its location—so close to all the necessities and right opposite the police station—no one ever tried to break in or set it alight like many other derelict listed buildings had been in the past. 

Even now, at almost midnight, that part of the city would still be bustling with city-natives and tourists alike. And you appreciated the safe and public meeting spot he suggested. 

You: old tower in 20 is fine. 

As quickly as you sent the message, you received another reply. A text describing his blue Mustang and his licence plate. You shook the nerves off as soon as they came. Azriel was respectful and well known. He dealt to make his money and that was that. 

But the facts didn’t stop you from sharing your location with Brandon just in case, nor did it stop you from double checking you still had your little pepper spray clipped to your keychain. 

The walk to the Old Tower wasn’t a bad one. There were many ways you could access it, most of them leading you through the city, but here were a few that hid you behind back roads and alleyways—those were routes you never took. Not on your own and certainly not in the middle of the night. 

The air was still a bit sticky from the summer heat, and while the denim shorts you wore kept your body cool, you were grateful you kept on your hoodie—just that extra layer that protected your arms and shoulders from the chill of the breeze that your legs never seemed to experience. 

It didn’t take long for you to reach the Old Tower, and it took even less time to spot the electric blue 2022 Ford Mustang. Small tufts of white smoke emitted from the exhaust as it sat in its standstill, headlights facing the opposite direction of what you came in, but you could still hear the engine humming from your short distance away. 

You double checked the licence plate to the number Azriel texted you, and slowly made your way closer. While you didn’t know much about drop offs, deals, and weed in general, you did know the unspoken rules of picking up. And if you were picking up from someone in a vehicle, most people got inside for a few minutes before leaving. 

Azriel must’ve noticed you from the rear view mirror because just as you approached the back of the car, the passenger seat opened wide, inviting you in. You sucked in a breath but accepted the invitation, keeping your eyes forward as you settled into the warmth of the leather seat and closed the door shut. 

You finally let your body shift and your eyes met his. And you were fucking done for. 

You’d never seen a man so strikingly fucking beautiful before. He was tall, lean and muscular and oozed pure sex and charisma. Tan, golden skin and dark, luscious hair that swept loosely down his forehead and curled gently around the tops of his ears. 

His face was chiselled not too sharply, a subtle gentleness to the stark contrast of the cold, brooding aura he carried. And those eyes. Christ, those fucking eyes. Hazel iris’ that dripped with a golden hue of honey. 

You swallowed down the dry lump in your throat and willed your lips to part so you could finally speak. “Thank you for meeting me so late.”

And Azriel was absolutely hooked. 

When you’d texted barely thirty minutes ago, he did not expect to be meeting with someone so fucking gorgeous. Your soft hair was twisted in a loose braid that hung over your shoulder, wayward strands having fallen from the updo and framing your face mesmerizingly. 

Your eyes were the most captivating thing he’d ever seen; rich in colour and wide with slight anxiety, despite the sleepiness he could slightly notice beneath them. Your voice sounded like a fever dream. It wasn’t sickly sweet like most women he knew or dealt to. Perhaps it was just the sleep, but there was a rasp—a very slight ruggedness—in your tone and Azriel was certain he’d never heard something quite so sensual in his life. 

He cleared his throat, that all too cheeky grin teetering on the corners of his mouth. “I was already out,” he shrugged, nonchalantly. “How much are you after?” 

His voice was a perfect blend of sweet and rough. A deep depth to his tone that skipped hand-in-hand with a sweeter note. God, he was unreal, and the sound of him had you forgetting entirely what exactly Brandon told you to ask for. 

You pulled your lips between your teeth and offered a very sheepish—but mostly embarrassed—smile. “Um… I’m sorry,” you found yourself apologising for the second time tonight. “My ex used to do this part, so I have no idea how this works.”

You couldn’t help the flush that rose to your cheeks at your own admission, couldn’t handle being the subject of his firm gaze, and you absolutely could not fucking handle the soft rumble of rich laughter that chuckled through him. 

“Do you smoke a lot?” Azriel finally asked, a slightly amused smile on those full lips of his. His pink tongue swiped out to wet them and your heart thundered against your ribcage at the sight. 

“Not really,” you cleared your throat. “Just every now and then. Semi-regularly, I guess.” There was no such thing as semi-regularly when it came to drugs and alcohol. To someone’s own self, sure. But not the general mass that consumed whatever it was they did. 

Some considered three joints a day ‘semi-regular’, while others considered it as a joint every few days. Azriel had a feeling you were the latter, but he didn’t say anything about his thoughts or what you’d said. 

Instead, he hummed and chewed at the inside of his cheek in thought. He wasn’t laughing at you or your lack of knowledge or understanding. Usually, he’d have kicked a new client out of his car by now and told them to figure it out on their own—he was a dealer, not a fucking private tutor—but with you, he didn’t seem to mind explaining or breaking things down so it was easier to understand. 

Neither of you white understood why he was happy to explain, but you didn’t complain. You’d much prefer this than the alternative version of him that you’d been warned about. 

“A 3.5 would probably be best for you, then.” He decided. 

Yes, a 3.5… that sounded very familiar. You nodded, slowly, considering your next words carefully. You had already disclosed the most embarrassing part of not having a fucking clue how this worked, one more probably wouldn’t hurt, would it? 

“This is going to sound absolutely ridiculous,” you chuckled nervously, scratching at the nape of your neck. “But can you break that down in joint terms?”

Azriel laughed again, softer this time, through a breath. It was odd, really. He wasn’t laughing to be cruel or to embarrass you further. It seemed to you that perhaps he found it endearing—your innocence on the matter—and maybe, just maybe, you reminded him of himself when he too at one point, had no idea either. 

“It depends on how strong you have them. Do you smoke blunts or just joints?” 

Your eyes widened animatedly. “God, no. Just joints. I think a blunt might wipe me out.” 

A glint of warmth and light fluttered through his eyes for a split second. “So, a 3.5 would get you like seven joints.” 

“Yeah, that would last me like a week, two weeks.” You nodded. “I’ll have a 3.5 then, thank you.”

Azriel hummed in agreement, and it was only when he reached for the centre console and flipped open a compartment that you saw his hands. His golden skin was marred beyond belief, etched in burns and an array of pigmented colours. Your stomach lurched at the sight. Not from fear or pity or disgust, no. Your stomach twisted in agony, your brain couldn’t comprehend a reason for scars like that. 

You looked away as quickly as you clocked them, not wanting to stare and not wanting him to notice. You supposed he was used to lingering gazes, but you would not be a name added to that list of people. 

Azriel did nothing but make you feel comfortable in the brief few minutes of meeting one another. He was kind enough to not laugh in your face and kick you out of his car after your admittance. You were not about to make him feel uncomfortable either. 

He pulled out a small plastic baggie stuffed to the brim with forest green nuggets and handed it to you between two scarred, pinched fingers. You took it gratefully, a full and genuine smile on your lips now as you thanked him, reaching into the back pocket of your denim shorts for the cash. 

“Did you want me to roll them for you, too?” Azriel’s teasing voice dripped with sarcasm and your eyes snapped to him with a stern look. “‘Cause that’ll cost you extra.” 

“I know how to roll, thank you.” You bit back, and while your voice and tone held all the conviction, the amused glint in your eye and the corners of your mouth told him he hadn’t offended you in the slightest.  

“It’s twenty-five.” Azriel chuckled from beside you. 

Your brows furrowed as you pulled out two twenty’s, meeting his gaze again. “Isn’t it usually like forty?”

The air now smelt of that tangy, vile scent, something that you don’t think you’d ever get used to. Or enjoy. He shrugged, flipping down the lid of the compartment between you. “You’re a new client.”

You raised a brow now, a taunting smirk creeping at the corner of your mouth. “Do you always undercharge new clients, then?”

Azriel liked you. Very much. You didn’t shy away or hide your personality from him, even after only knowing one another for barely an hour in total. He had a feeling he was barely scraping the surface. 

He matched your stare, only he wasn't teasing. “Only the pretty ones.”

There was no hiding the heat that crawled up your neck and sat heavy on your cheeks. It had been a long while since you received a genuine compliment. Let alone one so forward and from someone so unexpected. You averted your gaze from him, looking at the two twenty’s in your hand. Raising them, you pursed your lips. 

“I only have two twenty’s on me. So you may as well take the full forty.” 

Azriel didn’t listen. Instead, he pinched one note from your hand, his skin brushing yours but you didn’t falter, didn’t shy away. He was warm, and despite the scars and marred skin, his skin was softer than you expected. 

You huffed, not ungrateful for the discount but this was his livelihood and taking away from that felt wrong to you. 

“Let me know when you’re out.” 

You smiled appreciatively and nodded, stuffing the bag and cash into your hoodie pocket and reaching for the door handle. “I will. Nice to meet you, Azriel.” 

He watched you climb out of the car, offering another warm smile as the cooler evening air kissed at his skin. He wanted to ask how you were getting home, if you’d be walking alone or if you needed a ride. But Azriel couldn’t cross those lines, especially not with someone he only just met. 

So he bit his tongue and prayed to the Mother above to get you home safely. “You too, Y/N.” 

He started up the engine again as soon as the door closed, but he didn’t drive away. He watched you through the rear view mirror until you were out of sight and when he finally looked down, he found his jeans tight around his crotch and a painful erection. 

“Fuck.”

“Why don’t we give the brownies idea a try?”

Azriel’s head felt like it may explode. For the past two hours, he’d been stuck in a discussion between his brothers regarding new ideas for new products to sell. And while Az and Rhys had no ideas to suggest (all agreeing cocaine, molly and ket were not up for discussion), Cassian was still hellbent on making weed brownies—despite knowing not a damn thing about baking. 

“Cass,” Rhys sighed, pinching sharply at the bridge of his nose. Azriel was going to lose his shit, he couldn’t go through this again—for a fifth fucking time. “We literally spoke about this last week! None of us know how to bake!” 

Cassian paid no mind to Rhysand’s clear frustrations with him and scoffed as he threw his head back on the couch. “It can’t be that fucking hard.” 

“Then by all means, buy your own shit and burn it while you try and figure it out.” 

Azriel blinked, looking between the pair. He’d barely said a word, too worried he may get a bit too heated. Cassian got like this sometimes—most of the time—and more often than not, Az got the idea he only did it to get a reaction out of Rhys, who had very little patience when it came to him.

Someone had to play mediator and devil’s advocate in every situation, and somehow, even since they were teens, that role always landed on Azriel’s shoulders. 

Deciding enough was enough, he leant forward and peered between them both. “As much as edibles would help out sales, Rhys is right,” Cassian snickered at him, “It’s not a good idea right now. Not when we have no clue what we’re doing, and especially not when we’re having problems with our supplier right now.”

It was silent in the room for a moment, for the first time in an hour. And after a few minutes passed and no one spoke, Rhys stood from the couch with a sigh. “I’ve gotta get going to the parlour. All my sketches are there and I’ve got a long day and a huge back piece to tattoo tomorrow.” 

He clapped a hand against both Az and Cassian’s shoulders before bidding them a goodbye and leaving. Cassian remained sulking on the couch, thick and toned arms crossed on his chest with an unsatisfied scowl on his face. Azriel took purchase on the coffee table in front of him, lips pursed to suppress his amusement.

Cassian often got like this if he was told no or something didn’t go his way. When they were younger, Azriel used to roll his eyes and tell him to get over it. But now, in their mid-twenties and Cassian sharing a striking resemblance to that hunky character from that one Disney movie, Azriel found his sulking the best form of entertainment. 

“Are you not working tonight?” Az broke the silence with a lighthearted question. As much as he found his brothers face amusing, he didn’t really have the energy to deal with it all fucking night. He had shit to do, people to see. And he didn’t particularly want to bring Cassian along to his drop off’s—not when Cass scared the shit out of most people. 

“Club’s closed, waiting for Nes to finish. Staying at hers tonight,” he mumbled.

Relief was quick to flow through Azriel’s blood as he let out a breath. His phone chimed from his back pocket as he said, “Tell her I say hi,” and a gentle smile tugged at the corners of Cassian’s mouth.

Az and Nesta had a decent friendship, he was closer to her than he was Feyre, but maybe that was because Nesta didn’t tiptoe around Az like most other people did. Maybe that was why he liked you so much. You didn’t shy under his gaze, and you didn’t treat him differently after noticing his scarred hands. 

Yes, he saw you watching, inspecting with hurt and curious eyes. But you didn’t say anything so neither did he. And when you purposely brushed your skin against his when you took that bag of bud, he knew you’d done it out of silent reassurance. 

And yet, he hadn’t heard from you since you met three days ago. Not that he expected you to message so soon, not after you said the 3.5 would last around two weeks, but he still felt that deep disappointment whenever he checked his phone and your name wasn’t the one to have messaged him. 

He needed to get a grip on himself, really. But you were different. So different from anyone he’d ever met or known before. You didn’t play up to any facade, you didn’t hesitate to tease him back. You were honest, painfully so when you admitted you were clueless, but that only made him find you even more endearing. 

“What about you?” Cassian’s voice drilled into his ears, abruptly pulling Azriel away from the memory of you. He quickly typed back a reply to a client that he could drop off within the hour and shoved his phone back in his pocket. 

“What about me?” Az asked. 

“Any plans?” 

Azriel shrugged, elbows leaning on his spread thighs and the oak coffee table creaked beneath his firm weight. “I’ve got a few deals to do, but that’s about it.”

Cass nodded, finally unfolding his arms and letting them drop to his sides. “Well, you know where I’ll be if you wanna come by, Nes would be happy to see you.”

Azriel raised a brow. “I saw her two days ago.”

His brother gave him a look, one that suggested ‘yeah, I know, but you’re like her best friend and she loves you to literal death’, and that was that. 

Cass left soon after, picking Nesta up from work and leaving Azriel home alone for what seemed like the thousandth night in a row. He didn’t mind it, not really. He enjoyed his own company and when Cass stayed at Nesta’s and Rhys stayed at Feyre’s, it meant Az could play around with new melodies and not be scolded for playing guitar at 4 a.m. and waking everybody up. 

Having the apartment to himself was a win-win for everyone involved. 

Only tonight, he didn’t want to sit and play with new sounds and rhythms. Not when his mind was completely distracted by you. By your smile, your eyes, by that sensual voice of yours that he hadn’t stopped replaying in his memory for the past three days. 

It wouldn’t hurt to send just one text, right? Just the one, just to check in on how you were finding the bud. As if you hadn't smoked it before they met. 

He shouldn’t. This wasn’t what he did—he didn’t chase after girls, he never had, and he most certainly did not get hooked—especially not on someone he’d known for three days. 

And yet, despite that, Azriel found himself on your messages, hovering his fingers over the keyboard and typing out a quick text and sending it before he could even think about it. 

Azriel: how’s the bud?

But it wasn’t his lack of thinking before sending the message that had his jaw slack, no. It was the fact that as soon as the message travelled from the box to the messaging thread, you had already opened it. Like you were already on the chat. Perhaps debating your own text to him. 

Those grey bubbles appeared at the bottom of the screen and Azriel made quick work to click out of the conversation. His heart should not have been stammering in his chest the way it was, he should not have felt so anxious about what you may think if he read your text as quickly as you read his. 

You: very good. And you were right. 7 joints! 

And then, another.

You: I may need a top up sooner than i thought, if that’s ok?

Azriel: what happened to it lasting you 2 weeks?? Nah, that’s fine. Did you wanna meet up tonight?

You: would that be ok?

Azriel: yes. Old tower in 20?

You: life saver <3 see u then!

He tried his damned hardest not to stare at the little heart you sent him, tried his best not to picture you thinking about texting him to meet up again. But all he tried, it didn’t work and a smirk began to tug at the corners of his mouth. 

His Ford Mustang parked outside the Old Tower fifteen minutes later, the engine still humming softly and his eyes flitted between the rearview mirror and his view in front of him, trying to gauge which way you’d come from. 

He didn’t expect for you to come out of the shadows in a third direction, one in the wake of the passengers side, and he didn’t realise until the door opened and you slid your body inside his car, shutting the door behind you. 

“Hi,” you turned to him with a beaming smile—eyes gently blazed with a moody pink hue. 

Azriel drank you in. Your hair was down today in what he presumed was your natural waves, face bare of makeup save for the sheen of pinky lip gloss that coated your mouth. You wore an oversized cropped olive cardigan; the large buttons done up just enough to offer a slither of a peek of the white bralette you wore beneath, and a pair of straight-legged black cargos. 

Gods, you looked even better than he remembered, but Azriel wasn’t naive to your staring either. Your eyes caught notice of his thick, muscled arms. They weren’t hidden beneath a jacket this time. No. They bulged from the black t-shirt he wore, and his brown skin was etched in intricate swirls and shapes and designs in black ink. 

You gulped, visibly so. Tattoos had always been an immediate attraction for you—not that Brandon ever had any—but the sight of Azriels and the one that hid beneath the sleeve of his top and curled up and around his neck… Gods, your throat felt extremely dry.

And Azriel noticed everything. 

“I thought you said you didn’t smoke much?” 

Your eyes finally snapped to his hazel ones and warmth coated your cheeks and chest. You cleared your throat, blinking a few times to regain some sense of composure. “I don’t,” you retorted. “Girls night. And it was my turn to host.” 

Azriel tried not to think too deeply into the idea of you having a night at home with your girlfriends, stoned and warm and cosy and all inhibitions thrown out the window. He wondered if those were the types of things you did with your friends. He’d been with a few before that did. 

He looked away as soon as he felt that familiar tightening in his jeans. “So, you want another 3.5?” He cleared his throat, lifting the compartment between your seats. 

You hummed, eyes following his movements. Your gaze lingered on his biceps for a moment, trailing down to the veins that protruded from his smooth skin. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. Oftentimes than not, you found yourself horny and riled up when under the influence, but never like this. Never so strongly at the sight of two veiny, tattooed arms. 

“Um, yeah… please.” You finally spoke. “I promise it’ll last me longer than three days this time.”

Azriel prayed to the fucking mother above that it didn’t. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he retrieved a 3.5 baggie and handed it to you, closing the compartment again and the second he opened his mouth to speak, you were already grabbing a marred hand and shoving two twenty’s into it before forcing his fist closed. 

Perhaps it was the buzz of the joint you smoked on your way, or perhaps it was the pure arousal you felt at the sight of him and the feel of his hand in yours that gave you a surge of confidence. Whatever it was, it had you saying, “Pretty clients might get a discount from you, but incredibly attractive, tattooed plugs get full pay from me.”

Azriel was stunned for a moment, by both your boldness and the shameless compliment. His mouth blubbered open, a retort just as flirty as yours on the tip of his tongue when the sound of his ringtone blaring through the car’s bluetooth speaker cut him off. 

He disconnected the call a bit too quickly, an amused smile teetering on the curves of your already twisted lips. Azriel paid no mind to his own actions, instead turning back to you with a fire in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. 

His lips parted in another attempt to speak when that gods-dammed phone interrupted him for a second time and you could no longer hold your laughter. Azriel decided there and then that the next time he saw you, he’d make sure he heard that sweetness again. 

You didn’t give him time to cut the call off again. Instead, you reached for the door handle and offered a grateful smile. “I’ll text you when I’m out.”

His senses were too on overdrive. Too torn between wanting to stop you, even if to spend a few more moments in your presence, and the deafening sound of his fucking phone. But you’d exited the car and closed the door behind you before he could do anything about it. The cash was still stuffed in his warm hands and the incoming call continued to make his ears bleed. 

“What?” Azriel seethed the second he answered the call. It was silent for a moment, the caller caught off guard by Az’s tone but that only pissed him off further. 

“It’s Brandon,” the line paused for a moment again. “You about?” 

Azriel felt his blood boil. “If I don’t fucking answer the first time, that usually means no.”

He disconnected the call without another word, marred hands now gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white. He hated the way he was reacting over you—over being interrupted from your presence. But he couldn't help it. Couldn’t get the thought out of his head of how sweet your lips probably tasted with that gloss. And without it. 

Azriel’s chest heaved slightly, that all too familiar sense of arousal tightening in his pants. He couldn’t stand this, couldn't understand how a tiny slip of your bralette could have his mind and body reacting like this. How a subtle smirk and a sultry gaze could have him ready to blow a load in his pants. 

Christ, he needed to sort himself out. Absent-mindedly, Azriel snuck a hand between his thighs, large scarred hand palming at his length through the fabrics. His breathing turned quicker, his movements growing needier. If he didn’t sort himself out soon he’d been in agony. 

With one hand on the wheel, he forced himself to drive—only for a moment or two until his Mustang was parked idly between two buildings and switched off the engine to not draw too much attention to himself. 

He was above this—above getting himself off semi-publicly. But he couldn’t fucking help it. He didn’t care how shameful and icky he might’ve felt afterwards, not when he was so desperate. 

As soon as the car was covered in shadows of darkness, he unclasped his seatbelt and unpopped the buttons of his jeans. He didn’t bother to pull them down, only releasing the zip and reaching into his boxers to tug his length free. 

The second he felt his skin on him, he shuddered. His slender fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, offering himself a teasing squeeze as he slowly moved. Azriel didn’t need lube or lotion—not when pearly beads of semi-translucent arousal leaked from his pink, ruddy tip. He smoothed it down his length, mewling at the contact he rewarded himself. 

And all he could think about was you. 

Your eyes, your lips, your voice.

He let his mind wander to sinful images of what may lay hidden beneath your clothes—beneath that little white bralette. Azriel quickened his pace as his eyes fluttered closed, the back of his head hitting the headrest. He throbbed in his hand, a gruff moan tearing from his throat. 

Azriel could picture you clearly in his head; on your knees in the footwell, your dainty hands around his cock as your lips kissed and sucked him. His hand in your hair, bobbing you on his length, watching your eyes water from the size of him as he hit the back of your throat. 

His breathing grew ragged, filthy images of your choking on his cock filling his brain, clouding his sensing and coaxing a release out of him. Azriel didn’t think he’d ever come so quickly before in his life, but the idea of you looking up at him with sultry eyes through thick lashes had him spurting warm ribbons of cum into his hand as he cupped his head to minimise the mess. A desperate attempt to replicate what he imagined the warmth of your mouth would feel like. 

As his breathing began to even out, the post-nut clarity hit him like a ton of fucking bricks. Shame boiled in his blood, a tint of pink embarrassment painted on his cheeks as if the shadows judged him, too. The idea of seeing you again while knowing what he’d done to the thought of you… it made his insides churn slightly. 

But more than that, it made his cock leap again in anticipation of soon being in your presence once more. 

“Az, what do you say? Up for a double date?” 

Feyre couldn’t hide her smile, unable to keep her emotions in check when it came to her attempts to set Azriel up. But the instant disappearance of his smile wasn’t missed on her. Nor was the way his shoulders tensed slightly. 

He sighed. “Fey, as much as I appreciate your concern for my love life, I don’t need to be set up.”

She pouted at him. Despite that always being his answer, she still held a shred of hope every time she suggested it. Even if he never changed his mind, she was willing to continuously try, even if he did find it annoying. Even if she didn’t tell him until the very last minute. 

“Who’s the lucky girl then, Az?” Nesta piped up with a wide grin from her seat in the couch, tucked closely into Cassian’s side who paid no mind to the conversation at hand. 

He rolled his eyes at her. “There is no girl.” 

“Guy, then.” Nesta scoffed, waving a hand. 

Azriel didn’t want to entertain this conversation, especially not because it had somehow brought his mind back to you. Something he’d been so desperately trying to avoid. 

Though, he supposed it was inevitable. He would be seeing you again at some point and then he’d be stuck right back where he started. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure why he was doing this to himself— why he didn’t allow himself to pursue you if that was what he truly wanted. 

His phone chimed from his pocket. 

In hindsight, it was probably a good thing that Azriel didn’t hear from you for two weeks. It gave him ample time to attempt to get his hormones in check, but it didn’t stop his blood from warming everytime he received a notification. Each time, he was left with slight disappointment to find it was just another client. 

Until today. Until now. Where your name was in fact the one on his lockscreen and all of that forgetting and willing to get you out of his mind faltered. 

You: Hey, are you free later?

Azriel: I'm free all night.

When you didn’t respond, Azriel assumed you were looking for a more direct answer. So he sent another text. 

Azriel: old tower in an hour good for you?

You: see you then.

He couldn’t help the frown that furrowed in his brows at your reply. Given, your only communication was mainly through text, and perhaps he was looking too much into it, but you didn't seem yourself. And that thought shouldn’t have irked him as much as it did. 

He barely bid anyone a goodbye, throwing a mumbled ‘see you later’ as he grabbed his shit and left. 

His first stop was to Sean, a lean Asian guy that had been buying off Azriel for two years now. He was decent enough, never tried to haggle or complain about the prices. They shared a mutual respect and minimal words were shared when Az handed him a Q and Sean gave 140 in one swift motion. 

And just like that, Azirel moved onto the next.

And then another. 

And another. 

Until he was waiting at the Old Tower and watching your silhouette approach the Mustang. You entered the car just like you always had done, though you didn’t meet his gaze this time. Instead, you kept your line of view ahead. Your hair obstructed the side of your face, effectively shielding you from his prying eyes. 

“Sorry I’m a little late.” 

Azriel absolutely did not like the quake in your voice as you spoke, nor did he like the way you seemed to cower into your body and clothes. Clothes that didn’t seem to match your usual vibe—instead, the mismatched black sweatpants and bright pink puffer jacket gave off the impression you threw on whatever was around you. 

Somehow, Azriel still thought you made it look good. On you, the outfit looked both planned and effortless. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that that wasn’t the case. 

“You good?” he asked through the piercing silence. 

You hummed, twisting the bulky silver ring on your thumb. “Yeah, just tired.” You tried your hardest to offer a convincing smile as you turned to him, but Azriel noticed the way it didn’t meet your eyes—the eyes that appeared slightly bloodshot, though he had a suspicion it wasn’t from smoking.

Not wanting to press on the matter, Az opened the compartment and pulled out a baggie of your usual amount and kept it pinched between two scarred fingers. You reached for it, the cash in your other hand but he kept his grip tight. 

Azriel raised a brow. “You’re sure you’re alright?” 

You could see the concern flood his hazel eyes, and the sight pulled on your aching heartstrings. How could someone who was a virtual stranger care more for you than the ones who were much closer in your life?

You didn’t trust your words, so you nodded and he finally released his hold on the bag. “Alright,” Az sighed. “It’s a different strain than my usual stuff, so go a little lighter with it. It’s pretty strong.” 

You were incredibly thankful for the warning, though you couldn’t help feeling a little offended. Did he really think you were so naive and new to this world that you couldn’t handle a new strain at your usual strength (which, admittedly, was very weak) without greening out? 

But as quickly as that feeling rose, it faded. He was a dealer, afterall, and he couldn’t afford to lose business all because someone thought they knew better and had a bad trip. 

“Thank you,” you muttered out, already reaching for the handle when his ruggedly soft voice stopped you. 

“You wanna smoke before you go? I can drop you back after.” 

You whipped your head to him, blinking through slightly blurred vision. With a brow raised and widened eyes, your lips parted. “Together?”

A smile stretched across his full lips, one so full of charisma and keen interest that it awakened something deep in the pit of your stomach. Something you distinctly remember feeling the last time you saw him. 

“Why not?” 

You swallowed as your hand slowly fell from the handle and made its way back in your lap. Your smile morphed into a smirk that matched his and the air shifted into something unreadable. Something palpable but not quite real. 

“Really? Do you normally smoke with your clients?” 

Azriel’s wicked grin widened. “I do with the cute ones.” 

You choked on a laugh, rolling your head back until it hit the headrest and Azriel didn’t think he’d ever seen or heard anything so fucking beautiful in his life. That laugh would haunt him in his dreams to a blissful paradise. 

“First, I’m pretty. Now I’m cute… what’s next?” 

Damn the rules he set himself. Damn the restrictions he forced when it came to someone who piqued his interest. It was about time Azriel took what he wanted for once. Even if that meant he started with no longer feeling guilty for flirting with you. 

Chewing at the inside of his cheek, Azriel started up the engine and shifted the gearstick. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” 

He tilted his head to the dashboard compartment and you pulled it open. The small warm white light lit the cove, a golden hue casting on a small yellow tin. Throwing a glance to Azriel, he nodded and you pulled it out, closing the compartment and popping open his travel tin. 

It was packed with perfectly rolled joints and blunts. The smell was strong—potent—but you didn’t mind. Not as much as you had before. You picked one random of the bunch and pinched it between two fingers. It was rolled tightly and packed full, a very small twist of paper at the end and you hummed, impressed. 

Of course he could roll perfectly. And you had a feeling just two pulls of one of those would keep you warm and fuzzy for the remainder of the night. 

“There’s a lighter in the cup holder.” Azriel spoke as he pulled out of the space and began to drive further out of the lights of the city. 

You pinched the lighter. Just a simple black one, no funky pattern or engraved initials like most others had. No, Azriel’s was one that came in a pack of five and the other four were somewhere in the car or back at his apartment. 

“We can smoke in here?” you asked softly, that crack in your voice easing. 

Az hummed, taking a right turn. “If you’re comfortable to.”

You waited a moment, eyeing the joint and then him. “You drive when you smoke?” 

He seemed to notice your somewhat apprehension when he nodded again. He turned to you briefly before flicking his eyes back on the road again. “I drive better when I’m stoned. But if you’d prefer, we can park up somewhere.” 

You shook your head, warmth caressing every inch of your body. You didn’t know what it was, but something had overcome you. An overwhelming sense of pure yearning. You could admit when you first met Az that he was attractive, incredibly so. But now? Watching him, speaking with him, smoking with him… oh God’s… you had a fucking crush on your plug. 

“You wanna start it or should I?” Azriel’s voice broke you from your epiphany and you blinked quickly, willing the rising heat to just fuck off and give you a moments reprive. 

“Oh,” you squeaked. “You can, it’s your weed.” 

He didn’t look away from the road, not for a second. With a hand on the wheel and the other shifting gears, he edged his head closer to yours and angled his face just slightly with his lips parted. You were stunned for a moment, realising what he was asking you to do, and you swallowed back that bubbling arousal as you placed the unlit joint to his lips and sparked up a flame, igniting the end.

Az hummed in thanks as he took a long, deep drag. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. He was a fucking sight. Cheeks ever so slightly hollowed and eyes barely squinted as the smoke filled his lungs. 

A scarred hand left the gearstick to reach for the joint, his thumb reaching for the bottom while his forefinger grazed the top and he pulled it away with another fresh intake of breath, settling the drug further. 

You were soaked, you were sure of it. Your previous problems from today were a distant memory as you finally watched him exhale and bring the joint to his lips again for another long pull. 

The sound of the windows opening broke you from your trance and only then did you realise you hadn’t yet put on your seatbelt. You tore your gaze away to clip yourself in and when you turned back, Azriel was offering you the joint. 

With your free hand, you accepted it, the other stuffing the cash in his cup holder with the lighter. You inspected the joint, tried not to let your heart race. You’d only ever smoked with your friends and Brandon. Never with a dealer. Never with someone like Azriel. 

You slotted your pursed lips over the same area Az did, and inhaled as deeply as you could. The burn at the back of your throat was stronger than when you smoked your own joints, and as it filled your lungs you pulled it away and held back a cough that gagged to release from your throat. 

With a shaky exhale, you swallowed around the dryness of your mouth before bringing it back to your lips for another drag. When you pulled it away, the burn wasn’t as bad and you passed it back to Azriel who took another turn on the roads. 

“Where are we going?” You pondered, a certain rasp to your voice from the strength of the joint. 

Azriel took two short pulls and angled the burning end out the window, flicking off the excess ash before offering it to you again. 

“Wherever you want,” he replied. “But first, we should probably get some food for when the munchies kick in.” 

You laughed as you exhaled another breath and handed the joint back to him, waving a hand to signal you were tapping out and did not intend on smoking anymore. Five pulls of that shit was more than enough for you. You could not handle the idea of greening out in his car with him. 

Azriel stifled a laugh and finished off the rest of the joint by the time he pulled into a drive-thru. He placed his order first, turning to you with flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. You blinked a few times, your brain requiring a few moments to catch up with what was happening. 

“I’ll have the same as you.” 

He stifled a laugh as he spoke into the machine, doubling up on his order and driving through to the next window. Azriel paid no mind to you when you attempted to offer him your money—barely even looked at you as he tapped his card against the reader and then reached for the cash in the cup holder, shoving it back in your empty palms. 

“You can keep that, too.”

You knew it wasn’t up for discussion, so you begrudgingly took your cash back and stuffed it into your jacket pocket again. Az stopped in the parking lot, the two of you eating through hushed yet uncontrollable giggles at the people that passed by. 

It was the first time you’d heard his laugh so unrestricted and it spread another shot of warmth through your body. It continued like that for another undisturbed hour, where after the food, Az sparked up another joint and began the drive to your apartment. You’d told him Old Tower was fine, but he wasn’t okay with that. 

“Too many freaks around at this time of night. I’ll drop you to your door. Put your address in the GPS.”

And it wasn’t until the drive back to your apartment that you were reminded of your previous troubles. The ones that caused your teary eyes and sombre mood. The buzz off the night felt like it had dwindled away the second you thought of your situation, and you were left slumped in your seat again, fiddling with your fingers. 

Azriel noticed your change in mood almost immediately as he glanced over to you before flicking his eyes back to the road. He took another drag of the joint. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You pondered his offer for a few moments, weighing out whether or not you should. In the end, what difference would it make? If you divulge your issues or not, it wouldn’t fix them. But perhaps talking about it might help. 

“My sister got married yesterday and no one told me.”

Azriel blinked rapidly, almost spluttering on the breath he exhaled. “What?” 

“Yeah.” 

He waited patiently, eager for some sort of explanation as to how and why something like that was kept from you. But he didn’t know the relationship with your family, he couldn’t presume anything. For all he knew, you had troubles just like his. 

“My family and I didn’t have the best relationship growing up. I was born from a toxic relationship so I was cast aside as a kid, I guess. I thought we were past that, though. I thought things were better.”

That familiar ache sat heavy in Azriel’s chest. He knew all too well the hurt that came from being shunned by your own family. He wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. Especially not somebody like you. 

“I’m sorry.” His words held such compassion and sympathy. No pity, just pure understanding. 

You blinked back the tears, not wanting to show just how much it had all affected you. But it was no use. A single drop slipped down your cheek and as quickly as it fell, you wiped it away. 

You were agitated now, extremely so. “I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend, Az.”

“Why would they do that?”

There was a pause. And then, “because her now husband was my first everything.” 

You waited for the statement to settle into the thick night air. Your first kiss, first boyfriend, first time. First love. Azriel could understand even more now just how much it hurt you. And the fact they kept it a secret? Even your family knew what they did was wrong. 

“I’m so sorry, that’s truly fucked. But you know, families suck sometimes. I only speak to my mom.”

“Oh?” You hadn’t realised you were even on your street until he parked right outside your apartment and flicked on his hazards. 

Azriel flicked the but of the smoke out the window and held out his hands, showcasing the marred flesh and patchy skin. “My half brothers did this to me when I was eight. They didn’t like that our mom had me with another man before she had them. They said that my bastard blood tainted the family, so they wanted to taint me.” 

Azriel had absolutely no fucking idea why he was divulging such an intimate and traumatic part of himself. But he made no attempt to hide or sugarcoat any of the truth. Especially not when he looked up from his hands and caught sight of your face. 

Salty tears silvered the linings of your eyes at the truth of what had happened to him. Bile crept up your throat and hatred for his family formed. Eight years old. You felt sick. 

“Az… I’m so sorry. That’s… I can’t even…”

But Azriel waved it off with a gentle smile. “It’s awful, sure. But I’m fine. I wouldn’t have met Cass and Rhys if that didn’t happen. They may be my found family, but they’re my brothers. Blood doesn't mean shit to me.”

A single tear slipped down your warm cheek, staining the skin in its wake. Azriel reached out to wipe it away, his touch gentle and soft and yet all-consuming. Your gaze met in a flickering glance of hazy eyes and fluttering lashes. 

And then next thing you knew, your lips were on his. 

Azriel was quick to kiss you back; moulding his plump lips around yours as his large palms cupped the sides of your face. He was sweet on your mouth, a hint of salt from his fries and he swiped his tongue across the seam of your lips, you almost imploded. 

Azriel was no better. The second he got a taste, he was a starved man. Your tongues met in needy strokes and Az had never tasted anything like you before. Sweet like the watermelon lip gloss you wore, and a tang of smoke that haunted your mouth. 

He was hooked, desperately fucking hooked. Your own hands reached up to hold his wrists in hopes of keeping his touch on you. Azriel kissed you deeper, licking across your teeth before settling even deeper in your mouth. 

It was needy and messy and every unspoken word of desire was poured into that kiss, your touch. He could stay like that forever, kissing you, tasting you. Azriel could feel himself stretching in his pants, and from the almost inaudible whimper that strained from the back of your throat, he was certain you were just as needy between your own thighs. 

The thought spurred him on, as it did you. Your hands trailed down his forearms to his biceps, feeling at the muscle that tensed beneath your touch, until your arms were wrapping around his neck and he was pulling you closer over the centre console. 

Azriel kept a palm caressing your jaw while the other snaked to the side of your neck, his long fingers weaving through the hair at your nape and blunt fingernails scratching at your scalp. 

In your drug and lust filled haze, Azriel was shifting in his seat. You let one arm leave his body to reach for your seatbelt, planning to unbuckle it and crawl into his lap for a deeper, richer taste of him. 

But the second the safety belt was released, the blaring sound of an incoming call through the car's speaker jolted you both apart. It was then, and only then, that the gravity of the situation finally sunk in. 

His eyes were glazed over with something you’d never seen on him before, his lips even plumper and smeared with your gloss. You didn’t look much better. Only your eyes were wider than his and your hair had been a lot more dishevelled. 

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the insistent ringing of his phone jarring your eardrums. For the fourth time tonight, warmth settled over you again but in the form of embarrassment. He confided in you about a trauma so deep, and you’d kissed him. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologised breathlessly. 

Too caught up in your own fear and anxiety of what you’d done, you missed the way Azriel’s brows furrowed. His confusion quickly turned into panic when the thought settled in that perhaps you had regretted it. That even though you kissed him, perhaps you felt he had pressured you. 

And that made him sick to his stomach. 

Before Azriel could utter a single word, your hand was on the door handle and you were pushing it open. “I’m sorry, I should go.” 

You climbed out of the car as you uttered another apology, and slammed the door shut without so much as offering him another glance. The incoming call died to voicemail but Az couldn’t take his eyes off your empty seat, couldn’t get the taste of you off his tongue, the feel of your lips off his. 

Frustration grew at himself. Azriel turned forward in his seat, nostrils flared and teeth grit. He’d fucked it. He’d gone and fucked it entirely. His open palm smacked against the wheel before gripping it tightly, taking a moment to compose himself. 

He looked over at your seat again. 

Despite the lack of your physical presence, you were still there. In scent and touch and taste. 

Azriel was fucking done for. 

A/N: guys you have no idea how EXCITED I am to finally be reposting this series. I love plug!az with every fibre of my being and I cannot wait to share it again and finally finish it!!! This is the original first and second part merged together and I’ll be scheduling the next part for some time next week!!

If you enjoyed it please consider giving it a like and reblog! Writers love to hear your feedback <3

[tedmustache]

bartender younger girlfriend, who gets brought in during Jack’s shift with a broken nose

Bar Fight

Pairing: Jack Abbott x Bartender!Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings/tags: protective!Jack, Hurt/Comfort, established relationship, age gap, physical assault (non-graphic), mentions of blood and bruising, medical setting, brief description of injury (broken nose)

Summary: A rough night leads Y/N to the ER, and Jack’s only priority is making sure she’s okay.

Requests are open | Masterlist

[...]

Jack Abbott wasn’t supposed to be on shift that long. He’d promised himself it would be a short one, just enough to help with the overflow, check on a couple trauma consults, and go home at a decent hour.

But like most promises in a trauma hospital, that one didn’t last.

He was just finishing up suturing a deep forearm laceration from a kitchen accident when Dr. Shen appeared in the doorway of the bay, his expression unreadable, which was never a good sign.

“Jack” Shen said. “You need to come to Bay 3. Now.”

Jack didn’t look up from his stitches right away. “Can it wait? I’m almost—”

“It’s Y/N” Shen said quietly. “She just walked in. Looks like a broken nose. Possibly more.”

Jack froze.

His hands were steady, but the world around him blurred for a second. He didn’t even register the nurse beside him offering to finish up the sutures. He set the needle driver down carefully, turned on his heel, and was gone without another word.

The walk through the ER felt like it took forever and no time at all. The second he rounded the corner into Bay 3, his chest tightened so hard it knocked the air from his lungs.

She was sitting on the edge of a gurney, shoulders tense, one hand pressing a bloodied towel to her face. She wore her usual bartending clothes, and her apron still hung half tied around her waist. Her lower lip was split, and blood streaked her cheek where it had run from her nose.

But she was upright. Conscious. Breathing.

“Jack” she breathed when she saw him.

He crossed the room in three steps, his hands already reaching for her but stopping short, hovering just in front of her face like he was afraid to hurt her.

“What happened?” he asked, voice low and tight.

“A guy at the bar didn’t like being cut off. Got grabby. I shoved him, and he hit me.” Her voice was slightly nasal from the swelling. “Security dragged him out. I’m fine, really”

“You’re not fine” Jack said. His eyes scanned every inch of her face, then flicked to her arms, her torso, looking for more injuries. “He hit you? With what? His hand? An object?”

“Just his fist. Straight to the nose. Guess he got lucky.”

He inhaled sharply, jaw clenched. “Lucky” he echoed. “Right.”

He turned to the nurse. “She’s with me. I’ll handle this.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but the nurse nodded and stepped back, shooting her a knowing look before slipping out behind the curtain.

Jack finally touched her, gently cupping her cheek, brushing a smear of dried blood away with his thumb. His fingers trembled ever so slightly.

“You should’ve called me.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt your shift—”

“I don’t give a damn about my shift when you walk in bleeding” he said. “You could’ve passed out on the way here. What if you were concussed? What if he’d done worse?”

“I’m okay,” she said softly, leaning into his touch despite the ache.

“You’re bleeding,” he said again, like he didn’t believe it even now. “Come on. Let’s take a closer look.”

He helped her down gently and guided her to a nearby trauma room a little more private, quieter. Once inside, he sat her on the gurney and clicked on the overhead lamp, his eyes still dark with concern.

She let him work in silence as he palpated around her nose and cheekbones with skilled fingers.

“Definitely broken” he said after a moment. “Clean break, though. No eye socket involvement. You’re lucky.”

“I keep hearing that tonight” she muttered.

Jack didn’t smile. “I’m not joking.”

He grabbed supplies and paused when he turned back to her.

“Can I?” he asked, lifting the syringe gently.

She nodded. “Go for it. You’ve already seen me cry over Disney movies. I can’t embarrass myself any further.”

Jack let out a breath, a faint smile ghosting across his lips, and injected the anesthetic with careful precision. He watched her the whole time, not just the injection site, but her face, her breathing, any sign that she was flinching or hiding pain.

“Jack” she murmured when he stepped back. “You don’t have to baby me.”

“Yes, I do” he said simply. “Because you’re mine. And someone hurt you.”

The softness of his voice made her chest ache in a completely different way.

He splinted her nose with steady hands, but when he was done, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he sat on the gurney beside her, his hand sliding gently into hers.

“You could’ve been seriously hurt.”

“I’ve had worse bar fights.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“I know” she whispered. “But I handled it. I’m okay now.”

Jack looked at her like she had no idea what her own face looked like. “You’re bleeding. Bruised. Shaken up. That’s not okay in my book.”

She reached up with her free hand and tugged at his sleeve. “But you’re here now.”

He exhaled slowly and leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, mindful of the splint.

“I don’t care how many hours I’ve worked. If anything like this happens again, you call me first. Understood?”

She nodded. “Yes, Dr. Abbot.”

“That’s not fair” he said, finally letting a smile creep into his voice. “You’re not allowed to flirt while wearing a bandage I applied.”

She snorted, then winced. “Ow. Okay, laughing hurts. New rule: no jokes.”

Jack kissed the top of her head gently.

They sat in silence for a few more moments, his fingers laced with hers, the chaos of the ER muffled behind the curtain.

Eventually, Jack glanced down at her and asked, “Want to come home with me tonight?”

She looked up at him through tired eyes. “I thought you were on call.”

“My shift is almost over”

Y/N smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. “Only if you let me eat ice cream for dinner.”

“Done.”

“And let me control the TV.”

He hesitated. “Even if you choose reality dating shows?”

She looked up at him, smug. “Especially then.”

He groaned. “Fine. But only because you got punched in the face.”

She leaned into him, warm and safe. “You’re a very romantic trauma doctor, you know that?”

He kissed her temple again. “Only for you.”

[...]

Back at his apartment, Jack cleaned the last of the blood from her face, his touch impossibly soft while she put on the last episode of a reality show he didn’t know the name

"You’re gonna have a hell of a shiner tomorrow" he muttered, tracing the bruise.

Y/N shrugged. "Worth it. Dude’s banned for life."

Jack’s expression darkened. "He’s lucky that’s all that happened."

She studied him. The tension in his shoulders, the storm in his eyes, and sighed. "Jack."

"What?"

"You’re doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"That thing. Where you look like you’re five seconds away from hunting someone down."

He didn’t deny it.

Y/N cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. "I’m fine. I Promise."

Jack exhaled sharply, leaning into her touch. "...I hate seeing you hurt."

"I know." She smiled. "But you fixed me up pretty good, Doc."

He huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Damn right I did."

“...I love you, you know.”

“I know,” he said, brushing his thumb across her temple. “And I love you too.”

And when she curled into his side that night. Safe, warm, his. Jack swore to himself that no one would ever lay a hand on her again.

[randombush3]

solo necesitaba estar aquí

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: some much-needed family time is had

Words: 2134

Notes: I got bored and this came to mind

You’re busy. As in, drowning in calls, constantly approached by your juniors, never-seeing-the-light-of-day busy. You don’t even remember the last time you sat down and had dinner with your wife and child. You pay a woman to replace both his mothers.

The sun has already set, the view of orange slowly dimming into darkness especially visible from your newly-obtained corner office. There must be about two more hours left on your schedule today, explaining the fresh coffee on your desk. And you’re tired, but you love this job. It’s worth it.

Your assistant — new, bumbling as he tries to grow accustomed to your discipline and efficiency — appears, phone in-hand.

“Is that New York?” is your immediate question, noting the terror on his face with slight amusement. It always takes a while for the young ones to break.

He shakes his head. The words he mouths are far scarier: it’s your wife.

You stand up.

“Give it to me.” The phone is searing hot, and you know that this is not a call of affection. “Alexia, baby, hi!”

“La profe ha dicho que somos madres terribles.”

You check the date on the screen of your laptop. “Oh, there was that meeting, wasn’t there?”

“You said you’d come.”

“I thought we’d both agreed to send Luisa?” In truth, you had. Alexia is in the most crucial part of the season, playing matches that decide her glory (and her mood during summer). “Did you go?”

“No. But at least I was home to ask him how it went.”

You rub your temples. Your assistant has taken his cue to leave, hovering on the other side of the glass door as if it will save him from the bomb that’s about to go off. “Okay. Well, what did he say? Are you with him right now?”

“Luisa’s is getting him ready for bed,” Alexia replies with a deep sigh. You gather there is no good news to give. “He told her that he never sees us. No malice intended — a simple: mis mamás son tan importantes. And the teacher took it as, mis mamás son demasiado importantes.”

“He didn’t lie.”

“And you don’t feel guilty?”

You think back to the last time you spent uninterrupted time with your son. It must have been Alexia’s last match — no, you had to leave because of a crisis in Tokyo. Maybe before that?

“We’ve spent the last seven years being parents he can be proud of. But he… doesn’t even see us.”

“You’re home right now!”

“Just in time to kiss him goodnight!”

Your breath hitches.

That’s supposed to be enough. That’s supposed to be the line that closes the argument, the past where she tells you it’s okay, that you’re trying. That your intentions are good and true and she isn’t a saint either.

But she doesn’t say anything.

A sudden wave of exhaustion hits you, and you find your desk chair, constantly warmed and broken in, and sink back into it, the city glowing behind you like a silent reprimand. You lean forwards, elbow on the desk, fingers still pressed against your temple.

She’s on speaker now. It almost feels like she’s in the room with you.

“I thought we were doing the right thing,” you say finally, quieter now. “Working this hard. Building something for him.”

There’s a pause. A cavity opens up between the two of you. Alexia no longer agrees. “He just wants parents.”

It stings more than it should. Because deep down, you knew it. You’ve known it for a while — in the drawings where Luisa is front and centre, where you and Alexia are smiling stock figures tucked away in the corner. You knew it when he started calling her mamá Luisa, without hesitation or confusion.

“He told her,” Alexia continues, voice breaking just slightly, “that sometimes he pretends we’re home. That he hears the door open and he thinks it’s one of us — and he gets all… excited, just for it to be a delivery or a friend, or the neighbours checking in on him.”

You let out a long breath, eyes falling shut. “He’s seven. He shouldn’t know disappointment like that.”

Silence. But she’s still on the line. You can hear her breathing — steady, controlled. Like she’s bracing herself to say something worse.

“I have a few matches left this season,” she says. “Then I’m home until the Euros.”

“And I have Tokyo, then Berlin. After that, a quarterly review. Shareholder summit in—”

“No,” she interrupts. “You have a son. Who misses you. That comes first.”

You want to argue. You want to say it’s not that easy, that you don’t just get to drop everything. But maybe it is that easy. Maybe the hard part is admitting you’ve made the wrong choice more times than you can count.

“I’ll clear the week after Tokyo,” you say finally. “We’ll take him to that dinosaur park he keeps asking about. No phones. Just us.”

“Both of us,” Alexia says firmly. “No pulling out last minute.”

“I promise.”

Another silence — but a warmer one, less weighted. For a moment, it’s just the two of you breathing, the world quietly changing as you make your decision.

“I miss you,” she says softly.

And suddenly, more than the job, more than the office, more than the city stretched out in front of you — you just want to go home.

…

He squeals with delight as you march through arrivals, Alexia unable to control his surge into the crowd to attach himself to you. Hands meet your leg and you scoop him up, surprised by how much heavier he is, pulling him into you as you make your way to your wife.

That conversation a few months ago has been a much-needed catalyst for change.

Tokyo was good, perfect for networking, but it wasn’t home.

It's not this.

“I missed you, campeón,” you whisper in his ear as you reach Alexia, smiling at the slight sheen in her eyes. “I’m so glad I could come home early.”

Alexia doesn’t need to respond for her answer to be known.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of tiny feet sprinting down the hallway and slamming into the door of your bedroom.

“¡Hoy es el día de los dinosaurios!” he yells, muffled through the wood like some kind of pint-sized town crier. “Y tú lo prometiste, MAMÁ. ¡LO PROMETISTE!”

Alexia groans from beside you, face buried deep in the pillow, muscles aching from the dregs of the season and the thought of the build-up to the Euros. “What have we done?”

“We’ve entered legally binding verbal contract,” you mutter, already reaching for your phone to cancel the one remaining telecon you hadn’t yet axed. You text your assistant a quick: Push everything back, I’m being held hostage by a T-Rex.

The reply comes instantly: Understood. Good luck, boss.

…

At the dinosaur park, all bets are off.

He spots a rickety, questionably-safe ‘Dino Dig Zone’ and points with an index rivalling Augustus’ ad locutio in the Prima Porta. “There. I’m going to dig for bones. I need gloves. And goggles. And snacks.”

Unsurprisingly, there’s a board listing the prices of those exact items. Alexia gives you one glance before nudging you towards the till.

You buy him the whole kit — gloves three sizes too big, a neon-green hard hat, safety goggles with actual working headlamps. He looks like a very tiny paleontologist sponsored by a very eccentric energy drink company. You and Alexia exchange a look, but say nothing.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s not digging. He’s sitting on top of the dig site, dramatically narrating the excavation like David Attenborough. You have no idea where he learnt the technical terms, but maybe your background checks on Luisa didn’t include her supposed paleontology degree.

“Here,” he says, pointing at what is very obviously a plastic ribcage, “we find the remains of the mamasaurio, a terrifying beast who never misses football training and always scores the best goals.”

Alexia snorts. “Okay, I like this version of me.”

You’re not so lucky.

“And next to it — the dinochefejecutiva. She’s very rare to see. She lives mostly in airports.”

You choke on your iced coffee.

The gift shop is a disaster. You tell him he can pick one souvenir. He picks seven (one for every year you’ve missed, apparently — he’s a master manipulator). Alexia leans down to bargain with him while you tap out and retreat to the picnic benches outside. She emerges twenty minutes later, dazed, holding two dinosaur hoodies, a talking plush stegosaurus, a fossil-shaped backpack, glow-in-the-dark dino socks, and a hat with T-REX CEO embroidered in sparkly thread.

“He hustled me,” she whispers to you.

You smirk. “It’s not hard.”

He wears everything at once for the rest of the day, waddling around like an overburdened prehistoric fashion icon, munching on overpriced churros and announcing to anyone who will listen that today is his yes day. You and Alexia trail behind him, laughing, holding hands, slowly starting to believe you might actually remember how to do this — this parenting thing, this family thing, this loving-each-other-and-showing-up thing.

When he falls asleep in the car, surrounded by stuffed animals and crumbs and the remains of a dino tail-shaped lollipop, Alexia turns to you.

“You know,” she says, voice soft with something like peace, “I think this was the best investment we’ve ever made.”

You glance at the back seat — at your snoring, sugar-comatose son — and then at your wife, radiant even after she was forced to hold a melting ice-lolly that stained her white t-shirt.

You smile. “Returns have been excellent so far.”

Dinner that night is chaotic, but surprisingly demanded even after a day of junk food that nearly sent your two-time Ballon d’Or into a mental breakdown.

He’s still riding the sugar high from the park, sprawled across the kitchen floor in his dino hoodie, tiny plastic stegosaurus tucked into the crook of his arm like he gave birth to it. You’re rummaging through cabinets blindly — unsure when Luisa last reorganised them and finding her system incredibly confusing.

Alexia’s leaning against the counter, eyeing the situation with a suspicious mix of amusement and concern. “Are you sure about this?” she asks as you pull out spaghetti, three different cheeses, and something you think is tomato sauce but might be expired salsa.

“Yep,” you lie.

Halfway through the prep, he finally looks up from his playtime and asks, “Where’s Luisa?”

Alexia freezes mid-chop. You glance over your shoulder and smile, holding up your sauce-stained wooden spoon like it’s proof of competence. “You do know that we can cook, right?”

He blinks. Then, slowly: “Que va.”

“Excuse you,” Alexia says, squinting at him like he’s just insulted her entire bloodline. “Mamá once made lasagna so good it made grown men cry.”

“Did they cry because of the cheese?” he asks seriously.

“Emotionally? Yes,” you cut in. “Digestively? Also yes.”

Dinner ends up being… edible. Barely. The spaghetti is overcooked, the sauce has a suspicious kick that might be from Alexia mistaking god-knows-what for paprika, and the garlic bread ends up more like garlic crackers. But he eats it anyway — every bite — grinning like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“You’re both kinda good at this,” he says between chews.

“Kinda good?” you echo, with faux offence.

“Like… Luisa would do it faster.” He shrugs at Alexia’s raised eyebrows. “But this is nice.”

You and Alexia exchange a glance over his head, soft and knowing. She reaches under the table to squeeze your knee.

“Did you have fun today?” you ask, hoping your tentativeness is well-hidden.

He nods with enthusiasm.

“Let’s do it again tomorrow!”

He’s raised in his seat and almost rearing to go.

“How about bedtime first before we plan more yes-days?” Alexia negotiates, this time successfully.

Later, after bedtime stories and lights out and one too many requests for water, you crawl into bed next to her. The silence is warm and easy, the soft glow of her bedside lamp all you need to help you relax. Her back presses into your chest, and you bury your face into her shoulder, finally relaxed in a way you haven’t been in months.

And then, her voice, low and a little smug: “Now that you’re home…”

You smile against her skin. “Yeah?”

She turns just slightly, her hand brushing across your hip, teasing. “I’ve got a few… yes-days of my own in mind.”

You let out a laugh, quiet and breathless. “You drive a hard bargain, capitana.”

She smirks, settling deeper into your arms. “Better keep up, dinochefejecutiva. Or I’m benching you.”

“Not the bench,” you whisper dramatically, already pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Anything but the bench.”

She hums, wicked and sweet. “Then show me you’ve still got game.”

[iknow-youknow-hyunho]

feels so good (minsung x afab!reader)

Rating: Explicit (minors DO NOT INTERACT!)

Pairing: Lee Minho x Han Jisung x Reader – reader is AFAB, I used they/them pronouns when pronouns were unavoidable + there is no description of the reader’s appearance or body (except for naming body parts, referred to as “pussy” and “breasts”)

Word count: ~14,5k

Summary: You go to a party at the SKZ dorms, play some party games, and things take a somewhat unexpected twist at the end of the night.

Content warnings: alcohol + drinking games (but no one is particularly drunk), explicit language, handjobs, fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), P in V sex, scratching, light spanking, use of pet names (“baby”, “kitten”)

Author’s note: this is my first SKZ fic, I hope you enjoy <3 would appreciate any and all feedback! Use protection and don’t forget to pee after sex if u have a vagina xoxo.

It was party night with Stray Kids. You were looking forward to this, but you were also quite nervous. You hadn’t been a part of their close circle for very long yet and you’d only partied with them a couple of times before in that time period. Their schedules didn’t often allow for very much time off, especially with all eight of them being free on the same evening and the next day as well. This was one of those rare instances in which they all had an entire weekend off, so you knew what that meant.

Yes, the boys were all in their twenties, but they still often acted like a group of rowdy teenagers, and if you were honest, this was one of the things you loved most about them. You liked that they didn’t take things too seriously, that they enjoyed games and having fun and doing whatever it was they felt like without worrying about what anyone else thought. They were pretty accustomed to acting silly on camera already, but especially in the privacy of their own homes, they really didn’t hold back. You enjoyed being around that kind of energy because you had always struggled to fully let out your crazy, playful side. But simply by being around them for a couple of months at this point, you were slowly starting to loosen up. And so tonight would be good. You just hoped that you could leave your worries behind and let yourself fully enjoy the chaos.

Of course it didn’t help that you had a massive crush on Minho, of all people, and were mortified of him finding out. He was so hard to read and it was definitely taking him the longest out of everyone to really thaw to you, although you did get along fairly well by now. But it just hadn’t quite reached that place of effortless ease yet that you’d gotten to naturally with most of the others – some more so than the rest. You got along particularly well with Jisung and Hyunjin and had become very comfortable being your true self around them. The rest of the group even joked around that you were Minho’s unofficial Paboracha replacement member when he wasn’t around, which happened occasionally. He was fond of quiet alone time just as much as he loved hanging out with the rest of the gang, which was something you could relate to and yet another reason you felt drawn to him. But you were very afraid of being laughed at should he find out how you felt. You knew him well enough to be pretty sure he would never be so cruel, even if he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, but your stupid anxiety-riddled brain still loved to present you with worst-case scenarios that you couldn’t quite disregard.

On top of that, you genuinely weren’t sure if there was something romantic going on between him and Jisung and did not want to cause problems if there was. Stray Kids were all fairly open with each other in terms of physical and emotional closeness – and had, at least partially, begun to include you in that, which you loved. They were like this even more so when the cameras were off, but you still didn’t know if there were any relationship boundaries that you weren’t aware of and did not want to unintentionally step on anyone’s toes. So needless to say, you felt there was a lot at stake.

You didn’t think it was completely unrealistic that your crush would come out at some point tonight, even though you hadn’t explicitly confessed it to anybody yet. The group was very used to teasing each other, didn’t seem to have many secrets between them, and was extremely good at reading each other – not surprising, given the sheer amount of time everyone spent together. Add alcohol and party games to the mix and the chances became exponentially higher of your secret seeing the light of day. You knew that none of the boys would ever cross any boundaries if you seriously set them and told them you didn’t want to talk about something, but you were afraid your behavior would give you away regardless. Still, you were excited for a night of fun and craziness with your eight favorite people, and you didn’t want to let your worries take that away from you.

As you were making your way over to the dorms, specifically Felix and Seungmin’s, which had been decided on as the location for tonight’s party, your phone buzzed. Minho had just texted the group chat that he would be running late, as he was still taking care of a few things. At first, disappointment washed over you. You were very much looking forward to seeing him – even if the interactions between you two didn’t always flow as easily as you wanted, just being around him made you happy. But when you thought about it a little longer, you realized this could be a good thing. It could give you a chance to loosen up and get used to the atmosphere enough to hopefully get out of your head and into the moment as much as possible by the time he got there. With that slight bit of relief in mind, you quickened your pace as you got off the subway and soon arrived at the SKZ dorms, where Felix buzzed you in once you texted him that you were downstairs. He was waiting to greet you at the door of his dorm with an enormous grin on his face and you felt your heart warm instantly at the sight.

---

It was a couple of drinks, some chatting and a few quick games into the night. The atmosphere was light-hearted, everyone was loose and laughing, and you could tell the general consensus was to spice things up a little bit. And so you weren’t particularly surprised when Felix suggested playing Truth or Dare. It was a game that combined everything he loved: seeing his best friends be silly as well as bonding over shared secrets and anecdotes. Jisung, a lover of chaos, shouted his agreement quickly once Felix brought up the suggestion. Jeongin and Chan pretended like they didn’t want to play at first, but you knew from experience that once the game started, Chan could never hide his genuine laugh at the antics, while Jeongin’s appalled face in situations like these was always put on and he was, in fact, enjoying himself. The two of them alone couldn’t override the rest of the group’s wishes regardless. Even if they’d truly wanted to – one look at Felix’s pleading pout would turn anyone weak.

And so Seungmin began smirking while Changbin rubbed his hands together in glee as you all settled in a circle. Some of you sat on the floor, some on the sofas and armchairs that stood around where the coffee table usually was; it had been moved to the side for tonight. Hyunjin plopped down onto a big armchair, pulling you with him. He casually rested his arms on top of your legs as you draped them across his. Once everyone had settled you made eye contact with Felix, whose eyes glinted from the other side of the circle, before he shifted them to look at the man sitting with you.

“Hyunjin, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Hyunjin smirked, radiating confidence, his facial expression basically begging Felix to do his worst. But it was Felix, and Felix was an angel who took every opportunity to see his friends be cute with each other, so he started the game off by daring Hyunjin to kiss anyone of his choosing on the cheek. You groaned in mock annoyance as Hyunjin shifted your legs off of him in order to fulfill his dare, but just before he could, Felix told him to wait and ran out of the room quickly. When he returned he was carrying red lipstick, which he handed to his friend. The latter took it from him reluctantly and Felix grinned in delight.

While Hyunjin was applying the lipstick, Changbin couldn’t stop himself from shouting out how beautiful he looked and proceeding to offer himself repeatedly and quite enthusiastically as the “kiss victim”. This earned him a light punch on the arm from Jisung, who was next to him on the ground. Hyunjin threw his head back, laughing out loud, and shot Changbin a grin before kneeling down next to Jeongin instead. Changbin crossed his arms and sent a mock-offended pout Hyunjin’s way, but he couldn’t hold his giggle back for long at the scene that was unfolding.

Jeongin was protesting vehemently and wailing as Hyunjin got closer and closer to him, straining his neck to move his head as far away as possible. But he couldn’t prevent the inevitable, and when Hyunjin gave him a big smacker on the cheek, leaving a bright red mark, the smile on his face spoke for itself – as did the overjoyed expressions on everyone else’s. Chan reached over to pinch a fake-pouty Jeongin’s other cheek, delighted. You found yourself grinning as well as a red-lipped Hyunjin returned to the armchair and you made space for him to get back into his earlier position, draping your legs back over his body and reaching up to run your hand over his hair affectionately as you did.

Hyunjin proceeded to dare Changbin to freestyle a sexy dance, which he gladly did, quickly hijacking the playlist in order to play one of his favorite girl group songs. Then he strutted into the center of the group, half-drunk beer in hand, and gave it his all, finishing his little dance off with a hip thrust and wink in Hyunjin’s direction. The latter couldn’t stop laughing in delight the entire time – you could feel his entire body vibrating from it and it made you giggle uncontrollably as well.

You took a moment to appreciate the pure positive energy in this room. Jeongin was still shielding his eyes from when Changbin had shaken his butt in his direction; Felix was grinning from ear to ear; Jisung was doubled over in tears from laughter. You felt so warm and fuzzy inside, surrounded by your favorite people. Only Minho was missing to complete this moment. But he would be here soon, and for now everything was going as you had hoped: you were feeling quite relaxed.

Despite that, you had still decided to stick to dares for now in order to avoid any potentially awkward questions, so when Changbin picked you to go next, he ended up daring you to sing a part of one of SKZ’s songs. You groaned and smacked your hand against your forehead, knowing full well you were about to embarrass yourself. But then again – these boys embarrassed themselves all the time. And you loved them for it. Time to steer into the chaos, then. You cleared your throat exaggeratedly, then proceeded to rap Felix’s part in “Maze of Memories”, complete with a fake deep voice and terrible Australian accent, dancing around on your armchair with Hyunjin while everyone else cheered and pumped their fists.

Next you dared Jisung to close his eyes and let Seungmin feed him something without knowing what it would be. This earned you a smile from Seungmin that could only be described as pure evil before he went and got a slice of lemon to stick in Jisung’s mouth. The latter’s expression was priceless as he bit into it.

As the game wore on, your cheeks began to almost hurt from laughter. More truths and dares were flung around the group, among them: Chan eating a spoonful of hot sauce, which made him turn as red as a tomato; Felix shamefully revealing his most recent League of Legends stats; Seungmin reading out his most recent Google searches (some of which were very questionable); Jeongin letting Chan do his hair full of sparkly ribbons and little butterfly clips (no one questioning why Felix had all of these just laying around); Changbin recalling an embarrassing story about a time he’d mistakenly thought someone wanted his autograph, but they’d really just needed his signature on a receipt; Jisung revealing the weirdest place he’d ever had sex, and Hyunjin drawing a silly, purposely bad picture of one of the others and letting everyone guess who it was supposed to be. Eventually you were asked again.

You picked dare, and when Hyunjin dared you to kiss somebody on the lips with a smirk on his face, you ooh-ed right along with the rest of the group, in too good of a mood to overthink anything right now. You glanced around the room at all the boys, but you wanted this to be as comfortable as possible, so you were really only considering your two closest friends for it. And since you didn’t feel like getting lipstick on you right now, you quickly got up off of Hyunjin’s lap and crossed the circle to kneel in front of Jisung. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink as he giggled along with you. You made sure to ask if he was okay with this, and when he nodded you could hear Changbin cackling to one side of you and were well aware of Chan grinning on the other. Then, before you knew it, your lips were on Jisung’s and your hands had found their way into his hair.

Maybe it was the alcohol you’d had – you weren’t really drunk, but definitely tipsy. Or maybe it was a momentary lapse in reason, who knew. But all of a sudden you felt like you were experiencing that cliché shit that’s always described in romance novels or seen in cheesy movies. Like… you genuinely could have sworn that time stopped and the world around you melted away for a second. That was how good it was, and you had not been prepared to feel that way. Jisung’s hair was so fluffy, his lips were so soft, he tasted so sweet, and you wanted to deepen the kiss so badly… but it was over before you knew it, because as soon as his fingers found their way onto the small of your back and you felt his tongue lightly brush your lips, it hit you that you were currently being watched by six other pairs of eyes.

And just like that, the world came back into focus and Changbin’s signature high-pitched giggle penetrated your ears. You pulled away from Jisung and looked at him sheepishly – his mouth was still open, cheeks still flushed. Then you made your way back to the other side of the room. You settled on the floor below the armchair this time, between Hyunjin’s legs, wrapping an arm around one of them as if to ground yourself with it. The rest of the group was laughing and wolf-whistling. You made eye contact with a wide-eyed Han Jisung once more before quickly averting your gaze and clearing your throat when Seungmin reminded you that it was your turn.

“Right,” you laughed, trying desperately to play it cool, and quickly asked Seungmin, who picked dare. You dared him to make what he thought Chan’s orgasm face would look like, earning hysterical laughter and cries of outrage (ahem, Jeongin). Chan himself seemed too stunned to react at all. And just like that your mood began to lighten up once more, though you would have been lying if you’d said you weren’t still thinking about the feel of Jisung’s lips on yours and that little ghost of a touch of his hands on your back. It wasn’t like he’d never touched you before – he did it all the time. But this had been different. Now was not the time though, so you willed yourself to focus on the game. Seungmin had just dared Jeongin to greet Minho like one of his cats once said man arrived. And oh. Right. Minho. There was still Minho to think about. Mysterious, sexy Minho, who you had been unable to keep your mind off of for months. Mysterious, sexy Minho, who you had forgotten about for a moment there. 

And as if he had known, just then the second oldest of the boys walked through the door. Your stomach did that somersault thing it always did when you saw him. He made eye contact with you as he entered the dorm with an extra six-pack of beers in one hand. Your heart leapt into your throat as you gave him a small wave… and then he was looking down in confusion at a red-faced Jeongin with a kiss mark on his cheek as well as ribbons and clips all over his hair. The maknae was rubbing against Minho’s legs on all fours, eventually even meowing once after the rest of the group begged him to do so. Minho’s confused expression turned into an amused smirk and he bent down to pat the youngest on the head gently. Jeongin blushed and quickly made his way back to his spot on the floor, where he buried his head in his knees. Chan reached over to ruffle his hair and the group’s giggles that seemingly hadn’t stopped all night grew even louder, reverberating around the room.

The game naturally ceased as regular conversation returned. The group caught Minho up to speed on some of what he had missed while he cracked open a beer – though for some reason no one brought up your kiss with Jisung. You certainly weren’t going to. Minho explained that he’d been intending to arrive earlier, but had had a few things to deal with that had been stressing him out. He then declared that he just wanted to relax and catch up on the drinking a little bit, and that was when Felix got that little glimmer in his eyes once more that told you he wanted to play another game – and sure enough, he suggested Never Have I Ever next.

“Come on, we haven’t played this one in ages!” he exclaimed excitedly, looking around the room for approval. Seungmin nodded his agreement as he sat back down on the floor cross-legged; he had just returned from the kitchen with a couple of bowls of chips he placed in the middle for everyone. You quickly grabbed one of them for you and Hyunjin to share. A few of the others agreed enthusiastically as well while reaching for the snacks themselves. You noticed Minho hadn’t reacted to Felix’s suggestion and the younger Australian quickly addressed him. “Come on, hyung, this’ll get you in the party mood!”

Minho had settled beside Jisung by now, the two of them sitting close together at the foot of a sofa, their backs leaning against it, their legs touching. Jisung nudged Minho in the ribs and encouraged him with a playful “Come on, baby!”, which Minho responded to with an eyeroll and a “Fine.” But a crooked little smile graced his lips and Felix clapped happily.

This particular game was one you had never played with the boys before. You were sure there weren’t many secrets between them, so to them it was probably more a game of exposing each other and targeting individuals to drink rather than actually finding out juicy secrets, but you were bound to learn quite a bit about them and them about you. And mostly everyone seemed to be in quite a spicy mood. The questions went to all sorts of raunchy places that had Jeongin shaking his head, from things as comparatively harmless as “Never have I ever gone skinny dipping” to topics such as sexual experiences and even kinks. Occasionally, innocent questions were thrown in by somebody just to keep it light (and keep Jeongin from losing his mind entirely).

Throughout the game you found yourself sneaking glances over to Jisung without initially being aware you were doing it a lot of the time. In fact, your eyes were on him almost as often as they were on Minho right now, though every time you noticed yourself looking in their direction, you tried to stop. But you couldn’t help but feel Jisung’s eyes on you too, and eventually Minho started eyeing both of you, seeming to have picked up on something. He looked mildly irritated, as if he couldn’t figure out what exactly was going on. When his eyes met yours, you quickly averted your gaze again and tried your best to focus on the game that was happening.

Which became easy once Jeongin spoke up with the next question. The question itself wasn’t shocking, especially given the direction the game had already gone in. It was the fact that it had come from the youngest, who claimed not to want to indulge everyone else’s dirty minds, that made it so surprising.

“Never have I ever had a sex dream involving someone in this room,” he grinned, eyes scanning the group as he himself raised his beer to his lips. You looked up at Hyunjin who smirked, taking a sip as well. Changbin couldn’t hold himself back from shouting “It was about me, right? You can tell them it was about me, Hyunjin-ah, it’s okay!”, which got everyone giggling again. You drank too, but avoided looking at anybody else as you did so. Actually, it seemed like everybody in the room had taken a sip at that question.

Seungmin decided to take it a step further when it was his turn next. “Never have I ever fooled around with anybody in this room,” he stated with a deadpan expression, and your eyes widened in anticipation as you looked up from your beer, trying not to make it too obvious that you were most curious as to whether or not Jisung and Minho would drink. You saw that Minho had a hand resting on Jisung’s thigh by this point. And then, sure enough, the two of them raised their beers to take a sip at roughly the same time, even exchanging a tiny little blink-and-you’d-miss-it smile as they did. You also noticed Jisung’s cheeks turning a light pink. You suddenly became very aware of your heart pounding heavily in your chest.

You did notice a couple of other beers being raised in your peripheral vision, including Hyunjin’s right next to you – you were back on the armchair at this point. But to be completely honest, you weren’t paying enough attention to really register who else was drinking. You would definitely kick yourself for this later, but right now you were simply focused on the confirmation of Jisung and Minho’s relationship being (or at least at some point having been) more than platonic – and what knowing that was doing to you.

You weren’t sure at all how to feel about it, especially because at this point in the night you were painfully aware of how badly you wanted to kiss (and do more than that with) not just Minho, but also Jisung again – that second part you really hadn’t planned on. And maybe it was just the alcohol clouding your brain, but it didn’t really feel that way, because you still weren’t really drunk. You were only taking small sips of beer and drinking lots of water in between.

It was so hard to make sense of what you were feeling. You weren’t jealous of the two of them being with each other. You wanted them to enjoy themselves and be happy, and were glad if they could give each other that. The thing was just that you wanted – like, wanted – both of them too. Badly. You couldn’t deny that at this point. And you were afraid that wasn’t ever going to be possible, nor did you want to get in the way of whatever they had going on.

But then again… you remembered the way Jisung had been looking at you, both after the kiss and several times since then. And as you were thinking about it, your eyes drifted to him and… he was doing it again. Looking at you like that. Looking at you like that with his damn fluffy hair and his damn flushed cheeks and his damn kissable freaking lips. Your heart skipped a beat and your gaze flickered over to Minho. And he looked at you too. And then at Jisung. His eyes kept jumping between the two of you, but he had an eyebrow furrowed, as if he was still trying to figure out just what was happening here. You wished you knew yourself. You gulped and tried to clear your mind, turning your attention back to the game that was resuming now that everyone had gotten all the cheering and whistling out of their system in response to the previous question.

Felix informed Minho that it was his turn, so the latter cleared his throat with a little shake of his head before glancing around the room with that devilish little glint in his eyes you’d come to love so much.

“Never have I ever pissed in JYP’s front yard.” This caused the entire room to burst out laughing, several of them clapping as they did. You clearly were missing some kind of inside joke, but it was pretty self-explanatory once Changbin whined out an “I hate you, hyung” and reached across Jisung’s lap to playfully punch Minho in the thigh. Minho shot him an overly exaggerated crazy-eyed death glare in return. Changbin raised his beer to his lips sheepishly and you joined Hyunjin in his full-body laughter that was shaking the entire armchair again as you pictured the scene. Minho looked around the room with a furtive little smile on his face, like he was really proud of himself.

The game went on for a while longer, the conversation and laughter flowed and you focused on just enjoying yourself once more. However, you still couldn’t prevent your eyes from drifting over to the two boys across from you every so often – just like you couldn’t prevent the jolt of electricity that went through your body every time you caught one of them looking at you too.

Eventually the group moved on to other games, more laughter and chatter, and finally the night seemed to be drifting towards an end as Chan began to yawn, earning him lots of teasing comments from the others (but mostly Seungmin) about how old he was. But then the others started getting quieter and more sleepy bit by bit as well, Hyunjin yawning and stretching overly dramatically every so often. You had been sort of keeping your distance from the two boys you couldn’t keep your mind off of, but had still been surreptitiously observing them. They were in a good mood, both still at fairly high energy levels – particularly Jisung, who kept suggesting more games and didn’t seem to want the night to end. You didn’t want it to either. But eventually, when even Felix became very sleepy, even briefly dozing off sprawled out on one of the sofas with his head on Changbin’s lap, the rest of you knew it was time to get going.

Felix and Seungmin hugged each of you goodbye one by one as you left their dorm. The two of them had had to stop Chan from cleaning up around the room and usher him out despite how tired he was. Minho was the last one out the door, and he couldn’t resist slapping each of the hosts on the butt as he left, even giving Seungmin a little squeeze. They shook their heads with a smile as they shut the door behind him. You sighed. It was silent out here.

You did not feel like a journey home in the middle of the night right now. But you knew that if you needed a place to stay, somebody would definitely let you crash. Chan had already told Felix he would be happy to let you stay over (or pay for a taxi if you preferred to go home) when the younger Australian had showed concern, not wanting to let you leave until he knew you’d be safe. Hyunjin was currently loitering close by you as well, an arm protectively around your shoulder, and you knew he’d have no problem offering you his bed either. You’d stayed at his and Changbin’s dorm previously when it had gotten late after you were all hanging out. In fact, that was where you were intending to go tonight again, and were just about to start heading in that direction with them when Jisung spoke up.

“Y/N, do you want to come hang out with us a little longer? Me and Minho-hyung aren’t that tired yet. You can stay over, don’t worry.” Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at him. Did he seem… nervous? You couldn’t tell. You glanced at Minho next, but he was just looking back at you blankly, blinking a couple of times.

You’d never spent a lot of time at their dorm before, despite being quite close with Jisung, mainly because you worried about bothering Minho. But as nervous as the thought made you right now, especially after the way the night had gone, you absolutely wanted to spend more time with the two of them – even if you weren’t sure it was smart, exactly.

“Yeah, okay,” you replied, trying your best not to seem overly eager. You turned into Hyunjin’s arms to give him a quick hug goodbye, then the others as well. Chan patted you on the shoulder before he turned to walk back to his dorm with Jeongin. Changbin and Hyunjin skipped away in the opposite direction arm in arm. And that left you in the dimly lit hallway with Minho, Jisung and a racing heart.

“Well, let’s go then,” Minho said and again, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. You thought there was the slightest ghost of a smile on his lips, but it was dark and he was Minho, so who knew, really. Either way, you followed him as he turned on his heel and headed down the hallway. It was a short walk across the courtyard to their dorm and as you entered the cold night air, a brief shiver went through your body. Jisung put an arm around you, rubbing your shoulder, and the two of you walked the rest of the way like that. It wasn’t far, but it was so silent the entire way that it somehow felt longer than it should have. But you were smiling nonetheless. And you were suddenly quite aware of how good Jisung smelled.

---

Once inside the boys’ dorm, you were wracking your brain trying to think of something to say to break the silence, but you couldn’t come up with anything and you cursed yourself for it. For once you actually sort of wished you were drunker, so you maybe wouldn’t be worrying so much about embarrassing yourself. Although then again, maybe it was good you weren’t, because who knew what you would say if you weren’t thinking clearly. As it was, you were already pretty sober again and the boys didn’t seem particularly drunk either. Jisung was a lightweight, but he usually sobered up fairly quickly and the night air seemed to have helped him along, while Minho could hold his liquor pretty well and hadn’t ended up drinking that much tonight after all. He got each of you a glass of water, which you gratefully accepted, sitting at their kitchen island and tracing the pattern of the granite with your fingertip.

You looked up and noticed Minho quirking an eyebrow at you. You felt your cheeks get a little hot. You needed someone to speak. Now. This was unbearable. Were they feeling the same way you were? Or were they relaxed? Why weren’t they saying anything? Anything, any topic at all, please. You thought about the evening you’d just had, whether there was something you could use to start a conversation. And then you had it. You took a deep breath and put on a smile.

“So Changbin really pissed in JYP’s yard, huh?” This instantly set Jisung off in a fit of hysterical laughter, doubling over and clutching the kitchen counter for support. You breathed a sigh of relief as you continued. “I need to hear the whole story. Please.” And just like that the tension lifted again as the boys recounted the event, you commenting how badly you wished you’d been there in between giggles.

The conversation naturally moved onto other topics from there and things felt right and normal again between all three of you. These were the boys you’d gotten to know as good friends over the past few months and you even began to wonder what you had been so in your head about all night. The three of you chatted about all sorts of things for a little while and eventually you landed on the topic of movies. When you confessed that you’d never actually seen a Deadpool movie, Jisung was so taken aback he suggested you watch the first one instantly.

And so the three of you ended up on Minho’s bed with the movie playing on his big TV screen. You knew he had one in his bedroom because he loved nothing more than to relax watching an anime when he wanted some alone time. The TV was nicer than the one in the living room and the bed was big enough for the three of you to be comfortable, so here you were. Jisung had instantly sprawled out in the middle, insisting he needed cuddles from two of his most favorite people, and you both gladly indulged him – though you did catch Minho rolling his eyes jokingly as Jisung pulled him down and flung his right arm around his shoulders. You settled against his left side, taking in his scent and giggling at the way his hair tickled your forehead. Then you began to watch the movie.

About twenty minutes into it, you felt your stomach growl a little bit. It was around 2 am; not excessively late yet, since the party had begun fairly early, but you did realize that you hadn’t had a proper meal since this afternoon. You hoped no one had heard you, but either Minho had or he was hungry himself, because not long after, be briefly paused the movie and offered to take a quick walk down the street to the boys’ favorite late-night fast food place to grab something for you all, saying he wanted some fresh air anyway. Jisung quickly nodded eagerly and you confessed you were hungry too. You asked Minho if he wanted any company, feeling bad about sending him out by himself at this time of night, but he said he didn’t mind and told you guys to continue watching; he’d seen the movie enough times anyway. And that was how he ended up leaving you two alone in his bedroom… and all of a sudden your mind was right back in the place you had fought so hard to get it out of earlier.

You tried to concentrate on the movie. You really did. But you weren’t catching a damn thing that was happening on the screen. You were overly aware of every single thing about Jisung – his earthy scent you’d decided you really liked; the way his hair was still brushing against your forehead; the way his chest rose and fell with his breathing; the curve of his collarbone under your head. His heartbeat, which you swore was a little quicker than it should have been. You were also overly aware of your own heartbeat, which was definitely quicker than it should have been and seemed much louder than usual. And suddenly you were terrified that he had noticed it too, that he suddenly knew exactly what was going through your mind. You slowly turned your head, hoping to sneak a glance at his expression and gauge the situation. And he was looking right at you. Your heart stopped momentarily and your belly fluttered in the way that had been reserved for Minho and Minho only up until now. You wanted to look away before it got awkward. You wanted to but you couldn’t, because he was looking at you like that again. Like he had been all night. Like… like he wanted to kiss you again.

You licked your lips and swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. His eyes flickered to your mouth. Then back up to your eyes. Then back to your mouth. And then he was kissing you. His hands found your waist. One of yours crept up to caress his jaw while the other instantly tangled itself back into the hair you had been dying to touch again all night. You melted into his embrace.

The kiss was sloppy in the most perfect way, your bodies flush against each other. You could feel every part of him, from his hands that were finally resting properly on the small of your back, to his legs that had become entangled with yours, to his tongue – Jisung’s tongue, your friend Jisung’s tongue – to his hipbones, to his crotch, where you felt something twitching and beginning to grow hard. A small moan escaped you. And all of a sudden this was very real. And you remembered that you were in Lee fucking Minho’s bed. You suddenly pulled back a little bit, chest rising and falling rapidly. Jisung’s eyes found yours again, searching.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said breathlessly. For a second you forgot what you were going to say as you looked at him – his messed-up hair, his flushed face, his dilated pupils, his glistening mouth that had tasted so sweet. And oh no, he was biting his lip. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?” Jisung asked, voice full of concern. You had to tell him. You had to be honest before this went any further. It was too weird for you to be doing this. But wow, you did not want to tell him. Especially not when you could be kissing him instead.

“I… I need to be honest with you about something,” you groaned. This was so embarrassing. Was he going to hate you? Tell you it was messed up to have been kissing him when you were harboring feelings for his best friend? Or was it his boyfriend? His sexual partner? Did it matter? Oh god, you didn’t want to ruin it all. But you couldn’t ignore it.

“What is it, baby?” Oh, now why did he have to call you that? Didn’t he realize he was making this even more difficult for you? His eyebrows were furrowed. “Is everything okay?” And it was too late to back out of the truth now, because he was actually worried, and you weren’t going to leave him feeling that way. The mood was probably already ruined regardless. You averted your gaze.

“I… don’t know if we should be doing this. I kind of… um… have a thing for Minho? Oh god.” You could see the corners of his mouth twitch slightly upwards out of the corner of your eye and felt his gaze on your skin like it was burning you. “Don’t look at me. Ugh. I’m so sorry. It was so weird of me to be all over you like this, I don’t know what got into me, I’ve had a crush on Minho for months and I don’t even know what’s going on between you two – not that you need to tell me, I just don’t want to butt in, I promise I didn’t plan for any of this to happen, oh god this is so fucking embarrassing, I can totally understand if you want me to leave, I can call a cab or maybe Hyunjin is still awake and I can go over there instead, just please tell me we can figure out a way to keep being friends, I…” You trailed off. The silence was deafening. Your cheeks were on fire. Why wasn’t he saying anything? You had to look up at him, didn’t you? You did not want to. You swallowed once. And peeked. He was smiling. Why was he smiling? Was he laughing at you? That would be even worse than you’d feared. You were about to turn your eyes away again when he put a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N.”

“Jisung.”

“Just… take a breath, okay? Everything’s fine.”

“If everything’s fine, why are you laughing at me? Maybe this is amusing to you, but it’s not to me, this is mortifying, I don’t want to lose my friends, I’m so embarrassed right now, I don’t even know what to-”

And all of a sudden you were cut off by his lips again. You quickly pulled back. He moved with you. His eyes were laser focused on your mouth. He looked like he was getting ready to devour you. You wanted to let him so badly.

“Jisung!”

“Y/N!” He was giving you nothing. You groaned. You kissed him. You couldn’t help yourself. You were melting into the kiss again, into him. His tongue was so soft and felt so good in your mouth. Your arms snaked around his waist. His hand made its way to your ass. Your eyes shot open. You detached your lips from his once more and put a little space between your bodies, placing a hand on his chest to ensure the distance was kept this time. You could still feel the heat radiating off of him. It was intoxicating.

“Jisung, we need to focus! Minho will be back any second, this is weird!” You looked at him, trying to convey how serious you were with your eyes, but it was difficult when you were sure you were in just as flustered and flushed a state as he was – and seeing him like that was making it very hard to concentrate. He sighed, but there was still a little smile on his lips.

“Look, Y/N, I wasn’t necessarily expecting it either, but I don’t know, I think I like you.”

“I mean… you were definitely kissing me like you do.”

“Hey!” he exclaimed. “You kissed me first!”

“That’s… true. But in my defense, it was only because Hyunjin dared me.”

“To kiss anybody in the room. Not me specifically.”

“I hate you.”

“I wanted it.” He grinned at you. Your heart skipped a beat.

“But… Minho?” You swallowed uneasily.

“What about him?”

“I just told you I like him.”

“I know.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he like you?”

“Yeah.” He said it so nonchalantly. It drove you crazy.

“Don’t you think this is way too complicated?”

“I think you’re making it a lot more complicated than it needs to be.” You smacked your own forehead at his words.

“Now what on earth does that mean?”

“Look, Y/N, the way I see it, it’s kinda simple. I like Minho, so I kiss Minho. I like you, so I kiss you.”

“But I like Minho.”

“Do you like me?”

“I think so.”

“Then kiss me.”

“I want to, but – stop!” He was moving closer again. “Doesn’t it bother you that I like Minho?”

“No, why? Minho’s great. And beautiful. I totally get it.”

“Well, you said he likes you. And I don’t want to, like… cause any problems.” Jisung smiled at your concern. You did not want his pity.

“Look. I know Minho can come across as kind of… possessive? But trust me. He will not be bothered by us hooking up. The only thing he might be bothered by is if we didn’t offer to include him.” You swore you forgot how to breathe for a moment when you heard those words. Jisung clearly noticed your reaction, because his smile widened considerably. He was enjoying this, wasn’t he? You couldn’t even tell if he was being serious. What on earth had you gotten yourself into?

“Did I just hear you right, Han Jisung?”

“You did.”

“You’re suggesting we hook up… with Minho.”

“I am.”

“You want us to hook up. With Minho. You. And me. And Minho. Yes?”

“Yup.” He clearly noticed you were not processing this at all, so he continued. “Did you think I was just hoping to get in a secret quickie with you before he came back? You know the restaurant’s not that far away, right? He’s already been gone longer than I thought.”

“Were you guys… planning something? Is he, like… expecting to come back to this?”

“Nope. But sometimes things happen. And so you go with the flow, you know?”

“You didn’t talk to him about wanting to have… a threesome… with me tonight? That’s not why you invited me over?”

“Nope. We just wanted to hang out. But now I want to have a threesome. Do you want to?”

“I mean… yes? But, like. Will Minho even want to?”

“We’ll ask him.” He made it sound so simple.

“Does Minho even like me?” You were terrified of the answer.

“Don’t know. I know he thinks you’re really hot, though.”

“He told you that?”

“Lots of times.” Oh. Well, that was that. Your brain had officially stopped working. How were you supposed to process this information? And it was almost scary, the way Jisung seemed to be reading your mind right now, because the next thing he said was: “I want you to stop thinking so much about it all. You don’t need to figure it out.”

“I… don’t?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good.” His voice had become an almost-whisper as he had inched his way closer to you once more, now taking the hand that had been placed on his chest into his own and intertwining your fingers. You could feel the breath coming from his mouth when he spoke. Something in you wanted to protest more – that part of your brain that was such a seasoned overthinker that it short-circuited whenever something interrupted that process. But Jisung wasn’t going to give you a chance to. And honestly, you were grateful to him for it. And so you gave in to the kiss once more. Fully, this time.

You lost yourself in him, let his hands roam your body, let yours roam his in return, every curve, every bone. You felt his chest contracting against yours with each heavy breath he took. When he detached his mouth from yours you almost whined in protest, until he attached it to your neck instead and you forgot everything, focused only on how good his teeth felt on your sensitive skin, saliva everywhere. Your hands slid under his sweater. His skin was so smooth; you could feel the muscles in his back and stomach tensing as you ran your hands all over them, caressing him, incoherent moans escaping you. He was perfect. And he was so good at this. Why was he so good at this?

“Mmh, Jisung. So… good,” you moaned into his hair and he began sucking on your neck even more aggressively at that. His sweater was slipping off his shoulder and you wanted to get him out of it so badly. Your hands reached for the hem of it, began pulling it up… and just then you heard the sound of a key in the lock. And you froze for a moment. Jisung looked up at you. You made eye contact with him. His eyes were glinting like he knew something you didn’t. Like he was almost sure Minho would be happy to join you. Meanwhile you were terrified once again of Minho coming into his own bedroom, finding you in this state with his Han Jisung, and being absolutely disgusted. But the situation was what it was now. And his steps were coming closer to the bedroom. Your belly did a somersault. And he came through the door.

You had moved away from Jisung a little bit and attempted to smooth your clothes down. Regardless of all that, you knew your neck was a mess, so it was probably pointless to even try to look presentable. But it had been an automatic reaction to try and fix your appearance. Jisung had done no such thing. His hair was all over the place, his sweater was still half off, and there was a very obvious erection straining against his jeans. Not to mention the lust-filled grin that was plastered on his face as he looked at the man that had just come through the doorway.

“Hi, Minho,” he grinned.

“Um, hi guys,” the older of the boys responded and you noticed the corner of his mouth quirk up. You looked away quickly when his gaze met yours, hating the fact that you were so nervous again. “What’s going on here?” He couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice as he reached for the remote to pause the movie that was still running. Both you and Jisung couldn’t stop yourselves from chuckling as you realized it had been on this whole time.

“We, uh… might have gotten a little distracted,” you said sheepishly after your giggles had subsided.

“I can see that.” Minho smirked as he observed the state the two of you were in. “Well, there’s fried chicken in the kitchen, but I’m sure it can be reheated later.” You couldn’t help but giggle again at that deadpan statement.

“Minho-hyung.”

“Yes, Han?” Your heart was pounding as you looked expectantly at the beautiful man standing in the doorway. The man you’d dreamed about so many times. The man whose bed you were currently in… with somebody else. Was this the moment you were finally going to get your hands on him? Was something way beyond what you’d ever dreamed of about to happen?

“Do you want to… join us?” And yes. Jisung had really just said those words. There was no going back now. You swallowed as you awaited Minho’s response. He didn’t say anything at first. But he made his way towards the bed. It sunk as he crawled onto it and took his place on the other side of Jisung once more. Jisung could barely contain himself; he was biting his lip again and his hand was already reaching for Minho’s hip, attempting to pull him closer. But Minho looked at you again first.

“Y/N, are you comfortable with this?” And you could tell he was holding back from pouncing – on someone, anyone, either of you, both of you –, just waiting to make sure this was something you really wanted. And you loved him for it. But if he couldn’t tell by now how badly you wanted him, what with the way your eyes were dripping with lust and your chest was heaving as you stared at him, then you were better at acting than you’d thought.

“God, just get in here, Minho.”

He did not need to be asked twice. He pounced. His lips were on yours in an instant and it was everything you’d ever imagined it to be. He was rough in all the right ways and he tasted even better than you could have dreamed. As you ground into Jisung’s hip, he hoisted Minho’s thigh over his other side, attaching his lips to the older boy’s neck. Then he quickly began to unbutton Minho’s shirt as the two of you continued to make out messily, pausing in between for air and to finally help Jisung out of his sweater as well. You’d never seen the younger of the two quite this excited before and it did things to you that you had no words to describe.

Both of them were so beautiful. Both of them smelled so good. Their scents were all over the room as sweat was already mingling, and you briefly pulled away to take your own shirt off as well. Both pairs of eyes were on you as you did so, and you returned the gaze, looking at their bodies in awe. Jisung had begun unbuttoning his jeans now and Minho reached a hand down to stop him.

“Let me.” The way he said those words sent a shiver down your spine, and suddenly he was pulling you back towards them as well, shoving you down next to Jisung. You began kissing and biting the younger of the two all over his ear, jaw, neck, chest, anywhere you could reach as Minho took his time unbuttoning the man’s jeans and sliding them down his legs excruciatingly slowly, taking his underwear right along with them.

“Don’t be shy now,” Minho said to you as you stopped what you were doing to look at Jisung’s boner that stood against his belly, twitching in arousal, all but begging to be touched. “I’ve had my fun with it plenty of times. You can get us started.” And so you did. You trailed your hand down towards Jisung’s crotch and around the general area first; his lower body bucked upwards when your fingers brushed the inside of his thigh. He let out a small whine, already breathing heavily, cheeks pink, lips slightly parted. And then you were wrapping a hand around his length, giving it a couple of slow pumps, loving the way it felt pulsing under your palm. Jisung groaned, his eyes fluttering back in his head. You caught Minho watching him in awe and thought you might just about die.

You were very aware of your own wetness pooling in your underwear and your pussy twitching, heat coiling in your lower belly. You leant down to place a few excruciatingly soft kisses around Jisung’s crotch and finally on the tip of his cock, before pulling away to start removing your own pants. Minho took the opportunity to attach his mouth to Jisung’s cock and when you heard the moans coming from the younger man, you felt like you couldn’t get your clothes off fast enough. Minho was straddling Jisung’s legs by now and Jisung’s hands were grasping for the other man’s crotch too, attempting to rub him through his pants before awkwardly stretching his body to reach for the buttons and fumbling with them desperately. Minho stopped him, pulling his mouth off of his penis with a pop, then sat up straight and smiled. He kept doing that – smiling like that – and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him when he did. But Jisung’s whine at the loss of contact pulled your attention back to him for a moment.

“Y/N, take over,” Minho ordered, and you took his place eagerly. As you positioned yourself between Jisung’s legs and bent down to take him into your mouth, you felt the bed shift as Minho presumably got undressed… and then you felt his hands begin to roam you from behind. They went all over your body, helping you out of your bra before sliding your underwear off and tossing it to the side. There was so much going on that you luckily only had a brief moment to feel self-conscious as you knew Minho was inspecting your ass and pussy from the back. His hands were kneading your ass cheeks while Jisung was grabbing at your breasts desperately. At the same time you could feel him thrusting up into your mouth and heard his moans quickening… at which point Minho pulled you off of him and flush against his own naked body instead. You gasped at the feel of his erection against your ass and his hands all over your breasts, kneading, pinching. You turned your head slightly to look at his face, panting. He was smiling at Jisung.

“Not yet, baby,” he told him, before pressing several kisses against your shoulder and the crook of your neck that were so soft you almost burst right then and there, your entire body tingling. You arched your back against him, grinding back against his crotch. His chest was slick with sweat against your back. When he looked up from your shoulder, you tried to catch his lips with yours, but he just teased you with an evil grin before flipping you onto your back next to Jisung once more. You turned your head towards Jisung and the two of you looked at each other, completely breathless. A small giggle escaped you which Jisung quickly reciprocated before pressing another sloppy kiss to your lips. You bit and sucked on his bottom lip for a few moments, then turned your head to look up at Minho as Jisung kept kissing and nibbling along your cheek, your neck, your ear. Your eyes trailed up and down the body of the man you’d been lusting over for months. He looked unbelievable, kneeling over you like that. When your eyes met you couldn’t keep yourself from moaning.

You grasped one of his hands, brought his index finger to your mouth and ran your tongue along it before beginning to suck on it, never breaking eye contact with him as you did so. He was watching you intently. You were aching to be touched. He began to lean down, bringing his face impossibly close to yours. You reached for the back of his neck, ready to pull him into a kiss, already feeling his breath on your lips, so eager to taste his mouth once more… but he stopped just short of it again, smirked at you once, then turned his attention to Jisung.

He pulled Jisung’s face off of you before kissing him passionately, deeply, as you could only watch in awe. It was too much.

Your hand found its way to your pussy and you began rubbing your clit while simultaneously spreading your wetness around your folds. You whimpered at the sight of the two of them messily making out, tongues battling as their naked bodies ground against each other. You squeezed your legs together tightly once before pressing a first cautious finger into your pussy, then a second. Your other hand had made its way to your own mouth and you moaned into your palm softly, holding back a little bit. Still, the boys broke their kiss to look at you. It took everything in you not to look away – you were so overwhelmed, so turned on you thought you might burst, so self-conscious but still unable to stop touching yourself at the sight of them.

“I think Y/N needs some attention, hm?” Minho purred at Jisung. “What do you think? Want to put that tongue of yours to good use?” Jisung began grinning again before sliding his body down the bed a little bit, motioning for you to position yourself on top of his face.

“Are you sure?” You asked him, but he was nodding eagerly before you had even finished your question. Minho took you by the wrist, practically forcing you to stop fingering yourself, and helped you position your body above Jisung’s face, slowly lowering you down until your pussy made contact with the younger’s mouth. You moaned loudly as soon as it did, grabbing onto the bed’s headboard to steady yourself as your body arched in response. Jisung put a hand on each hip to steady you, and as he ate you out, Minho began to give the rest of your body attention again. His hands and lips were all over you, squeezing your nipples, kissing you behind your ear and all down your back, making you shiver all over. He lightly slapped your ass cheeks and came back up right next to your ear to ask you in an excruciatingly seductive tone if that was okay for you. You nodded quickly.

“Yeah?” he asked. “That feel good?”

“Mhmmmm,” you moaned back as he slapped you a couple more times.

“What about Jisung? Is he making you feel good?” You could only respond with unintelligible noises as the younger’s tongue penetrated you deeper at the sound of his name.

“M-Minho,” you brought out breathlessly. You were a bit nervous to ask him for anything, but your arousal overrode your embarrassment. “C-can you scratch me?” You panted. “Please?” You swore you could hear the smirk in his voice when he answered.

“You want me to scratch you, kitten?” You nodded, still moaning and holding onto the headboard for dear life, the muscles in your arms flexing. “As you wish, beautiful.” You barely had time to process the fact that he had just called youbeautiful before his nails were on you. All down your back, along your thighs, your hipbones, everywhere. You moaned even louder. Your body was reacting beyond your control, you could feel the tightening sensation in your lower belly growing exponentially and your legs began to shake so that you wondered if you would even be able to remain upright long enough to orgasm.

“You like that, huh?” Minho spoke, and you nodded wildly, still desperately trying to keep your body stable. He kept going, grinding against your ass, scratching you and peppering you with kisses all over your neck and back while Jisung held you steady with a firm grip on your hips. Your thighs were quivering at this point and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. Jisung pulled away for an excruciating moment, placed unbelievably soft kisses on the inside of your thigh, and when his lips and tongue reattached to your pussy once more, it didn’t take long before you went over the edge. Minho had added one of his fingers into the mix, steadily circling your clit with it as Jisung kept eating you out. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as your orgasm washed over you and you let the two of them hold you up as you rode it out, eyes closed in pure bliss until the last of the waves of pleasure had rocked through your body.

Then you slowly lifted yourself off of Jisung with Minho’s help, slumping with your back against the headboard, and looked at the two of them sheepishly. You were well aware your mouth was still open but you were incapable of closing it fully at this point in time. You looked at Minho; he was still wearing that mischievous expression. You looked down at Jisung, who was wiping your juices off of his lips, sucking them off his own fingertips as he made eye contact with you. Then you broke into a smile.

“Holy fuck,” you breathed. The boys laughed. It was silent for a couple of seconds save for the sounds of all your heavy breathing.

“Are you done, baby?” Minho asked from where he knelt in front of you.

“God no,” you responded, earning more chuckles from the two of them. “Just give me a moment.” Your chest was still falling and rising rapidly while your body felt so heavy and sensitive that you didn’t think you could move just yet. “Can you keep yourselves busy for a few minutes?” They both looked at you as if that was a stupid question and instantly were all over each other once more. Jisung grabbed Minho by the hips and pulled him down until he was straddling him. They began to make out desperately, hips grinding against each other, pornographic sounds coming from both of their mouths.

Jisung’s hand found its way between Minho’s legs and when the older of the two broke the kiss briefly to throw his head back, squeeze his eyes tightly shut and let out a strangled moan, you nearly lost it. The veins in his neck were very visible and he had never looked better. No. You most definitely were not done with them yet.

You watched them for a few minutes more, taking in every detail. Jisung’s smooth body, the muscles in his arms tensing up as he had one hand buried in Minho’s crotch, the other wrapped around his ass to hold him down against him. Minho’s thighs on either side of him. God, those thighs. You were feeling your own arousal begin to build quickly again and cautiously reached down to touch yourself once more, slowly letting yourself get accustomed to the sensation again without overwhelming your still very sensitive body.

You ached to taste Minho again, to shove your tongue in his mouth, to get your hands on him, on his dick which you had yet to have your fun with. You began crawling towards him, reached a hand into his hair, gently turned his head in your direction. His half-lidded eyes met yours and there was that smile again. You tried to pull his face towards you, but just before his lips met yours, he moved them to your neck instead. You groaned.

“What’s- ah! What’s wrong, kitten?” he brought out breathlessly in between moans as Jisung kept pumping his hand up and down his cock. You looked down at it until Minho used his spare hand that wasn’t currently clutching onto Jisung’s shoulder to pull your face back up by your chin and force you to look into his eyes. “What do you need?” As he said that, he trailed his hand down your front until he reached your pussy, where he began slowly circling your clit once more with two of his fingers.

“Mmh- Minho, oh god.” A shiver went through you and you closed your eyes to let the sensation fully wash over you. He was using just the right amount of pressure as he rubbed excruciatingly slow circles over your clit and you forgot everything else for a moment.

“Tell me, kitten,” he huffed out.

“M-Minho… need… you,” you panted. Your hips were bucking in his direction every time he completed a circle and you wanted to feel him inside of you immediately. “P-please. Just fuck me.” You opened your eyes to look at him again. He had reached his other hand down to stop Jisung jerking him off and caressed the younger man’s hand gently before reaching past him to the bedside table, where he retrieved a condom from the top drawer. He looked down at his roommate lovingly, then back up at you.

“Jisung’s been waiting a little longer than me. Don’t you think we should let him go first?” You looked at Jisung and his eyes were so wide, so full of desire. Minho didn’t even wait for your response before he unwrapped the condom and began to slowly pull it down over Jisung’s cock, which you noticed was twitching and already dripping precum. You felt your mouth begin to water, despite the devastating loss of Minho’s fingers on your clit. When he had finished putting the condom on the younger man, he moved to lay down next to him again. “What do you think, Jisungie?” Minho asked him, running a finger down his stomach, trailing it between his legs, grazing his cock, causing Jisung’s hips to jerk upwards.

“Mmh… Y/N. Can I? Can I f-fuck you?” He was panting. He looked incredible. You nodded and moved to straddle him. Who were you to turn him down?

“God, please,” you breathed out, but just before you could settle on top of him, he grabbed you by the waist and flipped you over so you were on your back beneath him instead. Your head hit the pillow and you glanced to the side to make eye contact with Minho for a moment. He was licking his lips and moved to stroke your cheek with his hand. You leaned in towards him, but he gently pushed your face back to look at Jisung instead. You complied, your initial frustration forgotten quickly as your eyes settled on the younger of the two who was now towering over you. He had reached up to push a hand through his hair and the muscles in his arm flexed tantalizingly as he did so.

You reached your hands up to run them over his chest and stomach, feeling every breath that he took. His skin was hot and slick with sweat and you reached up to his neck to pull his face down to meet you. His mouth was on yours in an instant, his tongue pushing into your mouth eagerly. Your breath was already quickening from the exhilaration of the kiss alone. When you felt his hand reach down to grasp himself and slowly begin to position his cock at your entrance, it sped up even more in anticipation. You reached your own hand down to spread yourself for him.

He slowly pushed into you and each little bit further he went sent new waves of pleasure radiating out from your stomach through your entire body. He already felt so good and he had barely even begun.

“Mmh… feel so good, baby…” he groaned as if he was reading your mind again, eyes closed, mouth open as he continued pushing into you until he bottomed out. Then, slowly at first, he began to thrust.

“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t contain your moans. “Jisung!” His hands were on either side of your head now, grasping the pillow for support. Yours were on his ass, pulling him closer, pushing him deeper into you as you slid your hips up and wrapped your legs around his back to find just the right angle. You closed your eyes for a moment, just feeling him, the indescribable sensations going through your body. Both your voices filled the room in time with his thrusts as he settled into a rhythm.

You heard Minho groaning next to you too and when you turned your head to look at him once more, you saw he was slowly stroking his own cock while looking at the two of you. Knowing he was getting off on watching you both amplified your pleasure tenfold and you didn’t even know where to look at this point. You wanted to see both of them. But Jisung enclosed your mouth in yet another desperate kiss, taking the decision off your hands as he continued to thrust into you, though you could already feel his movements speeding up and becoming slightly more erratic as he whined into your mouth in pleasure.

You bucked your hips up to meet his movements and help him keep the pace. He pressed his forehead against yours as he moaned your name against your mouth. You reached one of your hands up to push his sweaty hair out of his eyes. He grabbed your hand with his own and intertwined your fingers against the pillow next to your head. You felt Minho begin to place soft kisses all over both of your hands as he continued to writhe against the sheets next to you, still stroking himself agonizingly slowly. You could see his chest rise and fall out of the corner of your eye.

Meanwhile Jisung’s movements were becoming even more frantic. His hand was still on yours, squeezing tight, but he buried his face in your neck again, allowing your skin to swallow up the sounds still coming from his mouth.

“Mm- so close, baby,” you felt him groan out, the vibrations from his lips shooting through your entire body. “So… close…” He turned his head to meet Minho’s face in a hungry kiss, then looked back at you, the veins in his neck popping out, jaw clenched from how hard he was trying not to cum right now. Yet he didn’t slow his movements down.

“Let go, baby,” you whispered, squeezing his ass hard with the hand that was still resting there. And that was all it took. With a few final big thrusts, you felt his cock pulse inside you as he hit his climax, until his movements gradually slowed down. He was panting against your neck again, still holding onto your hand for the final few sporadic, lazy thrusts before he pressed one more kiss to your neck, then came back up to your face to attach his lips to yours again for a moment. Finally he pulled himself out of you, collapsing next to you and trying to catch his breath. You grinned at him and stroked his cheek affectionately. He laid there with his eyes closed for a few moments more before blinking them open and looking at you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen so fast!”

“It’s- oh! It’s o-kay… mmh…” Minho’s hand had latched onto your pussy so fast you barely had time to register it as the sensation overwhelmed your body. You reached down to stop its movements before you completely lost your mind again. “I still have this one to get through, after all.” You cocked your head in Minho’s direction and grinned at Jisung, who was wiping sweat off his forehead, where his hair had started to curl slightly. Minho had moved his attention to your breasts, kissing them, then between them, then your belly, then your hipbones.

“Still sorry,” Jisung panted. “I wanted to make you cum.” He pouted a little bit.

“You already did, remember?” He smiled at that.

“Don’t worry, Jisungie, you can still help,” Minho purred, looking up at him. “Do you need more of a break?” he asked you, and when you instantly shook your head he chuckled a little bit before retrieving another condom from the bedside table, sitting up to slide it over his own dick this time. You watched, entranced, until he lifted your face up by the chin with a finger and smirked at you in that way he always did again. You swore you could have cum just from that. He reached down between your legs once more and you could feel yourself trying to squeeze your thighs shut against your control as the sensations threatened to overwhelm you.

“Minho,” you warned him, breathing heavily. “Not like this. Need you inside me.” He complied, removing his hand from your pussy and rubbing it over your thigh once instead before leaning down to press a kiss to your hipbone again and nip at it a couple of times.

“Where do you want me, baby?” he asked as a shiver went through your body. You took a moment to ponder.

“Lay down,” you decided. “Want to ride you.” He complied.

As his head hit the pillow, Jisung began to kiss and nip at his upper body while you positioned yourself on top of him. His hands quickly gripped your thighs tightly, nails digging into them as you took his cock into your hand, loving the way it felt, and gave it a couple of strokes, which it responded to as if it had a mind of its own. Your other hand reached for your pussy to spread it again and rub your wetness around a little more before positioning Minho’s cock at your entrance.

Then, ever so slowly, you began to lower yourself onto it. A guttural moan came from deep inside Minho’s chest as he shut his eyes for a moment. Now it was your turn to smirk as you slowly took him all the way inside of you before beginning to slide up and down on his cock. He looked even hotter beneath you than you’d ever imagined, than you’d ever thought possible. When he opened his eyes again and looked at you, the eye contact while feeling him inside of you nearly drove you insane.

Jisung was currently squeezing Minho’s bicep while sucking on his neck. You leant down, hoping to kiss Minho while still keeping your hips moving up and down steadily. Just before your mouths connected, he placed his hand at your lips and shoved his finger back in your mouth instead. You were going to go crazy if he didn’t kiss you soon. You hated it. You loved it. It only made you hungrier for him. You sucked and bit at his finger eagerly, relished in his grunts, then sat back up straighter, throwing your head back.

You were starting to get tired but you could not stop going, feeling your pleasure building and building, even more so when Minho began scratching you again, on your back, your thighs, your hips. You arched your back, shut your eyes, moaned his name. He kept his hands on your hips now and slowly his grip began to tighten, holding you down until you couldn’t move anymore. Then he pulled himself up until he had his arms around you tightly and his face at your breasts, kissing them, sucking on your nipples one after the other, licking a stripe up your neck. Then he was lifting you off of him.

“Turn around,” he instructed. “On your knees. Jisungie, you want to help?” The younger nodded excitedly. “Good. Get below them. You can help keep them steady.” Jisung complied. You were straddling his thighs again as Minho gently pushed you down so you were on all fours, hands on either side of Jisung’s head, faces dangerously close together. Then Minho positioned himself behind you again, this time lining himself up with your entrance, asking if you were ready and slowly pushing his cock inside of you once more when you told him you were.

The moan that left your body was the loudest one yet as he bottomed out inside of you, instantly hitting a very deep angle. Jisung swallowed your sounds up hungrily, mouth all over yours. Then Minho grabbed both of your wrists and held them behind your back. Your upper body slid down a little until your face was on Jisung’s chest and all three of you rocked along with the entire bed as Minho thrust into you steadily. Jisung’s hands moved from your hips, where he had been holding you in place, to your breasts and began to play with them while you moaned into his burning skin. You were sure the two men were looking at each other over your head and just the thought of that turned you on even further, if that was possible.

Minho held your wrists in place with only one hand as the other scratched down your back slowly once, causing a shiver and eliciting more moans, before he used it to repeatedly slap and knead your ass in time with his thrusts. One of Jisung’s hands reached down to your clit and you knew you were going to be done for very soon.

You were trying to moan out names – either of theirs, both of theirs. You were trying to say “theretherethere ohgod right there”, you were trying to say “fasterharderpleaseohfuck” – but what came out of your mouth was fully incoherent at this point. It didn’t seem to matter, because Minho was clearly on the same wavelength as you. You were aware of his grunts and groans growing more frequent, you were aware of his hips smacking against your ass faster and faster as he fucked you harder, deeper, hitting just the right spot over and over, and you were aware of your pleasure building and building until it felt almost impossible to bear.

“Gonna… cum…” you managed to groan out against Jisung’s sweaty skin, and just before you did, Minho pulled your body back up against his. His movements slowed again for a brief moment, and then he was turning your face towards his and before you could process what was happening, his lips finally consumed yours – deeply, intimately, passionately. When his thrusts sped up again your climax hit you so fast and hard you almost bit down on his tongue, nearly screaming into his mouth as your pussy clenched around him, wave after wave of pleasure tumbling through your trembling body. When it finally started to slow down and your soul reentered your body, you were so grateful for Jisung holding onto your thighs below you, because you might have fallen over otherwise.

“Almost… there…” Minho groaned against your mouth. “Hold… on… baby.” Your hands curled into fists as you steadied yourself against Jisung’s chest, focusing on how hot Minho sounded when he was desperate like this, knowing you would let him fuck you for as long as he needed no matter how much it took out of you. But he came not long after with a shaky moan, hands holding your hips in place as he rutted into you frantically, then slower, slower, until he stopped. His forehead rested against yours. You both stayed like that for a moment, eyes closed. Then he kissed you once more, so softly this time, before pulling out of you, smoothing your hair down gently with one hand.

You collapsed half-on top of Jisung and he chuckled into your hair, pressing soft kisses to your temples and the top of your head. You felt Minho’s lips ghost against the scratches on your back once, twice, three times before he collapsed next to the two of you as well, resting his head against Jisung’s shoulder.

There was silence for a little bit. You felt so heavy, in the best way. The world around you seemed muted, like everything had been dipped into candlelight – not just your vision but your hearing as well, the sounds of the boys’ breathing muffled as the blood rushing through your head finally started to slow down.

Jisung rested a hand on your back and you were so sensitive to the touch you almost jerked away from it, but once you got used to it, it felt so good, grounding you. His naked body beneath yours was warm and comfortable. You slowly fluttered your eyes open again and looked at Minho across from you. You reached out to touch his face, caress his cheek gently, then turned your face down to Jisung’s chest to press a kiss to it. Then you rolled onto your back, legs still intertwined with Jisung’s, and looked up at the ceiling. Just like before when you guys had first entered the dorm, you were the one to break the silence, but this time it wasn’t awkward.

“Wow.” A single word. And all three of you huffed out little laughs, looked at each other – and you had never been happier, never felt more blissful, more relaxed, more at home. You couldn’t have wiped the smile off your face even if you’d wanted to. After another moment you spoke again. “Um, we might need to try watching that movie again another time.” The sound of the boys’ soft laughter filled your heart with joy and your stomach fluttered again. You loved the way it felt this time.

“You’re both so fucking hot,” Jisung said out of the blue and you and Minho both grinned.

“You’re fucking hot, baby,” Minho told him in return and you could only nod your enthusiastic agreement.

After a little more comfortable silence, Jisung slowly began to shift you both off of him, announcing he wanted to take a quick shower. He asked if anyone else wanted to but you informed him you couldn’t stand just yet and Minho agreed with you, so once Jisung had left, he pulled you into his arms instead. His skin felt so good against yours, so comforting. He played with your hair as you listened to the sounds of the water hitting the tiles in the shower and after a while Minho mumbled “You really are beautiful” against the skin of your temple. You turned your head up to kiss him and he reciprocated with no hesitation. There was none of the urgency from before and it was incredible in its own way, soft and sweet and perfect.

After another little while you became vaguely aware of the sound of a hairdryer at the edges of your drifting consciousness, and by the time Jisung returned you both were half asleep already, Minho’s arms tight around your middle as he spooned you from behind. You were aware of Jisung turning the TV off before he crept into the bed beside you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes fluttered open once, met his and you both smiled before he reached over to the nightstand to turn out the light and settle down on his back. You laid your head against his chest, inhaled him deeply, draped an arm across his stomach and let his heartbeat lull you to sleep. It didn’t take long.

---

When you woke up the next day to daylight cautiously peeking in through a gap in the curtain, still very much tangled up in both Minho and Jisung’s bodies, you panicked for a second. But laying here with them was so soothing that you didn’t let yourself think about your worries for long, instead listening to their deep, steady breathing and letting their scents envelop you.

It wasn’t too long until they began to stir as well, blinking their eyes open not long after each other. And the way they both smiled when they took in where they were and who they were with told you everything you needed to know: this had not been a mistake. And it also would not be the end of it. If their gentle, content expressions hadn’t been enough to convince you of that, the way they softly greeted you and each other and the lazy kisses and cuddles that ensued certainly were, as well as the rest of the slow morning (or, well, afternoon) you spent together. You took your time cuddling, chatting, getting ready, eating some breakfast that Minho prepared for you all.

You didn’t talk about the situation in depth yet, but you felt no rush to. In fact, for once in your life, you didn’t want to try and rationalize or understand everything. The only thing you all did confirm was that you had enjoyed yourselves immensely and wanted to spend a lot more time together – and that was enough for now.

When you ran into Felix on your way home that afternoon, you still hadn’t been able to wipe the smile off your face that you’d been wearing all day. You stopped to chat for a few moments and you could tell he wanted to ask, but you also figured from the way his eyes were twinkling that he maybe already had an idea. Either way, you told him you’d catch up with him and the others again later – that you wanted to go home and freshen up and take a little time to yourself for now. But just before you left, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and grinned at him.

“Great party, Lix.”

[ammarettu]

*Adopts*

CW: abusive relationship under the cut.

------‐

It's not the first time someone has ever ordered a code drink from his bar.

It's not even the first time someone has ordered it from him instead of from his much friendlier looking brother, Eskel.

It is the first time he's seen Jaskier look so terrified.

Geralt freezes a moment, his brain shutting down and restarting like an old car engine as he watches those brilliant, sapphire blue eyes glance back over the crowd.

"Neat?" Geralt asks, finally snapping out of it. His heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears. He wonders if Jaskier feels the same having to approach him like this.

Quietly, just barely audible over the chatter of the crowd and the beat of the music Jaskier put on after his set, he hears his Saturday night musician breathe, "With a twist," just in time for an arm to wrap around the musicians waist.

A man stands next to him, a little taller than Jaskier, a little more put-together, and a little less friendly-looking.

His hair and eyes are the exact same shade of coal black and Geralt thinks, just for a second before he remembers they don't exist, that this man must be some kind of demon.

"What are you doing, baby?" He asks, his voice saccharine and threatening all at once.

"Just asking the nice man for some water with lemon, dear. You know how my throat gets after singing."

The man chuckles, a dark, suggestive noise. "Oh, I do. But don't run off again, or I might lose you and you won't make it home... I have the keys, remember?"

The reminder makes Jaskier swallow, fear in every line of his body.

Someone else at the bar tries to get Geralt's attention -- he ignores them.

"Water with lemon," he repeats, "You got it. Hey, nice set tonight." He pulls his phone from his pocket and slides it under the edge of the bar where patrons can't see him texting.

Lucky for him, his other brother is working tonight, and he usually sticks nearby.

Jaskier rambles on about his song choices, his... company getting more and more visibly aggravated. Geralt is happy to listen. Usually, he only gets a few scarce moments to speak to the musician. Usually, the nights are too busy, or Jaskier is in a rush to leave. Geralt can't help but wonder how many times he's missed this. How many times he's let this sweet man be taken home by a monster.

He learns that Jaskier writes all his own music. He knew the man was gorgeous and talented but, really? It seems almost unfair.

He learns he's working hard on an album that's set to release in a little over six months.

His favourite food is extra cheese pizza, even though he's lactose intolerant - "I just can't help myself!" Jaskier laughs.

They're both in uniform, the deep, royal blue looking black in the dim light of the bar. He watches Aiden stop by the front door, temporarily flicking the on sign off and locking the front door while Lambert edges the room to secure the bathrooms. They've already locked the back, he knows from experience.

Lambert enters about half-way through a very long winded story about how Jaskier decided to learn the lute of all things, a story Geralt suspects is to buy them time, (He's glad, he's never been much of a talker) with his partner, Aiden, close behind.

The man next to Jaskier tenses, noticing them as well when he glances over his shoulder.

"Shit, we gotta go," he mutters, fingers curling around Jaskier's wrist. "Hey, we gotta use your back door-"

"Sorry," Geralt shakes his head, "employees only."

"You don't get it, the media's here. We don't want pictures of Jaskier in any tabloids."

"He's not famous," Geralt snorts. Not to be mean, it's just... He's not! Not yet, anyway.

"Fuck you," the man snarls, "I don't need your fucking permission," he yanks on Jaskier, who tries to pull away--

"Hey, asshole," Lambert greets, all smiles and relaxed posture. "Nice seeing you again. Moved on to beating some other poor fucker?"

"Fuck off, pig."

"So rude!" Aiden appears at his other side, "No matter. Hands behind your back."

"You can't arrest me!"

"Rience Fulton?"

"The fuck's it to you?"

"You've got a warrant. Let go of the twink and this will all go easy for you." Lambert says, inappropriate as ever.

"Rience, please," Jaskier begs.

"Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, shut--"

It all happens so fast Geralt barely sees it. One second, Rience is holding onto Jaskier, snarling, and the next, Jaskier has wrenched himself free (with a hard tug from Lambert as aid) and Aiden has a taser pressed into Rience's ribs.

It all goes fairly smoothly from there.

Rience is dragged from the building by a very gleeful Aiden. Lambert unlocks the door and turns back on the on sign, with a cheery, "Sorry for the disturbance, folks. Enjoy getting drunk as fuck."

And Geralt escorts Jaskier to the curb where another police car is waiting.

"You ready to give a statement, son?" Vesemir asks Jaskier, after introducing himself.

"Can I-- Do I have to do it now?"

"No," Vesemir offers him as soft a smile as he can manage, "You come by the station tomorrow, how's that?"

"Appreciated, sir, thank you."

"Get some rest, son."

Jaskier leans back against the brick side of the building when the commotion has cleared -- and collapses into tears.

"I thought--" he hiccups, "I thought I'd never get away. Oh gods," he sobs into his palms. Geralt sits on the pavement next to him.

"You got yourself out. Should be proud." And sits there with him as he cries.

"I can't thank you enough," Jaskier says when the wailing has calmed.

"I didn't do anything," Geralt insists.

"You saved me," Jaskier squeezes his hand briefly, "You're like, my knight in shining armour -- er... shining... polished... glassware. Bar things."

Geralt snorts, "Yeah, well... no one should ever be that afraid."

"No," Jaskier agrees, bumping their shoulders. "I feel pretty safe with you, though."

Geralt can't help but smile at that.

"Let me buy you dinner as a thank you?" Jaskier asks.

"Didn't do it for thanks."

"I know," Jaskier smiles. It looks almost out of place with his red-rimmed eyes and puffy, red cheeks. "Let me anyways?"

Fuck it, Geralt thinks. "I'd like that."

Modern au idea

Geralt's a bartender with a teeny tiny massive crush on the local musician Jaskier who plays at his bar every week. His favorite part of the night is when Jaskier comes up to the bar after his set and chats away to him, high off the adrenalin of performing. That is until one night when instead of his usually bubbly voice calling out before he's even seated, Jaskier sits nervously at the bar and orders an angel shot

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐮𝐭, 𝐁𝐨𝐲, 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐔𝐩

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

previous ─ next part ┊ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( + playlist)

Summary: After your stepmother's ahem accident, and now brimming with confidence, you decide it's about time to make Eddie whole again and lend him a hand in doing so, while Eddie regains new and old sensations along with some feelings. An excruciatingly heavy dose of jealousy, included. And you confirm that Eddie Munson is hot. Eddie is so very hot.

Chapter Warnings: he's not super stinky anymore but his feet still are, dark humor, unpleasant home life, intense longing. oh yeah, and murder. again. so there will be descriptions of violence and blood but its a creep getting what's coming. includes references to SA which occurred in a previous chapter.

a/n: surprise, bitch. bet you thought you'd seen the last of me. anyways, got a new macbook so here we are. this chapter was a lot longer but i actually forgot to add crucial details for my plot, so, I'm going to split it into more chapters. hope you enjoy this one! and yes, we are pretending certain songs existed during the year this is set.

light dividers ℗ cafekitsune ♡

“I mean—I haven’t stared at his hands or anything, he’s just got to be dexterous with all the books he handles. It’s perfect.” You’d decided on the next unwitting donor for Eddie. A suitable hand to replace the one he lost.

  Of course, with the hand meant there’d be another body to dispose of. You’d planned it out carefully and quickly. You only had about a week until Laura was due back from her conference, or whatever the fuck it was. Regardless, you knew she wouldn’t be making another appearance, alive that is. You were sure her photos would assault you on news channels when she was discovered missing and you were relatively fine with that. It’d be the last of your abusive step-mother you’d ever have to see. You really were finally free of her, and it surprised you how relieved that made you feel.

  From the moment she came into your life, she’d made it almost unbearable for you to exist in your own skin, in your own life—in any space or capacity. The months spent enduring her verbal, emotional and mental abuse had eventually made you grow used to it, not that it ever became tolerable or normal to you. You just…stopped realizing you weren’t yourself anymore; always hunched over, eyes staring at the ground, walking on eggshells every minute you weren’t locked in the safety of your room. You’d become meek, doing anything you could to seem small so she’d leave you alone. Always holding your breath.

  You could finally breathe.

  There was a bit of guilt present, only because you knew regardless of how horrible Laura was to you and how she’d been to Chrissy before your step-sister had graduated high school (she’d told you all about it when you’d first moved in), she was still Chrissy’s mother, and Chrissy would no doubt feel the loss.

  She’d get over it.

  Eddie slowly made his way into your bedroom after you, and you took the chance to really look him over. He certainly did look more lively. Still dead as fuck, but not so much a corpse rotting for years. Maybe just a few months.

  “I’ll see him tomorrow, so we’ve got to do it then.” You kicked off your boots, letting them land wherever they wanted as you padded over to your bathroom with Eddie trailing behind you. 

  The bathroom light flicked on and you quickly got to work, pulling out your makeup removing balm and skincare products. You got started, making sure your hair was out of your face before you were massaging products into your skin, “You know, my dad said this move would be a new start for us—really, I didn’t have a choice unless I wanted to be homeless—and I thought that was a huge load of crap.”

  You stopped the motion of rubbing the balm to pry your eyes open, blinking past the product coating your eyelashes as you stared at Eddie’s reflection in the mirror. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, staring intently at your reflection and not at all bothered with the state of your severe raccoon eyes, “I still think it’s crap. But maybe this happened for a reason, maybe I was meant to tend to your grave until lightning brought you back to life kinda. Maybe Laura only ever existed so she’d be around to give you another ear when you’d need it. I mean she always gave me an earful so, I think it’s poetic justice. Now, she’s the one who only has a singular ear. Ear-y, if you will.”

  You quickly rinsed off your face and patted it dry with a towel, pausing to contemplate.

  ”And she’s dead now, too, so it’s like you guys just traded places. Freaky Friday and all that—did you ever see that movie? Jodie Foster?”

  Eddie nodded his head.

  “Did you like it?”

  “Mm.” He shrugged, sticking his hand out and letting it teeter. 

  You pursed your lips as you applied your moisturizer, “I mean it’s got its moments, some real nice mother-daughter understanding but I thought it was just okay, too.” 

  You were expecting him to make some sort of zombie sound of acknowledgement, so when he remained silent, your eyes drifted once more to his reflection, finding him now staring intently at the shower curtain, fingers of his good (the other one wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t there) hand twisting it this way and that. The shower curtain was bright pink, holographic and shifted to reveal a bunch of kittens when angled correctly.

  Eddie looked perplexed and you had to bite your lip to keep your grin from taking up your entire face at such a blatant display of boyish ignorance.

  Slowly, as you watched Eddie continue to fuck around with the curtain, the grin twisted into a small frown. 

  Sure, Eddie looked a little rough around the edges, had apparently been in the drug dealing business while he’d been alive—but you couldn’t imagine someone wanting a guy fascinated with shower curtains designed for late 40 something year-old women with no taste (Laura had picked out the curtain), dead. 

  You wondered if they’d been behind his missing appendages, too. Glancing down at his wrist to take in the wound—bone still visible, a heavy feeling settled in your stomach, one similar to the feeling you’d get when you’d watch Carrie; see her smiling on that stage, overwhelmed with joy at finally feeling accepted, but you couldn’t be happy for her. As a reader and viewer, you knew about the bucket.

  With your night routine finished, you turned to face Eddie, clapping your hands twice to get his attention. He reminded you of a puppy the way his head tilted in confusion at you.

  “Back to my room.” You swept your arms out in front of you, gesturing for him to leave first and when Eddie stood up he tried to do the same thing, only his arms weren’t as loose as yours, so it just looked like he was doing the robot.

  You smiled, turning to walk out the doorway when you stopped short, eyes honing in on the dark, red stain on your carpet.

  Fuck, you had to clean the crime scene still. Panic filled your chest while your brain tried to recall your dad and Chrissy’s schedules for the day. Chrissy had said she’d be out with friends so she probably wouldn’t return until well past the time your father went to bed, and he’d probably be home by dinner time. Even if he did return early, he rarely—and by rarely you meant never—went into your room. Not to lecture you, not to say goodnight, not to check if you were still alive.

  You were in the clear.

  Moving to stand directly in front of the stain, your sock covered foot tapped rapidly as you fidgeted. There was no way you’d be able to get all that out, Laura had bled harder than you did when you sneezed on your period. You could soak up most of the blood, scrub out the rest but the stain would always be present, no hiding the dull red amongst the pink fibers. 

  But maybe…

  Your eyes trailed over to the rug placed deliberately under your bed. It was a piece you brought from your room back home, a nifty find from the estate sales you and your mother would frequent with a shared love for antiques and the unique.

  You could pull it out a little, have Eddie lift the bed and then you’d be able to cover the stain left behind after you cleaned the carpet. Your lower lip became the victim of nervous chewing as you wondered if Chrissy would notice the difference in placement. Did she even pay that close attention to you? Could you risk it?

  Well, it’s not like you had any other option. With the clean up plan in mind, you turned to your doorway and jumped when you nearly collided with Eddie’s chest.

  “JESUS! Fuck, sorry dude—I forget you’re so quiet.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, and you were almost taken aback with the amusement you could see in his eyes. Eddie had found some amusement in having freaked you out by doing literally nothing—and his eyes kind of…sparkled with it. They hadn’t done that before you electrocuted him. While big, they hadn’t been all that expressive.

  Interesting.

  Whatever—you’d have to look into that later, right now you had something to cover up. And you needed to keep Eddie busy while you did.

  “C’mere.” Rather than just have him follow after you, you grabbed his hand—tugging him over to your bed. When Eddie was in front of you, you pushed on his shoulders to get him to sit down and then grabbed your beat up Walkman, your headphones, and rummaged through your bedside drawer for a certain tape. 

  No luck. You scowled, slamming the drawer shut as you scrutinized your room. You eyed your school bag, on the ground by your door and scrambled over to it, arm reaching in to search around before dumping the contents out. Damn, still no tape and your irritation was beginning to fester. 

  Sure, you had more but you needed Eddie to listen to that one. It was important for a reason you didn’t care to delve into. So, you handled your lapse in memory with grace.

  “WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?” You shoved everything carelessly back into your bag, practically throwing it back down as you rushed over to your dresser, moving all your crap aside in search of the plastic rectangle.

  Not there either.

  There was absolutely no way you’d ever misplace your tapes in the drawers of your dresser but you ransacked those, too, slamming them each when they proved futile. Your blood was practically boiling.

  “Eddie, cover your new ear because I am about to LOSE MY FUCKING SHI-oh, there it is!”

  It had been on your dresser, hidden under an open copy of Frankenstein, with the corner sticking out.

  You hummed, annoyance fleeing your person as you held the cassette case up between your fingers to show off to Eddie. During your little bitch fit, he’d made himself comfortable on your bed, laying back and popped up on his forearm. The lower half of his face was cinched up and you had the sneaking suspicion he was smirking at having witnessed you lose your cool, but he was a dead guy so who was he to judge?

  “This is gonna change your freaking life, I swear.” And then, as a guilty afterthought, “Uhm. In a good way.” You tucked his hair behind his ears, fingers gentle, and placed the headphones over them before you were pulling The Lion and the Cobra out of its case. “It’s one of my favorite albums and—honestly, I bought it because she’s bald. Well, I guess not bald bald, she’s got a buzzcut. This is Sinead O’Connor. I told you a little bit about her last night.”

  After slipping the tape into place and closing it in, you offered the case to Eddie so he could see Sinead on the cover of it, wrists crossed over her chest, and her normally soulful stare avoiding all those gazing upon her.

  When Eddie stared down at it a little too long for your liking, you snatched it out of his hands, an unpleasant feeling in your belly, heart clenching a little. It was a simple cover, he didn’t need to scrutinize her, didn’t need to admire her for that long. 

  You knew his eyebrows would be raised—if he could, but the most you’d seen them do is twitch—with the look he was giving you.

  “Shut up. Just—listen, okay? Every single track is a work of art, but some feel a little more…personal than others. Tell me your favorite afterwards, ‘kay?”

  Eddie stared at you for a couple of beats and when he nodded, you pressed the play button, giving him a smile.

  You could feel his eyes on you as you walked out of your room to retrieve a sponge, some hot soapy water and the carpet shampoo mix Laura concocted and always drenched the floors in.

  While you worked on making sure no one would ever know Laura took her last evil, foul wench breathes in your bedroom, Eddie had managed to shift into a different position, lying on his back with his head dangling off your bed, the ends of his curls pooling on the rug below.

  Now Eddie had always considered himself a music connoisseur, loved discovering new artists—but he was a little unfair in his practice. As in, he didn’t give a shit what other people told him to listen to. 

  Well, people he didn’t care about. Eddie cared about you. 

  Eddie cared about you a lot. 

  He’d been rediscovering his body the longer he remained alive, still marveling over his ability to reanimate from the grave. With his apparent deceased status, came the sensation of knowing where every organ in his body was.

  Eddie had been tempted to cut himself open, confirm with his sight what was going on in there, but he had a feeling you would have yelled at him so he settled for taking mental notes. He could think, so his brain was clearly working, maybe jump started by that lightning strike. He could tell the exact location of his stomach, feel things moving around in there and he’d spent a great deal of time hacking the creepy crawlers up after he’d spat one up in Laura’s lunch—he didn’t want to gross you out by accidentally coughing one up on you or something since he’d already puked on you.

  After making sure he didn’t feel any more bugs roaming around in his organs (and he was extremely grateful they’d yet to make his way to his lower intestine because there was no way you’d be normal about him shitting out bugs—if he even could shit), he realized he had a couple of broken rib bones. 

  Eddie couldn’t remember much about the night he was murdered, couldn’t recall too many images—mostly just experienced an intense wave of fear that clawed its way out of some crevice in his chest and up his throat, desperate to break through with a scream, so he tried not to think about it much. They must have broken his ribs in the attack, if he pressed just below his left pec, that particular rib bone would move inwards with a popping sensation. 

  Definitely hadn’t done that before he was dead, would have been a sick party trick, though.

  And then came the matters of the heart…it’s the one thing he couldn’t really feel, couldn’t locate, unlike his other organs. Eddie had briefly assumed that shit was still dead or dust but then you’d returned home, radiating with jubilation—a far cry from the miserable girl he’d observed that first night, so beautiful and marred with self deprecation.

  You’d said it was because of him, of the dress he’d seen hanging in your closet and then fantasized about seeing you wear all night while you’d slept. 

  Eddie swore he felt the heart he thought had given up, clench. It had been a fleeting sensation, but he’d felt it nonetheless. He had no idea what it was doing, had no idea if was actually beating or just responding. All he knew was that it belonged solely to you.

  And then you had to go and mention Steve fucking Harrington. 

  He wasn’t exactly fond of the self proclaimed King of Hawkins, had sold him some really shitty weed because the blockhead didn’t know the difference. He was an asshole, even worse than Eddie. 

  And for some fucking reason, the love of Eddie’s life—who read him poetry, talked about all her interests, shared her secrets with him along with the very same loneliness that had plagued him all his life and followed him to his grave, and who was far out of Steve’s league—wanted him. Not Eddie.

  No, because this is Eddie’s second life, he still can’t be happy. You wanted Blane and your movie Pretty in Pink ending. Eddie was just Duckie and he had a feeling this wouldn’t be the novelization ending. 

  When the fourth track began to play, Eddie’s despair was calmed by the sound of a guitar strumming, and he was able to yank himself out of his head. No point in dwelling. This wasn’t about him anyways. 

  Yes, he’d come back from the dead. The circumstances of his return were still unclear, but he knew it was somehow your doing, somehow because of you. And he’d spend the rest of his life (he had no idea if he was gonna age or not, he’d only been alive for like a day) expressing his gratitude and protecting you.

  Besides…

  Ah when you close my eyes, babe, I can see most everything, Sinead sang.

  And Eddie understood it. 

  His gaze bore into the side of your face, admiring the tick between your brows as you scrubbed at the stain, the pout of your lips and Eddie wanted nothing more than to be able to get up without his limbs literally creaking, saunter over to you with the confidence he knew would make you swoon over him, pull you up into his arms and kiss you until you forgot Steve Harrington even existed.

  He closed his eyes and let the scenario play out, changing a few details in the scene.

  The two of you weren’t in your room. Pink carpet switched out for his dingy, stained bedroom carpet. Generic in color, you didn’t seem to mind it at all as you rifled through his vinyl collection, greedy fingers flicking through the covers at an impressive rate. 

  Sinead’s voice was still comforting Eddie, just not through a pair of headphones. Her voice crooned out from the turntable on his dresser. 

  He’d been passively engaged in a sketch of the main villain for one of his favorite DND campaigns, still needed a ton of details that wouldn’t be hitting the page tonight. Not with you present, not with you sitting there engrossed in your own world and oblivious to his appreciative stare.

  Eddie didn’t like to consider himself particularly vain, and truthfully it hadn’t mattered to him what you’d look like the entire time he was—whatever. He didn’t care. But oh did someone up there have to favor him just a little bit, because when he saw you for the first time with his soil embedded dry eyes, he was sure it was love at first sight. Would have popped a woody if he had any sort of blood flow and if you hadn’t freaked out at having a dead guy crash through your window.

  Oh, fuck, he was ruining his own fantasy by remembering the circumstances of his existence. Back to it.

  While he could envision you in that black dress, as hot as you were in it, it was the pajamas he first ever saw you in that covered your skin. Hair ready for bed as the two of you winded down in a show of domestication. 

  Thump, thump.

  There it was again. Not always lively but always coming to life when you were around, even in just his daydreams, ready to beat for you. And since this was his fantasy…

  Eddie tossed aside the sketchbook and pencil, not caring where they bounced to on his bed in his haste to stand. He padded the short distance to you, snatching the vinyl you’d been checking out right from your hands.

   “Hey!” You cried out, any semblance of protest disappearing the moment you turned to look up at him and caught that mischievous Munson Smirk on his face as he dangled the album in front of you. He was teasing you.

  Your eyes narrowed up at him playfully and for a moment you were still until your arm darted out in an attempt to snatch the album back—a move Eddie was already anticipating.

  The album was quickly held just out of your reach and your grin was sheepish as you moved to get up from the ground. Clearly, your boyfriend (yes, he was your boyfriend in this fantasy, sue him) was feeling playful, and honestly, he just really liked it when you threw yourself at him just as you did right then.

  Eddie still held his ground, arm sticking straight up in the air to try to keep the album out of your grabby hands. 

  Teasing would always get a little physical, since he’d known what it was like to be without another’s touch for so long, he was keen on forever feeling yours.

   “You’re such an asshole!” You laughed as you did this pathetic little jump to try to reach it and Eddie snickered, the arm not clutching the album snaking around your side to bring you impossibly closer to him. Keep you there. Preferably forever.

  “Mm, but I’m your asshole,” Eddie cooed down at you, angling his head down so the tips of your noses bumped. The gentle curve of your lips had his heart thumping again as you settled against him, one hand stroking up his chest to rest on his shoulder. He could feel your breasts against him but it didn’t excite him as it should have (okay—it did, he just wasn’t paying attention to his dick in the fantasy), what he really cared about in that moment was how he was able to hold you so close, he could feel your heartbeat. And it wasn’t beating for Steve Harrington. It was Eddie who made your heart flutter and race, “and you can do whatever you want with me.”

   “Gross,” you whispered, breath ghosting over his lips.

   “You say that and yet you still let me─” The rest of Eddie’s sentence was lost against your mouth, soft, and a little tacky from your lip balm but oh so sweet. He let out a pleased hum, flicking the album onto his bed so he could cup the back of your head as your tongue parted his lips. The two of you stood there, holding each other, kissing each other with no ulterior motives. Just the burning desire to ensure the other knew exactly how wanted their very presence, very existence was. Sinead echoed her own statement over and over again in the background, making it the perfect soundtracked moment.

  God, there was nothing more he could ever possibly want.

  Actually—there was one thing he wanted more, he realized as his eyes opened once more, and your profile came into focus with a couple of lazy blinks. 

  Eddie wanted you to want all of that. 

  Wanted you to want him back, because you deserved more than what Steve Harrington could give you. Materialistically, sure okay—the rich douche could give you more considering Eddie was technically homeless without a penny to his name, but you didn’t care about material things. Not like that. It hadn’t been objects or devices you’d told him you longed for at his grave.

  You longed for something Eddie was positive he could give you. He just needed his body to be up to par, needed what he was missing so you could see the whole—Eddie as a whole—was greater than the sum of his parts. He could make you happy. He could make you so happy.

  If only he wasn’t a fucking zombie—and really, c’mon, that’s the main thing Steve’s got over him. He’s…y’know…more alive.

  You must have felt Eddie’s heavy and romantic, not creepy, stare because your head snapped up and you gave him that gorgeous smile again. Then you were knee crawling over and Eddie wanted to bite a chunk of your mattress out—you were so damn cute.

  When you were in front of Eddie, and still very much so upside down to him though you were actually right side up, you lifted the headphones off his ears, “How you liking it so far? You good over here?”

  Oh, you know just, yearning over a love we’ll never share because I know I could be everything you’ve ever wanted and anything you need, whatever you want, if I weren’t a corpse and I have to listen to you talk about another, much less cool guy when I’m right here and I’m missing a hand, so I could be better.

  Eddie held up (down, technically) his thumb and you leaned your body over so you were kind of upside down too, grinning brilliantly at him. Eddie had never wanted an upside down kiss so badly.

  “I don’t know if I’ve told you this yet, Eddie. I really like hanging out with you.”

  Eddie let out a groan, rolling his eyes and gently pushing your face away from him after your terrible pun while you cackled. 

  After you finished cleaning the stain to the best of your ability (so not well), you enacted the rest of your solution and had Eddie lift your bed frame so you could pull your rug a little more out and successfully cover the stain.

  Before bed, you asked him what his favorite track of the tape was. When Eddie pointed at Just Like U Said It Would B, you nearly jumped up and down on your bed before revealing that was your favorite song, too.

  Eddie wasn’t even remotely surprised. Yuuuuup. You were definitely his soulmate.

  When you woke up the following morning, squinting like an elderly chihuahua as you once more fumbled out of bed to pry your closet doors open, Eddie had another outfit waiting for you. Unlike yesterday, Eddie wasn’t awake.

  He was sitting against the wall of the closet, head resting against the bottom of various dresses and long skirts as a makeshift pillow. His eyes were closed and he was unnaturally still. 

  Alarms started to blare off in your head and you nearly shit your heart out of your asshole because you thought Eddie had somehow died again. Your reaction was instant, eyes filling with tears as you got on your knees and crowded into his space, hands gripping his shoulders and shaking him with a strength you didn’t know you possessed, “Eddie?! Eddie, c’mon, don’t do this to me—don’t leave me, I just got you, c’mon get up.”

  When he stirred, chest rising as he inhaled, you nearly dropped dead from the relief, allowing yourself to fall back on the carpet and partially on the rug sticking out from under your bed.

  “Oh my god.” You breathed out, lifting two fingers to check your own pulse. You still had one so you were kicking, and Eddie was still very much alive or whatever he was, “Okay, new rule, you gotta tell me what your body can and can’t do anymore—I thought you were DEAD, Eddie!” 

  You pushed up on your hands before you launched yourself at him, arms wrapping around his upper half. In that position, his hairs rubbed at your nose and the scent of your own shampoo filled your nostrils and he felt very hard overall, but his arms wrapped around you too. He was fine. Except for y’know, his current state of existence—but at least he still existed.

  When you pulled away to look at him, you noticed his eyes looked kind of hazy, bleary. Tired. He was full alert yesterday morning, and you were pretty sure he hadn’t slept that night, nor had he been tired when you got home. 

  “Are you okay?” You asked, fingers raking through his bangs to settle them against his forehead. 

  Eddie nodded slowly with a grunt, and grabbed the items that had been resting on his lap when he fell asleep, pushing them into your arms.

  A sheer black mesh long sleeve, a red corset to go over that and keep you from getting arrested for the public indecency, and a sleek midi black skirt that was sure to hug your hips and flow the rest of the way down to stop a little past your knees. 

  “So, yesterday it was Madonna and today it’s Cyndi Lauper?”

  Eddie pushed you out of the closet but before he could shut the doors, you wedged your way between them to prevent him from doing so.

  “Wait—okay, you win again. Are you tired?” You pried the doors all the way open again so you could see Eddie more clear with the light, his head nodding slowly.

  ”I didn’t know you could sleep,” You mumbled and the look Eddie gave you made you think he hadn’t known either. You were beginning to suspect your little Dr. Frankenstein moment did more than simply bring Eddie’s ear to life, “Well get up. You can sleep in my bed, I’ve got a couple of classes today. Chrissy likes to carpool on Tuesdays and my dad’s gonna head to work, not that he’d ever venture to this corner of the house anyways. Get some rest and I’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

  He looked a little unsure of himself so you had to pull him out. And once you remembered he was in the same pair of clothes, you gave him another band shirt and some plaid pajama pants you’d received on some birthday in the wrong size, to wear to bed.

  By the time you’d finished getting ready and doing your makeup, Eddie was asleep again. You found him lying on his stomach, head nuzzled into your pillow with his feet hanging off your bed.

  You walked over, grabbing your comforter from where you’d bunched it up on the other side of the bed after you’d thrown it off you and pulled it over him. Whether or not his blood circulation was working wasn’t even a thought, the action of tucking Eddie in was more so an affectionate one than rational. 

  It’d been years since he’d slept in a bed, having been wrongfully sentenced to spend eternity with worms and everything beneath the earth’s surface. You hated that, something hot simmering in your belly. Laura’s much deserved murder aside, Eddie hadn’t done anything wrong! Yeah, okay, you didn’t exactly know him—but you knew him. The dead dude, currently sleeping (?) in your bed, had acted earlier only and solely to protect you. You hadn’t been in Hawkins when he was alive so the odds of him running around with a sewing machine to bash people’s heads in for you were pretty slim.

  Impulsively, your hand reached out to run through his hair with ease, fingers twisting into the curls. His tresses were still surprisingly soft and there were no tangles. Part of you wanted to lean forward and smell him but you didn’t because it’d be creepy and he’d just smell like your shampoo, probably. 

  With a sigh, you retracted your hand and silently gaped when some of his hair came out with it. 

  Oh, shit.

  Rolling your lips together and with no alternative, you rolled the hair into a little ball and tucked it into your bra to dispose of later. The last thing you needed was for him to be nosey and bored enough to go through your bathroom trash and find his hair in it, without him having put it there.

  You were just about to head out when you remembered his shoes and how uncomfortable going to bed wearing them must have been so before you could USE YOUR FUCKING HEAD you were carefully pulling one off (it would be just your luck to accidentally pull his foot off or something) and once his foot was free—you realized immediately why he’d kept them on.

  The stench hit your eyes first, tears filling them faster than you’d ever experienced before and stinging them something fierce. When the smell breached your nostrils, it triggered your gag reflex and you did everything you could to keep your dry heaving relatively quiet. 

  After you threw up in your mouth a little, you managed to put his shoe back on and ran for the bathroom. Once your stomach was settled, you held your breath and braved your room, lunging for your body spray to aggressively mist over Eddie’s sleeping figure before hurrying out, gasping for air once you were in the hall leaning against the bedroom door. 

  God, your wallpaper was fucked. No way it wasn’t curling in on itself.

  You were still in a state of shock and recovery when you ventured downstairs, almost snapping to attention when you heard Chrissy gasp and your head lulled towards the dining room where she sat at the table across from your father. He had his head buried in some magazine while she stared at you in awe, hands covering her mouth.

  “My goodness, Sissy! You look like you could have walked straight out of that witch movie that Cher was in! You know, the one with the three witches?”

  “I’m familiar, let's hope men in real life are easier to knock dead.” You commented, leaning against the entryway with your arms crossed and the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

  Chrissy laughed, the sound ringing out like the most annoyingly pleasant wind chimes as she explained to your father who wasn’t really listening, “Because in the film, daddy, there’s this awful man and they’re trying to get rid of him and really all the men in the film aren’t the greatest.”

  Your dad just grunted, still thoroughly engrossed in his magazine, “Uh-huh, I’m sure your sister’s a regular maneater.”

  The sarcasm was evident and unappreciated by both you and Chrissy. The brief glare you spared the oblivious sack of meat was lethal before your steely gaze was back on the strawberry blonde.

  “You ready?” You usually carpooled with Chrissy on Tuesdays since your last classes lined up.

  “Ohhhhh, here she comes. Watch out, boys, she’ll chew you up.” Chrissy teased, popping the last of her eggs into her mouth. You noted, with great satisfaction, specks of pepper peeking out from her gums and between her teeth, “You know, sissy—you seem a lot more confident without mom around.”

  Your dumb bitch of a mom, you internally corrected her, lips curling into a smile as you recalled exactly where that woman was. Probably arguing with Satan about which ring of hell she’d be damned to for the rest of eternity. It had to be one of her choosing or she wasn’t going to budge an inch, you could imagine her telling the fallen angel. 

  “I do have to admit,” Chrissy continued, “It’s pretty peaceful without her here. I’ll have to convince her to go out more often.”

  This next part pained you, and you could actively feel your stomach clenching as you forced the words out, “Not too often. I kind of miss having her here.”

  Oh, you were so gonna throw up, “I mean—everyone needs a Debbie Downer to put life into perspective.” 

  Or make you want to kill yourself. The sole reason you were even voicing these lies was because you needed to establish a somewhat ‘healthy’ relationship with your stepmother, for investigative purposes. 

  Sure, you argued a lot; she hated you, you wanted her dead and now she was, but if you went around saying you missed her, you likely wouldn’t be number one on the suspect roster once she was determined to be missing. 

  That caught your dad’s attention and he finally looked up in confusion, “Really?”

  “Of course! I know we fight sometimes but she’s a good example for me.” You had to put your all into this performance, forcing your expression to appear somewhat genuine even if you were really mocking her, “Because of her, I now know it’s possible for you to be a bitch your whole entire life if you don’t fix your attitude and outlook while you’re young, and that if you don’t start caring for your skin sooner rather than later, you’ll have wrinkles the size of California. I know she doesn’t want that same bitter existence she goes through, sunup to sundown, for me. That’s why she’s so tough on me.” 

  Chrissy looked touched, a dainty little hand over her chest as she blinked back tears, “You are so right. I know she’s hard on you but I’m glad you’re starting to see she can’t help it. She’d probably rather die than not be a little judgmental.”

  You scratched the back of your neck and cleared your throat, “Mhm. So, school?”

  “My, aren't you eager to just snap the neck of every boy at school today?” Chrissy gathered her utensils after she’d cleared her plate.

  “Just certain ones.” Your nose crinkled with your smile. Chrissy briefly disappeared into the kitchen, and when she emerged, she was tightening the ponytail she’d sectioned the top half of her hair in, allowing you to see a faint bruise just below her jaw.

  “Hey—you good?” You reached up to rub a knuckle over the same area on your skin and her eyes widened as her fingertips flew to her jaw, pressing at the skin until she seemed to feel the tender spot.

  “Oh, yeah. I must have got myself with my straightener this morning.” She laughed, nervously and your eyes narrowed as you followed her into the foyer. 

  “I thought you valued not ever using heat on your hair.” You reminded her, having had to often listen to her brag about how her hair was sooooooo healthy and sooooooo long because she never used heat on it. She only slept with curlers on, and judging by the bump to her ends—that had been exactly the case. 

  Chrissy’s eyes darted away and you knew she was lying, “I-I—I do! I mean I don’t! We were just doing each other’s hair at the sleepover yesterday, and I let them─”

  “Sleepover? I thought you just went out for some bowling and a kickback. Did you not sleep here last night?” You quirked your head, mouth setting in a frown. There was nothing more you hated than being lied to. Except maybe getting the shit slapped out of you by Cruella de Vil yesterday.

  Chrissy’s eyes widened and she began to stammer, “No, no! I-I did! It was, you know, it was supposed to be a sleepover but I didn’t stay all that long. S-School night and-and all.”

  “Huh.” Was all you said, deciding to let it go after making her a little more nervous with your stare. It was powerful when lined with kohl. Chrissy looked like she was about to start shaking in her white princess Reebok’s and you started to feel bad for her. It had been over a year since her boyfriend had broken up with her and she still always felt guilty about being with other guys. You had a feeling she was still holding out for him. That, coupled with the fact that you were feeling sorry for Chrissy—and not the other way around—made you feel good about yourself so you’d happily look the other way while she tried to find affection she probably craved.

  Oh, how the turn tables.

  The ride to school was filled with chatter, Chrissy’s way of trying to make sure the subject didn’t return to her escapades from the previous night, no doubt.

  You let her chatter away as you pulled a piece of paper from one of your notebooks to jot down a quick note. Much flirtier than you had originally planned to write it, but after spotting Chrissy’s hickie, you were inspired. 

  Once you were done, you folded the pink lined paper up and pressed a kiss to it, leaving your lipstick stain on it. The paper was rubbed discretely against your neck as well, an effort to get some of your perfume on it. 

  I’m tired of playing games. No more interruptions. Meet me at the old bench in the woods behind the high school at 4pm?

  Yes /  No

  Leave your response on the windshield of the white miata

  Xoxo

  When Chrissy pulled into the parking lot and the two of you parted ways, you scanned the area for a certain car and placed the note under one of the windshield wipers before making your way to your first class. Luckily, your seat was right next to the window that overlooked the parking lot. You spent the entire class nervously fidgeting until you saw him making his way towards his car. 

  You watched, with bated breath, as he paused in his approach when he noticed the note. Your asshole clenched when he pulled it from its secure spot and unfolded the note to read its contents.

  He was too far for you to make out the expression on his face but he dug around in his pocket until he produced a pen and scribbled his response before jogging over to Chrissy’s car to leave the note exactly where you instructed and you wanted to stomp your feet against the ground in victory but no.

  No. You couldn’t, not in front of all these people and certainly not in class. You were just beginning to garner a cool reputation and you weren’t about to let a guy ruin it.

  You did, however, maintain a constant smirk throughout the day and it briefly morphed into a genuine smile when you’d intentionally wandered in front of the library, catching Steve’s eye. He’d traded you a secretive smile, fingers waving in your direction and you returned the sentiment before carrying on your way to beat Chrissy back to her car.

  You were in such a rush to make it to the parking lot before her, you didn’t stop to think someone could be coming around the corner and crashed right into a broad chest, dropping your back in the shuffle.

   “Shit. Sorry,” You mumbled, dropping down to your knees to grab your bag and the subsequent items that had fallen out of it. The mystery person bent down in time to grab the tube of your mascara before you could, the last item you needed, and held it out to you and you glanced up, body freezing as Tommy Hagan stood before you.

  “No harm done.” He shrugged, appearing nonchalant as he smiled down at you, “You really should take those corners slow. They’ll get you.”

  Tommy Hagan was…something. You didn’t really like him. 

  He hadn’t given you much of a reason to not like him, since you never interacted with him, it was just…something about him. He was a wildcard. You’d seen Tommy in many different states; cool, calm, collected, goofing off. Then, with a snap of a finger, it was like he was a completely different person. 

  You’d witnessed him lose his shit on someone before, crowding some poor guy up against his car as he threatened to bash his face in with the door. 

  He wasn’t much of a bully to you, Carol seemed to target the girls and while you’d heard Tommy used to be a big bully in high school, you hadn’t seen him pick on people continuously. Just those he actually seemed to have friction with, so you assumed he’d grown out of the bullying. 

  That being said, up until recently, he was still involved with Carol and anyone that could willingly want to deal with her in a romantic situation had to be bad news, and that’s why you stayed away.

  How he could go from Carol, to appreciatively eyeing you up in the middle of the corridor, you had no idea. 

  You didn’t like it.

   “Uh, yeah.” Was all you could say when you realized you hadn’t responded to him. “I-uhm-I was in a hurry.”

  He nodded, brown eyes sweeping over you once more, sending a bad shiver down your spine. You definitely did not like it and you couldn’t even explain why because there had been nothing inherently crude about the way he looked at you. It wasn’t anything like with Fred the other night, Tommy wasn’t looking at you like he was about to have his way with you…you couldn’t explain it. There was just something so ominous about his presence. Something dark attached to his freckled, ‘friendly’ face. 

  “Do I know you? From somewhere? We have a class together or something?” He asked, apparently keen on making small talk with you.

   “No, I don’t think so.”

  ”You’re Chrissy’s sister!” He supplied, eyes lighting up and you weren’t fond of being linked with him any sort of way.

   “Yeah. She’s-Chrissy. My step-sister.”

  How the fuck can I end this conversation?

  Tommy smirked, and you could feel your stomach drop as the ominous aura came over him, his face somehow darkening. Not in color, in nature. “Is she the evil one, or are you? Hmn?”

  You didn’t know what that meant, didn’t know if he was cruising around for his next cruel girlfriend, but it wouldn’t be you.

   Instead of answering his question, you laughed nervously. The sound wasn’t pretty, nor was it modest. You laughed loud, and you laughed obnoxiously. It’s not like you could help it!

   “I gotta, I gotta go.” You managed to get out between rounds of your laughter as you backed away.

  He watched you with something akin to interest, as you whirled around and made a dash for the parking lot.

  You could hear him call out a see you around and since you didn’t want to see him around, you just lifted a hand in acknowledgment without turning back.

  Good god, that was unpleasant. That was extremely uncomfortable and it made you feel the need to panic poop. The urge faded, when you saw Chrissy’s car. A white square was under her wipers.

  You snatched the note up, quickly unfolded it and the smirk made its way back onto your face, mimicking that of the Grinch’s when he’d come up with his plan to ruin Christmas for The Whos.

  Yes was circled, several times, so it looked like you had a date with destiny after school.

  “What are you so happy about?” Chrissy asked on the drive back home, a smile on her own face as bright eyes darted from the road to you and back again. The maniacal smile remained firmly in place on your face. You couldn’t help it. Everything really was falling into place for you.

  “We watched Bill Nye in a segment of Almost Live in my Lab class today.”

  “I love that guy, they really should give him his own show. He is kind of cute, isn’t he?”

  You gave Chrissy some side-eye, “Uuuuuhhhuuuh.”

  When she pulled up along the curb outside your house, you noticed she only put the car in park and made no move to unbuckle her seatbelt.

  When you raised a questioning brow, she supplied, “I’m gonna run into town for a little bit. You need anything?”

  Immediately, you were suspicious and if it weren’t for your plans, you might have pushed at the lame excuse. This worked for you, she’d be gone for a while and out of your business, “Nope.”

  You made sure to wait until her car had disappeared around the corner before you entered your house, jumping when you saw Eddie trying to yank his good hand out of one of the vases Laura had placed near the fireplace. It had been one you made in art class back at your old high school, so naturally, she deemed it hideous, and hid it behind an even bigger vase. 

  It was also where you stashed your weed.

  Eddie turned to you, his hand still stuck in the vase, and somehow managed to look sheepish.

  You glared, shoulder sagging enough to have the strap of your back rushing down it, “Seriously?” 

  He shrugged his shoulders, grunt sounding small.

   “Can you even smoke weed?” You asked, abandoning your backpack on the floor as you bounded over. 

  Eddie’s grunt in response sounded more like a scoff. Can he even smoke weed…

  You took hold of the bottom of the vase, holding it still to allow Eddie to pull his hand from it, still intact—thank god. In his grip, was a brightly colored Lisa Frank pouch, meant for holding your school supplies. 

  It obviously did not hold your school supplies.

   “Alright, bloodhound. We’ll give it a shot. Later. Right now, we’ve got big plans.” You gestured for him to follow you upstairs and he did, after stopping by the front door to retrieve your bag for you.

  You shoved your bedroom door open to find the bed fully made, and Eddie’s pajamas haphazardly folded on top of your duvet. 

  Sparing a glance at his approaching figure, you made a mental note to stop at one of the stores in town to get him some more threads. He couldn’t wear the same thing everyday. Actually, he could but you didn’t want him to. That was gross when guys did it, especially dead ones. 

  Your bag was tossed to the side, and you began rummaging around in your closet in search of spare sheets, “Did you get everything else ready?”

  Eddie grunted in confirmation. After he’d woken up, he’d put the items you’d requested in your van and discovered a discarded filter in there, which resulted in him searching your house for the stash you had to have.

  When you emerged from the closet, arms around balled up sheets which you soon transferred to Eddie’s waiting arms, you gave him a determined look. 

  “Let’s do this.”

  The van ride had been a quick one, and it was parked somewhere in the woods away from the roads and any foot traffic once you made it.

  A quick detour was made at the cemetery before you walked over to the area behind the high school, not too much of a walk away from the cemetery. How appropriate. 

  You assumed it was once a family location back in the glory days of Hawkins, but you had no idea why there was only a singular picnic table there.

  Come to think of it, you didn’t see any sort of grills or anything else that would make this area a popular destination, so why the hell was there a random picnic table in the middle of the woods???

  Before you could give it much more thought, you heard the sound of leaves crunching and turned your head to see Eddie’s latest donor walk right through the treeline.

   “Hey,” Fred grinned, a surprisingly thick finger reaching up to push his glasses further up his nose. His hair was wet, and you tried to keep your lip from curling at the knowledge that it was sweat and not just water. You had a sneaking suspicion the walk had been a challenge to him.

  Show time.

   “You got my note,” you breathed out, making sure the statement sounded airy and affectionate despite how the hairs on your arms were rising at the sight of the guy who’d touched you so brazenly without your consent. 

  “I did,” Fred confirmed, nearing you and you stood up to stop his approach, “I was really hoping you’d come around. And-And don’t worry, you don’t have to be embarrassed about the other night or anything.”

  You don’t have to be embarrassed about the other night.

  You.

  Fred had tried to take advantage of you while you were under the influence of a drug you hadn’t known you’d taken, had whisked you away to an empty room where something sinister could have taken place had you not saved yourself—and you didn’t have to be embarrassed about what he’d done to you.

  Something in you snapped, blood boiling so hot you could feel yourself sweat a little.

  You didn’t even like Fred as a person, and yet you could feel something lodged in your throat, heart pumping heavy in your chest and loud in your ears. It wasn’t fear, wasn’t the anxiety that overtook you more often than not. 

  Rage coursed through your entire being.

  You had no pity for him, Fred was going to get exactly what people like him deserved.

  “I was just so nervous,” you lied, tips of your fingernails dancing over the wood of the table top as you slowly moved to the other end, “And you were so kind to look after me.”

  A glance was spared in his direction, your gaze heated through your lashes.

  His cheeks flushed, splotchy face gaining more color to it.

   “It was nothing, really. We freaks gotta stick together, right?”

  You scoffed, the sound playful though you held nothing but malice for the guy across from you.

  Fred was no freak. He was a monster disguised as a nerd. You’d gone through Chrissy’s yearbook before, had seen how small he used to be. He’d evidently gained a bit of muscle since high school, swapped out a wardrobe for something slightly better, but all the physical change could do nothing to hide the little man he really was. A self-titled nice guy who wondered why girls never went for him while trying to take advantage of ones that could barely stand up on their own two feet. 

  At least the creeps made their nefarious intentions obvious. Fred was dangerous; someone calculating who hid his intentions behind a pair of frames and a somewhat friendly approach.

  “You’re right. You’re so right, and I feel really guilty about the way I ran out on you. I was hoping…” You fiddled with your fingers, feigning a coy demeanor, “Would you let me make it up to you?”

  If Fred really was worthy of some sort of stupid fucking redemption, of living, he’d say no. He’d realize how fucked up in the head he was, this whole situation was, and go get help or put himself on some sort of registry if not just disappear from the face of the earth altogether. In an ideal world, those would be possibilities. 

  This wasn’t that world, so Fred only nodded his head frantically as his knees began to shake. 

  As you led him through the woods, you briefly wondered what was going through his head. What exactly did he think you were going to do to him? Not like it really mattered, since he’d proven to be the type to try and force people to do whatever he wanted.

  You felt something swipe against the side of your pinky and pulled your hand to your chest just in time to prevent Fred from taking hold of it.

  At his questioning look, you just gave him a demure smile, “That’s for later.”

  He just shrugged his shoulders, not at all upset about being unable to hold your hand just yet because he’d get to do other things to you.

   “Where’d you say you parked your car, again?” Fred asked as the two of you approached the back of the cemetery. It was eery in this section, the area even creepier after the lightning strike. You could feel Fred’s nerves.

  “Just outside of the cemetery, it’s quicker if we cut through it. Although, I have to say, I quite enjoy strolling through it. Really puts life in perspective, don’t you think?”

  Fred gave a nervous chuckle, hair dampening again, “Uh-huh. I don’t have many dead relatives, so, no-uh, real reason to come on by this place.”

   “What’s the matter, Freddie? You scared?” 

  “No way, just not one to take romantic strolls through a cemetery. I’m not scared though.” He huffed out.

  You should be, you thought.

   A chuckle was the only response you gave him as you neared Eddie’s grave.

   “That one’s my favorite,” A polished finger was pointed in its direction and you could hear Fred’s intake of breath. Eddie’s gravesite was particularly fear inducing, the stone cracked and blackened. Patches of the grass around it had also been charred, with black arms seemingly reaching out from it. Patterns from the lightning strikes.

  Fred’s steps slowed significantly, tension building until it all came to a head when he finally noticed the mounds of dirt pushed aside, a large hole in the ground just in front of his tombstone.

  “We—We should really be g-getting out of here,” He stammered in fear.

  “Nonsense. What? Does it creep you out? Relax, Fred. It’s just from that shit weather that night, remember? Lightning, is all. Not like the dead can just climb right out.”

  Your tone was reassuring but if the noob couldn’t see the marks Eddie had made when he’d clawed his way out, couldn’t see the footprints of his shoes embedded in the mud—well, that was on him.

  But Freddy boy had had enough, walking right up to you to grab hold of your wrist so he could drag you away, “Let’s just go to your van already, this place is evil as shit and his grave is not a welcome place for anyone, let alone me.”

  Fred pulled you to his chest, which sent you into a panic. You hadn’t been expecting him to get physical with you so soon. Your body went into fight mode, squirming to get away from him which seemed to only annoy him as he fought to subdue you.

  Before you could even voice your protest, demand he let you go or kick him in the balls, Fred yelped. His grip on your wrist disappeared and you jumped back in time to avoid his body colliding with yours as he went crashing down to the ground.

  Your breathing was labored, relief morphing into the best kind of elation when you spotted the hand, coming from the hole in the grave, wrapped around Fred’s now twisted ankle.

  Fred turned to stare down at it, too. His mouth dropped in horror, body shaking like a leaf as the two of you watched Eddie Munson rise from the grave.

  The shriek Fred let out was decidedly girlish in nature, high pitched and almost impressive. You couldn’t have anyone hearing him though, so you dealt a swift kick to his mouth.

  You didn’t use much of your strength, but the kick still sent him onto his back. He groaned, reaching a hand up to his mouth and you noticed his teeth were staining a shade of red, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

  “Feeling ambushed, Freddie? Violated, perhaps?” You hissed down at him, mind flashing back to that night, feeling so disoriented and lost and wrong as he’d cupped your breast, felt you up while you could barely string a coherent sentence together and still said no.

  Fred groaned again, hunching over to spit out some blood, “What the fuck?” He asked, voice sounding dazed. 

  You didn’t notice your kick had also knocked his glasses off his face until he was shakily reaching for them. One of the lenses was cracked. It didn’t impair his vision too much, though, because he started screaming again when he caught sight of Eddie again, who’d climbed completely out of the grave and stood just over your shoulder, glaring menacingly down at him.

   “Stop screaming, you banshee.” You quickly squatted down, scooped up some dirt and shoved it into his mouth. He fought against your palm, but the idea had the desired effect; Fred was too busy coughing the dirt out to scream.

  “Please,” he croaked out, tongue sticking out of his mouth, “Stop! Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t know what I was doing!”

  The chuckle you let out was void of humor. Of course, when a man has to answer for his evil ass actions, suddenly he’s capable of admitting what he did wasn’t in the right. Too fucking bad for him. You were about to tell Fred it was far too late for pleas, until his next round of statements made you realize his begging wasn’t directed at you.

   “It was Chance! An-And Andy! It was their idea, I had nothing to do with it! I mean—I mean, I was just the lookout! How was I supposed to know what they would do?”

  Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you looked over your shoulder at Eddie who appeared just as perplexed as you.

  His brown eyes bore into yours, searching for the question in them before he shook his head.

  You turned your attention back to the weasel cowering on the ground, “You know him?”

  Fred’s gaze darted frantically from you to Eddie as he kept stuttering. He’d clearly caught on to you being unaware, and possibly Eddie. You couldn’t have him keeping secrets, though, so you reached for the ax Eddie had pulled out of the grave where’d he’d hidden it and Fred let out an inhuman line of gibberish.

   “Yes! Yes, okay, yes, I know him!”

  You weighed the ax in your hand, glaring down at Fred. You just needed this fuckers hand for Eddie. That’s it, just needed his hand and you couldn’t let him live after that. 

  It’s not like he’d just let Eddie have it, go about his life pretending like he didn’t know there was a deadman walking around with his hand after the two of you cut it off.

  That’s all you needed of Fred, and now he was mentioning having known Eddie. Implying something was done to Eddie, and you had a sickly feeling you knew exactly what.

  Did Eddie want to know? Would it do more good than bad?

  You turned your attention to Eddie once more, and found that he was already watching you. There was nothing expectant in his gaze. Despite the circumstances, and the guy shaking like a leaf on the ground with broken teeth and a broken wrist, Eddie didn’t appear menacing to you at all. 

  Just looked like he was waiting to follow your cue. And you remembered how he’d come to your rescue so many times already. It was high time you started showing up for him.

   “Explain.” You demanded of Fred, handing the ax back to Eddie.

  Fred looked hesitant, only speaking when you turned to Eddie as if to deliver the instruction to kill Fred, “It was…It was after graduation. Look, I don’t know everything, okay? Chance and Andy told me I had to meet them at the Quarry and just make sure no one else came by but Eddie. I wasn’t thinking, I was just scared as hell about someone else showing up, like what was I supposed to do to stop them? I was a twig! And then—And then, everyone came running out and yelling to scram and run for it! So…I did.”

   You watched as Fred seemed to shrink before your eyes, back to that scrawny boy you’d seen in the yearbooks.

   “I…I didn’t find out until my mom turned on the news later that night…I didn’t know Eddie was dead until then.”

  You couldn’t do anything to stop the shaky croak, a hot tear trailing quickly down your cheek as Fred confirmed Eddie had been murdered.

  Your Eddie, the sassy guy with long curly hair, a mischievous and playful nature, so far from hostile unless someone was a direct threat to you.

  He’d been harmed, his life stolen. The rage you’d felt earlier was nothing compared to the craze you were spiraling into.

  “They killed him,” You whispered out, nearly shaking. When Fred gave a slow nod of confirmation, you just about shrieked, “And you didn’t tell anyone?! You didn’t go to the police!?”

  Fred looked at you like you were out of your mind to even suggest that of him, “And tell them what? That I was the one making sure no one interrupted? I would have gone to prison.”

  Your mouth dropped open. 

  Okay. 

  Yes, you were fucked up. Your emotionally, mentally, and apparently physically abusive mother was dead and you’d played a role in that. But she was only dead because she meant to seriously harm you, and Eddie had stepped in to protect you. If it had been someone innocent, someone like Chrissy, you would have taken the blame and the prison time. You wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself.

  But this motherfucker knew Eddie had been murdered that night, had not been too far away when it happened, and hadn’t told a soul because he was afraid of possibly being held responsible. Always only thinking of saving his fucking skin.

  “You selfish son of a bitch!” You spat out, “Eddie died that night, you knew he was murdered and you let them get away with it! If you weren’t an accessory then, you sure are now!”

  “Does it look like I was meant to be in a cell!? Admonish me all you want, I did what was best for myself! I can’t take it back, what’s done is done. Besides, you didn’t know him. Eddie–he was a burnout. He wasn’t gonna do anything worthwhile anyways.”

  You couldn’t believe someone so pathetic EXISTED!

  It made you want to scream, but you held it in, physically having to close your eyes and take deep breaths before you made the last demand that would determine what would happen next.

  “Go to the police. Tell them everything. You can even tell them about me, and you can try telling them about Eddie,” You jabbed a finger into your zombie boy’s direction, “They’ll never believe you about that, though.”

  Fred blinked at you, incredulous. 

  “I’m not telling anyone anything. I’m not going to jail. I’m not.”

  You nodded your head a couple of times, running a hand over your hair. “Yeah, okay, you’re right.”

  Then, you grabbed the ax from Eddie’s grasp, swinging it down onto Fred’s propped up wrist. It was a clean cut, hand perfectly severed and Fred let out a scream.

  “You’re not going to jail.”

  Blood spurted from the wound and you cringed back a little, wishing he’d aim it away or something. Gross.

   “Why’d you do that—oh my GOD, my HAND!”

  Fred was in hysterics, clutching his arm, and really you couldn’t blame him. It probably sucked to lose your hand this way but he wouldn’t have to suffer for long.

  You picked up the appendage, waving it around triumphantly.

  “Why are you bitching? What’s done is done. I’m holding your hand like you wanted.”

  Eddie made a sound behind you and turned to hand him the…hand.

  “Here, this is yours now.” 

  Fred whimpered as you positioned yourself over him, ax in hand and poised near your head.

   “The hand is Eddie’s, but chopping it off was for me. You’re never gonna touch another girl, never gonna cause harm with it. Never again. This, however,” you adjusted your grip on the ax, making sure you had a good handle on it, “Is for Eddie. It’s nothing personal, it's just that I hate you and you shouldn’t have been too much of a bitch to report a murder.”

  With that, the ax came down. Fred didn’t make any more noise.

“So, you really don’t remember much about dying?” You asked for the third time, perched on Eddie’s headstone as he shoveled dirt over the grave to seal it once more. 

  “Uhn, uhn.” 

   “Can’t remember faces?”

   “Uhn, uhn.”

   “…Did it hurt?”

  Eddie paused in his ministrations, stabbing the shovel into the ground as he leaned against it and seemed to ponder your question. You wondered if he was trying to recall the answer, or if he was debating on whether or not he should answer. 

  You got your answer a few moments later when Eddie slowly nodded his head, shoes smoothing over the surface of the dirt before he pulled the shovel out and gestured for you to follow him back to the van.

  Eddie was quiet, something had changed. Aside from, you know, your body count.

  You had an inkling it bothered Eddie to not know what happened to him. Not a whole lot of your thought went into it, but Eddie had to have been mourned by someone. He had that tombstone, the inscription. Those weren’t cheap and someone had to have cared for him enough to make sure he had it. Did he have a mom and dad? A guardian? Family?

  He’d left people behind, against his will and probably had no idea where they were now.

  You hoped he didn’t feel alone in the world. 

  It wasn’t impulsive, it was an action that came from a great deal of caring… you reached out for the hand still attached to his body. It wasn’t warm, and it wasn’t cold, either. What it was, was comforting.

  From your peripheral vision, you could see his head turn to you in surprise and you met his gaze, offering a smile and a squeeze to his hand you were sure he couldn’t feel.

  Until he squeezed yours back.

  “We didn’t even need the sheets.” You realized out loud. Originally, you were gonna wrap Fred up, weigh him down with some rocks and throw him in Lover’s Lake. It had been Eddie’s idea to bury him. By that, you meant he just dug out the rest of his grave (impressive with one hand) and rolled Fred into it.

  RIP FrEddie Munson.

After a quick trip into town to get some things for Eddie (he had to lay down in the back), and pick up some more thread, the two of you made it home to find no one else had which worked in your favor. 

  You didn’t bother changing out of your bloody clothes just yet. You still had some Frankenstein work to do with a live-ish appendage, so you found yourself on Eddie’s lap, sewing his new hand into place.

  It would have been quicker if you could focus but Eddie’s face was just a few inches away from yours and he would not look away. The side of your face his gaze was boring into felt hotter than the other side and it was making you nervous for some reason. Not a bad nervous, just…nervous.

  You decided to break the tension.

   “Oh, shit, this is the wrong hand.”

  That did the trick, you felt him tense up underneath you and Eddie’s head darted down to make sure he didn’t have two of the same hand, body relaxing when he realized you were joking.

   “Got’cha.” You grinned, eyes scanning over his features. You felt your heartbeat stutter when you noticed the twitch at the corner of his lips. Eddie was smiling at you.

  Swallowing hard, you cleared your throat, gave him a tight smile, and went back to work. 

  He groaned on one particular tug of the thread, and you paused with a wince, “Did that hurt?”

  He shook his head, but he was also making a bit of a face.

   “Feel unpleasant?” 

  “Mm.”

   “Sorry,” You were a little more gentle in your actions, trying to carefully weave the needle through his wrist, and his new hand, making sure your tugs were extra gentle which he appeared to appreciate, nuzzling his head against yours for a brief moment.

  You nearly convulsed.

  Once the hand was on, the thread had been snipped and neatly secured, it was to the tanning bed!!!

  You got him all situated, made sure he didn’t hit his head and then watched him light up.

  The smell of burnt hair filled the mini garage, and you made a mental note to pick up some hair products later. Eddie’s curls were gonna need it if they wanted to stay attached to his scalp, though you supposed you could probably scalp someone should he need a replacement.

  Argyle, a guy who worked at one of the local pizza places, had long luxurious locks of hair, but you couldn’t do that to him. He was a nice dude, stuck in a permanent trip for sure, and so always pleasant to you. He was also your dealer and you were pretty sure his girlfriend was a witch. The last thing you needed was to be cursed or hexed. Or turned into a goat.

  Settling in for what you expected to be a long wait while Eddie tanned, you were surprised when just a few moments later, all sparking stopped. Figuring you didn't set the right temperature to bake him at, you moved to mess with the dial only for a hand to curl out and push the lid of the bed up.

  Eddie’s time in the tanning bed, while somewhat briefer this time, still seemed to have cooked him. Smoke dripped out, flowing almost syrup-like down to the floor where it all seemed to pool and twist around your ankles as the bright blue lights of the bed’s panels cast the room in a euphoric glow. 

  You stared wordlessly, mouth parted in complete enchantment–and you swore you could hear the intro to Ozzy Osbourne’s No More Tears in the background like some godly music video on MTV–as Eddie’s figure emerged from the smoke still gathered in the bed.

  And in seemingly slow motion to your captivated self, Eddie pulled the goggles over his head, hair tousling just the right amount. His movements were fluid, not a stiff limb in sight. In fact, he even stretched out, shirt riding up to expose his pale—no longer a completely sickly shade—stomach and a smattering of dark hair that made up his happy trail. 

  Uh oh. Something was going on in your body.

  It was only when that happy tail was covered again, Eddie hunching forward, that you realized you were staring at his crotch region. Your eyes drifted up to find Eddie staring at you, more life in those warm, gorgeous eyes of his, framed by attractive dark circles as he smirked at you. No twitching of his lips, no maybe smiles. It was a full on smirk. Eddie was in complete control of his face (and you noticed his cheeks dimpled when he smiled).

  He lifted his new hand and wiggled his fingers at you in greeting. That’s when you lost it, jumping up and down in elation. 

  “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!”

  Eddie was fast, pushing himself off the tanning bed to dart forward and sweep you right out of the garage, spinning you around and around.

  You clung to him, laughing and filled with so much joy at the knowledge that Eddie was coming back to life. When he decided you’d been spun enough, and your head was a whirlwind, he released you and you stumbled a little, finding your balance with the hand Eddie offered to you for stabilization.

   “Look at you.” You breathed out in amazement. It was more of a whisper but Eddie heard. He looked pleased, gesturing to himself with a sweep of his wrists, Look at me.

  You were correct in your scrutinization of him when you’d first played dress-up.

  Eddie Munson was very much so hot when he was alive. There was no doubt in your mind. You hadn’t seen a whole lot of his movements, what with him finally being able to move freely occurring just a few moments ago, but you were inclined to believe he was extremely theatrical in them. Probably in everything he did. 

  And confident.

  Eddie seemed to have had enough of the small distance between the two of you, twirling you back in his grasp so you were pressed right up to him, his hands on your sides to hold you. He was grinning like an idiot and you were positive your face was no better. Your cheeks were beginning to hurt from your smile.

  “So. You’re the infamous Eddie Munson.”

  He rolled his eyes and you laughed, something inside of you warming up at the smile he gave you in response to it.

   “It’s nice to meet you, Eddie. I’ve been wanting to for a while now.”

[shuenkio]

愛 I want your Salty ! - 이희승

Paring: Heeseung X M!reader

Synopsis ; It was a teasing joke but who knows your boyfriend would actually let you taste his "Salty" Water?

Genre: Smut Cw: Smau. Non proof read

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A/n: ik there'd be some part that different from the starter, since my brain is not braining— anyway.

In a day of normal life of Mn who always wanted someone who can understand him and can handle him at his worst not only his emotion but his behavior too since he know himself that, he can't control his running lip and thought sometime despite being a random rambler person, and it was just a dream and hoping to find a perfect boyfriend right? right but not until someone like his tinder profile, and text him that they want to meet him, a normal single date between two guys wouldn't hurt a try, so Mn give it a short, lower his expectation and standard so he can take anything they could offer.

Lord have mercy, it not what Mn have expected, the person who asked him out on a date named, Heeseung is just far more than he could imagine after exchange each other life story. Mn was about to explode after learning that Heeseung was just as much as him, just a different body at least, he was casual, blunt, quite, bold and understandable kind of person which make it so perfect if he would be Mn's boyfriend.

Which soon turn to be true, it not Mn who asked the taller if he had a partner, it the other way around. the red hair didnt play once he also find his perfect love on a random day and he would let it slip into thin air? not a chance, after the date end that day, he immediately asked Mn out and asked him to be his, not for a time being but forever, and when Mn ensure about a second thoughts, Heeseung didn't care one bit if there any negative about Mn, He calmy response he know when he see one and that's not his Mn. And the answer cannot be No, if Hee want it he would do anything....

Present time

The day fall into dark, replace by the thousands stars filled the empty sky, the moon were amazing today, it light shine bright through every corner of the busy night city. Mn and Heeseung just got back from running errands today and making both of their ways back to their shared apartment home. Due to the hot weather from the day, when Mn spotted a ice cream truck he was thinking to grab some to cool down their body, and Heeseung just go along with it, anything for his Boyfriend.

And they continue on their way back home, as both of them have ice cream in their palm, licking, sucking, savoring the taste with it cold and yummy flavor. As Mn was eating, he is licking a scoop of ice cream which make his brain freeze for a moment. Heeseung chuckled to the sight, find t amusing and adorable when Mn acting like a toddler. Mn knot his brows together, his expression turn to a fake sulking that draw more laugh from the latter. The good time last for a while, before an idea pop up when Mn thought of something that could make his Boyfriend stun or even freaking shock.

"Stop snorting, This ice cream was too sweet that i could get diabetes ugh why don't you help me" Mn let out a sassy sigh and look away, hoping he would respond to his favor.

"By what, i don't have anything on me except a bottle of water, do want it?" Hee claimed, as he was about to pull out a water bottled from his backpack but was stopped why Mn comments.

"Oh so you thought i want that bland water? joke on you i want a salty one- from You" Smirk appear on Mn face, express the teasing in his tone with a hint of actually want it, knowing that Heeseung won't do such thing, and Mn know his taller bf know what he mean. Result Heeseung to turn his head slowly toward his lover, raise one of his eyebrows,That's even Mn cant even read his face.

Yet he not actually looking and pay much attention to Mn right now, Hee looking for a nearby restroom.

"What are you looking for? Don't take it seriously i was joking let's go back home, it getting late" Mn disappointed and awkward ate him up as nothing slip from Heeseung lip, it was pure silent. Mn was ready to go back home at instant only to get his back collar hooked by Heeseung's finger and dragging Mn to the restroom nearby.

"Don't be, i never said i would not give what you want, you said what you said right?"

"Heeseung....!"

////

Inside the empty restroom, with barely nobody came across at this hour, Heeseung and Mn were in the same stall, just the two of them.

With Heeseung sitting on the toilet, Mn were sitting down on the floor. A lopsided grin painted in the taller face as his fingers dug into the waistband of his pants, all at once before pool down everything on his ankle, with a quite a shift of the fabric, his cock was exposed- vulnerable in a way that giving Mn access to his liking, the cool air brushing over the heated skin making him twitching and throbbing.

"Go on suck it like how you wanted, i don't mind since you like it"

Mn blinked, jaw ticking slightly, like his brain had short circuited but refused to believe what his lover just did.

"Uhhh can i even?-"

"If you don't I'm going to make you yourself darling, do it as you please, suck my cock until it dripping, leaking, and load you milk by the time it fucking drown your throat, like you want it Mn, my salty cum- do i need to say more?"

Heeseung even making sure he was making the right statement for his clueless boyfriend so he could feel at ease, as he lean backward, spread his legs more for his Mn to giving him more entry. He always been the understanding one, quietly patient, nothing really shock him anymore, he would give all the things Mn desire.

Mn eyes spark with satisfations the kind that came when something he longing for finally here. As he slowly insert his boyfriend's jotting massive cock inside his warm mouth then began to bobbing his head in a steady rhyme, taking his time to make this moment longer. While Heeseung just sit still, doing nonthing.

"Just like that Mn, wrapped that hungry lip like you want to eat this cock- fuck hell yeah" The empty room are now filled with soft groan and moaning from the stall, not even care if there anyone would hear them, this is all pleasure that cannot be stop.

Heeseung’s breath caught, shoulders pressing back as his fingers curled tight in hair. He wasn’t being loud, he couldn’t be, but the sounds still slipped from him, unfiltered and low. Quiet groans rolled out of his chest, scattered and rough around the edges like he didn’t know how to hold them in anymore.

"Ah… fuck…" His voice was barely above a whisper, but every word felt heavy, soaked in heat.

The mouth on him moved with intention. Not rushed. Not teasing. Just steady, like something worth savoring. Tongue soft and warm as it swept along the underside, slow and sure, before easing back again. Heeseung shuddered, jaw clenching as his thighs twitched.

He looked down and swore again, eyes glazed, lips parted, chest rising in shallow waves.

"You’re gonna make me… shit, Don't you stop"

Heeseung’s hand dropped to the stall wall, palm flat, searching for something solid. The way he was being taken in wasn’t rough, but it was overwhelming in its care. Like every second had been memorized.

He let out a moan, voice caught in the back of his throat.

"God, your mouth…"

His body trembled as that warmth coiled tight in his stomach. The way he was being taken in, steadily, deeper with each pass, had him spiraling. Heeseung could barely breathe. His other hand tangled deeper in Mn hair, not guiding, just holding on.

"You’re gonna kill me," he whispered, a choked sound following right after.

"Don’t stop. Please. Just… don’t."

His hips jerked once, breath staggering, and the mouth around him adjusted with the same smooth pressure, never missing a beat. A soft hum followed, intentional or not, it didn’t matter. It was the last thing he needed.

“Fuck, I’m gonna…cum, cum cumming ”

With a low, shaky moan, Heeseung tensed. His breath stilled. Then he came, with a massive load, it was quiet but intense, his toes curling as a sound escaped him, raw, soft, almost reverent.

"Swallow it, don't leave any drop darling, just like you need to refresh your sweet tongue"

His head tipped back, neck bared to the too-bright lights above, chest rising in uneven waves as he tried to remember how to breathe. Fingers still tangled, body still pulsing from the aftershock.

"Was it salty like you want now?"

Mn nodded satisfied.

Who wouldn't when you get to suck Dick, especially from someone you loved.

[fel-09]

Tommy loves to grumble And she loves to listen to him

Author's note: I love it when Tommy grumbles, I want to kiss him on the cheeks at that moment Pairing: Thomas Shelby / reader Genre: romance, ironic domesticity with a gangster overlay, fluff .

When He’s Grumbling, There Are a Few Ways to Calm Him Down

Thomas Shelby entered the house like a man preparing for war.

His steps echoed down the corridor, coat slung over his shoulders like a battered suit of armor, his face carved in stone. He didn’t glance around — just let the coat fall onto the armchair with the kind of disdain that made it seem like the furniture had personally offended him.

She heard him from the kitchen. She didn’t need to look — she knew the sound of his grumbling, the weight of his steps, the sharp inhale through his nose when the world dared challenge him.

A button had snagged on his sleeve, and he muttered something under his breath. Quietly, but with the venom of a man tired of everything — of people, noise, bad cigars, and his own patience wearing thin.

She didn’t rush out. Let him stew in his own storm for a minute or two. Let him curse the button, the weather, the weight of his name — and, inevitably, her, if she smiled too soon.

Then, and only then, did she appear at the doorway, graceful as if she had rehearsed her timing.

“You lose another fight to a button, Tommy?” she asked, leaning against the frame, arms crossed with a quiet sort of amusement.

He didn’t look at her. Just gave a disgruntled twitch of his shoulder.

“Buttons. City council. The sky. Everything’s against me today.”

“Strange. Thought you had them all in your pocket.”

Her voice was slow, lazy in the most deliberate way — the kind of calm that drove him mad because it made his anger look childish.

Which was exactly why he always came back to her.

He sank into the chair. Not sat — sank. Like a man dragging the whole day down with him. The lamp cast soft light over his face, drawing shadows under his eyes, over the creases on his brow, those unspoken war-lines no one dared ask about.

“Where are my cigarettes?” he muttered without looking up.

She stood near the window, wrapped in a blanket, cup in hand. Beautiful in the quiet way only women who knew exactly who they were could be.

“You’ve got two hands, two legs and a whole head. Find them yourself.”

No reply. Just a long exhale, as if he could release the whole cursed day through his lungs. She walked over, placed the cup on the table. No fuss. No coddling. Just tea — not whiskey. Whiskey made him meaner. Tea gave him a chance.

“This isn’t whiskey,” he noted dryly, eyeing the cup like it was betrayal.

“It’s better,” she said, sitting next to him. “Whiskey won’t calm you down. I will.”

A breath of a smirk. Barely there.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“You sound concussed.”

He opened his eyes. That look again — heavy, not cruel. Tired. She knew that look better than anyone. She’d seen it when he came home bleeding, when he stared out windows for hours, when his silence roared louder than his voice.

“You grumble like an old man,” she murmured. “Like the world owes you something and keeps forgetting to pay.”

“It does.”

“You know what’s funny?” she leaned a little closer, shoulder brushing his. “You look dangerous. But really... you’re just exhausted.”

“Exhausted from what?”

“Everything. People. The street. The fucking buttons.”

He said nothing. Just sat there, soaking in her presence like a man crawling out of winter and into warmth.

She didn’t touch him, but he felt her — her calm, her quiet defiance. The kind that didn’t demand, didn’t beg, didn’t fix. Just... stayed. That was what grounded him.

When he grumbled, there were a few known cures:

Cigarettes.

Silence.

The dark.

Lately, there was a fourth.

Her.

The one who brewed tea like it was medicine.

The one who matched him word for word.

The one who didn’t need him to be anyone but the tired, fraying, furious man he was.

He glanced over.

“You staying?”

“I’m always here, Tommy. Even when you’re too tired to remember it.”

He didn’t smile. Didn’t know how. But his eyes — they softened.

And that was enough.

He grumbled again.

Of course he did. As if silence was too heavy, and words — even angry ones — made the weight of the day sit better on his chest.

“Bloody tea’s gone cold already,” he muttered, pushing the cup aside with a single flick of his fingers. “And the whole bloody room smells like rose soap. When did that happen?”

She didn’t reply.

Just looked at him — long and unreadable — before stepping in close.

Too close.

Tommy squinted. “What are you doing?”

“Interrupting your grumbling,” she said sweetly.

And then — she kissed him.

Not his lips.

His cheek.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Soft, precise little kisses like she was trying to erase every line carved by anger. Left. Right. Near the corner of his mouth. Under the eye he always narrowed when annoyed.

“Stop that,” he said gruffly.

She kissed him again.

“Stop it,” he repeated, turning slightly — so she just followed, kissing the other side.

“This is harassment,” he added flatly, but there was the slightest twitch in the corner of his mouth. The ghost of a smirk.

She ignored the words, leaning in to kiss his temple now, her tone mocking and syrupy:

“Oh no,” she cooed, “the mighty Thomas Shelby is under siege. Attacked by affection. How ever will he survive?”

He huffed, but didn’t pull away.

“D’you make it your life’s mission to be a nuisance?”

“No,” she whispered, pressing a kiss just below his jaw, “just to annoy you.”

“I’m trying to be serious.”

“That’s your problem. You’re always trying.”

He turned to face her fully now, brows low, voice dry.

“You know, most people would be terrified to interrupt me mid-rant.”

She tilted her head, studying his face with a maddening little smile — that maddeningly tender smile that always got under his skin.

“I’m not most people. I’m the woman who kisses your bad moods until they surrender.”

He exhaled through his nose.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t stop her.

Another kiss. Another soft mockery pressed to his brow.

“You’re lucky you’re beautiful,” he muttered.

She grinned, finally sitting down beside him again, curling a leg underneath herself like a cat too satisfied with her chaos.

“I know. You remind me every time you frown.”

He let his head fall back against the chair, eyes slipping closed, voice rasped with something that wasn’t quite defeat but certainly wasn’t war.

“Bloody woman,” he muttered.

“Say it again,” she teased.

“Bloody. Woman.”

And this time, he didn’t even try to hide the smirk

[lbjeff]

Then the Bats realize Davey who can use his words is more terrifying than when he not.

In the past he only terror people by dying in the most horrible ways. Now Davey torture them with BOTH his murdered body and his words

For examples

Flash: Wow, I hear that your child, Davey can talk now! Congratulations, B!

Davey, whom Flash didn’t see that he also there, appears behind him: Do you know what could happen to speeder when he trips on a rock? Their bones may be break though their skin, especially the knees

Then Davey chances his bones to make them peaks out of his skin.

Flash, hear the clack of bones and turn his face back like a classic horror movie character: Ahhhhhhhh!

But Flash doesn’t run cause he fear he would tripping latter

P/s: Flash Kid doesn’t believe him so he invite Davey to his house to prove his point. He would regret it latter

Or:

Hal just got back from his space mission and is talking about an alien he had met, who he had a quick fling with but broke up cause she wanted kids immediately. Davey happened to appear at Tower that day. This time Superman is doing the babysitting for Lois so he brings Davey along

Hal: In her planet, the woman is super hot while the male looks like slime in video games. It kinda weird

Davey: I see them before, in Clark’s files on endangered aliens at Solitude Fortress

Hal, still a little scared from the last time they met but is surprise that Davey could talk in sentence now: Wow, good job kid. What do you know about them?

Davey: They reproduce by the female put the eggs into the male’s body by kissing, then the eggs get bigger until it break the male’s stomach. That is the reason the female often look attractive based on universal standers while the male looks like slime. This way, the male mainly could find mate in their planet when the female could find mate in other planets

Hal, now a little afraid: Woah, your memory is good

Davey ignores him: If the female reproduce with other species, the eggs will break the father’s belly and may kill them in process. Like this.

Then Davey’s belly gets bigger and then bom, like the flesh bomb and cover everybody in blood and organs. It happens so fast so it take everyone a whole minute to processing what was happening

Davey, with his head lands on a table: And the time for eggs to hatch is maximum 1 month

Hal: OMG! That is the reason she gave me a funny look when I say see her next month and kissed her good bye

Davey: And the things that similar with their abortion drug is human’s liver. You are welcome!

Hal: No, I rather die than eating a humen liver! Batman, do something or I would die because I refused to eat your kid’s liver

Batman: Calm down, Hal. If it has similar structures with human’s liver then I would make make one for you, artificial one. And Davey, I believe Lois has talked to you about blood on people and furnitures

Davey: Sowey

Then he regains his human forms, claps his hands, open his sharpened fangs monstrous mouth and all the blood, organs “come back” to his body, through his mouth. (He does it for a show, the bloods on clothes and ground just disappeared). He didn’t take back the liver

Davey: You can keep it

P/s:

Clark: B, as you can see, Davey could talk pretty well now so you may take him home soon. Like today

Bruce: Well, I promise him to stay with Lois for a weekend. And he still didn’t say sorry right so guess I still need Lois’s help

Clark: Lois thinks he’s cute when he says his “sowey” so she hasn’t fixed him yet

Bruce: Fair enough. I would send Damian to your house to have a play date with Jon, he will help take care of Davey

Clark: Why do you think send another child to my house would solve things? And don’t pretend you don’t do it because you just has a fight with Robin and need to get him somewhere out of Gotham

Bruce: And Mr.Wayne will make time for journalists Kents for a special interview about his new kid

Clark: Well, I alway happy to help you to mentor your kids, especially Davey and Damian

Hal: Hey guy, I still need my “special” medicine

Bruce: Well, good for your health, you are not pregnant. Their specie only impregnate other species by sex, not just kissing like their own specie

Hal: Well, Not good to say, I still need those medicine

In galas that Bruce and Tim bring Davey along, to make him “socialize” more (it is Bruce’s idea)

Davey is chilling in his conner. A creep come near him to be “friendly” with Wayne’s kid

Creep: You are Davey Wayne, right? Well, everyone had thought your fist appeare in Gotham elite’s world would be your welcome gala. Guess Bruce isn’t paying attention to his strays like he did in the past

Davey looks at him, slowly change his lips into a “lunatic horror creature’s smile”, his pupils go wider until his eyes are two void black holes with green mist pour out and wandering around him.

Davey: And you will die in the basement in your house, the near lake one where you buried your hobbies. Being tearing apart by the “beasts” you keep

The creep too scared that he frozen in his place. And Davey chances to another conner to chilling and wait to terror another creep

Later that creep, fears of Davey’s words being true, planed to “erase” the guy he keeps to guard his “have fun” house. But he was killed by being chopped into pieces by those guys. Then he being burned alive in the lake house where he did tortured and buried his “ex hobbies”

And the Bats know about it after Batman do the investigation on a creep’s missing case

Tim: I said we should not break up Davey and Cocomelon. Now see what happens when Davey recovers his attention span

Dick: In his defense, he only said some words, the rest can’t be blame on him

Damian: Davey doesn’t need to be defended. He is just proving his crime solving talent, by killing the criminals before they could do more crime, with just his words

Bruce: That should not be encouraging!

Jason: What? Davey is just doing his innocent child thing and saying some “innocent talk”, everything happened to those creeps were because they were cowards

Bruce: They have been murdered

Jason: Yes, just like their victims

Davey Speaks

Davey: *hovering over the bed* Father. What is my purpose?

Bruce: *just woke up from a 15-minute nap after 48 hours of work and is sure he is hallucinating* What?

Davey: Why do I exist?

****

Davey: Candy! Candy!

Duke: You can get an apple.

Davey: Do you think this is a game? Candy. I want Candy.

Duke: What the fuck? You can talk?

Davey: No one will believe you.

****

Davey: Cookie!

Alfred: Master David, please refrain from shouting when you want something. Ask properly.

Davey: May I have a cookie?

[skaybrekker]

no time to die.

Summary: you are a Resident at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital, one of the most loved ones and unfortunately, you went to the Pittfest. There, after the shooting, you helped a lot of people, even as you had been shot as well and once helps gets there, they take you to the Hospital, where a lot of people are worried about you.

Word count: 8.5k.

Warnings: gun violence, MEDICAL INACCURACIES I'm not a Medic nor a Medic Student everything I wrote was based on GOOGLE, angst, graphic description of bullets wounds, death (reader lives), violence, gore, hurt/comfort, fem!reader. English it's not my mother language, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes.

Pairing: the pitt x reader!, no romantic relationship, all of it it's platonic.

“Please tell me that you being here means that my shift just ended.” You didn’t even let Dr. Robby say hi to you before you attacked him with a clear desperation to get the hell out of the ER.

It had been a tiring shift, with almost a broken record of OD’s. It wasn’t just physically exhaustion; it was also mentally tiredness. You had to tell three families about how their teens children had abused drugs so bad to the point where they couldn’t save them. It had been absolutely horrible and an experience you didn’t want to repeat.

Night Shifts had these things that could destroy you mentally if you didn’t know how to manage them. Day Shifts had its things as well, as everything, but between you and your own mind, the Nights had this adrenaline that ER Doctors were addicted to.

Dr. Ellis and Dr. Shen were both great companies, you loved sharing shifts with them. Dr. Shen and you shared this calmness on the ER that was not common in your job but that somehow, described so well your personalities. Dr. Abbott was usually drove mad over your easy behaviour in such stressful situations and you always told him that you had learnt this calmness from the best, aka, Dr. Robby.

You, just like Dr. Mohan, were a R3 Resident, one of the youngest in history; a prodigy it was what you were usually called, even if you didn’t like one bit that word. You liked to say that your brain just worked a bit faster than everyone’s else, that’s it.

As soon as you arrived at this Hospital, you took over everyone’s heart. All the people who worked here loved you, even Dr. Abbott, who was known for having a soft spot for you. After all, how couldn’t he, when you were the best of the best?

Since you were one of the youngest one, most of the Doctors and Nurses in the hospital had taken under their wing as their child, loving to care for you and to watch you become better and better on your job. You would be forever grateful for the family you had gain in the job. They were the most important people for you.

“You aren’t enjoying the pleasure of my company, Dr (Y/N)?” Dr. Abbott grumbled from Dana’s right, smirking and you huffed, while hearing how Dr. Robby let out a loud chuckle.

“My dear Dr. Abbott, your company it’s always a pleasure, but I really want to get the hell out of here.” Dr. Robby, always the serenest and kind one, put his hands in your shoulders, giving you a comforting smile.

“Yes, Dr. (Y/N), the fact that I just arrived means your shift just ended. Go home and relax, for I what I heard, you deserve it.” His words made your tense shoulders relax, and you let a sigh full of relief, while muttering ‘Thank Gods’.

“She won’t do much relaxing today, right dear?” Dana, quite literally the best nurse alive said, smiling playfully at you and you let a smile full of excitement form in your face.

“What?” Dr. Abbott frowned, glancing at you.

“I’m going to the Pittfest! My friend got us some last-minute tickets. Gods, I’m so fucking excited. Today is going to be fun.” You clapped your hands together, shrinking in happiness.

“Well, at least one of us is going to have fun today.” Dr. Langdon appeared out nowhere, winking an eye at you and you sticked you tongue in his direction.

“It’s that jealousy that I hear?” You raised your eyebrows at him, and he quickly laughed, shaking his head.

“Hell no. We will probably have tons of more fun here than in a fucking hippie festival.” It was a comment that probably should be treated in therapy since it might not be normal to have fun in an emergency ER, but this was how you all worked, addicted to the adrenaline of always having something to do.

“Rude.” You answered, lifting your middle finger and Dr. Langdon gasped, putting a hand in his chest and looking at Dr. Robby as if you had just killed somebody in front of him.

“Hostile environment at work. Do something!” You scoffed, but the one replying to him was Princess.

“Dr. Langdon, I’m sorry to be the one breaking the news, but Dr. (Y/N) here is clearly their favourite, they won’t do shit to her.” She said, smirking and that made you laugh loudly.

“So fucking unfair.” You heard how Dr. Langdon mumbled, making you hit him playfully in the arm.

“Alright, alright, I’ve heard enough, I’m getting out of here. Good luck with your shift, Dr. Robby, Dr. Langdon. Don’t miss me too much.” You turned around, finally determined to get out of here.

“We won’t!” You heard how Dr. Langdon replied to you, and you smiled, shaking your head.

You quickly put a hoodie on from your locker and grabbed the backpack you always brought, ready to get out of the hospital. Before you could really leave, though, Dr. Robby took you by the arm and you frowned at him. However, when you glanced at the four people in front of him, you realized that they were the new interns and R2 that had their first shift in this hospital.

“Alright guys, now, I want to present to you to Dr. (Y/N). Sadly, today the night shift got her, but let’s hope next time we are the ones blessed by her presence. She’s the nicest Doctor you will meet here, so, enjoy every case you will work with here.” You blushed a bit, smiling at the high praises from your superior, still not getting used to them and then you looked at the new people.

“Hello everyone! As Robby said, I’m Dr. (Y/N). If you need anything at any moment and we are sharing shifts, just look for me and I will help you. I hope you have a great time today. Good luck, I’m sure you will all do great. Believe me, I’m telling you from experience, you are in really good hands.” You smiled and to your satisfaction, you observed how most of them relaxed at your words, returning the smile. You had always liked having interns around, loving to teach them and to get those glazy looks in their eyes that they get every time they see something amazing.

Out of every Resident, you were the one who was usually follow around by the interns like puppies and Dr. Robby was usually really satisfied with the thing they said about you; it was probably a relief to have at least one Resident who honestly liked to teach.

You said goodbye once again and finally; you move out of the hospital.

Since it was pretty early, once you got home, you quickly throw yourself to bed to have some hours of sleep, setting an alarm for 1PM. You arranged with your friend to meet at your home around 2PM, since it was the closest one to the place where they were doing the festival, already ready to get on the move.

Once you woke up with the alarm, you felt well rested. Gods knew you needed those hours of sleep. After taking a quick warm shower, you started to get ready. Due to the fact that it was a calm festival, you went for some white jeans, a green shirt with some sprangle, a pair of Texans and some simple make up, with green details in the shadow of your eyes.

Since it usually became cold in the night, you decided to take with you an oversized hoodie and just when you were about to prepare a sandwich to eat, you heard how your friend knocked. Smiling, you went to get the door and as soon as you opened it, Alex threw herself at you, a loud pitched scream leaving her mouth. You snorted, catching her and whirling around for some seconds.

“YOU’RE READY?!” She asked (screamed), letting you go and jumping around the house, thing that made you shake your head in fond.

“Yes, just let me finish my sandwich and then we will go.”

A couple of hours later, you and Alex were walking through the festival, going from one scenario to the other one, laughing at some boys who were trying to get to the top of the big letters that formed the name of the festival while security was screaming to them to back down.

One moment, you were laughing with your friend.

A second later, you were falling to the ground, a blinding pain hitting your leg, while shots were fired everywhere.

For a moment, it was as everything was in slow motion. You blinked, harsh breaths leaving your mouth and a weird ringing sound beating your ears. Then, finally, reality washed your mind.

There was a shooter in the festival.

You were shoot.

Shit, shit, holy mother of Gods.

Panic filled your veins, your chest constricting at the honest fear. You could see people in throwing themselves to the ground, people falling down after being shoot, and you looked at your right, where Alex was and to your relief, you saw that she was also in the ground, but clearly unharmed. She was screaming your name, but you could barely hear it.

Then, you finally reacted.

“ALEX, WE HAVE TO LOOK FOR COVER!” You screamed, looking around frantically and the closest thing you had was a big can of trash. You pointed your finger at it and Alex quickly nodded, both of you starting to crawl. Once you were covered, you sat with your back against the trash ban, asserting your own wound.

The bulled had hit you in the right thigh. Since you couldn’t feel a hole in the other side, it meant that the bullet was still inside. Blood was quickly spitting out and you knew you had to act fast before the bleeding made you pass out or worse, go into shock. You had been applying pressure since you had sat dow but it was clearly not working, so, you needed another plan. The next step was quite obvious; you had to apply a tourniquet in yourself.

“Alex, I need you to apply pressure in the wound for some seconds.” You told your friend, who immediately nodded and put her hands in your wound. A blinding pain roamed through your body at the feeling of somebody touching your injury making you whimper, but you breathed in and out for some seconds and told yourself to suck it up.

The only thing you had on hand that might work was your shirt, so, you took it out, staying only with your sporty top. You ripped it into sheets, shaping it into some kind of strip and as quick as you could, you put it around the high part of your thigh, obviously below the hips but about two from three inches above the GSW. You knotted the shirt, and you breathed out, preparing yourself for the amount of pain you were about to feel.

It was alright, you could do it. Come on.

You tightened the knot and the scream that left your mouth was guttural. You felt how your eyes fluttered, the amount of pain you were in making you rave, however, you stubbornly forced yourself to stay awake, tightening the shirt even more with your shaky hands. Once you let go, you back fell into the bin since you didn’t have the strength to support your own weight anymore.

“(Y/N)?!” You heard how Alex screamed, and she took you by the cheeks, making you see the panic state she was in.

Your heart was trumping loudly against your chest, tears rounding around your eyes. The pain was unbearable, as if something was constantly sticking a knife through your thigh and you throwed your head back, almost whitening out. You wanted it to stop, stop, stop, but the pain kept going and going. God.

“Did the bleeding stop?” You muttered weakly, blinking at your friend and she froze for some seconds until she reacted, jerking her head around to watch your wound. To your pure relief, she looked back at you and nodded. “Good, good, then I will be fine, Alex. Don’t worry.”

Alex was shaking, kneeling and not knowing what to do, since she was a Graphic Designer, not a fucking Doctor or anything like it. Looking at you being in such a pain probably wasn’t easy either, so, you tried to suck it up as much as you could, wiping the tears with your shaking hands.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You whispered, your voice fragile. Alex’s look stuck frozen on you, as if she couldn’t believe you were telling her you were fine after being fucking shoot. But it could be worse, alright? You had seen worst cases in the ER than this one. You were going to be just fine.

The good thing was that shoots stopped. For a moment, the whole place stayed silent and then, another hell started.

Screams full of sorrow, of pain, of anger and you knew in that moment that you needed to start to help immediately.

Alex must have guessed by your determinate expression.

“No, no, you don’t. You will stay exactly here until help arrives.” But as she was ordering you, you were already starting to get up with the help of the bin. You knew that with a bullet wound in the leg, the last thing a Doctor would recommend was to start to walk around, but fuck that. You could feel the adrenaline already kicking in, thing that was going to help to maintain your pain at check.

“Help won’t arrive until at least ten minutes. I have the power to save lives right now, Alex. You can’t stop me.” You replied, clenching your jaw at the pain roaming through your light leg, having to grab yourself from the trash bin to not fall down again. Alex also got up and looked around, grabbing her own hair, tears falling on her cheeks. Yet, a moment later, she glanced at you and nodded.

“Alright, alright.” She passed an arm below yours to help you walk and once they gave a couple of steps, your breath hitched.

Saying that it was a mess wouldn’t even begin to cover it. People running around, bleeding out in the ground, some trying to do CPR on others. You breathe in and out a couple of times, closing your eyes for a moment to fully focus. You could do this. You were a Resident, the best Resident. You would usually kick assess in the ER, this couldn’t be any difference. Once you opened them back, you started to try to help.

“EVERYONE LISTEN UP!” To your own surprise (and relief) almost everyone shut up, glancing at you. Well, it seemed that after all, Dr. Abbott was right, your voice was truly strong when you wanted. “I’M A DOCTOR, SO I WILL DO MY BEST TO HELP YOU ALL. HOWEVER, I’VE ALSO BEEN SHOT, SO BEAR WITH ME.” The blinding pain in your leg intensified at that moment and your legs trembled. Alex caught you, though, and you let out a long breath before keep going, ignoring your friend’s eyes full of concern.

“I NEED YOU TO LISTEN TO ME VERY CAREFULLY. WHEN I GO TO HELP YOU, AFTER ASSESING THE DAMEGE, I WILL ASSIGN YOU A COLOR. ONCE THE HELP GETS HERE, YOU WILL TELL THEM THAT DOCTOR (Y/N) ASSIGNED YOU SAID COLOR. IF WHOEVER YOU ARE HERE WITH GOT SHOT, KEEP PUTTING PREASURE IN THE WOUND AND NEVER STOP. DO NOT, UNDER ANY FUCKING CIRCUNSANCE, GET THE BULLET OUT. FOCUS ON THEM, NOT ON YOUR PANIC.” She didn’t have much else to say, so, she quickly started to walk with Alex’s help to the closest person she had. It was a young man, probably mid-twenties. Blood was spilling out of his stomach and the girl trying to help him wasn’t being capable of stopping the bleeding.

Gun wounds in the stomach were the ones with the highest mortality rate, so this was not the best case to start with. But fuck it.

“Is the bullet inside of him?” You asked the girl in the calmest tone possible, kneeling beside her. When the pain in your leg blinded you for a moment, making you see black spots, you realized that it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but you kept your own hurt in the back of your mind.

“Yes, yes, but I-I can’t stop the bleeding, oh Gods.” You checked for a pulse and thankfully, you found it, thing that meant that he still wasn’t a black and white case. It was a penetration wound, with no exit and in the low abdomen. His airway was good, thing that meant that nothing outside of his abdominal structure was hit. He didn’t have a tender belly. The most important thing at the moment was to stop the bleeding, thing that the girl was already trying to do.

“Listen to me, I know this is hard, but I need you to keep applying pressure with all your strength. Take off your shirt and use it, it might be better than your own hands. You’re doing amazing, keep it like that. Once help gets here, scream to them that you have a Red Case. They will understand it. If you see that his chest stops raising, you scream for me.” The girl nodded, taking off her shirt and quickly going back to apply pressure with it. You got up with Alex’s help and went to the next victim.

It was a woman in her late forties, with her probably daughter kneeling beside her. She was putting pressure in her right arm, where you could see how the bleeding was still going on. Goddamn it, what was today with bleedings not stopping?

You throwed herself at her side, knowing that as the bleeding wasn’t stopping, you were going to have to apply the second tourniquet of the day. You glanced around and you noticed, thank God, that Alex was wearing a belt.

“GIVE ME YOUR BELT!” You yelled and immediately, Alex took it out, her hands shaking as she handled it to you. Once you grabbed it, you put yourself at the side of the woman, the daughter glancing at you with her eyes full of panic. “Alright, kid, listen to me, I will have to apply a tourniquet to your mum. It will hurt, a lot, so I’m really sorry that you have to see and hear this. Once I tell you, you have to stop applying pleasure. Clear?” The girl nodded and you didn’t lose any time, knowing that seconds were gold at the moment.

In a quick movement, you broke the shirt that the woman was wearing, completely exposing the wound. Leaving about three inches between the injury and the belt, you put it around the arm.

“Ma’am, my name is Doctor (Y/N). I’m about to put a torniquet in your arm. It’s going to hurt like a bitch, but I need you to be strong for me so we can stop this bleeding. Do you understand me?” You kept your voice controlled as much as you could, needing to transmit security and calmness. The mother blinked at you, but thankfully, then she nodded.

You didn’t lose any more seconds and as fast as you could, you tightened the belt in her arm with all the strength you had. The woman let out a scream full of pain, her entire body shaking, but you ignore it, tightening the belt even more. The daughter was now sobbing, but fortunately, some seconds later, the bleeding stopped. You let out a breath full of relief and you glanced at Alex.

“What time is it?!” Your friend blinked at you, probably not understanding why you were asking that, but she took out her phone and told you the time. “Okey, kid, the bleeding stop, that’s good. When help gets here, tell them that you have a pink case and that a torniquet was applied to your mother at 6:15PM.” You didn’t let the girl answer you, getting up and going to the next victim, even as dizziness was filling your own brain.

It was an older man, blood spelling out of his head, thing that never meant anything fucking good. He was sitting with his back supported by a woman, who clearly didn’t know what to do and was probably in shock.

“Ma’am, its okay, I’m here to help.” The woman glanced at you, her eyes shining with tears and you tried to give her the most comforting smile you could muster. “Could you tell me what happened to him?” You asked, noticing how the man had passed out, another bad signal. You opened his eyes, noticing the blown pupils. Shit.

“W-we ran, as soon as the shooter started, we just ran, but it was such a mess I-I, he, Robert crashed into somebody and they were running so fast, he fell to the ground and his head started to bleed.” You nodded, rubbing your face with your hands before speaking again.

“Okey, okey, listen to me, we need to stabilize him in case he has a spinal injury. I can see that the bleeding stopped, thing that’s good. I need you to place your hands on both sides of his head. Keep the head in line with the spine and prevent movement. When the paramedics arrive, scream that you have a Red Case that includes a head injury and possible a spinal one.” The woman nodded and you quickly helped to put her hands when they needed to be, putting her in the most comfortable position so none of her extremities would numb before help gets here. Then, however, you noticed that the woman was also bleeding. Her entire arm was a mess of pure blood.

“Ma’am, is the blood in the arm yours?” You asked, moving around to get close to her and examinate the wound. She shakily nodded her head.

“Y-yes, somebody cut it with their shoes. It doesn’t hurt much, though.” You let a silent sigh, knowing that they were other victims worst that needed your help and that you couldn’t stay here to help her.

“Alright, then also tell them that you are a yellow case, yes?”

She couldn’t answer you because before she could say anything else, some loud shouting interrupted her.

“HELP! I NEED HELP!” Well, that was definitely your signal. You nodded at Alex, and she helped you to get up, starting to walk as fast as you could to the woman screaming for help. She was in clear panic, grabbing her head and sobbing loudly.

“MA’AM! I need you to calm down and tell me why you need help.” You yelled at her once you got closer and she just managed to grab you by the arm and drag you some meters away, where a child was lying in the floor, his chest immobile. Fucking shit, shit, shit.

In a quick movement, you fell to the floor, kneeling at his side and immediately started CPR, your movements steady even as you could feel how the pain in your leg was consuming your entire body. You heard how Alex asked the woman where he was hurt, a question that you were also wondering. However, once glance at his leg told you exactly what this was.

He was shot in the leg, and he had probably lost way too much blood, causing him to go into hypovolemic shock, thing that meant that his heart was getting enough blood to function.

Two minutes later, when you were about to give up, the boy finally arched his back and let out a long breath. You heard how the mother screamed, but you did your best to ignore the noise, focusing on now the leg injury. It kept bleeding, thing that wasn’t good news. You had to act quickly before he went into shock again.

“I NEED ANOTHER BELT!” You screamed at Alex, who in a minute or two returned with one. God bless her. “What’s his name?!” You asked the woman, moving yourself to position at side of the leg, where you were about to apply another tourniquet.

“MAX!” You heard how she screamed back, and you straightened, looking at the boy in the eyes who was already looking at you.

“Hi Max. My name is Doctor (Y/N) and I’m here to help you. I’m about to do something to stop your bleeding, but it’s going to hurt and a lot. However, it might be the thing that saves your life, so I need you to be strong for me and to withstand the pain. Hold your mama’s hand as strong as you need to, yes?” The kid, some seconds later, gave you a weak nod and the woman took his hands into hers. Once again, wanting to act fast, you put the belt around his leg, maintaining the needed distance and then you tightened it. The scream that left the kid’s mouth threatened to break your heart, but you kept your feelings at bay and tightened the belt as much as you could.

Your breathing had grown ragged due to the exhaustion you were already feeling, but to you focused on praying to every God known in history and to your relief, the bleeding stopped a minute later.

“OH GOD, THANK YOU!” The woman was full sobbing, hugging her son as if her life depended on it and honestly, you didn’t have the enough energy to smile, so, you just accepted Alex’s help to get up.

“Ma’am, I will need you to give your son your jacket and every piece of clothing you might find. Warm is going to help to not worsen the shock. Keep him awake and talking. When the paramedics get here, tell them that you have a Red Case and that a tourniquet was applied to your son at 6:21PM.”

»»————-　🩺　————-««

“There’s an active shooter at Pittfest.” Dr. Robby didn’t know that his world could crumble with such few words. He froze and then moved his head from side to side, blinking, as if he couldn’t believe what she had just said.

“Jake and his girlfriend are there.” Then, as he thought it couldn’t get worse, today’s morning encounter with Dr. (Y/N) played in his mind, the bill raising in his throat at the reminder of what you had said earlier. “And Dr. (Y/N) is also there.”

Shit, shit, shit. How the hell was he going to get his crew to focus when such an important person to the entire hospital could be hurt or, even worse, already dead? How was he even going to focus when two of the most valuable people in his life were in such danger?

He knew, as soon as he said the words Pittfest, everything would go to shit.

He wasn’t mistaken.

“Mass casualty at Pittfest.” For a moment, the entire hospital went silent, everyone stopping everything their were doing. The first one to react was Dr. McKay.

“Pittfest? Didn’t Dr. (Y/N) said she was going there?” Dr. Robby rubbed his face, but didn’t say anything else, knowing that nothing he could say could calm down an entire crow of nurses and Doctors worried for you. Some people gasped, others just took their hands and covered their mouths with it. He clenched his jaw but forced himself to react and to give a small speech to get everyone in the move again. Thankfully, they did and when he turned around, he saw Dr. Abbott entering the hospital, thing that made his entire body fill with relief.

“Brother, I’m so fucking glad to see you.” Without being to avoid it, he gave him a small hug and Dr. Abbott clasped his back, but he felt how his entire body was tense.

“You know who’s there, right?” He whispered, pulling back but staying close enough. Robby sighed but nodded, biting his lip.

“I don’t know what we will do if she gets here injured.”

»»————-　🩺　————-««

When the ambulance started to arrive, you had helped countless people. You had lost count a long time ago, but you had applied about six tourniquets, two CPR performed with successful resuscitating, one dislocated shoulder fixed and a many stopped bleedings. You had lost only one man, who had been shot three times. You tried truly your best, but you couldn’t do shit without equipment.

You could feel how the wound was starting to bleed once again and how dizzy you had become. Alex was trying to stop you from going to help another man, telling you that you should sit down, when one paramedic took you by the shoulders.

It was Mark, a paramedic who would frequent your hospital. He was about Dr. Robby’s age, and he was the one you would always joke around because he looked so much like Pedro Pascal.

“DR. (Y/N)?!” You blinked a couple of times at him, processing the fact that he was in front of you and then you nodded.

“Mark, hey, yes, it’s me. Have you already taken all the Reds?”

“Yes, yes, we did and now we have to take you, Doctor. That leg wound looks nasty.” Almost immediately, she shook her head. “No, no, do not waste places for me, I’m sure there is people worse than me. Please, Mark.” But the man didn’t budge.

“(Y/N), Robby would literally have my head if he found out I didn’t take you with me as soon as I saw you. And don’t even get me started with Abbott. Please come with me, I’m begging you.”

“(Y/N), please.” Alex also said, some tears in her eyes and you bit your lip, but finally nodded. With the paramedics here, you weren’t going to make such difference and the pain on your leg was fucking killing you. As the pain started to catch up on you, your knees buckled and if it wasn’t for Mark, you would have fell straight to the ground.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Mark took you into his arms, running to the parking lot since probably the ambulances were full. You could barely think, the pain almost numbing also your brain, think that probably didn’t mean anything good. You observed how he looked around. “YOU! IN THE TRUCK! You have space for two?!”

A male voice yelled back yes to him, that he had in the backseat and Mark quickly put her there, indicating to Alex to put pressure in the wound as it was starting to bleed out. You think that he told you something like stay alive, but you weren’t really sure. The car started and something that you could tell was that the man was driving fast.

Around five minutes later, while you were resisting the tiredness trying to dominate you, somebody hit the glass of the back of the truck and you turned your face around, seeing how a young boy with his widened eyes was screaming that somebody had stopped breathing. You blinked a couple of times and then adrenaline took over.

“STOP THE TRUCK!” Getting strength from God knows from, you screamed and the man driving immediately stopped. You throw your leg back to the floor, letting out a howl full of pain as you opened the door and got out of the truck, hearing how Alex was screaming at you to keep still.

Well, not for nothing they said that Doctors were the worst patients, right?

Helping yourself with the truck, going as fast as you could, you finally made it to the back. Understanding that you were also wounded, the young boy popped the truck open and helped you to get on, lifting your entire weight. You passed a death body, a woman shot in the arm and finally got to the man the boy was screaming about.

“GO TO THE BACKSEAT AND TELL HIM TO MOVE!” You ordered, putting yourself on top of the man starting comprehensions. The truck started once again, and you felt your exhaustion creeping and you sensed how a sob threatened to get out of your mouth. However, you shallowed it and focused on the man.

You didn’t know how much time passed, but the next time the truck stopped, the hospital where you worked came in view and Gods, you had never felt such relief in your entire life. Dr. Robby was the one who popped open the truck.

You didn’t let him say anything.

“Man in his last thirties, down for about five to ten minutes, GSW to the middle abdomen.” You said, almost robotically, and Dr. Shen took over, also glancing at you for a moment. You couldn’t say anything else because as soon as you saw how the man was being taken care of, you fell into the truck due to the pure exhaustion, shallow breaths leaving you. Your vision became blurry, and half of your body was trembling, while the pain in the leg became even worse.

“NO! (Y/N)!” Robby screamed, moving the other three people out of the way and giving them to another Doctor to get to you. He grabbed your face, looking for your eyes and you gave him a weak smile. You had never seen him in such a panic state, he looked like he hadn’t slept for days. It made you a bit sick. You, for obvious reasons, hadn’t had the time to think about everyone’s reaction in the Hospital once you arrived.

“Hi, Robby. Believe me, this wasn’t my idea for my free day.” He shook his head, and you could see how concerned he was. He quickly asserted your leg and the expression he did was a bit worrying.

“I NEED A GOURNEY!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, moving you, but you immediately jerked your head.

“No, no, do not waste a bed in me Robby I swear to God, I’M FINE!”

“YOU’RE NOT FINE, (Y/N)!” You heard Dr. Shen scream, thing that was actually weird since you couldn’t remember many times on which you had heard him raise his voice like this.

Robby completely ignored you, taking you into his arms and putting you in one of the gurneys, starting to move as fast as he could. Two nurses appeared on each side, one of them being Dana. “Oh, hey Dana. How’s my favorite nurse?” You asked, feeling yourself fall into a completely delirious state due to the pain and you heard how she let out a wet chuckle.

“We were so worried, sweetheart.” When you entered the ER, every single head turned around and once again, everybody froze, the vision of seeing such a good and strong Doctor bleeding out from her leg probably shocking them. Screams started to be heard, some of them asking if it was really you, others wondering what had happened. In the blink of an eye, Dr. Abbott appeared, putting himself on the other side of Robby.

“Hello, Dr. Abbott. I missed you pleasure of your company.” You words were blurred since you could barely focus on anything else that wasn’t your own pain. You noticed how they put you in one of the rooms, the place quickly became a mess of people getting out and in. When they moved you to the table, you cried in pain, the adrenaline rubbing off and the pain going up.

“PUSH SOME MORPHINE IN!” Dr. Robby screamed, tearing your pants apart and you observed how blood started to get out of the wound, probably meaning that the bullet had moved and tear an artery or vein. “WHEN DID YOU APPLY THE TOURNIQUET?!” He screamed, glancing at you and you didn’t understand the question, only being able to look at your own leg.

“Oh God. Am I going to lose my leg?” You asked, totally forgetting that you were a Doctor. Then, you glanced at Dr. Abbott. “Does that mean I can start to say that I’m your daughter? You know, we would be the duo father-daughter-with-one-leg-less.” You laughed at your own joke, until they grabbed your leg, and you screamed out of pure pain.

“(Y/N) for fucks sake, answer his question. Why the hell isn’t the morphine kicking in?!” Now that you have noticed, Dr. Abbott, just like Robby, looked sick. His features were tight, but there was a slight shaking that told you he was definitely more than concerned. Probably angry too, looking at his eyebrows furrowed. You had never heard him scream in such a desperate tone, always the one in control of his emotions, especially in the ER.

“Around 6:10? I don’t know.” You finally replied.

“Oh God, is that (Y/N)?!” You heard a female voice, probably Dr. McKay, shout, but you couldn’t pay attention, everything already becoming too hazy, probably due to the morphine.

“Will I stop being your favorite if I indeed lose my leg?” You asked Dr. Abbott and Dr. Robby with a weak voice, tilting softly your head to the side and smiling at them. You heard how, to your surprise, Robby let out a chuckle.

“I don’t think there is anything you can do to stop being our favorite, (Y/N).” Robby replied and a second later, he screamed for people to bring him more pads and those words made your smile bigger.

“Oh, so you admit it! I’m your favorite.” You felt giddy and weirdly satisfied. You had always heard the nurses and other Doctors saying it, but they had never said it out loud, probably avoid creating a problem playing favorites.

“Anyone who pays attention for two fucking seconds can guess who our favorite is, kid.” Dr. Abbott mumbled and those were the last words you heard before darkness took over.

»»————-　🩺　————-««

Feeling your entire body heavy, you began to slowly wake up, blinking and trying to get use to the room where you were. It took some seconds for you to recognize that it was a hospital room and a moment later, all the memories from the festival came back.

“(Y/N)?” You turned your head to your right, where the voice was coming from and you quickly recognized that Dana was the one talking to you. A small smile formed in your face.

“Hey Dana.” Your voice was weak, barely a whisper and after hearing you, she brought to you a glass of water that you immediately drank in one setting. Gods, you didn’t realize you were this thirsty.

“Hi, kid. You don’t know how glad I’m to see you awake. Wait a minute, I will bring Robby and Abbott.” She squeezed your hands once and got up, leaving, thing that made you feel weirdly uneasy. You didn’t want to be alone, the memories of the shooting too fucking fresh. Yes, you were an Emergency Medic, but it didn’t make it easier. Not knowing what had happened to all of them made it worse.

Thankfully, Dana didn’t lie about the minute, because you didn’t even have the time to process that she was back with the two Doctors at her back. Once they saw you awake, Dr. Robby thrown himself in the closest chair, rubbing his face harshly with one of his hands, probably feeling the stress leaving his body. Dr. Abbott didn’t sit down, he just walked to one of your sides and took you by the wrist, unconsciously feeling your pulse. Once he did, he blindly grabbed a chair and sat down exactly where he was.

“(Y/N), how are you feeling? Any dizziness, pain, discomfort?” He asked, all professional, because you at the moment were a fucking patience. You hated it, but remembering how worried they were, you answered the questions.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache, but I think it’s because the memories came back way too fast.” They both let out a sigh full of relief at this. Yet, you didn’t stay quiet for long. “Am I losing my leg?” You asked, your voice shaking a bit and your heart tightened with fear. You hadn’t even begun to think about how your life would change it that was a case, and Gods knew you were horrible with changes, this would throw your life out of balance for a long time.

To your relief, though, Dr. Abbott quickly shook his head.

“No, (Y/N), don’t worry, you won’t lose your leg. The injury, thankfully, wasn’t that bad. You lost a lot of blood, and we had to do surgery to get the bullet out, but there isn’t permanent damage. The recovery will take time, I won’t lie to you, but you will be fine.” Your tense shoulders relaxed, feeling how the tension you were feeling practically since you were shot left your body. You felt like you were about to cry, thing that was horrifying because you despised crying publicly, but God, you had been under so much stress and pressure you hadn’t even realize it had gotten this bad.

“Thank you.” You whispered, gulping, trying to easy down the know in your throat and both Doctors smiled at you. Before they could say anything else, though, Dr. McKay, Dr. Shen and Dr. Ellis rushed in, both of them smiling at the sight of you awake and fine. “Hey girls and Shen. Missed me?” Dr. McKay let out a chuckle, coming closer and grabbing one of your hands, smiling at you.

“It’s really good to see you alright, kid.” Said, her voice trembling a bit and you smiled, nodding. Dr. Ellis peeked from Dr. McKay’s back.

“Yes, you have no clue how good it really is, (Y/N). We were worried sick.”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, never do that shit again.” Dr. Shen also spoke, his usually calmness behavior clearly gone, replaced by a man who had been clearly under tons of stress over the last hours.

After that, all three of them stayed in the back of the room, probably needing some more time to process the fact that you were truly okey.

“(Y/N), do you have any idea how many people you saved out there?” Dr. Robby started to talk, looking straight at you, his voice soft and you gulped but shook your head.

“No, not really. I lost count at the third tourniquet I did.” You grimaced, knowing that wasn’t a positive thing. Staying aware of the patients you had assisted was one of the most important things in such a rush place like the ER, but God, some images were so blurry. If they left you some time, you could probably write a full report about every single person you had helped, but right now, thinking that much was not easy.

“You helped about twenty-five people, (Y/N). Twenty-five whiles being injured from a bullet wound. Have you got any idea how crazy that is?” You quickly blushed, biting your lips.

“I didn’t realize they were that many. I was just functioning on a high level of adrenaline.” Dr. Robby got up and walked closer to you, a proud smile on his face.

“Most of them wouldn’t have made it without you helping them first, kid. You did an amazing job out there. To say that I’m damn proud wouldn’t even begun to cover it.” You let yourself smile, blinking some tears away. Damn, you were too sensitive today.

“Thanks, Robby.” You softly replied and then, Dr. Abbott spoke.

“We will talk later about the fact that you were running around with such injury in your thigh knowing how dangerous that is, but Robby is right, kid. You were the best of us. You reacted fast, assessed every situation with a perfect precision and even calmed down the people that were with the injured ones. You should be as proud of yourself as we feel.” Alright, with those words, without being to avoid it, a tear left you left eye. You didn’t know how bad you needed them to tell you this, to validate the horrible things you had to do. And it wasn’t normal to hear Dr. Abbott throw this many praises, you will definitely remember those words forever.

“Did all the Reds made it? There was this white guy with a bullet in his stomach and this kid I applied CPR to. Are they alright?” You couldn’t help yourself. After all, how could you? They were your patients first.

“Yes, (Y/N), every single patient that made it here with a color already assigned are alright. You saved me a lot of time doing that, kid. Seriously. Some of them are already awake and asking for you.” Dr. Shen replied this time, smiling at you and you let out a loud sigh, fully relaxing for the first time in the entire fucking day.

“We told you, you did a perfect job. None could have done it better than you. That’s why you are the damn fucking best.” Dana told you, putting a hand in your face and caressing it softly and you leaned into her touch, needing this type of comfort after going through that horrible experience.

Then, you realized that this was the first day of those interns you had met earlier, and you gasped.

“Oh God, are the interns alright? Mass casualties in your first day can’t be fucking easy, poor kids.” Dr. Ellis snorted, shaking her head.

“Of course you are worried about them.” You grimaced. Yeah, you couldn’t help yourself with the usual concern you felt towards practically everybody, even some interns you had barely met a few hours ago.

“Yes, kid, they are alright. A bit shaken up, but they truly did great. Took me by surprise, actually.” Dr. Robby replied, sighing and you smirked.

“How do you always get the best ones? Do you have some kind of contract we don’t know about?” Laughs were heard around the room, thing that was truly great after such a hard day.

“You have no idea how much we missed today, (Y/N).” Dr. Robby said and you batted a hand in his direction.

“Don’t worry, I’m here now and I won’t be leaving any time soon.” Then, you noticed that there was one person missing. “Hey, where’s Dr. Langdon? I want to see that asshole face.” You practically felt how a weird tension lifted in the room at your innocent question, and you frowned. What had you lost here?

“He had to leave early family emergency. We will tell him that you are well and asking about him, don’t worry.” Dr. Robby reply was bear and you pouted but didn’t ask further, wanting this tension to go away.

»»————-　🩺　————-««

Two days later, you were still in the hospital. You were getting better; tomorrow, you started the long path of being able to walk normally again. It wasn’t going to be pretty and since you were a pretty impatient person, it would probably be even worse for you, but you were determined. You needed to get back to your feet to get back to your job, the thing you loved the most in life.

Dr. King had been assigned to you, the new R2 and even if you had met her two days ago, she had already become one of your favorite people in the entire hospital. She was one of the few that didn’t treat you like you were broken, and you liked her bluntness.

Right now, you were playing some cards game called go fish, since she told you she needed a break after treating a loud lady who screamed way too many times at her. You were glad she came here, feeling good at the fact that she found the room you were safe. Nevertheless, once you were a couple of minutes in the game, somebody knocked the door. You turned your head around and saw Dr. Robby at the door.

“Hey there, Dr. Robby.” You said, dedicating him a soft smile and he nodded. You noticed though, how behind him, there were some people waiting to enter the room and you frowned, glancing at him, confused.

“So, (Y/N), there are some people here that want to meet you. Can they come in?” You finally realized where this was going, and you suddenly got nervous. You never did well when patients thanked you, feeling like you were just doing your job, but you also knew that they probably needed this as some kind of closure, so, you nodded. Then, you glanced at Dr. King and leaned in her direction.

“Hey, I think things might also get a bit loud here. Nothing too bad, but I don’t want to overwhelm you further.” The woman glanced at the door, widening her eyes probably seeing the amount of people out there and she blinked a couple of times before nodding.

“Okey, um, I will see you later, Dr. (Y/N)” She got up and awkwardly said goodbye with one of her hands, thing that made you smile.

“Bye, Dr. King. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do out here!” You replied, lifting your thumbs up and the other woman turned around, frowning and tilting her face.

“There are many things you can do out there that I legally can’t do, Dr. (Y/N), like…” Then she quiet down and smiled, shaking her head. “It was another joke, right?” She asked and you winked an eye in her direction. She chuckled but left the room, saying a last goodbye.

Robby looked at you and then at the direction where Dr. King had left.

“You haven’t known her for two days and you already adopted her?” He asked, raising his eyebrows and you lifted your shoulders.

“What can I say? I really like her, Robby. I will bribe some nurses to get her in my shifts.” He fondly shook his head, but then, he sighed and pointed at the door.

“Well, Dr. (Y/N), I have here some of the people you saved. They wanted to meet you, so, here they are.” After he finished talking, people started to fly in, and you lost count after the ninth person entered. You knew all of them, though. Some of them were victims you had helped, others family that were in the scene. The image of all of them together made you a bit shaky, but it also made you feel warm. You had saved a lot of their lives.

“Hi, Dr. (YN), I’m Marie Bush. My mom is Olive Bush. You saved her life with the tourniquet in her arm, the doctors told me she wouldn’t have made it without it. I can’t even begin to tell you how thankful I am.” The daughter you remembered pretty well started. She was white, brunette and had some pretty blue eyes. She had walked closer and had stretched her hand in your direction, but froze, not really knowing what to do. You smiled at her and took her hand into yours, squeezing softly.

“Hello Marie. You already know, but I’m Dr. (Y/N). You can just call me Y/N, though. I’m really glad to hear that your mother is alright. Send her my regards.” And just like the young woman, all of them have their thanks to you. You spent your whole day hearing names, learning personal stories and feeling so much greatness towards you it was overwhelming. You had saved people with children, people with perfect lives and amazing careers.

You haven’t felt this proud about yourself in a long time.

[halfadiamond]

💍Home Wrecker TF141 x Reader💍

💎Got the idea of Home Wrecker TF141 by: @mina-org 💎

💎CW: you’re cheating on your boyfriend/ husband, don’t actually cheat in real life (this is coming from the girl whose dad cheated on her mom), may write another one where the guys are the ones cheating on their significant others, revenge cheating for Gaz, guys show no remorse for their actions💎

💎Been sick so I haven’t been able to do much. Trying to get back to writing. Sorry if it kinda sucks.💎

Price

“I’m not ruining anything rather I’m showing them what love is supposed to feel like.”

John Price, the man with two failed marriages, was dying for a chance at real love. But even with going to different parts of the world, nobody ever caught his attention that is until he met you. A sweet girl who wanted an older man’s advice on her first relationship. First it was platonic, Price would offer advice about what a guy wants in a relationship and he always had a story about his own experience with love. It wasn’t until one day during another of his advice sessions when he saw the sun hit you just right that Price realized you were who he’s been looking for. And he knew what he had to do.

It was like a switch overnight. From giving you advice to now saying you could do better than your boyfriend. Instead of keeping it respectful, Price began giving out flirty remarks and small touches on your arm. Price began dropping hints that he was interested in you, and that maybe you need an older man to show how a real man is supposed to love his lady. It worked. Those cafe hangouts soon turned into dates at his place so as to keep your boyfriend from finding out. He showed you what a relationship was supposed to be; he spoiled you with everything you could’ve ever wanted, he gave you his time and his love. He always made sure that you knew that your boyfriend could never compete with him and it seemed to be working. All that was needed now was the proper title of Mrs. Price. Maybe for this upcoming date he could finally convince you to dump that boyfriend.

Ghost

“She doesn’t love you like she loves me. She’s just scared to leave her routine for something new.”

Ghost was scared of love, of commitment, and yet he was seeing a woman that already had a husband. You and him go way back from childhood friends to high school sweethearts, but soon Ghost left for the military and ceased contact with you. You eventually moved on and got married to your husband, and that’s when Ghost made his appearance back into your life. You rejected him at first, you were a loyal wife and you wouldn’t give the man who left you an ounce of your heart. But could you really forgot your soulmate?

It started off small from Ghost waiting a random intervals during the day to which you were free for a phone call to Ghost coming to your work to eat lunch with you. Luckily none of your coworkers had never met your husband so Ghost was able to play it off. Each time Ghost came to see you, he made sure that your wedding ring was off and out of sight. That way he could imagine that you were truly his and not another man’s wife. He knew that you were scared of leaving, you’ve been with your husband for a long time and to start brand new was daunting. But Ghost was a patient man and he knew that once he could get you to see you two belonged together then he could start shopping for rings.

Gaz

“You held the title of partner but I actually have her attention- and that’s all that matters to me.”

Gaz knew that he was a good looking guy and that he was quite the charmer. So when he met a pretty you at the bar, lamenting about a boyfriend that wasn’t pulling his weight around. Gaz was quick to swoop in and offer sweet words to you and subtle jabs at your boyfriend. Gaz would insist that you deserved better, and when you confided to him that you suspected your boyfriend was seeing someone else, he encouraged you to cheat back and better yet since he offered it why don’t you and him start something.

From one drunken night stand to dates held the next town over as to prevent people from recognizing you. Gaz made sure that everything you complained about with your boyfriend never happened with him. Your boyfriend never bought you gifts? Gaz is always surprising with little gifts; anything that he sees that reminds him of you he’s buying it. Your boyfriend never wants to listen to your problems? Baby tell them to Gaz; he’ll listen and even offer advice if you want it. Gaz knew that sooner or later you would dump that sorry guy and start a proper relationship with him, but for now he can wait after all you talked about wanting a guy with patience something that your boyfriend never had.

Soap

“Even if you say what we have isn’t real why do you keep coming back to me?”

Your boyfriend was someone who worked with Soap, that’s how you two met. It didn’t matter to Soap that you were taken all he saw was a pretty little birdie who needed a real man. Soap started small- he would chat you up as a friend until he started getting a little too comfortable and gave small touches. At first you rejected him, but Soap was a persistent man and soon you fell for his charms. Soap was a smart guy, he waited until he was sure that your boyfriend would be staying at the base to come see you. You knew it was wrong saying that you had a boyfriend that this is purely lust, and many times you tried to break it off before your boyfriend found out. But Soap always knew how to convince you to stay; he would offer sweet words and that charming smile and just like that you always kept coming back.

This routine worked for a while, but eventually your boyfriend found out. After arguing with you, he came back to the base to find Soap casually chatting with the other soldiers. Once confronted with everything, Soap, the sly bastard, merely confirmed what your boyfriend already knew and offered a half assed apology. It didn’t matter what your boyfriend (or I suppose ex boyfriend) said, Soap knew that in the end he wanted you and he got you.

[mrsfudd]

Acquainted.

hii, this is my first post on here. This is a short story about abt paige beuckers.

warnings: smut, one night stand, slight stalking, teasing, degradation idk what else to put.

1.4k words.

Friday, 8:52 pm

"Dude just come out tonight, you've been cooped up in this room for weeks" Ellie said while throwing a pillow at me. 

"Alright alright, what time are we leaving" I said with an annoyed expression on my face. 

"10, hurry the fuck up" Ellie said turning into her room. 

Ellie is my amazing roommate, she had also became my therapist after I found my girlfriend of 2 years cheating on me in an empty lecture hall. We met here at Uconn and I thought we had the best relationship but obviously not. I let my social life go to shit and have only been to

class and back for a little too long. As annoyed as I am, Im happy Ellies dragging me to this party. 

                                    10:02 pm

"Bitchhh, you look so fucking good" Ellie said watching me come out my room.  

" You know I had to step out" I said while sticking my tongue out.  

I had on a short denim dress and if I was being honest my ass was definitely poking out.

                               10:31, at the club 

"A double shot of Titos please" I said to the bartender trying to speak over the music, it was so loud I could feel it. 

While im waiting for my drink a tall, dark figure appears next to me. 

"Can I get a bottle of don?" She asks while finishing off her drink. 

I look up at her and my stomach immediately drops as I notice who it really was. Paige motherfucking Beuckers. I wanted to make eye contact with Ellie but she was long gone on the dance floor with whoever. I quickly look down, sipping my drink. 

"Hey gorgeous, whats your name?" Paige said while sitting next to me. She had a little smirk on her face, I wanted to kiss it right off her. 

"Hi, im Y/N" I said keeping my composure, shes so sexy. I kept on sipping my drink as I feel my face heating up. I couldn't even make eye contact with her. 

"Do you normally not look at people when you talk" She said leaning down getting more in my face. 

"Yup" I said while getting up, smiling. I hope she plays along. 

While im walking away I could feel her eyes on me. Terrified to turn around I found a spot on the dance floor. I spotted Ellie, gave her a wink and started dancing. After a few seconds I gave paige a glance. She never took her eyes off me. She was mesmerized. I look back her and she was gone. Confused I just start finishing my drink when I feel warm breath on my neck. 

"Can I dance with you" Paige whispered into my ear. 

I turn my head to lock eyes with her and say "Yes, please" 

I barely took a breath when Paiges large hands settled onto my waist. I start to sway and grind to the beat. Our bodies clashing and sweat dripping as we dance for what it seems hours. The packed club seemed empty with Paige on me. It felt as if it was just me and her. I get a text and pull my phone out of my bra. Its from Ellie. 

Ellie baby 😇: I see youuuu, is that who i think it is bro???

You: It is, if we dont go home tg yk why 😉

I put my phone back in my bra and kept letting Paige's hands explore my body until she asked. "You wanna get some air". 

As hot as I was, I got chills thinking about me and Paige being alone. I could be real bold in a public setting but being alone was a different story. 

I quickly nodded and Paige grabbing my hand leading me to the door. 

She walks to her car, never letting go of my hand. She leans up against the side. I stand infront of her, maybe a little too close. 

"You look nice" I blurted out not knowing what to say.

Paige chuckled, shes so cocky. 

"Thank you mama but you look better" She said resting her hands back on my waist. 

Subconsciously I get closer to her. Wanting to feel more. 

I keep eye contact as I start to play with the buttons on Paiges shirt. 

"Mmm, C'mere" She said pulling me in more, slowly bringing her lips to mine just not kissing me. 

Dying at the tension, I smash our lips together. Her hands move down from my waist to my ass. Gripping it not so gently. Her kisses become rougher as she feels me moan into her mouth. She goes into her pocket and unlocks her car. 

"Get in" She said walking away from me. 

With little to no hesitation I get in the car. Her luxurious all black car smelt so good. Like her. 

She puts on Acquainted by The weekend. I check the time on the dashboard. Its now 12:52. 

Paige rolls down the windows, the cool feels so good on my skin. She looks so sexy driving. I wonder where this night is going to lead to. 

Im looking out the window as I feel Paiges soft touch. Her hand on my inner thigh, a little too close to my panties. Wanting to tease her, I start to grind against her fingers. Hearing her chuckle fueled me even more. Her long fingers started to rub my clit through the cloth, making me moan. Before I knew it, We were at Paiges dorm. 

Before I could even say anything Paige shut the door, pinning me down the wall and putting her mouth into mine. Her knee rested between my legs, slowly grinding into me. Her hand surrounded my whole neck and she started to kiss down my neck. Nibbling and biting me,  hearing me wince then soothing it with her tongue. My hands started to travel under her shirt, feeling her toned, strong body and getting turned on even more. Her hand starting to replace her knee, touching me so softly I could barely feel it. 

"More" I let out in a breathy moan

"Yeah baby? Whatever the princess wants she gets" Paige said while picking me up in a swift motion, sits me on her bed and gets on her knees. 

"Lets undress you pretty girl" She said while looking up at me with a hungry look. 

She started at my feet, unbuckling my heels and tossing them to the side. Her strong hands went up my thighs and up my dress to pull off my panties. Seeing the wet piece of fabric made her moan as she started to unbutton and zip down my dress leaving me completely exposed to her.

"Fuck where have you been all my life" Paige said while she started to kiss down my body. 

When she got to my aching pussy she slowed down. She slowly spread my legs, kissing my inner thighs. I started to buck my hips, wanting more. 

"You're such a little slut mama, beg and ill give you what you want" Paige said. 

Desperate, I start to beg. 

"p-please Paige, touch me. I need you" I say trying to control myself. 

Paiges hand continued to roam my body as her breath was making my pussy jump. 

"Hmm should I really give it to you, Im not sure if you deserve it" Paige teases. 

"Paige, please ill be such a good girl for you" I say. 

"Oh yeah? Prove it then" She said standing up, towering over me. 

I slowly start to move my hands down my body, teasing my nipples and never breaking eye contact with the blonde.  

My hand reaches my pussy, I started to rub small circles into my clit and letting out pornographic moans. 

The look of pure lust in Paiges eyes as she watched me is something ill never forget. It hadn't even been a full minute until she pulled my hands off and started to devour my pussy. 

I grab a handful of her hair and start grinding back into her. She starts to pump two fingers into me, making me throw my head back as her long fingers repeatedly hit my g spot. 

Im closer and closer to the edge and Paige noticed. 

"Cum for me slut, cum all of my face" She said with her eyes piercing up at me. 

I listen and release all on her and her bed spread. 

She cleans her face and me up. The last thing I remember was cuddling her and her hands rubbing me up and down. 

                             3:02 pm, you and Ellies dorm

Im still so groggy from the night before, as im filling up the tub I get a text. 

Maybe Paige Beuckers: Hey stranger, miss you already pretty. 

and that was just the start.

[pankowcrumbs]

Broken X Will Poulter

MasterList

I couldn't remember the last time I’d slept for longer than two hours in a row.

The house was dark, save for the soft blue glow from the nursery nightlight. The clock read 11:43pm. The baby monitor crackled gently beside me as I sat on the floor, cradling our daughter in my arms. She was beautiful our little miracle but right now, she was screaming. Red-faced, fists clenched, eyes squeezed shut, her tiny body arched with frustration.

I bounced her gently, rocking, whispering softly through tears of my own.

“Please, baby girl,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Please just sleep.”

She didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Whatever the reason, she was just… inconsolable.

And I was at my limit.

The exhaustion clung to my skin like sweat. My arms ached from holding her, my back was tight from hours of pacing the house and my heart just felt… tired. Will had been filming late for Warfare again. Even though the set was in London, he rarely made it home before midnight. Long hours, full days, military coordination it was all intense.

I knew he was working hard. I was proud of him. But I missed him.

We both wanted this baby so much. We dreamt about late-night feeds and little hands wrapped around our fingers. But no one talks about the relentless, bone-deep tiredness. About how heavy everything feels when you’re doing it alone.

I felt like I was failing her. Failing us.

And tonight, I broke.

My tears were quiet at first, trickling down my cheeks as I shushed our daughter again and again. Then the sob hit me a full-body kind of cry, the one where your shoulders shake and your breath catches in your chest.

That was when I heard the front door open.

I froze.

Will’s footsteps padded softly down the hall, and then there he was appearing in the doorway like a fever dream, his eyes landing instantly on me sitting on the nursery floor, crumpled, cradling our daughter as I wept.

His face dropped.

“Y/N…”

I couldn’t speak. I just looked up at him through puffy eyes, tears streaking my face, clutching our baby like a lifeline.

In one breath, he was beside me.

“Hey, hey… give her to me, love,” he said gently, kneeling down. His voice was soft, calm. “You’re shattered. Let me take her, yeah?”

I hesitated for a second my arms had gone numb but finally, I let him lift her out of my hold. She fussed for a moment, but then nestled into his chest with a shuddery sigh.

“Atta girl,” he murmured, rocking her with that effortless rhythm that always seemed to work.

I sniffed, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “I’ve been trying for hours,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “She just… won’t sleep. And I...I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Will looked at me then, eyes warm and filled with concern. “You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re doing everything right. She’s just having one of those nights. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore, alright?”

I nodded, but I couldn’t stop the tears again. He leaned in and kissed the top of my head.

“Go get into bed,” he said softly. “I’ve got her.”

“I...”

“No arguing. Go on.”

Still sniffling, I nodded and dragged myself to our bedroom. I dropped my dressing gown on the chair, crawled into bed, and curled into the covers. The sheets were cold, but it didn’t even matter I was just grateful to lie down.

A few minutes later, I heard the kettle boil.

Will poked his head in. “I’m making you a hot chocolate. The proper kind, with the whipped cream.”

“Will…”

“Don’t you ‘Will’ me,” he said, giving me a small grin. “You’ve been looking after both of us. Let me look after you now.”

I managed a weak smile through the tears. “You’re really not real sometimes, you know that?”

He winked. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

When he came back, he had a steaming mug in one hand and a little heat pack in the other. “Here,” he said, placing the drink on my bedside table. “Heat pack’s for your back. And I put your comfort show on. That one with the posh bakery judge who always cries over biscuits.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “Bake Off?”

“That’s the one.”

I nestled the heat pack against my back and took a sip of the hot chocolate. It was perfect creamy, sweet, warming all the way down.

“You’re magic,” I murmured.

Will smiled but didn’t answer. He disappeared again, back to the nursery. I could hear his voice humming quietly, soothing her. After a while, the house went quiet.

He came back twenty minutes later, rubbing at his shoulder. “She’s out.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “Gave her the patented Poulter Sway. Works every time.”

I laughed again, properly this time, and held out my hand to him. He took it and climbed into bed beside me, still in his hoodie and joggers from set. He smelled like outside and makeup and faintly of baby shampoo.

I curled into his side, head on his chest, and felt the rise and fall of his breathing.

For the first time all day, I felt safe.

“I missed you,” I whispered.

“I missed you more,” he replied, kissing my hair. “I’m sorry I’ve been away so much. I thought being close to home would mean I’d be home more. But it’s been chaos.”

“I know. It’s not your fault.” I swallowed thickly. “I just… it’s been really hard. She’s beautiful, and I love her so much, but I’m constantly exhausted. And when you’re not here, it’s like...like I’m running on fumes.”

His arms tightened around me. “I hate that you’ve felt that way.”

“I didn’t want to tell you,” I admitted. “Didn’t want to be the wife who moans while her husband’s working hard. But tonight… I just hit my wall.”

“You can always tell me, bub” he said, voice gentle. “This is both of us. And I’m gutted I haven’t been more present. No job’s more important than you and her.”

I looked up at him then, at those blue eyes that still made my heart skip a beat.

“She wouldn’t stop crying,” I whispered. “And I just felt like… like I wasn’t enough.”

He shook his head. “You are. You’re more than enough. You’re everything, alright? She cries because she’s a baby not because of you. And you’ve been incredible. I don’t know how you’ve done it. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Tears pricked my eyes again, but this time from relief.

“You’re allowed to struggle,” he added. “You’re human. You just had a baby. And next time it gets too much, you call me. I’ll drop everything. I don’t care if I’m mid-scene I’ll come home.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

“Being a dad?”

“Being a husband.”

He smiled, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “Well, I had a pretty perfect person to practise for.”

I snuggled into his chest again. “Thank you for coming home.”

“I always will,” he whispered into my hair.

And in that quiet, peaceful moment, with the baby asleep and his arms around me, I finally believed it.

[vrstual]

ᯓ .ᐟ ⊹ The Girlfriend Contract

- part one.

ᯓ Pairing: Popular!Karina (Yu Jimin) × Cheerleader!Fem! Reader

ᯓ | When Jimin lies to her mom about being in a serious relationship, the last person she expects to drag into her mess is Y/n–the campus cheerleader she’s spent the last two years arguing with across lecture halls and parties. But now, to keep up appearances over the holidays, they have to fake date through family dinners, long car rides and even in school.

ᯓ Genre: Rivals to fake-dating to lovers, slow burn, college AU, family drama, soft angst, eventual fluff

ᯓ Warning: swearing, argument, a little toxic, family pressure.

ᯓ Content: 7k of words

part one. part two.

Yu Jimin wasn’t in love.

She’d made that clear enough times.

The guy from last week still texted her sometimes — a dumb meme or a photo of his cat — and she hadn’t blocked him, but she hadn’t replied either. Not because he did anything wrong. He just wasn’t what she wanted. No one ever was.

Not that her mom would believe that.

Jimin leaned against the kitchen counter, phone in one hand, a cooling cup of black coffee in the other.

She never understood how her best friend could be so different from her. Where she overthought, Heeseung floated. Nothing seemed to stick to him — not stress, not pressure, not the constant need to prove something. He just existed, unbothered and perfectly content in his own lane.

Sometimes she envied that. Other times, it annoyed the hell out of her.

She scrolled through her texts — mostly her group chat with Heeseung and some old party invites she never answered.

Half a pizza box balanced precariously on a pile of textbooks, a soda can sweated onto the corner of a magazine she never finished reading. The air smelled faintly like old takeout and peppermint gum.

“I swear to god, if Meredith cries one more time…” Heeseung muttered.

Jimin didn’t answer. She was too focused on the vibration of her phone lighting up again. It was her mother

Jimin stared at it for a second.

“You gonna answer that?” Heeseung asked, glancing over.

“She’s just gonna ask when I’m coming home,” Jimin muttered, already standing up. “And why I’m still single. Can’t wait.”

She slipped into her bedroom and closed the door gently behind her, pressing accept as she sank down onto the edge of her bed.

“Hi, Mom.”

Her mom’s voice was warm but clipped. “Jimin-ah. I’ve been calling.”

“I was busy. Sorry."

“Too busy to talk to your mother?” she teased lightly. “Are you still planning to come home on the 23rd?”

“Yeah. I already finished my suitcases."

A pause.

“You know, I don’t like you driving alone. That highway gets dangerous in the winter.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve done it every time to come home.”

“Just… you know I worry.” Her mom sighed.

Jimin nodded, even though her mom couldn’t see it.

“You don’t have to come alone, you know,” her mom said. “Wonyoung is bringing her girlfriend. They’ve been together almost a year now. Very sweet girl. Thoughtful. Studying medicine.”

Jimin didn’t reply.

“And Giselle’s new boyfriend is coming too, he's American. Apparently he’s learning Korean just for her. Isn’t that romantic?”

Still, silence.

“I just think… maybe it’s time you stopped pretending this doesn’t matter to you.”

Jimin blinked. “What doesn’t?”

“This. Being with someone who cares about you. You’re always so… distant. I know you’re busy with school, but you don’t even talk about anyone.”

“It's nothing to worry about, mom." Jimin said quietly.

Her mom sighed again — soft, but full of meaning. “I just want to see you happy, Jimin. That’s all. Not just smart, not just successful. Happy. With someone who looks at you like you matter.

That was the part that stuck. Jimin sat frozen for a beat too long, the lump forming quietly in her throat.

So she did what she always did when emotions got too close.

She lied.

“I’m not alone,” she said suddenly. “I… I’ve been seeing someone.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for once, her mom sounded surprised.

“Oh? Really?” Excitement was running through her mother voice, she could sense it.

Jimin’s brain stalled. And then, without thinking, she said it.

“It's uh... Y/n."

A pause.

Her mom’s tone changed instantly — from excited to genuine curiosity.

“Y/n? That girl from the cheer team? The one from last summer Giselle's gala? She’s very pretty. I didn’t know you two were close, I thought you hated her."

Jimin forced a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Neither did I.”

“Well, I’m glad,” her mom said gently. “I really am. You could bring her over to Christmas you know!"

Jimin didn’t know what to say. She mumbled something about studying and hung up as soon as she could without seeming suspicious.

She sat in the quiet of her room afterward, staring at the floor.

Y/n?

Out of everyone?

She was so screwed.

-

Heeseung bit back a laugh, but it slipped out anyway — low and sharp. He couldn’t help it. For two years now, it had been tradition: every time Y/n’s name came up, he and Jimin would roll their eyes in sync, trading sarcastic commentary like it was a sport.

She’d complain about Y/N’s perfect routines, and he’d mock her perfect smile. It was a shared hobby at this point — hating on Y/n from the sidelines. So when Jimin stood in the doorway, looking vaguely shell-shocked and muttered, “I told my mom I’m dating her,” Heeseung practically choked on his drink.

“You’re joking,” he said between wheezes. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not—stop laughing, it’s not funny, Heeseung!” Jimin whined, smacking his shoulder with the back of her hand.

Heeseung doubled over, laughter spilling out now, almost gasping. “No, it’s hilarious. You? Dating Y/n? You’ve literally called her a walking ego devil in a cheer skirt.”

“That was one time,” Jimin muttered, crossing her arms.

“You said she practices her fake angelic smile in the mirror like a villain!"

"Okay, two times.”

Heeseung just shook his head, still grinning. “How the hell are you gonna fake-date someone you can’t even make it through a room with?”

Jimin flopped onto the couch with a groan. “I don’t know. But now my mom thinks we’re soulmates or something.”

“Well, good luck with her."

-

Jimin had been waiting—maybe an hour, maybe two—just outside the gym, tucked under the edge of the overhang by the side door. Rain slid off the roof in steady sheets, cold and relentless, soaking the tips of her shoes.

She’d run out of things to scroll through on her phone half an hour ago. Now all she could do was stare at the wet pavement and rehearse what she’d say.

“Hey, so this is going to sound insane, but I need you to pretend to date me for the sake of my mom’s sanity.”

No. Too direct.

“I told my mom I’m dating you, and now I might need your help not getting disowned.”

Even worse.

She exhaled, breath fogging in the cold. Practice usually ran late — Jimin knew that. She’d walked past the gym enough times to hear music blasting well past dinner. But it was really starting to feel like Y/N wasn’t coming out at all.

Maybe this was stupid. Maybe Y/N would laugh in her face. Or worse — tell the whole squad. Jimin could already picture it: her name and the word desperate flying through the hallways by tomorrow.

Still, she stayed. Because this was the only way. And if she didn’t ask — if she didn’t try — she’d be walking into Busan with a lie and no backup. That wasn’t an option.

The gym door creaked open. Jimin’s breath hitched.

There she was. Hoodie pulled over her cheer uniform, earbuds in, completely oblivious.

Jimin stepped out from under the overhang, heart pounding.

It was now or never.

“Y/n!” Jimin called out, but her voice barely cut through the rain — or the music playing through the girl’s headphones. “Y/n!”

Still nothing.

Frustrated, Jimin jogged forward, slipping slightly on the wet concrete before reaching out and grabbing Y/n’s shoulder. The other girl flinched, startled, twisting around sharply.

Y/n pulled one earbud out, blinking. “What the hell—?”

Jimin let go immediately, a little breathless. “Sorry. I just— I’ve been waiting.”

Y/N looked her up and down, taking in the damp hoodie, the ruined sneakers, the obvious nerves. Her brows lifted slightly. "Are you okay?"

Y/n didn't cared, in fact she was just confused.

“No,” Jimin admitted, voice sharp and awkward. “I mean, yes. Kind of. Can I talk to you? It’s… important.”

Y/N crossed her arms, skeptical but curious. “Did you really wait out here in the rain for me?”

Jimin nodded.

A beat passed.

“This better be good,” Y/n muttered, stepping back under the cover of the overhang. “Talk.”

“I thought we could discuss this in a café, it’s pouring rain and it’s—uh—cold…” Jimin said, her voice trailing off awkwardly as she realized how lame it sounded.

Y/N rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed, but the edge of a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You’re gonna drag me out of the rain to talk in a café? What’s next? Do I get a flower and a soft jazz playlist too?”

Jimin rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the heat rise to her face. “No, it’s not like that. I just—It’s a lot to explain, okay?”

Y/N sighed but didn’t walk away. “Fine, whatever. Lead the way.”

Jimin exhaled in relief, hoping the warmth of a café would settle her nerves and that somehow, she could make this mess work.

-

“Okay, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/N asked, her voice incredulous as they sat down in the café. She crossed her arms over her chest, still soaking wet but visibly irritated.

“It’s the first name that came to my mind, I swear!” she shot back, desperate to defend herself. “I panicked, okay?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Panic doesn’t usually make you pick someone you can’t stand and that can't stand you either!"

“I know, I know,” Jimin groaned, slumping in her seat. “But it just… happened. I thought I could get away with it. But then she—my mom—asked me to bring you home for Christmas.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, clearly thrown off. “What? Me? You want me to pretend we’re dating and then go home with you for Christmas? Unbelievable."

“Exactly,” Jimin muttered, looking anywhere but at her. “It’s not like I want to ask you, but… she’s really pushing it. And I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Y/N just stared at her, blinking slowly. “You’re asking me to fake-date you in front of your whole family… so your mom won’t be disappointed?”

“Please,” Jimin begged, her voice low. “I can’t go back home without some sort of backup. I can’t just let her think I’m this messed-up failure. You don’t know what she’s like.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment, then leaned back in her chair, still processing. “And what’s in it for me?”

Jimin bit her lip, her eyes flickering up to meet Y/n's. “I’ll do anything. Anything you want. Please.”

Y/n exhaled, a small smirk forming at the corner of her mouth. “Anything? Interesting…”

Jimin’s stomach dropped. “Yeah. I mean it.”

Y/N looked at her for a long, hard beat, and Jimin couldn’t tell if she was about to laugh in her face or agree. Finally, Y/n shrugged.

“Alright. I’ll help you out. But just so you know, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because I broke up with Jeno weeks ago and this will make him furious.”

Jimin let out a relieved breath. “Deal.”

A long pause.

Then Y/n spoke again, casually stirring the straw in her iced drink.

“So… what’s the storyline?” she asked, eyes narrowing just a bit. “What exactly are we supposed to do? Am I supposed to sell Minjeong on the idea that I fell for you in a night?”

Jimin sank further into her seat, visibly cringing. “I mean… yeah. Basically.”

Y/n snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I didn’t say it made sense!” Jimin shot back, flustered. “It was a heat-of-the-moment, life-flashing-before-my-eyes type of decision.”

Y/n leaned in a little, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Right. So what’s our epic love story, then? Did we bond over our mutual hatred for each other? A steamy hallway makeout after cheer competition?”

Jimin blinked. “…Wait, that’s not bad.”

Y/n raised a brow, deadpan. “You are so lucky I’m bored enough to play along." She sighed. "Let's at least make it romantic."

Jimin blinked at her. “Wait… you’re actually taking this seriously?”

“If I’m going to lie to your mom and sit through family dinners between your family members, yeah—might as well make it convincing.” Y/N shrugged, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “Besides, if I have to pretend to like you, I deserve Oscar-worthy levels of drama.”

Jimin scoffed, but there was the tiniest smile threatening to break through. “Fine. Romance it is.”

Y/n eaned forward, mock-serious. “So? What’s our meet-cute? Something dramatic. I want tension. A little forbidden energy. Give me the enemies to lovers arc.”

Jimin stared at her. “You want me to plot out a fake fanfic?”

“Exactly,” Y/N said with a satisfied nod. “You started this. Now we’re doing it right."

Y/n grinned, resting her chin on her palm as she eyed Jimin across the table.

“Also,” she added, voice almost playful, “I’ve always liked K-dramas with the worst tropes. So please, get creative.”

Jimin narrowed her eyes. “Worst tropes?”

Y/n nodded, unfazed. “Give me a tragic backstory. I want a dramatic rooftop scene. A tension-filled rain fight. Maybe even my jealous ex. I want to suffer.”

Jimin blinked. “You’re unhinged.”

“No,” Y/n said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’m committed to the bit.”

Jimin leaned forward, tapping her nails against her coffee cup. “Alright. New story. We met by accident. Late night. Campus convenience store.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“It’s pouring rain,” Jimin said, eyes distant like she was setting a scene in her head. “I was out of ramen. You were there for honey butter chips and cold brew.”

Y/n nodded slowly, already picturing it. “We reach for the same drink?”

“No,” Jimin smirked. “You drop your chips. I step on them. Instant tension.”

“Classic.”

“I apologize, kind of. You roll your eyes, say something smart. I snap back. But we’re both too tired to really argue. So we leave it there.”

Y/n sipped her drink, clearly invested now. “And then?”

“We run into each other again. Couple nights later. Same store. This time it’s late. Like, past midnight late. No one else around. You’re in sweats. I’m in my stupid hoodie. You ask if I always eat instant food this late.”

“And you say?”

"I say, 'Only when I can’t sleep.' And then you pause, just a second too long, and say, 'Same'"

Y/n smiled softly, leaning into the vibe. “So then what, we just keep running into each other?”

Jimin nodded. “Like fate. We never plan it, but somehow, we’re always there around the same time. We start sitting outside together. Talking. Bickering. You offer me your chips. I start bringing an extra drink.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Then something shifts.”

“Exactly,” Jimin said. “It’s three in the morning. We’re sitting on the curb, legs stretched out, talking about family and futures and shit we never tell anyone. You lean your head on my shoulder.”

Y/N blinked. “And that’s when we kiss?”

Jimin grinned. “Almost. But we don’t. Not yet. Just enough tension to make it hurt.”

“Oh, I love this one. It’s giving sad gay indie K-drama energy.”

“Right?” Jimin smirked. “Now we just have to convince my mom we’re emotionally intertwined and have a history that no one else could understand.”

Y/n smiled slowly. “She won’t stand a chance.”

-

The car ride to Busan started off in near silence. Rain tapped lazily against the windshield, and the highway stretched ahead like it was daring them to speak.

Jimin had one hand on the wheel, jaw tense. Y/n sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, headphones in — but the music was off. She just didn’t want to talk.

Until she did.

“You drive like you’re allergic to speed limits,” Y/n muttered, not even glancing over.

Jimin scoffed. “I’d rather get there fast than be stuck in this car with you for an extra hour.”

“Charming,” Y/n said dryly, turning to look at her. “Remind me again why I agreed to this?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jimin snapped, “maybe because you begged for a dramatic K-drama moment and I handed you one on a silver platter?”

“Right, because nothing says romance like you glaring at me every time I breathe too loud.”

“I’m driving,” Jimin bit back. “I need to focus.”

“You need to unclench.”

Jimin hit the signal light a little too aggressively and merged lanes. “If you hate this so much, you could’ve said no."

“If I said no, I wouldn’t get to witness you crash and burn in front of your family. That’s worth the ticket.”

They were quiet for a beat. Just the low hum of tires on wet road, the occasional flick of windshield wipers.

Then—

“You always think you’re so much better than everyone,” Jimin muttered, not looking at her.

Y/n blinked, taken off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You walk around like you own every hallway. Like no one can touch you. Even now, sitting in my car, doing me a favor, and still acting like you’re above it all.”

Y/n stared at her. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Maybe not,” Jimin shot back. “But you make it really easy to hate you.”

Another beat. The silence this time was heavier. Then Y/n laughed — just once. A dry, disbelieving sound.

“Well,” she said, settling back in her seat, “that makes two of us.”

Jimin’s fingers tightened on the wheel.

They didn’t speak for the next twenty minutes.

But their thoughts were loud.

“I don’t pretend anything,” Y/n said sharply, sitting up straighter. “You’re the one lying to your mom.”

“Oh my god,” Jimin muttered, eyes fixed on the road. “Are we really doing this right now?”

“You started it.”

“You agreed to this!”

“Because I thought it would be funny, not—this.” Y/n gestured vaguely, annoyed. “I thought we’d take a few fake couple pics, smile through some awkward dinners, go home. Not—argue like we’re married in your beat-up Hyundai on the highway to hell.”

“It’s a Kia,” Jimin snapped, glaring briefly. “And you made it personal.”

“I made it personal?” Y/N laughed, incredulous. “You’ve been picking fights with me since sophomore year.”

“Because you’re infuriating.”

“Because you take everything as a personal attack!”

They were both breathing hard now, voices raised, heat building fast.

Then—

“You’re exhausting,” Jimin muttered.

“So are you,” Y/n said, quieter this time, not quite looking at her.

A long stretch of silence settled between them again, except now their breathing had slowed, tension simmering instead of boiling.

Outside, the rain picked up. Inside, the heat from the vents started to fog the windows a little.

“…I didn’t mean to pick you,” Jimin said eventually, her voice low. “Your name just came out. I didn’t even think.”

Y/n looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “I know.”

“I guess,” Jimin continued, “if I’m honest, it’s because… you’re always there. Like, in my head. Whether I like it or not.”

Y/n's brows furrowed, confused. “So you hate me but I live rent-free in your mind?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Jimin groaned, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward anyway.

Y/n bit back a smirk, then looked away. “You’re still annoying.”

“You’re worse,” Jimin muttered.

A small pause.

Then Y/n spoke, softer. “Do I look okay?”

Jimin glanced over, confused. “What?”

“For your family,” she said. “Do I look like someone you’d… bring home?”

Jimin blinked at her, eyes flicking from her face to the slight slump of her shoulders.

And despite everything — the tension, the insults, the years of barely tolerating each other — she answered honestly.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “You do.”

Y/n didn’t say anything after that. But she smiled. Just a little.

And Jimin didn’t admit it, but she saw it in the reflection of the windshield.

That was the first time the silence between them felt almost peaceful.

-

Y/n was stressed.

She told herself she didn’t care — obviously she didn’t care — but the second Jimin put the car in park in front of the house, her chest tightened like it had something to prove.

It was just a stupid lie. A favor. One awkward week with Jimin’s polished Busan family, pretend to hold hands at dinner, maybe smile for a few photo. That was the plan.

So why did her palms feel clammy? Why did her heart jump into her throat the second Jimin looked over at her and said, quietly,

“We’re here.”

The house was bigger than she expected. Not mansion-big, but definitely expensive. Warm yellow lights glowed from the windows, laughter spilled faintly from inside, and the front door was already cracked open like they’d been watching the driveway all evening.

Jimin didn’t move to get out yet. She just sat there, keys still in the ignition, fingers twitching on her lap.

Y/n swallowed hard.

She was used to pretending.

It was her thing, actually.

Hide her true emotions. No one ever saw past it — not her teammates, not her classmates, not the girls she flirted with when she was bored and didn’t feel like going home.

And for the longest time, Y/n liked it that way.

But something about this felt different.

Maybe it was the way the front door swung open and warmth spilled out — real warmth.

Or maybe it was the fact that the second Jimin’s hand brushed against hers at the threshold — not even holding, just a touch — something inside her chest flinched.

Not in fear.

In recognition.

She was good at pretending. Always had been.

They stepped out of the car, the cold evening air biting at Y/n’s exposed skin. Jimin walked around to the trunk, popped it open, and pulled out the suitcases with a grunt. Y/n didn’t move to help—just stood there, arms crossed, watching with her usual unreadable expression.

Jimin rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“What?” Y/n said, feigning innocence. “You looked like you had it handled.”

Jimin groaned under her breath, dragging the suitcase toward the walkway just as the front door burst open.

“Jimin, sweetie!” a voice called out, full of warmth and sugar and just a pinch of chaos.

A woman rushed out into the night, arms already stretched wide, face glowing. She wrapped Jimin into a hug so tight it made the younger girl lose her grip on one of the bags.

“I missed you!” she said into Jimin’s shoulder, then pulled back to look her over like a mom checking for battle wounds. “Why do you look skinnier? Have you been eating? I told you to stop drinking iced americanos for dinner!”

“Hi, Mom,” Jimin replied, almost shyly. Her smile softened the edges of her usual sarcasm. She bent to pick up the suitcase again.

Then the woman turned to Y/n.

“And you must be Y/n! I'm Taeyeon!"

Y/n froze like a deer in headlights for a second before schooling her features into something charming — the soft smile she used at cheer fundraisers, the kind that got her free coffees and made teachers forgive late assignments.

“That's me” she said, stepping forward and offering a hand, just a beat too stiff.

But Jimin’s mom didn’t shake it — she hugged her.

Y/n’s eyes widened as the woman pulled her in, warm and familiar, like she’d known her for years.

“You’re gorgeous, oh my god,” Jimin’s mom gushed, stepping back and holding her at arm’s length. “And tiny! Jimin always had a thing for tiny girls, didn’t you, honey?”

Jimin choked. “Mom.”

“What?” she grinned, waving it off. “I’m just saying! When she was younger—”

“Okay, inside, now,” Jimin interrupted, grabbing the last suitcase and brushing past them, ears turning red.

Y/n stood there for another second, a little smirk on her lips, before Jimin’s mom looped her arm through hers.

“Come on, dear. You’ll sit next to me at dinner. You’ll tell me everything about how you and Jimin met.”

Y/n glanced ahead, saw the slight panic in Jimin’s shoulders as she disappeared through the doorway.

She smiled.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

As soon as they stepped into the house, warmth wrapped around them — the kind of lived-in, cozy heat that smelled like soy sauce, steamed rice, and something baking in the oven.

And there were a lot of people.

“Well, well,” a voice called from the hallway, smooth and teasing. “Jimin didn’t tell us she was bringing someone this cute.”

Y/n looked up, caught off guard by the tall boy leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. He looked familiar — must’ve been her brother.

“She did,” Y/n replied coolly, raising an eyebrow. “You probably weren’t listening.”

Sunghoon smirked, clearly amused. “Feisty. I like it.”

“She’s my girlfriend, Sunghoon.” Jimin cut in flatly as she dropped the suitcase by the stairs. “So stop being weird.”

Y/n fought a grin as Sunghoon dramatically clutched his chest. “Girlfriend? You didn’t say she was taken!”

“I said she was coming,” Jimin muttered. “And I said to behave.”

“Jimin,” her father said warmly, stepping forward to hug her. “You should’ve called when you were getting close.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” she mumbled, hugging him back, softer now.

Then he turned to Y/n and gave a polite, reserved bow. “You must be the girl we’ve heard so little about.”

Y/n smiled awkwardly and bowed in return. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.”

“Well I'm Misook, Jimin's father." he said, stepping aside and motioning toward the living room, “Make yourself at home."

The house had already started filling with noise — the comforting kind. Plates clinking, someone laughing down the hall, a pot of stew boiling gently on the stove. Jimin and Y/n had barely finished setting the table when the front door swung open again, snow blowing in with the familiar chaos of family arrivals.

Jimin muttered under her breath, “And here comes the entire circus.”

Y/n looked up from folding napkins, eyebrows raised. “You weren’t joking.”

Aunt Haeun came in first, cheeks rosy from the cold, tugging off her scarf. “Where’s your mother? Oh, something smells amazing—”

Behind her, Uncle Hyunsoo carried two suitcases and a box of mandarin oranges like he was preparing to stay a month. “Why do we always pack like we’re moving in?”

Then came Wonyoung, tall and glowing even in the oversized coat she shrugged off effortlessly. Her girlfriend Yujin followed, already slipping out of her gloves and handing over a small gift bag with a shy smile.

Wonyoung’s eyes scanned the room — and landed on Y/n.

“Oh,” she said. “This must be her.”

Y/n stood a little straighter. “Hi, I'm Y/n.”

Yujin gave her a polite nod. “Nice to meet you.”

Wonyoung, however, looked her up and down without hiding it. Not rudely. Just… observantly. “You’re even prettier than your Instagram.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Thanks… wait you stalked me– how?”

“Wanted to know who my cousin was dating, just saying” Wonyoung added, stepping inside. “Jimin usually likes chaos. You look a little too put-together for her.”

Jimin rolled her eyes. “Nice to see you too.”

Before anyone could dwell on that, the door flew open again and Giselle arrived with her usual flair, dropping her weekender bag dramatically in the hallway. Her boyfriend trailed behind, carrying a cake and visibly regretting not wearing thicker socks.

Giselle’s gaze found Y/n almost immediately.

“Wow. You’re the girlfriend?”

Y/n offered a polite smile. “Yes. I think that’s me.”

“You look like someone who gets invited to the cool rooftop parties and never shows up.” Her tone wasn’t exactly mocking — more amused, a little intrigued. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Y/n said, eyes steady. “I do get those invites.”

From the living room, someone called out, “Stop crowding the hallway!”

Soobin appeared then, towel slung over his shoulder like he’d just helped clean something — tall, soft-eyed, and entirely too charming for his own good.

He gave Jimin a quick hug before turning toward Y/n. “And you must be the famous girlfriend.”

Y/n shook his hand, noticing the dimpled smile right away. “Famous really?”

"Well it's been only a week since Jimin told aunt Taeyeon and she kept talking about you. Anyway, I’m Soobin. Jimin’s cousin — sadly still single, in case that wasn’t obvious.” He winked.

Jimin groaned. “Can you not.”

Mrs. Yu popped her head in from the kitchen, apron tied around her waist. “Everyone’s here? Good. Come help me set the soup, please!”

Y/n was about to follow, but Soobin cut in again. “You cook too?”

“I try,” she said.

“She does,” Jimin mumbled, grabbing the stack of bowls. “She’s basically Miss Perfect.” She says trying to show that she knew her–fake–girlfriend.

“Wow,” Giselle said under her breath, exchanging a look with Wonyoung. “So that’s new.”

Wonyoung smiled tightly. “Can’t wait to hear that story.”

And just like that, Y/n felt it — not hostility, not even dislike. Just curiosity. A little skepticism. Like they were all trying to figure out where she fit in the picture. If she was just a visitor in Jimin’s life — or something more.

Jimin passed her a bowl and gave her a look.

“You okay?”

Y/n nodded, quietly. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot.”

Jimin paused, then added, “It always is. But they’ll get used to you.”

-

The dinner had been… surprisingly pleasant. Y/n couldn’t deny it. The food had been delicious, and as much as she tried to stay neutral, she found herself laughing with Wonyoung and Giselle more than she’d expected. They’d shared funny anecdotes about Jimin’s childhood, embarrassing family moments that made her realize how normal Jimin’s life was outside of the walls of college, outside the walls they’d built up around each other.

Y/n had laughed, genuinely. It felt so… human. Like they were showing her parts of Jimin that she’d never even considered before. She found herself liking it, maybe too much.

But Jimin had been quiet through it all, picking at her food, her eyes darting between Y/n and the rest of the room. It was subtle, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Every time Y/n made a joke or spoke a little too easily with her cousins, Jimin’s smile seemed to falter, just for a split second.

It was like she didn’t want Y/n to get too comfortable. To become too familiar with her family.

To cross a line.

Home.

Y/n thought about that word as she sipped her drink, the weight of it settling in her chest. It wasn’t just where they were sitting right now, under laughter ringing in the background. It was the way Jimin’s face had softened just a little when talking about her mom earlier. Or how her brother, Sunghoon, had cracked a stupid joke and Jimin had genuinely laughed — not the sarcastic kind, but the real one that reached her eyes.

For a second, Y/n let herself consider it — maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I really fit in here. If I could stay a little longer, get used to them…

But then she glanced over at Jimin, who was still sitting at the edge of the table, half turned away from the conversation, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. The shift in her mood was palpable.

She didn’t want her to get close. That was obvious.

Maybe she didn’t want Y/n the warmth of home — it was too real. Too personal. And the thought of someone else, especially someone like Y/n, having access to it? That was too much for Jimin to handle right now.

Still, as Y/n looked across the table at her, she realized something else, too. Maybe Jimin wasn’t as cold as I thought. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t hate the idea of being trusted with someone.

-

Y/n lay awake in Jimin’s old room, the one of her childhood — memories frozen in time. After a long and tiring Christmas dinner with Jimin’s family, everyone had finally retreated to their rooms. But something about the stillness in the air, the way everything seemed to breathe a different kind of quiet here, kept Y/n wide awake.

Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in the familiar yet unfamiliar sight. It was cozy, yet clearly a room from another time. There was a mix of things: an old, dusty teddy bear tucked in the corner, a few scattered school trophies on the shelf, and colorful plush pillows that had been there since Jimin’s middle school days. Her room, untouched by time, told the story of someone trying to hold onto childhood, even in the face of growing up.

Y/n rolled over and glanced at the photos hanging on the walls. There were a few frames of young Jimin, her face so different from the confident, polished woman Y/n had come to know. Here, Jimin was just a girl — a middle schooler, awkward and shy, posing for the camera with her family and friends, her eyes shining with innocence. There were pictures of her grinning with friends Y/n would probably never meet.

The one that caught Y/n’s attention the most was a picture of a much younger Jimin, standing beside a smiling boy who looked remarkably like her brother, Sunghoon. The two were at what appeared to be a family picnic, both holding ice cream cones. Jimin’s smile was wide, carefree — a stark contrast to the guarded look she wore now. Her eyes softened as she studied the picture.

She had never considered Jimin as someone with a life before everything — before the fierce exterior, before the social circle and the reputation. She wondered, briefly, what had shaped Jimin into the person she was now. Who was she before all of the expectations? Before her family’s high standards and the pressure of being in the spotlight?

Y/n reached up and gently traced the edge of one of the frames, her thoughts drifting to how little she actually knew about Jimin’s past. She felt a small pang of guilt, realizing how little she had ever really cared to know. She had always seen Jimin as a barrier, a target of her own insecurities and fears. She had never stopped to consider what Jimin had been through to become the person she was today.

The silence in the room grew thicker, and the weight of everything they had both been pretending began to settle over Y/n’s chest.

Suddenly, Jimin’s voice cut through her thoughts as she opened the door coming back from shower.

“You’re still up?”

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts, looking over at the doorway where Jimin stood, her face partially obscured by the dim light from the hallway. She was wearing a loose shirt and pajama pants, her hair slightly messy as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Yeah,” Y/n replied softly, her voice betraying a hint of surprise. “Just… looking around.”

Jimin walked into the room and sat down on the edge of her bed, glancing at the photos the cheerleader had been looking at. “I see you found my middle school pictures,”

Y/n gave a faint nod, feeling awkward for lingering over something so personal. “You were… really different.” Her voice was quiet, as if not wanting to intrude too much.

Jimin let out a small, dry laugh. “I guess. People change.”

Y/n paused for a moment, unsure whether to ask the next question. But her curiosity got the best of her. “Do you ever miss it? The… before?”

Jimin’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, her fingers tracing the edge of her blanket. There was a long pause before she answered, her tone surprisingly soft. “Sometimes,” she admitted quietly. “But I think I had to grow up too fast. I didn’t really have a choice. My mom… she wanted me to be perfect, and I guess… I tried.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Y/n wasn’t sure what to say, not sure if she was crossing a line or not. But the vulnerability in Jimin’s voice felt different from anything she had ever heard from her.

“I think your mom wanted you to be happy, to build your future so you could be happy. She must have done it wrong.... It's a lot.” Y/n finally said, her voice quieter than before.

Jimin shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “It is what it is. You can’t change the past.”

They both sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation lingering in the room like an unspoken truth. It was the first time they had really opened up to each other, even if just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

After a few more minutes of quiet, the two of them, still sitting in the dimly lit room, began to realize just how awkward the situation was.

Jimin shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting to the bed, and then to Y/n, before finally settling on the door as if it might suddenly offer an escape. But of course, there was no escaping the reality of the room. There was one bed. And they were both stuck here for the night.

Y/n, sensing the tension, turned to look at Jimin. Her gaze met Jimin’s for a split second before both of them awkwardly glanced away. It was strange, they were forced into an entirely new situation. They had been at each other’s throats for so long, but now, it felt like the walls were starting to crack.

“Uh,” Y/n began, breaking the silence with an awkward laugh. “I guess we’re supposed to… sleep here?”

Jimin, her arms crossed tightly in front of her, didn’t seem thrilled about the prospect. “Yeah, looks like it,” she muttered, eyes narrowing as she looked at the bed, as though it had personally offended her.

Y/n glanced at the single bed again, then back at Jimin. A thought occurred to her. “So… how do you usually do this? I mean, not like… ‘this’—but… you know…”

“Well,” Jimin started, her voice almost hesitant, “my family thinks we are a couple, one bed is actually normal…” She let out a deep breath, clearly at a loss for words. “This is beyond the usual.”

Y/n bit her lip, her mind racing for a solution. They couldn’t exactly sleep side by side in the same bed. That would be far too strange. The thought made her skin crawl a little, and she saw that Jimin was just as uncomfortable as she was. The idea of sharing such a small space for the night—close quarters like this—seemed impossible for two people who barely tolerated each other.

“Wait!” Y/n suddenly exclaimed, the idea coming to her as she looked around the room. “Pillows.”

Jimin blinked at her. “What?”

“No, hear me out,” Y/N said, her voice gaining confidence as she scanned the room. “We can make a pillow barrier, a—uh—‘fortress’ between us. We’ll each have our own side of the bed, and it’ll be like an invisible wall.” She motioned to the pillows on the bed and around the room.

Jimin paused, staring at her like she’d just suggested something absurd. “A pillow fortress?”

Y/n grinned. “Yeah, it’s genius, right? Just a row of pillows between us, and we’ll have our own little spaces. It’ll work.”

Jimin rolled her eyes but finally relented. “Fine. Let’s build your… fortress.”

Y/n wasted no time. She started pulling pillows from the bed and stacking them between them, creating a makeshift barrier down the middle. Jimin watched her for a second before grabbing the remaining pillows and joining in, her usual sarcasm temporarily forgotten.

When they were done, they stepped back and admired their work. The fortress of pillows between them was not exactly elegant, but it served its purpose—each side was now officially off-limits.

“Well,” Jimin said after a moment of silence, raising an eyebrow. “At least now I have some distance from you. It’s like a little… wall of peace.”

Y/N leaned back against her side of the bed, satisfied. “Exactly. Now we can both sleep peacefully without worrying about invading each other’s space.”

There was a pause. Then, a soft, unexpected chuckle escaped from Jimin. “This is ridiculous.”

Y/n grinned, unable to help herself. “It works, though.”

Jimin shook her head, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don’t even want to know how long you’ve been plotting this.”

Y/n laughed. “You have no idea.”

And for the first time since they had started this whole fake dating charade, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate, even if just for a moment. The fortress was still silly, still an odd solution to an odd problem, but it somehow brought a sense of lightness that neither of them had expected.

As they lay there in the dim room, the pillow wall between them, they both found it a little easier to breathe.

-

The apartment door clicked shut behind them, the hum of Seoul’s city noise instantly muffled. The silence between them wasn’t comfortable. It was tense, like a storm waiting to break.

Jimin kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag by the door, heading straight for the kitchen without saying a word. Y/n followed, arms crossed, scowl already forming on her face.

“Where's Heeseung?" Y/n asked earning only a small shrug from Jimin. "So, are you gonna tell me what your problem is?” she snapped.

Jimin scoffed as she opened the fridge, staring inside like it had answers. “My problem? You’re really asking me that?”

“Yeah, I am. You’ve been acting like a brat ever since we got off the car.”

Jimin shut the fridge a little too hard and turned around. “Because my mom wants to invite you to her spring birthday lunch. Because Wonyoung asked if you’d come for Chuseok. Because suddenly everyone loves you, Y/n.”

Y/n blinked. “Okay, and?”

“And now I have to explain why my so-called girlfriend disappears before my mom can start sewing you into the family tree.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault that your entire family likes me?” Y/n said, voice rising. “You dragged me into this lie and now you’re mad that it worked well?”

Jimin’s jaw tensed. “It was supposed to be a week. A performance. You were supposed to be a cold and indifferent cheer brat—like you usually are."

“Well, sorry for having manners,” Y/n bit back. “Maybe your family’s just desperate to see you with someone who isn’t a Tinder hookup.”

Jimin’s face snapped toward her. “Watch it.”

“No, you watch it. I helped you. I played the role. I met your weird aunt and sat through your cousin’s playlist of EXO dance covers. You’re mad because your lie worked too well.”

Jimin paced, dragging her hands through her hair. She wasn’t yelling anymore—she was spiraling. “They’re already talking about summer. Asking when I’m gonna bring you again. My mom was glowing.”

Y/n leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “Then tell her we broke up.”

Jimin froze.

Y/n raised a brow. “Simple solution, no?”

“Yeah. Except she’ll want to know why. And how. And when. And then she’ll cry and say it’s because I don’t try hard enough with people and that I ruin everything.”

Silence.

Y/n let out a slow exhale. “Okay. So… what now?”

Jimin hesitated, then sighed. “We fake it a little longer.”

Y/n blinked. “How much longer?”

“Until May.”

“May!?”

Jimin shrugged, already sounding resigned. “That’s when your cheer nationals are, right? It makes sense. We break up after—‘distance’, ‘conflicting schedules’, whatever. Clean timeline.”

Y/n stared at her, baffled. “You really thought this through.”

“No, I’m thinking it through now, because my mom just texted me again asking what your favorite color is.”

Y/n stared. “What is wrong with her?”

“She’s a hopeless romantic. She thinks you’re the one.”

Y/n dragged a hand down her face. “Fine. We fake date until May. But you’re driving me to every practice and buying my coffee. Non-negotiable.”

Jimin rolled her eyes. “Deal. But you’re texting my mom on my behalf until she stops sending me couple bracelets on Instagram.”

They locked eyes, and for a split second, something like amusement flickered between them. But it passed as fast as it came.

The war was still on.

Only now… it had a timeline.

Jimin reached for her phone, already typing a reply to her mom, something about Y/n loving the color navy blue and tulips. Y/n watched her from the kitchen doorway, still not quite sure how the hell this became her life.

“This is so dumb,” she muttered.

Jimin didn’t look up. “You agreed.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t complain about it.”

They locked eyes again, this time without yelling, just the sharp simmer of something complicated brewing beneath the surface.

“Just survive until May,” Jimin said, voice flat.

Y/n nodded, grabbing her bag again and heading toward the spare room. “Easy,” she muttered under her breath.

Neither of them believed that.

-

[alexanderwales]

Movie Review: A Minecraft Movie

Full disclosure: I watched a pirated version of this movie that had unfinished VFX. It showed up on a Plex server run by a friend of ours, and I had asked my son, who is nine years old and a huge Minecraft fan, whether he'd watch it at home or at the theater, and we watched the unfinished version. It said "Story by TBD" in the credits, sometimes you'd see a halo of green in someone's hair where they hadn't finished laboriously keying out the green screen ... I'll be honest, I think this really enhanced my enjoyment of the movie, because every now and then you'd get a scene where, for example, the villagers are all dressed up extras without the heads on, just some motion tracking caps. It cracked me up. I have no idea how different the movie would be with full VFX, nor what changes and cuts ultimately ended up being made. Take this review with a grain of salt.

One of the things I was really curious about when watching this movie was what kind of humor it would have, and I think my takeaway is that it's kind of all over the place. It's at least partially written and directed by the same guy who did Napoleon Dynamite, a forgotten classic, and in a lot of places you can really tell. In other places ... much less so.

My favorite joke of the whole movie was when they've gotten ahold of the mystery orb and there's a note with it that says "don't put this in the shell" or whatever, and then on the back it says "even if you're a struggling businessman who really needs the money", which is exactly the situation they're in. Stupid and meta, that's my kind of joke.

But there's also a lot of slapstick humor, people falling down played for laughs, and there's awkward humor too, where the enjoyment comes from a slightly off person being put on display. In places very reminiscent of Napoleon Dynamite, but mostly only in the "real world" portion of the movie where the first third takes place. And then there's also some "lol random" humor mixed in there.

So on the humor front, something that I was paying attention to, it's a really mixed bag, and I would say that a lot of the humor just fails to come together because of that. I think good humor needs some kind of frame to it, because humor is about subversion of expectations, and with unclear expectations, the jokes are going to land worse. That's just my opinion though.

In terms of story, the main thing I was looking for was "what's the message of this movie". And here ... I guess I would say it's "be yourself", but if that's the thematic core of the movie, I think Jason Momoa's character is a problem. He's already going on his own path, mired in the past but definitely his own person, and his problem seems to be that other people just aren't that into it. And the solution to that is ... make a friend? He notably does not do much mining or crafting.

The actual ending message of the movie seemed to be "yeah, Minecraft is pretty great, but you can take that energy you're putting into the game out into the real world" or something like that, which is how everyone gets their unrealistically happy ending. It's overshadowed by Jack Black singing and dancing, but my son really liked that part, so I guess it's hitting the target audience.

I thought it was a pretty inconsistent movie, one that didn't know what it was trying to be or say, and you know, that's probably fine. The writing was pretty poor, and I'm not sure that the movie really "got" what Minecraft is, but I also don't think it needed to.

There was a pig that waddled onto screen and he was wearing a crown, and my son yelled "Technoblade!" He said it was overall "pretty good", which isn't exactly a roaring endorsement, but it seemed like he had a good time. We neglected to throw popcorn at the screen when the chicken jockey appeared, mostly because I would have had to be the one to clean it up. My son's one criticism was that they were mostly just not very good at Minecraft, and there were times he was yelling at the screen that of course the zombies are spawning, you need to put torches up.

Oh, one other thing: I've always been a Jack Black fan, having seen Nacho Libre in theaters, but I think this movie did some permanent damage to my enjoyment of him. There was something about the singing, and the kicking, and the mugging for the camera that was just too much for me. Like I hit my lifetime quota of Jack Black.

Maybe I'll feel differently if I see it with finished VFX.