#hell bent is still untouched

[one-hell-of-otaku-is-here]

do you sometimes have an urge to just scroll through fanart and other fandom content even though you still havent finished reading the book ( or original material) so you get spoiled anyway or is it just me?

[byuntrash101]

sharing is caring?

hongjoong x f!reader x mingi smut | mdni 5.2k of course hongjoong cares about his friends but when mingi gets too close to his girl it’s time to remind him sharing is not always caring. nsfw tags under the cut

dom possessive bf!joong, sub simp!mingi, exhibitionism, voyeurism, joong has a point to prove, fingering (f), oral (f), squirting, multiple orgasms (f), a dash of spit kink, unprotected sex (don't), nipple play, praising (f), hair pulling (m), slight degradation (mingi is called desperate and a dog), masturbation (m), dry humping, some mxm but not really (just trust me), leg humping, slight edging, cumming untouched, cum play, cum eating

a/n: idk what happened. i was horny okay? (what's new ?lol) and im not even sorry for the absolute filth that follows.

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Hongjoong, Mingi and yourself have been in the studio for hours now, it was well past into the night but neither of you were complaining. You were way too focussed on producing this song to even feel the effect of fatigue tensing the muscles of your neck and laying heavy on your eyes. 

You were all too focussed. Well, you were definitely the one that was the most focused right now. Because as you bent over the mixing board to point out on the screen the section that seemed to require more work, you accidentally found yourself crowding Mingi’s personal space. Of course, you made nothing of it. Mingi was your friend, you’ve been physically close to him dozens of times, it didn’t mean anything in particular. But Mingi has had different feelings about you for a while. Maybe even ever since you started dating Hongjoong and right now the only thing he could see was that the loose fitted tank top you were wearing hung slightly around your chest which resulted in your breasts being on display, in close proximity and right at his eye level. 

Subconsciously his eyes were attracted to the exposed skin and he had to bite his bottom lip to repress a small gasp of surprise. He innocently pulled back on the beanie that was falling low on his forehead and his eyes just to be able to look a little better. He didn’t even need to turn his head, only look slightly to the side and he could see everything: the black lace bra you were wearing, the crease between your breasts. He could smell your delicate perfume. Hell, you were so close he could even feel your body warmth radiating on his face. Or maybe the warmth he felt was actually from his own boiling blood rushing to his face… and to his groin. 

Hongjoong that was slightly leaning on his office chair saw the whole scene unfold as he peered at the both of you through his large silver framed glasses. Inexplicable anger started to seep into his blood when he saw his friend eyeing you in that way. Hongjoong knew you were beautiful, there was no possible way not to look at you. But he still didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. 

“Don’t you think so?” you added when neither of the men you were directly addressing responded. 

Mingi only shifted uncomfortably when you stood back straight, oddly averting your eyes and Hongjoong only nodded absentmindedly. You figured they were just too tired to continue and as you were opening your mouth to suggest you should go to sleep and continue later, Hongjoong spoke up.

“Why don’t you go in the recording booth to sample some of the voice lines and we can all decide which one sounds better?” He suggested and you lit up.

“Great idea” you said, grabbing the music sheets and disappearing behind the door of the soundproof recording booth to reappear through the small window. You slipped on the headset, adjusted the mic stand and spread out the music sheets while Mingi and Hongjoong looked at you silently. You gave two thumbs up when you were ready. 

“Okay great” Your boyfriend’s voice resonated in the headset. “Let’s start with the first one” you nodded and soon after heard the music cue.

Both of the men in the small space right next door were strangely quiet. Mingi couldn’t stop shifting on his chair as he tried to find a position that would conceal his hard on. Trying to concentrate on your voice coming through the speakers and not the way you smelled or the slutty lingerie your were wearing under such unsuspecting clothes or your beautiful and perfect fucking tits shoved right into his face, both his hands laying over them and palming them as he buried his face between. Fuck he was getting harder.

“What do you think?” Hongjoong asked him as you were still singing through the speakers. 

Right there Mingi realized he hadn’t been paying any attention to what was going on around him. His mind was poisoned by the images he was so vividly picturing: you slipping off the flimsy tank top and taking his hands to lay over the bra, asking him to play with your tits, begging him to take off the lace that was keeping you from feeling his hands on your nude skin. Or you spread out onto the mixing table with Mingi’s face buried between your thighs, getting to finally taste you and hear you as he made you feel good, feeling your pussy throb under his tongue smearing your wetness all over his face. That was what Mingi was paying attention to, not the song. Definitely not the song.

But he needed to find something to say before he looked suspicious so he went another route. A route that wasn’t directly about the song but still close enough to pass.

“I think she’s a good addition to the team. Look at how far we’ve come with this song already? Of course we still have to run it by Eden but I mean it’s pretty much done.” 

“No” Hongjoong started, already his tone was a lot less neutral, tipping towards the cold end of the spectrum. And Mingi bit his lip thinking his friend was going to ask him to be more specific about the voice samples he wasn’t listening to but how wrong he was...

“I mean physically what do you think?” Hongjoong’s tone was now as glacial as could be as he did his best to dissimulate the burning rage that was hiding behind the biting cold tone.

The words didn’t make any sense in Mingi’s mind. So he turned to his friend trying to find on his face a hint that could help him make the sentence he just heard make sense. But he only found Hongjoong looking right at him, dead serious, an unfamiliar darkness about his aura.

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded and utterly confused.

“You wanna fuck my girlfriend?"

This time around Mingi heard correctly, that he was sure of. But he was still just as confused about the whole ordeal. “What the fuck are you on ab-”

“I saw you practically drooling all over her tits earlier” Hongjoong interrupted him, piercing eyes peering at his friend over his rectangular glasses. Now Mingi was shifting in his seat again. 

Fuck… he saw that.

Mingi started to stammer to whip up a reasonable excuse but his pressured mind couldn’t come up with anything worthwhile. Of course! Because there was no reasonable excuse. Truth was he gave in to his primal instinct and couldn’t look away. 

But very fortunately for him that’s when you emerged from the recording booth.

“So what are we thinking? Clearly my delivery wasn’t the best for the second option but cut me some slack and just imagine Jongho, okay?” you said, your exhaustion seeping through your words in the form of exasperation, completely oblivious of the heavy air that was stretching between the two friends.

Mingi jumped on the occasion to escape the humid tension that was raising the hairs on his nape. 

“I need to make a call” he abruptly said as he stood up and hurriedly left the studio. You sighed slowly coming to term with the idea that sadly, you won’t be able to finish the song tonight.

“What’s his deal?” 

***

Mingi didn’t need long. He just needed a couple of minutes to gather his thoughts, that's all. He thought as he rushed to the bathroom and locked the door right behind him, even though you three were the only ones left here.

“What the fuck were you thinking” he whispered to his reflexion pointing an accusing finger at the mirror above the sink. "Of course he noticed!" He slipped his white beanie off and settled it on the edge of the sink. He splashed his face a couple times with water in an attempt to clear his mind. But even the cold water wasn't enough to soothe the aching hard on that was currently pressing tight onto the cold ceramic of the bathroom sink. 

Mingi looked at himself for a second, pondering.

"Fuck it!" He concluded before shoving his hand down his loose-fitting sweats and pulling his rock hard cock out.

"I just need to cum real quick" he said to himself in an almost apologetic tone. Almost bargaining with himself.

He spat in his open palm and dragged the warm liquid to his cockhead with a lowly sigh of relief that made his Adam's apple vibrate in his throat.

"God- fuck-" he breathed out. Mingi didn't even need to focus on anything in particular to get himself there. He just closed his eyes and images of you came running forth.

He saw himself ripping your tank top and bra off in one movement freeing your beautiful tits and groping them right in front of his friend. He saw you sinking to your knees pulling his sweatpants down and taking him into your mouth. Your lips perfectly stretching around his large cock. 

He spat in his hand again picturing the wetness and tightness of your throat instead of his balled fist. Loud and lewd noises erupted from the act, squelching wet sounds coupled with heavy sighs and strangled moans he struggled to keep behind his teeth.

"F-fuckkk" he whined a little more high pitched than anticipated. He picked up the pace, pressing his thumb on his tip to squeeze the precum out as he felt himself twitch.

If Hongjoong only knew how right he was. Mingi did want to fuck his girlfriend. He wanted to fuck you so bad.  How he would have loved to stuff you full of his cock right then and there. Bending you over the armchair and snaking his big hand into your hair making you look up at your boyfriend while he just watched helplessly as Mingi claimed you, pounding into you mercilessly, splitting you open on his cock, your pretty face contorted into blissful agony because of him. For him. Only him.

He let your name roll off his hot tongue a hundred times in muffled and secret pants and moans until the pleasure was unbearable, uncontainable and spilled over the edge of Mingi’s sinful mind. And he was spraying his warm cum all over his fist and the bathroom sink in a last broken complaint of your name, his other hand tightly gripping the edge of the sink as if his large and ample thighs were going to give out.

He looked at his mess in the sink and took a couple of deep breaths. That should be enough to get his mind out of the gutter… Right?

***

“What’s his deal?” you said nodding to the door. Your boyfriend only shrugged nonchalantly while you settled the music sheets on the mixing board, shoulders flat and defeated. 

“You look tired baby” Hongjoong added with a warm smile ignoring your question about Mingi. He didn't want to talk about him right now. “Cm’here” he said patting his lap invitingly. You accepted the offer and settled yourself comfortably in Hongjoong’s lap, letting your back rest against his chest. He took advantage of the position to sneak in kisses to the base of your nape and nuzzling his nose in your neck. And before you knew it his hands had snaked around your waist and lightly stroked your inner thighs. The light touches lifted goosebumps on your bare skin, thanks to the skirt you chose to wear today.

Soon enough you had completely fallen into your boyfriend’s embrace. You were so relaxed now that you forgot about everything else and you didn’t even realize how his legs came over yours to spread them nice and wide. But you did feel when his sneaky hands slipped under your skirt and stroked the thin fabric of your black lace underwear. You jolted but Hongjoong’s legs around yours kept you in position.

“Joongie” you started to whine when he applied more pressure to your sensitive area.

“Shhh” he soothed you with more kisses. “Let me help you unwind” he said softly in your ear.

“But what if Mingi comes back?”

Hongjoong didn’t answer that, only smirking against your nape and sliding your underwear to the side. That’s enough of an answer for you, and even more so when Hongjoong dipped his finger to your entrance while his other hand sneaked under your loose tank top and under your bra to cup your breast. You could only let a moan slither through your teeth when Hongjoong gathered your wetness in slow circles over your opening to drag it back to your clit.

“I barely even touched you and you’re already this wet?” Hongjoong noticed as you complained with another little whine. “My naughty girl~”he sang. “I bet that’s exactly what you were waiting for, huh? My hands all over your pretty little pussy.”

He started to draw circles on the erect nub inevitably making your little cunt create a big mess under your skirt. As he picked up the pace he started to pull a little harder at your nipple making you moan just a little louder than you anticipated, making you clap your hand over your traitorous mouth.

“Be careful baby. We want to be able to hear when Mingi comes back” you felt heat rush to your neck at the idea of getting caught in this position. That’s when Hongjoong pushed his index and middle finger past your entrance. You moaned again against your fingers, eyebrows digging a crease in your forehead as you tried to remain as silent as possible. Maybe you could muffle your voice but the same thing couldn’t be said about the squelching noises your boyfriend was dragging out of your sopping wet cunt. Long strings of arousal linking his fingers and your heat every time he pulled out to play with your painfully sensitive clit.

Your high was nearing and as the pleasure rose you slowly forgot about your whereabouts so when you heard footsteps coming your way from the hall you stiffened in your boyfriend’s lap. Instinctively trying to close your legs. But Hongjoong’s strong thighs kept you exactly like you were.

“J-Joongie…hmph…M-Min-gi” you struggled to say as Hongjoong kept on teasing your clit and nipple. 

Your eyes darted over to the door when you heard the recognizable clatter of the handle, your heartbeat started to raise and you struggled to close your legs.

“Stay put baby.” Hongjoong breathed against the shell of your ear. Which made you stop. “I want you stay exactly like this”

You can’t describe the overwhelming shame that took over you when you saw the door being pushed open and you were met with Mingi. 

It only took mere milliseconds for Mingi’s eyes to dart from your flushed face and half lidded eyes to the suspicious movements under your skirt and to Hongjoong’s smug little smile. 

Mingi’s cheeks instantly became scarlet red as he turned his head around to look away. But even if he couldn't see anymore he could still hear the sound of your cunt being stretched open by Hongjoong’s fingers as well as your soft muffled moans. And even though he just jacked off in the bathroom he still felt his pants becoming tighter once again.

“You can look” Hongjoong started. “I’ll allow it. So you can see she only belongs to me” 

Mingi barely wrapped his mind around the words but nonetheless he slowly looked in your direction again. Instantly he felt blood rush to his lower half again, reaching full hardness in a matter of seconds but how could he not? When you sounded and looked so divine and adorable at the same time. Even behind your hands clamped over half your face, muffling your sounds and wet eyes looking back at him occasionally fluttering close and open when he guessed Hongjoong was expertly teasing you. How could he not when he saw your skirt being lifted up and being let down at such a rapid pace accompanied with those wet and lewd sounds that were erupting from between your legs. The sinful acts only concealed by the damn piece of fabric.

It took Mingi everything he had to not just whip his cock out right then and there and stroke himself again. Instead his stupidly hard cock laid uselessly in his pants leaking precum in his underwear.

“I bet you want to see what’s going on under there, huh?” Hongjoong taunted, as Mingi stared obtusely between your thighs, with his mouth agape and his cock poking through his sweatpants.

Mingi already came this far and maybe lust was clouding his judgment and desire was getting the best of him but he nodded slowly peeling his eyes off the cursed skirt to look at his friend’s devious little smirk playing on his lips. 

“I’ll let you if you get on your knees and-”

In a split second Mingi found himself kneeling in front of the both of you, interrupting Hongjoong.

“You’re really that much of a simp for my girlfriend? Have some dignity, bro” Your boyfriend spat. But Mingi barely registered the insult he was entranced by the way your skirt was lifting and falling. He'll have time to mourn his lost dignity tomorrow. Tonight he did not intend on letting his chance slip away.

“Come closer” Hongjoong commanded and Mingi crawled to you until his face was way too close for comfort. At this close distance Mingi heard the sounds of your wet cunt being abused as clear as day as loud as bells. He even wished he could record them to play them forever but if he wants to relive this moment he will only be able to count on his memory, maybe that was why he was so attentive. He wanted to remember every detail. He took a deep breath inhaling your scent that was now floating to his nose. You smelled divine, the right amount of sweet and sinful. The perfect cocktail. Strong but oh so feminine. A fragrance that went straight to his head to burn his last two functioning brain cells. 

“Now promise after tonight you won’t ever look at my girl ever again” Mingi didn’t need to hear it twice. He immediately followed with the request.

“I promise I won’t look at y/n ever again” Mingi hurriedly said, almost choking on his saliva. Truth be told, in this instant he would have agreed to virtually anything, he would have eaten the off white beanie right then and there if he was asked to. He’ll think about the consequences tomorrow.

“Okay baby, lift up your skirt” Hongjoong said his tone changing radically, as stern as he was when addressing Mingi he was now soft and gentle with you.

“But Joongie” you whined right before a moan beat to the punch another complaint as your boyfriend slipped his fingers out of your heat to circle your clit once more.

“Come on baby, be a good girl and do as you’re told” he said before shoving his fingers back in earning another muffled moan. “Show your pretty little pussy to our guest.”

Slowly but surely your hands left your face to wrap your fingers around the hem of your skirt at both your sides. Mingi couldn't believe his eyes as he looked up at your flushed face looking right back into his eyes as you carefully lifted up your skirt. His eyes darted straight down to your core. His hard cock immediately jumped inside his sweatpants, his eyes grew twice as big and his mouth started to water. There was nothing that was more beautiful in the world he thought as he slipped the beanie off his head, setting it carelessly on the ground beside him.

The way your perfect little cunt accepted Hongjoong’s fingers, clamping around them every time he pulled them out to circle your clit a couple of times before pushing them back in again, your little cunt emjoying the attention and twitching under Mingi’s scrutinizing gaze. 

You felt the thrill of being watched as you looked at Mingi, eyeing you like a famished man. His hair disheveled and his cheeks pink. It made your core tingle with a brand new source of arousal and you wiggled your toes in lustful shame.

“Fuck” Mingi said under his breath making you moan a little louder as you watched him being entranced by you. 

The thrill rocketed you to your high and you started to squirm and clench around Hongjoong’s fingers. He knew exactly what it meant.

“P-please Joongie. Can I-” you panted as your fists tensed up around the hem of the skirt but never letting your hold falter making sure Mingi saw every part of you. Normally Hongjoong liked to tease you but this time he wanted to reward you for being such a good and obedient girl. And moreover he wanted to give his friend a good show of how only he could make you feel this good.

“Look carefully” he whispered, addressing his friend kneeling between your legs, eyes perfectly leveled with your pussy. “Cum baby” he said, his hot lips pressed to your ear. And you immediately let go. Letting your walls grip Hongjoong’s fingers urging them to reach further as you twitched uncontrollably, your cum flowing out of you in quick spurts. Soaking the carpeted floor. Mingi’s jaw dropped to the ground as he watched the precious nectar being wasted on the carpet. His throat suddenly feeling as dry and the saharan desert, licking his chapped lips instinctively at the fleeting and forbidden thought of connecting his lips to your core to have a taste of you.

Hongjoong accompanied you gently as you rode off your high, your back arched into his chest. Hongjoong pulled his fingers until only his first knuckle was still inside and spread his fingers apart, stretching you open beautifully for Mingi to look at how your walls fluttered around nothing, your orgasm prolonging as your chest rose and fell rapidly, your moans slowly dying off. 

“Look at how pretty she is just for me” Hongjoong added, spreading his fingers even wider, as you whined again but still holding the hem of the skirt up with purpose. This way Mingi could even see your cervix pulsing, he could almost hear it demanding cum. Demanding to be fucked full of cum and knocked up right then and there, holding Mingi as witness.

“Fuck” was the only thing Mingi could enunciate truth be told his brain was completely fried and he didn't have the wits to come up with anything more clever.

You couldn’t help but squirm again as Mingi leaned in to have a better view at your most private parts, his nose was now only a couple of inches away from your cunt and he couldn't help but to take a big whiff of you. Your essence absolutely bewitched him… he just couldn't help but to wonder how you tasted.

“You did so good baby” Hongjoong soothed immediately as he slipped his fingers out bringing them to his mouth. Mingi followed his friend's tongue wrap around his digits and lap up the precious liquid coating them as he instinctively swiped his tongue on his bottom lip, his hard and leaking cock slowly forming a pool of precum in his sweatpants.

“How do you think she tastes?” Hongjoong taunted his friend again. 

“Fucking delicious” Mingi sighed his dick twiching at the thought of your wetness coating his tongue. 

“Trust me whatever you're imagining. It’s better. ” Hongjoong said, holding his saliva and cum coated fingers to your lips which you welcome into your mouth. “How do you taste baby?” he asked, smirking at his friends looking with the most desperate of eyes at how you licked off his fingers clean.

“So good Joongie” you replied before he popped his fingers out of your mouth with a lewd sound.

Mingi watched as he swallowed thickly just as you did so, echoing the sound with his own mouth as if this way he would get a taste.

“Baby you’re so hot I got so fucking hard for you” Hongjoong whispered in your neck and pressed a couple of wet kisses to the shell of your ear and jerked his hips into you poking his cock on your ass. 

You didn’t need anything more to busy your hand and freeing Hongjoong’s cock from the uncomfortable restrains. 

“Sit on my cock baby” he urged, with all of that teasing he also got pretty worked up. 

When your boyfriend’s cock rubbed on your folds you jolted your hips in anticipation. Before aligning him with you and slowly sinking your hips on his. Mingi held his breath at how your pussy perfectly fitted around him, perfectly expanded to have him whole inside you until you bottomed out with a whiny and breathy moan. 

“Good girl” he said, wrapping both his hands under your thighs and thrusting up into you. The first couple of strokes were slow, mainly to warm you up to him but also to let Mingi have a good look at his cock splitting you open. 

“Joongie~~” you cried as you let Hongjoong take control. “Fuck it feels so good” you let your head rolls back onto his shoulder

“Yeah? You like that?” he said as he sped up. 

“Fuck yeah I love it. I love your cock” you declared.

 Mingi couldn't believe his eyes or his ears as a matter of fact. To hear you say such sinful things, hearing you make these unholy noises. Getting to see your cunt clench around his friend's dick. There was not a trace of doubt in Mingi’s mind. You were made just for his cock. Perfectly molded just for him. 

“Who’s cock do you love baby?” Hongjoong asked through gritted teeth, maintaining the deadly pace between pants and groans.

“Yours!! Your cock!! Kim Hongjoong’s cock!!!!” you replied hurriedly, almost instinctively. Your mind is only filled with thoughts of your boyfriend.

“Hear that?” Hongjoong asked, almost laughing as if his friend's misery entertained him. Mingi didn’t even need to look at him; he could hear the shit eating grin from a mile away. He was annoyed at that but he was even more annoyed at the way he couldn’t look away, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Fuckkk” Mingi moaned when your shin accidentally brushed over his clothed crotch. He felt pityfull for it but he couldn't help it. He wrapped both his hands around your calf and started to hump your leg. The last strand of sanity out the window as he mindlessly humped your leg like a dog. 

“You’re that desperate huh? That’s fucking laughable. you're really like a dog” Hongjoong laughed again. “Pathetic.” But Mingi didn’t even hear. He was too focussed on looking at your cunt swallowing Hongjoong’s dick and spit it back out covered in your glistening juices, said juices pooling on Hongjoong’s pants and staining them. 

Fucked you looked so fucking delicious, and your leg felt so good on his miserably hard cock he couldn’t stop the high pitched moans from leaving his lips and being set free in the small studio, joining yours and Hongjoong’s in a sinful trio. Undoubtedly the most beautiful and harmonious song ever produced within these four soundproof walls.

“Are you close baby?” Hongjoong asked between pants, his hips never faltering, fucking up into you and rearranging your guts.

“Yessss” you cried. “so– so c-close”

“You need a little help to get there?” 

Mingi’s ears perked up.

“Yes” you replied, shyly, getting an idea of what that implied.

“Mingi?” Hongjoong asked and instantly Mingi wrapped his mouth around your clit. You threw your head back, your moans morphing into literal screams of bliss. Mingi had been so starved of your taste ever since you started dating Hongjoong. He found himself wondering how you tasted like and he was not about to keep that an eternal mystery. He closed his lips around your nub sucking at it like a starved man. Twirling his tongue on the bud, even dipping deep down at your entrance, he didn’t mind one bit if he felt his tongue dragged along the cock of his friend as Hongjoong rammed into your tight cunt, all he wanted was to taste your juices that pooled the sides to drag them up to your clit.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” you announced, your hand instinctively finding Mingi’s locks of hair and pulling at it. Making him groan against your folds, his hips snapping against your legs as he grunted louder and louder by the second.

“Cum, baby. Let him taste how much you love me” Hongjoong groaned as he felt you grip tighter around him, your hungry cunt urging him to deliver his warm load. Demanding to be filled to the brim.

“Fuck baby I’m cumming. Gonna fuck you full of my cum” Hongjoong warned. 

“Y-yes please fill me up!! pleasepleaseplease” you started to mumble, your words all jumbled up in a desperate and lust induced plea.

“Fucking take it” Hongjoong said giving a particularly sharp thrust into you, his tip going up to kiss your cervix and delivering his huge and warm load right into your womb as you also let go of the burning coil in your guts, your walls spasmming around Hongjoong’s cock and your clit throbbing under Mingi’s tongue. Once more your cum gushed out of you like a waterfall and soaking Mingi’s face. Hongjoong’s relentless thrusts pulling the white cum out until it perfectly mixed with yours, the bitter taste of his friend’s load coating his tongue and making Mingi dizzy on your and Hongjoong’s love

“Fuckkk” Mingi groaned as his hips became less precise, creaming himself with his cum, the warm seed spreading into his boxer and seeping through the sweatpants to form a visible dark gray stain. His dick uncontrollably twitching inside his pants as he moaned face flushed against your folds, his tongue continuously lapping up your cunt and around Hongjoong’s cock until both the men came to a stop. 

When Hongjoong pulled out, Mingi let go of your leg to plunge his face between your thighs, lapping up the cum dripping out of your fluttering and shapeless little hole and swallowing it in big gulps. Dragging his tongue to your over sensitive clit, not caring for your overstimulated body until you pulled him by the hair off your exhausted puffy cunt.

“Stop~~” you whined breathlessly which snapped Mingi out of his trance as he looked up at you with fucked out eyes, lips swollen and his face made shiny with both your releases.

“There!” Hongjoong said. “You got what you wanted. Now don't go and forget your promise.”

Mingi groaned… he almost did forget about that. This opportunity might never happen again but he will always have the memory of this night in the studio and your taste on his tongue he thought, licking his lips.

“Fine”

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[watchmegetobsessed]

ILLICIT THOUGHTS

A/N: i had to, i just couldn't not write something about this picture

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry has been nothing but professional when it came to you, but the short skirt you wore to the office seems to crumble his whole act finally.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

After basically murdering the treadmill with his deadly tempo, now it’s the punching bag that’s suffering from Harry’s frustration. He came down to his private gym with the pure intention of getting rid of the images that haunted him all day, but the more energy he is putting into his workout, the less he feels in control of his wandering thoughts. It’s completely insane.

He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you. He’s been successful at keeping his fantasies tame even though the day he interviewed you for his assistant position he definitely wanted more from you than just your professional help, but he pushed it all into the back of his head, but today changed it all.. He knows that he is your boss and you’re his assistant and that the fantasies he’s been fighting all day are definitely way over any boundaries between employer and employee.

But fuck, that short skirt you wore today is to blame for it all!

He has seen you in outfits that appeared a tad bit riskier than your usual office attires, but nothing got his imagination rolling like the short, tight little skirt that hugged your curves today. The moment you walked in with his morning coffee in your hands and his eyes snapped from his phone to your legs, the thoughts that evaded his mind were nothing but obscene. Filthy. 

He even had to hide his erection while you went through his schedule for the day, walking back and forth in front of his desk, he couldn’t tear his eyes off you and remembered absolutely nothing of what you said. He had to pretend to take a phone call to get you out of his office so he could calm himself down enough to start working, but the fantasies stayed with him all day.

He throws another punch into the bag and it’s so hard it almost flies off the hook. Harry groans as he catches the bag and stops it from swinging around. This is not working, it seems like with each punch he just pushes you more and more into his consciousness and he fears he won’t be able to get you out of there. How is it that he is still so hung up on the images his brain has created? They are not even real, but the feelings they are causing are for sure.

Your silky looking legs are still walking around in his mind as he starts punching the bag again. But then you’re suddenly sitting on top of his desk… your skirt is riding up, exposing your round ass… he can see you bent over the desk, begging for him to touch you… your naked pussy is now right in front of him, so wet, so sweet, he wants to devour you and–

His punch gets out of control and this time the bag actually falls off the hook.

“Damn it!” he groans, sweat dripping down his face as he gets rid of his gloves and just throws it at the bag, leaving the mess untouched. Walking out he heads to the bathroom and he is quick to fill up the tub with ice and water. This is his last chance. He needs to ice his fantasies before they get way out of hand and become a problem.

Harry strips out of his clothes and with a series of curse words he gets into the water, the ice immediately practically burning his skin. It’s like Hell.

He loves it, in a weird, masochist way.

Normally he would only spend about a minute in the tub, but this time he knows he needs more. Slowly, his body cools down, his muscles loosen up and finally… his mind starts to clear out.

It’s blank. No thoughts. No feelings. But the blissfulness doesn’t last long. 

His phone is beside the tub and it chimes from a text, the sound breaks the silence and he exhales sharply as he reaches for the phone, thinking it might be his mother or sister with something silly. But then as he looks at the screen, he loses his head again.

Your smiling face is shown next to a text in the notification.

“Don’t forget, you have an early meeting tomorrow morning with Jackson Morgan.”

It’s a simple, innocent, work-related thing, you’ve sent reminders like this before, but this time… it’s not that simple.

The fantasies flood back into his mind in a split second and not even the ice cold water can keep his body cool and calm. In a blink of an eye, he is hard again.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he jumps out of the water, his cock shamelessly hardening with every passing second and by the time he stands under the shower, he is almost bursting.

This time, he can’t stop himself from wrapping his hand around the base. With his eyes closed, one hand planted onto the tiled wall, the other one impatiently jerking himself, he gives in and lets even his dirtiest thoughts take over for once and for all, hoping he just needs to get you out of his system somehow.

You, on his desk, your back arching from the top as he pounds into you.

You, bent over his desk, your ass perched up into the air, begging to be spanked and fucked.

You, sitting on his lap while he sits in his leather chair, kissing up his neck, riding him like a good girl.

You… you… you…

He imagines you in every possible position he could ever think of. All of his filthiest, most outrageous thoughts finally burst out of the box he’s kept them in in the back of his mind all this time and he just simply can’t stop until he finally finds his release. 

Normally he likes to take his time not just when he’s with a woman but when he is pleasuring himself, he loves the teasing, the edging, he is not a fan of just a quick fuck, but this time he comes way faster and harder than ever. His face is all he can think of, he can almost hear you moan his name, his fingers pulling his hair and just like that… his cum is going down the drain along with the water, his half hard cock still in his hand as he tries to regulate his breathing.

But when the pleasure worms down, shame takes its place and it’s heavy and thick.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his chest heaving as he grabs a towel to dry himself off, hoping it would rub the shame off him as well.

How will he look you in the eyes in the morning? What if you wear something short again? He will never be able to look at you around his desk and not get hard instantly, thinking of the scenes that just gave him an insane orgasm. He shouldn’t have given in, because it only provided temporary relief, but now that he has let his fantasies loose, they will never let him rest.

He is fucked. In the worst way possible.

But little does he know, that in the meantime in a small apartment that you call your home across town, you’re lying in bed, the skirt you wore to the office today thrown into the hamper, your hands between your legs, eyes rolled back into your head as you’re pleasuring yourself. Thinking about none other than your boss, taking you on his desk, letting you ride him in his chair, or pounding into you from behind while you’re watching the city through the floor to ceiling windows of his office… His hand holding a handful of your hair as he pulls on it…Fucking you like no one did before, because you haven’t been able to think of anyone else since the day he interviewed you for his assistant position…

READ PART II. NOW: ILLICIT TEMPTATION

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[cs-fox]

FOXHOUND | GHOST X FEM!READER

um hi 👋👋

this has been rolling around in my subconscious for a while

enjoy x

reader's callsign is Fox (my oc's callsign - apologies)

______________________________________________________________

Freezing wind whipped through the open sides of the helicopter. You, and seven other mates who were all lined up to be candidates for the fifth TASKFORCE 141 operator, were all in five layers of clothing, trying to keep out the icy wind which bit at any square milimetre of exposed skin.

The forest below was blanketed in pale white snow, reflecting up at you as you gazed down over it. A clearing - or, more akin to a tiny break in the thickly wooded area - was visible from the sky.

Even if you could barely see him, you swore you could feel those chilly coffee-tinted irises staring up at you like a laser sight.

Ghost - the man people questioned about his mortality - was tasked with hunting down the eight soldiers packed into one Boeing AH-64E Apache. He was the best tracker the taskforce had - so the soldier who survived the longest would be admitted into the task-force.

The only way your mates could see any chance of survival was staying under the radar for as long as possible.

Which, luckily enough - was impossible for you.

From the second his calculating gaze fell on your form, he'd decided you were the one he'd push, you were the one he was hell-bent on forcing to submit or withdraw from Selection. The two months you'd endured under his command had been nicknamed the ninth circle of hell.

Your muscles burned every night before bed. Your legs felt two hundred pounds heavier than usual.

But you were going to show him that you weren't the runt of the litter.

All of that raced through your mind as you prepared to jump. Calm hands - a stark contrast to how you felt inside - clipped and secured a carabiner to your harness. Within seconds, you were fast-roping down onto the snow.

Your boots crunched as you landed, breaking through a thin layer of ice that had formed over the untouched snow.

Thirty seconds, your mind screamed, thirty seconds and then he's after you.

You were the first one detached from the helicopter, and thus the first one to get a head-start.

Silently, you thanked the man who'd recommended rubber-soled boots. His Scottish accent meant you weren't able to catch his name - did he seriously just say "Soap"? - but that advice had been a godsend, for your shoes barely made any noise against the white-blanketed ground.

You heard a frantic yelp from behind you - fuck - that sounded like Jasper - and your legs worked harder until you were sure you were completely isolated. Ghost had a wicked sense of humour. No doubt he'd track down all of the other soldiers with one hand tied behind his back, and then creep up on you in a way you didn't know was possible for a man of his size - skull-faced bastard.

Then -

CRUNCH.

'Fox.'

You didn't even have to look to know it was him.

In seconds, you were gone - sprinting away like a hare. Now you knew he had your scent, he wouldn't let it go, sometimes going to extreme measures to get you - which he would, by the way.

So why don't you have some fun?

He's gonna love this.

You had wrung a tiny woodland fox's neck after tracking one down, and after making sure deep boot-prints led to it's position, you slid your hunting knife from the underside of it's jaw to the soft, plush and fatty part of it's stomach. After coating your gloves in blood, you scrawled a scarlet message in the white snow, and vaulted up into the lower branches of a tree which had thicker than usual foliage.

Now, you wait.

Sure enough, just as the sun was starting to set, you saw a figure seemingly emerge from the shadows. The huge man moved so silently, as he approached the carcass laid down across a fallen log, with it's innards spilling out from it's chest.

You watched his head tilt, examining the message you'd left for him, before he went completely, eerily still.

Then, a muscle jumped in his neck, before a deep, rumbling growl crawled up from the depths of his throat, a sound which made your knees weak.

Ghost bent down, viciously sawed off the fox's tail with his own hunting blade, and tied it to his belt, before exiting in a way you could only describe as hot.

He was attractive when he was angry... God...

You gave yourself one last chance to proudly survey your handiwork, the maroon stain sinking into the snow.

You're hunting the wrong fox.

______________________________________________________________

PART 2 ???

this was super fun whattt

[pandapetals]

Snow Angels

logan howlett x fem!reader - snow, snow angels, fluff, cute, romantic, logan being soft, no y/n used, no reader description

Logan and you play in the snow.

prompt idea from @Silverskyeline from their logan promptober: #19-snow

The wind bit sharply at your face as you stepped outside, the cold air wrapping around you like a thick blanket. Snow was falling in thick, quiet flakes, dusting the mansion grounds in a soft white glow. You pulled your coat tighter around you, your breath visible in the freezing air. The world was utterly still—perfect, untouched.

Beside you, Logan grumbled under his breath, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his face half-hidden in the collar of his jacket. He had been less than enthusiastic about the idea of going outside, but you had insisted, practically dragging him out of the warmth of the mansion.

“Why the hell are we out here again?” he muttered, kicking a small pile of snow out of his way. “It’s freezing.”

You ignored his grumbling, a wide smile spreading across your face as you took in the snow-covered landscape. It was magical, like stepping into another world, the blanket of white transforming everything around you. Your footsteps crunched softly in the snow as you wandered a little farther ahead, looking back at Logan with bright eyes.

“This is amazing,” you said, almost breathless, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. “I’ve never seen snow before.”

Logan’s brow furrowed as he stopped, his arms still crossed, but his expression shifted at your words. “Never?”

You shook your head, your smile widening as you reached out to catch a snowflake on your glove. “Nope. Not like this. I’ve only ever seen pictures.”

Something flickered in Logan’s eyes, the usual gruffness in his stance softening just a little. His arms uncrossed, and for a moment, he just stood there watching you, the corners of his mouth tugging up slightly.

You bent down, scooping up a handful of snow, marveling at how soft and light it was. Logan took a slow step forward, his expression unreadable, but his eyes stayed on you, watching the way you gazed at the snow like it was the most incredible thing in the world.

“First time, huh?” he muttered, his voice quieter now, the earlier grumpiness fading.

You nodded, your eyes bright with excitement as you packed the snow into a loose ball. “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to play in it, but I never had the chance.”

Logan shook his head with a soft grunt, but there was a warmth in his gaze now. “Well, I guess we can’t waste your first snow then.”

Before you could reply, he bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, packing it tightly into a ball. You blinked, not realizing what he was doing until he tossed it at you with a quick, practiced flick of his wrist. The snowball hit your shoulder, cold and soft, exploding in a puff of powder.

You gasped, staring at him in mock outrage. “Did you just—?”

Logan’s smirk widened. “What? I’m just gettin’ you used to it.”

“Oh, you’re going to regret that, Logan,” you said with a laugh, bending down to gather another handful of snow quickly. You packed it into a ball and hurled it at him, catching him squarely in the chest.

Logan blinked, brushing the snow off with an amused grunt. “Alright, now you’ve done it.”

For the next few minutes, the two of you launched snowballs at each other, your laughter echoing in the quiet air, the earlier tension between you completely forgotten. Logan, despite his initial grumbling, seemed to relax, his sharp movements growing softer, more playful.

At one point, you ducked behind a snow-covered tree, peeking out just in time to see Logan chuck a snowball your way. You dodged it with a giggle, your heart racing as you darted out from behind the tree.

As you ran, your foot slipped on a patch of ice, and you tumbled backward, landing in the snow with a soft thud. The world spun for a moment, the cold seeping through your coat, but the laughter bubbling up in your chest kept you warm.

Logan was by your side in an instant, standing over you with a raised eyebrow, his expression hovering somewhere between concern and amusement. “You alright?”

You looked up at him, still laughing, and reached out to pull him down into the snow beside you. “I’m fine! Come on, make snow angels with me!”

Logan grunted but didn’t resist as you tugged him down. He landed beside you with a soft grunt, the snow crunching under his weight. He glanced over at you, his brow furrowed, but the usual grumpiness in his face had all but disappeared.

“You’re serious?” he asked, looking at you like you had suggested something outrageous.

You grinned, lying back in the snow and stretching your arms out wide. “Yeah, come on! You can’t experience snow without making a snow angel.”

Logan sighed, his breath fogging in the air, but he lay back beside you, his arms and legs stiff at first as he half-heartedly moved them through the snow. You giggled, turning your head to look at him.

“You’re terrible at this,” you teased, snowflakes clinging to your hair.

Logan shot you a sideways glance, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Can’t say I’ve had much practice.”

You laughed again, the sound light and free as you waved your arms through the snow, creating your own angel. “Well, now you have.”

For a moment, everything went quiet. The snow continued to fall gently around you, the world slowing down as you both lay in the cold, side by side. The earlier playfulness gave way to a peaceful stillness, the kind that settled in your chest and made you feel warm, despite the cold air biting at your cheeks.

Logan turned his head slightly, his eyes softening as he watched you. The tension and gruffness that usually clouded his expression were gone, replaced by something gentler.

“Guess I’m not so bad at this after all,” he muttered, his voice low and warm.

You smiled, turning your head to meet his gaze, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you. “No,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the gentle fall of snow. “You’re not bad at all.”

[diejager]

If you might be taking requests at all, I was wondering if you'd be up for the idea of a fic with sleazy König or Ghost in an arranged marriage to the reader. Reader isn't quite happy with the marriage, but they are. It could be dark or cute, but I'd love to read a fic about an arranged marriage where reader is completely against it meanwhile their new husband is not. They've been hoping to marry reader for a while and now that they have, reader is all theirs in more ways than one. Scares off any men reader tries to date on the side and is hell bent on showing their lovely spouse that this marriage is perfect and that they truly do belong together.

Sleazy husband!König Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, sleazy!König, arranged marriage, age difference/gap, scent kink, crusty balls, hairy König, tell me if I missed any.

König was a family friend, someone you’d seen a few times in your life, but had heard of many, many times that he was a commodity in your life, a subject you became familiar with without actually knowing the man. You’d caught glimpses of the giant when you accompanied your father to the military base for a quick visit, how he towered over you as a child and even more so now that you were an adult in your early 20s. You thought him an acquaintance, a trusted friend of your father, but you’d never thought of him in any other light. You saw him as someone dedicated to his duty, prideful and hungry for power and money, unbeatable and strong with his broad shoulders and gigantic stature. You wouldn’t have anything to do with him in your life, seeing how he barely glanced your way when you crossed path, he dutifully ignored you every time as if you were a plague.

And yet, you found yourself married to him; an arranged marriage. The colonel who avoided you and never seemed to like you had a private marriage with only your immediate family and a few men and women from the Company assisting to watch him embrace and take you home. A home you had no recollection of and were a stranger to. It wasn’t his flat, or the studio apartment you went to with your father. This big house was new and old, a newly bought house in with fresh paint and untouched furniture, in an old Austrian land with a beautiful and lush forest surrounding it. You didn’t even know the man, but you were married to him so quickly - in a month’s worth - that you were still too shell shocked to do anything about it. 

How could your mother and father agree to it so easily? To marry you off to someone you didn’t know. Then you remembered how close your father and he was, life companions that had fought battles together, bled for one another and would die to save the other. That was the reason you were promised without your consent or knowledge until it was too late. 

“Mein Herzchen,” he rasps, peering down at you, cold blues glowing under the darkness of his hood, “Come.”

König - your husband - was a man of few words, but wouldn’t stop talking if he found the right topic to touch, speaking your ears off about it. There were a lot you didn’t know about him, a mystery you didn’t dare try figuring out, but were forced to. You learned he was a dirty and immoral man, to have you marry him despite him being almost twice your age. He could’ve been your uncle, a man who’s age was near your fathers. You learned that he liked jerking himself to the sight of your open pantie drawers, an unwashed and stolen lace pressed into his face, the soft gusset pressed into his mouth and nose as he huffed and growled. You were repulsed by it, finally understanding why some of your underwearswere slightly crusty. 

You learned that he never shaved after your first night, consummating your marriage in the bed you later slept on. You were shocked to find that his chest and arms were as hairy as the tuff around his cock, wild and unruly, a messy bush crawling up his abdomen and spiraling around his chest and covering his paler tint in auburn brown. You learned that he never showered after a sweaty and stinky work out, his musk stinking up the house wherever he went and that he loved pressing you against his naked and sticky chest, smothering you in his thick smell that nearly had you gagging and choking. You couldn’t find the words to describe a man like König, as big and burly as he was hairy and smelly, he was unmoving in his resolve and liked to touch you whenever he wanted to, whether you liked it or not, his word was law.

Your husband was a sleazy man and you couldn’t do anything about it, the golden bound diamond ring on your finger was more so a chain than a wonderful promise.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry

[ellaa-writes]

Welcome Home pt. 2

agnst, Johnny is kinda a simp. Follow up to this

Johnny woke in the morning, groggy and half erected. Rolling over, reaching out for you but only coming out empty. Your side of the bed cold and untouched. Then he remembered, laying in bed for a few minutes longer. Trying to come up with ways to make it up to you.

He slowly crept along the hallway, walking into the living space. The blanket on the couch was neatly folded. He could smell what he assumed was cooked bacon and the sound of something sizzling. As he entered the kitchen he saw you leaning over the counter, looking down at something on your phone. He cleared his throat, ready to start groveling. But stopped as you turned around to look at him. Your eyes were red and sunken in, it looked like you didn't sleep at all. The pot of coffee was almost empty.

"Bonnie-" he started but was cut off.

"Breakfast will be done soon." you turned back around, not wanting to look at him anymore.

He stood their debating if he should hug you but decided to give you space. Pouring himself a cup and taking a seat at the table. He watched you as you grabbed a plate, the tacky orange one he hated and started to fill it up. Grabbing a fork out of the drawer the one with the bent prong and setting his plate down in front of him.

He looked down at the plate and tilted his head, the bacon was off. He wasn't even sure if it was bacon, and the scrambled eggs had obviously egg shells in them. It made him smile and laugh, hell he deserved worse. He looked up to see you watching him, he grabbed a fork full of his egg shell scrambled eggs and shoveled them into his mouth. His teeth crunchy of the shells, grabbing a piece of the mystery bacon and tossing it into his mouth.

"Thank ye bonnie, delicious." he was sure the bacon was potato skin. You couldn't help yourself, finally cracking a smile and walking over to him.

You grabbed the plate from him and tossed it in the garbage can.

"Oi, Aye was eatin' 'at" Johnny said with a mouth full of food.

"Shut up." you spat back at him, he swallowed quickly. Getting up from the table and wrapping his arms around you.

"Oh, ma bonnie lass, Ah'm a daftie."

"Your an asshole." you sobbed into his neck. He just held you closer. Blubbering nonsense, promising you he'd never do it again.

"I'll leave so quick Johnny, don't you ever!" he wasn't sure if you were still mad or not. But he didn't care, you could scream all you want at him. He'd take it all, you could even kick him in the balls if it would make you feel better.

"Aye know." was all he said, holding you in his arms as you both cried.

[hellishjoel]

every rose has its thorns

1.6k / pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

← masterlist | notifications blog

summary: mike really likes your white panties with the pretty rose on the front.

warnings/information: soft/sub!mikey whilst still being on top (king), thumb sucking, pet names (angel!), mike using reader to unwind, panty play, size kink, coming wherever he likes ;) 

A/N: holy hell just realized this is my first non-pedro-universe-character piece! woohoo! I finally watched fnaf with a girlfriend of mine and with inspiration from a naughty twitter video, I wrote this! I have to give @cupofjoel a huge thank you, please read her entire mike schmidt masterlist, you will not regret it! I wrote this very ill with covid and on mikey brain rot (it's so bad I might have typed mark schmidt instead of mike x.x) so if there’s any errors, apologies are stated now. also thank you to @saradika-graphics for the fnaf banners!

It all started with a pair of panties. A simple brief-style pair, the material rounding around the curves of your ass and ducking pretty between your thighs. White cotton. A small rose embroidered on the front. Untouched, perfectly clean, pristine. Just like you. Unlike Mike. 

Mike was all dark boxer briefs, the kind that clutched onto his thick thighs and cupped his lower half for dear life. Or the plaid purple and black boxers he was wearing now accompanied by a bowl of cereal that he was eating after a late night at work, now an early morning. Often shirtless when he was in the privacy of his own room, you had the opportunity to admire his dark, curly chest hair that was speckled across his chest and thinned out across his torso before filling out again at the start of his happy trail.  

“Thanks for taking care of Abby,” he said with his mouth half full of Trix, “did she get on the bus alright?” 

You nod weakly, gently nudging the back of your hand against your tired eyes. 

“Yeah. But I think she misses you at night. I can never soothe her like you can when she has nightmares.” 

You watch as Mike sighs and tips the cereal bowl back, the sweet milk dribbling at the corners of his mouth and making small trails around his pretty pink lips. The ceramic bowl chimes as he sets it down on his bedside table, watching from the pillows as he crawls up the bed to join you. The early morning light peaks through his curtains and highlights his dark eyes amber. Your thumb traces his lower lip, and he truly can’t wait any longer. He needs you now.

He spent all last night fantasizing about you. Head down with his arms folded along the security desk, eyes previously on the security monitors now heavily closed as he listens to the sounds of nature. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about you, he had more important things to dream about. But you kept appearing, enticing him, wearing those pretty little panties that he can’t get enough of. The white pair with a rose on the front. The pair he comes home to most mornings once Abby has left for school. The pair you’re wearing now. 

Knowing how desperate you both are, you let him guide you how he pleases on the bed. After long night shifts, his routine is to come home and fuck you in the comfort of his dark grey sheets before he falls asleep with your body cuddled in beside his. He pulls you by the ankle to the edge of the bed, legs spread and bent as you nip at your lower lip with a certain eagerness unfolding in the base of your belly. 

Mike’s thumbs hook into his plaid boxers, pushing them down until they do the rest of the work, naturally falling and looping around his ankles. He’s already half hard just from looking at you, dreaming about you. He wouldn’t last long looking as wrecked as he was. Tight jaw and fixated eyes, drunk on need and just a little bit of control with his tornado of a life. 

“Mike,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks and letting him fold over your body as you feel his hips rest heavily between your thighs, “s’okay, want you to get off however you like.” You cradle his face and kiss the tip of his nose while his long eyelashes flutter in comfort. 

“I know, angel. I’m here with you.” His voice is like heaven, drenched in a sweet honey that you’ve found yourself addicted to. You sit up on your elbows as Mike helps navigate your shirt off, admiring the curve of your breasts and the embellishment of your collarbones. So perky and pretty. He praises them with his warm mouth and tongue that can’t help but swirl around your taut peaks. He grunts softly against your soft skin as his hips lightly rut into yours, making your head drift back and forth in his sheets with bliss. 

“Fuck, I just,” he mutters quietly against your goosebump-riddled skin, “I love these.” He whispers as he slowly moves to stand up straight once again, his cock resting over the material of your white panties. He’s entranced by the red petals of the rose, the two dark greens that make up the stem and its thorns. Your eyes trail down to his beady red tip, leaking precum that you desperately yearn to kitten lick. 

“Every rose has its thorns,” Mike whispers, a raspy edge to it from the lack of sleep he desperately craves. You run your hands down your delicate body, hooking your thumbs in at your hips to your underwear, but Mike stops your movements. 

“However I like?” He echoes your statement from earlier, to which you give him a soft nod.

Mike’s always been soft with you, gentle, caring. You think he gets it from being an older brother, the type that has to be the parent most times instead of an actual brother. But when he steps into the bedroom, and Abby is elsewhere, his mind can drift away into being whoever he likes, however he likes. Merciless, rough, desperate, needy, sweet. Everything that made him unwind was all shared with you. And for that, you felt thankful. You could be the key to his lock, the one that kept his head up from drowning with the overflowing responsibilities he always managed to juggle at the final second. You were the one person he could fall apart with, and everything would be completely fine. 

So when his hand started to stroke up and down his cock, making your mouth water for a certain desire, you were eager to help him unwind. Lose his mind in a little slice of heaven. The pad of his thumb slowly begins to stroke up and down your clothed center, eliciting a desperate whimper from your lips as he circles over your sensitive nub. He could see it through your underwear with how aroused you were growing. Your clit swelled for affection. 

A small wet spot starts to grow, an embarrassing little pool that shows through the white cotton of your panties, just at the sprout of the rose. You let out a shaky breath as Mike traces the looping pattern with his forefinger. He then peels the material gently away from your sticky center, laying his thirsty cock between your folds before he lets the underwear blanket you both. He barely fits inside the dainty material. His cock swells with volume and makes your panties stretch to accommodate. He was large. And all yours. 

You whimper in need, hoping for more but realizing you could get off just like this. 

His breaths are already labored as he starts to thrust, feeling his tip nudge your clit with every beat. You fist the sheets, letting him use you like a wet little toy. He’s not sure what to do with his hands at first. They start on keeping your legs spread at the underside of your thighs, before one settles on your hip and the other is cupping your cheek. Not long after, his thumb pushes past the plushness of your lips, forcing you to suckle and moan around the intrusion. 

Your eyes stay connected, a silent bond between you both. This is a safe space for you, come unraveled before me. 

The next time you look down, the pooling of liquid from his cock has stained your panties. And he has no remorse. Your lips part at the truly dirty sight. He’s leaked so much that your panties have become nearly translucent. You can see the pink of his tip with each thrust and the curve of his shaft.

You grow even wetter, feeling him slip up and down your arousal-filled heat, each thrust making you moan weakly. A shiver rolls up your spine, your walls squeezing around nothing as the coil inside of you twists tighter and tighter. 

Mike cages you with his body as he leans down and kisses you in a distracted way, one that leaves his lips parted against yours as he airs out a few soft grunts while his thrusts slowly falter. 

“Mike, please,” you moan softly against the stubble that lines his cheek, your nose gently gliding against it as you tilt your head back into his mattress, feeling yourself come undone to his thrusts. 

His forehead clustered with sweat sinks desperately into your neck, sponging kisses and moaning weakly as he rids himself of his latest dirty fantasies. He gasps and grunts against your throat as he finishes with hot spurts against the material of your panties, making your jaw drop as you feel the seething warm cum spill and dribble along your stomach and inner thighs. 

Your hearts race in sync, feeling the post-orgasmic high that you catch every morning these days. His cock is still buried in your panties, your hole untouched, and your clit singing with fresh sensitivity. You kiss his earlobe and smile against his skin. 

“You’ve been wanting to do that for a while?” You ask curiously, coiling a dark curl around your finger before it springs loose. 

“Shit,” he mutters weakly, hazy eyes meeting yours as you sweetly kiss his parted lips once more. “M’sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” 

You simply shake your head and wipe the small bead of sweat that neared his eyebrow. “Don’t have to apologize for anything. You already know that.” 

He sighs weakly, but it’s of appreciation. He smiles despite how tired he feels, sponging your cheeks and chin with gentle kisses as he interlocks your hands by your head. “I love you. Mean it.” 

“With all your heart?” You ask.

He nods tightly and pulls your clasped hands to his warm chest. “With all my heart.” 

hellishjoel masterlist | notifications blog

[skerban]

Cafe at Home…

𖤐 Mike Schmidt x reader

[masterlist]

Felt like writing for him… i need him.

Being a good friend of Mike Schmidt, you decide to make him breakfast and make him coffee just so he doesn’t have to feel stressed :( you’ve already taken care of everything else and Mike needs the day off before work!

You rarely visited Mike, all because of a schedule change in your job.

You used to work nights at a local cafe you worked for, considering the owner trusted you enough to keep the cafe open at night, yet you still managed.

But you finally were able to get the day off, and the messages you received from mike were… incredibly concerning.

The last message you got back from him was weeks ago. You didn’t want to pry but you just wanted to make sure he was at least alright and why he was not responding to you.

At this point, you’ve given up trying to contact him, instead aiming to go over to his house instead. You thought it seemed a bit childish, but you wanted to make sure he was taking care of himself.

You got up early, at five to be exact, because Mike’s house wasn’t…. necessarily near. You got dressed in something comfortable, a pair of baggy pants and a random shirt from your closet. You quickly put your shoes on, before grabbing your keys while putting on your coat, and making your way to the front door. You opened it and closed it behind you, locking it before you made your way to your car.

Finally getting in your car, you made sure that you didn’t forget anything. You had your keys, phone, and whatever else you needed.

Driving to his house made your heart race, not out of anxiety but… his reaction. Hell, you haven’t even spoken to him for weeks!

Before you even realized it, you were already at his house, you pulled into the driveway, noticing his car was untouched. The usual Mike, you thought.

You turned your car off and took the keys out of the engine. Taking a breath in and exhaling, you grabbed your stuff, finally exiting your vehicle.

Making your way to his front door wasn’t as bad as you thought. You remembered he had told you if you ever wanted to come over, he would leave a spare key under the door mat. You bent down and lifted the mat in front of you. You grabbed it and put it into his lock, turning it and pulling it out when it finally unlocked.

You kept the spare key on you, just in case someone saw you with it… you couldn’t afford someone breaking into Mike’s house…

When you entered the house, and closing the door behind you, you took your shoes off and out them next to the front door. You let out a sigh at how empty the place looked.

You had suggested to Mike to put some decorations and he made fake promises that he would, but you couldn’t get mad at him for not doing so.

When you made your way to the kitchen, you opened the fridge. You had to move back at the sight, your brows scrunching. There was barely anything, but you knew you could make well with it.

You opened the small pantry in the corner, looking for the ingredients to make what you personally liked, pancakes.

Taking your coat off and hanging it on of the seats near the dining table, you put your hair up, and took out all of the ingredients. Quickly washing your hands, and there they went to work.

You wanted to make sure you weren’t making too much of a commotion, not exactly wanting to wake up Abby or Mike.

You looked at the time on the oven, before realizing you had taken way longer than you thought. It was only 7:46. You knew Abby had to go to school soon, but you were positive Mike was still asleep. You made a small batch of pancakes, saving the rest of ingredients for Mike when he woke up.

While you put the a small bit of the batter onto the pan, you took a step back, and made your way to where Abby’s room was, at least where you think it was.

You made sure to be quiet when entering her room, before gently waking her up. You whispered out that you made her something to eat in the morning. You smiled as she got out of bed, as you quickly made your way to the kitchen.

You eventually finish only two pancakes, and they didn’t look too presentable, but they would still work, you think.

You ket Abby eat and you talked with her for a bit, before finally getting ready to take her to school. The school wasn’t far and you were sure Mike would still be sleeping when you go back.

You drove your car and gave small talk with Abby, asking her things like; How was she? How was Mike? If anything special happened.

You listened to her before you finally pulled up to the school. You gave her a small hug in the car, before she got out and waved out towards you. You smiled and waved back, waiting a minute or two before finally pulling out of the parking lot and driving back to Mike’s home.

Arriving back at his home, letting yourself in again, and making the pancakes again was a delight. You hadn’t baked or.. well made any sort of dessert for anyone or even for yourself in years. You’re a barista not a baker.

With time, you made the batter again, pouring some of the smooth batter onto the hot pan. You let out a small sigh before you looked towards the living room, somewhat expecting Mike to come out from the corner.

You’d never admit it, but, you truly care about Mike. You didn’t know if it was out of love or just as friends.. maybe even family. You felt something in you that only happened with him, yet you always brushed it aside.

You quickly shook your head before you turned your attention back at the pancakes. You continued to make more and more, the scent from the dessert spreading around the house.

As you were making the dessert, you heard small footsteps, making your heart pound against your chest.

“(reader)..?” The familiar low-pitched voice spoke out. You paused and looked over your shoulder, looking at the one and only Mike.

You smiled and closed your eyes, “Hey Mike.” You held in your laughter as his brows scrunched, clearly confused.

“You weren’t responding to my messages.. so i thought i’d give you a small visit.” You gave a nervous laugh before going back to the pancakes, the bowl that was once filled with batter, now empty.

He let out a small groan as he rubbed his eyes, “I..I know.. its just—“

“I know.” You interrupted him, turning the stove off and looking at the plate of��� presentable pieces of desserts.

You grabbed a plate and put it onto the table, near the kitchen, and motioned for him to sit.

He looked guilty, but that was because he felt sorry for not responding to you, yet you only cared if he was alright.

“Serve yourself.” You smiled and sat in front of him, not bothering to get a piece to eat.

He looked at the plate of pancakes and back at you, his eyes practically judging you, or.. well you think.

“I know— I know. Im a barista… my pancakes aren’t going to look.. that well.” You rambled out, crossing your arms, and scoffing.

He quickly shook his head and let out a small laugh, “Not that. You aren’t going to eat?”

Your eyes widened slightly, looking at him, before your cheeks slightly flushed.

“I.. I ate before i got here and— don”t laugh at my pancakes—!” You hissed out, clearly embarrassed by the misconception you made.

He only chuckled before serving himself.

You only watched in silence before tapping your fingers against the smooth surface, letting your eyes glide to a different part of the room.

“Mike, is there a specific reason to why you stopped… talking to me?” Your voice quiet, almost inaudible, yet the man in front of you managed to hear it. He looked up from his plate, looking at you, before turning his gaze back to his half-empty plate.

You kept your eyes on him, wanting to know if you did something wrong.

He gave a sigh and brought one of his hands to rub the side of his head. “It.. it’s hard to explain, (reader).”

“Then help me understand.” You pleaded before you turned your gaze to your hands in your lap.

“I get it if you,” you paused before shaking your head, “i get it if you don’t want to talk with me anymore. But.. you could’ve atleast told me something.”

He let out a shaky sigh, “No..no that’s not it.” He rubbed his temples, trying to put words into his mouth to explain it properly to you.

You waited patiently, wanting him to give at least a small explanation.

“It’s just.. personal things and work.” His voice was quiet, “I didn’t want to… i didn’t want to put my problems with you.” He finally got out.

Oh, so he didn’t hate you.

You gave a relieved sigh before you looked him with stern eyes. “You know you can ask me for help anytime, whether its with work or.. just anything!” Your voice slightly rose yet you made sure to stay calm.

He only looked up at you before nodding. Your face fell as you looked at the guilt covering his face. You got up and put a hand onto his shoulder.

“You can have the whole morning off, and.. we can spend the day doing what we used to do, okay?” You smiled as he turned his head to look at you, his eyes going from your hand to you.

“But Abby—“

“She’s already at school, don’t worry.”

He let out a small breath before giving a small smile.

You two spent the whole morning binge watching movies and reenacting good ‘ol times. Yes, Abby was picked up and you took care of her while Mister Mike Schmidt went to work.

mike just needs a break :( and yes i know pancakes aren’t dessert but.. for the sake of this they are

reminder that requests are opened ^_^

[saythenametotheworld]

Wonderland | l.yy (18+)

A carefree spring break, a charming stranger, and unforgettable moments that felt like they’d last forever. You and Yangyang both knew it wouldn't, but boy, it was hands down the best spring break ever.

one | TWO | three | four | five

Genre: vacation romance, smut Pairing: Liu Yangyang x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, alcohol, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 20k words. Part 2 of the Campus Confessions series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Wonderland by Taylor Swift. Genuinely, let me know what you guys think of this. I am very open-minded to constructive criticism. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Highway to Heaven by NCT 127, Love Talk by WAYV, Untouchable by Taylor Swift, Wonderland by Taylor Swift

“Didn’t you calm my fears with a Cheshire cat smile?”

Aruba was bursting with color—yellows, blues, pastel pink, and shades of orange. The buildings were vivid with these colors, almost as if they were smiling at you as brightly as the locals did. Even the road to the villa felt like a postcard—trees with twisted trunks that you’d never seen before were bent permanently toward the west, adorning a desert landscape. The ocean shimmered to your left, gleaming blue and inviting, sending reflections of sunlight dancing through the air.

Despite the beauty of it all, you couldn't wait to get to your Airbnb and take a cold shower. The long flight was straining, and the taxi ride felt like a sauna. Your friends weren’t much better—Giselle had asked the driver several times if you were there yet, while Ningning passed out beside you, half-asleep with the windows open.

By the time you arrived at the villa, your brains were too fried to think and picked your rooms at random. The villa was booked by two groups—yours and some strangers. You’d hoped it wouldn’t be awkward, but right now, you couldn’t care less and it seemed like the other group wasn’t there yet. You slipped into the first door you saw, dropping your bag unceremoniously onto the floor. Then you kicked off your shoes and stripped out of your travel clothes with your eyes fixed on the bathroom door ahead. Standing in just your underwear, you pulled your hair into a messy bun, already daydreaming about the cold shower that would bring you back to life.

And then, out of nowhere, you heard the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat.

You froze, hands still gripping your hair, and slowly turned toward the source of the sound. A man was leaning against the headboard of the bed, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze shamelessly roaming from your bare legs up to your wide eyes. 

“You’re welcome to stay,” he said, his voice warm and amused, “but usually, I’d buy a girl dinner first.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as your brain scrambled to catch up. The embarrassment hit you fast. You grabbed the dress off the floor, flinging it over yourself with an urgency that only made the situation more awkward. “What the hell?” you managed, your voice coming out sharper than you intended. “Who are you?”

His grin widened, one brow arching as though he found your indignation charming. “Yangyang,” he said simply, like the name alone explained everything. “And you’re clearly not one of my friends, which makes this even more interesting. You must be with the other group.”

Right! This was a shared villa! “Yeah, well, if I’d known someone else was in here, I would’ve knocked,” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively, even though it didn’t help much—given the fact that you were still standing there half-naked.

“Ah, I see. It was my fault. I should've locked the door.” Yangyang’s eyes flickered with amusement, clearly enjoying your reaction. He stepped off the bed and walked toward you with slow, deliberate steps, but there was no real threat in his movements—just an unspoken confidence that radiated from him.

“Sorry,” he apologized, though his tone was far from sorry. “But next time, maybe try the door before you barge in and… unpack. I can’t be expected to play the gentleman if you don’t give me the chance to act shocked, you know?” 

You didn't say anything, conscious about the way he was looking at you now that he was closer. Only then were you able to get a good look at him—dark, neatly parted hair that framed his face, a downturned nose that balanced his delicate features, dark eyes with a glint of mischief in them, and lips curved in a soft, effortless smile.

He's cute, you caught yourself thinking. “Aren't you leaving?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Yangyang flashed you a toothy grin, one that reminded you of the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Not without thanking you for the entertainment. I must say, it was a bold first impression.”

“I wasn’t trying to impress anyone,” you retorted, tightening the dress around your body. “Could you please just get out of my room?”

Yangyang shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze still scanning you with that unhurried intensity. “It’s not your room, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a little lower, more playful now. “I called dibs on it first. If you’re going to claim it, you’ll have to be more convincing.”

You huffed, looking away and hoping he’d just walk out of the door like he was intending to. Yangyang turned the doorknob but didn’t open the door yet.

“You know what, it’s all yours,” he said, making you glance at him. He was shamelessly ogling at your body, again. “You are making it a little hard to say ‘no’,” he added with a wink.

You gasped, a flush rising on your cheeks again, but before you could respond, he gave a lazy wave and stepped out. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you flustered with a memory you wouldn’t soon forget.

Later that evening, you woke up feeling rested but starving. The soft glow of sunset was pouring into the room from the floor-to-ceiling window, and the view from where you sat on the bed was majestic. You didn’t pass up the chance to grab your phone and snap a photo. After that, you rose and stepped out of the bedroom.

The faint sound of music and laughter drifted up from downstairs. You followed it, wondering if it was your friends while your stomach was growling with every step. Sure enough, in the kitchen, Giselle and Ningning were perched at the counter, drinks in hand and plates of food in front of them. They waved you over immediately.

“Finally! Thought we’d have to drag you out,” Giselle said with a grin, pushing a plate toward you. “Here.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, grabbing a fork and digging in without hesitation.

“Did you sleep well?” Ningning asked, eyes glimmering beautifully—like they always have.

“Totally. I was so tired. I took a shower and just passed out immediately,” you replied, sighing dramatically. Then the memory of meeting Yangyang in the bedroom suddenly flashed in your mind. “Wait. We’re sharing this villa with other people, right?”

Giselle nodded. “Yeah. It’s really big. It has eight bedrooms. You haven’t explored it yet, have you?”

As you shook your head, Ningning said, “Our housemates just left a few minutes ago, actually. Said they’re going out to sight-see.”

“You’ve met them?” you asked.

“Yes,” Giselle replied, placing a finger on her chin, thinking. “Let’s see, there’s Hendery, Xiaojun, and Yangyang. They’re tourists from China.”

“Did they say anything?” you pried, wondering if Yangyang told them what happened earlier.

“We just introduced ourselves. You know how it goes,” Giselle answered. “Why? Did something happen?”

“Nothing,” you lied, looking away. “Just… wondering what they’re like.”

“They’re pretty chill, from what I can tell. Didn’t really hang out much, though,” Ningning chimed in.

“Yeah, they didn’t stick around long enough to make an impression,” Giselle added. “But they’ll probably be back later. Speaking of impressions, you should hurry and get ready. We’re going out tonight.”

The nightlife in Aruba’s Palm Beach Area was everything you’d imagined and more.

As soon as you stepped into the vibrant strip of bars and clubs, the energy hit you like a wave. The streets were alive with music blaring out from every corner, and the air was filled with the chatter and laughter of tourists and locals alike. Neon lights glowed in every direction, illuminating clusters of people moving from one bar to the next, drinks in hand, their faces flushed with excitement.

The first bar was packed, with music thumping loudly and bodies pressed together on the dance floor. The drinks were just as colorful and varied as the crowd—fruity cocktails with little umbrellas, classic mojitos, daiquiris, frosty beer bottles dripping with condensation. They came fast—colorful and sweet, and the three of you hit the dance floor almost immediately. Giselle and Ningning moved like they owned the place, and before long, you found yourself swept up in the rhythm too.

Ningning didn’t waste time—by the time you’d finished your first drink, a tall guy with a cheeky grin was already glued to her side, following her every move. She seemed to enjoy the attention but kept him at arm’s length, toying with him like a cat with a mouse.

You and Giselle, meanwhile, owned the dance floor. The music vibrated through your chest, your limbs moving in sync with the rhythm as you lost yourself to the beat. The drinks flowed, cooling your throat and warming your veins, adding a carefree edge to your movements.

Men naturally began approaching you and your friends. It was a strange but refreshing difference from back home. In Aruba, every guy seemed more confident and considerate, striking up conversations or asking you to dance without hesitation. When turned down, they didn’t linger or sulk—they simply moved on to the next opportunity, unfazed.

By the time you hit the second bar, Ningning’s admirer was still trailing your group, determined to win her over despite her aloof attitude. You and Giselle exchanged amused glances as you ordered another round of drinks.

“It’s like a buffet,” she whispered to you, her eyes scanning the room as she sipped her martini. Her sharp gaze flickered over the men who glanced her way, assessing each one.

“Too tall,” she muttered after one man caught her eye. “Too short,” she said about another. 

While dancing, a third guy approached her, but he was gone within a minute. Giselle rejoined you with a wrinkled nose. “His perfume was making me dizzy.”

You both giggled, shoulders bumping.

“What about him?” you teased, gesturing toward a handsome guy by the bar. “You danced with him, right?”

She shook her head with a dramatic sigh. “Thick accent. Totally not it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as she dismissed each contender, whispering her sharp remarks to you before turning back to the dance floor. Giselle wasn’t just selective—she was a queen surveying her court, unbothered by anyone who didn’t meet her standards.

Meanwhile, you were simply enjoying the music and the atmosphere, dancing until your feet ached and declining the occasional offers to buy you drinks or join you on the floor.

Ningning found you and linked her arms with yours. You grinned, “Where’s your shadow?”

Ningning rolled her eyes. “Told him to leave me alone. I couldn’t stand him anymore.”

“Why? I think he was cute.”

“He is but—” she sighed— “his English is worse than my Spanish.”

You winced. “Yeah, that’s not gonna work.”

“Absolutely not.”

By the time you reached your fifth bar, the night was catching up to you. You slumped onto one of the stools of the tiki bar, grateful for the chance to sit after hours of dancing and wandering. Your friends were nowhere in sight, but you weren’t worried—they’d either found their own fun or were still tearing it up on the dance floor. For now, you just needed a moment to recharge.

“What can I get you, Miss?” asked the bartender, flashing a pretty smile at you. You smiled back, finding her bold red pixie cut and honey skin tone immensely attractive.

“I’m not sure,” you replied, unable to take your eyes away from her face. “What do you suggest?”

“Have you tried our signature cocktail?”

“Not yet, but you’re gorgeous so I’m gonna trust you. I’ll have one please.”

She chuckled lightly and her smile just made her even more alluring. “Your judgment is a little questionable, but alright.”

You scrunch your nose cutely, the alcohol making you less shy about acting cute in front of a stranger. As the bartender was making your drink, you took pictures and videos of the party around you, determined to collect as many remembrances of your first spring break trip as you could.

“It’s called Aruba Ariba,” the bartender said, placing the glass on the counter and pushing it gently toward you. “I’m surprised the previous bars didn’t give you one.”

“Well, this is the first time I asked for a recommendation. I like sticking to the drinks I’m already familiar with, so,” you replied, shrugging. “Thanks.”

You took a sip and let the flavors as well as the spice dance on your tongue before letting out a satisfied hum. “This is good.”

“Thank you,” the bartender replied, bringing a hand on her forehead as if she was tipping a hat in appreciation. She then moved to another customer who had just approached the other side of the bar. Meanwhile, you were happily enjoying your drink while scrolling through your phone.

“Mind if I join you?” A man had slid onto the stool next to you, flashing a grin that was meant to be charming but came off a little too practiced. Before you could answer, he flagged down the bartender and ordered himself a drink, then turned back to you.

“You look like you could use some company,” he said smoothly.

“I’m good, thanks,” you replied, keeping your tone polite but firm.

You expected him to leave, but he didn’t. “Aw, come on. It’s gonna be fun.”

“No, thank you.” You forced a small smile, hoping he’d move on, but he leaned in closer. He tried cracking jokes, tossing compliments your way, and making small talk that you weren’t interested in entertaining. When it became clear that your polite disinterest wasn’t working, you finally said, “I’m actually here with my boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah? Where is he?”

“He’s around,” you lied, looking toward the entrance as though expecting someone to walk through any second.

The guy smirked, clearly unconvinced. “You don’t have to lie. I can tell you’re not really with anyone.”

Before you could respond, the bartender stepped in. “Excuse me, sir, she said no. Leave her alone.”

But even that didn’t deter him. “Relax,” the guy said dismissively, waving off the bartender. “She’s just playing hard to get.”

You sighed, your patience running out, when suddenly an arm slid around your waist.

“There you are, honey,” a familiar voice drawled, soft but unmistakably amused.

Yangyang.

You turned your head just in time to see him leaning in, his free hand casually resting on the small of your back. “Sorry I took so long,” he said, before turning to the man beside you, the amusement in his eyes quickly cooling into something sharper. “Is this guy bothering you, sweetheart?”

The man blinked, caught off guard. “Are you with her?”

Yangyang tilted his head, giving a lopsided grin. “Of course, she’s my wife. We’re newlyweds, you know. Honeymoon and all that.”

The guy scoffed, still skeptical. “She’s been sitting here alone for a while. I thought she was lying about having company.”

Your patience snapped. “Shouldn’t you leave someone alone when they ask you to?”

The man waved you off, his tone growing defensive. “Women say ‘no’ all the time. You like being chased. You say no because you want to see if we’ll try harder.” He turned to Yangyang, as if expecting backup. “You know how they are, right?”

“Ah, why is a grown man barking like a dog?” Yangyang asked, looking bored, digging his ear with his pinky like he was trying to unblock it. “Even a dog’s bark is more pleasant than this.”

The man’s expression twisted. “What did you just say?”

Yangyang tilted his head slightly, his hand still resting casually on your waist. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say that out loud?” He smiled, the kind that could either charm or infuriate someone depending on the context. “I meant to say, why is a grown man yapping like a toy poodle? All bark, no bite—you know what I mean?”

You snickered before you could stop yourself, then covered your mouth and looked away. The harasser didn’t share your amusement. His face reddened, his ego clearly stung. ��You’ve got a big mouth,” he spat, standing from his stool and squaring his shoulders.

Yangyang raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “And you’ve got a small brain. It makes sense though, seeing how you can’t seem to take a hint.”

The man’s hand curled into a fist, his body tensing as he lunged toward Yangyang. You gasped, but before he could get close, two figures appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Hendery’s voice cut through the tension. He stepped between the two, holding up his hands as if refereeing. “What do you think you’re doing, buddy?”

Xiaojun flanked him, his expression calm but his stance solid as he placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You don’t wanna do that,” he said evenly, his tone low but firm. “Not in here,” he added, nodding at the muscular, almost gigantic bouncers at the entrance of the bar.

The man glanced between them, his bravado faltering as he sized up the newcomers. Hendery’s casual grin didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Xiaojun’s calm demeanor carried an unspoken warning.

The man clenched his jaw, glaring at all three of them before finally backing down with a muttered curse. He grabbed his drink and stormed off, his pride clearly bruised.

“Was that really necessary?” Xiaojun asked, turning to Yangyang with a slight shake of his head.

Yangyang shrugged, a sly grin on his face. “He started it.”

Hendery clapped him on the back, chuckling. “You’ve got a real gift for getting under people’s skin.”

“Come on, now. If you ruffle my feathers like that, my head might get bigger,” Yangyang quipped, shooting them a playful wink before turning back to you. “You okay, honey?”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your heart still pounding from the confrontation. “Yeah but—” you took a deep breath— “Honeymoon? Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Yangyang shrugged, his grin returning. “Seemed like the easiest way to get rid of him. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You guess?” he teased, leaning just a little closer. “Wow, tough crowd.”

Shaking your head, you turned to Hendery and Xiaojun. “Thanks to you guys too.”

“Anytime,” Hendery smiled.

Xiaojun crossed his arms over his chest, studying your face. “We’ve been here for a day and Yangyang’s already married. Aruba really is something.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that.

At some point after the encounter with the creep, you were introduced to Hendery and Xiaojun, Yangyang’s friends. They stuck around at the bar, chatting over drinks and swapping stories. You learned that they were also on vacation from China and, like you, were incoming sophomores. Their easygoing vibe made it surprisingly easy to relax, even after the earlier drama.

“By the way,” Xiaojun said, eyeing you. “How do you guys know each other? We didn’t see you at the villa earlier.”

The memory of your mortifying first meeting with Yangyang made you roll your eyes. “You don’t wanna know.”

Hendery snickered, leaning on the bar. “It’s Yangyang, so he probably did something dumb and left a stupid impression.”

You exchanged glances with Yangyang, who gave you a knowing grin. Then he told his friends, “Let’s not talk about it, guys. Trust me—you really don’t want to know.”

Before you could respond, Giselle and Ningning appeared, weaving through the crowd with flushed faces and wide smiles. Giselle spotted you first and threw her arms in the air. “There you are! We’ve been looking for you!”

“Yeah!” Ningning added, her voice slightly breathless. “We found a place upstairs with amazing views. Where’d you disappear to?”

“She was busy fighting off creeps and getting married,” Hendery said before you could explain.

“Wait, what?” Giselle blinked, clearly taken aback. “Married?”

You rolled your eyes, heat rising to your cheeks. “This guy wouldn’t leave me alone, so Yangyang told him we were on a honeymoon to get rid of him.”

Giselle and Ningning exchanged amused glances before turning to Yangyang, grins tugging at their lips. “That’s kinda cute,” Ningning mused, her eyes sparkling. “Fake or not.”

“I see you’ve met our housemates,” Giselle said, nodding toward the guys with a warm smile.

The five of you chatted for a while before Giselle and Ningning eventually made their way back to the dance floor. Yangyang’s friends joined them.

“I’m not moving,” you declared, leaning back against the bar. “I’ve been walking and dancing all night. My legs are officially done.”

“Oh, come on,” Yangyang said, leaning closer with a mischievous grin. “I saved you. Doesn’t that earn me at least one dance?”

“Wow, so you’re holding that over my head now?”

“Absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat.

Yangyang headed for the dance floor, dragging you along. You opened your mouth to protest, but his grip was firm. Your legs felt like jelly, and the idea of moving even a little more was downright cruel. But Yangyang’s grin was so smug that resisting him suddenly felt like losing a challenge you hadn’t even agreed to. Against your better judgment, you let him lead you into the crowd.

Giselle and Ningning were pulling off ridiculous, exaggerated moves, laughing at themselves without a care in the world. Hendery, ever the show-off, attempted a wild spin that almost sent him crashing into a stranger, while Xiaojun kept it smooth and controlled, his steps simple but effortlessly cool.

Then there was Yangyang. He didn’t just dance—he owned the floor, his movements confident and effortlessly in sync with the beat. You hated to admit it, but he was good—like, really good.

At one point, he turned to you, holding out a hand. “Come on, Mrs. Liu Yangyang. Show me what you’ve got.”

You rolled your eyes but let him pull you into the fray. He spun you lightly, his grip steady but playful. Your initial reluctance faded with every step, and before you knew it, you were grinning and giggling.

Maybe it was the music, or maybe it was the way Yangyang’s friends treated you like you’d always been part of the group. Whatever it was, the tension you’d carried earlier had melted away, leaving behind only laughter and the steady rhythm of the night.

You woke up to the sharp rays of sunlight streaming through the window. Groaning, you rolled over—only to realize you weren’t even in bed. The floor was as unforgiving as it was unfamiliar, with a crumpled pillow under your head and a blanket twisted awkwardly around your legs like a makeshift cocoon.

Foggy memories of the night before flashed in your mind—the taxi ride, Giselle belting out the wrong lyrics to Dancing Queen, Ningning laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe, and your voice joining the chaos with something equally off-key.

Dragging yourself to your feet, you grabbed a towel and stumbled into the bathroom for a much-needed shower. Fifteen minutes later, feeling somewhat human, you headed downstairs on a hunt for food.

In the kitchen, Xiaojun stood at the stove, flipping a ladle like it was a microphone as he hummed a tune you didn’t recognize. “Morning,” he said without turning around.

“Morning,” you mumbled, sliding onto a stool by the counter. “That smell is fantastic. What is it?”

“Hangover cure,” he replied, grabbing a bowl and pouring soup in it. “Chinese-style. Trust me, you’ll thank me later,” he added, sliding the bowl toward you.

“Later?” you chuckled, accepting the spoon he handed you. “I’m thanking you right now. Thank you very much.”

“You’re very welcome,” Xiaojun said with a smile.

Not long after, Giselle and Ningning shuffled in, both looking like they’d been hit by a truck. Giselle flopped onto a chair with a groan. “Remind me why we thought mixing tequila and rum was a good idea.”

“Because we’re dumb,” Ningning replied, reaching for a glass of water. “Morning, guys.”

“Eat first, complain later,” Xiaojun said, sliding bowls of steaming soup across the counter.

Hendery appeared from the patio. “That smells fantastic!” he cheered, hurrying over to Xiaojun’s side and peering into the pot. “Is there more?”

“There’s enough for everybody,” replied Xiaojun, handing the ladle to Hendery so he could help himself.

The kitchen island was quiet for the first few minutes, with only the sound of the spoon against china and satisfied hums from everybody filling the silence. Xiaojun’s soup was phenomenal, and you couldn’t decide whether it was because you were hungry and hungover, or because he was simply an amazing cook.

After last night, there seemed to be an unspoken understanding between your group and the boys. For some reason—probably last night’s shenanigans—neither group seemed awkward with the other. It felt like you’d known each other for a long time despite only meeting yesterday. And it also felt like you were one big friend group on a vacation rather than two separate groups sharing the same villa. You liked it better this way.

You were halfway through your portion when Yangyang appeared, looking way too refreshed for someone who had been just as wild the night before. He plopped into the chair next to you, his grin as bright as the sun you wished would dim.

“So,” he began casually, resting his chin in his hand. “Have you made your decision?”

You blinked at him, not saying anything but giving him an inquiring look. He smirked. “You know, the thing we talked about last night.”

It took a moment for the fog in your brain to clear, but then it hit you—his ridiculous offer to ‘show you a good time’ while you were in Aruba, whatever that meant. You shook your head, suppressing a laugh.

“Pass.”

Yangyang feigned a look of heartbreak. “Ouch. Can’t you at least pretend to think about it?”

You shook your head again. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

Across the table, Giselle and Ningning exchanged confused glances, but Yangyang only winked at them. “Inside joke,” he said smoothly, leaving it at that.

The rest of the day was a blur of sunshine and downtime. Everyone had their own thing going on. Some were catching up on sleep, the others were watching TV, while the rest were just enjoying the down time after last night’s activities. Yangyang, however, was relentless.

You’d found a quiet spot on the patio with a book in hand, ready to soak up the calm. But you were barely a chapter in when Yangyang appeared, sitting onto the bean bag next to you with a loud sigh.

“Perfect day to say yes, don’t you think?” he asked, his voice filled with exaggerated optimism.

“Say yes to what?” you said without looking up, feigning ignorance.

“Come on, honey,” he replied, taking a magazine from under the table. “You know what I’m talking about.”

You turned a page, ignoring him. Undaunted, he leaned closer. “You’re missing out, you know. I’m offering you the ultimate spring break experience. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I don’t know,” you said, finally glancing at him while he flipped through the pages of the magazine lazily. “Maybe you’ll turn out to be very terrible at it?”

He paused, meeting your gaze. “Oh, ho ho ho,” he chimed, mischief evident not just in his grin but in his tone. “The only way to find out is for you to try it for yourself.”

“Pass.”

What was so crazy about Yangyang’s offer? Nothing, to be honest. If anything, a hookup was basically part of a trip like this one. When you were planning the trip with Giselle and Ningning, you talked excitedly about beaches, island adventure, bar-hopping, and cute foreign boys. You might not have been as excited as they were to find a good-looking tourist who’d sweep you off your feet, but you half-expected to get cozy with one.

But it was different with Yangyang. Your first meeting was unconventional, and the way he casually asked you to be his ‘travel wifey’ was far from the whirlwind spring break romance you were imagining. So, it’s an absolute ‘no’.

You didn’t tell him any of this though, so he kept at it. Later, while you were swimming alone, enjoying the cool water against the heat of the afternoon sun, Yangyang showed up again. He stood at the edge of the pool, hands on his hips like some kind of self-proclaimed lifeguard.

“Still thinking it over?” he called out.

You swam to the edge, wiping water from your face as you looked up at him. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“What else could be better than trying to win over a pretty girl’s heart?” he admitted with a grin. 

“Wow, you’re persistent.”

He shrugged, “I’ve been told my persistence is part of my charm.”

You splashed water at him, but he dodged it with a laugh. “Keep playing hard to get, Mrs. Liu Yangyang. You’ll give in eventually.”

“Go away,” you shot back, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

That evening, after the sun dipped below the horizon, the group gathered in the living room for a round of card games. You had just beaten Hendery in a particularly competitive game when Yangyang slid into the seat next to you, carrying two glasses of some fruity cocktail. He handed one to you with a grin.

“Bribery,” he said.

“For what?” you asked, accepting the drink but eyeing him warily.

“For you-know-what. I figured I’d at least sweeten the deal,” he quipped.

Before you could reply, Giselle leaned over from across the table. “What deal?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, shooting a glare at Yangyang.

“Inside joke,” Yangyang said again with a wink, taking a sip of his drink.

He didn’t stop there, though. While you were distracted helping Ningning figure out the rules of the next game, he whispered, “I’ll even let you win at cards if you say yes.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the amused smirk that crept onto your face. “You haven’t even won one against me yet.”

He pointed finger guns at you. “That’s me letting you win,” he said, winking.

“You’re unbelievable,” you scoffed.

“And yet,” he replied, leaning back in his chair, “you can’t seem to ignore me.”

Yangyang was getting on your nerves. You could have shut him down for good, told him to leave you alone—but you didn’t. Maybe it was his ridiculous persistence, or the way his grin seemed to disarm you every time. Or maybe it was the infuriating fact that he wasn’t wrong—you couldn’t seem to ignore him. And somehow, you weren’t sure you wanted to.

“You are not barhopping again,” Karina groaned in envy while you were on FaceTime the next morning.

“No, we’re not,” Giselle replied, checking herself out in the mirror while you were helping her tie her bikini top.

“Not right now, anyway,” you added teasingly, grinning at Karina’s expense. She had wanted so badly to come with you, but she couldn’t because she had to go back to her hometown.

Ningning was in front of the vanity, putting on some makeup. “You really should have come. Aruba is a dream.”

You could hear Karina sigh dramatically on the other end of the phone. “Ugh, I swear, it’s like you guys are living in paradise without me. I really should’ve come.”

“Well, you were too busy being all responsible and going back home,” you chimed, joining Ningning by the vanity to look at yourself. “You’d have loved it. The beach, the sun... we loved it.”

Karina’s voice was laced with playful sarcasm. “Yeah, yeah, rub it in. I’ll be here, in my hometown, living my best life... not.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatics, then turned to Giselle, who was now fiddling with the straps of her bikini top in front of the mirror. “You sure you don’t want to just rush over here last minute? We could all have the best time together.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Karina replied, but you could tell she was still slightly regretful. “Someone has to look out for you girls from here. I’ll just live vicariously through your snaps and photos.”

Ningning smirked. “We’ll make sure to flood your inbox with those so you really feel like you’re here.”

“Please don’t,” Karina said with a mock exasperated tone. “I’m already getting jealous just hearing about all the fun.”

Giselle adjusted her sunglasses, clearly amused. “You should have come, Karina. Aruba is everything you said it would be... plus a little extra.”

You caught her eye in the mirror, raising an eyebrow in her direction. Karina asked, “A little extra? What exactly does that mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Giselle said quickly, turning away with a grin. “Just, you know, the whole vacation vibe...”

“My girl is not still moping out there, is she?” Karina asked, feigning strictness. “She’s not still thinking about some nerd called Huang Renjun, is she?”

You gasped. “Excuse me? Say it to my face.” You pouted at Karina. “I’m having a really great time. Thank you very much.”

“That’s good then.”

You grabbed your sheer layer top and pulled it over your head. “Also, don’t make it sound so upsetting. Renjun and I are still friends.”

Giselle scoffed. “Girl, Renjun and you weren’t anything else but friends.”

You rolled your eyes, mocking her. “Whatever. It’s all in the past.”

“Pretty sure it was just three weeks ago,” Karina teased.

You sighed. “Are we gonna hit the beach or should we just sit here and talk about my failed romances?”

Fortunately, they stopped teasing you and finished getting ready. You bade Karina goodbye with a promise to show her pictures and have fun. After grabbing everything you needed, the three of you hurried downstairs.

Giselle flicked her hair over her shoulder and wore her sunglasses. “Alright, let’s go make some waves, ladies.”

As you walked toward the beach, the guys were already lounging on the sun beds lining up the shore. Hendery was sprawled across one, his legs dangling in the sun, while Xiaojun and Ningning had already gone off to the water’s edge. Yangyang, of course, was right where you expected him to be—leaning casually against the sun bed, watching you approach with an almost predatory glint in his eyes.

His voice reached you first, as always. “What took you so long?” he asked, a smirk forming on his lips. “Did you take your sweet time dolling up for me?”

You didn’t even flinch. “Do I know you?” 

Yangyang laughed, his grin widening. “Give me one chance and you will.”

You raised an eyebrow as you placed your towel on the bed next to his. “I guess since I’m in paradise, I can tolerate this much of a nuisance.”

He sat up and leaned forward to you, his eyes never leaving you. “We may be in paradise right now, but I know I could take it up a notch. Make it feel more like paradise,” he said, his tone far too smooth for your liking.

You crossed your arms, trying to keep the irritation from your voice. “Didn’t you almost get into a fist fight with someone who couldn’t take a hint?”

Yangyang shrugged, leaning back on the sun bed. “I still haven’t heard the one definitive answer, so, yeah. I’ll keep trying until you say it.”

“Say what, exactly?” you asked, genuinely puzzled because you were sure you’d been discouraging his advances. If that wasn’t enough for a hint, then what exactly does he need?

“You haven’t really said no yet,” he said, closing his eyes with a smug grin. “All you’ve done so far is evade and dodge.”

You scoffed but didn’t say anything.

“It’s a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’, my dear wife,” he added, humming. “If you can’t give it, that means you’re not done thinking about it yet. I could still make you give in to my charm.”

“You’re very optimistic, did you know that?”

“Yes. I’m very appreciative too,” he chuckled, glancing sideways at you. “I’ll show you just how much I can appreciate everything about you if you say ‘yes’ to me.”

You held his gaze, unwavering with a glint of mischief. You wanted to say ‘no’, it was the most logical answer. But you couldn’t utter the word.

“Suit yourself,” you huffed. With a playful roll of your eyes, you rose to your feet and headed to the water. You could hear him laughing as you walked away, but you weren’t going to let him get to you that easily. Still, the way his gaze followed you made your pulse quicken just a little. The beach was warm, the water cool and refreshing, these were things you could always count on in this paradise—along with Yangyang’s relentless pursuit.

You and your friends frolicked by the beach—swimming, taking pictures, enjoying citrusy drinks from the nearby tiki, and letting the salt and sun get soaked up by your skin. The boys were off in their own world, swimming ang fighting on the sand like school boys. At one point, Hendery roped you into a game of beach volleyball, sparking an intense competition between the girls and the boys.

You were winning the match, with your easy teamwork and general proficiency with the game itself. You won the first set and it looked like the second set was yours too, leading with a score of 22 against their 19.

The sand was warm under your feet as you and Ningning jogged into position, Giselle was already hyping up the team from the backline. Across the net, the boys were plotting their strategy with the seriousness of a championship game. Yangyang stood in the middle of their huddle, pointing and gesturing animatedly, while Hendery crouched low, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Are they actually strategizing?” Ningning asked, tying her hair into a high ponytail.

You shrugged, hiding your smirk. “Let them think they have a chance.”

Giselle clapped to get your attention. “Focus, ladies. They’ve got height, but we’ve got heart.”

“And skill,” Ningning added.

“Mostly skill,” you corrected with a grin.

The first serve was Yangyang’s, and he started with a smug grin as he launched the ball over the net. It was fast, but Giselle intercepted it with a smooth dig. You set it up for Ningning, who spiked it perfectly, narrowly avoiding Hendery’s desperate lunge.

“Point for the queens!” Ningning yelled, pumping her fist.

The boys groaned, and Hendery rolled dramatically in the sand. “I need a sub!” he cried.

“You are the sub,” Yangyang shot back, flicking sand at him.

The game continued with fierce determination on both sides. Hendery proved to be a surprisingly agile blocker, while Yangyang was quick on his feet, diving for saves and trash-talking at every opportunity.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he called out after Giselle narrowly missed a serve.

“Keep talking, Yangyang,” she shot back, adjusting her sunglasses. “It’ll make our victory even sweeter.”

Ningning served again, and the ball sailed high over the net. Yangyang jumped to spike it, but you were ready, blocking it with a well-timed jump.

“Boom!” you shouted as the ball hit the sand on their side.

Yangyang stared at you, mouth agape. “Where did that come from?”

“From the talent I was born with, where else?” you said with a wink.

As the match wore on, the stakes grew higher. The boys managed a few lucky points, but the girls maintained a narrow lead. The final play was an intense rally, with the ball going back and forth across the net.

“Come on!” Hendery shouted, diving to save a near-miss.

“Mine!” Ningning yelled, running to the backline.

Yangyang jumped for a spike, but you leapt just in time, blocking it again. The ball tipped off the edge of the net and landed on their side. Then you girls erupted in cheers, jumping and hugging each other as the boys slumped to the sand in defeat.

“Unbelievable,” Yangyang muttered, shaking his head.

“Victory tastes so sweet,” Ningning said, doing another celebratory spin.

Hendery flopped onto his back, covering his face with his arms. “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

“Correct,” Giselle said, grinning. “Now, about that bet…”

Yangyang sighed, waving his hand lazily in the air. “Fine. Full-course barbecue it is.”

“Yes and we get to pick what we’re putting on the barbecue,” Giselle added.

Yangyang rose to his feet and jogged toward the sun bed where his bag was. When he came back, he was waving the card in the air. “Knock yourselves out. Just don’t max it out, yeah?”

“Fair enough,” Ningning said, snatching his card. “Let’s go shopping, Giselle. I’m craving scallops.”

Xiaojun offered to join them, saying he’d make sure they got everything needed for the barbecue party.

As the others drifted away, you stayed behind, enjoying the quiet hush of the waves and the cooling breeze. Yangyang plopped down onto the sand beside you, stretching out with an exaggerated sigh.

“Great game,” he said, his tone light. “Even if it was rigged.”

“Rigged?” you laughed, raising an eyebrow. “You lost fair and square.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, leaning back on his elbows. “But I bet you all practiced in secret. No way Hendery and I could lose.”

“I didn’t think you’d be such a sore loser,” you teased, shaking your head.

“And yet, here I am, still hanging out with the enemy.” He grinned, his hair ruffling in the breeze.

The tiki bar server approached with two drinks, setting them on the low table nearby. Yangyang reached for one and handed it to you, his smirk still firmly in place.

“To the victors,” he said, raising his glass.

You clinked yours against his, laughing. “And to the losers who get to do all the work.”

Yangyang chuckled, leaning back and taking a sip. “How long are you guys here for by the way?”

“Two weeks,” you replied, savoring the sweetness on your tongue.

“Really? We’re here for two weeks too.”

You scoffed. “Wow, we’re so unlucky.”

The conversation flowed from playful teasing to lighter topics—the best dishes you’d tried on the island, the funniest moments from the trip so far, and the weird tan line you pointed out on his shoulder.

Yangyang stretched his legs out in the sand, inspecting his shoulder. “You know, this tan line is going to be a conversation starter. ‘Hey Yangyang, what’s that weird patch on your arm?’ Oh, you know, just me being the MVP of a beach volleyball game. No big deal.”

You snorted. “MVP? You lost.”

“They don’t need those details,” he said, waving it off with a grin. “But seriously, I’m loving this trip so far. I just know I’m gonna miss this place once we go back to uni.”

“Are you a freshman?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

You shrugged. “I just assumed we were the same age, so…”

“You’re a freshman too?” he asked, glad to find something you had in common. “So, what are you studying? Something artsy, right?”

“Do I look like I’m studying something artsy?”

Yangyang leaned against the sun bed. “You don’t seem like the ‘numbers and spreadsheets’ kind of person. Figured you’d be one of those artsy types.”

“Well, I guess it counts since it’s Liberal Arts.”

“Which liberal art is it?”

“English,” you admitted, flattening your lips together, sheepish. “I know. Very basic.”

“Basic?” Yangyang tilted his head curiously. “I didn’t say that. I think it’s cool. English is interesting—grammar rules, stories, all that stuff.”

“Thanks, I think?” You took a sip from your glass. “I only picked it because I didn't really know what I wanted to do.”

Yangyang’s grin softened, his tone unusually thoughtful. “That’s fair. Not everyone knows right away. Sometimes, it’s better to explore than to lock yourself into something you’re not even sure about.”

You tilted your head, surprised by his response. “I guess so. But don’t you think it’s a bit lame? Everyone else seems to have a clear path, and I’m just figuring things out.”

He shook his head, his gaze shifting to the horizon. “I don’t think it’s lame. Most of the time, people stick to their clear paths because they’re scared of the unknown, not because it’s what they actually want.”

His words lingered in the air, carried by the gentle sea breeze. For a moment, you forgot the mischief in his smile and the teasing remarks. Yangyang, it seemed, could be more than just the guy who cracked jokes and flirted needlessly.

“Well, it happens,” you said, your voice quieter now. “You’re not so bad, you know,” you said, smiling at him.

“Only ‘not so bad’?” he asked, feigning offense.

“Don’t push your luck,” you quipped, but your tone was warm.

The space between you grew smaller as the conversation went on. You talked about anything and everything. During that, Yangyang’s shoulder brushed yours, his closeness oddly comforting. His laughter was contagious, and his gaze—bright and mischievous yet sincere—had a way of making you forget your initial impression of him.

“Are you laughing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” he said, clearing his throat. “I just didn’t think you’d do something like that.”

“What? Spend every passing day in the library just to see my crush?” you asked, making Yangyang chuckle.

“Yeah. I almost thought you were talking about someone else,” he laughed, his toothy Cheshire cat grin making you grin too. “That guy is lucky. He’s got you stalking him daily while I’m this close to getting on my knees just for an hour alone with you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, well, he’s nothing like you. You’re okay, but he’s on an entirely different wavelength. Now that I’ve thought about it, I realized we weren’t even compatible at all. He’s smart and knows exactly what he wants.”

“His loss,” Yangyang shrugged. “You’re probably too pretty for him anyway.”

“No,” you said briskly, shaking your hands. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen him. He’s way prettier. You have no idea,” you added, pressing your hands against your cheeks at the memory of Renjun’s beautiful smile.

Yangyang nudged your shoulder, making you glance up at him. “I don’t need to see him to know you’re prettier.”

The compliment caught you off guard, but before you could respond, you found yourself lost in his eyes. They crinkled slightly at the corners as he smiled, and there was something disarming about the way he looked at you—like he genuinely couldn’t see anything or anyone but you.

Yangyang winked and then looked away to break the silence. “You’ll find this hard to believe, but I used to spend a lot of time in the library too. Especially when it’s—”

“Yes.” The word slipped out before you could stop it, hanging between you like the weight of the moment.

Yangyang blinked, tilting his head. “Yes?”

You bit your lip, heat rising to your cheeks. “Yes,” you repeated softly.

His smile returned, slower and more genuine. “Finally,” he murmured, leaning in.

The world seemed to fade away as Yangyang’s lips met yours. The kiss was warm and light at first, but it quickly deepened, making your stomach flutter with butterflies you didn’t think you’d get from Yangyang. His hand found the back of your head, kissing you deeper as if he’d been waiting for it all this time.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his grin as mischievous as always.

“See?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Told you I’d win you over.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he teased, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he pulled you into another kiss.

Ten minutes. That was how long you sat there making out with Yangyang by the beach. Maybe it was even longer than that, you weren’t sure, you just knew it was long long. You were both laughing and giggling over nonsense, and he wouldn’t stop teasing you about giving in to him after pushing him away several times. 

If it wasn’t for Giselle calling your phone and asking why you weren’t back in the villa yet, Yangyang would probably still have you locked in his arms on that sun bed.

“Scallops, wow,” you exclaimed, peering over Xiaojun’s shoulder while he was working the grill. “Beef too? How much did you guys spend?”

“Enough,” said Giselle, chuckling darkly at Yangyang who was standing next to you with his hands on his waist.

“Oh man, you didn’t just let them splurge, did you?” Yangyang asked Xiaojun who just shrugged.

“You did tell them to knock themselves out,” Xiaojun replied, grinning.

“Babe, come try this,” Ningning called out to you, waving a spoon in your direction.

You jogged toward the table, curious, but Yangyang followed closely behind.

“Did she just call you Babe?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as you reached for the drink Ningning was mixing.

Ningning shot him a look. “Listen here, Mr. Liu. I know you’re into my baby, but I’m the only one allowed to call her that. Let’s get that straight.”

You laughed, your cheeks warming. “Ning Yizhou, please. Stop it.”

But Ningning and Giselle exchanged glances, their mischief practically glowing.

“Oh, they’ve definitely hooked up,” Ningning said.

“Totally,” Giselle added, nodding with mock seriousness.

“What? No, we didn’t!” you protested, your voice an octave higher as you glanced at Yangyang.

Yangyang shrugged, looking entirely too smug. “Not yet. But we’ll get there.”

“Go away!” you huffed, shoving him playfully toward the grill.

The barbecue dinner continued with hearty laughter and the smoky scent of grilled food filling the air. Plates piled high with scallops, beef, and seafood skewers were passed around, everyone digging in and teasing each other between bites. Xiaojun manned the grill with expert ease, the sizzle of the food mixing with the sounds of playful banter from the group.

“Xiaojun,” Ningning said dramatically, pointing her fork at him. “If you don’t become a chef, the world will suffer.”

Xiaojun chuckled, flipping a skewer with a confident flick of his wrist. “Thanks for the pressure, but I think the world will survive without my scallops.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Giselle added, her voice mock-threatening.

Hendery, leaning back in his chair with a piece of grilled beef in hand, scoffed. “You’re all hyping him up too much. Watch him get cocky.”

Xiaojun rolled his eyes but grinned. “Just tell them you’re jealous.”

You found yourself laughing along with them, the whole evening filled with warmth and good company. The laughter seemed endless as you all shared stories, your plates refilled again and again, everyone thoroughly enjoying the meal and each other’s company. The tropical air was still, the night stretching comfortably ahead, like the perfect kind of pause before the whirlwind of activities you all had planned for the coming days.

As the evening wore on, the boys headed out to the bar as planned. Yangyang, as usual, did his best to persuade you to join them. “Come on, you really have to come. It won’t be the same without you.”

But you weren’t convinced. “You guys go ahead. We have plans tonight.”

Yangyang dramatically threw his head back, sighing as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Are you seriously just gonna let me mope out there by myself?” he complained, but the teasing glint in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t really upset.

You shook your head, laughing. “I think you’ll survive without me for one night,” you said, nudging him lightly. “Go have your fun.”

Once they were gone, you and the girls settled into the cozy confines of the villa for a quieter night. You poured yourselves some wine, the gentle music from Giselle’s playlist filling the space. It was a calm, slow evening, the perfect contrast to the hustle and bustle of the days ahead. The three of you sank into the couch, chatting and laughing, catching up on things you hadn’t had the chance to talk about during the day.

“This is exactly what I needed,” you sighed contentedly, sinking into the couch.

Ningning raised her glass, eyes twinkling. “Babe, you gotta give that guy a chance,” she said, her voice half teasing, half serious. “He’s so whipped. It’s pathetic at this point.”

You snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Pathetic? More like smug and overconfident,” you shot back.

“Exactly,” Ningning agreed, taking a sip of wine. “He’s trying to play it cool, but if you take that smug grin off his face, he’s just a massive simp worshipping your feet.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “You make him sound like some love-struck puppy.”

“Well, if the shoe fits,” Ningning teased, her lips curling into a sly grin.

Giselle rolled her eyes, but there was a softness to her expression. “You seem closer now, though? What happened back at the beach?” she asked, her gaze flickering between you and Ningning, clearly curious.

“We uh,” you paused, biting your lip at the memory of kissing Yangyang. “Nothing really. I gave him a chance. I mean, what do I have to lose? We’re in Aruba and Yangyang seemed like a really fun guy.”

“He is,” Giselle added with a nod, her eyes sparkling. “But not for me. I like it better when my options are open.”

Ningning raised an eyebrow at you. “That’s ‘cause you’re a slut,” she teased, giving Giselle a wicked grin.

Giselle blinked in surprise, then smirked. “Oh, I’m a slut? Which one of us was toying with some guy the other night only to send him back looking depressed and defeated? I’m a slut?”

Ningning’s eyes lit up, and she struck a playful pose, one hand on her hip, batting her eyelashes. “You and me both, Gigi. Let’s let this boring vanilla baby have her fun with her guy. We’re rocking this island,” she said, winking.

You laughed, feigning disgust, even though you were thoroughly entertained. “You guys are promiscuous,” you said, giving them a mock disapproving look.

Ningning tilted her head and flashed a confident grin. “You mean hot and fun?” she said, clearly proud of her carefree approach.

“Hot and fun,” you agreed, rolling your eyes but smiling. “And promiscuous.”

The conversation drifted from small talk to more meaningful topics, laughter occasionally erupting as the wine worked its magic. You all took turns talking about the things you were looking forward to most on this trip—the beaches, the hiking, the sightseeing, the endless opportunities to explore. Despite the excitement for the days ahead, there was something so refreshing about the peacefulness of tonight.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” Ningning said, looking around the villa, her wine glass cradled between both hands.

“I know, right?” Giselle added, swirling the wine in her glass. “It’s nice, though. We’ve got a packed schedule starting tomorrow, but I love this little downtime.”

You nodded, leaning back into the cushions, letting the peace of the moment sink in. “Exactly. I’m so excited for this trip.”

“We should probably get to bed soon,” Giselle said, glancing at her phone to check the time. The hike tomorrow would be an early one, and you wanted to be well-rested for it. “We’ve got an early morning.”

“You’re right,” Ningning replied with a sigh, stretching out her legs. “But this feels so nice, I don’t want it to end just yet.”

“I get that,” Giselle said, glancing at you two. “But I’m not about to regret a single minute of this trip by staying up too late.”

Eventually, the night wound down, and you all went to your separate rooms. You lay on your bed, your phone in hand, scrolling through your phone until you stumbled upon Xiaojun’s Instagram stories. His latest post showed him and Yangyang at the bar, Hendery beside them, clearly enjoying themselves. The music was loud in the background, the neon lights making everything look vibrant and alive.

You couldn’t help but smile, tapping through more clips. Yangyang, of course, looked like he was having the time of his life, though you remembered how much he’d pleaded with you to come. You thought it was sweet how much he’d wanted to hang out with you, though you knew he just wanted to bone.

“This guy is promiscuous too,” you muttered under your breath, grinning to yourself.

As you continued scrolling, the soft knocks on your door interrupted your thoughts. You froze for a second, unsure of what you’d heard. Then came the knock again, a little louder this time. You moved across the room in your barefoot, reaching for the doorknob. When you opened it, Yangyang stood there, his hair slightly tousled, his grin as effortless as ever.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorframe, his voice low and teasing.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re back so soon? I thought you’d be out until at least two.”

He shrugged, stepping a little closer. “Yeah, well, Giselle said we have to wake up early if we want to join the hike,” he replied, his tone light. “Can I come in?”

You hesitated for just a moment before stepping aside. “Don’t make yourself too comfortable,” you quipped.

Yangyang slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him. His gaze fixed on you, and before you could say another word, he pulled you into a loose hug, his arms wrapping around your waist. His nose brushed against your neck, and you felt his warm breath against your skin.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice muffled.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just horny.”

Yangyang straightened up with an exaggerated look of shock and indignation on his face. “Wha—no, I’m—” He stopped mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open like he couldn’t believe you’d called him out so easily.

Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow at him. “What? I know I’m right,” you said, your tone light but smug.

For a moment, he just stared at you, then threw his head back in laughter, the sound rich and unrestrained. “You’re so cute,” he said, stepping closer again, his grin turning wicked. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint, and you just knew he was up to something.

“Go away,” you said, turning your back to him with mock exasperation, though you didn’t really mean it.

“Aw. Don’t I get a kiss?” he asked, trailing behind you like an eager puppy as you headed back to your bed.

You stopped, spinning around to face him. “Just a kiss?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you perched on the edge of the bed.

Yangyang tilted his head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm… I was hoping we could do more than just kiss.”

“Goodnight,” you said with exaggerated finality, slipping under the sheets and yanking them over your head. “Lock the door on your way out.”

“Come on, honey,” he whined, tugging playfully at the edge of your blanket. “I’ve waited my whole life for this.”

Peeking out from the covers, you shot him a skeptical look. “We’ve known each other for three days.”

His grin only widened as if you’d just confirmed something he already knew. Without missing a beat, he climbed onto the bed and slid under the covers, settling beside you. His arm snaked beneath your head, pulling you closer until his warmth enveloped you completely.

“I’ll just sleep here then,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Is that okay?”

You sighed, taking a deep breath. The weight of his arm, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the way his presence seemed to fill the room all felt… unexpectedly comforting. Like slipping into a cozy jacket on a cold winter night, his warmth wrapped around you, lulling you to sleep.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyes fluttered shut. “It’s okay.”

You woke slowly, feeling the steady rise and fall of someone’s chest behind you. A weight rested lightly around your waist, warm and solid—Yangyang’s arm.

Oh. Right.

Your eyes fluttered open as memories of the night before came into focus—his teasing grin, the way he’d wriggled under your covers, and how his arms felt annoyingly comforting as you both drifted off. It was nice. Waking up with his warmth beside you was just as nice.

What you didn’t expect was the firm, unmistakable pressure against your lower back.

You froze, your half-asleep mind trying to convince you it was not what it felt like. But the more you became aware of it, the harder it was to deny.

Oh my God. That’s… definitely his...

Your face burned as you tried to wriggle away without waking him, but the movement only made you graze it. Yangyang stirred, letting out a soft, sleepy groan. Then his arm tightened, pulling you back against him—and the problem.

“Don’t move,” he rasped into your ear, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“Yangyang—”

“Shh. Please,” he mumbled, his arm tightening around your waist. “Just give me a second to, uh… recalibrate.”

You bit your lip, both mortified and fighting the urge to laugh. But then his grip on your waist loosened, his fingers brushing against the thin fabric of your shirt. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and suddenly, you weren’t so sure you wanted to pull away anymore.

“Sorry about that,” he said, chuckling lightly. “Happens all the time.”

You turned your head slightly, catching the hint of vulnerability in his sleepy, lopsided smile. It was disarming, even in a moment like this. Or maybe especially in a moment like this.

“Must be hard for you,” you quipped, smirking because you were low-key proud of the pun.

His grin widened. “Very hard. Do you like it?”

“You wish.”

His hand on your waist slid up—testing, gauging your reaction. You didn’t pull away—instead, your fingers instinctively curled into the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. His touch grew bolder, tracing the curve of your hip and slipping under the hem of your shirt.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your neck.

Your heart hammered in your chest. This was ridiculous. Insane. And yet, every nerve in your body screamed at you to lean into it, to see where this would go. You’d spent the past few days brushing off his advances, telling yourself he was nothing more than a fun distraction. But at this moment, with the morning light casting soft shadows across the room, it felt like the only thing you wanted was him.

A long pause stretched between you, your eyes locked in a quiet conversation as you let the tension envelope the air around you. And then, biting your lip shyly—

“…Yes,” you whispered.

That was all the invitation he needed. Yangyang shifted, turning you on your back so he could hover over you. His eyes met yours, searching for any hesitation, but all he found was curiosity and anticipation. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, exploratory kiss.

The kiss started slow, tentative, as if he were testing the waters. But when your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer, all restraint fell away. He kissed you deeply, passionately, and every nerve in your body lit up like a firework.

Your mind was a blur, a tangle of disbelief and desire. How had you gone from playfully bickering with him to this? His touch, his warmth, the way he seemed to savor every second—it was almost too much, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

“You sure about this?” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

“Yes,” you said, breathless. “Yes.”

Yangyang chuckled softly, his tone both teasing and serious. “Just checking. I won’t be able to stop once I start, so no take-backs halfway.”

“Oh my god, Yangyang,” you huffed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “You’re ruining the mood. Just—come here.”

He pressed his hips against yours, and you gasped softly at the hard evidence of his desire. The sound seemed to spur him on and just as his hand trailed down the waistband of your pajamas, a loud knock echoed through the room, startling you both.

“Wake up, babe! Gigi said we’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” Ningning’s voice called out from the other side of the door.

Your heart raced for a different reason now as Yangyang groaned, burying his face in your shoulder.

“Seriously?” he muttered, his voice dripping with frustration.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your cheeks flushing as you gently pushed him back. “We should probably get up now.”

Yangyang shook his head, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone. “Nope. I’m not going anywhere.”

Another knock followed, more insistent this time. “Babe! Are you still sleeping?”

“No! I’ll be out in a bit!” you called back, your voice a little too high-pitched.

“Okay! Breakfast is ready!” Ningning replied before her footsteps faded away.

Yangyang sighed dramatically, flopping onto his back. “Fifteen minutes? Think we can use five minutes and—”

“And ruin our first time?” you smirked, shaking your head. “I don’t think so.”

You rose to your feet, heading toward the bathroom, but Yangyang caught your waist mid-step, pulling you back on the bed and the sudden tug made you yelp.

“What do you mean our first time?” he asked, trailing kisses on your jaw down to your neck. “Are you looking forward to this?”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “Gosh, I hate feeding your ego so much.”

“Come on, wifey. Honesty is the foundation of every marriage,” he quipped, flashing his signature grin.

“We’re not married,” you shot back, pushing him off with a laugh. “Now go get ready. I don’t think they know you’re here, and it’s better that way. My friends are way too interested in my affairs right now.”

Yangyang gave a mock pout. “You’re kicking me out now? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Yangyang, I swear—”

“Okay, okay!” He held his hands up in mock surrender, slipping out of bed and wrapping you in one last hug. “I’ll see you at breakfast, honey.”

“Just go.”

As he left, you caught your reflection in the mirror, your flushed cheeks and wide smile revealing just how much his presence affected you. With a deep breath, you headed to the bathroom, already bracing yourself for the days to come.

The Aruba sun was relentless, its heat bouncing off every surface and making even the thought of hiking unbearable. You and your friends gathered in front of a small station offering ATV rentals, a fortunate backup plan Giselle had arranged in case of unexpected situations like weather extremes.

“I thought we were going on a hike?” Hendery asked, squinting at the information board.

“It’s too hot for a hike right now,” Xiaojun replied, fanning himself with a brochure. “So we’re going there on ATVs instead. Same view, less sweat.”

You stood beside Yangyang, his arm draped loosely around your waist as he scanned the crowd of tourists. The weight of his hand was comforting, familiar, and yet it still sent tiny sparks through you.

Glancing up, you noticed the tan line on his shoulder. “Did you put on sunscreen?” you asked, nudging him lightly.

Yangyang glanced down, momentarily caught off guard by the question. “Hmm? Yeah. I think I did.”

“You think?” you teased, chuckling. “Did you even bring one?”

“No. I did. My mom made sure I packed it before we left. She’s very thorough about this stuff.”

“Your mom did?” you repeated, your grin widening. “She’s very thoughtful.”

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “She nagged me a lot before the trip, though. She packed this entire bag of skincare, some fancy oil thing, and bug bite ointment. You should see it. The bag’s probably bigger than your pouch of skin stuff.”

You laughed, imagining it. “That explains why your skin’s so nice. She really knew what she was doing.”

“Do I have nice skin?” he asked, genuinely surprised. He touched his cheek as if testing the claim. “Huh. I didn’t realize.”

His lips suddenly quirked into a grin, and he leaned a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Have you been checking me out?”

Heat rushed to your face, and you quickly looked away, pretending to check on your friends. “Don’t get cocky. I was just being polite.”

“Sure, sure,” he teased, his hand squeezing your waist lightly. “I’m flattered either way.”

After securing your ATV tickets, the rental staff organized everyone into pairs. The sun blazed overhead, but the excitement in the air was enough to make you forget about the heat for a while. Your friends paired up immediately, and it came almost naturally for you to get paired with Yangyang.

It wasn’t even a discussion—he had claimed you before anyone could suggest otherwise.

While the group waited for instructions, Xiaojun laughed as he wiped sweat off his brow. “You girls really saved us on this trip,” he said, glancing at Giselle. “If it were just us, we’d probably be bar hopping every night and getting tanned all day.”

“And endlessly complaining about how there’s nothing to do too,” Hendery added with a grin.

Yangyang smirked, sliding his arm casually around your waist. “Speak for yourself. I was fully prepared to wing it.”

“You? Please,” Xiaojun shot back. “If you were in charge, we’d all be passed out on the beach right now.”

“Well, good thing you’ve got us,” Giselle chimed in. “I told you my itinerary wouldn’t let you down.”

“It’s a blessing in disguise,” Yangyang admitted, his fingers tracing small circles on your hip as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed under his touch, though you tried to act unfazed. “So, what you’re saying is, without us, you’d have no idea what you’re doing?”

Yangyang grinned down at you. “Exactly. What would I have done without you, my darling wife?”

You elbowed him lightly, trying not to laugh. “Don’t push it.”

As the staff explained the rules and safety precautions, Yangyang didn’t bother hiding how drawn he was to you. His hand shifted from your waist to your shoulder, and occasionally he leaned in close to comment on something random, like the mismatched helmets or a particularly enthusiastic tourist who was already revving their ATV.

Your friends noticed, of course. Ningning raised her eyebrows at you, a sly smile tugging at her lips, while Giselle gave you a look that screamed I’ll ask you about this later. But to your relief, they didn’t tease you outright. Instead, they exchanged knowing glances and carried on as if everything was perfectly normal.

The staff finally directed everyone to their vehicles, and Yangyang beckoned you over so he could put the helmet on you. “I’m driving so you better hold on tight.”

“Oh, so I don’t even get a say?” you teased, watching him focus on the buckle of the helmet.

“Do you want to drive?” he asked just as he finished with his task.

“No,” you replied without missing a beat. “But I still would’ve preferred it if you asked for my opinion.”

Yangyang chuckled. “You’re adorable. Alright, next time, I’ll ask you first,” he said, getting onto the ATV. You followed after him.

“Can I trust you?”

“Absolutely. Just make sure to hold on tight,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“Okay. Don’t get us killed.”

“Trust me,” he said, revving the engine. “I got you.”

The ATV lurched forward, and you tighten your grip instinctively, your laughter getting carried away by the warm breeze. You could feel Yangyang’s chest shaking with his own laughter as he expertly navigated the bumpy trail.

The ride to Conchi—Aruba’s famed natural pool—was as exhilarating as it was nerve-wracking. Yangyang seemed to live for the bumpy, uneven trails, pushing the ATV to its limits as you clung to him for dear life. Every sharp turn or sudden drop earned a loud squeal from you, and each time, he’d throw his head back and laugh like it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

“You okay back there, honey?” he called over the roar of the engine, glancing over his shoulder.

 “If I fall off, I’m haunting you!” you shouted back, tightening your grip around his waist. “Keep your eyes forward! Oh my god!”

“Sorry. I’ll drive slower,” he teased, though he didn’t ease up on the speed at all.

By the time you reached Conchi, your legs were shaky from gripping the ATV, but the sight in front of you quickly made you forget the rough ride. The natural pool sparkled under the sun, its turquoise waters framed by black volcanic rocks. Tourists crowded the area, snapping photos and dipping into the clear, refreshing water. It was a postcard-perfect scene, breathtaking enough to make you forget the heat and the crowd.

“Wow,” you breathed, hopping off the ATV.

Yangyang joined you, his hand instinctively finding the small of your back. “Not bad, huh?”

“Not bad?” You glanced at him, a grin spreading across your face. “It’s incredible.”

He leaned in closer, his lips just brushing your ear. “Told you I’d take you somewhere cool.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, you planned this whole thing,” you deadpanned, only playfully.

“Am I the best tour guide ever?” he asked, his grin shamelessly cocky.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

The group split up as everyone wandered toward the water. Yangyang stayed glued to your side, his hand occasionally brushing yours as the two of you navigated the rocky path. When you slipped on a particularly uneven surface, he caught you immediately, his arm circling your waist.

“Careful,” he said, his tone softer now. “These rocks are sharp. Can’t have you getting hurt.”

You steadied yourself, his proximity making your heart do a weird little flip. “Thanks. Didn’t realize I brought my personal lifeguard.”

“Full service,” he quipped, winking at you. “Wait till you see my swimming skills.”

Down by the pool, Yangyang took off his shirt, revealing his toned, sun-kissed torso. You tried not to stare—tried really hard—but he caught you anyway, smirking like he’d just won something against you.

“See something you like?” he teased, tossing his shirt onto a rock.

You scoffed, though your cheeks burned. “Not at all,” you said, looking away.

“Uh-huh.” He stepped closer, leaning in as if to whisper a secret. “Don’t worry, honey. You can look all you want. It’s all yours.”

Before you could respond, he dove into the water, his laughter echoing behind him. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as you slipped off your sandals and joined him.

The water was cool and refreshing, a perfect escape from the blazing sun. Yangyang was everywhere—helping you find footing on the slippery rocks, playfully splashing water at you, and floating close enough that his arm would occasionally brush yours.

At one point, he swam up behind you, his hands gently resting on your hips as you stood by a shallow edge. “Having fun?”

You turned to face him, water dripping from his hair and running down his face. “Would be a lot more fun if you weren’t here,” you replied, but you didn’t mean any word.

“Aw, I know you don’t mean that, honey. Your cheeks will soon ache because you’re smiling too much,” he teased, poking your cheek.

You rolled your eyes, pushing a hand against his chest to create some space. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But Yangyang didn’t budge. Instead, he caught your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours under the water. His expression softened, his playful smirk giving way to something more genuine.

“Thanks for letting us come,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I like being here with you.”

You scoffed, masking the flutter in your heart with an aloof attitude. “As you should.”

The moment lingered, charged and electric. His fingers brushed yours again, sending a shiver up your spine. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning closer. The sounds of the pool faded, and all that existed was the warmth of his gaze and the soft rush of the water around you.

Just as your lips were about to meet, Giselle’s voice cut through the moment.

“Yangyang! Quit hogging my girlfriend and come take a picture!”

Yangyang groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I swear, they’re like children.”

You laughed, tugging him toward the group. “Come on.”

As you two joined the others, cracking jokes and striking ridiculous poses for the camera, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation. Yangyang was unpredictable and a little reckless, but he made you feel like the center of his world.

And, for now, you were perfectly okay with that.

The rest of your Aruba trip unfolded like a colorful dream, a whirlwind of laughter, sun-soaked adventures, and moments that made your heart skip.

You zipped across rocky trails and sandy paths on the ATVs, the wind whipping through your hair as Yangyang stayed close behind, calling out dramatic warnings like, “Don’t fall off, honey—I’m not carrying you!” 

His teasing only earned him a shower of sand as you sped ahead, his laughter echoing in the semi-desert terrain.

At the Butterfly Farm, he pretended to be afraid of the delicate creatures, flinching exaggeratedly every time one landed on him. “What if it’s poisonous?” he whispered, eyes wide with mock horror. You laughed so hard you nearly scared off the butterflies, but you couldn’t help snapping a picture of him with one perched on his shoulder.

Everyone was having a blast, until the first week passed and Yangyang realized that Giselle’s itinerary left no room for boredom—or rest. Mornings started early, with breakfast by the pool where he would dramatically yawn and stretch, groaning about how Giselle was running the group like a boot camp.

“Can’t we just have one lazy day?” he complained, his head resting on your shoulder as you sipped your coffee.

“Nope,” you replied, amused. “We’re on Giselle’s schedule now. Resistance is futile.” 

He sighed, but the glint in his eye told you he wasn’t really upset. “Do we really need to see everything Aruba has to offer?” he asked, mock-serious. “Maybe I just want to lie on the beach and gaze into your eyes.”

“Okay, lover boy,” Giselle teased, standing up. “Get up and get ready to leave.”

“Come on, Yangyang. Think of it as building stamina,” Hendery said, patting Yangyang on the back.

“For what?” he asked, grinning wickedly.

“For you-know-what?” Hendery grinned, standing up after wiggling his eyebrows knowingly.

Yangyang, still grinning, glanced at you with expectant eyes. You rolled your eyes and said, “Bye.” Then walked away before he could say anything.

Each day blended into the next, packed with scenic drives, swimming and visits to historical landmarks. Through it all, Yangyang was a constant presence—sometimes exasperated by the pace, but always finding ways to make you laugh. Whether it was by stealing bites of your food, pointing out oddly shaped rocks and giving them names, or spinning you around on the sand just to hear you squeal, he managed to make every moment unforgettable.

It was chaotic, exhausting, and utterly perfect in its own way. And even as Yangyang grumbled about Giselle’s tight itinerary, you could tell he was enjoying every second—especially the ones he spent with you.

The evenings in Giselle’s schedule were reserved for beach bonfires, sunset sails, or dancing under the stars at local beach bars. That particular night, the group had taken over a corner of a lively beachfront bar, its warm glow spilling out onto the sand where tiki torches lined the perimeter.

Yangyang stayed glued to your side as usual, his hand casually resting on the small of your back or tangling with yours as you both sipped on fruity cocktails. His presence was magnetic, and no matter how crowded the bar became, you found yourself instinctively gravitating toward him.

The live band struck up a slow, sultry tune, and without hesitation, Yangyang set his drink down, pulling you gently toward the sand where couples were swaying under the open sky.

“What are you doing?” you asked, laughing as he spun you once before pulling you in close.

“Making my move,” he said with a grin, his hands settling comfortably on your waist. “Can’t let this song go to waste.”

You rolled your eyes but let him guide you, your arms loosely wrapping around his shoulders. The music was soft, and Yangyang hummed along, his head dipping slightly to meet your gaze. For a while, you just danced, his thumbs brushing against your hips in lazy circles. His face was so close, his eyes locked on yours like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. You tried to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest, the way your heart skipped a beat every time he moved closer.

Then he leaned in for a kiss—a soft one, long, unmoving, but it left a lingering warmth after he pulled away.

“When do I get you all to myself?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

The heat that rushed to your face wasn’t entirely from the tropical air. “You’re with me now, aren’t you?” you teased, trying to keep your voice light.

“Yeah,” he said, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he pulled you closer, your bodies barely a breath apart. “But not like this. I want real alone time.”

“You’re just horny,” you replied, masking the flutter in your chest with a laugh. 

As special as he made you feel, you couldn’t let yourself forget why you were here with him in the first place. You didn’t want to blur the line between a romantic connection and what this really was—a spring break fling. He was just a travel perk, a handsome one but still temporary. You didn’t do relationships in a place where everything was temporary, and everyone was just passing through.

“You’ll survive,” you added.

Yangyang groaned dramatically, his head dropping back in mock defeat. “You’re ruthless, you know that?”

“Oh, I do,” you shot back, grabbing his hand to lead him toward the others who were gathered by the bonfire, roasting marshmallows and laughing at Hendery’s attempts to play guitar.

As you both rejoined the group, Yangyang kept his hand intertwined with yours. Despite the banter, the tension from your moment on the dance floor lingered, charging the air between you. You focused on the laughter with your friends, on the drinks being passed around, and the warmth of company and friendship. It was easier than thinking about how you and Yangyang could have something deeper.

“Who’s that?” you asked Giselle, pointing at the guy sitting next to Ningning across from you.

“Ningning met him at the kayak yesterday. I’m not sure if they agreed to meet here or if it was a coincidence,” Giselle explained, leaning closer to you. “They look cute together though, right?”

“That’s what I was thinking! He’s so cute. Ningning has been smiling from ear to ear all night,” you giggled, genuinely giddy for your friend, but it was easier to focus on them than the thoughts tugging at the back of your mind.

It was easier to smile and laugh about Ningning’s new interest than think about Yangyang. You didn’t want to admit it, but a part of you felt that same giddy feeling whenever Yangyang smiled at you, or when he touched you in ways that felt a little too intentional.

The night went on, stretching until late. A few hours later, as the fire crackled and someone started an impromptu sing-along, Yangyang leaned over, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“For the record,” he said, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips, “I’ll survive, but don’t think I’m giving up that easily.”

You shook your head, laughing softly, but his words stayed with you, lingering in the air. “Didn’t think you would.”

The morning started with high energy, the group gathering at the dock for your scheduled snorkeling trip. Giselle confidently led the way, tablet in hand. You’d been teasing her about her ‘vacation CEO’ vibes all week, but you secretly admired how smoothly everything had gone—until now.

“Name on the reservation?” the staff member asked, not even glancing up as they scrolled through their tablet.

“Giselle Uchinaga,” she replied with her usual crisp efficiency.

A frown crept onto the staff member’s face. “Hmm, I don’t see a Giselle Uchinaga here.”

Giselle’s expression faltered, but she recovered quickly. “Oh, I booked this weeks ago. Check again, please.”

You exchanged looks with Ningning, while Yangyang leaned lazily against the booth, clearly more entertained than concerned. After a tense back-and-forth, it turned out there’d been a mix-up—the tour company had double-booked, and there were no more spots available for the day.

The mix-up left Giselle fuming, her carefully planned itinerary crumbling right before her eyes. As she argued with the dock staff about overbooking policies, Yangyang stood off to the side, a lazy grin plastered on his face like he’d been waiting for this moment all week.

“This is a disaster,” Giselle groaned, throwing her hands up. “They don’t even have a backup option for us.”

“It’s okay. We can just go to the beach or something,” you said, offering an alternative.

“This was supposed to be the highlight of the trip!” Giselle shot back, shrugging off his hand.

You patted her back. “I know. We were excited for it too, but maybe we can try again tomorrow?”

“What about today?” Ningning asked and you shrugged.

Yangyang strode over to your side, still grinning. “How about this—we ditch the whole plan and do something way cooler?”

“Like what?” you asked, arms crossed but already sensing he was about to suggest something outrageous.

He didn’t answer, instead, he turned to Xiaojun and Hendery. “Bros, I think it’s time to do what we came here to do.”

Hendery’s face lit up. “Oh, you mean… that?” he asked, bouncing on his feet with excitement.

Xiaojun, on the other hand, appeared to be deep in thought, shaking his head. “No. I don’t think the girls would like that.”

“What is it?” Giselle prompted, looking a little impatient.

“Is it better than snorkeling?” Ningning asked.

Yangyang grinned wider. “Way better. Trust me, you’re gonna love it. And if you don’t, well… I’m used to being unappreciated.” He turned to the group, clapping his hands together. “Alright, troops, let’s roll. I know just the thing to turn this day around.”

“Is it dangerous?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Only if you’re boring,” he shot back, winking at you.

That should’ve been your first clue.

Twenty minutes later, you stood on a pristine stretch of beach, the waves glittering under the midday sun. Kite-surfers were on the water, their colorful kites soaring against the bright blue sky as they glided across the surface. One of them caught a gust of wind and launched into the air, soaring for a brief moment before landing gracefully back on the waves.

“This is your plan?” you asked, incredulous.

“Yup.” Yangyang looked impossibly pleased with himself, his hands on his hips like he’d just unveiled the eighth wonder of the world.

“Kite-surfing?” Giselle asked, her voice tight. “There’s a reason we didn’t put that in the itinerary.”

“Because you’re scared,” Yangyang teased. “I get it. Kites are terrifying. I cried the first time I saw one too.”

“I’m serious,” Giselle sighed.

“I know. Look, we’ve been following your schedule all week,” Yangyang told her, pausing to raise a palm. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fun schedule, you totally nailed it! But a little chaos never killed anyone—well, maybe a few people, but we’re smart, right?”

“You could’ve at least warned us,” Giselle said, her tone teetering between exasperation and resignation.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Hendery chimed in, clearly in on the plan. He and Xiaojun were already chatting with the rental staff, signing waivers like this was just another day.

“This is insane,” Ningning muttered, her eyes wide with both fear and excitement. “We have to do this.”

You, however, weren’t so sure. Your eyes kept drifting to the surfers, the way the kites pulled them with such force. The idea of being at the mercy of the unpredictable wind, with the water rushing beneath you, felt more terrifying than exhilarating.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you muttered under your breath.

Yangyang turned to you, his expression softening. “Hey, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I think you definitely should.”

The crash course was a whirlwind of instructions and laughter. Hendery and Ningning were naturals, picking up the basics quickly and cheering each other on as they stumbled through their first attempts. Giselle grumbled her way through the setup but eventually got the hang of it, her competitive streak kicking in as she chased after the others.

Meanwhile, you struggled. The kite seemed to have a mind of its own, jerking wildly in the wind as you gripped the control bar with desperation. And Yangyang, naturally, picked it up like he’d been born to do it, showing off with spins and whoops that made you want to strangle him.

“Relax!” Yangyang called out from his board, effortlessly gliding past you. “You’re overthinking it!”

“Easy for you to say!” you shouted back, the kite yanking you forward before dumping you unceremoniously into the water.

Yangyang paddled over on his board, laughing so hard he nearly fell off. “You good, honey?”

“I hate you,” you muttered, pushing wet hair out of your face.

“No, you don’t,” he said, his grin infuriatingly charming. “Come on, let’s try again.”

The next attempt was better. The kite tugged gently, and instead of fighting it, you let yourself lean into the motion, trusting the wind to guide you. Your board skimmed across the water, the salty breeze whipping against your face as exhilaration replaced fear.

“I’m doing it!” you shouted, laughing uncontrollably as Yangyang cheered from nearby. Your other friends saw you doing it and started cheering for you too.

The thrill was addictive. With each pass, you grew more confident, your movements smoother and more deliberate. The water sparkled under the sun, and for a moment, you felt completely weightless, like you could conquer anything.

Back on the beach, you collapsed onto the sand, your legs shaky but your heart soaring. Yangyang dropped down beside you, his hair dripping and his grin smug as ever.

“See? You’re a natural,” he said, nudging your shoulder.

“Natural?” you scoffed. “I fell, like, ten times!”

“Yeah and everyone saw that,” he teased. “It’s okay, I still like you.”

The rest of the group gathered around, swapping stories of near-misses and minor victories, their laughter echoing across the beach. As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, you realized this chaotic, unplanned day had turned out to be the highlight of the trip after all. You couldn’t help but glance at Yangyang. Despite his chaotic energy, there was something comforting about having him there, cheering you on and pushing you out of your comfort zone.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, nudging his arm.

He turned to you, surprised. “For what?”

“For, you know,” you said, gesturing to the ocean. “For making me try this.”

He smiled, a rare, genuine softness in his expression. “Aw. You’re welcome, honey. What would you have done without me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes but didn't argue. You were sure you would've been fine without him, that you didn't need him to turn the day around. But now that it has come to this, you knew you wouldn't have it any other way.

As the sun began to descend, the sky glowed pink and orange, taking your breaths away with its magnificence. You didn’t pass up the chance to take pictures—lots of it. Everybody gathered by the beach, still in your rashguards, to commemorate the day.

Yangyang was an enthusiastic photographer, directing your poses and finding you the best spots by the shoreline. He complimented you the whole time to make you feel more confident. But after a while, the attention became a little embarrassing, especially when tourists walked by, giving you curious looks.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me,” Yangyang called out one more time, kneeling on the sand with one leg stretched out as he held your phone up. 

“That’s enough!” you whined, walking toward him and grabbing your phone. You scrolled through the pictures, skimming through them just to see the angle. 

“The lighting is really good,” Yangyang said, peering over your shoulder. “You look like a model, you know?”

“Thanks, although, you probably say that to everyone,” you teased, shaking your head.

“Nope, only the truly photogenic,” he said, smirking as he put on his sunglasses. “Which, clearly, you are.”

You laughed, stepping closer to him. “Well then, thank you. Come on. Let’s take one together.” You wrapped a hand around his arm, and he immediately grinned, his eyes lighting up.

“You sure about that?” he teased. “You don’t want me stealing the spotlight?”

“I think we both know you’re already doing that,” you shot back, your voice playful. “Now smile.”

Yangyang struck a dramatic pose, his chin tilted up and his sunglasses crooked in the most ridiculous way. “How’s this?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Perfect,” you said, snapping the picture.

Yangyang leaned in, peeking at the photo. “You’re lucky I look good in every shot. Makes you look better too.”

“Uh-huh, sure, Yangyang. Keep telling yourself that,” you teased, nudging his side.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just speaking facts.”

After getting dressed, the boys rounded everyone up with mischievous grins and promises of an unforgettable evening. Hendery called it, “Phase two of Operation Best Day Ever.”

“Phase two?” Giselle raised an eyebrow, grinning playfully. “Let me guess—something equally chaotic?”

“Not at all,” Yangyang replied, feigning offense. “This is the sophisticated portion of the day.”

You smirked. “Define ‘sophisticated.’”

Yangyang just waved for everyone to follow, refusing to spoil the surprise. The walk along the beach led to a dock where yachts of all sizes bobbed gently on the water. Their sleek hulls gleamed in the soft evening light, and your eyes widened at the sight.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said, stopping in your tracks.

“You guys booked a yacht?” Ningning gasped, squeezing your arm tighter.

Yangyang turned around, his grin as wide as the horizon. “Not just any yacht. This baby is our ride for the night.” He pointed toward a mid-sized vessel docked at the far end. It wasn’t the most extravagant yacht in the lineup, but it was undeniably impressive—its polished deck and elegant design exuded understated luxury.

“If you don’t know it yet, Liu Yangyang is rich,” Hendery quipped, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “See? Just casually throwing around yacht reservations like it’s nothing.”

Yangyang laughed, shaking him off. “If I were rich, we’d be on that one.” He gestured to a towering superyacht nearby, complete with a helipad. “But hey, this one’s cozy. We’ll call it charmingly attainable.”

“Charming,” Xiaojun echoed.

Onboard, you were greeted by the soft strains of instrumental jazz playing through the yacht’s speakers and a crew who ushered you to the deck, where a long table was set up for dinner. White linens and flickering candles added an air of elegance, and the faint scent of sea breeze mingled with hints of garlic and rosemary wafting from the kitchen.

“I have to admit,” Giselle said as she took her seat, “this is actually impressive.”

Yangyang shot her a triumphant look. “Told you. Sophisticated.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

The first course arrived—a delicate seafood bisque served with freshly baked rolls. Hendery immediately dipped his bread into the soup, groaning with exaggerated delight. “This is what I imagine heaven tastes like.”

“Can you not sound like you’ve never had good food before?” Ningning teased, delicately spooning her bisque.

Hendery shrugged. “What can I say? I’m easily impressed.”

The banter flowed as smoothly as the wine being poured, laughter and stories filling the gaps between courses. You found yourself leaning back in your chair, soaking in the moment. The soft glow of the candlelight reflected off the water, and the gentle rocking of the yacht made everything feel dreamlike.

By the time the main course arrived—a perfectly grilled steak for some, fresh seared tuna for others—the group had reached peak comfort. Even Xiaojun, normally reserved around you girls, launched into a surprisingly hilarious story about his disastrous first attempt at surfing.

“So there I was,” he said, gesturing wildly, “upside down, tangled in the leash, and the instructor is just yelling, ‘You’re doing great!’ with his thumbs up.”

Everyone burst out laughing, Hendery nearly choking on his drink.

As dessert was served, the crew dimmed the lights on the deck, allowing you to enjoy the starry night. The sky was a vast expanse of shimmering constellations, the kind you never saw from the city.

“This really is the best day ever,” Ningning said softly, leaning against the railing.

Yangyang grinned at her. “You heard that, guys? Best day ever!” he called to the others, who cheered in response.

You wandered to the edge of the deck, letting the gentle night breeze brush against your skin. Yangyang joined you a moment later, holding two glasses of wine.

“For you,” he said, handing one over with a wink.

“Thanks.” You took a sip, glancing at him. “Okay, I have to admit—today was pretty incredible.”

He leaned against the railing beside you, his smile softening as he looked out over the water. “Glad you think so. But, uh, it’s not over yet.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? What’s next?”

Yangyang’s grin widened. “Fireworks,” he said, pointing toward the open water with an exaggerated flourish.

You held your breath, anticipation winning over your skepticism. But after two or three minutes of nothing, you couldn’t help but glare at him. “You were lying.”

Yangyang burst out laughing, throwing his head back and stepping away as if to dodge your fist. He caught your hand instead, gently unfolding your fist and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Sorry,” he said, his eyes warm and sincere. “This was last minute, so I couldn’t arrange the fireworks.”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “No, don’t be sorry. Today was amazing. I was only a tiny bit disappointed because I thought there really were fireworks. Doesn’t mean you didn’t do well today.”

Yangyang chuckled and leaned closer. “Well, I might not have fireworks, but I can promise the rest of the night will be just as memorable.”

You shot him a teasing look. “Oh, really? What else do you have up your sleeve?”

“Nothing really. But I’m hoping for a miracle that would let me have my most-awaited alone time with you,” he replied, not even trying to hide his intentions.

You chuckled, but before you could say anything, Ningning gasped loudly, making everyone turn to her. She froze for a second, hand over her mouth as she looked at each of you.

“Why, what happened?” Giselle asked, looking concerned.

Ningning moved her hand from her mouth to her chest and revealed an excited grin. “Who’s up for a yacht party?”

Andre, the guy Ningning met when you went kayaking a few days ago, happened to be at the same pier as your group were. He had invited Ningning to his yacht party and told her to bring her friends. You’d met him several times, even hung out with him when he would join your group at the bars. You didn’t think he’d have his own yacht though, or that he’d invite you out there for his party.

“I mean, who could say no to a yacht party?” Xiaojun grinned, nudging the others.

“Right?” Ningning said, bouncing on her heels. “So, who’s in?”

The group erupted into enthusiastic chatter, all of them agreeing to go. You, however, found yourself suddenly feeling very tired, the events of the day catching up to you.

“Guys,” you said with a soft yawn. “I think I’m just gonna head back first. I’m a bit exhausted from all the kite-surfing earlier.”

“What? No,” Ningning said, shaking her head. “We can’t just leave you alone.”

“It’s okay. I’m passing up on this one too,” Yangyang said, casually putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll stay with her.”

Everyone exchanged knowing glances and smirks.

“Of course, Yangyang,” Giselle teased. “You stay with the tired one while the rest of us live it up on the yacht.” She raised an eyebrow playfully. “How romantic.”

The rest followed up with hoots and whistles.

Yangyang waved them off. “Alright, guys, don’t make it weird. We’re just keeping things chill for the night.”

“Oh sure,” Ningning added with a mischievous grin. “Just you two and a night full of... conversations, right?”

“Conversations!” Hendery affirmed, while Xiaojun was nodding beside him.

You laughed, feeling the teasing warmth of your friends, but the idea of a quiet night with Yangyang wasn’t bad at all. It felt surprisingly nice to have some space to just relax after an eventful day.

“Alright, alright,” Giselle said, finally getting the group moving. “We’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Get some rest and have fun!”

You and Yangyang exchanged a glance, both of you shaking your heads with amused smiles as the others filed off the yacht to join Andre at the pier.

Once they were gone, Yangyang settled next to you again, his smile soft and content. “I guess it’s just us now.”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a wave of comfort. “Just us.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back against the railing. “I can think of worse ways to spend the night.”

And with that, the two of you simply enjoyed the peace of the night, the quiet after the excitement, and the company of one another.

With your friends gone, the yacht was suddenly quiet, the sounds of the water lapping against the hull and the occasional creak of the boat being the only background noise. The dim lights above cast a soft glow on the deck, creating a tranquil, almost intimate ambiance.

You and Yangyang stood there, side by side, the space between you two comfortable. You were scrolling through your phone’s gallery, examining the pictures you took all day, deleting the ones you didn’t like and saving the rest.

Yangyang took a slow sip from his glass of wine, his eyes glinting mischievously as he studied you. “How many photos did you end up taking today? I lost count,” he said, his lips curling up into a teasing smile.

You raised an eyebrow at him, playing along. “Being pretty in a beautiful place like Aruba comes with a responsibility, Mr. Liu Yangyang. I’ve got to take the pictures. If I don’t I’d be letting everyone down.”

Yangyang chuckled, stepping closer to you, his gaze flicking over your face as if he was taking mental snapshots of his own. “Yeah, well, you’re too gorgeous. One would think I’m just part of the background in your photos,” he teased, glancing down at his own clothes as if evaluating his outfit.

“Yes, well, I’m sure you’re honored. You’re welcome,” you chimed, eyes back on your phone. “Do you wanna take a picture right now?”

“Why?”

You glanced at him, shrugging. “Just because. Memories.”

Yangyang paused for a second, his eyes darkening as if he was considering something else entirely before he reached out, gently taking your phone from your hand. His touch lingered for a moment, a spark that you both seemed to feel, but he quickly turned back to the view, lifting the phone as if it were nothing more than a prop.

“Fine, but you better not blame me if you end up swooning at how good we look together,” he said, his voice light as he pulled you by the waist so you’re pressed side by side.

You rolled your eyes again, but it was clear you were enjoying this. “You’re so full of yourself,” you teased, leaning against his chest and smiling at the camera. Yangyang pressed the button, capturing a shot of you two with the ocean in the background.

“Here,” he said, handing the phone back to you. “Don’t fall in love with me. I know your camera roll is full of pictures of me and you.”

You checked the picture, sighing. “I would have loved taking pictures at the yacht party with my girls too.”

“Didn’t you say you were tired?”

You sighed, locking your screen and facing him. “Yes. Kitesurfing was such an exercise. I just want to lie down right now. When are we going back to the villa?”

Yangyang tilted his head. “Oh, I… uh. I was actually gonna ask if you want to stay the night. You see, I booked this thing until tomorrow morning because I thought everyone would be hanging out here until late.”

“Seriously?” you asked, looking around the wide and empty deck. “We can’t let it go to waste then.”

Yangyang’s gaze dropped briefly, shamelessly checking you out. “You know, we can make the most of it... if you’re up for it.”

You looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow. “Seriously, don’t you get tired of it?”

He groaned, stomping his feet as he buried his face on your neck. “This is the first time I’m alone with you in days. Honey, please.”

You chuckled, feeling his warmth against your skin. “Wow, desperation looks good on you,” you teased.

Yangyang lifted his head. “Desperate? Yes, I’m very desperate.” His eyes flickered down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “It’s really hard to be patient when you’re always so beautiful and sexy.”

You felt a rush of heat spread through you, but you forced yourself to stay casual. “You say that to all the girls?”

He wrapped her arms around your waist, tugging you closer. “Not all of them,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your ear. “Only you.”

You swallowed. “You really think I’m gonna fall for that?”

Yangyang’s expression softened as he reached out, gently cupping your face with one hand. “I figured you won’t. You never fall for any of my tricks.”

You stared at him, completely aware of his intentions but you did not share his eagerness. “Yangyang, shouldn’t you set the mood first if you really want this?”

“Of course. It’s not that hard. Here, let me show you.” Before you could process anything, his lips were on yours—slow and deep, tasting like wine and something more, something raw. 

The kiss deepened, and the warmth of his lips on yours ignited something in you, a heat that you were very familiar with. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, pressing your bodies together. You responded eagerly, your hands finding his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as you kissed him back, the pressure building with every second. His kiss was insistent, hungry, and you could feel the tension between you both heightening, like a spark just waiting to catch.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling that same pull you had all day, but now stronger, undeniable. “Then show me,” you challenged.

He didn’t need any more instructions. His hands moved to your back, gently urging you toward the cabin door as his lips found yours again. The playful mood from earlier had given way to something much more intense, the teasing now replaced by need.

The yacht swayed gently, setting a calm rhythm, but inside the cabin, everything was on the verge of unraveling. The lights were dim and warm, casting a yellowish glow on the walls as you stood by the bed. Yangyang took his time watching you, his lips curling into a slow, almost predatory smile when you finally met his eyes.

“Do you always stare this much?” you teased, your voice low.

“Only when I know what I want,” he replied, stepping closer.

Yangyang’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer so he could rub your hip against his aching manhood. You tried not to gasp or show just how much your skin was tingling to be touched by him. You curled your hand on his shirt, tugging it twice, urging him to take it off. He took it off just as quickly, before wrapping his arms around your smaller frame and crashing his lips into yours.

Your hands wandered, taking your time to explore his body with featherlight touches. He shuddered under your fingers when you skimmed over the muscles of his abdomen until you reached the hardness between his thighs. The slight hitch in his breath ignited something wicked inside you, something that made you smirk.

“You’re not playing fair,” he murmured, his lips curving against your neck before trailing lower.

You didn’t get the chance to respond because his hands quickly slipped under your dress, fingers tracing the bare skin of your thighs with a touch that was both reverent and infuriatingly slow. Your knees threatened to buckle when his hands found your sex, sending warmth all over your body.

When his fingers pressed and moved, your head fell back, and a soft moan escaped your lips. He kissed his way down your collarbone, lingering on the sensitive spot between your shoulder and neck. Your fingers dug into his back when he sucked a mark in your skin, and the moan that you let out only spurred him on.

Yangyang hooked his finger on the strap of your dress, letting it slip off of your shoulders. Then he buried his face between them, taking a long sniff while tightening his embrace. He tilted his head back releasing a satisfied sigh before looking into your eyes.

“My dear wife,” he began, tugging on the other strap of your dress and letting it fall. “I won’t be able to stop. So if you think you’re gonna regret this, we can end it here and pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I won’t,” you breathed, running your fingers on his neck down to his chest. “I just know that I won’t regret it.”

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, his voice low and filled with meaning.

You answered with a kiss—hungry, unrelenting. It wasn’t soft or tentative; it was a claim, and Yangyang surrendered without hesitation.

He responded fiercely, competing with your hunger, as if the mere act of touching you wasn’t enough. You moved together, falling onto the bed, and the soft sheets were cool against your heated skin. When he pulled away from you, you panicked for a second, only to scoff when you saw him pull out a condom from his pocket.

“You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” you asked, rolling your eyes playfully as he tore the packet open. Your eyes followed his every move, and the view before you made you bite your lip in anticipation.

Yangyang chuckled seeing your reaction. “I didn’t. But I’ve been carrying one every day since the day you said yes to me.”

“Oh, so you’re always prepared?”

He shrugged, sporting a smug grin as he lowered himself, one hand reaching down to spread the slick that had gathered in your cunt. “You never know when the opportunity might arise.”

He kissed you again, a feeble attempt to distract you from what was happening down below. But it was no use, a guttural moan tore out of your lips as soon as he pushed himself inside, your back arching. Yangyang planted soft kisses on your neck and jaw, shushing you gently.

“You’ve got it. I know you do,” he whispered against your skin.

You got used to the stretch soon enough, and Yangyang watched your face carefully as he rocked inside you in a steady rhythm. Whenever he thrust deeper, your body would arch instinctively, and you’d let out a whimper, the sensation blurring your mind and blooming like fire through your veins.  It wasn’t just the physicality of his touch—it was the way it seemed to unravel you, as though he knew every nerve, every secret, and was intent on exploring them all.

He swallowed your moans with a kiss that only made you more feral. You responded in kind, legs wrapping around his waist, and hands threading through his hair and pulling just enough to make him groan against your mouth. Every thrust of his hips and every movement of lips evoked sensations that left you gasping and clinging to him.

The world outside faded—there was no yacht, no ocean, no stars. Only the two of you, lost in the raw intensity of each other. The bed rocked beneath you, a rhythm that seemed to echo your movements, slow and steady at first, then building, relentless and unstoppable. You were wild with need, and Yangyang was almost animalistic with the desire to unravel you, to watch you lose your mind in pleasure.

“Yangyang,” you whined, knees on your chest as he stretched you out some more.

Your movements grew more erratic and urgent. Each touch, each kiss, each whispered name built upon the last, until you were both trembling on the edge of something immense and unstoppable.

And when you finally collapsed together, your bodies tangled and your breaths ragged, the tension in the room slowly dissolved into something quieter, softer. When your eyes met, you didn’t say anything and just breathed in sync. Then after a few moments, you two burst out laughing, seemingly at a loss for words.

“You are… incredible,” Yangyang exhaled, reaching for your hand and bringing it to his lips.

“I know,” you quipped, giggling.

You rested your head against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat soothing the wild rhythm of yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, letting the gentle lull of the yacht carry you back to reality.

“I could stay like this forever,” you murmured, your voice soft, almost drowsy.

Yangyang chuckled slowly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’d make me a very happy man.”

Your smile was small but genuine, and you closed your eyes. There was no way this would last forever, but there was no point in dwelling on it. All you could do, and all you wanted to do, was to enjoy it while you still can.

The next few days unfolded like a whirlwind of adventure and adrenaline. By day, the group embraced the thrill of risky adventures. Cliff diving back in Conchi left your heart pounding, your squeals of hesitation turning into triumphant laughter when you finally took the plunge. Dune buggy rides through golden sands turned into wild competitions, Yangyang and Hendery competing to see who could kick up the biggest trail of dust, their boisterous energy infecting the rest of you.

Evenings were just as lively. Barbecue dinners became the highlight of the villa, the scent of grilled meat and vegetables wafting through the air as everyone pitched in. Hendery, the self-proclaimed grill master, charred the skewers more often than not, while Yangyang kept spirits high with his antics, attempting acrobatic flips with the food—earning him laughter and scoldings at the same time.

When the drinks came out, the nights grew rowdier. Card games devolved into noisy competitions, while Truth or Dare exposed embarrassing stories and hidden crushes. Laughter echoed through the villa as the group let loose, cherishing the carefree charm of this trip. But amid the chaos, there were moments when you and Yangyang slipped away, unnoticed—or perhaps ignored—by the others.

It didn’t take much—a glance, a whisper, or the casual brush of his hand against yours. Upstairs, the bedroom became your retreat from your chaotic friends. The air in those stolen moments were heavier, hotter, more intense. Yangyang’s teasing confidence would melt into something more fervent and more passionate as he shut the door behind you and closed the space between you.

The way he’d kiss you—slow, deep, and unhurried—never failed to make your head spiral. His hands would find your waist, tugging you closer as if you weren’t already pressed against each other’s bodies. The laughter you shared downstairs would transform into soft whispers, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as you tilted your head back, letting him take his time.

“Damn, you’re so beautiful,” he would murmur, his voice low and thick with affection. His words would hang in the air between kisses, and though his tone carried his usual cheekiness, there was a softness there that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t expected.

You didn’t always make it to the bed right away. There were nights when the edge of the dresser became your perch, your legs wrapping around his waist as his fingers dug into your skin. Your gasps would be hushed, and your need would be urgent, and Yangyang’s eyes would be boring into you, observing your reactions and memorizing your cues.

During the day, the intimacy didn’t vanish entirely, though it was more playful than physical. You were always attached to the hip, and would sometimes wander off by yourselves. On one lazy day when your group decided to skip going out and just lounge around the villa, you and Yangyang stayed by the poolside, enjoying the sun and the quiet.

You were reading a book on the sunbed, occasionally flipping pages, while Yangyang played a game on his phone. It didn’t last long—he soon got tired of it and squeezed himself next to you, tugging your arm until he could rest his head there. He curled up beside you, his arms loosely wrapped around your torso.

You put your book down and rested your hand on his head, absently running your fingers through his hair. “Are you bored?” you asked, smiling as he groaned and nodded his head dramatically.

“Are you a puppy? Why are you acting like one?”

Yangyang laughed softly, his shoulders rocking, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he tightened his hold on you, his face pressed into your side. You continued running your fingers through his hair—dark, messy, and had a faint minty smell. Your eyes fell on a faint scar on his elbow, curiosity sparking again.

“What happened to this?” you asked, your thumb gently brushing the scar.

“Hmm?” He glanced lazily at his arm. “Oh, it’s a surgery scar. Got it when I was a teenager after a basketball injury.”

“You played basketball?”

“Yes. I loved basketball.”

“Did you dream of becoming a pro?”

Yangyang shook his head, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “No. I dreamed of becoming a racer. Cars fascinated me more than courts.”

“So what happened?”

“Life had other plans,” he said with a shrug, his fingers drawing absentminded circles on your side. “My mom thinks racing equals instant death. Basketball? My knee begged me to stop. And now, here I am, working toward a business degree like a good boy.”

“Would you change anything?” you asked, cringing internally at how cliché the question sounded. But you wanted to know.

“Not really,” he said after a pause, his lips quirking up. “My grandma always said, ‘If something’s yours, it’ll come back around. Even if it falls out of your hand and rolls under the couch.’ So I just let life take its course. It’s a trip, and I’m just cruising.”

“Wow,” you said, your grin matching his. “That’s surprisingly wise.”

Yangyang smirked. “Well, my gran was very wise. She’s old now though and always asks if I’m on drugs or something.”

“Are you?” you asked, your voice light and teasing.

He grimaced. “She’s the one on drugs with all those maintenance pills she keeps popping every day.”

“You sound like a really fun guy,” you chuckled, pressing your cheek on his head. “I mean, I knew you were fun. I’m just surprised you could get more fun than you already are.”

“You’re so good at getting to know people.” Yangyang lifted his head slightly, his lips brushing against your shoulder as his gaze met yours. “Wanna go upstairs and get to know me better?” he murmured, his voice low and playful.

You flicked his forehead lightly, laughing. “That’s a hard no.”

“Wow, do you hate it that much?” he asked indignantly, and you just giggled.

There was something about the way he fit into your space—or maybe how you fit into his—that felt natural, like you’d been orbiting each other longer than just a few days. Your connection had deepened, unwittingly so, in the stolen silences and the shared laughter, in the way your walls had crumbled without you even noticing.

And yet, somewhere in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but feel the faintest hint of unease—like a reminder that this was a story with an ending. But you brushed it all off. For now, the sun was warm, the breeze carried the faint scent of the sea, and Yangyang was nestled against you, warm and snug.

The last three days passed in a blur. The energy had softened—fewer high-energy activities, more slow hours and gathering in the living room. Time seemed to slow down as the vacation drew to a close. The laughter was still there, of course, but it held some kind of weight, like everyone was trying to make each second count before the inevitable goodbye.

Yangyang and the boys still found ways to keep things lively. During the day, he joked around more than ever, teasing everyone relentlessly, especially you. Yet at night, when the group dispersed to their corners, it was just the two of you again—by the pool, on the patio, or simply sitting together in the dim glow of the villa’s lanterns.

That night, you found him leaning against the patio railing, his silhouette outlined by the faint light of the moon. He didn’t turn when you joined him, but his arm instinctively curled around your waist, pulling you closer.

“It’s going to be weird going back to normal,” you murmured, the thought slipping out before you could stop it.

Yangyang didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed somewhere distant. “Yeah. No sun, no ocean... no crazy adventures,” he said lightly, his grip on you tightening a little. “No you.”

You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I know I’m unforgettable, but you’ll survive, right?”

He chuckled lightly, and he finally looked at you. “Come on, be honest. You’re gonna miss me way more than I’ll miss you, won’t you?”

You feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically on your chest. “Excuse me? I’ve been the highlight of your Aruba experience. You be honest.”

“Highlight?” He arched a brow, his smirk widening. “I don’t know. The kite-surfing was pretty epic. The barbecue nights? Top-tier.”

“Okay, but who made those barbecue nights top-tier? Me. I’m the one who kept you from burning the villa down.”

“Fair point,” he admitted with a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “But you still owe me for losing that paddleboarding race.”

You gave him a look. “Liu Yangyang, we’ve been over this. You cheated. I was literally halfway to victory when you—”

“—skillfully redirected the board. Totally fair game,” he interrupted, grinning like the devil himself.

“Cheater,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“In my dictionary, it’s called, strategy.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. Then, like an unwelcome guest, a sudden thought struck you: what’s gonna happen in the morning?

Yangyang shifted, turning to rest his chin on your shoulder. “What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?”

“Just conserving energy,” you replied lightly, nudging him with your elbow.

He hummed, unconvinced, but didn’t push. Instead, he started recounting some ridiculous story about the time he got stuck in a hammock and somehow managed to flip himself into a kiddie pool. His voice was animated, his gestures over the top, and you laughed until your stomach hurt, taking your mind off of things for a while.

That night, you shared the bed with him again, curled close like it was the only place you were meant to be. When you weren’t kissing, you talked about everything and nothing—the kind of conversation that stretched lazily through the hours. Neither of you dared to bring up what came next, but it hung in the air, unspoken yet understood. You could feel it in the way his hand lingered a little longer in your hair, in how tightly he held you when you finally gave in to sleep.

Morning came too soon.

The villa felt different, quieter, like it was holding its breath. Bags lined the hallway, and everyone moved with some kind of heaviness. Your friends hovered in the kitchen, trying to keep the mood light with jokes, but the laughter didn’t carry the same carefree weight it had days before. They talked about how Aruba was beautiful and that they wish to come back soon, how they were gonna miss the time you’d all spent together, and how everyone should keep in touch.

Yangyang, for once, was quiet, fiddling with his camera as he sat on the couch.

When you found a moment alone with him, the easy chit-chat that had carried you through the week felt harder to summon. Still, he gave you that signature smirk. “So? Did I or did I not keep my promise?”

“What promise?”

“That I’d show you a great time and make Aruba more memorable for you.”

“Barely,” you teased, though your voice wavered just enough to give you away.

He leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Guess I’ll have to step it up next time,” he said, his tone light, even if his eyes lingered on yours for a moment too long.

You managed to smile, but the ache in your chest only deepened. There was no next time—not one you could count on, anyway. And as the villa was filled with the echoes of your friends’ chatter and laughter, you sat there and stared at Yangyang, memorizing the details of his face, his voice, and the way he made you feel.

The goodbye would come, as they always did. But for now, you let the moment stretch, hoping it might last just a little longer.

The first day back in uni was always vibrant and energetic, with students darting across the quad, groups reuniting after the break, and the faint hum of music playing from someone’s portable speaker. You spotted flyers littering every wall, announcing everything from club fairs to house parties, the vibrance was nearly overwhelming after the lazy warmth of Aruba.

You adjusted the strap of your bag, glancing over at Giselle, who seemed unusually quiet as the two of you navigated through the crowd. “Thinking about Ningning?” you asked knowingly.

She sighed, kicking a stray leaf across the path. “Yeah. Feels weird without her. I wish she didn’t have to move.”

“She’ll visit,” you said, more confident than you felt. “And you can always crash at her place. It’s not like she’s on the other side of the world.”

“I guess,” Giselle muttered, but the corners of her mouth lifted slightly at the thought.

The two of you walked into the cafe and spotted Karina and Jaemin at a table by the window, their cups of iced coffees already halfway gone. Karina waved so enthusiastically it was a wonder she didn’t topple over, while Jaemin sat beside her, his arms crossed and a lazy grin on his face.

“Finally!” Karina exclaimed, throwing her arms around you and Giselle as if it had been months instead of weeks since you’d last seen each other. “Tell me everything! I want the drama, the chaos, the juicy stuff.”

“Relax, we just got here,” you laughed, patting her on the back.

Jaemin smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Wow, and here I thought you’d squeezed everything out of them over FaceTime?”

“Quiet, Jaemin,” Karina shot back, but her grin didn’t falter. “Did Aruba live up to the hype? Don’t leave anything out.”

You hesitated, your mind wandering back to late nights on the patio, the sound of Yangyang’s laughter, the weight of his arm slung comfortably over your shoulder. 

“It was incredible,” Giselle exclaimed before you could say anything.

The four of you talked about Aruba, the breathtaking beaches, the chaos of group outings, and Giselle’s over-the-top retelling of Ningning’s escapades. You also caught up on the little things—new professors, gossip about campus life, and the inevitable groans about upcoming assignments. It was like nothing had changed at all, like your time in Aruba was a fever dream and you were getting pulled back into the real world right now. Giselle’s accounts of everything you did and experienced on that beautiful island was proof that it happened though, as well as the pictures you took every day while you were there.

“Wow. Ningning is so pretty,” Karina commented while you were showing them pictures on your phone. “I can’t believe she left.”

Giselle sighed dramatically. “Ugh, I wish she didn’t have to move. Our group’s so scattered now.”

As Karina nodded in agreement, Jaemin swiped to the next photo. “Wait, who’s that?” he asked, pointing at the screen.

Your heart jumped—Yangyang’s grin stared back at you, sunlit and easy. Before anyone could look closer, you snatched your phone.

“No one,” you deadpanned, hiding your screen and sticking your tongue out playfully.

Jaemin chimed teasingly. “Did you get a boyfriend in Aruba?”

Giselle chuckled knowingly. “Oh, she got more than just a boyfriend. She got a husband in Aruba.”

“A husband?” Jaemin exclaimed.

You giggled. “Sorry you couldn’t come to the wedding,” you teased. “It was super exclusive.”

Giselle threw her head back laughing. “More like, sorry you couldn’t come to Aruba. It was for fun people only,” she added, shrugging playfully.

“Hey. Aruba was last minute. If you’d planned it ahead of time, I wouldn’t have agreed to go with my family to Korea!”

While your friends bickered, you glanced outside and saw the campus moving on around you like it always did. Yet, something felt different—like you’d stepped into a new chapter, leaving a part of yourself behind on a sandy beach far away.

“What are you doing?” Karina prompted, peering into your screen.

“Sending an entry to Campus Confessions,” you said, holding your screen just out of reach.

She blinked. “You follow that page?”

“No. I just submit entries,” you replied, showing her after you hit send.

To: LYY We found wonderland. You and I got lost in it, and we pretended it could last forever. -xx

Karina tilted her head. “Wait, does he even know what Campus Confessions is?”

You shrugged, slipping your phone into your pocket. “He doesn’t need to.”

You put your phone away, focusing back on your friends, their chatter pulling you into the rhythm of the moment. There was plenty to say about Aruba, but some memories? Those were yours to keep.

[fin]

[vhstown]

hobie brown x you headcanons

— hobie x gn!reader (established relationship)

warnings: brief mentions of violence (?) + politics (just his own), fluff

note: set in the multiverse + reader is aware of the spider-society (though has an ambiguous role). i rly wanted to write hobie without the bad boy possessive energy haha 💀 a bit ooc as always he's a tough one lol (kind of too detailed to be hcs but we roll)

Hobie is very much secure in your relationship. Even if it's less established than your typical one, he doesn't get jealous or uncomfortable when he sees you around others. It's more amusing to him than anything, observing how you interact with people. He enjoys watching you in silence with the occasional witty interjection, and he likes listening to you speak even if it's not with him. He's one of those people who immediately decide whether they trust someone or not, and he's trusted you since you met, even if there was, and still is, incessant bickering.

The bickering is endless, by the way. Even when you move past friends (a lot faster than you realise), he's always on your case. You've been trying not to pick up on his speech patterns, but it's almost impossible considering how nice it sounds to hear the accent roll off his tongue. When you accidentally bust out a "wagwan" he can't contain his laughter, nearly doubling over at the way your face was stuck in embarrassment. He makes it a habit to rub it in your face now, teasing you by talking to you like you're from Camden; the way he talked to you before was just the tip of the iceberg.

Hobie isn't hesitant about touch at all. He's always touching you in some way or another. Whether it's his arm slung around your shoulders, his chin on the top of your head or even holding your hand, it definitely draws some attention when a near 7ft punk (though he's not bound by the label of height, according to him) is hovering around you like a giant flashing accessory.

And the man is shamelessly 'gross'. He'll kiss you even with your morning breath or after you've just eaten. Whenever you put something on your lips, no matter if it's lip balm or whatever you like to wear, he's always just waiting to mess it up. Hobie's a tease if anything too, pinching you unexpectedly just to see the flash of a pissed-off expression on your face. You've made it a habit to not give him that satisfaction, but he doesn't need it. Everything you do is more than enough to amuse him, even if he does try to kiss you hanging upside down, scaring the ever living hell out of you in his attempt.

When you're cold, he's always trying to warm you up by rubbing his hands over your shoulders and arms (though his sarcasm is more than enough to set you on fire sometimes.) It is pretty cold in his universe, so he's used to it (#1 denier of the cold; punks don't get cold.)

Hobie is known for being firm in his beliefs. He's an unapologetic anarchist, and while he doesn't shout about his political beliefs every second, you can see it in the way he acts. Even if you're not as bent on it as he is, you have to respect his commitment. You're one of the only people he tells about his universe, his experiences, what he lives for. It's refreshing in comparison to his spontenaeity, and while you don't see him much differently after he opens up, you realise that Hobie is one hell of a person. He's your person, (as much as he denies being confined to anyone or anything.)

And he's not afraid to involve you. Whenever you're in his universe, he takes you places like you're a tourist, no matter how used to the area you are. Hobie isn't exactly the most informative tour guide (and he takes any opportunity to bash corrupt political figures and tag up their campaigns), but it's the thought that counts. He loves showing you the little untouched nooks and lesser-known streets, hopping fences and swinging you over barbed wire to show you the real Camden. The culture, history, people — it's all Hobie. He lives in Camden, through Camden, and he wants to share it with you. No authority could ever supercede that.

What he also lives through is the punk scene. If it isn't obvious from his appearance already, he's always jamming on his guitar. If you ask what he's playing, he says he doesn't know yet. He's always coming up with something new; it's like there's an itch he needs to scratch whenever a new sound comes into his head, whether he's humming it, tapping it or strumming it on his guitar.

And he's good at it, his fingers gliding over the strings like it's a language he's fluent in, playing a half-formed chorus with shouty lyrics that don't exist but you can already hear (probably something to do with rebellion.) You like listening to him play, that familiar, addictive feeling coursing through you, the vibrations of the guitar never ceasing to strike you with awe. You wonder what it's like to hear him play at an actual gig (you'll find out soon when he sneaks you out for one; you won't be disappointed.) It's one of many things to admire about him. What he won't admit is that, more often than not, he's playing for you. Even if you're not exchanging words, the glances and music between you make the unfinished feel whole.

The man loves his guitar too. If he loves anything in this world, it's you, sure, but his guitar is also up there (can you blame him?) If he's not playing he's always idly tracing the stickers with his fingers, re-tuning it, whatever. It's a damn cool guitar, but a part of you might just be a little jealous of the musical instrument that's basically a part of him at this point.

That is, until the two of you are getting caught onto. Your more-than-friends relationship is pretty obvious, but when it starts interrupting with Hobie's Spider-society "duties", among his other anti-society antics, the both of you have the potential to fall into big trouble. It's not like he cares – leaving was in the back of his mind from the start, and it only fuels your bickering and crude gossip. Whatever happens, you know you've got Hobie, even if an entire multiverse of Spider-people actively reject you. You don't need to belong anything, nobody really does, he keeps telling you, but you're sure that if there's nothing else, you belong with him. You two against the world, so to speak. And your previous jealously completely fades when Hobie says something to you: you were both in an alley, hiding during a mission you weren't supposed to be on.

"You think they'll kill you for it?" you asked him jokingly, building up the mirth of the conversation as usual.

"If they kill me," Hobie starts, donning a sarcastic grin. "I want you to have my guitar."

It seems guitar lessons are an added bonus to your relationship — right after hiding from Miguel and Jessica, of course.

🕸️💫🎸

thanks for reading my self-indulgent rant lol. asks are open but not taking requests atm. feel free to comment (tho can't reply rip) love ya have a good one — if u liked this reblogs r appreciated <3

read the rest of my atsv headcanons here!

[manamania]

Untouched: Part Six, Epilogue

Pastor Lemuel Childs x OC

Synopsis: Pastor Childs has been lost this past year after what his family and the parish went through. But when a young woman comes into town, aimless and without guidance, the Pastor takes it upon himself to be her shepherd, and lead her out of the darkness... And into his arms.

Warnings: older man x young woman, religious exploitation (kinda), religious trauma, smut, rough sex, spanking, fluff, religious hypocrisy, angst, redemption arc, OC is a virgin (but not for long), Pastor Childs is not a great person but he sure is hot as hell, I apologize for any spelling errors

@justme12200 @its-in-the-woods @hiddlebatchedloki @michele131 @skrzydlak

Word count: 8.8k

(Apologies for any spelling errors or story flubs, I've been hella busy this holiday season and didn't have much time to sit with this final chapter)

Lemuel had let himself out of the house later that evening. It took him a while, as he was still in shock after what had happened within the last thirty minutes. He had taken Virginia’s… well, virginity. Her own pastor soiled her maidenhood and corrupted her.

No. No it was SHE who corrupted him! She came to this town and seduced him like the snake in the garden. She was the one who soiled him. It was all Virginia’s doing! It had to have been!

But no matter how much Lemuel tried to tell himself that he didn’t stray, the aching of his heart scolded him still. He was the one who had invited Virginia into his church, to join the parish and become a Holy Ghost woman. He’s the one who asked after her, followed her into town in order to “happen” to run into her. Lemuel had planned this all from the start.

He was the snake. She merely just wanted to belong. And with his guiding hands, he yanked her away from the loneliness she knew and wrapped her up in his arms to keep her for himself. Without a wife and without a daughter, Lemuel craved the feeling of being wanted. To be someone’s someone. 

After that night, Virginia stopped showing up to church. She gave no excuses to her fellow parishioners when asked. She simply answered with a stern, “I’m not welcomed anymore.” 

Lemuel never told the congregation that she was excommunicated. In fact, he hadn’t planned on such a thing. The last thing he wanted was for Virginia to leave! She had taken that decision away from him and shut herself in her home, doing God knows what.

He missed her dearly. He missed the way she smelt of clover. He missed how she braided her hair and fiddled with her silver crucifix. He longed for the touch of her soft hands and the sound of her deep voice, contrasting with the innocence of her round, freckled face. At night, Lemuel crumpled up the duvet into an elongated shape to cuddle, to supplant Virginia’s body as he dreamed about her. 

He didn’t know how long this ache would last, but he knew there was another issue he had to eventually come to terms with…

Hope and Zeke Slaughter had fooled him and the whole church. They had to answer for their sins. But before Lemuel could even confront them, he needed to see the snakes himself.

Alone, he went to the church, not bothering to even protect his hands with gloves. He practically raced to the cages that held the animals and plucked one of them out, disturbing it from its rest.

Dry as a cotton ball, she said? He thought to himself as he looked into the eyes of the beast.

The snake hissed and rattled at him, an aggressiveness that Lemuel was used to. The creature snapped at his arm, two puncture wounds bleeding on the side of his arm, causing him to yelp. He placed the snake back in its cage bent over onto the ground next to it, gritting his teeth. He started to mumble a prayer, believing that this was the moment that the Holy Ghost would take him and send him to hell for what he had done to Virginia.

Please forgive her. It is my fault she was led astray.

The bite hurt a lot, which was expected. But as the minutes dragged on, nothing about his health seemed to change, only that his arm felt sorer. There was no tunnel vision, no light-headedness, no weakness of the muscle. Despite the bite, Lemuel seemed to be fine. He clutched at the wound, still waiting for something to happen. But nothing did. He just sat there on the cold floor, not knowing whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

So Virginia was right, these snakes were dry. At least the one he picked was, but he wasn’t about to go and test the theory with all the other snakes. This was proof enough that Zeke and Hope were liars and hypocrites.

Then again, so was he. And so was Virginia. 

Confronting the old couple wouldn’t be easy, but Lemuel knew he had to. He mused over the idea of having them excommunicated, but Hope was considered an elder for the women of the church. She was almost as influential as the Pastor. If she and her husband were forced out, there would be only more chaos, and the parishioners had already had their share of strife. 

What could he do?

In a time like this, Lemuel would consult the Bible. He’d pray to the Lord and ask for strength or a sign. He needed one now more than ever. His faith was on the thinnest of ice, barely a hair away from breaking. 

“Help me.” Lemuel muttered.

He had wandered into the dark woods, stumbling through the crunchy leaves and bumping into unseen branches. He was scraped and unseemly, almost like a wild mountain man from the hours he spent aimlessly walking in the near-pitch black. 

“HELP ME!” He then screamed at the sky, begging for a sign from God.

There came no answer. No gust of wind, no snakes, no stars, no nothing. There were just leaves, bare branches, and cold, crispy air. He wasn’t even dressed properly for this kind of cold, his skin turning red and dry. His nose, hands, and feet were all numb from the chill, but he didn’t care. Lemuel needed to find… something.

“Why, Lord? Why?”

In his haze, Lemuel had failed to acknowledge that his body was growing tired and weak. After a while he stumbled and fell onto his knees, before collapsing onto the forest floor. The leaves were nice… Almost like a blanket. 

Blanket… He remembered wrapping Virginia up in an afgan from her bed.

“You’re cold, Virginia.” He said.

“I’m always cold, I have the body heat of an old, old man.”

“Don’t speak to me about being an old man, young lady.”

“Don’t be so sensitive, old man.” She teased.

Lemuel was too weak to laugh at the memory, but his lips did weakly curl into a half-smile. 

“Daddy… I miss mama.” Mara had said as she snuggled into him.

“I miss her every day. But she’s always with us, darlin’. And she sees how pretty you’ve become.” He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her head.

“She made this for you?” Mara looked down at the quilt he had wrapped her in.

“She and the other women of our church. You’ll make one for your future husband one day too.”

If he pretended hard enough, Lemuel could mistake the harsh crunch of the leaves for the soft plush feel of a squishy quilt. 

Yeah, he thought. This would keep him warm.

...

“He hasn’t been seen for the past two days.” 

Dilly set the two hot cups of tea on the kitchen table. Virginia held her cup, feeling the warmth against her palms. It had been two weeks since she had visited Lemuel’s house. Dilly was aware they weren’t speaking anymore, but she preferred to call Virginia over anyone else when Lemuel hadn’t turned up. 

Despite their last conversation, Virginia missed him. She knew she would, even if she was the one to end their… whatever it was. She still cared about him. So when Dilly told her that she couldn’t find him at the church, at the house, or anywhere else he might be, Virginia became very worried.

“He usually doesn’t leave without sayin’ anything. But there was no note, no call or text. Nothing.” The younger woman said. 

“I can’t think of a place he’d go to. At least, anywhere other than the usual spots.”

“Why would he just up and leave like that?” Dilly frowned, staring down into her tea.

Virginia’s stomach pained with guilt. It was obvious to the whole church that she and their pastor had a falling out. She knew that if Lemuel didn’t eventually show up, she’d be the first suspect. She was the newest member, the one who got the closest to him after his daughter left. Not even Dilly, his ward, had become that special in his life. 

“Maybe something important keepin’ him occupied.” 

“But he’d tell me he’d be going.” Dilly said. “He don’t like to worry me, especially since my-” She hung her head. 

Virginia then cursed Lemuel under her breath. He knew that Dilly was still hurting from her mother’s abandonment. To just leave the young girl like that after taking her in was cruel. Virginia didn’t care if he was punishing her, but Dilly didn’t deserve this.

“I’m sorry.” Virginia squeezed Dilly’s shoulder affectionately. 

She just stared down at her tea, no longer in the mood for conversation. 

“I think… Lemuel’s lookin’ for Mara and Augie, Dilly.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t know. I just… I feel it in my gut. Why else would he leave the mountain? There’s nothing outside the community that would pull him away. At least, not that I know of.”

“But no one knows where they went. He’s gon get himself lost.” Dilly said. “What, are you gonna get him?”

“Someone’s gotta make sure he’s okay.” Virginia stood from the table. 

“Should… Should I come with you?”

She didn’t intend on bringing Dilly with her, but Virginia figured her softer presence would ease the inevitable reunion. 

“Yeah, Dilly. I need someone with me.” She said,

“But where do we start? They didn’t say where they was goin’.”

“Hence why we have the internet. Though I see this community doesn’t really bother to use it much.” Virginia muttered before pulling her smart phone out of her back pocket. She looked up the names August Slaughter and Mara Childs, and to her surprise, two sources appeared. It was that easy after all.

Young Couple Inspires Disabled Community in St. Mary’s County, Maryland

Mara Slaughter: The Mission Against Unethical Preaching

“What does it say?” Dilly asked as Virginia scrolled through each article.

“‘Mara Slaughter, a young mother and activist, has been raising awareness in her community and local churches about her and her husband’s experience with unethical animal handling and child endangerment in their previous church. She champions the protection of believers and has made it her life’s mission to ensure that every God-fearing parishioner isn’t exploited or harmed under the guise of worship. While many critics have accused her of blasphemy for going against the teachings of the Pentecostal sect of Christianity, she maintains she’s a hardcore Holy Ghost woman and will forever walk with Christ beside her.’” 

Virginia was amazed by the article, particularly Mara’s bravery. She assumed the pastor’s daughter would’ve wanted to remain under the radar, to prevent herself from being found by her old community members. But the people on the mountain didn’t bother themselves with the outside world, choosing to remain closed and content with each other. 

“What does it say ‘bout Augie?”

“‘August Slaughter lost his left arm to a venomous snake bite as a result of a Pentecostal ritual. It is common practice for a Pentecostal parish to test their devotion to the Holy Ghost by handling the animals during service-’”

“We know that, but what happened afterward?” Dilly interrupted.

Virginia skimmed down the article. 

“‘He now volunteers in local hospitals, assisting young amputees in their physical therapy and inspiring kids with disabilities.’”

Seemed that both Augie and Mara were doing well for themselves. Though both articles failed to mention where they lived, probably on purpose, Virginia and Dilly now had a solid lead. 

They had to travel to Maryland. So by the next morning, they packed light, hopped into Virginia’s old truck, and drove down the mountain and headed east. 

The drive was long, exhausting, and cold. The young women had packed lightly before leaving West Virginia, and thankfully Maryland wasn’t more than six hours away. They stopped in D.C. to stretch their legs and eat, and Virginia realized how much she missed the sounds of civilization. The mountain was so quiet and the people even more so. 

“We should be in St. Mary’s in about two hours, give ‘er take.” Virginia said before biting into her cheeseburger. “I can check the article to see which hospitals Augie volunteers at. But I doubt they’ll tell us where he lives.”

“It’s nice that he’s helping kids ‘n all.” Dilly said. “But Mara… If her daddy knew what she was doin’, he’d be real mad.”

“He’s had a lot of disappointments in the past year, we can just add his daughter’s new profession to the list.” Virginia said humorously. She then started to chuckle, which confused Dilly. “I’m sorry, it’s just… Man, what a mess this has all turned out to be, huh? I mean, we’ve driven for hours chasin’ after a lead, all in the hopes of finding a man who’s gotten people hurt! Shit, maybe he doesn’t deserve to be found.”

“What?” Dilly scowled, offended that her friend would say such things about her pastor. 

Virginia’s laughing subsided and she rested her chin on her hand. 

Well shit… I’m still in love with that asshole.

South of Waldorf and an addition hour on the long, winding roads lead the women to the rural spread of St. Mary’s county. The terrain and of fields and farms was familiar to them, it made sense that Mara and Augie would choose to settle here. It was the late afternoon and the sun was already setting fast, the short days of winter eager to usher in total blackness among the trees and cornfields. 

“One of the hospitals is about ‘nother ten minutes. We can try there.” Virginia spoke up, breaking the long silence.

Dilly nodded in acknowledgement but was visibly troubled, her hands fiddling with each other. She had second thoughts, that was obvious, but her need to see Mara overpowered her fear.

When they pulled into the hospital’s parking lot, Dilly then perked up, almost jumping out of the car before Virginia parked it.

“That’s his truck!” 

Virginia followed her around the curb to find the old vehicle. It was indeed Lemuel’s, but what was it doing here? Had they followed him so closely? But he had been gone for days before they started their trip. How was it he only arrived so recently?

Virginia hated hospitals. The sterile smell and the sounds of phones and beepers. There was always someone wailing or bleeding, and the lights irritated her eyes. 

“You okay?” Dilly asked, taking notice of her friend’s discomfort when they entered the lobby.

“Just… Let’s find him, okay?”

“Okay.”

They approached the front desk, where a receptionist sat, talking on the phone. She looked up and raised a single finger to the women, needing another minute before she could speak to them.

“You think maybe he’s…” Dilly whispered to Virginia.

“I don’t know.” She said, looking over her shoulder at the others in the lobby. Lemuel wasn’t to be found, but he was definitely there. 

“Sorry about that.” The receptionist said before hanging up the phone. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, we’re looking for a man named Lemuel Childs?” Virginia said. “Late forties, drive’s a truck, dark hair?”

“Are you family?” 

“I’m his ward, Dilly. And Virginia’s… From his church. We drove from West Virginia.”

“Lemme see. Childs.” The woman typed loudly at the keyboard, her eyes squinting at the computer screen. “Childs… Oh, I see. He was admitted two days ago.”

Virginia’s heart dropped into her stomach. “What?”

“Can we see him?” Dilly leaned over the desk to look at the computer, as if it would tell her anything she could understand.

“We’ll have to get permission from the patient in order to allow visitation. He didn’t tell us to expect anyone.” The receptionist said before picking up the phone again and dialing a number. “Just go on and sit down, I’ll let yah know if you can see him. Okay?”

Virginia clenched her fists and conceded. She and Dilly sat in the waiting area, their legs bouncing and their hearts racing. Why was Lemuel in the hospital? What did he do to himself to get hospitalized?

“Ladies?” The receptionist called them. They both perked up. “You may go in. He’s on the third floor, room C17.”

The two minutes it took to get to the room weighed heavily inside Virginia. She was relieved to have found him and so soon after getting their lead, but she wondered how Lemuel would feel seeing her. He clearly wanted to, given he gave her permission to visit, but what if he begged her to take him back? She didn’t know how she’d react. 

She didn’t know if she had the strength to reject him again.

Alcohol and latex. That was the smell of his room. The blankets were warm enough, the view out the window was nice, and the nurses were kind, but Lemuel would rather be out in the cold than inside a damn hospital.

If his congregation knew he had received treatment from doctors in a state hospital, they’d call him a hypocrite. Many followers had suffered pneumonia and lived out the rest of their lives without the help of a doctor. Belief was enough to carry a soul through the worst that sickness could do to a person. He had seen it done many times as a pastor. 

And yet, when he was brought in, he just… Let them do whatever they wanted to him. He didn’t refuse the IV, he didn’t swat away the nurses, he didn’t voice his own aversion to needles. Lemuel was too defeated to fight. He just wanted to close his eyes and slip away.

And then Dilly came in, throwing her arms around him and crying over his chest. He thought it was a dream at first, until a nurse stepped in and urged the girl to be careful with him. 

“I’m alright.” He insisted to the nurse, opening his arms up and welcoming Dilly in with a hug. “I’m alright.”

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you leave without word?” She sniffled into his shoulder.

Pulling back, Lemuel got a better look at the girl. She was rosy from the cold, her lips were swollen from quivering and her eyes wet with tears. He didn’t even think about how his sudden departure would’ve scared her. He should’ve known better than to have left a girl who’s own mother abandoned.

“I’m sorry, Dilly. I’m an idiot. I’m so, so sorry.” He brushed her hair away from her face and sat her down on the edge of his hospital bed. “How’d yah find me?”

“Virginia figured you’s lookin’ for Mara. We tracked her down, found your truck here. Sir… How did you end up in here?” 

“Pneumonia, Dilly. Nurse said I was drivin’ like a maniac in a fugue state or somethin’ like that.” Dilly then spotted the bandage wrapped around his arm, which Lemuel caught onto. “Dry bite… Got lucky, I guess.”

“They given’ you medicine? Did you tell ‘em not to?”

“I was too tired to say anythin’. Kinda hard to push away when you can barely lift your arm. Where is she? Virginia?” Lemuel looked to the door. It wasn’t closed before. “She outside?”

“Uh…” Dilly looked over her shoulder. “She’s probably askin’ ‘bout Augie. He volunteers here.”

She was probably still mad with him, but then why did she try to look for him? Why did she want to find Mara? Maybe she wanted to stop him from finding her. Maybe she believed Lemuel didn’t deserve to reunite with his own daughter, after all that he put her and Augie through.

“We was worried, Pastor.” Dilly said. “Thought you went crazy or sum.”

“Hey, I’m alright. Doctor said I’d be fine in a few days.” 

“A few days? You can’t leave any sooner?”

Lemuel didn’t know if he wanted to go back home. Not after embarrassing himself like this. Those back at the church wouldn’t be able to respect him, knowing he spent a week in the hospital. Even worse, what if they all found out he had been handling dry snakes? No matter what he did, it was all over. His daughter was gone, Virginia hated him, Dilly was betrayed by him, his congregation had been fooled…

It was all so brutally hilarious.

“Dilly…” Lemuel took her hand. “I’m leavin’ my treatment up to the doctors.”

“What?” She frowned. 

He paused for a moment. Closing his eyes, Lemuel took a deep breath and squeezed her cold hand.

“I think the Lord has set me down a new path.” He spoke softly. “I’ve made a mess of things. I’m the reason Mara and Augie left, I’m the reason the Slaughter’s are broken. The death of the boy… All of it, darlin’. I can’t keep makin’ excuses. None of it was ordained by the Lord. It was me.”

Dilly’s face was blank, her eyes distant. Lemuel wished he could read what she was thinking. Her whole life, she believed his doctrine, faced the serpent like everyone else in the church. He was her pillar of strength, and now, he was saying that all of it was, what, a lie? 

“I abused the Lord’s words for my own benefit, child. And I’m sorry-”

“You’re confused, Pastor. Whatever they’re giving you, it’s making you worse. You can’t stay here.” She said, retracting her hand. 

“No, listen to me! Dilly, what I’m trying to say-”

“Is blasphemy!” She shouted in a whisper. “You can’t… You can’t just say these things, Pastor!”

“I’m tellin’ you the truth, girl. I may be a fraud, but I’m still your guardian and you will listen.” Lemuel affirmed. Dilly fell silent, but the confused scowl on her face told him she was very much in denial. “Our Lord is good and true, but me? I’m a scoundrel. A pervert. A sinner.”

“We’re all sinners, sir.” Dilly argued. 

“Yes. But I never atoned for mine. Not really. I’m not the upstanding man you and the others see. Virginia and I…”

“She seduced you?” 

“Dilly, I won’t have yah blamin’ that woman for what I’ve done.” He grit his teeth. “She’s an innocent in all of this, yah hear? She’s the reason I came lookin’ for Mara. Without her, I would never have had the courage to go lookin’ for my only child.”

Dilly recoiled at his words. His ONLY child?

“I do believe that the Lord sent Virginia to us. But her mission ain’t what I expected. Heh… The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

Dilly didn’t know what to do. She stood still with her hands at her sides, dumbfounded. She liked Virginia, saw her as an older sister even. And it was a good thing that she made Lemuel search for Mara. Yet, she felt a twinge of anger towards her and she didn’t know why.

“What should I do?” 

“I wish I knew.” Lemuel sighed. “I’m as lost as you are, girl.”

“No, I mean, right now! What should I do? Do you want me to go?”

Lemuel looked down at his lap sheepishly. “You can stay as long as you’re allowed.”

“And Virginia?” 

Lemuel hadn’t spoken to her in weeks. He had often thought about what he’d say to her. How sorry he was for everything, that he would make things right. But words were meaningless without actions. And he didn’t deem himself worthy of her forgiveness yet.

“Up to her.” He answered plainly. 

“Alright. Well, I’m just gonna… Check up on ‘er.”

“Go on.” 

Lemuel could hear her voice when Dilly opened the door. But then she closed it behind her, leaving him alone again. He prayed that she would come in and see him. But after a short minute, the door opened and this time, it wasn’t Dilly.

God answered his prayer.

“Hey Pastor Childs.” Virginia smiled before closing the door behind her.

“C’mon, Virginia.” He frowned, not appreciating the formality. She crossed her arms, then approached him, stopping short of a few feet from his bedside. “Hey, it’s just me.”

“I know.” She said, “So… You were drivin’ with pneumonia? How’d you get pneumonia?”

“Guess I was bein’ reckless, wanderin’ around the woods. I was… Lookin’ for something.” Lemuel then quickly added, “My arm’s okay too. Just a snake bite.”

She squinted her eyes at him. “What happened?”

“Stopped by the church. I wanted to see if you were right.” He said. “You were.

“Then you got the bright idea to just up and leave Dilly without sayin’ nothing?” Virginia tilted her head. “That was really smart.”

“It was mean of me, I admit it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m ashamed of the worry I caused. I’m sorry, Virginia. I’m sorry for all of it.”

Her face softened a little. She then took a seat on the chair by the window and scooted closer to him. She then pulled out her phone, opened up her contacts, and handed it to Lemuel, who took it hesitantly.

“If you’re really sorry, you’ll repent. Make yourself clean. And you can start by calling that number.” 

Turns out, Augie left his contact information with the hospital. Being a frequent visitor and volunteer, he made himself available to patients who needed some special support. Virginia managed to find it within minutes while Lemuel spoke to Dilly.

She didn’t even need to say who’s number it was. He knew what she meant.

“What if she still hates me?” He asked, staring down at the number.

“I think she’ll appreciate your attempt to talk to her.” Virginia assured him. “If my mother called me to apologize, I know I’d appreciate it.”

He still wasn’t sure. But sure or not, he knew that if he didn’t call now, he never would. Lemuel’s thumb pressed the dial and the number rang. 

Deciding this was too personal for her, Virginia stood to leave. But Lemuel reached out a hand.

“Stay? Please?” He whispered.

He looked so scared. The most scared Virginia had ever seen the pastor. She turned back and sat on the bed with him, holding his hand as they waited for an answer.

After a few more rings, the receiver picked up and a male voice spoke.

“Hello?” 

Lemuel was quiet for a few seconds, he mouth hung open. Virginia squeezed his hand a few times, urging him to talk.

“Augie?” He said quietly.

The other end then fell silent. After hearing what sounded like Augie clearing his throat, he spoke again.

“Uh, yeah, this is Augie. How can I help you?”

“This is, uh… It’s Pastor-uh-Lemuel Childs.” He stuttered. 

Silence.

“I know this must be very unexpected. I, uh… Know you’re still very angry with me.”

Silence, yet again. The lack of words from the other end made both Lemuel and Virginia uneasy.

“And I don’t blame you. You and Mara have every right to be. I… I did horrible things. I was wrong for it. I… I took your arm, and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for everything. And I know that ‘sorry’ means nothing now, it can’t make your arm grow back. It can’t fix what I done, but… I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

After another minute of silence, Augie finally spoke.

“We ain’t coming back, you know that, right?” 

“No, no, I ain’t askin’ for y’all to come home. I just… Can I speak to my daughter, please?”

“Lemme see if she wants to speak to yah first.”

“Right.”

Lemuel looked at Virginia with desperation. They waited for what seemed like an eternity before the sound of rustling echoed from the phone. Then, a deep, feminine voice spoke.

“Daddy?”

...

Lemuel was shaking like a leaf, gripping Virginia’s hand hard. She told him over and over again that everything was going to be okay, that his daughter loved him so much. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have agreed to visit him in the hospital. 

It was the longest hour of Lemuel’s life, waiting for Mara to arrive. He wondered if she would look different, if she would even touch him or smile at him. 

“Virginia… I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me for what I’ve done to you.” He said. 

Virginia was sitting on his bed, legs crossed, with her coat thrown over the back of the chair by the window. She assumed they would be waiting a bit and decided to make herself comfortable. Dilly had gone down to the cafeteria to get something to eat, leaving the couple alone.

“Lemuel… What happened between us was a mistake.” 

He frowned, his brow furrowed. “All of it?”

Virginia then blushed. “No, not all of it. But we weren’t honest with each other. Or ourselves. We were lonely and needed attention and we gave that to each other.”

“Under the guise of spiritual guidance.” Lemuel then chuckled. “But the intimacy… Was that… I mean-”

“It was good, okay?” Virginia conceded, rolling her eyes. Was that detail really important right now? “I enjoyed our time together. Or did I not give that impression?”

“No, you DID.” Lemuel tucked his hair behind his ear. “Now, before this, uh, THING happens with Mara, I want you to know that I’m very grateful to you. After our last conversation, I was… Well, confused. Angry. In general, just very depressed. I hadn’t really confronted the fact I had been just as lost as you ever since Mara left.”

Virginia could see him struggle. Lemuel was fiddling with the sheets that scrunched up over his lap. He was having trouble even looking at her. 

“I thought I needed to make you a Holy Ghost woman. To make you MY woman and redeem myself through your conversion. I thought, surely, the Lord will look down on me in favor if I make up for losing my daughter.” He continued. “But, that was selfish. I don’t think I ever really got the chance to really appreciate you for who you are; a smart, hilarious, strong young woman who knows herself.”

Virginia smiled, averting her eyes as she felt her body grow warm. 

“Virginia? Look at me, please.” He said and she obeyed. “I’m sorry. If I could start all over again, I would. Now, I know I’m not deserving of it. I’ve done so much wrong in my life. I’m responsible for the death of a boy… Honestly, there’s no redemption for what I’ve done.”

“At least you’re trying.” Virginia said. “I think that counts for something, right?”

Lemuel looked up and their eyes met. She was guarded, as was he, but there was a pull between them, a tension in their chests that urged them to come closer. 

“Your daughter may forgive you yet.”

“Do you forgive me, Virginia Godwin?” He said. 

Silently, Virginia uncrossed her legs and crawled over to Lemuel. Gently, she straddled his lap and cupped his cheeks. Sighing into her touch, Lemuel closed his eyes and savored the softness of her hands. He had missed her touch so much, he was crying.

“I won’t blame you if you don’t-”

“Enough.” She wiped his tears away with the pads of her thumb. “Don’t ask for forgiveness if you don’t think yourself worthy of it yet.”

“I guess I’m not, then. Not yet.” He said, defeated, pulling her hands away from his face. “But, will you wait for me? For when I am?”

Virginia didn’t know how to answer. She believed what he said to her. She felt it in her heart that Lemuel was truly sorry. But as far as she could see, he had yet to make up for the damage done. He still needed to do right by his community, by Dilly, and by his own daughter. 

But she had hope. And that was enough to keep her waiting. 

“I’ll wait for you back in West Virginia. Come to me when you’re ready. Okay?” 

She leaned in and kissed him, slowly and softly. He returned it, his hand daring to reach up and cup her cheek. But soon she pulled away and slid off the side of the bed. Lemuel didn’t have anything else to say to her. The message was clear. 

Just when Virginia zipped up her coat and slipped on her boots, there was a knock at the door. She and Lemuel looked at each other before he told the visitor to come in. 

“Baby?” Lemuel called out weakly.

In stepped a young, skinny, pale woman with dark hair. She had small lips, sad eyes that hinted at a wisdom beyond her years. She was dressed in a long, green coat with a white scarf draped around her neck. And in her arms she held a small child, no older than a year, all bundled up and asleep.

“Mara…” He covered his mouth, tears running down his cheeks.

Virginia felt out of place in the room and decided to quietly exit. It felt wrong to be in the middle of a family reunion, being she didn’t know Mara at all. She waited outside, where Dilly stood next to a tall stranger with one arm.

“Hey!” Dilly said, waving her over. “They came!”

“Yeah.” Virginia sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. “Mara went in. Sorry, hi, I’m Virginia.” She offered her hand to Augie who shook it.

“August, but you can call me Augie.” He said sternly. “Guessing you’re with Pastor Childs?”

“I’m a friend.” Virginia said. “Dilly’s told me about you and Mara. Congratulations on the baby.”

“Oh, thank you.” He bowed his head bashfully. “Did Dilly also tell you we had our daughter outta wedlock too?”

Dilly’s face fell and she turned away. 

Virginia frowned. “Uh, no. But you and Mara have been missed very much.”

“So is my mama here too?” Augie pressed.

She wasn’t in the mood for any more fighting. This wasn’t even her battle, she didn’t know Augie or Mara.

“I should leave. None of this is my business.”

“But, Virginia-” Dilly took her friend’s arm. 

“I’m going home. You coming with?” 

Augie watched as Dilly looked between him and Virginia, unsure of herself. 

“If you wanna stay here until Lemuel can drive you back, feel free. But I’m going now.”

Dilly stayed by Augie, watching her friend disappear down the hall and into an elevator. Virginia stopped by a vending machine in the lobby, waiting on a bag of chips when someone in her peripheral approached her. Turning to her left, she saw it was none other than Mara Childs.

“Hey, uh, Virginia, right?” She asked meekly, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

“Yes.” She said, bending down to grab her potato chips. 

“Are you leaving?”

“Back to West Virginia.”

“Are you… Gonna tell the Slaughters ‘bout us?” Mara said.

Virginia shook her head. “I just came here to make sure your father was okay. Nothing more.”

“Okay.” Mara smiled. “We’re just not ready for that yet. It’s been a rough year for my husband and… This is all already a lot.”

“I understand. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna send Hope and Zeke down here.” Virginia assured her. 

“Thank you. Um, can I ask yah somethin’?” Mara tilted her head down, shy and nervous. “About my daddy?”

“Sure.” Virginia nodded, though she didn’t know what she knew about Lemuel that Mara didn’t.

“He didn’t say nothin’ but I get this feeling’... Are you two together?” 

Virginia was reminded how close in age she was to Mara. They probably would have attended high school together. It was awkward, meeting Lemuel’s only child like this, after everything that happened. She’d rather it was over dinner in decent humor. 

“I don’t know.” She answered. A disappointing response, but it was true. “It’s complicated.”

Mara nodded. Of course it was complicated, it was her father. He was never a simple man, despite his public perception.

“Look, if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“It’s not my business.” Mara said. “It’s just that… He’s changed. I mean, he’s in a damn hospital.”

Virginia couldn’t help but chuckle, which in turn made Mara chuckle too.

“Yeah, well, I guess I had somewhat of an effect on him. It wasn’t purposeful. I just came to town and then… He rescued me from the side of the road.”

“If I’m honest, I wish it were me who made him change his mind.” Mara confessed.

“It WAS you, Mara. He changed the minute you left that mountain.” Virginia boldly reached out and touched her arm. “He never stopped thinking about what happened. I only pushed him far enough to do something about it.”

Mara half-smiled up at Virginia, appreciating her words, even if she didn’t know if she believed them. Sobering up a little, Virginia retracted her arm, feeling like she overstepped.

“Why don’t you stay?” Mara asked.

Virginia stepped away. “He needs you more than me right now.”

I’ve done my part.

She said goodbye to Mara and left for her truck. It was not exactly how she wanted to meet his daughter, but it went a lot better than expected, especially given the circumstances. During the long drive back, which took all night, Virginia wondered if there was a world where both she and Mara could be in Lemuel’s life.

Sure, their relationship wasn’t his daughter’s business, but she was close in age to Virginia. And now that the possibility of Mara and Augie being back in Lemuel’s life was more real, Virginia realized she had only ever pictured herself in Lemuel’s life when he only had Dilly. She never accounted for the fact that he would actually reconnect with Mara.

Maybe she didn’t fit in after all. Maybe it was meant to be that they remain apart. Lemuel already had his chance at marriage and children. Virginia was still young and had more time than him to make a life for herself. And while she still loved him very much and had told herself that their age difference didn’t matter, with Mara in the picture, it made things all the more complicated.

Virginia was weary and tired when she walked through her front door. She lazily shook off her boots and peeled off her layers down to her underwear. In her bedroom, she passed out once her head hit the pillow. Her sleep was merciful and dreamless.

...

Spring

“That’s fifty! Thank you, sir.” Virginia smiled after counting the cash.

The old man shook hands with her. He and his two younger helpers, both buff men, helped carry the couch to the back of his truck. They secured it in place and drove off, passing by another familiar truck that came up the long and winding road.

Virginia recognized the vehicle and more importantly the man at the wheel. She watched him park and hop out, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows and hair tousled. He seemed more youthful than the last time she saw him, like he aged back ten years.

“Lemuel.” She called to him.

He smiled as he approached her but kept himself at a healthy distance.

“Virginia. You look great.”

“Thanks. You do too!” She hunched her shoulders. “Been a while.”

“Yeah. Four months, right?”

“Yup. To the day, actually.” She added. “So, you wanna come inside and tell me what you’ve been up to?”

Lemuel followed her inside. Most of the house was cleared out, save for the essentials. There were two chairs left in the dining room, but no table.

“Have a seat. Tea?” She asked.

“No thank you.” He said. “So, uh, Mara told me to say ‘hey’ to you.”

“She did?” Virginia perked up. “How is she?”

“She’s good. I stayed with her and Augie in Maryland for a few weeks.”

“And your granddaughter?” Virginia looked over her shoulder at Lemuel as she turned on the burner beneath the kettle. 

He sighed. “She’s magical. Looks just like Mara when she was a baby.”

Virginia was happy for him, that he was making up for lost time with his family. Though she felt as though there was more than just happy news for her. 

“And the church? I heard that it disbanded.” She asked.

Lemuel scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, that’s been… Hell, really. Everyone was askin’ questions, makin’ up stories and such. Heard that Hope and Zeke up and left too.”

“Yeah, they did. Went by their place just a few days ago. They’re gone.” Virginia said. “I bet it’s been a hard time for you.”

“Actually, no.” Lemuel said with a half-grin. “Well, not everyone’s been so open to the changes. Can’t say I blame ‘em. Their whole world’s turned upside down. But for me, it’s been rather freeing.”

“I’m glad.” Virginia leaned against the kitchen counter, her arms folded. 

Lemuel looked at her, seeing conflict in her expression. Standing up from the chair, he went to her. “Virginia?”

She bit her lip and looked down at her feet. 

“I’m so happy for you, Lemuel.” She muttered under her breath, trying to stifle her tears.

“Why are you crying?” He held her shoulders, trying to meet her eyeline. “Virginia?”

“I just…” She pushed past him and covered her face. 

“Hey, hey.” He cooed, going to her. He leaned in, his knuckle moving her chin up so she could face him. Her pale face had turned pink and puffy. “Tell me why you’re sad.”

Virginia took a deep breath then fell into him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck while his arms wrapped around her. She had missed him so much, cried over his absence every night before she fell asleep. She walked along the edge of the river and remembered the times he held her hand and brushed her hair out of her face when the wind blew. She missed the feeling of him filling her up and making her whole.

And now here he was. And she was sure he came to tell her that she didn’t fit anywhere in his new life. That she had done her part and was now free to leave. Afterall, he had Mara and his grandchild to worry about.

“You don’t need me anymore.” She sniffled, her voice faltering. 

“What?” Lemuel scoffed. 

“Isn’t that why you came? To tell me that it’s over?” 

Lemuel pulled her back and held her face in his hands. His brown eyes bore into her soul, his brow stern and serious. 

“You told me to come back to you when I was ready, and I am, Virginia.” He said. “I haven’t stopped thinking ‘bout you. All this time, I’ve been trying to make myself worthy of you and dammit, I didn’t come here to make you think I was throwin’ all away for nothing!”

“But your daughter, she-”

“Wants us to be happy.” 

Was it really true? Did Mara really approve of Virginia’s presence in her father’s life? 

“You’re right, Virginia. I don’t need you. But with all that’s Holy left within me, I want you more than anything. And if you’ll have me, I’d like us to start over again. No pretenses, no punishments, no serpents. Just… Please, give me another chance.”

Virginia was speechless. She could feel her spirit fly inside her chest, her heart bursting with joy. She threw her arms around Lemuel and kissed him hard. He pulled her close against him, kissing her back.

She opened her mouth and invited his tongue in, which he obliged eagerly. Their arms pulled at the other animalistically. Four months without seeing each other was a long, hard wait. And all Virginia wanted was a reminder of why she cried so hard over him. Just when he had gotten her sweater off, the kettle was whistling. 

“Oh shit!” She ran over to the stove and turned off the heat. 

Looking over at Lemuel, the pair burst into laughter before she took his hand and practically yanked him to her bedroom. They were still laughing when they continued to strip each other, giddy like teenagers in the heat of the moment. Just when Virginia was on her knees, about to pull down his boxers, she looked up at Lemuel.

“Do you really mean NO more punishments?” She asked playfully.

He was taken aback by her words. She wasn’t lying when she said he enjoyed their time together.

“I’d be more than happy to indulge your needs, darlin’.” He replied coolly. “But first, you have to earn it.”

“Earn it how?” She then slowly pulled down his boxers, his erection springing free, red and hard. The sight of it made her mouth water.

“By putting your mouth to use.”

Virginia, with her eyes trained on Lemuel, took his cock in her mouth and sucked. She bobbed her head up and down, watching his expression. He moaned, one hand gripping the back of her head as she continued. It was hard not to gag, given his cock was of an impressive size. 

“That’s it. Good girl.” He said as he grit his teeth. “Oh, fuck!”

She attempted to deep-throat him, which made Lemuel buck his hips. She gagged then pulled away, a string of saliva connected her lips to the tip of his cock. Not giving up, she took him in her mouth again, using her hands to pump him as she sucked. Lemuel didn’t know how long he could last. He hadn’t received such attention since before his wife died, and now Virginia was exceeding his own expectations.

“C’mere.” He pulled her back by the hair, making her release his cock with a wet ‘pop.’ He then helped her on her feet and kissed her, rewarding her for her good behavior. “You did so well. Now tell me, what do you want me to do to you?”

Virginia suddenly became a shy virgin all over again. The way he held her, the way he LOOKED at her… It was enough to reduce her to a little girl.

“I… want you to use your hand.” She muttered.

“How? Like this?” He lowered his hand until it cupped her wet pussy, his fingers rubbing against her clit. 

She moaned and wiggled against him, shaking her head. “No, sir.”

“How, then? Like this?” He slipped a finger inside her, keeping it still to feel her walls clench around it. Still she said no. “Then use your words.”

“I want you to spank me, sir.” She finally said.

“Oh, I see.” Lemuel smirked and retracted his hand. It was soaked from her arousal. Bringing it up to his lips, Lemuel sucked on his middle finger, savoring the taste of her. “But you’ve forgotten to use the magic word.”

“Please?”

“Please what, darlin’?”

“Would you PLEASE spank me, sir? Please spank me!” She begged.

“There’s a good girl.”

Lemuel sat down on the edge of the bed, his legs spread wide. He helped Virginia over his lap, his cock pressing against her stomach. 

“If you want to stop, tell me and I will. Understand me?” He said.

Virginia nodded, but that didn’t suffice. 

“I said…” He swung down and spanked her hard, making her yelp. “Do you understand?”

“Yessir, I understand.” She said,

Lemuel admired her smooth, pale bottom. He caressed her, getting her used to the size of his hand. She was starting to quiver with anticipation, so he got to work. He raised his hand and swung down again, spanking her. Virginia cried out, shuffling against his body to create friction. 

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” He smirked before spanking her again. “I dreamt of this many times, you know? The sounds you make, your body helpless and bruised. God, you have ANY idea what you’ve done to me?”

He made sure to mark each cheek with equal force, longing to see the mark of his hand imprinted on her skin. Lemuel wanted Virginia to remember this every time she sat down and felt the ache. 

“You’re my girl, you hear? MINE!” He seethed before landing a particularly harsh blow, which made Virginia cry out.

“Gah, Lemuel!” She yelled.

He stopped for a moment, thinking that maybe he went too far. But Virginia wiggled around then steadied herself.

“Please… Keep going…” She whimpered.

Lemuel did as she asked. She took her punishment well, keeping her whimpers and cries to a minimum. But as she felt her ass start to go numb, her pussy ached more. It was starting to get more painful than pleasurable, and all she wanted was to be fucked hard.

“Sir…?” She mumbled softly. Lemuel almost didn’t hear her. 

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Please fuck me. Please… Please fuck me. I want you inside me so fucking bad!”

He spanked her hard, making her yelp.

“Language! Such behavior doesn’t warrant kindness. However, your begging is endearing. Perhaps that’s worth a reward.”

Lemuel helped Virginia to her feet then onto the bed, lying beside her instead of putting her on her back. She cuddled up to him, relaxing into his body as she calmed down from her spanking. She kissed his collarbone, then up to his neck, then tugged playfully at his earlobe, making him chuckle.

“You’re so eager.”

“It’s been too long.” Virginia’s hand was roaming down between their bodies, close enough to touch his cock. But he soon grabbed her wrist and pulled it back up. “Please?”

“If you want it that much, then claim it.” He said, before rolling onto his back. Virginia moved with him, climbing on top until she was straddling across his hips. “Ride me.”

She scooted down a little until she was aligned with his erection. Taking it and stroking it in her hand, she placed him at her entrance. Then, slowly, she sank down on him, his cock disappearing as it penetrated into her, sheathing itself completely until she was all the way down.

“Oh fuck.” She moaned, elated from the feeling of being filled. 

“You feel so good.” He groaned, his hands grabbing at her hips. “Damn, you’re so wet. Now c’mon, darlin.’ Fuck me.”

Virginia began to rise up then sink down again, her pace slowly accelerating as she became more comfortable with the sensation. Lemuel was enraptured with the sight before him, watching her perfect tits bounce and her brow scrunch up as she moaned. She looked so beautiful when on top of him.

My perfect girl. 

Faster and faster she rode him, the sounds of their bodies meeting echoing throughout the bedroom. She rocked her hips as she went, exercising her core as she felt an orgasm building inside her. 

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna come-oh fuck!” She cried. 

“That’s it, my girl, that’s it!” Lemuel grit his teeth, feeling himself getting close too. 

Virginia gave it her all, riding him until beads of sweat ran down her face, until she was sure she couldn’t feel her abdomen anymore, until her pussy clenched around him hard enough it made him come. She came too shortly after, riding the high with slower movements. Before she could catch herself, she collapsed to the left of Lemuel. There was ringing in her ears and her whole body felt the beat of her heart. Virginia never felt an intense orgasm like that before.

Out of it, she didn’t realize that Lemuel had curled her up against his chest, rocking her gently until she came back to reality. She nuzzled into his shoulder and took deep breaths, their moist bodies glistening with sweat.

Once calmed down, she finally spoke.

“I missed you so much.” 

Lemuel smiled down at her, caressing her hair. “I missed you too.”

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.” Virginia said sullenly. “I didn’t know if you were ever coming back to me.”

“I love you, Virginia.” Lemuel said firmly, looking down at his tired girl. Moving some strands away from her face, he then cupped her cheek. “I love you. I ain’t goin’ anywhere, you hear?”

Virginia giggled, the happiest she had ever been in her life.

“Yessir. And I love you too.”

He smiled then kissed her softly. “Now, can I ask why you was sellin’ your furniture?”

“Oh, that.” Virginia sighed. “Well, I was going to wait for you. But I hadn’t received word for so long, I… I accepted a job offer in D.C.” 

Lemuel became very still and very silent. Virginia continued.

“I’m planning on putting my uncle’s house on the market. I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it? there’s nothing for us here anymore.”

“Us?” Lemuel blinked.

“Yeah. I was hoping, now that you’re no longer the Pastor and since Mara’s in Maryland, maybe you and I could… I don’t know, go together?” 

He didn’t say anything at first. For a moment, Virginia thought for sure she angered him. Maybe he was planning on staying here on the mountain. Maybe he hated the idea of leaving the place he was born and raised in. 

“Just an idea, y’know? You don’t have to say yes. I know it’s pretty sudden and all, but-”

But then Lemuel chuckled breathlessly. “Woman, I’d follow you anywhere.” 

Fin.

A/N: Thank you all for reading this angsty, smutty fic. I'm probably going to post the whole thing on AO3 to make it more accessible to re-read. Happy Holidays and lot's of love <3

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 3

Joel Miller X fem!Reader

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, graphic depictions of violence, being turned on by violence, pregnancy, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot)but fair warning, major age gap

This is a reader fic, reader is early 20's, Joel is 40's at this point, reader is small enough that the men can lift her, but these are strong men. Reader is also referred to as little one, little girl ETC, but that's more in reference to her age/innocence than physical size.

Please reread warnings, as they have been updated.

Chapter Summary: Joel softens, just a bit.

Pretty fucking proud of this chapter. Might be some of my best work yet.

This chapter is detacated to my friend @maura-honey i fucking love yoooouuuuuuuuuu she made a tumblr just to read my shit <3

******************

When you woke up that moring, Joels fingers were inside, lips on your neck… kissing…  something he’d never done with you before. He’d also never fingered you this much, he might give a few pumps at most to ease you in, but in generally Joel had no regard for your comfort when he was feral with you. You could hear how wet you were, none of the fear you usually had during sex holding you back because you were fast asleep. Hell, you could fucking smell how wet you were, Joel must’ve been fingering you for a while, because you knew you were about to cum. 

You couldn’t open your eyes, too tired, too sleepy, too exhausted. Memories of last night flooded in as you grew closer, you bodies pain bringing back specific memories. As you lay on your back, you start to remember, every prick of pain cueing a new memory as your exhausted body gave into Joel. Your burning scalp; he dragged you from the barn to the house, Tommy yelling at Joel to knock it off, holding you up. The rug burn on your neck that Joel didn’t seem to notice as he kissed and sucked hickies into it; Joel ripped your shirt open with one hand, your skin taking the bunt of the pain where his calloused hands clearly did not, exposing you to all the men watching hungrily. Your hips ached; you were bent over the table pounded into the edges. Your wrists; the handcuffs that dug into your skin. Your cunt, currently being abused again by Joel’s thick fingers, inside you, only saved from the brutal pain of a gang rape by Tommy’s mercy. And finally, your hip; Joel’s pelvis bucked as he gave you his own sick version of pleasure, but since you were on your back, his pants rubbed against the fresh wound where he branded his initials into your skin. 

“AH!” You shout, fully awake now at the searing pain in your side.

“Good morning, sunshine” Joel mutters softly into your neck. He was oddly tender today, was he trying to make you cum on his fingers? You didn’t have time to think much, it became clear he was still wearing jeans, and you butt naked from last night, Tommy’s clothes he left untouched on the floor that you were now wishing were on you as the rough material on him dug into you.

“Joel- no, Joel-ah! stop-” You tried to protest, brain still foggy, trying to move away, but he continued to grind into you, large body pinning you down. 

“You always say that, but you’re so fucking wet, little one” He pulled you closer, the seems of his crotch tearing open the damaged skin.

Joel thought this was your usual pleas, you began crying from the sting and burn on your hip as he stimulated himself on you. “No, not Joel it hurts, please” you sob, unable to speak clearly “Joel the- the burn- ugh!” You didn’t have it in your from stopping the sounds you made, the ones you usually stifled to all hell because god, Joel was beginning to feel good, and you hated yourself for it.

“There we go, knew you wanted it, always putting up a fight…” Joel went for your lips, but you whipped your head away, sobbing from the pain that was so bad you didn’t care what Joel thought of you rejecting this newfound, strange affection that you didn’t know what to make of. “C’mon now, baby girl” Joel’s tone was stern, but not the anger you expected. Usually, after he fucked you, he seemed to feel bad, providing you with some semblance of care afterwards… maybe last night was clearly crossing such a line that he still felt bad… so why did he have so little regard for the pain you were clearly in? You continue sobbing and when you look at Joel, rubbing your eyes, you see him look almost… confused? You didn’t cry like this infront of him… you cried, but it was softer… 

The next words you did not expect. “Don’t I make you feel good?”

You couldn’t contain your anger. “You hurt me!”

“Oh come on.” He says almost condescendingly. “My fingers are nothing compared to my dick.” But he still looked… confused? Concerned that you wouldn’t stop sobbing and shaking. He thought it was the fingers that were the problem? He moved towards you and you wince, only to find that he was wrapping the blanket around you and picking you up. He carried you like a toddler, carrying you under your ass and thighs, your face looking over his shoulder and you couldn’t help the instinct to wrap your arms around him as he walked toward your door.

“No, no I don’t want to go out there” Panic rose up inside you, fearful your yelling was going to get you a treatment like last night all over again, or leave you for Nick and the others, and would Tommy be able to save you? How many times could Tommy step in without losing his head… You didn’t want Tommy to get hurt, not for you… You try to tell him you’re sorry, that you’ll stop, but between the desperate words and choked sobs, you weren’t making much sense, and you got the feeling he wasn’t listening anyway.

When you were taken to the living room, the men immediately perked up, no doubt hoping they’d get their chance with you, but Joel kept walking towards the door. Was he done with you? Was he taking you outback to kill you, maybe have a round or two with your dead body that wouldn’t put up a fight like you do, then leave your naked body to decompose? The panic had set it, and the crying became shouting.

“Joel! Please! Don’t, please-T- Tom- TOMMY! TOMMYYY!!!” You scream for the only person you could trust, scrambling helplessly to get out of his his grasp but it was useless, you kick and fight and scream for his brother.

“Why the fuck are you cry’n to him for?” Joel muttered more to himself than anything, and you want to shut yourself up lest Joel suspect what happened, but you can’t think clearly, scrambling to get out of his grasp, wishing to god your brother was still alive or that Tommy would come save you. You’d be good, you’d stop acting up, you’d stop doing things that put Tommy and yourself at risk if please, please he’d come fix it just one more time…

You were outside, the sun was rising, the air was crisp but not bitter, and you were in shock… you hadn’t seen anything of sunlight other than your pathetic window since before Joel had taken you… you realized you stopped crying, Joel’s large hard rubbing your back as he calmly sh’d you as you shook in his arms. Joel sat down on the steps of the porch, cradling you in his arms like a baby. 

“Let’s enjoy the view”

Now, what exactly did Joel think was happening here? Who were you to him? Because he was cruel and violent, but then came tenderness… the way he talked yesterday, the way he seemed so betrayed, so convinced that he was good to you, that you deserted him… did he care about you? You did as he said, watching the sunshine and listening to the birds tweet…

“You’re bleeding” You look at Joel and he’s frowning, peeling off the blanket and exposing your nakedness to the outside. Your hip had bleed through the thin blanket enough, and Joel’s fingers touched around the open wound, deep concern in his eyes. “What happened?”

You were flabbergasted. Did he not remember?

“You… you branded me…” 

Joel shook his head. “No, no I mean why’s it bleed’n?” He looked to you. “Were you picking at it?”

You couldn’t help but blink, dumbfounded as it seemed he genuinely did not know how he tortured you. “You hurt me, Joel. This morning… Your jeans…”

Joel looked down at his jeans and saw the blood from when he rubbed on the raw and open skin. “I did that?”

“Yeah”

“That’s why you were cry’n?”

“Yeah. It really hurts.”

“It looks like it does…” Joel looked back at you. “Did anyone touch you last night?” 

You shake your head. “Tommy unlocked me.”

“Tommy touch you last night?”

Again, you shake your head. “Just to put the ointment on my thigh, I swear”

“You’d tell me if anyone touched you, right? Including Tommy?”

You freeze… What did he know? Did Tommy already tell him? Was Joel testing you? Would it be better to be honest… no, Tommy wouldn’t tell Joel, he wouldn’t do that to you. “Yeah, I’d tell you.”

Joel nodded, seeming to believe you… Then, he called inside. “Nick!” 

You startle at his shout, and even more so when Joel sits you on the porch, careful to keep you covered. “Watch her” Joel says to the redheaded man. “I gotta get some shit, and don’t-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t fucking touch her I heard the spiel last time, Miller.”

Joel glared at him, but left you outside with Nick, where there was silence for a moment as you watched him nervously. Nick’s eyes had been intent on you every time Tommy or Joel took you to the bathroom, or if he was walking by the door when they opened it, and he had been very eager to get a piece of you when Joel temporarily lifted the ban. You startled when he spoke.

“You just think you’re hot shit, don’t you?”

You didn’t know what to make of that. You felt the complete opposite of hot shit, you felt pathetic and used and in pain…

He kept talking. “You got both fucking Millers wrapped around you’re god damn finger, just have to sit in that room and get fucked, huh?”

You look up at him, unmoving.

“He’ll kill you, eventually, you know. Or he’ll get board of you, throw you to the rest of us and we’ll rape you until you’re dead, and Tommy won’t be able to stop it. He can’t always be there to protect you.”

Joel opened the door and Nick acted innocent, heading back inside without a word.

“He say anything to you?” Joel asked, sitting down with you.

You knew it was best to keep your mouth shut, not cause problems. “No”

“Good. Don’t like ‘em look’n at you. Barely tolerating Tommy but…” Joel opens up the first aid box and gets working, cleaning the wound.

You whimper, but try to keep it together. “But what?”

“I ain’t around much and… well I’m not exactly good at talk’n. Tommy’s better at that, better company.”

You had wondered if Joel knew about Tommy playing cards and talking with you. It seems he did, and he allowed it… because he knew you’d be bored? With Joel newfound softness and obvious guilt, you decided to test something.

“Could… could I maybe…”

“I ain’t letting you go, little girl. You’re mine.”

“No, no I know” You quickly assured. “Maybe next time you’re out, if you found something maybe…”

Joel softened his tone. “What is it, sweetness?”

You take a deep breath. “Maybe a book?” Joel turned to you. “Or just something to do, Tommy gave me playing cards but I can only do so much… ”

“You can read?” 

Fair question, “My mom taught me.”

Joel seemed to consider this… “I’ll see what we find today.”

You nod vigorously, gasping again as he applied triple antibiotic cream to the stinging wound. “Thank you, Joel, I know I don’t deserve-”

“Hush” He stops you. “You ain’t been good but I shouldn’t have done that to you.” He was apologizing for the burn? “You’re mine, and they don't get to touch you, or even look at you like that” Oh, it was about rapeing you in public. “And I know… I know ‘m not very careful, I don’t mean to hurt you…” Well, that wasn’t exactly true, the branding was intentional, the hard slap that first day was intentional… but you knew he meant when he gets carried away and the hair that gets pulled out and the bruises that form and the open fucking wound on you are just collateral. “I’m gonna try and be more careful, okay? But you gotta behave.”

For some unknown reason, you rest your head on his chest as he wraps your thigh in gauze. “I will, I swear. I wanna be good now.” If you got this side of Joel when you were quiet and behave… this would be much easier on you. You’d have him and Tommy’s protection, none of the men in their or anywhere else would fuck with you, and if Joel was bringing you books and didn’t hurt you… this could be better than what was being done to you at your dads house. Joel could be soft, Joel could be tender.. Yeah, this could be good…

You stayed there in Joel’s arms for a while until he brought you inside so he could take care of business. 

While he was gone, you took a nap and were woken up by the sound of the door flying open, and for a moment you fear Joel was back to his old self but you turn and see Tommy, running over the the mattress and dropping down beside you, seeing you in his clothes again and scrambling to touch you, checking you over, eyes frantic.

“Jesus honey, are you okay?” He grabbed your shoulders as he looked you over.

“Tommy” You grab his arms, sturdying you. Tommy was your anchor here, and you’d cling to him whenever you could. 

“Jack said he heard you screaming this morning in the room? Said he was pulling you out of the room and you were calling for me? I’m so sorry honey, I was out working, I’m so fucking sorry I shouldn’t have left, not after last night-” 

You interrupt him with a hand on his face, feeling his cheek, you’re thumb on his mustache. “Tommy, Tommy I’m okay…”

“What did he do to you?” Tommy asked with worry.

“He didn’t mean-”

Tommy spoke your name softly. “It’s okay, just tell me”

You blush, knowing this would bring up sex, which was a closed subject with Tommy, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know what Joel was doing to you. “He was… um… his jean… were rubbing against the burn when he… he um…”

Tommy’s face softened. “When he what?”

You turned away. “When he was fingering me…”

Tommy’s face furrowed in confusion. “Does he do that a lot?” His face was tinged with something else… jealousy?

You shake your head. “Today was weird.”

You explain what happened today while Tommy redressed your wound. You had no idea why you trusted him, but for some reason, you are beginning to trust Joel too. 

When Joel walked in on you and Tommy playing cards, he was carrying a bag. 

Tommy stood up quickly. “How’d it go today?”

“Good” He answered gruffly. “I got it here, Tommy” Despite Tommy looking guilty, Joel patted him on the back, turning Tommy to him. You assume Joel thought you couldn’t hear him, but Joel thanked Tommy for taking care of you. Tommy left without another word or a look at you.

Joel turned to you. “I got you some things, you can look through them later”

You give him a little smile, and it’s not all fake. You scoot onto the bed and take off your shorts; you want to show him you can be good, you can be good for him, if he’s good to you…

Joel returned the smile, however small it was. “Good girl”

You couldn’t help but smile a little bit more at his praise. You nod to the freshly cleaned wound on your leg, bandaged for protection. “Could you…”

With surprising gentleness, he adjusted you as he knelt, bending your knees, massaging your legs. “Don’t worry, little one, I’ll take it easy on you this time, consider this an apology.”

You put your hands on his thighs. “Thank you, sir”

Joel bent over, kissing your neck and palming your breasts still in his brother's shirt. “‘M gonna make this good for you, sweetheart, and you’re gonna come and stop fighting those pretty sounds you make, okay? That’s how you’re gonna thank me.”

You nod. “Okay”

Joel kissed and sucked where you were certain there were already dark marks, grinding his naked cock into your center. You did as promised, letting go for him, moaning as he worked you up for the first time, the first time he didn’t just ram into you and it felt good.

“Joel” You moan out gripping his shoulders; you wanted to see him. “Shirt off?”

You swore you could hear him chuckle. “Mine or yours”

“Both?”

“Good girl.” Joel sat up, taking off his shirt and fuck he looked good. He was strong, insanely broad, large muscles in his arms that you were already aware of that stretched in his sleeves. His chest showed obvious strength, and his stomach was soft, comforting… Joel pulled you up, taking off your shirt. “Fucking perfect.”

His mouth went to your breast as he lined up at your entrance, pushing in as quick and harsh as he always did, but this time you were working up enough and it hardly hurt, just a comfortable stretch.

Joel went for your lips, but you dodged him, and Joel paused to look at your with a cocked eyebrow.

You look at him, wide-eyed and nervous, would he punish you? He never kissed you, neither had Tommy, neither had any of the men your dad had sold your mouth too… that was yours, so far.

“I’m gonna give you time on that one, little one.” Joel began thrusting, his pace fast but not harsh. His hand was under your injured hip, your leg bent, propping it up just enough so that the brand didn’t rub against the bed as he fucked you.

“Thank you sir” You whine, relaxing into him, loving this side of things… Joel thrusting into you, fucking you full and actually paying attention to your body, your wants and needs…

“You gonna cum? I’m right behind you, been wait’n all day to be inside your perfect little pussy”

You were, that warmth in your stomach becoming a sure-fire thing. Joel slowly conditioning you to associate him with pleasure, the assault on your body, the violence that came with him, all with your orgasm, one of the few good things you had… “Yes, please make me cum”

His hand moved your throat, not the bruising grip you were used to, but a light, dizzying squeeze. “You gonna stop fighting me?”

“Yes, I swear, Joel, I’ll be good”

He sped up, igniting more inside you, the room swirling with the sounds of sex, the smell of Joel after a long day of work and you preen for him because you knew, you knew you could cum, and then for a few short minutes at least, Joel would care for you and you could feel a soft touch for fucking once… Tommy was so fucking scared of getting you killed, of abusing you the way Joel did he would barely touch you, you couldn’t get anything like this from him, although you were beginning to suspect he wanted too…

Joel grunted in your ear and you knew he was close too. “I know you will, sweet thing. Because you’re mine, your body is mine, your orgasms are mine, and this?“ Joel slapped your pussy before rubbing the clit as he growled, louder than before. “This is fucking mine, now cum!”

How much could the men outside hear? How much could Tommy hear? You couldn’t be bothered to think more, because you were his good girl now and you did as you were told, coming on his cock as your hands gripped his sweaty back, clinging him to you, your obedience a plea, ‘please, please take care of me, don’t let them hurt me, don’t hurt me anymore, and I’ll give everything to you Joel, I am yours as long as I am safe.’ You moaned as promised, load and with every ounce of feeling you had, letting everyone in the damn house, including fucking Nick, that you were Joels and yes, you had him wrapped around your finger.

When he pulled back, your stomach was painted in white as you panted breathless on the mattress. Joel collapsed on you, his heavyweight a comfort, and he even shifted his weight away from your hurt side. Kissing up your neck, to your cheek, he almost kissed your mouth, and god, you would have let him, but Joel hesitated before kissing away. That was one promise he’d keep.

When Joe came back to carry you to the bathroom where he had boiled water for a hot bath, you willingly wrapped your arms around him, kissing his neck. When you are carried past the kitchen, you see Nick watching you, eyes intent while Joel has his ever protective grasp. Just to make a point, you lock eyes with the man and lick a long stripe up Joel’s neck. The message was clear.

‘I belong to Joel Miller. Don’t fucking touch me.’ ********************

I hope you guys liked it!!!! Remember, likes and reblogs are the way to keep an author motivated to write more!

That being said, this is the last chapter out until probs after finals, so please dont ask when the next chapter is cuz i don't know ;-;

In the meantime, check out my masterlsit on my main @romanarose I have a few Joel fics, but my triple frontier fics are some of my best. consider reading Leather and Lace for Santi, or if you like moon knight, check out sunshine starlight sweetheart brightside! both deal with rape recovery, but head the warnings! espcially sunshine, its heavy

If you have an AO3 I would love if you check out this story over there and left a kudos, and maybe checked out some of my other work!

if you didn't catch it, theres a bonus chapter with tommy out!

LOVE YOU ALL!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters

[birboon]

Conceived in the Eye of a Secret

title from Ozzy Osbourne's "Mr Crowley"

A Steddie AU fic - Detective! Steve Harrington [oneshot, potentially multi-chapter) — 6k words

Steve Harrington was seventeen when he saw his first dead body. He wasn’t even out of high school – not even a senior – when he stumbled across Barbara Holland floating face down in his pool. He’d just gone outside for a piss, not wanting to wake his then-girlfriend, brain still fuzzy and whirling from the warm beers Tommy H had stolen from his dad the night before, and there she was; skin tight around her bloated form. Steve had taken one look at her short hair and the leaves knotted there, matted with blood and chunks of soft grey tissue that he’d prayed, God, please wasn’t part of her fucking brain, and vomited. The smell, more than anything, was what sent him over the edge: Rank and pungent, an edge of sickening sweetness. He’d been able to smell her cheap perfume, too.

She’d been dumped there during the night. Steve thought she’d gone home - she was supposed to have gone home, but there police found her car still parked down the street, untouched. ‘A crime of passion’, they’d called it, and even now – almost twenty years later – Steve didn’t understand why. Barbara Holland’s face had been beaten to an unrecognizable, pulpy mess of flesh and blood. Shards of her skull had ruptured through her skin, her left eye had been burst from the blunt force that the sick fuck had hit her with; it had dribbled like veiny egg-yolk into Steve’s pool, mixing with the water like oil.

Steve liked to think himself a passionate guy. But he didn’t go around murdering people.

 Instead, he caught the murderers – preferably before they’d had the chance to do the murdering but like everything in life, it was easier said than done. Hell, he could count on two hands the number of cases that had passed through the rigorous filtering of Hawkins PD before landing at his desk in the tiny, cramped office that the Homicide Department called home. The Homicide Department being him, sole and singular, bent over anaemic manila folders with little more to information than a polaroid snapshot and the name of the deceased.

So, yeah. Steve was seventeen when he saw his first dead body, and for some reason he’d made it his life’s goal to see as many as possible. If only to prevent them from becoming cold cases, forgotten and locked away in some filing cabinet to gather dust – to prevent them from becoming like Barb. Since the Holland case, there hadn’t been another unsolved murder in Hawkins. A fresh-faced, fresh-out-of-college Steve Harrington had made sure of that. And for thirteen years, Detective Harrington had kept it that way.

Still, he never quite got used to seeing a corpse – the smell never did become easier to handle. With the more violent deaths, and Steve grimaced as he stared towards the twisted, strewn remains of the human before him, it became especially hard to bear. Hopper had taught him to chew gum to settle his stomach at particularly bad scenes, and Joyce – ever the astute pathologist – had given him a small jar of Vick’s VapoRub the second time he’d ever come down into the morgue (he’d had to excuse himself halfway through the autopsy the first time, and she’d smiled understandably as he trembled his way to the bathroom, legs shaking and face pallid). But even a hefty smudge of the strong-smelling ointment wasn’t enough to cover the stench of a rotting carcass entirely, and Steve’s stomach turned as decay permeated the room.

It was October, but it was hot, which only served to make matters worse because the heat only exacerbated the whole ordeal. And whilst the rest of Hawkins, and Indiana in general, Steve supposed, were out enjoying the autumn sunshine, he was stuck in a sweat-box apartment with three other men and a day-old cadaver. The room was stagnant, ripe with death.

“What a shit day to die,” he muttered, and though he hadn’t meant to say it out loud his words got a murmur of agreement from the others. It was a Monday.

The woman – Steve glanced down at the clipboard in his hands – Maureen Gildman had been brutally slain. She lay in a pool of her own viscous blood, face carved-up hideously like the jack-o-lanterns that were beginning to emerge in the windows of his neighbours, and the young detective made a mental note to take Dustin to the pumpkin patch before the Holiday was over. Halloween was the kid’s favourite time of year. Unfortunately, it seemed to be a favourite of all the psychos too. Steve checked his watch.

Four Fifty-Seven PM. A Monday.

A simple glance around the room showed varying picture frames lovingly arranged on the walls and sat on bookshelves stocked with cheesy romcoms, void of any actual books. Most were in good condition, if a bit dusty, but Steve wasn’t about to lecture a dead woman on cleanliness. Not when a picture of her young daughter stared over at him, flecked with tiny beads of maroon, thick and congealed atop the pink dress she’d worn to the last middle school dance. Dt. Harrington hoped the girl wasn’t still waiting to be picked up at the school gates, considering the last class would have let out almost three hours ago. Steve checked his clipboard again. Divorced, he thought solemnly, and for a moment let himself empathise with the dead.

He'd seen forensics scrape the burnt remains of brownies into sterile baggies as he’d arrived on the scene, and it said more than he’d wished to know. The girl had been with her father over the weekend, and it was him who had dropped her off that morning. No doubt Maureen had been busily preparing to have her child back with her, cooking up something sweet and special as a prize for surviving another Monday.

“You got a preference?” The words cut through Steve’s thoughts as he turned to the photographer in question. Johnathon gave him a grim, lazy smile, his lips pressed tightly together. “Y’know, for a day to die?”

A layer of dust was collected on the camera in his hands. Particles bounced around in the sunlight pouring through the shuttered blinds. There was something sour in the man’s gaze as he watched Steve, but he didn’t think that the contempt was aimed towards himself – at life, maybe. Johnathon was probably reflecting on the choices he’d made during his career that had led him to that moment.

Steve shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, fiddling with the strings of the lining. “A Thursday might be nice, maybe.”

Johanthon watched him through dark eyes. He lifted the camera to his face, squinting as he levelled it towards the detective’s shoes, and Steve stepped out of the frame as the shutter clicked and the flash illuminated the puddle of crusted fluids that were soaked into the shaggy carpet. A yellow tent marked with a bold, black 12 was posted beside it.

“Maybe,” the other man agreed. The camera dropped back down to his chest, and he shrugged. Steve chewed at his tongue, looking away as Johnathon dropped into a crouch, lens angled towards the body. Maureen looked grossly ethereal in the white light; the flayed skin on her naked chest was red, glowing.

Steve looked down again. Ms. Gildman was the third in a recent string of murders that the Hawkins P.D wanted to clump together beneath the moniker of a serial killer. Ever since the term had been coined by the FBI in the seventies, it seemed every small town was desperate to have one to their name. Obviously, Steve didn’t quite agree. There were casual differences in the demeanour and traits of the killings that had him pegs them ostentiously as all separate, sad crimes. Crimes of passion, he thought grimly. Right. Passion.

Maureen was missing both breasts. They’d been sawn off with a serrated object, upon quick examination – Steve’s money was on a bread knife, stolen from her own kitchen, but the murder weapon wouldn’t be identified properly until Joyce got the chance to take a closer look. The… breasts were found hidden within a tall, exotic-looking potted plant. An empty box of matches had been found there, too, opened and spilt onto the blood-stained carpet. Steve imagined that whoever had murdered the woman got cold feet, meaning to burn the balls of flesh but abandoning the plight at the last moment. Or maybe they had refused to light, and after four frazzled, burned-out attempts they had been forced to leave before the police arrived on scene.

Either way, Steve found nothing passionate about it. Disgusting, maybe. Driven by desire? Absolutely. But there was no passion, just the empty and unfeeling actions of a disturbed individual.

He stepped away, ducking back beneath the police tape. He’d seen enough.

Nodding to the paramedics waiting patiently in the hallway, equipped with a stretcher and a body bag, Steve crept away. Several neighbours had been escorted from the building in hysterics – in particular, the old woman who had found the woman after smelling the burning confectionary that had been baking as she’d died – but those that hadn’t were standing in their doorways, arms crossed, faces framed with dismay. Steve couldn’t quite figure out if they really were upset, or just desperate to know what was happening.

Chief Hopper appraised him with dark, judging eyes as he approached the stairwell, holding out an arm to stop Steve’s descent into fresh air. A burned-out cigarette hung limply from the older man’s lips, smoke drifting from the glowing embers fleetingly. Steve inhaled sharply, desperate to purge his nostrils. He wiped his nose.

“Careful when you go down there, kid,” Hopper grumbled. Steve raised an eyebrow. “I got two words for ya: Press and chaos.”

“That’s actually three words, chief, but who’s counting?” Jim barked out a rough laugh, and the young detective continued: “Not you, evidently.”

“Don’t push your luck, Harrington,” the older man snapped, but he was smiling and, well, Steve was just glad someone still had that ability, no matter how joyless and thin it was. The chief clapped him on the back as he pressed forward, calling after him. “And don’t say I didn’t warn ya!”

Hopper was right, of course; it was chaos. Always was, but Steve supposed that his wishing for a moment of peace was just that: Wishful. A duo of officers were posted at the main entrance to the building, chatting lightly with each other. Through the screen doors Steve caught a glimpse at the gathered crowd of reporters – a heaving, squirming mess of free-for-all filled with flashing cameras and eager journalists, all desperate to catch a glimpse of the deceased or ambush someone who had.

Upon spotting them, the sea surged, and Steve was half-worried that they’d bring down the doors, but the men in charge of crowd control didn’t seem at all bothered. They shot him a lame look of distaste – one that said ‘oh look, there’s the great detective’ and Steve grimaced.

“Detective Harrington! Detective, could you give us a – “

“Harrington! What did the deceased look like?”

“Detective is this a serial killer?”

Detective! Detective! Detective!

He ducked behind a supportive dry-wall in the centre of the apartment building’s ‘reception’ area, eyeing the stapled pamphlets and posters hanging there miserably. Only one caught his eye – it stood out from the rest simply because it had tried: Nestled atop the dull pastels and black print was a seemingly hand-made poster advertising a band, all dark reds and metal greys, collaged with newspaper cut-outs. Corroded Coffin (what happened to naming bands nice things, like The Doors or Wham! ?), were playing at a club Steve hadn’t visited in years, The Upsidedown . He hadn’t been there since Dustin had been unceremoniously dropped into his lap, not since he’d made Senior detective, what, six years ago?

 Dt. Harrington mused, almost-sadly, that he hadn’t even been out for drinks in at least three months – and that was only because he’d been dragged by Robin on one of the Forensic-team outings. He’d gotten shit-faced off of cheap cocktail pitchers and shots of rose tequila, and had to explain to his son why he was going to have to get the bus to school the next morning because ‘daddy’s sick, buddy. Real sick’.

Without thinking, the detective snatched the sheet of paper from the wall, leaving a strip of paper behind, still tacked to the wall, and folded it carelessly into his pocket. And then Steve finally made the point of searching for a fire exit.

It wasn’t hard – cheaply printed white sheets of A4 with a bold red arrow and text reading ‘IN CASE OF FIRE’ were hung carelessly close to the ceiling, one pointing to the next in the most boring treasure hunt ever created. Honestly, though, Steve did think there would be treasure once he found the big X (or, in his case, the back exit to the building). It would come in the form of peace and quiet, and no out-of-context quote headlining the papers, and he was anxious to uncover it.

But when he made it to the outside world, swinging on the fire-retardant handle, Steve was met not only with a crisp October breeze and brilliant sunshine, but with a cheap tape recorder being shoved under his nose. He recognized the neat script inked onto the label that was stretched over the plastic and frowned, pushing it gently away.

“I told you, you can’t just turn up at these things,” he said, herding her backwards as he stepped out into the light. His tone was cold enough for the woman in question to drop the arm holding the device out towards him. She cocked her head, reeling after him like an annoying blowfly on a body. “And before you ask, Nancy, my answer is no comment.”

“You’re not looking so hot right now, Steve,” she said softly. Steve scoffed.

“You know exactly what a man wants to hear, don’t you?”

“Are you okay?” Nancy probed gently, and finally caught up with the man, she settled into stride beside him. He looked down at her and her frilly shirt and smiled gingerly.

“I’m doing just fine, Wheeler.”

Nancy’s mouth twisted bitterly at the disconnect in his voice and Steve sighed. They’d dated for three years – four, if you counted the sweet high-school romance they’d fooled themselves into believing – before an inevitable, explosive end. Life got in the way, he told himself. Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler were as different as two people could be; fire and ice. Steve had hoped he’d be able to thaw the woman, get her to settle down, but she’d wanted different things. He’d wanted a family, and she wanted to soar.

Steve had gotten his family, in the end, in the form of a robust, confused four-year-old. And Nancy, well. She was doing what she’d always dreamed.

The woman rewound her tape, bringing it to her mouth: “See: Detective Harrington at the end of his rope. Is this the first case the prodigy can’t solve?”

Steve rolled his eyes, tucking his chin to his chest as they crossed the parking lot opposite the swarm of spectators round the front of the building. The ranks of journalists had settled their unprofessional nature by pressing their faces and cameras against the misty glass, like toddlers at a zoo trying to see into the lion’s enclosure.

“You’re not going to scare me into talking about my feelings, Nancy,” Steve said, casting a glance towards her. She shrugged, spinning the recorder in her fingers.

“Worth a shot,” came the reply, accompanied by a shrug, and Nancy escorted him back to his car, shrouding him in companionable silence. Her low heels clicked on the gravel, and she spun to him when they reached his BMW. A hand wrapped itself around his wrist, and it was Steve’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You know you can talk to me, right? You were joking, I know, but… Sometimes I worry about you, Steve.”

Dt. Harrington’s smile waned. “I should be the least of your worries,” he shot back. He’d aimed for a light teasing, but the words came out with a heavier weight than he’d expected. Even he reeled back from them, and Nancy squeezed his wrist reassuringly. His pulse raced under her touch. Just friends, he reminded himself (was that all It took? Just a touch from someone that wasn’t his boss or his son? God, he needed to get laid – yet another thing that he hadn’t had the luxury of indulging in lately).

“I care about you. I always worry about the people I care about.”

Steve shook her off gently, opening the driver’s side door: “Be good for Hopper when he finally drags himself out of there, Nance. Tell Mike I say hi.”

 He slid behind the wheel before she could reply and unravel the fragile life he’d built for himself.

…

Three hours later, and Steve was drowning in paperwork.

It was cruel, really, how much time he spent in an office that wasn’t even his. Officially, it belonged to the department but most of the time Dt. Harrington saw it as a glorified janitor’s closet. Because whilst it looked good written down on paper, the chipped name plate with Steve’s name on it – one that he was one-hundred-percent sure had been engraved by the resident fear-mongering asshole Officer Hargrove - dared him to question why the opaque glass door didn’t say the same. He’d worked for the Hawkins PD for over a decade: You’d think they would have the audacity and respect to give him a permanent work residence.

But alas, not everyone could be so lucky as the violent crimes unit – especially not homicide. And so Steve settled for less than he deserved and he waited it out patiently, because, in the end, that was how he’d wound up where he was today:

‘Never chase an opportunity,’ his father had told him – and this was when Steve had become co-captain instead of sole captain of the swim team, faced not only with his own disappointment but with his old mans’ too. ‘If you deserve them, they’ll come’.

Steve never had made captain of the swim team outside the constant, companionable badgering of James Rowe, and he’d never outgrown the tiny, un-flourishing seeds of wisdom that Harrington Senior had dredged up during his childhood. Somethings were worth waiting for, he’d deigned. But most of the time they weren’t.

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it from his forehead with a rough sigh. His shoulders were stiff and sore from being hunched over a desk that took up so much room in the cluttered office that he could hardly breathe, and his wrist ached from underlining and circling the clauses and misspells in Deputy Callahan’s write-up. A myriad of red-penned scribbles tracked over the pages strewn across the table and not for the first time Steve felt like some kind of kindred spirit to the kids Tommy H had made do his homework back in high school. Why even write it in the first place if you knew it was going to be obsolete?

Because they liked to waste his time, that’s why.

God, Steve hated Mondays.

He gathered the loose-leaf documents into a pile, tapping it against the desk to straighten the pages into semi-reasonable conditions, and pushed them to one side. He balanced a heavy-duty hole-punch on top, just in case the weather decided to act it’s month and send a blast of crisp wind through the tiny window held open by the string of the blinds covering it. It had happened once before, years ago, and Steve had spent the rest of his night on overtime just picking up pieces of paper and filing them back to their original places. He didn’t feel like going through that again; his back wasn’t what it used to be, and Steve wasn’t sure his knees would be up to the challenge of crawling along a hard wood floor.

Picking his pen up and dropping it with a quiet clink into the mug resting by his computer, he pushed away from the table, letting the wheels of his chair take him the distance to the door. Steve opened it gingerly, poking his head out and hoping that it wasn’t true that a woman’s work was never done: If Florence made him take another casserole home, he was pretty certain Dustin would begin to refuse meals, and if there was one thing Dt. Harrington didn’t need added to his list of difficulties, it was a fussy ten-year-old.

Thankfully there was no secretary in sight – in fact, it looked like half the police force had abandoned ship. The entire precinct was a waste land. Officer Powell sat in one corner, feet kicked up on his desk, throwing paper balls at a whirring fan, and Maxine Mayfield – a regular to the station, but not for unsavoury reason – watched with an unimpressed gaze as she waited for her brother’s shift to be done. But, really, that was it. That was the grand entertainment that Steve’s nightlife offered.

His keys rattled jovially as he locked up the office, and he ruffled the red-head’s hair in a drive-by mussing on his way to grab his coat from the rack. Robin’s was gone already – no surprise there – so all he really had to worry about as he was leaving was double-checking he had everything, and avoiding the vengeful, fisted hands of Max as she leapt from her chair with furious, delighted eyes:

“Harrington,” she hissed, and Steve smirked at the warmth he detected in her tone. She obviously hadn’t meant for it to leak through, because her eyes widened, and the girl scowled.

“Happy to see me, Max?”

“No!”

“You are,” Dt Harrington teased, and he crouched down in front of her with a stupid grin on his supposedly stupid face. “You so are!”

“Am not!”

Steve waggled a finger in her face, winking to Powell over her shoulder as Max grabbed for it, bringing it to her mouth with the threat of biting it clean off like a carrot stick. “Face it, kid. You love me. You find me funny!”

“You’re stupid,” the ten-year-old snapped back, releasing his hand, and grabbing the lapels of his coat with tiny fists instead. She pulled him forward like she was being the bad cop in a duo of interrogating officers. Steve let himself get tugged along for the ride, grinning.

“Says who?”

“Says Billy,” Steve rolled his eyes, prying her limpet-like fingers from his suit. He straightened up, leaving her adorable, angry face glaring up at him. Her cheeks had gone as red as her hair. There was no heat in her voice though, not really, and she looked away from his soft gaze, blushing. “But I still think you’re cool. He’s stupid too.”

“Yeah, Max. He is,” the man agreed, hands on his hips. “You know who else is stupid? Chief Ho –“

“Harrington!” Steve paled, letting out a nervous bubble of laughter as he turned to the voice. Jim levelled him with a disappointed stare that sent waves of childhood nostalgia through the detective’s gut as the station doors swung shut behind him. He was wrangling a cuffed man by the elbows, tiredness seeping through his eyes, through his voice. “This isn’t a day care. Come and help me.”

Steve furrowed his brows, confused, but approached, nonetheless. He stepped with caution, unsure. “Uh, isn’t exactly my forte, Hop.”

“Cut the crap, detective. You went through basic training just like the rest of us,” the Chief sanctioned, and the lack of patience in his voice caused Steve to walk that little bit faster. At his approach, the guy in custody’s attention rocketed straight towards him.

Now, Steve was never one to judge a book by it’s cover. Really. But with a quick and critical appraisal of the man currently being arrested by his superior, it was kind of hard for Steve to avoid.  Because when the man turned, his hair turned with him – all of it – and it flicked over his shoulders, framed by the cheap halogen lighting above, like something out of a Whitesnake music video. Because the tight black jeans, the worn leather jacket, the Savatage t-shirt, the glint of cool silver adorning his knuckles and fingers, did nothing to quell the uncomfortable heat creeping its way up his throat, and Steve cursed himself for never fully getting over his childhood crush on Nikki Sixx.

“Yeah, detective, cut the crap,” parroted the man, and Steve revelled in that voice being aimed towards him. He swallowed, dragging his eyes up from the chains looped around his waist like a belt (and were those handcuffs in place of a buckle? Christ). A smirk was plastered over top of the rocker’s face, his brown eyes fully aware, it seemed, of the thousands of thoughts flooding through Steve’s mind. “Help the old man, why dontcha?”

Hopper gave the guy a rough shove and he stumbled, letting out a breathy laugh, and, stupidly, Steve reached forward to steady him. He regretted it the minute he touched the man because the flutter of eyelashes and sarcastic ‘my hero’ had Dt. Harrington stumbling instead.

“Fingerprint him,” the Chief said gruffly, physically manoeuvring Steve’s hands from the convict’s­ - remember the type of people who get themselves arrested, Steve – shoulder down to the cuffed hands pinned behind his back. Jim held him there for a moment, giving the other man a knowing look. His grip on Steve’s wrist tightened: “He’s in for drunk and disorderly. You remember how to put that into the system, right?”

“Yeah, but – “

“Don’t get distracted if you ever want to make it home tonight,” Hopper relented, backing away. Steve frowned.

“Where are you going?”

The chief grinned, throwing his hat onto his desk and shrugging on his coat. “Hot date, you know how it is.”

Steve resisted the urge to scoff, clearing his throat instead, and he gently urged the man in his charge forward as he watched, more miserable than ever, as his boss practically skipped from the building.

He pushed the cuffed man into a chair opposite an empty desk and turned the computer on begrudgingly. Chin in hand, he stared towards the blank windows-start-up screen as the PC’s fans whirred angrily into action. Steve felt eyes burning into him, and pushed hair from his forehead as he turned to the unwelcome attention:

“What?” he sighed. He was met with an exaggerated smile.

“Judging by your reaction, I guess you don’t.”

“What?”

“Know how it is,” the man continued, and Steve could feel himself begin to grow impatient, frustrated, annoyed. Spotting his flustered state, the smile on their face crept even further up their cheeks. “Having a hot date?”

He was leaning over the desk now, cheek pressed against a balled fist in some childish mirroring of Steve, and the detective felt the area beneath his eyes grow hot. He blinked, sitting back in his chair: “I know,” he said, aiming to keep his voice steady and calm – professional, because that’s what he was. A professional. Steve hated the way a dark eyebrow cocked at his response. “I know,” he repeated sternly, trying to force some conviction into his words.

“I don’t see a ring.”

Steve frowned, flexing his right hand awkwardly as he turned back to the computer screen, suddenly incredibly aware of it. “I’m not married.”

“Ah.” Steve’s eyes flickered to him, then down to the chipped nail polish on his fingers, and back to the screen. He swallowed, opening a folder to begin the digital booking procedure. He double clicked on a tick-box by accident as the man decided to speak once more: “So, you’re a player, then?”

Steve cursed breathlessly, exiting the file and reopening it. There, a blank slate. Dt. Harrington wished he could do the same thing in real life and restart this whole ordeal – he wouldn’t be letting Hopper sneak off the next time around.

“Name?”

“Eddie – Edward Munson… Is this an eye for an eye situation? Do I get to know just who my charming captor is?”

“It’s not required for me to tell you,” He stated, stealing a glance over towards Munson. The guy was still staring at him, eyes squinting, half-closed, as though Steve was a mystery he was trying to decipher. The click of keys as Steve added the man’s credentials to the document filled the brief silence. “Any middle names?”

“No.” A simple statement. Normal procedure. Then: “So, about your ‘hot dates’, detective… You go on lots?”

Dt. Harrington wanted to slam his head against the keyboard. He inhaled slowly (hold for four, just like Robin had taught him) and let the air out in a whining, exaggerated sigh. Half of him wanted to throttle Munson with the cuffs chained around his wrists, and the other half wanted to entertain him, purely out of personal, incredibly non-professional interest in the other man’s interest.

“Not anymore,” Steve admitted. He clicked into an empty box asking to describe the crime committed: “My colleague said you were being admitted for drunk and disorderly. Is that right?”

Eddie Munson snorted. “Your colleague?”

“Yeah.”

The other man rolled his eyes and began scratching at an ink stain on the wooden desk. “If you mean the big guy, then yeah. I don’t know about any disorder, though. Thought I was just being thrown into the clink with the rest of the bums.”

“You’re homeless, then?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up beneath his shaggy fringe, hiding there, and he had the audacity to look offended as he sank down into his chair. “Fuck no. Why, do I have trash in my hair?” He brought a hand up to thread through his wild locks, snickering at Steve’s unamused face.

“It’s not funny to make fun of the less fortunate, Munson. What’s your address?”

Eddie stiffened. “Uh, okay. Funny thing, actually – “

“You are homeless?” Steve guessed, and he figured he was actually close to the truth by the way the other man’s face seemed to humble and calm down from it’s crazy that he’d had posted there since they’d met.

“No, dude, I live in a van!”

“Like, in an RV?”

“Er,” Eddie hesitated. “Yeah, sure. Like in an RV.”

“What’s the license?”

Eddie answered disdainfully and watched as Steve typed the information into the designated box, frowning, but he made no attempt to interrupt the detective as he continued filling in the rest of the information. Steve treasured the quiet, broken only by the hushed conversation across the room where in Max continued to verbally abuse Powell’s attempts to shoot a crumpled post-it into the waste basket.

Steve turned to Eddie, then, examining him with a crude eye; Munson puffed his chest beneath his gaze like the preening bird of paradise he’d seen on that nature documentary Dustin had forced him to sit through (David Attenborough had lulled him into a false sense of security -  those birds were vicious).  Dt. Harrington wondered if the man realised he was doing it, but one glance to his smirking face and smudged eye-liner was enough to stop that thought in it’s tracks.

“Do you have a criminal record?”

“Not that I know of,” Eddie replied coolly. He narrowed his eyes as Steve turned to type something into a search engine, leaning forward and craning his neck to try and get a closer look. “What are you doing?”

“Fact-checking,” Steve murmured in reply, and felt his chest deflate, rest easy, when he saw that the man was telling the truth. He was clean as a whistle. Related family members - his father – were a different story all together, and Steve didn’t let himself linger on the crooked, malicious black and white mugshot that leered at him through the screen. Put away for second-degree manslaughter, he thought grimly, and looked back to the Munson sat before him. “It checks out.”

“Well, good,” Eddie said roughly. There was a gravel to his voice that had the hairs on the back of Steve’s neck standing to attention. “I’m a man of many qualities, detective. But I’m not a liar.”

There was an undercurrent of upset, embarrassment, at what Steve had possibly been assuming -  or even hinting towards – and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s just- uh, you know. We have to do it for everyone who comes through,” he stammered, and cleared his throat again, avoiding eye contact with the other man. “Don’t think you’re special or anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Munson shot back, and there it was, the classic grin that Steve found somewhat endearing now that he’d seen that face void of it. Eddie sent him a wink, and he supressed the shiver in exchange for a well-timed eyeroll, scrolling up and down the document to check for anything he’d missed. He checked ‘no’ for anything stating that the incarcerated was exhibiting foul or unsavoury behaviour. ‘No’ was also checked for the box that asked whether a superior officer had been overseeing the whole thing, because Steve was so going to throw it back in Hopper’s face if anyone questioned why a Homicide detective was detaining people.

Steve sent the file to the printer in his office. Mainly because he wanted to escape the digging eyes of Eddie Munson, but also because he didn’t know how to use the one set up only a couple feet away. When he pushed himself out from beneath the desk, standing up, Eddie frowned, copying the motion, and Steve shook his head, pushing him back down into the seat:

“Stay here.”

“Where are you going?” If anything, Steve would say that the man sounded concerned. How cute.

“I’ll be back,” he reassured, and Munson’s eyes widened a fraction.

“Okay?” The other man said, like he didn’t know what else to say. Steve sent him a stiff smile before he began that awkward, half-run half-speed walk to his office. His heartbeat thudded in his ears and if he didn't know any better he'd say he could hear the tumbling of blood as it rushed through his veins as Eddie Munson's eyes followed his every move.

What was wrong with him? Just a few hours ago he was investigating the brutal slaughter of a poor woman. Someone's mother, someone's daughter, was dead, and for the first time in years Dt. Harrington was struggling to keep the case at the forefront of his mind. He braced himself against door, closing it softly behind him. He wasn't in high school anymore, Steve had to remind himself. He couldn't just drop it all for the first cute girl he saw.

But and Steve tried to stop the train of thought before it began, failing miserably. But, Edward Munson wasn't a girl. That made it different, surely?

No. It didn't. Steve had been with guys before - he'd learnt more in college than how to assess the arcs of blood splattered against the wall. He was just tired, and lonely, and he'd had a rough day. Steve snatched the papers from the printer harshly, wrinkling them slightly. He just needed to get it out of his system, that's all.

Preferably not with a drunk dude admitted to a police station.

The term 'beggars can't be choosers' breached the sturdy wall he'd suddenly built up in his mind, and Steve banished it instantly. He wasn't a beggar. He was Steve Harrington. King Steve. The best homicide investigator Hawkins had seen in half a century. If anything, everyone else was begging.

When he came back out of his office, his tiny, insecure pep-talk to himself had boosted his spirits some, and he strode jauntily back to the desk with the same cockiness he'd had when he was younger, before his work had both taken over his life and drained him of it at once. He eyed Maxine Mayfield uncertainly where she was perched on the end of an adjoining desk, listening with the same intense, serious look she always kept on her face as the hand-cuffed man talked aimlessly at her about whatever the fuck a guy like him had to talk about. Music, probably.

Steve sent a sharp glance towards Officer Powell, but the man had fallen asleep with his feet kicked up and his neck flopped awkwardly over the back of his chair. He would feel that position when he woke, and Steve felt a little bit gratified. Served him right for leaving a ten-year-old unsupervised with a criminal.

Not that Dt. Harrington really thought that Munson was a bad guy. Usually when drunks got brought into the clink it was because they’d been partying too loud and disturbed a neighbour, and, honestly, Eddie seemed sober. But that was beside the point.

Steve stood with his hands on his hips, watching the two of them, and felt a begrudging smile tilt the corners of his mouth: “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” Max cried, kicking out at him with her swinging legs. She missed him by about three feet, but he got the picture quite clearly. Eddie rolled his eyes, shaking his chains at Steve.

“Nothing important, Steve,” the man purred. Steve’s heart hammered in his chest, and he wet his lips, looking away from the eyes plastered onto him. Eddie tracked the move like a predator, and something about the way he gave his full attention to Steve had the detective shuddering beneath his gaze.

“Max, you’re not supposed to speak to strangers.”

“You were talking to him,” the girl said indignantly, and Eddie’s dazzling smile caused Steve to falter in his reply, like the man knew just how to hotwire his brain. He blinked.

“Yeah, well. That’s my job,” he shrugged, pushing past her sit back down. The red-head scowled, kicking out again, and this time her shoes brushed against his slacks. He shoot her a dirty look: “You shouldn’t have told him my name, either. Where’s your brother? Go bother him.”

Max’s brow furrowed and she pulled her legs up, crossing them on top of the desk. Her eyes flickered between the two men, and she pressed her lips together in indecision. “Can I stay if I’m quiet?”

“Sure. But I want silence. Anything more and you’re out. That’s an order,” Steve enforced, lacing his tone with authority. He knew it would work – it always did with kids. Remind them that you’re in control, give them an ounce of duty, and they felt instantly important. Max nodded furiously, making a show of zipping her lips, and Steve threw the document in his hand down onto the desk, turning his attention to Munson.

The man was looking at him – no surprise there, but Steve still felt oddly uncomfortable – with wide, excited eyes, his lips parted slightly. Steve could see the pink of his tongue trapped between his teeth, and cocked his head slightly: “You good, Munson?” He pushed the paper across the desk. “I need you to sign this for me, then we can get to fingerprinting.”

Eddie swallowed and shook his head. “No, uh – yeah I’m good. I’m super good,” he informed. He paused, scrutinizing the detective as he stole a pen right out of Steve’s hands before he had the chance to offer it. He scribbled a rushed, messy signature that slopped over the dotted line that it was aimed for, and stood quickly, slamming his palms flat on the table in a way that generated a thunderous sound. Steve raised a brow as Max jumped, lips twisting in her attempts to maintain her vigil of absolute quiet. Munson levelled him with a… what was in that stare? Steve couldn’t quite make it out, struggling to compartmentalise the muddle of emotions burning there.

“So you’re ready to go, then?” the detective proffered, rising to join the detainee.

“I’m all yours, Stevie.”

“Please, call me detective. It’s protocol.”

“I’m all yours, detective Steve.”

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. The tangy scent of copper drifted from his tie and he swallowed as he rounded the desk. This was going to be a long night.

He hated Mondays.

[bluecreates25]

CW: MCD

Soap wouldn't mind being in love with a boy, if it didn't mean he was in love with "The Ghost."

Ghost wouldn't mind being in love with Soap, if it didn't mean he was in love with a boy.

The tension on base was palpable. It was unexpected, unusual, and deeply unsettling. The usually inseparable pair that was Soap and Ghost, were both acting as if they'd gotten into an argument, and their prides were keeping them from discussing it.

The once easy and smooth banter between the Lieutenant and Sergeant was now painfully forced. Like there was some thin line they were dancing across, ever so ungraceful. They were colliding into each other, like stars drawn too close together, and together, they would burn.

It was painfully awkward between the two of them. They were drawn to each other by some force stronger than the laws of the universe. They were still inseparable by physical standards, but they actively avoided interaction despite their constant proximity. Yet, as they both felt their feelings colliding into something bigger, the more they pushed the other away.

The water boiling under the strings of their fate was bound to bubble over at some point. It would drown both of them, lest they acknowledge the ever-growing flame of feelings between them.

Soap always knew that Simon was untouchable. That Simon was so deeply guarded beneath the facade of Ghost that breaking down that concrete wall would shatter something unfixable, be it for better or for worse. Soap thought he'd be fine. That he could avoid the enviable. That he wouldn't fall for the man that was meant to be his soulmate.

It wasn't even that he had a problem with it. He's an open guy and has no problem dating a guy. But Simon. It could've been anyone but Simon, and it would've been fine, great even. Gods how he wishes he could take it all back, go back before he fell, hell, before he met Simon, if only to save him the agony.

Soap wishes he could run away. He wishes he could blindly fall into whatever is festering between him and his Lieutenant. But he knows Ghost won't catch him. Not because he doesn't care, not because he doesn't want to, but because Ghost simply won't accept it. Soap knows the fall is too high, and he'd never survive it. But, he is tetering dangerously over the edge of oblivion, and he can't pull himself back.

Ghost knew he had fallen for Soap the moment he met the bubbly Sergeant, who treated him like he was just another guy. He loved Soap because of how the sergeant looked past his cold exterior and his rank. He loved Soap for being so damn patient with him, even when Ghost would push him away. He loved how easy it was with Soap. How they could bicker and mess around like school kids, how they could talk like they've known each other for forever. He loves how they just click and how they just feel so right.

Ghost would never let Soap closer than a bent arms distance away. Just close enough to mean something, yet just far enough for it to never be enough. Ghost would've claimed Soap as his the second he saw the smaller man if he weren't just that. A man. Had Soap been a girl, Ghost would've poured his heart out, taken the leap of faith, and caught Soap on the way down into bliss. But Ghost couldn't have that. Deep down, something burned into his soul and told him that it was wrong. He had no problem with queer people, but it wasn't him; it couldn't be.

He will never accept the love he has for Soap and it will ruin him. It tears at his heart every time he shoves the sergeant away. His feelings nearly suffocate him when he sees people flirt with Soap. He desperately wants to claim him. Jealousy scorching deep lines into his heart and soul. His gut wrenches, and he feels sick about the whole thing if he allows his mind to linger on it for too long.

Much like glass, too much pressure on the unstable bond they upheld, and they were bound to shatter. It happened days before a mission. Two volatile men, crushed by the weight of feelings bigger than themselves, unable to communicate what they feel.

It's nasty. It's an entirely verbal altercation, but words cut deeper than physical wounds, and words can stick and reopen those wounds at any time. No one dared interfere. The words said were harsh and had an edge of anger that only the hurt could manage. They both burned like bonfires, only fueled off of each other. Their prides were the only thing keeping them from burning out entirely.

They would never be the same. That was the end of them. Two soulmates, names carved into each other's hearts, souls forever intertwined in the destiny of the universe, broken by the will of ill timing. They'd never get to know what they could've been. The amount of joy and exhilaration of loving the one destined for them in every timeline. They wouldn't even know what they had, as small as it might have been, until it was gone.

It wasn't even a few days later when Soap died in action. His heartbreak making him reckless. He never saw Simon again. He died alone, his Lieutenant elsewhere on the battlefield, not wanting to be near the source of his own agony. He died, knowing that their argument was their last real interaction. The torment of that thought alone was enough to kill him. No one would ever know it, but Simon's name was the last word he ever spoke, as his body finally gave out.

Ghost would never recover. They recovered Soap's body, but Simon could never bear the weight of seeing it. He forever blames himself for Soap's death, but he knows there was never anything more for them. Not in this life. The part of Ghost that was Simon died the day Soap did. Ghost would never love. Soap was the only one who could've filled that role, and still Ghost wouldn't have allowed it.

Ghost would die some years later on a mission. His job was his life, and he had thrown himself into it, full force after Soap died. Ghosts body would never be found, but he died with Soap's dogtags pressed against his heart like it would save him.

The things that burn the brightest always go out the quickest. Soap and Ghost were just that. Two stars that burned so brightly they burned out, taking the other with them. They were soulmates. They were lovers. But that was never made for this lifetime. Their happy ending destined to fail along their crash course.

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Underdog

John slumped against the cool metal wall of the Spartan barracks, arms crossed as he watched his teammates gearing up with a casual efficiency he could only envy. Kelly was double-checking her equipment with the meticulous care of a brain surgeon, and Fred was casually discussing battle tactics like he was planning a weekend barbecue. John's own gear sat untouched at his feet—a silent rebuke.

"Earth to John. You're staring again. Either you've got a critique of my packing skills, or your head's back in boot camp hell," Kelly teased, snapping her fingers in front of his visor.

John snapped out of his reverie, chuckling despite himself. "Guess I was just thinking about the old grinder days. You know, how I was more of a tripping hazard than a teammate?"

Kelly smirked and leaned against the wall next to him. "Tripping hazard, huh? I remember someone who once dove on a 'grenade' to save the squad during drills. Turned out to be a dud, but still, big hero moves there, John."

"Yeah, a dud—story of my training days," John quipped, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Seriously, though. Remember how Mendez and the coaches were ready to boot me out? I was like one step away from being shown the door."

Kelly’s expression softened. "You heard that? We thought we kept it under wraps."John nodded. "Heard all of it. Made for a great pep talk, really boosted the old morale."

Fred, overhearing, came over with a grin that could light up a room. "If they had booted you, who would have been my wingman? You think Kelly here can handle my bad jokes?"

"Nobody can handle your bad jokes, Fred," Kelly retorted without missing a beat.John's laugh was genuine this time. "Maybe that’s my secret power, huh? High tolerance for crappy humor?"

"It's a vital skill," Fred agreed, winking. "Seriously, though, John. We all knew you had it rough, but look at you now. Still standing, still fighting. That’s more than just tolerance; that’s guts."

John's gaze drifted to his untouched gear. "I dunno. I always felt like I was two steps behind, trying to play catch-up. Even with all the enhancements, all the tech... I was still the kid who couldn't climb the damn rope in gym class."

"But here you are, climbing mountains instead," Kelly said, nudging him gently. "You didn't just catch up, John; you found your own path. That's what being a Spartan is about. Not just following the road laid out for you, but making your own way when the road runs out."

Fred clapped him on the shoulder, his hand heavy in the best way. "She’s right. You've pulled us out of the fire more times than I can count. You think that's because you can run fast or shoot straight? Nah, it's because you've got something a lot of us golden-egg types lack—a refusal to quit when quitting's the only sensible option."

John considered their words, the familiar weight of self-doubt warring with the burgeoning sense of belonging. Maybe he hadn't been the first to scale the hill or the fastest in the sprints, but he'd never left a man behind, never failed to throw himself into the fray.

"Yeah, well, someone’s gotta be the guy who charges in headfirst, right? Might as well be me." His tone was light, but his heart was suddenly lighter too.

"Exactly!" Kelly punched his arm lightly. "Now, quit moping and gear up, hero. We've got a world to save."

As John bent to strap on his gear, the earlier weight of his thoughts felt less like chains and more like armor. He was here because he refused to give up, because he’d turned his every setback into a step forward, however shaky. With a final click of his helmet, he looked up at his friends, his family.

"Let's go show them what the underdog can do," he said, his voice steady and sure.

Kelly grinned. "That's the spirit. After all, every pack needs its wild card."