#and then she watched as he urged her son to leave with him RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER

[justablanketreally]

it makes me so emo that in rickshank rickdemption beth runs up to hug rick, saying “please don’t leave me again” and he reassures her that he never will, but then in rickchurian mortydate she says that she’d rather work to make her family a real family instead of trying endlessly to make him proud and he says okay. morty let’s go. and implies that the easiest option, the one he wants to pick, is to just leave her and hop realities. like yea he doesn’t actually do it in the end, but with what he said, he doesn’t do it because of morty, not because of her. and he knew he had cloned her! he knew that there were two beths. and because one of them did something that took away a modicum of his “power” in the family, he was completely fine leaving them both.

[auroralwriting]

home

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

spencer gets shot, and you don't know who you need to forgive: him, or yourself.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: no use of y/n, spencer gets shot, season 9, blood and violence, criminal minds type violence, negative self thoughts, angsty but it turns fluffy, spencer's drug addiction is discussed, best friends to lovers

The ringing in your ears overwhelmed you. Shots were firing all around, and you didn't know what to do. You'd never been in a shoot-out before, and you felt panicked.

Spencer was beside you, hidden behind the car door as he fired some shots. You watched as an officer in front of you was shot.

You knew it was the worst idea to go out there, but the man could be alive. Your legs moved before you realized it, and you were attempting to drag the officer's body. Spencer and Alex both yelled for you, running out to grab you. Right as Alex grabbed your arm, Spencer pushed you closer to her, which was very out of character for him.

It was then you heard another bullet rip through skin.

The sound that came from Spencer was one you couldn't quite describe, but could never forget. Immediately, you noticed the blood seeping from his neck of all places.

"Spencer!" Your voice was broken and loud as you yelled, grabbing onto him. Derek made a jump, helping you and Alex move him behind the car again.

"No, no," Alex muttered, putting pressure on Spencer's neck. "Look at me, okay? Don't close your eyes,"

You sat behind her, shaking your head as tears freely flowed down your cheeks. "Oh my god, oh my god," You repeated, shock flooding your system.

"Ethan, look at me! Ethan!"

For a moment, you didn't realize who Blake was talking to, until you saw Spencer's shut eyes. "Spencer, Spencer wake up." You crawled over, shaking his shoulder. "Please, I need you, I need you with me forever. You're my best-- Alex, why is there so much blood?"

You helped Alex stop the bleeding, but it was so much. After what felt like years, the paramedics arrived. You and Alex fought to ride with him, and somehow, they let both of you. The woman held you to her side as she urged you to look away, but the sight of Spencer's dying body never left your eyes. Were you even blinking? Breathing? It didn't feel like it.

Spencer was rushed to surgery immediately. You didn't even get to say goodbye when you and Alex were sent to the waiting room. The two of you didn't speak for a while, until an hour or so later.

"Who's Ethan?"

Alex turned to you, "Ethan was my son."

"He passed?" You asked.

"When he was nine. I begged him to look at me." Alex bit her lip as you squeezed your eyes shut. "I don't know if I can do this anymore."

You reached for her hand, which she took. "I don't blame you." You admitted, looking over to her with teary eyes. "Do what your heart tells you to, Alex. Don't let us determine what you're happy doing."

Alex gave your hand a squeeze as the silence took over once more as you waited. Penelope sent word that she was on her way, and you hoped it would be soon. Her cheerful demeanor was what you needed.

Finally, the doctor came to tell you Spencer had narrowly avoided death. You felt a breath release, one you didn't know you were holding. The man lead you both to Spencer's room.

Your first thought was about how peaceful he looked. Then, the panic set in when you saw the IV in his arm. "What medications will he be given?" You quickly asked before the doctor could leave the room.

The doctor listed a couple of medications when one caught your attention, "...Gabapentin, Hydromorphone--"

"Stop, what are those? Opioids?" You questioned.

"Uh, yes. Both are in the dilaudid family--"

You shook your head, "He can't have those. He had a drug addiction to dilaudid. Give him something else."

The doctor gave you a hesitant look, "Agent, those are what we recommend--"

"I don't give a damn, what else can you give him?" You demanded, crossing your arms.

"Uh, Morphine would be the most basic and cover the most ground." The doctor sheepishly responded.

With an exasperated look, you said, "Then write that down. That's what he'll be getting. Monitor the doses, too. I don't want to risk a relapse. If you have any questions, I'm his second emergency contact. First is Aaron Hotchner, he can attest--"

"It's really alright, miss." The doctor said, slowly stepping back. "We took note. I'll see to it that it is followed."

The doctor left and Alex chuckled, "You scared him."

"Good," You replied, sitting down next to Spencer. Alex took the other side as you carefully took his hand. "It's my fault, you know."

Alex's brows furrowed, "What?"

"It's my fault he got shot." You repeated, pinching the bridge of your nose tightly as you squeezed your eyes shut. "I was to his right. He pushed me out of the way. My head is just where his shoulder is, and he bent down to push me. It was meant to be a headshot, Alex."

Softly, Alex grabbed your hand across Spencer's body. "Sweetheart, that doesn't make it your fault. You couldn't have controlled Spencer's actions."

With a sniffle, you tearfully looked up to Alex. "Alex, please be with him when he wakes up. He's my best friend, and I failed him. I- I just can't."

Alex wanted to argue you, to tell you that you were exactly what Spencer needed when he woke up, but she also took into account your needs, too. "Alright," she sighed. "But please, come back after to see him, alright?"

"Yeah," You nodded, biting your lip.

Remembering the moment Spencer got shot was like it was from another lifetime, even if it was just from a few mere hours ago. You remembered exactly what you did, but looking back, it felt like you replayed every moment you'd ever had with the genius. Every lingering touch, every time he made your heart swirl. You would've never gotten to kiss him, or tell him you liked him. It was too much for your heart to bare.

Penelope showed up later on, setting up some Doctor Who action figures for Spencer to see when he woke up. The sight of it made you sick. Knowing he would need to see something good when he opened his eyes was too much, too soon. You excused yourself, leaving the room in a hurry as you left the hospital.

For a while, you sat in the black SUV provided by the police. You just needed space, air to breathe. After some calming breaths, you decided to get Spencer some flowers to cheer up his dull room.

The florist was only fifteen minutes away, so that's where you headed. When you walked in, the woman behind the counter noticed who you were. Small towns talk.

"I don't know anything," She said with a sigh, "You'll find better luck--" Her voice paused when she saw the look in your eyes. "You ain't here to question me, are you?"

You cleared your throat, "My uh, partner-- teammate, he got shot. I wanted to just get him flowers, I guess. Maybe this is too weird," You'd muttered the last part to yourself, turning around to leave.

"No! No, wait." The woman called as you turned back around. "You like this teammate of yours?"

You nodded, "Yeah."

"You like him more than that?" She raised a brow.

With a hot face, you nodded. "I do."

"I always know. I got just the thing for you, sweetie. Just give me five minutes to prepare it." The woman rushed into the back, and you hesitantly took a seat in a small chair. After those five minutes, she came back out with a gorgeous pink floral arrangement. "Put this together especially for you."

Reaching for your wallet, you mustered the best smile you could. "Thank you so much. How much do I owe you?"

"No charge, sweetie." The woman held her hand up in denial. "You work a hard job. I'm a mother, I know the look of love and heartbreak on a young woman's face. You tell him how you feel, alright? That's the charge."

Your eyes watered as you took the flowers from her. "Thank you, ma'am. You're too kind."

"Says the girl getting the boy she loves flowers after he got hurt." The lady smiled back.

After driving back to the hospital, you hit the fourth floor button and took the grueling trip up. You realized you'd left your phone in the room. Hopefully nothing too important happened.

As you walked up to Spencer's room, you heard his voice, but it was filled with panic. "Garcia, he has a gun!"

Your body moved before your brain as you ran in, grabbing the first person you didn't know. The male nurse, who you assumed was not a nurse, threw you back against the wall as you took note of the gun in the back of his belt. You reached for it, but felt the bottom of it crash into your forehead. He'd gotten it before you had. As you fell to the floor, you heard Penelope shout for help when you saw Spencer's bag, the one that had his gun.

Right as the unsub turned around, you grabbed it and shot him right in the chest. He fell to the floor as you realized you'd been clutching the flowers. Laying down, you let them fall out of your grasp as Derek appeared, grabbing the unsub.

"Oh, my ray of sunshine!" Penelope yelled as she helped you up "You're bleeding! Let's get you a nurse- a real one."

As she pulled you out of the room, you'd just caught a glance at Spencer who was watching you leave with an unreadable expression on his face.

You sucked in a sharp breath of pain as the nurse finished stitching up your forehead. A good sized gash was left from the bottom of the gun, and your shoulder was already developing a bruise on the blade. “Sweets, are you sure you’re okay?” Penelope carefully asked, squeezing your hand as the nurse grabbed the rest of her tools and left you both alone in the small waiting area.

“Yeah, Pen. I’ll be okay.” You nodded. Playing with your fingers, you cleared your throat. “How’s Spencer?”

“He’s okay. Up and talking, the Morphine is doing him well. He’s not in too much pain.” Penelope replied, giving your hand another squeeze. “He was thankful it was Morphine.”

With a nod, you continued, “Was Alex with him when he woke up?”

“We both were,” Penelope bit her lip, “but he still asked for you.”

“I just couldn’t be there,” A sigh escaped your lips as you rubbed a hand over your cheek. “It should’ve—”

Penelope raised her eyebrows, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. It shouldn’t have been anybody. This is not your fault, I won’t let you believe it.”

A throb emitted from your forehead, “When do we leave? I just want to go home.”

“Spencer’s being airlifted there. We leave right when he does, in about thirty minutes. JJ packed all your things and brought them to the jet for you.” Penelope softly smiled. You made a mental note to thank JJ for doing that for you. “You know you’re going to have to talk to him, right?”

“I don’t want to think about it, Pen.” You shook your head as much as the pain would allow. “I just want to go to sleep.”

Penelope nodded softly, taking your hand and guiding you to the car to go to the jet.

Two days later, and you were still at home in your apartment. Your forehead only got worst with a huge bruise around the stitches. That wasn’t to mention the pain radiating from your left shoulder, either. You felt so bad for not seeing Spencer while he was awake in the hospital, but even now, the thought made you sick to your stomach. Seeing him in pain, in the hospital gown, the beeping of the machines, it was all just too much to bear. It was worse knowing that should’ve been you.

You were sat in your sofa, a half-melted bag of peas on your forehead when you heard the doorbell ring. Slowly, you got up off the couch-- much to your dismay-- and approached the door, reaching for the knob and twisting it.

Spencer standing outside the door, holding a similar flower arrangement to the one you'd gotten him, was not what you expected.

"Reid," You softly said, his last name feeling odd on your tongue. He was never Reid to you. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see how you were doing. Morgan, uh, told me you got knocked around pretty good." Spencer eyed your forehead, making you feel like a tiny specimen under a microscope. You allowed your hair to fall over it, covering the large, disgusting mark.

Biting your lip, you nodded. "I'm alright." After a moment, you came to your senses, "Uh, come on in. Sorry if it's messy."

"I think I'll live," Spencer chuckled, making your blood run cold at his words. You lead him inside, and even if he'd been in your apartment a numerous amount of times, it felt different now.

Spencer sat on the other end of your sofa. You pressed yourself to the arm, giving plenty of space between the both of you. "Are you in pain?"

"No, not really." Spencer hummed as he pondered your question. "But swallowing sometimes feels different."

"Ah," You casually replied as you went to pick at your nails. You stopped yourself-- don't give Spencer any of your tells. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I wish you would've came to see me sooner." Spencer admitted. "I missed you. I thought you would've been there when I woke up."

Guilt crept into your gut as you replied, "I was out getting you flowers."

"For three hours?"

Spencer's comment clocked you. "Spencer," You rubbed your neck, head slinging down to stare at your lap. "I couldn't be there."

"Why?" Spencer breathlessly asked, his eyes pleading for an answer.

He felt so alone when he opened his eyes and you weren't there. Sure, Alex and Penelope both were, but he was searching for you the whole time. You were his rock, you had been for the last three years. Sure, at first he took a while to warm up to you. Two months, twenty-three days, seventeen hours, and sixteen minutes, to be precise. The moment you both connected, however, it was like you and Spencer were attached at the hip. You had always been there for him. Why weren't you there for him now? It tore down Spencer to know you weren't there, but he was also concerned for your well-being as well.

"That shot was meant for me, Spencer." Your voice was cold as you spoke, a small quiver when you said it was for yourself. "We both know that would've been a headshot."

"You're mad that I saved your life?" Spencer didn't want to become angry, but he did feel frustrated at your lack of understanding.

You huffed, standing up quickly, "I'm mad that you hurt yourself for me, Spencer! You almost died, what would I have done if you died?"

"Says you," Spencer retorted, a small look of bewilderment on his face. "I couldn't live with myself if you died."

The air was thick in the room as you paced while Spencer watched. "Oh, so getting yourself shot was the answer. You scared Alex half to death, and I've never seen Derek cry before this! Don't even mention JJ going dead silent on us."

"Is this about them, or is this about us?" Spencer questioned, crossing his arms.

"This is about-- agh!" As you threw your arms out in distress, pain radiated through your shoulder blade. Your face scrunched in pain as Spencer quickly jolted to your side.

He softly took your arm, "Hey, hey. Let's just sit down, okay? Do you need more ice? Or, a better ice pack?" Spencer helped you sit down, and he grabbed your ankles to pop them up on the small ottoman in front of the couch.

"Better one would be nice," you muttered. "M' still mad at you."

"That's okay," Spencer's voice became more distant as he walked into your kitchen. "I guess I'd be mad, too. If I was in your situation, I mean."

You hummed, "Damn right."

Spencer chuckled as he made his way back into the living room. He gently pushed your hair out of your face, cringing at the huge bruise. You held onto the ice bag as he helped you sit forward. He could see the bruise that made its way up from your shoulder blade. It fell just above the hemline of your shirt, and the mere size made him sigh softly. "He really got you, huh?"

"He was Derek sized," you chuckled bitterly. "Plus, I was trying to save your flowers."

"Well, the vase was broken, but I kept the flowers." Spencer softly laughed beside you.

Your eyes twinkled as you looked to him, "You did?"

"Of course I did," Spencer nodded, "It was the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"Wow," Your tone was joking as you continued, "That's a really low bar. Gotta raise it, somehow."

Spencer softly took your hand in his. Every time he touched you, it reminded you of how much he trusted and cared for you; so much so that he allowed physical intimacy with you.

"I couldn't see you like that," You whispered, just loud enough for Spencer to hear. "It hurt me so much, to know I couldn't help you more. I-I couldn't- I-"

Shushes softly spewed from Spencer's mouth. "Hey, it's okay." He soothed, rubbing circles over your knuckles with his thumb. "I'm not mad at you. I was just sad you weren't there, but I understand."

"I can't live without you, Spencer Reid." You admitted, locking eyes with him.

Spencer softly spoke your name, and you noticed how his eyes flicked from your eyes, to your lips, and back to your eyes. "I can't live without you, either." Spencer echoed, another hand softly meeting your cheek. "Please tell me if I'm reading this wrong."

"You're not," you whispered. "promise."

You both sat there for a moment, reeling in each other's presences, your life forces. Finally, the tension got to be too strong. You leaned yourself closer to Spencer, ghosting your lips over his slightly-chapped ones. You gave him a moment to back out, to tell you that you read it wrong--

and he kissed you.

It wasn't a hard, fiery kiss. It was one that was soft, sweet, like a shining body of water, or the sound of laughter. His lips molded into yours like a missing puzzle piece. Spencer's hands moved to hold your face so strongly, yet so gentle like he was afraid to drop one of Rossi's expensive china pieces.

As you pulled back, Spencer's breath softly hit your face, a peppermint smell softly brushing your lips. "Is that why you were so upset?" Spencer breathlessly asked.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I think so."

"You think?" Spencer half-smiled.

"I think so." You pondered for a moment. "Wanna prove me right?"

Spencer chuckled, pushing his nose to nose your own. "More than anything."

Your lips collided again, but you pulled back with confusion. “How did you know I liked you?”

“Pink flowers,” Spencer scratched the back of his neck, “They’re known for symbolizing crushes, romantic feelings. Your whole arrangement was all pink tulips, roses, carnations.” You eyed Spencer’s for you— it was all pink. “I guess your florist knew better than you did.”

You chuckled, “I guess she did. I like yours, too.” Spencer’s eyes fell to his bouquet and he blushed. “Oh, don’t get shy on me now, kiss me again you sweet genius boy.”

Spencer smiled, happily leaning in for another kiss.

It was then you realized why you were so upset before; you couldn't lose your home.

[lesservillain]

vii. and you'll begin to wonder why you came

summary: things go south very quickly cw: VERY HEAVY TOPICS (gun violence, real threats against reader and Eddie, suicide) , ANGST (like so much of it) a/n: if any of the mentioned topic may be too much for you, please let me know and i will write a brief chapter summary and link it back here to be read.

“Did you hear that, too?” Eddie whispered to you. There was no way this was happening. No way.

Another knock.

“Hey, open up! I know you’re there!” A voice called from the other side of the door. More knocking had you jumping in your seat.

“What the hell? That doesn’t sound like any of the guys,” Eddie says looking to you.

“No, it sounds like…”

You get up from the couch and walk over to the door. You’re just about to open it when Eddie shouts, “What are you doing?! You’re not supposed to open the door!”

“It’s not Vecna,” you say, grabbing the door handle and opening it.

Sure enough, when you open the door you find the last person you expected to see right now standing on the other side.

“Sam, what are you doing here?”

“I knew that was your car,” he says angrily, “Just like I knew you’d be here.”

“Sam, I don’t understand--”

“What I don’t understand is why the hell you’re fucking some cripple!”

“Sam!” You weren’t about to deal with this right now. “You can’t just show up here and act like an ass. You need to leave.”

“No, I came all the way here to…to…” His words trailed off. He shook his head and looked at you straight. “I came here to confront you about cheating on me.”

“Cheat on you? What the hell are you talking about?”

“What’s going on here?” Eddie says as he rolls up to the door. “Who the hell is this?”

“You son of a bitch.” Sam goes to lunge at Eddie, but you jump between them to stop him.

“Sam, stop it!”

“You fucker! You took her from me!”

“Sam, no one took anything from you! We were not together. Yes, we went on a few dates, but I never agreed to be your girlfriend!”

“So you’re not even denying it? You have been sleeping with him?”

“No, Sam, I--”

“With that freak?”

“Dude, you need to go before I call the cops. She’s not interested in you, and you just need to accept that.” Eddie says sternly, wheeling to the door and starting to close it.

“I’m not leaving without her,” Sam says, putting a hand firmly on the door to keep it from shutting. Eddie is too weak to resist, and the door stays ajar with Sam practically forcing his way in. Sam shifts his weight so the door stays open with his shoulder and he reached toward you. You try and move, but he’s able to grab you by the wrist and hold on to you, his grip like a vice.

“Hey, get off of her!” Eddie moves to go for his hand but is stopped when the end of a gun is raised to his head.

Everyone freezes as the tides of the situation turn. Your blood runs cold at the sight before you.

“Don’t move. Just stay where you are and no one gets hurt,” Sam says to Eddie, whose wide eyes are locked on you. 

After a moment, Sam pulls on your arm and you fall into him. Wrapping his arm around you, he suddenly pulls the gun from Eddie and points it at your instead. Flashbacks flood your mind from a situation you had been in once before and you fight the urge to scream.

“Come on,” Sam says as he pulls you out of the house and into the cold January night. Eddie is left to watch as you’re dragged off the porch and to Sam’s car. You can only imagine how he must be feeling right now.

Sam opens the car door and starts to push you inside. “Don’t move, or I’ll shoot him,” he says as he slams the car door shut. Your body is shaking, you don’t know if it’s from the cold or from the nerves in your body. But you don’t dare move.

The driver side door opens and Sam moves like he’s about to enter, when he suddenly freezes. You look at him as confusion covers his face. His body shakes like he’s trying to move, but he just seems stuck in place.

And then you watch as his body lifts in the air. He lets out a scream, and then he’s slammed against the hood of his car, his body rolling off of it and onto the ground.

What the fuck?

“Get out! Get out!” You barely heard Eddie’s voice from outside of the car. It felt like you were in another world, your ears buzzing from the disorientation setting in. Your vision started to go fuzzy and you felt your head hitting the back of the car’s seat. Suddenly everything went black, your body feeling like it was floating in water all around you.

Then, you were standing. Everything was dark except for the streetlights that shown through the windows. There was a thick fog flowing in the room you were in, making it hard to decipher where you were at.

But the blade at your throat throttled you into the situation in an earth shattering way.

“This doesn’t have to be like this, ya know?” The familiar, yet haunting voice says from behind you. “We could have been together. It would have been us against the world.”

You gulp, taking a sharp breath in so that your throat wouldn’t push into the knife any more than it already was. Even though you’ve had this nightmare a million times over, this time felt different. The blade felt like it did the day it happened. But there’s no way this was real.

“Oh, it’s real.” An otherworldly voice speaks to you directly in your head, but your eyes still scan the room to find it. 

“Say something, anything!” David speaks from behind you again, pressing the knife in more.

“I don’t know what to say.” The words come out but you didn’t say them. Well, you did that day, but you weren’t making the conscious effort to say them now. 

“How does it feel to be in this situation again? Where you’re life hangs in the balance, unknowing of the outcome,” the voice speaks again.

But you weren’t in danger. You knew how all of this ended. Any moment you’d hear her voice and then the shot. You just had to wait it out.

“But what if it didn’t happen? What if he really killed you?” 

“Then say nothing ever again!”

You waited to hear her voice. But it never came. Only the slice of the knife. And then…nothing.

“Wake up, wake up!”

You felt light slaps against your cheek as you started to come to. Your vision was still blurry, but as you opened them you started to make out a figure above you.

“Oh, thank fuck.” You hear Eddie’s relief is his words, starting to piece together his form as your vision clears. There’s a ton of commotion going on around you as your hearing comes back to you as well. You try and look around, but Eddie just pulls you into him. 

“Just keep your head down, they’re handling it.”

Who’s handling it? Handling what? Sam? You don’t hear any gunshots, so it must not be him. You try and peer around Eddie’s shoulder to see if you can see Sam’s body on the ground.

“He’s just unconscious. I grabbed his gun but we should still keep an eye on him if he wakes up.”

Nothing Eddie says was making sense, but you felt like you didn’t have any choice but to listen to him.

“Max! Please, it’s us!”

You hear the kids behind you and instinctively try and turn to see what’s going on. But Eddie doesn’t let you, holding you tight.

“What’s happening?” You ask into his chest

“Vecna has Max. They’re trying to get her to snap out of it, but she won’t budge. Lucas tried singing to her but even that’s not working.”

“And they can’t attack her?”

“Nope, so it’s just them against Vecna right now. El is doing her best to try and--”

“NOW, NOW!”

You hear the boys roar from the other side of the car, all of them joining in to sing a song you don’t recognize. 

“Come on, Max!” That sounded like Joyce.

“Max, wake up!” A familiar voice that you think might be Steve.

The singing continues as their voices get louder. You can only imagine what it must look like to see them all singing right now. 

Then it suddenly goes quiet. 

“Max? Max!” An unfamiliar voice calls to the girl.

Eddie loosens his grip on you a bit, so you take the moment to move your body around. The front yard is filled with people; all the boys, Jane, Hopper, Joyce, Robin, Steve, Rick, and two people you don’t recognize.

“Lucas?” You hear the girls voice crack.

“Max!” Lucas takes Max in his arms and hold her tightly. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief, Jane leaning down to hug the girl.

“Thank fuck,” Eddie says behind you.

“So he showed up here with a gun?”

“Why is no one answering me!” Sam is screaming out the window, cuffed by Hopper in his police cruiser. “I was in the air and--and…why are you all ignoring me?!”

“Will you quiet down,” Hopper says before turning back to you. You stand there watching Sam, worried he might get out of his cuffs and hurt Eddie.

“Yeah, he pointed it at my head, then at her and tried to drag her out to his car. That’s why we were outside when you got here.” Eddie says, his hand in yours squeezing slightly.

“Alright, I’ll take him to the station, but we’ll have to have you guys come in tomorrow and give an official statement, assuming you want to press charges.”

“Yes,” you say without second thought. There was no way you were letting him get near Eddie ever again.

“Alright, well, let me take care of him, you guys probably need to tend to what’s going on inside. I’ll try and come back later tonight to see how everyone is doing. One of you needs to call Mrs. Mayfield and let her know Max is here.”

“Got it,” Eddie says, giving Hopper a nod. Getting in the cruiser, you stand and watch as Hopper takes Sam down the drive way and out of sight. Only then do you get to breathe your sigh of relief.

“Let’s go inside, you must be freezing,” Eddie says, pulling on your hand. You only respond by ducking down to embrace him, squeezing him tightly in your arms.

“I was so afraid, Eddie,” you say as you drop down to your knees. “I thought he was going to kill you.”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Eddie coos, rubbing his hand up and down the back of your head. “Nothing’s gonna happen to us now.” But the sobs still come. Eddie just lets you get it out of your system, placing kisses on the top of your head as you cry into his chest. Finally, after getting all the tears out, you look up at him. He smiles at you, letting a hand rest on your cheek before placing a soft kiss against your lips. 

Passing Rick as he smokes a cigarette out on the porch, the two of you go back inside and it’s pure pandemonium. They’ve got Max on the couch with Lucas by her side, the boys are all arguing about something, Steve and Robin are checking on Jane, and Joyce is in the kitchen on the phone while the two people you don’t recognize stand by her side. You push Eddie inside and Steve and Robin walk over to you two.

“Hey, are you guys okay?” Steve asks, looking between you and Eddie.

“Okay now,” Eddie says looking back at you. “We had a bit of trouble before you guys got here.”

“Yeah, who was that guy that Hopper took away?” Robin asks.

“It’s a long story, but what matters is everyone is okay.” You pause. “Everyone is okay, right?”

“Yeah, Max says she’s sore, but we got her comfortable on the couch. She can’t see anything, though,” Robin says, looking to Eddie when she says the last part.

“Her eyes…” You remember Eddie saying that Vecna had taken his victims eyes when he killed them.

“They’re still there, but she said everything is blurry.”

“Is that Eddie?” Max says from the couch and the room goes silent.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Eddie says after a beat.

“Are you okay? Vecna told me he was going to come for you since you escaped.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You place a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and he sets his hand on top of it.

“So tell us the last thing you remember again,” Dustin asks Max. She shifts on the couch so she’s leaning forward.

“I remember levitating off the ground, all my limbs being broken, and then everything went black. That’s all I got.”

“But you’ve been having visions while you were in the coma?” Will asks, moving to sit next to her.

“Yes, he has something planned, but he’s weak. I think he over estimated himself this time. The last thing I remember before waking up was him saying he would be back for me.”

The boys collectively groan, clearly upset they still hadn’t defeated the monster lurking in the shadows.

“So we’re still not safe,” Mike says throwing up his hands.

“At least we have Max back,” Jane says in response.

“Yeah, but she’s a ticking time bomb. Who knows when he’s going to try and use her to do that again.”

“Let’s try and stay positive here,” Steve says with his hands on his hips. 

“Steve’s right,” Dustin says, nodding his head, “We didn’t have any casualties tonight, and we got a party member back. We should be happy about that much. I call it a win.”

“Very well said, Dustin,” Joyce says with a tone of approval.

“Thank you, Mrs.Byers,” Dustin says with a nod. “Now I think all of us are tired right now, so why don’t we call it a night and circle back to come up with a game plan. Someone should probably be with Max at all times, just in case.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Max says crossing her arms.

“Max, please--” Lucas pleads, grabbing for her hand, but Max doesn’t give in.

“I don’t need babysitters again. Just let me spend some time with my mom…tell her what’s going on and…and just try and live a normal life for a little bit.”

The tone in her voice broke your heart. It sounded like she’s been going through a grueling time while in her coma and you want nothing more than to tell her she’s okay now. But she doesn’t even know you, so you know it’s not your place to say.

“Speaking of, I called your mother and let her know you were here. She was worried sick about you,” Joyce says.

“Thanks,” Max says softly. The tension in the air dissipated as she leaned into Lucas, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Eddie, do I need to call Wayne?” Joyce asks, looking between you two.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to stay the night. We need to go to the station tomorrow anyway,” you say, rubbing your thumb on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Who was that?” Max suddenly asks, her head perking up as she looks around the room.

Dustin tells her your name and smiles, “Eddie’s girlfriend.”

“We’re not--”

“I’m not his--”

The two of you go to defend yourselves in unison. Even with everything you’d done, there was still no official stamp on what the two of you are. Not that you’d deny it if Eddie didn’t.

“Oh, they’re totally dating,” Max says with a smile.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no,” you say, the words spilling out of your mouth like vomit. Eddie looks back at you dumfounded. But it only lasts for a moment before a somber look adorns his beautiful features.

“We’re not dating.” His tone is stern, and it takes you back a bit. Did what you say upset him? Maybe you should have just kept your mouth shut.

“Whatever you say,” Max says with a shrug.

Suddenly, the front door opens and Rick steps inside and the tense air starts to dissipate. 

“Did I miss anything important?” He says stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and looking around the room.

“Who’s that guy?” Max asks, hands going up with annoyance.

After a bit of talking, eventually everybody goes home, leaving just you and Eddie by yourselves. He’s been quiet most of the night, hardly saying a word even when directly addressed. You assumed he was probably a little shaken up from the events of the night and decided not to press him much on the subject.

“Ready for bed?” You ask as you close the front door, cutting off the cold chill that was infiltrating the house.

“Yes,” is all he says. You turn to look at him and he looks absolutely defeated.

“Come on, let’s go,” you say as you grab his wheelchair. You push him back to his room and grab some night clothes for him to change into.

“Do you want something to wear?” He asks, not looking at you.

“Oh, sure,” you say, trying to hid how giddy you were at the thought of wearing Eddie’s clothes. You had your bag out in your car, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Pick whatever you want,” he says, pulling his shirt off to replace with the clean one. You take a peak at his shirtless form, but quickly recover as his curls pop through the hole and fly everywhere. You grab another shirt and some pajama pants and go to the bathroom to change, laying your now dirty clothes on the sink. You could wash yours and Eddie’s clothes tomorrow.

When you came out of the bathroom, Eddie was already in bed with the blanket pulled up almost over his head. It made you laugh, reminding you about his old self when you first started coming around. Making your way to his bed, you sit on the edge and lift your legs so that you’re laying next to him. His head pops out, a look of surprise on his face.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep?” You say, looking at him quizzically.

“Here?”

“Is that okay?”

Eddie thinks for a moment and you watch the way the gears are turning behind his eyes.

“I…I guess that’s okay,” he finally says, lifting the blanket up so you can slide under it. His hesitancy had you concerned, but you weren’t going to question it tonight. Maybe the two of you needed to have a talk in the car tomorrow.

Eddie pulls a pillow out from under him and moves it for you to lay on. When you do, you immediately sigh at the smell of him entering your nose. It smelled like his shampoo and honestly like a little bit of sweat, but that didn’t bother you. You smiled contently as you snuggled it.

“Well…goodnight,” Eddie says softly, before turning over and facing the complete opposite direction in the bed. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little hurt. It didn’t have to be all lovey dovey, but you were at least hoping for a little bit of cuddling. Maybe he just wasn’t used to all of this yet. He said he’d never been with someone before, so maybe he was the one in need of affection.

You moved closer to him. Enough for you to wrap your arm around him, sliding it up under his arm. He stiffened at the sudden embrace, and you could only imagine the look on his face right now. Placing a soft peck against his back, you snuggle into him, letting his hair tickle your face in the process.

“Goodnight Eddie,” you say into his skin, and slowly feel yourself drifting off into sleep.

When you awoke the next morning, the first thing you noticed immediately was how hot you were. It was like you were sleeping next to a space heater from how much heat was coming off of Eddie’s body. His body, which was now completely entangled in yours. At some point in the night he flipped over and had gotten both arms around you, and his thigh rested on top of yours. 

The second thing you noticed was his snoring. Right in your ear. You giggled when you looked up at him, his mouth hanging wide open with a little line of drool threatening to spill onto your forehead if you didn’t move soon. He looked so at peace in his slumber.

You stayed there for a while, until the eventual need to pee took over and you had to get up. You did your best to remove yourself slowly from Eddie’s grasp, not wanting to wake him up. Once you were able to escape, you ran to the bathroom and did your business, finding Eddie still asleep when you came out. You decided then to go ahead and make breakfast, letting Eddie get the extra sleep after everything he’s been through.

Walking out to the kitchen, you let out a big yawn, closing your eyes as you do.

“Mornin.”

The voice scares you, and you jump. Hand on your chest, you breath heavily as you try to calm yourself back down.

“Jeez, didn’t mean ta scare ya,” Wayne says with a bit of a laugh. You spin around to find him sitting in the recliner, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Oh my god, Wayne,” you say with a breath. “Sorry, I’m just a little on edge.”

“I’d imagine so. I’m guessing somethin’ went down last night.”

You blink, recollecting the events from the night prior.

“You could say that.”

Wayne joined you in the kitchen as you made breakfast. Recounting what happened the night before, sans what you and Eddie did, Wayne simply sits and nods as you talk. It dawned at you at one point that Eddie never said he told Wayne the whole truth about what happened, but if Wayne was confused about anything he didn’t let it be known.

There’s a quiet moment between you two once you finish. Wayne seems to be processing the information, but his silence still makes you nervous. You didn’t want him to think you were going to cause them trouble after telling him about Sam.

“Well,” he finally says, “At least the two of you are okay. You are okay, right?”

His question has you thinking. Were you alright? You just went through some pretty traumatic shit once again in your life, but being a glutton for trouble you’ve come to terms with about yourself. You were more worried about Eddie than anything. Especially with how closed off he seemed to be after everything happened. But, regardless of what happened to you, you were going to stick by his side and help him through everything from now on.

“Yeah, I think I’m okay.”

“Good,” he says, slapping his hands on his knees before standing up. “I think I’m gonna go have me a quick smoke after hearing all of that. Need me to wake Eddie up before I go?”

“No, I’ll wake him,” you say as you finish plating all the food. Wayne nods and heads for the front door, closing it softly behind him.

Making your way back to Eddie’s room, you see that he’s gotten himself spread out like a starfish in the middle of the bed. You wonder if he was reaching out looking for you in his sleep and it makes you melt. You almost don’t want to wake him, but you know the two of you have a big day ahead of you and you want to make sure he has time to get ready before making the trip into town.

You walk over to the bed and lean down. With a gentle touch, you rub Eddie’s shoulder in an attempt to rouse him. “Eddie,” you say softly so not to startle him. After a moment he starts to stir, ripping a loud snort before his eyes go fluttering open. His eyes take a moment to focus before they’re landing on you, a dopey grin spreading over his face.

“You’re still here,” he says in a raspy tone that should not still be affecting you. You nod and lean in to give him a quick peck on the forehead. He hums in response, still trying to get his barrings before sitting up in the bed. His hand comes to rub his eyes a bit, running through his wild mane before landing back on the bed.

“Did you make food?” He asks, sniffing the air.

“Yep, it’s ready for you in the kitchen,” you say, turning around to grab his wheelchair. He throws the covers off of himself and turns to sit on the side of the bed. Locking the wheels, he grabs the armrests and swings himself down into the seat, adjusting himself until he’s comfortable.

“Ready?” You ask as you grab the handles of his chair.

“Lemme piss first. I’ll meet you out there.”

You give him a quick okay and head back to the kitchen. Wayne is already back inside, and he’s already sat your plates in your respective spots at the table.

“He awake?” He asks, taking a bite out of his eggs.

“Yeah, he’s coming. Had to pee.”

After a few minutes, Eddie joins to two of you in the kitchen, wheeling his chair up to the table. He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly starts to eat his food.

“Well, mornin’ sunshine,” Wayne says to Eddie.

“Morning,” Eddie says with a mouth full of food.

“Must’ve worked up quite an appetite after everything, huh?”

Eddie stops, looking up at Wayne and then to you.

“You told him?”

You nod, “I hope that’s okay.”

“Everything?”

You nod again.

Eddie sighs, placing his fork down and sitting back in his chair.

“Well,” he says throwing his hands up, “what do you have to say about it?”

“Not much,” Wayne says taking a sip from his coffee. “Just that I’m glad everything worked out.”

“That’s it? No lecture? No telling me we need to jump ship and find another place to live? No telling me that I should’ve just stayed out of the mess this time, as if I had a choice? Just you’re happy we’re okay?” You were taken aback by Eddie’s sudden outburst. 

“Yep,” is all Wayne says before digging back into his food again. Eddie just stares at him, dumbfounded at his lack of response. The tension in the air still lingers, but when Eddie goes back to eating again, you feel your shoulders start to relax. The rest of breakfast is eaten wordlessly, and you take Eddie’s plate with yours as he finishes. 

“Are you done?” You ask Wayne, whose eyes are glued to the paper he picked up on the way home from work.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Thank ya, darling,” he says when you take his plate. You head for the sink and take your time to wash them. Eddie wheels past in his chair, presumably heading to his room.

“Thank you.” Wayne’s voice calls from the other side of the kitchen.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” you say over the running water. “Better to go ahead and clean them than let them sit in the sink.”

“No, I mean thank you for being here.” There’s a serious tone to his voice that makes you stop what you’re doing.

“But…but if I hadn’t been here…He might not have…”

“Eddie would have been on his own, and God knows what could have happened. So…just, thank you.”

Though you knew he meant his words, it still felt as if they weren’t true. If you hadn’t been there, Sam more than likely would have just left, right? No reason to harass Eddie if you weren’t around. It gave you a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach as you realize you could have been the reason Eddie died last night. That if you had just minded your own business and left him alone, maybe Rick or Dustin would have answered the door instead of you, deterring Sam from doing anything stupid.

“...Yeah, of course.” The words don’t feel right leaving your mouth. Like you shouldn’t accept Wayne’s sentiment with so little fight. He should hate you because you put his nephew in harms way. You might as well have put the gun to his head.

Eddie rolls back into the kitchen a few minutes later with some clothes folded up in his lap. He clears his throat and you slowly turn to look at him. “Can I take a shower before we go in to town?” You give him a nod and set the last of the dishes in the drying rack before wiping your hands on the stove towel. Quietly, you follow him back to his room, trailing behind his chair as he makes his way into the bathroom. He takes his shirt off and lays it on the counter, putting all his scars on display for you to see. It reminds you that this man has already been through so much pain in his life, and here you are causing more.

“You ready?” He asks, turning back to look at you. You walk into the bathroom and stand in front of him, taking your hands and wrapping them around his torso. You give a countdown from three and the two of you stand. Eddie makes quick work of his pants, letting them drop on the floor. You keep your eyes at a respectable height despite the way you were intimately close to him the night before, just in case. With a quick spin, you set him down on his shower chair, letting him get adjusted as you grab his washcloths from the drawer.

“Hey, are you okay?” Eddie’s words make you jump. Your eyes meet his to see his brows pinched together with concern. 

“Yeah, just tired,” is all you can muster to him, not wanting to upset him more with the thoughts that were currently flooding your mind. Why make him feel worse than he probably already does?

“Do you want to shower with me?” Another surprise question to rock you. 

“Eddie…”

“No, you’re right. Sorry I asked.” His tone bites at you, only making you feel worse.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t think it’s a good idea because, you know, Wayne and all.” It wasn’t a lie. Wayne had no idea what had transpired between you and Eddie, and he never needed to as far as you were concerned. But the two of you suddenly showering together might tip him off to your affairs. You wondered if he would be upset if he knew you and Eddie had slept together. Would he think it was inappropriate? Maybe he’d think you’d taken advantage of Eddie in his current state. Had you?

“Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Eddie said dejectedly. You fought the urge to kiss away his sadness, but settled for keeping to yourself in case the sudden affection was more than Eddie needed right now. You didn’t deserve to be selfish after everything you’d caused him.

“I’ll be listening for the water to turn off,” you say before making your leave, leaving the bathroom door cracked. 

While Eddie showers, you decide you need to clean any evidence of what the two of you did the night before. Stripping Eddies bed, you bunch up the fabric into a ball and carry it out to the kitchen, dropping them into the washing machine and starting it. You knew Eddie had clothes that needed to be washed, but they could wait for later.

Looking around, you notice Wayne is missing from the table and presume that he must have gone to bed. It makes you think that you could have slipped into the shower with Eddie, wanting desperately to wash the night before off of your skin, but it was still probably for the best. You could wash yourself in the safety of your own bathroom later tonight.

In an attempt to distract yourself from your own thoughts, you made Eddie’s bed and put away some clean clothes that were still sitting out on top of his dresser from the last load someone had done for him. At least there was an attempt to keep this house orderly while you were gone, assuming that Rick didn’t do half the things around here that you did. You wondered if he’d been with Eddie the whole time or if when Vecna decided to make an appearance in Eddie’s life again that Wayne decided to take some time off of work. Surely he needed a break with how hard working he was, but not with the thoughts of his nephew’s life being on the line.

Once everything is made and put away, you sit on the edge of Eddie’s bed and just think. Nothing good, unfortunately. Mostly just replaying the night over in your head, sans the good parts. You didn’t feel like you deserved to think about the good parts right now. The sound of the water shutting off was the only thing to save you from the spiral that was starting to come on.

Making your way to the bathroom, you find Eddie already drying himself off. Walking over to him, you take your position, hands up under his arms to help him stand. You notice that he doesn’t have anything draped over his lap, but don’t spend much time lingering on it. Why make a big deal out of something like that now? If anything it made you feel that Eddie was more comfortable with you now than he was before. Maybe he felt like what happened between you was enough to get rid of some of the boundaries between you. Once you settled him in his chair, you rolled him over to the sink and started to do his hair, combing out the tangles and massaging hair cream into it.

“Had to do this myself while you weren’t around,” he says, motioning to his hair.

“Well, you didn’t do half bad. It’s not as tangled as I expected it to be,” you say as you pull the comb through his curls.

“Learned from the best,” he says, smiling at you in the mirror. You returned it, giving a small on in return.

“I’m definitely not the best,” you say with a shake of your head.

“You are to me.”

You pause your movements, staring down at the back of his head. It takes everything in you not to embrace him. To not just throw caution to the wind and spin him around and kiss him over and over. You want nothing more than to say you’re sorry and beg him to forgive you for all the grief you’ve caused him. But, you don’t. Instead, you lean down, pressing a kiss to the back of his head. You could do that much.

The Hawkins police department was more lack luster than you anticipated. It was a small station, much like the one back in your home town. Hopper apparently wasn’t even in yet, so you had the option to interview with the deputy or wait until Hopper arrived. You didn’t mind talking with the deputy and getting this whole thing over with, but Eddie insisted that the two of you needed to speak with Hopper. So the two of you waited for about 45 minutes in almost complete silence.

“Sorry, I had to stop at the Mayfield residence on my way in,” Hopper explained as he rushed into the station.

“Call next time,” the receptionist says without looking up from her paperwork. “These two have been waiting for you.” She points her pen towards you and Eddie. Hopper spins on his heal and sighs when he sees the two of you.

“Hey, sorry, come on back,” Hopper says, motioning for the two of you to follow him. You push Eddie’s chair behind him until you reach his office. Hopper closes the door behind you, locking it.

“How are you guys doing today?” What a loaded question.

“We’re okay for the most part,” you say as you you take a seat in the available chair in front of the desk.

“Hopefully you could get some sleep last night. It was a little rough for me with everything that happened,” Hopper says as he takes his own seat across from you and Eddie.

“Did everyone get home okay?” Eddie asks.

“Jonathan is dropping everyone off now,” Hopper says with a nod. Eddie sighs with relief, settling in his chair.

“Do you want to talk about what happened last night or do you want to get the stuff with this Sam guy taken care of first?” Hopper asks, leaning forward in his chair. You shift uncomfortably in your seat. Better to rip the bandaid off and deal with the pain first.

“We should probably talk about Sam,” you say, looking over at Eddie. He nods with stoney expression, not looking in your direction.

“Alright, I know I already asked, but I’m just clarifying that you want to press charges?”

“Yes. Definitely.” You say without hesitation. 

“Well I can definitely press him with some felony charges, but the two of you will have to go to court. Is that something you think you can handle again?” Hopper asks Eddie.

Shit, you hadn’t even thought about that. Would Eddie be okay with going back to court after everything that happened to him last year?

“I can handle it,” Eddie says plainly. “I don’t want that fucker to see the light of day again.” 

Hopper chuckles before looking over to you. “Well, I’ll need a statement from the both of you then. Doesn’t have to be today, but the sooner the better.”

“We can give them today. I’d like to make this go as quickly as possible,” you say, just wishing none of this had even happened. 

Hopper pulls on one of his desk drawers and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. He asks you to start from the beginning and the two of you give a retelling of the events of the previous night. It wasn’t as hard as you expected it to be, maybe because of your own experiences in the past, but listening to Eddie give his own spin on the events made your chest tighten. You wanted to take him out of the equation completely. You could handle this on your own, you’ve done it before. But Eddie didn’t need any of this.

You get to the point where you pass out and pause, letting Hopper get caught up with his writing. You hadn’t said anything about the weird dream you had, not really thinking about it until now. You weren’t even sure if it was worth mentioning.

“Then what happened?” He says looking between the two of you.

“I rolled out when I saw him hit the ground. I tried calling for her, but when I got to the car, that’s when she had passed out. I pulled her out of the car and tried to pull her away, but I couldn’t get us too far.” Eddie was getting upset the more he progressed with the story, his fists clenching, knuckles white with anger. “Then I heard his voice in my head. He said he was coming for me. I started to panic, but that’s when you all showed up and the voice went away.”

Hopper had stopped writing, probably omitting the end of that from the report for obvious reasons. You reached out, taking Eddie’s hand in yours. He gripped you tightly for a moment before loosening his grip. His eyes stayed forward, even though you wished he would just look at you.

“Well,” Hopper starts, setting his pen down and looking over the paper, “for the sake of the report, I just put that you fought back against him and knocked him out. That’ll hold up better in court, so just remember that for when they have you testify.”

“Okay,” you say with a nod.

“As for what happened after…I’d wouldn’t be surprised if some suits don’t show up at your door by the end of the day today. They’re gonna want to talk to her, too, so I would just hang out at your place until they get there.”

“Right,” Eddie huffs.

“Suits?” You ask, confused.

“The government.” Hopper says. What the hell had you gotten yourself into? “They’re involved in all of this stuff now that some people are gone. They want to keep this stuff under wraps so I’m sure you’ll be signing an NDA.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a paper saying you wont discuss what happened.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you say, shaking your head.

“I know, but the big wigs want to be sure of it. Don’t let it scare you. They wont do anything to you as long as you keep to yourself.”

“Welcome to the club,” Eddie says with a faux enthusiasm.

The government did in fact show up to Eddie’s house later that day. They separated you and Eddie and interrogated you about what happened. The lady you spoke with was nice, but it still had you feeling nervous. You hadn’t really seen much, so it didn’t take long for you to tell them what you knew. It made you wonder if Eddie knew this would happen, and that’s why he shielded you away from what was going on.

After a few hours, they finally left with an NDA signed by you and a stern reminder to Eddie and Wayne. It left you feeling mentally exhausted, and you plopped down on the couch with a long exhale that you felt like you’d been holding since they arrived.

“Stuffy bastards,” Wayne says as he grabs his jacket and throws it on. “I’m goin’ out fer a smoke after alla that.”

“Count me in, too,” Eddie says, rolling over to grab his own jacket from the coat rack.

“Ya need one too, darlin?” Wayne asks, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Maybe,” you say with an airy chuckle. Standing up from the couch, you grab your jacket and follow the Munson men outside into the cold. You know the metal from the chair would instantly freeze your ass, so you opt to stand next to Eddie instead, not bothered by the smoke that comes from his cigarette. The three of you stand in a comfortable silence after talking for hours on end, none of you wanting to speak another word for as long as possible. But someone needed to break the ice.

“It’s getting late, I should probably go soon.” 

“Do ya want to stay for dinner? Just about that time,” Wayne asks.

“I’m sure the two of you have seen enough of me today. Plus, I’m dying for a 

shower.”

“You could’a showered here.”

“I know, but I want to put some clean clothes on,” you say, not wanting to sound

rude. “Plus, I’m sure Tonya is getting worried about me. I didn’t tell her I was staying the night last night.”

“Oh, well, yeah, it’s probably good of you to let ‘er know you’re alright after being gone for so long,” Wayne says, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“But,” you start, turning to face the both of them. “If I leave here, you guys have to promise me that you’re not going to shut me out again. That I’m going to come back here Monday and things will go back to normal. Or as normal as they can be now. Promise me.”

Wayne chuckles. “Promise, darlin’.” You look at Eddie and wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. He’s staring out into the woods with a blank look on his face. You wonder if he even heard you.

“Eddie?”

He’s silent for a beat.

“Yeah, promise.”

Things return to a somewhat normal come Monday. By somewhat, you mean that things are how they used to be, just a used to be that’s similar to your time with Eddie when you first came around. You don’t know what happened in the day and a half you were gone, but Eddie seemed like he was reverting back to his old self. He barely talked to you while you were there, didn’t ring his bell once during the night. He just generally kept to himself. 

It hurt. A lot.

And it wasn’t just like this the first night. No, this had been going on for weeks now. Any time you tried to talk to him, he would give you the cold shoulder or his answers would be short. It was killing you, only making you feel worse than you had before. You’d hoped he would lighten up after some time passed, but as the cold weather began to change, melting the snow with it, you still felt frozen in time to that night.

It didn’t help that clinicals were mentally exhausting you, too. It was your final semester in college and you had so much going on that you didn’t have it in you to fight with him. If you could just get through this semester, then maybe you’d have the energy to talk to him and figure out what was going on in his head.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Eddie says as he rolls behind the couch.

“Okay,” is all you say, a mountain of school work laid out in front of you on the coffee table. You hear the door open and close, not thinking much of it as Eddie was able to get around better now. He’d unfortunately stopped going to physical therapy a few weeks ago, his reasoning unknown to you. But you’d hoped it was just because he was feeling strong enough to be able to continue it on his own.

As you continued your school work, you’d sort of lost track of time. Looking up at the clock, you noticed it was getting close to nine. You figured you’d better take a break and get Eddie in the shower, hopping up from your spot and heading back to his room. You called for him, but there was no answer. That wasn’t atypical as of late, so you just knocked on his door before pushing it open. What you weren’t expecting was to find his room empty.

You do a quick check of the bathroom, but find that empty, too. Weird. You do a check of the rest of the house and find he isn’t anywhere to be found. Did he not come back inside from taking a smoke? The weather was getting nicer, so maybe he was just enjoying sitting out on the porch. Walking to the front door, you open it and look around outside. Nothing.

Panic begins to set in as you call out his name. You rush around the house again, checking extra carefully in case he managed to fall and get himself stuck somewhere, but you were the only person in this house. You’re breathing heavily as you try and think straight. Where the hell did he go? You rush outside again and circle around the premises, making sure he wasn’t in the back yard or out by the cars, but turned up nothing there, too.

“Eddie? Eddie!” You called out for him but get no answer. Bile rose in your throat and you started to feel dizzy. You rush to the edge of the tree line and try calling out for him more, but get nothing in return. Did he go into the woods? Surely not. But where else could he have gone?

You start into the brush, trying your best to see with only the moonlight to guide you through the thicket. You continued to call his name, praying that he wasn’t passed out somewhere in the woods where you wouldn’t be able to find him. Should you turn back and call Hopper? They could get some dogs out here to look for him. But what if you turning back only led him to a worse fate? 

“Eddie, please!” You scream, tears streaming down your face. You can barely see through them, not even sure where you’re going anymore. You stumble, almost hitting the ground as you lose your footing. It hits you how hard your breathing now, barely able to get a breath in in your current state. You continue through the woods until you noticed the trees started to clear just up ahead. You walked through them, stopping and doing your best to look around.

That’s when you caught a glimpse of him in the distance. His chair was illuminated by the moon and you couldn’t stop the sob that wracked through you. He was sitting close to the edge, looking down over it. 

Thank fuck, he was alive. 

You started towards him, unable to call out anymore due to your ragged breathes that you were still trying to catch up on. Your eyes never left him as you ran, finally feeling relieved as you were almost to him. But then he started moving. His wheels were dangerously close to the edge. You tried calling out to him, but it only came out as a harsh wheeze. What was he doing?

And then he wheeled forward.

It happened so fast. You were able to grab a hold of his chair just as he started to go over, doing everything you could to pull him back. A hand landed on his shoulder and with everything in you, you pulled him in his chair back from the edge. It was like slow motion as you watched him land back on top of the cliff, his body jerking harshly from the impact.

But as he flew back, you continued forward, nothing to stop your body’s momentum as you hurtled towards the edge. You got one last good look at Eddie’s shocked face before your foot went over the edge.

And you were gone. Falling, for what felt like forever. 

Until you felt a sharp pain all over your body.

And then, there was nothing.

thank you for reading!

[thedensworld]

Another Revelation | C.Sc

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x reader

Genre: office romance, fluff, angst

Summary: Just like other conglomerates in drama, Seungcheol's mother wants you to break the relationship.

Read Revelation first for reference🙏🏻

You found yourself seated in front of Mrs. Choi, the wife of your boss’s boss—and, more importantly, your boyfriend’s mother. It had been a month since Seungcheol’s official debut into his family’s conglomerate world, a world you barely understood. The event had been billed simply as a "welcome ceremony" for Seungcheol, now the newly appointed director of the label. Despite a few misunderstandings and some tense moments of consolidation, Seungcheol had insisted on bringing you to meet his family, introducing you as his "very special person."

Your heart swelled with love for him, a love so deep that you couldn't imagine loving him more. The way he had gone out of his way to make sure you felt comfortable with his family made you want to kiss him right then and there, in front of everyone—his grandparents, his parents, who all seemed surprisingly open and warm during that memorable dinner.

But you hadn’t expected this. After Seungcheol left for a business trip abroad, you were left to navigate this unfamiliar world on your own. As you made your way to the car, a member of the secretary staff approached you with a message: Mrs. Choi, Seungcheol’s mother, was around and wished to meet with you.

"Break up with him," she said, her voice cold and decisive.

You looked up, meeting her gaze, trying to process the shock of what was happening. Silence hung in the air for a few seconds before she repeated, more firmly, "Break up with him."

You glanced down at the cup of coffee in your hand, took a slow, deliberate sip, and then placed the cup back on the table. Clearing your throat, you finally spoke, "I didn't see this coming."

"My son still has much to learn," she replied, her tone unwavering. "A relationship should be the last thing on his mind right now."

You stayed silent, resisting the urge to mention how you’d been by Seungcheol’s side, supporting him through almost every step of his career.

"And I don’t like you."

Your head snapped up. "I'm sorry?"

She nodded with an air of finality, "I don’t like you. I’ve lived long enough to know the kind of woman who should be by my son’s side, and you’re certainly not that person."

She reached into her bag, pulling out an envelope, which she placed on the table in front of you. "As I said, break up with him."

You scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "I expected more from you." You didn’t bother to keep your voice down.

"What did you say?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

You shook your head, waving your hand dismissively. "I mean, you could’ve done better. You think you can put a price on my love for him with this thin envelope of cash?" you challenged.

Her eyes widened slightly, taken aback. "What are you talking about, young lady?"

You leaned forward, your voice firm. "I’m sorry, Mrs. Choi, but I'm not going to break up with him over this."

Her expression hardened. "So, how much do you want? Name your price—as long as you leave him."

You named your price, watching as she faltered for a moment. Then she nodded sharply. "Deal. But you have to break up with him as soon as possible."

You leaned back, a small smile playing on your lips. "I don’t think it works that way."

"Stop playing games with me!" she snapped.

"Two weeks," you said calmly. "Give me two weeks. It’ll happen on his birthday."

"Deal!" she agreed, her voice clipped.

*

"Hi, love..." you whispered as you pulled Seungcheol into your arms the moment he stepped into your apartment. He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with affection as he took in your appearance—a beautiful dress hidden under an apron adorned with a Strawberry Shortcake image, a clear sign that you’d been busy preparing the dinner you’d promised him for days.

"This is for you," he said, handing you a bouquet of flowers. You smiled at the vibrant blooms, then looked up at him, warmth filling your gaze.

"Thank you, but today is your birthday. I should be the one giving you flowers," you protested gently. He responded by pulling you closer, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

"Seeing you in this apron is present enough," he teased, playfully tugging at the worn fabric.

"Shut up," you replied with a laugh, before making a quick dash to the oven to check on the ribeye you had prepared to perfection.

"Wow, this is amazing, love," Seungcheol said, his voice full of admiration as he took in the dinner table. You had transformed your cozy dining area into something resembling a high-class restaurant, complete with elegant table settings and a warm, romantic ambiance.

"Let’s eat!" you exclaimed, eager to share the meal you had put so much effort into.

Dinner was intimate, the soft glow of candlelight casting gentle shadows as you both enjoyed the meal. The conversation was light, filled with laughter and easy banter, but as the night wore on, the mood subtly shifted.

You hesitated, placing your fork down as you gathered your thoughts. "Hey," you began, breaking the comfortable silence, "I need to talk to you about something."

He looked up from his plate, his expression curious. "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, you finally said, "Your mom wants us to separate."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "You're joking."

"I wish I were," you sighed, feeling the weight of the conversation settle between you. "But she was dead serious. I can't tell if she was just testing me or if she actually hates me."

Seungcheol frowned, his mind going back to the family dinner. "She didn’t say anything about you after that dinner. I thought things went well."

"That’s what I thought too," you replied, your voice soft. "But she seemed to think you’re not ready for this... for a relationship, especially since your career is just beginning."

"That’s nonsense," Seungcheol said, frustration creeping into his voice.

"I know," you agreed, "but I’ve been thinking a lot these past two weeks about what she said."

He studied your face, concern etched in his features. "What do you mean?"

You hesitated, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Maybe she’s right," you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol sighed deeply, putting down his wine glass. "Let's not talk about this on my birthday."

"I’m sorry, but I have to," you said, feeling the urgency of the moment. "Maybe there’s something wrong between us, something we can’t see, but she can."

"Y/N," he said your name softly, a plea in his voice.

You looked at him, your heart aching, but you had made up your mind. "I’m sorry that I couldn’t discuss this with you earlier, but I’ve already decided."

You stood up from your seat, the room suddenly feeling too small, too suffocating. Reaching for a folder you had placed aside earlier, you held it out to him with trembling hands.

Seungcheol’s eyes darkened with worry as he took the folder from you, his heart sinking as he sensed the shift in the atmosphere. "What’s this?" he asked, his voice tinged with dread.

*

"I'm really disappointed," Seungcheol finally voiced his thoughts, his tone calm but laced with underlying tension. The dinner had ended, but the air in the dining room remained thick with the unspoken words everyone could sense coming. His father, mother, and brother all sat at the table, eyes trained on him as he wiped his mouth with deliberate calmness.

His mother shifted uncomfortably, but Seungcheol didn’t let the silence linger. "I can’t believe my own mother would throw money at my girlfriend like we're in some cheap drama."

His father and brother immediately turned to look at his mother, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern. She sighed, her composure slightly cracking. "Seungcheol..."

"I know you’re worried about me, about my future," Seungcheol interrupted, his voice firm, "but that was crossing the line."

"I know what’s good for you," she insisted, trying to regain her footing in the conversation.

Seungcheol’s gaze hardened. "Tell me, do you really believe I’d have made it this far in the company without her support?"

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "She’s been the pillar of my career. How could you decide she’s not right for me when she’s been the one holding me up? She deserves every bit of me as much as I deserve her."

"Seungcheol..." his father intervened, his voice carrying a note of authority as he looked at his wife. "Did you really do that?"

Seungcheol’s mother hesitated before nodding, her chin held high in defiance. "Yes, I gave her a lot of money to break up with our son. And she accepted it! She’s exactly what I expected."

A heavy silence fell over the table, but it was broken when Seungcheol pulled out a folder from beside him and placed it on the table, the contents spilling into view. "And she used that money to buy me this—a two-floor house, twice the value of what you gave her, as a gift."

His brother couldn’t contain his laughter, the absurdity of the situation too much for him. "She did that? Oh my god, this is... this is priceless."

His father, still in shock, gasped, "For real? She has that much money?"

"Yes, father," Seungcheol confirmed, his voice steady and resolute. "So if you're worried about her being after our money, let me assure you—she’s worth far more than that."

Seungcheol’s mother stared at the property certificate, her confidence wavering for the first time. The room fell silent, the weight of Seungcheol’s words and actions settling over them all. His father looked contemplative, while his brother was still grinning, clearly amused by the unexpected turn of events.

Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "If you’re truly concerned about who I’m with, maybe you should have more faith in my judgment. She’s proven her worth ten times over."

His mother looked down, unable to respond, realizing that in trying to protect her son, she had underestimated the woman who had become such an integral part of his life.

"I can tell she's gonna be the best sister-in-law ever." Seungcheol's brother chirped as he read the document.

*

Seungcheol slowly closed the folder, his eyes not leaving yours as he absorbed everything you had just said. His expression was unreadable, and the silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity. You fidgeted, your nerves fraying as you waited for him to say something—anything.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry... I know it was impulsive, and I shouldn't have done that. But my ego... oh my god, I can't even explain it. It was just so dumb."

Seungcheol remained quiet, his gaze intense as he processed your words. Then, without a word, he stood up from his seat and walked over to you. His sudden movement made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure what to expect, but the last thing you anticipated was what came next.

Gently, he cupped the nape of your neck and pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss. The intensity of it took you by surprise, but within moments, you melted into his touch, your anxiety and doubt dissolving as his warmth enveloped you. When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and he whispered, "I love you so much."

You blinked, your heart swelling at his words. But before you could respond, Seungcheol continued, his voice filled with emotion. "You have no idea how much it means to me that you stood up to my mother like that. What you did... it was brave, and it showed me just how much you care about us, about our future."

He took your hands in his, squeezing them gently. "I know it wasn’t easy, and maybe it wasn’t the best way to handle things, but you did it because you love me. And for that, I’m incredibly grateful."

He looked down at the folder, then back at you, his eyes softening. "You didn’t just stand up to her—you turned what could’ve been a disaster into something meaningful. You showed her, and me, that our relationship is worth fighting for. That means everything to me."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Seungcheol gently wiped it away with his thumb. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for believing in us, even when it seemed impossible. I can’t imagine my life without you, and I don’t want to."

He pulled you into another embrace, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. "You’re not just my girlfriend—you’re my partner, my equal. And I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we stay together, no matter what anyone else says."

You buried your face in his chest, the weight of the past weeks lifting off your shoulders as you listened to the steady beat of his heart. "I love you too, Seungcheol," you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt. "And I’m not going anywhere."

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

*

Seungcheol let out a small giggle as he read the note you left on his lunch box:

Here's lunch for my boyfriend 'cause we need to live frugally.

X, your poor girlfriend

The affectionate humor in your words always managed to lift his spirits, even on the busiest of days. It was bittersweet that you were away on a business trip and couldn't join him for lunch, but the carefully prepared bento you had made before leaving made his heart swell with love.

Since the day you bought him a house—a gesture that had stunned him—you hadn't stopped joking about being his "poor girlfriend." Seungcheol found it hilarious, especially after you confessed that you had spent all your savings on the house. You had dramatically claimed that if he ever broke up with you, you’d be homeless and in desperate need of his support. The memory of you, wide-eyed and mock-serious as you begged him not to leave you because you now needed him to feed you, replayed in his mind often. He loved how your humor perfectly matched his, making every day with you feel light and joyful.

As Seungcheol savored the meal you’d prepared, his secretary walked in, breaking the moment of quiet contentment. "The investment to Kings Food under Ms. Ji's name has been accepted. Here's the document," the secretary said, handing him a file.

Seungcheol nodded, quickly reviewing the document before passing it back. "Great. And the catalog I asked for?"

The secretary promptly opened a tablet and handed it to Seungcheol. "There are plenty of recommendations for engagement rings, but these are their best options, and as requested, they're limited edition."

Seungcheol began scrolling through the tablet, his mind focused now on finding the perfect engagement ring. As he browsed the selections, nothing seemed quite right. Each ring was beautiful, but he wanted something truly unique—something that would symbolize how special you were to him.

After a few moments, he handed the tablet back, shaking his head slightly. "I want something custom. Can they make it?"

"I'll find out and get back to you," the secretary replied efficiently, tucking the tablet under his arm. "You have a meeting in 10 minutes with the Financial and Accounting Department."

Seungcheol nodded, his mind already racing with ideas for the custom ring he would commission. It had to be perfect—something that would capture the essence of your relationship, your shared humor, and the deep love that had grown between you. The thought of proposing to you filled him with anticipation, knowing that it was just another step in the beautiful future you were building together.

As he headed to his meeting, Seungcheol couldn't help but smile, his heart full of excitement. You might jokingly call yourself his "poor girlfriend," but to him, you were the most precious person in the world. And soon, with the perfect ring in hand, he would ask you to be his forever.

[beefboyandbabygirl]

I ❤️ DILFS / GOOD GIRL (18+)

pairing: student!brother's bff!seokmin x student!good girl!reader

genre: college au, brother's best friend au, smut (MDNI), bit of crack, a small bit of angst but not nearly as much as most of my fics

description: when you head out for college, you incidentally end up at the one your bother's best friend has disappeared to 2 years prior. now, seokmin has promised your brother, vernon, to teach you and take care of you while you're away from home. unfortunately, it seems vernon should have been a bit more specific about what exactly seokmin was supposed to be teaching you.

warnings: vernon is ur overprotective brother, seokmin is not a dilf unfortunately, dirty talk, masturbation (male and female), fingering, slight restraint?, praise (f. receiving), pet names (good girl is so overused), teaching, innocence kink, corruption kink, oral (m. receiving), tiddie play, alcohol consumption, a bit of pining, shame on the readers part, she feels a bit like a slut for a moment, kinda brief mention of miscarriage? for like a metaphor lol, jeonghan is hot in this, giselle is ur bff and i almost gave up my mission and made this whole fic ab her shes so hot, ok i think thats it

quotes my creative director (@joshibambi): "just admit u wanna bang son", "o is for orgasm", "the urge to be the younger sibling for once"

wordcount: 15.9k

a/n: the way this fic took me years to write. i hav been busy :( thank u 2 every1 who liked girl code uve made my whole year :D hope u like this one 2!!

You preferred to remember Seokmin for how he was.

How he was small and young, how he had a swanky bowlcut and how he looked in his school uniform. How he and your big brother, Vernon, had bonded and watched movies together in your living room, and the countless dinners he’d stayed over for, always so respectful to your parents and you. He wasn’t your best friend, he was Vernon’s, and yet he made it so easy to feel comfortable, so easy to feel like you were the one he came over for. 

You crushed on him back then, wrote countless diary entries about him and his stupid, beautiful smile. But it had been so forbidden, you remembered feeling that, because of how Vernon had groaned at you to leave every time you peaked your head through the living room door, masking your insistent eyes on Seokmin with simply wanting to “watch a grown up movie”. Sighing, you’d turn back to your princess pink room, and the boundary - the Vernon shaped boundary - that stood between you and Seokmin grew farther.

It had almost been a relief when Seokmin left for college. That was the most terrible thing, the relief you felt while your brother was grieving the sudden separation with his best friend. But your heart simply couldn’t help but let out a long sigh - years of yearning for him when he was so close by. You felt that cool wash of repose when that border between you and him had disappeared from your view. Years of watching it, wondering whether to pad closer or turn away from it, became a distant memory. For two years you were almost a normal girl and a good baby sister. 

Then it was your turn to head off for college. The nearest, big college to you accepted your application and you still distinctly remember dinner with your parents and your brother, how’d they’d cheered and clinked glasses and looked at you adoringly, because you were growing up right before their eyes. Then under the faint light of the restaurant chandelier, your mom had said something that immediately sent you hurdling back to that old, distant boundary: “Maybe you’ll see Seokmin there!” 

How had you forgotten? You supposed in that time you’d let yourself be more taken with the relief. It was the thought that he would be gone that had distracted you from exactly where to. And there you were with all your moving plans and your packed backs, and your glass raised and frozen in the air and your eyes wide. 

Then came the reasoning: surely, you could avoid him? It was a big college, there were plenty of people. There was no logical reason you’d really have to see him. Except for Vernon, of course. Ever so oblivious, your brother had called up Seokmin to tell him the good news, and to tell him to take care of you and protect you. And Seokmin was so sweet, of course, he’d take care of his best friend’s baby sister. 

And there you were at college. All grown up.

In your defense, you had avoided him skillfully. You’d turned down his request to help you with unpacking, turned down his tour of the school (that you’d actually desperately needed - why is room 240 not with all the other 40’s?!), and most of all, you’d turned down every single message inviting you to a party. 

I guess to him that was a perk; partying with the older kids. He knew you after all. He knew that you were a quiet girl and you stayed within your neatly laid brick walls, and he knew you were shy, and he knew you needed help letting loose. He knew you were a good girl. 

Which is why it wasn’t surprising at all that you turned down his offers - wanting to stay focused on school. At least, that’s what you told him. Truth was even being in his vicinity had put you much closer to that boundary you’d never dared cross. You were afraid even just seeing him would send you hurdling back, like a leaf in the wind. So you didn’t go. 

For a while, at least. 

“This is, like, a once in a lifetime opportunity!” Giselle whined and you shook your head adamantly. “Absolutely not.” 

“Well, maybe not for you, but for me!” she argued. “I can’t believe you’re consistently being invited to parties with hot, sexy men, and you’re turning it down because of one guy!” 

You were currently sitting in the library with your roommate, Giselle, and you’d made the unfortunate mistake of telling her about your predicament after receiving yet another invitation to a party tomorrow. Giselle was throwing a temper tantrum because she had never ever had anything as ridiculous. 

You liked Giselle a lot. She was very different from you - she was hot. You weren’t - you were cute. Giselle held boys on leashes and made them do homework for her. She liked partying and sexy, black dresses. You were a fucking nerd, and cute was the highest compliment you had ever received for your looks. Even though you were different, Giselle had immediately taken a liking to you. You had initially feared she would think you were lame, but she was so nice - except for right now.

“Come on, Y/n, there are, like, no cute guys in our year!” she said pleadingly, clasping her hands together and pouting, but you shook your head.

“You don’t understand, Giselle,” you murmured solemnly, trying to regain your focus on the science textbook in front of you. 

“I understand perfectly well,” she said and you eyed her suspiciously. “I understand that you’re a bitch!” 

“Alright, that’s unnecessary,” you said, closing your book. You pinched the bridge of your nose, when she went on. “No, honestly, Y/n. You’re a virgin, right?” 

You snapped your head towards her in shock. Your eyes darted around frantically, before you leaned over the table to whisper to her: “How do you know that?” 

“Don’t embarrass yourself, honey,” she grinned, holding back laughter and you rolled your eyes, sighing. “And what about it, Giselle?” 

“How are you ever gonna get yourself out there if you’re constantly caught up on this guy and trying to keep away your feelings for him? You’ll stay a virgin forever, girl. You need to look him in the eyes and realize you’re above that childish crush!” 

You stayed quiet, slumped in on yourself with your book in your lap. Why was she making sense? 

You’d never thought about it that way. That your infatuation with your brother’s best friend was somehow holding you back from exploring and evolving as a woman. That maybe having him in the back of your mind every time you’d shyly made out with guys in high school, had been the thing that stopped you in your tracks. 

“I can see it on your face, you know I’m right,” Giselle smiled smugly from behind the screen of her laptop. “Unless you’re asexual. In that case, fierce, but if you’re not, like, get out there, queen. Sometimes you need to realize that you have to leave one dick for another dick because the other dick is so good.” 

You furrowed your brows. “Is.. Is this still about me?” 

“No,” Giselle shook her head.

“Okay, yeah, ‘cause- ‘cause that didn’t..”

“Yeah, I know. I was more so, uh, angling-”

“Right-”

“Angling the story to- to my current situation.”

“I get it, yep.” 

There was a moment of silence. You pursed your lips and looked at the message on your phone. Then you started typing.

“Are you telling him you’re coming with your super sexy, hot friend?” 

“Yes.” 

“Y/N, I LOVE YOU.” _____________________________

Regret was a nasty, old demon on your back and it had twisted and tugged at your guts, while you let Giselle get you party-ready. You’d sat on her bed, in her dress, and having her put her makeup on you, you’d sulked and tried to shrug off your back.

“You look so hot when you actually try,” she’d giggled, using a fluffy brush to spread the bake underneath your eyes.

“Thanks,” you’d mumbled, and she’d paused her movements, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” she’d asked, sitting back on her knees. You had sighed, reaching a hand up to run it through your hair, but pausing midway when you realized you would ruin the styling Giselle had worked so hard on. You lowered your hand again.

“I’m not sure about this,” you’d murmured and she frowned genuinely. “Y/n, I meant what I said. I know I talk a lot about boys and stuff, but you really shouldn’t let yourself be held back by him!” 

Before you could speak again, Giselle had tugged you off the floor to stand in front of her mirror. 

“Look at you,” she’d cooed, clapping your shoulders. “You look so pretty!” 

You’d smiled a little shyly, looking at your form in the mirror abashedly. You were pretty. Not cute, not nerdy; pretty. Curves hugged tight by a sleek, black dress from Giselle’s closet, this was a version of you that could actually see having sex - seducing men, gaining from her looks.

“I guess you’re right,” you’d said sheepishly, and Giselle had smiled sincerely and you’d let her take you to the party down the streets in a nearby frat house, and you’d almost not wavered when you stood right in front of it, music blasting out of every crevice. 

But then you were inside and he was right there. For the first time in two years, he was there, and he was so hot. He was wearing a white tee and a fucking silver chain, and, God, when did he start working out, because his arms were so big and so toned. And his hair was fluffy and dark brown, and his face was slim, and the tops of his cheekbones were shining under the kitchen lamp, where he was talking to some other guy, arm flexed, as he leaned against it on the counter. 

If there was one thing about Seokmin that had stayed the same it was that smile. He wore it now, laughing, as he talked to some blonde guy about something, and you wanted to scream because, there it was. The boundary, the ledge, the line, whatever, it was right before you again, right there with him. And all the feelings that came with it, your heart, wet and red in your throat, a brew of anxiety in your stomach. 

Without sparing even a second, you’d clasped onto Giselle’s wrist, tugging her into a herd of anonymous people, and just walking. Walking, walking, pulling her along (she countered only with a “hey!”) only for you to hit a wall or something, just as long as you were far, far away from him. 

“What the hell?” she said, when you finally stopped walking because you’d entered the living room, which was apparently more exclusive, as only a few people populated it, including a couple that was making out on the far end of the couch. 

“He was there,” you gasped dramatically, as if you’d seen a ghost. “I-I can’t do this, Giselle.” 

“Relax, babe, it’ll be fine. You’re away from him now, aren’t you?” Although she was trying to be supportive, you could tell she was growing a little tired of your theatrics. You couldn’t care less though, you were panting, and peering over her shoulder to see if he was somehow coming towards; and, God forbid, smile at you with that angel grin. 

Giselle followed your gaze and sighed, brows furrowing. “How about I get us some drinks? Then you can let loose a little.” 

You nodded absently, following her lead when she pulled you to sit down on the couch. You clambered to the couch rest, when she walked away, swaying her hips to the music. 

You might’ve looked different, but you were still you. The entire scene had you uncomfortable, and you were still the shy, unconfident and nerdy girl. You cursed yourself for letting Giselle’s reassurances fool you - you would never be this type of person, and you would surely never get over Seokmin. She’d been wrong about everything. 

“You okay, darling?” 

You jumped at the voice, eyes darting up to see who it was. 

You didn’t know him. He was handsome, though, but you’re not even sure you’d call it that. He was pretty, and he had long, black hair and big eyes and he was giving you this teasing smile, that was doing nothing to ease your nerves.

“I’m good,” you squeaked, gaze moving to a nearby pair of shoes in the corner of the room. You heard him chuckle, before he dropped into a squat before you. One lean hand came up to your knee, giving it a squeeze. “You just look so nervous, pretty,” he sat down an anonymous cup of liquor. “I don’t think I know you. Can you tell me your name?” 

The hand on your knee burned into you, thumb brushing back and forth over the skin and he was looking at you so intently, it had you sputtering. “Uhm, uh, Y/n.” 

His thumb froze. You looked over at him curiously to find this dumbfounded expression on his face, devious grin spreading on his pretty features. He chuckled and cleared his throat, face dropping down before he moved it back to look at you again. 

“You’re the girl Seokmin’s always inviting over here?” 

You nodded shyly and he smiled at you. “I’m Jeonghan.” 

“Hi.”

A pause. Jeonghan squeezed your thigh, watching in delight at the way you screwed your eyes shut. 

“You know, I just didn’t expect you to look like this,” he said finally and, sensing your confusion, he teasingly added: “The girl who’s always turning down parties to study.” 

You blush deepened, cheeks furiously rosy, as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap. “I borrowed my friend's clothes,” you breathed, pursing your lips. “Ah!” Jeonghan gently patted the top of your thigh, nodding along exaggeratedly, “You borrowed your friend’s clothes! I see!” 

He studied you while you giggled at his antics, still refusing to look him in the eye, really. He was almost suffocating, his hand on your thigh and his eyes boring into your face, and his cologne in a constant stream in and out of your nostrils. But suffocation, you decided, was almost better than being around Seokmin and having him parade his kind heart and his thick arms and his sweet smile, and just how off-limits he was. 

Ripping you from your thoughts, Jeonghan stood up, placing both hands on the tops of your thighs and bending down to your face, so his nose was buried in your cheek.

“Look at me, darling,” he whispered, then pulled his face away from yours, just enough so you could gaze into his brown eyes. His hands were much higher now, squeezing hard at the plush of your thighs, dangerously close to your center and only separated by the thin fabric of Giselle’s dress. 

“There she is,” Jeonghan smiled, voice a whisper. His lashes came over his eyes, when they flitted down to your lips. “Don’t you wanna come with me upstairs, and I can make you feel really, really goo-”

“JEONGHAN! GET OFF OF HER, THAT IS MY BEST FRIEND’S BABY SISTER!”

There’s a voice you know.

From across the room, Seokmin had burst through the mass of people, now power-posing with an extended finger in the direction of where Jeonghan was tilting over you, rubbing your thighs, as you sat innocently before him. 

Jeonghan stood up, taking all of his heat and his suffocation and cologne with him, groaning and throwing his head back. “Seokmin!” he whined and he was suddenly no longer so suave and seductive. 

“No, I won’t hear it, Jeonghan,” Seokmin said and, as much as you knew Seokmin to be sweet and tender and lovely, there was this crystal-clear anger in his voice. He walked over, one large hand pushing at Jeonghan. “Go get any other girl and sleep with her, just not her. Get your sorry ass out of here.” 

Apparently Jeonghan sensed the same thing you did - a rare anger in Seokmin - because he didn’t put up much of a fight at all, only smiled at you apologetically (and then, when he was behind Seokmin, gave you a small, devious wink - he just couldn’t help himself). 

You couldn’t focus much on Jeonghan at all though. Because Seokmin was standing in front of you, all muscle and huge fucking thighs by your head, and when you dared to tilt your gaze up to him, you saw how all that anger simply melted away. 

“Hey,” he breathed, smiling softly.

“Hey.” 

Then his eyes darkened, if only for a moment, as they traveled over your figure, gift-wrapped in that tight, black dress. His jaw clenched and he looked around for a moment. When he looked at you once more, he was giving you that smile - the one you’d fallen in love with - and the chocolate in his eyes was melting.

“Come on,” he ushered gently, one hand carefully guiding you off the couch. “Let’s go to my room where there aren’t any scary, evil, mean men.” 

Despite being so on edge, so jittery, as you followed him up some distant staircase, you couldn’t help but laugh at those words. He was talking exactly like he had when you were kids. That was how you preferred to remember him; all small and young and with a swanky bowl cut, and he’s the exact same way with you, hand warm in yours, as he guides you through the house. 

“Why’re you laughing?” he smiled, and you suppressed your own, trying not to dwell too much on how fast your heart was beating. “It’s just like before,” you quipped and Seokmin’s hand squeezed yours in understanding. 

He lumbered down the hallway and at its very end, preceded by rows of white oak doors, he opened his own with a twist and a turn of the brass-blend knob. When he closed it, the party became muffled around you, as if his room was filled with water, and now the rest of the world was a garbled mess, and you were drowning.

His room was clean. You supposed Seokmin had never been the messy type - not even when infected by the influence of Vernon. He had a half-open closet, where you spotted folded clothes, and a circle rug and purple and green lava-lamp plugged in on his nightstand. 

Seokmin apparently did not think it was clean enough, because he swooped down gallantly to grab a tossed sweater, smiling at you sheepishly when he held in between his fingers. You stared at him.

You felt like a kid again. Felt like just a young girl, creeping through the crack in the living room door, and looking at his silhouette, outlined by some grotesque horror movie playing on the TV. His sharp nose, when he turned to Vernon and laughed, his hair, all poofed and tousled and scruffy, and his smile. 

And you’d let yourself fall into this trap, maybe to some extent you’d even wanted it. Because now he was right in front of you, and so was that damned barrier, right by your outstretched fingertips, and you could almost envision yourself climbing over it - climbing into his lap and-

“I didn’t think you’d ever come,” Seokmin said gently, a permanent, small smile frozen on his lips. You coughed, unready. “Uh, yeah, my friend- my friend thought I should try and.. You know, get myself out there.” 

Seokmin studied you, bemused and fond, fiddling with the baby blue sweater in his hands. You were looking back cautiously, as if assessing a threat, but the threat was the sweetest, kindest boy in the whole wide world. 

“Yeah, well,” he cleared his throat suddenly, ripping his gaze from you to fold the sweater onto his desk chair. “I’m sorry about Jeonghan, he’s.. You shouldn’t, uh..” Now neatly folded, you saw him rubbing the sweater between his fingers. “You should stay away from him.” 

“Why?” you asked, and it was genuine enough that Seokmin let out a sigh. 

“You’re too much of a good girl to be with him. He’s no good.”

A whimper clawed its way up your throat, bubbled from the depths of your belly, but you tamed it and settled on a light hum. You felt your underwear becoming a little sticky, and you wanted to die, because God, this was your brother’s best friend. They still facetimed every Tuesday and still played Fortnite together over Discord every Saturday. 

“College going good?” Seokmin asked, retreating from the sweater to sit down on his bed. He looked up at you brightly and patted the spot next to him. It felt like another trap, where the folds in the blanket curved down under his weight, and would eventually lead you into him. You sat down hesitantly. 

“It’s okay,” you breathed, folding your hands and in your lap and tensing your shoulders. Seokmin, fully relaxed and slumped, noted your posture and slid his hand over the exposed skin of your back. “Hey,” he whispered, so intimate it hurt your heart, “hey, hey, relax, Y/n. It’s just me.” 

His eyes were soft and full of concern when he spoke quietly again, his voice almost a backdrop to the muffled sounds of dancing college students: “You know, Vernon was really concerned about how you would do away from home.” 

“I’m not doing bad!” you said quickly, dismissing it immediately. Seokmin stared at you. “I just- this isn’t really my scene.” 

His hand felt searing hot on your back, where it slid up and down, almost coaxing you further into him. He hummed. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” 

Then: “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to come. Just figured you might want that street cred of being friends with the upperclassmen.”

You snorted and, cheeks rosy as ever, started giggling, eyes still cemented to the floor. Your hair was falling gently over your face, wisps of baby hair tickling your forehead. 

“It’s okay,” you sighed away the laughter, “You were just trying to get me out of my shell. I appreciate it.” 

Seokmin smiled at that. His hand dropped from your back and you both stared into the expanse of his room. A small window to let in the rain, the moonlight separated by the grid, and the curtain blowing in a solemn breeze. You and Seokmin sat, both very small suddenly, like kids, on the edge of the bed and became speckled in starlight, in diamond-dust. 

Then Seokmin was doing it. He was letting you be comfortable, letting you slip into a dazed joy, intoxicated from his presence. He was asking about your teachers, exams, friends, experiences, and you were both laughing together, and once again you were forgetting that Seokmin was your brother’s best friend, and he was not with you for you, but he was simply talking to you out of courtesy to your brother. He let you forget.

“You going home for the break?” he asked then, room quieted down from all the laughter. The fall break, starting tomorrow, you remembered. You’d thought about going home, but had opted to text your parents that you were staying, wanting honestly to stay in your dorm room and work on assignments and organization and just lull in bed, instead of being taken up, down and everywhere in your hometown. You shook your head. 

“Really? Me neither,” he said, brows raised. “Won’t you get lonely?” 

You giggled shyly. “Maybe a little.” 

“We could hang out,” he breathed, and at that you tasted the boundary between you, felt it firm under your fingertips, because you couldn’t discern whether he was protecting his friend’s baby sister or if he actually liked talking to you, and your heart beat and yearned and hoped for the latter. 

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded, melting when you saw his smile reach his eyes. 

“Didn’t you always like, uh, Mario Kart? You always wanted to play with me and Vern,” Seokmin said, but he was looking distantly into the window. You almost wanted to cry because he remembered you, remembered things that you liked. “I got it on my Playstation, we can play tomorrow.” 

“I’d like that,” you said.

Then Seokmin was loaning you his hoodie, and, bathed in his warm, tender smell, he followed you home under the moon, glaring at Jeonghan on his way out. 

“Keep the hoodie,” he’d said, smiling sheepishly when you stood in front of your dorm door. “It’s cute.” 

He patted your head and left, thankfully before he could see how red your face was, and how you were absolutely about to blow up from unfiltered joy. You shuffled into your dorm room and tried to soothe the basking butterflies in your stomach and your burning heart. 

Was he standing right across from you on that line, waiting to cross? _____________________________

Giselle woke up just early enough to catch you switching between different button-up dresses, throwing one on, looking in the mirror, and deciding to try another. She was groggy and tired and somewhat hungover, and needed to catch a train, so she could get back home. 

“What are you doing?” she cried, rubbing her eyes. You scurried back and forth trying on another dress, considering white tights, then white socks, then adjusting the tone and volume of your blush.

“I’m-” you gasped in between your hard labor, “I’m seeing a boy!” 

This caught Giselle’s attention. She shot straight up in her bed and looked at you with huge eyes. “No way!”

“Yeah way!” you giggled deviously. You turned around to face her. “What do you think of this outfit?” 

“You look cute!” Giselle praised, nodding to your red strawberry dress and your knee-highs. You slumped. There it was again - cute. Not hot, not pretty, but cute. That was what you were; like a child, like the kid Seokmin knew years ago, like his best friend’s baby sister. Nothing more.

“Who is this mystery guy?” Apparently Giselle was too busy rubbing sleep out of her eyes to see how her compliment had deflated you.

“It’s Seokmin. My-”

“Your brother’s best friend?!” She gasped. It was one shock after another from you that morning. “I wanna say I’m disappointed in you, but.. If you pull this off you’re way freakier than me.” 

“We’re not gonna have sex!” you groaned, pouting as you hastily shoved on your shoes. “We’re gonna play Mario Kart.” 

“Right, this cute guy just invited you over for Mario Kart and nothing else, I get it,” Giselle said sarcastically. 

“You don’t know him,” you mumbled defensively, shoes on and now staring at yourself in the mirror once more. “Cute,” the mirror spat at you.

“All men are the same,” Giselle rolled her eyes and threw herself back on the bed. You snorted and began to walk out the door.

“Y/n, wait!” 

“Hm?” 

Halfway out the door, a tote bag slung over your shoulder and ready to step into the sunlight, you peered back into the room. Giselle, in her sweats and hair fussed, stumbled blindly towards the door. She reached into her pocket and produced a-

“A condom?!” you shrieked, outraged. And not just any condom: a condom in white packaging with the lettering “I ❤️ DILFS”. You truly did not understand how Giselle managed to be a caricature of herself time after time.

“You need to wear protection, he’s in a frat, right?” she shrugged. You glared at her. “I’m not bringing a condom.” 

“Alright, I guess,-” Giselle pretended to think, “I guess, you’ll just have to get chlamydia.” 

You stared at her for a moment, bristling. Then you snatched it out of her outstretched hand.

“You’re unbelievable.” 

“You’re a prude.” 

“Goodbye, Giselle!” 

The condom slipped into your tote with ease to lay snug with all your other items and then you were out the door and heading towards Seokmin’s frat house. The sun was dulled by a few clouds, but it was still shining. Leaves were turning brown and red and yellow and were falling from trees to crunch underfoot - everything was lovely.

But the expanse, in your head, was much different. In your head you were traveling the soft dunes of a desert, spotting in the brown and red and yellow horizon a cleft in the sand. When you reached it, wide and long, seemingly endless to each side of you, you were standing right in front of Seokmin’s house.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, knuckles white where you grasped your tote, and eyes big and heart pounding. What if Giselle was right? Did you want her to be right? Would you even be able to please him if she was? Half-heartedly you tried to push away the images of Seokmin pushing into you, arms flexing on either side of your head, that spawned alongside the thought. Maybe you straddling him, his hands on your ass, his head buried in your chest, or-

“Y/N!” 

You jumped, clutching your bag tight, when you snapped your head up to the voice. It was Seokmin and he was waving at you from his upstairs-window, smiling so brightly you swore the sun reflected off of his teeth. 

“What are you standing there for, come inside! Door’s unlocked!” he yelled, body disappearing in the window. You stared at the window for a moment, his presence now absent, before you nodded to yourself in reassurance. You could do this, right? Just Mario Kart and small talk.

Truth was, you couldn’t do this. Not even in the slightest. You and Seokmin sat cross-legged on his bed, TV on the wall before it, drinking soda and crunching on chips. Seokmin was drenched in a green, fuzzy sweater, collarbones peeking over the rounded neck, and fingers peeking through the sleeves, where he held his controller, and God forbid, his hair was all soft and fluffy, and he was wearing fucking puppy socks. 

And he was competitive, too. He was leaned forward, eyes narrowed as he sped through the course. You huffed when he blue-shelled you, and you tried to refocus.

“I thought you said you were good?” he teased, eyes leaving the screen for only a second to look at you - you, dress bunched up to your thighs and tongue peeking through your pretty, subtly red lips. A second was all that was necessary. 

Suddenly, his character (baby Daisy) swerved off-course, falling into the pit below and he screeched, seemingly genuinely sad, as your character (Toadette) overtook him, the little gold badge popping up in the corner to tell you that you were number one. 

“What were you saying?” you giggled cockily when you finished the last round, Seokmin unable to quite catch up to you in the last stretch. He threw himself back on the bed in defeat, groaning into his hand.

“I can’t believe I let you win,” he cried.

“Let me?” you repeated in disbelief. You scoffed and put down the controller, pretending that Seokmin lying all angelic on his bed sheets wasn’t making your stomach pinch with static. “Pretty sure that was just pure skill on my part. Don’t blame me because you’re bad at Mario Kart.” 

A blow to his talents in Mario Kart was a blow to him. He snapped his head up to look at you, playfully angry. “Oh, oh wow, really? I’m bad at Mario Kart now?” 

“Mhm,” you hummed, smiling cheekily at him. Seokmin studied you for a moment, before he shuffled into a sitting position. His gaze almost made you shy. Did he want to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him?

Seokmin shuffled closer to you and you almost stopped breathing: “Don’t I remember you being ticklish?” 

You were almost so caught up in your fantasy to realize what he said. Your eyes widened in realization and you most immediately tried to twist your body away: a punishment was upon you.

“No- NO!-” You cried out but it was too late. Seokmin wrestled his body into yours, fingers dancing and prodding into your sides. Drowning in laughter, your face twisted into tortured pleasure, as you tried to bat his hands away. Your attempts were futile - each time you shuffled away, he followed right with you, fingers unrelenting as your torso twisted and turned. 

"Hehehehehehe- NO, PLEASE!- hehehehehehe!” 

Your knees pushed with all their might and you were almost able to drag yourself to the edge of the bed. There, you could gain distance and talk him down from beyond his desk. But Seokmin was smart. He sensed your escape plan when you squirmed away, and without much thought, he pulled his body on top of yours, weight pinning you down. 

You were still giggling and squirming, when his fingers finally let up. You were both panting from the excitement, Seokmin smiling down at you adoringly. Then, both of your smiles dropped.

It was like it took a few moments to realize; he was straddling you. Hips pushed into yours, all his weight rested on your crotch - your crotch, which was now pulsating. To make matters worse, the skirt of your dress had ridden up and most of your plush thighs were now visible to him, and your chest was halfway out of your dress, and your cheeks were flushed and your hair was spread out on the sheets beneath you. Seokmin seemed unsure of where to put his hands, while you both stared at each other, breathing in the thick, heavy silence.

“I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay, I-” 

“I really- I don’t know what-” 

“Don’t worry-” 

You were pulling down your dress again, cheeks literally flaming red and bottom lip caught between your teeth. Silence swallowed you both whole. 

You wanted him back on your hips so bad. It hurt. You were aching in quick pulses, but you couldn’t even look at him. Surely, you thought, surely, he’d seen that look on your face, how your eyes clouded over with lust. Maybe he felt disgusted. 

“I better-” you hiccupped, voice small, “I better go.” 

Seokmin, eyes peeking at you through his lashes, feared he made you uncomfortable.

“Yeah, of course,” he mumbled.

You gathered your things and ran out of there, wetness gushing out of you. You tried to run, tried to create distance, but this time, in your mind’s eye, you ran in place, staying completely still by the cleft separating you and Seokmin. You fiddled with the edge, sand cascading into the empty, endless dark. 

There was no way you could make that jump.

That night you wished Giselle was by your side. You wrote an assignment, trying to ward off the embarrassment that stormed in your brain, when you got a message, that plunged you into rock bottom:

Lee Seokmin: hey you forgot smth at my house lol

Lee Seokmin: *Image Attached*

This was it. You were going to jump off a bridge (or a cleft in a dry, sandy wasteland).

As if your life couldn’t get anymore embarrassing: it was the condom. The white condom with “I ❤️ DILFS” on it. You damned that woman for ever making you bring it. What must he have thought of you? His best friend’s little sister trying to get in his pants? Your cheeks were burning and you threw your head into your pillow and screeched. Your life was over. It had simply ended now. There was no coming back from this. You huffed and removed yourself from its plushness. 

Maybe you could salvage it? Thinking on your feet, you replied:

You: OMG i’m so sorry!!!! i think that’s my roommate’s, she must’ve put it in my bag… :/ 

You: I’ll come pick it up ASAP :(((( 

You stared at your phone at the blatant. It was not a far stretch from the truth, but being caught with your hand in the cookie jar - or maybe more so the I ❤️ DILFS condom in your tote bag - it seemed like an irrationally shitty cover up. 

You gnawed at your lip when the three dots popped up next to his picture, and bit it to pieces waiting for his reply. You almost jumped when your phone buzzed:

Lee Seokmin: hahahahaha

Lee Seokmin: you can come pick it up tomorrow if u want? theres no rush 

You glared at the message. Laughter? Surely he hadn’t bought it. He was just trying to be nice, just trying to avoid you any embarrassment. The thought made you wanna throw up, how he felt this obligation to be nice to you when you had permanently scarred him (were you being dramatic?).

You: ok. im rlly sorry again!! i’ll pick it up tomorrow _____________________________

Tomorrow came much faster than you had hoped. No amount of tossing and turning could slow down the passage of time, and by the time you received Seokmin’s promised “I’m awake”-message, the embarrassment hadn’t faded one bit. 

Every discouraged moment of getting ready was haunted by your current situation, and you stopped to cringe every five seconds, causing an honest and diligent self-hatred to bubble within you. When you knocked on Seokmin’s door, you’d honestly never felt less confident in your life.

“Y/n!” he said enthusiastically. 

“Seokmin,” you said, less enthusiastic. 

He smiled at you sweetly, almost as sympathetically, before stepping aside. You furrowed your brow, not really understanding why he couldn’t just hand it to you at the door, but stepping inside nonetheless. “It’s in my room,” he offered, but could he not just have brought it with him? Did he have to prolong the shame even further? You followed him to his room.

In that moment you hated Seokmin for being who he was; for being sweet, gentle, caring, and gentlemanly. You would feel less pathetic if he yelled at you, if he was genuinely disgusted and wanted nothing to do with you. But there he was all smiling and supportive, and he wasn’t touching you at all, but he still felt like pillars on your back, soothing you and holding you up. 

“It was your roommate’s?” he asked absently as you traversed the halls. “Uh, yeah,” you answered sheepishly. 

“I can tell,” he threw his head back to you, and there was a huge grin on his face. A little bit of hope blossomed in your chest. “Yeah, I saw her at that party, you know? I think she slept with, uh, my friend, Minghao.” 

“That’ll be her,” you were smiling now too, and a huge wave of relief washed over you, as he at least let you believe that he thought it wasn’t your perversion bringing along that condom. 

Finally stumbling into his room, he did indeed pick it up from his desk, handing it back to you. You looked at it in his outstretched hand and blushed sheepishly. “Thanks,” you squeaked. 

Seokmin nodded in response. For a moment the two of you stood, uncertain of what to do and caught in the web of a terribly awkward silence. Seokmin’s eyes darted to the window and yours to the floor. 

“Hey, uh,” he giggled a little, scratching the back of his head. “I feel really bad for losing that Mario Kart game-”

You scoffed in response, but the facade of being peeved was falling apart, as you beamed up at him. 

“Maybe we could do, like, a quick rematch?” 

You shrugged, trying to be nonchalant with an ever-heavy flush in your cheeks: “I don’t back away from a challenge.” 

Seokmin won the rematch. This only spurred on another rematch, and suddenly there was no end to the madness. This time there was no awkwardness, no lingering silences. You were just giggling and strategizing, and throwing heat in the direction of your opponents. 

That uncomfortable, clamoring feeling left you, slowly. It became easy to forget it. That feeling that he was only there with you because of Vernon, that there was always some sort of demand, a twisting hand, forcing him upon you, and that you became a sort of burden on him. That was the thing about Seokmin, though, his ability to make you feel like his best friend; his ability to make him feel like he was there for you, even when he wasn’t.

It was only after an hour and a half or so, when Seokmin paused the game. 

“What the hell, Lee? I was just about to beat you!” you whined, crossing your arms. He nodded along, pushing himself off the bed. “Yes, I agree, which is why I’ve assessed that I need a refreshment.” 

“Oh, you’ve assessed?” 

“Yeah, I’ve assessed that I need a fresh, cooling drink in my gullet.” 

You both laughed a little and slumped back, dropping the controller. Seokmin smiled at you, eyes twinkling. “You want one?” 

“What are you getting?” 

“A beer,” Seokmin said. Rationally, you knew you shouldn’t accept. You were bad with alcohol, and everytime you drank just a little, a little easily became a lot. That was why you took yourself by surprise when your voice left your mouth, chipper and grand: “Sure!” 

One beer turned into another, and Mario Kart turned into talking on his bed, slumped into his fortress of pillows and giggling at his stories. You were a little tipsy, halfway into your second beer and your face was flushed and Seokmin was lying on his side, hand propped up under his head, as he made you laugh again. 

“Your kind of partying sounds… Extreme,” you murmured, rim of the bottle pushed against your lips where your words slightly slurred. Mario Kart and alcohol had gotten you a little out of your shell, and now you and Seomin were talking like friends - as if your brother didn’t even exist. You basked in the alcoholic buzz and in this reality, this hideout, where your lovely brother didn’t exist and the faint ache in your legs at Seokmin’s godly face in the bedside lamp wasn’t so utterly misplaced. 

“I think anything’s more extreme than your partying,” Seokmin mused teasingly. You huffed, putting down your beer and smoothing over your skirt. Everything was so lovely and artificially yellow and his body beside yours radiated pleasant heat. He was beautiful, you thought, looking at how the sweaters pooled on his torso and how his brown hair looked so soft and messy. You almost felt the absence of ground beneath you, when you imagined yourself at the cleft again.

“You don’t know about my kind of partying,” you joked and he chuckled softly. “You’re right, I shouldn’t make assumptions.” 

You looked at him and he was suddenly serious. The smiley, gooey Seokmin was gone and his eyes, although not threatening at all, were prodding at you. Your smile fell. The alcohol at this time felt misplaced and wrong, the lightness felt wrong.

“Were you gonna, you know, go with Jeonghan at the party?” he whispered. The world was suddenly very quiet, as if it were following Seokmin’s tact. You grimaced a little. “No. No, not really.” 

He studied you. You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, opting to look at your hands in your lap. “Why not?” 

A pause.

You began to pick at your own fingertips, nails digging into the cuticles. Seokmin’s eyes dragged from your face to your hands, and he scooted closer to you, only to cover your hand with his, stopping your movements immediately. Suddenly so close, his voice was whispered right in your ear, so soft and so gentle, it felt like a kiss: “Don’t do that.” 

You sucked in a breath, hands ripping to your sides to lay stiff. “I’m, uh, I’m not that experienced, so I..”

Your eyes flicked up to gauge his reaction. In your worst nightmares, you imagined a laugh breaking onto his face, maybe disgust, but you felt yourself melting. He looked at you so softly, like you were the most precious, fragile thing and his hand had stilled in the air after you pushed it off, as if, like the most enchanting artwork at a museum, he fought desperately not to reach out and touch you. 

It was unbearable - how still the air had become, how heavy you felt, how your chest struggled to expand. You talked again, if only to fill the air with your babbling: “I’ve not had.. I mean, I can hardly get myself off… So. I probably. Couldn’t. Get him off.” 

You realized about halfway through your sentence that you should not have said that. That last half of your sentence was a breathy mess, as your voice became shaky with humiliation. His gaze, a delicate constant, was not helping either. You felt tears welling up in your eyes suddenly and maybe that was the worst part. 

“You have trouble getting yourself off?” he repeated, as if to make sure. “Like masturba-” 

“Yeah, that,” you squeezed your eyes shut. You couldn’t tell if you wanted him to shut up forever, so you’d never have to know his reaction, or if you wanted him to talk and be able to sense how this information changed his perception of you. His voice came, in spite of whatever you had hoped.

“I figured you were a virgin,” he mumbled, voice half muted by the palm of his hand, “but I thought you at least masturbated-” 

“I do!” you defended yourself, voice much louder than his and brows furrowing and tears threatening to spill over your eyes. “I’m just- I’m not that good at it.” 

“Hey,” he said softly, hand landing on your arm. You immediately shut up, lip trembling when you struggled to meet his eyes. “Relax, Y/n. It’s okay. I’m not judging you.” 

You nodded half-heartedly, still incredibly uneasy. 

“If you want…” Seokmin’s voice trailed off. His eyes ventured over your form briefly, licking his lips. “You know, if you want, I could teach you.” 

You looked at him silently. He seemed to snap out of whatever loopy trance he had been sucked into, because he was suddenly very jittery and scrambling through the bedsheets. “Uh, I mean- you don’t- God, I’m sorry- it was only if-” 

“Yes,” you said. His scrambling stilled immediately. His eyes were teacups. 

“You sure?” 

You nodded, not trusting your own voice. 

Seokmin squeezed his eyes shut, gulping as he sat back against the bed. His legs spread apart. “Come here,” he patted his thighs. 

You felt terribly sober. All that buzz and butterflies and blaze and blossom was gone and you felt like a doll, moving each limb individually, as you climbed into his lap, back to him. You were unable to think, unable to truly process what was happening, what it meant, as you felt his form engulf yours.

His hands found purchase on your hips and his breath was warm on your neck, as you felt every ridge of his abdomen on your back. His thumbs rubbed against your hip bone. 

“Okay, now show me how you usually do it,” his voice was a warm hum, a twinge of nervousness laced in it. Your face was lit ablaze and you squirmed in his hold, when one hand left your hip to gently push your legs apart. You sat, all open and held against him, dress keeping you covered.

“It’s embarrassing,” you huffed, being very serious, but Seokmin smiled and nosed your hair gently. 

“We can stop whenever you want, seriously, if you get uncomfortable, we stop” he reassured. 

“It’s just me.” 

It was. It was just Seokmin, your brothers best friend, the sweetest boy in the world, who used to have a swanky bowl cut and dorky school uniform and who was always Vernon’s most respectful friend, but he was hot and whispering into your ear and one hand was massaging the outside of your thigh. 

“Should I take my dress off?” you breathed, face turned halfway back to him. His hands squeezed at you in response and you could faintly make out his tongue sliding over his lips. 

“Only if you want, angel,” he whispered back, rubbing your sides tenderly. “We’re not doing anything you don’t want. Whatever makes you feel good. ‘M just here to help.” 

You nodded, and although the answer was maybe made to make you keep your dress on - a reassurance that there was no need to discard it - you removed yourself from his grasp, hands coming to tug your dress off. You felt a small boost of confidence when you heard Seokmin breathe out: “Shit.” 

Only in your bra and panties (terribly mismatched, your bra was black and your panties were pink), you leaned back into his hold, and you noted how Seokmin’s warm hands were much more careful now, splaying out on your bare skin. 

“Are you comfortable now?” he asked quietly. You nodded. He propped his head up on your shoulder, eyes cast down your almost-nude body, chest rising and falling. Your legs were closed again, he noticed, and his veiny hand reached down to open them again. “Show me how you do it, baby, so I can help you improve.” 

You gummed your lip, breathing in one last time, before your nervous fingers began dancing their way to your panties. They disappeared under the fabric for only a moment, before Seokmin spoke again.

“Sweetheart,” he tutted, hand wrapping around your wrist to stop its track. “Don’t just dive right in, you need to get yourself all hot first.” 

Your brows furrowed and some of the embarrassment you felt from being this exposed and pressed into Seokmin evaporated into genuine confusion.

“What? What do you mean?” you said, somewhat outraged, and Seokmin couldn’t help the laughter blooming in his chest at that. He vibrated against your back, hands smoothing down your arm. You pouted: “Don’t laugh at me, Minnie.” 

He stopped, still smiling as he nosed your temple. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your head, that had your heart beating out of your chest. “You’re just so cute.” 

Cute. You remembered your disdain for that word, but somehow, when it came from his lips, it made you beam. Everywhere he touched left behind a hot, burning ghost on your skin.

“You just have to touch your body, sweetheart,” he said sweetly. You thrashed in defiance, crying out quietly with red cheeks. Wiggling your body angrily, you felt his dick half-hard in his pants against your lower back. 

“Can’t you do it?” you whined, wanting nothing more than for him to take over and make you feel good. He sucked in a harsh breath behind you, fingers wrapping around your hands to soothe you still. He seemed to debate your proposal, but eventually he kissed your shoulder and spoke: “Okay, baby, but you have to show me you understand, alright?” you nodded feverishly. “We’re trying to get you to learn.” 

The whole thing had you dizzy, warm and gooey in his hands, and grounding yourself on his solid torso. You had tunnel vision, unable to focus on anything but his warm hands and sweet voice, and how fucking hard he was. You leaned your head up to look at him pleadingly. Even upside-down he was pretty. He giggled at your starstruck expression.

“Look at my hands, pretty,” he tapped your nose and you scrunched it, turning down to your own body, where he sat his hands on your waist. “You do it like this.” 

His hands started dragging over your skin, creating constellations of ghosts on your skin. One dragged across your stomach and down your leg, squeezing it along the way, and the other brushed over your bra-covered chest, landing on your shoulder and collarbones. Then they moved oppositely, then diverged from their chosen paths, and you started breathing heavily. Pressure built up in your stomach and your panties, and you felt how slick started leaking out of you. 

“Feel good?” Seokmin grinned against your neck, listening to the melody of your panted gasps. You nodded earnestly, moaning softly. Seokmin furrowed his brows at that noise, pressing kisses to your neck appreciatively. “Good girl. Such pretty sounds.” 

Both of Seokmin’s hands dragged up to your ribs. There, they paused. “Can I touch your chest, baby?” 

“Please,” you whimpered, and earned another sloppy kiss to the cheek. His hands immediately grabbed ahold of your chest, softly rubbing it over your bra. 

“Does that feel good?” he whispered. You hesitated for a moment. “Um, I don’t feel much, honestly.” 

You’d expect him to be a little angry or defensive, but Seokmin only hummed and nustled himself into your hair. “Good girl. Good girl, being so honest with me. So pretty.” 

You whined at his praise and Seokmin smiled smugly, taking notice of how heated you got from his words. 

“The- the fabric is in the way..” you whimpered meekly, and Seokmin nodded in understanding, stroking your sides soothingly. 

“You want to take off your bra?” he hummed, truly as if it would not expose you to him, as if it weren’t a lewd and depraved scenario, but something as simple as the weather. You nodded, removing yourself from the harbor of his arms once more to remove it. You unclipped it and threw it God knows where, before settling back into him. Seokmin peeked over your shoulder at your now bare breasts, groaning a little and covering it up with a cough. This was about you. 

Seokmin placed his hands on your tits again, massaging and rubbing the soft skin, before he brushed his thumbs over your hardened nipples.

You moaned - for the first time it was a clear moan, seething from your throat and puffing into the air. “Sound so pretty,” he muttered in your ear. “You really like that, hm?”

He pinched your nipples between his fingers, your back arching into his warm hands. Then, as soon as the pleasure had begun, it stopped, when his hands came to rest on the bed. You whined, twisting your head towards his, only to be stopped by fingers on your chin, turning you back forward. “Show me you can do it now, baby. You’re learning,” he reminded you.

 “But, Minnie, I want your hands,” you whined and he tutted softly in your ear. “I know, baby, but I need to know that you’re understanding this in that pretty little head of yours. Need to know you’re focusing. Come on, show me now.” 

Huffing, you placed your own hands (they somehow felt more foreign than his now) on your stomach and began to mimic his movements. You smoothed them up and down on your body, squeezing, then placed them on your chest, rubbing and pinching your nipples. 

“There you go,” he praised, and his hands had traveled to your shoulders, massaging them gently. You whimpered and turned your head to him again.

“Can you teach me how to touch my…” you trailed off.

“Your pussy?” he offered, as if it was nothing, as if it wasn’t vulgar or lewd. You nodded vigorously. Feeling him gulp a little, his hands became a little unsteady as they came to hold your waist again. “Can I hear you say it? Baby?” he asked and suddenly his voice was a little shaky, a little breathless. 

“Can you touch my pussy now, Minnie?” you asked, and any shame had been clouded over with lust. You’d never been this burningly bothered in your life, you needed him to touch you. He groaned, and this time he was unable to cover it up. You felt how his hard cock strained against his sweatpants, how it pressed into your back, and you wanted to touch it so bad. 

“Alright, baby, want your panties off?” His sharp nose was pressed into your hair. You shook your head. “Want them on.” 

He nodded. “Alright, jus’ tell me if you wanna stop, okay? I’m gonna touch you now.” 

His hand slipped under the waistband of your panties, disappearing under the pink fabric. As if they were always meant to be there, his fingers slipped through your folds, coming down to circle your slit in impossibly light figurations. 

“Shit,” he panted, grip on your waist suddenly bruising, as he tried to steady himself. “You’re so wet, baby, you like Seokminnie that much?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you nodded blindly, your own hands coming to grip onto his thighs. His middle finger danced upwards and pressed against your clit, and you immediately squeaked and shut your legs around his hand. 

“No, no, baby, don’t do that,” he frowned, hand that wasn’t buried in your pussy spreading your legs again. You felt how his legs, pressed against you, came to hook onto yours, forcing your legs apart with his own strength. He hummed in content. 

His finger pressed onto your clit again, and he felt how your legs tensed, straining against his to close. Your back arched and you moaned, eyes squeezed shut. He began rubbing it, and it was so intimate, how close you were to him, how his hand navigated your sopping wet pussy, fingers just rubbing you gently, and how bare you were, his eyes training over your bouncing tits when you thrashed. 

His fingers moved downwards again, gathering the wetness that was gushing out of you. Then, one long middle finger pushed into you. Canting into his hand, you moaned loudly and turned your head into his neck. Nosing the tan skin and inhaling his faint cologne, you began mindlessly kitten-licking the skin. His Adam's apple bopped under your tongue.

“You’re so tight,” he rasped, beginning to slowly push his finger in and out of you. His other hand had come to wrap around your waist in an attempt to calm the sudden bucking of your hips against his hand. 

His hand moved faster, obscene, wet sounds coming from your ruined underwear, where he worked diligently into your pussy. He slipped another finger in, and you cried from the stretch. It was becoming hard to contain you, thrashing and writhing against his hold, stuck between wanting to move closer and to move away entirely. His fingers tied a knot in your stomach.

“That’s right, pretty, tell me how good Minnie’s fingers feel,” he whispered hoarsely above your ear. You could almost only whine and moan, nipping at his neck a little. “Tell me or I’ll stop,” he warned.

“Feels so good!” you whined immediately, because if he stopped now, you figured you might start crying. “Feel so, so, so good, fuck, Seokmin, I’m-” 

“I know, baby, I know, but I’m teaching you, right?” 

Though your mind was fuzzy, you sensed what these words meant and panicked, hand coming down to grip his wrist in an attempt to hold him in place. “Please, please, please, Seokmin, don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” 

“Don’t talk back to me, sweetheart. I won’t stop, just talk to me. Tell me what you feel me doing,” pushing your head up again, Seokmin pressed his face against your cheek, so hard, you felt his humid pants against it. 

Your mind was so hazy, so transfixed on the feeling in your stomach and his finger in your pussy, you could hardly respond. 

“Tell me or I’ll stop, baby,” he reminded you again, and you scrambled frantically to focus. 

“Nngh! You’re- pushing in and out-” your voice broke, hips stuttering against his hand, that was continuing its remorseless pace. 

“Yeah, and?”

You furrowed your brows, lips trembling. “You’re- you’re curling them- A-ah!” 

“That’s right. Such a good girl. So smart and clever for me,” Seokmin whispered happily, his other hand slipping down your stomach to circle your clit. Both his hands working pleasure into your pussy, you cried out loudly, head pushed back into his chest.

“Just let go, baby, I can feel you clenching on me so hard. Wan’ me to stay in your pussy forever, hm? Just let go, cum whenever you want, wanna see your pretty face so bad,” somehow Seokmin was just as intoxicated off of lust as you, despite staying, hard and untouched, in his pants. But he babbled mindless praise to you, and you came to his sweet voice whispering in your ear.

Your orgasm sent you hurdling over the edge - the edge, the one you’d been standing at hopelessly for years. You flew across it and landed on Seokmin’s territory; in his arms. 

“Seokmin, a-ah!” you cried, releasing all over his fingers, coating them in your cum. Your entire body arched upwards, as you moaned into the night. Seokmin rode you through your high, pressing sweet kisses into your hair.

You fell limp against his body, worn out, when he finally retracted his fingers from your pussy. You snuggled into his sweater with a content hum. 

Seokmin smiled down at you, eyes brimming with fondness, as his cum-slicked hands wrapped around your torso in a hug, holding you into him. “You did so well,” he whispered genuinely. 

You looked up at him with a tired smile. “Thank you, Seokmin.” 

He held himself back from saying he would do that a thousand times over, in fact, he wouldn’t mind never pulling out - he could live with only one hand. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered: “Of course, darling.” 

Your brows furrowed and you pulled yourself away from him a little, eyeing the tent in his pants worriedly. “Do you want me to-” 

“No,” he shook his head decidedly. “No, I’ll take care of it.” 

You looked at him with big, innocent eyes, that only furthered the throbbing of his cock. Partially, he wanted to give in so badly. The thought of your hand around his cock, all pouty and innocent and confused, and how heavy it would be in your small hand, had made him cum more times than he’d like to admit. But, he reminded himself, this was about you. This was a favor. “Are you sure?” you asked softly.

“Yes, baby, go to bed. I’m gonna go get you some fresh clothes.” 

You snuggled into bed while Seokmin scurried away to fetch a shirt and some boxers, and when he came back you cooperated limply in taking off your panties, and putting on what he’d given you. You fell asleep in his bed, cuddling his duvet, and surrounded by his scent. 

Seokmin watched you in adoration. How peaceful you looked, chest rising and falling, and a little pout on your lips. 

He wandered through the house, trying simultaneously to get as far from you as possible, and also trying to decide which of his housemates he currently hated the most. He landed on Jeonghan, slipping into his empty room and settling himself on the bed.

There, he fisted his solid fucking cock and bucked into his own hand, eyes squeezed shut to remember how you looked under his hands, how you begged for him, how well you listened, what a good girl you were for him. His moans were trembling and muffled by his own hand, and when he came, he felt momentarily smug, looking at how it dripped over Jeonghan’s sheets (served him right). Then, post-nut clarity sank in, as he reentered his own room and cuddled into you on the bed. 

He felt almost despicable. He felt gross and evil and perverted and lewd, not because of you, but because, as if it were his first time realizing it, he remembered that you were Vernon’s sister. He remembered that he had promised to protect you from manipulative guys and always watch over you, and help you if you needed help, and report to Vernon if you were acting weird. Yet here he was, letting you cum on his hand and groping your tits, as if he was still that teenage boy with that swanky bowl cut. 

After an hour of chewing on his lips and frowning, Seokmin let your sweet perfume lull him to sleep. He dreamt of you. _____________________________

There’s a blissful instant that morning when you wake up, curled into Seokmin’s arms, head nuzzled in his chest. There’s a blissful instant when you tilt your head, staring at his sleeping face, and he’s so beautiful, features all soft and breathing rhythmically. There’s a blissful instant where you see him, and your heart weeps in your chest because he’s so gorgeous.

Then it’s gone.

A panic button is pressed in your head, and your nerve-endings, each one resting on him, begin burning. What had you done? Yesterday feels like a faraway dream, but he’s still wearing that sweater and it grounds you in the reality of what had happened. 

You’re lost. What did this mean for the two of you? Was Seokmin just lusting after you? But that couldn’t be right, you thought, because he’d insisted on only helping you, refused your offers to help him, which now was making you rot in his arms with guilt. Was this genuinely an attempt to help you? To be diligently by your side at the request of your brother? But surely this had been outside of the realm of what was acceptable to help your best friend’s baby sister with? Did that mean he liked you? 

Seokmin awakened from your sudden squirming, as if, with enough shaking and turning, that feelings and thoughts would just fall out of you. They didn’t, they stayed right where they were, and all you were given in return was Seokmin’s eyes fluttering open. 

You watched him go through that same process; the bliss came first and then the panic. Seokmin’s eyes went from adoring to wide and grave and suddenly he was shuffling away from you on the bed, creating a cool distance between you on the landscape of his mattress. You didn’t miss the pink dusting his cheeks.

“Uh- good morning,” he mumbled, and he could only look at his hands. Your throat was unbelievably dry. “Morning.” 

You’re not sure how you both managed, but you went through that morning without mentioning the previous night even once. The air was thick with tension, fleeting glances, and shaky hands, while Seokmin made you both bowls of oatmeal. You stood on the other side of the counter in his shirt and his boxers. 

You ate in his bed. It was silent and heavy and each clink of spoons against the bowl-rims had you both wincing. He put on a TV-show and you sat across from one another, chewing wordlessly to some drama in the background. Your belly was pooling with tension and light cascaded onto you, revealing your pores and flaws. Were you a bad person?

Finally, finally, Seokmin put down his spoon with yet another clink, fingers catching the bridge of his nose and eyes squeezing shut. He huffed into the palm of his hand, swallowing the oatmeal hard. 

“Uh-” he began and his voice cracked, “Y/n. About last night-” 

But you cut him off, and he couldn’t ever, even in his wildest dreams, have imagined that these words would come out of your mouth:

“I want to return the favor.” 

The words were almost spat and discarded, as if they’d been sitting on the tip of your tongue all morning with a foul taste, and you’d only now been able to rid yourself of it. Seokmin snapped his head towards you, a genuine surprise on his face, but he soon wished he hadn’t looked at all. 

You were so pretty, sitting cross legged in his shirt and a blush creeping up your neck and cheeks all shiny in the morning sun. And there was this innocence to your eyes, big lashes shadowing it only a little; this earnestness that told him you really, really wanted to do this for him.

“I-” he chuckled a little, heart clenching at your sweetness, “I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“Well, it’s good that I’m asking you then,” you said, and though the comment was witty, when Seokmin looked at you again, he saw how careful you looked, and how unsure you were of yourself. 

“Listen, N/n,” he reached out to grab your hand, and it was burning into yours, each area of adjoined skin screaming at you with reminders of last night. “You don’t have to do that. I just wanted to make you feel good, I was happy to just be of service to you-” 

“But I want to make you feel good,” you pouted, almost brattily. Seokmin’s gentle expression and tone faded into something darker, as his eyes flitted down to your exposed legs and your heaving chest. He swallowed, putting away his bowl of oatmeal and collecting himself. 

“Are you sure? You need to be absolutely 100% sure-” 

“I’m sure, Minnie. I want to-” you broke off your own words with a squeak, face becoming bright red. You leaned in self-consciously, as if to tell him a secret: “I want to suck your dick.” 

Your whispered admittance had him groaning, groaning at how sweet and innocent your voice was, how you couldn’t even say it loudly, you had to whisper the dirty word to him. He wanted you so badly, wanted to be the one to take away your innocence, to make you all dirty and beg for him, to make you thrash and whine and to teach you how to really feel good. He wanted you.

It’s like a switch had flipped, when Seokmin put his hand on the back of your head, and suddenly you were kissing again. The tension from before was replaced with something wholly different, something hot, something laced in the eye contact he gave you, before he leaned it again. 

And Seokmin was kissing you with a fervor that you recognized from yourself - you both wanted to forget. Wanted to forget Vernon, who, although a great brother and friend, had become a heavy strain on your relationship with Seokmin. So you kissed him and let his tongue in your mouth when it swiped over your bottom lip, and you sucked on it, and you let him and yourself get lost in each other.

The sound of smacking lips and saliva was so lewd too, especially when Seokmin’s hand pulled you from your spot on the bed and into his lap, hands roaming your body, while you tangled into his hair. He was half-moaning into your mouth by the time he pulled away, face flushed and eyes darker and lower and lips swollen red. 

“You gonna let me use that pretty mouth, baby?” he whispered against your lips, one hand palming over his cock through his boxers. You nodded, almost desperately, one hand reaching out to his in his lap. “Can I touch it?” 

Seokmin smiled fondly, looking down at where your small hand was outstretched towards his cock. “Yeah, baby, go ahead.” 

You were a bit clumsy at first, but soon enough you found its outline in his black boxers and you squeezed it a little. Seokmin crooked over, groaning into your shoulder. You felt him get harder and harder against your palm, a small smile at the desperate noises he was making. 

Seokmin had laid his cheek on your shoulder, neck twisting to stare up at you, while you focused solely on touching him, and he hated himself for getting even harder because it was you - you, who he had wanted for so long, who he was hugged into and lying on, while you touched his warm cock.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, breathing heavily, and then smiling brightly when you became all sheepish, smiling and looking away, so that you had to pause your actions. He nosed into your neck, regaining some semblance of control over the situation, now that you weren’t touching him, and his breath was warm and humid on your skin. He pressed small kisses up to your jawline, nose flattening against you.

“So, so pretty. Fuck, imagining you with my cock in your mouth, all drooling and shit. Fuck, baby, you gonna let me fuck your mouth?” he rambled, hands finding home on your tits again. You whined and nodded, trying to pry him off of you. Immediately (forever struggling with a little concern that you might’ve changed your mind) he pulls away, looking up at you worriedly. 

“Don’t- don’t touch me, I don’t wanna get.. All hot,” you whispered those words that he had said last night, biting your lip in worry. “I want to do it now.” 

Seokmin melted completely, and in a complete inability to contain his adoration, brushed hair out of your face and pressed a million kisses to your cheeks and your nose. “Okay,” he said in between kisses, and you felt his smile on your skin, “okay, baby. But if it gets too much, tap my thigh three times, okay? If you need anything, if you feel uncomfortable.” 

“Yes, yes,” you huffed, pushing yourself away from him and hopping onto the floor, sinking to your knees before the bed. 

It felt completely unreal - to both of you. How you were suddenly on your knees and how he settled in front of you, bare, thick thighs on either side of your head. Everything was all light and all the places he’d kissed and touched had become holy and glowing on your body. He shimmed his boxers off and you gaped at the sudden exposure of his dick. 

He was hard. Apparently the kissing and groping had been enough, because it slapped against his sweater, leaking silky white liquid from the tip. And he was big - you didn’t exactly have a good point of reference, but you vaguely sensed from Giselle’s words that this was quite a feat. 

And actually seeing it brought a wave of uncertainty on you, not as to whether or not you wanted to do it, but how. So, you blinked up at him with a small frown, voice small when you spoke: “Seokmin.. How- how do I do it?” 

Seokmin practically glowed with adoration, when he petted your head and rubbed your cheek, seemingly so comfortable despite being totally bare. “You just put your lips around it and suck, baby, it’s easy,” he said softly, then added, a little panicked: “And be mindful of your teeth.” 

“But it’s so big,” you marveled, eyes trained on it, and he almost groaned at it, because you sounded so genuinely amazed, so disbelieving. 

“Just put your hands around the parts you can’t reach. I’ll be gentle, baby, don’t worry,” he said. You nodded hesitantly, leaning forward towards it, but his hand in your hair suddenly clenched and pulled you back. You looked up at him and saw his eyes brimming with worry. “You do want this, right?” 

“Yes, please, stop being so- so gentle with me and let me suck your dick!” You whined, fed up with being treated like glass, and tugged his hand out of your hair. Seokmin visibly relaxed at your insistence, nodding. 

Finally, fingers grabbing the base of it, you wrapped your mouth around the tip. You were met immediately with the taste of his pre-cum, licking over where it leaked curiously. Seokmin’s hand found your hair again, gripping it tight to steady himself, as he groaned loudly. You slowly sank down, basking in the whimpers you ripped from his mouth.

“Fuck- you’re- you’re doing so good, baby,” he cried, face twisted in pleasure and head thrown back. You looked up at him and he was so pretty and glowing, panting into the air. 

You sank down as far as you could, feeling the tip sit snug against the back of your mouth, and your hands wrapped around the base of his dick. You looked up at him, experimentally squeezing, and pursing your lips around his dick to suck it carefully.

“A-ah! Fuck!” Seokmin cried, hand that wasn’t in your hair squeezing the edge of his mattress. His thighs were flexing on either side of your head. “You’re- you’re so good at this, sweetheart. Good girl, fuck, such a pretty girl for me, letting me use you like this.” 

You whined at his words, squeezing your thighs together. Seokmin’s hips bucked upwards at the vibrations, hitting the back of your throat. The sudden intrusion was unexpected and you let out a garbled moan around his cock. He panted regretfully: “S-Sorry, baby, d-didn’t mean to do that, you just feel so good. Can- can you bob your head up and down it for me?” 

You did, started moving your head up and down his shaft, and breathing hard through your nose, while your hands squeezed the base of his cock. Looking up at Seokmin, you felt confidence that you were doing something right. He was in heaven, face all scrunched up and breathing as if he’d just ran a marathon. 

And when he peeked his down to you, he could’ve cum immediately. Your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, head bopping with tears in your eyes from the pressure in your throat, and how curious and sparkling they were, gauging his reaction. The groan that clawed its way up from his heart, through his throat and out into his room quickly turned to a whimper. 

“I’m- I’m gonna cum, sweet pea, can I-” he swallowed hard, because even the thought had him close to release. “Can I cum down your throat, pretty?” 

You nodded, a little too preoccupied to answer, but Seokmin got it, and with just a couple more bobs, and the feeling of your wet tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, he spurted into your mouth in long ropes of white, whining at the top of his lungs, and pulling hair from the roots. 

It was, admittedly, a little gross and sticky in your mouth, but it was also hot and you felt proud you’d made him feel good. He was panting, trying to recover, when you pulled off his dick, a satisfied smile on your face. His hand wandered to your face, caressing your cheekbone, before moving down to your puffy lips. 

“Can I-” he was almost embarrassed, “Can I see baby? Can you open your mouth for me?” 

A little confused, you did as told and opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue that was still covered in his sticky release. 

“Fuck,” he groaned at the sight, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself not to get hard again. “C-Can you swallow it for me, beautiful?” 

Still confused, you nodded and gulped it down, trying not to look like it felt as gross as it did. If Seokmin noticed, he didn’t remark it, because he only groaned again, and pulled you by your face into a sloppy, heated kiss. 

“So, so, so good for me,” he whispered, not letting you out of the kiss, even when saliva dripped down your chin. “Such a good girl, letting me use her mouth, such an obedient, good girl.” 

You whined into his mouth at those words, bothered by the aching in your core that his moans and his blissed out face had caused, and now those words repeated over and over: Good girl.

He grinned into your mouth. “Yeah? You like being my good girl, right? Like doing your best for Seokminnie?” 

“Yes,” you murmured breathlessly, too lost in the feeling of his mouth and his hands rubbing your waist to come up with anything better.

Seokmin pulled away with a warm smile, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “You did well,” was all he said, and you could genuinely cry, because that was it - you just wanted to know you did well. 

“I’m gonna go clean up, okay?” he said, waiting for you to nod in response before he pushed himself off the bed, snatching a new pair of boxers from a drawer on his way out of the door. 

You threw yourself on the bed, closing your eyes contentedly. 

He liked you. You were sure of it now, when you thought back to how his eyes had balked at you so wonderfully, how careful and attentive he’d been. You were certain, and your heart smiled and you smiled and your hair was sprawled out on his sheets and for the first time, that desert wasteland in your head welcomed you and took you in, and you were right where you were supposed to be. 

Until your phone started buzzing. 

It was dancing across the sheets violently at someone's call and you peeked open one eye tiredly to pick it up. And when you did, the desert turned on you. Caught in a sandstorm, you held your phone between your fingers and felt your heart drop, lowered into the acid bath of your stomach.

It was Vernon.

Vernon, who was Seokmin’s best friend. Vernon, who was your brother. Vernon, who had always yelled at you to leave his room whenever he had Seokmin over. Vernon, who didn’t like when you talked to any guys at all, who had recruited his best friend to watch over you and take care of you. Vernon, whose best friend had just had his dick in your mouth. 

You heard the shower running distantly when you clicked accept, hoping to God that you didn’t look too disheveled. 

“Hi, N/n!” Vernon cheered immediately on the other end. His face popped up on your screen, a bright smile on his face. You smiled too - you missed your brother - but it was half faded, and Vernon noticed immediately. 

“Hi, Vern,” you said softly. His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” 

Of course, he could read you like a book. Of course, he knew that you were distant and nervous. You sighed heavily, trying desperately to collect yourself, to remember how you usually behaved, but for some reason, that you was far gone, and you had to be splayed on his screen, like a person replaced by something peregrine. 

“I’m a little stressed out,” you mumbled. “Got a lot of papers and stuff, that’s why I’m not home.” 

“Come home next break, okay? We miss you and you need to get out of that place every once in a while.” 

You nodded. 

Vernon’s eyes narrowed suddenly, and you saw him lean closer to the screen (which would have been funny, were you not suddenly wondering if there was leftover cum on your face). “Hey, where are you right now?” 

“My friend,” you said quickly - too quickly. “Her name’s Yunjin, we’re working together in chem.” 

Vernon hummed, seemingly content with your answer. “Your friend has the same bed sheets as Seokmin.” 

Shit, yeah, they facetimed every week, you remembered, cringing at yourself for not thinking of it earlier. You tried to play it cool, shrugging: “Weird.”

“Yeah, anyway-” 

Vernon rambled on and on about something or other, but you were unable to focus, watching the door to Seokmin’s room with a worried frown.

Moreover, you felt like a whore. Realistically, you hadn’t even lost your virginity. But sleeping with your brother’s best friend suddenly felt way more real now that you were talking to said brother, now that you were lying to his face, and you felt dirty and gross and you wished you could stand before Vernon, as the same baby sister that you had been before. But you weren’t. You were disgusting.

“Vernon, I gotta go,” you cut him off, and you hadn’t heard a word. Vernon’s excited expression dropped and he furrowed his brows. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, and you thanked the pixels for concealing at least a bit of the worry on his face. 

“Yeah, I just- I really need to get going,” you said. “Bye, Vernon!”

“By-” 

You disconnected the call and gathered your things, put your own clothes back on. Throwing Seokmin’s clothes onto his floor felt like shedding a second skin - a skin that had made you ugly and greedy and lustful. You only kept his boxers on, lumping the dress over your shoulders to drape over you in an unsightly and unorganized way. 

You spared a glance at the wrapped condom on his bedside table, long lost and forgotten by now. You could leave it. You could leave it and have a reason to come back, a reason to slip across that ledge again and fall into his arms and his mouth and his warmth. You almost did. Almost left it right there, where it begged to belong. But you snatched it off the counter, ignoring the way your heart clenched when you did, and slipped it into your tote bag. And you left, jumping across the border that separated you and back into your own wasteland. And it was so cold and so empty. You were alone again.

Seokmin came out of the shower, expecting to see you cuddled up in his bed, all soft and beautiful. But you weren’t there. Seokmin understood immediately. The condom was gone and so were you, only the perfume in his sheets remained, willing him to remember. And he cried. He sobbed into his own hands, because what had he done? 

You did not see each other the rest of that day. Or the next day. _____________________________

Seokmin wanted to let you disappear. He wanted you to slip away and he wanted to forget it had even happened - like a burning star dies out and leaves only a faint warmth behind, lasting years. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let you go, couldn’t bear knowing he’d never hold you in his arms again, never see you laugh again, never see you cum again. And he couldn’t bear knowing that maybe he’d read it wrong; maybe he’d made you uncomfortable, maybe you’d felt obligated. 

So he texted you. For two days his texts came in sporadically and unsuccessfully. Questioning and pleading, he wanted to know it wasn’t true. 

Lee Seokmin: why’d you leave? 

Lee Seokmin: can we talk??

Lee Seokmin: i miss u

Lee Seokmin: i need to know i didnt hurt you

Lee Seokmin: can you please answer? 

Each text came more painful than the last. Each text came more pleading. You sat alone in your room, in the dark, having only his one sided chats to light up your tear-streaked face. 

Eventually they stopped coming. You thought they would. You thought, you knew, eventually he’d give up. But what hurt the most was knowing he wanted you too; knowing he liked you as much as you liked him. You’d seen it in his eyes, when his hand slipped between your legs, and you’d seen it when he came staring down at you.

But you preferred to remember Seokmin for how he was.

How he was small and young, how he had a swanky bowlcut and how he looked in his school uniform. How he and your big brother, Vernon, had bonded and watched movies together in your living room, and the countless dinners he’d stayed over for, always so respectful to your parents and you. You preferred to remember when he didn’t love you back. 

The pain that had been tethered to your youth and to him, back when he was unreachable, just a figure you could marvel at, was so much duller compared to this pain, the one pulsed in your heart now: the pain of him loving you back, but still being off-limits. Something that could be, but was destined to die out. And it did, when he stopped texting you, you felt that unborn child’s soul leave your own. Alone again.

And then suddenly, you weren’t. 

A stern knock on your door. You flinched at the sound, fearing the worst. You were in your bed, in your sweatpants and your sweater and that condom was on the bedside table, watching the door with you. 

Another knock.

“Y/n, I know you’re in there!” 

Seokmin. Of course, it was Seokmin. No one else would come for you. But it was all too painful. You feared the worst - feared that seeing him, you would collapse into him again, and that this time you wouldn’t be able to find your way back. 

“Open the door, Y/n,” his voice was serious.

“Go away, Seokmin!” you yelled, voice breaking halfway. 

A pause. When Seokmin spoke again, he was not angry anymore; he was vulnerable.

“Y/n. I-I know you don’t want to talk to me, but-” he paused, wincing at himself and you knew there was tears in his eyes. “But I need to know that I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” 

You thought that you could handle the self-blame Seokmin omitted - maybe that’s just because it was words on a screen. But hearing him crying outside your door, and how real he was when his hand knocked vigorously, it tore down each and every one of your last defenses. 

“I need- I need to hear that you’re okay and that I-” 

“I’m opening the door,” you interrupted him, and sure enough you padded to the door and swiftly unlocked it. 

And then you were standing before one another. It was like time stopped, how the air stilled around you, and how the world quieted down. He was all crumpled paper hearts, all deflated and broken, and his hair was messy and his eyes were dark, but they sparkled again, just at the sight of you, and yours at him. 

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, breaking the enchantment cast upon you. The real world came crashing down, the people in the streets and birds in the trees and wind coursing through the leaves. The light that you’d shut out with a firm tug to the curtains was dancing on your linoleum floor. “It’s my fault. It’s- I talked to Vernon and I- I feel like shit, Seokmin. I feel like a slut.” 

“You’re a virgin!” Seokmin scoffed, but it did nothing to calm you. 

“It felt wrong! Because I- because you’re Vernon’s friend. Because Vernon never likes when I date guys, and because now I’ve been fooling around with his best friend,” you defended yourself, biting your lip when tears stung your eyes. Seokmin softened. “I just felt guilty. And gross.” 

“You’re not gross, you’re in love,” he said softly, and your eyes locked. Everything about him was pleading - he was just short of literally falling to his knees, begging for you to hear him out. “And- and with me, of all people!” 

“Seokmin-” 

“And I’m in love with you too,” his voice was an urgent whisper, not daring to let you speak again, to let you try and steer him away. 

“Of all people,” you mumbled, a small smile finding your lips. Seokmin smiled too. 

“So.. I’m tired of hearing you talk about yourself like this. I’m tired of Vernon being the one keeping us apart. I want- I want you to know that Vernon would understand.”

You shook your head dismissively. He wouldn’t. 

“I know him too! You know? Maybe better than you,” he pouted a little, and it made you laugh, and everything was becoming lighter, and for better or worse you really did want to jump into his arms again. “He shouldn’t be the thing stopping you from dating me- or- or anyone, really. But especially me.” 

You giggled again, and Seokmin’s heart palpitated in his chest at that sound - and at being the source of it. Then the laughter trailed off and your smile tightened and your heart tightened: “I just don’t want to sneak around-” 

“Okay! Say no more!” Seokmin interrupted, hand held out as if to calm a mighty beast. He casually pulled out his phone, tongue in his cheek, as he called your brother. Vernon.

It rang for a few seconds, put on speaker. You couldn’t help the nervousness. Couldn’t help the pinch in your nerves, building up from your stomach and into your heart. Then he answered. 

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Vernon’s voice glitched on the other end of the line, utterly oblivious (as always). Seokmin spoke, hand on his hip: “Hey, just curious, how would you feel if me and your sister started dating?” 

There was a moment of silence. On Vernon’s end, you imagined it was simply puzzled, but on your end, you stood with your heart all big and floaty, like a balloon in your hand, waiting for him to say that he’d hate it, that he’d kill him, and pop your heart with a simple word to prick. That wasn’t what he said though. Vernon said:

“I mean, yeah, man, I’d prefer you over any of those other college douchebags. I at least know you’d take care of her for real, man, not like that Jeonghan guy you were going on about.” 

Your heart balloon took off, and the boundary between you and Seokmin filled itself with sand. Had it been imaginary? This whole time? You couldn’t help the wheeze you left you, overwhelmed with relief and joy. 

“I know, man, Jeonghan’s the worst,” Seokmin said casually, but he was grinning from ear to ear at your reaction. You’d buckled over in silent laughter, unable to contain the glee. It seemed to dramatic now 

“The worst,” Vernon repeated. Then he pursed his lips and spoke again: “So you’re dating my sister?” 

“Uh, you know, I think we’re making it official in a second, yeah,” Seokmin said and even Vernon could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Cool, man, yeah, I kind of figured, she facetimed me with your ugly ass bed sheets in the background, and I thought, no way, a girl would buy those bed sheets.” 

“Lay off my sheets, man.” 

Both of the men laughed and you did too, crying laughing and covering your mouth to contain. Your chest was fluttering with butterflies and light and love.

“Hey, man, for real, if you hurt her, I know where you live, bro,” Vernon was suddenly serious. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, man,” Seokmin responded, equally as serious now. He eyed you, then spoke into the phone again: “Hey, I gotta go make sweet love to your sister.” 

“Ew, dude, don’t say tha-” 

And the phone was hung up and Seokmin was laughing with you, eyes crescent and smile wide and toothy, and cheeks all red and shiny, he doubled over and took your hands in his. “I told you, didn’t I?” 

“Shut up, Lee,” you said, pulling him by the hand and letting him kiss you. Letting yourself kiss him. Letting yourself back into his arms, and this time Seokmin had crossed the border, and had fallen into you, and you stood there together and you were in love. 

So, so in love, your lips entangled and danced together, and your hands dragged up the back of his neck and his up your waist. 

And you realized, his tongue in your mouth, this was how you preferred to remember Seokmin; completely and utterly in love with you, and dancing with you in your room, and smiling into the kiss, and hands running up your body. You preferred to remember him as yours, and yourself as his. 

Seokmin guided you to your bed, pulling your body into his lap. Then he pulled away, completely out of breath, and smiling at you like a twinkling star. 

“Think we can finally break open that condom now?” 

“Fuck yes,” you said.

And then you did.

[frudoo]

bakers wake up and get to the shop soooo early to prep for the day, right? so 3 am 4 am, simon (or whoever) is chill he’s on his routine, unlocking the door of the bakery when all of a sudden, he and drunk clubgoer? insomniac? kicked out? !reader meet each other- if she’s in a bad situation, simon fights off some guys first, or catches her from stumbling onto the pavement, but either way, they’re the only people out on the streets at this hour, and he invites her in to have a cup of tea while he mixes his dough and the sun rises?

been in my head for forever

This isn't quite what you asked for, but I hope you enjoy anyway <3

Warnings: Mentions of body image issues. Mentions of drinking alcohol, stalking. Brief implications of past abuse and crimes. One (1) act of violence.

It’s been exactly three days, right down to the minute, since Simon saw you last. After leaving the nursing home, you dropped him back off at his house and told him you’d be in touch. Then you were gone. He knows you’re a busy woman, that you probably haven’t even gotten around to editing his pictures yet. Still, here he is, waiting by his phone like a pioneer woman longingly gazing out the window for her lover. 

     He hears a ping and smiles excitedly only to find that it’s Johnny texting him for the millionth time. Simon resists the urge to throw his phone against the wall to watch it shatter, instead making his way into the kitchen to make himself dinner. He rummages through the fridge and pulls out some eggs, leftover ham from a couple of nights ago, a block of swiss cheese, and some asparagus. There’s some pie dough in the back of the fridge that he needs to use before it goes bad, so he grabs that too. 

     He chops up the ham and asparagus, shreds the cheese and whisks a handful of eggs in a bowl, surrounded by dead silence. Cooking is a nice distraction, relaxing and comforting. It reminds him of being younger, helping his mum stir the ingredients in her green, floral-patterned mixing bowl while she nursed his baby brother. He cherished those quiet moments home alone with the two people that loved him most, when his bastard father was out drinking or sleeping with other women. Beth is the one he learned most of his skills from—her chocolate cake recipe is the very one he uses for his business. Her handwriting will forever be engraved into his brain.

     Simon sighs as he assembles the quiche and puts it in the oven. He’s long since shed tears over his lost family, but he thinks about them every single day. It’s nice to think that Beth and Tommy are watching over him from some place way up in the sky, that they see the softer parts of him, the good in him. But his father knocks from down below, mocking, reminding Simon of his career, what heinous war crimes he’s committed and how he’s covered it up. No better than me, son, he jeers, ya take afta ya pops. He’s worked with his therapist on how to drown out that nasty voice. It works most of the time.

     Before he knows it, Simon is finally in bed. The dishes are washed, the oven is off, and he is warm, full, and happy—all the makings of a good night’s sleep. That’s exactly what he gets.

     Until that peace is disrupted by the sound of his doorbell being rung frantically. 

     He wakes with a start, rubbing the sleep from his hazy eyes. Four o’clock in the morning and already the world is trying to take back the tranquility he had for just a few hours. He turns on his bedside lamp, not bothering to put a shirt on, just slipping on a pair of sweatpants and padding to the front door. He looks through the peephole and his heart sinks. He flings the door open.

     “S-Simon, I’m so- so sorry to show up like this, but I-I was out with my friends and- and- fuck, I’m so sorry, I’ll just-”

     “Shh, lovie, breathe f’me,” Simon furrows his brow, resting his hands on your biceps gently. “Tell me wha’s goin’ on.”

     You sniffle and wipe away the tears running down your cheeks, smearing your mascara. 

     “We w-went to the bar, and there was a guy there who kept trying to- to- Simon, he’s following me, I-I can’t- please,” you sob, eyes wide and terrified.

     His grip on you tightens as he pulls you inside, instantly on alert. Rapidly approaching his front door is some guy with a scowl on his face and his eyes locked on your back. Simon coaxes you behind him as the guy stomps up to his doorstep.

     “Oi, mate, tha’s my bird ya go’ in there. We go’ into a figh’ and she ran off from me.”

     “Simon, I don’t- I don’t know him,” you slur timidly. “He’s b-been following me for miles.” 

     “Ge’ off o’my property ‘fore I break ya bloody jaw,” Simon growls, crossing his arms over his broad, scarred chest. 

     “Who the fuck d’ya think ya are, ya big prick? Gimme the broad an’ I’ll-”

     You barely have time to blink before there’s a loud crack and a pained yell from the smaller man. Simon’s shoulders heave as he grabs the guy by his shirt collar, leaning in close to mutter in his ear. 

     “Y’ever come ‘round ‘ere again, I’ll use ya guts as tinsel on ya mum’s Christmas tree. Go’ tha’?” 

     The man holds his dislocated jaw in shock before scurrying away with tears in his eyes like a scared little puppy. You let out a sigh of relief, still shaking even as Simon locks the door and turns to face you. He freezes when you wrap your arms around his neck but ultimately surrenders to the hug, strong arms snug around your waist. 

     “Thank you so much, I-I don’t- I can go home, now, I don’t wanna bother you any more than I already have,” you pull back apologetically, suddenly aware of exactly how early you’ve woken the poor man up. 

     “No’ a bother, lovie, I promise,” he murmurs. “Don’ wan’ ya goin’ ou’ all by y’self again. Y’can stay w’me.” 

     “I couldn’t-”

     “Ya will,” he interrupts, cupping your face in his big, warm hands. “Y’still stumblin’ ‘round, love. Tha’ alcohol needs t’wear off ‘fore I le’ ya go anywhere.”

     You pout, and Simon tuts, guiding you over to the couch and softly pushing you down onto the cushion. He takes off your heels and sets them beneath the coffee table, making sure you’re plenty comfortable. You snuggle up with the blanket he drapes over you and a content grin tugs at his lips. 

     “Ya ‘ungry?” He questions.

     He nods when you do, heading into the kitchen to warm up a slice of the quiche he made last night. He leans back against the counter and flinches at the cold, a dark flush heating his pale skin as he remembers he’s in nothing but a pair of damn sweatpants. He feels far too exposed, and insecurity creeps its way into his brain. Before he can decide to run to his bedroom and throw on a shirt, the microwave beeps, so he grabs a fork and brings you the food.

     “Made this las’ nigh’. Should keep y’full, maybe preven’ a hangover,” he explains softly, setting the hot plate on the coffee table. 

     “Thank you, Simon,” you grin up at him gratefully.

     “Since I’m up, m’gonna ge’ started on an order, alrigh’? Lemme know if ya need anythin’. Don’ hesitate t’ask.”

     Simon told a little white lie—there is no order he needs to complete. He just doesn’t want you to feel worse than you already do. He makes his way into the kitchen once more with a yawn, gathering all of the ingredients he needs to make chocolate cake. He’s been craving it since last night, and besides, it’ll help him feel closer to his mom and Tommy. Some of his best—untainted—memories revolve around that cake, shared around the table after supper. 

     You tread into the kitchen after a few minutes, empty plate in hand. Simon smiles, and you return the gesture, walking towards the sink. 

     “Lovie, y’don’ hafta wash-”

     “Sure I do,” you cut him off, running the hot water. “The quiche was really good. Thanks again for… well. All of this.”

     “Y’can always come over. Whenever ya wan’. I mean it.”

     You move to stand next to him, drying off your hands on one of his dishtowels. He’s mixing the batter by hand despite having a stand mixer, but you don’t question it. You observe silently, not wanting to distract him from his work. Simon looks up at you through his long blond lashes, stepping aside and gesturing for you to take over the whisking.

     “O-oh, I shouldn’t,” you laugh nervously.

     “Ya should,” he insists. “Ya won’ ruin it, sweet’eart. It’s pretty ‘ard t’fuck up. ‘Sides, I need t’butter some pans.”

     Cautiously, you take the whisk from him, slowly dragging it through the thin batter. The task isn’t as daunting as you led yourself to believe. You repeat the figure eight motion a few more times as Simon preps his bakeware.

     “Wanna pour it in?” He asks, sliding one of the metal pans over to you.

     “No. I- uh, well I’m kinda… still seeing double. Just a little,” you giggle, and he chuckles in response.

     “No’ a problem.”

     It’s smooth and practiced, the way he works. Such a simple act, but he makes it look like an art form. He doesn’t have to measure how much batter he pours into each pan, he just knows. Simon slides them into the oven, then turns to look at you. He sighs when he sees that you’re already eyeing his dirty dishes.

     “I can wash-”

     “No’ gonna ‘appen. Tha’s wha’ the dishwasher’s fo’, love,” he raises an eyebrow, making a show out of loading up the machine and drying off his hands once the chore is complete. “C’mon, then. Y’need some sleep.”

     You yawn before you can protest, much to his amusement. Rolling your eyes playfully, you follow behind him as he leads you to his bedroom. He pulls out a shirt and a pair of shorts from his drawer and hands them to you. 

     “More comfortable than tha’ dress, m’sure,” he hums, turning on his heel to give you some privacy. “I’ll be up fron’ if ya need me.”

     “S-Simon,” you chew on your bottom lip nervously. “Will you… will you stay with me? I don’t wanna kick you out of your own bed.”

     His heart skips a beat, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

     “Gotta ge’ the cakes outta the oven, firs’. Ge’ changed an’ I’ll come back in, yeah?”

     Simon gently shuts the door and trods back to the kitchen. You do as he says and change quickly, bashfully peeking out the door once you’re in his clothes. After a good few minutes he returns, still smelling of the chocolate cake. He hesitates before stepping back inside, grinning softly to himself as he watches you climb beneath his covers. He sits at the edge of the bed while you get comfortable.

     “Are you gonna lay down?” You ask through yet another yawn, lifting up the sheets and blinking up at him.

     “I-I, uh… yeah. Sure, lovie,” he sucks in a deep breath, then slides into bed right beside you.

     You hum contentedly and rub your eyes with the backs of your hands. You turn on your side to face him, carefully reaching out to brush a crumb of cake from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. 

     “Taste test?”

     “Ya caugh’ me,” he huffs in amusement, breath hitching in his throat as you lean in closer.

     “Thanks for saving me, Si,” you whisper, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

     As your head rests on his pillow and you drift off to sleep, there’s only one thought in Simon’s head.

     He could get used to this.

[tetsuissohot]

JJK MEN as DADS - fluff drabble

☆summary. fluff moment between jjk men and their kids - each character as a different scenario.

☆warning/tags: fem!reader, teeth rotting fluff, jjk men as dads

☆word count: 1.3k

☆a/n: I had so much fun writing this cute drabble! I hope you can awwww like I did!

Nanami Kento | Gojo Satoru | Toji Fushiguro | Geto Suguro | Choso Kamo | Shiu Kong

The Unbeatable Claw Machine Champion... or Not

The brightly lit arcade buzzed with energy, kids running around with excitement. Gojo stood in front of the claw machine, eyes narrowed with concentration. His son was bouncing beside him, eyes wide and filled with hope as he pointed at the cute panda plushy inside.

“Alright, watch the master at work,” Gojo said, cracking his knuckles dramatically.

His son giggled, clutching his favorite toy—a tiny batman plushy . The claw descended slowly, aimed perfectly for the panda, but just as it was about to grab it, the claw slipped, and the plushy tumbled back into the pile.

“Darn it!” Gojo exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “This thing’s rigged!”

His son tugged on his sleeve. “It’s okay, Dad! You can try again!”

Gojo puffed out his chest, determined now more than ever. “I won’t give up! My honor is on the line!”

Five attempts later, Gojo had spent an embarrassing amount of money and still hadn’t won the plushy. His son was laughing now, clutching his sides as Gojo groaned in defeat.

“I swear I could exorcise curses, but I can’t win a simple claw game,” Gojo muttered, shaking his head.

His son grinned, tugging on his sleeve again. “It’s okay, Daddy. You’re still the best!”

Gojo couldn’t help but smile at that. “Alright, but next time, that panda is mine.”

Daddy’s Little Helper

It was a quiet, early morning, the sun barely peeking through the curtains. Nanami sat on the edge of the bed, his tie draped loosely around his neck, waiting patiently as his daughter, a serious expression on her face, stood in front of him. She was determined to tie it properly, her little fingers fumbling with the knot as she tried to remember the steps he’d shown her.

“Over... under... then around, right, Daddy?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Nanami chuckled softly, resisting the urge to fix the tie himself. He adored these little moments—her small hands trying to help him get ready for work. “That’s right, but remember to pull it tight here.” He pointed at the knot gently.

After a few more seconds of struggle, she stepped back, triumphant. The tie was crooked, the knot slightly uneven, but she beamed up at him, proud of her work. Nanami looked down at her, his heart melting at the sight of her toothy grin.

“How do I look?” he asked, adjusting the tie slightly but leaving her knot mostly intact.

“You look perfect!” she said, bouncing on her feet, her happiness contagious.

He crouched down to her level and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll wear it just like this today.”

Dr. Megumi to the Rescue

Toji lounged on the couch, an amused smirk on his face as he watched little Megumi waddle over. The boy was wearing one of Toji’s oversized button-up shirts, the fabric hanging off him like a giant lab coat. He had a plastic stethoscope draped around his neck, and a toy doctor’s kit in one hand.

“I’m Doctor Megumi,” he declared, his face serious as he climbed onto the couch beside his dad. “I’m gonna fix your boo-boo.”

Toji raised an eyebrow, leaning back as Megumi got to work. “Oh yeah? Gonna fix me up, huh? How are you gonna do that, Doc?”

Megumi frowned in concentration, gently poking at the scar on Toji’s lip. “First, I gotta check if it hurts.”

Toji played along, letting out a fake groan. “Ouch, yeah, definitely hurts.”

Megumi nodded, taking this very seriously. He grabbed a band-aid from his kit and awkwardly pressed it onto his dad’s lip, the bandage far too big and covering half of Toji’s mouth.

“There. All better!” Megumi said proudly, climbing off the couch to admire his work.

Toji looked at his son, the band-aid dangling off his lip, and couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re pretty good at this, Doc. Think I’m gonna be okay now?”

Megumi gave a firm nod. “Yup! But you gotta keep the band-aid on forever.”

“Forever, huh?” Toji ruffled his son’s hair. “Alright, if the doctor says so.”

Braids and Giggles

Suguru sat on the floor, his back against the couch as his little girl stood behind him, combing through his long hair with wide, curious eyes. Her fingers twisted the strands in every direction, her tiny hands moving in random patterns as she tried her hardest to braid it.

“Are you sure this is gonna look good, sweetie?” Suguru asked, his lips quirking up in a soft smile.

“Yep! I’m almost done, Daddy! You’re gonna look soooo pretty!” she said, her voice full of excitement.

Suguru chuckled, sitting patiently as she continued to twist and tangle his hair. A few moments later, she clapped her hands together, signaling she was finished. “Okay! Done!”

Suguru reached up, feeling the lopsided, uneven braid she had made. Some pieces were sticking out, others were barely in the braid at all, but her eyes were sparkling with pride.

He turned to her with a warm smile. “What do you think? Do I look pretty now?”

His daughter nodded enthusiastically. “The prettiest!”

Suguru chuckled and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Then I guess I’m ready for the day. Thanks, sweetheart.”

Choso sat on the floor in front of the mirror, his lips painted bright pink, his eyeshadow a chaotic mix of colors that his daughter had lovingly applied. She was concentrating, brushing his hair with a little comb while humming to herself.

The Sparkliest Runway Star

“You’re almost ready for the runway, Daddy!” she announced proudly, pulling out a sparkly headband and placing it on his head.

Choso smiled softly, watching her work with so much joy. “You think Mom’s going to be impressed?”

His daughter beamed, nodding excitedly. “She’s gonna love it! You’re gonna look like a princess!”

Choso chuckled at that, glancing at his reflection. He certainly didn’t look like a fierce curse user anymore. Instead, he looked like a very sparkly, dolled-up dad. But seeing how happy it made his daughter, he didn’t mind one bit.

“Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go show Mom,” Choso said, standing up and offering her his hand.

They walked together, hand-in-hand, to find Y/N. As soon as they entered the room, Y/N burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand as she took in the sight of Choso in full makeup and glitter.

“Oh wow, look at you two,” she said, grinning.

Choso gave a mock-serious pose. “What do you think? Do I have a future in runway modeling?”

Their daughter clapped her hands, bouncing on her feet. “He looks like a princess, right, Mom?”

Y/N nodded, laughing. “The most beautiful princess.”

The Nerf Ambush Gone Wrong

Shiu and his son were in the middle of an intense Nerf battle, ducking behind makeshift forts of pillows and couches. Both were armed, giggling as they took aim at each other. Shiu peeked around the corner, ready to fire, when suddenly—

Thwack!

“Ah!” came a voice from the hallway.

Both froze. The Nerf darts had gone rogue and hit you, who had been peacefully carrying a laundry basket. You stood there, eyebrows raised, clearly unimpressed.

Shiu immediately dropped his Nerf gun, hands up in surrender. “It was an accident, I swear!”

Your son giggled nervously. “Sorry, Mommy!”

You just shook your head, grinning. "Now, help me pick up these darts."

You sighed dramatically, placing the laundry down and shaking your head, pretending to be serious. “Well, if that’s how you’re going to play...”

Without warning, you snatched up one of the extra Nerf guns from the couch and shot both of them with a perfect aim. Shiu stumbled back, clutching his chest in mock pain. “Oh no, she’s too powerful!” he said, collapsing onto the floor dramatically.

Your son immediately joined in on the fun, laughing as he ran to hide behind you, the tide of the battle turning in your favor.

Shiu stayed on the ground, dramatically pretending to be defeated. “Looks like you’ve won, but this isn’t over...”

MASTERLIST

[pedriache]

this is gonna make me sob into my pillow but #2 angst thingy with pedri 😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣

Peace — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: Breaking up after a a three year long relationship had hurt you tremendously, but when Pedri had texted you that he got injured and wanted you to come to the hospital… well you couldn’t say no.

Word count: 1.47k+

Disclaimer/s: Based off the prompt ‘Hold me, please?’ , angst to comfort / fluff.

A/N: hi im on an angst kick don’t expect much happiness coming out of bea’s blog.

You reread and reread Pedri’s text. Over and over and.. you get the gist. You couldn’t help the pity that built in your heart, but you also couldn’t help the anger that arose along with it.

It had only been a week, for God’s sake. You’d broken up a week ago and the wound was still fresh. Angry thoughts clouded your mind the whole drive to the hospital, all the way up the elevator, to the door, but the second it opened and your eyes landed on the man you had folded.

Every rage filled feeling disappeared, replaced by the overwhelming urge to comfort him. You hold back, cautiously poking your head through the door. “Uh, can I come in?”

At one side of the bed was Pedri’s mother, only furthering to the awkwardness of it all. Seeing your ex and his mother a week after you’d broken up was not something you imagined happening, yet, here you were.

María stood, her eyes darting between her son and the woman she’d grown to adore so dearly. She had to fight the smirk threatening her lips when she saw the tension in her son’s shoulders depleting.

“I’m going to the cafeteria to find your father.” She says, patting Pedri’s head, “it’s nice to see you again.” She offers you a kind smile before rushing out of the room.

“You too..” You begin, but she was already long gone. Left alone in the depressing hospital room, you find your gaze drifting to his leg. “Jesus..” You mumble.

Pedri doesn’t say anything, simply letting out a quiet hum of acknowledgment. He watches you carefully as you make your way to the side of his bed.

“I don’t.. I don’t really know what to, uhm—“ You were grasping at straws for something to say. Nothing came to mind, causing a flush to spread across your cheeks along with a nervous laugh.

The tan man couldn’t help the way his eyes softened and the small, barely noticeable smile of his lips. He’d missed you. Everything about you, he had missed. The breakup of course, was his fault. He been so stressed with football that he’d taken it out on you, saying things he didn’t mean but couldn’t take back.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He speaks, wearily. He wanted so badly for you to just look at him, he didn’t blame you for avoiding it, though.

“I feel like I probably should, I mean.. this is..” You were once again, at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry, this sucks.” Pathetic. That was pathetic.

Pedri was unfortunately, very injury prone. You’d been in this position many times, but this was different. You couldn’t rush to his side, you couldn’t shower him in apologetic kisses, you couldn’t do the things you used to. And those were the only ways you knew how to comfort him.

Your legs brushed against the hospital bedsheets, when you remember. “Oh! Shit, I almost forgot, I set them down outside the door because I wasn’t sure if they would be appropriate right now.. Wait, I’ll be right back.” And just like that, you were gone, leaving Pedri completely and utterly confused.

When you returned, you had a blanket and, what you’d called the ‘designated hospital hoodie’ in your hands. He recognized them instantly. Your favorite hoodie of his, and the blanket you’d used specifically on the nights he’d stay over and the two of you would fall asleep on the couch.

“I figured it would get cold in here, it always does.” You gingerly hand him the items, freezing when his fingers brushed against yours.

Pedri froze as well, his eyes snapping up to you. “Sorry, uhm, thank you. Seriously.”

“It’s no problem.” You cough, “so! How are you? How bad is it?”

Shaking his head with a tired sigh, Pedri winced as he scoots over on the bed, his jaw clenching as he does. “Joder. [fuck] ” He hisses in Spanish, taking a second to speak again, “you can.. sit down y’know?”

Hesitantly sitting onto the uncomfortable mattress, your eyebrows furrow, “you shouldn’t be moving so much.” You scold, easily slipping back into your old concerned girlfriend mode. “How many times do I have to remind you there are plenty of chairs I can sit on?”

“And how many times do I have to remind you, that I prefer you closer?” He rebutted, the both of you pausing when you realize you weren’t allowed to do this back and forth anything.

But, you shrug the feeling off. Despite how things had ended, you loved Pedri. You cared for him. He was hurting, and you were not about to make him hurt any more by opening up the wounds that were still fresh.

“Well, your comfort is a bit more important than your wants.” You crack a small grin, “how did surgery go?”

Pedri huffs through a painful exhale. “I don’t want to talk about medical shit anymore. I’ve had to deal with my families badgering all day…” He hesitates before continuing, “I know this is overstepping, but could you just.. lay down? You don’t have—“

“I’d lay down if you weren’t hogging all the pillows.” You tease, “move your big head.” Shifting around to a sitting position beside him, you wiggle around till the thin blankets were out from under you and on top of you.

He laughs, the sound sweet and welcoming to your ears. You turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes directly for the first time since you stepped into the room. “This is only mildly weird.”

“Yeah.” He agrees, taking the blanket you’d brought and spreading it out over the two of you. “Another boundary crossing question…?”

“I don’t see why not.” You swallow, not knowing what was about to come out of your ex’s mouth.

“Hold me?” He asks with the saddest eyes, “please?”

Listen, you were no fool. You knew your actions would have consequences. This simple act was going to either lead to your heart breaking even more, or potentially causing you to go against your morals and allow forgiveness.

You couldn’t get yourself to speak, instead, you lift your arm to wrap around the back of his neck and your hand came up to rest on his head. Pedri automatically relaxes against your shoulder, letting out a long breath of relief.

You stay like that for a while, your fingers threading through his soft hair while the other hand occupied on his cheek, it’s fingers rubbing smoothly back and forth along his cheekbone. It had always been the way you calmed him down when he was upset. The familiarity tugged at your heart strings and in that moment you didn’t care how badly this was going to hurt you, you only cared it would make him feel better.

Plus, he always told you how much peace he felt when he was in your arms, and thats all you wanted him to feel in the moment.

“Pedri?” You quietly beckon him to look at you, which he does. His eyes fluttered open and a small hum leaves his lips. “You know I can’t stay..”

He tries to hide his disappointment, but you knew him too well. “I understand. Sorry, I shouldn’t have even asked you to come, I know I hurt you.”

“Hurt is one way to put it.” You quirk an eyebrow, hiding the genuine words behind a teasing grin.

His eyes flicker around your face, noticing every crack in your expression. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean the things I said. I can do better, I will.”

“That’s not enough. The things you said.. Pedri, I can’t just forget them.” Exasperated and ready for the conversation to end, you tap his head. “Just lay back down.”

Pedri shakes his head, “no, we need to talk—I need to talk about this! I don’t want you to forget, just hold me accountable and give me another chance.” His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “Please, cariño.”

That stupid, stupid, stupid pet name. The only one you ever really loved when it left his lips.

“Can we talk about this when you’re not suffering from an injury? Like, what, two months? When your head is clear, and i’ve had time to get over what you said.. you call me. Then, we can talk about it.” You push his head back onto your shoulder and rest yours against his hair.

“Okay. Two months?” Pedri’s hand that had wrapped around your waist, dips under your shirt, rubbing slow circles. “I can do that.”

Pressing a short kiss to his hair, you hum. “I’ll leave when your mom comes back. Don’t text me or contact me till those two months are up, got it?”

Pedri groaned, “nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any pedri posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to !

[dual1pa]

"you're gonna make me fall in love with you"

steve harrington x reader using she/her pronouns

A/N: ahh the sweet smell of a best friends to lovers fic <3

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY PLEASE !! language, swimming in underwear (both reader & steve) kissing w/ tongue, boob grabbage, missionary position but no smut occurs

(doesn't follow plot of Stranger Things)

She placed her Converse-covered feet on the leather seat of her best friend, Steve Harrington's beat-up Chevy. He received the "piece of shit car," as he would say, from his parents as a graduation present years ago. It was originally his father's work truck, but he no longer needed it.

"At least you have a car, son," he told him.

All her attention was outside of the car as Steve drove them to their favorite spot at the lake. It seemed as if no one knew it existed since there was never a soul in sight, which was great for the two of them to get away from the hustle and bustle of their small town of Hawkins, Indiana.

The scenery of the drive there was something else - especially at sundown after a warm summer day when the sky was filled with yellow, orange, pink, and purple.

As her hair blew from the open window, she hummed along to Tiffany's 'I Think We're Alone Now' as Steve tapped his hands to the beat of the song on the steering wheel.

Steve pulled into a rocky area where he normally parks the car, went to grab a blanket out of the trunk, and led her to their favorite spot.

Normally, they didn't swim in the water, just lay on the fuzzy blanket, listened to the water and their favorite tunes from Steve’s portable radio, and stared up at the stars.

She and Seve have been friends since middle school, yes, even though his King Steve era where he thought he was better than everyone.

The two of them rarely had fights, and when they did, they quickly made up and went out to get ice cream or head to their favorite spot on the lake.

They found their spot on accident after participating in an extra credit assignment for Ms. Taylor's science class - since the both of them were failing at the time.

Now, a year later, they considered the spot theirs.

Just like usual, empty.

Steve tried his best to lay the teal blanket down flat, but the grass made it difficult.

She laid down first, then Steve. He watched her figure out her next thought as she stared up into the cloudless sky.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, resting his body on his arm.

She turned her head to lock eyes with him and smiled, "I kinda wanna go swimming."

"I didn't bring a swimsuit," Steve sighed.

She chuckled, "Neither did I," quickly getting up and stripping off her T-shirt and jean shorts, leaving her in a bra and underwear.

Steve had seen her change a dozen times and she could care less as she had no shame about her body.

Without waiting for her friend, she ran into the cold but refreshing water. She dove under the small waves and resurfaced to find steve shoving his pants off, leaving him in plaid boxers.

Once he caught up to her, they enjoyed the water for a while longer then went to air dry on the blanket.

Steve reached for the radio to find a station playing a song they both liked. as if it was fate, one of their favorites played softly through the speaker.

He got up and started dancing and singing the lyrics, urging her to come join him on the imaginary dance floor.

She grabbed his hand to help her off the cozy blanket, grabbed her waist and started swaying back and forth. If she was honest with herself, she could picture a life with Steve.

She could imagine traveling with Steve, purchasing a home with him in the suburbs.

She pictured buying a cute little 3 bedroom home in the Indiana suburbs - definitely away from Hawkins. She pictured the bright green grass and being surrounded by nice neighbors and even getting a pet.

She pictured starting a family with him, though, she would never tell him that, unless the time was right.

Back in the moment, she couldn’t stop laughing at Steve’s horrible singing.

“stop it,” she leaned her head back and let out a loud laugh

“stop what? singing?” he didn’t listen and kept singing along.

“you’re gonna make me fall in love with you if you keep singing like that,” she smiled.

Steve blushed, “we’re literally slow dancing in our underwear, i hope you know that i’m already in love with you.”

That’s all she ever wanted to hear from her best friend, “i’m in love with you.”

He wasted no time to press his lips to hers. they were just how she imagined he would taste: a mix of mint toothpaste and the coffee he drinks daily.

she reached her hands up to comb through his damp brunette hair and moaned into his mouth, urging him to shove his tongue in her mouth.

he gripped her waist, then her butt, then her thighs to feel every inch of her, what he wanted to do for years.

the two laid back down on the blanket and continued their assault on each other. he fit right between her legs, but knew that she didn’t want their first time to be on the muddy ground.

to take a breath from their make out session, he rested his forehead on hers and smiled.

“can i call you mine? all mine?” he asked, placing a piece of hair behind her ear.

“that’s all i’ve wanted, steve harrington.”

he reached up to grab at her breast but she stopped before she got too turned on.

“as much as i want to, take me back to your place and take me in your bed?” she said, kissing his neck and down to his chest.

she’s never seen him pack up so quickly.

[loverangels]

stolen goods

pairings: ares!reader x luke castellan

synopsis: luke is a sentimental thief. too bad you also love your belongings. and his.

warnings: not proofread! Don't really like this but I wanted to post something for you guys sooo I hope it's okay! :)

I am not a thief. Is what Luke castellan swears to himself under his breath and in his mind chorusing these words like a religious mantra.

I am not a thief. I am not a thief. I am not a thief.

But how many times could he repeat it before he believed it?

Yes he was Hermes son but only by blood and that didn't mean anything. Right.?

Good intentions. That was the only thing he reassured himself with as his nimble fingers picked another of your possessions.

A coin, a wrapper, a hair tie,- god it could be a dirty napkin and he'd take it.

It's a keepsake. A souvenir. A memoir

Something- anything to remember you by.

And it wasn't like you knew.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

You stomp around your cabin fighting the urge to rip your hair out. You had been searching your room the whole morning in an attempt to find your favourite necklace with no success. It wasnt even as though you'd only searched your room even going to the extent to sneaking into your siblings room. Again no success.

By now your hands were fisted into balls as you travelled around the whole cabin asking your siblings if they'd seen your necklace.

'Clarisse!' you exclaim with your arms crossed face frowning impatient as you waited for your sister to arrive.

Gracefully with time, after a thousand fucking years your sister had arrived her, eyebrows pulled up expectantly.

'yes?' she asked slow and tentatively.

'do you have my things ' you ask rushed and impatient

Clarisse face pulls into an angry glare offended you'd ask such a question.

'No'

You huff 'are you sure?'

'im not a thief but your boyfriend sure is go ask him' clarrise grunts before stomping away.

You fight the flutter in your heart at the thought ,'hes not my boyfriend!' you exclaim after her.

With your hands on your hips, you almost threatened to start crying.

Where was all your things going?

It couldn't possibly be luk-

Could it?

You bite your lip as you mull the thought before brushing the thought away. It couldn't be him-

You'd try anyways. You were desperate.

Leaving the cabin you search around camp for a while before being tipped that Luke was training. Finding him with his sword- training with that awfully beaten up dummy you paused for a moment.

God he was so fucking pretty done.

You watch as his biceps clenched as he swung his sword and the way his shirt lifted up slightly- yes enough to get that delicious view of them gorgeous-

You snap yourself out of whatever kind of daze that was, and call his name out watching how he stops immediately and turns around almost like a dog with his ears perked, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

Stupid beautiful boy.

He drops his sword as you make your way to him, his hands instantly on your hips pulling you flushed up against him as he looks down at you, tucking a strand behind your hair.

'yes sweetheart?' he asks. His voice so so soo sweet.

You mentally curse yourself as you stay at a lost for words before finally regaining your state of mind.

'do you know where my things are?' you ask abruptly watching his face with your makeshift eyes.

He leans his head onto your shoulder trailing his lips until they hover over your ear.

'and why would you think that hm?' he asks smirking to himself.

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow 'because nearly half of my things are missing and now that I think about it they always seem to disappear after we're together'

'smart girl' he hums pulling his face back from your ear as he grins down at you, his thumbs tracing mindless patterns on your hips.

'im waiting for them back castellan' you state firmly, trying to prevent the smile threatening to overcome your face.

His grin drops as he groans throwing his head back 'oh come on! Let a man have at least something of his girl'

'something- yes. not half of my possesions' you tease.

Luke raises an eyebrow 'you're saying that in my shirt.' he deadpans before his eyes flickering down.

'and- hey wait aren't those my sweatpants?' he asks 'i was looking everywhere for those!' he exclaims

You give him a sheepish smile 'maybe you can have some of my things'

He shakes his head pressing a tender kiss to your temple before mumbling 'good, I wasn't planning on giving them back anyways'

'luke!'

[little-diable]

My Greatest Fear - Dean Winchester (smut)

Don't say I didn't warn y'all. Inspired by Benson Boone's new song "My Greatest Fear". Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean broke things off with the reader years ago, the biggest mistake of his life. But when Sam tells his brother that (y/n) is getting married, Dean knows it's time to make things right. He won't leave this life behind without being able to call her his once again.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, ex-lovers to lovers, some angst, lots of fluff tho, reader is a runaway bride

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (3k words)

Got a lot on my mind that keeps me up at night, I’m tossing and turning, thinking that my life’s gone to waste

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Dean shot the waitress a big smile as she placed his breakfast down, blushing as the handsome man winked at her. The older Winchester brother was too focused on his food to pick up on the uneasiness radiating off Sam, to focus on the sadness swimming in his brother’s pupils. 

“Fuck, that’s good.” Dean’s moans rumbled through him as he ate the greasy deliciousness, sipping on his coffee every now and then. It took him a while to lift his gaze, to allow his green eyes to focus on Sam’s untouched breakfast, forcing Dean’s eyebrows to furrow in confusion. “Not hungry? Shouldn’t you eat something after a long run?” 

“Mhm,” Sam’s eyes were focused on the window, unable to look at his brother any longer. His heart clenched in his chest, his mind was racing faster than it had in the past months, struggling to part his lips. 

“Sam,” Dean’s raspy voice forced Sam’s eyes back towards his older brother, unable to hold eye contact for long. “What’s wrong?” 

Dean had put down his breakfast burger while taking another sip of coffee. He patiently waited for Sam to speak, to spill whatever was visibly plaguing him. But Sam kept quiet, deeply inhaling as if he had to muster the strength to speak. Dean repeated his brother’s name, much quieter this time around, gentle almost – as if he had finally realised that whatever Sam was about to speak would hurt them both. 

��I received an email this morning.” It was a whisper, nothing more, words so obscurely simple that Dean couldn’t help but laugh. But Sam didn’t give in, killing Dean’s hope that Sam was simply fucking with him. Something heavy was about to claw through Sam, something heavy that could determine the outcome of this very day. “It was from Mary, (y/n)’s sister.”

Now it was on Dean to freeze, not expecting his brother to speak her name. Their eyes met, urging Sam to keep on speaking, to tell his brother about the email he had opened with shaky fingers, freezing in his step as he read the words she had written to him. 

“(Y/n)’s getting married, Dean.” Sam was forced to watch Dean sink back into the seat, arms crossed in front of his chest, uneasy eyes staring down at the table. And for a moment, neither of them spoke, letting the words sink in – words that had been Dean’s greatest fear ever since he had left her all these years ago. 

He had been stupid back then, too childish for his own good. Guided by his father’s words, he had dropped (y/n) and the life they could have lived together. His father had made pretty promises, telling his young son of women awaiting him, women he shouldn’t miss out on because of a marriage that would only tie him to (y/n), away from all the fun he could experience. The greatest mistake of his life, a mistake he hated himself for every single day. 

“That’s good for her. I’m happy she found somebody who treats her right.” The words pained Dean to speak, rolling off his tongue with a sharp edge that left Sam cringing. His hand found Dean’s forearm, gently squeezing his brother’s arm in a gesture so unfamiliar, Dean had to stop himself from shaking off Sam’s hand. 

“Dean, I’ve always loved her like a sister, I only want what’s best for her. But you’re my brother, I know how much not having her around scars you, I see it every day on your face. Get her back, try it at least.” 

Of all the things that I've been afraid to lose, my greatest fear of all is losing you

……

“I shouldn’t do this.” They were parked in front of the small church, eyes watching the big crowd of unfamiliar faces. Both Dean and Sam were wearing a suit, knowing that they had to blend in with the wedding guests to find their way to (y/n). “Why should she take me back? Why should she even listen to me?”

“Dean, if there is one thing I know it’s that she still loves you. Let’s get your girl back.” Sam was first to step out into the warm morning, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses as they walked up to the crowd. He felt Dean close, not daring to speak up with his choked-up throat, with his heart pounding in his chest, knowing that this would be his only shot to make things right for once in his life. 

“Mary!” Sam’s voice echoed through the air, eyes focused on the frame of (y/n)’s sister. The young woman flung herself into Sam’s open arms, chuckling into his neck as he held her close for a moment. A moment too long for Dean who was growing more antsy with every passing second. 

“Thank you for coming. She’s making a mistake, Sam. You’re my only hope with this.” The words left Dean frozen, confused eyes flickering between his brother and Mary. He hadn’t read the email Mary had sent to Sam, hadn’t asked any further questions about the man (y/n) was about to marry, trusting that he was somebody she loved. “Come, I’ll bring you to her.”

“What the fuck man?” Dean growled the words at Sam as he followed them through the crowd and towards a small house built near the church. Sam fell into pace with his brother, watching Mary lead them towards the place where (y/n) was currently getting ready. 

“Well, you didn’t think I’d let you do this without knowing (y/n) would willingly leave her fiancé, did you? I wouldn’t destroy her happiness just like that, Dean.” Realistically, Dean should have known that Sam wouldn’t just push him into this without knowing that there was a chance to get her back. Sam had hated him for a while after he had left (y/n), punishing Dean for breaking her heart at any given chance, a broken bond that had needed months to be repaired. 

“(Y/n)? I brought two special guests.” Mary’s voice echoed through the small cabin, ringing in the brother’s ears as they waited outside. Dean felt his hands tremble, forced to let go of deep exhales as Mary opened the door for them, allowing them to step inside. His eyes were drawn to (y/n)’s like a moth to a flame, and his world stopped spinning, unable to focus on anything but her.

It took (y/n) a second to react, seemingly confused about the appearance of the two hunters she hadn’t seen in years. She was pulled into a hug by Sam, giving Dean another moment to admire her, the white dress she wore – a sight he had only seen in his dreams, imagining this very day, with him waiting at the altar for her. Dreams that had evaporated into a hazy nothingness the day he had left her. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” She sank into Dean’s grasp, clinging to him as if he hadn’t been the man who had broken her heart all these years ago. He watched his brother and Mary leave the cabin, giving the two some time alone as they kept on holding one another. 

“What are you doing here, Dean?” (Y/n) mumbled the words against the fabric of his suit jacket, not caring about smudging her make-up, not caring about anything but the way Dean held her close – as if he hadn’t ever stopped holding her. Carefully, Dean let her go, needing to give them some distance for the words he was about to speak, knowing that this could escalate any moment now. 

“I can’t let you marry another man without telling you that leaving you was my greatest mistake. A life without you has always been my biggest fear, I was stupid, so fucking stupid, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have listened to Dad, I should have married you right that day. And I hate myself for not doing it, for letting you go when you have always been my whole world. I know there is no chance for me to make things right, and even though Sammy and Mary hope that I will sweep you off of your feet and bring you back home to us, I know I can’t.” Tears dripped from her eyes, tears (y/n) didn’t care to wipe away. 

“I hated you for years, you broke me, Dean. You took away my life, my friends, the people I had grown to love. You ripped my heart right out of my chest, and even though I tried to fight for it, to regain its strength, I miserably failed. I should curse you, should tell you to fuck off and never show your face to me again. But I can’t. For Christ’s sake, Dean. What are we doing here?” He cupped her face with shaking fingers, letting his forest-green eyes run over her gorgeous face. 

“I want to kill him for getting a chance to love you, time that has been wasted because of me. But I don’t want to take another choice from you. If you want to marry him, I will watch from the first row, hell, I’ll even carry your veil.” His voice shook as he whispered the words, growing tense as (y/n) rested her hands on top of his, still cupping her cheeks.

“And if I don’t want to marry him?” 

……

I'm scared to take another picture of you, 'cause I'm scared to have another thing that I can lose, oh, dear, who am I without you here?

“I thought you were taking me home, where are we going?” Her laughter echoed through Baby, eyes set on Dean’s grinning features. They had left the church a while ago, running away like she had secretly hoped they would. (Y/n) had always been a dreamer, a dreamer who had pictured that very moment since the day it had dawned on her – about to marry a man she didn’t love. A man who wasn’t Dean Winchester. 

“We’ve got another thing to take care of first, I am not losing any more time.” Baby screeched to a halt in front of a pink church, a sight that left (y/n) confused, and Dean and Sam chuckling. They made their way into the church, with her fingers interlaced with Dean’s, with her white wedding gown clinging to her frame, with his suit hugging his frame. 

“Dean, Sam, I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you two around here!” An elderly man greeted them with a big smile. His brown eyes were drawn to (y/n)’s almost instantly, with a knowing smile growing on his lips – a smile that had an almost proud touch to it. “That’s her, huh? Took you quite some time, didn’t it.” “(Y/n), that’s Danny, an old friend of ours we met on a hunt. He could wed us, with Sammy as our witness, if you’ll have me.” Her heart had stopped beating, skipping a few beats as Dean’s words sank in. Her teary eyes found his and with a laugh clawing through her, she pressed a kiss to his lips, drawing a groan out of Dean, who tried to prolong the kiss for as long as possible. 

“I will always have you, Dean.” She was pulled towards the altar, unable to stop her tears from dripping as Danny began speaking a prayer she paid no attention to. All (y/n) could do was study Dean, the love swimming in his pupils, the way he looked at her as if she was his sun, alighting the darkest days with her mere presence. A soul crafted for his to hold onto, to love till their time together would eventually run out. 

“Do you have any rings?” Danny’s soft voice ripped (y/n) out of her thoughts, about to whisper a soft, disappointed “No”, but before she could even part her lips, Sam excitedly spoke up. Her eyes watched the tall Winchester brother, how he reached for his breast pocket to expose a small envelope to her glassy eyes. Wordlessly he pushed it towards Dean, who opened it with an unwavering smile stuck to his lips. 

“I bought these rings years ago, sure to eventually push yours down on your finger. I am sorry it took me this long.” Her sob left Dean chuckling, exposing his also teary eyes to hers. She had held onto all these longings for years, mere dreams that were now finally turning real – as if she was just sleeping through another longing. 

But, you're here, now, and that makes it better, somehow

……

“Let me.” Dean’s soft voice filled his bedroom. He was standing behind (y/n), carefully helping her out of her wedding dress with his gaze focused on the ring clinging to his finger. The past hours had flown by all too quickly, turning her from a runaway bride into his wife. His wife. A title so unfamiliar, Dean had to fight against the urge to pinch himself.

His for eternity. His to love. His to worship. 

“I love you, Dean.” (Y/n) whispered her words as she stepped out of her dress, exposing her underwear-clad frame to his hungry eyes. She was pulled into a teeth-chasing kiss, a kiss dripping with emotions that made her feel all too dizzy, having to hold onto Dean before she could be ripped into another dimension. 

“I love you too, sweetheart. And I’m so fucking sorry for missing out on this for years.” He pressed her down on the mattress, giving her a show as he slowly undressed. Her body was aching for him, needing to feel Dean close after all these long years apart. 

“Stop apologising with words and show me that you truly mean them.” His lips kissed her chest, the valley between her breasts as he undid her bra, exposing her hardening nipples to his twinkling eyes. Dean could cum just from the sight of her naked frame, a sight he had only seen in his dreams for the past years, not daring to imagine being this fortunate again. 

“God, you’re so beautiful. I promise to worship you for as long as you want me to.” Dean’s raspy words vibrated on her skin, covering her body with goosebumps as he kneaded her soft flesh. His cock was pressed against her clothed heat, drawing moans from her whenever he moved against her heat, desperate for the kind of friction that left them both trembling.

“I need you inside of me, Dean.” Her raspy whispers left him groaning against her skin as she raised her hips to help him pull her damp panties down her legs. Just this morning, (y/n) had imagined this very moment, knowing that she’d think of Dean when her husband touched her, a loveless marriage she would have been trapped in. 

“Are you still on birth control?” (Y/n) could only nod her head, mind taken up by the feeling of his wandering hands, keeping her pressed against him. Dean's cock twitched against her naked cunt, brushing through her arousal-covered folds to coat himself, “I love you, and I’ll do my best to prove it to you for the rest of our lives.”

“I love you too, Dean.” He pushed into her with a groan, forehead falling against hers as she fluttered around him. It felt as if he had entered paradise, falling to rest on clouds covering his body. She was his Elysium, his safe haven, the one where Dean could be the truest version of himself. 

He moved slowly at first, both needed some time to adjust to one another after all these years, but the second their bodies relaxed, properly enjoying one another’s closeness, Dean began to move faster. Their bodies met with every thrust, eyes holding a contact so intense, (y/n) feared her heart would explode right in her chest. 

Dean was taking his time with her, this wasn’t a rushed fuck to make up for all the time lost, no, it was so much more. This was the purest form of love, a one-of-a-kind love both had clung to in lonely nights, with wandering minds and trembling hands. This is what they had been destined to have, years ago – a love they were now rediscovering. 

“You feel so good, baby.” He felt her clenching around his cock, drawing another gritty sound out of Dean. (Y/n) was long gone, pushed into another dimension where she only knew Dean, nothing but his love, his touch, his irrevocable longing for her. Sensations she was taken hostage by, unable to shake them. 

His warm fingertips found her pulsing bundle, circling it with just enough pressure to draw his name out of her. (Y/n) could feel her orgasm slithering its way up her body, whispering to her to hold onto her husband, and with her fingernails clawed into Dean’s shoulders, she came. He followed her right down the edge, moaning against her lips as their bodies were moulded together. 

“Fuck, we’ll have to do that all through the night, husband.” (Y/n) whispered the words as a few heavy pants left her, making a laugh claw out of Dean who chased her slightly swollen lips for another kiss. 

“Trust me, I won’t let you leave our bed for weeks, wife.” 

Don't know how the broken pieces fit together if you leave it, so, don't go, don't go, I would take your hand if I could reach it

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Two - Empty drawing rooms

♡♡♡

Your mother does not keep her thoughts to herself about what dancing with Benedict Bridgerton may have done for you. All evening, even after you are home, she continues on and on about the thought of having callers come morning.

You sleep easy that night. You do not think one dance with a man, you will be unlikely ever to cross paths again with, will affect your prospects all that much.

You're woken by the violent pulling of your curtains. Light floods into your room and cascades across your bed. You sigh softly as you force your eyes open and push yourself up into a sitting position.

"Get up! We must get you dressed and ready!" Your mother eagerly exclaims.

You're forced from your bed and urged into the tub. You're scrubbed raw from head to toe. Your hair is brushed surely a hundred times. You dress, and your mother chooses a necklace to compliment your gown.

Before you know it, you're sitting in the drawing room with her. Your mother has tea and biscuits made.

The drawing room is quiet.

Occasionally, a carriage is heard passing the house. Sometimes you hear the footsteps of staff coming and going outside the door. Not a single sound of knocking is heard.

Your mother becomes restless as the hours pass. "I was certain Mr Bridgerton dancing with you would garner some attention."

"Mother, it was one dance. Anyway, people had their eyes on his sister. No one was looking at us. He barely spoke to me." You tell her, picking up a book you had placed on the table earlier that morning.

"Still, that family is well known and wealthy too. People should always be watching those lf well breeding." She sighs.

You dare not comment further and focus on your book. You've read two chapters before your mother calls it quits and leaves. You close the book and sigh again.

♡♡♡

Daphne Bridgerton had received no callers. The fault did not lie with her for she was perfect in every way. The fault lay with her eldest brother.

Anthony had a habit of scaring everyone off. He had every excuse under the sun as to why no one was suitable for his sister. While his mother wished love for her children I their marriages, Anthony saw more as finding someone merely suitable.

Daphne was disappointed at her lack of visitors. Each day that passed without a caller, her spirit began to dwindle.

She received only one caller. Lord Berbrooke. He was the last person she had hoped to see.

While Violet had been quite busy keeping her daughter company during the passing days, she still found time to corner Benedict.

Colin was paying a visit to the Featherington family to call upon Miss Thompson. Benedict was not calling upon anyone, and Violet hoped the young lady he had danced with could have been an option.

"Benedict."

The second eldest son jumped out of his skin at the sudden appearance of his mother in the doorway.

"Mother."

Benedict had spent most of the day sketching in his book. He loved drawing, painting, and doodling. Art was his passion. He hoped one day to be good enough to have his work up in galleries.

"Have you paid any visits yet?" Violet asks, pretending to be interested in the decor of the room as she comes closer to where her son lounges.

Benedict stills his hand and glances up at her. "I have not."

Violet looks disappointed. "What about that lovely young lady you danced with?"

"Hm? Oh. I don't even remember her name."

That was a lie. He did remember your name. He just didn't want give his mother false hope. Benedict had no intention of seeking out a wife right now.

"Benedict," she sighs. "I do wish you would try."

"How is Daphne doing?" He asks, immediately shooting down any chance of his mother's interrogation.

"Not so well. Anthony is riding with her in the park. Your brother is... making things quite difficult." Violet feels for her daughter. She juat wants Daphne to be happy. She wants all her children to be happy.

"Yes. Anthony can be overbearing." Benedict resumes his sketch.

Violet knew she would get nothing else out of her son and left quietly. Benedict stopped sketching when she left the room and glanced at the door. He sighs softly to himself.

One day, yes, he'll find a wife. Just not yet.

♡♡♡

Lady Whistledown had made several comments about Daphne Bridgerton's lack of callers. You could only wonder how she was feeling at this time.

Every morning, your mother brought you into the drawing room, and you would wait several hours, but no one came to see you.

While your mother moaned about how the gentlemen lf the ton didn't have an eye at all, she particularly felt disappointed about the fact Benedict Bridgerton himself didn't even come to call. You had told her many times over the last week that the dance wasn't really anything.

He simply used you as an opportunity to avoid his mother, and you knew it.

Deciding to push every Bridgerton from your mind, you decided to focus on yourself. Another ball would mean another chance. There would be plenty of people to dance with there. You shall make sure to introduce yourself, unlike last time.

The opera. That came first. You were attending with your mother. As you were making your way toward your seats, you caught sight of Violet Bridgerton with her daughter Daphne. You didn't have to look far to spot Anthony and Benedict.

Your mind shifts slightly to the moment when you had bumped into the eldest son. The weight of his body colliding with yours, almost sending to the ground. However, his warm hands were quick to steady you.

You shake him from your mind as you find your seat.

Benedict had been speaking his brother when he caught sight of something in the corner of his eye. He looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of you sitting down. He turns his attention back to his brother.

If his mother caught him, he would never hear the end of it. Even if there was nothing to discuss. You were a perfect stranger to him.

You spend the whole show with your eyes on the stage. When it's over, you rise with your mother and exit into the lobby. Your mother gets caught up in conversation with some of the other mama's, and you find yourself waiting by the door alone. Your eyes scan the crowds of people heading home for the evening.

Benedict is walking with his brother when he spots you by the door. He can't help thinking you look a little cold standing there. The door was open to allow people to leave with ease.

"Hello again." He finds himself stopping I front of you. Anthony either doesn't notice or doesn't care that he is no longer being followed by his brother.

You turn your head and find yourself staring at the second Bridgerton.

"Hello."

Silence settles between you as he stands there and looks at you. You're once again faced with a slightly awkward pause as you have no idea what to say to him. Last time, he was distracted by keeping his mother at bay. This time, it seems he simply has no idea what to say to you either.

"Are you well?" He asks.

You are almost startled by the sound of his voice, half expecting him to just leave after a while.

"Yes. Quite well, thank you."

Benedict takes note of how you pull your shawl around you tighter. The breeze from the door is clearly bothering you.

"Are you waiting for someone?" He asks.

"My Mama. She is busy gossiping, I assume." You move your gaze over to where she stands, talking to a little group of other mothers.

Benedict glances that way and chuckles slightly. "Ah. Why don't you wait over on that bench? You'll be warmer there." He gestures to the velvet cushioned seat behind you. You find yourself drifting that way with him.

"I believe your brother has departed." You say, sitting down. Benedict takes a seat too.

"Yes. Though Mother and Daphne are still here, I shall return with them." He looks over to where his mother speaks with Lady Danbury.

Soon enough, his attention is back on you, though. "Did you enjoy the ball the other night?" He asks.

You look at him. "It was alright. The first one is always strange."

"Yes. I suppose it can be. Lots of new faces."

You understood that he was possibly referring to the fact that neither of you had seen each other before, despite your knowing of his family.

"Yes."

"How many names did you get on your card?"

"Just one," you confess. It was true that his name was the only one. You danced with no other that night, for no one spared you a glance. Not that you planned on telling him that.

"I was the only one?"

You turn toward the lobby to avoid his gaze. Benedict understands enough. He is surprised by this information.

"I do not recall you being there the day the debutantes were presented to the Queen." He tries changing the topic. He wants to know you a bit better.

"I wasn't in London. I arrived the day after."

He looks at you quietly for a moment. There is something so calming about your presence.

"How is your sister doing?" You ask, spotting Daphne trying to avoid a certain lord.

"She has only had one caller so far." Benedict points out.

"Oh. Surprising. I was sure she would be swarmed with suitors." You glance back toward her. She looks a little down.

"She'll be fine, I'm sure." Benedict turns back to you. "I'm sorry about the ball. I wasn't a very good partner. Too distracted."

You return your attention back to him. "Yes. I was aware."

"Perhaps I can make it up to you at the next one?" He asks.

"It's alright. You don't need to." You offer him a smile.

"Nonsense. I'm a gentleman." He smiles back.

Before either of you can say any more, Violet comes over with Daphne in tow. You both look up to see the Dowager Viscountess smiling at you both.

"Benedict, we are leaving." She speaks softly.

Benedict glances at you and then stands slowly. He offers you his hand. You take it and stand with him.

"Mother. Daphne." He nods.

"Who is this?" Violet asks, looking at you. She gives off a warm and calming aura. Yet, she looks quite excitable right about now.

Benedict speaks your name. "I was keeping the young lady company while she waited for her mother."

Violet hadn't once taken her eyes off of you. Daphne looked up at her brother, who just shook his head at her. He knew what they were thinking. He was going to hear about this all night now.

"You must come to dinner," Violet insists.

You all look at her.

"Mofher." Benedict sighs.

Daphne smiles and steps forward. "Really, you must."

You look at Daphne and feel comfort. Perhaps she is looking for a friend too.

"Name the day," you say, turning to Violet.

Benedict looks at his mother with faux disdain. He knows what game she is playing. His mother was not subtle in her matchmaking attempts.

"Splended. I shall send an invite very soon."

Much to the ignorance of her children, she had already made plans with Lady Danbury to invite the Duke for dinner so he may get to know Daphne. They would make a handsome couple, she thinks. Why not offer the same opportunity to her son and his new friend?

Violet was so looking forward to this.

Benedict bids you goodnight and offers Daphne his arm. She takes it and bids you farewell too. Violet smiles at you and takes her leave, following her children outside.

Only then does your mother come over. "What was that just now?" She asks. The same light in her eyes had been in Violet's.

"Nothing, Mama."

She doesn't believe you. She traps your arm with hers and guides you out to the carriages.

"That Bridgerton boy, he was the one who danced with you at the ball, yes?" She smiles.

"Benedict Bridgerton. Yes."

"Perhaps you have an admirer!" She says with glee.

"Not st all, mother. He was merely being polite."

She brushes off your words and continues to go down a spiral of why he is taken with you and will wish to court you soon. You sense no such feelings from the man. There is no reason one cannot become acquainted with others without feelings being involved.

You would accept the dinner invitation purely out of curious interest of his family. The Bridgerton's certainly seem like interesting people to know.

♡♡♡

Benedict is sketching in his room when his mother comes in. They had been home merely an hour after the opera. She clutches a letter in her hand as she comes over to him.

"How does this sound?" She holds out the letter to him. Benedict sighs and takes it, skimming the words.

Its addressed to you.

'You are invited to our home this Friday evening for dinner. Be here for 6 and stay as long as you like.

Lady V.Bridgerton.'

"Sounds fine." He hands the letter back. Benedict returns to his sketch.

Violet looks at him. "She's a find lady."

"Hm." Benedict pays her little mind.

Violet looks defeated. It would seem Benedict really has no interest in you. Still, she would welcome you into her home for the evening.

When she leaves, Benedict looks up again. He stares at the door.

He simply has no interest in courting. Not yet.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertons - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived -

[gremlin-girly]

Can I request for your 20s questions challenge

Steve Rogers + "What are we going to tell the others?" + Arrange marriage

Thank you 🥰❤️

A/N: Thank you so much for this ask 🥺 it actually reminded me of a wip I had ages ago and so I've finally put it together. Sorry it took so long! Enjoy ❤️

Arranged

Pairing: Steve Rogers x f!reader

Trope: Arranged marriage

Quote: "what are we going to tell the others?"

Not beta'd. All my work is 18+ and I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through AI.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, Royal/Bridgeton-esque AU, arranged marriage,

Masterlist | Steve Rogers Collection | 20s Challenge | 20s Masterlist

Steven Grant Rogers, crown prince of Angeion, never had much luck with women. It wasn't for lack of trying on his part but, when stood next to his knight Bucky, Steven couldn't catch a maiden's glance even if he was king.

He'd courted, of course, that was expected when he became old enough. However, the only women he seemed to court either had more interest in Bucky (giggling and paying no attention to Steve, trying to catch Bucky's eye) or were quite clearly interested in the status and wealth that came with being a potential future queen.

After numerous failed courtships (that were beginning to gain negative attention), Steve's mother, the Queen Regent, had announced that she would make a match on Steve's behalf.

"Mother," Steve pleaded in a hushed voice as they walked through the gardens. "I can pick my own wife. I've just not found the right one."

"Good thing I have found her for you," Queen Sarah chuckles and pats her son's arm lovingly. "I'm sorry Steven but there are sacrifices we must make. You'll understand when you're king."

Steve puffs his cheeks in a pout and narrows his eyes, half playful - half annoyed. "Whatever happened to true love?"

The Queen snorts. "Whatever happened to it indeed."

"Bucky suggested that I go with him on a training trip." Steve says, quickly changing the topic. "A year or two to study the art of war, fighting and whatever else that princes study. A king must know how to win a war."

The Queen narrows her eyes at her son skeptically, taking in his thin body as he disguises a cough in his hand. With a withering sigh she concedes, before shooting a glare to Bucky who walks a few feet behind them. Bucky grins and waves, making Sarah roll her eyes.

"Very well." She nods. "But only a year, Steven. Then you need to marry."

It turns out that a year is not very long.

When Steve returned to his home many, especially the ladies, we're surprised to find that scrawny Steve Rogers had transformed into one of the most handsome suitors in the country. He'd had a growth spurt and was now a good few inches taller, chest and shoulders broader, and his hair had been styled perfectly (despite him urging that he hadn't touched it).

Rumours spread that Steve had gone away to make a deal with a devil or pay for a potion; not that it mattered to the ladies of the court. A single, handsome prince was in the market for a wife and, even though a year ago no woman would look at him twice, Steve now had a presence of confidence that he hadn't exuded before. This meant, rather irritatingly for Bucky, Steve was gaped, gawped and gawked at everywhere he went more than before and was often surrounded by women.

Today was no different and as Steve spotted a gaggle of ladies coming to follow him like a mother duck he took off down a side street, leaving Bucky to be almost trapped by the squad of women with their shoes clicking against the cobblestones.

Steve took a sharp right, pleasantly smug that he was faster than before, and came to a dead end. He could hear the ladies calling for him and in a blind panic, scrambled up the wall in front of him, half throwing himself over the edge and onto the hard lawn six feet below with a thud.

It wasn't everyday that a prince fell into your garden.

You pause to watch him roll upright, your paint brush dripping small explosions of pink water colour against your gown. He jumps to his feet, head whipping back and forth like a frightened cat. The whoops and squeals of ladies died to questioning huh? 's over the other side of the wall and you see the prince's stiff shoulders relax slightly.

When he turns, brushing some leaves and petals that had stuck to him from his clothes, he spots you. You go to open your mouth but he frantically waves at you, pressing his finger to his lips as he approaches.

"Please don't scream." He pleads quietly, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm trying to escape them."

You glance at the wall with a smirk, hearing one of the ladies take charge and urging the others to split up and look for one Prince Steven. You look back to your stranger, his blue eyes bright and begging for your mercy, as you smile softly and shuffle up in your seat to make a space for him.

"I only have one cup of cold tea." You tell him, leaning forward to add a gently stroke to your painting. "And so long as your quiet, I wouldn't mind your company."

Steven nods and slips in beside you, keeping a gentlemanly distance between you. He sighs in relief when there's a flurry of footsteps away from the wall, and focuses his attention to your painting.

Hues of pink, purple and green are scattered in bursts of colour across the canvas, the image of a bright hydrangea bush becomes clear.

"It's beautiful." Steve says enthusiastically as you're mid-brush. "Did you paint this yourself?"

You stop and look at him with a raised brow and Steve feels himself flush with embarassment at his own stupidity. If it weren't for the fact that you were painting on the canvas, the other clues such as your paint-stained fingers and the smudges of green on your cheek should have been a dead giveaway.

But instead of ignoring his stupidity, you snort at him and continue painting.

"Perhaps there's a ghost in the garden, Prince Rogers." You tease gently, dipping your brush into the murky water of a mason jar besides your paint. "Possessing me to paint on this spectacularly convient canvas I've only just noticed."

"You know me?" Steve asks, before internally cursing his own stupidity again. Of course you knew who he was. He was the prince of the country.

"I know your name." You say, mixing your brush in two shades of green and stamping them to the canvas. Steve watches as you create leaves with such ease, mesmerised by your talent. "I do not know you. Not anymore."

Steve ponders your words for a moment, his heart stirring in his chest. "Not anymore?"

You sigh through your nose and look over to him, dropping your hands into your lap. "I remember you before this." You gesture vaguely to his form. "The sweet young man who drew so beautifully."

Steve blinked. No one had ever really paid attention to who he was before. Or so he thought.

"Right." Steve clicks his tongue thoughtfully. "Well, I'm different now. I'm-"

Steve is to attempt to think of a better descriptor of whom he had become, even though he felt like he hadn't changed at all, before you cut him off.

"Oh? That's a shame."

Then you go back to your paints.

Steve blinks, dumbfounded. He'd grown taller, had more muscle, he could grow a beard now and now that all the ladies swooned over him like they had for Bucky, he found himself drawn to the only one that seemed indifferent to his new look.

"I'm not that different." Steve argues half-heartedly. "I mean, I look different and I've been away learning and training. But I'm still-"

He catches you trying not to smile as you paint and his heart leaps excitedly.

"I'm still me." He finishes a little more confidently, sitting a little straighter.

"I'm pleased to hear it." Your voice is soft, pleasant, and Steve can hear the sincerity of your words in your tone.

Your eyes flicker to his and Steve's head swims, his breath catching as he tries in vain to come up with something smart to say. Something witty to make you laugh.

"So," he begins awkwardly. "Painting."

"Painting." You repeat back to him with a grin, deepening the colour of your hydrangea petals. "What about it, my prince?"

Steve blushes. "Do you paint only flowers?"

"Flowers mostly. I'm not very good at portraits." You say, cleaning your brush.

"And only watercolours?" Steve presses, enthused. "I could never get the water and paint ratio quite right."

"I prefer watercolour." You admit setting your brush on the easel and wiping your hands in a colourfully stained rag. "I would be happy to show you some time - if you show me your drawings."

"Sounds like a fair trade, my lady."

You try not to shiver as a wave of excitement rolls over you but as you turn to face Steve, he snorts.

Your brows furrow for a second before embarrassment heats your cheeks as you realise with a sinking feeling, that you've rubbed paint on your face.

"May I?" Steve asks, dipping his pristine white cuff into your dirty paint water and holding it up to you in offering. You nod shyly, allowing the prince to wipe away your paint.

His touch is gentle but it's gone too soon. You realise you've had your eyes closed throughout the sweet gesture and when you open them you find Steve's eyes looking directly back at you.

"I have an appointment to keep." You squeak out, jumping to your feet and almost knocking over your easel. Steve follows suit.

"Let me escort you back."

As you walk together, you're oddly close. Steve apologises profusely about landing in your garden and you point out all of the flowers ypu have already painted. Conversation flows easily, and is pleasant, the air is light with polite excitement that you know you aren't the only one feeling. By the time you reach the reception room (your head maid giving you an odd look at the random apparition of the Prince), you're already nostalgic about your conversations.

Steve stops mid-reach for the door handle to the foyer and turns to you. "Can I be forward?"

"If falling into my garden wasn't forward enough, then by all means your highness." You smirk at him, and Steve almost crumbles at the sight.

"I've never... You are..." He takes a breath and steels his nerves. "I would like to court you. Officially. I've never met anyone quite like you before."

"Aren't you engaged?" You ask, raising an eyebrow. Steve can't quite place your tone, but it's somewhere between curious and amused. "What are we going to tell the others?"

"That it is the will of the future king that I want to get to know you and not some random woman who my mother picked for me." Steve huffs. "That is, if you would like that to be my will?"

Even though you don't answer immediately, there is an unmistakable glimmer in your eyes that tells Steve your answer.

"I think I would, your highness." You bow your head slightly

"Just Steve." He insists. "Call me Steve."

The door suddenly swings inwards, almost knocking Steve in the back of the head and he tumbles forwards managing (just barely) to catch himself before barrelling into you.

"Steven?" Queen Sarah gasps as she enters the room. Servants trail behind her; your lady-in-waiting looking particularly rattled by the Queen's sudden appearance and mouthing a "Sorry ma'am" to you.

"Mother?"

"Your majesty." You curtsey low and bow your head, but when you rise you're smiling at the Queen. "I hope I didn't keep you too long. Steven walked the garden with me after falling into it."

Steve looks between you and his mother incredulously. "Why didn't you say you were meeting my mother?"

"Would you have stayed for as long as you did?" You counter and Steve's cheeks grow pink.

"I trust my son behaved himself?" The Queen asks, ignoring her son.

"Of course, your majesty. He was a gentleman." You nod approvingly. "Just as you said."

"I'm glad that spending all that time with Bucky didn't rub off on him." The Queen replies, narrowing her eyes at Steve, who smiles sheepishly. "I do suppose that makes me the first to congratulate you on your engagement?"

"I - wait - mother. I need to speak with you. About my engagement." Steve's spine almost turns to jelly under his mother's glare but he swallows his nerves and clammers on. "I cannot marry whomever you've picked. I'm sure she's lovely but I would like to court Lady Y/L/N."

The Queen looks at her son, blinking in bewilderment, before looking at you and then to him again. "What?"

"I would like-"

"No." The Queen holds up her hand to silence Steve and he catches you stifling a laugh out of the corner of his eye. "By all means court her all you want - she is your fiancée."

Now Steve blinks at you with bewilderment, mimicking his mother's expression to a T. Slowly, his lips begin to twitch upwards and his excitable gleam returns to his azure eyes.

"Now, why didn't you tell me that?"

"I didn't think it was in your best interest, your highness." You say simply, looking a little too smug about the situation. "You had just launched yourself over my garden wall to escape many ladies vying for your attention. I doubted the last thing you needed was another claiming to be your fiancée."

Steve scratches the back of his head a little sheepishly. "Yes. I may have found that to be a bit much."

Steve grins over at you, beaming brightly and you try to keep you're lady-like composure but there's a heat creeping up your neck that you can't stop and have to glance away, biting back an equally excitable grin.

The Queen looks between you both with a pleased smile, waving her hands dismissively and turning on her heel followed closesly by her ladies-in-waiting. "I suppose my job here is done. Enjoy your afternoon."

Steve bows his head at his mother's back respectfully before offering his hand out to you. "I believe you have some tea that's getting cold."

You place your hand into his and smile at him. "At least I can offer you a cup this time."

End

TAGLIST

Add yourself here

@stargazingfangirl18 @irishhappiness @awkwardgiraffe726 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @cieraboobear @pandaxnienke @norseloki26 @xamapolax @looking1016 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @peaches1958

[starry-eyedblog]

Could you do one with either Simon and/or Price teach soap how to properly pleasure fem reader?

uhm yes the fuck i can, that's so hot please i need to be put in my cage to calm down(@~@)

warnings/tags: johnny x fem reader, simon x johnny x price, smut, degradation, dub con, oral (eating out), hair pulling, bad sex?? lol

johnny is someone who has all the right intentions; eager to please, sexually playful and always down for most things. he has the right idea, but no proper training.

that's where his superiors come in though, happy to help their sergeant learn and grow as a man. johnny had complained, well more like whinged to simon one drunken night about how about he'd never had a lass come around his cock and how no women let him eat them out for more than 5 minutes. he just didn't know what he was doing wrong!

simon had told price over a drink one late night, how they ought to show johnny the ropes and the captain agreed. so here they all were now, in a cheap hotel with you as the willing subject. you had recently met johnny on a night out and exchanged numbers, eager for a hook up. you didn't expect your first time with the cocky scot to be with two other men though.

you hesitantly agreed upon getting a glimpse of said two men, both standing tall and proud. it left you wondering if it was going to turn into a foursome but then the man in the ghost balaclava told you they were only there to make the experience more enjoyable. it didn't do much to calm you.

as of now though, you were laying on your back mostly bare, save for the pretty bra you picked out for tonight when you first got the text from johnny, who currently had his head between your thighs, licking and nibbling at what he thought was your clit.

spoiler alert, it wasn't.

you heard the bearded man speak up, tutting loudly before sauntering over to the two of you. he yanked johnny back by the hair, looking down at him and you felt your cunt drip at the display. "c'mon boy, you can do better than that eh? seriously, she's not making a peep." he grumbled, and johnny eagerly nodded.

"sorry cap," he ushered out before whining as his face was shoved back into your cunt, price keeping his head down.

"less talk, put that tongue to better use." he ordered, watching johnny intently. you continued to watch on, propped up on your elbows as johnny hooked his arms around your thighs. you let out a soft sigh as you felt johnny finally latch onto your clit. it was starting to feel good, enjoyable even.

"old man had to show me once too, it's alright johnny." simon utters out from the corner of the bed, his beady eyes watching johnny moan into your pussy.

"there you go son, that's it drag your tongue down 'er cunt. just like that." price groans, guiding johnny's head down until his tongue is sinking into your hole.

you whimper and whine as johnny finally finds all the correct spots for you. your hips buck several times, and your cunt gushes around his thick tongue. just as you're about to come, legs twitching and hands grabbing at the sheets, his warm mouth is pulled off of you.

a soft cry leaves you, your eyes fluttering open as you pout up at the scot who's face is drenched in your juices. "leave 'er wanting more, begging for your cock." price lectures his sergeant, combing his hand through his mohawk before condescendingly patting his face to urge him to get up.

johnny scrambles up onto his knees, grabbing a condom that he rips open and pulls down over his leaking cock. he looks down at you, grinning manically almost. before he can slip his cock inside, his hips are grabbed and held in place from the back by simon who looms over him at the edge of the bed. thick fingers bite into tough skin and muscle that has the scot groaning in pain.

price silently stalks around the corner of the bed, standing in johnny's line of vision with a cigar in his hand, ready to be lit. "ask before you slide into her. manners johnny, you seriously can't be this pussydrunk already." price tsks disappointedly, "fuckin' pathetic." he adds under his breath.

"ca-can i fuck ye now? please, need tae feel ye hen." johnny pants, looking back down at you and you nod softly. "yes yes please, put it in johnny." you whimper gently, watching as simon's hands guide johnny inside before pulling away so they can watch their sergeant and figure out why he's so bad.

as price lights his cigar, taking a deep inhale of the heavy smoke, simon comes to join him, heavy arms crossed over his chest. "you weren't as bad as him son, christ." the older huffs and simon dryly chuckles, watching the way johnny pistons his cock in and out of your cunt.

it's almost painful to watch, how bored and disinterested you look underneath johnny. he's mindless like a dog, only chasing his own pleasure with the way he pants and groans from how good you feel wrapped around him. he does lean down to suck and bite at your neck though, almost drooling into the crook of your shoulder when his body becomes overwhelmed with the pleasure he's receiving.

it isn't long until he's pulled off of you with a rough hand, his cock sliding out from the tight wet heat of your cunt. he whines and scrambles, desperate to get back in but simon is having none of it. he holds him back, forcing him to stay put on his knees.

"it's no wonder no one's came around your prick, boy." price tuts, exhaling a big cloud of smoke that dances and swirls up into the air. you follow it with your eyes, unable to stop your mind racing about just how weird this whole situation.

"you're fuckin her like a mindless dog. not doing anythin' to make the experience more enjoyable for her." he lectures, watching the way johnny's face flushes in humiliation, how the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"simon here is gonna guide your hips, so that you can focus on actually doing more than thinking with your cock. you'd like that, right sweetheart?" price asks you, the first time he's even spoken to you all night and you preen at his attention, he is very attractive.

you nod softly, "uhm, yes sir." you answer with a shy smile, glancing up at him and he chuckles. "that's a good girl. don't worry, we're gonna teach johnny here in no time, make this feel better for you." he states, patting your head for a moment before taking another drag from his cigar.

then, you feel the tip of soap's cock pressing at your cunt. you look up, seeing simon emerging from behind johnny with his gloved hands tightly wrapped around johnny's hips and guiding him inside of you. a soft gasp leaves you as he sinks in much slower than before, the pace is a lot more pleasant this time and you can actually feel the full length and weight of him inside of you now.

"now, bring a thumb down to her clit and gently circle it. can you do that for me son?" price orders, still standing to the side of the bed with his cigar. johnny nods his head, doing as his captain asks. as he lifts his hand, you gently tug it to your mouth and suck on his thumb, getting it covered in spit.

he watches with dazed eyes, cock throbbing inside of you as simon continues to work his hips. you then pull his hand out and guide it down to between your thighs, right above your clit so he can't miss it. johnny slowly circles the nub, watching the way your eyes flutter shut and as your tight pussy clenches around him deliciously. now he gets it, god it feels so much better like this.

johnny is a good dog, can follow orders perfectly and that is exactly what he does. as price continues to teach him tips and tricks to better his game, he slowly gets more and more control of his hips, proving he can do it on him own without simon helping him.

and finally, he makes you cum. it's one of the best orgasms you have experienced before, back arching and toes curling, cunt milking johnny for all he's worth. it's so good, it makes you forget about how weird this whole set up started off as.

@bjornthebearguy

@iciclesses

@mothymunson

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 7

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Victoria wanted to scratch your face with her long nails and pull your hair. She put down her wine glass and stormed toward you, her heels clicking angrily against the floor.

How dare you take her place?

Even as Bucky's official fiancée, she never had the chance to hold him like that. He always pushed her away.

But you… She hated the fact that you were able to stand beside Bucky like that.

Her eyes burned with fury as she approached, her hands clenched into fists.

What did you do to make Bucky look at you like... like he's in love with you? How he looks at you is so different from how he looks at her—as if she's not essential to him.

Victoria could feel the coldness from him but with you? She could sense the warmth in Bucky's gaze toward you, even from afar.

"Wasn't Bucky's fiancée Victoria?" one guest whispered.

"Shhh," another guest hushed her friend.

The judging eyes of the guests felt like needles pricking her skin. She didn’t have to look at them to feel their scrutiny.

Victoria's face contorted with barely suppressed rage with every step closer to you. Her hands shook, her nails biting into her palms as she struggled to maintain her composure.

"Don't do anything," her mom said, grabbing Victoria's hand.

Victoria whispered angrily, "Why?" What reason could her mom have for stopping her?

Genevieve didn’t say anything, just tilted her head slightly toward Jonathan. He was also watching Bucky and you, but his expression was calm, unlike the two women’s.

That means he knew. He knew you were coming.

Victoria stormed over to her dad despite Genevieve's attempt to stop her.

"Why is my fiancé walking with her?" she demanded in a harsh whisper.

Jonathan looked at his younger daughter, who was already panicking because things weren’t going her way. He sighed his expression a mix of frustration and patience.

“Victoria, calm down,” he said firmly. “There’s a reason for this, and it’s not what you think. Bucky has his reasons, and you need to trust the process.”

Victoria's eyes narrowed, her breath quickening. She glanced back at you and Bucky, the fire in her eyes intensifying.

"Trust the process?" she hissed. "This is humiliating. Do you have any idea how this looks?"

Jonathan's gaze hardened. "This isn’t about looks, Victoria. It's about something much more important."

Genevieve, still holding Victoria’s arm, squeezed gently. “Listen to your father,” she urged. “We’ll handle this, but not here and not like this.”

Victoria clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to regain control. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

He sighed inwardly. What was wrong with his kin? None of them had inherited his calmness. Jonathan was a heartless man, and he embraced it. His lack of empathy was the reason the company thrived.

Not wanting to embarrass herself, Genevieve said, "This will ruin our business with the Barnes family."

Jonathan smirked. Failure was not in his vocabulary.

"Did you forget why the Barneses agreed to give their only son to us?" he asked, his tone icy.

Genevieve fell silent.

Victoria, who had just overheard this, looked confused and concerned. "Mom, what is Dad talking about?"

Genevieve hesitated, searching for the right words to explain. She wanted to protect her daughter from the harsh truths.

Flashback Start

After Genevieve suggested the idea of an engagement between both families, Jonathan initially thought it would be impossible. It wasn't a bad idea, but the Barneses were like royalty in the business world.

He didn't expect Bucky's father to agree. However, there was a condition: “If my son has second thoughts before the marriage, he can end the relationship.”

That was the truth of the engagement. Jonathan had told Genevieve to remind Victoria not to get too attached to Bucky.

He had prepared for the possibility that Bucky might want to end the engagement. Even though Jonathan was a cold father, he saw at the engagement party that there was no spark between Bucky and Victoria.

But he never thought Bucky would come to him and ask for you.

His first daughter was wild and always going berserk. How in the world could Bucky be interested in you?

Nonetheless, Bucky still chose someone from the Sinclair family.

Flashback End

Victoria fumed. "Outrageous. This is adultery."

Jonathan sipped his wine calmly. "There's nothing between you and him. Even a blind person could feel it."

"But..." She couldn't deny it.

Genevieve interjected, "Bucky is supposed to be with Victoria." Her plan was for Victoria to marry Bucky. She wanted her daughter to have the best. But you have ruined everything.

"Silence," Jonathan commanded.

That single word from his mouth silenced both women. They could see the unyielding determination in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter as long as he's with someone from our family. Don’t forget, she is still my daughter," he said, giving a warning look to his wife. His voice was low and firm, leaving no room for argument.

He knew everything she did to you. He didn't help you because you told him you didn't want anything from him, so he obliged.

The way you despised him also made him ignore you more.

But now, seeing you and Bucky together, he knew he had to give you more attention.

Genevieve went pale because this meant that Jonathan had acknowledged your position.

The three of them went silent.

In contrast, your heartbeat was racing because everyone's eyes were on you.

You gripped Bucky's arm tighter. “I don't fit in here.”

Bucky felt it too. He gently patted your hand and said, “Don't worry. It's time for you to claim back what's yours.”

He was right. You used to dream of this moment. It seemed impossible, but now you're here because of Bucky.

You got this!

Author Note: I learned it too late that I made Bucky's mothers name is the same as the reader's grandma. Lol. 😂 So, I changed Bucky's mother's name to Juliana, while the name Cassandra belongs to the reader's grandma.

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@chemtrails-club

@dexter99

@seresingirlie

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

@itsteambarnes

@toldyouitwasamelodrama

@sapphirebarnes

@thedonswife13

@angelbabyyy99

@cjand10

@esposadomd

@buckitostan

@wh0reforbucknasty

@bada-lee-ily

@evie-119

@mrsstuckyboo

@ghalouha

@iamasimpingh0e

@loki-laufeyson68

@buckybarnessimpp

Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 9

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

All Falls Down (Prequel)

Series Masterlist

Special shoutout to @paigereeder without her this chapter would not have gotten done! 🫶🏽

Kiyana stared off in the direction that Elijah had walked off in, rubbing her arm in the spot that he had grabbed. “Oh naw, he ain’t getting away with this shit.” She muttered as she stormed towards Alexis’ room. She knew how it felt to have a cheated husband and she would never want another woman to feel the way she had. 

“Oh, Kiyana! Bae this is the girl I was telling you about.” Alexis smiled at Kiyana as she walked into the room. “Thank you for paging him. I don’t know what he has a phone for, he never answers it.” Alexis teased her husband, staring up at him with adoration and love in her eyes and Kiyana felt like she was gonna throw up right then and there. It made her sick to know that Elijah was nothing more than a cheating sociopath, just like Josh. 

“Well, I'm happy to help.” Kiyanna finally responded, having to tear her eyes away from the couple in front of her. Her eyes kept wandering down to his wedding ring and all she could think was ‘how could I be so stupid.’  This man was married with THREE kids that he failed to mention. How sick can one person actually be? 

Kiyana checked on Alexis and the baby, not looking in Eli’s direction, even though she felt his eyes on her. His cheating, deceiving eyes.  “Everything looks good right now. If you need anything, just hit that red button right there and someone will come to help.” Kiyana recited the lines from the employee handbook perfectly before turning and walking out of the room before Elijah or Alexis could say anything. 

She closed her eyes and leaned against the closed door, letting out a breath before walking over to the nurses station. “Girl, you still taking care of her?” When Kiyana nodded, Debra shook her head. “You better than me.”  

“I wanted to tell her so bad how much of a scumbag her husband is” Kiyana spat out. Eyes narrowing on the door to room 302. “But something in me just couldn’t. Maybe cause I’ve been in her position before.” Kiyana shrugs, looking down at her bare left hand and frowning. 

Your ex-husband cheated on you?” Debra asked, giving Kiyana a look of pity, which Kiyana ignored. 

“Yup, he um- he cheated on me while I was pregnant with our youngest.. With some chick he worked with.. Same exact situation, different roles.” Kiyana said as she made eye contact with Elijah who had just walked out of the hospital room. He walked past the nurses station, head held high as he ignored the glare Debra was sending his way. 

“If you wanna go home. It’s okay. I’ll cover for you.” Kiyana shook her head. 

“Nope. I am sick and tired of letting men ruin my day.” 

“Daddy can we go see mommy at work?” Josh stopped searching his mother’s refrigerator for something for his boys to eat and checked his watch. 11:54 am.  it was almost time for Kiyana to go to lunch anyway. 

“Yeah, we can do that. Go tell grandma we leaving.” He said sending Kaiden to do his dirty work. Talisua was beyond pissed at him, ever since he told her he crashed Kiyana’a date a couple of days ago. She had called him selfish and insensitive. He agreed with the selfish part, because he was, he wholeheartedly agreed with that. He wanted Kiyana to himself and he was going to do everything in his power to get his wife… ex-wife back. 

“You couldn’t come tell me you were leaving on your own?” Talisua asked as she walked into the kitchen holding Kairo and Josh sighed. 

“Ma’, I don’t wanna fight with you.” 

“I don’t wanna fight with you neither son. I just want you to understand how unfair you are being to Kiyana.” Josh sighed again and resisted the urge to roll his eyes, not waiting to get smacked upside his head. “She deserves to move on.” 

“And I deserve a chance to fix my mess. To make everything right again.” Josh stressed, staring his mom down, he was tired of hearing that Kiyana needs to move on, because no the hell she doesn’t. “Pops cheated on you and had Melvania and you still stayed with him and had four kids. He deserved a second chance, so why don’t I?” For the first time in 38 years, Josh had stumped his mom. He knew bringing up his father’s cheating ways was mean and unnecessary, but he needed to get his point across. 

“Me and your father were not married though Joshua! He didn’t break a vow to me like how you did to Kiyana.” 

“That’s not fair ma’” Josh shot back. “Pops wanted to make things right and you let him, why are you giving me a hard time when I’m trying to do the same?” Talisua’s features softened as she walked closer to her son and grabbed his hand. 

“Son, it’s not the same. I know you wanna fix things with Kiyana. I would love it if y’all were back on the same page, but you hurt her. You hurt her during one of the toughest moments of her life because of your selfishness. Yes, your father has made mistakes but he allowed me to work through my pain on my own, he gave me space and that’s what you’re not giving Kiyana.” 

“Space? She already went on a damn date mom!” Josh responded, raising his voice. "I know I messed up, I admit that. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to fix things. Kiyana means everything to me."

“Joshua,” Talisua said softly, squeezing his hand gently, “I know how much she means to you but, She needs space okay? Just let her come back to you.” Josh shook head head 

“Nah, I can’t just sit back and watch while she dates other men. I can’t do that.” 

“Then, I can’t help you Josh. You’re own your own.” Talisua handed Kairo over before walking out of the kitchen. 

“We don’t need her,” Josh muttered to a smiling Kairo. “You’ll help me get mommy back right?”  Josh let out a sigh before calling out to Kaiden, “Kai, come on. Let’s go see mommy!”  

As Josh and his two boys were heading towards his truck, he let out a groan as he saw Joe leaning against it. 

“Uncle Joe!” Kaiden called out, letting go of his fathers hand and running towards Joe, who swooped down and picked him up.

“Man whatcho’ big ass  doin’ here?”  Josh asked, unlocking his car door and placing Kairo in his carseat. 

“I ain't come to argue with you.” Joe said softly. “Jon said you might be here and I just wanted to talk,”  Josh sucked his teeth and moved to the driver's side, starting the car and rolling the windows down. “Josh, I told you the other day I was sorry about how all that shit went down with Kiyana.” 

“Aye Uce,” Josh chuckled bitterly,  “You fucked my wife. Then called me so I could hear it!” Josh seethed, damn-near snatching Kaiden out of Joe’s arms. “You lucky you not six feet underground.”

Joe and Josh stood there staring at each other. Josh’s eyes were filled with hate and anger while Joes’ was filled with regret and sadness about how this whole situation went. He still believed in his heart that Kiyana deserves someone better than Josh, but he also knew that the love that they had for each other was genuine and real. Joe would be a hypocrite if he held Josh accountable for his cheated, it’s not like Joe hasn’t cheated on his girlfriends in the past. 

“Look I’m sorry alright? I don’t wanna fight with you no more Josh. I miss my favorite cousin.” Josh’s eyes softened at Joe’s confession. 

“Daddy, I thought we were going to see mommy?” Kaiden interrupted the two of them and Joe looked at Josh with hopeful eyes. 

“Y’all going to see Key? Can I come? I was going to see her before I left for Miami.” Josh started shaking his head, he opened his mouth to tell him no but Kaiden spoke again. 

“Hurry! Or we’re gonna miss mommy!” Kaiden yelled out growing inpatient. 

“Fine, Get in the damn car Uce.” Josh grunted out, lip curling in disgust as Joe opened his passenger side door and slid his big ass in. 

12:00 pm. 

Kiyana leaped from her chair and grabbed her bag immediately heading for the elevator. “Take as long as you want!" Debra called out and Kiyana gave a thumbs up in return just as the elevator doors closed. Since there was a ban on cell phones during work hours, she had to wait to tell Samara all about Elijah and his lying, cheating ass

She let out a curse as she looked down at her arm where Elijah had grabbed, a nasty bruise had formed. Just looking at the bruise had her blood boiling. ‘I should go back up there and tell his wife everything.’ She thought as the elevator doors opened up on the ground floor. 

Kiyana had pulled up Samara’s contact and was about to press call when a loud “MOMMY!”  echoed around the surprisingly quiet main entrance. An immediate smile was on Kiyana’s face as she recognized her son’s voice. 

“Kai!” Kiyana called out, kneeling down and capturing him in a tight hug that she needed at that moment.  

“Hi mommy, I miss you.” Kaiden muttered into the shirt of her scrubs and it took everything in Kiyana not to burst into tears right there as she placed a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I miss you too Kai.” 

“Damn, I be gone weeks at a time and he’s never ran to me like that” Kiyana rolled her eyes with a chuckle before turning towards Josh and… Joe? Who was pushing Kairo in his stroller. Her eyes widened as she took in the two Samoans. 

“What the fuck?” She whispered. She tried to asked him what he was doing there, but all she could muster was another , “What the fuck?” 

As Kiyana stood to her full height, the bruise on her arm caught Josh's attention. “What’s that?” He asked, drawing Joe’s attention to the bruise as well.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I bumped into something earlier.” She muttered, looking anywhere but at Josh and that's when he knew she was lying. 

“Kiyana.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “That shit wasn’t there this morning.” 

“Josh, please.” She pleaded. “Y’all came here to eat, so let's go do that.” She said grabbing Kaiden’s hand and walking towards the cafeteria but Josh grabbed her other hand, stopping her. “Josh, stop” She whispered and he shook his head. 

“It was that nut ass dude you went out with wasn’t it?” 

“Aye, he put his hands on you KiKi?” Joe chimed in and Kiyana’s bottom lip quivered and that’s when Josh lost it. 

Josh's jaw was clenched tight as he asked her, “Where he at Kiyana? He thinks he can put his hands on you and get away with it?” 

Kiyana shook her head,  "Josh, please," she pleaded again, placing her hand on his chest, trying her hardest to calm him down, but he was pissed and past the point of calming down. “We got the kids here.” 

“And they need to see what happens when someone puts their hands on their mama. I don’t play that shit Key, divorced or not.” The elevator doors opened and Kiyana cursed as Josh’s eyes zeroed in on Elijah. “You put your fucking hands on my wife?” Josh called out and before Elijah could even comprehend what was going on, Josh walked up and threw a mean right hook, knocking Elijah down to the ground. 

The security guard, who had overhead what Elijah did, took his time getting up from his seat. He stretched and yawned before slowly making his way over to them. Kiyana took the stroller from Joe and pushed him in Josh’s direction, “Please do something!” She called out, covering Kaiden’s eyes so he wouldn’t see what his dad was doing. 

“Josh.. Josh come on man, you got him.” Joe said as he pulled Josh off of Elijah but not without getting his own kicks in. 

“Alright, that's enough” The security guard called out as he finally made his way over to them. 

“This shit ain’t over!” Josh called out to Elijah who was holding his jaw, glaring at him. “Imma catch ya’ bum ass again!” Josh pushed the guard away from him and grabbed Kiyana's hand, leading her out of the hospital. 

“And don’t put your hands on my mommy again!” 

Welp... Honestly.... i can't write a fight scene to save my life but imma work on it and trust, this aint the last time Josh gon get his hands on Elijah!

If then ending seems rushed, I apologize it is 3:35 am and I wanted to get this out b/c I won't have any time later on in the day to publish 🙃.

🏷️: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @empressdede @harmshake

@theninthwonder @alyyaanna @nbanenefrmdao @abadbitchblogs @raya-hunter01

@msbigredmachine @paigereeder @amandairene88 @woahthatshitfat @allmyn1ghts

@wrestlingprincess80 @reignsboy19 @cyberdejos2 @saintaquarius @bebesobrielo

@scarlettnoir01 @alichesmi @xiamentshoneypot @hunnidmilly @jeyusos-girl

@li-da-savage @qveenmikaelson @black-yn @mzv11 @shantinextdoor

@sheydnni @zillasvilla @thatone-girly @xmonetsworld @jeysbae

@kill-the-artiste @simpin4pixels @mindairy @that-one-anxious-mango @mersers-moonypadfoot-prongs

@vebner37 @trashbin-nie @adoreesun @meggylynnloves @shayaaaaaaa

@angiedawn02 @rianasixx @bookuce @sageispunk