#hoping to get the full chapter out by next Friday

[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 7 - Five Of Wands

summary : you've been avoiding viktor, but as your next homework session comes around, he cannot help but be curious. oh and more tyler

content warnings : crude language (not much okay), reader is having thoughtsss

word count : 5,6k

author's note : FIRST OF ALL i was sick and on my periods writing this okay so this is much more of a transitionary chapter than anything for the shitstorm to come, SECOND OF ALL i KNOW it's another 5 of wands chapter i'm sorry i forgot that i had already used this card before THUS i will probably change the card in chapter 4 because i couldn't see any other card working for this one. but i still hope you all will like it <3 (i don't know how many times i wrote "sighed" in this chapter so BEAR WITH ME)

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world

masterlist : here

taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch

Friday arrived for another study session between you and Viktor. The week had flown by, with one particularity: your stubborn avoidance of Viktor, and his stubborn search for you.

During classes, you always managed to find a seat as far away from his as possible. You avoided him in the corridors, ignored him when you crossed his path, and when you were in the library and you noticed him, you packed up your things as quickly as possible to leave.

Since the power cut, you'd been even more keen to avoid Viktor. Although you'd done it before, you'd simply decided you didn't want to interact with him. The last few weeks had been far too full of his presence, and you needed to get away from him both physically and mentally.

The trip to the museum, the lunch with him and Jayce, the hour of detention... Your days were far more filled with him than you would have preferred.

It had been a sudden, almost instinctive choice to get as far away from him as possible. 

There was something in the air of the evening of the blackout, and even today, a kind of disturbing truth was taking up more and more space in your mind: Viktor wanted to be your friend.

In your eyes, there was always a huge worry about making friends. Your circle was small, and most of your friendships were involuntary, and you were fine with it. You didn't need many friends, you simply kept the ones you trusted. But were you ready to place your trust in Viktor ?

Alas, Friday was here, and Viktor was inevitable.

You had arrived a little early at the library, dropping off your things and anticipating by picking up the tomes you would need during this session. The library was already busier than it had been the previous week, with your class mimicking you and Viktor as they set to work on their history topic to avoid working on it at the last minute.

You despised the very idea of doing this assignment, as it brought you too close to your years living in Zaun, to more nightmares every night to more Viktor. You wanted to get rid of this homework, and you knew full well that to do that you'd have to actually deal with it. 

But while he was away, you took the opportunity to take out a sheet of paper and dipped the tip of your quill in one of the pretty inks Eris had given you. You wanted to write to her. You hadn't received any correspondence from her for some time now, and you suspected that she too had other things to worry that were more important than taking the time to sit down and write a letter.

Dear Eris, you began.

The weeks are endless here, and I almost miss the times when the only thing we had to do all day was figure out what to do to avoid dying of boredom till night came. I've welcomed my new flatmate, Sky Young. She's nice, I could have had worse, I doubt I could have had better. Speaking of better.

You raised your feather above the paper for a moment, hesitating over the next part of your sentence. Viktor would be inevitable in this very letter, and the idea frustrated you. No matter what happened, his name was on your mind, always at the corner of your lips, ready to rub against your teeth and sound out like a finger pressing on a trigger before shooting.

Were you going to tell her about your concerns? Were you going to feign disinterest, pretend it was just some guy Jayce had introduced you to?

I'm getting a bit more used to tarot. You write as your sign of progress. This morning I drew the five of wands. From what I gather though, it doesn't look very positive. I should expect it, five guys hitting each other with sticks seems an unlikely interpretation of a general hug.

According to the little booklet, the five of sticks represented: Incendiary events. Protests. Angry people. Drama. Exciting conflicts.

You'd raised your eyebrows as your eyes roamed the rest of the descriptions: New ideas are born of passionate debate. Energy is scattered but if forces work together, powerful results occur. There's a need for unity. You're bothered by people who don't act as you'd hoped. Free yourself by surrendering to the present moment.

Well, that looks promising, you thought. The card was obviously pushing you towards Viktor, and that was bothering you.

You were clinging to what you had, to the past, to the only thing you knew: survival. Viktor was turning your finely constructed ecosystem upside down, as if he were treading on a sandcastle you'd spent hours building on a windy beach.

But something inside you was beginning to creep in, an idea that seemed dangerous, and which a few weeks ago would have seemed quite simply impossible to think of. 

What if you tried?

What if you tried not to be so uptight about working with him? What if, for once, you accepted the possibility that this wasn't a competition for your life?

The idea was bitter, weighing you down with anxiety. You went back to writing your letter.

I think I know what the card is leading me to, you confessed, but it is deeply unpleasant. What more can I say... I don't think this letter is going to be very long. I don't have much to tell you, and if I do, I'd rather say it to your face than on a sheet of the Glorious Academy of Piltover. You added useless curls in your writing for the title of the Academy to emphasize the ridicule of its prestigious status. You knew Eris would laugh. Did you get any new exotic payments? Here I'm drowning in copies and bolts, but your inks and herbs keep me company.

You smile for a moment, but the thought of mentioning Viktor keeps running through your mind. You looked around for a moment, as if he would miraculously appear and snatch the letter out of your hand to read it. But nothing, just the serene calm of the library, only the sound of flipped pages as students tried finding some information were keeping you compagny.

You were right about the Emperor. Of course you were. You confessed. A new pupil has arrived and, to top it all, he's beaten me in the league table. I suppose you can imagine how I felt about the situation. Every day is a tooth-and-nail battle with him. To crown it all, we've both been assigned to a collaborative project. Isn't that great? Anyway. I miss you a lot. I can't wait to hear from you. Say hi to Ekko for me.

Ekko was a childhood friend who you spent a lot of time with. It was undoubtedly through his demonstrations of repairs and your afternoons spent working on tinkering projects that your interest in science and engineering was born. 

You dipped your quill in your inkwell one last time.

P.S: The name of the Emperor is-

"How long have you been here?"

You almost spilled the inkwell on the table as your eyes rose to Viktor, standing in front of you with his satchel slung over one shoulder.

You sighed. He could at least have made his presence known by clearing his throat, not by standing still and watching you like a cat under his amber eyes. You took your letter, writing his cursed name, followed by yours before blowing on the paper to hasten the drying of the ink.

"Long enough for either of us to fall asleep in Devid's classes," you huffed as you finally folded the sheet in half and tucked it into your notebook to send it later.

He wore a small smirk, gracefully relieving himself of his satchel by pulling it off his shoulder and letting it fall gently to the floor. He sat down opposite you, taking out his things.

"Was Demacian never one of your fortes for you to sleep during his classes?" he asked about Devid, your language teacher. "I thought you'd understand with your wide panel of knowledge."

"I do, understand." You corrected him as you picked up a tome to begin your work session. "I'm fluent, I don't need more of what's being said in these classes."

"Why ?" he asked, placing his inkwell and notebook on the table. "Ever travelled there ?"

"I never travelled outside of here and Zaun," you informed him.

He sighed, looking down at his notes. "Then you don't speak Demacian."

You frowned, raising your head. He met your gaze, waiting for your next remark.

"Why ?" you questioned. "Has his royal highness, all full of Runeterrian knowledge, been on a sweet trip to the Great City?"

He arched an eyebrow, his eyes drifting over the small pile of tome to grab one.

"Any idiot knows that learning a language in classes and putting it to practice in the actual region where said language is spoken is a completely different thing."

You remained silent, trying to contain and prevent yourself from giving him the pleasure of answering. You went back to your notes, pressing the binding of your notebook to the table as you jotted down a few more bits of information you managed to find in the new tome you'd selected.

A full minute passed, after which Viktor couldn't help breaking the silence.

"Why are you ignoring me?"

You sighed, was he a puppy in need of constant attention?

"I'm not ignoring you." You confirmed, not looking up from your notes.

"Fine." He said, searching for a way to continue the conversation, to find the keyword to unlock you. "Why are you avoiding me?"

This time he'd hit the nail on the head. Obviously he hadn't been blind to your dodges, but how could he? He was observant, always making the perfect deductions, and was smart enough to get on your nerves.

"Can we focus and work?" you tried to extricate yourself from the situation.

He sank back in his chair, staring at you for a moment. "Not until you answer my questions."

This time you won his gaze. "Too bad there's no candle for you to bargain information with."

"I can find other ways," he remarked, "Miss."

You tensed at the nickname, your lips pressing together as you leaned on the desk, resting your elbows on it.

"Oh yeah?" you replied almost amused, "I hope these ways will be as promising as you and Jayce's attempt at cooking on a heater."

He smiled, approaching you in turn. "You seem to have forgotten that I seem to know more about you than you know about me."

"And then I thought I was supposed to be the obsessed one," you brows knit as a curious little smile tried to stretch your lips. "You're not stalking me, are you ?"

Your eyes crinkled, scanning his continuously. The days were receding further and further into the night, and the sky outside was gradually turning from cyan to indigo. Under the subdued lights of the library, Viktor's eyes stood out, ever more piercingly under his long brown lashes.

"From what I have heard," he continued as you both leant on your elbows against the table as if playing chess, "Madam Selene is truly open when it comes to questions asked by her students."

He had just put your king in danger, your lips parting in surprise for a moment before closing again, jaw clenched.

"Surely she won't mind exchanging on the pride that her legal daughter is to her?"

You inhaled heavily, chewing your cheek as his insufferable sneer spread to the corners of his lips again, raising his mole slightly.

You picked up your quill again, avoiding his gaze and letting yours return to your notebook. You dipped it in with a half-open, hesitant mouth as you considered what you were going to say, both to him and on paper.

"I'm avoiding you because I can't get to be friends with my only rival."

He seemed amused by your sentence, as if you were just a child trying to impress an adult by saying something serious and threatening with the latest big word you had learned. He rested his chin on his palm, watching you write, and for an instant you thought of the paper he'd never passed you back during detention. What was he about to say ?

"Isn't there an old saying about being close to your opponents ?"

"Isn't there this old thing called ‘free will’ that allows me to do whatever I want ?"

He shrugged. "Your free will hasn't decided to make you leave this room so far."

You regained his eyes this time, the latter looking through you, trying to peek through the cracks in your facade for a chance to see the lights that resided there.

"Are you challenging my free will? Because I can give it some physical attributes in the scientifically accurate name of 'clenched fists'."

"I'll pass." He sneered. "I'm sure Tyler has had enough lessons on this concept."

Silence fell again, you scanning the lines of another novel where too little information about Zaun was catalogued, while Viktor had not touched his pen. You could feel him in your peripheral vision, watching you, following you relentlessly.

"Am I truly your rival?" He finally asked.

"What else would you be?"

Viktor pouted, straightening slightly. "Being your rival implies having the same goal and fighting for it. I am uncertain if that definition applies to us in this case."

Admittedly, he didn't seem to have the same devotion to his academic results as you did, which frustrated you deeply. But what about the second option he cited?

"In the Academy, we all have the same goal." You replied, watching him for a moment before returning to your notes.

There was another pause on the table, and you thought that perhaps this time he would start working. But he didn't.

"I want a truce."

You looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"...Okay," you finally say, picking up another book, "good for you."

"I mean it, miss." He insisted. "I think you've had it wrong on me-" But you cut him off.

“What are you implying ?” You asked, annoyed at beating around the bush when you seemed to be the only one working right now.

"I'm not implying," Viktor nuanced, "I am saying."

"Saying ?" you shook your head, waiting for the next part.

"Yes. You know, that thing that one can do with the possession of a mouth and vocal cords ? You've become an expert at it just through this conversation,” he remarked as he straightened up and grabbed his pencil, twirling it between his fingers, "as it is the most we have spoken together in a week."

"Well then, conversation doesn't seem to be such a dying art anymore now does it ?" you remarked.

Viktor smiled. "You seem to like quoting me." 

You stared at him, raising your eyebrows and sighing. "I'm going to use unparalleled verbal condescension: shush." Your eyes returned to the tome you were working on. "This is a library, not a café."

"You've never spat in mine, by the way, reassure me?"

"After wasting my spit talking to you, I doubt I'd waste any more in your coffee."

He didn't say a word, but you knew he was smiling. Facing you, painfully fiddling with his pen as if this whole thing was some meagre task he could afford to procrastinate on.

You hated this attitude, the simple fact that he didn't seem to work to achieve his goals, that it was innate when you had struggled to rise so high for so long.

"I mean it," he said, straightening up, putting aside his teasing tone for a moment, "for the truce."

You looked up at him, his expression unfamiliar to you. There was something gentle in his piercing gaze, as if he saw something in you that was worth seeing. You sighed, thinking for a moment.

Would this childish quarrel last until the end of the year? Would you still consider him an enemy when you could have made a new friend? Friendships didn't come your way every day, and you were well aware of that. But were you ready to put aside your stubbornness after the various humiliations he had put you through?

“What would a truce even mean?” you finally asked, somehow intent on hearing more.

His lips stretched slightly as his eyes widened. He shrugged.

“I don't know,” he admitted, ”I never thought I'd go this far with you, on this topic.”

Your shoulders slumped.

“Then think of something to say next time after we finish working on this.” You returned to your page, rereading your notes. “I'll take the subjects of Boundary Markets, Cultivairs, and Hope House Orphanage. One location for each level. You should pick three too.”

“Hope House Orphanage?” He repeated, mind finally concentrating on the exposé. “That's the only good thing that can be talked about in such a level.”

You turned a few pages of your notes, running through the lines of your research. 

“There's always Old Hungry,” you remarked, voice lower.

The Old Hungry was a gigantic mechanized clock tower that grew from the very depth of Zaun and built itself up till levels that could reach some of Piltover's buildings. It was too imposing to avoid, and too full of history to be left aside in the presentation.

“Old Hungry ? This old scrap doesn't even give time anymo-”

“It's the Heart of Zaun.” You cut. “It's unavoidable to talk about it anyway.”

“Why don't you take it if you're so adamant about it being on our work?”

You remembered its size, the dark wingspan and the wind blowing through the dusty gears of the Old Hungry. 

“I'd rather you be the one to take it.” you confirmed.

“Why ?”

“Because. Don't you want to take it ?”

“Do you want to get rid of it ?”

You exchanged a look with him, urging him not to be picky.

“Why are you being so mysterious about all of this?” he questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

“You seem to have forgotten that you seem to know more about me than I know about you.” you repeated, annoyed.

“Shall I ask Selene?” he said ironically.

“I fear asking her this would be a limit placed both in her knowledge about this as well as your questions for her.” 

He gazed at you for a moment, clearly frustrated by the secrets, the things left unsaid. You stood up, returning the tomes you'd already read to their shelves. Viktor stood up, following you.

“Acting tough will not make it hurt any less.” He said as you climbed the steps of the ladder and he reached its base. “You know this, yes?”

You suppressed a sigh as you placed one of the tomes on the shelf, arranging it perfectly in line.

“I don't need any of your life lessons,” you remarked, placing the extra tomes. “Can you move the ladder to the left?”

“You know the magic word,” he almost crooned.

You scoffed, not intending to give it to him so easily. You leaned to the side, watching, tiptoeing to reach one of the too few tomes on Zaun in the entire library.

Viktor seemed amazed at how stubborn you could prove to be, especially about him.

“Don't tell me your leitmotif resides in what doesn't kill you makes you stronger?” he questioned as you leaned dangerously toward the books.

“My leitmotif,” you pointed out as you almost reached the binding of the tome you were after, “resides in what doesn't kill you disappoints me-”

You'd reached the book, but your sentence was cut off at the end by your sharp gasp of breath. You'd just lost your balance, your feet slipping off the ladder step as you felt the air rush beneath you and expected to slam heavily into the ground.

The sound of something falling to the floor echoed, the sensation of hands on your back and waist catching you off the ground. Your heart pounding with the shock of sudden fear, you realized what had just happened in the blink of an eye: Viktor had caught you in your fall.

You could feel his thin fingers, warm and tentative, resting on the vest of your uniform around your waist. He held you there, firmly, and you felt your back brush against his chest, his breath landing on the nape of your neck and raising the hairs on it.

You released yourself from his grip and turned to face him, suddenly backing away, heart still pounding, but unable to differentiate whether this was due to the suddenness of the fall, or something else.

He seemed just as surprised as you were, lips parted. He didn't seem to be about to make a condescending remark, a joke about your lack of balance that could be matched by his, nothing.

You leaned back against the shelf, trying to calm yourself as your muscles relaxed from the apprehension of your fall.

There was a moment of quiet, a moment when, for once, neither of you knew what to say to the other. Your eyes fell to the ground, where Viktor's cane had fallen. You swallowed on a dry throat, inhaling to try and grain back your thoughts.

You knelt down to pick it up, straightening up to hand it back to him. He studied you for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours. He brought his hand tentatively up to the handle of his cane, stretched out towards him.

“Did you mean it?” you asked in a low voice as his hand reached the pommel, his thin, long fingers a minute ago resting on your waist wrapping elegantly and slowly around his cane.

“The truce?” he questioned, his voice almost reaching the whisper, as if he feared any higher volume would burst the delicacy of this bubble you were both in.

You let go of the cane, leaning back against the bookcase again, like a prop, like your crutch.

“The other night,” you began, eyes lowered to your feet on the floor, ”you said that it seemed impossible to me that you wanted to learn more about me, out of genuine curiosity. And now, you said you wanted a truce.” You raised your head, straightening to look at him. “Did you mean it, all of this?”

You felt very small, as if you were walking and, in the middle of the nettles, had found a patch of grass where you could put your feet without stinging yourself.

He seemed touched, but this emotion seemed to give way to confusion.

“Why wouldn't I mean it ?

Why would you mean it? you wondered. You'd had enough examples of how trust was doomed to fail you. You pulled yourself upright, drawing your armour back over you, closing your heart before it went beyond the confines of your chest.

“Oh sorry.” you resumed sarcastically. “I forgot how through your many gallantries in our discussions you have evidently shown to be the most agreeable young man in the world.”

He smiled, his cheerful attitude back in place in the blink of an eye. “I cannot deny that exchanging with someone like you bring out the more playful part of me.”

“Someone like me?” you stressed, almost offended.

“Yes.” he confirmed. “Your morals are like a legend - rumoured to exist, but no proof to back it up.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you started walking back to your table. “My expectations for you were low when asking this, but somehow you still failed to meet them...”

But your sentence had died on its end, as not far from your table, an unfortunately familiar, tall figure with blond curls stood.

Fuck. Tyler.

Seeing you reappear from between the shelves, he noticed you both, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as he strode towards you.

“Ah,” he smiled as he approached you, ”my tormentors.”

You sighed, standing by your table as he reached the height of your chair. “You again.”

“What?” He chuckled, feigning offense as he rested his hand on his chest. “Aren't you pleased to see me?” He arched an eyebrow. “I'm sure you've got another one of these filthy Zaunite, barbaric lessons to give me.”

“You wish you were worth the effort.” You huffed, moving closer to your chair, but he came between you and it. 

You glared at him, who seemed satisfied with your reaction. He turned to Viktor.

“Your dog's got quite the bite, Moravec.” His eyes settled on you again, watching you up and down until they returned to yours. “Where did you get one of those?”

You breathed heavily, the annoyance of his remarks demeaning you to a supposedly docile and pliable being making your blood boil.

“Turns out she has a mouth and proper aligned thoughts that you could not fathom reaching, Tyler.” Pointed Viktor, coming to sit in his respective place.

The blond watched you, not letting go of your eyes for a moment as he took a step back and took his place in your chair. “How noisy insects are this time of year.”

And he was proud, of his insolence, of his overflowing egotism, which he displayed like the most expensive and chic jacket he owned in his priceless wardrobe.

“Tyler,” you began, inhaling as you tried to calm yourself, “‘piss off.’”

“Such a soft language.” He sneered, lounging in your chair as if he'd ordered its manufacture himself. Who knows, maybe all the academy's furniture rested on his family's finances. “Do they all speak like that in Zaun?”

“Why ? Wanna go visit ?” You inquired, crossing your arms over your chest. “I wonder what'll get taken first, your pretty blonde locks, or your tongue.”

You played on his unfamiliarity with the city, his prejudices ingrained in his mind, unfolding a terrain of fictitious threats that could be very useful to you.

It had its effect. For a slight moment, you noticed the concern in his eyes, a very silent ‘... is that true?’ that didn't cross the boundary between his mind and lips.

“My patron came to me.” He confessed, looking away as if ignoring you. “Seems like your detention ran a bit short, didn't it?”

You heard Viktor chuckle, but didn't even turn around. “It's just like you said, Miss.” he remarked, leaning forward on the table. “Looks like he is obsessed with us."

“You're not worth a thought.” Tyler spat, obviously insulted by Viktor's remark. He turned to you, grabbing one of your pencils to play with like it was his. “Didn't know you had your own patron, though.”

“Let me guess.” You sighed, placing your weight on one of your hips as you stood. “Your little clever mind aligned two dots and thought that Zaun and Patron together was an impossible combination of words here in the Academy.”

He was amused, but obviously annoyed. You must have touched a reality in his reasoning that he didn't like you to know.

“This one was a second thought.” He admitted all the same. “The first was,” he leaned in slightly, “how the hell does a girl as irascible as you can manage to pull any social strings to get yourself a patron?”

You giggled, he was trying to push your buttons. Perhaps he was simply a masochist, you considered, perhaps he had a pronounced desire for humiliation. Or perhaps he was just profoundly stupid.

“Funny, I thought the same thing about you when I met you.” You offered him a smile that possessed no warmth. “But I guess walking around with a golden spoon in your mouth and shitting in silk sheets during your childhood up until now must have its advantages. Right, Hoskel ?"

Tyler frowned, hemming his lower lip in anger. His eyes shifted from yours to Viktor's. “She truly is-”

But you cut him off, placing both hands on the table and leaning towards him. “She is in front of you. And she,” your voice darkened, ”can add some new marks on your face to match the blue of your eyes.”

Tyler tensed, the seriousness in your stare convincing him for a moment that your threats weren't empty words, but promises that would come true if necessary.

He let out a nervous laugh, nodding as if you'd just given him a most satisfying demonstration. He was probably thinking, right then and there, that he was safe. That on the floor of the Academy, you wouldn't repeat the violent acts that had earned you an hour's detention.

“You, are a tough one, my friend.” he laughed. “You still have the essence of your hometown so far, you as well as he.” He turned to Viktor. “Paint stripes on a toad, it'll never make it a tiger.

Your blood ran hot, the sentence like an iron that had just burned your skin raw. You gripped his tie, pulling so hard that Tyler nearly stumbled and strangled on it as you pulled him towards your face, your face twisted with hatred. 

His eyes were filled with a new fear as you rumbled, your voice low. “Say that again, and I'll fucking kill you.”

His chest bulged and sagged rapidly as his shoulders were up to his ears in fear, stressing as your knuckles turned white under the tight grip you had on his tie.

He swallowed, staying that way until, in the blink of an eye, his gaze landed on your lips. 

The simple act brought you back to the reality of your proximity, of your two faces so close together that anyone could have considered this something intimate. You let go of his tie as if it carried an infection, as if it had suddenly become so hot that you had to let go of it at all costs. You frowned, stepping back, watching Tyler as he breathed just as heavily.

The great doors of the library opened, and the tiny silhouette of Heimerdinger poked his pink nose into the room. This was enough for you to put aside the previous event, same for Viktor and Tyler who both turned to the professor in surprise.

You eyes widened, straightening up as he strode contentedly towards the center of the room. What was Heimerdinger doing here?

It was unusual to find teachers in the library, and obviously all the students around you seemed just as confused about the situation. He trotted on, making his way to the very center of the room under the curious gazes of students.

“Young folks,” he called, “I have an announcement to make. Please gather around me, so that I don't have to see you all one by one in the immensity of this room."

The students exchanged surprised glances, approaching him. You looked at Viktor, who was frowning. He stood up, you approached Heimerdinger. When a small arc had formed around the professor, he cleared his throat.

“ I would have liked to have waited until our next class to tell you,” he admitted, “but with the news just in and the weekend coming up, I thought it wiser to tell you as soon as possible.”

Everyone was hanging on his every word.

“You see, we've been communicating for some time, the Academy members and myself, with The Great Demacia University.”

Murmurs began to rise in the tiny group of students, whispers about the white region running through the air.

“And we have concluded, after many very promising exchanges, that a few classes from the Piltover Academy will have the privilege of traveling to Demacia as part of a school trip.”

Surprise filled the room. A school trip? 

"The Academy and I,” continued Heimerdinger as he walked hands behind his back, the two elements of his sentence simply inseparable, ”consider it a real cultural benefit to be able to organize such a program to link our two schools. The trip will therefore take place in a month and a half's time.”

Some of the students laughed, the joy of the news filling them. The idea of a school trip puzzled you. You'd never left Piltover or Zaun. You'd always clung on to those two towns, and upsetting that perspective was something you hadn't quite figured out yet. But it would undoubtedly be a good way of discovering new horizons, of not having to confine yourself to the same landscape of two cities you didn't like for different reasons. 

However, your thoughts paused for a moment, as you sensed that Heimerdinger hadn't finished with his announcement. 

“Yes, I know.” He chirped. “The excitement of a new journey is not a small thing in young souls. However, an event such as this deserves an organizational rearrangement.”

And that's where things got complicated.

“First of all, your duet presentations that were due in two weeks' time have now been determined by myself into an overall assignment for your year.”

The majority of students rejoiced, but your heart fell into your stomach. An assignment, spread out over the whole year, that you were to do with none other than Viktor as your sole partner in this work?

You exchanged a glance with him, the latter seeming no more affected than that, neither hot nor cold.

“And...” The professor resumed. “The planning of this event alone will eat up a good two weeks of this year. Consequently,” silence fell, everyone waiting for the end of his sentence, "the exams in each subject for this semester have been brought closer together, and will therefore take place in two weeks’ time.”

Your lips parted, as if the apocalypse had just been added to your diary. 

Two weeks. You had two weeks to study everything. Two weeks to get to know everything. 

Two weeks to overtake Viktor and regain your place at the top of the ranking.

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[totheblood]

superposition. (one)

pairing: dealer!ellie x best friend!reader

summary: you've never been on a date, hell, you've never even kissed anyone. ellie decides to be a good best friend and teach you how! wow.. so kind of her..

warnings: 18+, nearly every chapter will have a somewhat sexual element to it (this one is probably the tamest?), cursing, alcohol/drug mention, suggestive themes... cheating if u squint

a/n: i want bff!ellie and that's all... friends to lovers??? fav trope. i hope i do this justice and i hope you guys like it... ai audios at the end as usual

"in every universe, you are my dark star."

You felt like a fucking loser.

Well, you usually felt like a loser, but as you sat on Dina’s couch researching what to wear on a first date you felt absolutely lame. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been asked out on a date before, it’s just that no one you liked had asked you out on a date before. A girl had never asked you out on a date before. But since the cute girl from your chemistry lab had asked you if you wanted to go to dinner with her, you happily agreed.

You were just… inexperienced and although it never bothered you before as you approached the time for your date you were becoming increasingly more nervous. What to wear, what to order, and what to talk about were all things you were not familiar with and you wanted to be, if anything, overly prepared. So you did the only thing you knew how to: Google it. 

Your feet were tucked under your legs as you sat crisscrossed on the couch. From the living room, you could hear Dina and Jesse laughing in the kitchen as they snacked on whatever they had available in their pantry. Ellie was sat at the dining room table with a scale in front of her, measuring and sorting loose flowers into dime bags. This was what a regular Friday night looked like for your friends. It usually ended in Ellie passing around one of her pre-rolls as you watched a shitty movie Jesse had suggested, but tonight you planned to leave early for your date.

As if Ellie could sense the tension rolling off of you from her place at the table, she plopped herself next to you on the couch, startling you from your anxious state. 

“Jesus, fuck-” You looked at Ellie with wide eyes, her green ones staring back and searching your face as if she was analyzing you. “We need to put a bell on you. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I practically stomped over here, it’s not my fault that whatever-” She gestured back and forth between you and your phone. “Is going on with that stopped you from hearing me.” 

You rolled your eyes at her fully knowing she was right but not wanting to give her that satisfaction. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Soooo,” She began, drawing out the sound as she placed her arm behind you on the couch and leaned into you. “What’s got you all nervous today? I swear whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous.”

You groaned, leaning your head back and into Ellie’s arm. You tilted your head slightly to look at her. She looked comfortable in her grey hoodie, her other hand tucked into the pocket. Her eyes were locked on yours and her eyebrows knit together. She was concerned about you. If the reason you were freaking out wasn’t so juvenile you would be eating this up, but instead you just felt guilty. It annoyed you how well she knew you sometimes.

“It’s so stupid, El.” Your voice came out in a whisper almost as if you were telling her a secret. “You’re gonna laugh at me” Her face softened as she offered you a small smile.

“How much do you wanna bet it’s not stupid?” She leaned her head back on the couch, trying to match your posture. “And if I laugh you have full permission to punch me.” 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a second. You knew that she would never make fun of you for freaking out over a date, but that didn’t stop you from being reluctant to say it out loud. 

“I have a date tonight.” When you opened your eyes you scanned her face looking for a hint of a smile, something that would tell you not to stress. Instead, you saw a different emotion flicker over her face, something you couldn’t quite place. Shock? No. Sadness? No. Disappointment? Close enough. It didn’t make much sense to you but as quick as it was there, it was gone.

“And?” She didn’t sound annoyed, but she didn’t sound happy for you. For the first time in your life, you were having a difficult time reading her.

“And I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never been on a date before.” With your admission, you squinted your eyes causing your nose to scrunch. The reaction you were getting from Ellie was hard to read and you were already beginning to feel extremely embarrassed. When you finally did adjust your vision to look at her she just looked confused.

“Why did I not know you’ve never been on a date?” 

“Cause I never told you.” You laughed, a downturned smile on your face. “Not really the best talking point.” You were trying to lighten the mood but Ellie’s expression never changed.

“I mean, it makes sense.” She casually said. If you were anyone else you may have laughed it off, but the sentence cause a sharp pain in your chest. Your mouth fell open as you gasped and playfully pushed her shoulder.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Her eyes widened as she realized how you took her sentence.

“No, no- fuck. I just mean like you spend all your time with me. You never really talk about anyone, I’m not saying no one would date you cause obviously I know that’s not true, I just mean… I didn’t mean it like that.” She rambled out, a frantic look on her face.

“Damn, Ellie. Tell me how you really felt.” The smile crept back up on her face as she realized you were teasing her.

“So you’ve never been on a date? So what?” She shrugged, trying to steer the conversation back in it’s original direction.

“So I don’t know what to wear, or what to talk about, or howtokiss.” You mumbled the last part of your sentence together hoping she wouldn’t notice, but she was Ellie and she noticed almost everything.

“Wear that pink floral dress you have, the one that makes your boobs look amazing. Talk about yourself, it’s a date, the whole point is to get to know each other. And what was that last thing you said?” When she spoke to you everything she said seemed so casual, but you weren’t like her. You couldn’t brush over the fact that she just told you not only does she know your wardrobe without thinking too much about it, but also makes a note of how you look in them. How your tits look in them. 

“Uhm-” You cleared your throat. “I don’t know how to kiss. I’ve never done it before.” You reluctantly admitted. Again you expected Ellie to laugh at you, but she just stared at you, then your lips. 

“Well, I can show you.” She shrugged, eyes trained on you. Your mouth hung open, unsure of what to do. On one hand, kissing your best friend never seems like a good idea, on the other hand, you could use the practice.

“I mean… now?” You asked, your body heating up in anticipation. She looked completely serious, her lips were a straight line and her body seemed completely calm. She was the complete opposite of you. She slightly got up and leaned over you as she peered into the kitchen, presumably checking for Dina and Jesse. As she sat back down she took another quick glance at your lips. 

“Yeah, now. Just a quick lesson before your date.” She said it matter-of-factly almost as if this would just be a case of a friend helping another friend. Like she was offering to help you move or something. A part of you assumed you were overthinking it. If she was so nonchalant about it, then it must not be a big deal. Right? 

“Yeah, okay. It couldn’t hurt, right?” 

“Don’t think so.” She agreed.

“So, what do I do? Do I just-” You placed your phone on the couch between you before cupping her cheek. Ellie placed her hand that was previously in her pocket over yours and moved your hand down to her thigh before leaning in close to you.

“Just relax, I’ll show you how.” Her voice came out in a whisper that you could feel ghost your lips. You were unsure of when she got so close but you could smell her, feel her short and rapid breaths coming from her nose. If you moved an inch your lips would be on hers, but you decided to let her take control.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as she closed the small gap between your faces and pressed her chapped lips against yours. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you froze, unsure of what to do next. Her hand that was still resting on yours tapped the back of your hand. Almost instinctively you parted your lips and hummed when her tongue tentatively brushed against yours. It almost felt natural, her tongue in your mouth and your hand on your thigh, but as she slowly pulled her face back from you, you suddenly wanted more. 

Your free hand grabbed the back of her head, your lips capturing hers once again. You were fighting to feel her tongue in your mouth again but understood what she wanted when her lips parted. Her hand which had been resting behind your head for a better part of your conversation had made its way down to your waist and gently pulled you into her. Your chests were impossibly close together and every little noise you made caused her to get more and more aggressive. Your whole body was burning and you were attempting to ignore the wetness that was growing at your center, but Ellie just kept going. She guided your hand further up her thigh, humming into your mouth as you brushed your thumb over her inner thigh.

With the hand that was previously trapped in your hair, you steadied yourself with a hand on her shoulder as you pushed her back in an attempt to straddle her. Both your hands had moved. Her hands found their place at the base of your hips and yours were gripping the back of her neck. Her lips felt like fucking magic as she began to suck on your bottom lip. You could feel a tightness in your core, something you were all too familiar with. Your clothed hips ground down on hers, causing her to gasp and break away from you instantly.

“Fuck, fuck. Okay.” She sighed, leaning away from you and gently pushing you away from her. When you got a good look at her her lips were swollen and eyes red and glossy. You wanted to kiss her again, you wanted to relieve the pain you were beginning to feel, but the situation was beginning to set in for you. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never done that before.” She blinked up at you, her hands rubbing at your sides distracting you. Your mind was practically empty. 

“Was I okay?” You asked bashfully, causing her to snort. All she did was lean up and press a kiss to the side of your lips, before pushing you off of her and back onto the couch. 

“You were more than okay, that was-” She stopped herself as she looked at you. Her eyes scanned your face, staying too long on your lips. “I think your date will go great.” Something in her tone seemed solemn, but she had a gentle smile on her face, and her hand was still hoovering the side of your body.

“Thank you.” You said quietly, eyes never leaving her. 

“I should get back to work, and you should go get ready.” She pushed herself off the couch and made her way back to the dining room table, leaving you sitting there licking your lips just for the taste of her. A second after her you got up too, grabbing your bag from the coffee table in front of you. Ellie turned back around to look at you from the table. 

“Wear the dress, and uh-” She stopped to look you up and down. “Text me when you get home tonight.”

ai audios:

[yexthiccxa]

Secrets of the Second Shift - (Part 2)

summary: you're still reeling from an unforgettable friday night (read part 1), but monday rolls around and you have a new set of problems and being attracted to choso is one of them.

wordcount: 3.8k words

full fic c/w: choso smut, choso/fem!reader, choso/oc, modern!au, some plot, plot what plot, porn with plot, gentleman!choso, soft!choso, praise kink, blindfold sex, oral, fingering, vaginal sex, enemies to lovers, fingering, oral, multiple orgasms

a/n: also open to a taglist for this one so lmk if you'd like to be on it (: this is my first wip so i will try my best to keep it updated regularly!

Tumblr Master List | Read this chapter on AO3!

✦✧✸✧✦ 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ✦✧✸✧✦

Monday rolls around and you’re still uneasy. You wake up for work and let your body move on autopilot: get ready, eat breakfast, drive to work. Typically you feel refreshed when you go through the routine, but lingering thoughts from Friday’s encounter paired with the anticipation of work has your mind racing.

What is going on? This is completely unlike you. You’re composed, calculated, you always have a plan. But now it seems like all of that has gone out the window.

You try to rid your memory of your mystery man but it doesn't seem to shake. You can’t help but recount your thoughts:

✦✧✸✧✦

“So much for no strings,” he mutters, almost to himself. “This is gonna be harder than I thought and we've only just begun.”

You internally sigh—scared that you might agree.

You bury the thought with a quick reply as you switch positions to climb on top of him, “The only thing that should be hard right now is your dick, and the only place your dick should be right now is my mouth. Let’s warm you up for round two, shall we?”

“You’re a goddamn vixen, aren’t you?” he rasps.

You skim your fingers from his chest and to his lats, using the ridges of his body to guide you down before settling near his manhood. You slip off the condom and he takes it from you—tossing it into the waste bin next to the bed.

You polish off the remaining liquid off his tip causing him to shudder from the overstimulation.

“Fuck—oh. Fuck that feels so g—” 

���✧✸✧✦

“—Good? Excuse me?”

A voice sends you back to reality as you realize you’ve made it to the elevator of Zenin Tech. In the opposite corner of the cramped space, a man is staring at you, his eyes are dark and direct.

“Hey, are you good?” he repeats, his tone steady.

“Huh? Wha—yeah, I’m fine,” you stammer, refocusing your thoughts and trying to ignore the heat rising to your face.

“I didn’t mean to bother you—but you didn’t press a button. Which floor?”

“Oh, right. Nine, please.” You glance at the panel, realizing the button is already glowing. Odd. You’ve never seen him before.

He gives you a soft smile before leaning back against the railing.

The ride to the ninth floor stretches on, each passing second weighed down by the heavy silence of the elevator. But that’s nothing new. What is new, however, is the man across from you.

He’s tall—broad shoulders and a lean frame that seems effortlessly composed. His jawline looks like it was carved from marble, and his dark, shoulder-length hair casually falls back, leaving a few stray baby hairs to perfectly frame his face. He has a scar over his nose and his eyes are deep and unreadable. There’s something about him that tugs at you, a force so intense you’re afraid of slipping into a place you know you shouldn’t—like desire.

Maybe this man is the kind of distraction you need, you half-heartedly hope. Sometimes all it takes is one good fuck to reset your system.

From the opposite side, you see one of his arms pinning a file box to his side, while the other has a firm hold on his laptop. You find yourself gesturing toward it as an icebreaker.

“Are you one of the new members from CurseCore?”

When his eyes meet yours, they give you nothing but his undivided attention. He pauses, taking you all in and wondering if you were a gift sent from the gods. He doesn't break the connection immediately, letting the silence stretch just enough for the tension to thicken between you. Little do you know, he’s also trapped in a memory of someone he’s desperately trying to forget.

The corner of his mouth quirks up—not quite a smile, but enough to catch your attention. “Yeah, Pleasure to meet you. I’m Choso.” 

You tell him your name, though it feels like a formality—your mind is too preoccupied with the sound of his voice. I’m Choso. The richness rings with a strange familiarity that you can’t quite place.

Choso tries to extend his hand to shake yours but the box slightly fumbles. “Sorry. I’d shake your hand, but I’m a little tied up here.”

You laugh lightly, the sound cutting through the awkward tension. “No worries. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of chances to meet again.”

He glances at you, his lips forming that same restrained smile. “I look forward to that.”

The heat in your core begins to simmer before the elevator dings, pulling you both back into focus as the doors slide open.

Choso steps out and immediately a hoard of new faces flock to him, forcing you to weave to the sides. A wave of chatter fills the entryway.

"Where do we set up our laptops?"

"What’s the Wi-Fi password?"

“Are desks first come, first serve?”

“How do we pick up our ID badges?”

You almost step in to give the new guy a break, but his voice cuts through the noise before you can utter a word. “Everyone, relax.” The word hangs in the air like a command, and almost instantly, the buzz fizzles into silence. He scans the crowd with a steady gaze. “Let’s take this one at a time,” he continues, his tone calm yet authoritative.

You watch him—proper, composed, and directing the newbies with calm precision. Every gesture is smooth, controlled. His focus is laser-sharp. There’s a confidence in the way he moves, like he’s been doing this for years, but there’s also something irresistible that keeps pulling you in.

A friendly voice pops up behind you. “Whoa, the new guy can tame me like that any day” Yuki says, her eyes fixed on him too.

“You know, if we weren’t good friends you would be a walking HR complaint,” you joke with her.

“Can you blame me though? He’s gorgeous.”

You let out a snicker, because you can’t help but agree. Not only is he gorgeous, but assertive too. It’s not every day that you come across a man who can take charge without coming across as a self-absorbed dick (ahem Naoya). As the thought begins to fade, you know that somewhere deep down, Yuki is right— you’d love to let him tame you too.

You both walk past the flood of people, but your sight remains secured on Choso. In the sea of bodies, he catches your eye. Most would look away, but you both hold the stare, just for a moment—like a silent, playful challenge meant only for two. He can’t hide the subtle flicker in his gaze as it drops briefly to take in your curves. It’s a look that’s equal parts fiery and possessive, the kind that whispers I want to devour you .

The thought makes your heart beat out of your chest, causing your cheeks to flush. You break the gaze first, eyes darting away.

 “Choso,” you whisper under your breath, as if your daydream has swept you away.

“What’d you say?” Yuki’s voice pulls you back.

“Choso,” you clear your throat. “His name is Choso,” you answer—returning to your composed self.

“Choso,” she repeats, as the pieces fall into place. “Oh yeah! The manager from CurseCore. They say he's the full package—cool, calm, professional. I’ve heard he runs his team with this… almost zen-like efficiency. Super smooth. The kind of guy you can't help but respect.”

You feel your stomach drop at the realization. Great. So this is the guy who’s gunning for your promotion. Unfortunately for you, Choso is the perfect little corporate robot. Even worse, given Naoya’s history, you’re certain he’s already made up his mind.

Yuki blabbers on, “They say everyone loves him, but what they failed to mention was that he’s also a fuckin’ heartthrob.”

“First off, HR. Second off, how do you even know all that?” you ask.

“Well, you would know that too if you joined any of our Friday Happy Hours,” she teases.

Ah, right… the mere mention of Happy Hour makes your chest tighten. Sure, they’re filled with harmless office gossip, but one too many drinks could lead to one little slip that could unravel everything. You’ve worked too hard to keep the lines between your two worlds from blurring—and you’re not about to let happy hour small talk be the thing that blows it all apart.

"Hard pass," you say, keeping your tone light, but there’s an edge of finality to it. "I have better things to do than waste my time schmoozing up to Naoya."

Yuki smirks knowingly. "Okaaaay, but you know that schmoozing will help you get your promotion. Don’t think I didn’t put two and two together.”

Her words cut through you because you know she’s right.

A self assured smile wipes across her face. “And who knows, with the two teams merging, maybe we’ll get to see a little more of Choso, " she adds, nudging your shoulder.

"I think I’ll survive," you reply, though her sentiments echo in your head. You can’t help but wonder if skipping out has truly cost you an edge with Naoya—especially now that Choso is in the picture."

Speak of the devil. Naoya appears from around the hall and calls the whole team into the conference room. As you migrate to the room, you see windows lining opposite sides. The exterior windows face the gorgeous view of the city. The interior windows face the common area of the office. After everyone packs into the room, Naoya clicks a button that instantly turns the glass from clear crystal to an opaque frost—obscuring the view beyond it. The iconic click is always a sign that the meeting is in session.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Naoya began, his tone sharp and authoritative.

In the far end of the room, you notice two voices coming from a pink-haired man and a redheaded woman, both unfamiliar and completely oblivious to Naoya’s growing irritation. From the opposite end, you hear Choso clear his throat and turn his head ever so slightly to the giggling pair. 

He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to.

The look he gave them was surprisingly soft, but still unwavering, a silent command for order. The chatter instantly dies with the two culprits shrinking under his gaze. After the tension dissolves, Naoya picks up where he left off.

From your seat, you can’t help but watch Choso, your eyes lingering on the quiet power in his demeanor. It’s not just his composure—it’s the effortless way he commands respect without ever raising his voice. You hate that it stirs something in you.

You notice the way he leans back in his chair, effortlessly exuding confidence as one arm drapes over the armrest. This position allows you to see the subtle flex of his bicep. Your eyes trail down his arm until your view jumps to get a glimpse of the muscles on his thighs. Dirty thoughts fill your mind when you think about what lies in between.

Wait, stop.

Your attraction goes head-to-head with your instincts. He’s competition, you remind yourself, shifting in your seat to refocus on the meeting. Remember: he’s here to climb the same ladder as you, and if you lose focus, you might as well hand him the next rung. You didn’t claw your way this far to let a pretty face throw you off balance.

Keep your head in the game. Keep your emotions in check. And definitely don’t let anyone, no matter how charming they are, shake your confidence.

After Naoya concludes the meeting, Choso approaches you as everyone else gathers their things, his presence quiet but commanding.

“Hey, I didn’t realize you were the other manager. I think I should properly introduce myself this time,” he says, extending a hand. His voice is the type of rich that makes it impossible to ignore him.

You tilt your head, your lips curving into a neutral smile. “No need, I got the gist earlier,” you say, nodding at him but ignoring his hand. “Welcome to the team.” You weave past him and walk down the hallway towards your next meeting.

He promptly follows you down the hall, confused. “Forgive my assumptions, but did I do something wrong?”

You stop to face him, when you realize how much he towers over you. You tilt your head only to find that your eyes land straight on his lips. Focus.

You sigh. “Listen, it’s no secret that we’re fighting for the same promotion. What you don’t know, but I do , is that you have a 99.9% chance of getting it. So until I am satisfied with the fact that I’ve given it my all, you and I are enemies.” You return to your route, hoping to leave this conversation as soon as possible.

“How do you—” trails behind you before keeping up with your stride. “Nevermind. Being enemies is a bit harsh to start with, don't you think? We’re all on the same team here.” 

“We are for now—at least until you get promoted.” You hesitate. “Then I’d have to work under you.”

His brow raises, as a devious smile spreads across his face. “I can assure you being under me wouldn’t be the worst thing .”

The thought makes your core swell. Without thinking you drop your guard. “But you see, Choso… I’d prefer to be on top —professionally speaking.”

You’re steps away from the meeting room but he stops you just short of the doorway. “Hmm. that’s a very appealing offer, I accept.” he teases. “Shall we sort out an arrangement over dinner?”

You catch a glimpse of sincerity in his eyes. Is he actually trying to make a move or is this all just for show? You can’t help but feel your cheeks flush. Though his confidence sends butterflies to your stomach, you decide to stay true to your resolve.

“Let me be clear—If you want to talk about work, you can schedule some time on my calendar. Otherwise, you should know that I have no interest in mixing business and pleasure.” As the words leave your mouth, you immediately start to wonder if you’re gonna regret your decision.

“Very well,” he playfully concedes, but the spark in his eye tells you that it’s far from over. As he takes a step to unblock your path, you feel the warm sensation of his fingers wrap around your waist.

You’re close enough to breathe in his cologne. It’s a known fragrance that you can’t quite place, but smell instinctively triggers a rush of liquid in between your legs.

He lowers himself until his breath dances around the tip of your ear. His whisper is low enough for only you to hear, “For the record, I have no issue being under you, on top of you… or even inside you ” he clears his throat before returning to his normal posture. “—professionally speaking, of course.” 

His remark left you speechless. You hesitated before finally replying, “I’ll file that under ‘things to pretend I didn’t hear.’”

He retreats back into the hallway as if he didn’t just drop a bomb on your heart. “I can say it again if you’d like,” he quips back.

You shake your head in amusement, trying your best to hide your smile. “Goodbye, Choso.”

“See you soon.” He turns his back to continue walking, tossing his hand in a casual farewell. 

You step into the meeting room, unable to wipe the stupid grin off your face. For the first time in two days, the uneasiness you’d been carrying around was nowhere to be found, leaving you to wonder what caused it in the first place.

✦✧✸✧✦

“Back up…he did WHAT?” Yuki blurted out in pure disbelief.

You winced, glancing around to make sure no one heard her outburst. “Shh, keep it down.”

After your final meeting of the day, you and Yuki decided to hang back in the conference room a bit longer so you could tell her what happened.

By the looks of it, she could barely contain her excitement. “Sorry, but this is huge. I can’t believe he actually tried to ask you out.”

You mentioned the dinner, but conveniently skipped over the specifics—for obvious reasons.

“Okay so when’s it’s happening?”

You look away, ashamed to tell her. “It’s not happening”

She grabs your face with both hands and turns your head back to get your attention. “What do you mean it’s not happening?”

You swipe her hands away and groan, rolling your eyes. “You know he’s my biggest competition right now and I can’t afford any distractions.”

Yuki gives you a pointed look, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “Please. You think letting him chase you will distract you, of all people? If that’s the case you’re selling yourself really short.”

Leave it to Yuki to be your ultimate hype woman.

“You know you’re smarter than that. I’m sure you can handle a little fun and still crush it at work.”

“But—” you start, but Yuki cuts you off.

“No but—you’re overthinking it. He obviously wants you. And you’d be crazy to not want him, so why not go for it?” She leans in, her voice softening. “Look, you deserve a little excitement. You’ve already been working your ass off. Don’t let this slip away just because you’re scared to have a little fun.”

You know she’s right but you don’t want her to hear it.

You don’t need to say it though because she already knows. “Plus, if he likes you enough, maybe he’ll just give it to you,” Yuki adds.

A puzzled look forms on your face. “Ok, What does that mean?”

“You know…he falls madly in love with you, heroically declines the promotion and tells Naoya that you should get it instead. It happens in all the books and movies.”

You pause, shocked at the mere possibility of that thought. That goes against everything you’ve ever worked for. “Yuki, that’s messed up. I don’t want to get it because some man says I can have it. I want to get it because I deserve it.”

She leans back in her chair with a shrug. “Hey, I’m just saying—crazier things have been done for pussy,” her tone is easygoing.

You laugh as you get up from your seat, “Ok, I think this is my sign to go home.”

After Yuki waves goodbye, you head back to your desk to gather your things—hoping to catch Choso before he leaves for the day. No luck. He’s already gone. As you put on your coat, your conversation with Yuki replays in your mind. Are you really going to give him a chance? Every longing ache in your body screams yes, but your mind stubbornly says no.

I mean, what’s the worst that can happen when you have a little fun?

You reach the elevator just in time, sliding your hand between the doors just before they close. Stepping inside, you catch your breath when you see Choso standing there.

He leans his tall frame casually against the wall, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other holding a phone he doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to. His dark eyes flick up to meet yours, and in an instant, the air feels heavier. There is a faint hum of people packing up for the day, yet it seems deafening in the silence between you.

Your heart pounds erratically, a war drum echoing in your chest as your mind scrambles for something to say. Anything. But your tongue is heavy, and all you can do is step further inside, keeping your gaze fixed him.

The doors close with a soft thud, locking the two of you in the confined space. The proximity, the tension—it’s suffocating, exhilarating. You can feel his presence pulling your focus no matter how hard you try to resist.

He finally breaks the silence. “Hmm. You weren’t lying earlier when you said we’d have plenty of chances to meet,” he teases.

You smile at him, remembering your first encounter from the morning. The weight between you seems to lighten. “I’m sorry about earlier,” you manage to get out. As an act of truce, you extend your hand and say, “I think I’d like to properly introduce myself this time.”

As you tell him your name, he can’t help but keep his focus locked on you. The fire in your eyes ignites him as he tries to press down every filthy thought that runs through his mind: What do you taste like? What do you feel like? What do you sound like when I make you moan?

He subdues his thoughts just enough to say, “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Ch—”

As he looks down to return your handshake, he pauses—his eyes widen in disbelief. He notices three delicate stars placed between your thumb and pointer finger. He hadn’t meant for it to linger in his mind, but now, it’s all he can focus on.

Memories flood him and he remembers the softness of your skin when he pressed his lips on it, the way your fingers would glisten with wetness when they slid into your pussy, and especially the way his hands guided you towards an earth shattering release. After replaying those moments in his head, he knew he would recognize those hands anywhere.

His filthy thoughts resurfaced, causing a tightness in his jeans. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? What do you sound like when I make you moan? He didn’t need to wonder because he already knew.

When your hands finally meet, there’s an unseen electricity that charges between you. “Well, fuck,” he chuckles with amusement. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”

“Huh?” The warmth between you settles but you tilt your head while your brow furrows in confusion. 

He slightly tightens his grip on your hand to pull you closer and the air begins to thicken. You’re inches away from his face and the heat of his breath sends shivers down your spine. Before you know it, His other hand slides securely to your waist, his touch beginning to feel alarmingly like second nature.

“Choso—?” His name barely escapes your lips before instinct takes over. Your eyes flutter shut, drawn to the overwhelming closeness of him. In the dark all your senses heighten. You notice how the smell of his cologne seems to fill every crevice of the elevator. Then, in an instant, your eyes shoot back open as the revelation hits you— spiced and earthy, just like the one from a few nights ago. 

Stop, wait. It can’t be.

He delicately brings your hand to his lips and the familiar warmth of his kiss tightens the coil in your center. In this moment, the rumble of his voice is absolutely unmistakable, "Hello, my little vixen. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

--

taglist: @makingtimemine

[watermelonlovershigh]

Not So Patient After All {part. 13} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

"You've been a real, bad, boy." {part. 12} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: i know, i know. full subrry will appear in the next chapter, i promise. after chapter 12 i thought this part would have him in it but then i came up with this idea and instead of making it too long, decided to make it 2 separate chapters. i hope you still enjoy!!!

This story contains: female masturbation w/ toy, sending nudes, sex, mild dirty talk, ass slapping, use of butt plugs, more sex

{ housemate!harry - boyfriendrry - soft!harry - teacher!harry - subrry }

word count- 2,628

You get impatient after your sex toys arrive and one day while Harry's at work, decide to use one and send him a naughty photo in the process. This leads him to pretend he's mad at you and two rounds of sex, one of which only happens because he gets hard again after you request that he wears one of his new butt plugs.

"Harry, Harry, Harry!" you call out your boyfriends name repeatedly as you move through the house carrying multiple packages. The toys you purchased a week ago have finally been delivered, and you are beaming with excitement. Bursting into your bedroom, you find Harry still asleep under your covers. Unable to contain your joy, you leap onto the bed, causing the boxes to tumble across the mattress, and playfully pounce on his sleeping body.

Harry's quick to pull the blankets over his head and groans in a raspy voice. "Mhm, what? What'd you want? M' sleepin'."

Rolling off his body, you explain, "Our toys came, Harry."

He reluctantly pulls the covers off his head and does a morning stretch, before fully waking up and becoming alert. Harry opens his eyes and glances around the bed, noticing you sitting beside him, with several small boxes scattered at the foot of the bed. "That's nice, but could you come give me a cuddle, please?"

You rush down and slip under the blankets on your bed, snuggling against Harry's warm body. Quietly, you ask, "Aren't you looking forward to our new toys?" Now you feel a little self-conscious about how happy you were when you discovered your deliveries had arrived.

"Baby, m'very happy. S'just, it's a Wednesday. I have work today. We can't use them until we have more time."

"Oh," you say disappointedly, not having thought of that.

Harry senses your disappointment and suggests a plan. He offers, "Tell you what, when Friday rolls around, I'll let you try out some of the toys on me. I know I'm due for my punishment, baby. You can wreck me and then Saturday I'll have time to stay home and recover since I don't work weekends"

Agreeing, you nod. "Okay, sounds like a plan. Sorry I got so excited. Just can't wait to use my new strap-on on you."

"No apologizing, m'love. It's okay you got excited. M' excited too, but we have to be patient."

After cuddling for a few more minutes, you sit up and proceed to open each box to simply glance inside and see what each item looks like. The excitement of seeing your new toys increases your happiness, but you must keep in mind that you need to be patient, or as patient as possible.

Then realizing the time, Harry scrambles out of bed to get ready for work before he's late.

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

Your patience persisted from Wednesday all the way through Thursday morning. Yet, as noon approached on Thursday, you were suddenly consumed by a powerful feeling of horniness. With Harry still at work and unable to offer any assistance, you tried hard to ignore the throbbing sensation between your legs. However, you became so wet that you had no choice but to change your panties, as they had become drenched from your heightened state of arousal.

When your second pair of panties get damp, you'd had enough and get up to go try your new rose vibrator. You feel guilty since Harry isn't here but technically there was never a rule that you couldn't masturbate when he wasn't home. Even if there was, you'd still secretly do it if you needed to bad enough.

After laying a towel on the bed, you undress and settle into a comfortable position. Taking hold of your new rose vibrator, you direct it towards your clit. While the rose was new to you, you were no stranger to suction toys. The moment you switch on the rose toy and place it in the right spot, you nearly jump off the bed due to your sensitivity.

Unlike the rest of your suction vibrators, this one provides a sensation similar to when a human sucks on the clit. While laying on the bed, you hold the rose vibrator against your clitoris, feeling your breath quicken and your wetness increase. In less than two minutes, you're already on the verge of orgasm. But before reaching that peak, you decide to turn off the toy for a second and engage in a bit of teasing with Harry.

You grab your phone and open the camera. In one hand you place your rose back on your clit and your other hand holds your phone. You snap a few photos and quickly send the best looking one to Harry before laying your phone down and getting back to business. Right as you're about to actually come, your phone dings beside you.

Opening your messages, you read Harry's reply and smile evilly.

Harry- Y/n, I'm working!!! You can't be sending me photos like that when I'm at work. Do you know how weird it'd be if I got hard in front of 10 and 11 year olds??? They'd be trying to send me to JAIL!!!

You- oops 🤪

After sending off your response, you complete your task at hand. With all the edging you've done in the past hour, you quickly climax upon switching the vibrator back on. A wave of relief washes over you as the pent-up sexual energy is released. Now feeling tired, you quickly clean yourself up and crawl under your blankets naked, drifting off for a short nap.

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

Harry comes home to a quiet house. He knows you're home because your car is out front. So he does some searching and finds you asleep in your bed. At first glance you look normal, but shortly after making his way over to you, he realises you're naked under your duvet. Probably from not having the energy to get dressed after masturbating earlier.

He wants to be mad that you touched yourself without him being here, but can't. The one thing he's never cared about is his partners pleasuring themselves while he's gone. As long as they think about him while doing it, he's all for self pleasure. But, to be cheeky and mess with you a bit, he'll pretend like he's mad at your actions.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and slowly open your eyes, seeing Harry standing over you. You do a big stretch, your breasts popping out of the covers, and relax back into the mattress. Making grabby hands, you whine, "Come cuddle with meeee."

He shakes his head in disagreeance. "Nope, you decided to touch yourself while I was at work, meanin' you obviously don't need me, so.... m' gonna go shower, along. You've been a very bad girl, Y/n."

You observe Harry leaving your room without looking back, and suddenly feel a wave of sadness. His intentions are unclear to you. So in order to avoid possibly upsetting him further, you opt to remain in bed for a few more minutes until your stomach rumbles, prompting you to rise and head to the kitchen where you'll begin preparing dinner. However, you make sure to put some clothes on first.

As Harry was taking a shower, he had a feeling that you might come and try to join him. He was actually hoping that you would defy his request and still shower with him. But, when you didn't show up, he realizes that you must have taken his words seriously.

After he's finished showering, he follows the aroma of food being prepared in the kitchen and discovers you chopping vegetables on the kitchen island. You gaze up at Harry with a deep frown as he enters the kitchen and whisper, "Are you genuinely bothered that I touched myself? You've never mentioned having that rule. Just so you know though, I was thinking of you while doing it. And I didn't watch any porn."

Harry walks over to you from behind and wraps his arms around you, letting you catch a whiff of his fruity shampoo and vanilla body wash. "Baby, I was just kiddin'. M' not really mad that you masturbated. I don't care if you touched yourself, we all do it from time to time. As long as I know you were thinkin' of me and I wasn't around, m' fine with it. Now, if I was around and you purposefully didn't ask me to help, I'd be a little hurt, but...".

Breathing a sigh of relief, you reply, "Oh, thank God. Because even if you had that rule, I'd still touch myself if you weren't home and I was horny enough."

"Hey," Harry shouts playfully, unwrapping his arms from around you, "now I might make it a rule, just because you said that."

"Whatever."

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

Later that night after everything else is done, you both end up in Harry's bed having sex. It's neither aggressive nor extremely gentle, just your standard, basic sex. Nonetheless, it is satisfying. It starts out with you on top, riding Harry, but then you express fatigue and he carefully lays you down and takes charge.

"Poor baby, too tired to ride m'cock." he mocks while thrusting into you at a constant speed.

You playfully slap his ass and Harry nearly topples over you, moaning super loud. You didn't realise a barely hard slap would have such effects on him. "Oh you liked that, didn't you, hm?"

He nods his head where it rests against your collarbone and answers, "Yes, do it again, please." You rear back your hand and slap his ass cheek harder this time, loving to watch his white flesh jiggle and turn red. "Oh fuck, m' gonna come." Before he allows himself to come though, he slips his hand between your bodies and starts aggressively rubbing your clit against his fingers.

"Ahh, Harry!!!" you cry out, your back arching as you come all over his cock and fingers. He continues his stimulation until you literally start crying from overstimulation. Harry removes his fingers from your sensitive clit but continues thrusting as he finally allows himself to let go and orgasm. His thrusts become weak and uncoordinated as he ejaculates deep inside you.

Once his orgasm diminishes, Harry's heavy body plops down on top of you, almost knocking the wind from your lungs. You both lay there in post-orgasm bliss until you have an idea. When buying your toys on Amazon a few days ago, Harry mentioned how he can sleep with the black silicone butt plug due to its flexibility. And tomorrow you will be fucking his ass. So what if he sleeps with it tonight to make sure he's nice and stretched for you tomorrow. You'd hate to hurt him in anyway.

"Harry?" you say, breaking the rooms silence.

Still breathing rather heavy with his head resting on your chest, he answers, "Yeah, baby?"

"Do you think you could sleep with that silicone butt plug in tonight? You know, because of what's gonna happen tomorrow, I want you to be well stretched so I don't hurt you. And..... I've never seen anyone wear one so I'm kinda curious as to what they look like inside someone."

Your question causes Harry to sit upright. Despite his belief that he doesn't need any actual stretching beforehand, it has been quite some time since he last had anything up his ass, and he would prefer to take precautions. Additionally, the fact that you've never observed someone using and wearing a butt plug serves as extra motivation for him to demonstrate the process.

"Of course, but um, let me just, you know, go to the bathroom and ensure that m' finished using it for the night and that m' completely clean down there. Then I'll come back and you can either assist with the insertion or observe me doin' it."

You nod eagerly as Harry gets up from the bed naked and goes to the bathroom. He remembers a previous incident involving a butt plug and a need to use the toilet, so he makes sure he doesn't have to go to the bathroom in order to prevent a recurrence. After checking his hygiene, he goes back to the bedroom where you have the butt plug and lube set out.

As Harry walks up to the bed, soft cock slightly swinging between his legs, you ask, "Can you do it and I just watch. I'm kinda nervous."

"Sure baby, but nothin' to be nervous about. It's just me, and I'd tell you if you were hurtin' me in anyway. But I can do it and you watch." He climbs onto the bed, still naked from your previous activities, and tries to decide what position he'd prefer to be in, on his knees or layed back with his legs up. He ultimately decides to lay on his back.

Harry settles into position, arranging pillows behind his back against the headboard and spreads his legs. Anxiously, you pass him the lube and butt plug, watching intently as he begins. Despite your initial desire for him to wear it and the upcoming anal sex, you find yourself feeling nervous. Excited, yet nervous. You've never gave anal to anyone before. Mostly because all the men you've been with in the past were too straight and thought negatively on the act.

With the bottle of lube in hand, Harry applies a liberal amount to the bulbous tip of the butt plug using his fingers, followed by wiping any excess off around his tight hole. You adjust your position to sit facing him, allowing you to witness the entire process. You observed how he delicately moves his flaccid cock out of the way and how he carefully goes to insert the lubricated plug into his slick opening. Just before Harry pushes it in, he looks up at you with a soft yet mischievous grin.

He has always harbored a hidden desire for either observing someone engage in self-touch or being observed while engaging in self-touch. Although not solely for pleasure, the act remains deeply intimate, and your observation right now nearly reignites his arousal.

With a deep breath, he relaxes his muscles and slowly starts to insert the butt plug into his ass. The lubricant prevents any pain during the process, despite the stretching sensation. You watch as his anus takes in the butt plug effortlessly, except for the heart-shaped diamond on the end, which sets nicely against his hole. Looking up at Harry's face, you see a slight scrunch, not from pain, but from relief.

"Mhm, fuck, that felt good." Harry annonces, his muscles turning to mush on the bed now that he's finished inserting the butt plug. You smile at him widely, about to speak when he suddenly grunts in what sounds like frustration. "No," he whines, "m' hard again. Too sensitive to be hard again."

Glancing down, you see his flaccid cock no longer flaccid, but half hard. The process of inserting the butt plug in his ass combine with you watching him, it turned him on again.

You let out a giggle and propose, "We could have sex again? Just slower this time. Get all comfy under the covers, turn the lights out, and when we finish, fall asleep naked. Hm?"

Though Harry knows it'll be slightly painful at first from how sensitive his dick is from his previous orgasm, he agrees with a nod. You climb out of bed to turn the lights off, then crawl back under the covers so your plan can unravel.

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

Thirty very sweaty minutes later, you're both knocked out cold in each others arms. Two rounds of sex was almost too much for one night. Not to mention that last round of sex was extremely pleasurable for Harry since he had a butt plug in. Wearing a butt plug during sex always felt super good in his opinion. It stimulated his prostate while giving him that full feeling he longed for sometimes.

Now you just wait until tomorrow night where the pleasure will be upped ten-folds when you fuck him with your new pretty pink strap-on.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

tag list: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

Long Awaited Punishment {part. 14}

[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter ELEVEN.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, slight unwanted advances, mahito in general, fangirl todo. || sfw. 5.3k words.

THE NEXT DAY, the Curses take the series against the Foxes. It’s official: the Sorcerers-Curses rivalry will come to a head in the NBA championships, starting on Friday in San Diego.

The team went harder than ever at practice today, not only drilling but talking strategy and getting into the nitty-gritty of the psychological impact of the rivalry. Yaga knows Mei Mei and the Curses don’t go easy, or fair. They’re ready.

As you pull out the keys to your apartment, you frown at the package on your welcome mat, a weird cylindrical shape with no return address. After you make it to the kitchen, you open it and find a rolled-up sheet of glossy paper. What?

You spread it out on your countertop and see an official signed poster of Satoru, in full uniform, palming a basketball in one hand with a huge smirk on his face. With the photo’s professional editing, his eyes look even more blue than usual, and you may or may not stare at them a second too long.

“Jesus fuck,” you say.

As if on cue, your phone buzzes.

six: did you get my gift?? you: is this for target practice? how sweet six: :( you: baby six: oh it’s like that😏 you: that was an insult

When your phone goes off again after you’ve relegated the rolled-up poster to an end table, you assume it’s Satoru responding. But instead, you find a text from Geto.

suguru geto: Thought about my offer at all?

Great. He waited until the Curses made the championships and just thought he’d try again? You screenshot the text and send it to Satoru.

you: what if i turn on read receipts just for this

six: HAHAHAHA

You won’t, because you’re still planning on taking Geto by surprise on Friday when he realizes you and Satoru are actually together. Your phone rings, and your brow furrows as you realize you don’t recognize the number or the area code.

“Sorcerers management,” you greet, and a high-pitched voice comes through the speaker.

“Hi there! This is Takada with the Reggie Star Show.” You hesitate for a moment. Reggie’s show is kind of a huge deal, and Takada has become something of a personality herself, although you’ve always found her a bit over the top.

“Uh, how can I help you?” you ask finally.

“So! Reggie would love to invite Satoru Gojo onto the show before the NBA championships.” You stand stock-still in your kitchen.

What the fuck, you mouth silently to yourself. It’s not like Reggie never has athletes on the show. But only Satoru?

“Not the rest of the team?” you clarify, and Takada laughs, a high, kind of shrill sound that has you holding your phone a bit away from your ear.

“Well, you see, we’re hoping to promote the series a bit by pulling the centers from both teams! Mr. Geto has already agreed, so we’d love to interview him and Mr. Gojo together.”

Oh, Jesus.

You are 100% certain this is Mei Mei’s doing. You instinctively want to reject her now, but this isn’t really your call.

“Let me run this by Gojo and the coaches, and I can get back to you, Takada,” you say, hoping that tides her over for now.

“No problem. Thank you!” she chirps, and the line goes dead. You groan, staring at the ceiling. This is not worth the hassle. You swipe to Satoru’s contact and call him.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Miss me already?” he drawls, and you roll your eyes.

“Asshole. So, guess who just called me?”

“If you say Suguru I’m flying to San Diego early and cornering him in an alley.”

You laugh. “Okay, Jesus. No. Uh, the Reggie Star Show?”

“What?” Satoru screeches.

“They have Geto coming on before championships,” you sigh, “and they want you too. To ‘promote the series’ or whatever. Drama on screen.”

“Mei Mei’s idea?”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“I don’t really think I have time, considering… it’s championships and we’re training every day? Yaga would be pissed, probably. Not much of a publicity guy.”

Something in your chest loosens at his words. Truthfully, you really don’t want him to go, to be in a situation where he and Geto can only verbally spar through a guise of political politeness.

“Also, I just… don’t want to?” he says. You grin.

“Good. I was hoping.”

“Aw, don’t want me to launch my television career?” You sink onto your couch as he keeps talking. “That could be a great return on investment for you, you know. You have my autograph now.”

“Shut up. And don’t tell Nobara about this. She’d be so mad at you.”

“Scaryyy,” he says, and he’s not joking. “Come over for dinner?” The change in topic has you smiling as you kick your feet up on the coffee table. “Miki and Gumi are coming. And Yuji.”

“And the dogs?”

“Am I not enough for you?” he scoffs, and you grin.

“Not even close.”

“Yes, the dogs, you heathen.”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” you say innocently, and hang up on him.

—

Tsumiki meets you at Satoru’s door with a massive grin on her face and immediately pulls you into a hug.

“Hi!” she says excitedly, ushering you inside.

“Hey, Tsumiki,” you smile, and then there’s a rapid pitter-patter of the dogs rounding the corner into the entryway, and you fall into a pile of fur and kisses. “Hi, buddies! Hi!” Shiro shoves her nose into your face and Kuro plops himself down in your lap right as Satoru rounds the corner.

“Stealing my girlfriend,” he whines.

“Dumbass,” you say, and let him help you up. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and you blush against your will.

“C’mon. Pasta’s ready.” You follow Satoru into the kitchen and find Yuji and Megumi putting plates on the small table. You raise a brow.

“Whose cooking?”

“Whose do you think?” Tsumiki asks.

“I helped!” Yuji insists, pointing to the oven. “I’m making garlic bread!”

Tsumiki pats him on the shoulder and says, “Yes, Yuji, you did a great job.”

You fire off a quick message to Yaga to confirm that it’s okay to reject Takada’s offer, and he responds within two minutes, Please do.

You step out to make the call, and when you come back into the kitchen, Yuji and Tsumiki are giggling at something.

“What are you two on about?” you ask, and Tsumiki, still snickering, hands you her phone. It’s open to a tweet of a grainy computer screenshot, and it says SOMEONE LOOK AT ME THE WAY SATORU GOJO LOOKS AT THE SORCERERS MANAGER PLS PLSPLS

That’s not even the part that gets you. First of all, it’s not from the most recent game—it’s from before you were together. You’re wearing the Limitless shirt.

Second, Kasumi retweeted it.

“Jesus,” you say, and Satoru appears at your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.” You swat at him without looking and then pull out your phone to text Kasumi. “I need to tell her before she finds out somewhere else.”

As if on cue, your phone lights up with her name. Your first thought is that she somehow already knows and is FaceTiming you to scream at you. You swipe and her face materializes in front of you, a massive grin on her face and—has she been crying?

“Kasumi! Are you okay?”

“Yes!” she practically screams. And then she holds up her hand, and you stare for a long moment before realizing she’s wearing a ring.

“Holy shit!” you screech. “Kasumi!” The grin splits across your face, and she’s laugh-crying on the other end of the phone, and then she abruptly freezes.

And you realize Satoru’s very much visible in the frame behind you.

“Alley-oop,” she says. “You motherf��Alley. Is that—”

You can see the tips of your ears going pink in the camera in the corner of the screen. “Surprise?”

“To you, maybe!” she laughs. “Holy shit. Holy shit! This is the best day of my life.”

Muta appears beside Kasumi, squinting at the screen. “Tell me it’s because we’re getting married and not because she and Gojo finally banged.” Megumi wrinkles his nose at the other end of the table.

“Kokichi,” Kasumi scolds, but Satoru cracks up behind you and you can’t help but follow suit.

“Congrats, you guys,” you say. “I’m so happy for you. Does Akari know?”

“She’s next on the list,” Kasumi grins.

“We’ll let you go, then,” you say, and take a moment to just appreciate how fucking happy your friend looks. Her blue hair is a mess and her eyes are rimmed red, but she’s glowing. This has been a long time coming. You couldn’t be happier for her, honestly.

When she hangs up, Satoru grins and says, “Aw, basketball romance.” Then he looks pointedly at Yuji and Megumi.

“I suddenly feel like a fifth wheel,” Tsumiki announces. Then she looks at Shiro and Kuro, curled up together on the couch. “Seventh wheel?”

You plop into the chair next to Tsumiki and wrap your arm around her. “Nah, Satoru’s seventh wheeling. I’m here for you.”

She grins, and Satoru falls to his knees and dramatically fakes his own death. The dogs leap off the couch to investigate, and soon he’s laughing as Shiro slobbers all over him while Kuro decides to lay across his legs.

In truth, you don’t remember the last time you felt this content. It’s a nice feeling, warm.

And then a smell hits you, like something burning, and you furrow your brows and turn toward the kitchen. “Is something—”

“Oh my god!” Yuji screeches, practically falling out of his chair and bolting for the kitchen. “The garlic bread!”

—

The results of turning down the Reggie Star offer have, quite possibly, the funniest results of all time.

You’re curled up on Satoru’s couch two days later with your feet on his lap and Tsumiki on your other side, Megumi and Yuji sprawled with the dogs on the floor. On the TV, Todo walks on stage to a cheering studio audience and locks eyes with Takada, and you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he just passed out right now.

“Simp,” Satoru says. You look at him incredulously. “Okay, hey, I did not say I wasn’t also.” He plants a kiss on your temple and Megumi pretends to gag.

You swear Todo literally has physical stars in his eyes when he looks at her. He shakes her hand with both of his and does a weird half-bow and says, “It’s such an honor, Ms. Ta—“

“Oh, please,” Takada giggles. “Just call me Takada.” Todo goes red again, stammering out a response.

“This is the most painful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Megumi says. He’s only watching this because Yuji wants to.

“Mr. Aoi Todo,” Reggie Star says grandly, throwing an arm around him like they’re already best buds. “Take a seat, take a seat. Thanks again for joining us on such short notice!”

Todo takes his place on the couch while Reggie and Takada sit in opposing armchairs, the background flashing the Reggie Star Show logo as the theme music peters out. Reggie grills Todo with questions about the Samurai-Sorcerers series, playing against Yuji after playing with him in college, all the connections the team has with half of the championship bracket. And throughout, Todo just can’t tear his gaze away from Takada.

By the time it’s over you’re nearly falling off the couch, laughing yourself halfway to tears.

“Guys, it’s cute! He has a crush!” Yuji exclaims, and you all laugh harder. Tsumiki collapses into you, her hair spreading out over the fabric of the shirt you’re wearing—one of Satoru’s, blue and black and smelling like him.

After the commercial break, which consisted of an actually absurd amount of Takada promoting various useless products, Todo is nowhere to be found. Geto sits on the couch in his place with a press-worthy smile and a crisp, navy blue suit.

“And here we’ve got the starting center of one of the two NBA teams gunning for the championship title, Mr. Suguru Geto,” Reggie introduces, and the studio audience whoops and cheers as Geto waves them off, smiling modestly. You kind of want to slap him.

“Now, let’s not beat around the bush here, Suguru—you’re going up against the Sorcerers the day after tomorrow, and that means you’re coming face to face with your old teammate, Satoru ‘Six-Eyes’ Gojo.” Reggie looks pointedly out at the crowd, like they’re in on some big secret, and turns back to Geto. “How do you feel about this match-up, two starting centers with a lengthy history on the court with stakes this high?”

Geto sighs and leans forward a bit in his seat, one elbow on the armrest. “Well, Reggie, Satoru and I go back a long time.” You wrinkle your nose at the sound of his first name in Geto’s mouth. You feel weirdly defensive about it. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we went to high school together and then college, so we’ve been playing basketball together since our early teens.”

Takada chimes in, “That’s quite the bond, going through the most formative parts of your careers together!” You can’t take her seriously, because in your head she’s still winking at the camera and waxing poetic about the merits of some new Japanese skincare line.

Reggie nods, encouraging Geto to go on. “I’ve gotta say, I am looking forward to seeing him again. He’s a hard man to get ahold of these days. It’ll be good to see him, albeit on opposite sides of the court.”

“No, it will not,” Satoru says with a false cheer in his voice, pointing a finger gun at the TV.

“And how do you think your odds are looking for this series?”

“Well,” Geto laughs, “the Sorcerers are talented, I’ll give them that. Clearly, they’ve made it this far. But I will say that the Curses are first seed with home court advantage.” He shrugs. “So do with that what you will.”

Takada glances at Reggie, as if asking permission for something, and he nods. “If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Geto, there’s another familiar face on the other side of things as well, a former manager of the Curses.”

Geto nods, a wide smile crossing his face, and you feel Satoru tense up beside you. “Oh, we miss her a lot, yes. She’s great at what she does. I keep telling her she should make her way back to San Diego if she feels so inclined.” He laughs, like this is some great ongoing joke.

“Oh, so you two still speak regularly, then?” Reggie asks, intrigued. Your jaw clenches, and Satoru’s hand encloses yours before it can become a fist.

“I just recently paid her a visit out east.” Oh my god. Oh my god.

“That fucker,” Satoru growls. Your phone buzzes with a message from Ieiri.

my wife: this little man bun bitch

my wife: what if i commit murder. what then

You’re seething, and even Tsumiki is frowning, the lines creasing her face, turning the corners of her mouth down. Paid you a visit? As if you’re friends and he came to catch up with you over coffee, not dropped in on your street in the dark to harass you about a job you don’t want?

“Well, sounds like it’ll be quite the reunion,” Reggie is saying by the time the smoke clears out of your ears enough for you to hear again.

Tsumiki reaches across you to ruffle Satoru’s hair. “He’s just trying to get under your skin. Don’t let him.”

You shoot a quick message back to Ieiri.

you: tbh i’d pay a lot of money to see y’all in a cage match

Reggie and Takada shift to broader questions about the series and you tune out most of the remainder of the segment, irritated when Geto answers one too many questions with Satoru’s name, subtly suggesting that the Sorcerers have none of the grit and discipline the Curses do.

“They’re a fun bunch,” he says at one point. “Like a barrel of monkeys. They just have a good time.” The tone is all fake, smoothed-out public relations, and it makes your blood boil. You know what he’s really implying, that it’s an insult. That the Sorcerers spend all their time hanging off hoops instead of drilling themselves into the ground. You know it’s not true. You’ve watched them work their asses off all year.

“God forbid we know how to have fun,” Satoru snorts, and you feel the tension easing from your shoulders just at the sound of his voice.

“You don’t,” you say teasingly, flipping yourself around on the couch so your head lands in his lap. “That’s entirely Kento.”

Satoru gasps and looks down at you. “You take that back. Nanami is the most unfun—“

“Not a word,” Tsumiki says helpfully.

“Everyone in this house hates me! Slander under my own roof!” He digs his fingers into your sides and starts tickling you, and you squirm out of his grasp and onto the ground, but he follows you. Soon it’s a mess of Shiro and Kuro frantically pouncing on both of you as you squeal for Satoru to let you go, and Tsumiki is definitely filming this whole thing, and it’s all so incredibly domestic and unserious and right that your heart swells in your chest.

Fuck Geto. He can’t get to you here, and he can’t take you away from the team you love.

—

Being in San Diego again is strange. The facilities are familiar, the gyms, the locker rooms, but you’re walking them a different person than you left them, experiencing the same setting in a new context that makes you feel like you’re living in one prolonged moment of déjà vu.

Nobara walks alongside you, bouncing between social media notifications and ranting about the way Geto made the Sorcerers sound on national television last night. Ieiri’s setting up in the training room down the hall, and Yaga’s pulled the guys into the locker room for a quick meeting before they launch into their last practice before the next day’s match.

You keep thinking about Yaga pulling you aside this morning, murmuring a quick warning in your ear. “If you see Mei Mei, no you don’t. Not worth the time. Just slip away.”

So far there’s been no sign of the other manager, and you’re glad for it.

Nobara’s phone starts ringing and she nods at you and peels off, pressing it to her ear and slipping deeper into the building. You lean against the wall, checking your own phone, making sure you don’t have any missed calls or emails.

The side doors open loudly, metal scraping across the floor, and you look up.

Fuck.

It seems Mei Mei doesn’t do her own damn dirty work.

“Oh, hello!” Mahito crows, making his way over to you. You didn’t like him when you worked for the Curses and you don’t like him now, his leering grin too wide for his face, hair tied into three sections behind his back. Him, you know—but you haven’t yet met the man beside him, a lanky, tall guy with oddly wide eyes and a long blond ponytail weirdly off-center on his head.

Of course, you know who he is. You’ve done your research, you’ve seen the roster. Haruta Shigemo.

“I hoped you’d be here.” Mahito comes to a stop in front of you as you push off the wall, crossing your arms.

“Mahito.” Your voice is cold, flat.

He frowns, an exaggerated, off-putting gesture. “Thought it’d be a happier reunion,” he says. He holds his arms out toward Shigemo with a flourish. “I’d like you to meet Haruta. He, ah, was something of a replacement for your Six-Eyes.”

Shigemo stares at you, unblinking, a small, close-lipped smile sending a shiver down your spine. You’re suddenly aware of how close these two men are to you, that your back is to the wall, that you’re alone in the hallway.

“Look, I really have a lot to get done—”

“Oh, we don’t mean to bother you!” Mahito laughs, high-pitched and manic. “We just wanted to welcome you back home, you know. Make sure you settled in to the old stomping grounds.” He leans in, breath smelling like some odd combination of fruity gum and stale crackers. You shudder involuntarily. “I hope you don’t take it too hard when they lose,” he whispers, too close to your face. “Should you need an out, remember we’re in your corner.”

Shigemo holds a hand up as you’re about to retort, tilting his head and studying you. “If he’s not your type,” he giggles, nodding at Mahito, “I’ve got some time on my hands tonight.”

Your face flushes deep red with anger, fists going white-knuckled at your side. “I do not need—”

“Excuse me,” says a cool, familiar voice, and the tension in your muscles goes slack as Kento comes to stand directly between you and your newfound nuisances. “I believe we’ve already taken care of any business that needed tending to before the match tomorrow, yes? Is there anything else I can help you with? We’re just about to kick off practice, and I’m afraid our time is limited.”

Mahito steps back, holding his arms up in false surrender. “Nanami! Hello!” He grins widely. “We’re representatives, of a sort. Just making sure the bunch of you are settled in.” Shigemo nods and looks Kento up and down, calculating.

“We are just fine,” he says flatly, nudging you with a hand behind his back. You nod at the two Curses players and storm down the hallway toward the gym, heart racing in your chest. Behind you, you hear Kento still talking. “Do tell Mei Mei her… thoughtfulness is noted.”

In the gym, the guys are warming up, and your eyes immediately lock on Megumi, angrily slamming an innocent basketball against the wall, over and over. Yuji dribbles between his knees without looking at his ball, watching Megumi intently.

You don’t see Satoru, and for a moment you’re worried, feeling a little off-balance, until you feel hands on your shoulders, spinning you around. “Well, hello,” he says, and you laugh, dropping your head into his chest.

“Fuck is up with Megumi?” you ask, nodding toward him, and Satoru frowns. You notice now the tension in him, the slight anger in his eyes, an energy like impatience and frustration all around his edges.

“Suguru was fucking with him. Saying shit about Tsumiki. I was dealing with him.” He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, considering as he looks over your shoulder at Yuji drawing Megumi back onto the court. “He’s such a dick.”

Kento walks in then, making his way straight over to you. “You okay?” he asks, and Satoru’s brows knit together.

“What? Why wouldn’t she—” He turns to you. “Why wouldn’t you be okay? What happened?”

“Mahito,” you say. “Shigemo, too. Fucking pricks.”

Satoru breathes in sharply, his grip on your shoulder tightening protectively. “If they put their fucking hands on you—”

“Toru,” you say, the nickname slipping out without your permission. It seems to calm him down a little, makes him look at you steadily. “Kento got them out of the way. And they won’t do anything to me. They’re just doing Mei Mei’s bidding, same as Geto, probably.” You grab his hands in yours, nodding at Kento to say you’ll be okay. He inclines his head and walks away, gathering the rest of the team in the center of the gym.

“They want to get under your skin. Don’t let them."

Your voice is steady and calm, coated with a reassurance you don’t feel. Your nerves are still on high alert, Mahito’s breathing down your neck, Shigemo’s unsettling scrutiny lingering in your mind. But you know they’re not after you. You’re a conduit for them, a way to fuck with Satoru. And you will not let them.

“Don’t let them,” he echoes, sighing, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Remember, flagrantly disgusting display of public affection. Imagine their faces.”

He laughs, loud and bright, and something warm blooms in you at the sound. “God, you’re the best.”

“I know.” You pull back and shove him in the direction of the team. “Now go practice so I can watch you kick their asses.”

He grins at you, does a little half-bow, snapping back into his untouchable, unbothered self. “Anything for you.”

—

There's really no reason for you to have the clipboard in your hands. Every note you’ve taken is committed to memory. You know both team’s rosters inside and out, know every detail of the schedule, what a win or a loss means for the schedule, score projections, all of it. But you need something to do with your hands, so you hold onto it, clicking and unclicking your pen, scribbling in the margins of old brackets, trying to contain all your nervous energy into a manageable space.

And you’re not the only one overflowing with energy. The stadium is alive. The lights are bright, the crowd raucous, the massive hanging scoreboard broadcasting CHAMPIONSHIP SHOWDOWN SPONSORED BY KFC. You don’t think you could eat right now even if someone shoved a bucket of fried chicken into your hands.

“That’s just mean,” Satoru mutters under his breath, gazing up at the advertisement.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothin’.”

He glances down at you and then across the court, where Geto has been tracking the two of you with searching eyes. Mei Mei hides behind a clipboard as well, though you notice her eyes flickering back and forth, studying Satoru, you, Yaga. You pointedly avoid looking at Mahito and Shigemo. Pricks.

The NBA championship series. Sorcerers versus Curses. It all comes to a head here, an endless rivalry for a championship title.

“So, I’m thinking now or never,” Satoru says, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. When you realize what he means, it takes everything in you not to glance across the court at Geto. A smirk spreads across your face, and you grab Satoru’s jersey and pull him toward you.

“Good luck,” you say, and then you kiss him, hard and long and intentional, and you know Geto sees you.

“I think,” Satoru says, pulling back a little breathlessly, “we should do that every game.” He grins and you swat him away, making your way over to Ieiri and Nobara in the far corner, and you can’t wipe the smile from your own face. On the way there you chance a look across the court. Geto isn’t looking at you, but he’s looking at Satoru, talking lowly out of the corner of his mouth to Mei Mei.

Point for me, you think.

“You’re actually nauseating,” Nobara says when you reach her. You know she’s not serious. She knew the plan. She loved the plan.

“I’m making a point,” you say anyway. She follows your tilted head toward Geto and Mei Mei, and you watch the slow, shit-eating grin spread across her face.

“Oh, so worth it,” she murmurs.

You tug the headset on and listen to the unfamiliar announcers, wishing it was Zenin and Panda in your ears but settling for the new, faceless voices instead. They’re not the same guys who usually commentated on the home court when you worked for the Curses, and you’re oddly glad about it, that there’s not another reminder of the loaded history here right in your ears.

“Charles Bernard here with Rika Orimoto,” the new voice says, “ready to watch this long-time rivalry play out in real time.”

When she speaks up, Rika’s voice is bright and younger than you expected, animated where Bernard is entirely deadpan. Interesting partnership.

As the starters take their positions, you’re surprised to see that Satoru’s not the one taking the tip-off.

Kento is. And in front of him, eye-to-eye with a sardonic smile, is Mahito.

Ah, shit.

The ref’s expression is flat and unaffected, but his eyes dart between the two shooting guards as they face off in the center of the court. You wish you could hear what they’re saying.

“An unusual choice for both teams here as we kick off this final series,” Bernard says. “Neither of our centers taking the tip-off today.”

Kento shows no emotion as the ref lets go of the ball, and Mahito leaps, but he’s not fast enough.

“Number thirty-seven Kento Nanami swipes the tip-off without hesitation!” Rika announces. “Back to number six, the Sorcerers' Satoru Gojo, and a fantastic pass up to Fushiguro.”

The Curses' hulking point guard, Jogo, is right up in Megumi’s face with a massive hand reaching out to block, but Yuji grabs the rebound and pounds it through the hoop in seconds.

“And the Sorcerers take the lead just sixteen seconds in,” Bernard says. You look over at Ieiri and Nobara, grinning, and then back to where Mei Mei stands with a stony expression across the court.

You feel good about this.

Back and forth, back and forth. Ino is giving Jogo a run for his money, using his speed to dart around the massive point guard before he even sees what’s coming. In his breakaways Yuji keeps finding himself pitted against Mahito, and it seems like it’s always a fifty-fifty whether the block is successful.

“Some subs as we enter the second quarter. On San Diego's side we have Haruta Shigemo on for Fumihiko Takaba.”

“Yuta Okkotsu on for the Sorcerers!” Rika says, a little too excitedly, before she catches herself and calms down.

“Someone has a fangirl,” Nobara snorts beside you, holding just one side of the headset to her ear.

You can’t tear your eyes away from Satoru and Geto as they go up and down the court, always on each other’s heels, breathing hard. It’s personal, and everyone can see it. If they’re saying anything you can’t make it out.

Both teams are going all-out right now, and the fans feel it too. Megumi’s guarding Naoya Zenin like a shadow, something in the air around them tense and constant. You don’t see Yuji’s uncle but you can certainly hear him, somewhere behind you on the visitors’ side, screaming, “HELL YEAH! SHOW THEM WHAT A WIN REALLY MEANS! THESE FUCKERS WOULDN’T KNOW FIRE IF IT LIT UNDER THEIR ASSES!”

You give it two minutes before he’s kicked out.

Inumaki goes on, then Hakari, and at some point the Curses swap Jogo out for Dagon, and it’s go, go, go. You can barely catch your own breath by the half, the game wrapping around you like you’re the one playing it, and Satoru’s drenched in sweat as the team files back to the locker room. He reaches out and pinches you in the side and you stick your tongue out at him, like the mature adult you are.

“Gross,” Nobara says.

The rest of the game goes by in a similar blur of shots and blocks and heated matchups, Toge nailing a few free throws, Takaba coming back on and managing to slip past Megumi only once. The scoreboard never reads more than a six-point deficit.

You almost don’t hear the buzzer when it’s finally over, players skidding to a stop on the court, their heads turned up toward the scoreboard.

“Holy shit,” Ieiri breathes beside you. “We won. We actually fucking won.”

You rip off the headset, the grin overtaking you, relief and pride flooding your veins like a drug, and the rest of the team floods the court in celebration. They beat a first seed team on their home court.

Satoru catches your eye over the mass of people and smiles, and you wave back.

And this is only the beginning.

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[honeyhotteoks]

this night together - chapter twelve (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter twelve: home is always home

chapter summary: you were planning to tell them how you felt on saturday, but when things go sideways at the studio you find yourself running home as fast as you can.

warnings: this is the chapter i've been warning about for a long, long time. please read responsibly if you're easily triggered by any of the following topics - guy who can't take no for an answer, aggressive/sexist language, physical and verbal assault, panic/ptsd, physical injury/blood, hospitals, police interaction (mentioned), nightmares/night terrors, self harm (sort of?)

notes: please note, if you're reading this on or around 12.3.23 when i'm posting, i've put up three chapters at once. make sure you don't skip chapter ten and eleven! additional notes under the cut~!

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 11.6k

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

for my readers who aren't that familiar with a/b/o, i'm introducing something in this chapter that you may not have seen before. i wanted to add some context! if you're new to a/b/o, there is something that alphas have often called "alpha tone", "alpha voice", or just "tone". alphas in many depictions have the ability to lower their voice in a particular way that is seen as a strict command to an omega, and it triggers/activates their submission. this is something that can be used negatively or positively, but in this scene will be negative. there's also something called headspace/subspace that you will see referenced, and an omega can be put into headspace/subspace via alpha tone. it is a bit of a dissociative state where the omega can only really hear and understand commands. this can be used negatively or positively as well, but again, definitely not good in this scene. i hope that helps.... and happy/responsible reading!!

You really, really wish today was Saturday and not Thursday. Thursday just means you still have to get through Friday and then all of Saturday morning before your scheduled dinner with Yunho and Mingi and all the things you want to say are practically eating you up inside. But there’s a right way and a wrong way to tell someone you’ve been an idiot and you’re in love with them, and blurting it out in the middle of dance practice isn’t really going to help make this easier. 

God, you hope they still want you. 

On the plus side, this week has been insane. With the full crew back things are moving at a million miles per hour, and you’ve been in more meetings about what’s coming up next in the past week than the entire time you’ve worked for BB Trippin and KQ.

Your schedule for the next six months is frankly intense. Between preparing for year-end stages and working on the choreography for the newly debuting girl group, you’re juggling conversations about New World’s next comeback and the next round of touring. With the money coming in now there’s an opportunity to take more dancers, and that just means more late nights and early mornings getting everything right. 

It’s after your third concept planning meeting of the week that you find two minutes to talk to Wooyoung, his bag already slung over his shoulder as he refills his water bottle. 

“So, you’re going?” You ask him vaguely, trying not to tip off anyone else in the vicinity that he’s got a date. 

“Yeah,” He nods, eyes flicking over your shoulder to see if San and Seonghwa are nearby, “I think I’m going to throw up,” 

“No, you’re not,” You assure him. 

“I might,” He whines, running a hand through his mop of long black hair, “I never know what to say to him,” 

“Woo,” 

“I know what to say to everyone, y/n,” He lowers his voice, panic evident in his eyes, “but every time Sangie smiles I go fucking blank,” 

“Sangie?” Your eyebrow quirks, “Is that what we’re calling him now,” 

“Shut up,” Wooyoung blushes. 

“Wow,” You prod him softly, “you’re down so bad, it’s been like three days,” 

“It’s so bad,” He grimaces, “this is embarrassing,” 

“Now you see how I feel,” You smirk, “it’s kind of fun being on this end of things,” 

“Please,” He rolls his eyes, “are you telling me you’re not panicking?” 

“Oh, no,” You laugh, “I definitely am. It’s just nice to know I’m not alone here,” 

“I was never this mean to you,”

You hold his gaze, just blinking, there’s nothing to say to that he doesn’t already know. 

“Okay, fine,” He sighs, “but still, feeling like this,” 

“Feeling like what?” Seonghwa’s voice shocks you both out of your quiet conversation and you both jump back from each other. 

“Jesus,” You breathe, “you scared me,” 

Seonghwa smiles, “Sorry,” he shrugs, “everything okay?” 

“Perfect,” Wooyoung takes a step back and shakes his head, “totally good,” 

Seonghwa’s brows come together in the middle, “You seem like something’s wrong, can I help?” 

Wooyoung almost blanches, and you know he’s dreading telling San and Seonghwa about Yeosang, so you jump in to help. “Woo was just helping me figure out Saturday,” You cover and draw Seonghwa’s attention back to you, “you know, figuring out what to say to them,”

“Oh,” Seonghwa nods, but you can see that he doesn’t really buy it, “right,” 

“Anyways,” Wooyoung starts walking backwards towards the exterior door, “I have to go, but you know, y/n, call me if you need to talk more later,” 

“I will,” You nod, “I definitely will.” 

Wooyoung knows that what you mean is that you want detailed date updates, and he almost looks mortified at the idea. He disappears fast, leaving you and Seonghwa relatively alone in the hallway. 

“What is up with him this week?” Seonghwa asks, confusion on his face. 

“He has a date,” You tell him quietly, “he’s kind of freaking out about it.” 

“Oh,” Seonghwa glances towards the door where Wooyoung just disappeared, “that’s not that weird for him,” 

“It is if he’s this interested after only a few days,” You say, “but don’t tease him. He’s kind of worked up about the whole thing,” 

“Who’s he seeing?” Seonghwa asks. 

“He should tell you that,” You beg off the gossip immediately, “just do me a favor and give him a little space to talk to you and San about it,” 

“Okay,” He draws out the word, not sure exactly where you’re going. 

“He’s nervous about upsetting the delicate balance,” You gesture towards him, referring to the carefully constructed relationship that is Wooyoung, San, and Seonghwa. 

“He’s seeing another alpha?” Seonghwa jumps to that conclusion with ease, and you can see how he would get there. 

You’re shaking your head before you can stop yourself, “It’s not that,” 

That does surprise him, and Seonghwa’s eyes widen a bit, “Oh,” 

“Right,” You nod, leading him to the conclusion as close as you can without spelling it out, “my point is, he’s nervous and he’s got a pretty serious crush, and he hasn’t said so but I think he’s scared you and San won’t approve.” 

“I would never,” He stumbles over his words, “out of anyone, we would never judge him, he has to know that,” 

“Hey,” You reach for Seonghwa, stepping a little closer so your voices stay low in the entryway as you brush your hand down his forearm, “he knows, he’s just panicking a little.” 

“Should I talk to him?” Seonghwa asks, his eyes earnest. 

“Not yet,” You shake your head, “he’ll figure it out, just don’t push him right now. I’ve never seen him this anxious,” 

“I won’t,” He promises, “thank you for telling me,” 

“Mhm,” 

Seonghwa chews over your words a second and then decides to let it drop. With a sigh he refocuses on work, “Are you staying late?” 

“Yeah,” You shrug, “I have some things to catch up on. You?” 

“I need to track down San,” He says, “but then after that I’m probably heading out a little early,” 

“Nice,” You nod, “still shaking off the jetlag?” 

He nods, “Unfortunately,” 

Down the hall you watch a few of the dancers gathering up their belongings, and then the door to the back office opens to reveal Yunho and Mingi, sitting close together and studying a computer screen as Jaemin leaves for the day. 

“Well,” Your feet are already moving, “then I’ll see you later,” 

“Sounds good,” He says, and then he gives you a knowing look, seeing exactly where you’re headed. 

Before you know it, you’re moving through the people in the hall and trying desperately to come up with a reason for crashing their tete-a-tete. 

“Hey,” You knock softly on the open door, “am I interrupting?” 

“No, no,” Yunho smiles when he sees you and your stomach bubbles. 

“We’re just watching back practice,” Mingi leans back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. 

“Oh, nice,” You say, and your empty words do little to fill the empty space. 

“Do you… need something?” Yunho tries. 

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” You scramble internally for something to say, “I’m staying late, but I’m kind of starving, I just didn’t know if you still had stuff stashed?” 

“Sure,” He gestures towards the cabinets on the side wall, “whatever you want, help yourself,” 

“Great,” You dash towards the cabinets, and you can’t even imagine eating right now with how fluttery your insides have been, but you snag a couple of protein bars anyways. 

The silence is brutal. Not like before, not like the tense and uncomfortable angry silences of the past, but it’s still sitting there between you. Part of you wants to shut the door right now and just get it all out there, but again, you know you shouldn’t. 

Mingi’s warm, chocolatey scent is richer in here, evident after a hard practice of working up a sweat and being given a chance to permeate with the door closed. You feel your body naturally relaxing at it, so comforting and familiar, and then you get the first pang of Yunho’s warm, summer rain. 

You can hardly believe how you convinced yourself that this wasn’t scent sympathy when right here and now it’s so obvious they belong to you. You wonder if they feel it too. 

“Are you okay?” Mingi’s voice snaps you out of your sudden daydream staring at the cabinet full of snacks. 

“Yeah, yes,” You shut them and step back, “I’m fine, just a little tired.” 

“Not sleeping well?” Yunho says, concern all over his features. 

“I’m fine,” You wave him off, “just a busy week,” 

“You don’t have to stay late,” Mingi offers, “I’m sure whatever you’re working on will still be fine tomorrow,” 

“I know,” You nod, “but if I don’t get it out of my system I’ll just be thinking about it all night, you know how it is,” 

Mingi nods, “Still, take it easy later,” 

“I will,” You promise, and you start to turn towards the door when the words just bubble up out of your throat, “you’re both still free Saturday, right?” 

“Yeah,” Mingi answers for them both, “are you?” 

“Definitely,” You nod, “I just wanted to make sure, I’m looking forward to it,” 

“We could do tomorrow instead,” Yunho offers, “after practice?” 

“As long as you don’t have other plans,” Mingi cuts in, “for a Friday night,” 

“Tomorrow works,” You jump at the chance, “I’d actually love that, I just didn’t want to crowd you when you’re adjusting to the timezone again,” 

“It’s fine,” Mingi brushes that thought off, “I’d rather see you,” 

“Yeah,” Yunho nods, “it’ll be good to catch up,” 

You smile, “I want to hear all about the trip,” 

“The trip,” Mingi says, just repeating your words like he’s weighing them out on his own tongue. 

Something about his voice sends a sharp zing up the back of your spine. 

Your body feels a little soft, relaxing bit by bit. 

Yunho’s eyes flick over you, “Are you sure you need to stay late?” 

Something your primal little brain cannot handle right now is the thought of your alphas being protective, not when you’re standing in this room encased by their scents that feel a little too right. Your stomach tightens and you pray that you’re not blushing pink at the flickering thought in your mind of them taking you home. 

You need to get out of this room before they realize it. 

“I’m good,” You tell him, stepping backwards towards the door, “but thank you, and dinner tomorrow is perfect,” 

Mingi says something, you think he’s agreeing, but you’re giving another excuse over your shoulder about how you need to get back to it so you can make it out of this room. 

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest as you leave the office and make it down the hall, heading for the studio room you’ve booked for the afternoon. You nearly run into Dahan and Minseok as you cut around the corner, but you apologize quickly and barely give them a second glance as you hide yourself away in one of the dance studios alone. 

With the door firmly shut you lean back against the closed door and take a deep breath. These feelings are going to work you into a frenzy if you don’t get them under control. Scent sympathy is rare, an almost perfect match between an alpha and omega that makes every part of a relationship heightened, especially once that initial sympathetic bond is fulfilled with a claim. While they were gone you came to that conclusion slowly, the steady ache in your chest so clearly informed by the lack of them, but now that they’re back and here the realization of it collides into you full-force. 

You love them, that’s true. But what’s more is how much you need them, and how much you hope they need you. You can’t let them realize it before you have the chance to say everything you need to say, and if you had stayed in that room a few minutes more they might have felt themselves. With the dinner moved to Friday you just have one more night to get through. One more night, and one more day of work. And then the chips will fall where they may. 

With a deep breath you let the hammering of your heart slow and then you focus back on the work ahead. The more you pour yourself into work the faster these 24 hours will go, so you put your head down and get to it. 

You work for a long time, probably too long, until your muscles are positively aching and any thoughts of Yunho and Mingi are drowned out by lyrics to the chorus of this song that just keeps looping in your mind as you try different patterns of footwork. Here in this bubble you don’t know who’s still at work, who’s left for the day, what time it is, or if the sun has set yet. You just know your own body and every which way that it moves to this one singular song. 

Your hair is hot around your face, sweat clinging to your brow as you finish out the latter half of the choreography that you’re confident with. It’s fast, and includes so much up and down floor work you’re pretty sure you’d be passing out if you weren’t hydrating properly. Focused on your reflection in the mirror you gather your hair up and away and into a knot and then move to find your towel and water bottle. 

The door to the studio opens behind you, and you glance back without really seeing who’s popping in, “Hey,” 

For a split second it occurs to you that it might be Yunho or Mingi and your stomach flips as you start to turn. 

“Hey, y/n,” Minseok’s voice is a bit of a surprise. 

“Oh, hey,” 

He looks like he’s just stopping by to grab something from the far desk in the corner. You’re honestly surprised that he’s still here, he had looked on his way out earlier when you bumped into him in the hall.  

“Are you heading out for the night?” You take a drink of water and catch your breath, leaning against the mirrored wall behind you. 

“Soon,” He nods, running a hand through his dark hair and snagging a sweatshirt hanging over the back of the office chair. 

“Well,” You smile, “have a good night,” 

“You too,” He says as he walks past you, but then his steps slow and you hear him sigh before he turns on his heel, “listen, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” 

“I hope you don’t think this is weird,” He takes a few more steps back towards you, “but I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something for a while now,” 

“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise, and suddenly you can see everything in his expression. You know this look. You know the way men get when they finally rip off the bandage and change the equilibrium of a room, the moment they decide they can’t see you as just a friend. What absolutely terrible timing he has.

“I was thinking,” He says, a little pause before the rest and you hope you’re keeping your face nice and neutral, “do you think I could take you out some time?” 

“Out?” The word leaves you. 

He smiles, “Yeah, out, like a date.” 

“I appreciate that,” You shake your head a little, trying to smile and keep things light, “but I don’t think so,” 

His lip quirks and his nose scrunches and you suppose that if you were interested you might find this part of him charming, but you’re not, so it isn’t. “Are you seeing someone?” He asks. 

“No,” You tell him honestly, “not right now.”

“So, I can’t get you to give me one chance?” He takes a step forwards, gesturing between you both and keeping his gaze hopeful. 

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” You shake your head, “we work together.” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” He assures you, brushing past the boundary you tried to set with casual indifference, “don’t worry about that.” 

“Still,” You shake your head, “but thank you for asking.” 

You’re not at all thankful for him asking, but he’s nice enough, and it feels like the polite way to keep the status quo. 

“That’s a shame,” He admits, his smile dropping almost entirely, “are you sure I can’t convince you to give me just one chance? I really do like you, y/n,” 

“I’m sure,” That should be firm enough. 

“I thought we were getting along well,” He cuts off the end of your words, “becoming friends.” 

“I thought so too,” You straighten up off the wall behind you, tossing your towel over your shoulder and setting up to walk right out of the studio room if that’s what it would take to end this interaction, “I thought we were friends,” 

You can’t help but emphasize the word friends, and you watch the moment his expression drops more, annoyance flicking through his jaw. 

“I didn’t think you had such a problem seeing people you worked with,” He says pointedly. 

“Excuse me?” 

“It’s just that,” He shrugs, nodding towards you, “I didn’t think it bothered you. Considering.”

“Listen,” You lock eyes with him, “let it go. I’m trying to be nice about this, but I can be clearer. I am not interested in going out with you.” 

“You don’t have to be rude,” 

“Goodnight, Minseok,” You’re not staying for this. 

“I’m a good guy,” He says as you start towards the door, “don’t, come on just stay a second,” 

You keep walking. 

“y/n,” He says, his voice startlingly close behind you, “stay.” 

It’s like your legs stop working, an echoing strike of nerves down your spine and you stumble slightly as his hand closes around your wrist. 

“Let go of me.” You start to turn towards him, pulling your arm back as you do, but he speaks again. 

“Stop.” His voice is so low suddenly, situated smack in the center of his chest, a tenor you’ve never heard from him before. Your legs stop working all together, suddenly feeling like lead.

“Take your hands off me.” You blink hard, your head feeling a little full suddenly. 

“I just don’t understand,” He bites, “we’ve been flirting for weeks.” 

You can’t find the words to tell him that you being nice isn't flirting, but you’re stunned into silence. You can barely even think of a time when you had a sustained conversation with him where someone else wasn’t present. How could interactions that felt so routine to you feel so significant for him? 

“And you’re just… not interested?” He scoffs, “You’re what, twenty-six? Twenty-seven? You’re going to start running out of good offers.” 

So many things about Seo Minseok fall into place with just those words. The way that just a few weeks ago he barely looked at you, barely spoke to you. Always spending his attention on the alphas in the room around you, but never you. How when that tide shifted you thought, maybe naively, that he was just shy. But he’s not shy, not in the least. He’s just another alpha in a long line of alphas who look down their noses at omegas until there’s something they want from them. 

“That’s really none of your concern,” You shake your head, “now get the fuck off me.” 

“Be quiet.” His jaw sets hard. 

So does yours. 

A thousand thoughts run through your brain like a wildfire eating up a hillside of dry bark but nothing can make it past your lips. The tone of his voice has you rooted to the spot, his instructions not suggestions but strict commands. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard an alpha use tone, but it’s certainly the first time it’s been directed at you. You’ve heard stories, the way the primal omega brain surfaces even when you don’t want it to. You thought it was a bit of an overstatement, but now on the receiving end you can’t control your response to him and fear floods you. 

“You talk a lot for an unmated omega,” He looks disappointed. 

Something shrinks inside you. 

His fingers tighten, his body suddenly closer, “But we can fix that.” 

In a breath his hands push you backwards, your back suddenly cold against the mirrored wall of the practice room. Later, much later, you’ll discover that the reason your memory of this moment is patchy is a combination of your omega’s response to alpha tone and full dissociation. You’ll remember little pieces, quick sensations here and there. The same song still looping through the stereo, the sound of his deep inhale with his face pressed against your throat, the sharp pin pricks of his teeth as he seeks out the soft juncture of your neck and shoulder. The way your mind in one heaving breath both screams in rebellion and folds open in acceptance when he successfully locates your gland. 

You suddenly can’t hear right, can’t think right. All you know is his teeth. The hot feeling of breath. He smells like burnt, bitter oranges. He’s talking again, saying something that your conscious mind can’t register, but your omega does, and you stretch your neck long to give him the access he needs. 

And then you’re under. 

You’re dropping before you consciously register your brain entering a new, hazy middle space. It feels like being at the bottom of a deep pool, the sudden, immersive quiet. You understand that someone is talking to you, or around you, but all you can hear is the echoing tenor of an alpha, the words unclear, all cocooned in the water around you. 

There’s a bang somewhere but it feels far away, and you feel pin pricks against your throat. 

Minseok’s overwhelming acrid scent and heavy pressure against you is gone, the sudden loss of his weight leaving you off balance. You think you’re falling, or maybe you’ve already fallen. The world feels tilted, something hard and cold under your back. You smell something sharp and tangy, and there’s something loud in the room but you can’t understand it. Everything is white, bright and intrusive. 

Mingi’s face swims into your vision, and you feel his hands on your cheeks. It takes you a minute to understand anything, but he looks upset, stricken and his cheeks are tinged pink with panicked anger. You want to reach up, soothe his brow and see what’s wrong, but you can’t lift your hand. Don’t move an inch. 

“Jesus,” Mingi glances to his side, “he put her in subspace,” 

Someone responds, but it’s muffled to your ears. 

Mingi’s face darkens entirely, his hands leave you, “I’ll fucking kill him,” 

He’s gone. There’s a scuffle to your side, but you can’t turn your head, you want to, you just can’t. Tears bubble in your eyes, emotion pulsing through you and your breath is tight and thready in your throat. A sharp, whining sob bubbles from your lips. 

Warm rain swims through you, and Yunho’s there, sliding right into the spot Mingi left. His eyes dart over your face and then he looks to his side, his voice firm, “Calm down or get out of here, do you understand me? You’re scaring her,” 

There’s a long beat, noises to your side again but you can’t understand it. Your stomach flips nervously, the place you’re stuck in your head throbbing a sharp spike through your brain. 

Yunho’s warm, brown eyes settle back on yours, his face calm and easy, “Can you hear me, y/n?” 

You can, but you can’t make your mouth work. Don’t move an inch. 

“Can you hear me? y/n?” He asks again, his thumb brushing your cheek, “You’re safe, he’s not going to touch you again,” 

The hard feeling of Minseok’s hands on your hips pushing you into the practice room mirror snaps inside you and you release a soft sound. 

“You can hear me,” Yunho nods, “come on, wake up,” 

“Yunho,” Mingi’s voice is close again, hard and steady, “that’s not going to work,” 

“Why?” Yunho looks up to his friend, “she can hear me, she’s okay,” 

“She’s in subspace,” Mingi pushes his friend to the side, coming into your eye line, “she’s dropped so far under it’s going to take more than that,” 

“W-what do we do?” Yunho’s voice is shaky. 

“Let me try something,” Mingi murmurs, and then his eyes lock squarely on yours. 

Yunho slips his hand into yours, holding you tightly, but you can’t squeeze him back. 

“Omega,” Mingi’s voice is firm, and it’s the clearest thing you’ve heard since sinking under the water, “Come up now.” 

Don’t move an inch.

“You need to come up now,” His fingers tighten on your cheek, “listen to me.” 

Don’t move an inch. 

“Why isn’t this working?” Yunho asks, squeezing your fingers. 

“I’m not sure,” Mingi’s voice is low, and then he shifts closer to your face, “y/n. Omega. Listen to me now,” 

All you can do is manage to make a quiet, tight noise, and even to your muddled brain you can hear the tenor of distress. 

“Come up now,” Mingi repeats, “right now. Listen to me, omega.” 

You’re being torn in two, your primal brain fighting you every step of the way. 

He swallows hard, his voice dropping low in his chest, “Don’t disobey your alpha,”

Suddenly nothing but his voice exists. 

Mingi’s expression is cold, tight and ruthless, his rich tone cuts straight to your core, “When you’re given a directive, you follow it. Now,” He locks his hands on either side of your face and his next words are a pointed and perfectly clear command, “Come. Up.”  

The room is so much louder than you thought a moment ago. There’s shouting outside and you vaguely register San’s voice amongst the mix. The music from practice is still on low. Yunho’s leg is bouncing nervously, the athletic fabric making a rhythmic swish with every bob of his knee. You can hear your blood rushing in your ears. 

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, the first feeling that floods back into your body is intense shame.

“Oh my god,” Mingi’s expression crumbles and he pulls your limp body into his arms “you’re here? You’re with us?”

“M-Mingi,” Your vision clouds with tears again and every feeling that tried to course through your body while you were in subdrop crashes into you sideways.

“Shh,” He rocks you in his arms, “we’ve got you, we’re right here, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”

A dull throb radiates through your skull and Yunho takes a sharp inhale, “She’s bleeding,”

“What?” Mingi pulls back, his hand searching your body.

“Here,” Yunho brushes the back of your hair, his fingers coming away with a small line of blood, “it’s not too bad,”

“What happened?” You reach for the cut at the back of your head, nervous tears coming up as you try to understand.

“You don’t remember?” Yunho asks.

“I’m,” You swallow hard, “it was practice? Or I was practicing? I had the room booked.”

“Yeah,” Yunho nods and squeezes your hand, “what else?”

The date. The hard set of Minseok’s jaw when you said no. His hands on your hips, his lips on your neck, the soft drag of his teeth and the flat of his tongue over your gland. Your shirt tearing when he hauled you up against the mirrors. Hands everywhere. Hands nowhere. The white ceiling. His voice, harsh and direct in your ears, the alpha tone unmistakable. Submit. Heel. Don’t move an inch. 

Your mouth is suddenly hot and watery, and your hands are shaking, “I’m… I’m going to be sick,”

“Shit,” Yunho moves fast, sliding across the floor to grab the wastebasket that sits under the desk, pushing it into your hands. 

You wretch instantly, shaking and heaving, losing the contents of your stomach into the plastic bin. 

“Okay,” Mingi soothes, gathering up your hair into one hand and holding it away from your face, “you’re okay,”

“He touched me,” Your hands won’t stop shaking, his voice flooding back, and you heave again, “the things he said,”

“Shh,” Yunho shifts closer, rubbing a hand up and down your back, “you’re safe. None of that is true,” 

“He talked to me like a dog,” You sob, “and I couldn’t move, he told me not to move and I just let him,”

“No.” Mingi’s voice is harsh and you twitch under his hands, “He used alpha tone on you, he wanted you to stop fighting and he said it in tone until you couldn’t hear anything else. You didn’t let him do anything,” 

“I’ve never,” You wretch again, a dry heave with nothing to give and it makes your eyes watery. 

“We’re right here,” Yunho murmurs, “you’re safe.”

When you’re sure your stomach will hold, you push the wastebasket away and drop back to the floor, your head throbbing, “I’ve never been in subspace,”

“You’re not there now,” Mingi soothes.

“I don’t remember,” You manage, looking down at your mussed clothes, “it’s so muddled I can’t remember,”

“What can’t you remember?” Yunho asks softly.

You’re pretty sure you’d register it if his attempt at claiming had been successful, if the word attempt should even be in consideration at all, but the end is so fuzzy you just have to know. “Did he… did we?”

“No.” Yunho’s firm, sliding in front of you so he can make you look into his eyes, “absolutely not,”

Your mouth tastes terrible, but it’s the overwhelming bitter smell of him on you that doubles it and makes you want to throw up again even though your stomach is empty. 

“All I can smell is him,” You scrub your hands under your eyes to wipe away tears, “I can’t even breathe,”

“Take her,” Mingi says, “I’m getting water,”

Yunho pulls you into his arms, sitting back against the mirrored wall for some support and cradling you to his chest, “Come here, is this okay?” 

“Make it go away,” You hold onto his shirt and sigh into his neck, “please, Yunho, please,”

“Just breathe,” He soothes you, “I have you,” 

He smooths his thumbs over the glands in your wrists, easing the initial panic inside you, and then gently draws your head back with his hand, “It’s only me,” He murmurs, “you know I’d never hurt you,” 

Yunho licks a long stripe up your neck, and instantly your body starts to release, tense muscles unlocking and your fingers falling slack. His scent washes over you, enveloping you tenderly. 

“Y-Yunho,” you shudder as he licks another long stripe, moving to suck softly on the fleshy part of your neck that narrowly avoided teeth marks.

“Yes?” He kisses your neck softly, and licks again. 

“Thank you for coming for me,” You exhale slowly.

He stills, sinking closer and resting his closed lips on your shoulder. When he breathes in you hear the catch of emotion, “I thought we were too late,”

“I’m okay,” You murmur, and it’s starting to feel true now that he’s washing away Minseok’s scent.

“God,” He sighs into your skin, “when I heard you scream… I’ve never heard anything that terrifying in my life, I’ve never run so fast,”

“Did I scream?” You don’t remember it.

“Bloody murder,” He nods, pulling back to look at your eyes.

“Yunho,” Your eyes flick up towards the open door of the practice studio, “where is he?”

His hands tighten on you, “Probably nursing his broken ribs. The guys have him,”

Your eyes widen, and the realization that he’s still under the same roof has you trembling in his arms, “He’s still here,”

“Not for long,” He murmurs, “we called the police,”

“But,” Your mind is spinning and you feel the weight of him on your chest once more, “what if he comes back?”

“y/n,” Yunho draws your eyes away from the door, “San and Seonghwa have him, and he’s in rough shape. He’s probably focused on trying to breathe, not thinking about you anymore. And even if none of that were true and he did come back,” he says, “I’d put him on the floor faster than you could blink. Mingi and I both would.”

Your muscles start to relax again, “Okay,”

“You are completely safe,”

Mingi reappears a few moments later, bottles of water in hand, and he smiles warmly, “Hey, you,”

“Hey,”

“Feeling a little better?” He asks, settling on the hard practice room floor and passing you an open bottle.

“I don’t know,” You murmur honestly, shifting in Yunho’s arms so that you’re resting on his lap with your back against his chest. You take a long drink of water and sigh. 

“Listen,” Mingi smooths a hand across your thigh, “the police are going to want to talk to you. They’ll be here within the hour and then we’ll go to the hospital.”

“Why?” You tense.

“Your head,” He nods.

“It’s stopped bleeding,” Yunho assures you, “but he’s right, you could have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,”

“I didn’t realize you had a medical degree,” Mingi says, a little edge to his voice.

Hot tears well in your eyes at his tone, and you shrink back into Yunho’s arms. You know rationally he didn’t mean to scare you, he’s just worried about you, but after the day you’ve had you can’t help but shrink back in fear.  

“Hey,” Yunho presses his lips to your neck, “it’s alright, Mingi didn’t mean it like that”

Mingi’s eyes blow wide, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything,”

“I know,” You tip your head to the side to offer more of your throat to Yunho’s soothing touches, “I’m just not myself,”

“It’s okay,” Yunho says again, returning to your neck and peppering kisses across your gland, and something about this should feel intimate and awkward when you haven’t talked to them yet, but all you can feel is safe.

“Really,” Mingi reaches for you, but doesn’t touch you, “I just want you to let us help, and I’m so angry with Minseok I could kill him, but I didn’t mean to put that on you,”

“Mingi,” You take his outstretched hand, “I’m okay, you just startled me, and you’re right anyways. I’ll come to the hospital,”

He sighs in relief.

“After,” Yunho murmurs, “would you - I mean, will you please come home with us tonight?”

It’s strange how much you feel like it is home, despite only spending your heat there, months ago, so long ago now you shouldn’t still feel this preternatural pull. 

“I don’t know,” You say, even though your body is begging you to agree, to stay with them and only them. 

“I know it’s been different between us,” He murmurs, arms tightening around you, “but you know how I feel. I just don’t want you to be alone tonight, someone should be with you,” 

“Someone you feel safe with,” Mingi adds, “if that’s us,” 

“It is,” You lock your hand down on Mingi’s, “I’m sorry, this is… of course you’re safe, of course you are. I’m just,” 

“Let’s talk about this later,” Mingi smiles, shooting a look at Yunho you can’t quite make sense of, but brushing your fears to the side all the same, “for now, let’s just get you taken care of.” 

You shudder out a breath, letting the warmth and safety of their bodies sink into you. You turn into Yunho, resting your cheek on his chest and matching your breath in time to his. Your thoughts spin, bubbling over as threads of the incident come back to your mind and you press your eyes closed before the question slips out, “Why did he do it?” 

Yunho wraps his arms around you a little tighter, dropping his lips to your hair, “I don’t know,” 

Mingi clears his throat, “He’s about to hit his rut,” he says, “that’s what his excuse was. He said he’s… he kept saying how sorry he was, but,” 

Your eyes snap open, “Sorry? He’s sorry?” 

“Sorry someone interrupted him, maybe,” Mingi’s voice is hard, his eyes firm and unrelenting, “a rut doesn’t make you do that. Not like that.” 

Yunho shakes his head in agreement, “Definitely not,” 

You know that, of course you know it, but after seeing Minseok’s black eyes you’re not so sure. You had never felt completely comfortable with him, but in the past you would have chalked that up to personality differences, and in the past few weeks that had all started to change. He was the kind of guy you wouldn’t date, but you wouldn’t worry about bothering you. 

You sigh softly, “He didn’t seem like himself,” 

“Mm,” Mingi hums, non-committal. 

“A rut doesn’t make it impossible to hear the word no,” Yunho says firmly, “you don’t become some mindless animal. What he tried to do… that’s… a rut’s an easy excuse.” 

You tense up in his arms, a brief flicker of what could have been. His teeth in your neck, your mind spinning into submission. 

“Yunho,” Mingi shakes his head at his best friend, glancing down at you to indicate that it’s not something you can hear right now. 

“I’m sorry,” Yunho soothes, holding you closer if it’s at all possible. 

Your chest tightens, “Can I… I need to get up,” 

His arms relax immediately, hands shifting under your elbows to help support you while Mingi jumps up and offers you his hands to pull you up. Back on your own two feet you waver a minute, but you shake off the dizzy spell and try to get your bearings again. They're waiting on a razor’s edge, hands out and ready to intervene, but you’ve made it clear that for the moment you don’t want to be touched. 

A shout from the hall leaves you jumping, but you register Wooyoung’s voice a moment later, “Where is she?” 

“The studio,” San’s voice replies, “slow down,” 

“Is he in the back office? Give me a fucking minute alone with him,” Wooyoung’s voice is murderous and you smile at how ready your best friend sounds to do battle on your behalf, “I’ll show him what an omega can fucking do,” 

“Youngie,” San’s voice is even and warm, keeping things soft, “you need to calm down,” 

“Calm down,” He scoffs, his voice getting closer as he travels down the hall and you know he’s almost at the door. 

“I hardly think y/n needs,” San starts to say, but then they round the corner. 

Wooyoung’s eyes are wild, searching and terrified, and something inside you shatters. San’s words die on his lips when he sees you, and in a startling moment of clarity you rush forwards and into Wooyoung’s arms. 

“Shh, shh,” He wraps you up tight, one hand at the back of your head as he rocks you back and forth, “you’re safe, you’re in one piece,” 

“Woo,” Tears come fast, and you bury your face in his chest. 

“Stupid fucking alphas,” He curses into your shoulder and you can hear his breath hitched and clouded with tears of his own, “acting like they can take whatever they want,” 

You’re sure the rest of the room is bristling at that comment but you couldn’t care less. 

“You want me to break the rest of his ribs?” He kisses your head, “I’ll make it look like a fucking accident, I swear to God,” 

“Woo,” You laugh into his chest, vision blurry with unshed tears, “stop, that’s insane,” 

“I am nothing if not a little insane,” Wooyoung squeezes you, “and you and me? We protect each other, right?” 

“Always,” You grip the back of his shirt like a lifeline. 

The bond between omegas can’t be understood by a single other person in the room, maybe even in the building. You cling to each other in the middle of the studio floor, encased in this moment of shared grief. Of what you are and what that means. He shifts you in his arms so he can look at your face, cupping your tear stained cheeks. 

The sight of his own tears makes yours come faster, “What did I do?” 

His expression hardens and he shakes his head, sucking in a harsh breath, “Nothing, not a single fucking thing. Do you hear me?” 

“Woo,” You want him to let you go. You want him to tug you close again. 

He shakes your shoulders hard, and in your periphery you see Mingi take a half step forward as Wooyoung pushes back on your words, “You didn’t do anything. You’re existing, and he tried to take advantage of that. This isn’t your fault, there’s nothing you could have or should have done.” 

You open your mouth to say something but he plows forward. 

“Alphas take, alright?” He shakes you again, more gently this time, “We’re lucky. You and me, we found good ones, but alphas are programmed to take, and we’re programmed to give. He used it against you. Nothing else.”

Your breath hitches, and you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him cradle you again. 

“Shh, shh,” He rubs your back, soothing you again. 

“I hate this,” You manage, your face buried in his shoulder. 

“I know,” He eases you, “I fucking hate it too,” 

You hold each other a little longer until both of your tears start to subside. You stay steady in his grip, his fresh salt and cotton scent lulling you into safety. The buzzing of your brain starts to release, and the fear is still there under your skin but at least for now it’s low and letting you breathe. 

Nuzzling into his shoulder you sigh, “What are you doing back here anyways?” 

“San called,” He kisses your hair, “I broke several laws getting here,” 

You laugh against his collarbone where his oversized t-shirt is pulled down, no doubt from the way your hands grip whatever part of him you can. 

He rubs a warm hand up and down your back and when he speaks again it’s not to you, this time he addresses the alphas in the room. He clears his throat softly, head lifting up and away from yours, “So, who busted his nose?” 

“Uh,” Yunho makes a small sound behind you, “that would be me,” 

“Good,” Wooyoung says, “when she stops crying I’m giving you a handshake,” 

You smile against his damp skin and shake your head, “I’m not crying, I’m fine,” 

“Sure,” Wooyoung murmurs, but he doesn’t let you go, just strokes your back more until you settle further into him. 

“The police will be here soon,” San murmurs, his voice staying relaxed and steady to make sure everything stays level in the room. 

“Right,” Wooyoung sighs, “y/n, can I let you go? I don't have to if you’re not ready,” 

You nod immediately though, unwinding your arms from him and taking a ginger step back. He gives you a soft smile, and you scrub the last of the tears from your face with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. He gives you a minute to stand steady and then turns to Yunho and Mingi who both look frozen and unsure of what to do or what to say. 

“You both got him off her?” He says, matter of fact. 

“Yeah,” Mingi’s voice is tight, like he had been choking back tears of his own, and Yunho simply nods. 

“Thank you,” Wooyoung tugs Mingi into a hug and squeezes him tight before shifting to Yunho to hug him too, “seriously,” 

Once they break apart, you’re left all in a haphazard circle, and you can feel all the eyes on you. It makes you so tired, dizzy, ready to be done and just crawl under a blanket for the rest of the week. In the back of your throat you still taste bitter orange. 

“Um,” Your voice comes out a little more scratchy than you want, and you clear your throat, letting everything fade. 

“What is it?” Yunho asks gently. 

You don’t know how to ask this, how to beg them to keep holding you together so you can just get through existing in this room. You sigh, the deep exhale making you dizzy again, and step towards him, “C-can I,” 

He opens his arms immediately, letting you close the space so he doesn’t assume your needs, but as you collide with him again he responds perfectly, scooping you up into his arms and letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He supports you with ease, an arm under your thighs and another situated high on your back. 

“Better?” He murmurs, smiling a little as you bury your head in his neck. 

You nod into his neck, and then you allow yourself one tiny moment of weakness, listening to your body and what it needs for once over your anxiety. You mumble it into his neck, but he hears you when you say, “Yunho?” 

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is so soft, quiet like he’s afraid of what you might say. 

You don’t miss the way Wooyoung’s eyebrows go high at the endearment, but you ignore him and focus instead on the man holding you up, together, in one solid piece. You lift your head so he hears you clearly, “Will you please take me home?” 

He goes still and turns his head just a little, “Your apartment or,” 

“Take me home with you,” You repeat, “I want to go home,” 

This will surely just make everything more muddled and foggy between the three of you tomorrow in the cold light of day, but you don’t care. Right now you just want to be home, in whatever form that means. 

He exhales low and shaky, “Alright,” he murmurs, kissing your throat softly to help calm your trembling, “I’ve got you, let’s go home,” 

A warm wide palm rests on the center of your back, and Mingi leans in close to catch your eyes, “y/n, can you look at me a second?” 

You pull your head up from the crook of Yunho’s neck where you’ve just been taking deep steady inhales of wet earth and meet his eyes. 

“Hey,” He smiles. 

Your eyes dart between him and Wooyoung, who seems suddenly ancy. “What?” You straighten up a little more in Yunho’s arms. 

“You can go wherever you want,” He starts off, “but do you want us to take you home, or would you feel more comfortable with Wooyoung? Or… Seonghwa, if… if that would be better for how you’re feeling,” 

Yunho tenses a little, his fingers tightening where he holds you, and you can feel him physically holding himself back from saying a single word, from begging you to come with them. 

You’ve made up your mind though, and within a second you’re shaking your head, “No, I want you,” 

Yunho relaxes, his lips returning to your throat and you sigh. 

“Then you have us,” Mingi assures you. 

The sound of the elevators in the hall stop you all cold though, and San holds up his hands, “I’ll go see, it’s probably the police,” 

The idea of talking to them suddenly makes you sick, and you’re sure it shows all over your face. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Wooyoung jumps back in, “don’t worry, we’ll be there the whole time.” 

You need this to be done. You grip down on Yunho’s shoulders, “I want to go home,” 

“I know,” Mingi nods. 

“Y-Yunho,” You’re scrambling a little in his arms, sudden panic swirling in your gut, and you twist to find his eyes, “please, get me out of here, please take me home,” 

You feel it the minute he chooses you over anything else, “Okay, alright,” 

“You need to talk to the cops,” Wooyoung shakes his head, trying to reason with you. 

You’re trembling in Yunho’s arms and he shakes his head, “She needs to go,” 

Mingi senses your heightened emotions too and you feel it when he moves closer, both of them shifting to protect you, “She can do this later,” 

“I don’t know that that’s such a good idea,” Wooyoung insists. 

“I couldn’t give a fuck,” Yunho grips you tighter, “we’re taking our girl home,” 

“Your-” Wooyoung scoffs when he hears the words, “fucking alphas,” 

“Who she wants to take her home,” Mingi points out, a distinct edge to his voice. 

“Stop arguing,” You beg them, hanging onto Yunho’s shoulders, “please, please,” 

“Fuck,” Yunho relaxes, stroking your back, “I’m sorry, of course we won’t, I’m sorry,” 

Mingi brushes his hand over the back of your head and Wooyoung gives you an apologetic face, his defensiveness over you is understandable, but he also knows how you feel about these men and you watch him choose to hold his tongue. 

A knock on the door brings you all back to the present, San handling the situation with more grace than any of you combined, “The police said that they can speak with you at the hospital and make it brief.” 

You exhale heavily and nod against Yunho, “Okay, fine,” 

“Are you sure?” Mingi strokes your cheek. 

“I just want to be done,” 

“Should we stay with you?” Yunho murmurs. 

“Please,” You grip his shoulders. 

“Alright,” He sighs, “Woo, could you… I’m sorry, can you grab her things? Let’s just try to make this quick for her,” 

Wooyoung clears his throat, his eyes never leaving yours, “Yeah, I got it,” 

“Uh,” San interrupts as you all try to gather your things, “Yunho, they want to talk to you first, they’re waiting in the back office,” 

“Oh,” 

“They have some questions,” San explains quietly, “but she she doesn’t need to be there for that,” 

“Right,” Yunho nods and then presses a kiss to your hair, “can I put you down, sweetheart?” 

Your chest warms. 

“No, here,” Mingi cuts in, his hand sweeping over your back and you feel them shift you from Yunho’s arms to his, “come here,” 

He settles you against his chest and you wrap around him just the same, soaking in the warm scent of cocoa and cinnamon. You let your eyes drift shut as you rest on his shoulder, “Hey, Mingi,” 

“Hey,” He says softly. 

“Thank you,” You sigh. 

“Mhm,” He rocks you a little as he takes your bags from Wooyoung and slings them over his shoulder, the combined weight of it and you not fazing him at all, “I told you once I’ll always be here, I meant it,” 

“I believe you,” You murmur into his throat. 

You rest here, Mingi’s thumb rubbing a comforting line over the back of your neck. 

“Time to go,” Wooyoung’s voice pipes back in, “there’s a car ready, Yunho will be there in a a few minutes,” 

“Alright,” Mingi presses a soft kiss to your hair, “here we go,” 

He carries you with ease, and you sink into the steady thump of his heart under your palm that’s keeping you grounded. Over his shoulder you watch Wooyoung walking with you and you see police officers down the hall. The door to the back office swings open and Yunho is leaning against the desk as he speaks with an officer. Seonghwa sits in a chair next to him, his head in his hands, blood coating his knuckles and the sleeves of his shirt. Something pulls in your gut, begging you to go to him, but then you’re outside and all you can feel is Mingi holding you as he ferries you into the car. 

“Do you need anything?” He asks as he settles you into the passenger seat 

“I don’t know,” You tell him honestly, letting your head drop back against the seat and taking a deep breath, eyes slipping closed. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Wooyoung jumps forward, “keep your eyes open,” 

“I’m fine,” You tell him, but you still do what he asks. 

“Just in case,” Wooyoung presses, “you shouldn’t fuck with head injuries,” 

“He’s right,” Mingi murmurs, crouching next to you just outside the car, “and I’m sure you’re fine, but let’s just be sure, okay?” 

“Okay,” 

  A noise just past the two of them makes you jump. 

“It’s just Sannie,” Wooyoung assures you. 

You nod and Mingi takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. 

“Yunho’s almost done,” San announces, but he hurries to the car and leans in to check you, “doing okay?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Can you do something for me?” He cups your cheek to bring your eyes up to his. 

“Mhm,” You nod again. 

“I need you to just focus on us for a minute,” He moves to crouch next to Mingi, and then Wooyoung steps closer too, blocking out some of your peripheral vision. 

“Why?” You fight the urge to turn around. 

Red and blue lights flash in the car mirrors and you reflexively glance up at the rear view mirror, catching sight of an ambulance, and tension fills your stomach. 

San reaches up and catches your face again, “Hey, look at me,” 

You pull your eyes away, “Are they here for him?” 

“Yes,” San nods.

“Is he badly hurt?” Your mouth feels dry. 

There’s a pause and then Wooyoung sighs, “Don’t lie to her,” 

Mingi clears his throat softly, “He’s pretty busted up,” 

“Good,” You breathe. 

San smiles, taking your other hand in his and smoothing his thumb over your knuckles. The sound of the doors catches your attention again, and you resist the urge to turn around once again. San shakes his head a little, “Just keep looking at us,” 

“He really picked the wrong person to fuck with,” Wooyoung says, his hand resting warmly on your shoulder. 

An image of Seonghwa and his bloody knuckles flashes through your mind and your breath quickens, “Is Hwa okay?” 

Mingi’s brows draw together. 

“He’s fine,” San assures you immediately. 

“I saw blood,” You can’t articulate it exactly, the image is just static in your mind. 

“It’s not his blood,” San promises, “we’re all fine, Seonghwa is fine,” 

The sound of the ambulance doors swinging shut makes you jump. 

“Shh,” Mingi squeezes your hand, “you’re safe, you’re with me,” 

Everything in your body feels tense and stretched thin, but Mingi’s hand is solid in yours and you grip down on it, letting it tether you. 

You listen as the ambulance pulls away, your muscles unclenching one by one as the sound of the vehicle fades. 

“Woo,” You manage, “can you check on Hwa for me? And text me?” 

“Yeah,” He assures you, “I got you,” 

“Take a deep breath,” Mingi instructs you, “please, for me,” 

You take a long inhale and meet his eyes and he nods as you let the breath out low and slow through your nose. 

“Again, please,” He nods. 

You breathe again, the same steady pace, “I’m tired,” 

“It’s the adrenaline wearing off,” Mingi tells you, “but as soon as a doctor says you can sleep, you can rest,” 

“Okay,” You nod. 

San’s hand disconnects from yours and he starts to stand, “Yunho’s done,” 

You twist in your seat to see him, Wooyoung stepping out of the way, and you can see Yunho jogging towards the car, “Everything okay?” 

“Mhm,” Mingi keeps himself calm for you. 

“That took forever,” He says, “I’m sorry,” 

“It didn’t,” You shake your head, “don’t be sorry,” 

“You should go,” Wooyoung interrupts, “get her looked at,” 

You find your best friend’s eyes, “You’ll text me?” 

“Of course I will,” He nods, “but right now just focus on yourself. We’re all okay,” 

You nod, and your eyes feel heavy again already. You know they’ll be trying to keep you awake in the car at this rate. 

“Let’s go,” Mingi nods, “can I have my hand back for a minute?” He smiles at you. 

“Sorry,” You drop his hand, almost embarrassed at the way you’re clinging to him. 

“Go,” San ushers Yunho towards the driver’s side, “if you need anything, we’re here,” 

Before you know it everyone’s moving and your car door is shut. Yunho slides into the driver’s seat to your left and Mingi moves into the backseat behind you. 

You meet Wooyoung’s eyes through the window and he rests a hand over his chest. He mouths a simple message - I love you, okay?

You nod and the car starts to move, but you know he knows you love him too. 

Mingi shifts forwards in his seat as Yunho starts to drive, and his long arm reaches around to find your hand again. He laces your fingers together once and this time he doesn’t let go. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later that night, the warm, rich scent of their apartment almost takes you out at the knees when you finally cross the threshold, so overwhelmingly comforting and enveloping that you want nothing more than to bury yourself inside the feeling for days. Mingi nearly runs into your back when you stop short in the entryway and Yunho’s watching you carefully as he hangs up your jackets. 

“What?” Mingi nudges you gently. 

There’s a million things to say. Things left unsaid after your last conversation, that fight you wish you could forget. The letter. All the things you were planning on confessing Saturday. The way you want so badly to erase today and just be with them. Every ounce of their soothing physicality after Minseok brings all your emotions up tenfold. Their tenderness almost chokes you. All the things you want to say are stuck in your throat. You need to get your head on straight. You need sleep. 

“Hey,” Yunho waves a hand in front of your dazed expression, “are you alright?” 

Not really. The hospital was long and awkward, seeing a glimpse of Minseok’s name on a hospital room door even worse, and the police had so many questions that all sounded fairly judgemental. Not to mention the probing questions from the hospital staff about your cycle and if you’re close to pre-heat. As if that matters at all. You settle for something a little less dire though, “I’m fine, sorry, it’s just been a while,” 

Yunho’s ears darken to a deep shade of pink and he nods. 

“You can sleep in my room,” Mingi offers, “like before. We can stay or not stay, it’s up to you.” 

“I’d like to be alone,” You tell them, “if that’s alright,” 

“Of course,” Mingi smooths a hand down your arm, “whatever you want.” 

“Um,” You sigh heavily, “honestly I’m exhausted. I think I might just shower and sleep as long as you don’t mind,” 

Yunho shakes his head, gesturing towards the hall, “Not at all, just… call if you need anything,” 

You start back towards the bathroom, your eyes down and away from them, but Mingi calls out, “You remember where everything is?” 

There’s no way you could forget, and you call back that you’re fine. You got it. You just need to be alone, alone is good, alone feels safe. 

In the shower you scrub your skin raw, spending extra time and attention on your glands even though it makes your skin there puffy and red, pinpricks of blood at the surface of your skin and lilac bruises surrounding every edge. It doesn’t matter how comforting their scents are, nothing is taking away the deep intent of Minseok’s mouth on your neck - and the bitter, burnt citrus smell takes ages to wash away. By the time you finish, you’re about ready to collapse. 

Mingi leaves you clothes again, folded neatly on his bed and ready for you. They’re nowhere to be seen, taking your plea for time alone seriously. He’s laid out a clean pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, both fresh from the wash. The hoodie you had stolen during your heat lies next to it, and it’s a kind gesture, but suddenly you don’t want it. You want nothing. 

You toss the hoodie to the side and start to climb into the bed, but that smells so heavily of cinnamon spice that you can’t think straight. You had just gotten used to blissfully smelling nothing after your shower, and so you strip the bed entirely, discarding all of the pillows and blankets and sheets into the farthest corner of the room. 

The mattress is bare now, but once you turn the circulating fan off you fix the issue of the cold and his scent washing over you every time you try to close your eyes. You can still sense him, sense them, somewhere in the background, but here on the stripped bed in sterilized clothes with your skin rubbed raw, you can rest. 

You drift into sleep this way, your head clear. 

It doesn’t stay that way for long. 

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep before you wake in abject terror, but it must be at least a couple of hours with the sky outside pitch dark and the apartment completely quiet around you. It’s obvious you’re the only one awake, but your brain can’t quite process it right. All you feel is shaking fear and the echo of hands pressing you into the wall, fingers in your hair yanking your head to the side, teeth grazing against your throat. 

You scramble back, only to find the edge of the bed and you collapse off of it, ending up on the wood floor with your head spinning, Mingi’s bedside table lamp crashing down after you, a harsh flash of light pulsing through the room as the bulb breaks and gives one final dying flicker. 

The pleading whine that’s caught in your throat sounds like a trapped animal to your ears, the pounding of your heart threatening to break your chest, blood rushing through your ears like a train. You can’t grasp reality, everything feels hazy and disconnected. 

The door to your right bangs open, Yunho bleary and confused, but responding to your heightened state of fear within a moment. “Mingi!” He calls over his shoulder, “Mingi, get up right now,” 

There’s a faraway faint noise from the other room. 

Yunho skids to your side, careful not to touch you as he tries to meet your eyes in the dark, “Sweetheart, it’s just a nightmare.” 

Part of you knows that you’re awake, safe and home, and not trapped in subspace with a threatening hand in your hair, but you can’t quite grip back to reality. You stutter out a reply, “I-I can’t breathe,” 

“Mingi,” Yunho calls back over his shoulder again, “right now!”

“Please,” you whimper, part of your brain still lodged in the nightmare, “I can’t breathe,” Your hands cling onto the edge of the rug.

Mingi stumbles into the room now, half asleep but forced into consciousness and he’s shaking himself, catching up quickly, “What’s going on?” 

You hear him, but your body is stuck remembering and you feel like there’s a weight on your chest, pressing you down harder, “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe,” you stutter. 

“Sweetheart,” Yunho comes closer now, his body curling around you carefully with his face directly at your side, “it’s a nightmare, you’re safe.” His arms loop around you gently, but stay open in case you need to move.

“I can’t,” you shake your head, images swimming before you. 

“You’re not there,” he tells you, “we’re home, you’re with us, me and Mingi,” 

You wheeze, trying to regulate your breath. 

“Get a light,” Yunho pleads suddenly to the dark room, and you can hear scrambling, “she can’t see where she is, get a light on.” 

Mingi trips over the discarded lamp on the floor, and fumbles back to the lightswitch on the wall near the door, searching for it with his hands but reluctant to tear his eyes away from you. Suddenly the room floods with the overhead light, a stark fluorescent glow, and the black spots across your vision start to clear.

“I have you, I have you,” Yunho repeats, holding you to him. 

Your hand searches blindly for Mingi on the other side of you and he collapses next to you both, taking your hand and moving in to cradle you from the opposite side, “Baby,” he murmurs, “look around, look where you are,” 

Yunho’s hand on your thigh grounds you, and then Mingi softly touches your jaw to draw your gaze to him, “Look at me,” 

Your eyes flick up. He looks tired, exhausted even, his hair a wayward haystack. You blink hard, “What happened to you?” 

“To me?” Mingi’s brow furrows and he glances up past you to Yunho. 

“You need sleep,” You manage. 

Mingi laughs sharply and cups your cheeks, “I’ll sleep later. Can you tell me where you are?” 

“Your place,” You manage, and you feel the nightmare receding back into your mind inch by precious inch, your breath steadying out. 

“Yeah,” He sighs, “Yeah, that’s right,” 

“I’m home with you,” You repeat, your fingers sinking into the plush rug beneath you. 

Yunho swallows hard, fixated on the way you’ve called their apartment home, not their home, for the third time tonight. You watch the flicker of recognition in his eyes, but he lets it pass and so do you. 

Tears well up in your eyes again and you sigh, “I’m sorry about your lamp,” 

“What?” Mingi’s brow furrows, “Who cares about that?” 

“Still,” You manage, “I’m such a mess right now,” 

“If you weren’t a mess I’d be more worried,” Yunho takes your hand in his, squeezing your fingers, “and you can take all the time you need to be a mess, we’re here.” 

You slump forwards onto his shoulder, “I’m… so tired,” 

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Yunho soothes, his voice soft. 

You nod, letting them both ease you up to your feet, but when they turn to the bed Mingi makes a soft, confused noise, “Where?” 

“Oh,” You gesture towards the corner where all his bedding is wrapped up in a ball, “I’m sorry I was just… it was too much,” 

Mingi’s jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck jumping as he swallows hard, and you know he’s holding down so much anger, that someone could have scared you enough that any alpha’s scent became overwhelming, that your fear might extend even to them. 

“Okay,” Yunho cuts in easily, “whatever you want,” 

He eases you back onto the mattress, but the idea that they might be gone again strikes a deep lance of panic through your stomach and you grasp his arm, “Don’t go,” 

“Are you sure?” He murmurs. 

“Please,” You insist, tugging his arm again. 

He eases down beside you, and Mingi crosses to the opposite side of the bed so he can follow suit, sidling up to your back but careful not to touch you until you make it clear that you want him to. You fold your arm underneath your head and rest yourself down, and when your hair shifts off your neck you hear Yunho’s sharp intake of breath at the sight of your tender gland. 

“Baby, what,” He reaches for you, fingertips hovering, “sweetheart, what did you do?” 

“I’m fine,” You murmur but when you feel fingers gently coast over the raw skin you hiss sharply in pain and both their hands pull back. 

“y/n,” Mingi’s voice is low, shaky, and he scoops up your arm to check your wrists, finding them as swollen and bruised, “oh my god,” 

“I know,” You murmur, letting your eyes drift shut. 

“This is not okay,” Mingi sounds pained, “you can’t hurt yourself like this,” 

“I’m okay, I promise,” 

“We could have helped,” Yunho insists, “we could have scented you again, both of us, or called Seonghwa, or something, anything,” 

“Seonghwa?” You start, but Mingi cuts you off as he pushes your hair further to the side to see more of your neck. 

He makes a tight noise with his tongue against his teeth, “These look tender, Yunho’s right,” 

“You scented me plenty,” You shake your head, letting your hair fall back into place, “but I promise, I’m okay,” 

Mingi wraps his arms around you from behind, tucking you close to his chest and dropping his head onto yours, “You’re scaring me,” he confesses into your hair. 

“I know,” You murmur, “but I wasn’t trying to hurt myself,” 

“And now?” Yunho asks softly. 

“I’m a little better,” You pull him closer, “I was overwhelmed earlier and… even you both I didn’t want, but now? I feel safer, clearer,” 

Yunho kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger as you all get your emotions back in check, “Okay,”  

“Can we stay just like this?” You nuzzle into him, pulling Mingi in closer behind you until you’re snuggled up so tight you might overheat . 

“I’ll be wherever you want,” Mingi wraps his hand around yours and tucks them into your chest.

Yunho murmurs his agreement softly and you nod, letting their heat soak into your body and releasing your tense muscles bit by bit. You were supposed to tell them how you felt already, you need to get it out in the open before things get too blurry again, but right now you have to let it go. 

Silence stretches between the three of you, their breathing even and low, and you’re not sure if they’re asleep or awake when you make your quiet plea in the dark but in a whisper you beg them to never, ever let you go again. At least for tonight, they hold you fast.

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (06)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

chapter warnings: brief mentions of crimes (drugs, robbery, abduction), brief mentions of sex and hormones

a/n;; i have risen from the dead, everyone. I know it's been a while since I last updated (4 months 💀) But, please enjoy this chapter and hope that I do not disappear for another few more months until the next update lmao. Also posting this update while I'm on my lunchbreak lmao

You didn’t think that figuring out a place to meetup with Seungcheol would be difficult, but alas, it was. The places Seungcheol had initially suggested were either too far or the price range of their menus could amount to at least a month’s worth of your rent. Maybe it was the years of not seeing him that you had forgotten his parents had their own businesses, which obviously, means money is never an issue for Seungcheol.

After telling him you had to commute to some of the places or either needing to Uber or have Vernon pick you up, Seungcheol found a decently priced cafe near your place with a cosy looking interior design. Having finally settled down on a place to meetup, you now began to stress about an outfit.

You tore through your entire wardrobe before finally panic-calling Aki who agreed to help, on the condition that you tell her everything that will go down at the meetup. You agreed and after hours of outfit try-ons, you settled on a brown oversized sweater, a black pleated skirt, paired together with doc martens loafers.

“Are you sure this looks okay…?” your voice full of uncertainty as you stared at your reflection. Aki, who was on video call on your phone that’s propped up on your dresser, rolls her eyes at your question. “Babes, you’re literally so pretty right now that you could be someone’s gay or bi-awakening. Don’t worry, okay? I'm sure he’s equally nervous of finally seeing you again after what? Almost half a decade?”

“That's a dramatic way to say almost 5 years, but okay.”

“Just be your normal self, ___. Even if he’s changed appearance or physique wise, I'm sure he’s still the same ol’ Seungcheol from more than a decade ago. Well, at least for you, it’s more than a decade.”

“That is true… thanks for helping me out, Aki.”

“Anything for my bestie. Now, go and see your prince charming!”

“Can you and my parents stop calling him my prince charming?” you whined, only for Aki to shoo you through your phone.

“Tell me the deets afterwards! I want all the nitty-gritty - don’t you dare leave anything out!”

Seungcheol got to the cafe an hour earlier than the agreed meeting time. He tried to get some sleep but the adrenaline of being able to see you again kept him up. Sitting at the booth and occasionally glancing at the door, he would try to come up with things to talk about. Of course, he knew he had to explain why he dropped off the face of the earth for years without contacting you. But, he still needed to think of other ways to fix the rift between you both.

“Seungcheol…?”

When he hears his name being called, he lifts up his head and it was as if time had stopped. There you were, shyly standing in front of him as you fiddled with the hem of your skirt. A few seconds after he realised he was staring, Seungcheol snapped back into reality. “Have a seat, __.” Ushering to the seat across him, flashing you that gummy smile that still sent your heart running for miles.

You did as told and after placing both your orders to the waitress who came over, Seungcheol nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “So… I didn’t know you were friends with Vernon…” he began, “Let alone a best friend since, y’know, Aki.”

“Yeah, I didn't really have a choice when he came up to me with that awful tie-dye during orientation. I was so glad when he got rid of it with how much my eyes were hurting.”

“That's Vernon for you,” he chuckles, “When he said he invited a friend, I was expecting maybe a classmate since Mingyu did the same with him.”

As you fidget, Seungcheol takes notice and leans his elbows on the table, reaching out a hand. “Hey, no need to be scared, okay? I know it’s been years and you’re most likely overthinking things right now, but I'm still me.”

“Where did you go…?” you asked in a shaky voice, “You just… ghosted me and later on, I found out you’ve been in Seoul for a while. Why… why didn’t you try to reach out?”

Withdrawing his hand and thrumming his fingers against the surface of the table, Seungcheol was silent for a moment before explaining himself. “That weekend when I headed to Seoul to check out Pledis, they had told my parents I qualified for one of their pre-u programmes. But, the slots in Korea were full, and if I did want to join the programme, I had to join their partnering unis abroad. They had Carat University in Japan and An Ode University in Melbourne.”

You quietly listened to Seungcheol as he continued.

While he wouldn’t mind waiting for an empty slot to be available in Pledis but, his parents had encouraged him to enrol into An Ode as they had an apartment in Melbourne. In the event he didn’t want to stay on his own, they’d be more than willing to pay for his dormitory. “They said the enrolment opportunities for pre-u programmes like these are rare… And, since I was given the opportunity, they encouraged me to take the chance.”

“… And you did…”

“I missed you like crazy, _. But, I couldn't get your calls or texts, not even reply nor call you back because I had to wait two weeks to be able to get a new phone and sim card. When I finally did get them, you had changed your number…”

Your face went red with embarrassment at the memory. A few days after your return from Jeju, your parents had brought you to go shop for a new phone and you’ve decided to change your number in the process. Since Seungcheol had dropped off the face of the earth at the time, you thought it wouldn’t matter anyway if you had changed your number since what were the chances of him calling you?

Turns out you were wrong.

“When I finished the programme, I stayed in Melbourne for a year and a half for their business course before transferring back to Korea to finish it in Pledis.”

“That was… that was at least two and a half years ago. Seungcheol, are you… are you telling me within those two years you never bothered to even look for me?”

“I did! I went back to Daegu to look for you, but your parents had told me you went to Pledis! I tried finding you all over the place, but for some reason you were never in my line of sight!”

“Wait, wait,” holding up your hand in disbelief to stop him from talking, “you went to see my parents? They never told me anything!”

“I begged them not to tell you!” he defended, “I wanted it to be a surprise! I wasn’t expecting our first meeting after years to be you witnessing me boxing!”

“How did you get into it in the first place though?” you asked, the waitress arriving with a tray of drinks and some cakes, “I heard you’ve been underground boxing for a year now.” Taking a sip from his drink, Seungcheol stared out the window, watching random cars and pedestrians pass by.

“I’ve been underground boxing for two years, actually, when I was back in Melbourne.” he answered. “A senior saw me during one of my Taekwondo matches during pre-u and invited me to try boxing. A few months later, he introduced me to this trainer who was looking to coach someone for a boxing match and everything just kinda fell into place.”

As a blanket of silence fell over the table, you muttered out a small “I missed you…”. Seungcheol gives you a smile, reaching out his hands to hold yours as he brings them to his lips, placing a kiss on your knuckles – an action that causes you to blush. “Well, I’m here now. I’ll make it up to you, alright?”

“I expect good food.”

And he replies with a sentence that has the butterflies you thought had died start fluttering again.

“Anything for you, pup.”

“...No…”

“Yes.”

“No… You’re lying…‘

“___, I swear on my life, I am not lying.”

“Ew, Cheol, that’s gross!” You whined, pushing at his shoulder with a disgusted expression, “I don’t need to hear about your sex life – much less a three way you had!”

Seungcheol laughs at your reaction, “Hey, if you think mine’s gross, you sure hear Mingyu’s. Who knew models were so… hormonal.”

“Lalala, I’m not listening!”

After your catch-up lunch at the cafe, you brought Seungcheol to the park near your apartment. The area enroute… was sketchy, to say the least, and that was putting it lightly. If you were to remove the sugarcoating, it looks as though you could get mugged or abducted if you lady luck was having a bad day and decided to take it out on you.

“No offence, pup –”

“Non taken.”

“But, at least three blocks of your housing area looks like they’re being used for drug operations. I know you can fight for yourself – I mean, I taught you how to defend yourself when we grew up together. But, have you ever thought about… y’know, moving to a safer area?” 

You had thought about moving out, but with the current rent prices being equivalent to a monthly mortgage payment, the dingy area is the best you got.

“I mean… It can’t be that bad, right…?”

“___, look at the place… I know you value your independence but, surely there are studios or apartments for rent that are safer and more… well lit, y’know?” Seungcheol notices how you began to pick at your nails, a habit he’s noticed when you both grew up and a sign that you were either anxious, nervous or both.

“Budget restraints?”

“Yeah… This is the best I got, Cheollie… Anywhere close to campus is expensive, and a decent apartment is… well… if I had a mortgage, I could pay that off, y’know…? I have a part-time job – I work as a barista at one of the cafes near campus. It pays decently, kind of higher than the usual amount part-timers get per hour but, let’s say I move out and rent an apartment near campus – I wouldn’t be left with much money after paying for rent and the utility bills…”

“Ever thought of getting roommates?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Mr Choi, I am not a people’s person. Ask Hansol, it took me a year to actually open up to him, even after he’s been introducing me as his best friend for months.”

“Your parents should have property in Seoul, right? Why don’t you stay there instead?”

“Because I’m an only child, Seungcheol. My parents will pay the bills even if I was willing to fork up my own cash!”

Adding on the fact that you had no transport of your own, the dingy little apartment area really did seem like the best option for you – at least, for Seungcheol he was still… iffy (rightfully so, he wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you).

“Any public transport nearby?”

“There’s a bus stop that’s a 5 minute walk away from my place.”

“Okay…”

What you forgot to mention however, was the lack of reliable or functioning light source of said bus stop to your apartment’s lobby. But, surely, it wasn’t a detail worth mentioning to Seungcheol, you thought to yourself.

“Y’know, I thought your crush on Seungcheol would actually die down within those 5 years of no-contact.” Aki confessed as you typed on your laptop, phone propped up against one of your pen organisers. “I mean, it kind of did? But, instead of you being over over him, it’s more like… it’s more like your feelings weren't as obvious as back then.”

“Was it that obvious though?” you asked, turning your head to look at her as she shrugged her shoulders, “Not gonna lie, you’re pretty good at hiding it. I only noticed it after spending more time with you and noticing the subtle signs. If anyone was observant enough, they’d notice. But, to those that just look over the surface, not really.”

“...Do you think Cheol noticed…?”

“___, I might offend you and almost all the male species out there with this statement but, boys are dumb.” Aki moves her position from her desk to her bed, lying down on her stomach. “You both have been friends since you were kids so he should be picking up the signs. If he doesn’t then he’s either dumb or playing dumb.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of you before you asked, “Do you think he knows I like him and he’s just playing me?”

“You and I both know Seungcheol isn’t like that,” Aki began, “Your well-being is a priority to him – you’re a priority to him. Maybe he’s never thought about it, y’know? You both grew up together, maybe the lines were blurred to him.”

“But… what if he is, and he’s just really good at hiding it?” you asked again, the anxiety and nervousness eating you up as you thought about Seungcheol taking advantage of your feelings.

“___, darling, you and I both know Seungcheol always puts his loved ones above him – he makes them a priority. And, he’s always put you first, even up to the point he dropped off the face of the earth!”

Aki could still see the uncertainty on your face, which by all means, you had every right to feel that way. After all, Seungcheol had gone no-contact for 5 years and a person can change a lot within those 5 years. Who’s to say he actually is just a bastard who would step on people’s heads just to get what he wants. “Why don’t you start spending more time with him? Like the good ol’ times!” Aki suggested.

“Rekindle the friendship, y’know? Sure, you both had a catch up session today, but you and I both know that isn’t enough. 5 years worth of catching up – and not to mention, I need to kick his ass.”

You let out a small laugh, “You’ll need to fly over to do that, Aki.”

“Hey, don’t tempt me, ___.” Aki playfully warns, narrowing her eyes at you and pointing a finger at the screen, “I have the money to do so, and I will.”

“God, Aki…”

"Hey, Seungcheol isn't the only one that would do anything for you and has the money to do so."

[0212] cheollie: hey, ik it's pretty late rn [0213] cheollie: but, i just wanted to text you this before i forget [0213] cheollie: thanks for agreeing to meet up with me today and hear me out about my whole disappearance and lost all contact [0213] cheollie: and i'm really, really, really glad that you still see me as that boy you grew up with all those years ago [0214] cheollie: and i really had a great time catching up with you today [0214] cheollie: and i'll always be here for you if you ever need me, ok?

Seungcheol stared at the text he's about to send out.

i'm always going to be right by your side no matter what

After silently debating with himself, he deleted the draft and set his phone on his nightstand, laying in his bed as he stared at the ceiling of his dark bedroom - contemplating as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwooo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp @minhui896

[daisynik7]

The Apple of His Eye

Chapter 1: Meet the Parents

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: major fluff, love confessions, kissing that almost leads to something else

Summary: Two months into your relationship, you and Kento Nanami are in love. Except neither of you have officially said it to each other yet. After meeting your parents at a family party, Nanami decides to confess his feelings for you in your childhood bedroom. This is the story of how two months of the little things lead up to one big love confession.

Author's Notes: Here it is! The first fluffy side story for A Bento For Kento! Love confessions always make me swoon, so I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are appreciate as always. Thank you for reading!

The Apple of His Eye Masterlist | Next Chapter

It’s been two months since Ren’s lessons have ended. Two months since you met Kento Nanami.

Kento Nanami, the handsome ex-stockbroker. Kento Nanami, the Jujutsu Sorcerer. Kento Nanami, the lover of bread.

Kento Nanami, your boyfriend. 

You still can’t believe it. 

The kiss on the night of the street food festival was the jet fuel that skyrocketed your relationship with him. You were only known as Ren’s older sister who cooked delicious food and attached encouraging, and occasionally flirtatious, notes to bento boxes. Nanami was just your brother’s very serious and very handsome Jujutsu Sorcery mentor. 

Over the past two months, you learn that there’s so much more to the stoic Nanami than meets the eye. Behind that somber persona is the sweetest, gentlest, most cuddly man you could ever dream of.

Seriously, this man loves to cuddle. You wouldn’t expect it of him, but he just adores nestling his face in the crook of your neck while you’re in bed together. He always offers to be the big spoon, though you secretly know he enjoys being little spoon, so you make sure to take turns. Often, when you’re standing in the kitchen preparing dinner or washing dishes, he’ll come up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, resting his chin on top of your head or to either side of your shoulders. Even when he’s engulfed by his newspaper, eyes scanning the editorials carefully, he’ll set it down as soon as he notices you approaching him, sitting you comfortably on his lap to snuggle. 

It's not just the affectionate touches; it’s the sweet gestures, the little things. How he always sends you a good morning text, except on days when you’re waking up beside each other, replacing it with a delicate kiss on the forehead. Or during your first visit to his apartment, when you spot the bento box notes you wrote him pinned to his refrigerator like a work of art. 

The little things, like on the fifth night you spend at his place, he points out a new electric toothbrush, right next to his. Your toothbrush. Or the empty drawer of his dresser in case you want to leave any clothes for emergencies. It’s now full of extra pajamas, comfy sweaters, leggings, and underwear, as if you properly reside there. Then there’s the time you briefly mention how much you love these granola bars from this particular grocery store you frequent. The next day, you notice two boxes of it sitting next to the rest of his snacks, ready for you whenever you have a craving. 

Two months. That’s all it takes for you to fall for Kento Nanami.

Thankfully, your teenaged brother starts warming up to the idea of Nanami, his former mentor, being your boyfriend. When Ren gets the official news about his acceptance into Jujutsu High, Nanami treats the both of you to all-you-can-eat sushi, which your little brother is ecstatic about. Although the lessons have ended, Nanami still offers advice and guidance to Ren about Jujutsu Sorcery, which is appreciated. 

He’s even included in your weekly Friday movie nights, following Ren’s approval, of course. And, after a stern talking to from your protective brother, which involves him saying phrases like, “Use protection!” and “Consent is very important!”, he’s been much more lenient to you spending the night with Nanami at his apartment. 

That being said, there are still boundaries you and Nanami adhere to. Whenever he visits your home, again with Ren’s approval, you set aside strict rules for yourselves. This includes no PDA in front of your brother and no naughty business in general, a feat you’ve both somehow manage to succeed at. Most of the time, it takes Nanami forcing himself to sleep on the couch, away from you, to avoid any temptations. 

With Ren’s complete support of your relationship, you begin to wonder that it’s time to introduce Nanami to your parents. They are finally home from their summer-long vacation and upon learning their son has been accepted into Jujutsu High, they decide to throw a going-away party at their house to celebrate. Aunts, uncles, cousins, as well as Ren’s childhood friends are invited, under the guise that he’s going to a prestigious boarding school in Tokyo. 

The summer season passes by smoothly and your brother’s upcoming move into the dormitories is fast approaching. He begins packing, the bedroom a scattered mess with two suitcases flung open, laundry tossed aimlessly inside. You stand in the doorway, watching him fondly. “I’m gonna miss you, booger. Can’t believe you’re leaving soon.”

“I know. This has been the best summer ever,” he replies, smiling at you. Seriously, your little brother is precious!

“You better come visit me. I know you’ll be busy with all your new friends, but don’t forget about your dear sister, okay!” Tears well up in your eyes, blinking them away quickly, embarrassed that you’re a weeping mess despite him not even leaving yet. 

“Don’t worry, I will! And besides, now you have Nanami to keep you company! You better keep the tradition of Friday movie nights or else,” he warns, playfully.

“We will. For you, of course.”

“By the way, speaking of Nanami, Mom and Dad told me to invite him to the party.”

You stare at him, confused. “Huh?!”

“Well, they knew about the summer lessons way before you did, remember? So, they know about him and told me to invite him. Is that okay?”

Scratching your neck nervously, you respond, “Of course. I was already thinking of introducing him anyways. I didn’t expect it to be this soon, though.”

“Don’t worry, sis. It’s going to be fine!” He beams at you with a thumbs up, easing your worries only slightly.

The last time you introduced a new boyfriend to your parents, that relationship ended after one year. It wasn’t a bad breakup or anything malicious; it just didn’t work out. This time, however, is different. It feels different. This one is going to last. 

Two months. That’s all it takes for you to fall in love with Kento Nanami. 

~~~

Two months. That’s all it takes for Nanami to fall in love with his girlfriend. 

He started falling the moment they kissed. That’s when everything leading up to that became real. It was the beginning of their love story.  

Nothing has ever felt anything close to this. Nothing. He never used to get butterflies in his stomach. After two months, the fluttering remains; it never stops. Pet names were never his thing, but he catches himself calling her baby, sweetie, even princess. Blushing is a regular occurrence for him, especially when she surprises him with a racy text or whispers something naughty in his ear, always leading them to continue in the bedroom.  

Nanami can confidently say that he has never been in love before, until now.  

It may seem fast. In fact, it sounds completely bonkers and ridiculous. Two months and he’s in so deep. But even after the first month, he already knew: she’s the one. 

It’s mid-August. The night before on their routine phone call, Nanami tells her that he has a summer birthday, to which she whines, “Oh no, we missed it! We should celebrate retroactively!”

He chuckles, amused by her suggestion. “It’s okay. I usually don’t celebrate anyways. Unless you count drunk karaoke with Gojo as a celebration.”

“It most certainly is! But still, I want to do something for you.”

They don’t discuss it any further, Nanami changing the topic quickly, truly not expecting anything to come out of it. The next day, she invites him for dinner. He has an unusually exhausting mission that lasts nearly the whole day, so he’s enthusiastic to see her. When he arrives, he’s greeted at the door by his girlfriend and Ren wearing birthday hats, holding a giant ham and cheese sandwich with a dozen lit candles sticking out of it. “Happy birthday!” they cheer, bright smiles on their faces. Ren pulls on a confetti popper, releasing flying bits of multi-colored paper while she blows on a noisemaker. It's silly, goofy, and wonderful. 

They indulge in the ginormous, delicious sandwich, following it with dessert in the form of a birthday cake. Nanami offers to wash dishes, to which she refuses profusely. Choosing to ignore her protests, he walks into the kitchen, noticing that it’s a mess. Pans stacked in the sink, flour littered on the counter, bowls of what looks like deformed dough near the oven, and several burnt loaves of bread atop the stove.

“What happened?” he asks, concerned.

Embarrassed, she admits, “Well, I tried to bake bread. No one told me how hard it is! My dough didn’t rise properly, I was eyeballing all the ingredients, which I guess is a big no-no. I wasn’t checking on it every minute and I just kept messing up. I ended up going to our favorite bakery and just buying a loaf from there. I’m so sorry, Nanami.”

She spent the whole day trying to bake bread. For him.

That’s when he knew. 

It’s not just that moment. It’s the little moments he often thinks about. The way she always sends him goodnight texts with a variety of emojis, despite him never using them himself. The way she kisses him on the forehead every morning when they wake up together or every night before they fall asleep. The way she gets up early to pack him a bento for work on the days when they’re together, in that same Hello Kitty container. How she continues to leave notes for him, taped to the cover. You’re my favorite loaf of bread. Your cuddles are the best. Those curses got nothing on my baby! I love waking up next to you.

He loves her. They haven’t said it out loud yet, but he does. She means the world to him, the apple of his eye. He loves her. Completely, irrevocably, unconditionally.

There’s no right time to tell her. He wants to do it when it feels right, whenever that is. He’s meeting her parents tomorrow at Ren’s farewell party at their home. This is a big step in any relationship, so naturally, he’s both nervous and excited. Maybe the right time will come then.

~~~

The day of the party, you, Ren, and Nanami take the train to your hometown. The house you grew up in is about a  ten-minute walk from the station. When you enter the home, you’re greeted by your family. Your brother abandons you to embrace his friends, leaving you with Nanami at your side to acknowledge your parents, heart pounding against your chest nervously. 

“Hey Mom and Dad!” you exclaim, giving them a big hug. “How was the trip?”

“So much fun! Wish you could have joined us.” Your mother eyes Nanami up and down, a curious smile on her face. 

He bows, introducing himself. “My name is Kento Nanami. It is such an honor to meet you.”

Your dad chimes in happily. “Nanami! So good to meet you! Ren has told us so much about you! We knew he would be in good hands this summer.”

“Ren has been an exceptional student. I had no doubts that he would be accepted into Jujutsu High. They are lucky to have him.” 

Your dad smiles. “We’re grateful to you and the establishment for taking him in. We’re sure his skills will improve under the school’s guidance. We know a little bit about Jujutsu Sorcery from Ren’s biological parents, who were our close friends. I know they would be so proud of Ren.”

Your mom faces you, asking, “Dear, could you please go check on the salmon in the oven?”

“Well, Mom, I actually have something to tell you.”

“Honey! It can wait, we are speaking with Nanami! Please go and check the fish!”

You give Nanami a quick glance. He nods, understanding what he needs to do. “Actually, we have something to tell you.” Clearing his throat, he says, “I am dating your daughter. We are together.”

After an extremely long and silent pause, the gears picking up pace in your parents’ heads, your mom finally speaks. “Oh. Oh! Really?! You’re dating my daughter? My daughter? You? And her?”

“Okay Mom, you don’t have to sound so shocked,” you tease, rolling your eyes.

“No, honey, I mean. Honey! He is just…well, sorry to be so blunt, but he is very…well, handsome and established.” 

“Okay Mother, we get it!” you snap, immediately regretting it. 

“He’s not like any man you’ve ever dated!”

“Yes, Mother, I know!”

Nanami interrupts. “I can assure you; it was your daughter who had me smitten first. She’s truly a wonderful woman.”

Your mother’s eyes widen as she giggles, “Oh Nanami! How sweet of you! My, my! You are truly a gentleman! Should I start calling you ‘son’?”

“Mom!”

“Just a little joke, of course! Ha ha ha, oh my. My sweet daughter! You got yourself a looker!”

“Dad, can you please, please make her stop?” you plead as your dad laughs. 

He rubs your mom’s shoulders and pushes her in the direction of the kitchen. “Sweetie, let’s go check on that salmon and leave these two lovebirds alone, you are embarrassing them. It’s so nice to meet you, Nanami. Go ahead and mingle.” Your father gives you a small wink before steering her into the kitchen. You hear her yell out, “So nice to meet you son!”

You look at your boyfriend, cheeks burning. “I’m so sorry. I’m mortified.”

Nanami smiles. “Don’t be sorry. I think that went well.” He leans in, giving you a small kiss on the forehead, your other relatives catching it as they sit in the living room. 

The next hour goes just as you expect, much to your dismay. With aunts, uncles, and cousins in attendance, it’s no surprise that everyone is curious about your handsome and established boyfriend. One uncle asks the standard, “So, how did you two meet?” And after hearing the abridged version, he jokes, “My niece is always finding ways to snatch herself a new boy toy, good on you!” You bury you face in your hands, horrified, as Nanami rubs your back affectionately. 

Then, there’s your auntie, who reveals, “Did you know that my dear niece here has only ever had one boyfriend? Better be gentle with her; she doesn’t have too much experience if you know what I mean.” She says the last statement with a nudge and a wink. Before you can get up to excuse yourself, Nanami squeezes your hand. “Don’t worry, Auntie. If anything, she’s the one who should be a bit gentler with me.” She reacts to this with a loud, “Oh ho ho!” and several more nudging. God help me, you think.

It doesn’t end there. More of your relatives bombard him with questions. “When are you going to get married?” To which you have to remind everyone that it’s only been two months. There’s also, “What do you do, Nanami?” And since it’s too complicated to explain Jujutsu Sorcery to every normie in your household, Nanami decides to say he is a professor. 

Bless your boyfriend’s heart. He answers each question politely, listening intently as your family continues to embarrass you. Once you get your chance, you grab him, tugging him into the hallway leading to the stairs. “I’m so sorry, Nanami. I know this is overwhelming.”

“Don’t apologize. I love hearing stories about you. Your family is really nice.” 

You reach out, holding his hand. “Do you want to see my room? It’s just up the stairs.”

“Am I allowed?” he teases, eyebrow raised.

“No one’s watching,” you smirk, leading him up the stairs.

Sneaking into your childhood bedroom feels naughty, especially sneaking in with your boyfriend. Once you enter the room, you quietly shut the door behind you. Your bedroom has been preserved in the exact same state as it was ten years ago. You still have posters of your favorite pop idols hanging all over your walls. On your dresser mirror, there are old photos of your friends and family. And not the most flattering pictures. He leans in close to get a better look, laughing to himself. “Were you a theater kid?” he asks, focusing on a particular photo of you on stage. 

“Yes. That was my one big solo, which lasted two minutes on stage. I was usually just in the background for all the other musicals.”

He grins at you. “You have so many talents. I love learning more about you.”

There’s a flutter in your belly, pleasantly surprised by his sincerity. Suddenly, you are very aware that Kento Nanami is standing in your bedroom, and for some reason, you’re flustered. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…I can’t believe I have a boy, I mean, a man in my room.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying, seventeen-year-old me would be freaking out right now,” you laugh.

“I take it you were a late bloomer?”

“Late bloomer? Excuse me?!” 

He chuckles, standing in front of you. “I didn’t have much luck with the ladies myself, back when I was in Jujutsu High.” He wraps his arms around your shoulders, smooching you on the cheek.

You look up at him with a soft smile. “Sometimes I wonder. If we met in high school, do you think you and I would be friends?”

Nanami answers quickly. “Absolutely.”

“Oh, such a confident answer!”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then, he confesses, “I’m confident I would have still fallen in love with you then, as I am now.”

You’re frozen for several seconds, unsure if you truly heard him correctly. Did he say love?

He whispers your name. “Did you hear what I said?”

Still unsure, you reply hesitantly. “Uh, yes. I did.”

He rests his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes. “Before you say anything else, I want to say this properly: I am falling in love with you. And I know it’s only been a short while, but I have never been so sure about anything else in my life. I don’t want you to feel pressured to say it back. But I just want to let you know that this is how I feel.”

His confession makes your heart race. Should you tell him that you’re falling in love with him too? It’s only been two months since you started dating. There is so much you don’t know about each other. You still call him by his surname, for goodness sake!

But you are falling in love with him. Everything about him screams love. The way he looks at you, the way he speaks to you, the way he touches you. His selflessness, his chivalry, his calm demeanor that hides a more confident and dominant disposition when needed. He is everything you’ve ever wanted and more, as cliché as that sounds.

There’s always that fear of admitting something so personal. The fear that saying it now is too soon. The fear that maybe he doesn’t feel the same way. Love means something different to everyone. He may say he’s falling in love with you, but what does that mean to him? What if one day, he wakes up and starts falling out of love? What if one day, he meets another woman who he falls even more in love with? 

All of this is your own insecurity. It’s not Nanami’s fault that you have these irrational fears. And besides, who’s to say that Nanami doesn’t have fears like this too? He deserves to know how you feel. He deserves to feel the same tingling feeling all over your body right now. “I’m falling in love with you too. And I’m not just saying that. I mean it, with all my heart.” Should you do it? Should you take the leap of faith? Right here, in the middle of your childhood bedroom? The pop idols hanging on your walls are screaming at you Just do it! “Kento, I love you.”

His grip on your shoulders tightens, eyes wide in shock. Oh no. Did you say too much?

Before you take it all back, he puts his hands on your cheeks and kisses you passionately. The fluttering intensifies until you’re dizzy against his lips. Before you know it, you’re lying on your back in the bed, him on top of you, his warm mouth grazing your neck. He lips are at your ear, chanting, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” His hand reaches the hem of your dress, exposing your thighs, sliding between your legs. Every little touch sends ripples through your body like electricity. 

Between kisses, he tells you, “I didn’t want to freak you out by saying ‘I love you’ first. That’s why I said I am falling in love with you. But I love you. I really love you.”

“I love you, too. I really love you, Kento.” 

You continue to kiss each other sloppily, his hand caressing your inner thigh. When he sucks on your bottom lip, you can’t help but let out a small moan. He trails further up your body, fingertips brushing your hips, stomach, then chest. The dress you’re wearing is hiked up to your neck as he stops kissing you to stare hungrily at your almost bare body. Just as he begins to straddle you, there’s loud stomping running up the stairs. Immediately, you lightly shove him off and sit up on the edge of the bed, pulling your dress down. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, standing up with his back towards the door. 

It swings open, revealing Ren. “There you are! We’re playing charades now! I need you two on my team. Let’s go!” As quickly as he barges in, he runs back down the stairs, leaving the door wide open.

Nanami takes a deep sigh, back still turned as you move towards him, hugging his waist. “Need a minute?”

“I don’t need a minute. I need you. Underneath me. Right now,” he huffs, trying to calm down.

“Kento!”

“I know, I know. We shouldn’t.” He turns around to embrace you, resting his chin on your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kento.”

“You have no idea how much I love you.”

“Show me how much you love me. Tonight. Let’s finish what we started.”

He chuckles in that low voice you love so much. “You are a naughty girl, you know that? Let’s go out there and play some charades before I really lose all self-control.”

“What, are you going to make love to me on this bed? In front of all these pop idols?”

“I don’t care who’s watching. I’ll make love to you right here, right now with this door open if you keep teasing me.”

Before it escalates, you quickly drag your boyfriend out the door and join the rest of your family in the living room, where everyone plays a rambunctious game of charades. When it’s Nanami’s turn, you watch with a large smile as he gets on his knees and pretends to lick the back of his hands, giving his best impression of a cat. 

God, you really love this man. 

~~~

Kento, I love you.

There aren’t enough words to describe what Nanami is feeling right now. The euphoria that courses through him after hearing her utter that is sublime. He’s intoxicated, weightless, transcendent. He’s never felt like this before, heart about to burst out of his chest. He wants to do a dance because of how happy he is right now. Wants to get down on one knee and propose to this goddess, this angel, his love. 

Instead, he takes her to bed and almost, almost consummates their love for each other in her childhood bedroom. Luckily, and unluckily, before it progresses further, Ren bursts into the room. 

He can’t believe she loves him. She loves him. Everything he’s done in his life before he met her is paying off in the best way possible. All his sacrifices, all the hardship, all the mundane rituals. This is his reward. His happiness. 

All these thoughts are jumbled up in his head. He’s already picturing her in a wedding dress. Travelling the world with her. Making babies. Growing old together. Everything Nanami knew before has been thrown out the window. His stupid rules of not dating, his mundane day-to-day routines, his morbid outlook on life. She makes him forget about that. He never wants to go back to his life before meeting her. 

Two months. That’s all it took for Nanami to be totally and absolutely in love. 

[midnightbears]

✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian femme reader & other characters.

#TAGS: fighting. actually the mildest chapter up to date. god I'm so scared no one will like how i've written megatronus lol. please i hope you see my vision. first time doing rivals to lovers or whatever you can call this. pls cope

#NOTES: decided to update every friday from now on. if i manage to get chapters pre-written in advance (i aim to have the next chapter ready by the time i post one that same friday, so i can spend the week working on the one after—does that make sense?), i might occasionally treat you to two updates in a week! enjoy.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part six

By the time you reached the Gladiators’ lobby the following day, the air was thronged with a charged energy, the sort that seemed to cling to every wall, echoing with the sounds of metal on metal, vents straining, and deep, triumphant shouts.

Everybot was huddled along one of the balconies, crowding around an opening that overlooked something beyond the far wall.

Rows of mechs stood shoulder-to-shoulder, some bellowing cheers that bounced off the metal walls like thunder, others clapping with resounding clangs, while the most fervent smashed their fists against the rail, their excitement so volatile it seemed to need an outlet.

Curiosity began to scratch at you, prickling down your frame. Despite every instinct to stay back and keep yourself apart from the ruckus, you found yourself walking toward one of the stairways that wound upward, leading to the crowd clustered on the balcony.

Each step seemed to amplify the roar of the crowd, until it was as though you could feel the vibrations of their shouts traveling through the very metal under your pedes. Keeping a cautious distance from the more raucous mechs, you slipped your way toward the source of the commotion.

As you neared the top of the staircase, your optics caught sight of a rectangular hole in the wall, reinforced by vertical bars. It was just wide enough to see through, though you had to strain on tiptoe to get a proper look. Beams of infrared light filtered through the opening, casting fractured red rays across the walls and the faces of the onlookers, painting everything in sharp contrasts of light and shadow. 

Finally, as you reached the top, you craned your neck, peering past the row of mechs to get a clear line of sight through the opening. When you did, a small gasp left your dermas, barely louder than a whisper against the deafening roar of the mechs surrounding you.

There, in front of you, lay the full view of the Pits—up close, brutal, and thrumming with the tension of every movement, every strike, every staggered breath. From this vantage, you could see what the crowd above you never could. Here, there were no barriers, no filters to buffer the violence; you were close enough to make out every tiny detail.

You could see a vast assembly of mechs locked in combat—hulking frames clashing with smaller, wirier fighters, protoforms smashing against armor, the floor slick with the bright, gleaming blue of spilled energon.

The air down there was thick with the wails of mechs in pain, shrill and jarring, mingling with the triumphant shouts of those who tasted victory, and the ragged cries of the defeated. The sound was jarring, almost painfully so, but what kept your optics trained wasn’t the thrill of the fight itself, nor any particular fascination with the combat.

No, what held your gaze was the proximity of it all—the rawness, the sheer vulnerability of every bot below you.

From here, you could see everything that those in the stands missed: the frantic stuttering of vents, trying desperately to cool their overworked systems; the almost invisible droplets of coolant collecting along neck joints and plating, beading and trembling like they were waiting for just one more blow to shatter them. You saw the armor of one mech pressed and twisted under the crushing weight of another, locked down to the ground, his frame rigid, his optics wide with desperation as he fought against his own survival instincts.

This, you realized, must have been what Bluey had meant when he’d said most of the gladiators had watched your match. They weren’t just fighting their own battles down there—they were spectators, too, studying every movement, every hesitation, every moment of weakness or strength.

For a moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if they’d seen it—the exact instant when your fight had started, the moment you’d frozen, the flicker of panic that had tightened your frame and seized your joints, rendering you unable to move. Had they watched as you felt the first stirrings of that paralyzing fear, the memory of Starlight’s cold, lifeless form flashing across your processor?

With a hard, irritated shake of your helm, you wrenched your attention back to the fight in front of you.

And then, as if sensing your attention, a sudden blur of blue shot across your field of vision. The movement was so quick it seemed almost impossible, and then—clang! Bluey’s frame crashed against the bars just in front of you, close enough that you could make out the nicks and scratches etched across his plating.

His backplates were pressed firmly against the bars, his vents cycling rapidly as he caught his bearings. For a sparkbeat, you could only watch in shock before he shook himself off with a chuckle, his grin defiant as he pushed himself back to his pedes and leaped with renewed vigor.

The flash of motion snapped you back to the world around you, and out of the corner of your vision, you noticed a faint, colorful flickering. Shifting your gaze upward, you saw a large screen suspended from the wall above, displaying a multitude of names. Each one shifted up and down, the rankings constantly changing as new names appeared and others dropped.

You searched the list, half-curious, until your optics snagged on Bluey’s designation, not far from the top. Your own, however, was absent, and Bluey’s rank dipped every so slightly each time he took a blow. It wasn’t hard to guess the screen’s purpose and how it must have been related to the ongoing match.

Cringing, you comprehended that you wouldn't be fighting today either. Just as well. If your designation was never called, it would hardly make a difference. You weren't exactly itching to return to that arena. Let them throw their punches and spill energon. Today, you had other things to deal with. Like returning that rotatory buffer to Rumbleburner.

You turned on your heel and headed back down the stairs, casting one last glance at Bluey’s gleaming form as he ducked an opponent’s swing. The crowd's roar followed you down the hallway, fading as you returned to the berthroom.

The buffer lay on your recharge slab, and you picked it up without much thought, immediately turning on your heel afterward. You ran a thumb over it, feeling a vague sense of satisfaction at how it had wiped away the traces of yesterday’s match from your frame. Not that Rumbleburner would care about that—he just wanted his tools back in one piece.

The infirmary was halfway across the complex, and you knew better than to dawdle on your way there. Rumbleburner wasn’t exactly patient. If he had to wait even a second longer than necessary, he’d make sure you knew it.

Navigating through the complex, you used the dents on the walls and the scattered objects across the ground as a sort of map to reach the infirmary, and although you had to use the signs on the walls more than once, you were pretty pleased that you remembered most of the way there on your own.

You barely stepped through the medbay door when the sharp tang of heated metal hit your olfactory sensors. A faint hiss, the sound of old servos grinding against fresh repair plating, came from the far corner of the room.

There, on Rumbleburner’s main table, was a massive figure with silver, angular plating, the kind that looked forged from the deepest recesses of Kaon’s foundries. He was reclined halfway, his shoulder stripped down to the bare mechanisms, while Rumbleburner worked at him with a scowl and a welding tool, sparks flaring every so often.

Rumbleburner’s optics flicked over to you, and his scowl deepened. "Finally. Thought you’d keep that buffer ‘till it rusted in your berthroom."

It had only been a day since he had given it to you, but you weren’t about to point it out.

You offered silence and held out the tool, trying not to stare too much at the mech on the table out of your own well-being. But the urge was intense; something about him commanded attention. Every line and groove of his frame looked crafted to channel strength, but his optics were dimmed, waiting, as Rumbleburner worked to patch him up.

The old medic grunted, plucking the buffer from your servo and giving it a quick inspection. "I don’t care what you new little bots do with my tools," he muttered, only half to you, "just give them back on time. Speaking of…" He tapped the mech on the shoulder. "Megatronus, this is the rookie I was telling you about."

At the sound of his name, the bot’s optics flickered to life, their ochre-like glow sharper than you’d expected. His gaze found yours instantly, and for a fleeting moment, the whole medbay seemed to close around you. He took you in with a slow, appraising sweep, his optics narrowing, processing every scrape, every trace of dust or scuff on your frame, in the way a seasoned warrior might size up a fresh recruit.

That was precisely what it was, after all.

"You’re the new one," he said. "Only just arrived yesterday with the rest of that batch, if I recall. They threw you into the Pits already?"

You nodded and shrugged, uncomfortably aware of his optics on you as if he were sifting through every memory of that match. "I talked back to the bosses."

One side of his lip components lifted ever so slightly, a gesture you couldn’t reasonably interpret. Approval? Amusement? You couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, and the sound made you cringe. "Not a lot of newcomers do that."

You were about to answer when Rumbleburner beat you to it, letting out a small huff, setting the buffer aside with a thud, and turning his full attention back to Megatronus’ shoulder.

"She survived," he muttered, gruff but loud enough for you to hear. "Not like they’re sending their best these days."

Megatronus tilted his helm slightly, giving the medic a stern look, but Rumbleburner only shrugged, unbothered.

"What? It’s true." He gave a sharp twist of his tool, forcing a grunt from Megatronus as he worked a stubborn piece of plating back into place. "Can’t fix the whole world with a dent puller."

But you were hardly listening to the medic now. Megatronus’ optics hadn’t left you, and as you held his gaze, you felt a faint, strange pull—like he was seeing past the fresh scars on your plating, through the layers of doubt and frustration still crusted to your frame.

"So what brings you here today?" he asked, voice quieter but somehow even more intent, as though he cared about the answer despite himself.

"Just… returning the buffer." The words felt strangely trivial, even as you said them, yet you couldn’t seem to hold back a faint wryness in your tone. "I hear Rumbleburner’s tools don’t stay out of his sight for long without consequences."

Megatronus’ optics flickered with a gleam of humor at that.

"My comrades said you told off Bullway," he said, now completely ignoring the medic working on him, "shame I couldn’t be there to see it. I was matched against another rookie at the time."

Instinctively, the word ‘rookie’ made you raise your helm as a bothered expression crossed your features. Had one of your comrades lost his life to him? You slightly gestured to the wound on his shoulder with a flick of your optics.

"Did the rookie do that to you…?"

"Mh? Yeah, caught me off-guard. He couldn’t even get a proper hold of his sword before I turned his helm inside out, though."

Your optic ridges furrowed, and you willed yourself to look down. 

Before you could say anything, though, Rumbleburner clamped down on Megatronus’ shoulder plating one last time, satisfied. "There. Fixed, well enough, though Primus knows how long it’ll last with you throwing yourself into the arena every other cycle. You took your sweet time comin’ to get it fixed, too."

Megatronus stood, standing only a smidge taller than you, his shoulder plating gleaming faintly from Rumbleburner’s patchwork repairs. When you looked at his powerful shoulders and blunt-featured face, so rough and yet so civilized, it was impossible to believe he could be defeated. He stepped toward you, optics tracing over your frame one final time.

"Do you have a name?"

Your optics wondered briefly, nowhere in particular, but then, you told him your name.

He offered you his stretched-out servo, and you took it without much thought. "You may call me Megatronus."

The weight of his servo was steady, his grip firm yet not overbearing as you clasped it. His touch was warm against the roughened edges of your own, a strange contrast to his intimidating form. 

He glanced once more at Rumbleburner, who had already moved on to sorting a chaotic pile of tools, muttering to himself about the medbay’s perpetual mess. Megatronus gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod toward the door, signaling for you to walk with him.

You hesitated a moment as Megatronus turned toward the door, but he glanced back over his shoulder and raised a brow ridge.

"Well, rookie? Coming along, or are you just here to gawk?"

A spark of irritation shot through you, lighting up your circuits. Straightening with a flash of defiance, you closed the distance, falling in step beside him as he led the way out into the corridor.

The hall was quieter than the medbay, with only the faint, distant murmur of the crowds filtering through the heavy walls, swallowed up by shadows stretching between each overhead light. Matching his pace, you noticed his occasional side glances, that annoying, casual way he seemed to size you up, as if already forming conclusions he wouldn’t bother explaining.

"Not exactly my first option to trail after you," you said, the edge in your voice as deliberate as the steady rhythm of your steps beside him, "but I had questions."

He scoffed without even glancing your way, his pace unfaltering. "Questions? I'd expect a new recruit to ask for advice, maybe. But then, from what I’ve heard, you’re more the type to give orders to mechs with twice your frame."

You blinked lazily, your optics fixed straight ahead, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. "If Bullway’s ego can’t handle a little criticism, that’s his problem. Besides, I wasn’t exactly gentle with it."

A low chuckle rumbled through his frame, resonating as he shook his helm. "Criticism? That’s one word for it."

You rolled your optics, catching his smirk in the corner of your vision. He had that irritating way about him, like he held some exclusive knowledge of the world that put him a step ahead. He was just like every other mech here, you thought—acting as if his opinions were forged in the stars and the rest of you were just stragglers trying to catch up.

"So, what? You thought you’d come and set me straight?" you asked, with a dry tone and one brow ridge raised.

"Primus, no," he replied with a grin, one that tugged lazily at his lip components, equal parts amusement and dismissal. "Not worth the effort. Rumbleburner can barely tolerate you as it is." He cast you a sideways glance, his optics sharp but not unkind. "Besides, I’m not interested in meddling with anyone’s bright ideas. Not in the habit of saving anyone from themselves."

That comment sparked something more profound in you, an itch of frustration mingling with a new curiosity. His voice had a jaded edge, as if he’d seen enough high hopes and brighter sparks sputter out to know better. His dismissal wasn’t harsh—just resigned, the weariness of a mech who’d watched too many days turn and too many bots burn out. Something about it felt like a challenge, as if he were waiting to see how much heat you really had in you before you burned away like all the others, too.

"Must be nice," you said, letting a taunting note slip into your voice, "to have it all figured out. So what is it, then? Is it hard to have all the answers?"

He halted mid-step, tilting his helm to the side with the slightest arch to his brow ridge. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his optics glinted with something you couldn’t quite place—amusement, perhaps, or just a dash of challenge. "Would it bother you if I did?"

"Would it bother you if I said it wouldn’t?" you countered smoothly, holding his gaze with unyielding sharpness. "Bots like you come in here, acting like they own the place—like they know exactly how things should work. But you’re just another mech, stuck in the Pits like the rest of us."

"Am I now?" he said, arching a brow ridge, though his expression remained carefully composed. "Tell me, rookie, what would you know about the Pits? One match? Half a round before you’re tossed back to the medbay?" His gaze narrowed, studying you like he was trying to decide if your fire was all talk.

"Maybe," you shot back, narrowing your optics to match his. "But at least I’m not hiding behind tired speeches and empty advice."

His smirk wavered, replaced by a narrowed gaze, his optics narrowing with scrutiny as he took a long look at you, one that seemed to penetrate down to your spark. There was no malice in it, just a silent assessment, like he was measuring your resolve by the pulse of your optics alone.

"You’re still learning your place," he said finally, his tone steady and just as piercing as his gaze. "But I think you’ll find I know mine just fine. After all, I’m not the one who panicked in my last match, now, am I?"

The jab hit like a jolt to your cooling fans, a direct hit you hadn’t expected, but you willed yourself to keep your expression blank. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of seeing any reaction, any chink in your armor.

"Fine," you replied, lowering your voice to a steely whisper. "But at least I didn’t have to hobble back to the medbay because a rookie managed to land a hit on me."

Silence stretched between you, the hallway suddenly seeming endless and deserted as the tension crackled in the air. For a split second, you wondered if he’d lash back, close the distance between you and start a fight right there, but instead, he just stared, his optics locked on yours with a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

And then, against all odds, he laughed—a rough, genuine sound that echoed off the walls.

"You’re a sparkplug, aren’t you?" he muttered, sounding almost impressed, a smirk ghosting across his face as he shook his helm. Without another word, he started walking again, as if the entire exchange had been nothing more than idle chatter. "Still, try that in the arena, and you’ll end up in a scrap pile. No one cares how fast your wit is if you can’t back it up."

"Is that a warning?" you shot back, quickening your pace to catch up with him, feeling a rush of energy from the exchange. "Or just an excuse?"

"Take it however you want," he replied easily, his voice even. "I’m just saying that next time you find yourself staring down an opponent, maybe think less about how clever you sound and more about whether you’re willing to finish the fight."

You paused, fixing him with a steady gaze, and for a brief moment, it felt as if the entire world around you—the distant din of the crowd, the hum of the lights, the shadows that stretched down the corridor—all vanished. It was just the two of you, optics locked, your resolve colliding with his challenge. His gaze held none of the mockery or disdain you’d expected; instead, it was something darker, sharper, a quiet but powerful test.

"Maybe I will," you said, your voice softer but laced with intent.

He gave a curt nod, though the familiar smirk was back, tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Good. I’d rather see you prove me wrong in the Pits than just stand here trying to talk me in circles."

You couldn’t help but let out a snort, crossing your arms in a defiant stance. "Believe me, when the time comes, you’ll know exactly where to find me, Megatronus."

He lifted one optic ridge, that unreadable, calculating look slipping back onto his features like armor. "I’m counting on it, Y/N."

"Seriously, I can’t leave you alone for one match?!"

"Please—"

“Not only did you meet the Megatronus, but you also threatened him?”

“I have done no such thing!”

After his daily matches, Bluey had practically dragged you into one of the countless armories, excited to test out a new weapon on which he had invested a significant amount of saved shanix. However, based on his tone and judgemental remarks, it seemed less about actually trying it and more about him swinging the hammer around while envisioning you hovering nearby to vent his frustrations.

Bluey hefted the hammer, the weapon far too large for his frame but swinging with ease in his practiced servos. His optics glinted as he shot you a mock glare, the hammer’s weight shifting in his grip.

“So you’re telling me,” he continued, his tone caught between exasperation and disbelief, “that you just happened to be in the medbay when he was there, and you didn’t say anything to him that could be interpreted as a threat?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I just… implied he might not be invincible. That’s hardly a threat, is it?”

Bluey’s optic ridges shot up as he adjusted his grip on the hammer, letting it balance on one shoulder. “Yeah, okay, then I’ll just walk up to Vexblade and ‘imply’ his joints are overdue for a little rust, see how he takes it.”

“Not the same thing!” you protested, but your spark pulsed a little faster as the memory of the exchange with Megatronus replayed in your processor. “He was testing me.”

Bluey scoffed, setting the hammer down with a heavy clang. “Right. And in the arena, when they test you, do you plan on talking your way out of a ground slam?” He shrugged, shaking his helm with a playful look that you could still tell masked some genuine concern. “Because you and I both know there’s no talking there. They don’t let up until you’re either out cold or crawling back for repairs.”

He was right, of course, and even if he was trying to be more melodramatic than usual, his words weighed heavily. It wasn’t just Megatronus you had to worry about, after all; everybot in this place was out for a victory, and no amount of quick words or barbed comebacks would matter in the heat of the arena. Your name or purpose would not save you.

“Fine,” you muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I know it will take more than just… attitude to survive here. But I can handle it.”

Bluey’s optics softened, and he set the hammer down entirely, crossing his arms in a rare moment of quiet seriousness. “You’re not bad, you know that? But your technique—your form. It’s… well, let’s just say I’ve seen better. If you want to last, you’ve got to be more than just ‘not bad.’”

You glanced away, unsure if you wanted to hear it, but knowing you had to. He was right again, and he wasn’t saying this just to prove a point; he was saying it because he cared, because he saw something in you worth fighting for.

Bluey continued, his tone softening even more. “You have some instinct for this stuff, but the moment you hesitate? That’s the moment you’re done. You need to train yourself past that.”

A quiet moment passed, and you met his optics, “And you’d help me, then?” you asked, managing to sound more confident than you felt.

“Of course.” He lifted the hammer and tossed it between his servos, his expression mischievous but not unkind. “In fact, I think we should start now. I’ve been waiting to test this out, and I’ll be doing you a favor by giving you a head start on your training.”

You took a step back. “So that’s your big plan? To beat sense into me?”

He shrugged. “Hey, if the hammer fits…”

He spun the hammer once more before planting it on the ground and leaning on it, that spark of playfulness still lingering in his optics.

“We’ll start small,” he said. “Nothing serious, just getting you comfortable with some moves. Maybe work on your footwork and teach you how to get out of those lock-ups.”

You tilted your helm. “Lock-ups?”

“Oh, yeah.” He gave a mock grimace. “You’d better get used to them. Everybot worth their metal will try to pin you first thing. Figure if you can’t move, you can’t fight. But if you know how to twist out of those before they set, you’ll have an advantage.”

You considered this. It was daunting, but with Bluey’s confidence, something else stirred—a sense of resolve you hadn’t felt before. You might not have known if you belonged here, but you’d be damned if you went down without giving it everything.

“All right, then,” you said, setting your shoulders. “Show me.”

Bluey grinned, readying himself with the hammer as he gave you a once-over. “But you have to promise me something. Next time you run into Megatronus? Maybe don’t go testing his patience. Bots like that don’t exactly have it in surplus, you know.”

You crossed your arms, rolling your optics. “I won’t tiptoe around him just because he has a reputation. Besides, he’s the one who started it, not me.”

Bluey let out a laugh, raising an optic ridge. “You think it’s that simple, huh? Megatronus isn’t just some brute out for a thrill. He’s… well, complicated. He might look like he’s sizing you up for a fight, but there’s a lot going on under all that plating.”

“Oh, you mean like he’s an unsolvable mystery?” you said dryly, trying not to let on that the conversation had piqued your interest.

“More like he’s a spark that could explode any minute,” Bluey replied, his voice low. “A mech like him doesn’t care about rookies or rivals, really. He’s here for his own reasons, and believe me, they’re big ones. He’s not going to lose sleep if you get in his way.”

“Good thing I’m not planning to get in his way,” you replied, meeting Bluey’s serious expression. “I’ve got enough on my hands just trying to keep my own frame in one piece.”

“Just don’t get tangled up with him if you can help it.” Bluey rested the hammer on his shoulder, looking thoughtful. “Bots like him don’t usually come out of nowhere. Megatronus has something to prove, something huge, and the way I see it, anyone who gets close enough is bound to feel it.”

“Maybe,” you said, trying to sound dismissive, “But he’s not the only one here who’s got something to prove.”

Bluey smirked, that mischievous light back in his optics. “Look at you. Almost yesterday, you were crying your optics out in the middle of the hallway, and here you are, talking big about proving yourself.”

You blinked, clearing your voicebox, letting Bluey’s words roll off like energon on worn plating. The picture of you, unsure and battling, seemed far away—like a ghost from a life that no longer suited you. There was no time to contemplate what you had abandoned, or the grief that still lingered in your mind. You simply couldn’t focus on it. Not at this moment. Nor for the days to come.

So you shoved it all back into the far recesses of your processor, locking the memories away where they couldn’t follow you. That scared, grief-ridden version of yourself—the one that had faltered in her last match—would be gone. And she would leave. You would make sure of that.

Bluey tossed the hammer back and forth between his servos, grinning. “Now, enough talk. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

[literaryavenger]

Broken - bonus part

Summary: It's been a year since Bucky moved in and now it's his turn to help you, only problem is you won't let him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N. Language. A lot of fluff. Eating disorder. Angst.

Word Count: 7.8K

A/N: I made this bonus part to explore more about the eating disorder that was hinted in the first couple of chapters. I had plans to incorporated in the story when I was planning on making it longer, but with how it went it didn't feel like there was a place for it. I'd like to thank @ordelixx for giving me the idea for this additional part. Hope you enjoy it, I'm always open to more ideas so feel free to spam in my inbox or messages, know I always appreciate it! Also sorry it took me so long to finish this but I started it and then kind of lost inspiration :(

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Masterlist

It’s been a year since Bucky arrived at the tower and about 11 months since his hearing.

As conditioned by his pardon he’s been going to therapy, he’s been training with the team and has been doing more and more missions, on probation, but still he’s been doing better than ever.

Even Tony had to admit that the more time he spent with Bucky the more the super soldier grew on him.

If a few months ago he begrudgingly spent time with the super soldier at your request, if anything to spend time with you too since you’re still inseparable, now Tony actively seeks him out; wanting to study his new vibranium arm, testing his gadgets since he got hurt less easily than the others. Or sometimes simply to talk about things like astronomy after Tony found out about Bucky’s interest in the subject.

They’ve even had a few conversations on Howard and his friendship with the sergeant back in the 40s.

You're proud of all the progress Bucky’s made, and you appreciate the fact that getting more comfortable in the 21st century and becoming more confident didn’t make him pull away from you.

It's a fear you had, that maybe Bucky stuck to you because you were the first person after Steve that made him feel safe, that the more people he got familiar with the more he was gonna pull away from you, not needing you as much anymore.

But, to your delight, Bucky’s still as touchy and clingy towards you as ever, if anything he's grown even more affectionate.

He never lets a day go by without telling you how much he loves you and appreciates you, kissing you any chance he gets and holding you tight every night in the room the two of you have been officially sharing the last few weeks since you’ve all moved to the new Avengers Compound upstate.

You love Bucky’s attention and you’re just as affectionate towards him as he is towards you. Everything was going great.

Until it wasn’t.

You’re on your way to your room, looking forward to seeing Bucky after a full morning of mission reports with Steve and then training with Natasha.

She obviously kicked your ass and you're exhausted, wanting nothing more than to be in his warm embrace for the rest of the day.

Thankfully, it’s friday afternoon and you have no new missions which means your weekend is wide open.

You stop on your tracks when you hear your name being mentioned in a conversation right around the corner.

You recognize one of the voices as Sharon Carter, one of the agents of Shield that lives and works at the compound the Avengers now reside in.

You don’t know why you stop to listen in on the conversation, you’re not really one to eavesdrop, but something about her tone makes your legs refuse to move towards her direction. Which just so happens to be the way towards the Avengers only part of the building.

Your stomach drops when you hear the other girl’s next sentence.

"And can you believe she got Sergeant Barnes to date her?" Sharon groans before answering.

"Of course she did, he was all broken and vulnerable and she was like the first person he met at the tower. He obviously got attached to the first person that was nice to him, otherwise how do you think a girl like her could ever have a chance with him?" she says matter-of-factly. 

"You’re right, I mean he’s probably still with her just out of habit. He’s too nice to hurt her feelings." the other girl says, giggling.

"Exactly." Sharon agrees, laughing with her friend. "I mean, he’d never go for her if he met her today. He’d probably be flirting his way through the actually pretty girls that live around here, like you and me."

You can hear their laughter growing louder as they get closer to where you are frozen on your spot and feel yourself starting to panic.

You can’t face them right now, the only thing on your mind is finding a place to hide in.

You see a door behind you and you sprint to it, reaching it, running inside and closing the door softly in record time. You press your ear up against it and can hear the muffled laughter and some more comments on you and Bucky.

When they’re finally far enough that you can’t hear them, you let yourself relax, pressing your back against the door and looking into the dark closet you’re hiding in while you let their words really sink in, your brain working overtime to make sure you didn’t misheard or misinterpreted anything.

Once you’re sure you indeed heard everything correctly, tears start to form in your eyes.

Is that really what people think? That Bucky’s just with you because he pities you?

You’ve always known Bucky was beautiful, definitely the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life, and you’ve always known he was out of your league.

You know you’re by no means thin, but you also don’t consider yourself fat, especially not after all the work that it took you to get to a place where you have a healthy relationship with your body.

Yes, you still have your doubts and insecurities, but that’s just in your head.

Although here you are, hiding in a supply closet, tears streaming down your face, because there are actual people outside of your head that see your flaws too.

One thing is to wonder about this stuff in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep, the voices in your head taking over, but to hear those same thoughts coming out of someone else’s mouth hit you hard.

You don’t even know how long you stay hidden, but at some point you snap out of it and dry your tears, opening the door and making the way to your room.

It feels like only a second passes and then you’re opening the door of yours and Bucky’s room. You make a beeline for the bathroom, barely acknowledging your boyfriend when he greets you as you lock the bathroom door behind you.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at your cold shoulder, immediately getting worried. He gets up from the bed and knocks on the door of the bathroom calling out for you. "Everything okay?"

You can hear the concern in his voice and it only makes you feel worse as you find yourself wondering if he’s actually worried or just that good at pretending.

You look at your reflection in the mirror and all of a sudden you feel nauseous but you barely have time to realize it’s not just in your head when you’re suddenly throwing up in the toilet.

Bucky’s more worried than ever as he hears you be sick from the other side of the door. "Doll, I need you to talk to me or I will break down the door."

He knows it may not be the ideal thing to say, but his concern outweighs his rational thinking when you stop making sounds as he still hasn't heard your voice and is worried you might’ve passed out.

"I’m okay." your voice is quiet, but at least you’re conscious. 

"Can you open the door for me, doll?" He can hear you sigh and shuffle a bit, probably getting up. Then he hears the faucet of the sink being turned on as you splash some water on your face.

He’s a little calmer now, patiently waiting for you and he lets out a little breath of relief when he hears the lock click.

You open it reluctantly, trying your best to look normal, but Bucky can see right through you.

"What’s wrong, baby?" he brings his hands to your cheeks and you can’t help but lean into them for a second before you grab his wrists and gently lower his hands, his face more worried than before.

"I’m fine, Bucky." you say, your voice almost emotionless.

"You were just throwing up. You’re not fine." it takes all of him not to reach for you again, not wanting to cross your boundaries.

"It’s nothing. Maybe I’m just sick. I’ll take a shower, it’ll make me feel better." You don’t give him time to respond as you close the door and lock it again, starting the shower.

Bucky feels like he can barely breathe, your behavior making him more worried than he’s been since the 40s and he had to take care of sickly little Steve.

Youìve never acted like this with him, when you were sick or even grumpy from your period you usually became clingy and wanted him around even more than you usually do. But he gives you the benefit of the doubt.

If you were sick this wasn’t the moment to think about himself. He has to take care of you first and he can ask more later you when you're feeling better.

With new resolve he heads towards the kitchen, determined to get everything you might need to make you feel better.

You stay in the shower for over an hour, trying to avoid Bucky as much as you can, but you know you had to get out and face him eventually.

When you come out of the bathroom you find him sitting in the desk chair, the desk full of things you’re pretty sure weren’t there when you entered the room.

Bucky's on his feet and coming towards you in a second, your favorite pair of pajamas in his hand.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks you softly, worry still present on his features.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, taking the clothes and changing as fast as you can, a small ‘I’m fine’ leaving your lips. 

"What's all of this?" you ask, stepping around him and walking towards the desk.

"Oh, I just brought you some things to make you feel better." He can't help himself as he wraps his arms around you from behind while you look through the things he brought you.

He got you all sorts of pain meds, your favorite snacks and drinks, your heating pad and your favorite comfort book.

You want to cry at the sight, but part of you can't help but doubt Bucky, even with how sweet he’s being.

You snap out of it when you feel Bucky give you a kiss on the shoulder and, suddenly, it all feels fake and it’s too much for you. 

You place your hands on his and move his arms away from you, then start heading towards the bed.

"I’m not hungry. I just want to sleep for a bit." That's all you say as you lay down and turn your back on him, tears threatening to fall down again.

You hear him sigh behind you. Then he moves around and you feel him lay a kiss on your head before he walks out the room shutting the lights on his way, wanting to give you the space you clearly want.

You aren't sure if you're glad you can cry yourself to sleep freely or worried that him walking out solidifies the voices in your head that are telling you that maybe Bucky really doesn’t love you.

When you wake up the next morning Bucky’s arms were wrapped around you from behind.

Usually being in his hold makes you feel safe but right now all you can concentrate on is the feeling of his hands on your belly and how disgusted he would be if he woke up and realized the position you were in, no matter how many times you've been like this.

You slip away from his embrace and go to change into work out clothes. You went to sleep pretty early yesterday so it was still early in the morning when you woke up.

You aren’t expecting to meet anyone yet but, once again, you're proven wrong by the shuffling coming from the kitchen as you make your way to grab a bottle of water.

You approach carefully without making a sound and when you peak around the corner you see Steve, probably back from a morning run, in front of the counter with his back to you and a water bottle in his hand.

You try to move as quietly as possible, even with enhanced hearing your skills have gotten so good you're able to sneak around the super soldiers when needed.

You decide to use the stairs to get to the gym, the door leading to them squeaking lightly. Steve turns around at the sound but seems to decide it was nothing as he shrugs and makes his way to his room.

You’ve been at the gym for a couple of hours, stopping only to grab water from the mini fridge, when the door opens and you hear Bucky’s voice.

"Hey doll, I’ve been looking for you everywhere." His voice sounds genuinely concerned. You have to give him props on his acting skills.

"Yeah, couldn’t sleep." You say without looking at him, barely stopping your punching of the bag in front of you.

"I thought you were sick." he’s slowly getting closer, you’d almost think he was trying to corner a scared animal.

"Clearly I feel better." you shrug, trying to end this conversation as fast as possible.

You feel his hand on your shoulder and finally stop, taking a deep breath before turning to face him.

His face looks more worried than you’ve ever seen it and it almost makes you forget your own concerns about the reality of your relationship.

Almost. 

"Maybe you should go visit Bruce, make sure everything’s okay." his eyes never leave your face and you try your best to hide any emotion but it’s always been too easy for him to read you so you shrug his hand from your shoulder, trying to put a little distance between you.

He looks genuinely hurt, but, again, what would you expect from a trained assassin? Pretending comes as naturally to him as breathing. 

"I’m fine, Bucky." you turn back to the bag and resume your punching. You’re so lost in your own thoughts you don’t even notice him walking out of the gym.

You work out some more before deciding it’s enough and go back to your room, thankful for the first time that Bucky’s not there.

After you shower and change again you find yourself with nothing to do and, for once, you wish you had paperwork to keep you occupied and give you an excuse to avoid everybody.

You grab your purse and make your way out, mumbling something about having errands to run in the city when you come across some people in the living room, basically running out of there so fast you can’t even tell who’s actually there watching tv.

You spend the whole day running around the city, not really having a destination but when the sun starts coming down you decide to head back.

When you enter the living room you can see everyone sitting at the kitchen table.

"Finally, you’re here! We can eat now." Sam shouts happily and you know you can’t escape this.

"Sorry, didn’t realize you were waiting on me." You say quietly while sitting down in the only free chair that’s unfortunately next to Bucky.

"It’s okay, koala bear." Steve smiles from your other side. "Bucky said you weren’t feeling great, so Wanda made your favorite."

You try to look excited while smiling and thanking Wanda as she and Vision place the food on the table. If she notices something is off, she doesn't say anything, just giving you a smile of her own in return.

"Where were you all day?" Tony asks you.

"The city." you simply say, trying to sound as casual as possible while making no attempt to look at him, or make eye contact with anyone else for that matter.

But Tony seems satisfied with your answer, taking your lack of conversation for tiredness and going back to talking to Clint.

You manage to avoid all conversations with nods and hums and you can feel Bucky’s gaze on you almost as it burns but you can’t find it in yourself to look back at him.

When you feel his hand coming to rest on top of yours on the table you feel like something inside you snaps and you get up abruptly, making everybody stop as they give you confused looks.

"Excuse me, I still don’t feel well. I think I’m gonna go to my room and rest." and, without giving anyone the chance to say anything, you walk away.

There’s a second of silence before the team seems to dismiss your behavior as grumpiness from feeling sick, after all the rare times that you do get sick you get very irritable.

Bucky seems to be the only one to notice your untouched food. 

After less than five minutes the door to your room opens and Bucky comes in, finding you sitting on the bed staring at nothing while being clearly lost in your head.

He makes his way to you and kneels down in front of you.

"What’s going on, doll?" He tries his luck again, putting a hand on your knee. He hopes that giving space all day allowed you to come around and now you’ll talk to him.

You prove him wrong by getting up, not even sparing him a glance, and making your way to the closet to try and busy yourself so you won’t have to look at him.

"Nothing." You offer nothing more and Bucky starts getting frustrated with you. 

"What is wrong with you today?" He knows something’s wrong. He knows you better than anyone, and he’s trying to be patient with you but you’ve never acted this cold towards him and it scares him.

"Nothing is wrong." You know you’re pushing it. You know you’re doing nothing to alleviate his worries, but you can’t help the feeling that he’s the one in the wrong.

He’s the one out of line, he’s the one that betrayed your trust and hurt you and toyed with your feelings and lied to you about his own. You had every right to be short with him.

Right?

"Something is obviously wrong, why won’t you just talk to me?!" He almost whines and you roll your eyes, your own unjustified irritation coming out.

"Oh, for the love of God, just give it a rest!" you almost yell, and the surprise you find in yourself is nothing compared to the one on Bucky’s face.

"What?" he’s almost whispering and the hurt in his voice for some reason just infuriates you more.

"Stop treating me like I’m made of glass! Not everyone is as needy as you, you know. I’m a grown ass adult and I don’t need you!" You can’t stop shouting, knowing full well you don’t mean a word you’re saying. But you want to hurt him as much as you’re hurting, as wrong as that is.

"Don’t you think I know that you don’t need me?!" He’s yelling too now, and you know you pushed the right button "I know damn well how strong you are, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still worry about you!"

"I don’t need you to worry about me!"

"Well, that’s too damn bad for you, because I love you and I want you to be okay!" God, even shouting he’s still being nice to you.

"Well, that’s too damn bad for you, because it’s none of your business if I’m okay!" Not the best response, but at this point you honestly have no idea of even control of what’s coming out of your mouth anymore.

"God, why are you being such a child about this?!" Bucky barely understands what’s going on right.

The two of you have never fought before, not so much as an argument, and now here you are in a yelling match that started because he's concerned about you.

"Oh boo freaking hoo, poor Bucky having to deal with a child! If you don’t like me just say so!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" He’s beyond confused now.

"If you don’t want this," you gesture between the two of you "just leave! Go and find someone you actually like! Don’t stay with me just because you feel like you have to!"

"When did I ever say that? Are you out of your mind?!"

"Yes, I’m crazy! Now just leave me the fuck alone!" you yell at the top of your lungs and Bucky seems to freeze in his spot.

Assuming this is over, you turn around and climb into bed, your back to Bucky once again.

When you hear him sigh and start moving you feel like you’re reliving yesterday, except this time you don’t expect him to kiss you but just leave.

He turns off the lights, but you frown when you don’t hear the door, instead you feel the bed dip behind you. You tense up when Bucky’s arms wrap around you from behind, bringing you closer to him with your back pressed against his chest.

"I will choose you over everyone. Even on the days where we don’t understand each other." He whispers in your ear after a moment of silence and you can’t do anything to stop the tears that start coming out as you feel Bucky holding you tighter without saying another word.

You want to believe him, you really do. But Sharon’s voice in your head is like a net, not allowing you to fall fully into Bucky, not being able to accept that someone like him truly loves you.

So you start spending your days by yourself, avoiding people as much as possible.

Everytime you're in a room with someone all you can think about is how they're probably judging you, making just want to run away and hide.

But isolating yourself does nothing to ease your worries as you now spend all your time overthinking and hating on yourself.

You start pulling away from Bucky too and it's killing him.

You still won't talk to him, everytime you're together you pretend that everything's fine.

You put on a smile he knows is fake, really doing the bare minimum to keep a conversation going and when he touches you he always gets the feeling that you wanted nothing more than to slap his hands away.

But you always try to be discreet as you inch away from him with any excuse that comes to mind.

It's the change in your relationship with Bucky that starts to clue the team in on your behavior.

As much as they have fun giving you shit for it, they all admire your closeness and were happy that you found each other.

So they start paying more attention to you. Everybody can see something's wrong, but if you wouldn’t talk to Bucky about it, really what chance do they have?

It doesn't stop them from worrying though, seeing how you seem to waste away.

You spend too much time in the gym, losing weight at an alarming rate and not getting enough sleep to function, sometimes resulting in you falling asleep during meetings or on the mat at the gym.

But you refuse to let Bruce look at you. You refuse any help really, your temper shorter than ever as you end up snapping at people more often than not.

You try to keep it together, but it's obviously not working. The only thing you manage to do is avoiding meals without anyone noticing.

After weeks on end of this, the team decides to do something to try and cheer you up, taking the opportunity of your birthday coming up.

Steve manages to convince Tony to have a small party, just the team and agents of Shield, instead of one of his big parties full of strangers.

They're careful when they approach you with the subject, having taken to walking on eggshells around you. You can’t help feeling bad for the way you’ve been treating them, so you decide to be cool about the party, even knowing deep down you’ll regret it.

Natasha and Wanda offer to go shopping with you for a new dress for the occasion, but you decline their invitation.

You know they're trying to be nice, but just the thought of going from store to store, seeing all those beautiful, skinny women trying on pretty dresses you’d never be able to fit into, together with the two gorgeous redheads, it sounds like hell to you.

Which is why you ask the team to have a more informal dress code than usual, allowing you to dress as comfortable as you can be at the moment with loose fitting pants and a large hoodie.

You arrive at the party in the ballroom of the compound that Tony just had to have and are thankful to see everyone dress casually, most of the girls not even wearing dresses.

But you still try not to linger too long on their looks, not wanting to feel worse than you already do about your own appearance.

Arms wrap around your body and you hear Bucky wish you a happy birthday.

You give him a few seconds before you wiggle away from the embrace and turn around. You give Bucky your best fake smile and thank him before kissing him quickly on the cheek and walking away towards the bar to get some water.

You don't need to be getting drunk and throwing up more than you already do every time your stomach forces you to eat anything.

You spend the whole night going from person to person, trying not to talk to anyone too long and making sure to always keep moving to avoid too many questions.

You know it's only a matter of time before they start coming. Even Fury is present, worried about you ever since he had to take you off missions for passing out on the field.

Soon came the moment you’d been dreading most: Wanda comes toward you with your favorite cake with candles lit and everybody starts singing.

You know that with being the center of attention you won't be able to get away with not eating and the team would piece things together if you try, having already gone through this years ago.

Honestly, you're a little disappointed nobody had figured it out yet, but not entirely surprised as you told yourself everyone just didn’t care enough.

And why should they when you look the way you do?

Everyone cheers as you blow on the candles, fake smile still going strong. The cake is cut and everyone is enjoying Wanda’s culinary talent. You even manage to eat yours and keep it down without looking disgusted with yourself.

Everything was going great.

You're behind the bar now taking another water bottle from the mini fridge when you accidentally knock over a glass full of straws that was thankfully made of plastic so it didn’t break.

While you're picking up straws you hear footsteps getting close to the bar that hid your kneeling figure and stop what you're doing when you hear Sharon talking about you. Again.

"And did you see how she’s dressed to her own party? No wonder Bucky’s been staying as far away as possible all night." she's basically whispering, but it's still loud enough for you to hear.

"I know, he’s probably ashamed of her. Wouldn’t surprise me if he dumped her tonight." the two girls giggle the sound seems to snap you out of your trance.

You get up so fast you scare Sharon and the other girl, their startled squeals drawing the attention of the rest of the party as everybody prepares for any danger.

But there is no danger, all everybody can see is two mortified looking agents and you with tears in your eyes that you don't even feel starting to fall.

The whole team is worried sick, everybody getting closer to the bar, but Bucky is the one that's at your side before you can even think about blinking the tears away.

"What’s wrong, baby?" he looks so worried, almost like he himself is about to cry at the mere thought of you being in pain.

But that can't be it, that's not what you're seeing.

He's probably just embarrassed you're being overly emotional for no apparent reason, and that look in his eyes is him getting ready to break up with you right here and now.

At that thought you can literally feel the cake you just ate coming back up and all you can do is run as fast as you could towards the nearest bathroom with a very concerned Bucky running after you after silently agreeing with Steve with a single look that he’ll be the one to check on you.

You make it to the toilet just in time to unload, barely registering two hands taking your hair and holding it away from your face.

You finish vomiting and clean your mouth with some toilet paper before throwing it in and flushing it, shuffling your body backwards until your back hits the tub and you close your eyes while resting your head back against it.

You feel your hair falling back down on your shoulders and can make out the sound of the faucet running for a few seconds before you feel a wet towel gently brushing your cheeks and mouth.

You open your eyes and are met with Bucky kneeling in front of you, seemingly examining every inch of your face to try and understand what’s going on.

Before he can ask you for what felt like the thousandth time though, you can't hold yourself back anymore.

"Please don’t leave me." your voice is weak enough already from all the vomiting and the sobs that start coming in certainly don't help.

Tears start to fall like waterfalls but you don't let any of that stop you from going on. "I know I said I didn’t need you, but I do. I need you so much more than you could ever know."

Bucky wraps his arms around you and he's more than relieved when you don't pull away for the first time in weeks.

Instead, you cling to him as you keep pleading with him not to leave you in between broken sobs while he moves you to sit curling on his lap.

Bucky’s heart breaks for you and he wonders if this was how you felt everytime you comforted him, feeling even more in awe of you now that he knows how hard it was to see the person you love like this.

All he wants is to make you feel better and take away all your pain, but he had no idea how.

When you show no signs of calming down after several minutes he decides to try to talk you down, hoping not to make things worse.

"Doll, I need you to calm down." he tries to pull away just enough to look you in the eyes, but you just hug him tighter, almost terrified that he's just gonna get up and leave forever if you let go and you start getting more agitated by the second. 

!Baby, please try to take deep breaths." he's trying really hard not to panic himself now. "I’m not leaving, I promise. I’m staying right here with you, but you need to calm down, please."

Maybe it's because he's basically begging you, maybe it's because of the panic and concern you think you can hear in his voice or maybe it's his grip getting impossibly tight on you that grounds you, but your brain seems to clear just enough to give your body the command and you start trying to take deep breaths.

When you loosen your hold on Bucky he grabs one of your hands and puts it on his chest right over his heart, the steady beating giving you something to concentrate on as you try your best to copy his breathing. 

It takes a few more minutes but you calm down, tears still falling silently down your cheeks while Bucky rubs your back with his metal hand, his other warm hand still over yours on his chest.

"I’m sorry I’m such a mess…" Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears, quiet, full of sadness and desperation.

This isn’t you.

This isn’t the confident, strong woman that kicked ass and defended Bucky even to your own family from day one.

What happened to you?

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky's asking himself the same question.

What happened to the sweet, bright girl that offered him a hug after five seconds of knowing him? The girl that calmed him down from a panic attack and kept him company through the night even after knowing about his past?

The girl that let him hang onto her like a koala and allowed him to let it all out? The girl that was patient with him, understanding and never once judged him, no matter how broken she’d seen him?

He really can't think of anything that could've happened to break you this much, to bring you to basically have a meltdown on a bathroom floor.

But whatever it was he needs to know now, and he's more determined than ever to find out.

"Doll, you’re not a mess. You’re hurting, I can see it. We all can. And I know you’re strong, but everybody needs help once in a while. Whatever’s been happening, you don’t have to go through it alone. Just like you didn’t let me go through anything alone. You were always there for me, you’re always there for everybody." he pauses and you take the moment to spiral further.

This is the only reason why he’s still with you. You were there for him, you cared and comforted him. So he feels the need to stay with you because Bucky’s loyal, no matter what his feelings actually are.

But he’s gonna fall in love one day with someone, and what is that gonna mean for you? He’s gonna leave you to be with the person he actually wants, loyalty or not. Your fall down the rabbit hole is stopped by Bucky’s voice.

"Please let me be there for you. This is killing me, watching you do this to yourself. Please tell me what’s going on, baby, because you’re scaring me so fucking much. Please." he finishes in a whisper.

Before you can even properly process his words, you feel a tear that's not yours fall on your cheek, making your eyes widen and you look up to see Bucky already looking down at you with tears rolling down his cheeks.

Your hand goes up to his face automatically and you feel him lean into it. You sit up straighter on his lap, leaning in to rest your forehead against his and closing your eyes while willing yourself to stop the tears long enough so you can talk.

Bucky doesn't push you, finding comfort in your touch after having missed it for what, in his opinion, is too damn long.

"I’m sorry… I just…" you don't even know how to start to explain it.

Bucky can see you're having a hard time finding the words, so he tries to help by saying "You don’t need to rush it, doll. I don’t want to push you to talk about something you clearly don’t want to... But I’ve just been so worried. You’ve been pushing everyone away, and you don’t sleep and stay at the gym until you almost pass out. You think that I don’t hear you throwing up, but I do. And, even with all your oversized clothes, I can see how much weight you’ve been losing. It’s killing me, baby, I hate to see you like this. I just want to know why." he kisses the side of your head and you're on the verge of tears again.

Trying hard to hold them back, you force yourself to speak. "I heard some people talking about me…" you start, your voice still quiet, and you go on to tell him everything.

The conversation you overheard, the insecurities that it brought to the surface, the issues you had in the past and the struggle you’ve been having the last few weeks.

By the end of it Bucky he doesn't know what to feel. He's enraged, worried sick, sad at how miserable you’ve been. Just to name a few.

But more than anything he's heartbroken at how much you’ve been questioning your relationship with him and his love for you. He's devastated to think that everytime he told you how much he loves you, you doubted him and convinced yourself he was lying.

And the worst part is he has no idea how to change your mind.

Is there anything he can say that you won’t doubt? Anything he can do to show you how much you mean to him? Probably not, but he has to try and make you understand.

Your eyes are still closed, not daring to see the disappointment in Bucky’s face.

"Baby, look at me." he says firmly but gently enough to not make you think he was in any way mad at you.

He waits patiently until you look at him which, after taking a deep breath, you do and only then he continues while taking your face in his hands "There are so many things I want to tell you right now... but I’ll start with I love you, doll. I love you so much it actually hurts. Maybe we got close because you were nice and patient with me, but that’s not why I love you. I love you because you’re kind and smart and strong and dedicated. You can kick ass like no one else and you’re still the sweetest person I’ve ever met. And I’m almost 100, I’ve met a lot of people." he smiles when he finally gets you to giggle, the first real laugh he’s heard from you in weeks.

"You’re compassionate and understanding and loyal and beautiful beyond compare. I fell in love with you because of who you are, not what you look like. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re pretty, I think you’re gorgeous and I love your body. I love everything about you. Every. Single. Thing." he punctuates every word with a kiss to each of your cheeks and then your nose, making you giggle more. "You think I’d ever leave you? I could never even consider being with someone else. God, you were never even supposed to mean this much to me! I was never supposed to fall so hard... But you know what? I did and that’s the truth, and that’s what keeps me holding on because it hurts like hell to let you go."

You're obviously in tears, not being able to look away from Bucky’s eyes even if you wanted because of his hold on your face, not that you're trying that hard to get away.

You have no words to describe the way you feel, not even being sure if you fully believe him. The look on his face, though, makes you want to believe. Makes you want to tell all the voices in your head to fuck off until the only one left is Bucky’s saying all the things he just said, over and over again.

But can you really let go of them that easily?

"You don’t have to carry this by yourself, doll." Bucky can see your internal struggle. "Lean on me. Let me help you make this easier."

There's nothing but sincerity in his eyes, he can't possibly be that good of an actor to be faking it, right?

So you decide to trust him.

You trust him with your life, why can’t you believe that he really loves you? 

You can. You do.

You will...

"Okay…" You’re basically whispering, still a little worried he’s just pretending and is gonna rip the rug from under you any second now. "I love you, so much. And I want to believe you love me… but it may take me a little while to accept that completely. I’m sorry…"

"You don’t need to apologize, baby. It doesn’t matter how much time it takes, I’m here for all of it. I want nothing more than to help you feel better, starting with helping you love yourself as much as I love you." he wipes your tears with his thumbs before he gives you a soft kiss on the lips. "And not worrying what jealous, unimportant, random people think of you. You’re beautiful inside AND out, don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. Not even this." He taps the side of your head.

You wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tightly, neither one of you needing to say more at the moment. After a few minutes like this, you’re both done crying and you let go just enough to look at each other.

"Can we go to our room?" you ask him and he nods, letting you get off his lap and then getting up with you.

He doesn’t let you get too far from him while you go to the sink to try and make yourself look decent as he follows you so closely you might think you’re glued to each other.

Your eyes meet in the mirror and he smiles at you, wrapping his arms around your waist, he gives you a kiss on the shoulder before resting his head on it.

You successfully wash off all the makeup you put on for the party, your efforts now ruined by all the crying.

"You’re so pretty." Bucky tells you, his eyes never leaving yours and you smile a real smile this time, turning your head to give him a kiss on the cheek that makes him smile even more.

You get out of the bathroom and you tense up seeing everybody still at the party, your breath hitching in your throat as embarrassment crawls up on you.

You can see the team’s worried looks and the last thing you want right now is to go through the last 40 minutes all over again, in front of everybody.

You just want to go to your room and cuddle up with Bucky, but the super soldier had other plans.

"Can I have everybody’s attention?" you look at him with a frown, but he simply smiled at you and keeps going once the whole room is looking at you two. "It’s been brought to my attention that some of you have some misconceptions about our relationship."

You didn’t tell Bucky who you heard the conversation from, only that it was two agents just in case he might think it was someone on the team, and it almost looks like he's scanning every agent’s face to try and figure out who it was, but he continues nonetheless.

"I’d just like to make it clear for everyone that not only I love this woman more than life itself, but I, and everyone who knows her for that matter, think she’s the best, most caring person I’ve ever met. Not to mention the most attractive, in my ever so humble opinion." he wraps his metal arm around your waist and brings you closer as your face gets redder, and you can see the team chuckling and grinning at Bucky’s possessiveness and your flustered form. "And it’s also absolutely none of your business what happens in our relationship. But, since you’re all here I might as well give you something real to gossip about."

To say you're confused is an understatement. You turn back to him when Bucky’s arm disappear from around you just in time to see him reach into his back pocket, pulling out a ring box and getting down on one knee.

You hear gasps around the room, your own being muffled by your hand in front of your mouth as your eyes grow wide.

"Bucky..." It's barely a whisper to begin with, your hand almost not letting it escape at all.

"Baby, I meant every single thing I’ve said today. I love you so much. I’ve been carrying this around for a couple of months, looking for the right time to do this. But when you started pushing me away I thought maybe you were changing your mind about me. I was terrified and decided to wait, but I realize now if I had done this when I first wanted to, the last few weeks probably wouldn’t have happened. I could’ve saved you so much pain... I don’t know if this is the right time, but I do know that I’ve been ready for a while and right now I honestly can’t think of a better way to show you just how much you really mean to me. So…" he opens the box to reveal a rose gold ring with one big diamond at the center and two smaller ones on each side of it, then he takes your free hand on his. "Doll, will you marry me?"

He can feel you trembling, tears forming in your eyes once more as the whole room seems to hold their breath.

"Yes!" you're finally able to get out and Bucky feels like he can breathe again, happiness spreading throughout his whole body.

You basically throw yourself on him and he catches you with ease, getting up on his feet while you wraps your legs around his waist like a koala.

There's a chorus of cheers, the team immediately gathering around you to congratulate you both.

It feels like too little time when you finally detach from Bucky as he gently put you on the ground before slipping the ring on your finger and kissing it, his eyes never leaving yours, silently telling you he belongs to you and only you.

You’re about to lean in for a kiss when two strong arms pick you up making you squeal, Steve’s laughter in your ear as he says something about finally having a sister-in-law and making everybody laugh.

After a good 15 minutes of hugs left and right, Bucky intervenes.

"Okay, okay, can you please not smother my future wife?" your heart skips a beat when he says that and you're sure you're smiling like an idiot as he makes his way through the team to get to you.

"You know, he actually asked me for my blessing. I told you he cares very much about you." Tony whispers to you while he passes, giving you one last squeeze and a wink before everybody gives you and Bucky a moment.

He wraps his arms around your waist and finally kisses you.

When you pull away you both have big, goofy grins, never wanting this moment to end.

There's no separating you, and now everybody knows it.

Requested taglist: @aesthetic0cherryblossom @buchi91 @sapphirebarnes

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Longing

Pieces of My Heart - Chapter 10 Stray Kids OT8 x reader, Soulmate AU

Masterlist | Next Part

Chan Hey, just checking in. How’s your dad? Y/N He’s good, awake and lucid Doctors say everything went smoothly, he should make a full recovery Chan That’s good. Y/N How are the boys? Chan Missing you. Img.png Y/N Tell them I miss them too Chan I will. Give your dad our best wishes. Y/N Thanks

0o0o0

Sophie Hey, I just got your message Are you okay? Y/N Don’t worry, I’m fine. My dad’s okay too I didn’t get a chance to update you Had a lot on my mind Sophie No, yeah. I get it Y/N How was the day 2 concert? Sophie Just as amazing as day 1 Well, actually it was a bit weird I felt like the members weren’t as playful as the first time around. It seemed like they had a lot on their mind too … Maybe it was just one of those days Y/N Yeah, I guess Sophie Either way, it’s a shame we didn’t get to hang out more before you left I’m glad your dad’s okay Y/N Me too. If I’m ever back in the city, I’ll let you know Sophie Of course. In the meantime, want to see some videos from last night? Y/N Sure!

0o0o0

Y/N You sure you don’t want anything from the store? Mom I’m sure sweetie, thank you. Y/N Ok Mom Hey, while I have a chance to talk to you without your dad listening in. We need to talk about your soulmates. Y/N What about them? Mom Sweetheart, I remember when I met my soulmate. We were inseparable for weeks. I couldn’t even imagine how hard it is to be away from them right now. Y/N Mom … Mom I mean, even now, not being able to see her makes me uncomfortable. Why do you think we have our weekly Friday night meet ups? Y/N I thought that was just an excuse to go out and complain about Dan from finances Mom You and I both know I don’t need an excuse to complain about Dan. But that’s not the point. I can’t stand not being with Lucy. And we’re only platonic soulmates. From what I’ve heard, that’s definitely not the case with you. Y/N Mom! Mom You should be with your soulmates. Y/N Dad’s still in recovery, mom You can’t take care of him yourself, you have work and your health issues … You need help. They understand, we can make it work Besides, they’re on tour. I was going to have to be away from them for a while anyway It’s not like I could just go on tour with them Mom I’m sure that’s not true. Y/N Im almost back at the room. We can talk about this later

0o0o0

Soulmates

Y/N Hey Did you guys land yet? Seungmin Few minutes ago Felix Hi!!! How are you?! I’m good Felix, thank you ^^ Seungmin Img.png Img.png Img.png Felix YAH! Seungmin wtf!??! Seungmin Not my fault you all fell asleep on the plane Felix So you decided to photograph us?!!? Seungmin Blackmail material Minho I’m going to commit murder Y/N Awww, you guys look so cute I hope you guys get some rest … Guys? Wait he wasn’t serious about the murder was he? Hyunjin Hi baby I miss you Jisung I miss you too! Hyunjin I miss them more! Chan Guys, it’s not a competition Felix But if it is, I definitely miss them more >:) Y/N Guys, Minho wasn’t serious about killing Seungmin, was he? … Guys?

0o0o0

Jeongin Did you have breakfast yet? Y/N Shit, no I’ve been busy. I had to take my dad to his doctor’s appointment today and then I had to go do groceries Jeongin :( Y/N Sorry Innie. I’ll go get a snack rn Jeongin You haven’t been eating a lot lately … You know coffee doesn’t count as a meal, right? Y/N I know Sorry :( Jeongin You need to take care of yourself. I’m worried about you Y/N I will, I promise Jeongin I’ll remind you if you don’t. I swear, you’re worse than Channie-hyung Y/N D: I’m not that bad Jeogin … What did you just eat? It’s disgusting Please never eat that again Y/N You take that back Ham and Jelly toast is delicious and I refuse to accept this slander Plus its an easy snack Jeongin I will pay you to never eat that again Please Stop! DID YOU JUST ADD HOT SAUCE?!!!? Y/N Suffer

0o0o0

Mom I had a talk with my boss about work. He’s agreed to let me work from home for the next few months. Y/N Oh, that’s good. Now you can spend more time with dad during breaks and lunch … Mom It also means that I won’t need your help around the house anymore. Y/N Mom, we’ve talked about this. I’m not leaving you guys! Mom It’s been almost a month. Your soulmates are almost done with their tour You should go see them. Y/N I appreciate the effort mom, I really do. But can you just drop this? Mom No, I won’t. Why are you forcing yourself to be so unhappy? You think I don’t notice how stressed and upset you’ve been lately? You’re not eating well, you’re not getting a lot of sleep. Honey, I’m worried. Being away from your soulmates for so long so soon after meeting can’t be good for you. Or them! Y/N They have each other, they’ll be fine. Mom That’s not how this works, and you know it. Have you even talked to them about it? Y/N I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now. Mom You can’t run away from your problems forever.

0o0o0

Soulmates

Minho 커피 원해? (anyone want coffee?) Jisung ㅇㅇ (yup) Felix 내!!!! (yes!!!!) Chan 주세요. (please.) Seungmin 됐어요 (im good) Y/N I mean, if you’re offering It might be a bit cold by the time you get here though Minho Ahh, wrong chat Sorry Jisung Wait a minute! Since when do you read Korean?!! Y/N I don’t??!! I just used google translate Although I did recognize 내! That means yes :D Minho 귀엽다 (cute) Changbin Waa, our soulmate is so smart. Y/N :D Don’t drink too much coffee though. I’ve been told it is not a meal >:( Im talking to you, Chan Chan I have no idea what you’re talking about Y/N >:( Jeongin >:( Felix >:( Jisung >:( Chan It’s only my second cup today! And the first one was 3 hours ago! Y/N IT’S ONLY 9AM! Chan … Felix I’m going to kill you

0o0o0

Y/N Hey, can I ask for some advice? I need an unbiased opinion Sophie Well I’m not sure I’d consider myself unbiased. I’m definitely Han biased, that’s for sure. ;) Y/N It’s about my soulmate Sophie OH! I totally forgot about that, you haven’t talked about them at all! Y/N Yeah, between everything with my dad and then school and stuff … My mom has been on my ass these past few weeks about it Sophie About what? Y/N She thinks its unhealthy for me to be away from them She has this scary close bond with her soulmate, a childhood friend of hers. And she can’t imagine being away from her, so she thinks that I need to go be with my soulmate But I’ve been refusing, and now every time I see her it feels like she’s seconds away from starting another argument I’m just so tired of all the arguing, and wondering if maybe she’s right I have been having a harder time getting sleep Sophie Oh wow, that’s …. Wow. Y/N yeah Sophie I’m not sure you want my honest opinion right now. Y/N Please, I do. I need someone that isn’t my mom to be straight up with me. Am I being irrational? Sophie Well, first of all, being away from your soulmates is definitely not easy. But It’s also not a big deal, and long distance relationships work fine even between new soulmates. So maybe your mom is projecting a little bit. But I don’t think that’s the problem here. Y/N ??? Sophie Why does the idea of leaving to be with your soulmates bother you so much? I mean, when I found Alexis I was overjoyed, but I still didn’t have time to see him a lot. We both had school and work, and it was hard to find time to spend together. Honestly, I would have taken any opportunity I had to be with him. And yet here you are, turning down all of your mom’s offers. I feel like something else is at play here than just your mom’s pushiness. Y/N … Sophie I told you you wouldn’t like my opinion. Y/N No, you’re right Fuck, you’re right Sophie I usually am :) Y/N Thank’s Sophie, I really needed someone to knock some sense into me. Sophie Glad I could help. Want some memes? Y/N Yes, please!

0o0o0

Y/N Mom. I’m sorry You were right, I want to be with my soulmates. I really appreciate everything you’ve done to give me the opportunity to be with them. And I’m sorry I’ve been so stubborn about it. But Mom, I feel like you’re pushing me away. I feel like you don’t want me here. My soulmates will never be more important than you. You’re my mom, and I worry about you and dad. I worry about you guys being by yourselves, about being away from you. I’m scared and I just feel like everything is moving too fast. Can you call me when you get off work? I love you.

0o0o0

Y/N We need to talk Chan That doesn’t sound good Y/N It’s nothing bad, I promise Chan Okay? Y/N My dad has been getting better. He’s walking now. Chan That’s great! I’m glad your dad’s okay. Y/N Yeah Chan I have a feeling that’s not what you wanted to talk about, though. Y/N They managed to talk with a neighbor, and he agreed to drive my dad to his appointments if my mom can’t take him. And I started taking online classes. Chan Huh? Y/N Chris I think we need to talk about what happens when you guys are done with your tour.

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: angst, smut, language, violence

Chapter Seven

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

You were able to sneak out of the QZ fairly easily, the soldiers were preoccupied with new truckloads of survivors, and they were running around trying to create more sleeping accommodations in classrooms and hallways. Joel led you alongside the school and into the cover of a small forest before anybody could question you. You didn’t speak or slow down until you were about 2 miles away from the school, still primarily surrounded by trees, but they were thinning out, revealing shops and roads in the distance.

“Joel, stop, let’s rest for a few minutes, please,” you panted, struggling to keep up with his long gait on the uneven terrain.

Surprised to hear your voice, he turned to look over his shoulder at you. He had been in such a trance to lead you both away from the school that he wasn’t even sure what direction you were headed. He nodded in agreement. He was tired and hot, still in the same work clothes from Friday.

“Yeah, let’s go sit down, looks quiet here.” Joel motioned to a big, flat rock nearby, and the two of you sat down on it, setting your purse and supplies down and sipping on the water bottles you were grateful you had grabbed before leaving the QZ. You sat next to each other in silence, catching your breath and looking around at the nature surrounding you.

“What are we doing, Joel?” you asked him quietly. You were all too fully aware you were following this man blindly into a world full of danger. Just a week ago, you had such a different relationship with him, one that was heading in a direction that made you feel excited and hopeful. You were still reeling from the shock of his harsh words on his birthday, unable to fully process what happened that day in his office. Still, you had no idea what caused him to run out of the building after you, what he wanted to say, but you hated to admit that you were grateful. Who knows where you would be if Joel hadn’t yelled at you, making you quit and leave the building. Who knows where you would be right now if you were alone when those soldiers started shooting. In some twisted way, you owed Joel your life. He was all you had now, you had to trust him.

“Well, I suppose we try to find your family,” Joel said, leaning back to lay flat on the rock and closed his eyes as he continued. “At least, we gotta get out of this city, it’s not safe. That guy at the QZ told me this infection is all over, but maybe it ain’t as bad in other places.”

“What else did he say to you?” you asked, turning to look down at him now. His eyes were still closed, his face looked relaxed but the bags under his eyes reminded you he was up early this morning.

Joel paused for a moment. He knew what you were asking, but he wasn’t sure how to tell you. He kept his eyes shut when he finally spoke.

"He told me bad stuff was happenin’ to women there, women who were alone.”

Your suspicions were right. He stood guard over you while you slept, what else could it have been? You sighed, looking down at the half empty water bottle in your hands. Joel has been saving you over and over again for the past 5 days while you were still hung up on some stupid argument. It all felt so trivial now, when the focus was simply survival.

You reached your hand out and lightly squeezed his own, trying to thank him when words didn’t seem like enough. He opened his eyes now and looked at you staring at your coupled hands, giving your hand a light squeeze in return.

"What now?" you asked, letting his hand go. Joel sighed and sat back upright.

"Well, we gotta get some supplies. Couple of backpacks, some food, clothes, all that. I’m thinkin’ we gotta leave on foot, a car would be too loud, FEDRA will stop us. We can try to make it back to my place in the city for some stuff, but it’s far, maybe 10 minutes from the office.”

Something Joel said gave you an idea.

"I have backpacks! At my apartment, hiking backpacks, two of them. And some other things. My place is further out, it probably won’t take us too long, I live kind of far from work… lived,” you corrected yourself, frowning, “I just can’t tell where we are, maybe if we can get to those stores over there, we can see what street that is.”

Joel nodded. “Alright, good, you ready to go?”

You jumped off the rock and picked up your purse, stuffed with the items from the QZ, and both headed in the direction of the strip mall. You emerged from the thinning forest to find a playground with a baseball diamond and a soccer field. As you cautiously made your way through the open field, Joel stopped at the baseball diamond to grab you each a bat from a pile left on home plate. You took it from his outstretched hand, the thought of weapons to defend yourselves having not even crossed your mind yet. You were not adapting to this disaster as quickly as you would like. Joel had been the one to find shelter, the one who recognized when an area was unsafe, the one who formulated a plan. You scolded yourself for not being more aware of your surroundings... this was life or death. At least you had Justin’s old camping supplies still housed in your tiny apartment, that was useful. You just had to get there in one piece.

It took half the day to walk from the strip mall to your apartment building, taking extra time to be quiet and go unseen. Once you reentered the city, you could see Joel tense up as he gripped his baseball bat tightly by his side. Your building was not too far into the city limits, and you managed to make it there without being spotted.

Joel gently closed the lobby door behind you, turning around to see the room was empty, save for a few abandoned duffel bags and some trash. You led him towards the stairwell door, closing it quietly, listening for any movement above before slowly beginning your ascent.

“What floor?” Joel whispered behind you.

“Two,” you answered just as quietly, “but I am on the other end of the hall.”

“You’re on the second floor? D’you know how dangerous that is? Anyone could climb up and break in.”

You paused before opening the door marked with a big number 2, turning to look at Joel incredulously as he finished his climb up the stairs.

"There’s monsters running around eating people and you’re lecturing me about what floor my apartment is on?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

He looked at you for a moment, considering your words, and smirked.

"Yeah, well, when you put it like that," he said.

You knew it was a serious situation and people were dying. Hell, you could die at any moment. But you allowed a smile to spread across your face, only barely holding back a laugh. Joel’s smirk turned into a bigger smile at the sight of yours, hiding a small chuckle. You rolled your eyes, still grinning, and reached out to open the door before he stopped you.

"Let me go first,” he said, moving in front of you with his bat at the ready.

He pushed the door open just enough so he could see down the hall. It was empty, but there were several apartment doors that were either cracked or wide open. He listened intently for any movement that might indicate you weren’t alone. When he was satisfied, he opened the door wider, allowing you both to squeeze through and then softly closed the door. Without speaking, you pointed down the hall towards the right side, and with your fingers you held up a 2, 2, and 3, telling him which one was yours. He nodded in understanding and led the way slowly down the long hallway.

Joel stopped before every open door and peeked inside each apartment before moving down to the next one, being extra cautious of any infected. Neither of you had seen one up close yet, you had no idea what to expect, but you heard them when you were running down the street. They sounded like feral animals the way they screamed and snarled as they attacked. You shuddered at the thought, but at least you would hear them coming.

Joel paused when he heard someone walking, and then heard a repeated thudding sound. You both froze in place, listening and trying to locate the source. It sounded like it was coming from the floor above you, so you both continued until you reached the door that read 223. You dug into your purse and pulled out your keys, grateful to find that the door was still locked. Again, Joel insisted on sticking his head in first and clearing the place before you entered, gently shutting and locking the door behind you.

You looked around your small apartment, everything left exactly as it was Friday morning. You had a small loveseat and an accent chair surrounding your TV in the living room, behind the loveseat was your equally small kitchen with a table for two. Your bedroom door was off the kitchen, and the bathroom had a door right where you had walked in but was also connected to your bedroom through a second door. It was very small, but you made it work, you had just been so happy to have your own space.

Joel looked around thoughtfully. These were not the circumstances in which he had hoped to see your place for the first time. You chewed your lip as he looked around your apartment, admiring your framed photos and your knick-knacks. He looked so big and out of place amongst your modest apartment, filled with secondhand furniture and mementos from your past. You reached down to pick up the backpack you had tripped over on Friday morning, setting it up against the wall while you opened the extremely small accordion door that gave way to a tiny coat closet. You reached inside and grabbed the second backpack, setting it next to the first, and lastly picked up the two tightly rolled up sleeping bags that were never reattached to the packs.

He turned and saw the supplies against the wall, excitedly walking over to open one up and examine it more closely.

"I didn’t realize you liked camping, we can really use most of this," he said, his focus still on opening up the various pockets on the backpacks.

You paused a moment, not sure if you should tell him where the supplies came from. You figured he would eventually question why there were two packs, so decided to tell him.

"Actually, they aren’t mine, they were left here,” you cleared your throat nervously, remembering Joel’s outburst about you sleeping with people at the office. "They're Justin's. He forgot to pick them up after I broke up with him.” You turned away so you couldn’t see his reaction, nervous he would show that angry side of himself again.

His hands stilled at your words. He had no right, and he knew it, but a wave of jealousy washed over him anyway. Joel pushed his feelings aside, not wanting to upset you again after he had made a little progress with you today.

"Hated camping so much you broke his heart, then?" he joked, offering you a small smile.

Your cheeks heated up at the real reason you broke up with Justin, that day in the meadow with your thoughts consumed of Joel crossing your mind. You let out a small chuckle and said, "I guess I better get used to it now."

The two of you spent the rest of the day rummaging through your kitchen cabinets, setting aside essentials you could pack, only stopping briefly to eat some dinner. You found you had some chicken in your fridge, so you cooked it up with some rice and whatever vegetables you had that still looked good. You ate in silence, hunched over your small kitchen table.

"This is incredible, thank you again," Joel said, shoveling the last forkful in his mouth.

"You'd say that about anything right now, we haven't eaten anything decent since the bodega," you teased.

Joel shook his head in disagreement. "Nope, that ain't true. You're a good cook, and I'm grateful."

You looked down at your bowl shyly as Joel picked up his and washed it in your sink.

"Uh, I was wonderin," Joel started, clearing his throat and suddenly giving a spot on the bowl all his attention, "did he leave any clothes here I can use?"

You smacked your forehead, feeling stupid. Of course he wants different clothes, he's been in the same ones for days.

"No, he was only here that one time after camping, I'm sorry. Maybe we can look in some of those open apartments? I'm sure we can find something useful." You stood to wash your own bowl as he dried his hands.

Joel was pleased to hear your ex hadn't spent much time here, still struggling to ignore that jealous streak.

"Good idea, grab your bat, just in case, and let's go lookin' before it gets dark," he said, placing the towel delicately back on the holder before turning and heading towards your living room. You smiled inwardly at how domestic it felt in this moment, but you shook the thoughts out of your head. It's not like that between you, the focus was on surviving and finding your family.

You grabbed your bat and the two of you headed towards the door when suddenly the power went out. You both froze for a moment, taking in the eerie silence.

"Well, it held out longer than I figured it would. C'mon, we should definitely get goin' now, not much sun left." Joel said, opening up your apartment door a crack and peering out to make sure you were still alone. You followed him out the door, closed it gently behind you, and you walked a few doors down to apartment 245.

Joel indicated you stay back and he entered the room. It was a similar layout as your own, so it took him no time at all to confirm it was empty. You walked in and began to help him look through the dresser in the bedroom. Joel lucked out: the man who lived here was close enough to his size, so he grabbed a couple essential items and headed back to your place. He said he could continue to look tomorrow for more clothes, but this would do for now.

You rifled through your kitchen cabinet for as many candles as you could find, lighting them all over the apartment so you could see as the sun went down. You had just finished lighting the last one when Joel came out of your bathroom after taking a quick shower before the hot water cooled in the tank. He changed into a dark grey plain tshirt and some sweatpants.

"Feel better?" you asked, walking past him to put a candle in the bathroom.

"Much better, thanks," he said, checking the locks on your doors and windows. "I'm gonna move your couch in front of your door for the night. That way, I'll feel it move if someone tries breakin' in."

You emerged from the bathroom, your brows furrowed. "You can't sleep on that thing, are you kidding? You're too tall."

Joel looked down at the loveseat he was in the process of pushing across the carpet. You were right, his legs would hang off the end, it was only a two-seater.

"I'll be fine, don't worry," he waved you off, finishing his task.

"Just sleep in my bed with me, it's big enough, it doesn't have to be weird," you offered before you could overthink it. He kept his eyes cast down on the loveseat, weighing your offer.

"Besides, this may be one of the last times we get to sleep on a mattress for a while," you added.

"You sure?" Joel asked, one eyebrow raised. He was pleasantly surprised by how much has changed between you. He knew he ruined his chance with you, and he couldn't bring up the argument now, it's been too long, the damage was done. But if you didn't absolutely despise him for it, maybe that could be enough.

"Yeah, of course. I'm gonna shower, too. Go on and settle in." You grabbed a change of clothes and closed the bathroom door behind you.

Joel stood in the middle of your bedroom looking around. It was a small room, just a bed, one end table with an alarm clock, a hamper and a dresser. It wasn't much, but you somehow had made it feel like you. The framed pictures you had on your dresser from your college days were next to some random pieces of jewelry scattered across the top. He gently touched the intricate glass knobs on your dresser, the tip of his finger dipping into the grooves of the design.

The dresser must have been old, because the slight pressure from his finger caused the drawer to fall open a few inches. He moved to shut it when he noticed something bright red hidden under the clothes. He turned around to confirm you were still in the shower, hearing the water trickling on the tub floor. Curious, he dipped his hand inside to pull the item to the surface. It was a red lace thong, soft and delicate in his rough hands. His breath caught in his throat and his pulse raced as he felt all the blood in his body heading right to his cock. He shoved the underwear back down to the bottom of the drawer quickly when he heard the water shut off. He got into one side of the bed and bunched up the blankets to hide his growing erection.

You padded out of the bathroom, still towel drying your hair. Considering the cool fall nights, you had put on sleep pants and a long sleeve T-shirt. Your heart jumped in your chest, nothing preparing you for the visual of seeing this man in your bed. Deciding you needed to take a moment, you made an excuse about blowing the candles out and left the room. You scolded yourself as you walked around to snuff out each candle. That part of your life with him is over, you aren't here playing house, and he all but told you how he felt in his office that day.

Stop thinking about him like that.

You blew out the last candle and headed back to your bedroom.

You each laid on your respective sides of the bed, you on your side with your back to him, and him flat on his back staring at your ceiling. It was quiet outside, but you could hear the occasional growl or yell far in the distance, and once you heard a FEDRA truck rumble by your building.

“Joel?” you whispered in the dark after a while, not sure if he was asleep.

“Yeah?” he whispered back.

“What do you think these things are? Are they people anymore?” you asked, unsure how to phrase your question.

“I’m not sure, the soldiers didn’t tell us much, I ain’t sure they even know,” he replied. "But I think we gotta look at it like it’s us or them: we can’t hold back if we’re in danger, d’you understand?”

You nodded in the darkness. He meant you’ll need to do what it takes to survive, even if that meant killing them.

“Yes,” you whispered back finally, “I understand.”

“I’m not sure how many of them there are, maybe it’s not as bad as we think… maybe the military can kill ‘em all and we can go back to normal. We haven’t even seen one yet, so who knows,” Joel said, yawning at the end of his sentence. You remembered he hardly slept the night before, so you stopped talking in order to let him rest. You closed your eyes and dreamt of whiskey and spearmint.

You awoke with a start when you heard another FEDRA truck rumble slowly past your building, shining a huge spotlight into the window as it drove by. It was still dark out, unsure of the time since your alarm clock was digital. You felt surprisingly warm despite the cool fall night. You were about to reach down to pull a blanket off when you stopped. The heat wasn’t from the blanket, it was Joel.

He was pressed up against your back with his arm slung around your waist lightly, his face buried in your still slightly damp hair. You felt his breath as it exhaled on the back of your neck softly and you fought the urge to shiver at the sensation, worried it would wake him. You could tell by his breathing he was in a deep sleep, so you took a moment to just enjoy what could have been. You wondered in a different timeline, had the world not ended and he wouldn't have said those things to you in his office, if he would be in your apartment like this under other circumstances. You knew you told yourself to stop thinking like this, that it wasn’t important anymore, but you knew tomorrow would bring a new day of fear and who knows what else. Tonight, you were safe in your apartment. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let your guard down, just a little.

You closed your eyes and leaned back ever so slightly against Joel, careful about waking him up. You sighed softly as you envisioned what it would have been like to have brought him back to your apartment, maybe after getting drinks and seeing a movie together. You would both stumble into your apartment giggling, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in to kiss you as you would try to retreat backwards towards your bedroom door without breaking contact. Once you had him in your room, you would have run your hands up and down his torso, trying to get him to lift his shirt over his head. Maybe he would have gently pushed you back so you would land flat on your bed, watching him remove his shirt so you could finally see the rest of those strong arms and broad chest.

You wondered what you would have worn. Probably a dress, but not a work dress. Maybe the knee length cream dress with little flowers on it you kept tucked in the back of your closet, hardly ever finding an occasion to wear it. You definitely would have tried to surprise him with the red thong you kept hidden away, wondering what his reaction would have been when he ran his hands up your smooth legs under your dress and feeling the soft lace under his fingers.  Maybe he would have asked you to take your dress off and leave just the underwear on so he could see all of you in the moonlight shining through your window. Would he have pulled you down on his lap roughly, pinching your nipple and gripping the meaty part of your hip as he ground his hard cock up against your warm center, still covered with lace, teasing you? Or would he have taken his time, laid you down on the bed while he inched the thong down your legs, spreading them wide so he could see just how wet you were for him? Maybe he would have pressed your legs down on the bed while he licked the opening of your pulsing cunt, his angular nose nudging against your clit, over and over until you came screaming his name and your hands buried in his curls.

You forced your imagination to stop before you woke him up with your ragged breathing. You couldn’t relieve the pressure between your legs, anyway, since he had you caged in. All you could do was squirm a little bit, feeling the dampness that pooled in your underwear. Joel's arm shifted, probably because you were moving, so you froze while trying to calm your breathing. He sighed and gave his limbs a small stretch. The arm that was draped loosely over your waist tightened around you now, his large hand splayed against your ribs and shoved between your side and the mattress. You held your breath until you were sure he was still asleep, finally relaxing when his breathing evened back out again.

You weren't sure what tomorrow would bring, or even if you would both live. Tonight, you drifted off to sleep in his arms, making a mental note to put that guard back up tomorrow.

Joel woke up first the next morning, the pleasant floral scent of your shampoo invading his senses before he even opened his eyes. Keeping his eyes shut, he frowned, the memories of yesterday flooding back to him. It had been a long day and your bed was so warm, he resisted the urge to wake up just yet. He sighed, stretching out a little before he realized his hand was pinned between you and the bed. He opened his eyes for the first time and saw you curled up with your back against his chest, sleeping peacefully with your lips slightly parted. No, he was clutching you to his chest, he must have done it in his sleep. No wonder he slept like a rock.

He gently tried to unweave himself without waking you up, but he failed. You stirred just as his arm broke free, and he quickly put some space between you so his morning wood wasn't digging into your back anymore.

You stretched and yawned, stilling when you felt him shift beside you. Turning over on your other side to face him, you gave him a sleepy smile before stretching once again and got up to head towards the bathroom.

Once the door shut, Joel exhaled the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He gripped his hard cock over the blankets to try to make it go away enough to stand up. It wasn't until you had left the bathroom to go into the kitchen for some food that he finally stood, tucking the remainder of his erection into his waistband.

You had dug out some pop-tarts and cereal, eating it dry since the milk had likely gone bad by now. You both ate in silence leaning over the kitchen counter.

"What's the plan for today?" you asked between a handful of Cheerios.

"Well, I figure we can look around some of these open apartments for whatever else we can use. Pack up our bags and see if we can start headin' west." Joel replied, dusting his hands on the sides of his sweatpants.

You nodded, telling him you were going to get changed, leaving him in the kitchen alone. Joel wandered over to the window, peeking out through the curtains to see if there was any activity. He didn't see any movement, a good sign, but not a sure thing. Once you were changed, he swapped places with you and changed as well, then you headed out the door to loot your neighbor's apartments.

You were wandering around the apartment across the hall from you as Joel was digging through another closet to gather a few more items he could wear. The rooms were a mess, just like all of the other apartments, like everyone left in such a hurry: random drawers were left partially opened and clothes strewn around. You sauntered up to an end-table next to the couch in the living room and cracked opened a drawer with one finger, your bat lazily dangling in your other hand. You saw something shiny inside, so you opened the drawer all the way and pulled out a large and sharp hunting knife encased in a leather sheath.

You picked it up and made you way into the bedroom where Joel was now rummaging around in the adjoining bathroom, inspecting first aid supplies and pocketing what looked useful.

"I got you a present," you said, leaning against the doorframe. He turned to you, his hand briefly brushing against the keychain in his jeans pocket subconsciously as he stood up. You held out the knife, which he stepped forward and took.

"Hey, good find!" he said excitedly. "These bats'll only get us so far."

He placed the knife on the bathroom sink and began to undo his belt. Your eyes latched onto the movement, not expecting it. Feeling flustered, you swallowed nervously and you felt your cheeks get warm as you briefly replayed some of the thoughts you were having in the middle of the night, turning away before Joel noticed.

Once his belt was off, he threaded the sheath through the leather and ran the belt back through the loops of his jeans. Despite your efforts, he had noticed the blush that creeped along your cheeks. He smirked as he watched you exit the room and head towards the bedroom window.

You stood against the side of the window, resting your head against the frame and gazed outside. You thought you could hear something in the distance but you couldn't put your finger on what the sound was. You motioned for Joel to come over.

"What is that?" you asked. He shook his head, listening.

The noise was growing louder and sounded like growling and snarls. As it got closer, you could hear some screams interspersed with the growls. Joel must have seen something because he grabbed you by the shoulder and tugged you down to the ground, putting a finger against his lips. Quiet.

He peeked over the edge of the window just enough to see a huge mob of at least 50 infected ambling down the street mindlessly.

"Fuck," Joel whispered. He watched as he saw them stumble and drag their feet, hunched over with their mouths either hanging open or snapping at the air. Joel noticed most of them were covered in some amount of blood, either their own or someone else's.

As the noises got closer, you lifted your head up slightly to look down at the street, gasping and clamping both hands tightly over your mouth. You continued to stare as tears pricked the back of your eyes. You couldn't believe what you were seeing. This was so much worse than you had imagined.

The two of you could barely hear the roar of the trucks over the snarling as they approached from the opposite direction, FEDRA soldiers standing on the top and unloading endless amounts of bullets into the hoard of infected. You ducked down, but Joel kept watching. He saw how the bullets went right through them, barely flinching as they began to charge the soldiers angrily. The drivers threw the trucks into reverse before they were overrun, causing a couple soldiers on the top to lose their balance and fall into the hoard. The infected swarmed on top of the fallen soldiers, their shrieks muffled by growls and wheels squealing on the asphalt as they raced back down the street to safety, followed by the few hopeless infected that weren't tearing apart the soldiers on the ground.

He ducked back down under the window, panting heavily from the adrenaline. You were still hunched over with your mouth clamped shut under your hands, rocking on your heels with tears silently streaming down your face.

Joel leaned forward and wrapped you in his arms, pulling you against his chest. Neither of you said a word, you just sat there until the growls from the infected faded and they headed down the street. You stayed like that another ten minutes before you risked looking back out the window. Joel saw the pieces of soldiers that remained: mostly scraps of clothing, boots, a hand here or there, and the street filled with their dark red blood. He noticed a few infected that had died from the bullets. When he looked closer, he saw they all had a shot to the head. So there was a way to kill them.

Joel sighed. He sat up against the wall and rubbed his hands roughly over his face.

"A knife and a bat won't cut it, we need guns," he said to you. You sniffled and looked up at him.

"Where do we get guns?"

"My place. I got a few there. It's far though, deep in the city, near the office."

You felt your pulse return to normal now as you dried your tears on the sleeve of your T-shirt.

"Maybe the subway is clear? At least we would be off the street," you said.

"It's the only plan we got," Joel replied. He stood up to reach down and help you stand, and you quietly went back to your apartment.

Chapter Eight

[tortoisebore]

more than enough (aka hey, sharpshooter sequel) sneak peek 🤲

since i'm not posting any of this until it's all written and i have absolutely no idea when that will be, i wanted to give u all the first 1,700ish words of the first chapter of part 2 to hold us all over <3

Sirius was in a surprisingly good mood. 

He really shouldn’t be, all things considered. New York was at the tail end of a sweltering heat wave, for one—hot, humid August air rippled in wavy mirages off the streets, and the tiny window unit in his apartment didn’t do shit against the evening sun, and the bridge of his nose was still pink from a particularly long afternoon walk around Central Park last weekend, but nevertheless, he was in a very, very good mood. Maybe it was good karma finally coming back around, or the universe had woken up one morning and decided it was done fucking with him. After the shit show that had been his last semester of college—the entire eight months since January, really—he figured he deserved it. 

“Iced Americano for Sirius!”

He darted through the sullen little crowd assembled around the pickup counter as the barista slid his drink forward in a plastic to-go cup. He popped on a lid and grabbed a paper straw with practiced speed, maneuvered his way back to the entrance and called out a quick “thanks” as he threw his shoulder into the door and raced off in the direction of the museum. 

After graduation, he’d wormed his way into an internship at a modest little contemporary art museum tucked away on a shady street in the West Village. The pay was shit and the busy work was worse, but he’d been offered a full time apprenticeship after the intern contract expired, and since he wasn’t exactly in a position to be turning down jobs in the industry, he’d enthusiastically accepted. It would be a great first gig, if nothing else—he’d be working under a mid-level curator, sourcing pieces, filing paperwork, and arguing with estates over pricing and displays and whose name would be biggest on the programs. It wasn’t glamorous by any means, but it was real, and it would get his foot in the door of the curation world, and that’s what mattered. 

To close out the summer, the museum had been hosting guest seminars all week for the dozen or so interns on staff. Most were at least mildly interesting, but it was Friday, and Sirius had quite magnificent plans for the weekend, so he was putting a hell of a lot of faith in this singular iced Americano to pull him through the next two hours of the last seminar.

His usual coffee shop around the corner was rarely busy, but today he’d gotten stuck behind a group of suits each ordering individual lattes and ended up cutting it a bit closer on time than he'd have liked. He skipped up the flight of stone steps at the front of the museum and checked his phone—he had four entire minutes to spare, thank god—and was just about to tuck it back away when it began vibrating in his hand.

He glanced at it again, gave a happy little hum and threw open the lobby door as he answered.

“Oh, hello.” 

Remus gave a quiet little laugh on the other line, and oh, wasn’t that the most perfect little addition to an already especially wonderful afternoon? “Oh, hi,” he echoed. “You sound chipper.”

“Why, of course I do. It’s Friday afternoon and I have an ice cold coffee in my hand, Remus. The world is blossoming before my very eyes.” 

“Wow. Good day?” 

“Very. Yours?”

“Not a single complaint.”

Sirius hummed fondly. He slowed to a stop in the hallway outside the theater room, turning towards the wall so he wouldn’t be caught grinning to himself. “Are we turning into optimists?” 

Remus tutted. “God, I really hope not.”

Sirius bit back a smile, tapped the toe of his shoe against the marble baseboards and pulled his phone away from his ear just enough to check the time. “I truly do hate to cut this short, but you’ve got about two and a half minutes before I’m supposed to be in this seminar.”

He heard shuffling on the other line, a muffled curse, and then Remus’ voice came from further away. “Shit—it’s already three?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed around his straw. “Don’t tell me you’re about to be late to class, you heathen.”

“I forgot to set an alarm,” Remus huffed. “I keep severely underestimating how much time it’s going to take me to get through these global rhetoric readings.”

Sirius grimaced. “Hey, one more week, and then it’s goodbye, global rhetoric forever.”

“If the final doesn’t kill me first.”

“You’ll do great, you big old nerd,” Sirius chided. “I’ll help you study this weekend if you want. Run some flash cards, try some interrogation-style quizzing…”

“Interrogation style?” Remus repeated amusedly, his voice closer to the phone again.

“I’m thinking a good old-fashioned flashlight to the forehead might do the trick.”

“Depending on how the review goes today, I might just take you up on that.”

Sirius glanced behind him as a couple of the other interns wandered into the theater room, checking the time again to be safe. “You’re coming to me tonight, right?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be over after class,” Remus replied. Sirius heard some shuffling, then keys jingling in the background. “That’s actually why I wanted to try and catch you before your seminar—do you have anything to make at home or do you want me to grab something on the way?”

“Oh, my hero,” Sirius gushed. “Yes, please grab something—get whatever you want. I don’t care as long as I don’t have to attempt to cook anything.”

“Hey, you did really good with dinner last week,” Remus offered kindly. “I went back for seconds, remember?”

Sirius hummed a flat note. “You’re biased, darling. Your opinion can’t be trusted.” 

“I’d tell you if it was bad.”

“I really, really don’t think you would.” 

Remus hesitated. “I mean…well. Maybe not. But I definitely wouldn’t have gone back for seconds if it was that bad.”

“Well, it’s your turn next, and I’m expecting opulence after last time, Lupin. I want nothing short of fine dining.” 

“Oh, god,” Remus tutted. “I really should have done something easy and kept your expectations low.” 

“At this rate you’ll be a full fledged chef by Christmas.”

“Well, tonight you’re getting something cheap and most likely dumped out of a paper box. No opulence allowed on a Friday.”

“Deal,” Sirius smiled. He snuck another look into the theater room, spotted a deck of slides thrown up on the projector, and sighed reluctantly. “I have to get in there in the next twenty seconds.”

“Okay,” Remus sighed back. Sirius heard a door shut and lock and imagined he was leaving his apartment for class. “I’ll text you when I leave school.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Have fun,” Remus smiled. “Love you.”

Sirius’ stomach fluttered. He couldn’t believe it was still doing that, all these months later, but it was a surprisingly frequent occurrence these days. 

“Love you, too.”

He allowed himself five seconds to goon grin down at his phone after hanging up, to admire the newest in a lovely series of photos of the two of them he’d chosen for this week’s lock screen, and then turned on his heel and slipped into the theater room just as his supervisor began introducing the guest.

His usual seat in the second-to-last row was taken, so Sirius slid into one in the back with only a half-hearted little huff. If it were last month—last week, even—he might have put up a bit more of a fuss about losing his unassigned-assigned seat to a rando from the marketing team, but not today. No; today was Friday, Remus was bringing home something greasy and delicious for dinner, and Sirius couldn’t be bothered to be anything but ecstatic for the weekend. He took several long sips of his coffee when the slides at the front of the room flipped to a rundown of the talk—digital curatorial practices in contemporary media landscapes, how very tantalizing for a Friday afternoon—and settled in with a goal to stay at least a little awake for the next two hours.

The speaker—a short, middle-aged man with a vaguely northeastern accent—took off on his introduction, and something about the monotone drone of his voice sent Sirius drifting off into his thoughts nearly instantly. He fiddled with a chip on the back of his phone case for a moment before giving in and flipping it over. The photo from the weekend before waiting on the lock screen really was particularly swoon-worthy; what had started out as a double date picnic in Central Park with James and Lily had turned into an hours-long stroll around the reservoir that left Sirius and Lily sunburnt, James with an infuriatingly perfect tan, and Remus with about a hundred more freckles than he’d started the day with. The four of them had eventually parked it beneath the shade of a line of trees, sprawling out on the thin, brightly-colored woven blankets Lily had brought and savoring the warmth of the late evening sun. Sirius had been feeling especially fond, what with the smattering of new freckles dotted along the bridge of Remus’ nose, and the golden light of the sunset was practically glowing on his skin, so he’d tossed his phone to Lily and demanded she take a new photo for his lock screen. 

The impromptu little shoot had produced several pictures that Sirius loved—one of the adorable, disgruntled scrunch of Remus’ nose as Sirius coaxed him up from his lounging on the grass, another of him carefully pulling Sirius’ sunglasses off and perching them on the top of his head, and this one, his favorite, of himself raised on his knees, pressed up against Remus’ back with his arms thrown around his shoulders, pressing a smiley kiss to his cheekbone. Sirius studied the photo and recalled the warmth of Remus’ skin, the surprised, breathy little laugh he’d let loose and the feel of his hand slipping around the back of Sirius’ neck, tugging him forward and craning his head back to press one, then two quick kisses to his lips. 

A series of bright, fluttery feelings took off on a twirl somewhere beneath his ribs, pulsed warm and sugar sweet under his skin and made him bite back a smile. Sirius took a long, contented breath in and savored it. 

Not so long ago, these quiet little moments of fondness were few and far between. However much he’d tried to convince himself otherwise at the time, Sirius had spent a good chunk of the spring with a heavy pit of anxiety in his stomach, entirely positive that his and Remus’ relationship was one more unresolved, petty fight and a couple of strained silences away from shattering for good. They’d started it off strong, but that last semester in Boston was hard in ways that neither of them were prepared for.

[eddiexmunsonlover]

One Step Away From You (Chapter 7)

BSF!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

Follow my new blog for future chapters & fics @cherryxhaze

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Chapter Summary: You spend some much needed one-on-one time with Max, and celebrate Halloween with the Party. WC: 5.8k Warnings: MDNI as always. Explicit language. Talks about death, grief, trauma, depression, guilt, all the fun stuff. Brief run in with Jason and his lackies. Total idiots in love, mutual pining fest in here. We're helping Max heal this chapter <3 Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out, life has been lifing but I hope y'all enjoy it! I had fun writing this one. Taglist: @eddie-is-a-god @siriusmaraudeers

Friday, October 25th, 1985

The cool October night breeze caresses your skin as you step out the doors of Hawkins High, the excited chatter of the club members following behind you. When you hear quick steps approaching behind you, you turn to see Eddie fall in step next to you.

“So remind me again why you’re bailing on me for our only just recently reinstated Friday movie nights?” he questions, feigning offense. You scoff out a small laugh as you dig for your keys in your bag, approaching your truck parked next to his van.

“Because I already told you, I’m taking Max out to the drive-in.”

“Oh yeah, what movie are you gonna see?”

“They’re playing Silver Bullet tonight.”

“Oh man. Yeah, I’ve heard about that one. Looks really good, I’ve been really wanting to see it.” He leans against his van, putting on the dramatics and fake disappointment that you see right through, unable to stop the big smile from creeping onto your face as you watch his little show. 

“Oh is that so?” you tease, popping out your hip as you cross your arms, amusement written across your face.

“Come on. What, you think I’m gonna dampen your girl party?” 

You roll your eyes.

“Under any other circumstances, I’d insist you join along. But Max… she’s already been isolating herself enough as it is, anyone else being there would just close her walls right back up, you know? And I’m trying to bring those walls down so…” 

“Yeah, I get it. I’m only teasing. I hope you guys have a good time. Tell me if the movie's any good, yeah?” He offers you a soft smile, a smile you return that quickly turns into a smirk as you watch the younger boys approaching.

“Uh huh, you too” you respond, gesturing with your eyebrows as you unlock the door to your truck.

Eddie’s eyes follow yours behind him, shoulder’s quickly slumping at the sight and question he already knows is coming.

“Hey uh, you mind giving us a ride home?” you overhear Dustin ask as you start your engine, quickly leaving Eddie to fulfill the drop offs you’ve done countless times since the beginning of the semester.

You turn the knob on your radio through the channels of static till the sound of the opening credits come through your speakers. With a bag of popcorn and slushies set between you, you and Max settle against your clothed truck seats, focusing on the huge screen set out 100 feet away in the big field now filled to the brim with cars full of other teenagers seeking a scary late night flick. 

You let yourselves get pulled into the film, mindlessly funneling popcorn into your mouths between sips of cherry Icees. You find yourself wondering how to spark a deeper conversation with Max. As much as you don’t want to force her to open up, with each week that passes you’ve only grown more worried and concerned for her.

You’ve spent some brief time together since you moved back, giving her a ride here and there given her mom is always working, but this is the first extended time you’ve been able to spend together. As you’re lost in thought, the sound of her throat clearing from the seat next to you grabs your attention.

“Hey, I-uh, just want to say thanks. For bringing me. This is the first time I’ve gone out and done anything in a while, so…” She mutters almost shyly, hesitantly. You offer her a genuine smile that relaxes the tension in her body.

“Anytime, I’m glad you could join me. I’ve missed this, you know, our girl time.” You offer, pulling a smirk and eye roll from her. As your eyes move back to the movie, hers drift to examine your Hellfire shirt.

“Since when are you in Hellfire?” she asks curiously.

“Oh, well since last Friday. Once me and Eddie made up I decided to join.” You answer, shrugging nonchalantly as you look down and admire your new Hellfire shirt Eddie rushed to get made for you.

“Made up?” She prods with an eyebrow cocked.

“It’s a long story.” You answer dismissively as you shake your head, assuming she wouldn’t be interested.

“Oh, so you got to hear all the gossip about my relationship back in the summer but I don’t get to hear about yours?”

Your eyes widen as you look at her with a smirk, caught off-guard by the witty remark you always knew her for but haven’t seen much of in the last few weeks. 

“Eddie and I aren’t in a relationship. We’re just friends, Max.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious!”

“Well, I still wanna know the juicy details of the ‘making up’ you two did.” She insists, crossing her arms across her chest as she settles further into the passenger seat of your truck. 

You scoff out a mix between a laugh and a groan before letting your eyes survey her again.

“There’s no ‘juicy’ details, not that I’d tell you if there was anyway.” You emphasize before continuing, “We just have always been best friends, ever since I first moved to Hawkins. We got close pretty quickly. But then I moved back to Virginia and…”

“And?”

“I um, I stopped talking to him. Stopped returning his calls.” You answer with a sigh, meeting her blue eyes as they begin to reflect a knowing feeling.

“Why?”

“It was just too painful to deal with, to hear his voice, to be reminded of the loss that came with the move. It’s like, being so overcome with that pain that you just avoid everyone, let alone that person that it’s attached to. Sometimes it just feels easier to be alone in your pain.” You end with a shrug despite knowing how true some of that may ring for her too.

She pulls her eyes from you to the sweating cup of slushie in her hands as she nods briefly.

“Yeah, I get that.” Is all she offers in the moment. You let a few seconds pass by before you continue.

“I mean I ended up regretting it but, it was just too easy to get stuck in the pain and then the anxiety, you know. I never spoke to him again till I just moved back. We had some brief hurdles to overcome but, we talked things out and we’ve been able to start our friendship again.”

She nods again, briefly lifting her eyes to meet yours again with a forced smile before turning her gaze to the movie.

“I’m glad you guys worked things out.”

“Yeah, me too.” you mutter softly as you turn your own gaze back to the movie.

Part of you is hoping this is a small step in the right direction. Hoping that Max takes the fact that you can somewhat understand how she’s feeling, what she’s going through as a sign you’re a safe space for her. Someone she can open up to and who will actually understand. 

Opening up about your own experience with Eddie, and your struggle with depression and isolation is your first step, initiating the bigger conversation with Max in a way. So you leave it at that, leaving it to her to decide what she wants to do with it as you attempt to get yourself back into the film you can tell you’ve already lost key information in due to your conversation.

The drive back to Forest Hills is silent besides the sound of the breeze blowing through the cracked windows and your joined hums along to the Kate Bush Hounds of Love cassette playing through the speakers. You pull into your driveway close to 11pm, turning to Max with an almost shy smile as you shift into park. 

“Did you have a good time?” You ask with a hint of nervousness as you search her face and body language. She leans forward in the seat, nodding her head gently.

“Yeah, thanks again.” She reassures you. You remove your keys from the ignition, but stop yourself from opening your door and getting out when you notice her hand hesitating on the door handle.

“Hey, what’s up?” you ask, voice soft. Her body leans back slightly, but her eyes still refuse to lift from the floor of your truck to your eyes.

“What you told me earlier about you and Eddie. I just- I know how you felt.”

“I know, sweetie.” You reply with a sigh, leaning back into your own seat. When her eyes look up to meet yours, you elaborate. “That’s why I told you. So you’d know I understand. I won’t lie and say I completely know everything you’re probably going through, but I do know some of it and... I just hope you know I’m always here, no judgment.”

She takes your words in and lets them settle, staring down at her fidgeting hands as she musters together the courage to let you in, like she had so easily before all summer. But this is different.

“I just… I feel so guilty. I can’t escape that night, that image of Billy, even in my dreams. He-He sacrificed himself for me and I just…watched.” You listen to her intently, giving her the space to say all she wants before you speak up.

“I understand why you feel that way. I still get flashbacks and nightmares of that night sometimes too.”

“You do?” 

“Of course. Living through something like that, it’s gonna stick with us. And that guilt part? That’s normal too, there's even a name for it. Survivor’s guilt. You blame yourself for what happened, maybe you even wish it happened to you instead. But you are not to blame, Max. None of that was your fault.”

“Still, I just stood there and watched, I was frozen. Maybe I could have done something, maybe I could have helped.” She stutters out, pain and frustration sketched across her face. Your heart breaks at the sight, at seeing her carry all the responsibility for what happened on her shoulders, weighing her down for months.

“I hear you. I know it’s frustrating, eating you up. You’re mad at yourself, wishing you could change what happened. Have you ever heard of fight or flight?” When she nods, you keep going. “Well, that’s not all there is to it. Freezing is also a very normal reaction to something traumatic. You didn’t have a choice, your nervous system decided for you.”

She looks at you, wiping a tear as it falls from her eyes.

“Really? You're not just making that up to make me feel better, right?”

You shake your head in reassurance, both taking a deep breath against heavy chests with the weight of the pain.

“I was there with you too, Max. It all happened so fast, even if we hadn’t frozen… there’s nothing we could have done.” 

Flashbacks hit you as you speak, seeing Billy get trapped under falling pillars and rubble from the mall fire, and his instant death from the crushing weight. Rubble that would���ve fallen on Max. 

She reluctantly shakes her head in agreement as you finish, the same memories flashing through her mind, knowing you’re right. Beginning to let herself believe it. Letting you chip away at the weight she’s been carrying, letting herself feel the small relief that comes with it.

“I know you’re right. It’s been hard to try to convince myself of it but… hearing it from you too. It helps. That’s not all of it though… I think about how much I hated him, all the thoughts I had about him. I’d lay in bed at night and wish something bad would happen to him.” She whispers, shame bleeding through her words.

“Max” you breathe out in empathy at her confession, reaching out to grab and squeeze her hand, pulling her attention back to you. “Wanting someone who did nothing but torment you out of your life does not make you a bad person, and it doesn’t make you responsible for what happened to him, either. Billy was not a good person, but everyday I am so grateful he had enough good left in him to save you. Because you are good and you deserve to forgive yourself, hun.”

You pour your heart into every word, staring intently into her blue eyes as tears now freely stream from them and fill your own waterline. You see her breath stuttering in her chest before she throws her arms around you, both quickly closing the space between as you embrace each other.

“You are so loved, Max Mayfield. Don’t you ever forget that.” You mutter out the words you know she needs to hear. You know the dark place the guilt, shame, and trauma have taken her too well. You hold her for a minute until you feel her arms begin to slip from you. As she comes back into your vision, an idea hits you.

“I know something else that might help. Why don’t you write him a letter?” She looks at you in slight confusion, so you push further. “I’m serious! Write him a letter with everything you want to say to him, what you’ve been holding in. Go to his grave and read it out loud like you're actually saying it to him, let it all out. And then, burn it, bury it, I don’t care. As long as you get rid of it in some way. Say what you want to say to him, and then let it go.”

She considers your words for a moment before she nods.

“Yeah, that actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“I’ll even take you, I’ll stay in the truck the whole time too. You just let me know, okay?” You offer, voice soaked in sincerity.

She’s quiet sitting there, lost in thought as she fidgets with her zipper. After a moment, you hear her voice quietly croak out.

“I wish you were my sister.”

It’s a whisper, a nervous confession you could’ve easily missed had all of your attention not already been on her. You greet her with a smile as she chances a look from her hands to your face, wiping the fallen tears on her cheeks with her jacket sleeves.

“We may not be blood, but I’ll be your older sister for as long as you’ll have me.”

When she returns your small smile, you raise your hand in front of you, pinky finger extended. A short giggle at the lighthearted childishness of it escapes her mouth before she wraps her pinky around yours. 

Soft smiles, dried tear stains, and a promise to always be there for her.

Thursday, October 31st, 1985

Halloween Night

You examine yourself in your vanity mirror, fluffing your hair you spent nearly an hour on to make sure it’s perfect. Purple eyeshadow matching your purple dress, sharp winged eyeliner. You smile at yourself, hands following the way your dress accentuates your wide hips before flowing out around your thick thighs. Looking down at your high heels, you wish you’d picked a different character to dress up as, already foreseeing the pain your feet would be in at the end of the night.

With a sigh, one final look over in the mirror, and the clock nearing the time of the scheduled meet-up with your friends, you turn off your lights and close your bedroom door.

“Don’t you look cute!” your mother exclaims as you enter the living room, hands covering her cheeks as she gushes over you. You bashfully roll your eyes but share a big smile with her.

“You like it? It looks good?” You ask with your arms spread out, giving a little twirl.

“You look beautiful, honey. I wish you’d dress like this more often!” You stop yourself from giving a less than bashful eye roll this time, but can’t deny that you feel and look good in this dress. 

“Don’t stay out too late, it’s still a school night!” She gives you a kiss on the cheek as you part, you give her the reassurance you’ll be back before 11 as you head out the front door. 

The sound of your heels clapping against the cement fills the silence of the neighborhood as you begin crossing the road toward Eddie’s trailer. Your head shoots up when you hear a low whistle, eyes landing on Eddie as he sits on his porch steps with a smug grin on his face.

“My, my, my. Look at you.” he mutters, observing you as you approach. The darkness of the night casting a shadow over him to hide the way his eyes rake over your exposed thighs, dress swishing against them with each step. He hasn’t seen you in a dress since you were kids and your mom had more control over your outfit choices. Seeing you now, he thinks it’s one thing he might take your mom’s side on, you need to add more dresses to your wardrobe.

“Yeah, yeah. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“You know what, I think that’s a fantastic idea. Bring a camera?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, slapping him on the shoulder as you stand beside him.

“What?! You look nice. I can’t tell my best friend she looks nice?”

“Whatever you say, Munson. Besides, you know your pants are supposed to be khaki right? Or atleast brown!” You tease as you pull at a loose string around the knee of his ripped black jeans.

“Hey, at least I got the shirt right.” He retorts as he points at his green shirt, literally the only item of clothing he's sporting to mimic his character. 

Both your heads turn at the sound of feet approaching. You smile at the sight of your red-headed younger friend. Ever since that night at the drive-in, that Sunday when you gave her a ride to Billy’s grave, she’s slowly started coming back around the party again, beginning to let everyone back in and you couldn’t be happier. You wrap your arms around her for a quick hug as she joins you and Eddie.

“I’m so happy you came!” you beam, pulling a laugh from her as you move your bodies side to side in the embrace.

“You look good.” She remarks with a quirked eyebrow as you part.

“Thanks, Red.” 

Eddie stands up from the porch steps during your greeting.

“Nice to officially meet you, Mad Max. Who are you supposed to be anyway?” He asks, both of you examining her outfit.

“Dr. Sarah Bowman from Day of the Dead. Already had everything I needed for it in my closet.” She answers with a shrug, gaining a nod of approval from both of you.

“Well, we ready to get this party started?” He asks, dangling the keys to his van from his fingers. 

With that, the three of you load into Eddie’s van and head to pick up the boys before going to the final meeting place of Steve’s house. Steve ensuring all of you his neighborhood is the best trick or treating spot in town. Full of well-off families who give out full-sized candy bars.

When you pull up to the end of Mike’s driveway to pick up the three boys, your eyes widen and mouth drops open in disbelief at the sight of Dustin. While Mike dressed up as the Hulk, Lucas as Indiana Jones, you can't believe your eyes when you see Dustin clad with dog ears, a tail, and collar.

“No fucking way.” you laugh out in disbelief.

“What? You can’t have the gang without Scooby!”

You and Eddie try to bite back your chuckles, shaking your heads at the sight.

“Oh, I can’t wait till Steve sees this.”

“Just get in the van.” Eddie finally gets out between bits of laughter, cheeks turning red.

“See? We’ve even got the Mystery Machine van too, only thing missing was me.”

When Eddie and you share a glance, it only sends you into another bout of laughter as he shifts into drive, rolling out of the neighborhood toward Steve’s.

When Steve’s door opens to reveal him in full Fred get-up, with Robin next to him as Velma you smile brightly, the costumes suiting them both so well.

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me” Steve exhales at the sight of Dustin who only greets him with his ‘pearly whites’.

“I had nothing to do with this” you claim defensively, hands up as you approach Steve and Robin, the latter’s face adorned with a shit-eating grin. When Steve sees it, the hands go on the hips.

“Rob- Seriously?”

“What? What are we just gonna have Shaggy, Daphne, Fred, Velma and no Scooby?”

“That’s what I said!” Dustin interjects in agreement.

“I can’t believe this” he mutters.

“I have to admit, you showed some great ingenuity with the costume, though.” Eddie adds amid Steve’s groans. When his eyebrows shoot up in response, looking at Eddie in disbelief, he retorts. “What? The kid’s creative, what can I say?”

“Thank you” Dustin finishes with a smug smile.

“We all look great, okay? Now, we gonna take these rich folks for all they’ve got or what?” You press, pushing everyone to begin the trek down the streets of Steve’s neighborhood, younger kids taking the lead.

Only a few houses in, the streets are littered with kids and teens in costumes. You talk amongst yourselves, commenting on your favorites and the craftiness of a few of the ones you see.

You’re filled with warmth watching the younger teens walking ahead, watching Max let herself come back out of her shell. You don’t miss the shy glances shared between her and Lucas either, smiling at the sight. While Eddie and Robin are deep in conversation about band, Steve falls in step next to you, sharing your gaze ahead.

“That’s cute” he remarks watching the two. “How did you manage that?”

“I don’t know, just told her what she needed to hear I guess.”

He peeks a glance toward Robin and Eddie before leaning closer to you.

“So, when are you and Eddie finally gonna get your head out of your asses and get together?”

You stagger in your step, taken aback as you look at him like he just spawned a second head.

“What?” Is all you can scoff out.

“Oh come on.” he remarks, hands in his pockets as he saunters down the sidewalk before he leans closer once again, “You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

You roll your eyes at him, but the warmth filling your cheeks and smile tugging at your lips gives you away.

“Is it that obvious?” you whisper worriedly.

You two stop at the end of a walkway to a house as the rest of the group goes to the front door.

“Well to me and Robin, yeah. But obviously not to him.” 

You watch as they begin their walk back towards you, admiring the smile on Eddie’s face while amongst conversation with the kids. 

“He doesn’t see me like that. I’m just his best friend.” You decide with a sigh, slightly shaking your head before looking back up to Steve who’s observing you with a sympathetic smile.

“Are you kidding? He’d be crazy not to, you’re a total catch.” he says, playfully bumping your hip with his. 

“Thanks, Stevie.”

Eddie’s smile falters slightly as they approach, catching sight of you and Steve standing there staring and smiling at each other. Being dressed as Fred and Daphne, a couple, doesn’t help either. He doesn’t believe you’d have any reason to lie to him that you don’t like Steve as more than a friend, but as he eyes the way Steve smiles at you, the ping of jealousy in his chest tells him he’s not too sure Steve’s on the same page. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, maybe it’s the way Steve’s playful with you like he is, and Eddie knows the deeper feelings that underlie his own teasing nature with you.

When your breath-taking smile turns to him, those thoughts falter slightly and he can’t help but flash his dimples right back at you.

“You know you’re sharing some of that loot with me, right?” You ask him, bumping his shoulder as he falls in step next to you as you continue your walk through the neighborhood.

“Psh, I’ve worked hard for this. Should’ve brought your own pillowcase and ring some doorbells if you wanted some candy.” He smirks at you, dark eyes glimmering in the night.

“Uh huh, you’re all talk, Munson. We both know by the end of the night half that bag is coming home with me.”

“Hmph, well I suggest you start putting in the work if you want some of this sugar.” 

The thoughts that immediately run through your head from his teasing remark make your cheeks flush and send a jolt right to your core. You squeeze your thighs together as you walk, attempting to push the sensation away. Thoughts and feelings like this about Eddie are reserved for late nights in your room. As much as you tell yourself it’s wrong, it’s getting harder and harder to resist. The way he teases you doesn’t help either.

The slowly intensifying, pounding pain and soreness from your feet in the cramped purple high heels is a welcomed distracting sensation. You groan softly to yourself as you look around and realize you’re only halfway through Steve’s neighborhood. A glance toward Robin’s red sneakers solidifies your decision that you should’ve followed her steps, switching out the character’s heels for much comfier shoes. 

You look around your group of friends and decide to say fuck it and suck it up. It’s your favorite holiday and you’re with your favorite people, you’re gonna enjoy it despite the pain in your feet and unwelcomed bodily sensations Eddie’s words and looks are striking into you.

As you continue through Steve’s neighborhood, joining in the trick or treating activities despite the few sideways glances from homeowners you earn as teenagers asking for candy, you’re reminded of all the things that make Halloween your favorite.

The cool autumn air.

The changing colors of the leaves that have begun to adorn the streets and sidewalks.

The costumes; from scary to funny, store bought to homemade.

The decorations; glowing orange pumpkins with an array of designs carved into them, orange and purple lights hung along the porches, scarecrows and ghosts littered amongst the lawns.

The slasher films waiting to be watched at home while eating the mountain of candy earned from knocking on your neighbors doors.

The way Dustin takes every chance he can get to say “Ruh roh Raggy”, and the way you and Eddie can’t stop yourselves from giggling every single time. 

You breathe it all in, grounding yourself in this shared moment with your friends you’ll never forget, a permanent smile settling in on your face for the night.

A smile that not even Jason and his idiot friends can stop from creasing your round cheeks. You’re so consumed living in the moment that you don’t even notice them until you hear a loud

“Hey!” Both you and Eddie’s heads turn and spot them across the street, but refuse to let your strides falter.

“Look guys, it’s the Freaks Inc. gang!” he booms, buddies bending over in laughter as they watch your group.

“Pfft, what a tool.” Steve remarks with a scoff, shaking his head as he fixes his gaze away from them and forward, unbothered. Grateful to no longer be grouped with people like him.

When you feel yourself begin to bump into the younger boys whose steps have staggered and attention drawn to the insult, you gently nudge them forward. Muttering a “Keep going, I’ve got this.”

You should just ignore them, not even give them the slither of attention or acknowledgement they’re so desperate for, but you just can’t help yourself. Not when an opportunity arises to burst their egotistical bubble. 

Ever since you and Eddie’s altercation with Jason a month ago, him and his friends have generally left the club alone, not directly confronting any of you. Traded insults with his friends when any of you would walk by, sure, but to be fair the threat you gave him only pertained to if he ever put his hands on any of you again. Anything else is fair game, and it’s a game you have no problem playing. 

You quickly eye him and his costume. He-Man. It’s a nice costume too, nearly identical to the show. Easy when you have Daddy’s money to pay for it. 

“Nice He-Man costume, Jason. Looks like you’re having a bit of trouble filling it out though, huh? Tsk, what a shame.” you say sarcastically, feigning a pouty face with a shrug before your smile returns, rolling your eyes at them as you draw your attention back to your friends. Continuing your walk down the street unphased.

You see Eddie staring at you from the corner of your eye. When you look at him, he’s looking down at you in a mix of endearment, pride, and amazement.

“What? He deserves to get knocked down a peg. Should keep his mouth shut next time.”

“Agreed.” Steve declares from the other side of Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a tight side hug as you walk down the street. You let him, resisting the urge to bury your face and body into his side, his warmth, when his grip lightens and falls from your arm.

After another half hour of knocking on doors, you’re nearly done sweeping through Steve’s neighborhood, his house and Eddie’s van coming back into sight as you approach the last couple of houses. If it wasn’t for already going to every house in the neighborhood, the boys' complaints about how heavy their bags have gotten with candy is signaling the end of the night.

You stand with Eddie at the end of the walkways to the last few houses as the rest get the last of the candy for the night. He catches your eye when he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a rolled joint and a lighter. Just before he lights it, your laugh grabs his attention.

“Really, Eddie? In the middle of this uppity neighborhood?”

“What? I’m only being in character.” He laughs out, only to have you meet him with raised brows and a smirk. “Shaggy and Scooby are stoners and that’s a fact. Constantly having the munchies? I mean, HELLO!”

“You’re so dumb” you jest playfully as you resume your slow stride on the sidewalk.

“Well, you know what they say. Birds of a feather flock together.” He breathes out, keeping in step next to you.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh really? How’s about I push your ass down this hill right here?” you tease, gesturing toward the down sloped hill between the houses as you pass.

“Pfft, I’d like to see you try.” he scoffs, playing unphased despite the wide grin on his face.

“Your skinny ass will go flying, right down into that drop off in the woods. Lost forever. Such a tragedy. Some say he's still tumbling to this day.” you sigh dramatically, earning a short but loud laugh from him.

“Uh huh. Well I’m pretty quick on my feet if I do say so myself, and I don’t think you’ll be getting too far in those heels.” he retorts, pointing down to the heels that have made your feet numb at this point.

“Well you see, there’s this concept called taking them off?” You tease, bumping your body against his. “I could outrun you.”

The rest of your friends at the last house on the route are forgotten behind you as you near Steve’s.

“That so?”

“Mhmm.” you state simply, arms crossed against your chest and head held high.

“Say, you still ticklish around… here”

You squeal at the quick flicker of his fingers at the side of your waist, jumping away from him. You take wary steps backward as you move in front of him, hands slightly held out.

“You can outrun me, huh? Wanna test that?” he pushes, creeping closer to you with a mischievous smirk and sparkle in his eye. You’ve known him long enough to know he’s about to make you eat your words.

A quick flinch towards you sends you scurrying. With no chance to take off your heels, your strides are stifled as you run the short distance to Steve’s driveway as quickly as you can. Eddie follows closely behind, tickling your sensitive sides every chance he can get, giggling maniacally when it falters your steps as you flinch away. 

Everyone else on the street probably thinks you’re crazy, freaks. You aren’t paying them any attention anyway as the smile on your face begins hurting your cheeks, eyes zeroing in on Eddie’s van a few short paces away.

You throw yourself against it, but Eddie’s relentless. Going for both your sides at the same time as you turn around to face him, sending you into a fit of giggles as you feebly attempt to push him away.

You see your opportunity and quickly jab your fingers into his armpits, sending him back with a flinch and a chuckle. He gives up, leaning back against the van next to you as you both laugh between attempts to catch your breath.

You playfully smack his arm, earning a fake “Ouch” and one of the biggest smiles you’ve ever seen adorn his beautiful face.

“You asshole, Eddie-Bo-Beddie” you tease, emphasizing the pronunciation of your favorite personal nickname for him that he’s always claimed to hate. In truth, he loves it.

“Alright, alright. How’s about I share half my loot to make it up to you, what do you say?” he teases back with the plan you both knew was already going to happen anyway.

“Oh my god” you groan and roll your eyes, only making him to laugh more as you push yourself off the van with the rest of your friends quickly approaching.

“Ugh, they make me sick. I wish they’d just kiss already and get it over with.” Robin mumbles to Steve, pulling a laugh from him as he nods in agreement, watching the show you two have put on.

“Tell me about it.”

With both yours and the younger members of the party’s curfews approaching, you say your goodbyes to Robin and Steve. Embracing them both with tight hugs before piling into Eddie’s van.

Riding down the empty streets of Hawkins with the van windows cracked, the cool air a welcomed sensation against your warm cheeks. The smile never fading from your lips as the sounds of Metallica playing low through the van speakers and the chatter from the kids in the back fill your ears. Your head leaning back against the passenger seat headrest rolls to spare a glance to Eddie. His eyes meet yours, mimicking your smile and sending a shock wave right to your heart.

You make me feel like I am young again.

You sigh in content as you face the winding roads again, deciding this year just might be your favorite Halloween yet.

[mercy-burning]

We’re Really Gone

Mercy’s Ficmas 2024 | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: You wake up New Year's morning next to your boyfriend, realizing that once you leave, you'll be gone for good. Based on the song "gone" by VÉRITÉ. Category: Angst Content: breakup, crying, no explicit smut but it's heavily implied. Word Count: 1.3k

If you know me at all then you know that VÉRITÉ is easily my favorite artist at the moment. She has been for a while. This song came up on shuffle on my way home from Target on Black Friday, and between the gray snowy skies and the empty road I was on, immediately I had a vision and a feeling, and the closing chapter to Ficmas was here, in a messy, mournful little bow (even if it's one of the first ones you're getting...just work with me here LMAO) . I hope you've enjoyed your holiday! I love and appreciate you more than you know <3 Happy New Year!

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

It's not a surprise that the bedroom is dark when I open my eyes. I don't want to open them, but once I realize that he's still beside me, probably asleep, I know it's safe.

Still, it doesn't ease the dread I feel deep in my gut as my vision adjusts to the dark. Blue hues fizzle in around me as Spencer's shape starts to define, his features slowly fading into view. I'm surprised that he's facing me, to tell you the truth. At some point during the night, I would have imagined he'd finalize our end with the metaphoric turning of the back. In some twisted way, it might have been easier to get through this morning that way— not having to face him. But nothing in my life has ever been easy, so why should this be any different?

I don't want to lose him, anyway. I will, that much is certain, but if I can prolong it by committing his peaceful, resting features to memory as the last worry-free moment we share, then maybe it won't hurt as much in the end.

Please don't let that be wishful thinking, I plead in my head, over and over like a prayer. It's hard to imagine what I might find in his eyes when he finally wakes up, though it also occurs to me that he might wake up and refuse to look at me, pretending to sleep until I give up and just leave. Perhaps this is just as hard on him as it is on me...

A quick flashback of the blank look on his face as I came undone underneath him the night before, his name a hushed and desperate longing for redemption on my lips, makes my blood run cold; He didn't even enjoy himself. Last night was merely a formality to him, a parting of ways to leave me satisfied one last time. Whether or not he knows if it worked, I'm positive now—as I regain my memories of the last couple of hours— that he doesn't care. I remember now feeling it in every touch. Where he once was so careful and meticulous, last night he was lifeless. Not necessarily rough and unforgiving, but... indifferent. Talented and mission-oriented still, but that's all it had been— A task.

Still, as I watch him sleep soundly, I pretend that there had been some residual love resting there in our atmosphere amongst the indifference. It's the only way to keep me from bolting in shame.

At least, for now, I have this peace. This quiet and calm. In sleep, Spencer isn't indifferent. In sleep, he is here, with me. He is warm and present and not yet haunting. Here, in sleep, he is mine.

I resist the urge to reach out for him like I always have. I don't want to wake him and risk losing his warmth, though I long to feel it in full force, even if for a second or two. I try to recall his hands on my skin, hot and electric even in emotional stasis, and tears prick the back of my eyelids.

He shouldn't see me like this. I should leave. But I can't. I'm too selfish.

I suppose that's always been the problem.

Our last big fight before last night's events had been unresolved. I let him go to bed angry, too stubborn to apologize, and for days we just... fizzled. At first it wasn't cause for concern; unfortunately it had become routine for us after an argument to just ignore each other for a while until we became too restless, settling for a resolution through tongues and limbs and sheets. Sometimes a hot shower. But our cold shoulders only lasted a day before then.

This time it was three.

Part of me wonders if he wanted to hold on until the end of the year. It wouldn't surprise me. As much of a romantic as he is, I wouldn't put it past Spencer to have made this some sort of symbolic "final act" before purging himself of me entirely, leaving me behind in his past and using the New Year to look forward.

Part of me also wonders, though, if maybe I'm just that cynical.

He stirs beside me then, nearly startling me. My heart leaps out of my chest and catches in my throat. I'm forced to hold my breath, and I can't bring myself to close my eyes.

This is it. It's happening.

Spencer's eyes are warm and soft for a brief moment in time as he registers the face in front of him. My features seem to take a moment to fade into clear view, because once they do, that warmth is simply gone.

I almost start to cry. My breath hitches.

"You didn't leave yet," he says. A curious observation.

"I will... But I don't want to... Not yet."

I want to hold on just a little longer, I tell him with my eyes.

He blinks slowly and somberly. I understand.

When my knuckles brush his, he merely holds still, not reciprocating my search for cold comfort. He's already gone, yet he allows me to stay. He doesn't even look at me like he pities me. He just looks tired, which breaks my heart considering we'd just slept for hours.

I'd done that to him.

Hot pressure forms behind my eyes, and with a harsh blink, the floodgates open.

Tears fall silently down my face as I squeeze Spencer's hand. He lays there and watches me cry, and I feel miserable. I should have just left.

But I didn't.

I should have fought for him, but I didn't. I should have admitted that I was stubborn and wrong and sorry, but I didn't. Slowly but surely, I was getting spoiled thinking we could cure every problem with a kiss. I took advantage of his forgiveness one too many times, and now I'm paying the price as he watches me.

Eventually, I tire, too. My face is hot and my hand is sore from gripping his so harshly. The room has brightened a little more, but it's still quite purple and hazy. It's probably not even 6AM yet. The sun is rising, and yet I feel like I'm being drained of all my life force.

But then, after a few beats of solemn silence between us, I can finally speak.

I whisper it, afraid I might hurt him otherwise. In every other aspect of our relationship, I've been loud. My loving him was aggressive and possessive, my opinions brash and my expectations bold.

After all of that intensity, he deserves a little sweetness.

"Okay."

The word dismisses him— dismisses us. It built a lot of courage for me to muster it, but it had to be done.

Spencer doesn't say a word as he peels the covers away from his body and rolls over, breaking the spell, and my heart, in the process.

As he pads off to the bathroom and takes his warmth with him, I let go of a long, unsteady breath and follow suit, feeling soreness in every limb as I dress.

My legs shuffle heavily towards the door, miscellaneous belongings in hand, and that's when I hear the bathroom door open.

I know I should turn around and say it to his face, but... once a coward, always a coward, I suppose.

Still, for all the weakness and dread that overwhelms my bones, I tell him over my shoulder with sincere strength, "I'm sorry, Spencer."

I'm not even sure he'll respond. But he doesn't have to. He deserves to hear it from me at least once before we part. Not that it will do much, but I feel guilty all the same.

My hand twists the doorknob, and just as I'm about to close the door behind me, I barely hear his voice, warm and gentle as ever.

"I'm sorry, too."

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

Love I should've warned you I'm a stick of dynamite Threat of explosion Constantly strapped to your side

'Cause I'm afraid of losing Everything I'm ruining There's no getting used to The quiet you're leaving Is louder than screaming

So leave the clothes and mess we made up all on the floor 'Cause when we put them on we're not in love anymore 'Cause I know when we go, we're really gone

--VÉRITÉ, Gone

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (03)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n; new chapter !! also added navigation and some lists to my profile where you can find right here &lt;3 you can find my masterlist, idea/wip dump, a link to my ask box where you can send in thots, requests and even comments; alongside my ao3 ^^

hope you all enjoy this chapter and lmk if you can guess which korean web series one of the scenes are from 👀

hint: it involves a certain kpop group

it was the beginning of fall when your family moved to daegu.

though it wasn’t a big or dramatic move, since you’re moving from the big city to a smaller town in the same province, it was still big to you because it was your first moving experience.

you vividly remember watching the colored leaves fall from the branches and onto the pavement, being stepped on by pedestrians and you imagined they made those ‘crunch’ noises as depicted by the many cartoons you’ve watched.

you were only 5 years old.

“___, are you excited to see our new home?” your mother asked from the passenger seat, turning to see you kneeling on the backseat, admiring the outside view. you turned to her with a big smile, letting out an excited ‘mm!’.

smiling at your enthusiasm, your mother turned to your father who was driving; reaching out her hand and placing it over your father’s resting on the armrest of the car. “do you think she’ll like the place?”

intertwining his fingers with hers, your father gave your mother’s hand an assuring squeeze, “i’m sure she will,” he spoke, “if she doesn’t, we’ll just have to hope it grows on her.”

your mother laughs at your father’s statement; at the same time hoping that it wouldn’t come to that.

the car stops in front of a white double-story terrace house. the second floor had been extended into a balcony and you notice the few familiar plants from your previous house put on display. half of the wall on the outside of the second story was an exposed brick wall, which adds a little bit of red-orange aesthetic to the full white design of the house. the ground level had a black gate, with two front doors in the same colour with floor-to-ceiling tinted windows.

getting out of the car, you ran up to the gates, attempting to climb them before your mother rushed over and picked you up. “sweetie, that’s dangerous!” she pointed out, a frown on her face.

your father was at the boot of the car, stacking two of the many boxes together before making his way to the gates. “honey, the keys are in my back pocket, could you get it?” reaching out a hand into your father’s pocket and fishing out the keys. unlocking the gates and the front door, your mother placed you down on the ground to help your father with the boxes while you decide to explore the interior of the house.

running up the stairs to the second story of the house, there were three gray colored doors. being a curious child, of course you went through all three of them. you opened the first door that revealed the master bedroom, which of course is going to be occupied by your parents. the second door lead to a bathroom; and when you reached the third door - a pink sign was hung on the door with your name written on it.

pushing the door open, the first thing you noticed was a pink bed tucked nicely in one corner of the room. across it was a white study table with a few trinkets decorating the surface, followed by a wooden closet right next to it. at the foot of your bed stood a similar level bookshelf, filled with all your favorite books and coloring books; alongside some of your plush toys.

“do you like it, babygirl?” came your father’s voice from behind you. whirling around and flashing him a big smile, you excitedly nod your head as he crouched down to your level, giving your hair a ruffle.

“i’m glad you do.”

he then proceeded to pick you up and placed you over his shoulder, legs hanging over his shoulders. “daddy!” you squealed, giggling as he gave you a piggyback ride.

“honey! ___!” your mother called out, “come meet our neighbours!”

you stared down at the young boy from your father’s shoulder while he stared back up at you.

as your father sets you down from his shoulder, the roles switched; you’re now staring up at the boy while he stares down at you.

seeing how the staring contest would not end anytime soon, your mother placed her hands on your shoulders, introducing you to the young boy and the woman standing next to him who you deduced to be his mother.

“my, what an intense staring contest,” she chuckled. “we’re the lees’! that’s my husband, and this is ___, my daughter.”

“intense, indeed,” the woman chuckled. “we’re the chois’. it’s nice to meet you, ___. this boy here is seungcheol, my son. my husband’s out back dealing with the garden.”

she then looked down at seungcheol, lightly patting his shoulders, “cheol, did you bring what i asked you to?”

snapping out of the staring contest he was having with you, seungcheol handed you a paper bag which you accepted after getting a nod of confirmation from your mother. looking inside the bag, you see a container of brownies, a small ‘wah…’ leaving your lips.

“mom and i baked them last night! we hope you’ll like them!” seungcheol said with a big grin on his face.

placing a hand on your head, your mother smiles, “our little ___ will definitely like them. she has an incredible sweet tooth.”

“no, i do not!”

“___, sweetie,” your father spoke up, “you ate half a tub of ice cream in half an hour.”

“daddyy!!”

you were 7 when your little crush on seungcheol began.

you were in the playground, swinging on the swingset with your bear plush in your lap when a group of boys approached you. “that’s our swing,” one of the boys spoke, arms crossed as they stared down at you.

you stopped swinging and looked at the group, “you can’t claim a swing. it’s a playground for everyone.” visibly upset by your response, the boys stepped closer so that they would tower over you. “well, this is our swing now. get off.”

“no.”

you could see the face of the boys turn red - from anger and embarrassment that you were refusing to follow their instructions. as they continued to stare down at you, one of them noticed your bear plush, snatching it out from your lap.

“hey!” you shouted, getting off the swing to try and get your plush back, “give him back!”

“nuh-uh,” the boy retorted, raising it up above his head so you can’t reach it, “that’s what you get for sitting on our swing!”

you then shove at the boy, crying out, “i said give him back!”

“back off, girlie!” another boy said, shoving you back with a harder force, causing you to fall back onto the ground of the playground.

as the boys walked away with your bear plush, leaving you to cry on the ground. they tossed it around, occasionally dropping it on the floor and purposefully stepping on the poor plush, later on acting as if they didn’t mean to do so. witnessing the boys’ treatment towards your plush,  you pulled your knees to your chest, hugging it as your cries grew louder.

“___?” a worried seungcheol called out.

crouching down in front of you, seungcheol places a hand on your head, gently petting it in an attempt to comfort you. “___, what happened? why are you crying? are you hurt anywhere?” you attempted to answer him. but, due to your crying, you had a hard time forming words, only letting out harsh pants and whimpers.

“easy there, ___,” seungcheol said softly, “take a deep breath, okay?”

when your crying calmed down, the older boy heard the laughters of the group of boys. turning his head towards their direction, he saw them taking turns throwing a plush bear at each other. seungcheol recognised the plush bear - it was the very same plush he had gifted you on your 7th birthday.

he then turned back to you, noticing that you were looking at the group with a frown on your face. pressing his thumb against your forehead, he gave you a gentle smile, “don’t frown like that, you’ll get wrinkles.”

turning back to the group, he let out a sigh, “they took your bear?”

you sniffled as you nod your head, wiping the snot from your nose with the sleeves of your hoodie. “do you want me to get it back for you?”

“p-please…”

nodding his head, seungcheol got back up on his feet, ruffling your hair before making his way towards the group of boys.

“hey, you rascals over there!” he called out.

you don’t know why, but you felt your heart race, a small blush forming on your face.

after seungcheol had gotten your bear plush back from the group of boys (mainly by scaring them off because imagine an older, taller boy approaching you with a scary look after talking to the girl whose bear you had snatched), he walked you back to your house.

as his parents were out working, it wasn’t unusual for seungcheol to spend some time at your place with your parents as he waited for his to return home. sitting beside you on the porch of the backyard of your back garden, seungcheol was eating a piece of brownie your mom had baked while you enjoyed a cone of vanilla ice cream.

“you need to learn to stand up for yourself, ___,” seungcheol spoke, placing the now empty plate next to him and looked at you. “but, i have you to protect me!” you responded with a smile on your face, earning a small laugh from the boy. “i know, ___. but, i can’t always be there for you.”

“d-does this mean you’re leaving me…?” you asked, tears welling up in your eyes. “oh, ___,” seungcheol said softly as he places a hand on your head, “that’s not what i mean. i meant it as in, there will be times where i can’t always be with you. you remind me of a puppy,” he chuckled. “maybe that can be a nickname for you, hmm?”

when your eyes light up and nod excitedly at the older boy, he lets out another laugh and ruffles your hair.

“alright then, pup.”

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