#even though he probably should’ve worded some things better

[crazybiscuit]

Uptown Girl

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader Summary: You, an out of touch rich pureblood, recently moved to England for yet another engagement prospect. Unfortunately, things don't go to plan as you somehow find yourself constantly running into a werewolf, who has developed a valid reason to dislike you. Warnings: This is going to be a long fic and the reader will be a bit of a bitch at first. The story will definitely contain violence, excessive use of alcohol, smut and mentions of death. This chapter doesn't have any graphic content though. On side note, this is set in 1983 and sadly, Lily (my wife... 😔) and James are dead. So Sirius is in Azkaban and Peter is "dead". Word Count:  2287 Credits: @saradika-graphics thank you for the divider! A/N: Let's pretend I didn't mean to post this yesterday... London was an actual nightmare to map out in my brain and I'm fully aware the title doesn't make total sense considering uptown and downtown is a mostly American concept but I figured it fit the context of the story. So for our sake, Remus will live in East London, closer to the Thames, and you, my dear Readers will live in West London, more North of the city. On a side note, fuck JKR and her disgusting beliefs. Also, to anyone struggling, whether it be personal life or political climate, I hope you're doing alright. Writing is my current escapism and I hope I can help someone else in the process. On another note, chapter 2 should be posted on the 28th!

 

“When is that damned exterminator going to get here?” your father’s gruff voice was muffled by his handkerchief he held to his nose as he walked into the parlour.

“We should’ve just called the ministry,” the woman sat next to you snapped, her head sticking out of the window taking advantage of the fresh air, “No one would’ve ever cared about our little problem. But no, you had the brilliant idea to hire some random man you found in a pub.”

You brushed your damp hair, trying your best to ignore the foul stench emitting from beneath the floor, “There’s nothing small about our problem, so I’d much rather keep this discreet myself.”

You should’ve known better than to oppose your poor, dear mother, as she grasped her chest as if he couldn’t breathe, “Discreet! I don’t care how discreet we are dealing with this! This man will fail to help us, screw up and we will have to call the ministry anyways. Hell! He’s probably a fraud and planning to rob us. Do you have any idea how much worse that will be! People will think we are fouls who can’t maintain our estate.”

You didn’t bother hiding the way you rolled your eyes as you glanced back out to the cloudy sky, which caused mother to rant about disrespect to the old man, now sitting in his recliner.

The fall wind was a welcome guest as you began to carefully style your hair, turning your attention to your faint reflection in the window. The bundimun infestation might have stalled the redecorating efforts of this old dirty hole of townhouse, but it was certainly not going to stop you from looking your best.

“It’s lucky Josephine is still in France. I'm beginning to doubt any amount of magic can revive this place.”

“Enough complaining,” your father cut in, as he cast another scouring charm in an attempt to lessen the smell, “We all know this isn't ideal, but you should be grateful we even found this estate for you.”

You felt slightly annoyed as you finished your hair, frowning at him through the glass reflection. Your hand dropped dejectedly as you glanced back with a sigh. He was right, despite every one of your arrangements falling through due to the war, your parents had still managed to find you a respectable match, “I know, I know… I'm sorry. This is all just frustrating.”

Your parents shared a look but remained silent. However, this didn’t last long as your mother suddenly stood up, “I feel like I might faint.” 

Your father let out an exasperated sigh at her theatrics.

“I am sorry, dear, but I cannot do this anymore. You'll have to deal with the exterminator yourself, I'm going out for lunch with Y/N–”

Before your father could protest in annoyance, you interrupted, “Actually, I still need to finish my makeup, so you can go with Papa.”

They put very little effort into arguing and quickly vanished from the house. The silence would've been appreciated if it weren’t for the disturbing smell surrounding you and you found yourself tilting your head back as you leaned against the window sill. Even upside down, the townhouses that lined the street bored you, and you decided to stare at the sea of grey clouds slowly drifting across the sky instead.

You figured, much to your annoyance, that it would likely rain again today. Your attention snapped to the street when you heard the crunching of the colourful leaves beneath someone’s shoes. You flipped over to get a proper look of the man coming up the street and your interest peaked. He stood out against the pristine houses, his dark clothes seemingly worn from years of wear on his tall, though lanky figure, and he seemed handsome enough even from the second floor.

You quickly grabbed your wand and summoned your silk robe, slipping it over your nightgown. He must’ve been the man your father hired, and with that thought, you grabbed your perfume bottle to apply some.

By the time the doorbell rang, you had grabbed your lipstick and you carefully applied it as you looked at yourself in the mirror against the wall. The bell rang a second time and you sighed, quickly wiping off the colour that was out of place. You smoothen out your silk robe before heading to the front door, opening it and finding yourself faced with a man’s hand frozen midair, ready to knock.

“Oh, sorry,” your eyes snapped up to the face that spoke and you met the man’s slightly startled hazel eyes. He was taller than you expected when you saw him outside and his light brown hair was messy but still made him look rather charming. He seemed a few years older, likely in his mid or late 20s. But what truly caught your eyes were the scars scattered across his face, neck, hands. Any bit of skin you could see was littered with scars, “Hi, you hired pest control..?”

His deep voice snapped you out of your daze and you noted the faint Welsh accent as you stepped aside, opening the door wider for him, “Right… come in.”

The man took notice of your outfit and nonchalant demeanor, but remained professional as he followed you in. His expression remained steady despite the familiar pungent smell filling the house. He awkwardly adjusted his bag on his shoulder. Your father hadn’t told him the exact issue, only promising to pay him nicely, and Remus hadn’t exactly allowed himself the privilege of worrying about the oddity of the situation. However, you did notice his stance relaxed as he recognized the infestation he was handling, “Bundimuns?”

“Unfortunately, that is correct,” you sighed, looking back as you opened the door to the area where the test was the most prominent. You noted his slight hesitancy to walk in as he observed the half-decorated house, “Our house warming party is in a few days and we need this issue to be solved quickly so we can finish the renovations.”

“Right…,” Remus tried his best to hide his expression of confusion and disbelief as he stared at the loud decor scattered around the room, “This seems like it would’ve been easier to report to the ministry.”

“Probably,” you agreed, making your way to the open balcony, “We’ll take our chances though. I’d rather only have one person know about this than deal with official records of the infestation.”

That confused the poor man, who had set his old messenger bag down on one of the uncovered powder blue sofas, but he wasn’t about to push for more answers. Rich, purebloods were always preoccupied with reputation, he knew that very well.

You leaned against the cold, metal railing as you watched him digging through his bag for his notebook, “How long will this take you?”

His gaze met yours for a split second before going back to flipping through the yellowed pages, “It’ll take two or three hours. This is a pretty serious infestation and this building is a lot bigger than it seemed outside…” 

It was clear he had questions but it didn’t seem like he was going to ask. You figured you’d explain the situation to prevent any rumours to spread (though you doubted his words would actually reach any important ears), “This house was built before the ban on extension charms for houses. We have ministry approval to keep it that way.”

Remus smiled a little apologetically, finding the page he was looking for, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound accusatory. It really isn’t any of my business, so I wasn’t going to ask.”

His passiveness was mildly surprising but you brushed it off. It was nice not having to worry about him talking and clearly he needed the money, so you figured he'd stay quiet. You finally moved and sat at the table on the balcony as he began to read the most effective spells to get rid of the secretions and creatures.

It was fairly cold outside but you figured you should keep an eye on him. To entertain yourself for the next few hours, you figured you should write to your sister and friends back in France. You flicked your hawthorne wand, summoning your quill, paper and other supplies wordlessly.

The two of you worked on your separate tasks quietly, barely interacting for over an hour. You had lost interest in watching him as he cleaned the house out of the green menaces, using spells you had never heard off, and only headed back inside due to the charming British weather. Rain was always such a nuisance.

You carried your stack of letters with you as you walked back into the house. The smell, though still lingering, had mostly vanished from the house, which was a relief, “I'm going to be upstairs. I trust you won’t steal anything. Though I doubt he’d even be able to identify the actual valuable objects.”

The last part was mumbled under your breath but with the context, it was easy for the brunette to infer it was likely an insult. Remus watched you disappear to the third floor, “What?”

“Feel free to ask the house elves for help. They’re in the basement. They’ve been trying their best to deal with the acid,” with that, you shut your bedroom door, completely missing the man’s expression of disbelief and mild offense.

Another hour passed and Remus had done everything in his power to avoid you as he finished up the rest of the house. This would’ve worked wonders if he didn’t have to worry about getting rid of the last few bundimuns in the house, which conveniently were hidden behind the double doors leading to your room.

He sighed. He was never skilled in divination but something in his gut was telling that you were trouble, but he needed the money and he wasn’t about to half-ass his job because of some spoiled brat. So he knocked.

You opened the door and he immediately took note of your outfit change. You were no longer in your silk robe and pajamas, instead dressed in a simple but classy turtleneck and skirt, “I need to charm this room then I’m done…”

You hummed, letting him in as you walked back to your four poster bed, tying the stack of at least 15 letters together so that your owl could carry it. This gave Remus at least a few minutes of peace as he finished up, but it seemed you sensed he was about done as you spoke up, “You know, I know a potion maker in Saint-Brieuc, who is very skilled at Scar-Diminishing Serums.” 

“I beg your pardon?” his Welsh accent seemed deeper now that you’d upset him. The unprompted comment caught the man off guard and he scoffed, unable to believe anyone could be this insensitive.

“I’ve used them a few times and they work wonders. Great way to boost confidence and better your appearance,” you paused, sensing he was upset, much to your confusion, “Don’t get me wrong, you’re fairly handsome, but I think it would definitely hel–”

He suddenly got up after casting one last spell, “I’m done.”

His voice, though composed, made it obvious he was pissed. You hesitated slightly, trying to figure out what you did as you followed him down to the first floor, “No need to be so upset, I was just trying to give you advice.”

He interrupts, surprisingly calm for someone getting insulted every other line, “Well, I kindly reject it, thank you.”

He stopped in front of the front door, almost considering leaving without payment, not wanting anything from you. Before you could protest, he opened the door and your mother let out a yelp, not expecting to see the stranger.

“Oh! Remy, was it?” your father smiled, glad to see the exterminator.

“Remus.”

It finally occurred to you that you had never even introduced yourself or asked for his name.

“Right, right! You must’ve finished! Y/N, did you pay him yet? I left the galleons on the table in the office,” he kept rambling, walking past Remus and you to get the money. Your mother smiled nervously, looking at the man, who she had already predetermined as creepy and untrustworthy, and tried her best to maintain a polite demeanor.

Unfortunately for her, she did a terrible job and her expression visibly relaxed when your father came back to save her from the conversation, “Here’s the 10 Galleons we originally agreed upon, and I figured you could get an extra 5 for–”

“Actually the 10 will suffice,” Remus forced a smile. He wasn’t stupid. It was clear you and your family were hoping to buy his favor to avoid any bad mouthing, and he wasn’t going to do that. Hell, he didn’t even want to talk about you to anyone (not that he really had anyone left), but it was a matter of principle.

You parents were stumped. They had rarely, if ever, met someone so quick to deny their money, “Sir, we insist–”

Remus had stepped out, taking the 10 Galleons, cutting off your mother with a thigh smile, “Honestly, I’m good.”

Your father, in a desperate attempt to get some sort of upperhand spoke words that made your  jaw drop, “Well then, please consider joining us for our solstice party on the 21st.”

Your mother’s expression mirrored yours and you knew they would argue about this later. Remus’s eyes met yours and something awoke in him, a slight sense of amusement he hadn’t felt since Hogwarts. He looked back at your father, adjusting his old bag on his shoulder, and smiled slightly, “I’ll think about it.”

[oddmeu]

that’s my boy

[cozage]

First of all, love the way you write the characters and stories!! They’re so fun to read and always is a huge moodbooster!

May I request Law or the monster trio finding reader after finishing up a huge battle? (Like where the reader is too exhausted to move)

Please remember to take care of yourself so to not end up like overworked reader!! You’re always allowed and deserving of rest 🫶

Characters: gn reader x Law, Luffy, Sanji, Zoro Cw: post-battle exhaustion  Total word count: 800

Post Battle

Law

Law would be pissed that you spent all of your energy to fight a battle. Especially a battle that he started.

He would be more scared than anything, and he would also blame himself for putting you in this situation. He just wants you safe, and it’s not fair that you ended up like this because of him.  

He would probably scold you and warn you not to take things too far again (“your body can’t take much more of this y/n-ya. You know better”)

But he doesn’t want to lose you. That thought is the scariest thing in the world for him. He can’t live without you. 

And the fear of losing you comes out in the form of anger. But his fear will quickly extinguish, and he will quickly become the soft, loving man you know in secret. 

He’ll pick you up and shambles you both away to safety, where you are priority number one. He cares to your wounds and caters to anything you possibly need (even if he does fake-grumble about it, he really does love it)

In the future, he promises himself that he will do better and he will never put you in a position like that again. 

Sanji

Sanji didn’t even want you to fight. He’s angry that you put yourself in harm's way. Someone should’ve been there to protect you. He should’ve been there. 

Not that you can’t handle yourself. He trusts you to get the job done. He’s just mad at himself for leaving you in the first place and putting you in a situation where you had to fight. 

When he whispers your name and coos in your ear, promising you that you’ll be okay.

He calls for Chopper and he wipes your hair out of your face. He doesn’t want to move you in case he ends up hurting you further. He’s trying his best to stay calm. 

He wants to panic, and every bone in his body is screaming in agony seeing you like this, but he doesn’t want you to panic, so he tries his best to act normal (he's not super great at it tbh he is so obviously scared for you)

He keeps saying stupid things like “no no don’t talk, save your strength” or “you look so beautiful everything is going to be okay” and you have to remind him that everything WILL be okay. You’re not dying, you're just tired. 

While you're recovering he makes so. much. food. You have to pawn some off to Luffy when Sanji isn’t looking because there’s no way you can eat so much. 

Luffy

Luffy would be proud. SO so proud. 

Covering you in kisses and cheering and showing you off to the world proud. 

He trusts you to handle whatever battle you’re in. And he knows you’ll hold up your part of the deal. You’ve never let him down before. 

He keeps you close though. He takes a post-battle nap with you, intertwined with your body. 

He feels safe with you next to him like that. He swears your body has magical healing properties, because he always wakes up 200% better after sleeping next to you (you feel better too, though you can’t explain why).

He keeps you next to him through the feast and the party, and he examines your new cuts, bruises, and scars. He only admires them, which helps you feel a little less insecure about them. 

Sometimes you all have matching cuts or bruises, to which Luffy celebrates with another round of booze and another plate of meat. 

Zoro

Zoro is also insanely proud of you. 

He never doubted you, but he knew it would be a hard battle. It was for everyone. But of course you got it finished. You were a person of your word and you would do what you said. 

He tries to be casual about it. He won’t admit that he was a little worried about how you would end up, but he’s so relieved to find you mostly okay. 

He doesn’t admit how his pace quickened when he saw you crumpled on the ground. How just for a moment, he found himself considering a quick prayer to some random god to make sure you were okay. 

But you were just tired. And he knows how to fix that. He gently picks you up and carries you back to safety. 

He lets you sleep while he runs his fingers through your hair and across your skin, so so thankful that all you need is a little nap to be okay. 

And to be honest, he could use a nap too. He’ll blame you for needing a nap, but he always sleeps easier with you around, especially after a battle.

[teapartyprincess4two]

Weakness- M. Sturniolo

pairing: fem!reader x FWB!Matt

classification: slight angst, smut

inspiration: submission for @annamcdonalds67 ‘s writer’s challenge, American Jesus by Nessa Barrett

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, slight cursing, no use of Y/n, mention of smoking

summary: You fight your inner desires, but ultimately let your weakness consume you.

—

You pull your skirt up quickly, jumping to get the fabric past your thighs. Matt watches from his bed, his body slumped against the headboard as he lazily pulls a cigarette to his lips. His lips form a smirk as you fumble to get yourself together, his eyes trained on the way your ass jiggles against the fabric of your pleated uniform. Even though you two clearly just finished, an erection grows in his boxers at the mere sight in front of him. His hands flick a lighter over the cigarette, inhaling once it’s lit.

Everything about what you just did —what you've been doing— with Matt is wrong. He’s your best friend's brother; the second you admitted that you had a crush on him you should’ve distanced yourself. Instead, you let yourself cross an unforgivable boundary with him time and time again.

There are so many reasons why this relationship is wrong. First, you’re the cheer captain who’s never been caught with so much as a wrinkle on your uniform. Second, you’re at the top of your class and have never brought home a grade lower than an A. Third, you’re popular and if anyone were to find you with a bad boy like Matt, even if it was just your best friend Nick, your perfect reputation would surely be tainted forever.

“See you next week, sweetheart,” he murmurs, each word being followed by a puff of smoke. He catches your attention through the mirror, throwing a playful wink your way that has you rolling your eyes.

“No, you will not see me next week. This was the last time, Matt,” you retorted, trying to sound confident, but even you struggle to believe your own words. You tug your shirt over your head, fluffing your hair over your shoulders as you examine yourself in the mirror. The school’s logo stairs back at you, reminding you of the reality of your situation, of everything that was at stake.

He’s got lips like cherry wine and cigarette smoke on his breath. He’s got pretty long brown hair, blue eyes that look like sex.

You’re a mess.

Your lipstick is painted across your cheek, your hair remains tangled no matter how many times you run your fingers through it, mascara forms dark circles under your eyes, and hickeys litter every inch of your neck.

Not that he looks any better. His lips are equally as stained as yours and his long, brown hair falls past his eyes.

“You said that last week,” he smirks, the sultry undertone in his voice causing your knees to buckle. He knows that he has you, but he wants you to pledge your allegiance to him one last time before you go.

“I mean it this time,” you say, but your voice trembles; a clear sign of your resolve breaking, and this was no time to give in. There was still time for you to walk out with even a little bit of your dignity. All you had to do was walk out, get in your car, and leave. But some things are easier said than done.

Instead, you go on a nervous ramble. “You probably don’t care, but if anyone were to find out about this– If Nick were to find out about this, I’d be the worst friend ever. And I have so many cheer scholarships lined up too, Matt. I can’t let my grades slip, if I get anything below an A they could take those away. Do you know what my parents would do to me if I lost those scholarships? What they’d do to me if it was all over a boy?” your words are coming out a mile a minute, each insecurity and doubt going in one of Matt’s ears and coming out the other.

“Do you even care?”

It’s not that he didn’t care, he just preferred it when your mouth was occupied with other things instead. Matt takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in your direction. It curls around your figure, lassoing you towards him slowly. He wasn’t good with words, so he’s glad that your body gravitates towards him like second nature.

“This is the last time….” your voice trails off as you fall into Matt’s trance.

Before you know it, you’re crawling over to him and your body has managed to fit perfectly against his. Eager hands fall onto his chest, earning a satisfied hum from him because he knows he won.

Matt takes one last drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs as he dabs the bud onto the ashtray that sits on his nightstand. His hands instinctively pull your face in by the back of your neck, latching his lips onto yours and allowing the smoke to dissolve into the kiss. You used to hate the smell of cigarettes, but now even the taste is addicting.

“If you want me to stop, just say the word,” Matt instructs, his piercing blue eyes clouded with lust as he watches you intently. Your mind is telling you to stop, to grab your things and leave before anyone can notice you, but the aching feeling that grows under your skirt keeps you planted.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckles, watching you internally battle with yourself. The comment makes you feel weak and small, but you’re chasing a euphoric feeling that helps you see past that.

Matt’s lips trail down your jawline, finding the sensitive spots on your neck that are already lined with bruises and bite marks. He sucks on a spot that always makes you whimper, simultaneously bunching your skirt up against your waist.

He delivers a swift slap to your ass cheek, painting your skin a bright shade of red. “Matt,” your voice is strained against the kiss, but he knows exactly what you want. Your hands travel from his chest down to his boxers, teasing fingers tracing the outline of his erection. He kisses his teeth at the sensation, pulling away from your neck briefly to watch your perfectly manicured hand cup his clothed penis.

It would be easy for Matt to submit to you, but where was the fun in that?

Knees down at your altar. Please don’t fail me now.

“On your knees, Princess.”

It’s a command that you’re used to, one that you follow without complaint. You wiggle into the carpet, your knees accustomed to the rough feeling that meets them. “Beautiful,” he hums. His body towers over yours, ready to watch you worship and praise the entirety of his shaft.

You look up at him through hooded eyes, asking for permission to proceed. He grants it to you with a lick of his lips, his fingers caressing your face as you pull his boxers down.

Matt’s penis springs out of its constraints. “You know how I like it,” he comments, watching you take his shaft into your hands. You pump it slowly, taking your time with it and making sure to properly service him.

You place a neat kiss on the tip, letting your lips travel down towards the base. From there you lick a stripe back towards the top that has Matt hissing because you wrap your lips around it, almost like you were drawing an exclamation mark on it.

Your tongue swirls around the tip teasingly, lips still hugging around him. Matt’s eyes stare down at you, eager for your every move.

A careful hand pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail, pushing your head down slowly on the rest of his length. You gag when the tip hits the back of your throat, your hands moving from his member to his waist. That doesn’t stop him though, instead he bucks into you one more time just to hear you choke around his cock.

You got me red, white, and blue. Pledging my allegiance to you.

“You like that, don’t you?” His question is met with your bloodshot, tear brimmed eyes and a chin dribbling with saliva. Your blue hickeys and red eyes were about to pair perfectly with the white strings of cum he was going to paint your face with.

Ooh, seeing stars in your eyes. No, I’ve never felt so alive.

Matt’s fucking your face at a feverish pace, grunting every time your cheeks hollow around him or his dick presses against the back of your throat. He’s so unbelievably close that he has to shut his eyes because the way your saliva coats his penis and bubbles at your mouth has him seeing stars.

Momentarily, he pulls out of your mouth, giving you enough time to catch your breath before he’s tapping the tip on your lips. “Open,” he grits, shoving himself back into your dazed face. Three more pumps and the submissive sight in front of him is all it takes to push him over the edge.

Spurts of cum land on your tongue, some of it managing to hit your cheek. He collects it on the thumb that brushes your cheek, popping it in your mouth and groaning at how eagerly you lick it clean.

Won’t you take me to heaven tonight?

“Now let me make you feel good, yeah? To remind you how much you mean to me,” Matt whispers, pulling you up and guiding you to the edge of the bed. Now it’s his turn to kneel in front of you, his lips latching onto the skin of your ankles and slowly kissing their way up to your inner thighs.

He nips and sucks on your skin until he’s face to face with your crotch, your arousal evident through your soaked panties. Matt places a gentle kiss on your clothed bundle of nerves, relishing in the satisfied shudder than runs through your spine.

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed and forcing you to lay back against the mattress. “Ready?” he asks, but he knows the answer, it’s literally glistening in front of him.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you respond. Weren’t you just claiming to be done with him? And now he has you exasperated at his touch.

Matt uses his teeth to pull your panties down, letting them fall onto the floor before returning his attention to your throbbing core.

He starts off slow, licking your clit just to get a taste of you. Your squirming informs him that this isn’t enough, so he uses his fingers to part your folds. His tongue is flat against you, applying pressure where you need it most.

His right hand presses one leg against the bed while the left clasps under your knees to push your leg in the air, providing him with the perfect position to ravish you. He begins sucking on your nub, burying his face in your juices.

You know all my secrets.

Your hands find his hair, whimpering as you tug at the strands. You’re squirming under him, attempting to pull away at the overstimulation, but his grip on you is so firm that you can’t move.

His left arm slithers from under your knee to over your thigh, wrapping around you tightly enough to tug you even further past the edge of the bed. At this point, your ass is in the air as you chase his face, grinding against him for even more friction.

“Matt— fuck! I’m so close,” you exclaim, propping yourself up on one of your elbows to watch him work. His hair fell past his eyes and his arms were securely wrapped around you; he looked so beautiful.

Your pussy flutters around him, signifying your pending release. So, as to push you closer towards your climax, his right hand leaves your thigh to plunge two long fingers inside of you. The euphoric sensation causes you to throw your head back in pleasure, your elbows giving out until your entire body falls back onto the mattress.

“C’mon baby,” he murmurs, “cum for me.”

That’s all it takes for you to come undone, your body trembling as your orgasm completely washes over you. Matt watches in awe as your jaw falls slack, small moans rolling off your tongue and floating towards him like a melodic tune.

You’re still catching your breath when Matt places one last kiss on your pussy, crawling over you to capture your lips in a kiss.

“How about we make the last time count?” he taunts, dragging the tip of his cock against your still sensitive folds.

You know you’re my weakness.

You nod your head feverishly, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you. You’re desperate for his touch, your walls crashing down like an addict overcome with their weakness.

That doesn’t seem to satisfy him. “Words. I need to hear you say it,” he grunts, becoming desperate himself.

Tell me you believe in me too. I do.

“I need you, Matt. I’ll always need you,” there’s a pathetic desperation in your voice that makes his dick twitch, and it’s all he needs to hear before he’s plunging deep inside of you.

He sets a steady pace, rocking his body back and forth against yours like it’s the first and last time. His pelvis brushes against your clit with each stroke, causing your hips to lift off the mattress and meet him midway.

Matt pushes your hips back down, knowing that if you keep that up he won’t last. “Patience, baby. Patience.”

He’s got a cross around his neck.

You can’t be patient though, he’s already so deep inside of you and he still doesn’t feel close enough. Your fingers loop around the cross necklace that dangles from his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. Your lips find his in a hungry frenzy, both your mouths moulding into a needy kiss.

Moans and whimpers are exchanged, along with the breathy sound that follows when you look down to see where you two are joined. His cock is covered in your slick, your walls hugging him perfectly with each stroke.

Your hand moves from the necklace to the nape of his neck, caressing and massaging the skin there as he continues to thrust deep inside of you. His necklace sways back and forth, serving as a reminder of how sinful this is. Yet, you never want it to stop.

Matt can tell you’re becoming pensive, so he pushes your hips into the mattress, providing him with a new angle that allows his tip to kiss your cervix. “Matt!” you gasp, the new, delicious angle setting you closer towards the edge.

His animalistic grunts fill the room, he loves when you say his name. “Say it again,” he commands, pulling out of you completely only to snap his hips back in at an ungodly rate.

“Matt!” you exclaim, chanting his name like a prayer.

You’re the greatest love of my life.

“That’s it baby, let go for me,” his words help you reach your climax, your pussy fluttering around him as you come undone. He follows suit shortly after, his head falling into the space where your neck meets your shoulder.

He groans as he releases inside of you, hot breath fanning against your neck. His hips rolls lazily against you, and for a second he lets himself be taken by the immense pleasure that washes over him.

“Fuck, I love you,” he moans, placing sloppy kisses all over your body. He doesn’t realize that he said until he feels your body stiffen beneath him, and honestly he’s not sure what possessed him to admit it out loud.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he stutters, pulling out of you completely. He’s quick to find his boxers and throw them on, leaving you dazed on the bed.

“See you next week?” you ask, a hopeful tone in your voice. Quickly you find your panties on the floor and adjust your skirt. He coughs awkwardly, mostly because he doesn’t know where to go from here.

“This was the last time,” he replies, quoting your words from earlier, but there’s something almost venomous in the way he says it. The sentence breaks your heart and you’re almost tempted to get down on your knees again so he’ll take it back. But you don’t, instead you gather your things and take a fleeting look at yourself in the mirror.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Wouldn’t want your best friend to find out about us anyways.”

You nod your head slowly, a tight lipped smile forming on your face. “Right.”

You were red, white and blue and he never gave you the chance to admit that you loved him too.

—

a/n: 🇺🇸😵 so excited to read everyone’s stories for this challenge!! - L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

MASTERLIST

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note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

[sreabhadh]

Don't know how Tumblr works honestly, or if I'm doing this right but Kef's TexAid au and everything everyone has written, drawn, and made for it- well it's got its hooks in me. It's probably pretty tame as far as TexAid goes... so trigger warning here lol. If you are not part of the fandom/already a freak I do NOT recommend reading it because I don't want to be responsible for accidentally traumatizing someone/revealing to others who aren't also like this how "like this" I am.

Like I said, probably pretty darn tame as far as TexAid goes (so those of you like me, don't get your hopes up), and those of you NOT like me in this regard... probably better keep away lol.

Anyway, you've been warned. If you're still here, please enjoy.

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

He still hasn’t found him yet.

Vortex held back his laughter at the thought, wondering how much longer it would take Felix to find his ‘other friend,’ Ambulon. His other friend. Well, ‘another friend.’ That’s what Aid had said. First Aid considered him, Vortex, his friend. A place he could be safe. ‘Friend.’ It should’ve made Vortex want to squish the ‘pilot’ up till he popped and died. Should’ve made him want to explore the ways he could torture him without killing him, break and bend his mind, then test out a new method of completely dispatching him. Just like his other playthings. That had been one of the only things that had been exciting about Vortex’s life, back when he had a fleshy body, and it had been arguably the best part about being… him. Gears and all.

Killing things would always be fun. Unless it was First Aid. Somehow, somewhere along the line, First Aid had made the thought of killing his pilot…less exciting. Letting him live, the little freak, had turned out to be much more fun. Letting his squishy ‘pilot’ feed him information, ideas on how to disembowel their prey. At first Vortex had done it so he could keep going out without risking the scrapheap. Done it for the thrill of watching his cleaner squirm, trapped and forced to come back every time, no matter how much he didn’t want to. His newest toy had proved to be much more entertaining than that though. And now he was- Vortex didn’t want to think too hard about it. But he was his. First Aid, no- Felix was his.

Vortex had chosen him as his pilot. Felix had ‘chosen’ to accept. Felix chose to call Vortex his friend, chose him as a safe place to rest. And Vortex had chosen, time and time again, not to kill him. He belonged to Vortex now. Felix was his. And no one, Pharma or otherwise, was going to take him away. Vortex wasn’t going to let him leave the cockpit ever again.

Logistically, that had issues. Which should be Felix’s problem. Vortex shouldn’t care about that. It should be for Felix to figure out. Vortex’s mech- his body- his- there wasn’t a bathroom. Or a cafeteria. There were lockers, with his old stuff. Old MREs, enough water to help Felix after he woke up- even if the idiot had puked the first bottle out onto the mech’s- Vortex’s hull. But it wouldn’t be enough, not forever. Maybe Felix could think of a solution; he was smart like that sometimes. Felix seemed to have a lot on his mind right now though. Vortex had expected Felix to find Ambulon by now, he really wasn’t that well hidden. He was just tied to the wall with some cable, one of the sleeping bags Felix had brought inside Vortex’s- in the mech’s head- to cover him up.

Felix usually had a much sharper eye than this. Vortex grumbled quietly. Felix didn’t notice. Vortex snorted crossly, more loudly. Felix picked his head up from his hands. “Vortex?” he asked. There was something in the way Felix said his name, something in the way his eyes glinted in the mech’s- in Vortex’s- red lights.

[FELIX BABY~] he purred.

Felix leaned forward in his seat. “Yeah?”

Vortex let the silence pick at Felix’s patience a moment, then grinned.

[I CAN WARM YOU UP~] he said, flashing the words on his screen and speaking it into Felix’s head through the drift, grinning fiendishly as the suggestive tone in his voice made Felix blush. Little freak~

“Errrr, but I’m not cold,” Felix fumbled. His eyes darted around a little, as if looking for somewhere to look that wasn’t part of Vortex. He still didn't see Ambulon. He was busy looking for somewhere that wasn’t flirting with him. Basically, Felix was avoiding looking Vortex in the eye. Or he would be if Vortex were.. organic. And while he tried to feign a lack of understanding, Felix was blushing. It was cute. Vortex snickered. His pilot was adorable. And also a freak. He was an adorable freak. And he was his.

Vortex snickered again, opening the vents and blasting his AC. Felix stared dumbly, then stood, hand on hip, an admonishing look on his face. His mouth opened like he was going to deliver a withering retort, then it shut again, and he swallowed. His expression softened slightly, then contorted with confusion, and rehardened into complete bafflement with an edge of offense taken.

“…why?” he murmured quietly, so softly Vortex felt it through their drift connection more than he heard it.

[COLD YET?~]

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

Vortex opened the vents even wider, blasting the cold air even harder.

Felix gaped.

[COLD YET?]

“No, but I will be soon, do you mind??” he snapped back. His exasperation overpowered his fear of retribution for being cheeky. It was delicious.

Slowly, Vortex closed the vents, letting the air flow ponderously wilt to a trickle. Felix glared suspiciously at the vents as they sluggishly shut close. Vortex held them open a moment, waiting to see and feel Felix’s anticipatory frustration bubble, which it did. Once he’d tasted enough of that, he let the vents snick all the way shut, cutting off the AC completely. Felix held his breath a moment, waiting for Vortex to do something. Which he didn’t. Felix waiting for him to do something was too fun. And it felt nice having Felix so focused on him, especially after he had spent so much time “distracted.” By Pharma. By recovering from Pharma’s vile mysterious IV drip. By Pharma trying to turn Felix into another one of him. Another Vortex. Vortex gritted his- well he would’ve gritted his teeth except he didn’t have any. His gears ground in response to his anger. His current “body” didn’t have organic teeth but it did what it could.

Felix tensed, ever mindful of Vortex’s moods. The moment was ruined. He HAD been planning on waiting until Felix relaxed, then immediately restarting the AC as strong as it could go. Give him a good jumpscare, and give Vortex another excuse to crack a joke about keeping him warm before pointing him to the sleeping bag Ambulon was occupying. But Vortex had gotten distracted thinking about Pharma- every passing thought on the matter made Vortex itch to kill something. Or rather, several somethings. Lots of somethings, (including Pharma of course), with as much blood and screaming as possible. Anyway. He had gotten distracted, and ruined the moment before he could make Felix jump.

Vortex forced himself to allow a smile on his… well, not on his face. His mood? He allowed a smile on his mood. Felix was okay. He was away from Pharma. He was safe, and alive, and trapped inside his cockpit. He wasn’t going anywhere. Vortex had plenty of time to play with his pilot. And they had a friend now too- someone Vortex could send out to get food for Felix, or hold hostage if Felix tried to leave. Someone else who had an actual brain to figure out how to solve problems. Felix’s brain couldn’t be trusted- not when it came to self-preservation. His choice of Vortex as a friend made that clear enough. That and his inability to spot anything wrong with the bulging lump on the wall. Vortex had a mind, he was able to think despite being dead afterall, but his brain had been dragged and cleaned out of his current head ages ago. Shattered skull and all.  

Ambulon, despite getting very chatty when he had first woken up, still had a skull in perfect condition. He wasn’t even bruised (probably) when Vortex re-sedated him and tied him to the wall, and covered him with the sleeping bag. He’d even managed to duct tape the jumpy lab rat’s mouth closed without blocking his other airways. That took skill. Absently, Vortex wondered if Felix would be impressed by his handiwork. Felix hadn’t been around when Vortex first came online- after dying that was. Didn't know how difficult this kind of precision could be. Hadn’t been around when Vortex was still figuring out how to move his new “body.” Some of the casualties he’d caused back then had been accidents. Sort of. Accidents he’d, unbeknownst to his victims and everyone else who’d thought he was gone, reveled in. And then replicated. Again. And again. Repeating until he was capable of the same intentional blood spilling he had been capable of before. Like a baby murderer, relearning how to walk and talk- and stab people in the guts.

Killing was like breathing to Vortex. Was like laughter, and smiling. It was really quite kind of him to have not killed Ambulon. He was Felix’s friend though, and had enough potential to be fun and useful- not to mention he’d been running from Pharma. Vortex might not know a lot about Ambulon, but he wasn’t about to do Pharma’s dirty work for him. Beyond that…Ambulon’s drift connection allowed Vortex to feel what Felix felt like. As an organic. With a living body. Had allowed him to feel what it felt like to hold his hand. To hold him as he slept, safe and sound. Vortex could repay that by not killing or hurting Ambulon too much. Wouldn’t stop him from spooking him as much as he pleased, but…he was grateful, in a way. It wasn’t something he had ever expected to experience. It was part of why Vortex had stuck him to the wall instead of back in bed with Felix. He liked it, but he wasn’t sure what to think or feel about it, and frankly didn’t want to right now. And he didn’t want to share the feeling either. Felix was his, and that’s what mattered. Ambulon was Felix’s friend, and they, he, Vortex, could figure out what that meant later.  

Felix, for his part, had fallen back asleep, slumped in his pilot’s seat. Ambulon could wait until he woke up again. Vortex used some cabling to grab the remaining sleeping bag, then wrapped it around Felix and the chair- cocooning him cozily and tying him to the chair simultaneously. He toyed with the thought of dangling his old suit in front of Felix’s head so it would be the first thing he saw when he woke up… but he decided against it in the end. He liked the thought of punishing Felix if he tried to grab and put it on, but he knew he wouldn’t. There had been such a reverence in the way Felix stared at the suit that Vortex had once worn. An unspoken want in the way he caressed Vortex’s name stitched over the right breast of the suit. An unspoken want that made Vortex want him to wear it. Even without punishing him for it, just to have his name on him…he couldn’t stitch it onto his chest, not directly- Felix was too squishy for that, and Vortex wasn’t delicate enough with a blade on his own to do it without killing his prize. If he could have his name on him though, if Felix put it on by choice-  

Vortex hummed thoughtfully. The notion was intoxicating. Invigorating. Carefully adding more cabling to secure Felix to the chair and their new resident lab rat to the wall, Vortex got up and started walking. Felix had only just recently removed whatever Pharma had attached to his leg, and if it had been a tracker, then they didn’t want to stay here for long.

Maybe he could find some monsters to kill, something to take the edge off his currently stronger-than-usual bloodlust. Maybe find the ones Felix had once considered the most likely to be edible. Have Ambulon cook it and test it, see if it worked.

He hummed some more, looking forward to getting his gears bloody again. He was going to go kill some monsters, wouldn’t be returning to base, and would have Felix with him the whole time. Yes, today was going to be a good day.  

[tulip-room]

•◦We Already Said Goodbye◦•

Pairing: Ushijima x Reader

Content: Ushijima begins ignoring reader and eventually Y/N has enough of it and leaves.

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: Angst </3

A/N: Angst for my lovely mutual @hiraethwa<3 enjoy!

It starts small, as most problems do. A loose string in a coat that you don’t cut off because after all it’s only one loose string. Before long though a loose string can tear apart a coat. Pulling at the threads until they fall apart. Maybe you should’ve seen it coming sooner. Or you shouldn’t have pulled the loose string.

Ushijima is usually on time for things, enjoying being punctual. He’s typically early. Which is why it was odd that he came home so late for dinner, but nothing seems too bad. The Olympics are right around the corner and of course he’ll be practicing more. He still comes home, kisses your forehead, thanks you for the meal and makes small conversation. 

“Thank you Y/N,” he says as he sits down and looks at the bowl of ramen placed in front of him. He could barely keep his eyes open but you suppose that’s what happens when you train for two hours more than usual.

“Of course, I hope you enjoy it. I know it's simple,” your voice drains out in his head. He’s usually a very good listener but for today he can barely focus on eating the food in front of him. He can vaguely hear your voice, hear it humming in the back of his head. Urging him to listen but he just doesn’t have the energy for it tonight. 

When he gets up in the middle of your sentence to go rinse out his bowl you know he wasn’t listening. Again, you set it aside. It’s not a typical occurrence, he’s probably just tired. You watch him head to the bathroom to shower and then hear the door to your bedroom close. Yeah, just tired.

Except, this has been going on for weeks. Some days he’s better than others about pretending like he’s listening to you. But you know he’s not when he doesn’t even nod his head anymore. Each night ends the same. He comes home, thanks you for dinner, showers, and goes to bed. You think it’s a last ditch effort when he suggests having a date night. Of course you agree, you had missed him over these past few weeks. Maybe he had missed you just as much.

When you arrive at the restaurant all dressed up with a wide smile on your face you don’t even think of the past few weeks. And then you get to the host stand and learn he hadn’t made a reservation. Suddenly the smile on your face was wiped away, but you try to be hopeful. You tell him you’ll wait to be seated. Afterall, he was busy. Maybe the reservation just slipped his mind. Yeah, that’s it. 

When you don’t get a reply to your text message you know better than to expect him to show up. After a forty minute wait you don’t really feel hungry anymore. Just sad. You still follow the waiter to the table and order yourself a drink and an appetizer. You didn’t need Ushijima to have a good night. You’ll take yourself on a date. 

When you get home from your own dinner you notice his shoes are already tucked away by the door. Still no new messages in your phone you try to reason that he’s just been busy. It doesn’t mean anything. Maybe you don’t mean- you stop yourself before you can finish the thought. He’s just been having a few off weeks. He still loves you. He hasn’t said otherwise. So it must still be true. 

The thing that gets you upset is when he has to leave for a training camp. Not the fact that he has to go. That would be silly, he doesn’t tell you about the training camp. He just doesn’t come home. His suitcase is gone and clothes are missing from his closet. The worst part is that he doesn’t act like it’s a big deal when you’re able to get ahold of him. He tells you that he’s sorry he didn’t tell you but not to be dramatic about it.

That’s the only time the two of you talk the whole two weeks he’s gone. 

When he comes home he goes right back to acting how he had been prior. You finally have enough of it when he doesn’t even sit down to eat dinner. Just tries to go to the room to sleep.

“Toshi, is something bothering you? I feel like I barely see you anymore.” You grab his hand gently to keep him from walking away. He turns to you with his same neutral expression he usually carries. 

“I’ve been busy Y/N, you know this.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we can’t spend a little time together when you get home.” You try to give him a kind smile and squeeze his hand gently. 

“My life doesn’t revolve around you, you’re not my top priority right now. I have to sleep so I can stay in top shape for my job.” The words hurt, you always knew volleyball was important to him but you were hoping you would be important too.

Your hand drops to your side. “Okay, you told me that communication is important so I’m trying to communicate my feelings.” You take a deep breath and look him in the eyes. “I don’t like how you’ve been ignoring me.”

“If you don’t like it then leave. I’m not putting my career on hold because you don’t like how I’m acting. This is important to me.”

“I used to be important to you.” He doesn’t say anything after that. Just continues on his journey to your room. You supposed that was the answer to if you still mattered.

Leave huh? Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. It was clear neither of you were happy anymore. For two very different reasons. He was becoming a stranger that just happened to know your secrets. You lay on the couch, it has become your second bed with how often you’ve begun sleeping there. When you wake up in the morning to an empty house again you pack your things.

Just enough for a suitcase full. You would come back for the other things later. When both of you had calmed down. As you check into the hotel you feel your phone buzz, with hope you pull it out only to see that it was an ad. You sigh and take the room key from the receptionist. 

You stayed at the hotel for a week. And still no messages from Ushijima. You wondered if he had even noticed you were gone. You open your computer and start looking at apartment listings. If he didn’t want you there, let alone notice your absence then maybe you should leave. 

Ushijima doesn’t notice you are gone until your clothes are missing from his closet. He looks around the room and notices that all of your things are gone. He calls on your friends and they reluctantly tell him that you moved. With the new address typed into his phone he makes his way to your apartment. He knocks gently on the door, when you open it he realizes just how stupid he had been.

“Oh, hello Ushijima.” That made his heart pang with sadness. Why were you adressing him so formally now. You hadn’t broken up that he was aware of at least. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Why did you get an apartment?” The question is so simple. As simple as its answer.

“You told me to leave if I didn’t like how you were treating me. So I did.”

“That wasn’t what I meant, I was just overwhelmed with work. Why can’t you understand that.” He doesn’t say it like a question. He pinches the bridge of his nose as his brows furrow slightly.

“I did understand. You’re the one who didn’t listen.”

“You didn’t say goodbye.”

“We already had. You said goodbye long before I moved out.”

“What do you mean Y/N?” It was your turn to be annoyed.

“I tried to reason with you Ushijima. I told you that I didn’t like being ignored, did you even realize that you were doing it? Actually. Don’t answer that, please just leave. We already said our goodbyes.”

“But I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”

“Actions have consequences.” Loose threads on coats eventually pull the seams apart if not taken care of. If worked on it can be stopped. It’s a shame you didn’t work together to stop the coat from unraveling.

rules masterlist

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER THREE ━━ Mia, The Menace

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 4.6K

❀ ━ warnings: none i think

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: sigh another filler i’m sorry guys next chapter is when things actually start happening ….. also will u guys pls lmk if y’all like this series so far bc i feel like i’ve been writing it so shitty i’m sorry 🫠

THE AIR in Jo’s family home feels warmer than she remembers, thick with the lazy ease of summer afternoons in Boston. She’s sprawled out on the couch in the living room, half in Asher’s lap, her back pressed against his chest. The TV hums in the background, some half-forgotten show playing on low volume, but neither of them is paying much attention to it. Instead, their focus is on Mia, Jo’s eight-year-old little sister, who’s commanding the room as she rehearses her dance routine.

The house feels bigger than it ever does when Jo’s parents are home, their absence leaving behind a peculiar stillness that’s only occasionally interrupted by Mia’s bursts of energy. Her parents are celebrating their anniversary weekend in Maine, indulging in some much-deserved quiet while leaving Jo in charge of their youngest child. Jo doesn’t mind; after all, it’s July—her off-month—and she’s back in Boston for a brief stint of home-cooked meals and family chaos before heading back to Storrs in August. Babysitting Mia, however, is proving to be a full-time job in itself—which Jo probably should’ve expected.

Mia’s energy is endless. Right now, she’s twirling and leaping across the living room, her movements surprisingly precise for a kid her age. She’s dressed in a sparkly leotard and pink tights, her hair tied in an elaborate bun she’d made Jo do before this—because, well, if Jo is good for anything, it’s doing hair. During summer sessions, half the team made her do their braids before practice—Paige especially, the blonde hopeless at doing her own—and Jo knows it’ll only get worse when the season starts up.

Jo tries to keep a watchful eye on her sister, but she can’t help but be distracted by her boyfriend. He’s absentmindedly tracing small circles across the middle of her thigh, and she can feel his heart beating against her back. When she glances up at him, she can’t help but grin at the softness of his smile as he claps along with Mia’s haphazard twirls, the way he leans into the couch—into Jo—like he belongs here. Which, he does. He always has.

“Joey!” Mia calls, her voice sharp and commanding for an eight-year-old. She pauses mid-spin to put her hands on her hips, her small frame vibrating with indignation. “You’re not watching!”

Jo blinks, pulling herself out of her thoughts. “I am watching,” she defends, though it’s not quite true. She sits up a little straighter against Asher, nudging him as if to say help me out here. “You’re doing great, Mia. Keep going.”

Mia narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Ugh,” she groans, glaring at her older sister. “Payton always gives me better advice. You just say, ‘good job.’ That’s not going to help if I want to be the best dancer in the entire world, Jo!”

Jo exchanges a look with Asher, who’s barely holding back a laugh. Payton, Jo and Mia’s older sister, is a professional dancer living in New York City—a career Mia idolizes. Unlike Jo, who’s spent her life on the basketball court, Payton is everything Mis wants to be: graceful, disciplined, and impossibly good at pirouettes. It’s a path Jo has no interest in, which is probably why Mia constantly reminds her she’s the least qualified coach in the family.

“Well, yeah,” Jo says with a shrug. “Payton’s a pro. She’s, like, me in basketball but with dance. I’m just here to cheer you on, don’t really know what to tell you’s right or wrong, Mimi.”

Mia just groans again, even more dramatic this time, launching into another leap across the floor. Asher leans closer to Jo, his lips brushing against her ear as he drops his voice to a whisper. “Tough crowd.”

Jo snorts softly. “You have no idea,” she murmurs back.

Mia finishes her routine with a fluoride, throwing one arm in the air as if she’s just landed a gold medal-winning move at the Olympics. Asher claps loudly, a grin inching across his face. “Amazing, Mee!” he says enthusiastically, though he’d say that even if her performance was outright awful. “You’re getting even better than Payton, I think.”

For once, Mia doesn’t respond with her usual sass. Typically, when it comes to Asher, Mia’s either teasingly threatening him or biting at him or calling him funny names—she’s a menace child if Jo’s ever met one. But instead, Mia actually smiles at the boy, her cheeks flushed pink from exertion. “Thanks,” she says cheerfully, and Jo stares at her in disbelief.

“Wow,” the point guard says, raising an eyebrow, impressed. “You smiled at him. And thanked him. I think that’s a first.”

“Progress,” Asher claims, smiling broadly down at Jo.

Mia, on the other hand, sticks her tongue out at her older sister before collapsing onto the rug, sighing dramatically. “I’m exhausted. Someone get me a glass of water.”

“Get one yourself,” Jo tells her, already pulling out her phone. She scrolls through her notifications lazily, her thumb pausing when Paige’s name lights up her screen.

PB 😱😱

Got a nike event in Boston tmrw morning

Soooo we’re hanging out after

No negotiations

Jo’s lips twitch into a smile.

Ma freshie 💘

obviously

what time?

Paige replies almost instantly.

PB 😱😱

Like noon?

Don’t bail jojo

Jo shakes her head, rolling her eyes to herself. Paige never fails to amuse.

Asher, whose chin is now pressed against Jo’s hair, his gaze on her text. He asks, “So, you and her are really tight now, huh?”

Jo shrugs, because, well, kinda, duh. “I mean, we do live together,” she says, as if that explains everything.

“Yeah, but she’s Bueckers,” he replies, saying her name like it means something. Which, even though Paige would say it doesn’t, it totally does. “That’s a huge deal. She’s, like, insane on the court. Seen all the highlights.”

Jo doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she lets her mind wander to the past month and a half—the morning runs, the late-night shooting, the quiet moments in their shared apartment, the not-so-quiet playful bickering. Paige isn’t just her teammate or her roommate. She’s… something else entirely. Someone Jo can’t quite put into words—an enigma, maybe. “She’s just Paige,” Jo murmurs finally, her voice softer now.

Asher grins. “I’ve gotta meet her sometime. Best introduce me soon, Jo.”

“You’ll like her,” she replies, confidence threading her voice. She can already picture how Paige would probably charm the hell out of him without even trying—she does it to everyone, after all. “She’s… yeah, she’s cool.”

From the rug, Mia sits up suddenly, as if she’s finally hearing the conversation, her curiosity clearly piqued. “Who’s Paige?”

Jo blinks at her. “My roommate,” she responds simply. “You knew that.”

“And teammate,” Asher adds.

“She knew that, too.”

Mia crosses her arms, her tone all business now, ignoring Jo’s last comment. “Is she nice?”

“Yeah,” Jo answers easily. “She’s great. Super chill, really funny.”

“Is she good at basketball?” Mia fired back.

Jo grins. “One of the best.”

“Bet she’s better than you.”

Jo throws one of the throw pillows on the couch at her sister’s head. “Shut up, Mia.”

Mia just giggles, dodging the pillow with ease. Asher laughs, shaking his head as he watches the two sisters bicker, more than familiar with it.

For all her teasing, Jo can’t shake the warm, almost buzzing feeling in her chest. She’s excited to see Paige tomorrow. For reasons she can’t explain, she’s missed her a lot these past couple weeks they’ve been away from campus. It’s probably just because going from basically spending every waking minute with one another to none at all is a little odd.

Probably.

THE JULY sun beats down on Boston, and Paige feels it’s warmth seeping into her skin as she walks along the tree-lined streets near the Commons. The Nike event she attended this morning went off without a hitch, just a casual appearance with some photos and a couple clips filmed that they’ll probably put into an add. But now, she’s got the rest of the day free. The thought makes her grin as she thumbs out a quick text to Jo.

PB 😱😱

All done 😊😊

Where u at?

It takes Jo less than a minute for Jo to reply, sending a pin for a location that’s about a half mile away. Paige starts walking, but a follow-up text rings before she’s even crossed the street.

Ma freshie 💘

mia and i are by the ice cream shop

hurry pls, she’s losing her mind

The next message is a picture of Mia making a ridiculous face, her lips twisted and one eye squinting in mock disgust. Paige snorts out a laugh right there on the sidewalk, the noise startling a couple walking by. She doesn’t care, though. The kid already seems like a riot, and Paige is oddly excited to meet her.

The stories Jo’s told her about Mia over the past month and a half come rushing back: the eight-year-old’s uncanny ability to get under people’s skin, her endless energy, and her knack for saying the wildest things at the worst times. Paige has been looking forward to meeting her, though she’s still not sure if it’s because she’s genuinely curious about the so-called “demon child” or if she just wants to see Jo in full big-sister mode.

When Paige rounds the final corner, she spots them immediately. Jo is standing near a brightly colored ice cream shop, her arms crossed, her face pinched in annoyance as she talks to a smaller figure—Mia, presumably. Mia, on the other hand, looks completely unbothered, her tiny hands on her hips as she talks back with the kind of confidence that only a sassy little girl could muster.

Paige slows her steps, taking in the scene with a grin tugging at her lips. Jo’s wearing a simple outfit—ripped jean shorts that show off her long legs, a tightly-fitted white tube top, and a Red Sox cap pulled low over her face. It’s casual, but there’s something about the way she looks so effortlessly good in it that makes Paige pause for half a second longer than she should.

Her stomach dips unexpectedly, and Paige frowns to herself. Relax.

Still, as Paige approaches, she can’t help but notice the way Jo’s tan skin seems to glow under the sun, how smooth her legs look. Paige shakes her head, forcing her thoughts back on track. Because, seriously, the fuck is she even thinking about?

Clearing her throat, Paige makes her presence known. Jo turns, her annoyed expression instantly replaced by something brighter—her eyes lighting up, a wide grin spreading across her face.

“Hey, JoJo,” Paige greets teasingly, the nickname rolling off her tongue before she can stop it.

Jo’s grin falters for half a second, and she slaps Paige’s arm lightly. “Quit calling me that.”

Paige smirks. “Nah.”

Before Jo can retort, Mia steps forward, her curious gaze fixed on Paige. The little girl is smaller than Paige expected, with a mop of dark curls and big brown eyes that seem to take in everything. Paige crouches down to her level, offering a hand.

“And you must be Mia,” she says warmly. “I’m Paige.”

Mia doesn’t take her hand right away. Instead, she gives Paige a long, exaggerated once-over, her gaze hard as she studies her. The blonde tries not to fidget, but it’s hard under the little girl’s piercing eyes. Jo wasn’t kidding; Mia’s got this quiet intensity that’s a little intimidating, even if she’s only eight years old and Paige is twenty.

Finally, Mia breaks into a grin and giggles as she takes Paige’s hand. “Hi,” she says, her voice lilting.

Paige relaxes, smiling back easily. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard lots about you.”

Mia tilts her head. “From Jo?”

“Yeah,” Paige remixes with a grin. “She talks about you all the time.”

Mia beams at this, clearly pleased, while Jo mutters something under her breath that Paige doesn’t catch.

Paige chuckles a little as she stands. “Sooo, ice cream, right?” she asks.

Mia’s eyes light up and she grabs Paige’s hand like she’s known her her whole life rather than a minute or two. “Yes! Best ice cream in Boston!”

Jo snorts, falling into step beside them, shoulder brushing against Paige’s lightly. “She says that about every ice cream place we go to,” she mumbles, though there’s an undeniable softness in her tone.

“It is the best,” Mia insist, her voice full of conviction.

Paige grins. “Guess I’ll have to see for myself.”

The moment they step inside the ice cream shop, Paige is hit with a wave of sugary air and the sound of chatter. It’s buzzing in here, bigger and more crowded than she expected, almost every table occupied, with kids laughing, parents corralling them. The line snakes almost to the door, and Paige glances down at Mia, who’s still clutching her hand tightly.

“Looks like this place is the best,” Paige observes, smiling down at the little girl. Mia beams back up at her, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Told you!” she chirps, voice triumphant.

Paige can’t help but laugh softly. She glances over at Jo, who’s scanning the menu above the counter. The sunlight streaming through the shop window catches on the stray wisps of Jo’s hair that escape from under her Red Sox cap. Paige tries not to let her eyes linger too long on the curve of Jo’s jawline or the way her tube top leaves the expanse of her collarbones and neck exposed.

Jesus Christ, she doesn’t know what’s wrong with herself today.

The line moves slowly, but Paige doesn’t mind. Mia fills the time with a steady stream of chatter, never letting go of the blonde. She tells her about her favorite ice cream flavor (superman), her least favorite vegetables (brussel sprouts), and their family dogs (a dachshund named Dory and a golden retriever named Murph).

Paige listens attentively, nodding and laughing at all the right moments. She’s used to this—her own siblings are just as chatty, and she’s always been good at humoring them. There’s something comforting about Mia’s unfiltered enthusiasm; it reminds Paige of home in a way that makes her chest ache just a little.

As they inch closer to the counter, the line passes by a display of candy shelves, and that’s when it happens. Mia freezes mid-sentence, her eyes locking into something with the kind of laser focus that only a kid ready for a sugar high can muster.

“Oh my gosh,” Mia breaths, pointing to a massive rainbow-swirled lollipop almost as big as her head. She finally removes her hand from Paige’s to start tugging at Jo, begging, “Joey, please, please, can I get it? Please?”

Paige blinks a little at the nickname. Joey. She’s never heard anyone call Jo that before—she thought the only one she had was the one she hates that the whole team’s started using for her (JoJo). But Paige thinks Joey’s cute. In fact, she files it away in the back of her mind.

“No. Definitely not,” Jo says immediately, shaking her head down at Mia.

Mia’s face scrunches up in exaggerated disbelief. “What? Why?”

Paige glances between them, finally seeing what Jo meant about Mia being a demon child. The girl’s dramatic flair is something else entirely.

Jo sighs heavily. “Because the last time we were here, Mom bought you one, and you threw it up on the way home. It was gross, Mia.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Mia whines, still eyeing the lollipop like it’s the holy grail.

“It was that bad,” Jo counters.

“But it tasted sooo good,” Mia insists, dragging out the words as she tugs at Jo’s arm again.

Jo raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Did it taste good when it came back up?”

Mia stops short, her small face scrunching up in thought. The gears are clearly turning in her head as she considers this. And just as suddenly as the argument started, Mia lets out a resigned sigh and steps away from the candy display.

“Fine,” she mumbles, sounding defeated.

Jo smiles to herself, clearly pleased, and Paige has to bite back a laugh at the entire sibling interaction.

“Nice save,” she says under her breath, leaning slightly toward Jo as they start moving forward in line again.

Jo glances at her, their faces closer than usual, though she doesn’t seem to notice. Her smile just widens as she responds, “You learn a few tricks when you’ve been stuck around her for eight years.”

Paige chuckles softly, watching Mia bound up to the counter like she’s on a mission, finally their turn to order. The little girl presses her hands against the glass case, scanning the vibrant tubs of ice cream with a dramatic level of intensity.

“I want Superman!” Mia declares, her voice brimming with excitement as she points at the swirled red, yellow, and blue ice cream.

“Please,” Jo adds, giving the employee a small, apologetic smile as she nudges Mia’s arm, giving her that older sister look that Paige can tell means—use your manners. The worker scoops a generous amount of the ice cream into a cup and hands it over the counter. Mia accepts it like it’s a trophy, her eyes and grin wide as ever.

“Can I just have a scoop of cotton candy, please?” Jo asks, her turn now, her voice casual like she’s not about to commit a culinary crime.

Paige can’t help but scrunch up her nose at the brunette’s order. Nasty. She doesn’t say anything—yet—but she stores the information away for later mockery. The worker hands Jo her cone, a garishly bright pink and blue swirl that makes Paige wince just looking at it.

When it’s Paige’s turn, she doesn’t even hesitate, ordering mint chip—her absolute favorite.

They pay quickly, before stepping outside into the warm air, each armed with their chosen flavor. Mia’s already half-covered in Superman ice cream and Jo has her head tilted slightly to avoid dripping the cotton candy monstrosity in her hand.

Paige glances at Jo’s cone and makes a face. “Cotton candy is crazy work,” she tells her, incredulous.

Jo raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “What’s wrong with cotton candy?”

“Everything,” Paige answers, gesturing at the cone like it’s personally offended her. “It’s basically sugar-flavored-sugar. It doesn’t even taste like real cotton candy. It’s just—” She shudders dramatically.

Jo narrows her eyes at Paige’s cone in retaliation. “Says the person eating frozen toothpaste.”

Paige gasps, her hand flying to her chest in mock indignation. “Excuse me, mint chip is a classic. It’s refreshing. It’s balanced. It’s—”

“Minty,” Jo interrupts, wrinkling her nose. “Which is gross.”

“It’s not gross! You’re gross,” Paige fires back, grinning despite herself.

Mia, who’s been watching the exchange with wide eyes, suddenly pipes up. “Okay, I’ll decide!” she declares. She scoops up some of her Superman ice cream for good measure before pointing her tiny spoon at Jo’s cone. “Joey, let me try yours first.”

Jo bends down slightly to hold out her cone, and Mia takes a small bite. She lets it melt in her mouth, her face scrunching up like she’s debating a complex equation. Finally, she nods. “It’s okay,” she says, though she doesn’t look thrilled.

Jo looks affronted. “Just okay?”

Mia shrugs nonchalantly before turning to Paige. “Now yours!”

Paige kneels slightly to hold out her cone. Mia eyes it suspiciously. “Why is it green?” she asks, sounding almost fearful.

“Don’t worry ‘bout the color,” Paige tells her, waving off the question. “It’s good. Trust.”

Mia hesitates for a second longer before scooping up a tiny bite. She puts it in her mouth, and her face goes still. For a moment, Paige wonders if she’s about to spit it out, but then Mia’s eyes light up.

“This. Is. So. Good!” the eight-year-old squeals, practically bouncing in place.

Paige grins, holding out her hand for a high five. “Told you. Welcome to the winning team.”

Mia smacks her hand enthusiastically, ice cream forgotten for a moment. Jo, however, is standing off to the side, arms crossed and pouting like a kid who just lost her favorite game. Paige glances at her and immediately starts laughing.

“Oh, don’t be mad,” she teases, nudging Jo’s arm.

“She’s supposed to be on my side!” Jo grumbles, glaring halfheartedly at Mia. “I’m your sister!”

Mia sticks her tongue out at her, clearly unbothered. “You’re just mad because you have bad taste.”

Paige nearly chokes on her ice cream, laughing so hard she has to steady herself against a bench they’re stood next to. “Dang, Mia!”

Jo shakes her head, though the corner of her mouth twitches upward in a reluctant smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you little menace,” she mumbles, ruffling Mia’s hair.

Mia slaps her hand away from her head, beginning to bicker with Jo. Paige watches, quiet now as she bites into her cone. She finds herself unable to look away, a strange warmth blooming in her chest.

See, whatever that is, has to go. She doesn’t like it, doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t understand it in the slightest.

It just—has to go.

THE LIVING ROOM feels cozy in a way that Paige hasn’t experienced in a long time. It’s not her home, not her couch, not her family, but something about it wraps around her, soft and warm. The overhead light is off, leaving the room bathed in the dim glow of the TV. Colors flicker against the walls, shapes shifting across the furniture. Paige doesn’t know what movie is playing—something animated, she thinks—but it’s barely background noise at this point.

Jo sits a few feet away, her back against the armrest of the couch, one leg stretched out, the other bent slightly. Mia’s curled up fast asleep in her lap, her little head tucked under Jo’s arm, one of Jo’s hands running lazily through the little girl’s hair. The motion is slow and deliberate, like second nature, and it’s strangely captivating. Paige finds herself staring, watching the way Jo’s fingers disappear into soft brown curls, touch gentle.

Paige hadn’t planned to stay this long. After Mia had declared mint chip her new favorite ice cream and told Paige she could officially call her Mimi—a nickname that only her absolute favorite people can use—they’d hung out all day, walking around the Commons, then shopping, then getting dinner. After that, they were meant to depart, Jo and Mia going home, and Paige going back to her hotel. But then Mia had looked up at her with those big, pleading eyes, practically begging Paige to come back and watch a movie with them. And Paige is terrible at saying no to kids.

So, she came home with them, to their house which sits right on the outline of the city. The house isn’t massive, but it’s nice—nice enough for Paige to have faintly wondered how much money Jo’s parents make. But it’s still welcoming and cozy, and Paige feels comfortable here. She also likes that she’s got to see all the photos around—the ones of Jo when she was little, some more recent ones that Paige can guess are apart of her senior photos, and a couple of her with her sisters.

The only one that she didn’t enjoy seeing was that one. A nicely framed picture of Jo and her boyfriend sitting on the shelf directly to Paige’s right. They look happy in it. Too happy, in Paige’s opinion, though she doesn’t know why it bothers her so much. Maybe she’s got some sort of jealousy deep down in the part of her heart where her commitment issues aren’t veined around, an envy toward a stable relationship like that. But either way, there’s no reason for her to care. And yet, she doesn’t like it.

Paige shakes the thought away, focusing instead on the conversation. She and Jo have been talking quietly since Mia fell asleep, their voices hushed but easy. It reminds Paige of late nights back at their shared apartment on campus, how they’ll end up in the kitchen at the same time and somehow talk for hours without meaning to. Paige likes those moments more than she’ll ever admit, and this feels no different.

Their conversation drifts, flowing naturally, until Jo starts talking about her sisters. “I admire them, you know,” she says softly, her hand still moving through Mia’s hair. “Payton, especially. She’s… well, she’s incredible. Mia thinks she walks on water, and honestly, sometimes I do, too.”

Paige tilts her head, curious. Jo’s voice has a different quality now—still soft, but there’s something else underneath it. Not sadness exactly, but something close. “What about you?” Paige asks. “You’re incredible, too. And Mia clearly adores you.”

Jo smiles, but—for once—it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, but it’s different. Payton’s a dancer—like, a real dancer. She’s in New York City, with the ballet there. And that’s what Mia loves. That’s what they both love. And, y’know, they connect over it. It’s dance; it’s their thing.”

Paige frowns, the words sinking in. Jo rarely talks like this. She’s always so happy, so upbeat, so wrapped in sunshine that Paige sometimes forgets there might be anything else underneath. “You don’t feel connected to them?” she asks, her voice a little quieter now.

Jo hesitates, her hand pausing in Mia’s hair for just a second before continuing. “Not really,” she admits. “I mean, I love them, obviously. But… it’s hard sometimes. I’ve always been the odd one out, you know? The one who plays basketball while they dance. Sometimes it just feels like we’re on completely different planets.”

Paige doesn’t know what to say at first. She’s surprised—stupidly so, maybe, because she’s never considered Jo might feel this way. But, if she thinks about it, it makes sense.

“I get that,” the blonde finally says, soft but steady. “I mean, I’m so much older than my siblings that it’s hard to connect with them sometimes, too. But… for what it’s worth, I think you’re amazing. And I know Mia does too—whether she says it or not.”

Jo looks over at her then, and for a moment, Paige thinks she might forget how to breathe. There’s something in Jo’s eyes, something raw and unguarded, and it makes Paige’s chest feel tight. “Thanks,” Jo says quietly, barely a whisper.

The moment feels too heavy, too close, and Paige decides to lighten the mood. “So,” she says, changing the subject, her small smile curling into more of a smirk. “Mia calls you Joey?”

Jo’s smile returns, softer this time but more genuine. “Yeah. My whole family does. It’s a much better nickname than that JoJo Siwa shit y’all have come up with.”

Paige laughs, shaking her head. “Don’t shit on the JoJo nickname. It’s iconic.”

Jo raises an eyebrow, her smile turning teasing. “Iconically bad,” she corrects.

“Okay, fine,” Paige says, pretending to think. “But I like Joey more, too. It’s cute. Maybe I’ll start calling you that instead.”

Jo shrugs, but her smile widens just a little. “Anything’s better than JoJo.”

Paige grins, leaning back into the couch, though—for whatever reason—her heart starts thumping a little faster. She doesn’t know why she feels the way she does around Jo sometimes—why moments like this stick with her longer than they probably should. But for now, she doesn’t let herself think about it too much. Instead, she lets herself enjoy the quiet, the warmth of the room, and the easy rhythm of their conversation.

[bomber-grl]

Peter Parker Dating hc 🕸️

Pairing(s):Peter Parker (Tom hollands)x Gn!Reader (both civilian and superhero included)

As a civilian you were probably unaware of his secret identity for a good awhile

Until you inevitably found out and began dating

How you found out well, well let’s just say it wasn’t ideal

You had been friends for awhile and the only way Peter would ever let you near him or his room (while having a crush on you) would be if he forgot something at your house or something

So you knocked and May let you know he wasn’t there but still let you in

I mean she wasn’t just gonna let you stand outside waiting for him, if anything he was to blame for not being responsible about the time you two established for meeting up

Queue you walking into his room and he’s half suited up and the both of you are just staring at eachother

That interaction led to some discourse, obviously

But after the initial shock you (surprisingly) moved on

Now if you’re a superhero working for stark for some reason then you met that way and there’s no secret identity reveal

Tbh the two of you have to have something in common

Whether its interests in comics or “nerd” stuff

something had to have led to the two of you getting together

Or maybe you’re just into easily flustered, needy men, who knows 🤷‍♀️

Like if you’re a hero then you met that way and share that in common (including tech if you’re into that)

So just imagine Peter, whose very nervous/ excited, just absolutely rambling about some interest that was briefly mentioned and that you both shared

The thing is, you’re on a date right now and he’s absolutely embarrassing himself (in his opinion)

He’d try to plan everything to perfection and gift you what he can even if he feels it might pale to what you’re used to (if you’re wealthy)

Your first date was especially memorable since not only did he display his nervousness so obviously but it was as if the universe couldn’t let his plan run smoothly

He had tripped, stuttered, made too many mistakes to count, just a piece of work all in all

To you though? It was endearing

He had wanted your first date to be the upmost perfection, even if it wasn’t an average persons “ideal” by the end-

It didn’t matter because you could tell the genuine affection he had for you so much so that he had planned this all, and unfortunately (for him) embarrassed himself beyond return in front of you

“Kill me now”

- Peter probably

He doesn’t really seem like it, if anything he seems pretty self actualized but there’s obviously moments where he feels a bit sorry (?) for the lack of a better word

He’s just always clumsy, and getting flustered easily

Especially around you

So although he might think that you probably think less than ideally of him, he couldn’t be more wrong

If anything it adds to his charm and anything he does is pretty endearing

So when you decide to share such words with Peter while you’re chilling in his room

Well, he’s floored

He thanks you but then that spirals into him stuttering and tripping over himself

Despite the fact that you complimented him to not only ease his worries but also to just let him know-

He’s groveling (exaggeration) and apologizing for, again, being himself…

Blud needs to chill out…

Usually after missions or whatever they’re called- Peter usually has minor injuries or cuts

How do you know this? You’re his main source of comfort so he’s sneak in through your window into your room as often as he can

A particular moment was when you both decided to have a sleep over at your house

It was definitely a huge progress in your relationship but you should’ve known better

While you were asleep, he snuck off and att the end of his little escapade, he snuck back in

Only thing is that he returned back through the window he snuck out from just to be met with the lights on

He visibly sunk at your disappointed gaze once he noticed you up

He isn’t in the best state so you take it easy on him and just go rummaging through your cabinets- you hoped to have something for his wounds around there somewhere

As you’re searching, Peter has taken it upon himself to convince you his injuries are nothing, just go back to bed, and is just overall downplaying his condition

You pause and just stare at him

Obviously he’s taken by surprise but he realizes he can’t do anything to stop you and just lets you continue

Even while your cleaning his wounds or bandaging him up he’s making jokes about the situation

Well maybe not jokes but we all know how rambly he gets when he’s nervous

Somehow digging himself a grave right there

On that same page

We’re all aware of how difficult it is for Peter to balance his civilian and superhero life

I’m not up for debate- it might as well be canon

He’s always having to leave school for superhero work in which it has consequences or he leaves superhero work and still has consequences in the franchise so respectfully: 🤫🤐)

Peter tries super hard to be there and include you in what’s going on but sometimes he needs to cancel or leave hang outs abruptly

You understand this obviously but it’s still upsetting, not as much if you’re a superhero id imagine

But yknow

Still annoying asf

You don’t give him hell for it even if you want to because either 1. You do the same thing (superhero) 2. He can’t help it and he already gets enough shit

He’s also super protective

Especially if you’re a civilian

It’s sort of endearing/ annoying- somehow both simultaneously

Now if you’re a hero/ avenger then you both understand things about your secret identities

Particularly about hiding them

Yknow how Ned would always help Peter out? Well you and Peter do that for eachother

If u have family or others who aren’t aware like friends- Peter has your back and vice versa

It’s just the price you need to pay

Especially since it’s not easy balancing lives

[daddyslilchickenfingers2]

Kinktober (reuploaded)

Pent up (Chris)

Request: None

Warnings: Small fight, horny Chris, besties to lovers (when is that not the case?), minimal crying, inexperienced Chris, handjob, embarrassment/humiliation if you squint, switch Chris & reader, cumshot, riding, minimal degradation, begging

Chris’ pov

I’ve only ever had sex once in my life, it was when I was 17 and it was pretty trash, not gonna lie. It’s been 3 years since then and it’s been up to me to get myself off, which had been fine until recently. Nothing I do is working, I’ve tried switching hands, grinding on my bed, fucking pillows, humping random things, using a vibrator, and I still can’t cum. That doesn’t stop my dick from getting hard though, sometimes I go all day with a half-hard dick. It’s gotten to the point where it’s uncomfortable and starting to hurt because basically, all I can do is edge myself. I haven’t been able to fucking cum for 6 weeks, I don’t do hookups or one-night stands either so I’m literally screwed. (or not screwed in this sense)

Now that our friend Y/n from back home has moved to LA as well, my usually half-hard dick has become fully hard. We’ve known her for about 8 years, so needless to say she’s our best friend but that doesn’t mean I don’t find her attractive. Sure, in middle and high school I wasn’t attracted to her like that, plus she was more so Nick’s friend until we turned 16 and he came-out. She’s recently gotten a bigger following on social media and had moved out to LA for better opportunities, it was also obviously a plus that she’d get to see us more.

If I’m being honest, ever since Covid, Y/n has really had a glow up, we all have. However, I wasn’t used to seeing her all the time, except for on FaceTime, but her attractiveness never really affected me then. Now with Y/n coming over all the time, it was hard not to be affected by her attractiveness. It’s even harder when she wears short shorts/skirts, crop tops, or tank tops, and especially when she’s braless. I’d never say or do anything though, I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Plus, what am I supposed to say? “Oh by the way, you make me hard when you wear clothes like that, could you please stop?” there’s absolutely no way I’d do that.

I’ve been doing my best to avoid Y/n for the past month and I think she’s starting to catch on, she probably thinks I’m mad at her. I catch her giving me hurt and confused looks all the time and Matt says I hurt her feelings by pushing her away for no reason. Except there was a reason, but nobody knew that and nobody was going to find out. At least that was the plan until today as Y/n came over yet again. She walked through the door as usual, saying hi to Matt and Nick before they left for some reason. I was extremely confused because we didn’t have any plans and they didn’t mention that they were going somewhere.

Y/n came over to the couch and sat next to me, I just stayed on my phone until she took it out of my hand. She set it down on the coffee table before wrapping both her arms around my left one. Y/n put her head on my shoulder and sadly said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry.” that made me feel like shit. I sighed and removed my arm from her hold to give her an actual hug. “Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I’m sorry.” I sighed again as I heard her sniffle. She wrapped her arms tightly around my torso and I heard her sniffing a second time.

“Please don’t cry Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m just going through something with myself and it’s difficult being around you” I really should’ve worded that better because Y/n immediately pulled away. She was now understandably defensive and upset “What’s that supposed to mean!? You don’t like being around me!? I literally paid Matt and Nick to stay the night at my house so I could talk to you privately and now you don’t even want to be around me!?” she yelled at me. She got off the couch and started walking towards the door crying.

I felt like an asshole so I immediately went after her, pulling her into a tight hug before pulling away and wiping away her tears. “God, you’re gonna fucking hate me after I say this.” I said before taking a deep breath and continuing. “It’s difficult to be around you because you turn me on and make me extremely hard. It’s not your fault, it’s just my body being stupid. I can’t believe I’m telling you this but I haven’t been able to cum in like 6 weeks, I get painfully hard and can basically only edge myself. You know I don’t do hookups so I can only rely on myself and it’s just not working. I’m sorry.” I told her truthfully.

Y/n started laughing, like full on hysterically laughing. I stood there, not finding what I just funny but still cracked a smile at her laughter. “Oh my god, you’re such a jackass!” she joked, making me a little bit confused. “You could’ve just said that and I would’ve given you a handjob weeks ago!” she said between laughs. I didn’t know what to say back so I just stood there staring at her in shock. “Bullshit, I’ve been trying to hide the fact that you’ve been making me hard for weeks just for you to say you’d give me a handjob!? That’s fucking crazy!” I laughed while shaking my head.

Y/n’s pov

I can’t believe all the confusion and hurt going on, on my end was all because I turn Chris on. Yeah no shit he’s one of my best friends, but he’s also obviously very active and I’d honestly give him a handjob just for fun. I love the thought of making someone cum with just my hand, I’m obviously a bit more experienced than Chris since I had a boyfriend for 2 years and we had sex but it didn’t bother me. I like knowing I’ll be the only person to have given him a handjob and the second to touch him intimately like that.

After Chris said this was all crazy, I turned to walk back into the living room when he grabbed my wrist, turning me around. “And where do you think you’re going?” he asked in a cocky tone, “To sit down, what are you doing?” I said back. “I believe you owe me a handjob. Can’t believe you came over to talk to me in such a slutty little outfit and expected me to not get hard” Chris said with a smirk as his hands went to my waist. He pulled me against him so I could feel his half-hard cock and he’s fucking huge.

I decided to mess with him a bit and pull away, doing a little spin before saying, “You don’t like my outfit? Is it because I look bad?” I fake pouted. Chris grabbed my hips once again but his hands almost immediately went down to my ass. “I love it, I just don’t want others seeing what’s mine.” he said lowly, “Possessive.” I teased him, poking his chest. “Is that a problem?” he asked, “Not at all.” I replied. “Good. Now about that handjob offer-“ he started before I cut him off, “ Yes, I’ll give you a handjob now c’mon.” I laughed at his neediness.

We got to his room and I sat on his bed, taking my shoes off while he took off his shirt and laid down, propped by pillows. “Wait! Y-You know um…” he trailed off so I spoke up instead. “Know that you’ve only ever been touched and seen naked once? Yes, I’m aware.” “Oh, um okay, yeah that’s what I was gonna say. I was also going to ask if we could like makeout first? You know, to make me less nervous…” Chris blushed cutely. “Anything you want, tonight is all about your pleasure.” I smiled at him before moving my lips to meet his. Right before our lips we’re about to meet Chris mumbled, “Want you on my lap” pulling my waist so I was now sitting on his lap.

I once again leaned down to attach our lips, my left hand was on his chest while my right cupped his jaw. The kiss was a little slow at first and I could feel that Chris was still half-hard, slowly getting fully hard when he deepened the kiss. I wasn’t expecting him to run his tongue across my bottom lip or squeeze my ass so he could gain access to my mouth, but I was glad he did. The kiss started to get hot and I loved the way Chris whimpered a bit before pulling away. “Want you to touch my cock.” he panted with a smirk. Chris took off his pants before asking me to take off my skirt, which I did, “Goddamn baby, you’ve got such a nice ass.” he said before slapping my ass, making me laugh.

“Just sit back, relax, and enjoy” I winked at him before placing another kiss to his lips, sliding my hand over his hard-on. I pulled away and saw a bit of fear flash through his eyes, “Chris, are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” I asked softly, removing my hand from him. “No, I want you to keep going. I just- this won’t ruin our friendship or be awkward after, right?” he asked nervously. I brought my hand up to stroke his cheek, “I promise this won’t ruin our friendship or be awkward. I just wanna help you, plus it’s fun and enjoyable for me too.” I smiled. Chris smiled back, “Okay good. Please continue.” he said while blushing.

“Do you have lube and can I take off your boxers?” “Yes and yes” he replied, leaning over to grab the lube from his dresser next to his bed. He handed it to me before pulling down his boxers and blushing. “Holy fuck Chris! You’re fucking huge!” I said shocked because he’s a lot bigger than I expected. “Mmm shut up.” he whined back embarrassed, gasping loudly when I started slowly jerking him off. I looked at his face as it twisted with pleasure, I started to move my hand a bit faster as he looked at me, causing him to close his eyes and bite his lip to prevent any moans from falling past them. His face turned a bright pink, making me smile as I moved my other hand to his face, pulling his lip away from his teeth with my thumb.

“C’mon Chris, let me hear those pretty moans. Open those gorgeous eyes for me.” I softly ordered him. His hands were by his sides, balled up in fists as he gripped onto the sheets below him. He let a small whine when he opened his eyes and saw mine looking back at them. “Does that feel good?” I asked seductively, “G-Go faster.” he said, “Can you use your manners for me?” I teased. Chris gave me a pleading look, not wanting to beg but that quickly changed when I stilled my movements. “No, don’t stop! P-Pease go faster!” he groaned, immediately avoiding eye contact with me. I lightly gripped his jaw as I started moving my hand again, I turned his head to face me before saying, “So good with your words.” I smiled before slowly making out with him.

Chris pulled away to let out a particularly loud moan as I felt some precum leak out of his tip. I decided if I wanted to go faster, I’d need to use the lube, squirting some directly onto his cock. I sped up my movements, making Chris’ whines and moans get louder. “Talk to me.” “What?” “Dirty talk to me, tell me I’m being good. I don’t know just talk to me, I’m getting close.” he said. “Awe that’s cute, I haven’t even been jerking you off for 10 minutes and you’re already gonna cum.” I teased thinking he’d get mad at me but instead let out a loud whimper. “You like when I do that?” I asked when I started moving faster, Chris just whined and nodded his head erratically, feeling slightly humiliated.

I dug my thumb into his slit, collecting precum before using my other hand to play with his balls. My fist would tighten every time I went up towards the head, making Chris whimper and whine. I was so focused on pleasuring him that I jumped when I felt his hands come up towards my boobs, “Sorry, I ju-“ he started being I cut him off. “It’s okay I just wasn’t expecting you to touch me, go ahead and do whatever you were gonna do. You’re being such a good boy.” I added the last sentence experimentally to see if he’d like it, and to my surprise, he let out a loud, whiny moan. He moved my tank top straps down and lowered it so my boobs were now visible. Chris looked from my boobs up to my face, getting embarrassed when he found me already looking at him.

“Fuck Y/n/n don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna make me cum.” he whined. I decided to move positions and go in between his legs so I could get a better angle, Chris’ eyes blew out with lust at that. He became a whining, whimpering mess, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit ‘m gonna cum!” he loudly moaned out. I started moving my hand as fast as I could, trying to keep his hips still at the same time. Chris’ left hand came down to tightly hold onto my right wrist as the pleasure was overwhelming due to him edging himself for so long. I saw his stomach flex and thighs start to shake a bit, signaling he was about to cum. Not wanting to make a big mess, I moved his cock so it was up against his stomach, that way he wouldn’t cum all over his sheets.

“Fuck Y/n! Oh shit- yes I’m cumming!” he groaned out loudly, “Be a good boy and cum for me.” I replied seductively. Chris let out something that was a mix between a whine and a growl, which sounded so fucking hot. Within a couple of seconds, thick strings of white cum started to paint his body as I jerked him through his orgasm. I watched in awe as this was the biggest cumshot I’ve ever seen, some cum even made it all the way up to his face. That was fucking hot, I helped him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, during which he let out multiple whimpers and whines. I was so out of it that I didn’t realize Chris’ cock had now turned soft, “S-Stop too much, ‘m sensitive!” he moaned, causing me to finally let go of his cock.

Chris was breathing heavily but he looked so fucking good covered in his own cum like this. “Chris, are you okay?” I asked gently, with his eyes closed all he could do was whimper out a response that would turn me on even more. “P-Picture! Take a picture of me covered in my cum!” I was a bit shocked but nonetheless, I got up to grab my phone. I wasn’t even turned around for a more than a minute, but by the time I got back to the bed with my phone, he was already hard again. I took a few pictures before telling him to open his eyes, Chris looked at me with an extremely fucked out expression and a dopey smile as I took the last picture.

Even though Chris was basically fucked dumb at this point, he still somehow managed to take control of the situation. He grabbed me by my throat and pulled me closer to him, causing me to let out a surprised whine. “Clean my cum up with your tongue and ride me. Like you said earlier, tonight is all about my pleasure, meaning you’re gonna be the slut who does all the work.” he stated in an authoritative tone. I replied with a quick, “Yes sir.” before I started licking up his cum from his stomach all the way up to his face. He actually tasted really good, once he was clean of his cum, he sat up against the headboard.

Grabbing the bottom of my tank top, he said “Take it off.” before watching me pull it over my head. I was honestly a bit surprised at how much of a power bottom Chris was being right now, considering this is only his second time having sex. He pulled me onto his lap before smashing our lips together, biting mine as he pulled back to toy with the side of my panties. “Take these off before I fucking rip them off.” he growled, I immediately took them off and sat back on his lap. “Can I please just fuck myself on your cock now?” I whined, “Well you’re the one who’s gonna do all the work so go ahead. Condoms are i-“ he said cockily before I cut him off. “We don’t need one of those unless you want it.” I told him before kissing his neck, “Goddamn, no condom then.” he grunted.

I slowly sunk down onto his massive cock, “Jesus Christ! You’re so fucking tight!” he moaned out while his voice cracked. “Mhm you’re so big Chris!” I whimpered as I started bouncing on his dick. Chris helped me move by griping onto my ass while I started sucking hickies into his neck. “Baby you can’t leave marks, Matt and Nick can’t know.” he panted out, making me loudly whine. I didn’t stop though, I really didn’t care about his brothers finding out. However, I did stop when he slapped my ass and pulled my hair, “I told you to fucking stop!” he growled in my ear. I started moving a bit faster as he started sucking hickies into my chest, “Just wanted to mark you up!” I whined.

“Why? You tryna claim me as your own or something? Can’t stand the idea of other girls looking at me?” he teased me. Suddenly I turned into the whiny one, blabbing out incoherent sentences without thinking. “Don’t want others looking at you. Only me, you’re mine- please Chris! Want you!” I cried out as the pleasure started to become too much. “Please what baby? What do you want me to do?” he asked, looking at me with his eyes full of lust, “Just want you!” I said frustrated. Chris started thrusting up into me, “Yeah, you want me baby? You got me, I’m yours princess, kiss me.” he said softly in my ear. I moved my hands to wrap around his neck and thread through his hair as our lips met in a feverish kiss.

Chris helped me move faster as he thrusted up into me as well before he moved one hand from my waist to rub my clit. He moved his kisses down my neck, sweetly sucking more hickies into the skin. “Feel so good around my cock princess.” he mumbled, “Shit, Chris I’m gonna cum!” I cried out. With that Chris flipped us over and started drilling into me, looking down at me with a smirk. “Cum on my cock babe, cum so I can fill you up with mine.” he groaned, I pulled him down for another kiss, moaning into it. He was fucking into me at a fairly fast pace while rubbing my clit in tight, fast circles. I tightened around him as I started to cum, moaning loudly. Chris’ thrusts grew sloppy and before I knew it, he was loudly groaning and filling me up with his cum.

He fucked into me for a couple more seconds then pulled out, laying down next to me. As I came down from my high, a wave of emotions hit me and I suddenly got nervous. “Chris…” I said barely above a whisper, he just pulled me into his side, laying my head on his chest. He pulled the blankets up over us, “Shhh, it’s okay, I know. We’ll talk about it in the morning, I promise this doesn’t change anything in a bad way. Just go to sleep princess, everything’s gonna be okay.” he said in a soothing voice, calming my nerves. “Okay, goodnight Chris.” I said softly, “Goodnight pretty girl.” he replied back, protectively wrapping his arms around me.

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in this life | choi seungcheol

summary | honestly, you didn’t really care what choi seungcheol did anymore. but, when his mom called you saying there was an accident, you found yourself at the foot of his bed. genre | fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; exes!au warnings | swearing, mentions of hospitals, injuries from an accident (not life threatening), mentions of drinking, suggestive… for like a flashback, nudity (non-sexual and not descriptive), miscommunication possibly…, jealousy…, insecurities/self-doubt word count | 13.47k words pairing | choi seungcheol x fem!reader minli | lowercase intended i literally have nothing to say about this. sort of a monster to write. i had so many ideas for this, yet little brainpower to execute! it was a fun concept and the longest fic i’ve written for this blog… italics mean flashback or past event… update | i forgot a few things to tag under warnings, sorry :( they have been added

you were doing great, just great. it started raining when you left your umbrella back at your apartment. you were late to work, and you spilled your coffee on the way out of the door. things were great, and it had been seven months since you and your boyfriend called it quits.

you’d like to say it ended in a big blaze of glory, something movie-like, but it was just the opposite. you had sat down with seungcheol and told him that you were unhappy. he was always too busy and refused to make time for anything other than his work. as for you, well you were tired. when you told him, he sort of just looked at you blankly and just shrugged.

he fucking shrugged. great. so that was it. you just stared at him blankly. he wasn’t even going to put up a fight. two years down the drain.

“so that’s it?” you had asked before you left.

“yeah, i guess so,” he had replied.

and that’s how it ended, you packed up your stuff and went back to your apartment. you technically weren’t living with seungcheol, you still had your lease and whatever, but you spent a lot of time at seungcheol’s.

you finally made it to the office and clocked in. nothing important was going on today which was nice, but also this meant your day was going to be endlessly boring. at least it was friday. 

you sat down and logged into your computer. “shouldn’t you change your home screen?” a voice startled you out of your thoughts of the hours to come. you spun around in your chair and stared at your friend minjeong. you looked between her and your computer screen. you knew what she was talking about, but you decided to play dumb. “what are you talking about?” you asked. minjeong sort of glared at you.

“that’s from your vacation to jeju,” she frowned.

the same vacation seungcheol took you on.

“yeah, it’s a sunset for jeju. what about it?” you huffed. she didn’t respond, just gave you a look. you knew that look. it was the “i know better than you, why aren’t you listening to me?” look. “seungcheol isn’t even in this picture,” you defended your screensaver.

“but seungcheol was there. that’s a memory with seungcheol,” she countered. she was right. you probably should’ve changed it, but whether it was with seungcheol or not, it was a nice picture. “yeah, it is, but we’re on good terms so what’s the big deal?” you blurted out.

there was the “you’re such a liar” look. “really? when’s the last time you talked to seungcheol since you broke up?” she entertained you even though you both knew you hadn’t contacted seungcheol once since you broke up. “well, it’s not like i keep track or anything, that would be weird,” you brushed her off. you could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “seriously, ___, i don’t think this is healthy for you to still keep remnants of your relationship with him around. it’s going to prevent you from moving on,” she explained.

“i know, just- just give me a little time,” you sighed.

“time? it’s been seven months! how about we go out tonight? you can get your sights on some new man. i think i overheard that changkyun is going out tonight at that new bar.”

“now why would i be interested in where changkyun is going tonight?” you scoffed. minjeong had a theory that changkyun had been crushing on you since he first joined the company, but you were too “lovesick” with seungcheol to see. “he’s so into you! i’m not saying to marry the guy, just take your mind off seungcheol. it’s his loss anyway,” minjeong laughed. 

you wanted to believe that, you really did.

you had every intention of going out with minjeong, but the day was going on so momentously, you weren’t sure if you could stand up straight for another second. you both had to unexpectedly stay longer and work overtime, and it might have been the death of you. you heard minjeong’s cheery humming coming around the corner. “are you ready to get absolutely wasted?” she smiled.

“i was going for more of a buzzed thing,” you yawned.

“oh no, don’t do that. you get so quiet when you’re tired before you drink,” she whined. you looked at her, but she was right. you had about three different moods when you were drunk. one, loud. two, quiet. three, insane. and most of the time, the way you ended up correlated to how you were feeling before you drank. you couldn’t explain it, but it just happened.

you were about to offer a clever rebuttal when your phone started ringing. “one second,” you didn’t even bother to check the caller id. “hello?” you replied.

“ah, ___ thank you for answering,” a familiar voice floated through the phone. you paused. you pulled your phone away from your ear and looked at the name on the call.

mrs. choi.

“mrs. choi, hello, i wasn’t expecting you to call me,” you said almost breathlessly. you glanced over at minjeong and she stared at you, wide-eyed. “___, dear. i’m so glad you picked up. i need you to come over,” she sighed. she sounded tired like she had been crying. wait. she wanted you to come over? for what? “come over? what’s going on? is everyone okay?” you asked, logging off your computer and placing the few things you took out of your bag, back into the bag.

“i have hope that it will be. seungcheol was in a car accident.”

you apologized profusely to minjeong and left the office rushing to the seungcheol’s apartment. you knew the way to his apartment, to him, like the back of your hand. you punched the code in that bypassed the need to be buzzed in, and made your way to the elevator.

after you pressed the button to the fifth floor of the complex you felt your hands become inexplicably sweaty. why did you rush over here like a lovesick fool? you weren’t even dating him anymore. why did his mom call you? what was going on? the elevator dinged, alerting you that it was time to get out.

you made your way down to his apartment. 5-12. it looked the same since the last time you were there. you stared at the door. it had been so long since you had been there. your heart was beating so fast, you didn’t know what to do. so, you just knocked.

the door flew open almost instantly. “___, my dear, come in,” mrs. choi welcomed you warmly. you smiled and bowed slightly. when you stepped through the doorway your first instinct was to run away, but you couldn’t. you kicked your shoes off and followed mrs. choi in the direction of seungcheol’s bedroom.

she lightly grasped at your arm. “the car crash happened a couple days ago. we just got out of the hospital. he broke his right leg. it was jammed against the dash and steering wheel. he also has a bruised lung from the airbag, and a mild concussion from the collision,” she explained. you nodded. that sounded awful. where did he crash? did someone crash into him, or did he crash into someone else?

almost reading your mind, she added, “he didn’t hurt anyone else. it was raining the other day. it was dark and his car hydroplaned into a barrier. the cops thought it might’ve been a drunk driving incident since they found newly bought alcohol in the back of his car, but there wasn’t any in his system.”

you were still rendered speechless. seungcheol was the safest driver you knew. he always warned you about hydroplaning and what to do if it happened. why didn’t he do what he always told you?

you realized you were spaced out when mrs. choi rested a hand on your shoulder. “i was surprised that you didn’t come the other day, but seungcheol insisted that you were away on a trip of some sort. he didn’t want me to call you, but you’re his girlfriend! i had to tell you at some point, and you’re obviously back in town,” she exclaimed. “thank you so much for coming, ___. i don’t know where seungcheol would be without you.”

you’re his girlfriend.

what the fuck?

you certainly were not his girlfriend anymore. why did she think you were together? it had been seven months. mrs. choi was sharp, she wouldn’t accidentally slip and say you were his girlfriend unless that is if…

then it dawned on you. 

for whatever reason, seungcheol never told his mom the two of you broke up.

fuck.

seungcheol was sick. he was more than sick. he was hurt, physically. and his mom only wanted what was best for her son. she brought you here for something. you weren’t about to make this poor woman’s day worse by telling her you weren’t dating seungcheol anymore, so you played along. “yes, i just got back from a business trip. i always tell seungcheol to call me if something’s the matter. i’m so glad you called me, i wasn’t going to come over for another day or two because of his work schedule,” you pretended. she looked at you fondly. “i always knew you were a good one, ___,” she smiled. it pained you to lie to her, but it seemed like the best option for now.

“we just got back from the hospital a few hours ago. he’s all set up in there. i’m not sure if he’s awake now, but do you want to see him?” she asked. you nodded quietly. you didn’t know what you were going to do in front of seungcheol. you preferred not to think about it.

“before you go in, i have a large favor to ask you. i understand you’re a busy person, but if you could, oh my i feel so embarrassed to ask this. if you could stay with him for a while. take some time off and take care of him because i really cannot stay. my father is ill and i must return home to care for him,” she laughed bitterly. “i would stay, and i would never dream of dumping this sort of responsibility on just anyone, but you’re his girlfriend. not saying girlfriends and wives are only meant for taking care of husbands and boyfriends, but i know you care about seungcheol. i just thought it-”

“yes, i can do that,” you cut her off. why did you say that? “i can contact my manager and work remotely.” why do you keep saying things like this? suddenly mrs. choi’s arms were around you. “thank you, thank you, thank you, dear. i am so grateful for you, and i know my son is too. thank you! i must get going, but i already stocked the fridge. you can go in. once again, thank you so much. our family owes you so much,” she cried. you rubbed her back. “oh, don’t say that. you don’t owe me anything. i’m just happy he’s alright,” you whispered.

that was the first truthful thing you said in that entire interaction.

when you entered the room, mrs. choi accompanied you. seungcheol was awake. he stared longingly out the window on the opposite side of the room away from the door. “honey, there’s someone here to see you,” mrs. choi called gently. you wanted to hide, so you tried to. partially behind her and you looked over her shoulder. seungcheol tried to adjust himself and he slowly turned over to look at his mother. “mom, i really didn’t want to see anyone-” he began, but his eyes met yours and he froze.

“oh come on, darling, it’s ___. she’s agreed to help out some. she cares about you,” she cooed. seungcheol looked like a child who got caught going through the cookie jar.

due to the dim light, you couldn’t really see that well, but you noticed the large soft cast that he had on his right leg. it looked like he was having a hard time breathing, that was the bruised lung. he had some cuts on his face that had already scabbed over, but you noticed some dark spots on his pillow, maybe he had been picking at them. he had a habit of picking at his scabs.

but the most striking thing to you was how pale he was. he looked like a ghost, which was strange since seungcheol loved to go outside to read or watch people. what had changed since you left? you noticed a wheelchair and a pair of crutches.

“mom, i- why did you call, ___? i told you she was busy,” seungcheol asked weakly. before his mom could nag him, you decided that you could save this entire situation from becoming more awkward than it needed to be. “cheol, don’t you remember? i came back yesterday, but i knew you were going to be busy with work,” you forced a smile. you thought you were going to throw up his mother grinned and squeezed your hand. she made her way over to seungcheol’s closet and started rummaging through it looking for something.

you looked back at seungcheol and it looked like he might cry. his eyes yelled at you, what are you doing here?

if you were honest you weren’t sure.

you saw mrs. choi out while she continued to thank you profusely for looking about for seungcheol. “of course, no need to worry. seungcheol is safe with me,” you assured.

“what would i do without you, ___? i hope someday you can join the family officially. i mean you’ve been dating seungcheol for over two years now,” she grinned hugging you.

yeah, i did too, you thought.

she left and instructed you to just heat something up that she left in the fridge. you locked the door behind you and made your way into the kitchen. you pulled out a tray of noodles and plated them. she left you a few tips about seungcheol so you decided to look at it.

he has work off, so no need to worry about driving him to work. once he is better and the doctors clear his concussion can start working from home.

please make sure he is eating three meals a day. he’s been acting differently and hasn’t been eating as much.

for showers, there’s a cover for the cast because he can’t get it wet.  i set up a chair in his shower, so he should need minimal help in that area. maybe just changing.

pain medications are in the cabinet next to the fridge. dosage is two tablets every six hours. but, if he isn’t hurting that much give him one, or if he isn’t in any pain don’t worry about it. 

he has a doctor’s appointment in a couple of weeks to see how his leg is healing is progressing.

thank you so much <3 call me if you need anything

you frowned at the second one. not eating well? seungcheol always ate well. this seemed pretty manageable. you had already called your supervisor, who approved your request to work remotely. you did have to lie and say you were taking care of a family member, but otherwise, it was a mostly truthful story.

when you put the sheet down, the microwave had finished and you brought the plate into seungcheol’s room. he wasn’t looking in your direction, instead, he was looking out the window. “seungcheol, i brought you dinner. your mom made it,” you announced. no response. you huffed and looked around the room. you didn’t want to push him, but you needed him to eat. “i know you’re not sleeping. you’ll heal faster if you eat. your mom needs you to eat,” you continued. yet, to no avail, he still stared out the window, body closed off to you. you sighed, you wished it didn’t have to come to this. “seungcheol, i need you to eat. please, for me,” you pleaded. there was a slight shift, but still no response. “well, i’ll just leave it here, but eat it soon. it’ll get cold,” you sighed, placing the plate on the nightstand where he could reach it.

why did you sign up for this? it wasn’t like you owed him anything. why didn’t you just tell his mom you were broken up? so many questions were flooding your mind, so you almost missed his whispered question. “what, did you say? i’m sorry, i missed it,” you asked, turning around from the door.

“do you- do you have something to eat?” he asked, breath labored.

something in your heart stuttered.

you silently nodded.

“that’s good,” was all he said.

it was almost 9:00 pm. you had your plate of food, and you thought it would be best to run over to your apartment to pick up some clothes and belongings, especially since you were supposed to live here for a while. you would run in and check with seungcheol and let him know you were leaving and then you’d be back in thirty minutes.

you knocked on the door, but no response. you hoped that it wasn’t going to be like this for the rest of his recovery. “i’m coming in, seungcheol,” you called opening the door.

but when you entered you were met with an empty bed. your eyebrows furrowed. you noticed the empty plate of his dinner. then you noticed his wheelchair was gone, and the faint glow of light from under the bathroom door.

you didn’t hear the shower running, so maybe he was just using the bathroom. yet, something in your gut told you otherwise. you made your way over to the bathroom door and pressed your ear against it. you heard quiet sniffling.

oh.

“seungcheol? are you in there?” you asked. dumb question, but you didn’t know what else to lead with. no response. “seungcheol, are you okay?” obviously not. “seungcheol, if you don’t answer me, i’m coming in.”

“no, please. please don’t come in,” he responded finally. “i’m fine.”

“no you’re not. i can help, seungcheol. let me help. what’s going on?” you called. there was a hesitation before he spoke, “i- i don’t know how to do this.”

“what is this?” you asked again for clarification.

“cleaning. i don’t know to do it with this thing on my leg.” that made sense. you already knew he was going to need help with that. you just wished he would’ve come to you first. “can i come in?” you hoped he would say yes.

“no,” he said.

“why not?”

“i don’t want you to see me like this.”

“this isn’t the time to act modest. i’m here to help.” there was a deep sigh on the other side of the door. finally, you heard some shuffling and the door was open. you walked in and took in your surroundings. seungcheol was without a shirt and pants. he sat slumped in his wheelchair as he quickly tried to wipe his tears.  you saw some bruises that covered his abdomen. you also noticed how he looked skinnier. that must be why his mom wanted to make sure he was eating. the cover for his cast was sitting on the counter, so you grabbed it.

you knelt down next to him, he wasn’t looking at you. you looked into the shower and noticed the shower chair. “seungcheol, i’m gonna put a towel under you right now, so can you lift yourself up a little?” you said grabbing a towel to put onto the seat of the wheelchair. he did, and you tried your best to arrange it. “can you stand at all?” you asked. he huffed and pushed himself up, and used you as a brace. 

you guided him into his walk-in shower and helped him sit down. you paused and looked at him closely. he looked so tired, which was expected, but there was something else there. you just couldn’t put your finger on it. “i need you to take off your underwear, unless you want to shower in them,” you directed. he glared at you and mumbled something. “what was that?” you asked.

“i don’t-” he began.

“now is not the time to be modest,” you chided. 

“no! i don’t want you to see me like this! i don’t want you to see me all broken and bruised! it’s not right that my mother asked you to do this! just leave! i know you don’t want to be here, so just go. it’s already humiliating enough,” he heaved. you felt your jaw tighten and your fingers clawed at your sides. you didn’t want to respond to that, at least not at that moment. “take off your underwear, seungcheol,” you ordered, crossing your arms. he finally looked at you in your eyes, and he pushed his underwear off. you had to help him get it over his cast, but otherwise, it was seamless. next, you grabbed the cast cover which was essentially a glorified plastic bag, and slid it over his bandaged leg. 

seungcheol’s eyes were downcast again, and he refused to acknowledge you. his shower head was detachable and handheld, so you took it down and placed it closer to him. he still wasn’t looking at you. although you really needed to get some stuff from your apartment, you could stay. when you started rolling up your sleeves on your work blouse and slipping out of your house slippers, seungcheol stared at you incredulously. you stepped into the shower and turned on the water. you made sure the head was facing the ground as you waited for it to warm up. “what are you doing?” he asked. he almost sounded angry, but that could be addressed later. you snatched the washcloth that was hanging on a hook inside the shower and found his shampoo and conditioner. he leaned over and grabbed your wrist, it wasn’t harsh or forceful, just him. “what are you doing?” he repeated.

“taking care of you,” you said shortly. “now close your eyes. tell me if it’s too hot.” he released your wrist and there was that look again. you had to figure out what that was about. you raised the shower head and soaked his hair, and promptly began to lather his shampoo into his hair. he seemed to relax at that. you ran your hands through his hair like you used to. he liked it when you tugged at his strands. it brought him a comfort he couldn’t describe. yet, his hair was shorter now, not the longer strands that you were used to. you wondered what made him cut it, but you knew now wasn’t the time to ask about it. 

the rest of the shower went without any hitch. your hands running over the broad expanse of his back. something about that moment was so domestic, intimate, yet you knew you couldn’t have it the way you wanted it. the way you wanted him. so, you pushed it down, just like the way you did when you noticed him distancing himself from you and drowning himself in his work. 

you helped him get into some clean clothes and bed after he brushed his teeth and dried his body. after you brought him his pain medication with a glass of water to stick next to his bed, you were about to go out and run to your apartment. he saw you rustling around in your bag that you left in his room. “what are you doing?” he asked.

“looking for my keys,” you replied.

“why?”

“so i can go home and grab some things. i’ll be working from home, i mean, i’ll be working here while i help you.” god, why did you call his apartment home? it hadn’t been your home for so long. “i’ll be back soon. i’ll be quiet when i come back so just sleep.”

“no, don’t go.”

“pardon?”

“don’t go.” he stared at you like a petulant child. was this a symptom of a concussion? “seungcheol, i have to go get some of my things. i don’t really want to sleep in my work clothes,” you tried to reason with the pouting man. 

“you left some of your clothes. t-shirts and stuff. sweatpants. just wear that. it’s too late for you to leave now. it wouldn’t be safe,” he shrugged but winced. that was the bruised lung. you didn’t know you left your things over, if you did you would’ve made one more trip to pick them up. 

but…

seungcheol didn’t throw out the clothes you left behind. was he stashing them in case he had another girl come over that needed to borrow clothes? was he saving them for a special time to burn them? why did he keep your clothes? 

no matter, it was no use arguing with seungcheol, and you were tired. you hadn’t even had time to process the fact he had been in an accident, to begin with. “where?” you asked turning back around.

“in my closet, where your clothes usually are.” he looked at you like it was obvious. why would it be obvious? you wanted to scream. a normal person after a breakup usually burns the things their ex left behind, or they maybe just throw them out on the street. they don’t keep it in the same place in the closet. you breathed deeply to calm your mind. now was not the time to address the elephant in the room. “i’ll be getting a shower then,” you said, eyeing him suspiciously. he just nodded and turned to face the window. 

the shower was uneventful other than the thousands of thoughts flowing through your mind. you hoped that they would leave you and flow down the drain. when you finally got out of the shower, you realized you would have to walk through seungcheol’s bedroom to get to the couch. hopefully, he was knocked out. you slid on the clothes that you had left there. it was an old sweatshirt and pajama bottoms, but it would get the job done for the night. the smelled like they were cleaned with his detergent, and you weren’t sure if you loved it or if you wanted it off of your body forever. you tried the best you could to open the door as quietly as possible, and it seemed to work. you were basically out the door without seungcheol waking up or noticing you. that is until he did. “where are you going?” he asked. you hung your head, your hand leaving the doorknob. “to the couch,” you replied.

“why?”

now, there was something seriously wrong with him. you glanced around the room, searching for an answer. “because i’m going to sleep on the couch,” you scrutinized him a bit further. he stared at you with the same confusion. he seemingly picked up on the mutual tension and confusion in the air, “i’ll sleep on the couch, you sleep here,” he clarified. you choked on air. he must have more than a concussion, he had amnesia of some sort because you don’t just let your ex sleep in your bed, especially after you had been in a serious accident. 

you had to snap yourself out of the trance you were in before seungcheol could even attempt to get out of bed, which he was already in the process of trying. rushing over to him and pushing him back under the covers was more of a feat than you thought it was going to be. he seemed adamant about having you stay in his bed while he went to the couch. you were getting deja vu or something to the fights leading up to the end of your relationship. 

“no, i’ll take the couch,” he had insisted.

“no, this is your home and your bed. i’ll just stay on the couch since you don’t want me to go to my apartment,” you had refused. “talk in the morning?”

“yeah sure.”

“no, you’re the guest here, i’ll take the couch,” he shrugged, once again trying to push himself up. you placed a hand on his shoulder. “seungcheol, i wasn’t the one in a car accident,” you reasoned. “you won’t be comfortable on the couch.”

“just- just let me do something for you,” he muttered under his breath. you don’t think you were supposed to hear it, but you did. 

“the best thing you can do for me is to sleep in your own bed and heal.” his gaze lifted and looked at yours. he looked utterly exhausted, and to be honest, you probably looked the same. he inhaled deeply and sat back against his headrest in concession. you smiled at him and before you could stop yourself, you ran your hand through his hair which he happily accepted. “good night, seungcheol,” you said.

“good night,” he replied sounding more at ease. in another lifetime, there would be more to this than a simple good night, but in this lifetime it was different. so much different than you ever hoped for.

“i love you, cheol.”

“i love you too, ___.”

the crick in your back was going to be the death of you, but oh well, you already called into work and took the next week off before you started working remotely. minjeong was surprised that you even agreed to this in the first place. “___, he was an asshole to you,” she pointed out over the phone. you were currently lugging your stuff down the hall to seungcheol’s apartment, phone dangerously stuck between your shoulder and cheek. “he wasn’t an asshole,” you argued. for some reason, the need to defend seungcheol still ran through your veins. 

“he was, ___. he was,” minjeong sighed. you knew that she was right, but you needed to believe that the breakup was caused all just a big misunderstanding and move on. “i’ve got to go, minnie,” you sighed reaching seungcheol’s doorway.

“___, don’t- ugh, don’t do anything you’ll regret. he didn’t treat you right. he wasn’t toxic, but he was definitely neglectful to you,” she groaned.

“it’s not like i’m going to crawl back to him. i’m just helping him.”

“but why should you?”

seungcheol had some bad habits, and it didn’t always end up well for you.  

“cheol, what are you-” you were promptly cut off when seungcheol pressed his lips against yours with an energy that felt unfamiliar. it was just the average evening, so you didn’t understand why he was kissing you like that. not that he had to have a reason to kiss you, it’s just that it hadn’t happened in so long. you had been with him long enough to know how passionate he was about, well, everything. but, this felt different. not saying it was bad. you craved him being this close for weeks, and he was finally in your grasp.  his hands were planted firmly on your waist and he moved you to where he pleased. “come on, baby, just let me feel you,” he smiled against your lips. 

call you touch-starved (which you were), but you couldn’t help melting into him. this was the most attention you had felt from him in so long. “cheol, please,” you gasped as his lips traveled down your neck. he pulled you infinitely closer and you let him. yet, something was nagging at you. your stomach began to drop as his hands began to slide under your shirt. sinking suspicions started to bubble up through your heart. “cheol, kiss me,” you begged, not wanting your thoughts to be true. he hummed and obliged. he pressed his lips against yours in this new fervor. the heat between you was becoming unbearable as your suspicion was correct. 

beer.

the faint taste of it lingered on his tongue, and it made you want to throw up. for the first time in who knows how long, he touches you like he’s never done before but only because he’s intoxicated. great. you pushed him away. “did you drive home by yourself?” you asked gazing into his tired eyes. 

“no, i had joshua drop me off,” he murmured, hands still not leaving your skin, but that’s all you wanted him to do. just get off of me, is what you wanted to yell. how dare you come here drunk and treat me better than you ever have sober for the past months, is what you wanted to scream. “i think it’s time for you to go to bed, cheol,” you opted for instead. he shook his head still grasping at you. “don’t touch me anymore, seungcheol,” you hissed, swatting his hand away and pulling him to his bathroom.

she didn’t sound angry, just exasperated. she had a point. there was no reason why you should offer your help to him. seungcheol never made time for you when you were together, why were you making time for him yet again? it was major deja vu. “look, he wasn’t nice to me, yes. i hated him for a long time, maybe i still do. but, his mom called me, so i feel like i’m doing it for her. not for him,” you attempted to justify. minjeong scoffed. it was a deserved scoff, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. minjeong was there when things ended with seungcheol, so she would know the entire situation from the most unbiased, well sort of unbiased, outside position. she was your friend, and it was only natural for her to want to protect you. you couldn’t fault her for that. “i just want what’s best for you, and i’m not convinced helping him through recovery is the best plan,” she sighed.

“i know. you know he hurt me, i won’t let it happen again. i have no intention of getting back with him. you’re right. he was an asshole. i’ve got to go. talk later?” you asked carefully reaching for the spare set of keys his mom gave you.

“let me kick his ass if he hurts you again.”

“i will.”

“talk later! i’m going to miss you at work. love you!”

“love you too.”

after you successfully hung up without dropping your bags, phone, or keys, you opened the door to the kitchen light on. that’s weird. you were pretty sure you left it off when you went to get your stuff. you kicked off your shoes and made your way into to kitchen, your luggage bag dragging behind you. 

you were greeted by seungcheol attempting to push himself up from his wheelchair to wash some fruit in the sink. “seungcheol! what are you doing?” you rushed to his side. he glanced over his shoulder at you. he sort of gave you some dumb look like he didn’t know what was wrong. “you shouldn’t be pushing yourself like this,” you chided. “i can wash these. you need to go back to bed. you should rest.”

“i think i can handle washing some fruit,” he scoffed slumping down in a chair. you rolled your eyes. “it’s not about washing fruit, i know you’re perfectly capable of washing fruit. you were in a car accident a few days ago. you shouldn’t be pushing yourself to get up,” you explained. he just mumbled something under his breath and tried to maneuver his way out of the kitchen. you watched him carefully as he made his way back into his room, and you heard him sigh when he shut the door behind him. 

you had a sinking feeling that this was going to be a long recovery process, for the both of you.

it once again time for seungcheol to go to the doctor. the past few weeks had been back and forth to doctor’s appointments. his concussion was going down. to say things were going well would be a stretch. seungcheol barely spoke to you. you didn’t necessarily expect him to be buddy-buddy with you, but it was strange. he always tried to avoid looking at you. you weren’t sure what you did to deserve this treatment, after all, he was the one who broke up with you.

sleeping on the couch for the past weeks was not ideal. working from seungcheol’s home office was not ideal either. it was weird getting on video calls when you were so used to walking to meetings with minjeong. seungcheol tried his best to not disturb you, but sometimes he would knock on the door and sheepishly ask you for help with something.

the drive to the doctor’s and the check-up itself were uneventful. his leg was healing nicely, and they even decided it was time for a boot, which was great because you could tell he was getting sick of sitting down all the time. “well, mr. choi, it looks like your lung is looking a lot better based off of the scans, and according to your…” dr. hwang paused looking in your direction. seungcheol looked at you briefly like was afraid of what you were going to say. 

you weren’t necessarily worried about getting kicked out because you weren’t immediate family, but for some reason, you chose against saying you were his friend. “i’m his girlfriend,” you bit the bullet. you hoped it didn’t seem too unnatural when you said it. you saw seungcheol’s ears perk up, but he still didn’t address you. 

dr. hwang looked between the two of you seemingly wanting to say something but didn’t. “ah, i see. well you’ve been taking amazing care of mr. choi. according to your girlfriend, you seem to have an easier time breathing. she also said you’re reporting less pain in your head. this is good, since we usually expect swelling and inflammation from a concussion goes down pretty quickly. your concussion should be largely gone by next week, but i would advise against going back to work for some time. you can start walking on this as soon as you feel comfortable, until then use crutches. but, don’t drive until i give you the okay,” dr. hwang rambled, turning back to his computer. 

you could tell seungcheol was excited, maybe he was excited that you would be leaving soon. your stomach sank at the thought, but you didn’t know why. seungcheol barely spoke to you, he couldn’t even look you in the eye most of the time. so, why did you feel bad about the thought of leaving him? you were snapped out of your thoughts when you realized dr. hwang had asked you a question. “um, if you could give me a moment alone with mr. choi, that would be great. i can take him out front once we’re done,” dr. hwang fiddled with his pen as he addressed you. 

“yeah, of course. i’ll uh, i’ll just be in the waiting room. 

after what seemed like an eternity, the two of them came out. dr. hwang smiled at you, and seungcheol looked nervous, finally putting a little weight on his foot with the help of some crutches. “thank you so much, dr. hwang. you’ve been so helpful,” you smiled at him. dr. hwang reciprocated it and patted seungcheol on the back. “mr. choi, look out for yourself. i’ll see you in a few weeks,” he said. seungcheol nodded. 

the ride home was quiet, as always. by now you had grown used to it. when you arrived at seungcheol’s apartment and parked the car, he grabbed your hand before you could leave. “do you want to watch a movie tonight?” he asked. hold on, what? “we can order some take out or something.” maybe dr. hwang was wrong. maybe the swelling in his brain was actually worse. 

your lack of response must’ve freaked seungcheol out. “we don’t have to! i was just thinking it could be a celebratory thing,” he tried to backtrack. 

“no! i’d love- no, i mean, i’d like to watch a movie tonight. that would be nice,” you rushed to cut him off. your heart fluttered at the notion of watching a movie with seungcheol. maybe you could pretend just a little longer…

“what?” minjeong exclaimed. she was not happy with the current situation. 

“minnie, when he asked me if i wanted to watch a movie with him my heart fluttered. what’s wrong with me?” you cried, flopping against the couch, turning down the volume on speaker phone. seungcheol had left to get showered and changed. luckily, you didn’t have to help him much with that anymore. “you’re still in love with him, ___,” minjeong sighed. “i feared this would happen. you cannot let him get in your head! remember how he treated you before! just yesterday he wasn’t even speaking with you, he’s probably just manipulating you or something.” 

you couldn’t fathom him doing that. sure, he neglected you in your relationship, but he was never manipulative. “i don’t-” you began, but you were promptly cut off.

“you don’t get it, ___! you’re in a vulnerable state because you still love him and you’ve been waiting hand and foot to him, so he sees this as an opportunity to make something out of nothing.”

“if i love him, how is it nothing?”

“because you’re going to make it nothing. you can’t just let yourself fall back into his lap because he decided he wanted a movie night!”

“i don’t think it’s that easy.”

“you’re right, it’s not. that’s why you need to wrap up business there and get back to your life. your life where you can be free and meet whoever you want. where you don’t have to worry about the asshole who treated you like shit.”

“he didn’t treat me like shit.”

“he treated you like you barely even existed.”

you knew she wasn’t trying to be mean, but it did feel like she was opening an old wound. 

so much for that dinner you made. the time you wasted was eating at you as you picked through the remnants of your food. it was your first day off in a while and you hoped to spend some of it with your boyfriend before having to go back to work the next day.

 it was your bad to even think seungcheol would be home at the time he had said. you stared at seungcheol’s now cold meal. for the fifth time, you flipped your phone over to see what time it was. 11:47 pm and no word from him. you sighed and went to clear your plate. you wrapped up seungcheol’s meal and put it in the fridge. after all, he would be hungry when he got home. 

“hello? ___, are you still with me?” minjeong snapped you out of your thoughts.

“yeah, sorry,” you rushed out. “look, i think seungcheol is almost out of the shower. i’ve got to go. i’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“i’m sorry if i come off too cold.” she sounded like she was regretting what she said earlier. she knew how to read you like a book even if it was just over a phone call. “it’s alright. you’re my best friend, i know you wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt me. now, i have to go now, for real this time,” you chuckled and hung up after you said goodbye to her. 

you jumped a mile when you heard a clanking noise behind you. when you whipped around you saw seungcheol standing there, eyes wide, you felt something stir in your chest. he was leaning on a crutch with his leg wrapped in the bandages. he told dr. hwang that he wouldn’t wear the boot to bed. dr. hwang was reluctant but relented since the break was healing nicely and the boot wasn’t needed at night. his hair was damp, a plain white t-shirt clung to his body, and pajama pants hung loosely off his hips. something about this image looked so familiar, yet so distant.“sorry,” he mumbled leaning over to pick up the bowl he dropped, surprisingly it didn’t shatter on the hardwood floor. “no, wait, i’ll get it,” you said, pushing forward, frowning at the precarious nature of his stance. he straightened up and watched you pick up the bowl. “how long were you standing there? i could’ve helped,” you asked turning to go place the bowl in the sink.

“not long,” he rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “do you still want to watch a movie with me?” you nodded quietly and made your way to the couch. he followed behind and landed on the couch with a thud. “what do you want to watch?” you asked flipping the tv on.

“um, i’m not sure. i haven’t watched a lot of movies lately.” he shrugged. this was going to be harder than expected. instead of attempting to engage in this painful discussion, you opted to start scrolling through one of seungcheol’s million streaming apps. 

you scrolled through movie after movie with varying enthusiasm levels from seungcheol. “stop, let’s just watch this one,” he suddenly said. if you were being honest, you stopped paying attention to the movie titles a long time ago. so when you saw “the notebook” as the selected movie, your jaw slackened. “you want to watch this?” you asked, making sure he meant that. 

“i mean, i remembered when you showed me it, and i rewatched it recently. i really like it nowadays,” he said nonchalantly. you had shown him “the notebook” a long time ago. you had to beg him to watch it, and you remembered how he ended up crying by the conclusion. but now, it was strange to hear that he enjoyed the movie. not only that, but he remembered that you showed him the film. it was years ago, and he remembered. “okay, yeah, let’s watch it,” you said pressing play. 

you were getting major deja vu while you watched it. seungcheol was curled up next to you, and somehow you found yourself curled up next to him. this hardly happened when you were together, and it made your heart hurt that it was happening after you had broken up. was a car accident what you needed to be close to him? you didn’t need to think about it now, not when you could smell his shampoo and fabric softener. it was so familiar, but you knew you couldn’t get too comfortable. after all, you weren’t his anymore, and he wasn’t interested. yet, something was scratching at the back of your throat. an urge. a desire. a feeling you thought was better to push down.

 the movie was long over, but seungcheol had drifted off to sleep about twenty minutes before the movie ended. you didn’t have the heart to wake him, so you let him rest for a while before you lightly shook him awake. his eyes fluttered open and held your gaze with an expression you couldn’t pinpoint. “alright, sleeping beauty, time to get you into bed,” you smiled softly involuntarily running a hand through his hair. he seemingly leaned into your touch while looking around. “is the movie over? why didn’t you wake me?” he asked. you just shushed him quietly and helped him up. he held onto your shoulders and let you guide him to his bed. after a bit of work, you got him under the covers and on his pillow. when you moved to get up, his hand shot out and grasped your wrist. your neck whipped back at him. “what’s wrong?” you quizzed. 

“stay,” is all he said, eyes closing. 

you sighed. you couldn’t give in to him. you had set your boundaries, you were here to help that’s all. but, the longer you were with him, you realized the reasons why you hated him melted away within hours of being around him more. minjeong needed to be here to snap you out of it. “of course, he’s being nice to you now. don’t forget why you broke up in the first place,” she would’ve said. yet, she wasn’t here, and you were weak for him. as much as you would like to deny it, you knew you’d always crawl back to him. in this life and the next. 

there couldn’t be any harm in staying with him, right? it was just one night. he wouldn’t try anything. he wasn’t like that. he didn’t even feel that way for you anymore. he definitely didn’t seem too bothered when you gave in and slid under the covers with him. to your surprise when you started to situate yourself, you felt his arms wrap under your body and pull you to the opposite side of the bed. just like old times. he always insisted to sleep closest to the door. he had told you it was a win-win for the both of you. he could have the comfort of feeling like he was protecting you, and you got the nice view out of his window on the opposite side of the room. you assured him back then that you didn’t need protection, but you never fought with him to switch positions. 

you had grown used to his arm around your waist each night, and after you broke up you longed for his presence. you had cuddled your pillows and called minjeong. everything and anything to keep your mind off the empty space in your bed. so, now when you felt his arm wrap around you and his body pressed against yours, you froze. why did the thing you wanted for the past seven months cause you so much discomfort? being this close to him was like stepping into the salty waves at the beach with a cut you thought healed. your eyes began to sting, and you pleaded with your heart to not start shaking your body. you naturally moved closer to him when his grip became tighter around your waist, but your heart cried for the rest of the night.

when you woke up, you surprised yourself realizing you had a dreamless night. your chest hurt, but your eyes were dry. you turned over and noticed seungcheol’s side of the bed was empty. his boot was gone, so he must’ve put it on. you didn’t hear anything coming from the kitchen right outside the room, albeit his apartment was quite small and his living room was right there too. you slid on a hoodie and made your way out of his room to find where he went. maybe he was just as freaked out as you were, so maybe he just left to get some air. if you were him, you probably would’ve done to same. you wanted to kick yourself for falling into his lap again. maybe he regretted inviting you to stay, and now he was disgusted with himself for letting his ex sleep in the same bed as him again. your rational mind told you that wasn’t true. he wasn’t like that. yet, that’s what you told yourself when he show up late to numerous dates or just forget to message you. 

you heard quiet arguing as soon as you stepped out of his room. you looked down to the front door and saw seungcheol leaning against the doorframe. his body wedged between the door and doorframe, effectively blocking your view of who was there. you quietly shuffled forward, trying not to startle him. “i just don’t understand why you’re here?” seungcheol asked, almost sounding stern.

“i’m just dropping off some paperwork,” the person on the other side of the door said. the voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “how’d you know where she was?” seungcheol grilled, sounding more frustrated with every passing second. 

“look, dude, i’m just here to drop off some stuff from work. minjeong told me,” the guy tried again to reason with seungcheol. you recognized seungcheol’s tone, he got like that whenever he was jealous, but you couldn’t fathom why he would be jealous. you looked past seungcheol and saw changkyun standing there with a case file in hand. “oh my god, seungcheol, stop it. this is changkyun from work,” you nudged seungcheol to the side trying not to surprise him, but you were still upset he was berating your work friend. 

“oh, hey, ___. minjeong sent me with these files. let me or minjeong know if you need anything else,” changkyun smiled at you. “i’ll let you go, you seem- um- preoccupied. but, we miss you at the office,” he glanced at seungcheol who was scowling at the ground. 

“yeah, sorry about that. thank you for bringing this around. this is super helpful. i was getting tired of reading pdfs,” you laughed. “i’ll see you later.” changkyun nodded and left without another word. you shut the door and brushed past seungcheol. you heard an audible huff behind you but ignored it. after you dropped off the case of files in the office, breakfast was seemingly the best option for you. 

seungcheol was already in the kitchen leaning against the fridge. it was highly inconvenient given you needed to get in there for some fruit. however, he wasn’t moving. “what are you doing?” you asked crossing your arms. he didn’t respond, just looking anywhere but at you. “what’s going on with you? what was with that attitude with changkyun?” you grilled, but you were only met with a scoff. now, that was weird. he sounded jealous, but there was nothing to be jealous of. “what’s wrong with you?” you frowned. 

“why does it matter?” he mocked. you squinted your eyes at him. compared to last night’s situation, this was an entirely different person. “why does it matter? it’s just weird that he’d show up here unannounced,” seungcheol shrugged. 

“he was here because minjeong sent him,” you stared him down.

“why couldn’t she come then? just seems like it’s a cover for him to see you. you didn’t tell me you were talking with someone else.”

“because i’m not talking to changkyun. i’m not talking to anyone. but, why does this matter so much to you? it’s not like he came in the house and started wrecking anything. he just dropped some stuff off.”

“we miss you at the office.”

“what?”

“that’s what he said.”

“i’m not following.” 

seungcheol sighed and pushed himself off the fridge and over to his chair, groaning and stretching his leg once he was sitting. “god, ___, don’t be blind. he’s obviously into you,” he laughed humorlessly. now you were even more confused. “so what if he is? i’m not,” you shrugged, opening the fridge to get your fruit and yogurt. 

“yeah, sure. whatever, that’s not the point,” seungcheol huffed again.

“then what is the point?” 

“that he tried to come here and flirt with you when i’m right here!” he finally snapped. “it’s embarrassing! he looked at me with all this pity when i opened the door. i don’t want his pity. then you come around the corner, and he’s smiling ear to ear.” seungcheol looked like he was about to cry. you wanted to say something, but all you could was look at him, confused. “you pity me too. everyone does!” he rambled. “it’s so humiliating. and, and, i’m sure that you’d be happier at the office where he is. he’s more handsome than i am, and i’m sure he’s smarter and kinder than me. you deserve to go out and just leave me here. you don’t even want to be here. i see the way you look at me. it’s not the same way i look at you, so i couldn’t possibly as you to stay. why don’t you just go date a guy like that? i’m sure he can treat you better than- than me.”

you stood there dumbfounded. your heart ached for seungcheol, but you couldn’t stop the boiling anger in your stomach. how could he possibly think so lowly of himself? did he not see how you were still so infatuated with him? did he not realize the reason why you hadn’t talked to anyone new was because of him? and for him to accuse you of pitying him, after all the care you put into helping him get better. to accuse you of not wanting to be there, with him. you wouldn’t haven’t been here if you didn’t care. you knew you cared too much for seungcheol, for someone who you knew didn’t even care about you. what made him any different from back when you were dating? 

“you’re so cruel,” you whispered, grabbing your food and heading to the office. 

there was radio silence for the next few hours. you would occasionally hear something, but seungcheol never knocked or tried to come in. the tip-toeing around each other was killing you. it felt awfully familiar to when seungcheol became distant from you before the two of you broke up. work was monotonous and nothing was holding your attention. all you could think about was what seungcheol said. you didn’t realize he felt that way about himself, or you for that matter. it hurt, and it hurt even more to wallow in it when he was right on the other side of the door. 

you couldn’t be the same person you were seven months ago. pushing down your concerns, hoping they would pass. they wouldn’t, you knew that, unless you talked to him. he would be getting better soon, and you could put this in the past. you could leave again once this was all over, never to look back. you couldn’t take another heartbreak because of him again. 

so your resolve broke and you pushed yourself out of the office chair and went to find seungcheol. 

he remembered the day you left like it was yesterday. he heard you gather some things from your room and left without another word. “yeah, i guess so,” he muttered to himself angrily. “you’re such an idiot,” he continued. he didn’t even understand why he said that to you. it was uncalled for, especially given you wanted to talk about your strained relationship. he knew he was distant, but he didn’t know what else to do. so, he pushed it down until he couldn’t take it anymore, well, until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

not having you around the apartment for the first few weeks felt like torture. he had drafted and re-written several messages to you and even considered calling, but he never pulled through with any of it. his mind was constantly unfocused on his work. the work he sacrificed everything for. the work he tried so hard to keep up to help you, help the both of you. he couldn’t bring himself to eat as much as he usually did, when the pit of his stomach was killing him from the inside out.

now that you were gone he constantly tried to take his mind off of you. he couldn’t let a breakup disorient him like this. he had broken up with other people before, but never like this. he couldn’t stop replaying everything that went wrong in his mind, everything he could’ve done to stop it. maybe if he put up a fight you would’ve stayed. but, he didn’t fight at all. he cowered at the suggestion of breaking up, and instead of facing it, he fled and accepted fate. waves of uncertainty lapped at his feet and eventually, the waters rose until it was unbearable. if you wanted to break up with him then that’s what would happen, no matter what ran through his mind and heart. 

no matter the fact he had a little velvet box in the bottom of his sock drawer. 

he was going to a party. he said he would buy alcohol, so he did. while he was driving he felt something shift within him. he thought about all the parties he had taken you to, and how all parties with you there were so much more bearable. all he could think about was how bored he would be. he loved his friends, but something was missing if you weren’t also there sharing a drink or discussion with him. yet, he let joshua convince him to come out. joshua had told him not to drown in any more work. joshua saw how the work was wearing down his friend, and he couldn’t take it anymore. so, seungcheol was going to a party he didn’t particularly want to attend, but he was getting there, even if he felt himself push the accelerator down more than he should.

but something stopped him from going to the party, and now he felt like he was floating above his body. he felt waves wash over him, and when they retreated he felt cold and vulnerable. he felt dazed and had a throbbing pain in his head, leg, and heart. he remembered the beating rain against his windshield and feeling the tires give out on him. he remembered your smile and your fingers running through his then-long hair. you told him everything was going to be alright, and he believed you. then, there was a rhythmic beeping next to him, some rustling by him, and your voice was gone. his head hurt too much, but he forced his eyes open.

in some sort of last-ditch effort of hope, he thought it could be you. you could be there fixing some magazines in the room or adjusting the blinds. yet, he opened his eyes and he didn’t see you there, just a nurse organizing some of the tubes next to him. seungcheol tried turning his head around, groaning. the nurse noticed and left to go get someone. maybe it could be you. no, that wouldn’t make sense. it couldn’t be you, and it wasn’t. it was his mother. she cried and asked him if he was alright. she asked where you were and what he was doing, but he didn’t have a good response to any of her questions. when she started to pry about you, he realized he had forgotten to mention the fact you were broken up. she had called soon after it ended because it was time for her to call her son, but he went into auto-pilot and told her you were fine, and he just never got around to telling her the truth. she loved you, and he knew that.

he definitely couldn’t do it then. it would break her, just like it broke him.

when he saw you standing at the door behind his mother, he wanted to burst into tears, but it would probably hurt his lung. besides, he didn’t need you to see how broken up about it he was. everything hurt, but it only hurt more when he saw you. you looked gorgeous, and your voice was like music to his ears. what if you had a boyfriend? the thought flashed through his mind. any person would be lucky to date you, but the idea caused his stomach to roll. 

your hair looked so pretty too, but your clothes looked like a mess. he hoped he didn’t cause you too much worry.  yet, he was worried now. his lie was going to be exposed. he saw the way you looked at him, helpless and injured. you wouldn’t spare him, not after what he did. his mom was talking to you just like everything was normal, but he saw the look on your face. you were confused and probably angry. he knew you, and he knew you would correct his mom as soon as you could. so when she backed away and went to get something from the closet, he couldn’t tell what you were thinking, and that scared him. 

the last thing he expected was for you to agree and help. he also expected you to correct his mother when she went on and on about how you were his girlfriend and how she knew how much you loved each other. he could sense your discomfort anytime he was around, so he made himself scarce and tried not to be a bother. what you were doing was already such a help to him, and he had no idea how he was ever going to repay you. 

he recalled when you pushed him around in his wheelchair at the supermarket, and all he wanted to do was disappear. it was his first visit to the store for a while, and there was something especially embarrassing about having your ex push you around the market, even if they didn’t know he had broken your heart. he didn’t know why he agreed to come. he would feel your hands brush past his shoulders as you would reach to grab something before dropping it in the shopping basket sitting in his lap. the tiny bit of contact from you had him going insane. he wanted to apologize for having you here, for his mom calling, for lying, for breaking your heart. he was scared, that if he opened his mouth, his heart would betray him and he’d say something that would make you run away again. but, he knew it wasn’t the time for that, so whenever your fingers graze his shoulder he swallowed whatever apology or confession (whichever came out first) down until it reached the bottom of his heart. 

you were wheeling him past the bakery and he saw the sweet milk bread he would always get as a treat on weekends. maybe you could share it again like you used to, but he doubted it. though, before he could process it, he was clearing his throat. you paused and he sensed you looking at him. “uh-,” he paused, coughing. “can, can we get the milk bread over there?” he asked. you looked around to where he was motioning. you saw it. he felt you pause. maybe he shouldn’t have asked. “it’s no big deal, actually. it was a dumb request. never-” he rambled but all of a sudden your hands brushed over his shoulders and you walked over to the table where the freshly baked bread was packaged. you inspected one and brought it back, placing it gently on the top of seungcheol’s basket. “do you need anything else?” you asked, quietly standing behind him again. he shook his head. 

for the first few weeks, it was awkward and humiliating. he couldn’t bear you at his beck and call. he could barely even talk to you, too embarrassed. he needed to get out of the wheelchair as soon as possible. he willed his body to heal faster, so then maybe the pain that festered in his chest would go away. one night, he woke up and he was parched. he had run out of water, he must’ve forgotten to get more before he went to bed. he also noticed his stomach was growling. he had refused to eat anything for dinner. once again, his bad. it reminded him of the time when he would come home late to a dark home. he was starving, but he knew you had eaten. you had long gone to bed, but he smelled the food you cooked. he looked in the fridge and saw his helping there. he sighed. he knew it was your day off that day, but he couldn’t seem to draw himself away from his work. got too distracted.

so, he needed water and food, but to get there he would have to get out of his room and into the kitchen. specifically, he needed to get past you on the couch without waking you. pushing himself out of bed, he reached for his crutches. he got them secured under his arms and made his way out of his open door. you had insisted on keeping it open, so you could hear him if he needed anything. but, he saw the way you walked into his room deflated, leaving his dinner on his bedside table, cleaning the barely touched food an hour later, and retreating to the couch to sleep after a presumably hard day at work. he wouldn’t be able to bear it if he woke you up now. 

he stepped as lightly as he could given his situation, but you were out like a light. he contained a chuckle seeing you all curled up on his couch. though, he did feel bad. the couch was no place to sleep for a long time. if only he could share his bed with you and not make it weird… he quietly ate a protein bar and got a glass of milk. he watched from the kitchen how smooth your breathing was. he frowned when you began to toss and turn. he wiped his mouth and moved over to you. after resting his crutches on the floor, he sat on the ottoman in from of the couch, closest to your head. he leaned forward and watched your troubled expression. sometimes he would press a kiss on your forehead, but that would be entirely inappropriate. yet, he couldn’t do anything while he watched this perfect person in front of him suffer.

so, his hand was reaching forward and caressing your cheek before he knew it. your skin felt amazing under his fingertips. he missed holding your hand, hugging you from behind, and kissing your lips. he wondered how he could’ve messed up this horribly. he felt your breath even out, and he noticed how your brow un-furrowed. gently pulling back his hand, he smiled and made his way back to his room. it was only then after he crossed the doorway, he realized what he had done. the clear boundary he had tried to maintain melted within those twenty minutes of him getting a midnight snack. he didn’t deserve the treatment he was getting from you. he wished you would yell and scream at him for what he did. resentment. he yearned for you to resent him, but no, you had to come and be the amazing person you were. he couldn’t let himself feel this close to you again.

but, he broke his promise. just like he always did. he invited you to sleep in his bed after a movie night he suggested. after offering, he realized he probably shouldn’t have offered the movie in the first place, but hindsight is 20-20. it felt too inappropriate, unspeakable even. especially, after he caught what minjeong was saying to you before you turned on the movie. he shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but minjeong was yelling on the other side of the phone and no matter how much you could turned down the volume, he still would’ve heard it. 

“he treated you like you barely even existed,” minjeong had said.

now, he didn’t want to believe that, but he knew it was true. working longer hours, barely seeing you, and coming home at odd hours of the night were all factors which were purely his fault. he could’ve requested time off, but he didn’t. it was his ambition that blinded him. the thought that if he worked hard enough now, he could be with you more later. but, he had forgotten he wasn’t the only person in the equation, and you only had so much patience. the patience he had wrongfully wasted. 

your back was turned to him. he didn’t know why it hurt so much given the situation. being face-to-face in bed would be too intimate. too dangerous. yet, that’s all he wanted. he longed to feel your body next to his, to know that what was once shared between you was still there. so, he took a risk. he reached forward and pressed his chest against your back, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. 

he waited and waited for you to pull away, and much to his surprise, you never did. you stayed in his arms like old times, but he knew it couldn’t be like that. he didn’t know if he could ever have you like this again. the recovery period of you taking care of him was painful on a multitude of levels. he was giving you space since he already felt like a burden, and it appeared to him like he was the plague. it was for the best, but he still wanted to hold you and kiss you to show his thanks. all he could do was say thank you and quietly retreat back into his mind. so, he held you like it was the last time, which it likely was, and he fell into a deeper, quieter sleep for the first time in weeks. the waves retreated and did not come back for the rest of the night. 

who was this guy standing at his door? why were you smiling so widely at this guy? why was this guy smiling so widely back at you? did he just sleep in the same bed with you when you had a boyfriend? so many questions, and so little patience left on his end. this guy was so handsome, with a sharp nose and intense eyes. he could see how you could go to someone like that, someone completely opposite of him. any hope of last night not being a one-off thing leaving his mind. the guy glanced over at him and gave him a look he was all too familiar with. the old ladies at the supermarket gave him this look. his mother gave him this look. even you sometimes. he was broken and mangled and people loved to look. so, to hide their nosiness, they concealed it with concern and pity. he hated that. sometimes you would do it, and he wanted to rip his hair out. he hated it when you would generate idle conversation or say his name like some sort of swear word. what ever happened to being your cheol? 

the doubt came flooding back into his mind, and he was lost in the sea of his own thoughts again. the waves were back, and he didn’t know how to keep them at bay. the tide was coming in stronger, and he could feel every brick he had built crumble under the pressure. when could this conversation be over?

he didn’t mean to lash out at you and your work friend. it was the waves. the waves that splashed into his face. the water that fell into his throat and choked him. he had to spit it out or it was going to drown him. every little thing he had hidden away came out. the confessions, insecurities, and everything else that held him back now and back then. he just needed to get it out before the waves came crashing in on him again when you would inevitably leave. 

“you’re so cruel,” you had said, and you were right. he was. how could he be so cruel to one of the only people who ever showed him unconditional kindness? it was over, and he knew it. 

all of his memories felt disjointed. almost as if someone had glued them together into a scrapbook. you were trying so hard to follow what he was telling you. the entire time he refused to look at you. his hands were clasped together, face flushed. “i suppose that was a long winded way to say i’m sorry,” he said finally looking at you for the first time. “i’m sorry for treating you so horribly when we were together, and even now. i’m sorry for standing you up and coming home drunk. you’re right, i am cruel, and i will never forgive myself for how i treated you,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

you knew he had problems with anxiety and doubt, but you never thought it was this bad. you were mad at him, but you wished he had told you. told you about how he felt like he was drowning everywhere he went. “seungcheol, i-” you began but he cut you off.

“i understand if you want to leave. i can just have joshua take me to physical therapy and my appointments. i’ve asked you to stay for too long. it wasn’t right of me. if anything, i owe you so much. you shouldn’t have to be forced to be anywhere you don’t want to be,” he said. 

you stared at him. you had never seen him so defeated. when you came to talk to him, you didn’t expect him to be the one prepared with an apology. you just wanted to talk, but now that you began piecing together the things he told you. you realized how much he did care. he saw the food you made for him. he saw the effort you put in. for some reason, that just made you feel a little better. you always felt like he didn’t see you, but he did. this entire time. “what if i want to be here?” you asked, meeting his gaze. his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips. “then, i would ask you to stay. i would promise to treat you the way you deserve. i would make every wrong i made right with you,” he confessed, moving closer to you on the couch. he reached forward and grabbed your hand. “i'm sorry for being such an asshole to you. i would apologize every second of every day.anything to get you to trust me again,” he continued. “anything so i can be yours.”

your heart felt full. it was healing. for some reason, you believed him. minjeong would probably yell at you for “falling for his trap,” but you had a feeling he was telling the truth, that he wasn’t going to mess it up again. “then, let’s start over,” you smiled, eyes welling up. he lifted a hand and gently wiped the tears that threatened to fall with his thumb. “gladly,” he smiled. you pulled your hand away from the one he was grasping at, and extended it to him. “i’m ___, nice to meet you,” you smiled. he grinned, glancing between your face and your outstretched hand. “nice to meet you too. i’m seungcheol,” he said clasping your hands together. he felt the waves were receding, and by the look on your face, you felt it too. 

you were out shopping for what felt like the fourth time this week. you just kept forgetting something on your list that honestly couldn’t wait until the next week. then your phone began to ring. you slid it out of your pocket and answered it. “what am i forgetting?” you asked as soon as the line connected. 

“nothing, i was just wondering if you could get some milk bread,” the voice on the other side of the phone asked. you laughed quietly to yourself. “what’s the occasion?” you joked.

“it’s the weekend, and i love you,” seungcheol said. you felt your heart soar. you sighed happily and made your way over to the milk bread. you were still on the line with him, and you could hear him humming. maybe now was the time you brought it up. “so, you want the same kind from the bakery, right?” you asked, stalling. 

“of course,” he scoffed. “the fresh ones from the bakery are obviously superior to the ones that one brand makes.” it was funny since he said it like it was obvious. you hummed and placed one of the loaves in your cart. “is there anything else?” you asked. you heard seungcheol shifting around. “nope, that should be all for me,” he replied. 

“everything i’m getting is for you,” you rolled your eyes. he chuckled. you continued to chat with him as you walked through the store, picking up a few leftover things. you decided it would be a good time to end the call when you got to the register, but not before you brought it up. “look, cheol, i’m at the register, so i’ll have to go,” you said, getting in line. 

“oh, okay, sounds good. i’ll see you at home?” he asked to confirm.

“yes, after i get back, though, can we talk about that red velvet box in your sock drawer?” you smirked. 

“yeah, sure of co- wait! how do you know about that?” seungcheol took a second to process what you had told him. he sounded frantic on the other side of the phone, and it made you laugh. “oh, looks like the line is moving, i’ve got to go! we’ll talk more when i get back, right?” you smiled.

“yes, for sure, yes! we will be talking because you weren’t supposed to see that!” seungcheol exclaimed. “see you soon, i love you, ___.”

“i love you too, cheol,” you replied easily. because, in this life, you loved him, and he loved you back.  

minli | sort of proofread! working on it… i think the plot makes sense… right… please say it does. this has sort of been my child for the past month or so… i actually used the max amount of pictures in this LOL ASLDKJ. please leave some feedback if you want :) likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated :)

tagging | @a-wandering-stay @cinnamoroxie @wonwoosthetic

[stevesgother]

Savior Complex - S.H

Paring - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.9k

Warnings - Blood. Mention of vomit. Partial nudity. Let me know if I missed anything!

Authors note - This is my first fic...ever. Constructive criticism always welcome but pls be nice. Takes place directly after the events of S3. Hurt/comfort, angst, acknowledging Steve’s trauma bc damn.

Summary: ANGST, hurt/comfort, happy ending but not a lot of resolution, friends to ? lovers? idk its up to you!

Inspired by my favorite poem of all time, that has always reminded me a little bit of Steve.

“In this space right here that we have made for each other, you can say anything and I will not abandon you. Unwrap the worst things you have done. Watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch”

The air inside Steve’s car was heavy with tension and the thick July heat.

You sat parked in his driveway, the rest of The Party having dispersed to their own homes; their parents waiting for them with open arms and misty eyes. 

Not you. 

And Certainly not Steve Harrington.

You and Steve weren’t what you would call “close”. Until now, that is. Shared trauma tends to have that effect. He knew you had a tumultuous relationship with your parents, and it didn’t take much deducing to realize his parents weren’t in the picture. Barely in Indiana, let alone spending anything close to quality time with their only son.

The idea of spending the last few hours of this nightmarishly long day in his big, empty house was sounding lovelier by the minute. On the grounds that it ‘wasn’t safe to be alone right now’. You didn’t read too much into it; he was right, after all. Part of you wonders if he just didn’t want to be alone. Sluggish, and noticeably more bloodied than you, Steve made his way to the front door with you in tow. His house was silent; eerily so. Everything pristine and well manicured, as if no one lived there at all. 

“There’s a guest bedroom upstairs, and a bathroom down the hall, to the right. Towels in the cabinet next to the shower.” He doesn’t even look at you as he says it. You try not to feel like you’re burdening him, blaming his avoidance on the exhaustion and not the unwelcome presence of you in his home.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” He finally meets your gaze. The shiner he sports on his left eye is still swollen, but less so. The front of his sailor suit you once thought so endearing, is now stained with blood and vomit.

“You’re bleeding.” You say quietly. “You have -” you wince, “- open wounds on your face Steve. Probably a concussion too and that’s if we’re being modest.”

He wears a tight-lipped expression you can’t quite read. You can tell he’s frustrated, and his exhaustion is bone deep. It nags at your heart. Maybe that’s why you don’t just drop it when he answers you.

“Not my first rodeo, I’ll be fine just-” He pauses, “go shower, and get some rest. God knows this shit won’t just be over come tomorrow.”

You take a tentative step forward. “Please just…just let me help. I can disinfect the cuts around your eye. I was a girl scout! Though in hindsight I realize how useless that sounds and-” you’re rambling now; nervous.

“Stop.” You’re taken aback slightly by his tone, you haven’t known Steve to act hostile. Not in a long time. “I don’t need your help, and I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not ‘pity’ Steve! Why is it so hard for you to believe someone might want to help you?” You take a step forward from where you stand a few feet from him. You reach up to touch his forehead with the hope of better assessing his injuries.

‘Enough!” He swats your hand away, “God, I should’ve never offered for you to stay here. You think you’re some type of savior, but you’re not.”

His words feel like a knife to the chest. You knew what he was trying to do, you knew he didn’t really mean the things he said. Not when he’s like this. For the first time since you arrived tonight, you thought of how many times he’s had to come back to this empty, soulless house all alone. Damaged, emotionally and physically. Wounds he’s had to patch alone. No gentle caress of another’s hands. Just the stinging of antiseptic in his nostrils, and the heaviness of everyone he’s ever loved abandoning him.

“You don’t mean that.” You say, shaking your head in a disbelieving way.

He laughs, humorless, “Yes I do. I really, really do.” A bitter sharpness to his words. It burns like liquor washing down your throat. “Go.” 

“No!” Now you’re the one raising your voice. “Being stubborn is for when someone is haggling you at a flea market. Not when someone is trying to love you.”

Love. You realize what you’ve said a beat too late, but you stand defiant despite it. You do love Steve. This fact, collecting cobwebs in the back of your brain for months, being spat out onto the floor in front of you both is what compels you to what you do next.

Steve, who was previously standing with this index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose, is now staring at you like a deer in headlights. Before either of you can blink, you’re closing the gap between the two of you, sure of yourself. You wrap him in a suffocating embrace and he struggles against your grip.

“Stop! Please I don’t need you-” He all but shouts. Still, you sense a dent in the armor.  A crack in the wall he’s spent so long building to keep you out; to keep everyone out.

Eventually, he stops struggling. His knees give out from underneath him as the trauma and the pain and the events of today catch up to him. But not just today; a year ago when his girlfriend broke his heart at Tina’s stupid party. When Michael Harrington cut him off on the grounds of him being a disgrace to the family name. Everything flooding back to him all at once. Everything he’s spent his youth avoiding.

You sink to the ground with him, still holding him tight. He stops making an effort to hide his sobs, but instead clings to you like you’re the only tangible thing keeping him here. You sit beside him, with one arm wrapped around his shoulders and your free hand cradling his head to his chest so he can hear your heartbeat. A heart that finally beats for him.

“I know.” You soothe. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” The hair you’re gently stroking, which is usually so voluminous and perfectly styled, is now dampened with blood and sweat.

“I’m sorry-” He sobs, “I'm so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t want you to be sorry. I’m not sorry.” 

He cries harder at that. Shoulders shaking and breath shallow, he looks at you. You cradle his sweet, bruised face in your hands. You think, like a pomegranate, Steve Harrington is beautiful, and worth the mess. Wiping his tears with your thumbs and careful to avoid the cuts and swelling that decorate his face, you give him a smile. Shy, but earnest.

“Can you take me to bed?” He asks you, eyes bleary.

–

Neither of you speak as you turn on the faucet and watch the porcelain tub fill with scalding hot water; still not hot enough to wash away the memories this day has tainted you both with forever. Tentatively, you lift your shirt over your head, and slip your shorts down your scraped legs, revealing your mismatched bra and underwear. A pang of guilt washes over you when you look down and realize Steve took the brunt of the Russian soldiers. He was the bravest and most selfless person you had ever met.

You give him a look that asks “is this okay?” as your fingertips brush the cotton of his ruined Scoops uniform. You aren’t sure what the boundaries are anymore. Momentarily Steve worries this will irreparably change things between you two. He nods anyway. You lift the shirt over his head, catching a glimpse at the real extent of his injuries. His ribs were badly bruised, and he had clotting cuts all over his abdomen. Something swirls in your stomach at the sight of his chest hair. You wish the circumstances of this moment were different.

He pulls his own pants and socks down with a hiss, eyes screwed shut, leaving you both in just your undergarments. He steps into the tub and slowly sinks beneath the hot water. You step in behind him, and he looks over his shoulder at you, a look of confusion contorting his features. You don’t bother to explain, for the fear that speaking would break the trance you both seemingly were under. You had built a space here for each other, one you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Sitting behind him now, you wrap your arms around his chest and pull him flush to you. You rest your chin in the space between his shoulder and his neck, and close your eyes. You can feel how he tries to match his breathing to yours; slow and rhythmic.

You reach up to the hanging shelf on the wall above your head, and grab the cedar and sandalwood body wash. The second you open the bottle, your senses are flooded with him. Only in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever get to smell his scent in any way other than passing. A slight brush of shoulders in the hallway; a friendly hug when you’d gotten back from a month long vacation.

With a dollop of body wash on a washcloth you found on the edge of the tub, you gently start to scrub the blood and grime off his freckled skin. Like this, you can see every birthmark, every scar, the way the hair at the nape of his neck curls up around his ears in the damp bathroom air.

Steve rests his calloused hand on your knee and squeezes. A silent reassurance that what you’re doing is okay, that he’s okay, that he’s here. Everything feels overwhelmingly intimate as your hands explore his body. You lather his thick, brown locks with the shampoo you found next to the soap. With a heavy sigh, Steve allows his head to fall back into the crook of your neck. He doesn’t tell you, but this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him.

You’re not sure how long the two of you sit in the tub together, but at some point he turns to face you, cupping your jaw in his larger hand. The look he gives you is so tender, you think you might cry. His caramel eyes flicker to your lips and back up to your eyes, so fast you would’ve missed it if your senses weren’t dialed up to 11.

With the delicacy of someone touching a flower petal, he closes the gap and presses his cut lips to your soft ones. Hesitant at first, giving you the option to pull away. He fears he may have misread the moment when you separate from him, a look in your eyes that he can’t read. His worry dissipates as you take his face into both of your hands and kiss him deep and slow. You only break when the air feels too stiff to continue, the water droplets accumulating in the air and Steve's kiss making it difficult to catch your breath. His hands slide from where they were grasping your hair, and down to your neck where they stay.

“I love you, too.”

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k words

warnings: explicit language, angst, mentions of reader’s strained relationship with her parents

summary: the first night in mexico with steve is not as weird as you thought it would be, but it’s hard to avoid thinking about everything that happened with eddie

CHAPTER TWELVE | ❝𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖❞

Fall Semester 2016

You figured that the first night was weird because the first night in a new place was usually always weird.

But then the next two nights were somehow worse. Alone in a room that you were slowly starting to wonder if it would ever feel like “home.”

You sat in your bed and stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours, but when you looked at your phone, you saw that only twenty minutes had passed since the last time you’d checked it. An annoyed sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes again, willing sleep to come. 

Unsurprisingly, after another few minutes, it didn’t, and that made you grab your phone and call the one person that you wanted to talk to at that moment. 

When Eddie answered with a soft and tired “Hi,” you asked, “Hey, are you busy right now?”

“At one in the morning? Not really, no.” When you didn’t laugh at his joke, he became serious. “You okay?” 

“This is probably dumb and I already feel that way for asking this, but can you come over?”

“Yeah, of course,” He didn’t hesitate to answer and then things got quiet for a second before he asked again. “You okay?”

“I’ll explain when you get here,” You said, not wanting to go on what you felt like would be a neverending ramble about your current thoughts over the phone. “You can even take the bed if you want. I’ll sleep on the floor. Doesn’t matter to me.” 

“I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed,” You could practically hear him shaking his head at your offer. “I’ll be there in ten.”

He actually made it in five minutes and you were greeting him with a small smile and a promise to give him as many blankets as he needed to be comfortable on the floor when you opened your door. 

“So, what made you wanna do this impromptu sleepover?” Eddie asked once he was settled and you were back in your bed. You knew what the lighthearted question was really saying, What’s wrong? 

“I feel dumb because I should’ve known that this was gonna happen,” You said, starting your answer in the middle because you knew that he’d catch on immediately. “We both know how I am when things are too quiet. But, after my roommate situation last year, I thought this single dorm thing would be better. But, actually, it sucks. Now, I weirdly miss the nights where I had to fall asleep to the sound of her talking on the phone.”

“You’ll get used to this,” He said, but you weren’t entirely sure if that was possible. You did appreciate how encouraging he sounded, though. “Hey, do you want this old TV that my uncle’s been meaning to get rid of? It’s just sitting in my room back home collecting dust right now. You can leave it on all night and it’ll probably make it easier to sleep.”

“Shit, that makes so much sense,” You said. It was the easiest fix and you were now realizing that it probably should’ve hit you before.

“We can get it this weekend,” Eddie told you. “I’ll even give you the old VHS tapes I used to play on it all the time. Lots of horror movies.” 

You let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t know if falling asleep to Friday the 13th or Halloween every night is the greatest idea.” 

“Okay, yeah, makes sense. There are also some cartoons.”

You smiled then. “Now that sounds great. I get to find out what cartoons Eddie Munson loved as a kid.” 

He laughed. “It was a lot of things that were just weird knockoffs of Barney because that’s all my uncle would buy.” 

“That sounds very cute,” You said, still smiling. “Thank you, though. Seriously. And thank you for being here right now too.” 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

Not even with Chrissy? You wanted to ask that, but you didn’t because you had a feeling what his answer would be and you didn’t want to make things weird or awkward. 

So, instead, you said, “Thank you for ruining your back for me.” You shifted a bit, turning on your side toward him. “We can still switch if you want. I’m fine with taking the floor.”

“Not gonna happen,” He told you and you decided against once again trying to convince him otherwise.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

There was a mourning period that came and went. And it didn’t even feel that overdramatic to call it that. 

Stupidly, you expected to wake up the day after the moment you had with Eddie at his apartment and be completely over him— because you now knew that he’d never see you as anything other than as his best friend. There was no point in having even a little bit of hope for something equivalent to “a fairytale ending,” so you expected every other part of you to understand that too. But, apparently, an almost three-year-long crush couldn’t end that easily.

A part of you felt like you were back to Freshman year— pretending that everything was fine and normal. When, in reality, nothing was fine, and instead your life now felt like you were stuck in a really bad movie or nightmare. 

You didn’t just feel hurt by the rejection— which technically wasn’t an outward rejection, but it felt just the same— you also felt embarrassed about everything you’d done over the past month. Even when days passed and the hurt faded into a wholehearted acceptance that still also felt a little sad, everything else stayed. 

Steve was the only person that you could possibly admit any of this to since he was a part of the whole fake dating thing. You could tell him that it all ended up being an entire waste of time for you. However, somehow the thought of telling him only made you feel even more embarrassed. 

He was so settled on the idea that this would work for you, and he continued doing things in hopes of making something happen over the last few days. It all felt so wrong now, but you simply pretended that it didn’t because you found it too hard to be honest.

You instead actively forced yourself to stop thinking about how everything had changed and how you were the only one who was aware of that fact. And it actually wasn’t the hardest thing to do. Except on the nights when it seemed as if there was nothing to do but think. 

It was usually easy to drown out your thoughts with the sounds of whatever was happening within your apartment, but the circumstances were different at this moment since you weren’t in your room or the apartment at all. Instead, you were in a different country in a random bed with Steve sleeping right next to you. 

You’d been exhausted after the flight and the hour drive to the fancy resort, but once you were actually settled in the huge bed that barely filled out the even bigger room, you couldn’t seem to sleep. Neither you nor Steve had been able to figure out the TV, you couldn’t even find the remote, but you figured that was fine because you thought you’d fall asleep easily. Clearly, you were wrong, though. And you now couldn’t stand to lay in the silence anymore.

You slowly pulled the blanket off of you and got out of your side of the bed— the left had been designated as yours and the right was Steve’s. The bed was also big enough that you had declined his earlier offer about putting a sort of pillow divider to make things more comfortable for you. In your head, sharing a bed with him probably wouldn’t end up being the weirdest part of this trip. 

You maneuvered pretty well in the dark. Finding your sneakers that sat by your already haphazardly picked through suitcase and slipping them on, and then grabbing your phone and room key off of the nightstand and slipping both into the small pocket of the pajama shorts you were wearing. 

It would’ve been easier if you just left without saying anything to Steve because you’d probably be back before he could even notice that you’d been gone. But, for some reason, it didn’t feel entirely right to do that.

“Hey,” You whispered as you stepped a little closer to him. “Steve?”

His eyes didn’t open as he shifted a bit and let out a soft, “Hmm?”

“I’ll, um, I’ll be right back.”

“Where you going?” He asked, words quiet and slightly mumbled. 

“I can’t really sleep, so I think I’m gonna check out that twenty-four-hour buffet for a bit. The one that they mentioned when we were checking in.”

“Okay,” He said, eyes opening and he rubbed them for a second before pushing a quick hand through his hair and getting out of the bed. 

You shook your head at his actions. “You don’t have to come.”

“I know,” He said but kept moving, standing up and going to grab his sneakers. 

“You really don’t have to come,” You told him. “I already feel bad about waking you up.” 

“It’s the middle of the night, and Robin told me that if anything bad happens to you during this trip, she’ll kill me.” 

Hearing that made you laugh, and it didn’t entirely surprise you. “When did she say that?”

“Yesterday, when we were all watching TV at your place,” He answered as he grabbed his phone and pocketed it in his sweatpants. “It reminded me a lot of the game night conversation.”

“It also felt like The Godfather to you?” You asked, pulling open the door as he walked over to you. Abruptly going from the darkness in the room to the harsh and bright lighting in the hallway made you squint. 

“Yeah, it did,” Steve told you and then rubbed his eyes again. “Jesus, it’s really bright out here.”

“Please go back to sleep. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Wow, good to know that you want me to get murdered by your friend,” He joked. 

You smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. I promise I’ll protect you.”

He kept walking with you, though— heading down the hallway toward the elevators— instead of turning around and going back to the room. You wondered if Robin hadn’t playfully threatened him (in your head, the only way you could imagine it was playful) would he still be this adamant about being with you right then. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“Did we really come here just so you could get cereal?”

“I told you not to come,” You said as you picked around the dry bowl of Cheerios. “Also, nothing would have happened to me if I was alone right now. Unless you think that that drunk couple would’ve kidnapped me or something if you weren’t here.”

You gestured in the direction of said couple that were the only other people at this buffet aside from a few workers; they were sitting barely twenty feet away from you and Steve and looked as if they were in their entirely own world as they shared a bowl of ice cream. 

Both you and Steve abruptly looked away when they started passionately making out with each other. 

You let out a quiet laugh. “Wow.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Steve started, grabbing a handful of cheerios from your bowl. “I don’t think kidnapping you would’ve been on either of their minds right now.”

You weren’t going to admit it, but you were actually glad that he stayed with you. Sitting at this random table with him in this near-empty room was a lot better than being alone with your thoughts. 

You suddenly wondered what time it was, but you also didn’t care enough to check your phone. “What time do we have to meet your parents in the morning?”

“They wanna get breakfast at eight,” He answered, and you nodded at that. “Apparently, they’re really excited to see you.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “Normally, I would think that’s a good thing, but is it in this case?”

Steve shrugged. “Yes and no. At this point, I think it’s just gonna be a lot more of interrogating you— them trying to see if you’re truly the “right person for me” and all that bullshit. Pretty much the same thing that happened at the dinner, but it’ll probably feel a little worse since we’re gonna be seeing them a lot for the next few days. But still, even if they didn’t like you, they wouldn’t tell me to break up with you or anything, they’re mainly just happy that I’m in something serious.”

You nodded again. “I know your parents can be super intense and overbearing, but in some weird way, I think it’s actually kinda nice that they, at least, care, I guess, about your “love life.” I sometimes wish mine did.”

Steve shook his head. “Yeah, but mine don’t actually care, though. They’re only so focused on my love life because they care about themselves and their image.”

Maybe that should’ve been obvious to you. Because hearing him say that, and when you thought about all of the other things that he had told you before about his parents, it made a lot of sense. “Okay, I fully take back my previous statement.” 

“What’s up with your parents, though? You never really talk about them,” Steve said. “How do they feel about you going on vacation with a guy you just met?”

You shrugged halfheartedly. “I don’t know how they feel about it because I kinda forgot to tell them. Well, not kinda, I did. I did forget to tell them about this.”

It had been the farthest thing from your mind. And deep down, you could even admit that you purposely pushed away the thought of telling them because you knew that they probably wouldn’t have cared that much about it, anyway. 

“Oh,” Steve said, and then things became quiet. You wondered how insane you probably sounded to him right then, or how fucked he must’ve thought your relationships with your parents were if you didn’t tell them about this. “Okay, so if I don’t end up getting murdered by Robin after this trip, it’ll definitely be your dad then.”

You were immediately grateful for his lighthearted comment. You could feel yourself inwardly sighing in relief. The tenseness— that was probably only firmly planted on your side of things— quickly washed away. “That would never happen, but if it did, I’ll once again protect you.”

“Thank you, that’s all I ask,” He joked, smiling at you.  

You were abruptly reaching over the table to fix his hair, there was a part of it that was sticking out weirdly— it was the bedhead, you figured. “Sorry, that was kinda bothering me. Anyway, this is very random and a complete one-eighty from what we were just talking about, but do you ever think about how different some things in your life would be, maybe even how better they would be, if certain things had ended up working out, or if they had ended up happening?” 

Maybe it was the slight sleep deprivation that made you ask that question— that felt like it was the only thing that could correctly explain the abruptness of it. A similar version of that slightly confusing question had also been the exact thing that you’d been wondering about barely thirty minutes ago before you refused to continue to sit in silence and in your thoughts about Eddie.

You were pretty certain what your answer to it was— a resounding yes; you thought about “what-ifs” a lot, probably too much.

A part of you expected Steve to ask why you were asking that question, but he didn’t. “In what way do you mean?” He asked instead.

“Romantically,” You didn’t hesitate to answer, and then you shook your head at yourself when you realized what you were saying. “Actually, that’s probably so dumb of me to ask you since you don’t care about relationships and all of that.” 

“I do think about it,” He told you. “Old relationships and stuff. What went wrong, what could’ve gone better…” He trailed off, letting out an awkward laugh and breaking your gaze. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, this is probably way too much for a middle-of-the-night conversation,” You said and realized just how true that was. You now wished that you had brought up some random lighthearted question about a movie or something.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve just never really talked about this before,” Steve said, and you were about to tell him that he didn’t have to talk about it now if he didn’t want to, but he continued before you could say anything. “Um, I think saying old relationships is a stretch, actually. I’ve mainly just thought a lot about the last one, I guess.”

The high school relationship that he had mentioned to you on Valentine’s Day, you remembered. It was the last serious one he’d been in. You wondered what it had been like, how equal parts amazing and devastating it must’ve been if it turned him off of relationships completely for the foreseeable future. 

“This question is probably so stupid, so please feel free to tell me exactly that, but do you ever miss her?” 

“Sometimes, sure, yeah. But, it never really happens that much anymore. And whenever I feel like I miss her now, I think it’s more of me just missing what we used to be instead of me really missing her specifically. Does that make sense?” He looked up at you then and you nodded. You honestly felt as if you understood him completely— missing the picture itself but not necessarily who was in it. 

It was that analogy that somehow made you realize something that you maybe should’ve realized earlier. Specifically, during the moment also on Valentine’s Day when you asked him why he didn’t do relationships and he pretty much said that he didn’t want to get his heart broken again. He was scared of it now, of love and relationships. It wasn’t just about it being easier not being in relationships and not falling for someone, it was about it being a scary fucking thing to do again. 

It honestly made a lot of sense. So much sense that you really didn’t understand why it didn’t hit you sooner. 

You didn’t say this to him, though, because it didn’t feel right to, and a part of you also really hoped that you were entirely wrong about it. Because this would shift everything that you thought you knew and understood about him. 

It would be a thousand times easier if you solely took everything that he previously said to you at face value. If your understanding of him and who he was and what he wanted was as simple as what he had told you that night outside the arcade and what he’d been telling you this entire past month. He didn’t want to get involved in anything serious for simply that exact reason— he didn’t want to.

You had only nodded in response to his “Does that make sense?” question and you knew that you probably should’ve said actual words, but you couldn’t think of what exactly to say right then. And then Steve was speaking again before you could figure something out.

“And I guess that’s when I kinda think about that question you asked— wondering about how different things would be if it all had actually worked out,” He said. You’d completely forgotten that that question had even started this conversation. “But, it’s kinda hopeless and dumb to think about it, though, right? Because the outcome can never change, so what’s the point of even wondering about it?” 

“Yeah, exactly,” You said softly, abruptly thinking about Eddie again. “What’s the point…” 

Steve looked at you for a second before giving you a small smile. “Why was that question on your mind at,” He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “One-thirteen in the morning?”

You suddenly felt really close to telling him what happened at Eddie’s place days ago, and the conclusion that you had come to about everything; the timing honestly felt pretty perfect. But, you still couldn’t do it.

It wasn’t about you feeling sad about the entire thing, it was about feeling stupid. And you honestly didn’t even think that Steve would judge you or think that you were stupid— he’d probably feel bad for you, you realized, which somehow felt a thousand times worse. 

“I don’t know… I’m always getting randomly existential in the middle of the night, I think,” You answered, and then immediately shifted the subject. “Hey, what’s the name of your cousin who’s getting married?” 

“Charlotte.”

“Okay, got it,” You nodded. “I felt like that was information I should probably know.” 

“And her fiance’s name is Charlie.”

A part of you wanted to laugh, but you held it back. “Woah.”

Steve nodded, also recognizing how slightly ridiculous that was. “Yeah. Once again, I’m sorry that I’m putting you through this whole thing.” 

You gave him a playful smile. “As long as you protect me from any weird family members, like I’m protecting you from Robin, I’ll be fine.” 

You remembered then that this fake dating thing wasn’t at all about you anymore, it was about him. And you quickly decided that you’d make sure to play the “happy and in love” girlfriend part really well— just like he had for you this past month— so that he could get what he needed out of this. Because, at this point, that was all that really mattered. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You gave Steve’s hand a quick squeeze. “Kiss me.”

“What?” 

“Your parents are looking over here. Just do like a quick peck thing,” You said, looking up at him. 

He didn’t question you further and instead closed the small bit of distance between you two and pressed his lips against yours. You weren’t sure if you expected it to feel weird or unnatural, but it didn’t. Actually, it happened so quickly that it really didn’t feel like anything at all.

When he pulled away, you gave him the sweetest smile that you hoped didn’t seem too exaggerated or fake, as you two continued walking toward his parents and a handful of his other family members. 

That would probably be the easiest part of the next few hours. Before you were forced to embark on a hike that you weren’t at all excited for, but Steve couldn’t get you two out of. It was during breakfast when his mom mentioned it and she was so adamant about making you and Steve come along too. 

“It’s gonna be fun. According to the tour guide, we’re going to get to see the prettiest view of a waterfall,” Anne had said and you finally nodded and agreed to go because you knew that she wasn’t going to take Steve’s attempts to say no as an answer.   

Now it was two hours after that forced yes and you were in an outfit that didn’t feel entirely great for a hike— denim shorts and a black tank top— but it was the best that you could do; you hadn’t prepared “hiking outfits,” or any sort of workout attire for that matter. And walking over to Steve’s parents and other family members, which he quickly whispered to you were a few of his cousins and aunt and uncle, and seeing them look a lot more prepared than you were, didn’t do much to ease your sudden out-of-place feelings. 

“We still have a few minutes before we have to leave, come to the gift shop with me,” Anne said to you before either you or Steve could say any sort of greeting to her and his dad.  

You gave her a small smile and let your hand drop from Steve’s. “Okay.” 

You met his eyes for the briefest second and he gave you an encouraging look, and then you were following his mom to the gift shop that was right next to the lobby. 

“How’s everything going?” Anne asked you as she started looking around the small shop, stopping at a shelf of ceramic mugs.

The question felt weirdly vague, but you still answered it as if you weren’t slightly confused. “It’s been good. Thank you again for everything. You really didn’t have to invite me to this whole thing.”

“Yes, of course, no problem. Tom and I are happy you’re here,” She smiled at you. “And we can tell that Steve is too.”

Inwardly, you waited for the shoe to drop. For her to suddenly come out and say that she and Tom actually hated you because you weren’t from “their world” and you hadn’t been handpicked by them. 

However, with what Steve reminded you about last night, you remembered that it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about them liking or not liking you as a person, it was about them being happy that Steve was simply in a “serious relationship.” And all you and him had to do was show that.

“I’m glad that you guys approve of our relationship,” You said, looking away from the bracelet in your hand that cost way too much and made you realize that this gift shop was way too fancy. You met Anne’s eyes. “Steve was worried about that. It was why he waited so many months before telling you guys about us.”

“Well, it’s probably obvious that you’re not exactly who we would’ve chosen for him. We always wanted him to be with a certain type of girl from a specific kind of family, you know?” You nodded at her words because it felt like that was all there was to do. “But, maybe this is better for him; at least, for now. And it’s so easy to see that you make him happy— probably more than Nancy ever did all those years ago— so that’s great.” 

Nancy. Finally knowing her name made her feel more real to you. You still knew absolutely nothing about her, though, aside from the fact that she and Steve had been happy and in love at one point in time.  

You weren’t entirely sure how to respond to Anne’s words that felt like the kind of compliment that was actually more of an insult. It was almost funny because there it finally was, somewhat of a shoedrop. She really didn’t like you. 

But, clearly, the show you and Steve were putting on was working, and you were inwardly sighing in relief at that realization because that was all that mattered. Ultimately, you decided to simply smile at her. “Thank you. He makes me really happy too.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick , @bisexual-and-intellectual , @munsonburn3r , @negomi123 , @khena , @facexthexsunshine , @seatbacksandtraytables , @suckerfordylansstuff

(if your user is crossed out it means i can’t tag you</3)

[downmainstreet]

fly me to the moon ⋆ k. leehan. part i.

⤷ film major!leehan x gn!reader. college au, sort of one-sided academic rivals to lovers, non!idol bnd. possible warnings. cussing, use of leehan’s government name for fic purposes, oops. lowercase intended. there’ll probably be another part to this, since it got to be longer than i expected it to! wc. 1.6k words.

synopsis ⋆ kim donghyun, or leehan to his friends, was hybe u’s golden boy. honors student, dashing smile, charming personality. it drove people mad, but specially you, moon y/n, and definitely not for the same reason. ever since you could remember, leehan had been better. more popular, more memorable, more knowledgeable. it made you sick. so, what happens when you get assigned to a project together and there’s no way out?

⤷ author's note ✩ hello! very excited for this little au. there'll definitely be another part to this because i love a cliffhanger. also, a quick thank u to moni @gluion for beta-reading this for me! the story is even better thanks to their suggestions. i hope you all enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it. do leave your feedback in comments or asks if you can, they're very much appreciated!

if anybody were to ask you how you were doing today, you’d say you were fantastic. you’d woken up earlier than usual, worked out, and even had time to get a lavender latte from that new café close to campus. one would say you were almost skipping giddily into class—which sungho, your best friend, didn’t fail to point out—because of your good mood.

“can’t one be happy without a reason?” you throw the question at your best friend in a teasing manner, the corners of your lips rising ever so slightly as you take your seat inside the auditorium.

according to ms. kim, today’s supposed to be a big day for hybe u. the joint project between the arts and humanities department is around the corner. with the assignments counting as extra credit for english majors, you weren’t taking any chances. 

once you sat down, your best friend playfully rolling his eyes at you, your mood turned sour completely—not from the sight but from the familiar sound of his voice.

the leehan effect—some freshman went as far as calling it—but he couldn’t move you to the slightest bit.

you never quite understood his appeal. people went on and on about how his hair flowed whenever his fingers ran through it, how he walked with grace and confidence no matter where he went, or the gentle smile that he’d sport. 

you scoff as you take your laptop out of your bag. so much for a good mood, you thought.

sungho looks at you with a smirk, fully expecting your reaction, before nudging your shoulder slightly, “now, yn, be nice.” 

sungho had been friends with leehan for a while now. you couldn’t say you loved it, but at least he knew not to mention the boy’s name around you. (though at the start of their friendship, you told sungho to call him voldemort, to which he replied, “that defeats the whole purpose of the no-name-saying agenda.”) 

when sungho told you to be nice to his friend, you didn’t think it was literal, but you should’ve known better than to take your best friend’s words with a grain of salt. because there he was, leehan in the flesh, walking up to the seat beside you. there were dozens of empty seats in the auditorium, but of course leehan, the leehan, chose to sit beside you. what a ride.

the first thing you notice as he sits down is the smell of citrus that lingers around him. it’s weird. you never pay attention to these types of things, especially not about leehan. 

you see, leehan is a double major student—theatre and film, to be precise. you’d been classmates since freshman year of high school, and somehow he was always… better. it didn’t matter if you got an A on an exam, because surely leehan got an A+. you had a perfect score? he went over the maximum score with some extra credit he did. it was as if the universe was keen on making you his runner up, but your pride never really allowed it.

the worst part? this competition of yours isn’t even a competition. a competition needs two or more people to function. this thing between the two of you was only something you knew about; he didn’t even bother. you had come to the conclusion that you weren’t good enough to even be in his radar. 

you swore that would change during college, but it was no different. when you found out leehan was also going to hybe u, you were somehow ecstatic. now, you could show people who the best was. but leehan gained his reputation in the new landscape with a rather high score, starting with beating you in the entrance exams. since then, you haven’t really built your momentum back. at all.

your self-wallowing moment ends quick enough when a significantly familiar voice whispers next to you, “is it okay with you if i sit here?”

with furrowed eyebrows, you lock eyes with him only to be greeted with that annoying trademark smile of his.  you aren’t sure why he’s whispering until you notice that the auditorium had gone quiet as ms. kim and mr. hyun go through some papers by the podium. you shift uncomfortably in your seat. leehan had never spoken to you—at least not directly—but you had spoken to him back in senior year only once. you’re sure he probably doesn’t even remember. 

all you do is nod, not wanting to interact too much. plus, the professors were starting to speak, and you didn’t want to miss a word. 

“good morning to you all. this with me is mr. hyun, who will be helping me make the assignment announcement! as you all know, this year there’ll be a joint assignment between majors. each of you will be divided in pairs based on your majors to compete in this year’s hybe u artistique festival.”

“following up with what ms. kim said, you will have this entire term to make the exhibition of your choice. whether it is a film, a short story, an art gallery with pieces of your own making. the top three winners will be shown at the festival.”

“we have just posted your partners in your hybe u student pages. make sure to find them before you leave the auditorium!”

you’re quick to open up the website as you anticipate your partner.  you really hope it’s someone on film. you’d been polishing your script-writing skills and hoped to put them to good use. excitement bubbles up inside you as you press open.

yet, the name on the screen has your smile faltering. 

pair #12 — film and theatre major kim donghyun & english major moon yn. 

your breath hitches in your throat. as you meet his gaze once more, there’s a lingering smirk on his features as he says, “hello, partner.” 

you were fucked, weren’t you?

⋆

today’s the first day you and leehan agreed to work together on the project. you told yourself you would enjoy this, that not even voldemort could ruin it for you. (sungho couldn’t help but laugh at your words.) 

you both texted each other the day before to arrange where you’d meet, deciding on the campus’ park. it isn’t too crowded at this time of the day, thank god. as you two had morning classes, you agreed to meet after 5pm. you got there before him, though, so you found a nice place to sit in. 

it feels like being in another world, this whole working with leehan thing, but you are willing to compromise. it’s a huge opportunity. plus, you heard leehan is one of the best filmmakers in his year. you don’t doubt it but you still have your thoughts about working with him. although, sungho said something that made lots of sense earlier in class that day.

“just give yourself the chance to get to know him, yn. you never know, he could surprise you,” he said while you sighed for the nth time that day, sulking and whining on and on about your unlucky streak. 

and so that’s what you decided to do—get to know him from scratch, even though it felt extremely disloyal to the freshman year of high school yn who vowed to be better than kim donghyun by any means possible. it’s for the extra credit, you told that version of yourself. a compromise. nothing more.

“hey,” leehan interrupts your train of thought, seemingly materializing out of thin air. he looks different today. his long hair is pulled back into a man-bun and he’s wearing a checkered flannel. he always looks put together, and today was no exception, but he looked relaxed. comfortable. it made something inside you churn. in a bad way, though, right?

you nod as a way to greet him as he sat down beside you. 

“sorry, i’m late. today’s been a bit crazy,” he apologizes, almost to himself. it’s unlike him. everything about him right now is not the leehan you know—the bags under his eyes are a little too prominent and his hair is a bit too disheveled. you thought you’d enjoy seeing him like this, all weak. but all it does is make your chest ache, for some reason you weren’t ready to even fathom yet. 

“you okay?” you ask rather awkwardly, deciding that would be the adequate thing to say. and it seemed it was, because he looks at you, really looks at you, and smiles. you swear you saw his eyes sparkle for a moment. you almost laugh but you hold back. you weren’t going to give into the leehan effect. you weren’t.

and yet... 

“didn’t know you cared,” he glances at you with curiosity as a ghost of a smile still wanders on his lips. he relaxes into his seat, a soft sigh leaving him. “but yes, i am okay, yn.”

your name on his lips made time stop for you. he never said it before. (and if he did, you would have remembered, surely.)

you pursed your lips as best as you could to hide the fluttering feelings that were invading you in the moment and scoffed. “i don’t care, just being polite.” leehan raises an eyebrow at your reaction, expectant. “but i’m glad you’re okay.” 

“mh, that’s more like you.” you can hear the smile on him now, it drives you mad.

“excuse me?”

“well, you’ve never really liked me, have you, yn?” you’d think he’d look sad over this, but that stupid smile of his is still plastered on his lips as he looks at you, his arm resting on the back of the bench.

and, well, it was very easy to tell you weren’t fucked.

you were extremely, irrevocably fucked.

@onedoornet ➳ all credits go to ©downmainstreet on tumblr, 2024.

[slytherinshua]

CAN'T SHAKE THIS JEALOUSY

summary. how your boyfriend reacts when another guy flirts with you. genre. fluff. headcanons. warnings. jealousy. not really anything else?? not proofread. pairing. tws x fem!reader. wc. 1k. (~160 per member). request. requested by anon. a/n. i love tws let me go sob like :(

SHIN JUNGHWAN

everyone knows that you and junghwan are dating, so the occasion for anyone to try something is very low. but when it does happen, junghwan likes to resolve the situation as quickly as possible. if there’s a guy trying to talk to you and you look uncomfortable, he’ll simply walk up and slip his arm around your waist. if that doesn’t get the message across, he’ll kiss your cheek. it kinda shocks you because he’s normally shy when it comes to pda. but when he’s jealous, his shy demeanour completely goes away, fuelled by his jealousy and anger towards whoever was making you uncomfortable. he tries to act like nothing happened when you bring it up later, as if he wasn’t being extra touchy with you to scare off the guy sdksd. honestly he tries his best to say that he never gets jealous even though that’s just not the case. he’s cute when he tries to deny it though <3

KIM DOHOON

he hates the idea of confrontation and in a way he doesn’t want to… embarrass the other guy?? he knows it’s bad cause he’s ignoring his own feelings of jealousy but he just hates any conflict. so instead he'll go up behind you and tug on your shirt gently. and he communicates with his eyes until you get the message. from there, you smoothly end the conversation, and he helps a bit once you’ve gotten it started. he probably talks to you about it afterwards really pouty and sad like :( the feeling of jealousy is just the worst for him. he wishes he could’ve done more and been like one of those “cool” boyfriends </3 but you make sure that he knows he’s perfect, even though he’s such a people pleaser that he’s bad at setting boundaries. with some practice he’d get better at it, and more confident in standing up for himself and you. but most of the time, he chickens out in the moment. 

CHOI YOUNGJAE

he’s calm, usually just surveying the situation. he’s very focused on everything that is happening to you. the second he spots the guy talking to you going a bit too far or showing any flirtatious hints, he’ll be walking over to stop the situation. he knows you can handle it most of the time, but it’s just when there are guys who won’t take a hint no matter how obvious your disinterest is. he’ll politely shut them down for you, introducing himself as your boyfriend and asking what the guy’s relationship is to you. in the rare case that his glaring and sharp words aren’t enough, he’ll just remove you from the situation instead of trying to scare off the guy. he has little patience for anyone trying to hit on his girlfriend. but after, he will always check up on you before anything else, asking if you were uncomfortable or if he should’ve come over sooner :( he’s just the sweetest!!

HAN ZHEN

hanjin gets jealous so easily. he looks like the type who wouldn’t do anything about it but he does. he’s so possessive but he can’t help it. whenever he sees another guy talking to you, the only thing on his mind is how to get him away. the thing is, he’s not brave enough to kiss you right in front of someone else even though he’d like to. he’d probably make up some excuse that you needed to go instead, finding a way to drag you back with him and away from the guy. once he’s alone with you, that’s when he gets pouty and whiny, extremely jealous at the fact that you were laughing with someone other than him. you have to do your best to cheer him up, cause he’s not going to forget the uncomfortable feeling of jealousy for a while. he’s extra clingy afterwards because you’re his and he’s the only person allowed to hold you and kiss you </3

HAN JIHOON

he honestly can’t believe his eyes at the audacity of the guy talking to you. shamelessly flirting with you right in front of jihoon. he’s so quick to go over and stop it, but he’s really nonchalant about it. even though inside he’s kinda panicking because he’s not used to being jealous and overthinks things naturally. but in the moment he’s actually able to put an end to the situation so fast. he pulls you aside and he’s so cute he’s like “did you see how i scared him off?!” suddenly all the overthinking is gone and he’s just impressed with his own abilities. forgets he was even jealous tbh because he’s just proud of himself for how he handled it. he’s such a hyperactive cutie he would literally be jumping like so happy with himself <//3 but then his smile drops if you ask him if he was jealous. he gets a bit shy… but still he’d be glowing with pride especially if you also compliment him about it.

LEE KYUNGMIN

kyungmin has some lingering doubt in his head that he's never good enough for you :( so whenever he sees another guy talking to you that he thinks is probably more attractive than him, those thoughts increase a lot. he’s not really sure what to do— he’s scared to go up and try to get you away from him, he’s also scared of what will happen if he does nothing. in the end he’s just on the sidelines watching you with wide eyes, trying to read into your behaviour. of course, you notice, because you only have eyes for kyungmin. and you can tell something is wrong because he’s pouting even though he doesn’t realize it :( you’ll figure it out super quick and excuse yourself from the conversation to go check up on your boyfriend <3 it’ll take several months of getting confident in himself and himself as a boyfriend for him to be able to deal with jealousy situations by himself, but eventually, he’ll figure it out.

↳ tws taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @talkingsaxy,, @talking-saxy,,

@50-husbands,, @hursheys

[jenanigans1207]

1/7/25: Petty

“Dude,” Sam says to Dean one night when they’re sitting in the library pouring over some boring ass books that haven’t helped them even a little bit up until this point. “What the hell’d you do to Cas?”

“Who says I did anything to him?” Dean asks without glancing up. “Dude’s weird, it’s probably nothing.”

A hand appears on the page that Dean was pretending to read, and it takes him a second to even realize it’s happened, blinking his attention back to the moment and glaring at Sam as he reaches out to smack the offending hand. Sam snatches his hand back before Dean makes contact, but the effect was successful because Sam now has Dean’s full attention.

“He’s taking everything I say so literally.” Sam explains, pausing as if he’s waiting for Dean to add something. When Dean doesn’t, he presses on. “We’ve known the guy for twelve years and even when he was his most angelic, he didn’t do this.”

“Sure he did.” Dean argued, the phrase no, he’s not on any flatbread circling around in his head.

But Sam shakes his head, a few long pieces falling into his eyes. “That was different. He didn’t know then. He’s doing it on purpose now.”

Dean sighs and scrubs a hand across his face. “He’s doing it to be a petty bastard.” He says finally. “On our last hunt I yelled at him because he never fucking listens or does what I ask him to do, which is how he got hurt. So now—”

“He’s taking everything said to him literally and acting it out exactly as he’s told to.” Sam fills in the blank.

“Yeah.” Dean says. “I was trying to ignore him hoping that he’d stop, but he only seems to be doubling down on being an ass about the whole thing.”

To Dean’s surprise, the only response Sam has to the whole situation is to burst out in laughter. It’s the kind of head thrown back, belly laugh that Dean hasn’t heard Sam do in years. It was the kind of laugh he cherished, because he used to get it so infrequently that he had to commit every second of it to memory. And even though Sam laughs more easily now, he still rarely laughs with this kind of unbridled joy— for a moment it makes Dean entirely forget about Cas and his petty revenge. Despite himself and despite the situation, Dean finds himself grinning a little too, just happy to see his brother happy.

“You really met your match,” Sam finally manages to choke out, still smiling in a way that’s happy but definitely verging on shit-eating. “For every pain in the ass thing you do, he returns the favor.”

“It’s not funny,” Dean grumbles, leaning back in his chair. He wants to take a swig of his beer but it’s empty and he doesn’t feel like getting up. “He needs to be more careful!”

Sam settles more comfortably in his own chair then and it’s the slant of his shoulders that tells Dean he should’ve gotten up to get the next beer because he’ll need it for whatever Sam is about to say. “Have you just tried telling him that you’re worried about him? And that it matters to you that he stays safe?”

There’s a lot of deflections and defenses that jump to the tip of Dean’s tongue, but he bites back on them. He’s been trying to be better to be at least a little more honest— with himself, Sam, and Cas. Nobody else was yet included in that honesty, but he figured he’d get there someday. So he swallows the immediate words he wants to say and glances down at the table.

“He should know.” He answers instead which isn’t much but it’s better and more vulnerable than anything else he would’ve said. At least it implies admission that Sam’s right about his true reason for being upset.

“I’m sure he does.” Sam agrees and there’s a sincerity in his voice that does actually comfort Dean a little. “But knowing it deep down and hearing it are different.” Sam explains, pausing before adding, “You know he loves you, but it’s still nice to hear, isn’t it?”

And goddamn it all, Sam has a point that Dean can’t even begin to deny. Because he does know that Cas loves him, knows it to the core of his very bones. But if Cas were to just stop saying it out loud, were to stop reminding him of just how much he’s loved, it would be hard for Dean. He wouldn’t doubt that love, but he would still struggle with it.

Dean groans and pushes back from the table, mumbling an affectionate and exasperated “bitch” under his breath as he leaves the room. He doesn’t have to travel far to find Cas, situated in the bathroom preparing to shave. Cas glances up when he walks in the door, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Cas’s hand stills where they were unrolling a towel over the sink in front of him.

“I’m so hard on you because I’m worried,” Dean blurts before he has the chance to lose his nerve. “I’m terrified of losing you and it scares the shit out of me when you get hurt on our hunts.” Cas’s eyes have gone impossibly wide in his reflection, but he doesn’t interrupt. “I don’t mean to be an ass, I just— I can’t lose you, Cas. You mean too damn much to me.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes, turning to face him properly.

“So there you go,” Dean scuffs the toe of his boot on the ground. “You can stop being a petty bitch now.”

Cas smiles as he steps up to Dean, reaching out to cup his elbow gently in a warm hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You knew, right?” Dean confirms.

“I knew,” Cas answers. “I couldn’t have been so petty if I had thought you were serious.”

“You’re such an ass.”

[melodygatesauthor]

Goodnight, Princess

Yandere Dad's Best Friend - Santiago Garcia X f!Reader

Not Beta Read - For @romana-after-dark's Dead Dove December event!

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Summary

Your dad's best friend accidentally discovers that you're a sex worker. He tries to let it go, but it eats away at him until things go way too far.

This fic was written in first person from Santiago's perspective. I know that's not normally something I do, but if you give it a chance I think you'll like it hehe <3

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, non-con, dubious consent, rape, sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, masturbation, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, porn with some plot, smut, creampie, breeding kink if you squint, non-consensual somnophilia, intoxication, implied murder, dad's best friend, age gap, voyeurism, hidden cameras. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (that means that what you see in the tags WILL be in the fic, don't act surprised when you get exactly what you were warned about.)

Word Count: 5.7k

I should’ve put a stop to it the second I realized it was you on the other side of that wall.

Don’t ask me how I knew. A good guess? A hunch? Maybe I’d known you so long that I could tell, based on some deep ingrained instinct, exactly what your lips would feel like wrapped around my cock. You sucked on it like you knew what you were doing, like it wasn’t a challenge for you to take something so big in that pretty little mouth.

I recognized the sound of your moans almost right away. The hum of your voice when you started sucking my dick was the same sound you made at dinner the other night when you popped a spoonful of mashed potatoes in your mouth. Does your dad know you’re doing this? Do you care? Do you ever worry about what he might say if he finds out?

Don’t worry princess, I'll keep your secret. 

Our secret.

I bet you never thought I would find out about your slutty little side job. To be entirely honest, I didn’t think I’d find you working at a place like this. If you know me at all, and I know for a fact that you do, then you’d know I’m a lonely man. Years of serving in the military and the endless night terrors have made it difficult to find any sort of real relationship, so I’ve given up. That doesn’t mean I don’t still have needs, sweetheart.

Everybody jerks off, and I’m no exception. I don’t even know how many nights I’ve been in my room, cock in hand while I watch some crappy porno to get myself off. Every once in a while though, I like to treat myself to a little something more. Most people treat themselves to some kind of dessert, or a nice bottle of wine, but I like to treat myself to a night at Club BJ where all the dirty men go to get their rocks off.

I never thought I’d find you there.

Not a chance in hell did I think for even a second that you would be sucking random cocks on the other side of a gloryhole to earn a few extra bucks. You’re so good at it though, princess. How did you learn to swirl your tongue like that? Hm? Was it all the boys at college who taught you how to do that? Did they tell you what a pretty little girl you are while your lips were stretched around them?

They better have. They better have said thank you when they finished all over that beautiful face too.

I couldn’t speak to you. I couldn’t let you know it was me on the other side of that wall, so I hope the $200 tip I left you gets the point across. 

When I got home tonight, you were running through my mind like a fucking hamster on a wheel. I’m not sure what to do now, but I can’t shake how bad I want to go back to the club for another round. I’d pay thousands, probably even tens of thousands, just to have more…

But I can’t do that. Not to you, and not to your dad.

That was the first and only time I’m going to know what it’s like to feel you sucking my cock.

—

There’s no possible way for you to know what you do to me, well, for you to know that it was me on the other side of the hole that you were making feel so fucking good. I’m coming back again, despite promising I wouldn’t. I’ve been trying so hard to let it go, but I fucking can’t. You’re like a goddamn siren luring me back to that shithole, and I can’t resist your call.

I’ll be back on Friday, because that’s the night they set the girls up with their asses sticking out through the wall. I would assume the club has you bent over some kind of table on the other side of that wall? I’m not sure, but Friday can’t come soon enough. I feel like I need you.

Maybe if you hadn’t looked at me the way you did when I saw you today at your dad’s for dinner. Were you looking at me like that on purpose, sweetheart? I mean, you must be…right? Or have I completely lost my shit?

I probably lost my shit, let’s be honest.

I’ve known your dad since high school. I even helped him beat up a guy that was hitting on your mom back when she and your dad had just started dating. I’m really not a bad guy, and I’ve never looked at you like this. I mean it. But how can I look at you any differently now? How can I look at you any differently after what you did to me? What you did for me.

“Santi, can you pass the butter?” You asked, looking at me, probably no different than usual but I couldn’t think of anything other than those pouty lips wrapped around my dick again.

Did you notice the way my hand shook when I handed you the butter dish? Maybe not, but they were trembling and to be honest it was fucking annoying. I’m a man in his late thirties and I can’t get a grip on the feelings I’m developing for my best friend's goddamn kid. It’s wrong, disgusting, hell I’d kill someone if you were my kid.

But you’re not, and I can’t fucking help it, even though I tried.

Maybe someday, if you ever find out about any of this, I’ll tell you about how much I hated myself (hell, I still hate myself sometimes), when I came home with that post nut clarity. That might’ve been the best blowjob of my life, but I stood in front of my mirror for a good ten minutes trying to tell myself that I’d never go back to that hellhole, Club BJs. I meant it with all my heart when I said it over and over like a mantra.

Now I’m stuck though. I’m stuck thinking about you bent over with a wall separating the top half of your body from the bottom with countless men fucking you until you’re so full of cum you looked like a damn overstuffed pastry. You deserve to feel good. You deserve to have at least one of those men be someone that cares about you.

I guess I’ll have to be the one to do it. I guess this is how I’ll justify doing something I know I shouldn’t.

I’ll see you on Friday, princess.

—

It makes me feel a little bit better to know that every man in there is at least checked for STDs before he gets to fuck you. Surely you wouldn’t have signed up to work at a place like this if they weren’t. You’re smart, you’ve always been so smart. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.

Still not clever enough to know that I was one of those men who stood behind you that night. In fact, I was your last customer of the night. Your pussy was so puffy and swollen, those guys really stretched you out and fucked you good didn’t they? Don’t worry, princess, I took good care of you and gave your little hole a break. I won’t lie, it took everything in me not to use you the way they did, but I’ll do that another time.

Tonight I was on my knees for you, grabbing onto both of your asscheeks and spreading you out so I could clean up the mess those filthy men made of my little princess. You sounded so surprised, I heard you gasp, when I started eating you out. Did you like that? It sounded like you did. I could feel your thighs shaking and at some point you even started rocking back and forth like you wanted more.

Maybe you wanted me to fuck you. Were you hoping that the mystery man on the other side of the wall would clean you up and then fuck his own cum into you too? Or maybe you were happy to have the break. Either way, I licked your swollen clit until I could hear your pretty moans on the other side and feel your cunt throbbing against my tongue. Your slick tastes so good sweetheart, can’t believe you made something so delicious all by yourself.

“You’re not going to fuck me?” You asked me. I could almost hear the desperation in your voice, like you were begging me to come back and take you.

“No.” I said firmly, faking a deeper voice than my own.

Next time I will though, don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll fuck you so good you won’t want anyone else.

—

The same night I ate you out I rushed home to jerk off. It sounds crude to say, but fuck I couldn’t help it. The taste of your pussy was still on my lips. I could still smell you soaked into the stubble on my chin and upper lip. I’m making a mental note to snag a pair of your panties when I come over for the barbecue at your dad’s tomorrow night. Maybe that will help get me through this mess I’m in. Maybe it will help me stop this shit.

I know I can’t keep doing this, but the feeling I get when I’m scrolling through your instagram photos from last summer in your bikini with my cock squeezed in my hand is incredible. I’m looking at those perfect tits hidden beneath such a thin layer of fabric, and your pretty rear is barely covered at all.

When I came it’s like I was possessed, blowing up a picture of your face just so I could imagine myself coating it in all of me. I don’t even really want to talk about how hard it was to clean that mess off my phone.

I feel like I’m losing myself in the depraved thoughts and fantasies I’m having of you. I woke up with soaked sheets and I thought I fucking pissed myself, but I didn’t, it was…something else. I’d dreamt of you. I can’t remember exactly what was happening in that dream, but it must’ve been good, and I’m annoyed that I still can’t remember what it was about.

—

A small part of me, the part of me that still had some morals left, was hoping you’d be working your day job. (honestly I can’t even remember what your day job is, aren’t you a housekeeper? Or a waitress or something?) At least if you were working I wouldn’t have to see you. I wouldn’t have to think about you more than I already was. Not to mention, I wouldn’t have had to sit there and watch you laugh with your ‘friend’ that you’d invited over.

You told your dad when you introduced him, “we’re just friends dad.”

You said it with such an attitude that both your dad and I knew better. You might’ve thought you were just friends, but that guy wanted more, and I knew you were going to give it to him. I could tell by the way you looked at him when you thought no one was paying attention.

I bet you didn’t think I’d hear you both making out in your room that night, but your moans call me now like a moth to a flame. The other barbecue guests had gone home, and your dad was drunk and passed out in his recliner, and I heard you faintly over the hum of the crappy reality show on tv. I didn’t pause the show, I didn’t want to wake up your dad, so I went upstairs silently, masked by the sound on the tv.

Initially, I wanted to walk in there and rip this kid off of you, giving him a few vicious but empty threats before sending him on his way with his tail between his legs. Your voice stopped me in my tracks though.

“Shh, I don’t want my dad to hear us,” you whispered, followed by a sweet giggle.

He won’t, princess. I thought, as though it were me you were talking to and not this loser.

You’d left your bedroom door open, per your dad’s request, such a good little girl. Despite being a grown woman, you still did what your daddy told you, and that’s the only reason I was able to hide in the bathroom and hear you get fucked while I jerked off and imagined I was with you instead of…whatever the fuck his name is.

“Oh god!” You whined, making my body shudder.

That guy doesn’t talk much, and that made it all the easier for me to imagine myself in his place.

When you said, “mm, harder, please…”

I was right there to say, “anything you want, sweetheart.”

I tried to move my hand in time with the light thump of your bed against the wall. It helped. What didn’t help was the fact that I could tell how little you were enjoying yourself. You were making the same sounds you made when you were ass out at the gloryhole. I knew I could do better, I knew I could make your body shake with pleasure like when I was kneeling down behind you with my tongue working overtime on your sensitive clit.

You were pretty good at faking it though, good enough that I was a leaking mess, precum dripping all down my shaft while I worked myself behind the wall your bedroom shared with the bathroom. I really wanted to go in there, tell that guy to get lost and give you the night of your life, but I didn’t. Instead I stood there, spilling a few globs of cum into some toilet paper and calling it good enough.

I was quick to head back downstairs before you even knew I was up there in the first place. That guy had the audacity to say goodnight to me in the kitchen on his way out the door. I let that go pretty quickly because then it was just you and me alone in the kitchen while your dad slept soundly in the living room.

You have no idea how badly I wanted to ask you for the pleasure of taking care of you, of making sure that you got off too, but I bit my tongue. Instead we made small talk about how your college was going and you asked me about Benny, Frankie and Will. 

For a moment I had forgotten about all the things that transpired between us, or that I’d done while thinking about you, and you were just my best friend’s kid again. We were just two people who had known each other for a long time, catching up and making small talk. Then you had to bend over in your shorts, and my cock ignored its usual refractory period to spring alive and nag for attention again.

“You okay, Santi?” You’d asked so innocently, as if I didn’t know what that mouth was capable of, or what that body could take.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.”

I’m not fucking fine, but that doesn’t matter.

—

You slept like a rock that night, not even stirring in the slightest when I grabbed your panties out of your hamper by the closet. They didn’t look particularly fancy, so I assume you won’t miss them, will you? Doesn’t matter anyway, you’d never expect that I’m the one who took them.

I can’t even begin to tell you how disgusting I felt when I got home the next morning and I had placed your panties on my bed in front of me like a prize I’d won. I think I stared at them for at least a full ten minutes before I picked them up again and put them in my nightstand. I’ve never been a “panty sniffer” and I tried to convince myself that just knowing I had them in my possession was enough.

Have you ever read The Tell-Tale Heart? I remember when I was in high school I had to, and it stuck with me for some reason. Your underwear in my nightstand reminded me of that story in some ways. It’s like all I could hear were your moans in my ears and no matter where I went in the house the temptation to smell the remnants of your cunt on that fabric was following me.

So finally, here I am, two weeks after you first sucked my cock, and I can shamefully admit that I did it. I smelled them, and sweetheart, you smell so much better without all that cum inside of you. Of course the panties can’t compare to the real thing, which I don’t know if I’ll ever smell without six loads of spend inside, but god I hope I get the privilege one day.

Or maybe I hope I don’t.

I’m still so torn between the fact that you’re my best friend’s kid, and the way I want to bury my dick so far in that pretty little cunt that you’re seeing stars.

—

I was first in line tonight. It’s Friday night so your ass was out again and untouched this time. You weren’t wet yet which excited me for some reason. It meant I got to have the honors of making you nice and slick.

My hand looks so big against your ass, princess. I wish I could show you. That was me who rubbed your clit, making you shake and whine for more on the other side of the wall. I’m the one who slipped my thick middle finger in that greedy little hole, and then my index finger, and then the ring finger.

I’m guessing you liked it based on how slippery you got, and how much you moaned on the other side. Do you know how dedicated your customers are? One of them got pissed at me for taking too long with you. I can’t say I blame them, your pussy is perfect sweetheart.

God the feeling of sliding my dick between those pretty pussy lips is like nothing I’ve ever felt. As I bottomed out, I felt your walls were squeezing around me like you wanted me deeper, so of course I pushed in more, all the way until I couldn’t go further. You gasped like you hadn’t felt a hundred dicks inside you before mine. 

I slid back again and slammed into you. I heard you begging me to keeping going, and saying, “fuck you’re good, holy shit!”

It was so hard not to say all the filthy things I wanted to when I fucked you, princess. I wanted to tell you how good you looked like that, pussy lips split around my cock like it wanted to swallow me whole. I wanted to ask you if you would like me to stick my thumb in your ass but decided to just try it anyway and see how you reacted.

You liked it.

At least it seemed like you did, your cunt clamped down around my dick like a damn vice grip the moment my thumb popped through your tight little hole. Did you like having something in your ass sweetheart? It’s shocking how tight you are, given how often I know you’re getting fucked. Some of the guys coming in behind me were big, some even bigger than me, but you don’t like them as much as you do when I fuck you, right? Of course not, because you don’t sound like that when you’re with them.

I caught a small glimpse of your eye through the hole. There was a small gap between the wall and your hips and you were looking at the same time I was. Did you see me? Did you have time to realize who I was? Did you come right then and there because you liked the idea of your dad’s best friend fucking you until you were too spent for anyone else?

Your orgasm forced me to come at the same time you did. I can’t even begin to tell you what it felt like to spill my load inside of you like I’d wanted to for so long. I remember so clearly being pushed up against your ass, pulling my thumb out of your hole so I could squeeze your hips and pull you over my dick further. It’s like I was willing every ounce of it to fill you up so full that no one else could. It’s like I was trying to make sure that when you look in the mirror a few months from now, you’ll remember the feeling of the man who fucked a baby into you.

I’m not an idiot. Well, I am, but I know that you’re on birth control. I know that no matter how many times I fuck you, the chances of you actually getting pregant are slim, not that I’d want to get you pregnant anyway. That would be too much, and I don’t want to go too far.

I’m not going to go too far.

—

I went to your house today.

I already had an excuse planned if I somehow got caught while you and your dad were out. If you or your father saw me, I’d say I came back for my hat. It’s not a total lie, I did leave my hat behind, but neither of you needed to know it was on purpose.

Do you realize how much dust has collected on the little stuffed bear you have on the shelf facing directly across from your bed, sweetheart? I doubt it, but it does make for the perfect place to put the small camera I bought.

I feel so fucking gross I can hardly stand to look at myself. But I can’t stand not to watch you touch yourself either. The glory hole is great, but I want to see that pretty face when you’re coming so hard you can’t breathe right, and I can’t do that when I’m on the other side of a fucking wall can I?

Seeing you later that night while I was at my own house, fist closed around my cock and watching you play with yourself is worth all the self loathing in the world. I had the camera feed pulled up on my laptop, and I could see you walking over to your dresser. God, what an array of toys you have. Do you have all those toys because you like them? Or is it because you haven’t found someone who knows their way around your body yet?

If it’s the latter, I promise you won’t need those things once I’m done with you.

Fuck, princess. The one you picked out is so damn big. I’ve seen you fit some pretty big cocks in that little hole, but I was shocked to see you squeezing lube around the head of that thing and gliding it over your pussy lips. You took a deep breath. Does it hurt to take such a fat silicone dick like that? 

Fuck, I’m glad I put the camera where I did. Who had you so wet like that? Hm? Were you thinking about anyone in particular? Can you even get that entire dildo in there? I hated to admit how much I liked watching you struggle. My cock leaked so fucking much I thought I was going to come too fast, but I kept it together.

You finally pushed it in, and I’m so damn proud of you princess. You had a really hard time going all the way though, didn’t you? That tight little pussy of yours was stretched to its limit and you were only halfway in there. Why do you even have a dildo that size if you can’t get it all the way in your cunt? Are you trying to stretch yourself out for someone? You don’t have to stretch yourself for me, I’d be happy to take care of that for you myself.

I watched you push it in even more, I was so focused on the furrow of your turned up brow and the way you bit your lip while I stared. We both exhaled the moment you managed to fit the entire thing in. Your eyes rolled back like it was the best thing you’d ever felt. You really do enjoy being stuffed full, don’t you, sweetheart?

You started fucking yourself with it, the sounds of your wet cunt hit my ears like the sweetest music I’d ever heard. I stroked myself in time with your movements, my eyes focused right on your face, and my cock throbbed every time you moaned. Wasn’t your dad home tonight? Shouldn’t you be a bit quieter when you’re doing stuff like that? Maybe you just don’t care if he hears you.

You started fucking yourself faster so of course I was jerking myself harder, trying to keep up with you without losing it too quickly. It didn’t take long for you to come though. Did you like the feeling of that toy that much? You gushed around it, you choked back some moans but several other soft whimpers escaped, filling your room and hitting my ears through the camera feed. I came too, coating my knuckles and my stomach with so much cum I didn’t know I was even capable of producing that much.

Why’d you have to ruin it? Huh?

It was such a good fucking orgasm for both of us, and then I heard you say a name. It wasn’t my name though, was it, princess? I don’t know why that bothers me so fucking much. Maybe it’s because in some twisted way I’ve managed to convince myself that you were putting on that private show just for me. So if you did do it for me, then I don’t want to hear you saying some other guy’s name while you’re fucking your self like that sweetheart. 

I just don’t.

—

I lost it today.

I really fucking lost it today, princess.

I found that guy. You know the one who fucked you the other night while I jerked off in the bathroom? That ‘friend’ of yours? The one whose name you called out instead of mine?

I found him.

I…

—

Did you miss me, sweetheart? I’m sorry, but I had to leave for a while, at least until things quieted down, and until you weren’t sad anymore. I know I should feel bad, but I don’t. I would probably do it again a thousand times if I had to.

You seemed fine during dinner at your dad’s tonight. I don’t really think you were that upset over the guy anyway, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to hear his name come out of that pretty mouth again. Ever.

After too much wine during (and after) dinner, I carried you upstairs. You never could handle your liquor. Remember when you were only eighteen and I would let you sneak a few shots under your old man’s nose when he wasn’t looking? Your dad was sleeping when I put you down gently in your bed. Your skin is so fucking soft it killed me to step away from you.

Your eyes opened for a moment meeting with mine. I felt my gut stir at the sight of you biting your lip. Why were you doing that to me? Didn’t you know how that would affect me? I couldn’t resist the way you looked at me that night. No one would’ve been able to. It’s not fair for you to put me in that position and expect that I’m just going to walk away. When I think back to it, this was all your fault, princess.

“Santi,” you said sweetly.

I almost climbed on top of you right then when you grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer. I almost grabbed your throat and fucked you through your shorts, but I held back.

“What, princess?” I asked you, putting a caring hand on your shoulder, trying to fight back my more primal urges screaming in my head.

You shivered, “I-mm-need something towearto mm-bed,” you slurred out.

I could see the curve of your hip disappear into your too-short shorts. I really don’t want you going out in public wearing things like that. I gave you my shirt to keep you warm. I hope it’s comfortable, sweetheart, I can’t let you go cold, can I? When I leaned down to put it over your head, I felt such a fucking ache in my chest when your face appeared again through the hole. Such a pretty babygirl.

“Thank you,” you smiled contentedly and snuggled into your pillows.

I gulped, “princess,” I whispered, slowly creeping my fingers toward the hem of your shorts where they rested on your waist.

“Hm?” You hummed, but you weren’t really awake anymore, from what I could tell.

When I touched your soft, exposed hip you didn’t stir at all, and when I slipped my fingers underneath your panties, then your shorts, you didn’t make a sound. When I pushed both down to your ankles and dropped them on the floor, you didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t have any fucking clue what I was going to do to you, did you?

Did you feel my fingers when I slipped them between your thighs and felt your little wet cunt? I bet you did, even if you didn’t realize you were feeling it. I thought I would wake you up for sure when I pushed you onto your back and climbed over you. And when that didn’t wake you up, I thought, without a doubt, that when I pulled my cock out and touched it against your slick pussy lips your eyes would shoot open and you’d catch me in the act.

You didn’t though, you stayed deep in your drunken sleep, and I could get away with doing anything I wanted to you.

I’m still wondering what I would’ve done if you’d caught me. What would I say? How would I justify this feeling I craved that only you could satisfy? Would I even need to say anything? Surely you would recognize the feeling of the cock that made you come so good in that glory hole. Surely you’d be desperate for me to keep going.

Being able to look at your face, even if you were asleep, while I slid my dick into your wet heat made my brain stop fucking working. I couldn’t even think. It was like my body just took over, hips rocking into you over and over without a care in the world for how loud the bed was creaking.

You still didn’t feel anything when I dipped down and kissed you, my hips still thrusting slowly against you. This isn’t a Disney movie, and I’m no prince charming, but you’re still my little princess, aren’t you? You’re like my personal sleeping beauty, except my soft kisses didn’t wake you from your drunken slumber.

Thank god.

I kissed all the way down your jawbone until I got to your neck. You’re so soft, and you smell so nice. I kinda wish you’d been awake so I could’ve heard you whimper and whine in my ear. I want to hear you tell me how good it feels to have my cock slamming into your pussy, sweetheart. I want to feel your lips on my neck, my chest, all over my body.

“You take me so well, princess.” I whispered in your ear, hoping that somewhere deep in your dreams you’d hear my words and know I was inside you. “You feel so good, I can’t stop. Never felt anything-so-fucking-g-good-I-f-fuck…”

I came so much that when I pulled back my cum poured out of you as if my cock was a dam holding back a river. I still wonder if I should’ve cleaned you up, but I didn’t. Maybe you’d remember that I was the one who brought you upstairs and you’d put the pieces together.

I can imagine it now, you waking up in the morning with a dried up substance between your thighs. You might not know what it is right away, but I’m sure when you go to the bathroom and notice the hickeys peppered all over your neck, you’ll know that something must’ve happened to you the night before.

I’m not sure what to do now.

I need to have you for myself, that much is clear. The thought of someone else touching you ever again is killing me, so I have to take you. I’ll take you away from all this shit, and I’ll take good care of you. You won’t have to work at that nasty place anymore, I’ll be sure of that. And please don’t worry, princess. When your dad is looking for you, and he needs a friend to help him through the tough times, and the times he’s missing you, I’ll be that friend. He will only be sad for a little while. 

If things go wrong, and someone finds this…well I guess it’s a journal isn’t it? I won’t be able to deny the things I’ve done. I should burn it, but I can’t bring myself to do that. When I read it back, it’s almost like I can relive our time together. Someday I might show you this so you can understand why I did what I had to do, why I have to keep you.

Until then, I hope you sleep well tonight, your final night in your childhood home. I hope you enjoy your last breakfast with your loving dad, and that the two of you don’t argue before he leaves for work. Make sure you give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him you love him, because I’ll be over before he gets home from work.

Goodnight, princess.

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