#and now I have to reach out first when she didn’t even ask or look for me it’s been actually a long time since we last spoke

[headkiss]

anna oh anna. i see you’re taking spencer request and was wondering if you’d be willing to write something with a childhood friend visiting spencer and the team just embarrassing him cause they can tell they have feelings for each other?

love you anna💗💗

omg erin ik this request is old but i hope u love it anyway 🫶🫶 | 0.9k words of bestfriend!reid fluff!!!

Despite nearly a lifetime of friendship, today is the first time you’re visiting Spencer in Quantico.

You grew up as neighbors, and your friendship wasn’t a slow, gradual thing. Instead, one day, as a kid, you’d knocked on his door and declared him your best friend. He didn’t fight you on it, and that was it.

Whenever he goes back to Vegas to visit his mom, Spencer never fails to visit you, too. Sometimes he stays over and you fall asleep watching movies on your couch, sometimes he can’t stay any longer than a quick meal.

You talk on the phone at least once a week, and you text Spencer every day, though he rarely manages to reply with more than a smiley face because of his thing with technology. You know he reads them all, though.

All of that and still, you’d never been to Quantico until now.

Spencer always told you it wasn’t worth it, that there wasn’t all that much to see and he’d probably get called away on a case, anyway. Selfishly, you would have liked to stay in his apartment even if he was away. To snoop at all of the books he has lying around and be surrounded by him.

After much badgering over the phone, he’d finally invited you to come for a visit and you jumped at the opportunity.

Spencer’s excited to see you. He always is. But something about you coming to Quantico had always made him nervous, like if you got too close to his job, you’d be in danger. Or, less logically, like he’d have to share you with his team, in a sense, and he really liked having you to himself.

Of course, they know about you — he’s got a framed picture of the two of you as teenagers on his desk — but they’ve never met you. Spencer loves his team, and they’ve heard him speak to you on the phone and have asked him about you countless times, but so much of himself is involved in the job, and you’re almost like an escape for him.

Somewhere safe, somewhere separate.

He traces a fingertip across the top of the frame on his desk when the elevator beeps, and the sound of your footsteps reach his ears. He knows it’s you from those alone.

Spencer stands just as you reach the bullpen, and as soon as you spot him you let out a tiny squeal and rush over. He welcomes you into his arms easier than he does anyone else, your arms tight around his neck, his supporting the small of your back.

“Hi, Spence,” you say, cheek against his shoulder, smile in your voice.

“Hi,” he returns, his mouth a breath away from your hair.

Garcia and JJ are standing by the entryway of the bullpen, watching you and Spencer with these knowing looks on their faces. Emily walks up a moment later, just as you pull away from the hug and ruffle Spencer’s hair.

“Is that…?” she asks.

“Yup,” JJ says.

“And they’re just friends?” Emily adds.

“According to them.”

“Sweet, clueless creatures,” comes from Penelope.

Unaware, or maybe just uncaring, of your audience, you fiddle with Spencer’s tie, then his vest, “Look at you. So professional.”

“I actually dress like this most of the time.”

“And look at your badge!” You flick it where it’s clipped to his pocket. “Can I have one?”

“You’re wearing a visitor’s badge.”

“So not as cool.” You scan your eyes across his desk, pausing at the picture of the two of you. You hadn’t known that was there, and your heart squeezes a bit at the thought of him keeping it where he can see it. “Did you just put that picture there for my visit?”

“Of course not,” he scratches the back of his neck lightly. “It’s always been there. They like to tease me about it.”

“Spence,” you start, eyes flicking over his face. You want to say something stupid and cheesy about how sweet he is, about how warm that makes you feel. Instead, you say “You’ve even got your glasses on. Very smart, Dr. Reid.”

Back by the entrance, Rossi and Morgan join the others. “Reid’s friend from home?” Dave checks.

“Uh-huh,” Garcia nods.

“And they’re still just friends?” Derek points between the two of you.

JJ, Emily, and Garcia all nod.

“Kids,” Rossi sighs.

You push Spencer’s glasses back up his nose gently. “Or should I say, the resident boygenius.”

“How did you-”

“Oh, I met Penelope in the elevator. She’s lovely.” You turn around and wave at her.

She waves back, beaming.

It’s then that Spencer realizes the entire team has been watching your exchange all along. He closes his eyes and huffs before taking you over to them and introducing you, even though he’s aware they know who you are.

Derek turns his charm on a little extra when he says hello to you, and Spencer’s hands twitch at his sides, his brows scrunched.

When JJ and Garcia distract you with a story that’s sure to be an embarrassing one, Morgan nudges Spencer’s shoulder with his, “She’s pretty great.”

“She’s the best person I know.”

Derek doesn’t even pretend to be wounded at that. He only grins like he knows something.

Hotch watches through the window of his office, that barely-there upward tug of his mouth on his face. He hasn’t seen Spencer smile the way he does with you in a long time.

[russo-woso]

Somethings wrong || Alessia Russo x pregnant!reader

Request | Masterlist

Warning pregnancy, mention of miscarriage, blood

Summary You have your first scare during the pregnancy

“This is nice.” You whispered, your head against Alessia’s chest as you snuggled close on the sofa.

You’d both managed to have a day off. No training, no match, no plans.

Just a relaxing day just the two of you and your bubba.

You spent the day in pyjamas, relaxing on the sofa watching movie after movie.

“It is nice. We won’t get many more moments like this just the two of us once bubba’s born.” Alessia pointed out, her hand rubbing absentmindedly over your bump.

“We won’t.” You agreed as the fifth movie of the day finished.

You yawned, Alessia noticing your tiredness from the way your eyes drooped.

“Would you like me to run you a bath, love?” Alessia asked, rubbing your back gently.

“That would be nice thank you, lessi.”

“Here, let me help you up.” Alessia offered, grabbing ahold of your hand as she pulled you up, knowing you’d struggle otherwise.

You smiled, kissing her cheek, not failing to notice the way her eyes widened as she stared at the sofa.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You asked but when you don’t get a reply, you looked at the sofa yourself, a bright red patch noticeable.

“You go change baby, and get in the car. I’ll pack a bag.” Alessia whispered, her voice shaking as she rested a hand on your back.

“Less…”

“It’s fine, love. It’s probably nothing. The baby’s just giving us a scare.” Alessia tried to lighten up the mood, although not helping due to the panic and fear the two of you were feeling.

You left Alessia soon after, getting changed before quickly going to the toilet.

You couldn’t help but burst out crying.

You were filled with panic, and dread.

What if something was wrong with the baby? Was it your fault? Had you pushed yourself too far in training?

Your sobs were so loud that you didn’t even hear Alessia knock on the bathroom door.

It was only the third knock when you heard Alessia.

“Love? Please let me in.”

You reached over, unlocking the door, letting her in.

“Oh, baby. Please don’t cry. We don’t know anything for definite. They could be perfect. Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

—

“Mrs Russos?” The doctor asked, knocking on the door as he walked in.

You had been at the hospital for a few hours now.

They ran through test after test, trying to get to the bottom of what was wrong.

Alessia held your hand as she rested her elbows on the bed.

“The results are in from your tests.” The doctor announced, quickly looking over the notes on his clipboard. “It looks like your baby is perfectly fine. We’ve come across no problems in the scans or tests which leaves one possible answer as to why the bleeding occurred. I’m presuming you had sex within the last 48 hours.”

Yours and Alessia’s faces blushed a deep red, flashbacks to last night fresh in mind.

“Am I right?”

You nodded shyly, your face even more red.

“That’s why you’re bleeding. It’s very common so there’s nothing to worry about. If you have any questions or concerns, I’ll be right here.”

“Thank you.” Alessia said on the behalf of both of you.

The doctor left, leaving you and Alessia alone.

“I asked if it would hurt the baby.” Alessia told you

“I didn’t think anything like this would happen. They said having sex whilst pregnant was fine.” You explained, changing back into your clothes after having to wear a hospital gown.

“No more sex now. I’m not having our baby come early.”

“No! Lessi, you can’t do that! I’ll be fine, the baby will be fine.”

“Nope!”

“Lessi!”

[celuere]

reader buying new lipstick and testing it out on arlecchino!!!

(except it’s by sucking her off <33)

also will you start writing for ptn? I LOVE ZOYA SO MUCH SOBS

anon it‘s 6:30 am but i can’t possibly go to bed without answering this. i‘m thirsting for sesbian lex. (i have to see about ptn tho sob)

cw: fem!reader, CONSENSUAL, deepthroating, sloppy headjob, dacryphilia, masturbating, a lil obsessive arle (she just loves seeing her wife struggle taking her dick)

„mhm… just like that… my, look at your pretty lips…“, a black hand gently stroked through your open hair before getting a good grip on the strands.

you looked so beautiful in her eyes.

not because of the pretty dress you were wearing to tonight. the deep red fabric clinging to your gorgeous curves and highlighting your cleavage almost a bit too much for her liking.

or because of the beautiful tears staining the corner of your eyes, the eyeshadow you applied earlier already smeared.

but you always looked like your most beautiful self when your mouth was full of her cock. she just couldn’t resist letting you have taste when she got a first look on your make up for the evening.

all because of that lipstick.

the bloody red had faded away long ago. the color now sticking to the skin around her base along with her shaft. not of very high quality if you‘re asking her.

„so pretty… all on your knees for me… what are those beautiful tears for, hm…?“, she scooped up the salty fluid with her index finger before bringing it up to her lip. tongue lapping over her skin as she hums at the taste of your current predicament.

your dress surely was ruined by now with how you were practically drooling over her dick with each thrust of her hips forcing some of the saliva-precum mix out of your mouth. you could feel your chin dripping with the mixture.

groaning slightly against her as her tip kissed back of your throat once more before inching further in, you couldn’t help but gag as her sheer size. but she kept you over her dick. kept herself neatly buried in your warm throat as something akin to obsession glistened in your husbands crimson eyes.

she will never get tired of this. never get tired of the way your nose crinkles slightly whenever it reached her bush. never get tired of your soft gags and the muffled sobs leaving your lips. never get tired of that pleading look in your eyes as she pushes herself inside your throat once more. you‘d have to kill her in order to remove her dick from you.

you had actually places to be. pantalone would be hosting an auction tonight and as his fellow colleague… who were the knave to decline his invitation? but now she had her wife all sobby and obedient on her knees for her, with your mixed slick covering yout gorgeous tits. she‘ll take that over an evening filled with idiotic smalltalk and greedy businessmen any day.

one of arlecchinos rare smirks tugged almost mockingly at her lips as she watched struggle to take her all in. and don’t think she didn’t notice how your own hand already sneaked between your legs. she knows exactly you’re fingering yourself right now. she just doesn’t know yet if she should punish your for it.

you squeezed your eyes closed as the grip on your hair suddenly tightened as you heard a low groan escaping your husband and soon the salty, bitte taste of her spread on your tongue as she pulled out from your throat. starting to cough as you swallowed the not so delicious mixture, a cursed hand soon squeezed your face and forced you to look back up into those bloody x‘s practically burning through you.

„open up. i want to make sure you swallowed everything.“, tapping your cheek with her nail you ran your tongue over your front teeth before reluctantly parting your lips. an almost pleased sound slipping out faster than you could have stopped it from how desperately your were clenching around your own fingers.

„i said open up and not moan into my face.“, she pushed her thumb into your mouth to force your jaw completely open before inspecting your mouth for any remains of her.

„good girl.“, obviously pleased with the results, your husband now let go of you and leaned over to your make-up desk.

you finally allowed yourself to fill your lungs back up with the oxygen you so desperately craved for, „d-done now…?“

„done?“, she bent back down to you when you spotted a light pink lipstick in her hand. she caught your chin between her finger and you could have sworn she almost looked excited as she painted your lips in said color, „this brand obviously wasn’t of high quality. i fear we have to try out the other ones until we find one that actually lasts. truly a pity, don’t you think so, m little dove…?“

you just wanted to open your mouth to talk back before she shushed you by tapping your plump lips with her dripping tip.

„open.“

[yamumsyadadd]

the forgotten girl (14)

The start of adult themes at the end xx

Within the safety of my bed, I decided now would be the best time to write Keira and Lucy’s letter. I didn’t want it to be too graphic, but I wanted them to know the full truth. It took a lot of paper, a lot of tears and a glass of wine, but after an hour they were both finished. 

I sat them in the kitchen table, ready to give it to them tomorrow night. 

Dear Keira, 

You know how hard it is from me to talk about things, and there are things I have been keeping from you. This is the easiest way for me to tell you. Please don’t be mad….

Lucy’s letter was the same. A lot of truth, and potentially filling in the gaps of time. It wasn’t going to be easy to sit there and watch them read it, or answer the questions they had, or even deal with the aftermath. 

The following day went slowly, training went slowly, then recover. Everything was just painfully slow. The thought of the letters, burning a hole in my kitchen table. 

“Mils, are we still good for tonight?” Lucy caught up to me in the carpark. 

“Yeah yeah. Come at six yeah? I’ll order us some dinner.” 

The minute I got home the nerves set in. It was only 3pm so I had time to bed rot. Which is exactly what I did. For two hours and 59 minutes. A knock on my door bought be out of the warmth of my bed. 

“Jesus Christ. I’m coming- oh shit. Is it already 6?” Lucy and Keira were standing in front of my apartment. 

“It is. Are you ok?” Keira’s voice held concern, as did her face. 

“Yeah no everything’s fine. I just lost track of time. Come in. I’ll order dinner.” I ushered them inside. 

The silence was awkward, the letters were still on the dining table. 

“Are you ok?” 

“I- um. I have to give you guys something.” I got up and picked up the letters. “Everything that’s happened is in those letters. Things I have only said out loud a couple of times. You can go into the other rooms if you want. I’m just going to sit here.” I pointed to the dining table, gave them their letters and then walked away. 

Keira opened hers first, after reading the first paragraph, she got up and walked to the other room.

Half way through the food was delivered. I took note of Lucy, sitting on the couch. Staring into space. I didn’t want to disturb her, so I just sat back down. 

Alexia Putellas 

Hey, how’d it go?

Amelia Higgins

Unsure 🫤 

Lucy is on the couch. Not talking

Keira is in the spare room. 

Almost directly after I hit send, I heard Keira come out of the bedroom. I watched her walk towards the front door, put her shoes and jacket on and leave. 

“Keira! Wait!” I yelled out, getting up quickly. Lucy grabbed my arm, pulling me into a tight hug. 

“Let her go. It’s a lot. She just needs some time. Can we talk about the letter? If you don’t want to we can do it a different time?” 

I agreed to answer whatever questions she had. We sat and talked about it for a few hours. Lucy cried, I cried, then she was mad. Not at me but at them, at the situation that forced things to change so desperately. I kept checking my phone to see if Keira had messaged or called. She hadn’t. I was worried, Lucy could sense it. 

“I’ll go check on her ok. I’ll text you once I have. Thank you for telling me, and for letting me ask questions. I’m proud of you, now and forever.” 

“Love you luce.” We hugged again, she kissed my forehead and then off she went. 

3 days. It had been three days since Keira and Lucy came to my apartment. 3 days since Keira left. 3 days since Lucy texted me and told me Keira was fine, she just needed some time to comprehend everything. I was starting to lose it. 

“I don’t understand Ale. I wrote the letter, I gave it to her, and she just left? She won’t talk to me or even look at me. What more can I do?” 

“Give her time amor. She will come to you when she’s ready.” 

“Time? Time! How much more fucking time do I need to give her! This is ridiculous.” My voice was very loud, carrying through the hallway and reaching a hiding Keira. 

“Bebé, come here.” Alexia pulled me into her chest, kissing my temple and holding me tight. “How about we go to the beach tonight? Take some dinner and have a picnic?” She moved her hands to cup my face. I nodded as best I could. 

“Perfect, I’ll pick you up at 7.” She went to walk away but I pulled her back, pouting at her. She gave me a quick kiss and then dragged me along. 

Despite my best efforts, Keira continued to ignore me. Everyone started to notice, Lucy kept sending me sympathetic looks through training. It was pure hell. 

“Kei wait!” She continued to ignore me. “How much longer are you going to ignore me! I didn’t do anything wrong!” 

“You kept this all from me! For four years Amelia! Four fucking years. Then you tell Alexia first. Not me or Leah or even Lucy. You told Alexia! How is that fair?” The lock room went quiet. 

“Keira, come on. That’s not fair.” Lucy was trying hard to defuse the situation. 

“I am so sorry Keira that I didn’t tell you first. I’m sorry for not wanting to tell you the traumatic and disgusting details of what happened. But I did it to protect you. To protect this friendship.” 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” She was crying but also getting angrier. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

I looked around, the locker room was slowly thinning out but the captains, Mapi and Ingrid and Lucy remained. 

“Why would I? It doesn’t change anything Keira.” 

“I could’ve helped! You left and I could’ve helped you!” 

“Keira listen to me. You couldn’t help me. Not you, Leah, Lucy or anyone. I needed to figure shit out. How to live with what happened that night. I am sorry that I hurt you, truly I am, but telling you then would’ve only made you worry more or hurt you more.” 

She moved towards me, wrapping her arms around me and mumbling sorrys over and over again. It took a while for both of us to calm down. The locker room was empty by the time we left. Lucy and alexia were standing by their cars, wanting to ensure we were okay. 

Keira and Lucy left after a quick chat. Alexia and I milled around for a bit discussing our plans for tonight. We went our separate ways. 

Once I was home, I threw my dirty laundry in the washing machine, filled up the dishwasher and jumped in the shower. I washed my hair, shaved every single part of me that I could think of and then moisturised. 

Tonight was the night. I was sure of it. I sifted through my new lingerie, deciding on an orange set that looked amazing against my tanned skin. The thought of Alexia undressing me was exciting. 

Once I was completely satisfied with my outfit, I sat on the couch and waited. Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long because alexia buzzed on the intercoms. I got up and rushed to let her in, wanting to skip the whole dinner thing and go straight to dessert. 

“Dios mío, you look amazing.” She looked me up and down, taking a particularly long look at my legs that were barely hidden from my skirt. 

“Mm, so do you, let me get my keys?” I watched as she licked her lips and thrusted flowers into my hands. 

“For you!” She followed me inside as I got a vase for the flowers, I could fell her gaze on me as I moved around. 

“Okay, we need to leave now or we won’t leave at all.” There was a sense of urgency in her voice. As I looked up I noticed her eyes were completely black, she wanted this as much as I did. 

“Or we could just raincheck the beach? Stay in for the night?” I winked at her, before walking towards her, wrapping my arms around her waist. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes Alexia. Please. I will beg you.” Something switch in her. 

“Then beg.” Cockiness, eagerness, excitement. 

“Please fuck me. Right here, right now.” 

Her lips collided with mine. Hard. It was messy, a mix of teeth and tongue, fighting for dominance. I moaned as my back hit the bench, her hands coming to rest on my ass. 

Her lips made their way down my neck, sucking marks that I’d have to deal with later. 

“Up” she said as she grabbed my thighs. She helped me get onto the counter. She took a step back, staring at me. I felt small under her intense gaze. 

“We can stop if you want?” I didn’t want to stop, but I wanted her to be aware that we could if she wanted to. 

“I don’t want to. I just want to see how hot you are before I destroy you.” 

————————————————————————

I moaned as her hands slowly made their way up my thighs. Her mouth attacking my neck and collarbone, slowly making their way down to the collar of my shirt. 

“Can I take this off?” She stopped, looking at me. 

“Please.” It came out more as a moan than anything. 

“Holy fuck. You’re so perfect.” 

[poetic-vulgarity]

ᎮᎥᏖᎩ ᎮᏗᏒᏖᎩ - Kim Minjeong x Reader

Word count: ~5K

Prompt: When Minjeong transferred to an elite school, she didn't expect to catch the attention of Y/N, the golden girl. Then again, she also didn't expect Y/N to be the root of all her misery.

Tags: slow burn; angst; drama; high school! AU; richgirl!Y/N; happy ending (?)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Ask any student out there how they feel about school, and you'll get the same answer.

It's shit.

There was no way around it, especially not for someone like Minjeong.

Shy, quiet, reserved.

She was a walking billboard that practically screamed "bully me."

And bullied she was. Ever since high school began, she'd been their favorite target. They scrawled insults on her desk, threw food at her, and even stuffed her into a locker once.

Minjeong thought it was just the way life worked. Some people were born unlucky.

Then Taeyu came along. Messy, reckless, the kind of girl who could (and would) fight anyone. For reasons Minjeong never fully understood, Taeyu liked her. And the bullying stopped.

They became best friends. Two years passed, and things weren't perfect, but Minjeong started to believe she could survive.

She wished Taeyu was there now.

If she had Taeyu by her side, all the stupid kids wouldn't be staring at her as she made her way through the doors of her new school. 

The towering entrance of Elite Open School Korea loomed before her. The glossy floors, the spotless hallways, the sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows—it was the kind of school where the rich ate up success like it was their birthright.

Minjeong didn’t belong there.

But she didn’t need to belong. She just needed to graduate. The full scholarship had been her ticket there, and she wasn’t planning to waste it. Screw fitting in. She’d keep her head down, study hard, and get the diploma.

Still, as she stepped inside, her confidence wavered. The air was heavy and she could feel the weight of all the judgmental eyes on her. She held her bag tighter and pulled out her crumpled schedule, her eyebrows knitting together as she tried to make sense of it.

The school was massive. Minjeong had no idea where to start.

"You’re with me."

Startled, Minjeong looked up and found herself face-to-face with a stunning girl who radiated confidence.

"I’m Jimin, student president. I’m supposed to take you to your class," the girl said, her tone light and warm.

Relief washed over Minjeong. She nodded, exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Jimin didn’t wait for a response before turning and heading down the hallway, her polished shoes clicking softly against the floor.

Minjeong hurried to follow, her school bag thumping awkwardly against her back. "I'm Minjeong." 

Jimin looked over her shoulder, a few loose strands of hair brushing her face as she smiled. "I know who you are; I was the one who made your schedule." Jimin replied with a soft chuckle. "Had to fit you and the other new students into the system."

Minjeong blinked, processing her words. "That... explains a lot, actually."

Her schedule was a mess: classes from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m., a long break, and then another class that ran until 10 p.m. She wasn’t sure if it was legal to keep students in school that long but they were all rich there. Who cared if they were breaking rules?

Jimin grimaced. "Yeah, sorry about that. In my defense, though, you signed up for a lot of extracurriculars."

Minjeong’s lips twitched into a small smile. "Don’t apologize. It’s fine."

"It’ll be cool; we have a few classes together," Jimin added with a grin.

When they reached the classroom, Jimin stopped and turned to her. "Here we are. All your classes today are on this floor, so you shouldn't get too lost. But if you do, text me. My number's on the schedule I sent you."

Minjeong nodded, her cheeks flushing faintly. "Thank you, Jimin."

"Of course. Have a good first day, okay?" With a wave, Jimin disappeared down the hall, leaving Minjeong standing at the door, alone.

It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared.

Sure, a few students glanced her way as she walked in, their gazes sharp and appraising. Most of them didn’t bother hiding their curiosity—or their judgment. The guys wore designer shoes and watches, while the girls carried handbags that probably cost more than her family’s car.

Minjeong ignored them and scanned the room for a seat. She spotted one near the back and made her way over.

"That seat’s taken."

The voice was cold and cutting, and Minjeong froze mid-sit.

The girl who spoke was staring at her, eyes narrowed, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Minjeong swallowed and stood up, looking around for another desk. She wasn’t there to make a scene.

"That one’s taken too," the girl said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

"Why don’t you show her to her seat, Lee?"

The new voice came from the front of the room. Minjeong turned and saw another girl leaning back lazily in her chair.

She was stunning, easily the prettiest girl in the room, with an air of casual arrogance that made her seem untouchable. Her uniform was pristine, not a single hair out of place, and her expression was unreadable.

Lee, the first girl, faltered. "I—uh..."

"Go on," the pretty girl said, her tone light but commanding. "Since every seat is taken, show her one that isn’t."

Lee clenched her jaw but got up with a huff, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder. "Fine. Follow me."

Minjeong glanced at the pretty girl again before trailing behind Lee, her head bowed.

"This one," Lee said, motioning to an empty desk.

"No," the other girl called out, her voice calm. "Not that one. She won’t be able to see the board properly."

Minjeong’s grip on her bag tightened. The room felt suffocating, every set of eyes burning into her as Lee led her to another seat.

"Here?"

"Still not good," the girl said, her tone almost playful.

Minjeong clenched her jaw, frustrated at the situation. This was all a game, and she was the entertainment.

Finally, the pretty girl tilted her head. "Tell you what. She’ll just take your seat, Lee."

Lee stiffened but didn’t argue. Her eyes flashed with anger as she grabbed her bag and stomped off.

Minjeong hesitated. She didn’t want to take Lee’s spot, didn’t want to make things worse. But when the girl raised an eyebrow and her eyes darted from her to her new assigned seat, Minjeong sighed and sat down.

She kept her head down, rummaging through her pencil case, her eyes fixed on the desk in front of her.

An awkward silence loomed over the classroom, broken only by the sound of students chatting and the occasional burst of laughter.

Minjeong’s eyes shifted to Lee, noticing the way she kept a sharp eye on her former seat. A part of her felt bad for taking it, but it was already done.

She took out her notebook, pen, and highlighter from her bag and placed them on the desk. Her hands went up to brush her short hair back behind her ears.

Minjeong’s eyes darted up to the front, looking for the teacher. Instead, she noticed the pretty girl from before standing in front of her.

Minjeong tilted her head up, keeping her shock and awkwardness from showing on her face. The girl was stunning—her features soft, her lashes long, and her lips plump.

The girl gave her a small smile. "The view okay?"

Minjeong’s head spun at the words. Her cheeks instantly flared up with embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to stare. She didn’t even realize she was staring in the first place.

"Sorry," she responded hastily. Her eyes darted around the room, desperate to look anywhere but at the stranger.

The girl chuckled lightly. "I meant the board."

"Oh."

Minjeong felt like her soul left her body out of sheer embarrassment. She couldn’t stop staring at the stranger earlier, and now she’d somehow made it worse for herself.

"Yes, it’s a great view," she mumbled, her voice small. She forced a smile, hoping to salvage the situation.

Minjeong tried to focus elsewhere, her eyes shifting to the window and the students outside, chatting with their friends and enjoying lunch—blissfully unaware of her predicament.

The girl smiled wider, clearly amused.

She extended her hand, drawing it towards Minjeong. "I’m Y/N."

Minjeong hesitated for a moment before reaching out her own hand to shake Y/N’s. "Minjeong," she replied, the handshake lasting a beat longer than necessary before she quickly pulled away.

Y/N was… a lot. Minjeong wasn’t sure what her intentions were. Was she just messing with her, or did she genuinely want to be friends?

"Pleasure to meet you," Y/N said with a nod.

Minjeong blinked. What high schooler said "pleasure to meet you"?

"You too," she muttered, her voice barely audible.

A tense silence stretched between them as the two of them stared at each other. Minjeong wanted to look away, to dig into her bag for something to distract herself, but her eyes kept finding their way back to Y/N.

"Welcome to the school. I’m sure you’ll fit in well." With that final comment, Y/N turned on her heel and walked back to her seat.

Minjeong let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Y/N was intimidating. She was too pretty and confident for her own good, and Minjeong didn’t know what to make of her.

All she wanted was to get through the day without any more trouble.

And, for the most part, she did.

During lunch hour, Minjeong hid in the library. Her other classes went by without much ruckus.

Throughout her first week, she realized that she shared a lot of classes with Y/N. She saw the popular girl almost every day. Correction: she noticed the small smiles Y/N sent her between classes—almost every day.

It was… weird.

Y/N had a cool friend group and a perfect reputation around the school. She had no reason to even notice Minjeong.

“You need to leave the newbie alone. Her friends died. Have a little compassion.”

Y/N turned to glare at Yeonjun. It was Friday, and the group was eating lunch together. Since Monday, Y/N hadn’t seen Minjeong set foot in the cafeteria.

“You could be a bit more respectful about it, no?”

Yeonjun pouted dramatically. “Chill, I was joking.”

“Our Y/N is protective over the newbie,” Aeri teased, nudging Y/N’s side playfully, trying to get a reaction out of her.

“Why would I be protective over anyone?” Y/N huffed, picking at her food as if it were playdough. Her eyes lingered on the unopened sandwich she’d bought that morning.

“Well, you keep looking for her,” Chaewon pointed out, raising an eyebrow as she sat down beside Yeonjun with a knowing smile. “In class and now here.”

Y/N felt cornered. She usually didn’t show this much interest in anyone, and her friends had noticed. It was irritating.

Before she could mutter an excuse for her behavior, her phone rang. Her friends immediately knew who was calling by the look on her face.

“I’ll see you guys later.” She grabbed her belongings and stood up, phone already raised to her ear. “Yes, Dad?”

The call only lasted a minute or two, but it gave Y/N the perfect excuse to slip away. She wandered into the library, her curious eyes scanning the room for one person in particular.

“Lunch is important, you know?”

Minjeong jumped at the sudden voice, her wide eyes snapping up to see Y/N standing in front of her, hands on her hips.

“Are you stalking me?” The words slipped from Minjeong’s mouth before she could stop herself.

Her heart pounded, anxiety clawing at her throat. She had no idea why Y/N was taking an interest in her—why she kept showing up, insisting on toying with her.

Y/N was surprised, to say the least.

Minjeong had some bite. It wasn’t what Y/N expected from the shy girl she’d met on the first day.

“I guess,” Y/N said with a soft hum, casually pulling a chair out and sitting beside her. She reached into her bag, pulling out the sandwich she hadn’t eaten earlier, and handed it to Minjeong. “Eat.”

Minjeong stared at the sandwich, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “I already ate,” she said flatly, not reaching for it.

Y/N’s eyes flicked down to Minjeong’s half-open bag. An apple and a small carton of orange juice sat inside—it was all Minjeong ever brought, and she usually saved it for her late 10 PM class.

“No, you haven’t.”

Minjeong’s shoulders slumped slightly. Y/N was far more observant than she had anticipated.

Minjeong looked down at the sandwich again, conflicted. She wasn’t a fan of being told what to do, but Y/N had clearly gone out of her way to give it to her. Refusing would make her feel bad.

Slowly, she reached out and took the sandwich, giving a small nod.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Y/N said casually.

It didn’t take long for Minjeong to finish it.

“So, what are you reading?” Y/N was usually good at making conversation, but with Minjeong, she couldn’t help feeling a little nervous.

Minjeong blinked, snapping out of her food-induced daze. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she finished the sandwich. Now that it was gone, her body slumped back in the chair, heavy with fatigue.

Her gaze shifted to the half-read book on the table, her fingers brushing over the cover. She avoided looking at Y/N, knowing how easily she got flustered.

“A book,” she responded plainly, hoping Y/N would get the hint.

Y/N nodded, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Very informative.”

Minjeong sighed, unable to come up with a retort. The silence between them grew, awkward and heavy. She wasn’t used to this—having someone like Y/N hover around her. They were opposites in almost every way, and Minjeong couldn’t fathom why Y/N was even there.

Her eyes lifted briefly from the book, just to check if Y/N was still looking. Their gazes met, and Minjeong’s breath caught. Her cheeks burned, and she quickly looked away quickly.

Y/N cleared her throat, the confidence in her voice softening. She fiddled with her fingers, her usual ease replaced with hesitation. “I’m... sorry about what happened. At your last school.”

Minjeong froze, her eyes widening. A lump formed in her throat as she tried to think of something to say.

She hadn’t expected an apology—least of all from Y/N. But even if she had, she wouldn’t have known how to respond.

Her body tensed, her knee bouncing beneath the table. “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy,” Y/N continued, her voice gentle. “Especially with all the idiots making fun of it.”

‘Cancer school.’

The cruel nickname flashed through Minjeong’s mind.

It wasn’t far from the truth.

Several students had suddenly passed away at her old school and it didn't take long for investigators to find out that the building materials used for the school were highly toxic—cancerous, in fact. Minjeong was one of the lucky ones, spared from any trouble. She had survived unscathed, physically at least, and had been granted a scholarship to transfer elsewhere—a quiet bribe to keep her mouth shut. 

Taeyu hadn’t been so lucky.

Minjeong’s hands trembled as the memories clawed their way to the surface. She had buried them so deeply, refusing to confront them, but they always left a bitter taste when they resurfaced.

She swallowed hard, her eyes darting around the library. Despite knowing Y/N’s words came from a place of kindness, Minjeong felt a pang of irritation.

“Thank you.” Her voice was hollow, mouth dry. She wanted to be anywhere but there. Her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment, emotions she couldn’t quite control.

She stuffed her jacket into her bag, voice shaky as she muttered, “I appreciate it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, alarm flashing across her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep—”

“Save it.” Minjeong snapped, cutting her off. She didn’t meet Y/N’s gaze as she shoved her things into her bag and walked away.

She wasn’t sure who she was angry at—Y/N, for bringing it up, or herself, for not being able to let it go.

The wound still felt raw. She wasn’t ready to face it, and all she wanted was to forget.

But after a few days, the sting of her reaction dulled and guilt creped in. 

Y/N had only been trying to be kind, and Minjeong had been rude.

After debating with herself for days, Minjeong decided to swallow her pride and apologise. 

Before one of their shared classes, Minjeong watched as Y/N walked into the room, making her way to her usual seat.

Now or never.

Her heart pounded as she stood, each step toward Y/N feeling heavier than the last. Minjeong didn’t want to be there, she didn’t want to apologize. Admitting she felt bad was almost worse than snapping in the first place.

But the guilt wouldn’t leave her alone, and she knew it wouldn’t until she said something.

“Y/N?”

Y/N looked up from her notebook, her face lighting up when she saw Minjeong. “There you are,” she said, rummaging through her bag. She pulled out a neatly wrapped sandwich—the same kind she’d given Minjeong in the library. “I’ve been eating these all week, and I hate cheese.”

Without hesitation, Y/N extended the sandwich toward Minjeong.

Minjeong stared at it, swallowing hard. She didn’t need pity or charity. That wasn’t why she’d come over.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day,” she said, ignoring the food.

Y/N’s eyes softened, her expression gentle.

Minjeong forced herself to turn away, eager to retreat to her seat. Her conscience was clear now, and she didn’t owe Y/N anything more.

But before she could take another step, a hand caught her wrist.

Y/N’s touch was firm yet delicate, her grip just enough to stop Minjeong without making her feel trapped.

Minjeong turned slowly, pulse quickening as her eyes met Y/N’s.

Y/N smiled, her voice warm and sincere. “I’m the charity act here, not you.” She nodded toward the sandwich still in her hand. “I genuinely hate these sandwiches.”

Minjeong froze for a second... was she that easy to read?

"Why do you keep buying them then?" Minjeong asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Y/N shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm allergic to salmon, and they like to serve it at the cafeteria, so I bring it just in case."

A little white lie never hurt anyone, right?

But Minjeong was insistent, "I don't see how that's my problem."

"It's your problem because I want to get to know you," Y/N admitted without hesitation. "And the sandwich was just the perfect excuse for it."

Minjeong wanted to ask why Y/N didn't just buy something she actually liked, but she had a feeling Y/N would have an excuse for that too.

So, she sighed and finally took the food, giving a small nod.

"You're eating this if I ever see salmon being served at the cafeteria," Minjeong added.

Y/N smiled, her eyes lingering on Minjeong. "Deal."

Minjeong could feel her face heating up at how casually Y/N agreed to her request.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Even though she was still uncomfortable with how Y/N was so interested in her, she couldn’t deny that she was beginning to understand why everyone talked about her.

Y/N was kind, sweet, and charming. It was almost impossible to resist her, but Minjeong knew she had to keep her distance.

She kept her distance.

For a few hours.

Later that day, when Y/N asked her to go out for coffee, Minjeong found herself accepting the offer.

Just like she accepted Y/N’s offer to give her her number a few days later.

Minjeong had no control over it. She was just pulled in.

For a while, she tried to fight it, but in the end, she couldn’t.

It felt nice to be liked. Y/N would take her out for lunch and dinner whenever Minjeong was free, always doing whatever it took to make her feel special.

Minjeong hated how addictive it was, getting attention from someone like Y/N. It made it that much harder to ignore her growing attraction.

"We could go to your house, if you'd like?" Y/N asked, leaning against Minjeong’s desk, her eyes carefully gauging Minjeong’s reaction.

They had a group project to do, and thankfully, the teacher let them choose their own partners.

Minjeong shrugged, her eyes drawn to her notebook as she finished her exercise. "I don't know, honestly."

Y/N nodded, her eyes intense. "My house?"

Minjeong paused for a moment to consider the proposition. They’d gone out together before, hung out during breaks, and after school. But being in Y/N’s house felt somehow more personal.

She nodded slowly, “Yeah, sure.”

Y/N's eyes brightened up as a smile took over her face.

It still felt like a double-edged sword. Like Minjeong had a price to pay to be hanging out with Y/N.

"Cool, I'll wait for you by your locker at the end of the day."

Y/N started to walk away, but Minjeong reached out for her hand. "I only finish classes at 10 today."

They had been hanging out four two months by then, Y/N knew Minjeong's schedule by heart.

Y/N couldn’t stop herself. Before she knew what she was doing, she reached out and brushed a strand of Minjeong's hair behind her ear. "Don't worry about it."

By the time she reached her table, Y/N had already cursed herself out at least twenty times.

She needed to get a hold of herself.

Still, she couldn't help the excitement that took over her body. She was getting there. Slowly but surely, she was winning over Minjeong.

Y/N's classes ended at 5 PM that day, so she hung out around school while she waited. She went to the library, finished her homework, and even started on the group project. Who knows? Maybe if Minjeong saw that the project was well advanced, she'd agree to watch a movie. Or just talk.

By the time 10 PM came around, Y/N was wrapped up in her long coat, hands stuck in her pockets as she waited for Minjeong.

Minjeong arrived at 10:10, accompanied by a figure that had Y/N freezing up.

Jimin.

The student council president.

Her ex-girlfriend.

An ex-girlfriend that also seemed surprised at seeing Y/N.

"Oh, hi." Jimin tried to smile, turning to Minjeong with a gulp. "You didn't tell me your friend was her."

Minjeong stood there, hands in her hoodie pocket as she looked between Y/N and Jimin in confusion. "You two know each other?"

Jimin and Y/N's history was complicated, and Y/N hated thinking or talking about it. But it happened. She was her first love.

"Yeah," Jimin responded, her eyes glued on Y/N. "We were toge-"

"-It's a small school." Y/N barely looked back at Jimin. "Should we get going? It's a little late already."

Minjeong wasn't oblivious to the way Jimin and Y/N looked at each other. The air was thick with tension, and Y/N seemed oddly uncomfortable the whole time, her body language closed off.

Something was definitely going on, Minjeong couldn’t shake that feeling all the way to Y/N's house.

Once they reached their destination, Minjeong looked around curiously. Y/N didn’t mention that she was well off, but it was almost expected of her.

Popular girl at an elite school.

Minjeong wasn't surprised to be led to a mansion in Gangnam-gu.

It was lavish and spacious. Minjeong felt like she had to pay a tax just to look at the furniture.

"Your parents already sleeping?"

Y/N shook her head, leading the way upstairs to her room.

"My parents live in Dobong. I live with a few employees."

"Oh," Minjeong was surprised, but it seemed normal for Y/N. Was that a normal thing for rich people? "Why is that?"

Minjeong caught the way Y/N's shoulders tensed up for just a second. "For work."

She decided to not touch the subject again as they finally arrived at Y/N's room.

It was a tidy space. The bedroom was nice, cozy, and chic. Minjeong couldn’t help but wonder if it was even a room made for a teenager, though. It looked like the rooms Minjeong had seen at IKEA.

"I didn't know you were friends with Jimin," Y/N let out quietly, taking off her blazer and loosening her tie. She looked at Minjeong with soft but darker eyes than usual.

Minjeong was caught off guard, to say the least.

Her eyes followed Y/N's figure—she had never seen her without the blazer.

Y/N undid the top of her button-up shirt, and suddenly, Minjeong felt the need to look away.

"I- yeah. I eat and have a few classes with her sometimes. Met her on my first day at school."

Y/N nodded slowly, eyes following Minjeong as the short-haired girl looked around her room. 

She sat on her bed almost unmoving, back tensely upright. "Do you like her?"

Minjeong blinked at the question, her brain processing the words.

Did she like Jimin? She supposed she did. The other girl was nice and always helpful, plus she didn’t tease Minjeong about her past either.

She wasn't sure what prompted Y/N to ask, but Minjeong answered honestly.

"Yeah, she's nice. Why?"

"Nice in a way that makes you want to date her?"

The question had Minjeong's head snapping to Y/N, eyes wide.

"I- uh-" Minjeong swallowed hard, her cheeks heating up at the insinuation.

"We're just friends," she blurted out. "Why do you ask?"

Y/N let out a hum, eyes fixed on Minjeong, "Because I like you."

Minjeong's breath hitched when Y/N said those words. That was not what she’d been expecting to hear.

Her heart pounded in her ears, so loud it almost drowned out every other sound. She just stood there staring at Y/N, eyes wide.

After a few painfully silent moments, Minjeong found the voice to ask, "You what?"

Y/N looked down at her hands, fingers playing with each other as she gathered her words.

"I know we've only known each other for a few months, but I like you. I was wondering if you'd let me get to know you even better. Maybe get closer?"

"You...you want to date me?"

The words were barely a whisper, the disbelief evident in Minjeong's face and the way she looked at Y/N.

She was torn on what to say. Minjeong didn't want to get her hopes up again, but Y/N made her feel something.

Her body was screaming at her to say yes, but her mind was telling her to refuse.

Things had been awkward with Jimin. Minjeong was sure Y/N was hiding something from her. She was Y/N. No one like Y/N would ever want anything to do with Minjeong. There had to be another reason for all this.

Y/N smiled, "Well, yes, eventually. I'm not very traditional, but I would like to court you first, if you'd let me."

Minjeong's eyes dropped back down to her hands, her mind whirling with a multitude of possible outcomes.

What if it didn't work out? What if things exploded in their face and they couldn't even be friends anymore?

Did it matter?

It was just dating. It wasn't like Minjeong was agreeing to marry Y/N. If things went sideways, they could always break up and go back to being friends.

"I- could you give me a little time to think about it?"

Minjeong inwardly chastised herself as soon as the words escaped her mouth.

She had just rejected the most popular girl in school.

She had just rejected Y/N.

Well, sort of rejected, right?

Things weren't over. Minjeong just needed to think things over.

Y/N smiled as gently as always, "Of course. You have all the time in the world, Minjeong. I don't want to rush anything."

Minjeong felt like she could breathe so much easier after Y/N said that, as if a boulder had been lifted from her chest. She'd half expected Y/N to be mad or angry at her, but she was still smiling softly.

Not that Minjeong would know how to handle Y/N when she was angry. She couldn't even imagine it.

"Thank you," Minjeong whispered, her voice barely audible in Y/N's room but still loud enough to be heard. "I promise to get back to you soon."

It was Y/N's turn to feel her chest lightening up.

Things weren't ruined.

She hadn't ruined anything.

Minjeong just needed her time, and Y/N would give it to her.

She had been patient from the start, why wouldn't she be now?

"I appreciate that," Y/N patted the bed at her side. "Come here, let me show you the ideas I had for our project."

Minjeong didn't hesitate to indeed go sit by Y/N's side.

She still felt a little tense but it didn't take long for her to fully relax again.

After a good two hours of work, Minjeong turned around in Y/N's bed, eyes falling on a framed picture on the bedside table. It was Friday so they had all the time in the world to be lazy. Didn't matter how late it was. 

"You looked cute as a baby, you know?"

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, and she glanced at the direction Minjeong was staring.

There was a picture of her as a toddler, grinning at the camera with a cute and wide smile that showed off the four teeth she had at the time.

"Oh," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper and a soft smile on her face as she looked at the picture. "Did I?"

She was feeling embarrassed that Minjeong was looking at it. "I don't have many pictures with them, so I keep that one there."

Minjeong nodded quietly, her eyes never leaving Y/N's framed picture. She looked a lot different now, but Minjeong supposed that was true for everyone.

"You looked adorable," she added softly, her eyes glued to the toddler in the photo. It was a little strange to think how much had changed in Y/N's life since then, but Minjeong didn't dwell on it much.

"Do you miss them?" She finally asked, tilting her head to the side slightly as her eyes turned to Y/N.

"Sometimes," Y/N shrugged. It's not like they were dead, she just didn't see them a lot. "It gets harder during the holidays. I was close to my mother, but she's been very... involved in my father's work, so yeah."

"That must be hard..." Minjeong sighed, her eyebrows furrowing in thought.

She couldn't fathom the idea of being away from her own parents.

Withdrawing her eyes from the picture frame, Minjeong scooted a little closer to Y/N. "You know," she spoke softly, "You can always come hang out at my house during the holidays."

"I couldn't possibly bother you... or your family," Y/N shook her head, a small smile rising to her face.

The truth was that Y/N didn't really have a family, and as cold and impersonal as her parents were, they had always given her everything she would need or ask for.

She couldn't complain about anything, but at the same time, she couldn't help but wonder sometimes what it would feel like to have a cozy, warm house instead of a huge empty mansion. Not having to eat alone during Christmas morning.

The idea of Y/N spending the holidays with her was a strange one. Minjeong was just starting to get used to the idea of dating. Her heart beat faster at the mere thought of bringing Y/N around her family.

She'd just have to talk to them first. It wouldn't be too hard, her mother had been asking about Y/N ever since Minjeong first brought her up.

But Minjeong didn't want to get ahead of herself. She was still trying to decide how to respond to Y/N's confession.

Still, she did feel good about the idea of having Y/N around.

"Are you kidding me? My parents would love you more than they love me. I can already picture them serving you first and leaving my siblings and I for last."

Y/N rolled her eyes softly, knowing that Minjeong was just teasing her.

"We'll see where things go and maybe I'll drop by to bring your parents a Christmas gift."

Christmas wasn't that far away, but Minjeong hadn't expected Y/N to even think about buying her family anything. She didn't even know them.

"Oh wow, you're getting my parents a gift but not me?"

A teasing smile appeared on Y/N's face, "They're the ones I want to impress."

Minjeong gasped at Y/N's teasing. She playfully hit the other girl, her own teasing smile on her face. "Are you saying my opinion doesn't matter?" she asked in mock hurt.

Minjeong couldn't deny that it did make her happy.

Y/N didn't have to like her family, but she was still going out of her way to do something nice. Minjeong appreciated it a lot, even if Y/N had a tendency to make her flustered.

"I'm saying their opinion matters more."

Minjeong laughed at that, her eyes crinkling up as she did. "I'm sure they'll like you as much as I do," she said sincerely without thinking about the words.

A beat after the words left her mouth, Minjeong froze. "I just mean..." She cleared her throat. "That you're cool and nice."

"Oh..." Y/N pretended to be flattered. "I'm cool and nice. Who would've thought?"

"I didn't realize you could make jokes," Minjeong shot back teasingly.

"Hilarious."

She liked this, the playful back and forth. She felt comfortable, talking about anything and everything with Y/N.

But there was always the hint in the back of her mind, telling her that there was more to it.

So, she decided to get to the end of the story and brought the topic up during lunch with Jimin, only a few days later. 

"So, what really happened between you and Y/N?"

That caught everyone's attention.

Ning was quick to gulp, eyes drawn on Jimin, and Yunjin almost spat her food out.

Minjeong wasn't expecting that reaction. 

Was the question that bad?

She hesitated, turning to Jimin with a look that screamed 'you don't have to answer if you don't want to'. 

After recollecting her thoughts, Jimin cleared her throat and spoke up. "We dated for two years. Broke up four months ago."

"They were like- the IT couple of the school. It was kind of funny." Ning shook her head, eyes soft and sad as she looked down at the table. 

The group missed Y/N, Aeri, and Chaewon. They had separated from each other after the breakup. Sides were taken. Mistakes were made.

Minjeong wasn’t sure what answer she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this.

Two years. That was a long time, longer than she had imagined. And the fact that they’d only broken up four months ago? It seemed...recent.

Minjeong felt her heart tighten as she listened intently to Jimin. She had a lot of questions, and now that the topic was brought up, might as well ask. "Why'd you two break up?"

The curiosity was getting the better of her. Minjeong had no intention whatsoever of being involved in a love triangle drama. That was the last thing she needed to be associated with.

"Well, I realised I just couldn't associate myself with people like her or her family. It was a moral thing." Jimin spoke about it in a light way, but something about her expression told Minjeong she was still grieving her relationship.

Minjeong nodded at the answer, unsure of how to respond. She glanced over at her friends seated around her, her gaze falling back on Jimin with an uneasy smile. "What's wrong with Y/N and her family?"

"You know, I didn't want to be the one telling you this, but I think it's only fair to you." Jimin sighed. She knew Minjeong went to Y/N's house the other day- being honest was the right thing to do. "Y/N's father is the mayor of Seoul. Those rumors about him being in charge of building your last school are true. Him and his family are just doing their very best to bury the scandal since he's going to run for presidency next year."

"My last school?" Minjeong's voice was soft, throat suddenly dry.

The cheaper but toxic materials used to build the school. The deaths of her friends. Taeyu.

That was all because of Y/N's father.

...and Y/N knew.

Y/N knew all along, didn't she?

All the attention.

All the gifts.

The stupid sandwiches Y/N gave her.

Y/N being nice to her when she didn’t really need to.

It all played back in her mind, over and over again.

Minjeong felt like the biggest fool in the world.

What was she?

Some sort of pity project to Y/N? Was she just being made fun of all along?

Her chest tightened painfully, and she felt the overwhelming need to get away.

Minjeong cleared her throat and stood up from her seat, her chair scraping against the floor. “Excuse me,” she said quietly. 

She didn’t wait for a response.

[y0ur-lovrr]

—Sleep patterns.

Based off of this song-

A/n; hiii, this was my first attempt at writing some type of angst, so if it’s bad i apologize lol, I haven’t really wrote angst before so I thought I’d try it, spoilers of season two of aib ahead!!

…maybe I will do a part 2 to this 🤷‍♀️

Pairing; everyone x reader (but you can pair yourself with whoever)

—kuina, Anne, And Usagi looked at you as you slumped at the wall, your hands holding onto your abdomen where the king of has stabbed you multiple times-blood spilling out of you like a broken faucet.

“Thank you for playing with me…I gave it my all.” You mutter with a sigh and a faint smile, having already accepted your fate that you had lost at this game, that you had lost at beating the borderlands, but you didn’t seem afraid, even as your eyes closed. It was unnerving seeing you accept fate so easily, as if you gave up on fighting even though you gave the king of spades your all.

They were all beat up to, Anne barely able to sit herself up from the floor, Kuina stabbed multiple times in her side, Usagi stabbed in her knees. But in that moment, you looked worse, and they couldn’t comprehend it, all frozen as they stared at you. You had been there since the beginning, even though you refused to accept the alliance at first, they thought of you as family.

Kuina screeches your name as he knees buckle beneath her, her hands immediately latching onto you and shaking you by your shoulders, attempting to wake you back up-as if you were just taking a nap.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t move, getting shaken with no resistance, even as her tears dripped down her cheeks, even as her bloody hands grip your shoulders a bit too tight.

“Why aren’t they moving?! Why won’t they wake up?!” She asked in a frantic yet desperate tone, ignoring her own pain as she try’s to wake you up, knowing it won’t work, but she couldn’t comprehend that you weren’t going to wake up.

Footsteps came back, the recognizable pants of Arisu sounding out as he makes his way over, just got done blowing up the king of spades. But he stops as he sees the scene in front of him.

Usagi was crying as she leaned back against a wall, trying to stop the bleeding on her legs, Anne laying on the floor with ragged breaths, and you. Slumped against the wall, not moving or barely breathing with Kuina frantically shaking your shoulders, trying to not start sobbing.

It made him feel sick, his breath catching in his throat. Guilt forms in his stomach, his head already starting to spin, maybe if he hadn’t taken so long to kill the king of spades with Aguni, maybe-just maybe, he could’ve saved you. But maybe he could-maybe if he beat the final game quick enough! That would work, right? It had to of, if they beat the final game this would all stop, right?—

“Arisu…” Usagi’s voice muttered, her voice shaky and pained, her eyes looking towards him, watching his eyes move over to hers, his eyes softening at her condition. The tears in his eyes makes her heart clench, he had no idea how all of this happened-the plan to bomb the king was supposed to work, not have it end up like this. It’s a blood bath.

Her eyes spoke a thousand words to him, and he reached out and grabbed her arm, putting it over his shoulder, making her use him as a crutch, carrying her weight easily.

“M-Maybe if we finish the last game it would save them-save them and Chishiya, Anne-“ he sputters out, words trembling over another as his mind worked quickly, and Usagi couldn’t bring herself to argue, knowing that it might work..but it was very thin chance. But knowing Arisu, he wouldn’t give up, he already lost so many-losing you and Anne would just break him.

He doesn’t know it, but hours from now, his found family will be torn apart. And he will beat the games with Usagi and wake up in the hospital. Having no memory of what happened, and you won’t talk him or the others again, not even remembering that you existed.

He will forget the time when you both sat down on the hood of an abandoned car as the sun set down, and how he asked you what you wanted in life. And all you said was ‘I don’t know’, he will forget how that stuck with him.

Anne and Kuina won’t remember how you would ride in the car at night to games, blasting the music on full blast and letting them sing to some song you never heard of before.

Usagi would forget how you admitted you afraid that one time you both were hunting for food, how you admitted that you were afraid of not being good enough, and how you afraid of dying without a fight.

Usagi and Arisu begin to make their way to the Queen of Hearts game, trying to go as fast as they could, leaving Kuina and Anne with you.

Kuina had given up on shaking you and trying to wake you up, instead laying down on the ground, staring up the sky as her gaze often moves towards you and to Anne, and the sight makes her want to cry even more. You promised her, promised her that you would escape the games with her, and that you would still be friends in the other world.

But now you can’t finish that promise, and a part of her wants to be mad at you for that. But she can’t. She could never bring herself to be mad at you. She moves one of her hands and shakily grabs onto one of yours, the blood making it slippery, as her other hand reaches towards Anne’s, silently praying that they finish the game fast.

It’s quiet despite her ragged breaths and the light breathing of Anne, it’s quiet without your constant sarcastic comments and little quips, and she finds herself already missing it, missing you.

[anticipatedexhale]

Can I have this dance?<3

⋅˚₊‧ ୨�� ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, vander, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, ekko

☆ ◞ summary: sometimes music and you partner is all you need to forget about reality

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. Just tooth rotting fluff and also not proofread as usual.

Mel Medarda.

The grand estate you shared with Mel was eerily quiet. It was rare for her to find a moment away from the politics of Piltover, but tonight, the moonlight filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft glow over the room. She sat on the couch, a wine glass in her hand, lost in thought.

You approached her quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, her golden eyes meeting yours, and for the first time that day, the tension in her expression softened.

“Everything okay?” you asked gently.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, setting her glass down. “Sometimes I wonder if all the sacrifices are worth it.”

Without a word, you reached for the music player and turned the dial, filling the room with a soft, mellow tune. Mel raised an eyebrow as you held out your hand to her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, though the corners of her lips twitched in amusement.

“Distracting you,” you replied, your voice warm. “Dance with me.”

She hesitated for a moment, her calculating mind likely weighing the practicality of such a frivolous act. But when she slid her hand into yours, the tension melted away.

You pulled her to her feet, guiding her into the open space of the living room. The music wrapped around you both as you placed one hand on her waist and held her hand with the other. She followed your lead, her movements elegant and fluid.

“You know I’m not used to letting someone else take charge,” she teased, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

“Then trust me,” you said softly, twirling her gently.

Her laughter, rare and unguarded, filled the room. For those precious moments, the weight of her responsibilities faded, and she allowed herself to simply be.

---------------------------------------------------

Jayce Talis.

The lab was silent except for the faint hum of Hextech cores. Jayce sat at his desk, his head buried in his hands, the weight of the Council’s expectations pressing down on him. He’d spent the entire day navigating political minefields, attempting to convince Piltover’s elites that his inventions weren’t just weapons of war.

You entered quietly, carrying two mugs of tea. He didn’t even look up as you set one down in front of him.

“You’re going to burn out if you keep pushing like this,” you said softly, sitting on the edge of the desk.

“I can’t stop,” Jayce muttered. “If I do, it all falls apart. The Hexgates, the city’s future… everything.”

You placed a hand on his, squeezing gently. “You’re not in this alone, you know.”

He finally looked up, his tired eyes meeting yours. “I know. I just… sometimes it feels like I have to carry it all.”

You nodded, standing up and walking over to the phonograph in the corner of the room. “Then let me carry you for a little while.”

A soft, melodic tune began to play, filling the lab with warmth. Jayce blinked, a small smile tugging at his lips despite his exhaustion.

“Dancing? Now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why not?” you replied, holding out your hand. “You need a break, and I need an excuse to be close to you.”

He chuckled, setting his work aside and taking your hand. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

As you pulled him into the open space of the lab, his movements were hesitant at first, the stress of the day still clinging to him. But as you swayed together, his body began to relax, the tension melting away.

“This is nice,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Told you,” you teased, resting your head against his chest.

Jayce’s arms tightened around you, and for a moment, the world outside the lab ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, the music, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

---------------------------------------------------

Viktor.

The soft glow of the workshop lamp illuminated Viktor’s figure, hunched over his desk. His cane leaned against the table, and his leg brace clicked faintly as he shifted in his seat. He was lost in his work, tinkering with a delicate piece of machinery, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You approached quietly, your footsteps soft against the floor. “Viktor,” you called gently.

He didn’t look up. “Just a moment,” he murmured, his voice tight with focus.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention. “You’ve been at this for hours,” you said softly. “It’s time for a break.”

He sighed, setting down his tools and leaning back in his chair. “I cannot afford to stop now. There is still so much to do.”

“And none of it will matter if you run yourself into the ground,” you replied, your tone kind but firm. “Come on. Just five minutes with me.”

His golden eyes met yours, uncertainty flickering across his face. “And what do you have in mind?”

Instead of answering, you walked over to the small gramophone in the corner and selected a record. A gentle, soothing melody began to play, filling the room with warmth. You turned back to him, holding out your hand.

“Dance with me,” you said, your voice soft but inviting.

Viktor’s brow furrowed. “You know I cannot—”

“I know,” you interrupted, stepping closer. “I’m not asking for perfection. Just stand with me. Sway with me. That’s all.”

He hesitated, glancing at his cane. “I do not want to hold you back.”

“You could never hold me back,” you replied, taking his hand in yours. “Let me hold you instead.”

After a moment, Viktor rose slowly, leaning on you for support. You guided him to the open space in the room, your arm steady around his waist. His movements were hesitant, his weight carefully balanced, but you matched his pace, swaying gently to the music.

“This is… unconventional,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“So are you,” you teased, resting your forehead against his.

He chuckled softly, his hand tightening around yours. As the music played on, the tension in his posture eased, and he let himself lean into you, trusting you to guide him.

For those few moments, the world outside the workshop ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, the gentle rhythm of the music, and the quiet intimacy of being together.

When the song ended, Viktor sighed, a soft, contented sound. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion.

“For what?” you asked, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

“For reminding me that even with my limitations… I can still feel whole,” he replied, his gaze warm.

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “You’ve always been whole to me, Viktor.”

---------------------------------------------------

Caitlyn.

The clock struck midnight as Caitlyn finally stepped through the door, her uniform slightly scuffed and her boots leaving faint marks on the floor. You had been waiting for her, the sound of your footsteps drawing her tired gaze upward.

“Another night of chaos?” you asked softly, approaching her.

She sighed, rubbing her neck. “Nothing we couldn’t handle. Just… a bit more than I expected.”

You nodded, taking her coat and setting it aside. “Then you need something to remind you of the good in the world.”

She tilted her head, curious. “And what would that be?”

You didn’t answer, instead walking over to the small speaker on the counter. The soft strum of a classical waltz filled the air, and you turned back to her, holding out a hand.

“Care to join me?”

Caitlyn chuckled, her fatigue momentarily forgotten. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” you replied, your smile widening.

With a small shake of her head, she took your hand, letting you pull her into the center of the room. Her posture was elegant, her steps precise, but there was a playfulness in her eyes that made your heart flutter.

“You’ve been planning this, haven’t you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But only because you deserve it.”

Her expression softened, and she let you lead, her body swaying effortlessly with yours. The music wrapped around you both, creating a bubble of peace in the otherwise hectic world.

---------------------------------------------------

VI.

The room was buzzing with the afterglow of triumph. Vi had just returned from what felt like an impossible mission—freeing a group of Zaunites from a shady Piltover deal. It wasn’t just a win; it was a statement. She had pulled it off without casualties, a feat she rarely allowed herself to dream of.

As she stepped into your shared space, you were already waiting, grinning like you’d just seen the sun rise for the first time.

“Didn’t expect me back so soon, huh?” Vi teased, dropping her gauntlets by the door. Her smirk was proud, but you could tell she was still riding the adrenaline.

“Not gonna lie, I was preparing for a two-day brooding session without you,” you joked, walking up to her.

Vi rolled her eyes, but her smile softened as you placed your hands on her shoulders. “Guess you’ll just have to deal with me instead.”

“Guess so,” you said, leaning in to kiss her cheek before heading toward the corner of the room. You flicked on the record player, and a jazzy, upbeat tune spilled into the air.

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re celebrating, huh?”

“You bet we are,” you replied, holding out your hand. “You just saved a ton of people, Vi. That’s worth a dance or two.”

She hesitated, her confidence faltering just slightly. “Dunno if I’m any good at this kind of thing…”

“Good thing I am,” you said with a wink.

Reluctantly, she took your hand, and you pulled her into the open space of the room. Her movements were a little clumsy at first, but as you swayed together, she relaxed, letting herself enjoy the moment.

“You’re not half bad,” you teased, spinning her gently.

“Don’t get used to it,” she shot back, though her grin betrayed her enjoyment.

---------------------------------------------------

Jinx.

The hideout was a mess, as usual—scraps of metal, spray cans, and half-finished gadgets littered the floor. Jinx was perched on her workbench, muttering to herself as she scribbled something incomprehensible onto the wall. She’d been like this for hours, her mind a storm of ideas, plans, and the lingering echoes of a rough day.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching her. Her hair was wild, her movements twitchy, but you could tell she was holding something back—something darker.

“Jinx,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the silence.

Her head snapped toward you, her eyes narrowing for a moment before softening when she recognized you. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, her tone half-relieved, half-guarded.

“You’ve been cooped up in here all day,” you said, stepping into the room. “You need a break.”

“I don’t need anything,” she shot back, her voice sharp, though it lacked its usual bite.

You walked over to the corner where an old, beat-up radio sat. With a click, soft music crackled to life—an upbeat, swaying tune that seemed completely out of place in her chaotic workshop.

“What are you doing?” she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Dancing,” you replied simply, holding out your hand.

Jinx stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “Dancing? Seriously? In here?”

“Why not?” you asked with a grin. “You’ve been running circles in your head all day. Let me spin you around instead.”

She blinked, caught off guard by your response. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but there was a flicker of amusement in her voice.

“Maybe,” you said, stepping closer. “But you’re smiling now, aren’t you?”

Jinx scoffed but didn’t push you away when you gently took her hand. “Fine. But if I trip over something and fall, it’s on you.”

“Deal,” you said, guiding her into the small open space in the room.

She was awkward at first, her movements jerky and uncertain. But as the music filled the room and you began to sway together, she started to relax. A hesitant giggle escaped her lips, and it quickly turned into full-blown laughter when you spun her around, nearly knocking over a stack of spare parts.

“This is so dumb,” she said between laughs, though she didn’t pull away.

“And yet, you’re still here,” you teased, pulling her close.

Jinx grinned, her blue eyes sparkling in a way that made your heart ache. For a moment, she was just a girl lost in a carefree moment, free from the weight of her past and the chaos of her mind.

---------------------------------------------------

Ekko.

The Firelights’ hideout buzzed with energy—members coming and going, their voices blending with the faint hum of machinery. Ekko had been busy all day, bouncing between fixing gadgets, strategizing patrols, and keeping everyone safe. You hadn’t seen him stop once, even to catch his breath.

When the group finally dispersed for the night, you found him outside, perched on the edge of a broken rooftop overlooking the dimly lit streets of Zaun. His hood was pulled back, revealing the tired lines on his face, but his eyes were still sharp, scanning the city below.

“You’re going to wear yourself out,” you called gently, stepping out into the cool night air.

Ekko turned, his lips curving into a small smile when he saw you. “Can’t afford to,” he replied, though the weariness in his voice betrayed him.

“You’ve done enough for one day,” you said, walking up beside him. “The city will still be here tomorrow. You need to take a moment for yourself.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “And what would I even do with a moment to myself?”

You grinned, holding out your hand. “You’d dance with me.”

Ekko blinked, caught off guard. “Dance? Out here? On this rooftop?”

“Why not?” you asked, your tone light. “It’s quiet, the stars are out, and you need a reason to stop thinking for a bit.”

He hesitated, glancing down at your hand. “You’re serious?”

“Always,” you replied, taking a step closer. “Come on, Ekko. Humor me.”

He shook his head with a quiet laugh, standing and taking your hand. “Alright, but if I fall, you’re taking the blame.”

“You won’t fall,” you said, pulling him into the open space of the rooftop.

With no music to guide you, the two of you swayed to the rhythm of the city—the distant hum of machinery, the faint whispers of wind through the alleyways. Ekko was stiff at first, his movements uncertain, but you didn’t let go, guiding him gently.

“You’re supposed to be leading,” you teased after a moment.

“Pretty sure you’re better at this than I am,” he shot back, a smirk playing on his lips.

You laughed, spinning him anyway, the sound of your joy breaking through the heavy air of Zaun. Slowly, his body relaxed, and he began to move with more confidence, his steps matching yours.

“This is kinda nice,” he admitted after a while, his voice softer.

“Told you,” you replied, resting your forehead against his.

For a while, neither of you spoke, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Ekko’s hands were steady on your waist, his gaze fixed on yours as if you were the only thing grounding him.

“You’re good at this,” he murmured, his tone filled with quiet gratitude.

“Dancing?” you asked with a teasing smile.

“Making things feel… less heavy,” he replied, his expression soft. “Like maybe it’s okay to stop fighting for a little while.”

You leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “It’s always okay. You don’t have to carry everything alone, Ekko.”

---------------------------------------------------

Vander.

The bar was closed for the night, the chairs stacked on tables and the lights dimmed. Vander leaned against the counter, his large frame casting a shadow over the worn wood. He was nursing a glass of whiskey, his expression distant.

You approached him, placing a hand on his arm. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” you said gently.

He sighed, setting the glass down. “Just thinking. About the kids, about Zaun… about everything.”

You nodded, understanding the weight he carried. Without a word, you walked over to the old radio on the shelf and turned the dial. A soft, nostalgic tune began to play, filling the room with warmth.

Vander raised an eyebrow. “What’re you up to?”

“Dance with me,” you said simply, holding out your hand.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You’re serious?”

“Completely,” you replied, your smile unwavering.

With a small shake of his head, he stood and took your hand, his calloused fingers wrapping around yours. You guided him into the center of the room, his movements surprisingly graceful for a man of his size.

“You’re not half bad at this,” you teased, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Used to dance all the time,” he admitted. “Back when things were… simpler.”

As the music played on, the two of you swayed together, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten. Vander’s arms were strong and steady around you, grounding you in a way that no one else could.

[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL

PART NINE

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: you reunite with the ones who helped you from the start, hoping for a fresh start.

wc. 2.2k

warnings: bit of angst and a splash of comfort

(nowhere girl masterlist)

You reach over to gently tap Sae-byeok’s arm to lull her awake. She let out a low grumble before flinching back. You gasp when she threw herself back, pressing her back on the wall of the bakery and threw you a look of horror with her bloodshot eyes. She breathes heavily and begins to wonder if you were just a figment of her imagination.

Perhaps the week you stayed with them (or the entirety of March) the colors were drained from your body. Now it’s like you’re back in full spring.

Your natural blush is more pigmented, your muscles are relaxed back, and you’re dressed in more brighter attiring. The way you were looking at Sae-byeok now was different. Instead of a scared young girl, you had a glint of confidence in your eyes.

Sae-byeok feels like she is looking at a new version of you, and just like that she felt like she was meeting you for the first time again.

But she didn’t want to think too much about your brighter appearance when you’ve been avoiding her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks, still catching her breath.

You blink. Almost forgetting what you came here to do. “Right. I came to give you these. As a final thank you for everything.” you laugh nervously and reach over to hand her the bouquet.

Sae-byeok quirks an eyebrow. No one has even given her flowers. What use will she have for them? Her eyes flicker back and worth to you and the flowers. You wait patiently for her to grab them but she still looks too tense to grasp the fact that you were here.

You lower your arm and sigh at your failed attempt. “I specifically chose yellow lilies because they stand for happiness and new beginnings. And lavender because they represent silence and calmness but they’re also uniquely cool—kind of like you.”

Sae-byeok blinks at them, her expression unreadable. That’s when an alarm on her phone went off. She went to go shut it off and you watch her walk to the kitchen leaving you astray with the rejected bouquets.

As hurt as you felt, you took a deep breath and dragged your foot out the bakery. A part of you expected this, you did disappear without warning. Maybe the rejection was well deserved. You wanted a fresh start, but you had to pick yourself back together again before making amends but maybe you took too long. These past two weeks did feel like an eternity.

You headed over to the entrance leading up to your quaint studio next to the bakery but got taken aback when someone slams the door just as you were about to enter it.

“Have you been avoiding me?” Sae-byeok asks quietly but her voice slightly quivers in frustration.

You frown at her even as she avoided looking at you. “I was giving you space. And I was hoping that after I got my act together maybe we could start over. That’s what I came over to do.”

Although you have a small roof over your head now, you spent most of your days cooped up in the school library trying to catch up on all the homework and projects that got destroyed in the hands of that devil they call,Yen-ho. If you weren’t in class or school, then you were at work. You’ve never been this busy in your life, you actually surprised yourself these past two weeks.

And the few breaks you gave yourself in the day, it was only to ponder on your choices and decisions. Even you have some resentment for your parents, you miss your mom’s home cooked meals and car rides with your dad when he dropped you off at school or work. It’s hard not to think about them everyday even if it’s an over thought.

You miss home. You miss your room, and you always wonder if they got rid of everything in your room by now or kept in just in case their baby makes it back home enveloped in their arms. Your new apartment lacks the warmth you had before. Everything feels cold and estranged.

By the time you were caught up on everything, your neck is constantly sore from always looking down and you have trouble sleeping most nights with the looming thoughts of perhaps forgetting to do one assignment or thinking about your family.

“I had a rough start obviously but I’m caught up on all of my classes now. Caught up in life in general actually.” you say softer. “How are you—Cheol and Ji-yeong? How’s everyone?”

Sae-byeok didn’t budge. She turns to look at you blankly so you wouldn’t guess her true feelings, like some sort of defense mechanism. You wonder if she was putting up her walls again.

“Do you actually care or are you saying that in case you need our help again?”

You force a slight smile to pretend her words didn’t sting you a bit. “I’m not the selfish person you think I am.” you say and Sae-byeok scoffs. “You know, it’s not wise to judge someone you only knew for a week.”

Without any further comment, she stuffs her hands into her pockets and starts walking in the opposite direction.

“Where are you going?”

“To pick up, Cheol.” she says. You watch her dumbfounded. Sae-byeok swiftly turns around with a sly look etching her face. “Are you going to prove me wrong?”

You send her a quizzical look. She raises both her eyebrows waiting for you to get what she was asking from you. Was it was her subtle way of asking to get to know you?

”I will.” you say more confidently. Sae-byeok nods slightly, her cold expression remaining on her face. “Actually, you guys should pop up by my place today if you’re all free. I’m cooking dinner.”

“…We’ll think about it.” she responds after a minute of thinking long and hard about your invitation. You nod and gently wave her goodbye before entering the stairs leading up to your apartment.

You have a feeling they will arrive so panic begins to set in your body. Truthfully, you didn’t actually plan to make dinner today.

✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

Sae-byeok leans against the wall, quietly observing the personality of your studio apartment . It was definitely small, resembling an attic. With the living room, bathroom and kitchen being close together and upstairs just big enough to fit your mattress that doesn’t have a bed frame yet. However, it seems as if you were dedicated to make this place look alive and livable.

You had your handcrafted art pieces and sculptures scattered around the walls, kitchen counter and even on the floor since you had no real piece of furniture yet. Apart from the plastic table that seated three by the only small rectangular window, you also had an oversized peace lily by the entrance that was gifted to you by Miss Ahn, who is a known plant connoisseur. Sae-byeok didn’t understand why you had so many multicolored fairy lights scattered around the ceilings, but she guesses it’s because there is a lack of natural lighting here.

“Wow, this place looks good already.” Ji-yeong says after roaming the apartment for ten minutes now. She stares up at the fairy lights in awe, reaching to tap one gently. “We lived in our apartment for three months now and it still looks the same since when we moved in. Right, Sae-byeok?”

“Thanks.” you say bashfully as you began platting the garlic spam fried rice. It’s your first time cooking for other people apart from Miss Ahn who you taught you how to make this easy cheap dinner last week. “I’m thinking of going to a thrift store soon to look for a nice couch.”

“Meh, you shouldn’t rush furniture shopping.“ she advises and sits across Cheol who was busy coloring in your old sketchbook. “When we finally moved in and found out how much a mattress cost my heart seriously fucking dropped—oh! Sorry, Cheol.”

“It’s okay. Noona swears all the time in our room.” he says innocently.

Ji-yeong looks over at Sae-byeok who was still by the wall studying your apartment. “Hey. Dinner is almost ready.”

“There’s only three chairs. I’ll just stand and eat.” she says coolly.

“Nonsense. Come and sit I have to submit an assignment that’s due tonight so you guys eat while I do that in my bed.” you reassure her, place the plates of hot food on the table. “Also, I forgot to buy drinks but I can give you water.”

“Sure!” Ji-yeong chirps and starts digging a spoonful of rice into her mouth. She groans in satisfaction. “You might just beat Sae-byeok as the better cook.”

“Shut up.” you laugh, pouring water into each of their cups.

“I’m serious. Sae-byeok hurry and try it.” she urges when the stone faced girl finally sat down.

Embarrassed to see her reaction you quickly excuse yourself to march up to your bed. You take a quick peek at the three guests before kneeling down to lift your mattress off of the floor. You pull out the cash filled envelope and shove in deep into the pocket of your sweatpants. You were going to use this money to buy a new laptop but you can hold on and use the library computers for now. Now you just sit on the edge of your bed and extra few minutes to not raise suspicions although you doubt they’ll suspect you of anything.

“Eight out ten.” Ji-yeong says when you came back downstairs. “A little bit salty but still delicious.”

“I’ll take it.” you smile and look at Sae-byeok. “What do you rate it, huh?”

Sae-byeok takes another spoonful to make a decision. “Seven out of ten.”

“Alright next time you have to cook for us since you’re so picky.” you say, playfully.

“It’s an eleven out of ten for me, Noona!” Cheol says, grinning ear to ear something you haven’t seen before.

“Oh wow, thank you, Cheol! You were the only one I cared to know what they thought about my food.” you beam. You didn’t know if you were hearing things, but you could’ve sworn Sae-byeok let out a quiet snort.

“Thanks for inviting us. It’s good to see you’re doing better.” Ji-yeong says, smiling slightly.

“I hope next time you visit I’ll have more to show you other than my seven out of ten cooking though.”

“If you’re a seven out of ten then I’m down in the gutters.” she murmurs, scratching the top of her head.

The three visitors mingled for another hour or so helping you clean the dishes and wipe down the kitchen before deciding that it was time to head home when the sun left the horizons. However, you quietly ask Sae-byeok to speak in private while she was putting on her coat. She threw you an odd look before hesitating to accept your request. Ji-yeong gave you both skeptical glances but remained quiet as she took Cheol with her out the apartment.

“Woah. What the hell are you doing?” Sae-byeok says when you pull out the envelope of cash. Her eyes grew wide and fearful. “Stop. I didn’t do it for money.”

“I know, I know but I want to help. You already work so much and also take care of Cheol and—you look so tired. I’m concerned.” you say, giving her a pleading look. “Come on, you didn’t even take the flowers that I brought you earlier.”

“I’m not taking your money.” Sae-byeok says, backing away. “This isn’t what I meant when I asked if you cared!”

“Do you really want me to give you a speech? When Ji-yeong and Cheol are waiting outside?” you cross your arms. Sae-byeok reaches for the door knob. “Stop! Hey—look after what you’ve done for me you truly earned my respect!”

Sae-byeok freezes when she twisted the knob. Her eyes get darker and narrower. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know much about you or your past but I can tell you had to do cold and heartless things to survive and no person deserves that. Especially being so young. So, just take this it’s—it’s not a lot but as long as you aren’t overworking yourself to death for a bit will make me content.”

You reach to grab Sae-byeok’s hand and place the envelope on her palm, she gently curls her fingers around it.

“Can I be honest with you?” you ask. She lets out a faint sniffle but shakes her head. “I used to live life in a bubble wrap. I have—I had two loving parents, a group of friends and school. That was it—and it was easy. I’ve never known real hard work until I had to leave everything behind…and I was ready to give up but you and Ji-yeong and even Cheol gave me strength. I don’t know what it was about you guys that did but maybe one day I’ll figure it out and I’ll let you know when I do.”

The tension in the air was killer. You hold your breath afraid that even your faint breathing will disturb whatever was on Sae-byeok’s mind. She was your enigma. Never have you met someone as confusing as her.

“Thank you.” she says barely above whisper, staring down at her shoes.

“Thank me by taking care of yourself.” you say in a light tone hoping that she will be comfortable looking at you. “You should probably go now before Ji-yeong and Cheol get worried. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.” she croaks. “Bye.”

To your disappointment, Sae-byeok’s head remained lowered till the moment she walked out the door. But you hope that over time you get to know what underneath her hard cold surface.

🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13 @peelover25 @karli6 @kissedberries @bitchybananaflower @laurenkenss @saebyeokbliss

[dreamlanderin]

You don't see me, part 3 (Sam x reader)

Summary: Time apart. Follows on part 2

Warning: Blood. Demons. Angst if you squint

Words: 8k

Boys, I wish I could’ve explained this in person, but I knew you wouldn’t let me leave. I’m not walking away from you or the fight—I’m walking toward the person I promised I’d be when I first joined you. I need to find her again. Don’t look for me.

That’s what you’d left behind. Nothing for Sam, no apology, no explanation beyond those carefully chosen words. No indication of where you were headed or when, if ever, they might see you again. They’d been confused at first.

Dean came looking for you not long after Sam regained consciousness. His knocks on your door echoed down the empty hallway, sharp and impatient, but no answer came.

At first, Dean feared the worst. The memory of you clutching your side during the hunt came rushing back, sharper now with the realization that he hadn’t checked on you after they got Sam stabilized. He’d been too focused on his brother, on Ruby, on the chaos. The idea that you might’ve bled out alone in your room made his chest tighten painfully. “Damn it,” he muttered, his fist pounding against the door one last time before he shoved it open. The room was eerily pristine, the bed made, the surfaces cleared of the usual clutter. It was too perfect, and for a brief moment, Dean thought you’d been taken—dragged out of the motel while he’d been distracted.

His gaze swept the room in a panic, catching on the empty closet and the missing duffel bag that used to sit by the foot of your bed. That’s when he saw it. The note lay folded neatly on the nightstand, your name scrawled on the outside in your unmistakable handwriting. Dean crossed the room in two strides, snatching it up with shaky hands. He read it once, then again, the words sinking in like lead. You weren’t taken. You’d left.

For a long moment, Dean just stood there, staring at the note as his jaw clenched tighter and tighter. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath. His grip on the paper tightened, crumpling the edges as a wave of anger surged through him. You were hurt. You were supposed to stay and recover. And what the hell did you mean, Don’t look for me? Did you really think he was the kind of guy who could just sit back and let you walk away?

Dean stormed back to thier room, the note clenched in his fist. When he reached the table, he slammed it down in front of Sam, who was still pale and sluggish, slouched in his chair.

“She’s gone,” Dean said bluntly, his voice tight. Sam blinked, his brows furrowing as he reached for the crumpled note. “What do you mean, gone?”

“Read it,” Dean snapped, pacing the room like a caged animal. Sam’s eyes scanned the letter quickly, his face darkening with each word. When he finished, he set the note down carefully, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Why?” he asked, his voice quiet but strained. Dean stopped pacing, turning to glare at his brother. “I don’t know, Sam. Maybe because she got tired of patching us up and watching you play tug-of-war with a damn demon?”

Sam flinched, guilt flashing across his face. “Dean—”

“She didn’t even say goodbye, Sam,” Dean said, his voice breaking for just a second before he covered it with a sharp exhale. “What the hell does that mean?”

Sam’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Dean let out a sharp exhale, raking a hand through his hair as he stared at the note again. “I don’t get it. She was one of us. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs.” Sam hesitated, then said quietly, “Maybe that’s why she left.”

Dean froze, his shoulders tense, but he didn’t argue. The words hung heavy in the air between them, unspoken truths pressing down like a weight neither of them wanted to carry.

Finally, Dean grabbed the note and stuffed it into his pocket, his expression hardening. “She said not to look for her,” he muttered, heading toward the kitchen. “But I’m not making any promises.”

Sam sat in silence, staring down at the table. The faint sound of Dean opening and slamming cabinets echoed in the distance, but his mind was elsewhere.

He thought about the way you’d looked at him in the motel room, the quiet pain in your eyes when you leaned in and told him, It’s me, Sam. He thought about the moments before that—your hands pressed to his chest, your voice trembling as you told him to hold on.

And now you were gone.

Sam closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “Stupid,” he whispered, the weight of your absence settling over him like a shadow.

He’d been out of it last night—so much of it felt like a blur now. But one thing he remembered, clear as day, was the moment you got attacked by the Shadow Stalker. You’d screamed and before he even had time to think, he was already throwing himself between you and that thing. The impact had been brutal, the creature’s claws raking through his chest and shoulder as if he were nothing. He’d felt the burn of his body hitting the ground, the sharp ache of ribs threatening to give way. By the time he realized what had happened, he was already in the Impala.

His head was resting on your lap, the faint scent of blood and dirt mixing with the metallic tang in his mouth. Everything around him was hazy—the sound of Dean shouting, the rumble of the car engine, the warmth of your hands pressing against his wounds to stop the bleeding. You’d said something to him—your voice soft, steady, and full of worry. He couldn’t remember the exact words now, but he remembered the feeling of it.

He’d tried to reach out then, his hand brushing against the fabric of your jeans as he fought to lift it higher. He’d wanted to touch your hair, to brush away the blood he’d noticed streaked across it. But his strength had failed him, and before he could manage it, the darkness pulled him under again.

And now you were gone

The fever dreams had come and gone in waves. Something in the dark was always following him, its shadowy tendrils creeping closer no matter how fast he ran. There was a light ahead—distant, wavering, always just out of reach—and he chased it. He wasn’t sure why, but the instinct to reach it burned through him.

Then his eyes would open, and the real world would filter in, fragmented and confusing. Voices, sometimes low and steady like Dean’s, other times higher and softer. Was it you? He thought it was, but then the voice would shift, distort, and become someone else entirely. Ruby? No. It couldn’t be Ruby. Could it?

Heat pressed against his skin, making him sweat despite the cold ache in his body. Everything had hurt—sharp pangs in his chest, dull throbs in his head—but none of it mattered as much as the exhaustion. It weighed him down, pulling him back into the haze of his mind where the dreams waited.

Things blurred together there: distorted faces, shadowy monsters, fragments of hunts long since passed. It all swirled in a chaotic fog, except for one thing that stood out with perfect clarity. You.

You were there, in the midst of it all. You looked at him, said something he couldn’t quite hear, but the feeling in your voice reached him. It was grounding, pulling him toward you even as the darkness clawed at his edges. He’d opened his eyes again, and there you were, sitting by his side and he had mumbled something, he can't remember much of what he had said. Something about You and not regreting protecting you? He’d barely gotten the words out before the edges of reality blurred again. His mind flickered, pulling him back into the haze, but not before he noticed someone else in the room. Ruby. Why was she here? The thought barely registered before his head lolled to the side, his strength fading once more. Darkness crept in again, pulling him under before he could make sense of anything.

By the time he regained consciousness, the worst of it had passed. The fog in his mind had lifted just enough for him to make out the dimly lit room and the distinct shapes within it. Dean was slouched in the chair beside the bed, his arms crossed and his head tilted to one side, deep in sleep. Sam’s gaze shifted to the other figure in the room—Ruby, leaning casually against the wall with a lazy grin. “Finally awake, huh?” she said, her tone dripping with amusement. Sam frowned, the residual confusion making his head feel heavy.

Everything hurt—his chest, his shoulder, even his pride—but most of all, he felt a strange relief that everyone seemed to be okay. Dean was alive, and he could only assume you were too, though the room was conspicuously missing your presence. “How long?” His voice came out rough, barely more than a whisper. “A couple of hours,” Ruby replied, pushing off the wall and crossing the room toward him. “You were a mess. Guess I saved your ass again.”

Sam blinked, trying to sit up, but the sharp sting in his shoulder quickly convinced him otherwise. Ruby was at his side in an instant, her hand brushing against his arm to stop him. “Easy there, champ. Don’t go pulling those stitches.” He hesitated, glancing at her hand before looking away. Something felt off. Maybe it was the hazy memories of the hunt or the way her voice sounded too smooth, too deliberate. Or maybe it was the guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind, the feeling that he’d somehow let everyone down by getting hurt. “Where’s—” he started, but Ruby cut him off. “Not here,” she said, her tone sharp but casual.

It must have been the look on his face that made her continue.“Does it matter? They’re fine. You need to focus on getting better.” Sam frowned but didn’t push it. His throat felt dry, and the ache in his body made it hard to think straight. Ruby crouched beside him, her dark eyes narrowing as she studied him.

“You’re still weak,” she said after a moment, her voice softening into something almost sympathetic. “That thing did a number on you. And if you don’t bounce back soon, it’s gonna happen again.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sam muttered, his voice hoarse.

Ruby smirked, shaking her head. “You’re stubborn. I’ll give you that.” She straightened up, pulling a small blade from her pocket. The sight of it made Sam’s stomach churn, even before she dragged it across her palm, letting a thin line of blood well up against her skin. “You know what you need,” she said, holding her hand out toward him.

Sam stared at it, the sight of the dark, rich blood stirring a mix of instinct and revulsion. He knew she was right—her blood could heal him, give him the strength to recover faster than his body ever could on its own. He’d done it before, too many times to count. But this time… This time, something felt different.

“I don’t want it,” he said, his voice firmer than before. Ruby raised an eyebrow, her grin fading into something colder. “Don’t be stupid, Sam. You’re not gonna get better on your own.”

“I said no.” He pushed the words out through gritted teeth, his gaze meeting hers with a stubborn determination. Her expression darkened, the easy charm slipping away to reveal something more dangerous. “You’re seriously gonna let yourself waste away out of what—pride? Morality? Don’t forget who pulled you out of that mess.”

“I remember,” Sam said quietly, the weight of his words heavier than she might’ve expected. He thought of the hunt, of you running into danger without hesitation, of Dean working tirelessly to keep him alive. He himself didn't quite understand why he was turning a cure down, maybe that Shadow Stalker had infected his mind in a way that made him desperate to keep the dark out. And demon blood, was as dark as it could get.

“This isn’t the answer.”

Ruby’s jaw tightened, and she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You’re being reckless. You think you’re stronger than you are, but you’re not. Without me, you’d be dead. Without this”—she held her bleeding hand closer—“you’re useless.” Sam’s chest tightened, a flicker of doubt threatening to take hold, but he pushed it down. He shook his head, forcing himself to meet her gaze.

“I’m not in the mood for this.”

Ruby’s smirk faltered for a split second before settling into something sharper, colder. “Not in the mood?” she repeated, her tone laced with mockery. “This isn’t about your mood, Sam. This is about staying alive.”

But it wasn’t just about staying alive, and they both knew it. He could feel it now—that gnawing pull, the faint burn in his veins that left him restless and raw. He hated that part of him, the part that had grown dependent on her blood, that craved the rush of power it gave him.

It had started small, just enough to stay sharp, to keep fighting. That’s what he’d told himself, anyway. But over time, it had become something else. He couldn’t ignore the way his heart raced when she answered his calls, the way he’d catch himself checking his phone like some desperate junkie waiting for a fix. Ruby wasn’t just a partner. She was his dealer, and every time he gave in, it felt like she tightened the chain around his neck. “I’ll figure it out,” he said finally, forcing the words out past the lump in his throat. “Just… not now.”

Her smirk returned, cruel and knowing. “You’re such a cliché, you know that?” she said, leaning down slightly, her dark eyes boring into his.

"Afraid Dean might see?"

He didn’t respond, his jaw tightening as he looked away. She wasn’t wrong, and that only made him hate her more. Ruby huffed out a laugh, short and bitter. “Fine,” she said, straightening up. “You do you, Sam. But don’t expect me to keep cleaning up your messes when you’re too proud to ask for help.” She wiped the blood on a rag, her movements brisk and annoyed, before tossing the stained cloth onto the table. “You know where to find me when you change your mind,” she added, her voice softening into something almost seductive. Her boots echoed against the floor as she walked away, the door clicking shut behind her.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Sam stayed where he was, staring at the ceiling, his hands clenching into fists. The ache in his body was relentless, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the ache in his mind.

He hated himself for wanting it. For the small, traitorous part of him that considered calling her back.

Not this time, he thought bitterly. Not now. But the doubt lingered, clawing at the edges of his resolve.

It wasn’t just the craving—it was the shame that came with it. The knowledge that he’d let himself fall this far, that he’d traded pieces of himself for power he wasn’t even sure he wanted anymore. He hated what it said about him, about the choices he’d made.

That’s why he kept it to himself. Dean didn’t know. He couldn’t know. The thought of telling him, of seeing the disappointment and anger in his brother’s eyes, was unbearable. Dean always believed in fighting with what you had, not what you could take, and Sam knew this would cross a line Dean couldn’t forgive. And you? You would see right through him. You always had a way of peeling back the layers he tried to hide behind, exposing the things he wasn’t ready to admit—not even to himself. You’d dig and dig, your concern masquerading as stubborn determination, and it would only be a matter of time before you uncovered the truth. He couldn’t let that happen.

So he kept you at arm’s length. It wasn’t fair, and he knew it. But it was easier to push you away than to risk you looking at him the way he was afraid you might. Like you didn’t recognize him anymore.

Sam sighed, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. The room was quiet now, the only sound the faint hum of the motel’s air conditioner. He hated how tangled everything had become—how every choice he made seemed to push him further away from the people who mattered most.

You’re gone because of me, he thought, the words heavy and bitter.

He leaned back against the chair, his gaze drifting to the empty space where you might’ve sat if things had been different. If he hadn’t been too much of a coward to tell you the truth. The truth was... no he couldn’t say it. Even now, with the ache in his body and the haze in his mind, that truth would remain his for now. Still, he felt asif if somehow he had become this terrible monstrous thing. He didn't deserve you or Dean.

Sam let out a shaky breath, his chest tightening with a mix of regret and resignation. He wanted to tell himself it was better this way, that you were safer without him dragging you into his mess. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t true. The truth was, he didn’t know how to fix this. Not the addiction, not the distance he’d created between himself and Dean, and definitely not that coldness you’d left behind. For now, all he could do was sit with the weight of it, the silence pressing down on him like a punishment he knew he deserved.

The sound of drawers slamming and the clatter of gear being thrown into a bag jolted Sam from his thoughts. He blinked, lifting his gaze to see Dean storming around the room, his jaw tight and his movements sharp with frustration. “What are you doing?” Sam asked, his voice hoarse from disuse. “What does it look like?” Dean snapped, tossing a handful of shotgun shells into his duffel. “I’m going after her.” Sam frowned, pushing himself up a little despite the protest in his shoulder. “Dean… she left a note. She doesn’t want us to go after her.” Dean froze for half a second before turning on his heel, his eyes blazing as he pointed a finger at Sam. “Don’t start with me. She’s hurt, she’s out there alone, and you think I’m just gonna sit here and twiddle my thumbs because of some damn note?”

“She’s not stupid,” Sam said quietly, his voice careful. “She knows how to handle herself.”

Dean scoffed, slamming his bag shut with a force that made the whole table shake. “Yeah? Well, she didn’t handle herself too great when she went toe-to-toe with that Shadow Stalker. Did you forget how banged up she was? I sure as hell didn’t.” Sam clenched his jaw, the memory of your bloodstained shirt flashing through his mind. He hadn’t forgotten. How could he?

“She’s trying to figure things out,” Sam said after a long pause. “She needs space.” Dean let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he shrugged on his jacket. “Space? That what we’re calling it now? Sam, she didn’t even say goodbye to you. She didn’t say goodbye to either of us.”

“That’s not the point,” Sam muttered, looking away.

“No, the point is she’s out there somewhere, bleeding and pissed off, and I’m not just gonna let her disappear without a fight. So why are you, huh?” Dean’s voice softened slightly, though the fire in his eyes remained. Sam didn't know how to answer him.

“We’re family, man. We don’t leave each other behind. That’s not how we do things.”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the chair. “What if you chasing her just makes it worse? She doesn’t want to be found, Dean. You saw the note.”

Dean paused, his hands tightening around the strap of his bag. For a moment, the anger in his expression faltered, replaced by something rawer—fear, maybe, or guilt. “Yeah, well… tough,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “She can hate me all she wants, but I’m not gonna sit here and do nothing. Not when she might need us.” Sam didn’t argue, but the doubt lingered in his mind. He didn’t want to admit it, but he wasn’t sure if Dean’s stubborn determination would bring you back—or drive you further away.

Dean grabbed his keys, his movements resolute as he headed for the door. “You staying here or coming with me?” Sam hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. His body ached, his mind was a mess, and the thought of going after you filled him with equal parts hope and dread. “I’ll stay,” he said finally, his voice low. “You’ll move faster without me.” Dean stopped at the door, glancing back at his brother with a look that was equal parts frustration and understanding. He didn’t push it, just nodded once before stepping out into the night. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Sam alone with the echo of his brother’s resolve—and the weight of his own inaction. He didn’t deserve to find you.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

You’d hitched a few rides over the past day, bouncing from one truck stop to another as you slowly made your way north. The drivers didn’t ask too many questions, and you didn’t offer much beyond polite thanks and vague mentions of family up the road. It kept things simple, and simple was exactly what you needed. After that you were on a bus, the long ride stretching out before you as the highway unraveled into the distance. The seat was stiff, the air stale with the faint scent of old upholstery and spilled coffee, but it was quiet. That was what mattered most—quiet and distance.

It had taken another day or two to reach Bobby’s. You’d mapped it out in your head, calculating the stops and connections with the kind of precision that came from years of tracking hunts. But this wasn’t a hunt. This was something different, something heavier, and the weight of it sat in your chest like a stone. Youd leaned your head against the bus window, the blur of fields and trees rushing past. The weight in your chest was familiar now—regret, guilt, and something else you couldn’t quite name. You’d left to find yourself, but the question remained: Could you even recognize her anymore?

Bobby would have a place for you—you were sure of that much. Or atleast that was your thought process on the bus. He always had room for strays, and you were no exception. But the thought of facing him, of explaining why you’d left, twisted your stomach into knots. Bobby wasn’t one to beat around the bush, and you knew he’d see right through you the moment you walked through his door. You sighed, closing your eyes as the bus rattled on. You didn’t have all the answers yet, and maybe you wouldn’t by the time you got there.

You started to feel silly about the whole thing—walking away like this, leaving behind a life you’d fought so hard to build. Maybe you should’ve stayed, if only to see if Sam was okay. The image of him lying on that bed, pale and broken, flashed through your mind, and for a moment, your resolve wavered.

But you dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it came. Staying would’ve only made things worse—for him and for you. You’d spent enough time trying to patch up the cracks in everyone else’s lives while ignoring your own. This wasn’t about Sam, or Dean, or any of it. This was about finding yourself again, about keeping a promise you’d nearly forgotten you’d made. Still, as the bus rumbled down the highway, a small, stubborn part of you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made a mistake. If maybe, just maybe, you’d left something behind that you weren’t ready to let go of. And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy being back at Bobby’s.

The creak of the porch under your boots, the smell of motor oil and dust in the air, the piles of junk and old car parts scattered around—it should’ve felt like a refuge. But it didn’t. Not now. You leaned on the porch railing, staring out at the yard. Everything about this place screamed familiarity, but you couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on you. Being here brought everything bubbling up—the doubts, the guilt, the question of whether leaving had been the right thing to do. This was where you'd met the boys, and all just came flooding back to you.

When you’d shown up on Bobby’s doorstep, he’d just squinted at you like he could read the whole story written on your face. No lectures, no questions. Just a gruff, “Well, don’t just stand there like an idjit. Get your ass inside.” That was Bobby for you. You ended up, sat, in his kitchen, hands curled around a mug of coffee you hadn’t even taken a sip from. Bobby leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his eyes sharp and waiting. “You look like hell,” he finally said. You almost laughed at how matter-of-fact he was. “Thanks, Bobby. Nice to see you too.” He raised an eyebrow. “You want nice, you’re in the wrong house. What’s goin’ on?” You sighed, staring into the coffee like it held some kind of answer.

“I left.” His face didn’t change, not much. Maybe a flicker of something in his eyes. “You mean the boys?”

You nodded.

“You just up and walked out on ’em?”

“It’s... complicated,” you muttered, setting the coffee down. “Sam got hurt—real bad—and it just... it felt like everything was falling apart. There’s this distance now. Between all of us. Between me and him.”

“Sam, huh?” Bobby said, and there was something in the way he said it that made you feel like he already knew more than you’d told him. You rubbed the back of your neck, staring at the table. “I couldn’t stay, Bobby. I was... I don’t know. Waiting, I guess. Waiting for something to get better, for something to change. But it didn’t. And in the meantime, I was just... losing myself. Trying to fix everything, trying to keep up. I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Bobby didn’t say anything for a minute, just tipped his head like he was weighing your words. Then he let out a deep sigh. “And now you’re here. Lookin’ for what, exactly? A pat on the back? Somebody to tell you it’s all fine and dandy?” You flinched a little but shook your head. “I’m just... I need space, Bobby. To figure out who I am outside of all this.” He nodded slowly, his face softening just a little. “Well, you got space here. Long as you need it. But listen to me—run all you want, you’ll still be you when you get where you’re goin’. That’s what you gotta reckon with. Not Sam, not Dean. You.” You nodded, swallowing hard. He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong. “Appreciate it,” you said quietly.

“Don’t mention it,” Bobby grumbled, straightening up and heading for the fridge. “You want somethin’ to eat, or you just plan on sittin’ there starin’ at that coffee all night?” It wasn’t easy being back at Bobby’s. But maybe that was exactly what you needed.

The days at Bobby’s passed slowly, a strange blend of familiarity and restlessness. You threw yourself into work—cleaning up the salvage yard, organizing his cluttered shelves, fixing up a few busted cars. Anything to keep your hands busy and your mind too occupied to wander.

But even as you distracted yourself, the silence pressed in, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. Every now and then, you’d catch yourself glancing at your phone, half-hoping, half-dreading to see Dean’s name or a text from Sam. You’d received a few over the past few days, but you ignored all of them. The calls went unanswered, and the texts were left on read. The only message you sent was a short, vague reply: I’m safe. Don’t worry. It wasn’t enough to stop Dean from trying. He never took “don’t worry” for an answer, and his persistence made it harder to stick to your resolve. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart clenched. Part of you wanted to pick up, to hear his voice and let him lecture you into coming back. But you couldn’t do that—not yet.

And Sam… well, you weren’t sure you could face him even if you tried. The memory of his pale, bloodied face haunted you, along with the weight of the words he’d mumbled before slipping into unconsciousness. You matter. You’d wanted to believe him, wanted to hold on to the warmth of that moment. But it had been fleeting, and when Ruby’s name slipped into the air between you, it shattered everything you thought you’d felt.

You dismissed the thoughts as quickly as they came. Staying wouldn’t have fixed anything. It would’ve only made things worse—for you and for them. You’d spent too much time trying to hold everyone together, trying to patch up cracks in people who didn’t even want your help. This wasn’t about Dean, or Sam, or Ruby. It was about you. And you’d promised yourself, long before you even met the Winchesters, that you wouldn’t lose yourself again.

Bobby didn’t say much at first, just watched you work with his usual scrutinizing gaze. He let you settle in, his silence almost comforting in its predictability. But that didn’t stop him from throwing in the occasional jab. “You gonna do somethin’ useful today, or you just plan to stand there lookin’ like a lost puppy?” he asked one afternoon, leaning against the doorway as you sorted through a pile of old hunting gear. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you held up a rusted blade.

“I’m cleaning up your mess, Bobby. I’d say that’s plenty useful.” He snorted, but there was a softness in his eyes that told you he wasn’t as gruff as he pretended to be. “You keep that attitude up, you’ll fit right in with the junkyard.” Later that evening, as you sat in the kitchen nursing a mug of coffee, Bobby finally cut to the chase. “So,” he started, settling across from you with his own mug. “How long you plannin’ on mopin’ around here?” You frowned, your fingers tightening around the handle.

“I’m not moping.”

“Sure, and I’m the King of England.” He raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “You’re not foolin’ anyone, kid. Least of all me.”

You sighed, staring into the dark liquid in your cup. “I just needed some space, Bobby. That’s all.”

“Space is fine,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. “But space don’t fix what’s broken. You know that as well as I do.” Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you didn’t say anything. When you finally looked up, his gaze was steady, unrelenting in a way that made you feel like a kid again. “I couldn’t stay,” you admitted quietly. “It felt like I was… drowning. Trying to keep everything together, trying to be everything for everyone. And Sam…” Bobby tilted his head slightly, waiting for you to finish. “There’s something going on with him,” you said, your voice faltering. “Something he’s not telling me—or Dean. I tried to figure it out, but every time I got close, he’d shut me out.”

Bobby didn’t respond right away, just tapped a finger against the side of his mug as he mulled over your words. Then, after a long pause, he said, “You’re not wrong about the boy.” You blinked, sitting up a little straighter. “What do you mean?”

He let out a sigh, his gaze drifting to the window as if he were debating how much to say. “Dean called me a while back. Said Sam’s been… different. Edgy. More than usual.” Your stomach twisted. “Did he say why?” Bobby shook his head. “Not in so many words. But he mentioned Ruby’s name a couple times. Said Sam’s been spendin’ too much time with her.” The mention of Ruby sent a chill down your spine.

“He’s in love with her,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue.

Bobby’s eyes narrowed, his face hardening slightly. “Love’s a strong word. More like… she’s got her claws in him real deep. Sam’s a smart kid, but he’s also stubborn as hell. He thinks he’s doin’ what’s best, but I got a feelin’ he’s diggin’ himself a hole he can’t climb out of.” The knot in your chest tightened. You’d seen it too—the way Ruby hovered just close enough to keep him tethered, the way his shoulders relaxed when she was around. You hated her for it, hated the way she seemed to know exactly how to pull Sam’s strings. “He’s gonna get himself hurt,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. Bobby sighed, his gaze softening. “Maybe. But that ain’t your problem to fix.” You nodded, though the words didn’t settle as easily as they should’ve.

That night, as you sat on the porch with a blanket draped over your shoulders, you stared up at the stars and tried to make sense of everything. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint chirp of crickets and the distant rustle of wind through the trees. You thought of Sam, of the way his eyes had searched yours in that motel room. You thought of Dean, of his relentless determination to keep everyone together. And you thought of yourself, sitting here now, wondering if you’d done the right thing. The stars didn’t have any answers. Neither did you. But as the night stretched on, you realized that maybe Bobby was right. Maybe space wouldn’t fix what was broken.

You missed them.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

Dean’s knuckles tightened around the wheel of the Impala as the miles ticked by. The road stretched ahead in a blur of asphalt and scattered headlights, but his mind was somewhere else. The crumpled note sat in the passenger seat, the words burned into his brain no matter how hard he tried to shake them. Don’t look for me. Like hell he wouldn’t.

He’d started at the last place they’d been, retracing your steps like it was any other hunt. Truck stops, diners, gas stations—he grilled anyone who might’ve seen you, his tone sharp and clipped, his patience nonexistent. A few vague descriptions matched your appearance, but they all pointed in different directions. It was like you’d vanished into thin air, leaving only breadcrumbs that barely stuck together. He pulled into another gas station, the fluorescent lights humming faintly overhead as he parked the car. The clerk inside barely looked up from his magazine as Dean approached the counter.

“Seen her?” Dean asked, slapping a photo onto the counter. It was a candid shot, one Sam had taken months ago during a rare quiet moment between hunts. You were laughing at something Dean had said, your head tilted slightly, your hair catching the light. The clerk squinted at the photo, his chewing gum slowing as he considered it. “Maybe,” he drawled. “Couple days ago. Hitched a ride with a trucker headin’ north.” Dean’s jaw tightened. “You got anything more specific?” The guy shrugged.

“Didn’t catch where they were goin’. She looked like she was in a hurry, though.”

Dean muttered a curse under his breath, snatching the photo back as he turned toward the door. Every lead was colder than the last, and with each dead end, the knot in his chest tightened. You weren’t making this easy, but he hadn’t expected you to.

Back in the Impala, he rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping in around the edges. He hated this—hated not knowing where you were, if you were okay, if you even wanted to be found. But none of that mattered. Not to him. Not when the thought of you out there alone, hurt and vulnerable, gnawed at him like a wound that wouldn’t heal. “Damn it,” he muttered, slamming his hand against the steering wheel.

A memory flashed, sharp and uninvited—your laugh filling the air during a rare quiet night on the road. You’d been teasing Sam about something, and the sound of it had made Dean smirk despite himself. Now, that laughter felt like a ghost, haunting the empty space you’d left behind.

With a heavy sigh, Dean started the car and pulled back onto the highway. He wasn’t giving up. Not yet.

Sam sat alone in the motel, the silence pressing down on him like a weight. Dean had been gone for two days now, chasing after you with the kind of determination Sam couldn’t bring himself to muster. His shoulder still ached from the hunt, the stitches pulling every time he moved, but that wasn’t what kept him up at night. It was you.

He stared at his phone, your single message still sitting there like a taunt. I’m safe. Don’t worry. Safe, sure. But the “don’t worry” part? That was impossible. Sam leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled slowly. The truth was, he wasn’t just worried about you. He was worried about himself—about the way Ruby’s presence lingered like a shadow in his mind, about the pull of her blood and the power it gave him. About the way he couldn’t seem to stop craving it, no matter how much he tried. You’d seen it, hadn’t you? Seen the cracks he’d been trying so hard to hide.

Maybe that’s why you’d left—not because of the hunt, not because of the fight, but because you couldn’t stand to watch him fall apart. His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. It wasn’t you. It was Ruby. Sam stared at the screen for a long moment, his chest tightening as the familiar rush of guilt and need washed over him. He didn’t answer. Not this time. But the doubt lingered, clawing at the edges of his resolve. And as the silence settled over the motel once more, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was too far gone to fix any of it.

Was he being pathetic? Yes. But he also had an idea of where you might have gone, and that at least gave him some comfort. It was better than thinking you were out there with no plan, no destination. That wasn’t like you. You always had a plan. Still, the idea of you being gone didn’t sit right. He thought, at some point, to go to you. That maybe if he apologized… or said something—anything—you’d come back.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to fix whatever it was that had pushed you to leave in the first place. He just didn’t know what to say. It was a lot emptier without you. The motel room was cramped and quiet, the kind of quiet that made the cheap wallpaper and sagging furniture feel like they were closing in. Dean had gone out for food—or maybe just to burn off his frustration somewhere else—and Sam was left alone, staring at the scattered papers on the table. It was their usual setup: lore books stacked high, scribbled notes, and a laptop balanced precariously on the edge of the bed. But it didn’t feel right. Not without you.

You always brought order to the chaos, sorting through the mess with a sharp eye and steady hands. Without you, it just felt like clutter. Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair. The motel’s AC unit rattled faintly in the background, doing little to cut through the stale air. His phone sat on the table in front of him, the screen dark, but he couldn’t stop glancing at it. He thought about calling you again, even though he knew you wouldn’t pick up. He thought about texting, about saying something that might make you reconsider. But every time his fingers hovered over the keyboard, the words felt wrong.

Too little, too late. Instead, he’d scroll through the texts you’d sent before—all the quick updates, the late-night jokes, the “be careful” warnings that were more about you worrying than the hunt itself. It felt like a lifetime ago now, like they belonged to a different version of himself. One who hadn’t let things spiral so far out of control.

The truth was, he didn’t know how to fill the void you’d left behind. Sam ran a hand through his hair, staring at the phone again. He’d sent you one last text the night before, short and to the point: We’re still here. Wherever you are, just… stay safe. You hadn’t replied. He tried to tell himself that it was fine, that you needed space, but the weight in his chest said otherwise. He wanted to believe you were okay, that you’d find what you were looking for, but doubt crept in every time he closed his eyes. What if you weren’t okay? What if you were out there, hurt or worse, and he wasn’t there to help

The door creaked open, and Dean walked in, his boots heavy on the floor. He had a bag of takeout in one hand and a six-pack in the other, but his face was set in that hard, determined way that made Sam’s stomach knot. He dropped the food on the table and slumped onto the bed, his shoulders tight and his jaw clenched. “Anything?” Dean asked, his voice clipped. Sam shook his head.

“Nothing.” Dean let out a sharp exhale, dragging a hand down his face. "She's headed north" he pauses “Figures. She’s probably with Bobby.”

“Maybe,” Sam muttered, though he didn’t sound convincing. Dean glared at him, his frustration barely contained.

“You think I’m wrong?”

“I don’t know, Dean. I don’t know anything right now.” The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Dean cracked open a beer and took a long swig, his eyes fixed on the floor. For a while, neither of them said anything. Then Dean broke the silence

“She’s out there, Sam!” Dean snapped, slamming his bear on the table. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“And what do you want me to do, Dean?” Sam shot back, his voice sharper than usual. “I can barely move without ripping my stitches open. You think I can chase after her in this state?”

“That’s a damn good excuse, all you've been doing is mope around” Dean snarled. “You let her walk away. You just let her leave, Sam!”

Sam flinched at the accusation, his jaw tightening as he pushed himself up. “She didn’t leave because of me,” he said quietly, though the words felt hollow even as he spoke them.

“Bullshit,” Dean hissed, his voice low and cutting. “She left because you pushed her away. Because you’ve been too wrapped up in whatever the hell is going on with you and Ruby to notice anything else!”

Sam’s eyes flared with anger, but he didn’t deny it. "You think I don’t feel guilty?” Sam shot back, his voice raw. “You think I don’t lie awake wondering what I could’ve done differently? I know I screwed up, Dean.” Dean’s glare softened, but only slightly. “Then fix it,” he said, his tone low and firm. “Before she’s too far gone.”

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

You use to like the porch, use to come here a lot when you were younger. One night, after hours spent organizing Bobby’s shelves just to keep your hands busy, you found yourself sitting on it with a bottle of whiskey. The sky above was inky black, pinpricked with stars, the kind of night that would have felt endless and peaceful under different circumstances. But the quiet only made the storm in your head louder.

You stared at the bottle, your fingers curling around it tightly. “What the hell am I doing?” you muttered under your breath.

The answer didn’t come.

Instead, the memories crept in. Sam’s pale face, broken and bleeding on the bed. Dean’s shouts, frantic and sharp, cutting through the chaos like a blade. The weight of it all crushed you from the inside out, suffocating and relentless. Then there was Ruby, a name that hung in your mind like a noose, tightening with every passing second. And then this porch, it took you back to all those years ago, this was where you guys had met:

“We’re John’s boys,” Dean said simply, like you were supposed to know exactly what he was talking about.

“And?” You squinted at the pretty boy in a leather jacket, the sun high in the sky as you stood in the doorway. You were wearing something close to shorts and a flannel, a shotgun casually tucked under your arm.

“Look, sweetheart, we—”

“What my brother means,” the taller one interrupted smoothly, cutting Dean off before he could finish, “is that we’ve driven a long way, and we just want to talk to Bobby, if you don’t mind.” He smiled a polite, almost apologetic smile.

You glanced between them, your grip tightening on the shotgun as they lingered just outside the doorway.

“Names?”

“I’m Dean, and that’s Sammy—”

“Sam. Just Sam,” the taller one corrected, shooting a glance at his brother.

Your gaze shifted between them, taking in their clothes—well-worn boots, layers that were functional more than fashionable. You frowned. “You’re hunters?”

“The best,” Dean quipped, his tone dripping with self-assurance.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Aren’t you a little young?”

Dean’s smirk faltered for a second, replaced by a slight frown before he quickly composed himself. Beside him, Sam gave a small, polite smile.

“Thank you,” Sam said, his tone light, almost amused.

You tilted your head, considering them for a moment longer before stepping back slightly. “I’ll call him down,” you said, your voice firm. “But if you try anything, I’ll shoot you. Got me?”

“Loud and clear,” Sam replied calmly, his tone easy and steady.

Dean, however, looked a little annoyed, his jaw tightening as he glanced at his brother.

You stepped back inside, leaving the door open just enough to keep an eye on them as you turned to yell toward the stairs. “Bobby! You got visitors!”

That’s how you’d first met them. You’d been staying with Bobby for a while, helping out where you could, when they’d just showed up one day, and then again and again, until their appearances became less like interruptions and more like routine.

They had a way of pulling you in, those brothers. The kind of presence that made everything else seem smaller, quieter. Enough so that, one day, when they headed out, you’d gone with them. And you never came back.

That was a few years ago. A lot had changed since then.

You took a long swig from the bottle, the burn in your throat grounding you for a fleeting moment. But it didn’t stop the tears that welled up, hot and unrelenting.

“Shit,” you muttered, brushing them away roughly. You hated this—hated feeling weak, hated that you’d run, hated that even now, you couldn’t stop thinking about them.

The door creaked open behind you, and Bobby stepped out. His footsteps were heavy but unhurried, his presence as steady and solid as the creak of the porch under his weight. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the railing beside you. His sharp, knowing eyes seemed to cut through the dark.

For a long moment, the silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Then, finally, Bobby broke it. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with cryin’, you know.”

You huffed out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t fix anything.”

“No,” Bobby agreed, his tone gruff but not unkind. “But sometimes it helps you figure out what’s worth fixin’.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with truth. You didn’t respond, just stared at the bottle in your hands. That was a day or two ago, but the memory of it still burned in your chest, raw and unshakable.

Today, you’d just finished up on one of the trucks while Bobby insisted on cooking, though it hadn’t done much to settle the noise in your head.  You felt too embarrassed to meet Bobby’s eyes after that night on the porch, like your vulnerability had left a mark you couldn’t scrub away.

The house was quiet now, the faint sizzle of the scrapyard humming in the heat. You threw the towel over your shoulder and leaned against the hood of an old truck, letting out a deep breath.

The day had passed slowly, dragging on like it was trying to remind you of everything you weren’t ready to face. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Distance. Space. Time to figure out what the hell you were even doing.

And then you saw it.

Out of the corner of your eye, a figure shifted just beyond the tree line. At first, you thought it was a trick of the light—a shadow flickering in the heat. But the longer you stared, the more certain you became. Someone was there.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you wiped your hands on a rag and stepped away from the truck. “Bobby?” you called, your voice cutting through the stillness.

No response.

The figure moved closer, stepping into the clearing with a calm, deliberate stride. The sun glinted off dark hair, and as they drew nearer, your chest tightened. Sharp features came into focus, along with a confident smirk that sent a chill down your spine.

“Ruby?”

She stopped a few feet away, her gaze sweeping over you like she was sizing you up. Her smirk widened, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Long time no see.”

Your stomach twisted, and your grip tightened around the wrench in your hand. The cool steel felt like the only solid thing in a moment that threatened to unravel completely.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharp, almost shaking.

Ruby’s smile deepened, a dangerous edge to her expression. “Let’s just say I have a vested interest in your little soul-searching trip.”

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

Dumm dummm daaa. (Please let me know if you guys are bored with this, because I know this one is not as fun as part 2)

Feedback is always welcome ;)

[muffinsin]

Hii! Can I please have some headcanons of the Dimitrescu Daughters with a new little sister that Alcina created with the Cadou?

For sure :) I’ve done something very similar to this before, so I’ll leave it linked here if I find it

Let’s get into it🙌

Masterlists

Alcina didn’t quite plan on having another daughter, per say

The thought just rarely crossed her mind, really

Of course, there were times she thought back to the early days in her daughters’ lives, back when they messily grabbed at her clothing for comfort, unsteady on their shaky, weak legs that just kept on turning into swarms of flies, much to their frustration

When they whined and snarled for attention, when they bit at her hands affectionately, unable to express their adoration and happiness in many other ways

Back when they were just reborn, when they were but little swarms of flies and limbs, their eyes wide and curious as they took in the world

Occasionally, she thinks of the wonder in their eyes, of teaching them and showing them new things

Of their achievements, their little giggles once they finally understood how to swarm

Alas, the thought of actually taking in another daughter hasn’t crossed her mind

She has her three precious girls already, after all

Her precious eldest, so smart, headstrong, and caring. Her pride, her successor. Her Bela, her eldest

Her fierce Cassandra, improving her tactics day after day so Alcina is sure she will outnumber her kills and outmatch her as it comes to the hunt in no time. She couldn’t be any prouder

Her sweet Daniela, playful and curious, energetic and clingy. Her sunshine, capable of bringing a fond smile to her face even when she storms into her room snarling and whining, complaining about her sisters or the staff as she often does. Of course, to Alcina, her little Daniela could do no wrong. None of her daughters, for that matter

She’s happy with them, honored they chose, accepted, her as their mother

But then, something odd

A call, an offer, directly from Mother Miranda

A reject, a woman reborn through the cadou, much like her daughters

Alone? Surely, you would not survive

No, Alcina Dimitrescu didn’t think of asking for another daughter, already so happy and fond of her three little flies

But, being summoned to Miranda’s lab and seeing the little fly pile move and toss and to hear the whines from within…

Alcina Dimitrescu is a mother

And when a little hand reached out from the pile of flies and blindly reached for her dress, just as she remembers her daughters once did, it was over

She takes you in on the same day, eager to bring you to your new home

This, of course, leaves Bela, Cassandra and Daniela…confused

While the brunette believes you might be prey brought home for dinner, Daniela squeals happily at the sight of you, gushing about how cute you are, whining and swatting at your own flies

Bela, as often, observes with a calculating gaze

And only when Alcina clarifies your status as their younger sister, things turn a little…messy

While they aren’t proud of it and often feel guilty for it, your three older sisters did not cope well when you were brought into the family

Often, they would stay away, plagued by insecurity and jealousy after it was just the three of them for so long

You grow fast, clinging to Alcina and sneaking glances at the three beautiful, intimidating women mama said are your sisters

You don’t understand much at the start, your body and mind remade after being reborn. But, you like them

You like them even as they don’t talk to you in the early stages, when they can’t even bear to look at you after seeing Alcina shower you in attention

Of course, the mother of four tried her best to balance things out, to show them, this doesn’t change her love for them

But you’re reborn, dependent, young. You need her constant attention, unlike them, biologically speaking. You’re her youngest, now. And they don’t like that, for a long time

Funnily enough it’s Bela who interacts with you first, after a few months of being reborn, when she dares sneak a peak at you again

She often used to tell herself she doesn’t care for you, that she doesn’t like you, perhaps even hates you for taking her mother. She knew even then, it isn’t true, was never true

But the jealousy…

She’d sometimes venture into your room, her golden eyes set on you. Sometimes, you’d respond, a happy smile

And one time, one day, she interacts with you

She doesn’t want to, really, didn’t mean for it to happen

She watched you try to climb from the large bed you’re on- a bed made to fit Alcina, not one of (somewhat-) human stature

She watched you fall

And before she could help herself, she caught you, unwilling to see you get hurt

From then on, she’s a little friendlier to you

Yes, you took her mama’s attention from her, but she can’t help but care for you, still, feeling your swarm even in the early days

(-in the time to come, Alcina would regularly schedule time for each of her daughters, as she did in the early days of her eldest 3, to ensure all still feel her care and get to bask in her attention)

Daniela was next, comes around when you became old enough to understand words and babble quietly to yourself and others

While she used to feel a fierce sense of jealousy, having been the youngest of the family before you, she couldn’t help but think of all those times she craved her family’s attention

When she so badly wanted someone to play with, all alone in the big castle when mama had to work

When Bela studied, when Cassa trained

She figured, she could try being that person for you. Just to give it a try

And so, one day, you find your older sister sat with you on your mama’s bed, rambling on and moving her hands as she talks for hours to no end

You don’t understand most of what she’s saying, but you like it, still

Especially back then already, you loved Daniela’s voice. She’s the most energetic out of your older sisters. She’d ramble for hours. As you got older, this would cause lonely hours to pass fast and to make you smile even on bad days

Then, lastly, Cassandra

She never cared much for being at you at the start, something she is deeply ashamed of to this day

She just didn’t see the point in being with someone unable to talk, walk, hunt, or even train with. Such boring company, really!

But, she’d stay with you at times, sharpen her weapon while sitting by your side, grumble about this and that

Quality time, or something like that, her sisters had insisted

It isn’t you she doesn’t like, really. Just the lack of things to do with you, at the start

But, as you grow older, grow from a toddler-like mind state to the one of a child, of a teen, she already becomes much more involved

Cassandra quickly becomes your go-to person to turn to when you want to have fun

Even on bad days, she can make you roll with laughter

She teaches you how to hunt, teaches you how to sneak out, how to scare your sisters

The two of you become very close, and much like with her sisters, she turns out to be fiercely protective of you

They all are, for that matter

With three sisters and your mother up and about the castle, you never have no one to turn to

When Bela and mother are busy, there’s always the option of chatting with Daniela or helping Cassandra out

She especially likes to show you how to hunt and prepare meat

Funnily enough, Cassandra is also the only one to encourage you to visit the basements and hunt early on- under supervision for safety, of course

You’re a Dimitrescu, after all. You have no one to fear, nothing at all, not even the basement

Should you show interest, this sister is more than eager to teach you to hunt and fight, to train you, to introduce you to her favorite torture methods and so on

About this, even she can ramble on for hours

When it comes to gossiping or deep emotional talks, though, you know Cassandra is not the one to seek out. She’s just not that type of person, but will hold and try to comfort you nonetheless whenever she notices you’re in distress and she can’t actively do something to help by killing whoever is responsible for your sorrow

Bela, you find, is an excellent listener and teacher

You can always come to her, will always find her room open to you

She’s stricter than your other two siblings, more mature, and it somewhat shows

She tries to raise you to be your best, at times, and it shows

Bela teaches you to read, write, how to think critically and make good choices

She understands, you are the youngest. She just attempts to raise you to a higher level of maturity than her playful, younger sisters nonetheless

That being said, she will still always have an open ear for you, and open arms ready to wrap around you

And, while Cassandra and Daniela both claim she’s uptight and a snitch at times, you find; Bela never tells on you

She scolds, yes, ensures you never do things again by explaining why they were bad. But she never tells on you, never tells Mother when you did something bad or stupid

She insists, she trusts you will take her warnings and explanations to heart and stay out of trouble when you can

And lastly, a complete opposite;

Daniela

Your most playful sister by far, and the most random and spontaneous one

While Bela tries to help you become more mature and think critically, Daniela loves to just have fun, regardless of what the consequences may be

Like this, she often (nearly-) gets you in trouble, times when both of you stand in front of your mother, awkwardly looking away to avoid her disappointed glances

That is, at least, up to the point when Daniela pulls out the most effective puppy eyes you will ever see, effectively lessening your punishment or making your mother forget she was upset with the two of you in the first place

Regrettably, Daniela does not teach you this move, insists it’s for her to know alone

But, you find something almost as effective

You find, merely pleading with your mother and reminding her of the early days in your life does the trick

No matter how upset, she will always calm and smile when you bring up how much you love her and- oh, yes, can she remember the time you’d cling to her, too young to walk? Why not tell you the story of it again?

Like this, all her anger and disappointment is gone

You, and your sisters, will forever just be her little flies, after all, forever her little, buzzing swarms in her eyes

[secretlittlerandezvous]

First Getaway - Arber Xhekaj

Summary: Arber and Y/n go on their first trip together.

Words: 844

Arber wasn’t exactly an experienced traveler. Y/n knew that going into this trip, but she hadn’t anticipated just how amusing it would be. When she suggested a weekend getaway to Banff which was a mix of cozy cabin vibes and outdoor adventures Arber had enthusiastically agreed. His version of preparation, however, didn’t meet Y/n’s standards.

The night before their flight, Y/N peeked into his duffle bag and raised an eyebrow. “Arber, do you even know where your toothbrush is?”

“It’s in there… somewhere,” he said, flashing her his boyish grin. The same one that usually got him out of trouble. “I think.” He said to himself.

She sighed dramatically before fishing through the bag. “Right, and I’m sure this single hockey sock and… is this a pack of instant noodles? These are your essentials?”

“I like to be prepared,” he said with a shrug, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

The airport was its own circus. Arber insisted on carrying both their bags, determined to play the role of a gentleman. But his massive frame and her oversized carry on made navigating the tight spaces an ordeal.

“Excuse me, sorry, coming through,” he mumbled as he bumped into nearly every person on the plane. Y/n trailed behind him, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing.

“I’m too big for this plane,” he muttered once they finally reached their seats.

“Or you’re just clumsy,” Y/n teased, sliding into the window seat.

“Probably both,” he admitted, nudging her knee with his as he settled in.

By the time they landed and drove up to their cabin in Banff, the scenery took their breath away. Snow covered mountains surrounded them, and the small log cabin, nestled between towering pine trees, looked like something out of a winter postcard.

“This is… wow,” Arber said, stepping out of the car. His hands rested on his hips as he took it all in. “You outdid yourself, Y/n.”

“I know,” she teased, grabbing her bag. “Now come help me unpack.”

Inside the cabin, Arber’s excitement quickly turned into chaos. He couldn’t figure out how to start the fireplace, leading to a heated debate (and lots of laughter) as they both struggled with logs and matches.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Arber asked, holding the matchstick like it was a stick of dynamite.

“Positive,” Y/n replied. “If you don’t burn the cabin down.”

Eventually, they managed to get the fire going, and the warm glow filled the room. Arber sprawled out on the couch, looking smug.

“See? Told you I’d figure it out,” he said.

“After, like, ten tries,” Y/n shot back, tossing a pillow at him.

The next morning, they decided to go for a hike. Y/N had picked an easy trail with scenic views, but Arber still turned it into a competition.

“Bet I can beat you to that rock up there,” he said, already jogging ahead.

“Arber!” Y/n called after him. “It’s not a race!”

“It is now!” he yelled back, laughing.

Halfway up the trail, the competition shifted to a snowball fight. Y/n managed to hit Arber in the chest with her first throw, and he dramatically stumbled backward like he’d been wounded.

“You got me,” he groaned, sinking to his knees.

“Stop being so dramatic!” Y/n laughed, grabbing another handful of snow.

As soon as she turned her back, Arber launched a perfectly aimed snowball at her, hitting her in the back.

“Hey!” she yelped, spinning around.

“Just getting my revenge,” he said, grinning as he backed away slowly.

By the time they made it back to the cabin, both of them were soaked and exhausted. They spent the rest of the day cozied up by the fire, sipping hot chocolate and playing card games. Arber insisted he didn’t know the rules to most of the games, but Y/n quickly caught onto his strategy of making up rules as he went to win.

“Arber, you can’t just declare yourself the winner because you have the biggest hand!” she said, laughing as he spread his cards out.

“Why not?” he teased. “I think it’s a solid rule.”

That evening, they cooked dinner together or at least tried to. Arber was in charge of chopping vegetables, but his knife skills were basically nonexistent.

“Arber, that carrot is supposed to be in slices, not… whatever this is,” Y/n said, holding up a messed up chunk.

“It’s abstract,” he said. “I’m an artist.”

Despite the chaos, they managed to put together a surprisingly good meal. They ate by candlelight, sharing stories and laughter until Y/n couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled so much.

As the night wound down, Y/n leaned into Arber’s side by the fireplace, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I think this might be my favorite trip ever,” she admitted softly.

Arber kissed the top of her head, his usual cocky smirk replaced with something softer. “Yeah? Just wait till our next one. I’ll even remember a toothbrush.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

[serenelystrange]

This is a Happy Ending

Summary:

Everything is going dark now, and despite the heat, Eddie feels suddenly cold. He longs for that hug again, and to say goodbye to his son and to the man he loves. Figures, he thinks, that he didn’t realize it until his literal dying breaths.

T, Words: 2,438

Everyone lives! Rest of the Tags below the cut:

Near Death Experiences, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed

What a fucking cliché.

The thought flashes wryly through Eddie’s mind as he struggles to keep his eyes open in the oppressive smoky heat of the house that’s in pieces around him. He’s pinned by some rubble, radio crushed somewhere near him, and it wouldn’t be so bad really, except for how his mask is cracked and useless against his face. He laughs at himself, delirious from the lack of oxygen, and wishes he’d hugged Chris a little tighter that morning. He’s only been home a few months, and despite it all, Eddie didn’t think his last hug would come so soon.

At least he’ll have Buck, Eddie thinks, loopy laughter turning into a choked off coughing sob as his lungs struggle to work. Everything is going dark now, and despite the heat, Eddie feels suddenly cold. He longs for that hug again, and to say goodbye to his son and to the man he loves. Figures, he thinks, that he didn’t realize it until his literal dying breaths.

He tries to yell out Buck’s name, but all he manages is a strangled gasp as the world disappears around him.

“Come on, bud, you can do it, breathe for me.”

Eddie blinks up blearily as oxygen rushes into his lungs, seeing Chim’s worried expression above him as he holds the mask to Eddie’s face. He tries to talk and get up, but Hen appears from the other side and holds him in place on the gurney.

“You almost didn’t make it out of there,” Hen says quietly, “you are going to stay still and let us make sure you stay alive, you got it?”

Eddie slumps back but turns his head as much as the mask and Chim allow, looking around with wild eyes, spotting Bobby talking to a few firefighters from a nearby house. He looks back at Hen, glaring as he tries to sit up again.

“Easy,” Chim soothes, helping Hen hold him in place. “Everyone got out, don’t worry.”

Eddie relaxes a fraction at that, but doesn’t stop searching the area.

“Buck is fine,” Hen says as she realizes why he’s so upset. “He took in some smoke pulling you out; Cap has him in the other bus getting oxygen.”

“Not without a fight,” Chim snorts. “It took those big twins from 120 to help pull him away from you.”

Eddie tries to laugh, finds he doesn’t have the strength for it, but finally goes still with relief, closing his eyes and letting his body go fuzzy as his friends take care of him.

Buck’s waiting for him when Eddie is finally released from the hospital, because of course he is. Eddie gives him a half-smile, glad to be surprisingly injury free despite it all, but more than ready to sleep for a whole day straight.

“Ribs ok?” Buck asks as he stands from the chair in the otherwise empty waiting room.

“Not even bruised, somehow,” Eddie nods. “Why?”

Buck moves instead of answering, and suddenly he’s hugging Eddie so firmly that he can’t even hug him back at first, arms trapped in the tight ring of Buck’s arms.

“I still need to breathe though,” Eddie teases him gently, until Buck loosens his arms just enough that Eddie can hug him back properly, hooking his chin over Buck’s shoulder as he soaks in the heat of his body.

Buck is silent for once, drawing out the hug longer than they’ve ever done, until Eddie has to let go first and step away just enough to look at Buck’s face.

“Hey,” he says carefully, surprised to see the tears threatening to spill from Buck’s eyes. “Why are you crying? I’m fine, you’re fine. Cap said no fatalities. This is a happy ending, Buck.”

“I thought..” Buck starts, reaching up to rub away the wetness from his eyes before dropping his hands to his side and shoving them into the pocket of his sweatpants. “You weren’t breathing when I found you,” he says. “I couldn’t feel your breath anyway, or your pulse.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, remembering a flash of lightning and Buck’s dead body dangling above him.

“I thought I was carrying your corpse out,” Buck says hoarsely, lips trembling as he fights back a sob. “And all I could think about was having to tell Chris that I didn’t get to you in time.”

“I’m ok,” Eddie says.

He wishes he could promise that it will always be ok, that they are both guaranteed to make it home every shift, that Chris will always have them both. He can’t do that, but he can do his best to reassure Buck that they’ll live to fight another day.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Eddie asks. “Tia Pepa took Chris for the night, which he’s pissed about, by the way. We can sleep this off and eat our body weight worth of ice cream.”

“Chris loves Pepa,” Buck frowns, letting Eddie lead him towards the exit.

“He was more annoyed I wouldn’t let him stay home all alone overnight,” Eddie laughs. “I’m sure Pepa has him stuffed full of good food and snug as a bug by now.”

Buck laughs, no doubt picturing Chris’ angry little face bundled up in a blanket burrito the same way Eddie is.

“Yeah,” Buck agrees, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go home.”

“You need anything from the loft, first?” Eddie asks as they climb into Buck’s jeep.

Buck shakes his head as they get buckled in and start the slow process of escaping the hospital parking lot.

"Not a thing.”

Eddie heads straight for the shower when they get home, leaving Buck on the couch to wait his turn. The warm water helps, and by the time he’s done, Eddie feels at least half more human than he had on the ride home. He wraps a towel around his waist and pokes his head out his room, calling to Buck to tell him the shower is free if he wants it.

“I’m stealing your Mountain Dew shirt,” Buck says as he comes in, heading straight for Eddie’s dresser and rifling through until he pulls out the green shirt and a pair of sweat shorts.

“Have at it,” Eddie laughs, “that thing is awful.”

It’s so ugly, is the thing. It’s bright and obnoxious, and two sizes too big for Eddie, and he only has it because it had been given out free at a baseball game. It is, however, absurdly soft and apparently perfectly baggy for Buck and his wide frame. So it stays in his drawer instead of the trash can where it belongs.

“You just done understand our love,” Buck says, holding the shirt close to his chest as he heads into the bathroom, earning an amused eyeroll from Eddie.

Eddie waits until he hears the water turn back on before he lets his body relax, and he dries himself roughly before pulling on his own pair of shorts and a loose black tank top. He putters around, texting Chris goodnight and good morning for whenever he wakes up, promising to pick him up in the afternoon, and plugs his phone in to charge after flipping it to do not disturb, except for his small list of allowed contacts.

By the time he’s settled into bed, Buck emerges from the bathroom, already dressed and squeezing the worst of the water from his hair before leaning back and tossing the towel into the bathroom hamper. Eddie hates that even in that ridiculous shirt, he finds Buck so beautiful that he kind of wants to cry about it.

“Going to sleep?” Buck asks, yawning around the words as he stretches his sore body out.

Eddie absolutely doesn’t stare at the way the motions pulls Buck’s borrowed shorts tight across his everything. Except for how he definitely does.

“Um,” Eddie stalls, brain trying to catch up to the question. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m pretty beat,” he says at last.

Buck just smiles at him fondly and nods.

“You did almost die today,” Buck says lightly, and Eddie can’t help but laugh.

“Oh, so we’re at the joking about it stage already?”

“Yup,” Buck says. “I cried it all out in the shower, that’ll buy me at least two days of near death experience jokes before I melt down again.”

“Good to know,” Eddie says solemnly, before cracking another grin. “We need to get some serious sleep, man.”

“The couch beckons me,” Buck agrees, heading for the door. “Blankets still in the cupboard?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says automatically, because the blankets are in fact in the cupboard. “Wait,” he says in the next moment. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Buck asks. “Don’t use the blankets?” He frowns in confusion. “I won’t get them dirty, I literally just showered.”

“No,” Eddie says, sighing at himself. “I mean don’t, uh, don’t sleep on the couch. There’s plenty of room here.”

“With you?” Buck asks, turning back towards Eddie slowly and watching him nod.

“We’ve shared before,” Eddie shrugs casually, as if his heart isn’t pounding in his chest.

“It’s not a very big bed for two grown men,” Buck says. “My mattress is bigger.”

“Afraid you’ll catch cooties?” Eddie huffs. “Just get in the bed, Buck.”

“Maybe you do have cooties,” Buck huffs back, but finally gives up and crawls under the covers and stretches out his legs with a relieved sigh.

“Hey, I’m not the one who dated the crypt keeper,” Eddie teases. “If anyone has cooties, it’s you.”

“Don’t be homophobic,” Buck says, turning on his side to face Eddie and swat at his shoulder for his comment.

“Not being homophobic, asshole,” Eddie snickers. “I’m being ageist. It’s not my fault you dated someone the Jurassic period.”

“You’re so mean,” Buck says, even as he cackles with laughter. “He wasn’t even that old.”

“Nah,” Eddie agrees. “But it’s fun to rile you up.”

“You’re the worst,” Buck says, eyes falling closed and nose still wrinkling with his amused grin.

“Love you, too,” Eddie says, but only once he’s sure Buck is fast asleep.

Eddie’s alarm wakes him up, and he groans as he reaches over and smacks at his phone until it stops making noise.

The space beside him is empty, and Eddie frowns, wondering where Buck went. The scent of coffee hits him in the next moment, and he feels a little big like a looney tunes character the way he wants to float over to the comforting promise of caffeine. He detours to the bathroom first, mindful of his angry bladder and cotton-mouth, but beelines to the kitchen the moment he’s done.

“Coffee?” Buck asks, leaning against the counter and gesturing to the counter where a no-doubt perfectly made cup of coffee sits waiting for him.

“Definitely,” Eddie says, giving Buck a soft smile as he takes in how cozy and adorably-stupid he looks in his dumb shirt. “But I need to do something first.”

“Ok?” Buck asks, gasping when he suddenly has Eddie’s sleep-warm body against his, and his lips on his own, kissing away whatever words were going to be next.

Buck sags back against the counter and wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, pulling him close as they fall deeper into the kiss, teasing with fleeting touches of tongue and the sweet friction of morning stubble rubbing one another pink. Eddie slinks his hands up under Buck’s borrowed shirt and scratches at his chest lightly, before cupping each side of his ribs in both big hands, squeezing lightly and leaving his hands there, holding on.

In turn, Buck lets his own hands drift under Eddie’s tank top until they sit on the small of his back, right above the ass Buck can’t wait to properly appreciate, and uses them to pull Eddie even tighter against his own body. Eddie takes the hint and grinds against him lazily as they kiss.  It’s not enough to get them off, not really, but it’s a hazy sort of pleasure that fogs their brains up until there’s nothing in the world that exists but the heat of their lips and their shared breaths.

“What the hell was that?” Buck laughs when Eddie finally pulls away to breathe and removes his hands from Buck’s shirt. At Eddie’s crestfallen expression, he leans in to press another quick kiss to his lips in reassurance.

“Not complaining,” he clarifies. “So not complaining.”

“Good,” Eddie says, looking seconds away from jumping Buck again.

“Still gonna need an explanation,” Buck says. “Considering you told me you were straight like.. last week.”

“I was wrong,” Eddie shrugs. “And you’re so hot it makes me crazy.”

“Thank you?” Buck says, and that’s definitely not the expression Eddie wants to see on his face right now.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks. “Did you not want to kiss me?”

“Of course I wanted to kiss you,” Buck says immediately. “I just, uh. Never mind, actually. You should kiss me again.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, wondering how he already managed to screw this up. “What’s is it, sweetheart? Is this too much? Going too fast?”

Buck shakes his head and tries to lean in for another kiss, stopped by the hand Eddie places on his chest.

“I can’t do just this,” Buck says after a moment, gesturing between them.

“Monogamy?” Eddie asks, confused. “You love monogamy.”

“No,” Buck smiles briefly. “I meant I can’t just hook up with you. I can’t be casual with you, Eds.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Eddie says. “I’m so in love with you that you were the last thing I thought about as I was dying, Buck. Nothing about that is casual, and I don’t want it to be.”

“Oh,” Buck says softly, before breaking out in a wide grin. “That’s a relief.”

Eddie grins back, remembering a similar conversation months ago, and leans in for a soft kiss before pulling back again.

“This maybe does change some things between us,” he laughs. “But in a good way.”

“The best way,” Buck agrees. “I love you too, in case you didn’t know.”

“I figured,” Eddie teases, “but I really like hearing it anyway.”

“I’ll say it every day, then,” Buck beams. “You’ll be sick of me in no time.”

“Worth it,” Eddie shrugs, giving in to the urge to wrap himself around Buck in a hug that he readily returns.

“You were right,” Buck says softly into Eddie’s sleep-fluffed hair.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, eyes closed and body more relaxed than he thinks it ever has been.

Buck presses a kiss into his hair before speaking again.

“This really is a happy ending.”

And just this once, every bit of Eddie’s body and soul agrees.

The End

[sequinsmile-x]

Please could you write a one shot of Emily being stood up by a guy and Hotch is there to console her and accidentally tells her he loves her

(This may or may not be motivated by sad me who’s just been stood up and I’m really sad haha)

Love your stuff ❤️❤️

Hi bestie <3

I am so so sorry that this took so long to do. I hope you're okay and that you know the guy who stood you up doesn't deserve you!!

I hope you enjoy this! <3

(I know I promised some Emily whump but the fic wasn't behaving so I wrote this instead haha)

-x-

Everything's Here and Nothing's Lost

As she sits at her desk and looks nothing short of sad, her smile not reaching her eyes anytime anyone speaks to her, it worries him. Makes familiar doubt and concern creep up his neck, his skin burning with it as he tries to work out what is wrong.

AKA - the one where Emily has a bad day, Aaron checks on her and everything changes between them.

-x-

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: they are really, really, stupid in this.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

There was something wrong with Emily. 

Ever since she’d come home from Paris, she’d been different. It was as if she was just about holding herself together, her ability to hide anything from Aaron gone the moment they’d made their deal that she’d tell him when she was having a bad day. Part of him had been surprised when she kept up her end of the bargain, when she’d done as he’d asked, the action itself a sign of how much she was struggling.

Since then, they’d got closer again, their friendship stitched back together until it was where it had been before she’d died to almost everyone but him. Before she’d pulled back from him and Jack in what he now knew was an attempt to keep them safe from Ian Doyle. They’d been getting close to something more than friends at the time, her constant support after his attack and then Haley’s death the bedrock he’d rebuilt his life on. She’d always been there - always bringing him and Jack meals and keeping them company with no expectation of anything in return. Jack had been drawn to her, always glued to her side and seeking her out in a way Aaron was strangely jealous of, envy he wasn’t proud of churning in his gut over the fact his son was able to show his love for Emily in a way he wasn’t able to himself. 

Shortly before she got what he now knew was a phone call that changed the trajectory of her life, they’d been working towards something more. Talking around the idea of going on a date as if they were teenagers in love for the first time, not adults who’d both seen more than their fair share of pain and heartbreak. When she suddenly pulled back - cancelling their tentatively planned date with what had felt like a hurried excuse even without the context of what was going on - he assumed she’d decided she didn’t want to date a single father, that she realised it was more than she was willing to take on. 

As he’d stood over her grave just a few weeks later, he’d felt guilty for that assumption, that he’d thought so little of her when he should have seen the signs something was wrong. He knew he was in love with her then, and that he had been for a long time. All the what-ifs and should have beens so suffocating he’d be torn from sleep most nights, breathless as if the weight of everything he’d lost and never had was sitting on his chest and the side of the bed she’d never even slept in achingly empty. He visited her in the hospital before she was moved. He held her hand and talked to her even though she wasn’t entirely conscious, and he kissed her cheek, three little words he wished he’d said sooner stamped against her skin. He’d told himself at her funeral, dirt from the soil he’d thrown on top of her casket caught in the cuff of his pants, that he’d make sure when he got her back, he’d be whatever she needed him to be - even if it was just her friend. 

Dave had told him more than once that he needed to move on, his smile knowing and kind as he told him everyone knew about him and Emily and how they had felt for each other, but that he needed to consider that it might be something that had simply passed them both by. He’d even encouraged Aaron to go on a date with the woman he’d met in the park when training for his triathlon, but it hadn’t gone anywhere beyond that. Every time she laughed or asked him a question Emily already knew the answer to, he felt as if he was doing something wrong, as if he was cheating on a woman he’d never even kissed. 

Emily had been his best friend for a long time, and it was strange for him to think that he once hadn’t trusted her, now she was the person he trusted the most. She’d shown him time and time again that she was the opposite of everything he’d assumed her to be when they first met, and he’d occasionally still feel a flash of guilt if he thought about it too long. She’d make fun of him for it now, smiling as she reminded him how he didn’t like her at first, a sparkle in her eyes that he thought had died with her when it was just the two of them. 

Today, as she sits at her desk and looks nothing short of sad, her smile not reaching her eyes anytime anyone speaks to her, it worries him. Makes familiar doubt and concern creep up his neck, his skin burning with it as he tries to work out what is wrong. He watches from his office as she gets up from her desk, her mug in her hand as she walks towards the kitchen. She walks away without offering to make anyone else a cup of coffee, her head down as she slips away unnoticed, and it forces him upwards, his hand reaching for his still mostly full cup of coffee as he heads out of his office, dumping the coffee into a potted plant on his way past. 

She smiles at him when he makes it to the kitchen, her eyebrow raised curiously as she looks at his mug, “You’re going through those quickly today.” 

“Oh,” he says, furrowing his brow as he tries to think of something to say that doesn’t make it seem like he’s checking up on her, “I didn’t sleep great last night, I need something to keep me awake doing his paperwork.” 

The teasing edge to her smile slips away and she looks concerned. It’s so achingly her to worry about him when she was clearly upset herself that he thinks in another world, in a world where she was his and they weren’t in the office that he’d lean forward and kiss her for it.

“Is everything okay?” 

He nods and reaches for the coffee pot, watching intently as she drops a tea bag into her mug, “Just one of those nights, you know.”

She hums and nods, “I do.” 

He waits her out for a few seconds, waiting to see if she’ll say anything else, but she avoids eye contact as she pours boiling water into her mug as if she’d worried she’ll spill everything the moment their eyes meet. 

“Em,” he says, using a nickname that was usually reserved for outside the office, a switch from using her surname that makes her look up at him, “Are you okay?” 

She nods before he’s even finished speaking, “I’m fine.” 

He sighs, “You know you can talk to me-”

“I said I’m fine,” she replies, snapping in a way she regrets immediately as she sighs, shaking her head at herself and swallowing thickly, “Sorry,” she says, looking around to make sure she hadn’t drawn any attention to them, “I didn’t mean to…” she presses her lips together, forcing a smile he’s seen her give her mother more than once, “I’m fine.” 

As she walks away, he’s somehow even more worried than he already was. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and sends Jessica a text, a plan formulating in his head as he walks back to his office. 

Can Jack stay with you tonight? There’s something I need to do. 

___

She huffs out a breath as she sits down on the couch, a glass of wine in one hand and a menu for her favourite Chinese restaurant in the other. Sergio jumps onto the couch and meows at her, nudging one of her hands until she drops the menu between them and scratches his head. 

“What shall we watch tonight, Serg? A movie? Or some reality trash?” She says, smiling when he meows again, “Reality trash it is.” She picks up the menu again and sighs when the doorbell rings, “Who the hell is that?” She grumbles as she stands up, throwing the blanket she’d put over her lap off as she goes. She’s only partly surprised when she looks through the peephole and sees Aaron, and she rolls her eyes as she pulls the door open, “I said I was fine.” 

“Hello to you too, Em,” he says, holding up a bag of food from the restaurant she’d been about to order from, “I bought your favourite,” he smiles as he holds up a bag with his other hand, “And candy,” his smile gets slightly wider as she struggles to hide her own smile, “Can I come in?” 

She sighs and stands back to let him walk past her, “Since you brought food, I guess I have no choice.” 

“I know how to work my way in here,” He chuckles and walks to her kitchen, placing the bags of food down on the counter before he starts unpacking it, “I got your usual order.” 

She has to suppress a smile at that, her lips pressed tightly together as it warms something in her chest, something she’d shoved down to the very bottom of it months ago. A vague hope she’d shoved in a box almost set free as the lid slips away at his gentle kindness. 

“Thanks,” she replies, walking over as she watches him get out plates and chopsticks - as aware of the layout of her kitchen as he was her own, “I just poured some wine, do you want some?” 

“I’ll have a glass,” he says, smiling at her in a way that never failed to make her stomach flip, his eyes sparkling with something that felt like hers even though it never had been. She nods and swallows thickly, desperately trying to push the feelings she’d ignored for months back down to where they belonged. Where she cultivated them, kept them safe and tried to stop them from blooming any further, worried that she was only ever one moment away from blurting them out and letting them shatter her heart on the way past. 

She was in love with him. It happened slowly. It crept up on her, kept its pace with her until it was right behind her, its warm hand wrapped around her neck. For a little while, she thought that maybe they could become something, that the shy smiles and the lingering hugs would shift into them being together like she’d wanted for longer than she cared to admit. They came close, and had even arranged a date, but everything changed when Ian escaped from prison. She knew if he found out how close she was to Aaron and Jack, he’d use that knowledge to hurt her, that he’d hurt them, and it was the last thing she wanted. She’d pulled back, made an excuse she couldn’t remember to cancel their date and she stopped spending her spare time with them. 

It hurt. It made her feel like she’d ripped her own heart out, the imprints of her misshapen nails puncturing it in a way she’d never recover from when Aaron tried to cover how hurt he was. 

He visited her in the hospital before she was moved for her safety. He’d sat next to her, his hand warm around hers when everything else felt so cold, as he whispered that he’d make sure he brought her home. She remembered very little about it other than his promise and the press of his skin against hers. The pain she was in and the meds that were supposed to fight it overrode everything else. 

Sometimes, she thought that he might have kissed her cheek. Fuzzy memories of his lips against her pallid skin that she could never quite place properly, unsure if it was real or a dream. 

He’d been her rock since she came home, providing the support she hadn’t known she needed or how to ask for. Part of her, a part that felt strangely optimistic, a hangover of who she’d been when she was young and nothing bad had happened to her yet, had hoped that they’d go back to where they were. There were moments when she thought that maybe they were getting there. He’d smile at her or do something like come to her apartment with food when she was sad and she’d think maybe he does still feel that way.

Then she’d remind herself that Penelope had told her he’d gone on a date with someone he’d met in the park, and it would hurt all over again. 

“Shall we go sit down?” He asks, handing her the food he’d plated up for her, and she smiles and nods, passing him the glass of wine she had no memory of pouring. 

He sits on the end of the couch that she’d long since considered his, and he smiles at Sergio as he sits down, scratching behind the cat’s ears once he’s got a free hand. “Hi, Sergio.” 

She smiles as Sergio lays down next to him, his back pressed against Aaron’s thigh, and she chuckles, “And you say he hates you.” 

“He pooped in my shoe, Em,” he says dryly, his smile letting her know he wasn’t annoyed and she laughs. 

“That’s his way of showing love.” 

“Whatever you say.” He laughs, bold and bright and goofy in a way she loves and he takes a bite of his dinner. They eat in companionable silence. It’s the kind of silence she’d missed sharing with someone, comforting and gentle in the air around them as they were happy to just be with each other, neither one of them feeling the need to make small talk as the minutes ticked on. Eventually, once they have finished eating, he puts his plate on the coffee table and takes her’s from her too, “You know you can tell me what’s going on, right?” 

She sighs, “Aaron-”

“You can tell me anything,” he says, his expression serious, something that looked too close to regret and guilt shining in his eyes that makes her feel nauseous. She knew it was her fault that he was worried, that he was likely thinking of worst-case scenarios and big secrets, “Even if it is that you were a spy for another government agency,” he smiles when she chokes on a laugh and shakes her head, “I’d be impressed you find the time for it though.” 

“It’s nothing like that,” she assures him, shifting so her knees are against her chest and her arms are around her legs, “I…” she sighs, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she continues, “Penelope convinced me to let her set me up on a blind date.” 

She’d refused at first, firm and forceful as she said no, but eventually, her friend wore her down after one too many cocktails and a reminder that Aaron was dating someone else.

“Oh,” he says, a flash of what looks like hurt in his eyes that makes her curious and angry all at once, because she never would have done anything if he hadn’t done it first, “That's…how was it?” 

She scoffs, “Pretty awful considering the guy never showed up.” 

He furrows his brows, “What? He never showed up for a date with you?” 

His indignation makes her smile sadly, her lips pressed together as she shrugs, “Either that or he showed up, saw me and decided to leave,” she chuckles dryly, “I think for the sake of my self-worth I need to tell myself he just never showed up at all.” 

He squeezes his hands into fists at his side, anger flashing through him at the thought of someone hurting her like that, “Does Garcia know him? I could make sure he-”

“Aaron,” she says, reaching out to touch his arm, “It’s okay. I don’t want to date someone who is clearly a jerk anyway.” 

He nods, and swallows thickly, his gaze falling down to her hand on his arm, something about her touch making him feel brave, “I…I didn’t realise you were ready to date.”

She draws her hand back, only realising she is still touching him when he looks at her hand, and she clears her throat, “I wanted to try. And it didn’t exactly work out.” 

He looks up at her, “I guess I just thought when you were ready, if you were ready, you’d let me know.” 

She frowns at him, “Why?” 

He laughs humourlessly, “So we could go on a date?” 

She can’t help but laugh at the simple way he says it and she stands up, forced upwards by righteous anger as she starts to pace back and forth, “So you can fit me into your busy schedule?” 

Aaron frowns at her, “What do you mean?” 

“I know you went on a date with that woman you met in the park,” she says, her fury over the situation finally set free, “I thought we might be able to make things work, that everything with Ian hadn’t changed things for you, but it clearly has. And that’s okay,” she says, the crack in her voice giving away her lie, “I just wish you’d told me.” 

He stands too, everything slotting into place as he shakes his head, “Em, no-”

“I think you should go,” she says, swallowing thickly, her eyes burning with tears she refuses to shed in front of him, “I need some time-”

“Em, I need you to listen to me-”

“No, I’ve heard enough, I am done-”

She’s cut off as he surges forward and kisses her, his hands on her cheeks as he holds her in place. She melts into it immediately, her lips slotting against his as she sags against him, as if he was both drawing the life out of her and replacing it with something more powerful than she’d ever known. It was everything she knew it would be and more, and suddenly she knows he kissed her cheek in the hospital, the press of his lips against hers unlocking the memory in its entirety, the declaration of love he’d stamped her skin echoing around in her head. She pulls back, her breath stuttering around her lungs as she rests her forehead against his, unable to pull away even if she wants to, her body frozen in place. 

“I went on one date,” he says, his hands drifting from her cheeks down to her waist as he pulls back to look at her, “And that’s only because Dave told me I had to try to move on.” 

She sucks in a breath, hope sparking low in her gut again, “Really?” 

“Really,” he assures her, “I spent the whole time thinking of you and paid for dinner before I told her I couldn’t see her again. It wouldn’t be fair on any of us, including her, for me to date her when I’m in love with you.” 

She’s sure if she wasn’t being held up by him, she’d have fallen over, and she sighs in relief, tears she could no longer hold back falling onto her cheeks. She leans forward and presses her forehead against his.

“I’m in love with you too,” she says, laughing in a way that sounds almost hysterical, “I only agreed to go on the date Pen set up to try and move on.” She adds, and he kisses her again, and she wraps her arms around his neck, not wanting him to go anywhere. She knows it’s the start of something new, of the love she’d always been searching for without knowing it, and she hugs him when the kiss comes to an end, her head against his chest as he holds her close. “We’re idiots.” 

He laughs, and it passes from his chest to hers, the rumble of it a gift she can feel ripple out into the room around them, “At least we’re each other’s idiots.” 

She smiles as she looks up at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “At least there’s that,” she says, her smile slipping into a frown and she sighs. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, tucking her hair behind her ear, his touch soft and reverent. She leans into it as she replies, huffing out a breath as she shakes her head.  

“If Dave and Pen somehow made this happen by setting us up on dates they knew wouldn’t work out, I’m going to kill them.” 

He briefly tightens his hold on her, and he chuckles and shakes his head, unsure that Penelope would go as far as setting up Emily on a date that wasn’t to happen, but also aware he wouldn’t put it past either her or Dave. 

“Really?” He asks, smiling at her, “Because I think I might buy them a drink.” 

[ghostgirl-22]

I haven't been active in the tumblr fanfic scene since I was writing hard kink kpop x reader at 18, but by golly. Challengers Fandom...hats off from an old, tired queer (22)

Anyway, I've been an onlooker for some time and I love your account; it gives me a lot to think about on the commute to work. Love your characterization of all of our beloved trio and then some.

But now I propose a more lived in kinky bunch. I've worked a few BDSM raves in my time, and I saw this trio of guys once with the pup in his mask.

He was so sweet and nuzzly. (Loved giving messy head and being called a dumb boy) Just reminded me so much of Art. He was a large man in general, but he made himself so small for play.

Wait… i just woke up and wrote this long ass story and then realized after all that…that sadly…I don’t think I can really write bdsm. Oh well… sorry anon this is as good as it gets. Here’s Tashi kinda being in charge of everything and Art as a bratty messy sub with Patrick switching in the middle. I got bored rereading (glowing recommendation I know) so if you see typos/issues lemme know and I’ll fix them 😭

CW: 18+ NSFW EXPLICIT, sex club, public sex, exhibitionism, group sex, blindfolds, safe sex

____

They don’t have to go out but since Lily is at grandma and grandpa Donaldson’s all week and sometimes they like to play with other people. Or let Art play with other people. They decide to go to the club. It was Tashi’s idea. They’re so grown up now, they go to sex clubs. They have a safe word and everything. Cinnamon. Patrick’s amused by how quickly it all happened. It still doesn’t actually feel real. Just a year ago he was in an on again off again relationship with less than 100 dollars in his account on his best days. And he was bumming it on his sisters sofa when he wasn’t on the road. And look at him now. He has a boyfriend, a girlfriend and a safe word.

He looks around, it’s loud and hot and sweaty despite the below zero temperatures outside. The coldest day of the year. The first floor is all dancing, drinks, and house music. No sex. It’s so upscale you wouldn’t know what went on downstairs if you were an outsider. It’s pricey, extremely private and so exclusive there’s a waitlist to get in. A medical check, a background check, even. Patrick almost didn’t get in because of his credit score. But being the Donaldson’s pet which is what the manager called him, made all the difference. Even after all of that, they have to check everything, even their phones. It’s a shame, because sometimes Patrick does want to film it… not to sell to the highest bidder but just to watch when he’s home alone and horny.

Tashi wraps her arms around his waist. She feels so warm, the fabric of her dress so slippery, Patrick can’t help but let his hands slide down her back to rest on her ass. “Are you looking at other girls?” She asks in his ear.

”Are you kidding?” Patrick smirks. “I’m just looking at your husband.” She follows his gaze to Art. Art, who said ten minutes ago that if they were gonna do this again he needed a drink. He’s standing by the bar, in this mesh shirt Tashi no doubt bought for him and fitted pants. Already there’s a tall guy leaning in next to him, reaching up to touch mess up his hair. Another guy walks up behind him touching his waist.

“God. He’s so...” Tashi sighs.

It was Tashi’s idea, all of it. “He just never got his time to be out before. To be boy crazy. He’s a late bloomer. I mean…You’re his first time… ” Tashi had explained. “Imagine how you would act.”

She said it after Art finally let Patrick do more than just kiss him. They finally fucked and it was this long drawn out messy process on a rainy afternoon. Art figuring out what he liked, topping and being topped, giving and getting head all of it so fucking hot. And then a week later Art went and slept with his old hitting partner. Apparently the guy had been so flirtatious when he worked for them that Art was having dreams about him so in the most Art Donaldson way he hid behind Tashi and begged her to make up an excuse to fire him.

He was so sorry when Patrick caught him. “It was an accident. It won’t happen again.” He promised. And then he did it again just two days later. Boy crazy.

“I’m gonna pick tonight. Do you care?” Tashi asks.

”No, go ahead,” Patrick says. “Better hurry though.”

She’s half distracted by some pretty girl with long braids giving her heart eyes.

“Maybe you’re a late bloomer too?” Patrick teases, curling a lose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Shush,” Tashi says, shoving him playfully. “Bring him downstairs. Room 8. I’ll meet you guys there.”

“Wait a minute,” He grabs her arm firmly before she can disappear and pulls her close so he can kiss her mouth. It’s the only public place he can do this and he’s taking full advantage.

He watches her walk away and then looks back at the bar. Art’s holding a drink now, both of the guys monopolizing his attention. Gentle touches, talking to him up close. Patrick starts making his way through the crowd. It’s not like Art will just do whatever he wants but sometimes he gets a little too high off of the attention. Like he finally understands how easy it is to get male attention and how much he loves it. Even though he tries to pretend he doesn’t care. He got so horny for it last time they caught him on his knees in the back room, giving head without permission. They had to punish him after. Well, Tashi punished him actually. Patrick’s not good at it. Art will play like Patrick has control but with that face and that body he can walk all over Patrick easily when he feels like it.

Patrick is stopped on his way by a pretty blond. She seems a little past the point of tipsy.

“Hey aren’t you that Rangers player?” She asks, she’s giggly. Touchy.

“Yeah,” He says, steadying her. He doesn’t play hockey but he thinks he knows what she means.

“I think you’re so hot,” she says, and she giggles again as he smirks and brushes past her.

“I can’t tonight sweetheart.” He says gently and she pouts. She’s exactly the kind of girl who wouldn’t have given him the time of day just a few months ago. Now that he’s not looking it’s hilarious how much he has to turn down.

Speaking of slutty blonds, he approaches Art in the nick of time. He’s started making out with one boy, while the other is holding his drink.

“This his?” Patrick asks the guy with the drink and he nods, looking Patrick over. Patrick takes the glass from him and swallows the rest of it, all while Art’s pressing his tongue down the other man’s throat. He slams the glass down on the bar and grabs Art by the arm. Art stumbles back, lips wet, eyes glassy. Confused to see Patrick there. “Hey. Um…sorry I had to wait forever for a drink,” he hiccups, sheepishly.

“I bet,” Patrick says, fixing his hair and pulling his shirt back down so his mid drift his covered. Tashi put him in eyeliner and it’s all smudged now. Silly boy. Hes so fucking handsome. No way around it. He grew up pretty. And now he’s a tennis superstar. Not that he even needs that to get this type of attention.

“Who’s he?” Art’s kissing partner asks.

“My um…this is… I don’t know… my boyfriend?” Art says, looking at Patrick, his eyes all sparkly.

“Hey boyfriend, I’m Jack and that’s my boyfriend. Kissing partner gestures to the guy who was holding Arts drink. “You all wanna go downstairs and have some fun?”

“Yeah,” Art says and Patrick wraps his arm around his waist to keep him from going back for another kiss.

“Sorry Jack, maybe next time,” Patrick says.

Jack looks irritated, he glares at Patrick and then turns his gaze back to Art. “Is that what you want?”

“Yeah,” Art says, obediently.

“Fine, hope you enjoyed the drink,” Jack frowns, walking off with his boyfriend in tow.

“I swear I didn’t ask him to buy it,” Art says, looking at Patrick.

“Oh I know,” Patrick says. “You want another?”

Art nods, and Patrick waves at the bartender. Art’s anxiously chewing his gum, one hand gripping Patrick’s t-shirt like he needs him. Patrick imagines him in a collar. On his knees like a giddy little puppy dog. Eager to do whatever he and Tashi ask and he has to reach into his pocket to adjust himself. The bartender approaches and smiles at Art, clearly she knows who he is. She looks too young to be a bartender but she leans in when Patrick asks for two more whiskey sours. He knows Tashi will just drink whatever he brings so he doesn’t bother with another drink.

“I love you guys,” the bartender comes back around and pushes the drinks forward. “It’s on the house.”

Patrick raises his glass to her and she smiles but it’s clear she’s got eyes for Art who’s busy saying “Thank you so much!”

Patrick tugs at him and guides him downstairs. He’s getting attention as they walk through the crowd, eyes follow him, people reaching for him, touching him. Boys, girls, younger, older, same age, it doesn’t seem to matter. The funniest part is that he’s hardly the most famous person there. But it’s all so hush hush. And absolutely fucking anything goes.

Downstairs the lights are down so low, your eyes have to adjust to realize what’s happening. There’s a general area where there are people in the various stages of intercourse. People who like to watch, self-pleasuring. People in different positions, gay, straight, threesomes, foursomes, swingers. On chairs and sofas, on the floor, Patrick can only compare it to a bath house or the backroom at a really popular gay club, so much moaning and groaning writhing. Art lingers, watching as he sips his drink and Patrick lets him for a moment, before pulling him towards room number 8. He presses his wristband against the scanner and it unlocks for them.

When the door closes Art is suddenly giddy, he leans against the door gazing at Patrick.

”You remember the safeword?” Patrick says softly.

”Cinnamon,” Art says and he leans in, kissing him.

“Stop,” Patrick says, taking a breath and pushing him back against the door. Patrick feels a little dizzy but he manages to pull Art towards the leather sofa. The private room is fully stocked with snacks, water and champagne. There’s tons of condoms organized by size and six different flavors of packet sized lube. There are mints and chewing gum. There’s even wet wipes and hand sanitizer. Art puts his glass down on the table.

“Can you fuck me first?” Art whispers, sitting too close, grabbing at Patrick’s zipper.

“You want to get in trouble?” Patrick says, softly.

“Why? Are you gonna tell on me?” Art smirks.

Patrick is so fucking weak for shit like this, especially when he’s been at least half hard since they walked in the club. Since Tashi brought up going to the club in the first place, actually. “Fucking behave,” Patrick groans, pushing Art’s hands away. He needs Tashi to show up now or he knows he’s gonna end up doing whatever Art asks him to. He swallows down what’s left of his whiskey and puts his glass down. Art is so antsy he’s running his mouth talking about last time, how he’d been between two boys, getting fucked while he was fucking someone else. He really liked that. Tashi liked it too. She made them replay it at home, she pegged him while he fucked Patrick. And then Patrick laid down between her legs and kissed her until she cried.

The memories along with soft sound of Art’s voice as he rambles incessantly is setting Patrick’s teeth on edge, he’s this close to making Art cock warm him if only just to shut him up.

Thankfully Tashi doesn’t make them wait too much longer. The electronic whir of the lock sounds and she walks in with two guys, one tall and thin with longer dark hair and the other one her height when she’s in heels, he’s stocky and muscular. “Did you miss me?” She asks.

“Yeah,” Art sits up eagerly.

“Fuck. He looks even better in person,” long dark hair says.

“Doesn’t he?” Tashi approaches them. She climbs on the sofa, straddling Art’s lap and settles there. He looks up at her like she’s a real life angel and he needs to pray. “Hi baby.” He whispers. Hands sliding up her thighs, making her dress ride up. Patrick shifts in his seat. One of the guys nudges the other and they both smile.

“Hi,” Tashi says, fingers on the back of his head. “We’re gonna play a little game okay?”

Art bites his lip and nods.

“I need you to say it out loud,” Tashi says, firmly. Like she’s talking to one of the many people she works with to manage Art’s career.

“Okay,” Art says. She glances at Patrick, a little smirk on her lips and then looks back at Art.

“Okay,” she says, gentle again. “That’s Zach,” she points to the tall long haired one. And that’s Kevin. You guys know of Art and Patrick.”

”Oh yes,” Kevin says and Zach echoes, “Mmhm.”

“Good,” she says. She pulls down her hair, most of it was tied off with a silk scarf, now her curls fall onto her shoulders. She takes the scarf and uses it as a blindfold, covering Art’s eyes.

“Tash— um—“ Art stammers.

“Relax, it’s part of the game.” She says lightly. “Can you see me?”

“No, um…”

She waves her hands in front of him quite close and when he doesn’t react she smiles. “Good. Since you like it so much, you’re gonna give each of them a blow job. Zach, Kevin and Patrick.”

“Mm,” Art licks his lips.

“If you can get them all off in less than 8 minutes, you get to come tonight. If you can guess which one is Patrick, I’ll let him get you off before we leave this room. You can’t use your hands but everything else is fair game. They’re each gonna be as quiet as possible,” she says looking around. “But if you can figure it out by their breathing or something else that’s fine.”

“Okay,” Art says, hitching his hips up into her.

“Last thing… obviously your mouth will be too busy for the safe word. I’m keeping my arm right here. She rests it on his upper thigh. If you need to stop pinch me. I’ll stop it no matter how light or hard you squeeze so don’t pinch unless that’s what you mean.”

“Okay,” Art hums.

She climbs off his lap and he’s already hard. She smiles and holds her finger to her lips looking around the room. Then she holds up two fingers and points at Patrick. Three fingers and she points at Zach. She holds up one finger and points at Kevin beckoning him over and he comes eagerly. She gestures for Patrick to get off the sofa. He takes a breath and stands up. Kevin smirks at him rubbing his cock as he walks forward. Art’s rubbing the leather sofa eagerly. Tashi settles next to him and rests her hand on his lap, he wraps his hand around her to keep her there.

“Okay number one,” Tashi says as Kevin approaches. She hands him a condom and he frowns but pulls it on anyway.

“Do I open?” Art asks.

”One second,” Tashi says quietly. Kevin lets out an irritated breath and then presses himself up against Art’s lips. Art opens up right away.

“Time starts now,” Tashi says, looking at the digital clock on the wall. He’s licking all over, like he’s trying to figure out how big he is. How thick. Playing his tongue along the length and diameter. He’s not much smaller than Patrick. It’s a good healthy sized, circumcised dick. Art licks his way down the shaft and back up again. He’s orally fixated in the worst way so he doesn’t waste too much time before taking it properly into his mouth. Kevin bites his lip and runs his fingers into Art’s hair. Tashi hits his arm.

“No touching,” she says.

Art hums, lips stretched around his dick, Patrick adjusts himself and lets out a sigh. Tashi smirks at him. Grabs at the loops of his pants and brings him closer. Which is so tempting because Patrick is also eager to run his fingers through Art’s hair, call him a good boy for taking it so well. Art is breathing heavy, getting sloppy and wet with it. Tongue moving, head bobbing. Filthy sucking sounds as he works on getting him to come. All while Kevin has his fingers balled into fists and he’s all seized up.

Behind him, Patrick catches Zach touching himself idly.

Art is humming pretty consistently now, he’s so hard from this, to the point where Patrick can see the damp spot where precum is starting to stain his pants a darker shade.

Tashi is taking deep breaths. “Oh baby. Oh it hasn’t even been two minutes. Fuck.” She whispers. As Kevin makes a strangled sound and starts pumping his hips. He’s breathing heavy when he’s done, Art still sucking on him like he can’t stop. But Kevin pulls out, condom wet and shiny with saliva and full of semen. Tashi’s gripping Art’s thigh.

“Tashi I’m—“ Art sighs breathless. “I can’t touch myself?”

“No baby,” Tashi says gently. “Okay number two,” she whispers.

Patrick unzips and takes himself in hand. He’s about to wet Art’s lips with precum but Tashi hands him a condom too. Which makes perfect sense. He bites it open and eases it on. It’s a fun little game. Cute idea. But Patrick really wants to fuck him so already he’s made up his mind to give himself away somehow. Art’s lips are all swollen and pink. He starts by licking again. Such a smart boy. Up and down the length and all over to gage the width. It feels so good, especially when he gets to the tip.

Patrick makes a soft sound and Tashi kicks him so he bites his lip.

“Mm,” Art takes him in, breathing deep. Mouth so deliciously hot and wet. And he’s racing his tongue back and forth. Sucking hard. Moaning as he does it. Patrick can’t help himself, he’s pushing back on him. Feeding every inch that he can into that perfect heated mouth. He likes to test his gag reflex when they do this. See how much Art can take. Face going pink, lips swollen red. Coughing up while come drips obscenely from his lips. He starts coughing and Tashi kicks him again. That doesn’t stop Art for long. He’s taking as much as he can, filling his mouth again. Trying so hard not to gag for it and Patrick can’t believe he’s already this near to the edge. There’s something so hot about being this fucking desperate and holding it all in. This erotic silence. Just the constant rhythmic beat of the club's music and Tashi bouncing her knee. Art humming, moaning.

Kevin sighs and that’s the moment Patrick remembers he’s still in the room. Art’s teasing his tongue on the underside of his cock head which feels incredible even through the thin layer of latex. Art flitting it back and forth in this spectacular dance that with every movement brings Patrick closer. He thrusts in and out and in and out and— “Fuck,” Patrick says helplessly and then he’s filling the condom.

Patrick fixates on the wetness of it as he pulls out. The condom soaked in saliva. More of it dripping from Art’s lips. Art is breathless. “What if I come by— by accident?” Art says, gasping.

“You won’t, baby,” Tashi says softly. “Come on number three.”

Zach picks up a condom.

“How much time?” Art asks.

“You’re doing so good,” Tashi says. “About 3 minutes left.”

Art licks his lips. He doesn’t really test Zach out. Just takes it into his mouth. Zach is bigger than Patrick in girth, a little shorter in length. Circumcised of course. Patrick watches Art stretch his lips around him easy. Zach doesn’t really stand a fucking chance. He’d been so worked up watching Art blow Kevin and himself, Art manages to finish him off in 90 seconds. The whole time Patrick can feel the distant hint of arousal coming back and settling low in his stomach. Art’s still blindfolded, he’s sitting there rubbing his thighs eagerly as Zach pinches the condom off and throws it away.

“Did I do it?” Art asks.

“Yes. Good job, baby,” Tashi sighs. “I’ll let you come tonight. Now take your best guess. Which one was Patrick? One, two or three?”

“Mm two,” Art says, little to no hesitation.

”Hmm,” Tashi says, glaring briefly at Patrick. She then looks to the other two. “Thanks for playing boys.”

“Any fucking time,” Zach says. “That was fun.”

“I’m clean by the way, in case you want to do it without a condom next time,” Kevin says.

“If you want a next time you’ll have to wear one. No exceptions. Sorry,” Tashi says lightly.

“Yeah, okay… just feels so much better without it. What’s the point of the constant tests if we always have to wear condoms right?” Kevin says condescendingly like Tashi is a silly girl who just doesn’t get it.

“Well you’re fucking welcome to play with someone else next time then,” Patrick says coldly. “Goodnight.”

Kevin glares at him and then follows Zach out of the private room.

“You’re a fucking cheater, Pat,” Tashi turns on him when the door shuts. She pulls off the blindfold.

“I didn’t cheat.” Patrick says. ”I followed all of your instructions, to the letter.”

Art is flushed, eyes glassy, lips red and swollen. Patrick can’t help doing what he couldn’t before and teasing his fingers into Art’s hair. He keens into the touch. So hard, he’s almost tenting in the tough fabric of his jeans.

“How’d you know it was him?” Tashi asks Art, her tone gentle with him.

“I—I know how he feels.” Art says. “The other two felt… different. Plus I could smell him. It made me want to touch.”

”Mm fine, I guess I tried to get as close as I could.” Tashi says. “Next time I’m giving you fucking five minutes to finish it all.” She smirks.

Art grins and she leans in and kisses him.

He’s seeking her body immediately grabbing at her dress, she pushes him off.

“Behave. Get on the floor like a good boy,” Tashi tells him and Art slides off the sofa to get on his knees. Patrick can tell she’s barely hanging by a thread. Her body is trembling for it.

She scoots forward, legs spread and Art barely wastes a second before he’s on his hands and knees, head buried between her thighs. Tashi is gazing up at Patrick, smiling before she lets out another sigh. Patrick feels himself getting hard again, arousal back in full force.

“Show Patrick how needy you are,” Tashi groans. Art is bent over, ass sticking out, mesh shirt riding up, moaning almost as much as she is and he reaches to undo his jeans.

Patrick sinks to his knees behind him and tugs the jeans down to expose his ass, all while reaching for a packet of lubricant from the table. It takes him no time at all to sink himself into the heat of Art’s body. And then they’re all moaning. It feels like nirvana. Patrick can’t focus on anything but this. Obsessed with the idea that he can have this all the fucking time. The therapist says they can’t fuck away their problems but Patrick would argue this makes him work so much harder at therapy… just so they can keep doing this shit. Tashi comes first, Patrick knows her tells. He reaches for Art’s cock, knows he can’t really come without stimulation. And all it takes is two strokes and he’s clenching around Patrick. Heated liquid spurting all over the place, spilling onto Patrick’s hand. Patrick fucks him into overstimulation before he’s coming inside. And then they’re all breathless, giddy and so satisfied.

They lay in the room for a little bit longer after redressing and cleaning up a bit. Art chews gum and rests his head on Tashi’s lap while Tashi and Patrick are share one of the snacks. They talk about what just happened. Art back to his normal more centered self and Patrick admits to his fantasy about putting a collar on Art next time. And the way they both suddenly go silent, both of them fidgety, lets Patrick know they’re into it.

They head upstairs so the space can be used by someone else and pick up their coats and phones from the check in. They wait for an uber. People passing by in a rush to get out of the cold. Kids hurrying in and out of other less exclusive clubs nearby. No one but other people exiting the club aware of what really goes on in there, or of what they’ve just been up to. Patrick smiles to himself, he already can’t wait to go back.

Not to superwholock on main but if anyone likes Sherlock I encourage you to read the much better fic a cure for boredom on AO3 from which I blatantly stole the cinnamon safeword and got influenced by the sex club. That and someone said Mike Faist smells like cinnamon… 🤤

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sit Next To Me Before You Go

Chapter 1: To a Good Fucking Semester.

You had created two rules for yourself. Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free. Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits. Easy enough, right? ...Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. Very proud of myself for getting my own thing out of my google docs and onto the internet for once. This is very self indulgent and possibly a little ooc, but it's an AU so who cares?

Also, biggest shout out in the world to @hivemuthur. I am the biggest fan of their writing and I'm obsessed with their fic The Game of Teaching Body. I hadn't even considered writing a college au until I read Teaching Body and now I'm fully in it. I've really regained my love for writing fanfic for myself as opposed to an audience and it's definitely because of them. Anyways, all love to them and if you haven't already, go read everything that they've written asap!

Another Author Note: No smut in this chapter, but chapter 2 is already posted ;)

Read on AO3

You were going to take this semester seriously. Your 5th of your college career, first of Junior year, this was the time to get serious. If you fuck up now, the chances of having to take an extra semester went up by an uncomfortable percentage. Yeah, you were going to take this semester very very seriously…key word were. Then Jayce and Cait decided to throw a party at their house. A huge ‘welcome back’ thing that was sure to be very fun and very well attended. Jayce was one of your closest friends, it would be offensive honestly if you didn’t show up to his first party of the year. Syllabi reviews and practice tests could wait until Sunday. 

You dug through your small closet in search of something to wear that hadn’t already been worn to a dozen other house parties. At this point half your clothing was pulled off their hangers and tossed on your bed. You pulled a light blue baby tee off a hanger, the low neckline was lined with a hint of lace.

“How’s this?” You held the shirt up to show Lest, already ready and scrolling through her phone

“Very cute,” Her freckled face looking at you upside down, “Not with that skirt, though.” She pointed to the button up denim skirt you had put on earlier.

“With what then?” You pulled on the top. 

“Must I dress you everyday,” Lest whined half heartedly.

“Well, yeah. What other reason would I willingly live with a fashion major?” You joked.

“Because you’re in love with me, obviously,” She scoffed, rolling off her bed and straightening her dress as she stood, “Do you still have those black shorts? The boxy ones with the high waist?”

“Er, yes…” You said hesitantly, opening a dresser drawer and digging through your pants until you found them. Next to you Lest began putting your clothes back on their hangers, “Yes, I do.”

You stripped off your skirt, handing it to Lest when she reached for it to hang up, and pulled on the shorts. You looked at yourself in the mirror, content enough with the outfit. It was a little boring, but at least it was comfortable.

“And lose the bra,” Lest poking the side of your boob, looking at you over your shoulder in the mirror, “Trust me.”

You purse your lips in the mirror, but shrugged and took the  suggestion anyways. Reaching behind your back to unclip your bra and toss it to the side.

“Better?” You asked, posing dramatically for her.

“Perfect,” She gave you a dramatic smile, her nose scrunching, “Now grab your stuff, the Uber will be here in 5.”

“Oh, fuck Lest, I’m not ready.” You whined, scrambling around your room to grab your things.

“Well get ready then, we have a party to get to!” She opened your door and gave a cheeky wave over her shoulder as she disappeared into the hallway. 

The party was in full swing when you and Lest reached Jayce and Cait’s house. The front yard was mostly empty, only a few stragglers wandering in and out, but the bass of the music could be felt from the street and colorful lights flashed in the front window. A sudden spark of excitement twisted in your stomach. It had been months since you last spent actual time with most of your friends. You had seen a handful of them in passing during this first week of classes, but you quickly realized that the free hours you had between classes didn’t line up with anyone else's. You missed your people and couldn't wait for another year with them by your side. 

You grabbed Lest by the hand, walking quicker up to the front door. You shoved open the door as much as you could, a wall of awkward freshmen hovering at the entrance blocking the way. You could feel the beat of a Pitbull song in your throat as you moved through the house. You opened the closet under the stairs, a hasty “Housemates Only” sign taped to the door. You and Lest were included in this of course, as were a handful of other friends close to Jayce and Cait. The bags tossed on the floor told you exactly who was here already. You added yours to the mix and continued to push through sweaty bodies in search of your friends. 

You found them in the kitchen. Mel was sitting on the counter, Jayce leaning against the edge between her legs, his back pressed against her chest. Cait was securely under Vi’s arm, hiding her laugh behind the red cup in her hand. You were surprised to see that even Sky had shown up, awkwardly sipping at a can of seltzer and hovering next to Jayce. 

When Mel spotted you pushing through the other people in the kitchen she gasped! Excitedly pushing Jayce away so she could hop off the counter. She squealed your name, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and squeezing harder than a girl her height should be able to. She pulled away and put her forehead to yours, widening her eyes with a dumb grin.

“Hi, Melly-Bear!” You giggled, glad she always kept up with the same silly greeting, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Darling,” Her pretty accent only slightly slurred on alcohol. You could smell something fruity on her breath.

She pulled away, giving you one more hug before letting you go to greet the others. Jayce hugged you as Mel accosted Lest next. 

“Thought you bailed on us,” Jayce laughed, pulling a can out of the ice filled sink and popping it open before handing it to you. Always a gentleman. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” You practically had to shout over the music, “Wardrobe struggles.”

“That’s what you landed on?” Jayce teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Actually it’s what Lest landed on,” You snarked up at him, “Don’t insult the love of my life.”

“I think your outfit is cute!” Sky slurred, looking around Jayce, her cheeks were flushed already. She was definitely drunker than you had thought she was, “and your tits look amazing.”

“Thank you very much Sky,” You said with exaggerated politeness, and then quietly to Jayce, “She’s fucked up.”

“I know, we’re keeping an eye on her,” He nodded, pulling a beer out of the sink behind you.

“Who’s sober tonight?” You asked as Mel rejoined you and wrapped an arm around Jayce’s waist.

“That would be me,” Vi said across from you, raising a half hearted hand.  

““Drew the short straw, huh? Tragic,” Lest said, shaking her head with mock pity.

“She can have fun sober,” Cait insisted, pointedly taking a sip of her own drink.

“Exactly!” You teased, “Well you have your sober fun, the rest of us are gonna do tequila shots.”

“Brilliant idea!” Mel gasped, clasping her hands together.

She got to work, pulling out plastic shot glasses from the cupboard and carefully filling them with the shitty tequila Jayce kept around for when everyone was already drunk. Cait opened the fridge behind her, the bright light from it jarring in the dark kitchen, and pulled out a tupperware of cut up lime. She passed the container and a shaker of salt around, and Mel handed out the little cups, making sure Sky received the one with cold water in it.

“Hey Vi, where’s Jinx and Ekko?” You asked as you took a piece of lime, realizing the youngest members of your little group were missing.

“They’re at that concert,” She told you, taking Cait’s cup so she could hold her shot.

“Oh shit, I didn’t realize it was tonight.” You said, licking the back of your hand and shaking salt onto it.

“Lame, they definitely would have had more fun here,” Mel sighed dramatically, setting down the container of limes and salt after everyone had gotten some. 

“Wait, where’s V?” Jayce asked Cait, she shrugged.

“Who?” Lest asked, taking a small sniff of the tequila and scrunching her nose.

“Viktor, he’s our new roommate,” Jayce said, “I’ve known him forever. He’s the best, y’all will like him.”

He turned looking out into the crowd of people on the other side of the breakfast bar, squinting like that would actually help him find the guy.

“Viktor!” He shouted, when there was no response he tsked, “probably snuck off to his room. Not really a party guy.” Jayce told you with a shrug, “Next time, I guess.”

Your circle of friends gathered a little closer, excited to be all back together again after the boring summer months. Jayce held up his shot, everyone else followed suit.

“To a good fucking semester!” He said triumphantly.

“To a good fucking semester!” Everyone shouted back, lifting their shots just a little higher before licking the salt off their hands and shooting, a round of groans following as they bit into the limes. The fruit did nothing to make the shitty tequila taste any better.  

“Yeah, not feelin’ too bad about being the sober one right now,” Vi grimaced, sipping on an energy drink instead. 

Lest grabbed you by the hand, pulling you to the living room where all of the furniture had been pushed against the walls. With your drink still in hand, you moved with her to the beat of the music. Your focus on each other keeping away any unwanted attention in the crowded space. The other joined you eventually, Sky sliding up to you and Lest. You put your hands on her hips - stiff even when she was drunk - you pulled her closer to you. Lest moved so Sky was between you and her. Sky’s face reddened, the drinks and closeness making her blush creep all the way up to her pretty hairline.

“I’m glad you came out,” You leaned in close so she could hear you, “This is your first party right?”

“Yeah,” She shouted back, beginning to loosen up in your hands, “I’m…I’m so drunk.” She admitted, you could see the apology behind her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” You told her, “Everyone gets too fucked up the first time they go out, it’s inevitable.”

“Really?” She asked, hopeful.

“Yeah, of course,” You nodded, leaning in further to talk in her ear, your cheek rubbing against hers, “At my first party, I got so drunk off canned wine that I took my bra off and tossed it in someone's pool.”

“No!” She gasped, pulling back slightly to see if you were lying.

“Yep, everyone has to pay their dues to the party gods,” You shrugged, feeling Lest’s hand brush against yours on Sky’s waist, “So don’t worry about being too drunk. Just relax and let yourself have fun. Vi is the responsible one tonight, she won’t let anything happen to you.”

Sky nodded, relaxing into you and Lest. Time blurred as the three of you danced. Mel and Jayce and Cait and Vi somewhere close by. Each song faded into the next, only your favorites standing out. Sometimes the beat of the song would pull you away from Sky and Lest, the three of you wanting more room to dance and move. Others pulled you flush against Sky’s back, your hips grinding against her to the rhythm of the song. The only moments where you stopped dancing was when your drink needed to be replaced. 

Your body was aching by the time Sky stopped moving, breathing heavily.

“I’m gonna go get water,” She shouted over the music, “It’s so hot in here.”

“Okay, do you want someone to go with you?” You asked, still lightly moving to the beat.

“No, I’m okay,” She laughed, shaking her head, “I think I’m gonna take a break…forever.”

“Okay, find us or text the group chat if you need anything, okay?” She grinned and gave a thumbs up as she snaked through the crowd back towards the kitchen. 

You swished your drink around in its can, debating if you wanted another or not.  A heavy hand landed on your shoulder, interrupting the thought. You gasped, yanking your shoulder away and whipping around angrily to whoever grabbed you. 

“Easy there tiger,” Jayce laughed, side eyeing you , “Have you considered this is why you’re single.”

“Have you considered my boot in your ass?” You snapped, but relaxed your shoulders anyways.

“No, but I have considered kicking your ass at rage cage,” He shrugged.

“In your dreams, Talis” You scoffed, following him to the dining table.

Mel was arranging a large cluster of plastic cups on the table, Cait and Vi already cracking cans and pouring a little bit into each. Some freshmen were hanging around, hesitant to join the game. Mel picked up a half empty cup from the center, extending it out to you.

“Your contribution?” She asked, as you peered into the cup. It was already a cloudy mix of beer and seltzer and backwash. You tipped the remnants of your can into the cup. She went around, having the freshman pour bits of their own drinks into the Bitch Cup. 

“Anyone allergic to cinnamon?” Jayce asked, holding up a handle of Fireball with a smirk.

“Ew, why do you even have that?” You grimaced as he poured a shot into the cup.

“What? You don’t fuck with Fireball and Dr.Pepper?” He asked, tilting another shot into the cup.

“Nobody should,” You fake gagged, “But go ahead and keep pouring it in if you love it so much, you’ll be the one drinking it.”

“Delusional,” Jayce shrugged, setting himself up at the other side of the table, tossing one ping pong ball to you and testing the bounce of the other, “You're delusional.”

Mel began explaining the rules to the couple of freshies that hadn’t played before. They nodded with false confidence.

“Wait, where’s V?” He asked, standing up straight and looking around the crowd for his elusive friend again.

“He was here a minute ago,” Violet told him, looking around as well. At this point you weren't sure that he wasn’t a made up guy.

“He keeps disappearing,” Jayce pouted, and then to you, competitive air completely gone in the moment, “I wanted you to meet him. He’s cool, you’ll get along.”

“Jayce, babe, he’s probably out making new friends on his own,” Mel laughed, “You know, that thing people do at parties.”

“Boo, lame. He needs to be friends with all of my friends, first,” Jaye pouted, and then without warning snatched up one of the perimeter cups, downed the contents, and began trying to bounce the ball into it. 

“Oh, fuck you!” You yelped, grabbing a cup and drinking it so quickly you barely tasted what it was. It was cheap beer. The aftertaste clung to the back of your throat, making you cringe as you tried to get the ball in the cup before the other one caught up.

You blinked down at the complete stack of cups in front of you, horrified at the outcome of this game. Jayce shook with laughter across from you, bracing himself on the dining room table. 

“I was set up!” You insisted, gesturing to the freshman that had set the cup to the right of you every time they got it in on the first try, “I don’t even know these kids and they were against me the whole time! What’d you do, Talis? Pay them?”

“Don’t accuse me of bribery!” He gasped, mock offended as he wiped tears away, “This is what you get for being cocky.”

“Fuck you, man, this is misogyny!” You crossed your arms over your chest, pouting.

“Sure is! Now, drink the Bitch Cup like a lady,” He smirked, extending the nearly overflowing red cup. 

You peered into the cup, nauseous spit flooding the back of your mouth at the cloudy liquid. At the look on your face, Jayce hesitated.

“I mean, I like fireball, I don’t mind helping you out,” He could barely hide his cringe as he offered to help. 

“No way,” You snapped, taking the cup. You'd rather have a hangover from hell than anyone's pity, “I’m not a pussy.”

You took a deep breath and began to drink from the cup. Tilting it back as much as you could without dumping it all over yourself. The girls were chanting your name, urging you on. The taste was awful, the burn of the whiskey was worse. Cinnamon and sour beer overpowered your senses as you drained the cup, breathing in through your nose. Little streams of liquid dripped down the corners of your mouth as you neared the bottom. You finished it off with a shudder. Gasping and fighting back the urge to gag, your stomach turning.

 “I’m gonna get water,” You grimaced, dropping the empty cup into the stack instead of dinging it off Jayce’s head like you wanted to

“Proud of you!” Jayce teased as you walked away, you flipped him off with both hands as you backed into the kitchen.

At this point in the night Jayce’s house was at max capacity, and the kitchen was especially crowded. You pushed through people to get to the counter, searching for a clean cup. Only the plastic bag they had come in was left behind, red cups scattered around the counter with varying amounts of liquid in them.

“Animals,” You muttered, huffing at the lack of options and incredible waste. 

You pushed through the crowd again, trying to get to the far side of the kitchen to get a glass instead. You found Sky sitting on the counter, taking down to someone leaning on the counter next to her, a solo cup in her hand. 

“Sky! My sweet baby angel,” You gasped, sliding between her knees and wrapping your arms around her waist in a tight hug. You could feel the liquor from the bitch cup throwing you off balance. You reached up, cupping her face in your hands, “Promise me you will never ever play a drinking game, you’re too good for that.”

Sky giggled, pressing her face to your palm. She didn’t seem any less drunk than earlier.

“That’s water right?” You nodded to the cup in her hand, leaning away from her and bringing your hands down to her knees.

“Yep,” She nodded, extending the cup towards your face, “Want a sip?”

You let her tip some into your mouth, accepting the drink mostly to confirm that it was actually water. Luckily it was.

“Thanks babe,” You said, pulling away and wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. You suddenly remembered she had been talking to someone before you walked up, “But, I’m gonna get my own.”

You looked over to who she was talking to and found yourself a little surprised. He wasn’t someone you recognized, but he looked too old to be a freshman. What really threw you off was the fact that he was intimidatingly beautiful. Even in the low lighting he had the most gorgeous amber eyes and a bone structure that rivaled any model. You realized not only were you caught off guard, but now you were staring. Sky didn’t notice she continued talking about whatever they had been talking about before you showed up, but he did. A small motion of his brows, perfect eyes narrowing just slightly. 

You threw walls up, trying to cover your embarrassment with attitude. You leaned in just slightly, narrowing your eyes as you looked up at him and reached up towards his shoulder. Judging by the way he shifted back slightly, his eyes glancing to your hand with just a little bit of confusion, you were able to trip him up just the same. 

“S’cuse me, Pretty Boy,” You said, your lips forming a crooked smile, “Just tryna’ get a glass.”

His mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape and he stepped over quickly, leaning against Sky’s legs. You opened the cabinet and pulled out a glass. Not acknowledging him as you went through the motions, but very aware of where he was. You grabbed Sky’s knee before walking away.

“Find me if you wanna dance again, okay?” You told her, she gave a squinty smile and nodded before you walked away. 

You heard Jayce’s voice in your head. Have you considered this is why you’re single?

It was just after midnight and the party still showed no real signs of slowing. You and Jayce had tapped out on drinking but were still having a good time. You both leaned near the back door, watching the others play a round of beer pong. Lest and Mel had teamed up against Cait and Vi and unfortunately, due to Vi’s soberness,were getting crushed. You laughed as another ball splashed into a cup on Lest and Mel’s side. 

“Nooo!” Lest whined dramatically, dragging her hands down her perfect face. She picked up the cup anyways, downing the contents and setting it to the side. 

“I think we’re rooting for the wrong team here,” Jayce laughed in the middle of your conversation, swirling red gatorade around in his cup, 

“Hey, unless I’m playing, I don’t take sides,” You held your hands up in defence. 

You and Jayce both looked up at the ceiling pretending to be really interested in the lights when Lest and Mel turned to glare at you.

You dropped the act when they turned away. Jayce laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, honestly, I’m really excited to get a jump on capstone.” He told you, “I mean, we don’t have to technically do anything until next year, but It'll be nice to be ahead, we’ll make more progress for sure.”

“We?” You asked, you hadn’t noticed the plural earlier in the conversation.

“Yeah, now that Viktor transferred we’re gonna do our capstone together!” He was excited to bring up his friend again, “We’ll be doing the same amount of work as we would be if we were working separately, but still, both of our ideas are better when we work together.”

“Ya know, that’s nice and all, but I still don’t believe this Viktor guy exists,” You shrugged, “I mean all night it's been ‘where’s Viktor?’ ‘Where's Viktor?’ But doesn’t he live here? Why haven't I seen him?”

“I swear on my mother he’s real,” Jayce said, rubbing a hand down his face, “He’s not really a party guy, but he said he’d stay and party and meet people. Honestly, I think that lasted about an hour and a half before he bailed. He probably drove down to the pier to smoke a cigarette and listen to Alex Turner or something.”

You scoffed, “Sounds like an interesting guy.”

“Hey, don’t judge him before you see him.” He insisted, “He’s quiet, but he’s not shy or weird, ya know? He’s cool, trust me.”

“Damn, you really have a hard on for this guy,” You teased. Jayce always talked about people like this, you were sure he saw his friends the same way as he saw stars in the sky.

“Hey, I won’t deny it. If I was into guys, he’d be the one for me.” Jayce assured, and then backtracked when Mel shot him a look, “IF, I said. But I’m not, I’m not into girls either, not unless their name is Mel Medarda. I’m Mel-Sexual.”

“Okay, reel it in a little bit,” Mel said, rolling her eyes but laughing with him anyways.

You were about to suggest a study hangout on Sunday night, it would be a good chance to both confirm that Viktor was in fact real and get your practice tests done before class. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the sliding door opened and a couple of boys fell into the house. In their drunken shoving of each other as they came in, one slammed right into Jayce’s back causing his drink to splash almost completely onto you. You curse, wiping red Gatorade off your chin.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” He said hands hovering front of him for a moment before he rounded on the boys, they didn’t even acknowledge what happened, “Okay fuckers, you’re done.” He grabbed both of them by the back of the shirt and began hauling them towards the door, “Go home, no more Rune Street Parties for you two.” 

“Oh shit,” Lest said, inspecting the mess on your shirt, the red dye of the drink splashed dramatically over the blue fabric.

“Damn, I just got this top,” You pouted as Jayce came back.

“Dude, I am so sorry,” He rubbed his forehead, “I should have kicked them out sooner, they’ve been obnoxious all night. Listen, I have clothes in the dryer, you can go throw your top in the wash and steal a t-shirt.”

You thought for a second, wondering if the $15 shirt was worth the trouble of Jayce’s offer. You sighed and nodded.

“Okay, thanks,” You frowned, the drink making you feel sticky.

“Of course, you remember how to use that washer, right?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’ll just do a quick wash and come back when it’s done.” You told him, sliding open the door.

“Yeah, text me if you need anything.” He told you as you stepped into the backyard. 

This past summer you had done summer research until the end of June, during that time you had sublet a room in the house. Grateful to not have been holed up in a hotel room for a month. It was a great house, almost perfect even. Its only real quirk was the fact that the washer and dryer were installed in a small garage at the very back of the yard. There were a few people milling about, smoking and drinking on the deck, but the further you got into the yard, the less kids were around. Everyone in the house smoked in the garage, it was comfier than sitting in the weather sometimes, and kept the neighbors from complaining. 

The garage wasn’t off limits to anybody, but unless Jayce invited people in, it usually went unused during parties. No one thinking to look inside for a place to sit. Tonight, though, you could see the light inside turned on. The warm light shining through the thin curtains Cait had put up. 

You paused outside the door, listening for what might be happening on the other side. When you were sure that you weren’t going to walk in on anyone fucking, you went inside. You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth.

Pretty Boy was sitting on one of the couches shoved into the small space. He didn’t react to you opening the door, the wired earbuds he was wearing prevented him from hearing you. You took a moment to look at him in better lighting without being caught. His head was tipped against the back of the couch, eyes closed. His dark lashes bushed against the top of his cheeks that were flushed with just a little bit of pink. The lines of his jaw and throat were perfect, a couple of beauty marks standing out against his pale skin. One hand was tapping out the beat on the arm of the couch, smoke slowly rising half gone joint between his fingers. You wondered if his hands were warm or cold. 

‘Okay creeper’ You thought to yourself shaking the thoughts away from your head, ‘that’s enough.’

You shut the door harder than you normally would, unable to think of another way to get his attention. He furrowed his eyebrows and sat up, finally looking at you by the door. He pulled his earbuds out.

“Hey Pretty Boy,” You smirked, not letting yourself be pinned under his gaze.

“What happened to you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You realized that you hadn't heard him speak earlier in the house, the accent he had was interesting. He tilted his head, waiting for a response.

“Oh, uh, Jayce happened,” You scoffed, shaking your head and pulling the bottom of your shirt away to look at the mess, “I’m sure he’d cover my entire life in Red-40 if he could.”

“Hm, unfortunate,” He muttered, “It’s a nice shirt.”

“Well hopefully drowning it in Tide will save it,” You shrugged, opening up the washing machine. 

He watched as you grabbed a Metallica t-shirt out of the half folded basket of laundry on the counter. You were sure Jayce had never listened to a Metallica song in his life. Pretty Boy continued to watch you as you held the shirt in your hands, fidgeting and staring at him awkwardly. When he didn’t take the hint, you turned your back to him fully and peeled the sticky shirt off. You wished you could do something about the Gatorade dried on your skin before putting on the clean shirt, but oh well.

When you turned around he was looking the other direction, but you could see that his face was flushed red all the way to his ears. You snorted, rolling your eyes at him. The fastest cycle on Jayce’s washer was still 25 minutes. Not ideal, but it’d have to do. You tossed the stained shirt into the drum, poured a little too much detergent in, and started it up. 

“Hm, you better work, bitch.” You whispered to the machine, suddenly worried about the fate of your top.

“Are you talking to the washer?” He turned back around to face you.

“I’m encouraging her.” You said seriously, sitting on the other arm of the couch, “There’s, like, 25 minutes on the cycle, cool if I wait here?”

“I’m not going to stop you,” He said, placing the joint between his teeth and relighting it. 

The cherry glowed as he inhaled, smoke pouring out of his perfect nose as he exhaled. He looked back over to you, extending the joint out, both an offer and question. You considered for a second, before taking it. The way he held it to you didn’t allow enough skin contact for you to tell what his hands felt like. They were pretty up close, slender but not dainty. 

“So,” You began, sliding off the arm to sit more comfortably and taking a hit, “Why’re you out here all alone, Pretty Boy?”

“Hm, didn’t like the music,” He said casually, picking at the frayed edge of the couch cushion.

“Nobody actually likes party music,” You laughed, dragging your knees to your chest and resting your chin against them, “It’s just to drown out any thoughts that the alcohol didn’t already get rid of.”

“Very introspective,” He nodded. You weren’t sure that it was.

“Well, what’re you listening to instead, then?” You glanced down at his phone next to him, music still playing faintly through the earbuds.

He picked up the phone and yanked the cord out. 

“-er’s lovers to be had, those walls will make sinners out of such lovely lads,” played out of the small speakers.

“Oh, this is a good one,” You nodded along to the Arctic Monkeys song, smirking when you said, “Definitely better than David Guetta. Playlist or album?”

“Album,” He told you, accepting the joint back after you took another hit.

“So you’re the kinda guy to hide away in the garage with British indie rock and bad weed?”

“First of all, it is not bad weed, it is subpar weed,” He defended, “And second, I’m not hiding. If I were hiding, I wouldn’t have been found.”

“Kinda seems like you’re hiding,” You shrugged, taking back the subpar weed, “I mean, Sky seemed real interested in you and you’re out here instead of with her.”

“Sky went home actually,”

“And you didn’t go with her?!”

“Her roommate took her home, she was smashed.”

“Sky doesn’t have a roommate.” You told him, furrowing your eyebrows.

“What?” He sat upright, horror on his face.

A crooked grin plastered your face, “Kidding, kidding.”

“That was very fucked up,” He huffed, putting a hand to his forehead as he fell back against the couch.

“Sorry, it was too good an opportunity to pass up,” You hid your laugh against your knee, “l am glad Sky got home, though. Her roommate is a little weird, I’ve never seen her at a party before.”

“Her? I thought Sky’s roommate was a man?” Pretty Boy tilted his head and your stomach dropped, you were sure you’d never be able to breathe again before a cheeky smile tugged at his lips.

“Fuck you, Pretty Boy.” You gasped, dropping your forehead to your knees, heart hammering like you’d just run a marathon.

“I’m sorry,” He laughed, and then, “it was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“I deserved that,” You blinked, lips pursed.

Realizing the joint had gone out, you swiped a lighter off the table. You sat criss cross on the couch facing him.

“Still,” You said around the joint as you lit it, “Fucked up or not, she seemed to like you alot, probably wound’t have minded you around.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as you steered back towards that line of thought, “Sky is nice.”

“Ouch,” You cringed, “Sky is nice…but?”

“She is nice, but she’s… too nice,” He said slowly, trying to find the right words, “She’s amazing, but definitely the kind of girl who would want to marry the first guy that fucks her.”

“You’re assuming she’s a virgin?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Tell me, is my assumption wrong?” He asked with a tight smile, like he already knew your answer.

“Well, no,” You ducked your head, “But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Said what?” He raised an eyebrow, you snorted a laugh at the response, “And hey, I think it is absolutely fine if people want to marry their first. I, however, am not, eh, compatible with those kinds of people.”

“That’s fair,” You scoffed, passing the joint back over to him. 

You didn’t realize the high creeping in during your conversation. It was on you know, though, clouding your brain and making your head feel heavy and your thoughts chase eachother in circles. You shifted again, moving to sit properly on the couch, the heels of your hightops propped on the edge of the messy coffee table. Pretty Boy was back to tapping along to the beat of his music, equally as stoned. You felt the threadbare fabric under your fingertips, hand gliding across the couch cushion next to you as you zoned out. When your movement produced a crackling package sound, you stopped. Head lolling as you frowned and lifted your palm. The spiky edge of a packet was sticking out from between the cushions. You pulled it out.

“Ha!” You snorted a laugh when you realized what it was.

“Hm?” Pretty Boy hummed next to you, looking over.

“Pokemon cards,” You and Jayce had gotten these at a gas station sometime last year, wanting to learn how to play, “I forgot about these.” 

You pulled the cards out of the already torn wrapper, only four remained. You turned over the first card, a Solrock. 

“Smash or pass?” You snorted and held the card out for Pretty Boy to see.

“Pardon?” He raised his eyebrows at you.

“Smash or pass?” You insisted, like you were asking him the time of day.

“I don’t understand.” He told you, shaking his head.

“Would you have consensual sex with - smash- this being, or not - pass-?” You explained.

“It’s…it’s a- what even is it?” He looked at it in almost horror.

“It’s Solrock, duh. It’d be warm,” You offered, “C’mon, it’s not like you have to marry it,”

“Pass,” He said with a heavy sigh.

“See, was that so hard?” You teased, holding up the next card, “Xatu, smash or pass?”

“That’s a bird.” 

“He’s a handsome bird, very stoic and responsible looking.”

“”Wait,” He stopped you, “You didn’t tell me your decision, that is not fair. Smash or pass Solrock?”

“Oh, pass for sure,” You told him, “the spikes are too obvious, who knows where they’ve been.”

“You thought too much about that,” He plucked the Xatu card from your hand, looking at it closer, “ What about this one?”

“Like I said, stoic and handsome, smash.” 

“Hm, interesting.” He handed the card back to you, “Pass.”

“Lopunny, smash or pass?” You said, smirking as you flipped the next card because you knew exactly what he would say.

“Eh, pass…” He said, hesitation clear.

“Nah, don’t lie,” You teased, “I won’t tell anybody. Just admit you want to fuck the sexy rabbit pokemon.”

“Nope, pass,” He tried to hold firm, but your expectant look drew a groan. He dropped his head into his hands, “...smash.”

“I knew it,” You poked his side, grinning, “Me too, smash all the way.”

“If you tell anybody,” He warned, holding a finger up at you.

“I just told you I’d smash Xatu,” You deadpanned, flipping over the last card. “Which is definitely more controversial. Here, last one.”

You held up the Onix card to him, “Smash or Pass?”

“It’s a rock worm,” He scoffed, “Pass, clearly.”

“First of all, he’s a rock snake,” You cleared up, “And second, smash.”

“What!?” His mouth fell open, blinking at you.

“Look at his face! It’s about the emotion,” You defended, “He looks…determined, driven. Attractive qualities.”

“Sometimes I wish I could be in other people's heads,” He scoffed, relighting the joint once more, “Just for a minute.” 

“It’s better you stay in your own pretty head,” You told him, smirking as you lent back against the sofa. You didn’t realize it but over the course of your silly little game you had gotten very close. Your shoulder was practically behind his, you could smell his cologne and feel the heat of his thigh pressed to yours, “You’d never be the same once being in mine.”

“Jasně,” He muttered as you blew smoke out of his nose again, handing the joint over to you. 

You took a hit. Curiosity getting the better of you, you asked, “Where are you from?”

“Česko,” He looked down at you, face closer than you expected, “You people call it Czechia.”

“Oh, where is that?” You had heard of the country, but couldn’t think of where it was exactly.

“In Europe.” He told you, his pupils were blown out.

“I know that,” You scoffed, bumping your shoulder against his and rolling your eyes, “Where in Europe? I’m bad at geography, explain it to me.”

He smirked softly, you could imagine his accent saying ‘Americans’ in your head, “It’s East of Germany, South of Poland, west of Slovakia and North of Austria. It’s in central Europe.”

“Hm, okay, see that was helpful,” You said, gesturing around with your hands, “What brought you to the U.S.?”

“Piltover, specifically the engineering program,” You weren’t surprised, that was why most people attended the University of Piltover, “You ask a lot of questions.”

“You think that’s a lot?” You snorted, “I can ask plenty more.”

“Eh, not necessary,” He protested with a flit of his hand, as you began asking him rapid fire questions.

“What year are you?”

A moment, and then a resigned, “I’m in my 3rd year.”

“How old are you?”

“22.”

“Cats or dogs?” 

“Neither, really, but cats if I have to pick.”

“Tea or Coffee?”

“Whatever is available as long as it’s highly caffeinated.” His lopsided smile grew a little with each question, the game of feigning annoyance over. 

“Ah, a true STEM student,” You raised your eyebrows and laughed, leaning against him for a moment before pulling away, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Today, light blue. Tomorrow, who knows.” 

“Do you want to make out?”

-----

Chapter 2

[tqlepatia]

Let the light in.

- ❝ based entirely on my new bot, yay❞

The room was unbearably still, suffocating in its silence. The air felt thick, heavy, as though it carried the weight of all the things you couldn’t say aloud. You sat on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands, staring blankly at the floor. Your breathing was shallow, your chest tight with an ache you couldn’t place—or maybe didn’t want to. It felt like you were teetering on the edge of something, the kind of edge that left you terrified of falling but too drained to step back.

The key turning in the lock broke the stillness, and you flinched as the door creaked open. You didn’t look up, didn’t move, hoping to delay whatever inevitable interaction was coming. But the footsteps were unmistakable, steady and purposeful, even as they slowed when they entered the apartment.

“Hey,” Sevika’s deep voice called out, softer than usual. The sound of her boots paused, her presence filling the room even though you hadn’t looked at her yet. She hesitated, her sharp eyes scanning the space and then landing on you. You could feel her gaze even though your own stayed fixed on the ground.

She didn’t need to ask what was wrong—not really. Sevika wasn’t one to pry, but she wasn’t blind either. She knew the signs, could see them all over you in the way you were curled into yourself, your shoulders hunched and your breathing uneven. She crossed the room slowly, her boots faintly scuffing against the floor, but she didn’t say anything right away.

Instead, she crouched in front of you, her large hands resting lightly on her knees. “Babe,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “What’s going on?”

You didn’t answer, the knot in your chest tightening at the sound of her nickname for you. It was gentle, almost protective, but it just made you feel more exposed. You shook your head, trying to brush it off, but Sevika wasn’t having it.

“Don’t do that,” she said, her tone a little firmer now. “Don’t shut me out.”

Her hand reached for yours, brushing against your knee first. The touch was warm, grounding, and it shattered what little resolve you had left. The tears you’d been fighting back spilled over, your chest heaving as you tried—and failed—to hold it together.

“Shit,” Sevika muttered, more to herself than to you. She stood quickly, pulling you into her arms and wrapping you tightly in her embrace. “Come here.”

Her scent—smoke, metal, and something faintly earthy—washed over you as she held you close, her hand resting protectively on the back of your head. “Let it out,” she murmured, her lips close to your ear. “I’ve got you. Just let it out.”

You didn’t want to. You hated the vulnerability, the way it made you feel so raw and exposed. But there was something about the way Sevika held you, so steady and certain, that made it impossible to keep everything bottled up. The sobs came in waves, your hands clutching at the fabric of her shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you tethered.

She didn’t speak for a while, letting you cry into her chest, her hand rubbing slow circles on your back. Her cybernetic arm stayed still, resting gently against your shoulder, its weight oddly comforting.

“I can’t,” you choked out eventually, the words barely audible. “I can’t keep… pretending everything’s fine. It’s too much.”

Sevika’s grip tightened slightly, her chin resting on the top of your head. “I know,” she said quietly. “It feels like it’s too much right now. But you’re not alone, bunny. You hear me? You’re not doing this alone.”

Her words hit you hard, the sincerity in her voice cutting through the fog in your mind. She leaned back just enough to tilt your face up, her calloused hand brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. Her dark eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re stronger than you think,” she said, her thumb grazing your cheek gently. “And you don’t have to do this all at once. We’ll take it slow, okay? One step at a time.”

You nodded, though it felt more like a reflex than a choice. The weight on your chest hadn’t disappeared, but it felt a little lighter, a little more bearable with her by your side.

Sevika stood, pulling you gently to your feet. She didn’t let go of your hand, her grip firm but reassuring. “Let’s get you out of here for a bit,” she said, her tone almost casual but still laced with care. “Fresh air. Maybe some food. I’m not letting you drown in this, bunny. Not on my watch.”

You managed a faint smile, the first in what felt like forever. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Sevika. She gave your hand a light squeeze and led you toward the door, her presence a steady anchor in the storm raging inside you.

As the night wore on, Sevika paid the bill and stood, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied grunt. The snow had picked up outside, blanketing the streets in a thick layer of white, and the cold air hit you both as you stepped out into the night. Sevika handed you your coat and scarf, making sure you were bundled up tight before she slipped on her own jacket, pulling the collar up against the chill.

"Alright, bunny," she said with a smirk, "let’s get you home. But first…" She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small joint, holding it up between her fingers. "Thought we could end the night the right way."

You couldn’t help but smile at the offer. You’d been feeling a little better since the pizza and the quiet conversation, but the thought of sharing a joint with Sevika, just the two of you, sounded like the perfect end to the night.

You took it from her, your fingers brushing hers for just a second longer than necessary, and you both fell into an easy rhythm as you walked down the street, the snow crunching beneath your boots. The joint was lit, the smoke curling lazily around you as Sevika kept a slow pace, her arm holding your waist as she walked with you, the shared silence comfortable.

The quiet hum of the city was distant, muffled by the thick snow, and it felt like the world had slowed down. The smoke filled your lungs, and for a brief moment, you forgot about the weight you’d been carrying around.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the quiet comfortable between you. There was no need for words—just the shared space, the feeling of being there for each other. The city felt a little less harsh, the night a little more peaceful, as you both walked slowly toward home.

And with Sevika by your side, you knew you’d make it through, no matter how heavy the world tried to be. She was there, and that was all that mattered.