#and i like it when they cry. i like it best when they both laugh and cry. eeaao intent

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSURPRISE PARTY TOUR: LA'S, THE PUPPY CITY * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Where at the Los Angeles show of the Surprise Party Tour, Chris not only surprises Matt with the presence of Y/N but also with a new small addition to the family.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　Matt being a dog parent 🥺🙏🏻.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The bell over the door gave a soft jingle as Chris pushed it open, the metal frame rattling lightly against the glass. A breath of lemon-scented air wrapped around them immediately. It felt clean, a little sweet, with a subtle, milky smell that could only ever mean one thing: puppies.

Chris stopped just inside the door, his hand tightening around his phone, already recording. His screen caught Y/N stepping in first, the sleeves of her soft beige hoodie crumpled inside her tight fingers like she always did when she was nervous or excited - honestly, with her, it was usually both at once.

"Alright." Chris said quietly behind the camera, his voice almost swallowed up by the soft hum of the lobby. "We’re really doing this, huh?"

Y/N shot a small, crooked smile over her shoulder before turning back to their front. She looked around the lobby slowly, taking it all in, the neatly organized shelves of treats and toys, the bulletin board cluttered with colorful flyers and Polaroids, the little potted plants trying their best to survive on the windowsill.

It felt so alive here. Safe. Somewhere you could exhale without even realizing you'd been holding your breath.

Behind the front counter, a woman glanced up from a stack of paperwork, pushing her glasses higher on her nose. She was older, maybe in her fifties, with gray-streaked hair pulled into a messy braid and kind, smile-lined eyes. She set her pen down and stood, smoothing her hands down the front of her jeans.

"Hi there." Y/N said, stepping closer to the counter. Her voice was soft, full with that warm kind of politeness she always carried. "Are you Veronica?"

The woman’s whole face brightened. She rounded the counter with an easy, open smile that made Y/N open her own wide and pearly one.

"That’s me." She said warmly. "And you must be Y/N. You called about the puppies, right?"

Y/N nodded, the tension in her shoulders loosening visibly.

"Yes. And this is Chris." She added, glancing back at him. "He’s Matt’s brother. The one we’re surprising."

Chris gave a half-wave, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a grin. Veronica’s smile widened like she could feel the expectations echoing around them.

"Well, you picked a perfect day." She said, motioning them forward. "Come on back. We’ve got a lot of little ones eager to meet you."

She unlatched a small swinging door next to the counter, and Y/N slipped through first, Chris following close behind, lifting his phone to catch every second.

The hallway was narrow, lined with colorful paintings of dogs and cats, and the faint sound of barking echoed down the corridor. Veronica led the way with easy steps that told them about the years spent in places like this.

"We’ve got a few litters in right now." She said as they walked, her voice low and steady. "Some purebreds, mostly mixes. All around two to four months old. A couple of rescues, some surrenders. They’re all looking for someone to love them."

Y/N listened with her whole body. You could almost see every word soaking in through her skin. She glanced at the little nameplates on the walls, the photos of dogs with their 'gotcha day' dates scribbled underneath in bright marker.

Chris tilted the camera to catch them both.

"She’s about to cry, and we haven’t even seen them yet." He whispered with a soft laugh that he didn’t bother hiding.

Y/N elbowed him gently, her cheeks warming, but she didn’t deny it.

Veronica slowed as they reached a thick, heavy door at the end of the hall. She rested her hand on the handle, looking back at them with a small, knowing smile.

"Just a heads up." She started. "It’s... a lot. But in the best way."

Y/N nodded, practically vibrating with so much joy that made Chris’s throat feel a little tight.

Veronica pushed open the door, and the sound hit them like a wave.

Not too loud.

Not overwhelming.

Just tiny barks. High-pitched yips. The soft whimpering of baby dogs desperate for attention.

The room was huge, warm, and alive.

Colorful pens lined the walls and clustered in the middle, each one a little world of its own. Puppies tumbled over each other, tails wagging furiously, tiny paws slipping on the polished floor. Some barked for attention, others yawned and dozed, some sat solemnly watching as if judging whether the visitors were worthy.

Y/N froze in the doorway, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Oh my." She whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

Chris lowered the camera just a little, blue eyes widening, trying to absorb everything he was seeing.

"I’m not ready." She said in a half-laugh, half-sob kind of way, looking at the camera before traveling up to Chris's eyes.

Chris grinned, shrugging.

"You've been talking about this to me for months." He playfully rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you are ready."

They moved slowly into the room.

Puppies cried out from every direction, tiny paws scratching at the metal gates, little noses pressing eagerly against the bars.

Everywhere they looked had floppy ears, wagging tails, big hopeful eyes.

Y/N dropped to her knees by the first pen, offering her fingers through the bars. A tiny golden retriever mix immediately pounced, licking her hand with wild, uncoordinated enthusiasm.

"Hi, baby." Y/N cooed, her voice trembling a little

Chris crouched beside her, filming the way the puppy nipped at her hoodie strings and the way her laugh broke through, high and light and a little watery.

Veronica walked them slowly through the room, pausing now and then to tell them each puppy’s name, their little backstories.

"This is Millie. She’s a husky mix. Lots of energy, super smart... And that’s Bruno, he’s shy at first but a total cuddlebug once he knows you..."

Y/N knelt by every pen, meeting every puppy like they were the only one in the room. She spoke to them softly, let them sniff her hands, and gave every single one a piece of her heart.

Chris kept filming, but there was a lump in his throat now, heavy and thick. He could already see it happening. The way Matt’s posture would break when he saw.

The way this tiny new life would change their whole lives.

They were almost at the end of the room when a small sound caught Y/N’s attention, a soft, hoarse little bark, almost like a question.

She turned instinctively, eyes scanning, and there he was.

Tucked into a small pen near the back, almost hidden away, was a tiny pug, barely bigger than a loaf of bread, with oversized paws and huge, round eyes.

He blinked up at her, wobbled toward the gate on unsteady legs, and let out another bark, louder this time, more certain.

Y/N’s whole body went still.

"Oh." She whispered, her hand flying to her chest.

But it wasn’t the overwhelmed kind of 'oh' from before. It was different now.

She moved without thinking, sinking to the floor in front of his pen. The little pug pressed his smooshy face against the bars, pawing at the air desperately until Y/N slid her hand inside.

The moment her fingers brushed his fur, he let out a happy, high-pitched whimper and collapsed into her hand like he’d been waiting for her all along.

Chris lowered the phone slightly, laughing almost breathlessly.

"Oh my God, it's Matt's stuffed pug."

"This is him." Y/N said, her voice breaking on a whisper, ignoring his reference to Mr. Wrinkleton. "Chris, it’s him."

Chris crouched down beside her, his lips forming a smile. He looked at the tiny pug clambering over himself to get closer to her, his little tail wagging so hard it made his whole body wobble.

Yeah.

This was it.

Veronica knelt beside them, her smile gentle.

"He’s three months old." She said softly. "Had a rough start, but he’s healthy now. He’s gonna be somebody’s whole world."

"Our. Our own world." Silent tears slipped down Y/N´s cheeks as she cradled the tiny pug’s squirming body against her chest.

Chris lifted his phone again, filming as Y/N pressed a kiss to the pug’s soft paw.

"Welcome to the family, little dude." He whispered.

Y/N looked up at him, her arms wrapped protectively around the tiny bundle of fur, her whole face shining with something so pure it almost hurt to look at.

"Matt’s gonna lose his mind." He said, laughing at her reaction.

Y/N laughed, too, blinking hard.

"Yeah." She said. "In the best way."

The little pug yawned, his tiny body going limp against Y/N’s hoodie, safe and small and finally, finally home.

The big screen glitched.

Just for a split second, barely even a breath, but it was enough to make every single person in the theater sit up a little straighter.

The giant screen flickered, snapping out of its still state before huge white letters, sprawled loud and proud across it.

'SURPRISE'

The noise was instant.

It rose so fast it felt like the theater itself trembled with the force of it, a full-body, head-to-toe rush of screams and gasps and insane, joyful chaos.

And then the countdown appeared.

Big, chunky numbers.

5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

The entire theater vibrated.

And then there he was.

Chris.

Right there, filling up the screen, standing in front of a camera, looking dead into it while adjusting the knot of his tie with both hands.

Screams echoed louder than before, paired with bodies jumping out of seats like they had been electrocuted.

Chris just smiled his cheeky half-smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made everything else blur a little.

He stood up from the orange couch on the right side of the stage, the one where he’d been sitting shoulder to shoulder with Matt, grabbing the mic that had been resting between them.

The noise, if it was even possible, got louder.

Chris shot a quick look at the crowd, like seriously?, lifting his brows and laughing under his breath, but you could see the way his whole face lit up.

He loved it.

Still laughing, he shoved his free hand into the pocket of his hoodie and walked across the stage, his black Converse scuffing softly against the dark wood.

He turned toward one of the big wooden shelves that were part of the stage set and paused, throwing a quick glance back at the crowd, lifting the mic to his mouth

"Okay." Chris started, his voice crackling a little through the speakers because people wouldn’t stop cheering. He laughed again, boyish and bright. "For this surprise..." He paused, letting it hang in the air just long enough to make people collectively calm down. "I need you guys to chill, okay?"

The crowd didn’t exactly obey - because honestly, how could they? - but the volume did dip, a little.

Chris rolled his eyes dramatically, turning away from them and toward the wooden cabinet door in front of him.

He wiggled his fingers at it like he was about to do a magic trick, smiling so hard you could practically feel it.

Meanwhile, Matt and Nick were already on the left couch, explaining the dynamics of the live broadcast channel and the hint Chris was going to show to the public.

"Alright." Chris huffed out, laughing through his nose like he couldn't believe he - and Y/N - were really about to do this.

Well, they already did it anyway.

His fingers wrapped around the cool metal handle of the cabinet door and pulled it open.

The tiny little squeak the hinges made was almost swallowed by the mutters of excitement echoing across the theater. He reached inside, his arm disappearing into the dark cabinet before pulling his hand back out slowly.

When he turned around, he had something small and squishy clutched in his hand.

The cabinet clicked shut behind him as he made his way back toward the couches, stopping in front of his brothers, holding the thing up.

For a second, Matt squinted at it, confused.

And then his face changed.

"Wait-" Matt leaned forward, hands shooting out to grab it. "Dude! Mr. Wrinkleton?!"

The theater straight-up erupted.

A loud, messy mix of laughter and cheers filled the air.

Matt cradled the stuffed pug against his chest like it was a living, breathing thing. His brows furrowed, all dramatic.

"How- how did you even-" He started, mouth hanging open a little. He shook Mr. Wrinkleton gently, like that was gonna shake an answer out of the poor plushie. "I swear I left him at home! I didn’t pack him!"

Chris just shrugged, doing that thing where he tried way too hard not to laugh, but his whole face was twitching.

Nick was already cracking up on the couch beside Matt, throwing his head back like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

"Chris, did you sneak into your bag?!" He asked into his mic.

Chris just threw his hands up all innocent-like, backing up a little.

"Well, obviously." He said, grin stretching wider.

Nick leaned forward, still laughing, grabbing his own mic tighter.

"Okay, wait, wait. So what, you went to those stuffed animals stores and bought a whole lot of it?" He asked, frowning at the pug.

"Yeah, like..." Matt shook Mr. Wrinkleton in the air again, pointing at him. "Build your bear or something."

Chris gave them both a deadpan look, crossing his arms over his cotton jacket.

"Wrong. Both wrong." He said, voice dripping with fake disappointment. "And Y/N would kill me if I bought more stuffed animals."

The audience cackled.

Without warning, Chris stepped forward and snatched Mr. Wrinkleton right back out of Matt's hands, ignoring his loud "Hey, he's mine!" protest.

"Sorry, bud. He's part of the surprise." Chris said, tossing a wink at the crowd.

He walked away before either of them could argue, crossing the stage to the opposite couch, lowering himself onto the cushion, sitting Mr. Wrinkleton against his chest.

And even though he was trying his hardest to act normal, to play it cool, he definitely didn't look over to where Y/N was sitting offstage.

Not even a glance.

Okay, he peeked once. Real quick. But it didn’t count.

He pulled his gaze back to the audience, clearing his throat into the mic.

"Okay." He said, leaning forward a little. "I need you guys to really, and I mean really pay attention to this surprise, okay? No screaming. Just... watch."

The theater actually settled. Not all the way, but the noise dropped down to a quiet murmur. A few people were still whispering excitedly, phones clutched so tight in their hands that it looked like they might actually snap in half.

Chris turned back toward the giant screen, rubbing his palms over his knees once before looking up.

"Well." He said into the mic, voice a little softer now. "Let's see what I did."

The video started.

It didn’t come with any fanfare or intro, which already made it so different from the slow builds Matt and Nick did for theirs.

The first thing they all saw was the little bell above the door, giving a tiny jingle as Chris pushed it open. The metal frame rattled against the glass, a little shaky from his hand being just barely too excited.

Chris must've turned his phone a little, revealing Y/N stepping into frame.

And you could literally hear the collective reaction in the room. A few people gasped softly, immediately putting their hands to their mouths, excited whispers of Y/N's name carrying around the theater.

Matt’s whole body jerked upright, eyes going round as coins, traveling from the screen to Chris and back again.

"Y/N? What-"

She was tugging the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands, all tucked in and shy, just like she always did when she was either excited out of her mind or on the verge of jumping out of her skin.

Behind the camera, you could hear Chris’s voice, low and soft, kind of laughing under his breath like he couldn’t believe they were actually doing whatever they were doing.

"Alright." He said, his tone so full of his excitement it filled up the whole living room and made Matt and Nick instinctively smile. "We’re really doing this, huh?"

Y/N shot a crooked little smile over her shoulder at him and then turned back toward the front of the store.

Video-Chris moved his phone in a way that the camera registered the shelves lined neatly with treats and toys, the bulletin board overloaded with colorful flyers and Polaroids of grinning pets, the half-dead potted plants on the windowsill.

Back on the couch, Matt’s mouth fell open a little, slow realization crossing his face, his occupied hand moving his mic close to his lips.

"Chris... is this a-?" Then blinked hard and answered himself in a sudden, hushed rush. "That's a dog place. Dude, it's a dog place."

Nick, looking equally bewildered but not yet putting two and two together, yelled back.

"What's happening?!"

On the screen, behind the front counter, an older woman lifted her head from a stack of paperwork. She pushed her glasses up her nose, eyes warm and crinkling at the corners. Her gray-streaked braid swung over her shoulder as she stood.

"Hi there." Y/N said, stepping closer to the counter.

Her voice was soft, careful but open, the way she used to talk when she's trying really hard to get it right because it matters.

Chris’s phone camera caught the way her fingers twisted the fabric of her hoodie, nerves leaking out even though her smile stayed steady.

"Are you Veronica?" She asked.

The woman’s face lit up instantly, like Y/N had flipped a switch.

Veronica rounded the counter with this easy energy that made you want to trust her instantly.

"That’s me." She said warmly, a little laugh in her voice. "And you must be Y/N. You called about the puppies, right?"

Puppies.

The word dropped into the room like a tiny, adorable bomb.

A whole new ripple of gasps and low "oh my god's" ran through the audience. Matt slapped a hand over his own mouth so fast it made a little smacking noise, his eyes widening more - if that was even possible.

Nick just shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, jaw dropped low.

Back on the right couch, Chris could feel everyone's eyes on him, the glances bouncing between him and the screen like they were all trying to process the serotonin overload.

Nick was the first to react.

"Wait-" He half-shouted into his mic. "You both spent a day with puppies or-?"

Matt was still staring at the screen, eyebrows drawn so hard together that they were practically touching.

Chris just leaned back a little, smirking at them all.

"I told you to pay attention." He said lightly, voice all mischievous.

The video continued playing, but no one really moved.

Backstage was dark. There was a warm golden light cast over everything from the stage beyond the thick curtains, but none of it quite touched where Y/N stood.

She was tucked into the far-left side of the stage, just behind where Matt and Nick were seated, hidden.

Perfectly hidden.

The kind of hidden where her heart could race freely and her hands could clutch the hem of her hoodie without anyone seeing her do it - the fabric was soft beneath her fingers, already wrinkled from how much she’d been fidgeting.

She stared at the stage, catching a glimpse of the big screen showing the video that had just started to roll, the one that had captured her and Chris walking into the puppy shelter weeks ago.

But her eyes weren’t on herself, though.

They were locked - utterly glued - to Matt on the flat screen across the stage.

His mouth was parted slightly in that unguarded way he had when he was surprised or deeply focused. His eyes were wide. Shiny. And every couple of seconds, he’d glance away from the screen, flicking his gaze through the crowd like maybe, maybe, he would find her in between their fans.

It was like he could feel her there.

But it wasn't possible, right? She was back home, waiting for them.

For him.

Y/N’s heart swelled, aching in the best, most ridiculous way. Her cheeks were already warm, and she hadn’t even stepped out yet.

On the screen, Chris's voice played softly through the speakers.

"Alright. We’re really doing this, huh?"

Y/N saw Matt’s brow pull in just slightly. And then his lips tugged up.

She was just barely biting her bottom lip when a soft touch on her shoulder made her jump.

She spun around, heart flying into her throat, but it was just Paula with her extravagant clothes, her headset half on, and her big knowing smile. But it wasn’t her smile that Y/N noticed.

It was him.

A squirming, snuffling, snorting little ball of cinnamon-colored fuzz, wrapped in Paula's arms.

Y/N’s eyes went immediately huge.

Her hands shot out, palms opening like some instinctual reflex she couldn’t fight. Paula laughed, handing over the pug puppy with the most care in the world. He squeaked once, then buried his little wet nose into Y/N’s chest the second she cradled him.

"Thank you... thank you so much." She whispered to Paula, though she never looked away from the tiny dog. Her nose pressed to his squishy head, eyes fluttering closed as she kissed him once, twice, three times. "Hi, my little love." She cooed, arms wrapping tighter around the warm, wiggly ball of fur. "Are you ready to meet your daddy?"

The puppy responded with a tiny sneeze and then a soft whimper, tucking even deeper into the safety of her hoodie. Y/N smiled, pulling the fabric higher around him, her lips brushing his ears as she rocked him lightly.

Across the stage, just barely in her peripheral, she caught movement.

Chris.

He didn’t wave or speak - obviously, but the small, subtle flick of his chin down, then toward the curtain, was enough.

Her cue.

She swallowed.

Her throat was tight, voice stuck somewhere behind her ribs. But she took one long, quiet inhale through her nose, then let it out through parted lips.

Her legs moved before her brain even fully caught up. Her boots were soft on the stage floor as she walked around the edge of the curtain and into the glow.

Her eyes flicked playfully to a group of fans who noticed her first and gasped. She gave them a small shake of her head and a smile and then looked down at the puppy still trying to climb her like she was a mountain.

"Shhh." She whispered to him, lips brushing his head again. "You’re okay, baby. We’re almost there."

His little paws dug softly at her chest, whining quietly with the new lights and noises, but Y/N just chuckled and kissed him again.

"We’re gonna get your daddy, okay? One sec."

She walked along the center of the stage slowly, looking at the crowd and lifting her right hand gently, pressing her index finger to her lips, until she reached the back of the left couch.

Matt’s back was still turned.

He was leaning forward a bit, fully focused on the final moments of the video. His fingers were twitching a little on his knee. Nick was watching too, his mouth still slightly open, clearly trying to process the whole thing.

"Matt’s gonna lose his mind." Chris’s voice said on screen, laughing.

Y/N’s laugh echoed faintly from the video. And then her voice echoed.

"Yeah. In the best way."

The screen faded to black.

"I'm so fucking confused right-" Matt turned toward Nick just a little, hand holding his mic to his lips, when something interrupted him.

A whine.

Right behind him.

Matt blinked. Froze. His body stiffened as he slowly turned toward the sound, eyebrows pulling in, lips slightly parted in confusion.

And then his entire world stopped.

Because there she was.

Y/N, who was supposed to be at home after a day full of classes.

Standing just behind him.

With a puppy cradled in her arms like he was something precious and sacred and just... perfect.

The little thing let out another soft yip, paws twitching.

Matt didn’t move for half a second.

And then everything hit him all at once.

His mic fell to the cushions with a soft thump as he stood so fast the couch shifted slightly under Nick. His blue eyes were huge, glassy, locked on her, and the tiny dog in her arms. He looked from her face to the puppy and back again like he couldn’t believe either were real.

Nick was still sitting, mouth wide.

"A dog?! What the fuck?" He yelled into the mic, which made the crowd laugh, breaking the silence.

But Matt didn’t react. Not to Nick. Not to the crowd. Not to anything.

His feet moved, and he rounded the couch as fast as his wobbling legs could. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of her, his bottom lip trembling so hard it visibly shook.

Y/N didn’t speak. She just looked at him. Heart bursting. Face soft and eyes full of tears she was barely keeping in. Her smile trembled, her arms slightly lowering the tiny pug toward him.

And Matt- God.

He reached out like he’d never touched anything so gently in his life.

His hands came around the puppy, scooping him carefully, protectively. His fingers curled around his soft belly, bringing him to his chest, and Matt immediately bent his head, pressing his nose to the pup’s warm, wriggling body.

The crowd around them had started to whisper, a few quiet "awws" spreading like waves, people lifting their phones to capture it.

Y/N stepped closer. Her hands dropped to Matt’s right hip, fingertips ghosting over the fabric of his denim jacket, grounding herself in him.

Matt breathed. He breathed like he’d been holding it in for years. The puppy let out a soft grunt, and Matt kissed the top of his head, nuzzling his nose into his fur.

"I-" Matt’s voice cracked. He pulled the puppy tighter. "Fuck- I love you. I love you so much already, little guy."

His voice was so emotional, so raw and wrecked and overwhelmed that it made Y/N’s eyes sting even more.

"You’re mine now, yeah?" He whispered, pressing another kiss to his tiny wrinkled head, raising his eyes to meet Y/N's, waiting for some sort of confirmation that came as a nod. "Ours."

Y/N let out a soft laugh, her hand smoothing over Matt’s back before sliding up to gently stroke the puppy’s little ear.

"You’re gonna be the best dog owner." She whispered.

Matt looked at her again. His eyes were wet.

Really wet.

And full of every bit of love he could show.

And then Chris approached from the side, his mic still in his hand but lowered. He walked up slowly, looking from Matt to the puppy and then to Y/N.

He caught her eye, lifted his right hand, and closed it gently into a fist.

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, eyes still glassy as she lifted her own and gently bumped her knuckles against his.

Nick was the next to move, craning his neck and squinting behind the couch.

"This is insane." He stared between them and then turned to the audience. “They hid a puppy from us." He said, stunned, pointing to Matt, who was now just silently smiling down at the pug in his arms like he had found the meaning of life. "A whole entire puppy. From us."

The audience laughed, all warm and emotional, several people visibly wiping their eyes. Nick shook his head and looked back at Matt, softening when he saw how wrecked his brother looked.

"Matt..." He said into his mic. "They literally just made your whole world."

Matt just nodded slowly, that water-logged grin barely leaving his face, whispering something to the pug about how tiny his paws were as the little guy curled tighter into his jacket.

Chris stepped a little closer to him, lifting the mic.

"So..." He said, all playful but still gentle. "Did you like the surprise?"

Matt glanced at him, then at the crowd, then finally looked to Y/N. His gaze softened even more. He reached his arm out, grabbing her hand and pulling her gently against his side.

"I guess..." He said into the mic, voice low and smile cracking wide. "We’re dog parents now."

The entire crowd erupted in screams and laughter. Y/N laughed quietly against Matt’s side as he covered the puppy’s ears instinctively with the noises, kissing Y/N’s temple with one hand still pressed gently over the pug’s head.

© vanteguccir

[jaylaxies]

hands down the best fucking fic i’ve ever read:

GOOD LORD THE WAY I WAS SCREAMING THROUGHOUT THE FIC mannn jeno is literally the dream man and lets start from the very top,,, yn judging all the people w their zodiac signs is literally so me,, jeno being the perfect man he is i swear thanks markie for bringing him in and OH LORD THAT SCENE WHERE YN ACTUALLY STARTS HATING ON JENO CAUSE HES GETTING PUSSY EACH NIGHT IM LITERALLY SO INTO IT,, sign me tf up thanks ill be next jeno please,, he’s a fuckboy but okay whatever he needs to do to get yn’s attention???

im all here for it fr fr and MAN yn working hard each day, so proud of her, we love sungchan and chenle in this household thanks guys,, yn living w hyuck and jaem is js insanity tbh (me next pls) ALSO JENO W DARK BLUE HAIR MY ABSOLUTE LOVE,,, yn when she said she saw a god, girl i feel ya jeno is literally no less than a greek god 🙂‍↕️ mark saying he hopes jeno’s dick falls off,, god I WAS LAUGHING hes so awkward it’s so cute mwah, then jeno being egoistic when he mentions how the girls can’t help but moan when he fucks them? so fucking hot ME NEXT 💳💥💳💥

then yn leaving and jeno losing his whole mind,, hm yes i love me some good angst fr THEN THE KISS OH MY GOD,, i felt something i cant even lie like you clearly know i was on the floor reading this fic rolling around sooo, yn and jeno fighting midway all that sex was js perfect like how am i horny but also laughing, i love humour fr NICS KEEPING THE HUMOUR ALIVE IN THE FANFICS THANK YOU 🙏 also i remember how yn squirted,, like yes girl i would too if i would be w jeno 🫡 the sex was insane too like i would forgive jeno if he gives me that dick ify yn my friend 😞🤞🏼 then i was on the ground crying again

OH AND HYUCK AND JAEM GOING ABOUT JENO FUCKING YN WITHOUT THEM HAEHHAHA i love those idiots so much man,, oh new coffee machine too how could i forget,, rich smart handsome tall sweet guy who’s good in the bed thanks i’ll take two of those please 🥰 wait also the scene w glasses,,, that was nasty god i loved it, and boom, they’re in love and yn gets jealous and wow i js realized how much i love this fic again

WAIT WHEN YN CALLED HIM PUPPY and then comes the angst the way i was so sad and i literally had tears in my eyes like im so attached to jeno and yn my babies 💔 both dumb fuckers CANT RHEY KISS AND CONFESS,, chenle is so right like mommy and daddy fighting 🤪 then the confession i WAS KICKING MY FUCKING FEET PLEASEEE god i love this fic 100/100 i would read again THANK YOU FOR THIS BLESSING I NEED THIS TO BE PUBLISHED I NEED THIS AS A BOOK ON MY SHELF YOU DONT UNDERSTAND ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽ yeah ive cried a lot please everyone read this mwah 💗💗

room(hate) | L.JN (M) — part I

SYNOPSIS: all you wanted was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital. All you needed was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital, but even that was considered a luxury in these trying times. A luxury blatantly stolen by your roommate, Jeno Lee, who seemed to have an endless line of bodies to fuck preventing you from getting at least an hour shut eye. It was annoying. It was disrupting and you seriously hoped that Jeno's dick falls off one day.

PART I (you are here) | PART II

[AO3 link for easier reading! Though please do consider leaving your thoughts on here if you’d like! I’d appreciate it sm 🥹💖]

GENRE: roommate au, non-idol au, slice of life-ish, unrequited hate, roommates with benefits, domesticity, porn with plot, fluff, comedy, crack treated seriously.

WORD COUNT: 18.3K out of 50K

CONTENT WARNINGS: afab!reader, a reader-insert but no ‘Y/N’ is used, MC's a little mean (blame it on the sleep deprivation), Mark has an unnamed girlfriend, Jeno's kind of an asshole (not on purpose) at first, mild slut-shaming, banter as forms of flirting/foreplay [smut warnings underneath the cut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

SMUT WARNINGS: Jeno has a big dick. fingering, squirting, doggy, unprotected sex (please practice safe-sex unlike these two), back-shots, aftercare.

NOTE: save me beatbox Jeno... s̸a̷v̷e̵ ̶̟̀m̸̞̐̇ë̴̠̟̤̆... everything is consensual btw! MC just looooves to deny and deny and deny because not only does Jeno put the 'D' in dick, he also puts the 'D' in denial <3 if i sound a little too in love it’s bc i am i love that man and i need him so bad 🧍🏻‍♀️

"You like your peace, but you love a little chaos." — Maze by Alina Baraz

"I want you to love like you hate me and fuck me so crazy, crazy." — Lava Lamp by Lolo Zouaï

I.

“When you first get a taste and your heart starts to race.”

Mark thought it would be best to part ways after living together for four years.

He was leaving you. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Mark corrected. “I’m moving in with my girlfriend.”

“That does not make it any better!”

Mark Lee was leaving you.

Not as a side-piece. Not as his ‘actual’ girlfriend (gross!), but leaving you to fend for yourself as his best friend. Which, fine, perhaps you could have started with that and excluded your dramaticism, but no one could really blame the immediate distress when you were about to lose Golden Boy Mark Lee—golden in many ways such as being the perfect roommate (minus his awful cooking. He was a great haggling partner for cheap deals, though)—to domesticity.

The thought of throwing all that away in exchange for less would send anyone into a downward spiral, if you could consider your crazed search for the next best thing as that; treating it as if you had to gamble a huge chunk of your life for the sake of retaining that same level of comfort and ease you got from Mark.

The only catch was, you had no fucking idea what it meant to gamble. Neither in the literal, nor in the figurative sense.

Which should have been telling considering that you had never, not even once, thought of exchanging a portion of your paycheck for chips you knew you’d immediately lose the second the lack of knowledge and experience showed on your losing set of cards. The closest comparable scenario you could think of was accompanying your grandmother to Mahjong Sundays with her friends, but even then, keeping up with the rules was rather difficult for a kid who only knew toys and the air time of her favorite cartoon.

Granny’s friends and Granny herself hadn’t bothered with explaining it to you either, being far too invested with their acrylic tiles. What you did learn, though, was how agitating the sounds were when they hit together. It just about evoked such a raw feeling of irritation a seven year old could go through. The messy aftermath of snot and tears did it for Granny that she made sure to ask if you’d let her drag you along.

In short: no gambling experience, yet going in full-on with that mindset equated a recipe for a shitty disaster just waiting to implode on itself.

Still, you liked to think that you had played your cards right during the whole selection process. 

Details of each possible candidate were carefully written down—color-coded, bullet points, foot-notes. Some probable pet peeves highlighted to be raised for another round of deliberation—thanks to the extensive background checks you had done on your own accord, then later checked by Mark pushed by your unrelenting insistence. A second opinion would help narrow down your choices and who better to fill that role other than your own roommate?

Well, ex-roommate since—again—Mark had succumbed to the clutches of domestic bliss.

And it’s not like it couldn’t be seen from miles away. Everyone and their mothers knew Mark’s intentions right when he had brought home a shih tzu—a dog he and his girlfriend decided to co-parent despite living separately—to look after while Mark’s other half went away for a work trip. Really, anyone could tell that he was itching to start anew under the same roof with his girlfriend, but you didn't expect it to be that day to be so soon.

Who was going to play as your budget therapist now?

If there was anyone out there who knew how exhausting being in healthcare was, it was Mark. He understood the grievances that came with being a nurse and he was always there to lend an ear until you felt less burdened by the frustrations you had carried throughout a demanding shift. It was like an inborn skill he had, finding it in himself to simply know what to say and how to bring you back down.

No one could ever replace Mark. Your co-worker. Ex-roommate. Your best friend and now that he was off to start a new chapter in his life, in love as he could ever be, this called for new coping mechanisms, and a new roommate because there was no way in hell you were going to pay in full when you had other expenses already making a sizeable dent in your next paycheck. Making it bigger was not an option you would risk.

That was another reason why you insisted on the in-depth research amounting to almost a month’s worth of what was essentially the text-book definition of stalking.

From: marklee@gmail.com Subject the roommate games Attached: tributes_lol.doc

Don’t you think you’re being a little too nit-picky with all this? When did being a Leo become a deal breaker for you haha. Like people can’t change their birthdays and do I need to remind you that I’m a Leo? We’ve managed to not kill each other over the years. There’s also Jaemin? Dejun? Who are also Leos? Who are also our close friends? What is your problem with Leos? I thought Geminis were the worst?

To: marklee@gmail.com Subject: the roommate games Attached: tributes_lol_FINAL.doc

yes, and?? THREE Leos are enough i don’t need more! in my defense i made the worst mistake of becoming emotionally attached to you guys except Jaemin (and Hyuck by association) forced friendship onto me if u remember. he’s like a stray cat that wont leave me alone.

From: marklee@gmail.com Subject: the roommate games

This is literally just a blank document?

To: marklee@gmail.com Subject: the roommate games

Which means your selection was ASS!!!!!! i dont like ANY of them. One has a criminal record of insurance fraud and the other is weird as FUCK dude like who cradles and pets their fucking goldfish like its a cat?how bout this, do u personally know anyone in need of a place? LIKE someone at least 70% normal

Radio silence. Almost five hours of it and sitting in front of your laptop refreshing the shit out of your inbox as if that would do anything seemed like the worst possible choice of action when aiming for a productive afternoon.

By the time you heard from Mark again, golden light illuminated the living area that you had to squint, picking up your phone to read his text messages.

Mark (ER): I found someone Mark (ER): remember Jeno Lee?

You: no lol

Mark (ER): lol Mark (ER): tall, muscular and kind of a hermit?

You: ur not really giving me much to work with You: for all i know jaem legally changed his name to jeno for some reason

Mark (ER): he’s nicer than Jaemin

You: 😟 You: one of hyuck and jaem’s friends i assume?

Mark (ER): correct Mark (ER): he’s looking for a place Mark (ER): and he’s likely the 70% normal to your 30% normal 😁

You: wait what’s my 70% then?

Mark (ER): insane

You: die

“His lease is ending soon too.” Mark brought up a few days later in the middle helping him pack up for the great move, and it was nice out too. Not too cold, not too hot—really, just a nice day out with the perfect temperature accompanied by an occasional breeze, and yet Mark chose this day to pack up his life, enlisting your help when you could be doing something else that didn’t remind you of the impending loneliness that was about to come.

Even the outside wasn’t safe from the beginnings of grief.

The outside, a picturesque view of the city’s greens gradually bleeding into the many shades of fall framed by the large window, became the very subject of your mournful eyes.

Brooding became your default state, whereas Mark carried on plucking his vinyl records, a small collection of novelty trinkets from your joint travels and the handful of thick textbooks from nursing school he refused to throw out. I might need them at some point, y’know. He once told you after catching your eyebrows raised in question. Just because we graduated doesn’t mean we magically know everything and Mark was mostly right about these things.

You were going to miss Mark being mostly right about these things. Whether it would be over something trivial, or medical related, he just was. Always a step ahead of you in many cases.

Summer was at its peak when Mark had sat you down to tell you of his plans, the sun harsh with its light and adding on to the steady increase in temperature. He decided to push through once the summer heat dissipated completely in anticipation of a chilly fall, and just like how the seasons came and went, watching Mark stow away bits and pieces of himself into the boxes was an inevitable change you had to accept. 

The loud scratch of the packaging tape made him wince as you sealed the box. “Who?”

“Jeno,” He repeated, reminding you of Donghyuck and Jaemin’s elusive, so-and-so friend as he took the tape from you with a pointed stare. “y’know, your new roomie?”

“I haven’t even said yes.”

“Trust me, you will.” Mark looked very sure of his claim, too. “Anyways—” he waved towards the air “—said something about his lease ending in a few weeks or so? He wanted somewhere close to work and our complex is like, real close to his office. A win on both sides?”

At least it wasn’t just you benefiting from the change.

“Right. How the hell am I gonna get to work without your car now?”

“That’s all you can say?”

“Hm, no,” you said, turning to face Mark with a straight face. “Do you think I could bribe Jeno into driving me to work?”

Mark huffed, “you’re stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” you cried, doing an awful job of keeping the waterworks from overflowing with frustrated swipes to your face. “This is so stupid—I’m stupid—God, you only live like thirty minutes away.”

Mark, ever the one to find his friends endearing even in the most undignified of conditions, let out a fond coo while gathering you up in his arms in a tight squeeze. “I’m gonna miss your morning arguments with the coffee machine too.”

The dig was met with a thwack on the arm.

Wherever Mark went, you followed. Only because he was literally your ride to and from work and how convenient it was that you both worked at the same private hospital. He was the type to simply offer a ride when you obviously needed it. For years, it had been like that.

Now, Mark stayed behind. Where he belonged, leaving him in the care of his girlfriend practically absorbing his oozing joy as they both coddled her—their dog, Ziggy, just outside of their apartment complex. The couple were completely lost in one another, inadvertently forgetting the piles of boxes in Mark’s car that had to be brought up sooner or later. They had all the time in the world anyway and it was understandable that Mark would want to simply bask in the moment with the one person that made every waking day worth it. 

And leaving them behind to catch the next bus was a bittersweet pinch to your heart.

Mark was off to unfold the next chapter of his life, and here you were still, stuck in an endless cycle, wondering if you’d ever get to start on a new chapter of yours, too.

Jeno Lee hadn't exactly matched whom you pictured in your head.

When there was Jaemin and Donghyuck, it was kind of an unspoken rule that your one-way ticket to the nearest psychiatric ward was to be willingly associated with the likes of them. 

Years of dealing with their joint efforts of embodying the human version of a headache, you kind of knew how to deal with whatever Jeno could potentially have in store for you. Jaemin and Donghyuck got along like a house on fire when the weather was fair, or when the planets aligned by some convoluted space related jargon Jisung would happily indulge any of you with. On any other day, they simply could not stand each other, wanting nothing to do with the other and arguing for the sake of arguing.

Still, they were the best of friends and having their differences was simply unavoidable, yet the many similarities they shared became a sturdy foundation for their friendship to last a long time.

Being unapologetically insane was one of them.

One’s involvement automatically entailed that they were just as deranged to some degree, and seeing the elusive piece to the trio you weren’t even aware was a trio, Jeno Lee—in the flesh—with a smile so sweet and unassuming gave you an earth-shattering wake-up call and reminder that you probably shouldn’t solely rely on baseless assumptions, especially when it came to people. Insane friends aside.

Other than that, you didn’t think a man with a face and body carefully sculpted by marble and brought to life by the gods themselves would be up to some milder version of fuckery like they were, now that Jeno thought to introduce himself.

The apartment felt staggeringly bigger than what you were used to with the absence of what made it belong to Mark too, though Jeno did a swell enough job to fill in the empty spaces with his presence alone.

It was brief. The meeting with the potential roommate, but nothing short of nerve-wracking when the man had the vibe of a quintessential supermodel top modeling agencies would fight tooth and nail for, decked in athleisure that had shown how he was built to all hell. A hundred-eighty-something centimeters of lean muscle cut with precision; clearly the fruit of Jeno’s possibly strict lifestyle, quietly taking everything in with a sense of wonder, yet simultaneously staying attentive as you ran your mouth about the apartment’s features and how sharing possible expenses would work.

You know, the vital stuff you’d want to know when it involved sharing your space with another person.

Which raised a few questions from Jeno himself. Little things along the lines of how often trash would be collected? If the apartment complex had a laundry room and if not, was there a laundromat by at least walking distance? How about a convenience store? A gym closer than his current one? These were answered fairly quickly, from which Jeno seemed pleased when his eyes turned into little half moons when he smiled, bringing your attention to the beauty mark under his right eye. God, was it adorable and frankly, you still couldn’t believe he chose to associate with two of the most annoying people you knew.

It was cute. Jeno Lee was cute, but among everything he had going on—your wandering eyes greatly appreciated the free viewing—his voice was what stuck out to you the most with how gentle he had spoken.

A voice deep and rumbly, yet warmth coated each syllable rattling the beating palm-sized thing in your chest the more the carefully articulated sentences passed through Jeno’s naturally pouted lips. He talked like he was trying to get into your good graces; like talking in any other way would risk disrupting the pleasant ambience set in stone before Jeno’s visit, which wasn’t at all necessary when Mark practically sang his praises.

And Jeno was all Mark talked about post-moving out.

Seriously, if he hadn’t chosen the medical path like you had, Mark Lee would have made a mean sales rep. You even felt the need to stop him and ask if he was still talking about a human being and not a brand new car right after he had his fill of listing down exactly why you should take Jeno in. How he essentially met all your admittedly nit-picky roommate requirements. 

Mild-temperament. What was he, a dog? Jeno was neat and tidy. Claimed that he couldn't function if measly things such as a coaster was askew. Oh good. A neat freak just like me. There were also a few pages of referrals Mark had shown—yes, printed—from previous landlords and roommates because that was a thing, apparently. Squeaky clean criminal record (with a cute face like that, it didn’t come as a surprise). Worked in tech. In the same income bracket as you.

A Taurus man.

Which shouldn’t have given you that much of a start, really. You haven’t had much experience dealing with any Taurus people—a Taurus man, no less, so this would be decidedly new.

He is reliable, persistent, and down-to-earth, with a strong sense of duty and an admirable work ethic; the kind of guy you can always count on in both your personal and professional life. He is not one to make waves or cause drama; he just wants to do his job and go home at the end of the day. A Taurus man is all about practicality, stability, and security. 

He wants nothing more than to provide the protection of his loved ones and create a harmonious home life.

At least that was what the article wrote (ignoring the in-your-face romantic tone. You were looking for a roommate, not a husband), sent by an astrology-fixated Donghyuck who seemed a little too eager providing his insight when asked for his opinion on Jeno and Taurus people in general being acquainted with you.

“A little stability won’t hurt. It’ll be good for you,” Donghyuck had mentioned over the phone after grilling you and your astrological sign, antagonizing you for no reason. It went mostly ignored though, preoccupied with reading a case you were assisting with Dr. Kim tomorrow. “and nothing screams stability more than Jeno’s credit score.”

An excellent credit score, from what Mark had relayed over cheap Chinese takeout and never would you have thought you’d cream your pants from that information, yet here you were. Financial stability was a viable trait you’d consider looking for in someone, so the decision was a no-brainer.

“Oh, before I go.”

You swallowed something down like a scream when Jeno whirled around to face you while digging into his gym bag. 

“Mark probably gave you the rundown about me but—” a folded piece of paper was produced from within the depths of his bag, having you blinking owlishly when he wriggled it for you to take.

Jeno’s palm was warm under the gentle brush of your fingers as you plucked it from his own set, pointedly ignoring the zing that jolted through you.

Arial. Font size twelve. Single spaced and justified, and it wrote what Mark had been yapping about all this time prior to having Jeno in the apartment. His MBTI, a rundown of his personality with all his quirks and habits included (you snorted rather loudly when catching the italicized ‘mild-temperament’). There was his daily routine that heavily emphasized his recreation time such as cycling, working out, gaming and a small pool of sports. His likes and dislikes, and making you laugh the loudest was his disclaimer, something Jeno was rather proud of when you caught his pleased smile.

Disclaimer: Homebody, but will go out with you if you ask nicely. I get lost in gaming a lot so you might have to knock very loudly, or even call my phone. I get sulky very easily. Please be nice to me (.◜◡◝)

The emoticon was just the cherry on top. It looked so much like him—an absolutely precious detail that you had to do a side-by-side comparison, only to find him already gazing at you in wonder.

He cleared his throat, smiling and cheeks glowing with the faintest of color. “I figured you’d want a detailed resumé. He said you’d appreciate it.” Jeno joked with the smile widening into a soft grin that showcased his perfect white teeth, long fingers raking through his dark blue hair, both in a manner that screamed boyish and charming.

He was charming, which came as a belated, mortifying realization. Nano seconds was all it took to picture life sharing everything with a cute-faced gym rat and his equally cute grin you’d have to face every single waking day for fuck knows how long until you went insane.

It could either be the best or the worst thing to come out of this. You’re not sure yet.

Though it’s as if Jeno sensed your mental turmoil because he didn’t even give you a second to rethink, leaning in close enough that you got a whiff of his cologne as he poked a particular spot on the paper a few times, grin dimming into something gentler where his eyes gained this puppy-ish quality to them followed by a head tilt.

“My number is on here,” he stressed with one last poke to his number, ducking his head low enough to catch your gaze. “Call or text me if I make the cut, yeah?”

And as the door shut behind Jeno after flashing you one last dazzling smile, you slumped against the wall with a harsh sigh, mind racing and heart about to fly out of your rib cage with the paper still clutched tightly in between your fingers.

Jesus.

You: I think I just saw a god

Mark (ER): lol? 😆 Mark (ER): how was it with Jeno

You: i literally just said i think i saw a god

Approximately three hours later, you’ve earned yourself a Mark replacement, much to the namesake’s chagrin and stealing a piece of your chicken tenders as a form of retribution.

Approximately a week and half later, Jeno hung his degree and graduation portrait next to yours right above the TV, a detail both of you found hilarious and continued to giggle over even after clearing two greasy boxes of pizza for your first dinner together as roommates. 

Approximately two months or so later, Jeno had unknowingly made an enemy for himself:

You.

II.

“When you go out your way and you don’t see a change.” 

Frankly, being in this sticky situation could have been avoided entirely if you hadn’t let Mark’s flattery towards your roommate lure you into a false sense of security.

Frequent reassurance was an absolute necessity.

It was good to just know about things and your ex-roommate had made Jeno sound promising the handful of times your conversation would segue to him. It was your own hubris in Mark’s reassurance that had led you to this—that, and Mark had perfected the art of persuasion with words.

He’d always been good at spinning the narrative for his own advantage (Jeno’s in this case). Too good, in fact, where everything that flew past his mouth left no room for worry to fester when you’ve not yet lost anything of significance from trusting Mark and his judgment.

That was until you did. Blindsided by soft grins, half-moon eyes and a killer body you’d catch yourself quietly admiring whenever Jeno, oddly enough, took to working out in the living area.

So in conclusion, this was all Mark’s fault.

“This is all your fault.”

“Yo, what?” Mark laughed in that way where you just knew that he knew he fucked up. Forced, awkward, and a little terrified of what was about to come. “What’d I do?” He asked anyway, knowing he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep without finding out just what he did to get accused.

“You shouldn’t have pimped Jeno out to me—“

Mark rolled his eyes. “Not what I did—“

“Pimped Jeno out to me, ‘else I wouldn’t be suffering this much.”

“Hold on—you asked me to help look for a roommate,” he started, voice pitching up in disbelief. “And I spent days helping you sort out every important detail—even the nit-picky ones—for you! Only to ask for someone who wasn’t even listed on the fuckin’ doc. And in the end, you said yes!"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah. Clearly a mistake on my part."

As he ranted, Mark’s gestures grew more and more frantic in defense of himself, only for his arms to fall back to his sides with a huff when you barely blinked, unimpressed, and then folding them above his chest with a pout before mumbling, “how’d you even find out about the criminal record and the weird fish owner anyway?”

You graced him with a lazy shrug. “Fascinating what you can achieve with technology.”

He stilled, squinting in thought before letting out a resigned sigh. “Donghyuck.”

“Duh? The closest I got to hacking was looking for a cracked Sims 2 copy.” You soon got grounded by Dad when you had infected the family computer with malware, sadly. “Hyuck’s surprisingly useful when wants to be.”

Or greedy. Ten dollars were raised once you goaded Donghyuck into sussing out any deal-breakers with a snide comment or two slipping out about him not being able to find anything that would make you second guess any of the potential roommates. Naturally, Donghyuck took your provocation rather seriously, treating it as the be-all and end-all to prove a point.

Ten minutes later, he was ten dollars richer. Crazy what people would do for money.

“Conflict of interest!” you raised again, loudly, making Mark flinch. “I barely get six hours of sleep now because of your emotional ties with my sworn enemy.”

Sure there were many benefits of being approachable, but you were somewhat of a negative Nancy and all you could think of was how Mark’s painstaking kindness could potentially get taken advantage of by some lurking asshole out there.

Which was exactly what had happened. With you as collateral.

“Uh, not gonna lie, but I think you’re being a little dramatic,” he sniffed, biting roughly into the sandwich you graciously made for him. Biting the hands that fed him, how lovely.

“I’m being dramatic?” you said, incredulous, and then flicked his forehead just to hear him cry out in pain. “Okay—try having Jeno’s headboard slamming against the wall as your lullaby, which—surprise, surprise—won’t help you sleep at all!”

You paused to regulate your breathing because you were getting a little too heated and you didn’t want to traumatize Mark even more by angrily exploding into pieces. Even as a nurse and though rare, he still got a little squeamish.

“I’m just saying, you’d think he’d have some shame and invest in those rubber bumpers, but no—he just had to make sure I know he’s getting way more sex than me.”

And he did. Have way more sex than you, that is, which was kind of insane now that you’ve thought about it. Ego-bruising too when the sounds you desperately tried to drown out still breached through a pair of neon green earplugs stuck deep as they could go into your ear holes. His questionable refractory period kept you up on most nights he had girls over, wondering how short it was that he’s able to bounce back and keep you up until the witching hour with the awful remix of moans, groans, screams and whatever noises one could make during sex. Why was it always the innocent looking ones the freakiest? Why must you suffer through all this?

You made a low noise in your throat, almost like a growl just thinking about what you've gone through the last few weeks. Fucking asshole.

Mark’s eyes widened. Whether it was from your admission, or the almost inhuman sound you made, the simmering rage wasn’t that hard to miss. The moment Mark walked into the apartment, he could visibly tell how wound up you were from your pinched expression while you waited for the bread to toast.

He’s been here for almost two hours and you have yet to relax. Mark’s current concern was what if your face gets permanently stuck scowling like that?

“Huh,” he breathed out, “didn’t know Jeno got bitches that often.”

“Mark.”

Mark immediately backtracked at the edge to your voice. “Uh, I mean—“ he cleared his throat, “fuck Jeno. I hope his dick, like, falls off.”

The beseeching shine of his eyes for your approval would have been something to laugh at if it weren’t for the anger taking full reign of the receptors responsible for regulating your emotions, not letting it process anything but the bottled up frustration from weeks of enduring the extra noises accompanying most of your nights.

So much for creating a harmonious home life with a Taurus man. Fuck that article, fuck whoever wrote it, and fuck Jeno Lee in particular. Seriously.

“You’re more pissed off than usual.”

“Yeah? Hadn’t noticed,” you said dryly.

“Dude, c’mon. Y’know what I mean,” Mark giggled, reaching out to pinch your cheek. You swat his hand away with a whine when he tried to go for the other. “Sorry, sorry—just—I feel like he did more if you—“ he made a vague gesture to the air in front of you “—are this upset.”

“I think keeping me up with the horrendously loud fucking takes the cake.”

“I dunno. You lost your fuckin’ marbles when I ate your food that one time.” He shuddered, knowing fully well how touchy you were with the prepped meals you slaved for hours every Saturday. “Was that what he did? That’s the one thing I told him not to do.”

Being this far into your career, cooking was almost like a chore since you barely had any opportunities to cook actual at-home-meals that required significant amounts of time and patience. You could even say that it was more appropriate to call it a luxury almost as most of your time was dedicated to the hospital—to your patients whose lives were also in your hands, and pre-made food was the only solution to fit three-meals-a-day into your demanding schedule.

The long-lasting effects of when he, out of sheer desperation, snatched your jar of banana chia pudding still lingered when he always made it a point to ask if he could have one bite, or a quick sip after the rather traumatizing verbal lashing you’ve subjected him to.

“No. Jeno knows not to do that at least.”

Like Mark, it’s the one thing you had stressed right when you had Jeno settle in. Not that he minded, sans the obligatory head tilt when he didn’t quite get it until your further explanation. He even offered his help with the meal-prep which kind of—for a fleeting moment—made you feel a little guilty thinking back to the conversation (puppy eyes, full lips jutted out into a thoughtful pout. More puppy eyes and Jeno’s weird, trademarked noises of confusion) until you were violently reminded of his fuckery.

Perhaps the whole golden retriever-like temperament and attentiveness balanced out his newly discovered predilection for whoring himself out.

Mark heaved a heavy sigh as if he was the one with a 24/7 sex noise problem. “Well, what could be worse than Jeno banging some random chick?”

You gave him a grim smile.

See, the thing was, it hadn’t always been like this.

You were no stranger to peace as you did get a generous taste of it with Jeno thrown into the mix. A peaceful coexistence between a surgical nurse and some tech guy.

A routine had been built around having different work hours where you were mostly gone from morning to evening when you weren’t on-call, while Jeno was, more often than not, stationary since he had the choice to either work from home on his elaborate PC set-up, or in the office he’d drive to when needed.

It was relatively normal. Jeno stayed true to the being neat claim and he kept to himself most of the time. He did his set of chores listed on the mini whiteboard stuck to the fridge and proved himself to be quite the efficient handyman also; assembling furniture with ease as well as fixing up superficial problems in the apartment. He was a decent cook too and Jeno generally acted what one would expect from a proper roommate who was here to make a home with you.

It had been normal. It had been peaceful, until you realized you were housing a potential sex fiend. What made this whole thing exponentially worse, though, was that the last girl he had brought home wasn't just some random chick that had fallen victim to Jeno’s charms.

It was Jimin Yu, your work best friend and the only other person who knew of your sleeping problem caused by the root of said problem whom you were starting to believe was sent to you as a divine punishment for fuck knows what. Which was kind of funny to think about considering Mark, his faith and him technically being the catalyst of it all, but you digressed. This was literally a slow-burn epidemic happening in real life, and yet no one else seemed to be alarmed by it.

Jimin Yu. Another promising young woman lost to some fucking loser (see: Jeno). Again. 

How you came to find out that it was your best friend getting her back blown out six ways to fucking Sunday right before a full day of two major operations waiting for you to scrub and assist in was from pure accidental intuition alone.

And anger. 

Especially anger.

There was a self-imposed rule you strictly followed: do not leave your room until you were sure the chosen girl from Jeno’s seemingly never-ending roster left. Saving both you and the poor girl from the embarrassment was the least you could do when you yourself would rather avoid any risks of running into anyone in someone else’s home right after a hook-up.

And, well, there was a reason why the saying ‘rules are meant to be broken’ was popularized, because you broke that one simple rule that had supposedly kept your remaining sanity intact.

Two hours left before your shift started and you were more husk than person from the lack of sleep. All rationale completely consumed by anger, an ever-present emotion that seemed to be the only thing that kept you going—and consequently, what had led you to shoot out of bed once the telltale sounds of Jeno’s door clicking open, followed by the hurried footsteps reached your ears.

You skidded to a stop, stunned.

“You motherfucker.”

This was the ultimate act of betrayal.

“It’s—It’s not what it looks like!” Was Jimin’s immediate defense right when the thunderous twist to your face grew more and more pronounced with each stomp of your feet. Yet her words didn’t exactly help her case when:

There were obvious splashes of reds, blues and purples marking her slender neck.

Her hair was a downright mess, and you knew Jimin harbored some sort of complex for her long luscious locks, so this was new—her not bothering to comb it out, clearly in a rush to leave.

There was a slight limp in her step which just said everything.

And lastly, you caught Jeno sneaking Jimin out of his room and out of the fucking apartment, clearly expecting to not run into you.

“Ah-ah. No,” you interrupted before she could even start groveling. “I’ll deal with you later. Get out.”

Jimin’s shoulders sagged, big wet eyes staring into your very soul and it took you a Herculean amount of strength to keep your gaze ahead and not break under her stare; to keep your gaze set on the main perpetrator who, unlike Jimin, appeared rather contrary to her apparent distress. 

Jeno stood underneath the awning in only—goodness—only a pair of gym shorts where you could clearly make out a hefty looking dick-print, completely at ease and infuriatingly handsome in spite of the disheveled state he was in; matching bruises bloomed on his milky skin, scratches littered his arms, shoulders and back and his hair was left as an artful mess atop his head. 

You wanted to scream.

This was all Jeno’s fault. Not even the hurt pinching Jimin’s normally serene features was enough to lessen the tension wounding up your entire body. Not when you were already neck-deep in your own pool of unfiltered rage to even consider comforting Jimin’s momentary lapse in judgment and decision to have earth-shatteringly loud sex with your mortal enemy that the whole damn apartment complex might as well have heard.

(“I’m surprised Jimin isn’t getting as much heat since she slept with your ‘problem’. On purpose.”

You shrugged. “Men are the root of all evil.”

“Fair enough,” Mark mumbled and took a gargantuan bite of the next sandwich assembled for him. It was really a mystery how he settled down before you).

And—look, you really couldn’t care less if Jeno slept around. It was his life and he had free reign over his own body, and let’s face it, there was no way he didn’t get an obscene amount of matches on Tinder when he embodied a walking wet dream.

Jeno was far from being in your good graces at this current moment, but staying blind to the truth would only get you so far when Jeno had the physical advantages to attest to that, and the same could be said for Jimin. She could hook-up with whoever she pleased—just as easily too. Hell, you’d sleep with her too if you were a little bit interested in her—because who were you to disprove her choices? All of you were adults here, but what the main issue here was Jimin knew you had one-sided beef with your abnormally attractive roommate that fucks too loud no matter how many times you reminded him to try and keep it down, and yet she still pushed on and contributed to the recurring problem.

Truer words had never been said until Mark. You really did hope Jeno’s dick shrivels up and falls off.

Now, preferably.

Right when the door had closed behind Jimin with a soft click (after dragging her feet and sending pleading looks over her shoulder like a sad wet cat) did all the pent-up anger come out in a mess of heated words and frantic gestures.

“What the fuck.”

Each breath you took had been deep and harsh. Your face was bordering on hot to the touch from the sheer amount of rage coursing through your veins and the arduous task of resisting the urge to reach out and subject permanent damage physically, mentally and emotionally by how tightly you had clenched your fists. You could already imagine it, hands stretching towards Jeno’s neck and wringing it like a wet hand towel until it ripped in your hands—

Your roommate reacted then, as if just realizing that this wasn’t you doing a bit. It made you think of how likely it could be that Jeno got away with many things simply for being the very few that had pretty privilege as a crutch to fall onto. As for you, it would be nice to have an actual metal crutch within arm’s reach to hit him with.

He was pretty to look at, sure, but not privileged enough to keep your eye from twitching in irritation when Jeno looked the least bothered by your display, long eyelashes fluttering with each of his confused and owlish blinking.

“What?” Jeno, the village idiot, asked with imploring eyes.

“What? What do you mean ‘what’? are you—“ you cut yourself off with an incredulous, borderline manic laugh at his testosterone-filled audacity. “Are you so desperate for sex that you had to go for Jimin?”

It’s not like he wasn’t allowed to bring his own friends over since you shared the same rotation of friends and acquaintances, but really, Jimin?

“I didn’t know Jimin was off-limits. You never mentioned it.” Jeno blinked slowly with a sheepish smile. “I’ll keep that in mind next time?”

“Are you fucking—were you even listening to me? Not just now, but before too. I told you to keep it down! Many many times! I need to sleep, Jeno!”

He huffed a laugh. “Technically, it’s not really my fault if they can’t keep it down, y’know?” 

You could only stare in disbelief, mouth ajar at the fact that he’s able to act proud during an argument he was likely to lose. Like dicking down someone so loud that it became a public disturbance was some kind of achievement with the way Jeno puffs out his very naked chest in the most subtlest of ways.

He wasn’t finished talking, taking your silence as a prompt to continue with a cloying curl of his mouth. “I could show you why, if you want.”

“Excuse me?”

If Jeno knew what was good for him, he would stop running his mouth right this very second. Though over time, you started to pick up on the very unfortunate fact that he lacked tact at times, and what he had let slip through his lips next proved as much.

“I’m saying,” he dragged out, like he was expecting you to catch on. “Sex reduces stress, right? The endorphin and oxytocin rush—I’ll assume you already knew that, being a nurse and all. Woman in STEM,” Jeno sang a little jingle, the smile widening into a grin that was a touch too suggestive for your liking. “I can see that you’re pent up, and I think fucking it out of you—fucking the uptightness out of you would do both of us good. A win-win situation.”

Whatever was left of the rose-tinted image of the man who had first walked into the apartment donning the sweetest eye-smile you had ever laid eyes on was wiped just like that. His grin that was meant to convey light-hearted teasing became the very image of mockery.

If you weren’t as furious then, you were now.

“Is that how you see me? Just another number to your body count?” 

It would have been funny, watching Jeno’s features twist from surprise to regret at the speed of light almost, but anything he did beyond this point just added to the stockpiled annoyance ready to be spit up again the next time Jeno thought to push his luck. So no, this wasn’t hilarious in the slightest.

“I didn’t say that—”

“You implied it.”

“That’s—I was joking!”

You scoffed, “that’s not surprising. Do you think my job’s a ‘joke’ too?”

This was exhausting. You had already lost a significant amount of sleep you needed to get through work that would start in two hours—well, less now that you’ve taken the time to completely go off the rails until some semblance of remorse showed on Jeno’s person. As satisfying as it was to witness that happen in real-time, asking some time off of work just to process The Confrontation™ was a no-no, given how important your presence was in the OR and it just so happened that you couldn’t stand being in the same room as him.

He should’ve added ‘insatiable horndog’ to his disclaimer.

Jeno made it clear that he had nothing else to follow up on, doing a horrible impression of a fish out of water that you had taken as your cue to leave.

And for the first time in forever, you couldn’t wait to breathe in the antiseptic smell of the hospital.

Being this bothered by your cold indifference was not at all on Jeno’s bingo card.

Jeno was within your visage when you came through the door, yet you paid him no mind as you bee-lined towards your bedroom, like he didn’t exist to you. And, okay, maybe he did deserve that—no, he for sure deserved that after hours of reflecting. He wasn’t sure if you’d appreciate his excuse of not really being aware that the walls were thinner than he had thought.

Jeno winced at the mini play-by-play in his head.

You definitely wouldn’t.

The clock droned on and on with its never-ending ticking. Just a quarter past eight in the evening, Jeno checked, and his heart lurched to his throat, sitting up straighter from his perch at the island counter when you finally emerged from your room. Have you forgiven him? Did this mean you were on talking terms again? Because if he had to be honest, being ignored was a lot worse than you threatening to bite his head off. At least then you were technically talking to him still and not trying to erase his existence with sheer willpower alone.

All hope of making things right, however, was shot down the moment Jeno took a quick look at your change of clothes and the large duffle bag slung over your shoulder.

Panic welled in his chest, causing him to blurt out a garbled, “where are you going?” as you headed straight for the front door.

“Anywhere but here.”

Although there was no heat behind your words from the absence of the anger you had toted around this morning, being hit by your impassive stare has him biting back the haha nice Harry Potter reference. The poorly-timed joke from this morning was the final nail in the coffin and making another one now was a sure-fire way of getting buried six feet under. Alive.

Shortly after, the door closed behind you with a soft click. Much like how Jimin left when you had sent her out, leaving Jeno alone with the deafening silence as his only companion, the pit in his stomach growing when he peeled his gaze from the paneled door to fall onto the pair of steaming cups of coffee.

Mornings for Jeno started with you standing in front of the coffee machine, half-asleep and grumbling threats to the inanimate thing. He’d grown accustomed to the sight of your sleep-ruffled state that it was obvious you had quite the fixation on coffee. At least one cup a day, three at most, you had said with a bashful smile when he caught you pouring your third cup.

Coffee was a necessity in this household. Jeno knew that, knew how you liked to drink yours and he thought making you a cup exactly how you’d like it could melt away the thick walls you had built. A peace offering, or what was supposed to be a peace offering.

Two cups sat on the quartz countertop. One almost empty while the other remained untouched even as Jeno retired for the night.

Jeno walked into an empty kitchen the morning after.

A kitchen devoid of your sleepy form that would be threatening the coffee machine to spit out the liquid bitterness faster, or else. The silence was just as deafening and the cup—your cup—was where he left it the night before in hopes of you coming back home.

You didn’t.

Fuck.

III.

“Prove me wrong by doing it right.”

“And you stayed where? For two weeks?”

“Jaem and Hyuck’s.”

Mark grimaced. “Willingly?”

You gave him a pointed look.

He raised his hands in defense. “I’m just sayin’ you have better options—like Sungchan?” Your face softened, offering a lazy shrug. “Me?”

You wrinkled your nose at the thought. “Yeah, no.”

While you had made plenty of jokes that would last a lifetime consisting of moving in with Mark and ‘the love of his life’, ranging from them becoming your second set of parents, to you being Just There with your best friend married and with kids, the appeal of third wheeling hadn’t increased in the slightest.

“I’ve had enough moaning and groaning haunting my dreams, thanks.” You snorted at the scandalized look on Mark’s face. “and I wouldn’t want to impose on Sungchan and Chenle. Thing One and Thing Two weren’t too bad.”

Although the stay had been surprisingly pleasant, with all things considered, they did poke fun at the situation at first because—duh, men. Regardless, their combined hospitality staved off the possibility of a psychotic break triggered by Jeno’s fuck-up. It would have been better if their third bedroom hadn’t been made into Marie Kondo’s personal nightmare, but the vomit green couch had been a comfortable makeshift bed. Who knew you’d end up loving the product of Jaemin’s horrendous tastes?

Jeno stayed as elusive as ever, too. You came home when you could, only to replenish your clothing and other necessities and much to your relief, you hadn’t run into him yet. Not at the apartment, not at the guys’ place (shockingly) and there was a brief moment where you thought your roommate might turn up at the hospital, what with the onslaught of texts you received, most of them apologizing and begging for you to come home, there was a time where you dreaded going to work in light of the possibility.

(“You’d think Jeno was your boyfriend with the way he’s blowing up your phone,” Donghyuck hollered from the kitchen, in the middle of cooking dinner for everyone. “He’s getting desperate with each text, babe. Even I’m feeling a little sorry for the guy.”

You looked up from the puzzle you were working on the floor with Jaemin to stare at Donghyuck, then to the space where you remembered leaving your phone on its own and now just noticing its disappearance. “How’d you get my phone? How’d you guess my passcode?”

“Zero-zero-zero-zero wasn’t that hard to guess,” Jaemin mumbled. “You’ve always been simpleminded about these things—which reminds me—you still use the same Netflix account since college, right?”).

Jeno was a no-show, thankfully. Causing a scene at work, of all places, would be way beneath you no matter how much he pissed you off.

Still, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t talk your shit from time to time.

“They’re probably faking it,” you concluded with a scoff and then quickly backtracked. “No. I know they’re faking it and it doesn’t even matter if Jeno’s tall, muscular, handsome, capable—” Mark’s eyebrows rose higher and higher, disappearing beneath his bangs as you continued on with your tangent.

“Precious eye smile—definitely a manipulation tactic… it worked on me.”

That one, you mumbled mostly to yourself, but it was audible enough to earn a short laugh from Mark which quickly snapped you out of whatever the hell that was, and then scowled when your ex-roommate, the catalyst for your suffering, tried to keep his face straight. He was doing a terrible job.

Clearing your throat—far too many times than necessary—you ignored the warmth that bloomed on the apples of your cheeks along with Mark’s insufferably knowing smirk. “My point is, there’s no way he’d be good at sex too. Like, you’re telling me Jeno made all those girls cum? Fat fucking chance. I’m sure there’s, like, a statistic disproving that.”

You didn’t even want to think what Jimin went through, especially when you’ve gotten a glimpse of what monster was begging to be freed from Jeno’s gym shorts. But like clockwork, Mark had to ruin that brief fantasy of you being right about Jeno’s possibly (hopefully) weak stroke game.

“Eh, I’d have to disagree on that one.”

How did he even know that?

“How do you even know that?” You groaned, “I’m distressed enough as it is, Mark, please be serious.”

“I am serious! I literally have the facts to back it up!”

“And what, I’m supposed to believe you?” All you were given was a stare, an arch of an eyebrow just begging to be plucked and shaped, and nothing else. “Fine, what are these facts based on?”

“Testimonies. Plenty of them.”

Your features twisted into that of disgust. “Were you there? In the corner watching him get his dick wet? Like some pervert?”

Mark appeared as though he regretted the decision of coming here. You didn’t want to be here in the first place, so it’s only fair that none of you were having a good time. Might as well make Mark your personal verbal punching bag while you were at it.

“Jesus,” he dragged a hand down his face. The perfect image of exasperation. “The mouth on you sometimes.” 

“Sorry,” you quipped, not sorry at all.

This time, Mark let out a groan much similar to yours, obviously not liking where the direction of the already bizarre conversation was heading. This upcoming headache (see: you) was rightfully deserved though since Mark did lend a hand in forcing you into a situation so embarrassing that you’d take instant death over being an unwilling voyeur to Jeno’s many many late night sexcapades.

“Okay, okay, okay—” Mark began as if the rapid-fire speech wasn’t enough to get your attention, or the fact that it was just the two of you hanging out in the kitchen. “You know how my girl hosts girls’ night every two weeks?”

“How could I forget?” you chuckled. “I missed the one two nights ago and your girlfriend’s really good at guilt-tripping.”

“Yeah,” he trailed off with a tender smile. “yeah—uh, she wanted everyone to be there.” Your own smile was knowing, a smidge teasing even and it was enough for Mark’s cheeks to pinken. “Anyways! One of the girls was painting my nails, right?” He wiggled his fingers, showing his mustard yellow painted fingernails with daisy decals, being the girls’ go-to mannequin every girls’ night. “Aeri brought up hooking up with Jeno a few times from like, a year ago, then it became this whole thing of the girls sharing their own experiences—and wow, you girls are just as gross with the details, like, for real—turns out, they all slept with him at some point! Crazy, right?”

“Even your girlfriend?”

Mark smiled, sheepish. Quite the contrast to your horrified expression. “They shared a gen-ed class. College sophomore year. She went to his frat’s party, they hooked up once and never again.”

“Please tell me the girls hated it at least.”

Mark’s jaw closed with a click, lips pressing into a thin line. “Y’know, I don’t think the word ‘hate’ was like, ever thrown around, honestly.”

Good lord—okay, so Jeno was kind of a slut then. A slut that had infiltrated your friend group (and fucked Mark’s girlfriend!) and left them unanimously agreeing that he earned his merit as an absolute god in bed. Go figure. This might as well be some divine force’s way of saying ‘go fuck yourself!’

“So I just have to live with it, is what you’re saying.”

“I mean…” His face twisted into an expression you couldn’t put your finger on and the nonsensical gesticulation didn’t provide any concrete context needed. Either way, you just knew you wouldn’t like whatever he says next. “If it bothers you that much, just find a new place. You’ve been here long enough.”

“In this economy?” you exclaimed. “That’s like asking me to kill myself!”

Not to mention drastic when you had already paid half of this month’s rent along with the other expenses—as did Jeno—and you really couldn’t afford splurging extra to get away from one minor—major inconvenience. Plus, you were pretty attached to the place.

Deciding on that was kind of a tempting solution, however. You had forgotten what it was like living alone after you and Mark thought to rent a place together post-graduation since you both agreed it was cost-effective, but if Jeno was smart enough to repent for his sins of stealing (sleep) from thy neighbor (roommate), you wouldn’t leave him to fend for himself.

“I should have stayed back and talked to Hyuck about this,” you droned, narrowing your eyes when all Mark did was snort at both your joke and your bias for Thing Number Two (Donghyuck). “He would at least agree that Jeno’s dick’s bigger than his brain.”

Which was farthest from the truth, actually.

Painful as it was to admit, the certificate of Jeno graduating from a joint program of Computer Science and Cyber Security as Magna Cum Laude was tangible proof that Jeno Lee’s brain was wired properly to some extent that It made your own certificate of graduating Cum Laude from your nursing program a bit lackluster. It was an inside joke you both shared; where your degrees and graduation portraits weren’t all that useless as they had been perfect for decoration.

All that’s left now was a sour reminder that Jeno got more bitches than you did every time you glanced up at the immortalized version of him. Looming above the flat screen TV with the effortless sweep of his hair and the sweet, canned smile he flashed at the camera.

While you spent hours to at least make it seem like you hadn’t been trampled on from the harrowing events of final exams, back-to-back practicals and soul-sucking internships, Jeno hardly looked like he had put in any effort—like an in-the-making supermodel taking his head-shots. His hair was in its natural shade of black, longer too with a subtle mullet going. Jeno looked younger, untouched by the trials and tribulations adult life granted anyone breaching that point and less like the sex fiend you would hiss at as a knee-jerk reaction.

The Jeno now fitted the latter description to a tee. This rugged look he’s got going on for him screamed trouble. He embodied what sex on legs meant as well as being the guy a god-fearing father would tell you to stay away from. 

Having said all that, you still thought that even hot people deserved to be humbled. Ever the one to talk shit about someone that had wronged you behind their back yourself, and Donghyuck was always a great shit-talking partner.

“Nice to know you still don’t listen to me. It’s like I’ve never moved out at all.”

“Maybe if you gave actual sound advice, I would.”

“Advice,” Mark parroted, following that up with a short laugh of disbelief. “you want advice? Okay, here’s one—avoiding Jeno won’t put a stop to this. Maybe all of this—whatever this is—could be resolved if you would just, oh, I don’t know, talk to him? Talk like proper adults would? Lay some ground rules or some shit, I don’t know.”

“I already did that! Many times, if you recall what we just talked about, and look where it got me.” 

Temporarily living off of the vomit green couch in exchange for better quality of sleep? Yeah, this was definitely a new low for you.

“Would you bail me out if I was charged for man-slaughter? I’ll pay you back… in a few years.”

“No,” was Mark’s immediate answer. “I’m being serious, babe. Just… talk it out, yeah? Jeno’s worried, texting me and all.”

Huh. Never would you have thought that ‘Jeno’ and ‘worried’ could be mentioned in the same sentence when you sampled just how much Jeno couldn’t give less of a fuck towards the deep lines you had repeatedly drawn, crossing it multiple times, but you supposed there’s always a first time for everything; like how this was a first for you not putting blind faith into Mark’s words.

“I find that hard to believe,” you groused.

Mark’s whole face then twisted into the very expression he’d wear when he’s about to deliver a mean lecture. Unfortunately for you, you had never been an exception to them and you were his best friend! It defeated the whole purpose of the label and the privileges that came with it and as you braced yourself for his god-given right of bitching at you, the sound of the keypad’s beeping made both of you freeze, the fight visible on Mark’s person gone once the automatic lock clicked in place as your faces blenched.

Not one of you dared to move as you listened to Jeno skulking around the foyer with bated breaths.

You could hear a pin drop when your roommate’s shuffling came to an abrupt stop. Then came the sharp gasp, the heavy rushed footsteps and there Jeno was in all his muscled glory; again, in athleisure and panting as if he ran a marathon just to see if his hunch was right.

“Talk to him,” Mark gritted before his face brightened with a capitalistic grin that would usually fool almost everyone and whirled around to greet Jeno with a dialed up amount of enthusiasm. “Hey, buddy! What’s up?”

Jeno was nonplussed by this, his gaze still stuck on you which granted a sinking feeling in your stomach when he didn’t do anything else. No smile, no nothing and Mark didn’t seem to pick up on the growing tension. That, or he simply just chose not to acknowledge it, making nice out of self-preservation.

“You look great!” It was kind of painful watching Mark acting as the buffer, yet unknowingly stall Jeno and the impending doom of talking to him. “Strong! You look strong—” as Mark said this, he gave Jeno’s bicep a friendly slap, only for him to reel it back almost a half second later with wide eyes. “Uh, well! I was just leaving—girlfriend’s looking for me so… bye!”

And there he went, leaving you to fend for yourself, but not before giving you a pointed look over Jeno’s shoulder that clearly said ‘fix this, or else’.

Or else, you huffed, Mark Lee couldn’t even hurt a fly—

“You’re home,” Jeno said, tone soft as ever despite the clear ire that was starting to bubble up to the surface from the way you caught his jaw clench. That didn’t stop your pettiness from taking over, however, making a sour face as you turned away from him to grab your favorite mug out of the cupboard.

“What an amazing observation,” you said with the same amount of excitement a school teacher would have if they were to be condescending. “Would you like a gold star?”

“I was worried,” and Jeno, ever the one to not rise to the bait shamelessly dangling right in front of his face, kept his voice even. “You left my texts on read. You didn’t return any of my calls.”

“Wow! It’s almost like I don’t want to talk to you,” you snapped, “‘worried’ my ass. You know damn well I left because of you, so you don’t get to act like I’m in the wrong when—“

Jeno cuts you off with a stern call of your name, like he’s had enough. Of what, exactly? As far as you knew, you were simply telling him the truth of the matter: he drove you away because one stubborn part of Jeno Lee refused to listen and admit that he was in the wrong.

Slowly, you twisted your neck to hit Jeno with the most chilling look known to man-kind as the familiar sensation of anger caused each of your muscles to stiffen. The one thing that kept you from tackling him to the ground was the abashed furrow of Jeno’s eyebrows and his downturned lips. He genuinely looked guilty. As guilty as a man could be from getting as much action as a blunt getting passed around a frat-party, but sadly for him, peace was never an option.

He could cry for forgiveness all he wanted and you’d only think of ways to make him cry even harder.

“Look,” Jeno began, eyes fluttering closed and breathing out a heavy sigh. “I just don’t understand why you had to go this far? Avoiding me for two weeks straight—I was worried,” he reiterated, eyes opening just for them to narrow accusingly. “I didn’t know where you were. Mark refused to tell me since ‘it wasn’t his business’—“ and honestly, if this were any other situation, you would have laughed at Jeno’s piss-poor imitation of Mark and the exaggerated air quotes. “—and I had to find out from Donghyuck, of all people, that you were staying with them!”

This was a first. Jeno was never one to completely lose his cool. Always the milder one between you both who knew how to keep his temper in check. Jeno was calm in every sense of the word, with placid smiles and solemn nods—composed even in the most dire of situations where tensions were high. A stark contrast to how you weren’t afraid of baring your teeth to let people know how you felt, swinging your emotions around as if they were a weapon.

Clearly, the Jeno that stood in front of you bore none of that. He was visibly upset—by what could be considered as ghosting him for two weeks straight, which would have been longer if Jeno had come later in the evening. You were starting to believe that the universe simply hated you to the point of cutting the streak.

You stayed quiet, letting your scowl do all the talking.

Jeno pinched his nose bridge. “I’m sorry I slept with Jimin, alright? It’ll never happen again if that’s what you want.”

“Oh my God,” you exclaimed as you shut the cupboard harsher than intended, moving to head for the coffee machine. He still didn’t get it and you’ll need the extra caffeine in your system for this.

“This is not about you sleeping with Jimin! This is about you crossing lines I specifically told you not to cross! How about you try having someone’s life in your hands? My job isn’t a walk in the park, Jeno. I need to be alert. I need to have my head set on straight, but clearly, I can’t have any of that because I have to hear you fucking the next person who looks at you! If any of my patients die, it’s on you. If I lose my job because I let a patient die, it’s on you—why won’t this fucking thing work!”

Your last straw might as well be the shitty coffee machine proving, once again, how shitty it was. You were half-tempted to unplug the thing and chuck it at his head.

God, you were so fucking angry. The two weeks away from home was the semblance of peace you had desperately needed after almost jeopardizing an angioplasty case with Dr. Jung when you caught yourself handing the wrong type of suture he asked for. It was only luck that you were stuck with one of the more approachable surgeons from cardio, letting you off with a lighthearted ‘wake up’ as Dr. Jung gestured for the right one.

Jeno reached over, pressing down on a button while tilting his head. “Are you done?” He said along the low whir of the coffee machine, evidently trying not to laugh.

The minty waft of his breath hit your face and it was then did you notice how close he had gotten. Your toes almost touching as you blinked up to meet his eyes, confused at how fucking fast he got all up in your space while you ranted.

You scowled harder. “Yeah,” and wow, you knew Jeno was one of the few lucky ones who grew to be tall. Height was one of the obvious physical advantages he had, but when put into perspective, having him like this—almost chest to chest—made a huge difference. You felt so small underneath Jeno’s imposing dead-eyed stare as if he was gauging his prey; a silent dare for you to make one sudden move knowing he’d catch you in the end after playing with you for a little, one way or another. “Yeah, I’m done.”

A small smile tugged on his lips. “Less work for me then.”

“Huh?”

Jeno dipped his head so quickly that it took you a second or two to register his lips pressing against yours.

Jeno Lee. The very same Jeno Lee you imagined exploding in your head too many times to the point you grew bored of the gory image enough to consider telepathically saying I hope you get chlamydia I hope you get chlamydia I hope you get chlamydia until it takes and manifests in real life, was kissing you. This was far from the initial possible outcome you would expect in light of the cold war wedging a gap between you that the backasswards had all higher functions of your brain—and possibly the one that had telepathy locked away forever—shut down when he angled his head to press deeper, as if to coax you into becoming an active participant.

The only options left for you to consider were: a.) kiss him back b.) kiss him back since it became crystal clear that whatever method of psychological warfare Jeno waged wasn’t worth stopping. For reference, option b was the obvious choice. The emphasis, the drama of it all complemented your own flair for dramatics and you would rather drop dead than let Jeno have the upper hand. And maybe because you were insane, choosing anything but resolving the issue with a proper talk, and good lord can the man kiss.

It’s his lips, you thought bitterly, lips of plump and petal-pink goodness melding against your own slightly chapped pair that rendered you uncharacteristically pliant.

Normally, you were anything but, though it was a little rewarding to know that Jeno was losing it just as much; the finesse to his methods gradually chipping away along the push and pull of your mouths with the delicious burden of his weight pressing you against the counter to have more than just a taste. A small window was open for some lucidity to seep in, that being Jeno’s forethought of wriggling a hand in between the edge of the counter top and your back so it wouldn’t jab at your spine as the other cupped your jaw, shuddering when his pinky brushed along a sensitive spot behind your ear.

Jeno smiled at this. You felt him smile at this, but you were still stuck on the oddly sweet gesture that you thought to show some gratitude by returning the same level of eagerness Jeno had, suckling and biting down on his bottom lip. At his whine, you promptly soothed the spot with a languid swipe of your tongue and did it all over again. Not that he minded. You could practically tell just how excited he was; all bricked up and prodding the softness of your belly, and he didn’t seem to be embarrassed by it at all. You didn’t think he would be when he had quite the package. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that.”

There’s a wry grin tugging at his lips when you both parted for some air. “All I could think about was shutting you up every single time you bitch at me.” He regained the closeness just to brush his lips against your cheek, sighing almost in a dreamy-like manner that you were half-tempted to back out. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

“Don’t piss me off,” you settled on saying instead as a warning, yet let Jeno—taking it as a cue—lift you up and place you on top of the counter without any struggle that you didn’t even try to hide the fact that the display of Jeno’s raw strength was doing it for you. An infuriatingly attractive feat and you supposed your thought on the matter translated on your face well enough if Jeno’s cheeky grin was anything to go by.

Still, the spread of your legs was no less inviting, something Jeno found funny as he snickered to himself before taking the space in between them for you to wind your arms around his sturdy shoulders and pull him down for another kiss. Mostly to shut him up. Yes, definitely to shut him up.

Jeno parted from you again with an audible smack, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your waist. “Personally—”

You groaned, “oh here we go.”

“Personally,” Jeno tried again, ignoring your yelp when he gave a playful pinch to your skin. “I still think that you’re so pent up that everything annoys you—like me having a healthy sex-life, for example.”

This was it. This was definitely rock-bottom. You were finally in the trenches that you’re entertaining an actual conversation relating to Jeno’s fixation of sticking his dick into willing holes more times than you could count. Oh, and the fact that you were starting to become a little self-conscious from not getting any forms of sex on the regular unlike mister casanova over here.

You hit him with a dubious look. “Where are you even going with this?”

Jeno let out a low hum in lieu of an actual answer and pulled you forward as if he wasn’t already up in your space, the tip of his strong nose gently grazing yours, his lips doing pretty much the same thing too: a gentle brush against your own twitchy pair when he murmured, “don’t you want to let off a little steam? I can help. I want to help.”

And that rightfully stumped you. Not because it was the second time he propositioned you, with the first being more of a joke than anything, but how Jeno actually came off genuine this time around. Not a trace of the smugness could be found either. Just unbridled zeal that being scrutinized by the darkness of Jeno’s gaze birthed a familiar simmering of—horrifyingly enough—want beneath your navel.

There was an argument that could be made here. Where the stubborn part of you could simply claim that it was your curiosity coming into play—wanting to see for yourself if what Mark (and the girls) had said about Jeno was true; that there was a reason why Jeno’s roster was seemingly never ending. You could do that. Though, if anyone were to walk in right now, you didn’t think the compromising position would help in any way when you were quite literally entangled with each other.

Likewise, It didn’t really help that the wretched gremlin burrowing in the debased parts of your brain wanted Jeno Lee so much that you damn near salivated when the man bared more of his neck as a silent ‘go ahead’ for you to ravage the smooth skin with reds, blues and purples with your teeth. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you were attracted to Jeno that it honestly made you stupid enough to have a taste once the chance presented itself, surprisingly, without wishing an aneurysm upon yourself. 

But you weren’t going to give in that easily. You could just raise that having first hand experience with whatever Jeno had to offer was all for the sake of research and to prove your point.

That’s all that it was. That’s all that it will be; a case study for you. Nothing more, nothing less.

Jeno squeaked out his confusion when you ended up having his cheeks squished between your fingers and thumb right when he tried going in for another kiss, causing his lips to pucker out even more.

“What makes you think I’ll let you fuck me?” 

You dug your fingers into his skin harder as a warning when he tested his luck again.

It’s almost comical watching Jeno stiffen in your hold, making a show of gathering enough distance for him to look right into your eyes.

Then Jeno smiled something placid, yet the glimmer in his eyes told you otherwise. You felt so seen that you wanted to curl into yourself so he wouldn’t have to pick you apart with his steely gaze alone. In that moment, you were prey at the mercy of an apex predator just waiting to strike.

“Is that a challenge?” Jeno asked, even-tempered, irritatingly enough.

“And what if it is?” your fingers tangled themselves in the smooth dark blue strands and tugged gently. “Scared that you’ll lose?”

Jeno’s smile widened.

If there was one thing to take away from all of this, it was to never test the limits of a Taurus man’s patience.

Or else you’d end up in a position where your strength—or lack thereof—would be tested; or else you’d end up restless in between Jeno’s spread legs, one of his arms slung down the length of your torso as a seat belt and anchoring you down to his chest while three of his nimble fingers pistoned in and out of your sopping cunt. It was a fight with an obvious outcome of you losing by a landslide with his death grip around you, but you couldn’t help but squirm when he was so good at making you feel delirious just from his fingers making a mess of where you ached the most.

Fingers that were longer and thicker, reaching deeper than yours ever could. With Jeno, it took him no time at all to have you crying out from his digits nudging that sensitive spot within your silken walls, and the same fingers decidedly pulled out without any warning with an impossibly wet sound just for Jeno to switch his attention towards your clit, fingers flicking sideways in quick succession. This urged an immediate reaction, you letting out a shuddering cry as one of your hands shot out to lock tightly around his wrist.

Your head spun at Jeno’s gentle hushing as you twitched in his embrace. Tender words easily slipping past his full lips in conjunction with his almost rough treatment had your body wounding tighter and tighter as the divide between pleasure and pain gradually flattened to gossamer thin with each pass of Jeno’s fingers across your clit. 

He played you like a fiddle, like he knew exactly what to do in drawing out a pleasure filled song from within you until the barrier ripped, sobbing wetly into the air as you and your resolve shattered into pieces with Jeno’s constricting hold around your quivering form kept you from breaking completely.

When you came to, Jeno’s voice was the first thing you latched onto, bringing you back to full lucidity; gentle as he talked you through what was probably the most intense, toe-curling orgasm from being finger-banged on the couch, of all places.

Jeno breathed out a mixed noise of surprise and amazement. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

And it was when you felt the familiar warm and wet trickle from your pussy down to your ass did you finally let the humiliation set it: you’ve let Jeno finger you on the couch, soaking his shorts and the couch as evidence.

You wanted to die.

“Yeah, well, It’s not like I tell everybody I can,” you panted, hissing when Jeno’s hand curiously trailed down to assess the mess, middle and ring finger slipping between your vulva then dipping shallowly into you and rewarding himself with a whine. Uncomfortable as it was to move your neck at this angle, you wouldn’t miss the chance to glare at him. “like—‘hi! I’m this and that, and I can squirt!—do you know how deranged that sounds?”

“I dunno, I know I‘d be impressed. Intrigued. Maybe even ask for a demo—”

“Jeno.”

“Kidding! I’m kidding,” Jeno snickered as he retracted his fingers, only to stick them into his mouth with a pleased hum, like it was the tastiest thing he’s ever had in his life. “What?” He asked, muffled from suckling on his fingers still, when he caught you gawking at him, completely mortified by the shameless sweep of his tongue around his digits.

You wanted to cry. “You’re a fucking freak.”

“Oh princess, this is nothing,” Jeno finally freed is mouth of the visual torture, a broad grin stretching spit-slick lips when he, again, took in your visceral reaction towards being called princess. He’s so annoying. You verbalized the thought and the fucker just laughed. “Call me a freak again when I ask you to soak my face,” he said, voice sweet, wincing slightly when he held your cheeks, with damp fingers and all. Freak. “Or would you like it better if I beg instead? I’m flexible. I’ll do anything you want.”

Never mind, that was much much worse. Holy fuck. The visual in your head did nothing but spur you on even further no matter the aftermath of a thigh shaking release taking its effects now.

“Stop talking,” you groaned. “please, just shut up.”

“Okay.” Jeno giggled. Giggled, like he wasn’t an insane person delighting himself to your bodily fluids just a few seconds ago. Then to add insult to injury, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “Think you can go another round?” 

So he made you cum once—squirt, for that matter, but that’s, like, whatever when you were capable of doing that on your own. You had plenty of time figuring out what you liked best in this realm of preferences and for all you knew, Mark was simply fucking with you—just like the other girls probably were—as some sick elaborate joke, and Jeno was simply overcompensating for the sake of his ego with their help.

“Just… give me a few. I’m starting to go deaf.” Well, not really. It felt more like there was cotton stuffed into your ears, your own voice sounding muffled and faraway. Although you weren’t new to the feeling, it wasn’t common either and it was especially new that another person was able to render you into this sluggish version of yourself.

He sucked in a breath. “Was it that good that you’ve gone temporarily deaf?”

Other than that, then came the numbing of your scalp. You’ve read about this once, a product from genuine curiosity after a little moment of freaking the fuck out, thinking you were about to die from cumming too hard to the point of losing circulation up there in your brain. And—no you weren’t dying, though it would be an interesting way to go.

You followed up with this just as the blunt edges of his fingernails lightly scratched at your scalp. “I literally can’t feel that except a slight pressure—and don’t get too cocky. This happens to me when I get myself off too.”

Jeno didn’t get even a second of gloating before you started rambling about the possibilities of why this happens with a basic rundown of the nervous system (rapid increase in heart rate and blood pressure) and completely disregarding the stiff outline of Jeno’s pride pressing snugly into the cleft of your bare ass cheeks.

He felt just as hard as he was when you sucked faces in the kitchen. Warm. Big, that you had no idea if the shakes you were getting now was out of fear for Jeno’s cock potentially rearranging your guts to the point of no return, or out of anticipation from that possibly happening. Though what was more shocking was Jeno maintaining some sort of chivalrous streak, staying where he was and putting your pleasure first before his own when he could pretty much turn the tides and have his way with you.

But like a dog being told to stay for a promised treat, Jeno doesn’t do anything, besides soothing you with absentminded caresses here and there while he listened.

At least that’s how you thought this slip in judgment was going to end right until Jeno picked you up in one fell swoop, abruptly—and rudely—cutting you off from the build up towards a detailed spiel of a hypothesis to instead let out an undignified yelp of surprise. He hauled you up without any visible struggle and it was doing horrible horrible things to your psyche.

“Seriously, Jeno,” you exclaimed, grunting when he wrangled you onto your knees, your chest pressed down onto the coffee table as if you were nothing but a doll he gets to twist and bend for his own entertainment. “Were you even listening?”

“Uh huh—something about the temporary effects of an orgasm to the nervous system,” he trailed off at the same time his fingers grazed your skin while rucking up your pullover, just high enough that you shivered against the cool glass surface. “I’ll be honest with you, Human Biology wasn’t exactly interesting to me, but the little science session was cute.”

The glass was doing wonders in cooling down your cheek.

This was the second time he has called you cute. So casually too that you started to think that maybe Jeno had a thing for embarrassing you, see you squirm, whine, make a fool out of yourself—overall, make your life more difficult than it already was.

“Dick,” you quipped, all too weak to actually mean it and Jeno seemed to get the memo, offering a short laugh. “do I have to fit a certain criteria to do this in your bedroom?” you followed, mustering up some strength to glare at him over your shoulder, only to falter when you found Jeno was rather preoccupied with something else.

It’s no secret that Jeno was simply born with a resting face so sweet and unassuming that there was this perceived notion of him not having a mean bone inside that clean-cut body of his. That Jeno wasn’t capable of dishing out noteworthy comebacks aimed at the ego. 

Sure, he could be unaware at times (as per his loud sex problem), but you couldn’t deny the simple truth that Jeno could be nice—is nice. So nice. Sweet even, that the expression crossing his face was just as honeyed and becoming more so the longer he stayed kneeling there, raking his eyes over your half-naked form bent to compliance. It wasn’t the blatant leering that got to you though, but more of how Jeno looked doing it. Who knew the mole smack dab in the middle of your back could be adored this much?

There’s a faint smile tugging on his lips. Miniscule, barely there—still a smile, nonetheless, as he traced the length of your back with his eyes, his large hands essentially doing the same: mapping the entirety of your torso for his own indulgence until he got his fill; warm palms gluing to the soft dips of your waist, all the while his face twisted where it gave the impression he was seeing what was front of him for the very first time.

You looked away, face hotter than it was before.

Whatever that was seemed too private of a moment to witness. It felt intimate—the way his eyes drank in your body—too intimate for a ‘one and done’ thing that you seriously couldn’t wait to get fucked and put an end to this hands-on case study of Jeno’s whore-ish tendencies.

“So no bedroom, then,” you said, hoping it would snap Jeno out of it.

“Sorry, princess.” And, to be fair, Jeno did sound apologetic for a man that was about to get his dick wet for the umpteenth time. You gave him points for trying, then docked off some because princess. Really? “I don’t think I can make the trip to my bedroom. Need to fuck you now or else my dick will fall off.”

You closed your eyes, dropping your chin forward far enough that your forehead met the glass surface with a dull thunk.

So much for thinking he was sweet during a moment. It’s like the more he opened his mouth, the more he inched away from the polite friend-of-a-friend gym-bro who probably helped grandmas cross the street.

“Ugh—fuck you.”

“Mm, yeah.” You stopped counting the last time you had fallen into bed with someone else, and you were starting to think that it has probably been a while; if the brush of spandex against your skin from Jeno fumbling behind to drag his shorts just low enough for his cock to spring free has you completely losing it. Jesus, this was embarrassing. “You’re about to.”

You scoffed, “corny.”

Jeno didn’t deign the cattiness with an answer and instead let his growing impatience speak for itself, kneeing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer until your sharp intake of breath pierced through the once still air when the sticky head of his cock prodded at your hole.

“Any time now.”

Trying to sound unaffected was truly a Sisyphean task. You couldn’t help it, really. Being snarky came natural to you, though if Jeno could tell you were just talking your shit to cover up your impatience, he did nothing about it and went about with teasing you, dragging his length back and forth against your slit.

“I’m literally becoming dryer the longer you keep this up.”

That got a reaction out of him this time, letting out an incredulous laugh, “there’s no way of shutting you up, is there?”

“I don’t know, you can try hard—” whatever else that was supposed to follow immediately died at the tip of your tongue, gasping at the sudden intrusion.

“Oh! Well that’s one way.”

Another version of Jeno in your head just died of spontaneous combustion. You could literally hear him smile. Smiley bastard.

It was intense for sure. As intense as it could be after a stupidly long dry spell that you genuinely felt as though you were reborn a fucking virgin and made the mistake of picking the very guy with a third leg for a dick to pop your cherry. If the head of his cock breaching your pussy had you this frenzied, who knew what the actual thing could do to your actively deteriorating sanity? And—well, you were about to find out, weren’t you?

The reality of it all hit you like a freight train, the groan Jeno breathed out sounded so loud even over the mechanical drone of the air conditioner when he pushed deeper into you.

“Jen—oh my God—wait—” You reached behind to grab onto Jeno’s ass cheek at breakneck speed. A grave mistake, really, because in what you would hope could have stopped Jeno from basically splitting you into two, you unintentionally helped him plug you up. Your nails dug into his flesh as a result.

“Careful with the claws,” he hissed. “They actually hurt.”

“Yeah?” He yelped when you squeezed his ass tighter, his own hand holding onto yours to stop you from doing actual damage. “Try getting impaled by a dick, dickhead.”

Jeno went rigid. “You’ve had sex before, right?”

“Yes?” You looked at him like he was stupid over your shoulder and—all gods above. He already looked fucked out. Cheeks pink, skin shining with sweat (when did he take his shirt off?) and eyes darker from how blown out his pupils were—you know, maybe you weren’t too far off from the thought. “But unlike you, I don’t fuck the next thing that breathes my way.”

“Wow,” Jeno huffed. “Clearly I’m doing something wrong if you’re still running your mouth.”

You had a long history of letting your mouth run before your brain could even decipher if what you had to say would be ideal for the situation. To get out of it, though, was a completely different story and with how things are unfolding, yeah, maybe you bit off more than you could chew.

“No, no—shh, it’s okay. You're okay,” Jeno soothed just as you squirmed, trying to relax. “You're doing so good for me. Just breathe, yeah? Jus’ a little more—oh, fuck.” The guttural groan coincided with the squeak you let out once Jeno shoved himself balls deep into you with a faint slap of skin, clenching around him.

Out of all the men you’ve been with in the past, it took you the longest to adjust around Jeno’s girth. Not only because you simply did not have the time to fuck around, but he really was huge in the sense that he was somehow hitting places that you didn’t even know were there. He truly was the biggest you’ve taken in a while and it was a relief that you had the day off tomorrow and the day after; plenty of time to recover. The thought of having to explain getting railed over your coffee table to the point you were walking funny was mortifying enough as it is.

“This is so much better than hearing you bitch and moan, seriously. Sometimes I start thinking you just want me to hate you.” Jeno didn’t look like he was capable of hating anything if he tried, though with the way his hips drilled mercilessly into you, maybe a tiny part of him could. If pushed right. “And you complain so damn much about the noise when you’re no better. Can you hear how fuckin’ loud you are now?”

You didn’t even realize Jeno was still holding onto the hand that seemed to permanently glue itself onto his barely-there ass cheek until he took your joined hands—fingers laced and all—to migrate beside your head. Right in front of your face and, somehow, it felt like an insult.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Jeno Lee,” you moaned and squeezed his hand at a particularly hard thrust jostling you forward. “Fuck you and your useless big dick.”

Jeno snickered. You still called him big, so he’ll take that as a win. “My dick is one of those things and it’s not useless.”

Jeno didn’t really mind how loud you actually were. In fact, he liked it. A lot. Liked hearing how good he was making you feel with each drag of his cock within your warm and slick insides. Liked knowing that he was the reason why you were so lost in your own song of pleasure as you fucked back onto him with all you’ve got when he stopped all his movements to see what you would do and goodness, were you a sight for sore eyes. And Jeno was glad to witness all of this.

You were truly a fantasy come to life. Something he’d never would expect to touch, to mold and to feel in his own hands.

Watching you take what you wanted with no complaints was not an expected outcome—hell, having sex with you wasn’t what Jeno was hoping to get from tonight at all. Talking would have been just fine, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Of course not. Not when you were putting up a show, fueled by your own greed for pleasure, for him and him alone and he could tell all that pent-up stress was starting to seep out the more the back of your thighs met his.

Jeno was a patient man for sure. He was known for it at work. When it came to his diligent daily visits to the gym just two blocks away. When it came to living life in general; yet somehow, you were part of the minute collective that was able to test that until there was nothing left of it and as much as Jeno loved seeing you like this; desperate enough for cock that doing all the work was no problem, he quickly grew bored being a spectator.

There was also you threatening the safety of his skull if he didn’t get a move on to fuck you harder. Jeno only let out an amused snort at this, thinking it was cute and leaned forward so you were chest to back.

“I hoped for a second you’d be begging,” he mumbled into your nape. “you’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Fuck me, or I’ll make sure you’ll never get to fuck anyone else ever again.”

Well.

You did make a compelling argument, and just like how this all went, Jeno followed and delivered.

It was made very clear to you that his muscles weren’t just for show because unlike you, he possessed an insane amount of core strength that it barely dented his stamina when he lifted you up a couple of inches above the coffee table. Your joined hands came in clutch for balance while his free hand acted like a necklace loosely wrapped around your throat so Jeno could kiss you as his hips regained momentum.

Kissing gradually became less of a thing and more of just you both breathing into each other’s mouths, completely taken over by the sheer pleasure of it all. Normally, you’d avoid his eyes if you could, but you were so far gone that you didn’t mind staring into the endless pits of Jeno’s hooded stare. His thrusts slowed down, yet they were more deliberate than ever that it took all of your leftover energy to not say anything stupid like how this change in angle and pace had Jeno plunging in so deep that you could almost feel him in your throat.

“‘m close,” he rasped, hand on your neck tightening a smidge as his movements steadily increased in speed. “How about another one from you, huh? On my cock this time?”

You could only sound a shaky hum and that was enough of an answer for him.

Heated and damp skin met the glass surface once more and Jeno’s cock snugly fit inside of you again with little to no resistance. It was almost the same as how you started out. The only difference was your navel pressing firmly against the table by your still joined hands pushing down onto your back.

Time wasn’t wasted at all and that change alone fully intensified the sensation of Jeno’s girth drilling into you like he was trying so hard to carve a space that he could only fill, even more so when you wriggled and squared your hips to take him in better. It made so much of a difference that your eyes rolled back into your skull as mindless pleasured noises spilled past your lips, your grip around his fingers growing tighter that it hurt your own.

The second wave of your orgasm encroached at a dangerously fast pace from the oversensitivity earlier and the consistency of Jeno’s perfectly timed jackhammering thrusts hitting the tender spot within you, forcing out tinny ah ah ahs out of you as you clenched around him from how mind-numbingly amazing this was, being underneath Jeno’s weight.

It’s been too fucking long that the delirious part of your brain, completely compromised by the rush of dopamine and oxytocin from cumming for the second time entertained the idea of keeping Jeno buried in you long enough until your insides molded around each ridge and vein of Jeno’s cock for the perfect fit. You’ve never felt this full in your life. Even the frantic pistoning of Jeno’s hips aided by the wet gush of slick didn’t shatter the illusion. The feeling of cotton stuffed into your ears came back tenfold.

“Close,” Jeno rasped. “Where—where?”

“Pull out,” you said, all too winded to add that you were on the pill, but you didn’t want to take your chances. Apparently the tension was that bad that none of you had the forethought of using a condom. Your minds were so clouded that critical thinking was impossible, but what’s done was done.

Jeno pulled out with a slick sound, followed by a shaky moan that grew louder and louder with each stroke of his cock, leaving you to whine from the loss (wow, you were so out of it). Warm cum splattered onto the sweat-damp skin of your back and for once, you didn’t have the heart or energy to complain about the sticky mess

Click.

Your eyes shot open. “Did you just take a photo of me?”

“Yeah,” Jeno said. “You look good like this. Pretty. Wanted to have something to jerk off too.”

He could have just stopped at pretty. “You’re gross. You aren’t going to show that to anybody else, are you?” 

“Don’t worry, I don’t like sharing and I actually value my life.”

You could only groan in response, sagging more against the now moist surface of the glass as if you were trying to merge yourself with it, feeling the after effects of Jeno trying to fuck the life out of you.

“I think I’m going to die.”

Jeno responded in kind with a sweet laugh, letting go of your hand. It didn’t even register that you still had your fingers intertwined up until he let go, and tempted as you were to lift yourself up and see what kind of face he was making now that he left his mark on you, you were genuinely too exhausted to do that.

“That good, huh?” His hands returned to your hips, squeezing them gently. “I told you so.”

With the last bit of your strength, you kicked at his thigh.

“Okay, let’s get you up.” He swiped his discarded shirt up from the floor to wipe away the cum before lifting you up by the armpits so you’re on your knees, settling your weight onto your calves as he watched your pullover delicately fall into place and cover up most of your skin. Your own name on his tongue sounded so far away to you. “—hey. You still with me?”

There’s a hum as a response and that’s it. Not only did he end up fucking all the stress and tension out of you, there goes half of your life, too. Gravity took over and you fell right into his chest with your head cushioned by his bare shoulder, eyes glazed over.

“How does a bath sound?”

You nodded, letting your eyes slip closed as Jeno adjusted your slumped form to carry you.

Jeno almost jumped out of his skin when your phone rang.

“Hello?” Jeno said quietly after scrambling for it on your side of his bed, looking over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t woken you up. He didn’t think you had granted him the perk to simply barge into your room just yet, so he had you clothed in one of his sleep shirts and a pair of new boxer shorts as you dozed away.

“Jeno? Why do you have her phone? Did you kill her before she killed you?”

“No.” That made him worry. How often did you tell anyone who’d happily lend an ear that you’d murder him in cold blood? Whatever, hopefully after tonight, things will smoothen out. “She’s asleep right now. She won’t be heading back over there tonight.” Or ever, he thought.

“Oh?” Jaemin sounded excited for a second, then turned suspicious. “Why? Did she forgive you yet?”

Jeno let the question marinate for a moment, weighing the benefits of letting one of the nosiest people he knew in on his business. A loud snort followed by some mumbling startled him and Jeno craned his neck to find you now facing his side of the bed, still asleep with your mouth parted in a darling little ‘o’. There’s drool at the corner of your mouth. You’ve never looked cuter.

“Define… forgive.”

For once, Jaemin, surprisingly, was rather quick on the uptake “Oho? You two fucked it out, didn’t you?” When Jeno didn’t answer right away, Jaemin gasped. “Jeno, you dog!”

His cackling caused Jeno’s cheeks to flush an impossible red. “Don’t make it weird!”

“You made it weird the second you decide to sleep with her. Besides, we’re all adults here! I promise I won’t tell my third unofficial roommate“—Jeno wished he could reach through the phone right now and choke the life out of him—“that you told me. Tell me everything. Down to the nastiest detail—Hyuck! Oh my God, you’re home just in time. Guess what—“

“I’m coming by and getting the rest of her stuff in a bit.” The whining fell deaf onto Jeno’s ears. “Goodbye, Jaemin.”

He hung up, gently sliding your phone underneath the pillow you’re using. Actually, maybe you'd let him in your good graces if he went to fetch your charger.

Just when he thought peace and quiet had finally been attained, his own phone started buzzing from an onslaught of messages.

Hyuck: U GUYS FUCKED????? Hyuck: WITHOUT ME??? Hyuck: NO FAIR 😭😭😭😭

Jaemin: OR ME??? Jaemin: spare coochie plz 🥺🤲🏼

Hyuck: was there a tape at least 😔

Jaemin: 👀

Jeno: I hope she kills you both when I show her these.

Jeno set his phone to ‘Do Not Disturb’ and tossed it carelessly onto his nightstand.

This was not your room.

With each toss and turn, it still smelt like man, which wasn’t completely awful. It’s a rather pleasant scent; fresh, not too overwhelming on the citrus notes and something woodsy and floral binding everything together. A little too summery when it was currently in the middle of autumn, but you supposed you were in no position to judge when you’ve been using the same perfume since high school.

All in all, it was still nice. If not a little off-putting, not waking up entangled in your linen sheets which was starkly different from how your usual mornings went, yet the exhaustion was what kept you from making a huge fuss. At least Jeno's room didn't harbor the aesthetics of anything from the r/malelivingspace subreddit. Jeno's room was rather nice. Clean. Neat. Evident that a man lived here.

Apart from the abrupt change, there was also the bone-deep soreness serving as a heavy reminder of the aftermath of your decision to sleep with the very same person who took it from you.

And how ironic that he was also the reason why you slept so well last night too.

What a way to end your so-called case study with you as the punchline, really and—fine, maybe Jeno did have the room to boast his admittedly exceptional stroke game. Maybe Jeno knew how to make people cum and it was a fluke that he made you, too. Twice. Maybe Jeno earned his merit of being an expert in the field of sex then.

Your lips wobbled, frowning at Jeno’s ceiling.

This was literally the worst discovery of your life. Being a test subject yourself to see if Jeno’s reputation had preceded him didn’t make it any less horrifying. How could you return to normalcy after this?

You buried your face into one of Jeno’s many pillows and screamed.

Luckily, he hadn’t caught wind of your morning breakdown.

After freshening up in the bathroom, you quietly made your way towards the spacious kitchen, assuming it’s where Jeno was, albeit slowly as each step you took made the ache in between your thighs more pronounced. He had his back to you, bare of anything besides the tight boxer briefs and the frilly pink apron shielding his torso from the splattering oil cinched around his waist.

Jeno Lee painted the very picture of temptation in this current moment. Jacked all to hell, complementing his god-like proportions that showed off his slutty waist women alike would die to have and a striking face that could start wars. But out of everything, your gaze lingered on his barely-there ass wondering if your nails did leave any stinging marks that Jeno would feel for days.

“Oh, hey. You’re up—were you staring at my ass?”

From his behind, you immediately stuck your eyes onto something else less suspicious—like the geometric light fixture just above his head you once hoped would knock him out one day.

“No I wasn’t,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Can’t stare at anything that isn’t even there.”

“Hey!” Jeno whined. “I do have an ass!”

“And I have a dick,” you shot right back and made your way towards where the shitty coffee machine was. Just a few paces away from where Jeno stood. “See how easy it is to lie?”

He sighed. “How come you have an answer for everything?”

You cracked your first smile of the morning. Smug, if anything, but a smile nonetheless. “You just make it so easy.”

“Damn, so even the sex wasn’t enough,” Jeno muttered as he flipped a pancake with an effortless flick of the wrist. “How many rounds will it take for you to forgive me?”

“Zero.” If looks could kill, Jeno would have burst into flames by now. “Is sex all you think about?”

“I can think of other things…” he trailed off, giving you a quick glance with a sweet moue on his lips. “most of my thoughts are of you, so…” Jeno turned to you fully, his eyes gaining a hopeful shine.

That shocked a short laugh out of you in spite of yourself, shaking your head as you marched for the cupboard. “Nice try, big guy—and the sex?” You shot him a quick glance over your shoulder. “You can forget about it.”

“Okay.”

You looked at him again. Jeno was now frying eggs with his face devoid of everything but concentration.

“I still hate you,” you added, loudly.

The sunny side-up eggs slipped cleanly onto a large plate. “Mhm.”

“It was a one time thing.” Somehow his lack of a reaction was slowly getting to you. “It’s not happening again. Ever. I’m not having sex with you again. Ever.”

“Yeah, I got you the first time.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Perfect.” You harrumped, making a quick grab for your favorite mug before coming face-to-face with your stupid ass coffee machine.

This was not your stupid ass coffee machine.

What sat in place of the old piece of junk Granny had given you as a housewarming gift (after expressing her concern for your possible caffeine addiction) was a newer model you were pretty sure most, if not all, lifestyle influencers had displayed in their meticulously curated coffee corner. This was built mostly for convenience and to fit into the current trend of aesthetics, no wonder you couldn’t get it to work last night. Muscle memory had you pressing the wrong button.

Slowly, you pried your trembling eyes from the brand-spanking-new replacement to watch your roommate in his element, completely unaware of you currently going through the greatest shock of your life, and back.

You looked closer. There was a Post-It stuck onto the side.

I’m sorry (.◜ᯅ◝) — your asshole roommate.

Jeno bought you a new coffee machine.

“Hey Jen?” you called softly after a full minute of inner deliberation.

Jeno hummed his acknowledgement. He even fried the bacon just how you liked it. There’s no way you couldn’t forgive him now. You were mean, sure, but you weren’t evil. Why did he have to be so nice?

“Can you show me how the coffee machine works?” Then, just as quietly, you added: “please?”

He turned to look at you with the most brilliant smile as he killed the fire.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Mark (ER): so did you two talk yet Mark (ER): ..hellooooo Mark (ER): did you kill him 😟

You: no? tf

Mark (ER): so u guys r good now or

You: 👍🏼👍🏼

Mark (ER): omg TWO thumbs ups 😀 Mark (ER): are u bffs now ??? Mark (ER): i was here first btw

You: go bother ur gf omg??????

a/n: *taps mic* ...hello is this thing on? First things first, thank you so much for reading until the end! Originally, this was supposed to come out as a full one-shot, but life has been all sorts of crazy that I simply haven't had enough time to work on this fic as much as I would have liked to. And upon realized it has been so fucking long since I've posted the teaser, I decided to just split it into two parts to get something out, so I truly apologize for the very long wait! I do hope you enjoyed the read and please please let me know your thoughts on it <3

bonus of me going thru it in our chat lovingly named 'en-ct':

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @learnthisfeeling @90s-belladonna @rjreins @pinknjm @kshynj @dorkyji @notevenheretbh1 @everytimeicrymytearsdonteverdry @iscocohere @seulkikiii @wintahh @peachesmilk @rxnexxi @rum-gone-why @bluedbliss @tiramisubox @jinxxdreamz @minkyuncutie @txnml @yawnzshit @suhwife @carelessshootanonymous @sanctify-mp3 @haechansbbg @dreamiestay @ryuvrsie @derywinkle @byungbyungbaek @surrealxox

[hughes-your-daddy]

he can’t find out

pairing: macklin celebrini x will smith reader sibling

summary: sneaking around with macklin is proving harder than you thought.

warning: a little angst/ hurt and comfort

“your gonna get me in trouble,” macklin whispers, half on gear, pinning you against the cold concrete wall of the arena.

“hey, you invited me tonight, i had to lie to will saying i got a spare ticket from your media girl.” you whisper back, his lips coming down to graze yours.

“come back to mine tonight yeh, i want you to stay over tonight.” he says and you bit back your bottom lip.

you had moved out to san jose, once you started college, moving in with will since he just got his own apartment. one thing you didn’t think would happen would be ending up in a secret relationship with his best friend.

“i’ll try ok? i’ll see if my friend will cover for me or something.” you say before he breaks out into a smile, coming down to press a kiss to your lips.

“ill see you tonight baby,” he whispers before he’s slipping away back to the locker room. you quickly slip back into the suite upstairs with the rest of the friends and family who come to watch, keeping to yourself, waiting for the boys to come out to warmups.

you always wear wills jersey, as you couldn’t wear macklins, but hidden underneath you always have on the small gold chain with a heart on the end, an M engraved on the inside.

he gave it to you a couple of months ago, halfway through the season after you made it official being boyfriend and girlfriend, a gentle reminder that your his, even if you can’t wear his name on your back.

the team come out for warmups where you move over to sit with cat, the only person to know about your relationship after you and mack had an argument and you had no idea idea who to go to. you crying on her couch however only led to tyler finding out as well.

“told him yet?” she asks, keeping her voice low when turning to you.

“not yet, think he’d kill mack.” you say, cat letting out a small laugh.

“better sooner rather than later though.” she says as you agree, knowing you should tell will, you’re just too nervous.

the sharks end up winning, you quickly head down out of the stands but not before being knocked into a railing by many drunk men. you wince at the pain, feeling your back ache before pushing it to the back of your head. everyone is on a high as they each come out of the locker room, grins wide on their faces. you smile seeing will and mack come out together, will pulling you into a tight hug, wincing but not letting him notice.

“good job will.” you smile, as he pulls away gushing about the game, mack pulling you into a small side hug like usual after games.

will was driving you both home, mack getting a lift from him as well, so you quickly make your ways out to his car, getting in and heading home, deciding not to see any fans today since you were so tired.

“hey, i think im gonna stay at my friends tonight.” you say, and you see mack look up from the backseat through the car mirror.

“yeh, that’s fine,” will smiles before looking over at a red light, “you need a ride?” he asks and you shake your head no.

“nah, she’s coming to pick me up.” you say, mack’s eyes widening before looking back down before will can see.

he drops mack off at the thorntons before driving round to the apartment. your quick inside, going straight to your room, packing some clothes and toiletries in an overnight bag even though you have a few bits already at the guest house.

you move to change out of your jersey and jeans before realising it hurts too much to lift your arms up. you sigh before forgetting about changing and just decide to change your shoes to some sliders and tying your hair up before your phone pings.

mack

i’m outside now baby

you smile, before quickly grabbing your bag and heading out.

“i’ll be back tomorrow will,” you call out to the living room where he’s already in pyjamas movie on with some leftovers.

“message me if you need anything,” he replies before you’re leaving and heading down in the elevator. you leave the complex before spotting macklins car just around the corner from the entrance.

you open the back doors, placing your bag in before moving to the passengers side. you slide in, mack smiling, dressed in his own sweats and a hoodie before frowning at your tshirt.

“thought you would have gotten changed.” he says, as you laugh at how stroppy he gets when you wear wills jersey and not his.

“i lost track of time,” you lie but smile through pretending like you just ran out of time. he changed back to a smile landing over to press his lips to yours.

“mmh,” you hum as he pulls away, “the quicker we get to yours, the quicker i can be in your clothes,” you tease, knowing his favourite thing is seeing you swamped in his clothes.

“don’t need to tell me twice baby,” he whispers against your lips before pressing another kiss to them and pulling away, lacing your hands together.

the drive to his place is quick, letting the radio play softly in the silence of the night, a few cars passing as he makes his way to the thorntons.

he pulls into the driveway before hopping out and grabbing your bag, coming around to swing his arm over your shoulders.

you wince at the pain that runs down your spine at his action, but you manage to play it off before he notices. yous walk around the back through the gate to the guest house, mack unlocking the front door letting you inside.

you slide your shoes off, about to slide off your jacket when you feel macklins arms snake around your waist, his head nestling in your neck.

“i love you baby,” he mumbles against your skin pressing soft kisses up your neck. you tilt your head slightly to give him more access, a soft moan slipping past your lips.

“love you too mack,” you whisper before he’s spinning you around his mouth grazing yours, “god i’ve missed you.” he whispers letting his lips press to yours.

you giggle pulling away, your arms wrapping around his neck, “i saw you like 4 hours ago.” you smile before he’s attaching his lips to yours again.

he groans low in his throat, lifting you effortlessly, like you weigh nothing. your legs wrap around his waist without thinking, as he stumbles backward, dropping down onto the big sectional couch with you in his lap.

“pretty girl,” he whispers, hands running up your jersey, running over your waist.

you arch into him, gasping as his mouth finds yours again, harder this time. his hands shift, one gripping your thigh, the other slipping higher under your jersey, feeling the hunger in him, the way he wants you, real and burning and unstoppable.

“mack,” you moan out, feeling his hand move to squeeze your ass as his lips slip down your neck again.

you shift your hips, grinding down against him, mack by growling, deep and rough, one hand sliding up your back, as he flips you so your laying against the couch, him hovering over top.

that’s when you feel it, the sharp pain run up your spine, all across the middle of your back.

you gasp pulling away and freezing, eyes shut in pain.

he immediately pulls back, hand coming up to cup face

“baby?” his voice calls out, filled with worry, “what’s wrong? talk to me.” his eyes scanning your face for an answer.

“m-my back, shit,” you mumble, “my back hurts.” you get out, open n your eyes to see his face change into an instant state of panic.

“okay, okay, don’t move baby, just stay there.” he says quickly moving off of you, to kneel down beside your head, his hand cradling your cheeks turning your face to look at him.

“where? baby, tell em where it hurts, how bad?” he asks, hands almost hovering, like you are so fragile.

“like the middle of my back, goes up my spine,” you say, mack nodding as he pushes a few strands of hair back out your face, “mack it really hurts.” you whisper, tears springing to your eyes.

“i’m so sorry baby, i-i didn’t meant to hurt you,” he says, voice filled with panic, as his hand shakes gently against your cheeks turning, “ i-i didn’t mean to i just-“ he starts but uh cut him off, grabbing his hand with yours.

“mack, stop.” you say, his rambling coming to a harsh stop at your words, eyes finding yours in confusion, “i got knocked into a rail at the game, didn’t think it was much of an issue.” you mumble, seeing macklin’s jaw tense, not in anger but over how protective he is of you.

“baby, why didn’t you say anything? does will know?” he asks, hands not leaving yours, his thumb brushing ver your knuckles as you shake your head a few tears falling

“i didn’t think it was this bad.” you say, taking a shaky breath.

“ok you stay there, i’ll be back in a minute.” he says quickly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing.

he comes back with an ice pack wrapped in a kitchen towel, a bottle of water and some pills in his hand.

“ok baby, you think you can sit up at all?” he asks, setting them down on the small coffee table table.

you give him a small nod, as he gently helps you to sit up, one hand on your lower back the other on your arm to help.

“take these for me, should help the pain.” he says, handing over the two pills and water. you quickly take them before he’s sitting right where your head was.

he helps you lay back down, sideways, your he’s in his lap, as he gently lifts up your jersey to lay the ice on your back, immediately sighing in relief.

“that better baby?” he asks, one hand holding the ice against your back the other running through your hair, taking out your hair tie.

you nod, wiping your cheeks of the few tears before he’s pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“just relax baby, we’ll leave the ice there for like 20 mins,” he says, eyes still filled with worry, “wanna order some takeout maybe?” he asks and you nod as he fishes his phone his pocket, ordering your go to comfort food.

yous lay there, letting macklin talk about the game, distracting you before the food arrives, mack going out to get it. he helps you to sit up against the couch before going to grab the food. he’s quick, being back and sat next to you pulling out your food.

“hey, do you mind if i get changed first?” you ask, macklin nodding with a soft smile.

“need any help?” he asks and you think for a moment before nodding shyly. he presses a soft kiss to your temple before helping you stand, hands softly on your waist as you walk to his room.

he pulls out some of his sweats and hoodie, helping you out of your jeans and jersey before slipping the sweatpants on.

“want your bra off baby?” he asks as you nod, a small blush coming across your cheeks. he gives you a comforting smile before quickly unclasping your bra, seeing a large bruise starting to form across your back.

“if it gets worse in the morning we’ll have to go to the doctors i think baby, looks pretty bad.” he sighs, fingers grazing over the bruise.

“i think it’s just a bump, i should be fine.” you say, giving him a reassuring smile before he carefully slides on the hoodie.

“that better?” he asks, hands cradling your cheeks, and you nod.

“come on then, we’ll go eat.” he smiles, offering you a hand to help you up over to the couch. setting back against the cushions, you lift your feet up to lay across mack’s lap, one hand running up your legs as you both eat.

he plays some disney movie, a comfort thing for both of you, placing the empty dishes on the coffee table when his phone starts ringing.

wills name across the screen.

“don’t you dare.” you glare across the mack but not quick enough as he’s reaching across and answering the face time.

“hey will,” he says slightly nervous.

“hey, just wondering is y/n has contacted you? i just bumped into her friend when picking up some food, says she’s not staying with her? i’m getting worried, she’s not answering.” will says slightly panicked as mack’s eyes drift over to you.

you shake your head, sending him another glare before wills voice is coming out through the phone

“macklin? do you know something?” he asks, before mack mouths ‘in sorry,’ you sighing.

“she’s here will, perfectly safe.” macklin says, short and sweet before a moment of silence.

“why’s she with you? is she ok?” he asks rushed again, hearing shuffling on the other end.

“she’s fine, here.” he says, flipping the camera to show you.

you awkwardly wave after hearing another silence.

“is that your hoodie?” he asks, stopping moving as you look down seeing yourself wearing a sharks hoodie.

“uh yeh i think so,” macklin nervously laughs, turning the camera back to himself.

“i swear to god macklin, you better not be fucking my sister.” will says and your eye widen immediately knowing that tone, a one he uses very rarely.

“hey dude, it’s not like-“ macklin starts but wills quick to cut him off.

“no, don’t fucking dude me. what the fuck man? i said one rule, my sisters out of bounds. i’m on my way over.” he says, nearly shouting down the phone before handing up.

you immediately try to move standing up, wincing a little.

“i need to go, need to talk to will.” you say trying to move around but each step is building the pain.

“y/n, stop.” macklin says firmly, taking your shoulders in his hands, holding you in place, “we would have had to tell him at some point, now just seems like the time.” macklin says as you nod hesitantly.

you take a breath before moving to sit back on the couch, macklin trying to tidy things up a bit, as much as wills his best friend, right now he’s the brother of his girlfriend, needs to make a good impression.

you snap out of your day dream hearing angry knocks the door. you see mack take a breath, himself, before opening it, immediately being met with a smack across the face.

“what the fuck macklin.” will shouts, you immediately panicking.

“will stop please.” you plead from the couch, his eyes flickering to yours before back to macklin.

“do you know how wrong this is, you betrayed me macklin, i said, no messing with my sister and you just went and did it anyway?” he shouts, macklin coming back strong.

the arguing goes back and forwards between the two as you start to see a small red mark appear on his face. it just keeps intensifying, as you feel yourself tear up becoming too overwhelmed.

you quickly grab your phone and slip out, neither of them releasing, moving to sit on the curb, forgetting about the pain and shakily calling cat.

it only takes a few rings before she’s picking up, her voice coming through.

“y/n?” she asks, voice tired, probably just woke her up.

“cat?” you ask, your voice wavering and you hear her immediately sitting up, more attentive.

“y/n? what’s wrong?” she asks, as you hear tys voice in the back.

“it’s will and mack, he found out and they’re arguing, i-i just i need to get away.” you say, a few tears falling, hearing her move, grabbing some keys by the jingling noise.

“y/n im on my way, you at mack’s?” she asks as you let out a small ‘yeh’, before she’s hanging up the phone immediately driving over.

you curl up on the curb, letting the tears fall freely before a cars pulling up outside, cat and tyler immediately coming over.

“i don’t know what happened, will came in, hit back and they just started arguing.” you rush out, cat pulling you in for a tight hug, tyler immediately going out back to cool off the two boys.

“come on, you can stay at ours for the night.” cat smiles, wiping your cheeks before leading you to the car, letting you in the passenger seat before driving away, saying tyler will be a while.

she drives you back to their house, letting you inside before leading you up to the guest bedroom, both of you sitting on the bed.

“he’ll get over it trust me, probably just a bit of a shock.” cat says, offering a sympathetic smile, you shrugging.

“i’ve never seen him like that, neither of them, i thought he was actually gonna like really hurt him.” you say, voice getting small, at the thought.

her phone bings, a message from tyler.

“wills bringing him back home, you wanna speak to him?” she asks and you think for a second before nodding.

“yeh, but if it’s ok, i’ll still stay here tonight i think.” you say as she nods, before leaving, giving you some privacy.

it isnt long before there’s some soft knocks at the door, before opening it to show wills face peaking in. you see him hesitate to say something before moving inside, perching at the end of the bed.

he looks up and that’s when you can see the black eye forming on his face.

“i don’t like it when you yell.” you whisper, his face softening. he moved to be sat beside you against the headboard, letting his head fall back.

“if it cheers you up, i think he won.” he mumbles making you chuckle slightly.

you turn your body to face him better, wincing slightly at your back.

“you know i love him right?” you ask, his head falling sideways to look at you.

“yeh, think i got that, and i think i understand he loves you too, especially after this,” he says motioning his black eye, making you chuckle slightly, “but you also know i love you right?” he asks sitting up better.

“yeh, i know,” you smile resting your head on his shoulder.

“and i guess i could be cool with it, like you and mack,” he says, fighting a small smile on his face, “but if you hurts you, he’ll never forget it on the ice ok?” he says and you nod, just enjoying the peace for a second.

“he said you hurt your back, why didn’t you say anything?” he asks, you pulling your head back up to look at him.

“i didn’t think much of it to be honest, just got in the way of some drunk men.” you say seeing his jaw tense in a little bit of anger towards the men not you.

“how are you feeling now?” he asks, eyes searching your face for any lies.

“better, mack iced it but still hurts a bit.” you admit, will thinking for a second before nodding letting out a soft sigh.

“message me tomorrow yeh? if it’s still bad ill drive you to the doctors, i dont have morning skate so im free.” he says you smiling with a small nod.

“as you later baby sis.” he smiles, pressing a quick kiss to your head before turning to leave.

“wait, will?” you call out, him turning over his shoulder, “you didn’t hurt mack right?” you ask, concern laced through your voice.

he gives a soft chuckle before shaking his head, “nah, trust me i got it worse and im still walking, i got barely any punches in.” he says, as you try to hide a smile but seem to fail.

“wow, even my sister isn’t on my side.” he teases, a wide grin on his own face, “but maybe call him, or message? i think he’s a bit worried.” he says as you nod before he leaves.

you look over to your phone, having had it turned off all night, quickly entering your password to see missed calls and texts from both will and mack.

you hesitantly press the facetime button in mack’s contact, his face popping onto the screen straight away.

“oh my god baby, are you ok?” he panics, and you take in his appearance, only a small red mark that’s already fading from where will smacked him but his eyes red rimmed like he’d been crying.

“no mack, im ok please don’t worry,” you say but you can still see his face full of concern, “i just got a bit overwhelmed, i don’t like people arguing.” you mumble, resting you head on your hand.

“i’m sorry, i-“ he starts before taking a breath, “i really love you, and i wasn’t gonna let him come between us ok? your brother my best friend none of that would stop what we have ok?” he says and you nod a soft smile on your face.

“you love me so much that your willing to punch my brother in the eye?” you ask as he feeezes, eyes wide.

“so you’ve spoken to him?” he mumbles as you laugh.

“well, i’ve seen him and that was enough.” you say, macklin smiling himself.

“hey, i’d do anything for you baby.” he smiles, your heart fluttering a bit.

“i know macky.”

[dexxtrosee]

Neverending battle

Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x reader

TW: mentions of canon character death, mass casualty event, grief, PTSD, lockdowns

Robby's sitting outside on the steps when you get home.

You reel back slightly, unsure. He has his head between his hands, taking deep breaths with his eyes closed. He's not dirty, still wearing the same cargo pants and black scrub top he left with in the morning. The face full of grief isn’t new either.

There's added weight to his shoulders though, you can see it. It’s almost like he’s doing an effort to stay upright against a crushing weight pushing him downwards, unsure of if he even wants to anymore.

You try your best to get closer without making a sound, slow steps and controlled breathing. His hands clench slightly.

"Jake's girlfriend died on me today."

You freeze.

"Remember I told you I'd give him the tickets so he could go with the girl he told us about? Her name was Leah," his voice breaks when he says her name, "I got to see her alive and happy through a call, and a few hours later I was covered in her blood and she was dead right in the middle of the ER."

You had seen the news, had called him a hundred times before it got through and Dana had answered. He talked to you five, ten seconds maybe, just to tell you to call Jake, to tell you he loved you, that he'd get home late. A watery chuckle was what he got back, and a 'be safe'. They had both sounded wrecked in that controlled way you knew so well, Robby had mastered it ages ago.

Which is why you don’t really know what to do with what’s pouring out of him right now. He hasn't moved, hasn't looked up at you, talking to the floor with his backpack by his side. He never tells you anything, never talks about what eats him alive and wakes you up when he starts crying at midnight.

He can talk about the funny, quirky cases, not with any other details but the fun ones. The girl who broke his arm trying to see how far she could jump, the boy who had a condom stuck inside, the teacher who had an accident in class and had been sneezing glitter for two days.

A month ago he got home laughing his ass off because a bunch of teenagers had gotten to the Pitt in a blind panic from their tongues being blue without "apparent reason", fearing the worst.

They just got high off his asses with a blue brownie and didn't remember, he kept saying, tears streaming down his face from laughing too much. It had made you so happy to see him like that, so carefree and finding something nice at work for once.

The man sat in front of you is a whole different person.

Your mind unhelpully supplies that Leah must have been around those teenagers' age.

"I broke inside the ped's room after Jake told me it was my fault, a-and it is, right? It is. Over a hundred people saved and I let my- I let Jake's girlfriend die."

Irrational anger flames inside your chest.

He's just a boy, you know.

He didn’t see Robby five years ago, though. Didn't spend months having to see him through the car window only, with dark circles around his eyes and thinner than ever. He has no clue about the first time he came back home and woke you up with his retching inside the bathroom, or the way he got paranoic for days and cleaned every single surface again and again. The blind panic that would show up on his face when you so much as sneezed, how he bought packs of facemasks that haven’t run out to this day.

But he’s just a boy, you know. And you know that you would hate anyone too if they were somehow even remotely capable of saving Robby and he died anyway, no matter how crazy it would be. Grief isn’t rational.

"I don't think we're gonna be seeing Jake anytime soon, babe. Sorry."

And he says it just like that, like that boy hasn’t been the shine in his eyes for years.

You sit down next to him, pulling one of his hands away from his head and clutching it between yours. He lets you, but doesn’t move otherwise.

"I think just us two will be fine for a while."

Not like you have any option, but still, he chuckles. "You think?"

Shrugging, you bury yourself into his side, ignoring how tight his entire body feels. You wonder if, this time, it was Jack the one who had to go up and talk. It makes you pull him closer.

"You sayin' I'm not fun enough for you now? Want me to go around pulling odd shit again, like when we first met?"

Finally, he turns slowly and kisses the top of your head. His body trembles slightly, adrenaline rush wearing off. You don’t dare mention it.

"As if I'd need anything else."

You smile.

You'll pressure him into going to therapy tomorrow, again. You're not sure if you should be relieved or worried sick at the fact that your chances at winning seem better this time around, not like the hundred times before.

"Whatever you need, Robinavitch."

You stay outside until his shaking calms down, and let him cry himself to sleep with his head on your chest.

In the morning, he finally agrees.

[strawb3rryhachi]

tw: sub!sylus if you don’t like freaky shit pls don’t ready thank u <3

Sylus was a dream, laid bare in all his magnificent, muscled glory in a single cushion loveseat, legs hooked over the arms sluttily, looking up at you with pleading carmine eyes.

“Oh, my love you look so pretty like this.” You smile, looming over him as his fingers tug desperately at his throbbing length, savoring the way his mouth parts and lets out a choked groan, cascading spittle from above, letting it drop agonizingly slow down onto his blushing cock head.

Sylus think he might die. Like really die.

It’s been hours of orgasm denial, letting him fuck his hand and tug at his cum heavy balls til he was almost seeing stars, ordering him to stop as he sobs for release, leaving him throbbing and panting.

“Please, Kitten— haaah— let me cum.” His hips are bucking up into nothing, his mind melting into desire and hunger. You tsk, shaking your head at him as you wrap your delicate little fingers around him, thumb coming up to plug up his leaking slit.

“Sy, I thought I told you to show me how you really cum when you’re by yourself.” You cooed, bending down so your face was mere inches from his, only coming closer to lick the drool from the corner of his parted lips.

“I- I told you didn’t, I?” He whines, trying his best to hold back the way his hips are shaking in your grasp, crying out when you squeeze your warm palm so delicately around his length, bringing so close to his euphoria that his toes curl. “I don’t cum without you.”

You laughed, a maniacal sound leaving you, his eyes widening in realization. You knew. You knew he was lying.

You had stopped by the base the night before, dropping in to bring over a new record you had picked up that morning, excited to listen to it with Sylus. Pushing his bedroom door slightly open without knocking, peeking through the slit in the door.

And that’s when you saw him.

Facing away from you on all fours, one burly arm craning unnaturally behind him, wet index finger slipping in and out of his pretty, puckering hole as his hips rutted feverishly into the mattress below him.

You squeezed your thighs together as you remembered the way he panted your name, ducking out as you watched him cum, painting the dark sheets below him a contrasting white.

“Now, Sylus, would you like to lie to me again? Or be a good boy and show me how you cum?” Your eyes felt heavy, body overcome with desire as you watched his right hand grasp his cock, stopping the right as it tried to move down, pulling his long digits between your lips and letting your saliva wash over them.

He was nothing if not obedient, keeping you locked within his gaze as he teases himself with his pointer finger, poking and prodding at his tight entrance while stroking his shaft, lips bright red as he pulled them between his lips.

You hum a small sound of approval, stepping back to watch him pleasure himself, spread eagle and waiting for your praise. “Oh look at you, handsome man, so eager to please.” You croon.

Your foot finds its way to him, toes splaying against his full balls and massaging, “Though you did seem a bit more excitable on your own, are you not pleased with me, my love?”

His hips stutter, pushing the ball of your foot even harder against his balls, a mix of pain and pleasure surging through him, “Never, Kitten.” He gushes, a pleasure tear filled smile gracing his angled features and beaming up at you.

Your heart swells as he continues, “Just being watched by you is enough to make me cum.” His eyes practically have hearts in them, his slender finger being accompanied by another now, both surging in and out at such a sultry pace, his moans bouncing off the walls of his bedroom.

Your thighs are pressed ever so tightly together, trying to give yourself a bit of friction as your slick pools between your legs at the pussy throbbing sight in front of you. Your underwear is soaked, sticking to your drooling folds, becoming a nuisance.

His hands— both of them— speed up, fucking himself into pure bliss, head lolling back and finally breaking eye contact for the first time. You bend down, pulling your panties down your legs and throwing them at him. His head snaps as soon as the soaked fabric makes contact, eyes widening at the way they sit delicately over his cock now.

“For me?” The glee in his voice is undeniable, even if you couldn’t see the smile on his face grow even wider. “T- Thank you Kitten.”

He pulls his hand from his straining shaft, wrapping the lacy garment around his knuckles and bringing it to his face. Watching him in awe and adoration as he brings it to his nose, taking a deep breath in before suckling on the wet patch. The sound that escaped him could only be described as a growl, deep and animalistic.

“Pathetic.” You mewl, your own fingers coming down to play at your clit. You needed something, and you knew it would kill him to watch you pleasure yourself instead of letting him devour you, apparent from the furrow in his brow as he watches you. He pulls your panties from his lips, a long string of saliva and slick keeping them tethered as he brought it to his cock.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” He sobs, wrapping the soaked cloth around his hard shaft. You cant help yourself, dropping to your knees, almost giving the illusion of subservience before you’re pulling his finger from his pulsing hole (not without him crying out), hands clamping onto the back of his thighs to keep his legs spread as you spit onto the barely gaped hole. You needed stimulation, pulling a discarded pillow from the floor and wedging it between your legs.

“Hmm, you got it so pretty for me, Sy.” And that depraved smile gracing your face has his cock twitching in his grasp, precum spilling out of his weepy tip and staining your panties, wrapped so tightly around him. It really shouldn’t have made him wanna cum so bad.

Your fingers are smaller, shorter Sylus notes, opening his mouth and lolling out his tongue like the most obedient little pup and letting you press down on the back of his tongue, a small gag escaping his lips and covering your fingers in his sweet spit.

Sylus can’t believe how good he feels, how perfect you fit as you push three dainty fingers inside him, hooking them into that sweet spot he didn’t even think to touch. Not without you.

His eyes are rolling back, thrashing and wailing sweet little sounds as he sprays out a thick white, his balls pulling close against his body as he cums, tight muscle flexing around your fingers as you continue to work that divine little spot furiously.

And you’re totally in awe, drooling slightly as you watch him try his best to keep his hand pumping at the same pace, repeating sweet, fucked out ‘I’m sorry’s’ like a mantra.

You’re cumming all over the decorative pillow, hole spasming around nothing as you watch his own milky release drip down his chin, sliding across his abs and into that pretty little patch of hair above his base. He was so perfectly pathetic, writhing while stroking himself into stimulation as an apology, your fingers still stuffed deeply inside him. Fucked out smiles gracing both of your faces.

“Oh Sylus, you’ve started such a dangerous little game.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hiiii I hope you all enjoyed <3 i rlly do think sylus would look so pretty like this <3 brb gonna go look up sub!sylus art one handed :P

xoxo,

Hachi

[grimesproperty]

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒

You and Eren are such close best friends, almost "platonic." You open up to Eren about your desire to gain more experience now that you both are in college. Being the sweet best friend he is, he listens to you. And being the sweet best friend you are.

You ask him if he can teach you a few things, even teaching you how he is gonna take your virginity.

EREN YEAGER X READER

cw: nsfw

—

You and Eren Yeager were... complicated.

Best friends, sure. Friends since your freshman year of college, when you spilled coffee all over his sketchpad in the library and he called you "an actual menace" and then bought you a refill because you looked like you were going to cry.

Four years later, nothing had really changed.

Except maybe everything.

Because now you were 21. And Eren wasn’t just your best friend anymore.

He was beautiful. Tall, broad-shouldered, messy brown hair tied into a lazy bun. Piercings glinting in his ear. Green eyes so sharp it felt like they could see through your clothes.

You told yourself you didn’t think about him like that. You lied.

And tonight?

Tonight you were making it worse.

You were sitting cross-legged on his bed, wearing one of his hoodies and absolutely no pants. It wasn't weird. You’d always been like this around him. Comfortable.

But lately, comfortable didn’t feel like the right word.

Eren was sprawled out next to you, scrolling through his phone. His legs were bare except for a pair of loose gray sweats that hung way too low on his hips.

You tried not to look.

Failed.

"So," he said suddenly, setting his phone down, "you gonna tell me why you’ve been acting weird all week?"

You pulled your knees up to your chest. "I’m not acting weird."

"You literally flinched when I hugged you yesterday."

"I—I was startled."

He laughed under his breath, low and rough. "Right."

You hated how your stomach twisted at the sound of it.

There was a pause. One of those heavy, loaded silences that only happened when you were both thinking too much.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" he said finally, voice soft.

You swallowed hard.

Maybe it was the way he was looking at you. Like you were fragile. Like you mattered. Maybe it was the way you were tired of pretending. Maybe it was the fact that your body ached for something you couldn’t name when you were around him lately.

Whatever it was, it broke something open inside you.

"I’m... still a virgin," you blurted out.

The words hung in the air between you, sharp and heavy.

Eren blinked. Once. Twice.

Then, slowly, he sat up, facing you fully.

"Okay," he said carefully. "That's not a bad thing."

You stared down at your hands. "I just... everyone else has already—" You shook your head. "And I feel like... like I’m stuck. Like I'm behind or something."

He was quiet for a second.

Then he said, "You're not behind."

You risked a glance up at him.

His expression was unreadable. Jaw tight. Eyes dark.

You pressed on, heart pounding. "It’s not even about love or anything. I just... I want to know. I’m tired of being scared of it. Of... all of it."

Another pause.

His voice dropped lower. Rougher.

"You want someone to teach you."

It wasn’t a question.

You nodded, cheeks burning.

You couldn't look at him. Couldn't breathe.

"I trust you," you whispered.

The silence between you snapped like a wire pulled too tight.

Eren shifted closer, so close you could feel the heat of his bare chest through the thin hoodie you wore.

"You trust me," he repeated, voice almost a growl.

You nodded again, trembling.

He lifted a hand slowly—so fucking slowly—and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You don’t know what you’re asking for," he murmured.

"Maybe I do," you said, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounded.

His fingers brushed down your jaw. Barely a touch. Enough to make your whole body tense.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, voice wrecked.

"You don't have to," you said quickly, pulling back, heart hammering. "I just—I just needed to say it. I’m sorry. Forget it. I shouldn’t have—"

He caught your wrist gently, stopping you.

"Don't be sorry," he said hoarsely. "Just... give me a second. Okay?"

You sat there, frozen, pulse in your throat, while he closed his eyes for a long moment. Like he was fighting himself.

When he opened them again, his green eyes were darker than you’d ever seen.

"Come here," he said roughly.

You inched closer without thinking.

And when he kissed you—soft at first, testing, tasting—you realized it was already too late.

You weren’t just curious.

You wanted him.

Wanted him to touch you, to ruin you, to teach you everything.

And when his tongue slid into your mouth and he groaned low in his chest, you realized something else, too:

Eren wanted it just as badly.

Maybe more.

Maybe he always had.

The air between you and Eren was different now.

Charged. Dangerous.

You could barely breathe as you sat there on his bed, knees knocking together under the oversized hoodie—his hoodie—your bare legs brushing the soft sheets.

Eren hadn't let go of your wrist. His thumb was rubbing lazy, slow circles against your skin. Like he was trying to ground you. Or maybe himself.

"You want me to teach you," he said again, voice wrecked.

You nodded, unable to speak.

"Not just kissing, either," he added, leaning closer, lips brushing your ear. "You want more."

You whimpered before you could stop yourself.

It made him chuckle darkly—low and warm and filthy.

"Fuck," he muttered, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. "Okay. But we do this slow. You tell me if you want to stop at any point."

You nodded frantically.

"And you don't ever," he said, voice roughening, "ever have to do something you don’t want to. Got it?"

"Got it," you whispered.

His gaze darkened further, the green almost swallowed by black.

"You have no fucking idea what you're asking for," he said, voice a gravelly whisper. "But I'll teach you."

His hand slid up your thigh slowly—way too slowly—until he reached the hem of the hoodie.

You gasped when his fingers brushed your bare skin.

"First lesson," he murmured, smirking faintly. "How a kiss is supposed to feel."

Your breath hitched. Your thighs squeezed together instinctively. You didn't miss the way his eyes flickered down at the motion, nostrils flaring.

Eren leaned in, mouth hovering just a whisper from yours.

"You let the other person come to you," he said, voice almost hypnotic. "You don't chase it. You wait."

You swallowed hard. Nodded.

His lips brushed yours lightly—so light you barely felt it.

You whimpered again, desperate for more.

Eren smiled against your mouth.

"Good," he whispered. "You wait. You make them work for it."

He kissed you again, firmer this time. Still teasing.

His hand slid higher up your thigh, under the hoodie, fingers tracing slow, maddening patterns on your skin.

You tilted your chin up instinctively, chasing his mouth.

He pulled back just a fraction.

"Patience, baby," he rasped. "You gotta make them earn it."

You whimpered again, and he chuckled—low and dark and utterly wrecked.

Then finally—finally—he kissed you properly.

Deep. Slow. Consuming.

You felt the heat of him everywhere. The hard line of his chest pressing into you. The rough scrape of his palm sliding along your thigh, curling possessively around it.

You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily.

When he finally pulled back, you were gasping, dizzy, desperate.

Your lips were swollen. Your skin burning.

Eren’s chest heaved as he looked down at you, eyes wild, hair falling loose from his bun.

"You feel that?" he growled, voice thick. "That’s how it’s supposed to feel."

You nodded dumbly, dazed.

He grinned crookedly, licking his bottom lip.

"Good girl," he murmured.

You almost collapsed on the spot.

You could barely think. Could barely breathe. Your pulse thundered in your ears, every nerve ending alive under his touch.

Eren pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb still dragging slowly, burning circles against the inside of your thigh.

"Lesson two," he rasped, voice dark and low. "Touching."

You blinked up at him, dazed.

He grabbed your hand—gently, but firmly—and brought it up to his chest.

"Start here," he muttered.

Your fingers curled instinctively around the front of his hoodie.

"No," Eren said, voice rough with something you couldn't name. He tugged his hoodie over his head in one swift motion, tossing it aside.

You gasped.

He was bare underneath—tattoos scattered across golden skin, muscle carved like it had been sculpted just for you.

Your mouth dried instantly.

Eren smirked lazily, watching your stunned expression.

"Touch me," he repeated, softer this time.

Your fingers trembled as you reached out—hesitating for a second, terrified to screw it up.

He caught your wrist again, gentler now, and pressed your hand flat against his chest.

You could feel everything.

The steady thud of his heart. The solid, burning heat of him. The way his breathing hitched the second you touched him.

"Good," he whispered.

You dragged your hand lower—over the plane of his chest, the ridges of his abs. Your fingertips brushed the trail of hair leading down beneath his sweatpants.

Eren hissed through his teeth, muscles tensing under your touch.

"Fuck, baby," he muttered. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

You smiled shyly, feeling a flicker of power surge through you.

You brushed your fingers across the tattoo on his ribs—a snake coiled around a dagger—and he groaned low in his throat.

"Lesson three," he gritted out. "Teasing."

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed.

He grinned—dark and hungry and wrecked.

"You gotta make it hurt a little," he said, voice thick. "Make them desperate. Like this—"

He dragged his hands up under the hoodie—your hoodie—splaying his palms against your bare waist, pulling you into his lap.

You squeaked, thighs straddling his.

You could feel him, hard and straining beneath the thin fabric of his sweatpants.

You froze, heart slamming against your ribs.

Eren smirked lazily up at you.

"You feel that?" he murmured. "That's what you do to me."

You whimpered, clutching his shoulders.

He rocked his hips up just slightly—enough to grind against you.

You gasped.

"Eren—"

"Lesson four," he interrupted, voice almost shaking. "Grinding."

You whimpered again, feeling your core throb, slick pooling between your legs embarrassingly fast.

Eren grabbed your hips, guiding you into a slow, torturous grind against him.

"Just like that," he rasped. "Fuck, you're a natural."

You bit your lip hard, trying not to moan.

His eyes darkened even further.

"Don't hide it, baby," he growled. "I wanna hear you."

You whimpered brokenly as you rocked against him, the friction unbearable, electric.

Eren's hands tightened on your hips, the muscles in his arms straining.

His control was slipping—you could see it, feel it.

"You wanna know something?" he muttered, voice strained. "None of this is fucking platonic anymore."

You whimpered his name—and that broke him.

He surged up, kissing you fiercely—messy and desperate—tongue claiming yours, teeth grazing your bottom lip.

You moaned into his mouth, grinding harder, chasing the high.

"Eren, please," you gasped.

He pulled back just enough to growl:

"You want me to show you more?"

You nodded frantically, chest heaving.

His hands slid up your thighs, under the hoodie, grazing dangerously close to where you needed him most.

He smirked against your mouth.

"First," he whispered, "you gotta say it."

You whined in frustration.

"Say what?" you panted.

Eren's eyes gleamed wickedly.

"Tell me what you want, baby."

You squirmed, cheeks burning, brain short-circuiting.

"I want..." you started, voice trembling.

Eren waited, smug and wrecked all at once.

You swallowed hard.

"I want you to touch me," you whispered.

He grinned—dark and slow and victorious.

"Good girl," he murmured.

Then his fingers slid higher—higher—until they brushed the soaked fabric of your panties.

You gasped, hips bucking instinctively.

Eren groaned low in his chest, head dropping to your shoulder.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he muttered against your neck. "All for me."

You whimpered, clutching his hair.

And then—

He slipped a single finger under the fabric. Dragging it slowly and lightly along your folds. Barely touching, just teasing.

You nearly sobbed.

"Lesson five," he rasped. "Patience."

His finger traced your soaked folds so lightly, you could’ve screamed. You were trembling—hips bucking pathetically against his hand—whining in the back of your throat.

"Eren," you gasped, desperate. "Please—"

He hummed low against your throat, lazy and cruel and amused.

"Patience," he whispered again, his voice dark, wrecked, and starving. "Good things take time, baby."

You sobbed a little—not even caring anymore how pathetic you sounded.

Eren’s free hand tightened on your hip, holding you down firmly against him, grinding your clothed core against his throbbing length.

You could feel the heat of him through both your thin layers. Could feel how badly he wanted it too.

And still—he dragged his finger in slow, cruel circles over your clit. Feather-light. Not nearly enough. Barely anything at all.

"You’re driving me crazy," you whimpered, nails digging into his bare shoulders.

He laughed quietly—sadistic—then kissed your jaw, your throat, the sensitive skin behind your ear.

"You think you're suffering?" he rasped. "You have no fucking idea what you’re doing to me right now."

You whimpered again, grinding harder.

Eren grunted low in his chest, gripping you tighter.

"Fuck, baby," he growled. "You're so fucking wet... bet I could slip inside you right now and you’d take me so sweet."

You gasped, head dropping against his shoulder, body shuddering with need.

"You want that?" he muttered, hot against your skin. "Want me to fill you up?"

"Yes," you choked out without thinking, hips jerking. "Yes, Eren, please—"

He groaned like he was in pain.

"Not yet," he gritted. "Not until you're ready."

You whimpered brokenly.

"I am," you cried. "I swear—"

He cut you off by slipping a single finger inside you—just barely. Just the tip—teasing, mocking.

You gasped sharply, clenching around nothing.

"You're tight as fuck," he growled. "Gonna have to stretch you out real slow, baby."

You moaned helplessly, thighs trembling around his hips.

Eren pulled his finger back, dragging it slow over your swollen clit again, making you cry out.

"Lesson six," he panted. "Control."

You whimpered, body arching against him.

"If you can stay patient," he murmured, "I'll make you feel so fucking good you won't remember your own name."

You sobbed in frustration, tears pricking your eyes.

He kissed the corner of your mouth, slow and tender.

"You trust me, right?" he whispered.

You nodded frantically, voice breaking.

"Good," he murmured. "Then let me take care of you."

He kissed you again—deeper this time—his tongue licking into your mouth lazily, almost sweetly, as his fingers resumed their torturous, feather-light teasing between your thighs.

You grinded against him desperately, seeking friction, chasing the high he was cruelly keeping just out of reach.

"Please," you sobbed against his mouth.

He chuckled darkly, breathless.

"You're so fucking cute when you beg," he growled. "Makes me wanna wreck you."

You whimpered, thighs quivering.

And then—

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore—

He slid one long finger inside you, all the way this time.

You cried out, clenching tight around him.

"Fuck," Eren groaned, forehead dropping to yours. "You're squeezing me so good, baby."

He pumped his finger slow and deep, dragging over every sensitive spot inside you.

You were a writhing, sobbing mess in his lap.

"One finger," he rasped. "You’re already losing your mind."

He added a second finger without warning, stretching you wider.

You gasped, clinging to him.

"Relax, baby," he whispered, kissing your temple. "Breathe."

You did—barely.

He moved his fingers in slow, delicious thrusts, curling them inside you just right.

You cried out, thighs trembling violently.

"Good girl," he praised, voice thick with lust. "Taking me so good."

You felt the coil tightening in your belly—hot and fast and out of control.

"Eren," you gasped. "I—I’m gonna—"

He pulled his fingers out suddenly.

You screamed in frustration, tears spilling down your cheeks.

Eren grinned—dark and wicked—and licked his fingers clean, eyes locked on yours.

"Taste so fucking good," he muttered, voice hoarse.

You whimpered brokenly.

"Why—" you gasped, voice wrecked. "Why'd you stop?"

He grinned lazily, pulling you closer until your soaked panties rubbed against his throbbing cock again.

"Lesson seven," he rasped against your mouth.

You clutched his shoulders, desperate.

"Denial," he whispered.

Your panties were ruined.

Your thighs were trembling.

Your mind was gone.

And Eren was still teasing you — cruel, patient, starving — holding you pinned in his lap, soaked core grinding against the hard line of his cock through his sweats.

"Look at you," he muttered against your ear, voice low and vicious. "Fucking dripping for me."

You sobbed out a noise that wasn’t even a word anymore.

He cupped the back of your neck roughly, forcing you to meet his heavy-lidded gaze.

"You want me to stop?" he rasped.

Your mouth opened — no sound came out.

You shook your head frantically.

"Say it," he growled.

"Don't stop," you whimpered.

His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide with pure lust.

"You have no idea what you're asking for, baby," he muttered.

"I don't care," you cried, grinding desperately against him. "Please, Eren — please, I need you —"

He kissed you — brutal, hot, hungry — biting your bottom lip until you gasped.

"You think I’m just gonna fuck you sweet and gentle because it’s your first time?" he muttered against your mouth. "You’re wrong, baby."

He nipped down your throat — teeth scraping — hand sliding under your panties to finally touch you skin to skin.

You screamed — the feel of his fingers against your bare, swollen clit devastating.

"I’m gonna ruin you," he whispered.

You sobbed.

"Please," you begged again.

And then — —he lifted you slightly off his lap, pushed your panties aside roughly, gripped his cock in one hand—

—and rubbed the head through your soaked folds.

You gasped—full body jerk.

"You feel that?" he muttered. "That’s what’s about to stretch you open."

You could barely breathe, forehead pressed against his shoulder, nails raking down his back.

He groaned low at the feeling — you, clinging to him, desperate and ruined and ready to fall apart.

"Fuck, baby," he growled, voice rough. "You’re shaking."

You whimpered — a pleading, broken sound.

"You’re so fucking small," he gritted, positioning himself. "Gotta go slow. Gotta take my time."

You nodded frantically.

And then—

He pushed in.

Just the tip.

You screamed, whole body locking up around him.

Eren swore viciously, clutching your hips in a bruising grip.

"Fucking tight," he gasped.

You sobbed, forehead pressed against him.

"Relax, baby," he whispered hoarsely, kissing your temple. "You're doing so good."

You tried — you tried — relaxing as best you could.

And slowly—so painfully slow—he sank deeper.

You whimpered, tears leaking from your eyes.

Eren kissed them away, murmuring soft, filthy praises in your ear.

"Taking me so good," he muttered. "So fucking good for me."

You clenched around him, overwhelmed, trembling in his lap.

And when he finally bottomed out — fully seated inside you — you were gasping, shaking, completely wrecked.

Eren groaned into your skin.

"You feel that?" he rasped. "That’s mine now."

You sobbed.

"Yours," you gasped without thinking.

His hips twitched at that — a guttural, broken sound tearing from his throat.

"Fuck," he growled. "Say it again."

"Yours," you choked out, clinging to him. "I’m yours."

He kissed you — hard, brutal, messy.

And then he started moving.

Slow at first — so fucking slow — letting you feel every inch of him dragging against your tight, sensitive walls.

You were crying, overwhelmed with the feeling of him inside you — thick, deep, perfect.

Eren cursed under his breath, hands digging into your hips.

"God, baby," he panted. "You’re milking my cock so good."

You sobbed, burying your face in his neck.

He rocked you in his lap — slow, deep thrusts — groaning low every time you clenched around him.

"You were made for this," he muttered. "Made for me."

You nodded frantically, words beyond you now.

And then he snapped his hips harder — —once.You screamed.

"That’s it," he growled, thrusting harder. "That’s my good fucking girl."

You were gone — Mindless — Ruined — Completely his.

You tightened around him, thighs trembling violently.

"Eren—!" you sobbed. "I'm— I'm gonna—"

"Come for me, baby," he growled, fucking you through it. "Come all over my cock."

You screamed, body seizing — clenching around him so tight he cursed viciously, hips stuttering.

You were gushing around him — soaking him — vision going white.

And Eren— Eren thrust a few more brutal, desperate times—

And came inside you — hard, deep, endless — groaning your name like a prayer.

You collapsed against him, trembling.

He wrapped his arms tight around you, pressing kisses to your damp forehead, breathing you in like he’d never get enough.

"You’re mine now," he whispered.

You sobbed brokenly against his skin.

"Yours," you gasped again. "Always yours."

He smiled against your hair.

"Good girl."

The room smelled like sex and sweat and something dangerous.

You were still shaking in his lap — sore, full, overwhelmed — clinging to him like if you let go you’d fall apart completely.

Eren was breathing hard against your temple, one big hand rubbing slow, grounding circles over your back.

You felt… Destroyed. Safe. Utterly his.

"Shhh," he whispered, voice rough and low. "Got you. I got you."

You whimpered into his chest.

Your thighs were slick with both of you — your panties ruined, his sweats soaked — and you could still feel him pulsing faintly inside you.

"I didn’t hurt you, did I?" he murmured, pulling back just enough to search your face.

His green eyes — usually so cocky, mischievous, infuriating — were wrecked now, wide and frantic and tender.

You shook your head quickly.

"No," you rasped. "Good," he whispered, voice breaking a little. "Good girl.”

He kissed you again — softer this time — just his lips brushing yours, slow and sweet and unbearable.

You whimpered, clutching his shoulders.

He kissed you again, and again — desperate, messy little kisses like he couldn’t stop.

And then, without a word, he scooped you up into his arms — carrying you bridal style toward the bathroom.

You clung to him, dazed.

He kicked the door shut, set you gently down on the edge of the bathtub, and started running the shower — hot and steamy.

You sat there trembling, watching him.

He was still in just his sweats — clinging wetly to his hips — the outline of his cock still hard against the fabric.

His skin was flushed, bitten raw from where you’d scratched him.

And he looked wrecked.

Eren caught you staring and gave you a crooked, fucked-out little smile.

"Like what you see?" he teased, voice hoarse.

You blushed furiously.

He laughed — low and affectionate — and tugged his sweats down, not shy at all.

You sucked in a breath.

Even softening, he was huge — thick, flushed, wet with both of you.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively.

Eren saw — and his smile sharpened into something dark.

But he didn’t say anything. Just stepped into the shower and held a hand out to you.

"C'mere, baby."

You let him pull you up, strip you the rest of the way out of your ruined panties, and guide you into the spray.

The hot water hit your skin — and you whimpered, sore all over, every nerve ending lit up.

Eren pulled you tight against him under the water, cradling your head against his chest.

"You’re so fucking perfect," he murmured into your wet hair.

You whimpered.

He soaped you up slowly — running big hands gently over your arms, your back, the curve of your ass.

Everywhere he touched, you felt like you were burning.

When he got to between your legs, he hesitated — gentle, patient, watching your face.

"Okay?" he murmured.

You nodded quickly.

He touched you so slow — careful around your swollen, sensitive clit — cleaning you up with soft, reverent touches.

You gasped into his chest, trembling.

"You’re so sensitive," he murmured, almost in awe. "Fuck, baby."

You clung to him, panting.

Eren pressed soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw — murmuring nothing words, just your name and mine, mine, mine like he couldn’t help it.

When you were finally rinsed off, he shut the water off and wrapped you both in a big towel, carrying you back to the bed like you weighed nothing.

He tucked you under the covers, crawling in beside you — pulling you flush against him, chest to chest.

You felt everything — his warmth, his heartbeat, his length pressed lazily against your thigh.

He buried his face in your hair, breathing you in.

"You’re mine now," he murmured against your skin.

You shivered.

"I’ve always been yours," you whispered.

Eren groaned low, kissing you like it hurt.

And when you shifted against him, grinding ever so slightly — —he growled.

"You wanna go again, baby?" he muttered against your mouth. "You wanna learn some more lessons?"

You whimpered — helpless, wrecked, desperate for him.

"Please," you whispered. "Please, Eren — teach me."

He grinned — slow and wicked.

"Oh, I’m gonna teach you, baby."

And he kissed you again — —dragging you down, deeper and deeper, into him — —where there was no such thing as friendship anymore. Only this. Only us.

—

part two here

[xjulixred45x]

I think in the Parent Yuu and Baby au, i imagined that Yuu would leave/entrust the baby in the care of the students with experience with (younger) siblings and relatives or kids: Trey, Jack, Epel (maybe he has a big family), Jamil, Kamil, Lilia (having heard he helped take care of Malleus when young and maybe Malleus, Silver, and Sebek pitch in to wonder how was it like when Lilia took care of all of them in the past), Rook (yes he has siblings), and Idia plus Ortho. Maybe a scenario(s) of their day and experiences in babysitting.

Babysitting Yuu's Baby

This would happen when Yuu has to go to an event where she can't take her daughter (such as Glorious Masquerade, PlayfullLand, or Coral Sea), specifically asking the characters not involved in the story to babysit the baby while she's away.

There are certain characters who directly offer without hesitation, either because of their good relationship with Yuu or because of their experience caring for siblings/young children, such as Lilia, Kalim, and Rook. The others have to be formally asked to see if they can and WANT to do it.

Lilia is by far the calmest, despite all his babysitting experience vven in pressure or crisis situations, he remains calm and cheerful, even trying to make others laugh about the situation (such as when something catches fire while he tries to warm up milk for the baby). But don't worry, he still has out-of-this-world reflexes and parental instincts; he can catch the baby before it hits the ground or almost telepathically sense that it's about to do something she shouldn't (e.g., putting a fork in an electrical outlet).

Rook is another one who constantly and "discreetly" watches over the baby, and he narrates everything she does as if the baby were the protagonist of a fairy tale. He's definitely the best at reading stories or making them up at nap time; his voice seems to relax the baby quite a bit (it also helps stop her from crying or distract her when she gets fussy). Another one with incredible reflexes, and he's definitely avoided several incidents caused by the deteriorating bedroom (seriously consider talking to Yuu about it...).

Trey definitely does the thing of putting the baby in a baby carrier (either on his chest or on his back) while he cooks and hums, which puts the baby to sleep pretty quickly (to everyone's amazement). He has practically infinite patience, even if the baby is a picky eater (I mean, he's been dealing with Riddle for years), and he has the muscle memory to deal with babies, which Yuu's baby is nothing compared to what he has faced.

Epel is the secret weapon for when the baby won't eat what Trey makes for her. All it takes is a couple of apples, a knife, and BOOM! The baby is devouring different animals in apple shapes. Epel is the kind of babysitter who likes to play a little rough with the baby, whether it's pretend wrestling, being the knight who slays the dragon (with lots of gory details), and generally likes to indulge her in things other kids wouldn't normally let her.

Jamil is another one who helps in the kitchen, and he's the strictest about maintaining some sort of routine for the baby (whether she has one or not, he believes it's important and good for her development). He makes sure Trey doesn't cook only sweet things (or at least alternate them with nutritious and healthy ones) or sneaks candy to the baby. They both keep Lilia away from the stove or anything that produces fire. He's a bit tense when it comes to holding the baby, but he lets her play with his braids when he's tired.

Kalim is the one in charge of keeping the baby occupied most of the time while the others take care of Ramshackle. They both have a lot of energy, so Kalim is the only one on her level. They do everything: Kalim acts like he's a horse and the baby ride him, lifts her up in the air (NO MAGIC CARPET, Jamil almost has a heart attack), Kalim picks her up and pretends the baby is dancing, even sings her a few songs from The Boiling Sands (he's definitely given the baby crackers when no one's looking, don't worry! The baby actually likes them).

Jack is by far the one who takes babysitting duties most seriously, maybe too seriously. He's probably the one who handles the most tedious baby-related tasks, things like getting her up in the morning, feeding her at night, bathing her, cleaning her up after she's eaten (and dirtying most of the table and her clothes in the process), changing her diapers, etc. He's surprisingly good at these tasks despite his sensitive nose, but that's because his younger siblings are still young, so he probably still has the muscle memory for these things fresh. The others have to force him to take a break or alternate with another of their own.

Idia is definitely the least suitable and at the same time the most suitable to leave with a baby. Again, he has no problem leaving supplies or bringing things to make things easier, but interacting with the baby? No, he's going to ruin it somehow. He can interact with the baby through the screen and even put on some cartoon series that's good for her, but when they put her on his lap (the few times he goes to ramshackle) he freezes, but at the same time he accepts his fate and doesn't move when the baby falls asleep (even if she drools on his sweatshirt; he didn't even like that one anyway).

Ortho, bless him, is the one who usually takes over to do the chores no one else wants to do when babysitting, basically a second Jack, but happier. Every time the baby wakes up in the middle of the night, he does a general check-in to make sure everything's okay. I imagine he can manually warm the milk himself, or play lullabies when the baby can't sleep, so he ends up being a very practical babysitter, lol.

In short, the baby is in good hands. I'd just be worried that the kids don't kill each other or that Lilia burns down the house trying to cook something.

________

(ESPAÑOL)

Esto pasaría cuando Yuu tiene que ir a algún evento en el cual no puede llevar a su hija (como el de Glorious Masquerade, PlayfullLand o Coral Sea, justamente pidiéndole a los personajes que no participen en la historia que cuidaran de la beba mientras ella no estaba.

Hay ciertos personajes que directamente se ofrecen sin dudarlo, ya sea por su buena relación con Yuu o por la experiencia que tienen con cuidar hermanitos/niños pequeños, como Lilia, Kalim y Rook. Los demás hay que preguntarles formalmente para saber si pueden y QUIEREN hacerlo.

Lilia es de por lejos es más tranquilo con toda la experiencia de niñero, incluso en situaciones de presión o crisis se mantiene tranquilo y alegre, incluso trata de hacer reír a los demás de la situación (como, por ejemplo, cuando algo se incendia cuando el intenta calentar la leche para la beba). Pero no te preocupes, sigue teniendo reflejos fuera de este mundo e instintos de padre, puede atrapar al bebe antes de que toque el suelo o sentir casi telepáticamente que está a punto de hacer algo que no debería (ejemplo; poner un tenedor en el tomacorriente).

Rook es otro que está constantemente vigilando a la beba de forma “discreta”, aparte de que narra absolutamente todo lo que hace como si la bebe fuera la protagonista de un cuento de hadas. Definitivamente el mejor a la hora de leerle cuentos o inventarlos a la hora de la siesta, parece que su voz relaja bastante al bebe (también funciona para que deje de llorar o distraerla cuando se pone quisquillosa). Otro con reflejos increíbles y definitivamente ha evitado varios incidentes causados por lo deteriorado que esta el dormitorio (considera seriamente hablar con Yuu al respecto...)

Trey definitivamente hace lo de poner a la beba en un porta-bebes (ya sea en su pecho o en su espalda) mientras cocina y tararea, lo cual pone a la beba a dormir bastante rápido (para el asombro de todos). Tiene una paciencia prácticamente infinita incluso si la beba es quisquillosa con la comida(digo, lidio con Riddle por años--) y tiene memoria muscular para lidiar con bebes, la bebe de Yuu no es nada.

Epel es el arma secreta para cuando la beba no quiere comer lo que le hace Trey, solo necesita un par de manzanas, un cuchillo y BOOM, la beba está devorando diferentes animales o formitas de manzana. Epel es el tipo de niñero que le gusta jugar de forma un poco más “ruda” con la beba, ya sea pretendiendo jugar a la lucha libre, ser el caballero que mata al dragon (con muchos detalles sangrientos) y en general le gusta consentirla en cosas que normalmente el resto de chicos no le dejarían.

Jamil es otro que ayuda en la cocina, y es el más estricto en mantener una especie de rutina para la beba (ya sea que la tenga o no, cree que es importante y bueno para su desarrollo), se asegura que Trey no cocine solo cosas dulces (o que al menos se intercalen con cosas nutritivas y sanas) o le pase caramelos a escondidas al bebe. Ambos alejan a Lilia de la estufa o cualquier cosa que produzca fuego. Es algo tenso a la hora de cargar a la beba, pero deja que juegue con sus trenzas cuando está cansado.

Kalim es quien se encarga de mantener distraída a la bebe la mayoría del tiempo mientras los demás se encargan de cuidar ramshackle, ambos tienen mucha energía, por lo que Kalim es el único a su nivel. Hacen de todo, Kalim actúa como si fuera un caballo, la alza por los aires (SIN ALFOMBRA MAGICA, a Jamil casi le da un infarto), Kalim la levanta y pretende que la bebe baila, incluso le canta algunas canciones de Las Arenas Hirvientes (definitivamente le ha dado a la beba crackers cuando nadie está viendo ¡tranquilos! Al bebe en realidad le gustan).

Jack es de por lejos el que se toma la tarea de niñero más enserio, talvez demasiado en serio. Probablemente es quien se encarga de las tareas más engorrosas relacionadas a la beba, cosas como levantarla en la mañana, darle de comer en la noche, bañarla, limpiarla después de que comió (y ensucio la mayor parte de la mesa y su ropa en el proceso), cambiarle los pañales, etc. Es sorprendentemente bueno en esas tareas pese a su nariz sensible, pero se debe a que sus hermanos menores siguen siendo pequeños, por lo que probablemente sigue teniendo fresca la memoria muscular de estas cosas. Los demás tienen que forzarlo a darse un descanso o intercalar con otro de ellos.

Idia definitivamente es el menos adecuado y al mismo tiempo el más adecuado para dejar con un bebe. De nuevo, él no tiene problema en dejar suministros o traer cosas para hacer todo más fácil ¿pero interactuar con la beba? No, va a arruinarlo de alguna forma. Él puede interactuar con la beba a través de la pantalla e incluso poner alguna serie de caricaturas que sea buena para ella, pero cuando la ponen en su regazo (en las pocas veces que va a ramshackle) él se congela, pero al mismo tiempo acepta su destino y no se mueve cuando la bebe se duerme (incluso si babea en su sudadera, ni siquiera le gustaba esa de todos modos).

Ortho, bendito sea, es quien suelen relevar para que haga las tareas que nadie quiere hacer cuando cuidan a la beba, básicamente un segundo Jack pero más alegre. Cada vez que la bebe se despierta en medio de la noche, el hace un chequeo general para asegurarse de que todo esté bien. Me imagino que puede calentar manualmente la leche el mismo, o poniendo canciones de cuna cuando la beba no puede dormir, por lo que termina siendo un niñero muy práctico lol.

En conclusión, la beba esta en buenas manos, solo me preocuparía que los chicos no se maten entre si o que Lilia incendie la casa tratando de cocinar algo.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[c4tluver02]

over

wc: 1.8k

summary: Steve is still dealing with the aftermath of Vecna. Leaning on the newfound friendship he has with you might not be the best thing.

warnings: hurt w barely any comfort but nothing too crazy!!

a/n: i could do a pt 2 if you guys are interested in that just lmk :D!!

I look so tame, no blame, no blame. ♫

It had officially been three months since everything that went down with Vecna. The rawness of it all is still fresh in everyone's mind. Dustin is still mourning Eddie, Jonathan and Nancy are having their own issues, Robs trying to heal but also be with Vickie. And Steves…. Well he's fine. He has to be– no one’s at 100% and there's always someone that needs a shoulder to cry on. 

Working at Family Video has been helpful. The consistency and routine was good for him. Along with the distraction of course, it was a thing for him to do instead of stare off into space, his brain reminding him how the bats biting into his skin felt. Mind wandering back to that awful place that took everything from him. The scars that litter his body are finally healing, he's trying a new cream that will hopefully make them fade. 

So when you walked into Family Video asking for help with a movie suggestion he didn't really think much about it. Of course Steve has eyes, he can see how beautiful your smile was, and how you smelt like vanilla– so sweet he could eat you up. But at the end of the day he can't sleep, the nightmares are nightly and if it's not him it's the kids. He has enough on his plate and being there for his family took top priority, they always came before anything, or anyone, else. 

It didn’t mean he couldn't talk to you though, right? It wouldn't hurt to talk to the pretty girl that comes in a few times a month and always asks for his help. You always came in with a smile and laughed at all his jokes. If he wasn't so broken he might actually think your laughs could heal him. And when you both were laughing so hard at something he said and you put your hand on his arm it felt like maybe the scar that lingered there could finally disappear due to how soft your touch was. It was like you could fix anything about him by just being you. A medicine Steve has yet to try. 

-

It was a particularly hard week for Steve. It was only Wednesday and he was already behind in stocking things for the store. Robin called out since she was sick so Steve was on his own. Which after a long time of being with the group he learned was his least favorite thing possibly ever. The thoughts that came to his mind when he was alone were always dark and scary. Never leaving easily and extremely vivid. Steve thinks somehow some God or being heard how bad he was struggling and sent you to come in today. 

The door opened and a bell rang signaling to Steve that he thankfully wasn't alone anymore. Even better it was you. It was a rainy day, perfect match to Steve's mood, and you were wearing a knit sweater with a t- shirt under, paired with dark denim jeans. You looked casual and comfy which weirdly warmed Steve's heart in the best way. 

“Hi.” You say simply with your kind smile. You're here to return your latest movie and pick up another one. 

“Hi. How's your day been?” Steve asks as he scans your movie return. This pattern between you two is becoming simple in nature, like something he could do with his eyes closed. That's how easy it felt. 

“It’s been okay, I just thought a movie on a rainy day would be cozy. How's your day been?” Your head falls to the side as you ask. You look really cute today and it's all Steve can think about. 

“It’s been so boring. Rob's sick so I am all alone here. And I think you're the only person who wants to go out to get a movie on a rainy day.” Steves rambling a bit but how could you blame him he hasn't talked to someone all day, and it's you. 

“Poor Steve.” You coo “I can stick around if you want? It’s so cloudy out I would get so sad seeing it all day.” It’s a leap, even for you. There's a reason you come around paying $6 for a movie every few weeks. Steve may not see it but you're here for him and if you could stay any longer you would in a heartbeat. 

“Oh no it's totally okay you don't have to put your day on hold for me. Despite how it looks, I am actually here to work.” Steve ends it off with a smile. 

“I really don't mind Steve. I wasn't doing anything anyway, if I could spend it hanging with you that would be a day well spent.” You're praying that you are not coming off as clingy.  The last thing you want is to scare him away. He hasn't been the easiest to break down. 

Steve can't help but smile. When he gets home he’ll thank whoever brought you here to him. You do way more for him than you even realize. 

“Okay, then you can't complain about being my helper.” His grin widening. He picks up a stack of DVDs and hands them to you. 

You take them with no complaint, walking close behind him. Steve starts placing them in their correct places and it's a nice comforting silence that falls between you two.  Only a few minutes in the bell on the door rings loudly. Both of you turn your heads to see who it is. Some tall blonde girl who seems to be dressed for the wrong weather. Long tan legs showing under her short spring dress. 

“Hello, welcome to Family Video.” Steve shouts from the area you guys are in before he resumes his task. Steve is in a vest that has his name tag on it. Anyone who saw him could tell he worked there unlike you with a regular outfit on. 

“Excuse me? Could I get your help?” The girl asks, looking directly at Steve. One could even argue looking him up and down. 

Steve places the DVD in his hand back on the stack you're holding and you move out of his way. She leads him to the other side of the store and you're left to stand there. It’s not Steve's fault you're here but you can't help but feel upset that he's over there. She's wasting your precious time with him and from the looks of it he's not complaining about it. Looking over at them Steve’s deep in explaining the plot of the Breakfast club. There's no doubt in your mind that she's not seen this movie, everyones seen this movie! But still she's standing there listening to him like she hasn't. And of course Steve, always up to help, is feeding it to her. 

When he's done he asks her something and she nods, they both walk up to the counter. He checks her out and she writes something on the receipt and slides it back his way. Steve's eyes go wide with surprise and she smiles as she slowly walks out the door. 

Feeling done with just standing there, you walk up to the counter and place the DVDs down. 

“What was that all about?” You ask, trying to sound casual. Completely uninterested.

“She uh, she just needed some help but I guess she liked the bad description of the breakfast club that I gave her.” Steve says laughing with the paper that has her number on it in his hand. 

“You gonna call her?” If he says yes you think you’ll burst into tears right here right now. “I mean she seemed really pretty.” 

The way the tone of your voice lowered on the last few words wasn't missed on Steve. “Nah, not my type. Plus, I'm not, well, I’m not really looking for something right now. I guess?” Now Steve has a weird tone. He doesn’t know why he just said that. Not that it's not somewhat true. 

Your shoulders deflate. You feel like you just got punched over and over. To see some girl throw herself at him and then to learn after all this time he ‘guesses’ he isn't looking for something. Not only does he not want that girl, he doesn't want you or anyone for that matter. The glances, the touches, the inside jokes– all of it thrown out the window.

“Oh, yeah. That um, that makes sense.” You say nodding. Your movements may show that it's normal and everything is okay and you’re ready to go back to helping him. But your mind is moving a million hours per minute and you think maybe you might have a full blown panic attack in front of him. 

“There's just a lot in my personal life right now and, yeah I don't know why I'm explaining it all to you. It’s not like you're the one who asked me out or anything.” Steve quietly laughs as he scratches the back of his neck. 

“No, no yeah I completely get it.” You drum your fingers against the counter. “Relationships can be a lot so yeah.” Your eyes are looking at the ground and you're thinking of how to get out of here. 

As if mother nature heard your thoughts herself, thunder rang through the building and lightning made a quick flash. “I should probably get home before this storm gets bad.” You say looking out the windows that line the walls. 

“Oh, okay. Get home safe then.” Steve murmurs. You aren't looking at him and he doesn’t know how this got so awkward so fast. The idea of sitting here all alone again back in his thoughts. It was as if you were the sun brightening his horrible day.

“I will. Thank you for the DVD.” Your eyes finally meet his when you thank him. He gives you a quick nod with a tight lipped smile and you are out the door. Running to your car as rain pours down on you and somehow you get out of the parking lot even faster. As if you couldn't stand being there a second longer. 

Steve's shoulders slump over and his head falls to his hands. Here he is back all alone, no one to pull him out of whatever he's going through. No one a phone call away for him. And now the one thing that made his weeks a little more bearable is gone. As quick as the lightning that shocked you in the first place. Steve can still hear the little sound made and it makes his heart flutter. All he can do now is think of the last few minutes you were here to figure out where he went wrong, and hope you keep coming back. 

[xmpsrrr]

Second guessing

inspired by the song “Love me not” by Raevyn Laene

(bakugo x reader)

The first time Bakugo said he loved you, it had been reckless.

A shout in the heat of an argument.

You were crying. He was furious. And the words exploded out of him like a grenade.

“I fucking love you, you idiot!”

You had frozen.

He had too.

Neither of you said anything after that.

Not really.

Not about that.

You both pretended it hadn’t happened — like pretending made it easier to breathe.

Like pretending made it real.

But pretending stopped working when the doubts started to creep in — eating you from the inside out.

Tonight, the apartment was too quiet.

You sat outside on the small balcony, the city’s lights bleeding into a thousand blurred stars. Bakugo’s hoodie was draped around you — oversized, heavy, smelling like him. But it didn’t stop the cold creeping under your skin.

You were tired.

Tired of wondering if he really meant it.

Tired of feeling like you were waiting for him to wake up one morning, realize he could do better, and walk away.

You heard the glass door slide open behind you. Heavy boots against the floor.

Bakugo didn’t say anything at first.

Just stood there, watching you.

“You’re freezin’, dumbass,” he muttered eventually, stepping closer. His voice was rough, frustrated — but you heard the thread of concern beneath it.

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t look at him.

The silence stretched thin, painful.

Finally, he dropped down beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him against your side.

“You’re actin’ weird,” he said.

Still, you stayed quiet.

“You mad at me?” His voice was low now. Uncertain.

That was the worst part.

Bakugo Katsuki — who could fight entire armies without flinching — sounded scared to ask.

You shook your head, pulling the hoodie tighter around you. “No. I just…”

The words caught. You forced them out anyway.

“I don’t want you to stay if you don’t want to.”

Bakugo’s whole body tensed beside you.

“The fuck are you talkin’ about?”

You swallowed hard, fighting the burning behind your eyes.

“You don’t have to love me just because you said it once,” you whispered. “You don’t have to pretend.”

There was a sharp intake of breath — like you’d stabbed him.

You finally turned to look at him.

Bakugo’s face wasn’t angry.

It wasn’t annoyed.

It was wrecked.

“You think I’m fakin’ this shit?” he said, voice cracking at the edges. “You think I’d waste my goddamn time?”

You flinched. He saw it. His face crumpled even more.

“Shit. No, I…” He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots like he needed the pain to ground himself. “I’m just—”

He cursed under his breath.

“I ain’t good at this.”

You waited, chest aching, every second stretching endlessly.

Finally, he spoke again. Softer.

Raw.

“When I was a kid,” he said, staring down at his hands, “everybody told me I was gonna be the best. Strongest. Perfect.” He gave a broken laugh. “And I believed ’em. Thought… if I was perfect, nobody could leave me. Nobody could… get tired of me.”

He swallowed thickly. His voice got quieter.

“But they still did. Friends. People I cared about. People who… mattered.”

Your heart twisted painfully. You reached out, your fingers brushing over his knuckles — a silent I’m here.

Bakugo flinched again — but didn’t pull away.

“I got it stuck in my fuckin’ head,” he rasped, “that no matter how strong I got, it wouldn’t be enough. I’d still lose the people I…” His voice broke for real this time. “People I loved.”

You felt your throat close up.

“And then you,” he whispered, shaking his head. “You show up. You see all the shitty parts. The temper. The pride. The fuckin’ ugly, broken pieces — and you stay.”

He finally looked up at you, and god — his eyes. They were red, furious, desperate.

“I don’t know how to trust that.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks before you could stop them.

“You don’t have to be perfect, Katsuki,” you said, voice thick. “You never did.”

He exhaled a broken laugh — part disbelief, part relief.

“I love you,” he said, voice shaking. “Not ’cause I have to. Not ’cause I’m scared. Not ’cause I’m lonely.”

He leaned in, forehead pressing to yours, rough hands cradling your face like you were something precious.

“I love you ’cause you make me wanna be better,” he breathed. “Not for anyone else. For you.”

You clutched his hoodie tight around you, sobbing quietly.

“And I’m scared as fuck,” Bakugo admitted, voice hoarse. “But I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re stuck with me, you hear me?”

You nodded fiercely, unable to speak.

Bakugo kissed you then — fierce, desperate, like he was staking his claim. Like he needed you to believe it.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, tasting the salt of your shared fear, your shared hope.

When you finally pulled back, he was still holding you like he never planned to let go.

“You believe me now, dumbass?” he muttered against your hair.

You laughed through your tears, burying your face in his chest.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I believe you.”

For the first time in a long time, you weren’t second-guessing anything.

hope u guys enjoyed, i love this song.

[esotericangel44]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ possession

fwb!rafe ✗ fwb!reader

synopsis; rafe suddenly grows possessive

nsfw 18+

just minutes ago, you were at the party, shining fake smiles and sipping on an overly strong drink whilst simultaneously trying not to lose it. you’d attended the party with sarah, a close friend of yours, and out of curtesy you found yourself joking with her boyfriends best friend; jj. he was blonde with a suave smirk and a sense of humor you shared.

and now, you here you were, lacy pink underwear at your ankles, skirt bunched up, rafe’s fingers buried deep inside of your dripping cunt, the cold metal of his signet ring hitting your clit and making you jolt out every time it did. tears brimmed in your eyes, your mascara no doubt running down your cheeks.

there was a possession in the way he held you, his grip on your hip tight, almost pinning you down, making sure you wouldn’t slip away. which you wouldn’t. you never would.

“r-rafe,” you choked out, eyes fluttering shut, voice a sob—but not an upset one. “o-oh god, rafe i-“

“nah, nah,” he scoffed, almost spat out the words. “had all that for fucking maybank, but you can’t hold up with me? mm, no. you’re gonna take it baby, take it like the good girl you are.”

his fingers curled inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars. his possessive words made you shiver, sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. you and rafe had only ever been casual, but there was nothing casual about the way he was finger fucking you right now, laying claim like a possessive dog.

you could feel your orgasm approaching, your stomach tightening, your manicured nails digging into rafe’s sleeve. and then, it vanished.

rafe’s fingers pulled out of you just as fast as they’d plunged into you, his stormy eyes locked on yours as he brought his fingers up to his mouth. he sucked them, his movements almost hasty, his cerulean eyes dark.

“what, thought i’d just let you come so fast, sweetheart?” he laughed dark and cruel, hand dipping down to undo his belt, his mirthless smirk widening as he shook his head in a condescending manner.

“tell me who you belong to,” he voice dropped a few octaves, hand ripping off his belt and tossing it aside, then going to shove his pants and boxers down.

“rafe, i-“ you began, voice cracking and hoarse, eyes teary from your denied orgasm.

“fucking say it.”

“you.”

the single word made his eyes almost flicker, his lips parting, and something slow and satisfying spreading over his features.

and then he was in you, his hard, leaking length disappearing between your sopping folds, making you cry out even louder. your hands flew to his back, clawing at his expensive polo, your teeth digging into your lip.

and rafe was right there with you, his jaw slack in low grunts, his tight grip on your hips sure to leave bruises—memories.

“fuck- you’re fuckin’ mine,” he grunted out, burying his face in the crook of your neck, practically panting. he could feel you clench around him with each thrust, the pleasure making his eyes roll back and his hips stutter.

“fuckin’ say it, baby, you’re mine.”

“yours! oh god- rafe,” you cried out, the bed shaking with each thrust, headboard knocking the wall. “all yours!”

and when you both reached your peak, when rafe spilled into you with a low groan, teeth grazing your neck to leave a mark that said, ‘rafe cameron’s property’, he pulled you close, breathing in the scent of sex and whatever perfume you’d carelessly spritzed on.

you caught your breath, feeling the sticky release on your inner thighs, product of the moment you two had just shared. and you plucked the courage to tilt your head up, cheeks still flushed with a post sex haze, eyes a bit glossy.

“rafe.. did- did you mean all of that?”

he let out a small scoff, eyes shut as he instinctively pulled you closer to his body, one hand going down to grip your high and hike it onto his own leg. “course’ i did, baby. you’re mine. don’t want you talkin’ to that loser, may bank—or any guy. okay?”

and for once, you couldn’t find it in you to argue. you just hummed in agreement, burying your nose into his neck and letting him hold you as if someone couldn’t have come in at that very moment.

a/n: HELPP i suck at writing smut..

navigation. masterlist.

© esotericangel44

[hameesstuff]

"Turns Out, It Was You All Along:

Pairing: Johnny x Reader (both members of NCT 127)

Preview: Johnny's ecstatic to be with a girl everyone dreams of, Maddie. He spends weeks getting dating advice from his best friend—only to realize he’s accidentally fallen for her instead. Turns out the girl of his dreams had always been her...

Genre: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, fluff, light angst, humor, soft smut

AU: Idol AU (Reader is NCT 127’s main dancer + visual)

___________________________________________

1. Practice Makes Perfect (Except Love)

Johnny is late.

Again.

You’re in the practice room, stretching after an already long schedule, and the mirrored wall reflects your resigned expression. Your hoodie hangs off one shoulder, and your legs ache from dancing all day, but your brain is screaming about one thing: Johnny and Maddie.

The newest SM trainee-turned-rookie backup dancer, Maddie is bright, blonde, and every bit Johnny’s type—at least from what you’ve gathered over five years of being best friends with the man.

He bounds in, hair tousled, all tall limbs and infectious charm. “Yo! Sorry I’m late. Maddie wanted to grab coffee after rehearsal.”

You nod like it’s fine. Like your stomach isn’t churning.

“You like her,” you say, keeping your tone light, teasing.

Johnny gives that bashful grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I might.”

Knife. To. Heart.

You smile anyway. “Well, lucky for you, you’ve got a professional visual-slash-dating-coach on your team.”

He laughs. “Yeah? You offering to help me out?”

You shrug. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t show up in cargo shorts.”

He groans. “It was one time.”

You roll your eyes. “One time too many, Suh.”

2. Operation Maddie Begins

The next two weeks are hell, if hell wore Gucci cologne and said your name with a smile.

You coach him on his texts (“Don’t send memes this early, Johnny. You’re not in third grade.”), help him pick date spots (“No axe throwing. Jesus, what’s wrong with you?”), and practice conversation cues.

Somewhere in there, you forget that this isn’t a K-drama. There’s no dramatic plot twist where he realizes it’s been you all along. Just him, beaming while showing you a selfie Maddie took with him. Just you, nodding like your heart isn’t falling out of your chest.

3. Tour, Tension, and Tokyo

The next leg of the world tour takes you all over: Seoul, Singapore, Tokyo. You’re sleep-deprived, overstimulated, and emotionally constipated. Johnny spends hours texting Maddie backstage. You spend hours pretending not to notice.

In Tokyo, you find yourself sitting beside him in the hotel lounge, late at night, heads tilted back against the couch.

“She’s great,” he says dreamily. “But sometimes it’s like... she doesn’t really get me, y’know?”

You hum. “That’s because she’s not your best friend who’s cleaned up after your ramen disasters at 3 a.m.”

He laughs. “Yeah. No one’s you.”

You don’t let yourself think about that too hard.

4. Close Calls and Stupid Feelings

The night before the Manila show, Johnny gets sick. Like, actually sick—feverish, voice gone, nose red. You take care of him. You make soup. You miss dance practice for the first time in a year.

“Why are you doing all this?” he croaks.

You tuck him in. “Because someone’s gotta keep your dumbass alive.”

He grabs your wrist, gently. “You’re the best.”

You smile. You want to cry. “Sleep, dummy.”

5. The Moment Things Shift

You’re both backstage after a show, flushed and buzzing from adrenaline. He’s watching you laugh with Doyoung when Maddie pulls him aside and asks—asks—if he’s still into her, because lately, he’s been... distracted.

He says he doesn’t know.

Later, that night, you find him staring at his phone, confused.

“What’s up?”

“She said I look happier when I’m with you.”

You freeze.

“And maybe she’s right,” he adds softly.

You pretend your heart isn’t doing cartwheels.

6. Distance

Maddie pulls away. Johnny doesn’t chase her.

He hangs out with you more, but something’s off. He stares longer. Lingers near you in rehearsals. Texts you dumb TikToks and then stares at your reaction like it’s the only thing keeping him breathing.

You pretend not to notice.

Until you can’t.

7. “Only You”

The hotel room is dim and quiet, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting a warm halo over the room. Outside, the hum of nighttime Tokyo is muffled by thick windows. Inside, everything is still—except your heart.

Johnny hasn’t said anything in a full minute. He’s just standing there, in his oversized hoodie, hair damp from a quick shower after the concert, fingers flexing at his sides like he’s working up the nerve to jump.

Then he does.

“I ended things with Maddie,” he says, voice low, eyes locked on you.

You’re curled up on the edge of the bed, still in your hoodie and shorts from after the show, makeup wiped away, skin soft with cleanser and sleep trying to settle in. You blink at him, heart skipping.

“What?” you ask quietly.

He walks over, slow, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. Sits down next to you, close but not touching. His profile is lit gold, jaw tense, hands clasped in his lap.

“I think I was trying to distract myself,” he says. “With her. With dating. With anyone who wasn’t you.”

You draw in a shaky breath. “Johnny—”

“I couldn’t admit it to myself. That I was in love with my best friend. It felt... impossible. Too important to risk. But the truth is—” He finally turns to face you, eyes glassy. “I’m already in love with you. I’ve been in love with you.”

Your throat goes tight.

He reaches out, slowly, and brushes your hair behind your ear. His touch is featherlight, reverent.

“You’ve always been there. For the good. The worst. The weird. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I started looking for you in everyone else. And no one came close.”

You blink away tears, chest aching. “You really mean that?”

“I do,” he whispers. “I don’t want anyone else. I just want you.”

You lean in first, because he deserves that. Your lips meet his in a kiss that’s not urgent or needy—just soft. A gentle yes drawn from years of unspoken love.

He kisses you back like he’s afraid to break the moment. Like you’re precious. Like he’s holding something sacred.

When he lifts your hoodie over your head, it’s with reverence. His fingers trail across your skin like he’s memorizing it—like he’s writing sonnets into your collarbones with every brush of his hand.

“You’re beautiful,” he says softly, lips ghosting your jaw.

“Johnny—” You exhale his name, breath catching. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he says, eyes dark with love, not lust. “I just want to be with you. Every way.”

The way he undresses you is slow, careful. Between each kiss, he checks your eyes, your breath, your hands. He lets you undress him too, smiling softly when your fingers tremble.

You end up tangled in white hotel sheets, skin against skin, limbs curved into each other like you’ve always belonged this way.

He whispers your name like it’s prayer. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs. “Tell me if you need me to slow down.”

“I’m okay,” you whisper, voice thick. “I’m just... so full of you.”

He kisses you again, and when he finally, gently slides into you, it feels like a heartbeat locking into rhythm. Like this is what all the years of friendship were building toward.

His thrusts are slow and deep, his hands holding your waist like you might float away. He kisses your forehead, your cheek, your temple. He murmurs I love you again and again, almost in disbelief.

You hold him close, hands in his hair, legs tangled around his waist.

And when you both finally fall over the edge together, it’s quiet, trembling, overwhelming. He presses his forehead to yours, breathing heavily, heart pounding against your chest.

“You’re it for me,” he whispers, voice cracking. “You’re everything.”

You cradle his face, tears in your eyes. “And you’re mine.”

After

You stay like that for a long time—wrapped up in each other, your head on his chest, his hand stroking lazy circles into your back.

There’s no awkwardness. No fear. Just comfort. And love.

“Can I stay like this forever?” he mumbles sleepily.

“You’d better,” you say, half teasing, half completely serious.

He kisses the top of your head, breath warm against your hair. “Then forever it is.”

The End.

Feedback is welcome :)

___________________________________________

[deangirlsstuff67]

Oops… Wrong Number- Part 2

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Who knew texting the wrong number could be so much fun !

Warnings: Fluffy Jensen, drinking, sexual build up slightly

Authors Note: I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Short but sweet!

Catch up here.

—————————————————————————

“I’m sorry, you accidentally text who?!”

It had been a solid week since you mistakenly saved your best friends number wrong in your phone. Later that night you had Facebook messaged her asking for it again. After talking with her and Jensen for a week straight you made the decision to go visit Texas.

Not like you had a reason to stay in a city where you know barely anyone. You’re a writer, you can do your job anywhere which is nice.

Change of scenery might be everything you need.

So here you sit, on her back porch sharing a beer and catching up with her. Just like old times. She has always been your person, the one you call when things are good or when they are completely falling apart. Y/f/n has always been supportive, but it doesn't come without her own opinions and thoughts being laced into it.

You're an adult and she respects that, I am however famous for making dumbass choices in life... especially my love life.

“Caught me completely off guard. Out of all the numbers, his was the one I typed in instead of yours.” Shaking your head, you still don’t believe it. You’ve never been close to that lucky before.

What she doesn't know is that you are still talking to Jensen. While you want to do nothing more than brag about talking to your celebrity crush or tell her how he can always make you smile or laugh when you want to cry, you neither want to lose his trust and you don't think she would approve of the age difference in anyway.

You've kind of been the girl who goes for the older men. They haven't worked out obviously, Jensen happens to be the oldest man you've ever showed interest in. Though until a week ago you never did think you'd get the chance to meet him, let alone text him, yet here you are.

Man my life is fucking weird.

She goes back inside mumbling to herself about how she needs some of my luck. You softly chuckle staring out into the big beautiful Texan sky.

Ding.

Jensen: Did you land safely sweetheart?

Naturally the smile spreads across your face as you read his message. It's cute that he checks in on you. You are a no body in his world, literally a woman who accidently text him one night. Somehow, and you aren't sure how, you both have gotten comfortable exchanging messages daily and just talking about everyday life.

Jensen has slowly borrowed his way into your heart. You wouldn't even say it was in a romantic way. Would you love a chance to have this beautiful man take you out and sweep you off your feet, well duh! Who the hell wouldn't. It goes deeper than that though. He has become a good friend. Someone who you want to talk to and tell the most boring daily details.

There isn't many people in my life that I feel that strongely towards.

Me: I did. Enjoying a beer on her back deck absorbing what Austin has to offer.

Jensen: Seriously? Austin?

Me: Yeah I know right. This getting creepy for you yet?

Jensen: Haha no it hasn't Darling. I'm actually kind of excitied about it.

Me: Oh really? Do tell please.

Jensen: Oh I don't know I have this beautiful woman who I enjoy talking to visiting the wonderful city I live in and I happen to be home for the summer. I don't know about you but this sounds like an opportunity ;)

Me: She sounds pretty amazing, you're pretty lucky!

Jensen: Smartass

Your friend comes back out with a fresh beer for you both, sitting down beside you again. Neither of you speak, enjoying the silence and beauty in front of you.

Me: Yes I am! Stick around, it gets worse honey.

Jensen: I like it. So what are you ladies going to do tonight?

Me: Nothing special. Staying in, she has to work tomorrow. I'll be on my own adventuring I guess.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night went on, you watched the sun set over the hills behind her house. Eventually she wondered to bed after a night of laughs, smiles, and hearing how her first week has been with work and living in a new state.

Between her and Jensen, the urge to move to this amazing place is getting worse by the minute.

Jensen: So you are all alone now?

Me: Kind of, she's in bed for the night. I am still running on the high of being here. Once upon a time I wanted to live here... still kind of do.

Jensen: Why didn't you?

Me: Life got in the way and took me in a different direction at the time.

Jensen: That ex who left you for his best friend?

Me: Life's a bitch I guess.

Jensen: Nah sweetheart, life is wonderful and full of surprises and adventures, look at you and I. That was nothing short of both a surprise and an adventure. Your ex boyfriend is a bitch.

Me: Won't hear me agrue that point. Can I ask something that might freak you out?

Jensen: Sure... I'm scared.

You take a huge sip of your beer before you ask your question. Liqour courage for the win.

Me: There is like a 12 year age difference between you and I.

Jensen: That's more of a statement than a question darling.

Me: Now who's the smartass?

Jensen: Guilty! Stick around sweetheart, I get better ;)

Shaking your head as you read the words you voiced to him already. Those three dots appear again.

Jensen: To answer what I'm guessing is your question, no I don't have a problem with it. I enjoy your company and considering you are still texting my old ass I'm guessing you enjoy mine. In the end that's all that matters.

Me: Oh did I forget to tell you, your mom is paying me to be your friend Jay ;)

Jensen: Keep it up and I'll have find other ways to occupy that mouth sweetheart.

Me: Haha bring it on old man.

Jensen: Brat.

Me: Me? No.

Jensen: Jesus christ woman. Does it bother you?

Me: Being a brat, no I like it alot actually ;)

Jensen: I'm warning you!

Me: Gotta find me first handsome hehe.

Me: No, it doesn't bother me. You're my type actually.

Jensen: Oh?

Me: Green eyes, tall, texan, southern drawl, can act, can sing, plays guitar, and legs meant to be wrapped around a horse... yeah definitely my type.

Jensen: And the age thing?

Me: Is perfect. I'm off to bed though honey. Talk tomorrow?

Jensen: Of course! Good night sweetheart.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist:

@deansimpalababy @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @nancymcl @tspmoff @kimxwinchester @maggiegirl17 @mostlymarvelgirl @idontwannabehere78 @neii3n @leigh70 @multiversefanfics @spnaquakindgdom @lessons-of-red @yvonneeeee @syrma-sensei @foxyjwls007 @senjoritanana @jamerlynn @supershygirl @impala67rollingthroughtown @justwhisperingfantasies @barnes70stark

[sandwitchstories]

I've had some struggles with writing lately bc of life in general but I managed to put some words on paper and wanted to share them with y'all! I MAY turn this into a new series, haven't decided but for now I give you ...

Girl Dad Kyojuro Rengoku HCs:

Kyojuro Rengoku is MADE to be a girl dad.

Things he will never forget:

The birth of his precious Little Bit (he came up with her nickname, because she is a little bit of him and a little bit of you.)

Watching you cry tears of joy as you held your daughter for the first time, looking up with so much love and joy on your face that it took his breath away.

Seeing his hair color and his eyes color on a little girl who otherwise was already a carbon copy of you

Seeing his father's face as he held his granddaughter for the first time

Watching you laugh and tease his father about how Little Bit is indeed a girl with the Rengoku features (less the eyebrows, they seem to be shaped more like yours), both things your father in law was adamant had never and would never happen.

The look on Senjuro's face when it was his turn to hold his niece. Kyojuro had wrapped his arm around the younger man crying with joy. He was reminded of himself when Senjuro was born. Pure elation and whispered promises to always protect her and love her and of all the things he was going to teach her. Senjuro was going to be the best uncle ever.

Watching you feed her is/was such a beautiful thing. You absolutely glowed as a mother. He had never been more attracted to you and continued to fall more in love with you every single day, just as he had done since the day you met years ago, but even more deeply than before.

Watching his Little Bit sleep and the feel of her sleeping in his arms. He would hold his daughter as often and for as long as she let him. Truly there was nothing more soothing than a baby sleeping on your chest.

Her first smile, and it was for him coming home from work!

Her first steps, which she took with a giant drooling smile and her little chubby hands outstretch, trying so hard to wobble to him on her own

Hearing her say "Puh" in her first attempt to say his name, another huge smile on her face and chubby hands gripping his face.

Some HCs from when Little Bit is toddler+

He is the type of father who would not bat an eyelash at letting his daughter put barrettes and other such things in his hair. He will even leave them in until bed time.

She wants to paint his nails? He’s responding by asking if she can do his toenails too so they match?

His little princess wants him to dress up as Elsa too when they are playing? He’s already on the internet searching for one in his size with overnight shipping.

He will drop literally anything he is doing if she asks him to dance

He loves to let her stand on his feet and hold his hand when she asks him to dance with her

She declared him as the official bedtime story teller because he does different voices for different characters

He loves trying new foods and always shares them with her

Daddy daughter dance routine at ballet class? They are practicing after dinner every night and the day of the performance he reminds you at least hourly to pick up flowers for her as he won’t have anywhere to hide them for while he is in the performance.

Dads, Daughters and Donuts at her school? He loves donuts! Does she want him to wear a certain tie for it?

Take your kid to work day - His students are overjoyed to finally get to meet the little girl he talks so much about. They all feel like they already know her because he talks about her so much and they melt at the sight of the two of them together. 

[moonstruckme]

Hello ! I hope you are okay, I have 2 Idea for the new girl/who's that girl au, so i'm sharing it with you ! First idea : she locked herself out of the flat (closed the door and left the key inside, so she is just here waiting for one of the guys to come home and hoppen the door. Second idea : she found a dog (a border collie , yeah it is clearly inspired from something that happened to me x))and she bring the dog home while she try to contact the owner. Or you can put the two idea together and she is locked outside her appartment with a stranger's dog. Thank you for reading my request , have a good day ^^

Thanks for your request angel! I did start to use both of these, but then I had an idea and the second one ended up somewhat altered haha, hope you still like it <3

cw: modern au

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You’re slurping up the last of your iced latte when the door to your flat opens. 

“Oh.” Remus stops short at the sight of you sitting cross-legged on the floor of the hall. “Hello.” 

“Hi,” you say cheerily, careful not to jostle the pocket of your hoodie too much as you stand. You pat Remus’ shoulder as you go past him. “Thanks.” 

He had clearly been on his way out, but at your entrance he circles back inside the flat. “Have you been out there long?” 

“No.” You dump your empty cup in the trash. Your pastry’s gone cold, but you think it might still be good microwaved. “Just forgot my key, figured one of you had to go in or out eventually.” 

Remus tracks your movements with his eyes, taking another few steps in from the open doorway. “Why didn’t you knock?” 

“Didn’t want to wake anyone.” 

Your flatmate makes a sound you’re becoming familiar with from him, a sigh mixed with a laugh. Bafflement meets amusement meets exasperation. “You don’t need to worry about that. Please don’t, actually. James is out on his run, but I’ve been up for an hour. And whatever he tells you, Sirius doesn’t actually need to sleep until the afternoon.” 

You grin at him as you set your pastry in the microwave. The way the boys tease each other is immensely endearing to you, but you don’t feel familiar enough yet to partake yourself. And you certainly know better than to mess with Sirius’ sleep. 

When the loud beeps from pressing the microwave buttons makes you wince, Remus gives you a wry look. 

You shrug in response. The movement causes the slumbering creature in your hoodie pocket to stir. You cup your hand over it instinctively. 

“What do you have there?” asks Remus. 

“Uh…” You imagine you look very sheepish right about now. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to make us keep it.” 

His eyes narrow. Your pocket wiggles. “Why? What is it?” 

You reach inside the pocket of your hoodie the way a criminal suspect might reach for their weapon at gunpoint; slow, careful, showing you have nothing to hide. What you pull out is gray and striped and so small it nearly fits in the palm of your hand. 

“I found him outside,” you say. “Isn’t he cute? I couldn’t just leave him.” 

You didn’t imagine your flatmates would be thrilled about adding a fifth occupant to your living situation. You figured you’d probably have the best luck with James, but you’ve got your spiel all ready—how you’ll keep him in your room, only temporarily, just until you can find his owner. They have to live in the building, right? He was only just outside. But Remus does something you didn’t anticipate; he melts. 

“Oh,” he breathes, voice softening to a near whisper as he bends to see the tabby kitten currently cupped in your hands. “You found him by himself?” 

“I didn’t see any other cats around,” you say. You stroke your thumb down the kitten’s side. It leans into the touch sleepily. “And he was crying. You should have heard it, it’d break your heart.” 

“I’m sure. Hi, darling,” Remus murmurs, that lilt of his suddenly more prominent than ever as he scratches the kitten’s tiny head. “Hello. Were you making a fuss to get softhearted girls to bring you inside, hm?” 

You find your face warming for reasons you can’t discern. “It was a very convincing ploy.” 

“Mm, I can see that.” Remus pets behind your new friend’s ears, stooped so low he’s nearly at eye level with the tabby. His expression is all soft fondness, eyes warm and the hint of a smile ticking up his mouth. You catch yourself admiring the freckles that smatter across his cheekbones. “Are you sure there weren’t any others like him around?” 

“Not that I saw. Why?” 

“Well, there’s—” 

The microwave goes off. You react like it’s a bomb detonating, the beeping shattering your bubble of quiet and causing you to stiffen your back abruptly. Remus straightens back up, too, chuckling. He sets a pacifying hand on your head, and you relax some. This is his way of conveying affection, you’ve learned; James is incredibly liberal with it, Sirius slips it in through teasing and jibes, and Remus lays his palm atop your head like you’re a cat in need of calming. It makes you feel a bit like you’re glowing when he does it. No wonder you felt so drawn to your homeless little friend. 

You smile at him, sheepish, but you both turn when you hear the loud groan from down the hall. Sirius’ door opens. 

“Could we please stop setting off alarms and whatever the fuck before the bloody sun has come up?” he fumes, trudging down the hall. 

You look out the window, perplexed. The sun is well and high. 

But Sirius has stopped in his tracks. His eyes are fused to the kitten in your hands. “What is that doing here?” 

“I found him outside,” you say, holding him up for Sirius to see. “He’s sweet, don’t worry.” 

Your flatmate takes a step back like the creature might leap at him. “Remus—” 

“I know,” Remus sighs. “I was about to tell her.” 

You frown, bringing the kitten close to your chest. “Tell me what?” 

“That thing is fucking wild.” Sirius glares. 

“No, he isn’t,” you defend him. “He’s super friendly. He loves being pet.” 

“Nope.” Sirius shakes his head. “He comes from a twat mum, who had a bunch of twat spawn, and now they’re infiltrating our flat. It’s a fucking plot, is what it is.” He jabs a finger towards your chest, and the kitten hisses. Sirius reels back. “See?” 

“He does seem like a housecat, but there’s a colony of strays in the alley next to us,” Remus explains more gently. “One of the girls had babies before they could catch her to spay, and they all look a lot like this one.” 

“But…” You look down at the kitten nearly falling asleep again on your chest. “...he’s being so cuddly.” 

“It is strange,” Remus agrees. “Maybe he just really likes you.” 

“Um, hello.” James spreads his arms as he walks inside, sweaty and in his absurdly short running shorts. They make you stifle a laugh every time. “We’re just leaving the door open now? Is this some new attempt at being neighborly?” He, too, pauses once he sees what you have in your hands. “Oh, you’ve found one of Mrs. Norris’ kittens.” 

Sirius shudders, seemingly just at the mention of the name. “She’s brought it inside.” 

“I can see that.” James’ head cocks interestedly as he comes over. “Why?” 

“I didn’t know he had a family,” you explain dejectedly. 

“It’s good that he does, though,” says Remus, touching your elbow kindly, “isn’t it?” 

You sigh. “Yeah.” 

“And now that we know,” Sirius says emphatically, “banish it from whence it came.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “Weren’t you sleeping?” 

“I was.”

“I can see why you didn’t recognize him as a stray.” James is rubbing underneath the tabby’s chin while it preens. “He hardly seems feral at all.” 

You hum. Taking the kitten from your chest, you hold him out towards Sirius experimentally. He hisses; Sirius scowls back. 

“Seems like it’s just you,” you deduce. 

“It is not.” Sirius crosses his arms. “That thing is evil.” 

James takes the kitten from you. It goes willingly into his arms. “Definitely just you, mate.” 

[ujuinluv]

found in the in-between (k) — nav

synopsis — one fall, one glance, and suddenly, the world reshapes itself around him.

you meet him on a thursday.

it’s not special—just another exhausting day of class and part-time work, the city blurring past you as you trudge home. you’re juggling your bag, your umbrella, and a bag of groceries when the heel of your boot catches on the curb and everything flies out of your hands.

you swear under your breath, dropping to your knees, trying to gather your apples before they roll into the gutter. that’s when another hand appears, steady and sure, scooping up your runaway fruit.

“careful,” a voice says, laughing softly.

you look up and see him.

he’s tall, with hair pushed back in a beanie and a sweatshirt a little too big for his frame. there’s something effortless about him, like he belongs to the world in a way you never have. but right now he’s crouched on the sidewalk, grinning at you like you’re the only interesting thing in the whole city.

you mumble a thank you, trying not to sound breathless. you reach for the apples he’s holding out to you, but he doesn’t let go right away.

“you okay?” he asks, eyes crinkling at the corners.

you nod, cheeks burning.

“good,” he says. “i was worried the apples were the real victims here.”

you laugh before you can stop yourself. it’s an awkward, startled sound, but he seems pleased.

“i’m yudai,” he says, standing and brushing off his jeans.

"y/n," you say and he repeats it under his breath like he wants to memorize it.

he ends up walking you to your building, groceries safely tucked under his arm. you don’t know why you let him—you should be more cautious—but something about him feels easy, trustworthy.

you part ways at the front door, but not before he asks if he can see you again.

you say yes. you don’t even hesitate.

your first “official” meeting is at a tiny art museum hidden between two office buildings. you didn’t know it existed until yudai texted you the location with a simple trust me.

you find him waiting by the entrance, hands shoved deep into his pockets, bouncing slightly on his heels like he can’t stand still. when he sees you, his face lights up like you’re the person he’s been waiting for his whole life.

he pays for your ticket without asking and leads you through the galleries like he’s been here a thousand times before. he stops at a huge canvas splattered with chaotic colors and stares at it thoughtfully.

“what do you see?” yudai asks you.

you tilt your head, squinting. “a mess.”

he laughs. “me too. but sometimes a mess is beautiful, right?”

you look at him then, the way his hair falls into his eyes, the way his head is tilted slightly.

yeah, you think. sometimes a mess is the best thing you’ll ever find.

you spend the afternoon like that, wandering from painting to painting, making up ridiculous backstories for the portraits, arguing over which sculptures look like they belong on an alien planet.

at some point, your hand brushes against his.

and then, like magnets, your fingers tangle together.

he doesn’t look at you. he just holds your hand tighter.

after that, you see him all the time.

sometimes he shows up outside your building with takeout and a grin.

sometimes he texts you a single word—coffee?—and you find yourself running down the street to meet him.

sometimes you don’t go anywhere at all. sometimes you sit on your floor, surrounded by empty snack wrappers, watching stupid tiktoks until you’re both laughing too hard to breathe.

you find out little things about him.

he loves tteokbokki.

he's athletic, but his dream is to be a singer.

he hums under his breath when he’s thinking, soft and almost tuneless.

you tell him little things too.

how you secretly like sad songs even though they make you cry.

how you used to dream of being a singer, too, but soon you realized your passion elsewhere.

how sometimes, when the world feels too heavy, you just want someone to sit with you and say nothing at all.

he listens like every word matters.

like you matter.

one night, months after that first clumsy meeting, you’re sitting on the rooftop of his apartment building.

it’s freezing cold, but neither of you cares. you’re wrapped in one giant blanket, huddled close enough that you can feel his heartbeat.

the city sprawls out below you, glittering and alive.

“i used to be scared of big cities,” you admit, your breath forming little clouds in the air.

“why?” yudai asks, voice low.

“too many people,” you say. “too easy to get lost.”

he’s quiet for a long moment. then he turns to you, his nose almost brushing yours.

“but getting lost led you here,” he says softly.

you don’t know who moves first—maybe it’s both of you—but suddenly he’s kissing you.

it’s gentle at first, like he’s asking permission.

then it’s deeper, like he’s been waiting for this as long as you have.

his hands are in your hair, and yours are clutching the front of his hoodie, and the city blurs into nothing because all you can feel is him.

when you finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing hard.

“you scare me,” he admits, voice trembling.

you pull back slightly, startled.

“why?”

he smiles, small and broken and beautiful. “because i didn’t know it could feel like this. like… like i belong somewhere. like i belong with someone.”

you reach for his hand and squeeze it tightly.

“you do,” you whisper. “you do with me.”

yudai kisses you again, slower this time, like a promise.

days turn into weeks. winter melts into spring.

you and yudai build something small and quiet and strong—inside jokes whispered in crowded rooms, soft kisses on street corners, fingers intertwined beneath tables.

you argue sometimes—about stupid things, like whose turn it is to pick a movie or whether the fan should be on or off when one of you sleeps over. you argue sometimes about serious things—like yudai overworking himself or you distancing yourself when your mindset gets rougher—but you always manage to talk it through.

you fall in love without even realizing it.

you fall in love like breathing.

one afternoon, you find yourself lying on his couch, head in his lap, while he absentmindedly braids tiny sections of your hair.

he looks down at you and smiles, slow and dazzling.

“you’re my favorite adventure,” he says.

you laugh, batting at his hand. “that’s so cheesy.”

“yeah,” he agrees, grinning. “but it’s true.”

and you believe him.

because somewhere between spilled apples and stolen kisses, between rainstorms and rooftops, you stopped being scared of getting lost.

because with yudai, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

summer sneaks up on you.

one minute you’re tugging sweaters over your head and blowing on your frozen hands, and the next you’re lying on a blanket at the park, the sun painting everything gold.

yudai is stretched out beside you, one arm thrown lazily over his eyes to block the light. he’s humming again—something soft, something familiar—and you realize it's the same song he always hums when he's around you.

your heart feels too big for your chest.

you roll onto your side and poke his cheek until he peeks at you, pretending to be annoyed.

“what?” he grumbles, but he’s smiling.

“i was thinking,” you say, voice playful.

he raises an eyebrow. “dangerous.”

you laugh and poke him again.

“i was thinking,” you continue, “that you’re stuck with me now.”

yudai pushes himself up onto his elbows, looking at you with a seriousness that steals the air from your lungs.

“i’m not stuck,” he says. “i chose this. i chose you.”

you open your mouth to reply, but he’s already leaning in, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss so soft it feels like a secret.

and you know, in the center of your bones, that he’s not going anywhere.

not today.

not tomorrow.

not ever.

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[hoezei]

┃wrong number

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: you didn’t mean to call him. not after three years, not after everything you did. but your fingers trembled, your vision blurred, and instead of the agency’s emergency line, you dialed his number — the one you swore you forgot. mark lee picks up, and the line goes quiet. all that breathless silence between you crackles like a live wire. once, he was your partner — in missions and in bed, in blood and betrayal. you left him behind with a bullet in his leg and your name in his mouth. he never came after you. now? now that he knows you're still alive, hunted, and bleeding out on a dirty bathroom floor? oh, he’s coming. and when he finds you, it’s not to save you — it’s to ruin you. but.. who's he?

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: suggestive, rough handling, semi-toxic power imbalance, choking (consensual), manipulation, violence, weapon use (guns/knives), betrayal, heavy cursing, and reader & mark both have blood on their hands :// also, i feel like im missing a tw here because ts aint proofread yet, and tbh everything happens so fast lmao. i tried my best to explain everything yes. proceed with caution, and sorry if its all over the place lol !!!! read with care.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: mark lee × female reader 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: dark romance, thriller, angst, suggestive

it started before the click. before the wrong number. before the dried blood and hotel silence. before mark lee ever whispered her name into the dark. it started in a city no one remembers. a place carved from ash and gunmetal, where children stopped being children the second their fathers died with secrets on their tongues.

she was born to shadows. a daughter of informants. her mother dead by eight. her father dragged into an alley at ten. they didn’t even bother to clean up the mess — just left the blood to dry like paint against the concrete. she watched. she learned. she did not cry.

by twelve, she was fluent in silence.

by fifteen, she was fluent in killing.

the syndicate took her in. not with open arms — no, they didn’t believe in softness. they believed in purpose. utility. obedience. she gave them all three. and in return, they gave her everything she’d need to disappear: new names. new passports. new reasons to keep her hands steady and her heart shut tight. she was efficient. untraceable. a ghost in red lipstick. a nightmare dressed in skin.

she didn't believe in love. not really. not until him. mark lee wasn’t supposed to be in the field. he was a comms guy. sharp. clean. too good for blood. the kind of man who should’ve stayed behind the glass — watching screens, not bodies drop. but command liked to shuffle the pieces. and sometimes, the pretty ones made the best bait.

he saw her first.

through the cracked lens of a surveillance drone. she was walking through an abandoned warehouse with a gun on her hip like it belonged there. like it was part of her. he knew, even before she looked up, even before she shot the camera dead: this wasn’t just another name on a file. this was something else.

when they finally met, it wasn’t clean.

she had a blade to his throat before he got her name. and all he could say — breathless, heart hammering, stupidly impressed — was:

“god, you’re beautiful.”

she should’ve killed him. instead, she let him live.

worse: she let him in.

they spent the next year in liminal spaces. safehouses. rooftops. after-hours bars with no names. always on the run, always hunting or hunted. and somewhere in the middle of it all, he made her laugh. just once. it was a sound she didn’t recognize at first. too warm. too soft. too alive.

mark gave her something she didn’t know she could have: choice. he let her be a person. let her touch joy with her fingers without fear of losing them. when he kissed her, it wasn’t desperate. it was real. and that’s why she had to leave.

because the second you believe you deserve happiness, that’s when they take it away. she knew the pattern. had watched it play out again and again. she wouldn’t give the world the pleasure of ripping him from her arms. so she left first. quiet. calculated. cruel. but oh, did it hurt.

mark’s world broke.

not with a bang. not with betrayal. but with the absence of her — the silence of it. the empty side of the bed. the unfinished sentence. the scent of her still clinging to his jacket. he searched for her, of course. hacked systems. called in favors. chased every ghost that looked remotely like her shadow. but she was gone. and worse, he never stopped loving her.

then came the call.

a number that shouldn’t exist anymore. a voice that belonged to every one of his dreams and nightmares. “it’s me,” she said. and like a storm, he came.

the motel reeked of blood and rain. she looked like a wound in human form. hollow-eyed. feral. beautiful in that unholy way she’d always been. “you look like shit,” she told him. “so do you.”

and then silence. but not for long. the bed groaned under the weight of their ghosts. she let him touch her like she was a memory. his hands were cruel — not from hate, but from how badly he’d missed her. fingers at her throat. mouth at her shoulder. she moaned when he bit her collarbone, not out of pain, but because it meant he still knew her. still wanted her ruined and raw.

“you left me,” he whispered against her ribs.

“i had to.”

“no, you chose to.”

he tore her shirt in half. dragged his palm between her thighs and growled at how wet she already was.

“you want me?”

a nod.

“say it.”

“i want you.”

“say it like you mean it.”

“fuck, mark, i want you — i need you.”

he didn’t ease in. he claimed. one thrust. then another. a rhythm as brutal as it was familiar. her nails raked down his back, her legs locked tight around his waist, and his name fell from her lips like it belonged there. every sound she made told him she was still his, no matter how far she’d run.

he made her come once with his fingers, twice with his mouth, and then a third time with nothing but a look — lips swollen, hair ruined, and that grin that only ever came out after he’d broken her open.

the morning came with a gun click. the kind that started wars.

“they’re close,” mark said, strapping a vest to his chest. “ten minutes, maybe less.” she sat up, neck sore, thighs aching, mouth dry. “then we run.” he paused.

“together?” she met his gaze. didn’t blink. “you think i came back just to leave again?” he smirked. something dark flickered in his eyes.

“you better not.” they left through the back, guns drawn, hearts unsteady. but behind them, a laser blinked red against the motel wall. mark’s breath came ragged. her hand was still slick in his. they hadn’t let go since the motel.

this was their reality. one that neither mark nor she had wanted, yet here they were, running for their lives through streets that had become their battleground. the distant hum of engines and the echo of boots pounding against concrete felt like an alarm blaring through the city’s quiet skin. they couldn’t stop. they couldn’t rest.

every corner they turned was another gamble, another test of how far they could push the limits of their bodies and instincts. mark’s breath was labored as he pulled her along, never letting go of her hand, never once slowing down. her heart was racing — panic blending with something more primal. she knew they couldn’t outrun the past forever.

but that’s what they’d been doing, wasn’t it?

the past had come crashing down on them when they least expected it. when everything seemed to be quiet, when they thought they’d made it out clean, it found them. and now, their blood was on the line. there was nowhere to hide, no escape route they hadn’t already burned.

“i can’t keep running forever,” she muttered, glancing over her shoulder. she didn’t want to, but the tension gnawing at her was unbearable. every street felt like a dead end.

mark’s jaw clenched, but there was no softness in his gaze. “we don’t have a choice.”

they ducked down an alley, trying to catch their breath. but just as she was about to ask him what their next move was, a sharp crack split the air. the sound of a sniper’s bullet slicing through the air was unmistakable. shit.

“down!” mark shouted, grabbing her by the waist and throwing her to the ground. the shot missed, but it was close. too close.

they scrambled to their feet, but mark was already scanning their surroundings. the cold, calculating look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. they were cornered. and the person who had been hunting them for days was getting closer.

the sniper wasn’t the real danger, though. no. it was the man who stood in the shadows, behind all of this — the man who had never truly been out of their lives. he was watching. always had been.

her stomach dropped as she realized just who the sniper’s target was. they weren’t just running from enemies — they were running from the past, from someone who had once been their brother.

the tension thickened, and then — there he was. a figure stepping out of the darkness. tall, imposing, with a grin that sent a chill down her spine.

“long time, no see,” his voice was smooth, yet taunting. familiar. but the familiarity didn’t bring comfort. it brought dread.

mark froze. his entire posture stiffened. “no,” he whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief. “you—you’re supposed to be—”

“gone?” the figure chuckled darkly. “yeah. that was the idea.”

her eyes narrowed, heart hammering against her ribs. she knew this face. she had known it, once upon a time, in a life that seemed so far away. but it was still here, like a shadow lingering at the edge of her thoughts, creeping in when she least expected it.

and then, that feeling — jealousy, envy, whatever it was, twisted in her gut. she knew why he was here. she knew what he wanted.

the man, the traitor who had turned his back on them without a second thought, now stood in front of them like nothing had ever happened. he was the same, but not. there was something colder in his eyes now, something sharper, more dangerous.

“mark,” the man — haechan — murmured, almost like a warning. “it’s not just business anymore. this is personal.”

mark’s grip on his gun tightened. he wanted to move, wanted to act, but something was holding him back — her. she was shaking her head, unable to comprehend what was unfolding right in front of them.

“this is insane,” she thought, her chest tight with panic. why is he here? after everything — he’s still here?

mark looked as if he was about to speak, but the words didn’t come. she could feel his heart racing beside her, his tension mirroring her own. the man who had been their friend, their brother... no, the one who had become something else, was standing in front of them, like nothing had ever happened.

she blinked, forcing herself to focus. we can’t die like this. not like this.

“you’re not the same,” mark finally said, his voice breaking through the silence like a whip. his fingers gripped his weapon, his gaze unwavering.

haechan tilted his head, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. “you’re the one who’s changed. i’m just here to remind you of who you used to be.”

her breath hitched. who we used to be?

it hit her, the weight of his words. the man who had always been a part of their lives — the one who had always been so close, so familiar — was now the one hunting them down. it wasn’t just the business that had turned him. It was his obsession, his jealousy, his deep-rooted envy.

and she realized, just then, that the man standing in front of them wasn’t just after their lives. he was after something more. he wanted control. he wanted to prove that he could break them. he always had been able to break me, she thought, her chest aching. he’s still the one who can ruin us.

mark’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “what do you want from us, haechan?”

the laughter that followed was low, cold. “everything.”

her pulse quickened, her mind racing with all the ways this could end — none of them good. none of them with a future. it was over.

she looked at mark, seeing the desperation in his eyes. she wanted to tell him something — anything — something to make him understand, but the words caught in her throat. how could she explain to him that the man they’d once known was long gone? he’s not the same, she thought, her hand shaking as she held on to mark. he’s just as broken as we are.

before she could process it any further, haechan’s hand moved, pulling out a gun, and the sound of the shot ringing in the air split the tension. she didn’t even realize she had pulled the trigger until the bullet had already found its target. but even that didn’t stop him. haechan only smiled.

“nice shot,” he said, the blood soaking through his shirt, but there was no sign of pain. “but that won’t save you.”

mark jerked her away, dragging her into the shadows. they were running again, but the footsteps behind them were growing louder. the sound of pursuit, the sound of death, was close.

we’re not going to make it.

mark pulled her behind a wall, his eyes scanning for an escape route. but she wasn’t looking at him. she was looking at the man who had ruined them. the man who had always been there, lurking in the shadows. he wasn’t the same. but neither were they.

and now we were all lost.

and then, there it was — the crack of gunfire again. but this time, it wasn’t mark who pulled the trigger. it was her. she hadn’t meant to. but it was instinct. the weight of the gun felt unfamiliar, but that same sharp instinct that had always been with her took over. she fired. but it wasn’t enough.

and then it all fell apart.

it was too late. a shot rang out. the tunnel filled with smoke. and in the chaos, she looked back — just once — and saw haechan staring at her like she was still seventeen, still his, still something worth breaking for.