#i wanna sit on the floor in front of his recliner and put my head in his stomach

[barbaricjester]

I need to faceplant into Stanley's stomach. I think that would fix me.

[loomiseater]

UHM... more subby ethan!! pwetty please 👉👈

What're you doing?

warnings: smut ofc!, subby eth, and public masturbation.

Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.

Ethan Landry x fem!reader

A/N: your wish is my command! ik it's short, i'm sorry, but i really hope you like it!

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Written: December 26th, 2024- December 27th, 2024

Published: December 27th, 2024

Summary: you tease Ethan under the blanket.

wc: 762

Ethan and I were currently at Sam’s, Tara’s, Mindy’s, and Quinn’s shared apartment. It was movie night so we were all in the living room watching “FNAF”. Chad insisted we watch it. 

Me and Ethan shared a seat together, sitting on the recliner while everyone else was either on the L shaped couch, or on the floor with blankets. The room was filled with the loudness of the movie coming from the t.v. Everyone was focused on what was playing in front of them, so I took this as my chance. I slipped my hand under our shared blanket and started softly rubbing his inner thigh, Ethan didn’t think much of it so he just smiled softly. 

His features looked so pretty, the light from the t.v. making me able to see his eyes and his lips. His lips were always so soft and plump, I just wanna kiss him so bad right now in front of everyone. Ethan was still focused on the moving, I moved my hand to his crotch and that’s when he looked at me. His eyes widened with fear. 

“What’re you doing?!” He whispered. I looked at him and smiled innocently before I answered his question. “What’re you talking about?” Ethan rolled his eyes at my statement. He hated when I played dumb, especially to something so obvious. He brushed it off and put his focus back on the movie. 

I slipped my hand under his sweats and rubbed him through his boxers as I felt his abs flex. He covered up his moan with a cough as everyone looked over at him. “You okay?” Chad asked while placing some popcorn in his mouth. “I’m fine.” Ethan hurriedly said. I smirked at him while he gave me a warning look. I didn’t care though, I wanted to tease him just like he does to me all the time. 

I now slipped my hand under his boxers, I slowly stroked him up and down. His whole body jolted as played his moan off as a cough again. “Dude, seriously, are you okay?” Chad asked again, genuinely concerned for his friend. Tara then looked at me like she was trying to figure something out but she eventually went back to focusing on the movie. 

I started rubbing my thumb on his tip as I felt precum coming out. Ethan now placed his head in his hands so no one can see his face twist in pleasure. “How do you feel?” I whispered in his ear teasingly. He raised his head back up and looked at me with pleading eyes. I raised my eyebrow at him waiting for him to say something. “Please stop.” He whined. “Why should I stop?” I whispered as I squeezed his cock. Ethan’s body jolted again. 

“Because we’re in front of people!” He said. He looked at me like I was crazy but he teases me all the time in public. I ignored him and kept stroking him, his precum was flowing down his cock and onto my hand. He threw his head back on the couch still trying to hold in moans. This is most the hardest thing he’s ever been through. 

I slowed my pace as he brought his head back down. “When we get home..im gonna make you cum and beg all night.” My words filled with lust. I felt his dick twitch and that’s when I knew he was close. I quietly chuckled at him, poor boy was going through it right now. 

“When we get home I’ll let you cum in me all night.” I seductively said. That’s when Ethan lost it, he came all over my hand. “Shit!” He loudly said. “Dude, what the fuck.” Mindy said with her hands raised. The attention was on the both of us now. 

“I-I’m sorry! My hand started cramping.” Ethan stuttered. Tara just looked at me and smirk. 

An hour later movie night was over, everyone was saying their goodbyes and good nights. Ethan was in the kitchen talking to Chad as Tara walked over to me. “Seriously? Jerking off your boyfriend in front of everyone?” She laughed. I started laughing with her before I spoke up. 

“How the hell did you know?!” I asked with shock written all over my face. “Girl! I saw your hand moving under the blanket, and the way he was breathing? It was so obvious! I don’t know how nobody else noticed.” She explained. 

“I’m sorry.” I giggled as she just shook her head at me. 

“You freaky girl!” Tara teased as we both started laughing really hard.

[tempe-brennans]

and i'd come back if you'd just call

author's note: soulmate au + apocalypse

summary: you show up in jackson and turn joel's life upside down

warnings: implied smut and handsy touching

word count: 2.7k

There’s gray in his hair. He’s sure he should feel grateful for that–especially now–and some part of him does, he supposes.

He has people.

There’s Ellie and Tommy and Maria. You.

He’s not sure exactly what to do about you.

Besides, he’s more concerned about the ache in his back and the knots in his muscles–much more important problems than the love he’s beginning to think he still feels for you or the sunflower burning on his wrist.

There’s heating pads for his muscles and pain pills for his back–concrete solutions.

You, on the other hand, you’re young and fun and something he can’t quite get his fingers around.

And, you had left him–a fact he can’t quite forget. No matter how much he’d like to.

His throat is sore, scratchy in the way that tells him he spent last night snoring. Sighing as he sits up in bed, he cracks one shoulder and then the other.

His feet don’t want to find the floor. His body doesn’t want to hide behind the curtains in his own home because he can never be sure if you can see him.

Tommy thought he was so funny, making you two neighbors.

Joel does turn, eventually, let his feet land on the too cold floor. Toes slip into slippers he’d left in reach when he’d gotten into bed last night. He reaches blindly for the faded flannel robe that’s draped over the chair in the corner of his room.

He hasn’t had time for such indulgences, too busy running–from life, monsters. Anything. Before, he simply hadn’t wanted them.

But, Ellie had presented them both–a set, though the patterns didn’t match at all–as a gift and he hadn’t been able to say no.

He’s tired of being so sharp, so tough. In his own home, at least, maybe he can rest.

Home.

The thought brings his mind back to you, against his will, and as he pours his coffee he tries to see if your lights are on.

He can’t tell. The sun is working against him. He resolves himself to the fact that he’ll run into you at some point in town, so, really, what does it matter if you see each other sooner rather than later?

Besides, he’s almost positive you aren’t sitting in windowsills, pining after him.

He sits in the recliner Tommy had insisted he just had to have and welcomes the ability to put his feet up. It’s a relic–a handle raises and lowers the foot rest–but, somehow, it still works.

Taking a drink of his coffee, he thinks.

There’s no sound in the house, something Joel still hasn’t gotten used to since Ellie moved out.

I’m 20, she had said when Joel had asked if she was sure she wanted to leave, as if that was an explanation. Besides, don’t you want your own space?

He didn’t, if she wanted to know the truth. He wanted to hear her downstairs cooking breakfast or the sound of her snoring through the crack in her bedroom door.

He knew why she had gone, though. It was the same reason he had left home the moment he turned 18.

Freedom.

So, he could understand it, even if he wasn’t entirely fond of it.

He sees her every few days anyway.

Coffee now gone, he knows his day has to start, even if the town now feels like a loaded gun is waiting around every corner. He dresses–a flannel still happily coasting between cozy and too threadbare and jeans. He cracks his front door, feels the bite of the winter wind, and shuts it firmly.

An extra jacket wouldn’t hurt.

x

“I’m telling you,” Joel mumbles, “she probably doesn’t even remember.”

Tommy quirks a brow. “Are you kidding?” Shaking his head, he laughs. “You spent the better half of a year together. The tattoos–”

“I don’t wanna talk about the tattoos,” Joel dismisses. “Besides,” he mutters, “it was eleven months.”

“Oh,” Tommy hums. “My mistake.”

Silence and then, “You know someone will notice, right?”

Joel tilts his head. “You see me wearing a lot of short sleeves in the winter?”

“You can’t use the weather to hide forever, bro. The minute Ellie–hell, anybody–notices the two identical sunflowers on your arms?” He shakes his head. “Secrets out.”

“Yeah?” Joel asks. “What secret is that?”

His little brother leans in, whispers, “You can still find your soulmate after the apocalypse.”

“She’s the one that left.” Joel sighs. “Obviously, she didn’t care that we were soulmates.”

“You don’t even know why she left!” Tommy exclaims, exasperated.

Joel quirks a brow. “Somehow I haven’t had a lot of time, what with the apocalypse and all.”

His brother claps him on the shoulder. “You’ve got nothing but time now.”

x

Joel walks the streets of Jackson, spitting snow beginning to fall around him.

Maybe Tommy is right. It’s not like Joel doesn’t have some extra time on his hands, a strange concept after the last twenty years, he has to admit.

Maybe he should take advantage of it.

It’s that thought that’s rattling around in his brain when he collides with someone else.

“Sorry!” He reaches out, blindly, tries to catch the person or their belongings–something. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” a voice says. It’s a voice he’s never forgotten–couldn’t forget, even if he wanted to–and he kicks himself that this is the way he’d run into you again.

Literally.

“It was really,” you stand, catch sight of his face for the first time, “my fault.”

He’s older now, grayer and a little softer around the edges, but, still, he can see the moment recognition lights on your features.

“Joel?”

He nods, suddenly sheepish. For once, his mind is completely blank. It can’t begin to come up with an adequate greeting for an old flame that, maybe, still burns somewhere behind his rib cage. He settles on an all too casual, “Hi.”

You smile, a soft thing. “Hi.”

On instinct it seems, you take a step closer and hug him. Though it’s been years, the feeling of you pressed against him, your arms around him, it’s familiar.

He wants to hate it, but he doesn’t. Not even a little.

He barely resists the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, take a minute to inhale your scent, before you pull away.

“S’nice to see you.”

Joel nods. “You, too.” Somewhere between the truth and a lie.

“Your hair, it’s…softer,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” Joel reaches up, runs an idle hand through it. “Haven’t had a lot of time for haircuts, I guess.” He shrugs. “I kinda got used to it.”

You nod. “It’s been a long time.”

Joel quirks a brow. “Whose fault was that?”

It’s too sharp, too biting, and he can see the results flash across your face.

Shaking your head, you glare at him, blow out a breath. “I should have known you hadn’t changed.”

You turn on your heel, away from him, and he wants to reach out, tell you he’s sorry, but something won’t let him.

He thinks it’s his heart.

“I’ve changed plenty!” He calls after your shrinking form. “Changed enough to know I should stay away from you.”

You look over your shoulder–just for a second–long enough to cut him to the core. “The feeling is mutual!”

He sighs and continues on his own path, towards his own lonely house, entirely too close to you for comfort.

x

“So.” Ellie sighs. “That went well.”

Joel chuckles, rolls his eyes. “You think?”

“We can fix it,” she says, sitting on the couch closest to him. “It’ll be fine.”

“Sure about that?,” he asks. “It’s not a leaky sink, you know.”

Her eyes light up in the very particular way that tells Joel she’s had an idea he won’t be fond of.

He’s suddenly nervous.

“That’s it,” she exclaims.

“What’s it?”

Ellie leaves the room, obviously in search of something, and ignores him.

“Ellie,” he calls after her. “Ellie, what’s it?”

x

It’s her scheming that puts him on your porch, in fact, toolbox in hand and looking for something to fix.

Real or fake, it hadn’t really mattered to Ellie.

He should never have told her he had been a contractor.

The door opens and you glare at him, unsurprisingly.

“What do you want?”

He spits it out, before he can change his mind, run back home and hide.

“I’m sorry for earlier.” He shakes his head. “You left…before. And, I was angry and seeing you again…” He trails off, settles on simplicity. “I’m sorry.”

Something in your face softens as you step aside to let him in.

“I’m sorry for leaving, you know.”

You take him off guard, turn his pulse to a gallop.

“I was…I was afraid,” you murmur, skipping over his own apology in a way that’s entirely you.

Of course it’s the way you’d let him know things are okay.

“I should have told you that, though, instead of disappearing.”

He nods, swallows down a memory he doesn’t exactly want to relive right now, whispers, “It’s okay.”

You nod, smile at him. “You want a drink? Some food?”

He nods, places the toolbox in the floor next to your couch.

“That’d be nice.”

x

Joel isn’t sure how long the two of you have been talking–minutes or hours. Maybe days. Easy familiarity settles over the pair of you, and things are like they used to be.

He’s glad for it.

“Were there others?” Joel asks, words slipping out before he can stop them.

It’s the question that he somehow desperately wants the answer to and also never wants to hear.

You nod. “A few.” But, then, “None like you.”

It’s more honest than he expected, like your heart has opened to him once again.

You’re vulnerable. He knows you hate that.

“That makes sense.” He nods, rising to his feet, hand curling around the handle of his toolbox, imagining you want him to take his leave. “I’m pretty unforgettable.”

You laugh, look at him with something he would have called affection, once upon a time. “Yeah, you are, Miller.”

Something buzzes inside of him at the knowledge he can still make you laugh, even after everything, and he ducks his head, starts to head for the door.

“Joel?”

He turns, finds apprehension on your features.

He aches to set you at ease.

“Yeah?”

“Could you…would it…” You shake your head, shoulders squaring like you’re heading into a fight. “Would you want to stay? The night? With…with me.”

In a minute, he forgets it all. The pain and heartache and anger disappears with one look at your eyes.

“Yes.”

Simple–the way it’s always been between the two of you.

x

You crawl on top of him in a way he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined over the years.

His hands find a resting place on either of your hips, squeeze the flesh there lightly.

“Hi,” you murmur, grin on your face.

“Hi.” He smiles.

It’s different when you’re with your soulmate.

Joel had been with others, sure.

Tess comes to mind, but he quickly shakes the thought away–along with the memory of her death.

But, every time, even when stars popped up behind his eyelids and warmth erupted through his every limb, it wasn’t what it had been with you.

The best way he could think to describe it was…more.

As you lean down, press a kiss to his lips, he finally admits to himself how much he’d missed it. You.

x

Joel feels you pull away and squeezes you closer. “Where you goin’?,” he mumbles, already half asleep.

“Shirt,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, nuzzles his nose into the hollow of your throat.

Chuckling softly, you say, “S’winter, Joel.”

He holds you even closer–if that’s possible. “I’ll keep you warm.” Then, just to tease, fingers dance over your hip bone, inches from the crux of your thighs. “Any way you want.”

“Joel…”

“Or, are you too old for this game?” He hums, getting a rise out of you too tempting to ignore. “You get soft on me while you were away?”

Your own hand–cold from it’s trip beyond the faded quilt that covers you both–dances along the soft skin of his stomach, curls around his still too sensitive length. He jumps, hisses out a breath, interest already simmering at the base of his spine.

“I can still play,” you purr. “Can you?”

Your hand works him over, languid strokes finding a pattern that makes his skin buzz.

Joel rises, mouth desperate to find yours.

He’s always liked to be kissed–especially by you, especially when you’re touching him the way you are.

You indulge him, lips parting to let his tongue tangle with your own. He can’t help but grin into the kiss.

x

In the morning, he wakes alone. Part of him isn’t shocked. Part of him is heartbroken all over again.

Quickly, he gets dressed–avoiding mirrors with the hopes of missing any evidence you’d left behind of the night before.

He goes to Tommy’s, doesn’t even look towards your house as he walks down the street.

x

“You’ve been in love before.” Tommy shrugs. “Maybe it could happen again. Nothing says you have to be with your soulmate.”

Joel hadn’t thought about it when he’d fallen in love with Sarah’s mother.

He hadn’t had much choice, if he’s honest. One look at her and he had been done for.

So, the fact she didn’t have a sunflower on the soft skin of her forearm wasn’t of much consequence. The fact she had her own tattoo–purple dahlia petals curling around her own wrist–had never mattered to her either.

They had shared a life and love and had turned that love into something that lived outside of them.

Sarah.

It was only a few months after she was born that Joel had woken up alone to the sound of Sarah’s crying.

He had adjusted, though. The two of them had made a team and found happiness all on their own.

Until…well, Joel didn’t really like to think about that day–that last day. He preferred to imagine her laughing, head thrown back in joy.

“I know,” he murmurs. He adds, almost under his breath, “I don’t think I want to fall in love. Not if it’s not with her.”

Tommy ducks his head, sheepish all of a sudden.

“What is it?”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell you.”

He leans forward, insistent. “Tommy, what is it?”

“She told Maria that she was…thinking of leaving Jackson.”

Joel is off Tommy’s couch and out the door before Tommy can ask where he’s going.

Joel suspects he knows.

x

His knocks are incessant, barely a pause between them.

“C’mon,” he murmurs to himself. “Please don’t be gone.”

The door opens, shocking Joel, and he almost falls through it.

“You can’t leave Jackson,” he pants. There’s an ache in his side, a pulling at muscles that scream with use more often than they don’t these days. He’s certain he shouldn’t have run to make sure he caught you.

You shake your head, hands coming to rest on either side of his face.

It’s a gesture full of affection and hope ignites in his gut.

“I’m not leaving,” you murmur.

Joel’s tongue is heavy, suddenly too thick to form a reply. “You…you’re not?”

“No.” Gently, your thumb rubs back and forth over his cheekbone. “I thought of something to stick around for.”

“Yeah?” Joel hums. “What’s that?”

“You.”

Joel feels the heat flush his cheeks. The emotions he really feels are too much–too real–so, he settles for a joke.

“That makes sense.” He nods. “I’m pretty unforgettable.”

“Yeah.” You laugh, duck your head for a minute before your eyes meet his again. “Yeah, you are, Miller.”

x

Later that night, with most of your closet mingled with his own, he pulls you close to him in bed. His lips ghost over your forehead and an arm wraps around your side.

He glances down at his wrist, takes in the bright yellows of the sunflower petals. With gentle fingers, he finds your wrist, brings it to his mouth and kisses the yellow of your own petals.

There’s gray in his hair, but, right now, he couldn’t feel more grateful for it.

[ch3rrybbie]

hiiii there!!! i was wondering if you could write something smutty for the deep 😍😍 maybe him w a non supe!? you’re the best🥹🫶

Itch to scratch

Summary: it’s ovulation week and 🎶 you need a hero🎶 sorry himbo, you need a himbo.

Warnings: unprotected p in v, blowjob, he’s a himbo, titty suckin

ch3rrybbie says: can u tell it’s ovulation week? I’ve decided I shall use writing smut as a tool for the word of ovulation hormones🙂‍↔️ also sorry it took so long anon 😖👉🏽👈🏽 YOU are the best🩷🩷🩷

———

“Deep drink, the only drink for the deepest of thinkers” the deep smirks into the camera doing his stupid smolder.

His stupid smolder that was suddenly disgustingly hot.

Fuck.

You squeeze you thighs together in the shadow of the set and imagine what it’d be like to fuck him, you’d ride him bouncing and panting letting your slick pussy clench him further squeezing his pulsing cock.

“CUT!” Some asshole director yells and you snap back to reality.

NO, Jesus anyone but him PLEASE.

Zoning put thinking who to call to scratch this growing pulsing itch, the deep or Kevin as some are allowed to call him, is suddenly in front of your face smouldering.

“Hey sweetheart, this coffee mine?” He bobs his head smouldering and flicking his preened hair, was he flirting?

Or did your thoughts get sucked in by him I mean he is a supe and you’re just some intern he could…

No you knew what he was like he’d fuck anything, I mean if the rumours were true.

In an attempt to regain your dignity you hand him the coffee wordlessly shocking him with your seeming lack of interest.

“Oh thanks a million honey!” he attempts to sexily drink to coffee but once again you zone out.

His suit was horribly tight, his muscles twitched in reaction to the hot coffee and he might’ve said a whiny ouch but all you could see was his taught body beneath the spandex.

His dick bulge strains to be free, it would feel so good to lick the angry red tip. To let your wet eager tounge tease the slit of his pulsing cock.

STOP IT.

You zone back in and look at his face, he’s caught you.

“Like what you see baby?” the suaveness comes like dropped silk to him now he knows you’re practically drooling over his cock.

FUCK IT. FORTUNE FAVOURS THE BOLD.

“Look I’m ovulating and I’m so horny it hurts” it’s his turn to stare with jaw dropping lust.

“That must be really hard for you, I’m a feminist myself so I think that-“he being to ramble

You roll your eyes, “do you want to have sex” you throw back punctually.

“YES!” he shouts at you.

The set goes quiet everyone turning to see why he was shouting at an intern and you stifle giggles as everyone shrugs and gets back to work.

He goes to lean on a stage light and fails as it wobbles and he has to rebalance it, “I mean, sure” he attempts to shrug.

“Okay let’s go then sets done for the day, where can we…”

“MINE! I mean we can go to mine, you know because I live here in this tower Vought tower so my-“

You cut him off, strutting ahead ache already growing between your thighs.

———

He pracitcally barrels into his apartment tossing the keycard on the floor.

“So what do you wanna do, oh do you need a drink because I have a great-“

“Sit dow” you demand.

He moans at the lusty look you give him as you kneel before him.

“ I want to suck your cock,yeah?” You question

“Yes, ugh fuck please please suck my cock” he writhes excitedly tugging spandex down to give you his weeping red cum seeping cock. “Wait I need to be naked!” He exclaims giving you pause. Taking in the seriousness of his face you attempt to withhold the gust of laughter threatening to burst out.

The laugh is dampened as he reclines with his hand behind his head pushing his hips to your face. You waste no time, grabbing his long yet weighted cock you lick a fat stripe up from his balls relishing in the moan he gives you. Sucking on the tip as hard as you can he writhed beneath you before fucking his hips into your face forcing you to make ngh noises as spit and cum coat your lower face. You suddenly push his hips down as you feel like you could come from just sucking his needy cock so you release him with a pop uncaring of the saliva connecting your swollen mouth to him. Rising you straddle him and push his chest down so he’s laid on the couch, sliding your panties to the side you don’t need to touch your aching pussy to know it is slick with anticipation.

Guiding his cock into your pussy you push out a lengthened and pathetically whiny moan at the pleasurable pressure and set a mind blowing pace that even he whines at. He grabs your hips and ass in an attempt to help. He starts to push his hips up to meet yours and suddenly your tits are out and being sucked and licked his saliva coating them in a light sheen, he smirks up at you watching your eyes roll back as a burning coil begins to tighten in your stomach. Pushing him back you fuck him harder the room filled with a persisting thwack thwack thwack, tits bouncing you push your hips harder forward and craziedly rub at your engorged clit as he watches in awe. You cum hard and hot, pussy gushing over him and tugging his twitching cock further nudging your cervix.

He comes as if he’s surprised, panting and shocked gripping onto your hips.

Slowing down you are sated and ready to catch the train home and sleep, you jump off him gathering scattered clothes and your bag before turning back round to give him an awkward kiss on the cheek and a thank you before gently unlocking and closing the door.

He sits there stunned for 10 minutes before heading for a shower.

He’s confused but he knows one thing for sure that had to happen again.

[ilysmsweaty2]

this literally came to me in a dream so i'm making it all of your problem now.

it's christmas or near christmas at the white house. regardless, presents are being opened. it's the american christmas. nora, alex, henry, june, ellen, bea, oscar, and leo are there. everyone's drinking and enjoying themselves.

"ohoho, there's one left," oscar says reaching over the side of the chair he's on under the tree. he pulls out a octogonal-shaped box with no wrapping but the top looks like a flower. "wonder who it's for," he continues. alex is sitting adjacent to him, his back to the tree. oscar's arm is around june who sits between him and ellen. leo is sitting at ellen's feet and she's messing with his hair. henry and bea are sharing a chair across from alex and nora's sitting on the floor next to them. it's almost as if alex has an audience.

oscar opens the box only to pull another slightly smaller box from inside.

"oh. guess it's not for me then," he says shrugging. alex squints at him.

"what?"

"hmm. someone else try," oscar says holding the box out. it pointedly rattles.

"oh? is it for me, henry?" bea asks taking it and revealing the giver of the gift.

"i don't know, try to open it," henry replies with a mischievous smile. oddly, he wouldn't meet alex's eyes.

bea opens it only for another layer to be taken off. it's now a small box with christmas wrapping on it.

"mm, drat, not for me," she says.

"what is going on?" alex asks but is quickly drowned out by nora and juna saying,

"my turn!" in sync. they fight over it playfully before tearing the paper together.

"seriously, what is this?" alex asks but he continues to be ignored.

"henry, you wanna try, babe?" nora asks looking over her shoulder.

"it's from me, so it's not for me," henry replies annoyingly posh.

"henry, who is it for?" alex asks impatiently. he's sat up now, no longer reclining.

"let me try, dear," ellen says taking it from nora. her and leo work to open the box and reveal a little sphere like one you would get from a quarter machine with a little prize inside.

"hmm, not for us," ellen shrugs.

"why not alex give it a try?" oscar offers. a chorus of "yeah"s and "good idea"s start from everyone.

"guys. seriously-" alex starts but the ball is handed to him.

it's a red sphere and it's heavily taped shut. he shakes it and it rattles like there's something metal inside.

"what the hell is this?" he mutters picking at the tape.

"jesus, how much tape did you put on this thing, henry?"

he finds the end and the tape unrolls with loud tearing noises. the sphere pops open and the object inside falls into alex's hand.

it's a ring.

his breath is taken away but he can't bring himself to believe it. he looks up. nora, bea, and june had all whipped their phones out to film. his mom's eyes are shiny. he almost can't breathe at henry, who is now in front of him, on one knee.

"hello, dear," he says quietly, smiling his crinkly, unapologetic smile.

alex's mouth has fallen open and he's slowly shaking his head.

"you are not-" alex starts but his voice doesn't actually come out.

"on CHRISTMAS??" he says finding his voice, "how fucking cheesy-"

"alright," henry interrupts him gently, plucking the ring from alex's palm, "are you going to let me finish?"

"fuck," alex mumbles sinking into his chair and looking away his eyes brimming. the girls erupted into a chorus of "awwww"s along with percy who bea face timed. henry waved them off.

"cmon stand up," he says taking alex's hands as he stands.

"alex," he says, but has to stop and shake his head. he's crying now too. alex laughs.

"we knew-" he clears his throat- "we knew there was no going back pretty early on, and i think we should make it official. i-i feel forever about you, and you are truly my other half.

i never thought-" henry has to stop. alex loosens his hand from henry's and cradles his face.

"i never thought i could have this," henry's voice is breaking and alex's tears are running down his face.

"i-i love you alex, and- fuck," henry can barely get the words out. "you wanna get married?" he says giving up, grinning. alex falls to henry's level.

"of course, baby," he says, their foreheads together. alex kisses him but it's all teeth because they can't stop smiling.

everyone's cheering including cash, zahra, amy, and shaan who stood off to the side. in the midst of laughter, tears, and congratulations alex and henry fall onto the couch (oscar having moved to alex's chair). june is squeezing her brothers' arm.

everyone is standing around the area falling into easy conversation. henry's resting his head on alex's shoulder smiling smugly at the ring on alex's finger. the tree is twinkling and alex thinks it's like a goddamn hallmark movie. a prince for christmas. he laughs to himself. nora has said something that has the entire room in an uproar.

"what?" alex asks having missed it.

"we're gonna have a royal wedding, love," henry chuckles kneeing alex.

"oh, fuck," alex says.

[artemisrogers]

Lay Beside Me James Hetfield x Kirk Hammett x Oc (eating out from behind, blowjob, body worship, choking, Somophilla, and a tiny bit of blood)

You're in a poly relationship with Kirk and James. You had just gotten home from a party and James caught you. Of course good girls have to get punished. How will you repay him and Kirk? What you know best.

I really fucked up

I drove James' cars up the driveway to the house Kirk James and I lived in. I told them I'd be home by 10 pm tonight from this party. It's now 12 in the morning so I was definitely dead meat! I quietly put the key in the lock so as not to wake them. I put my purse on the counter in the kitchen My heels click on the floor. I turned to try and head upstairs when the lamp in the living room turned on.

Kirk was sitting in the recliner clearly still in their day attire which was a black short sleeve button up shirt and black leather pants. He almost was boring holes in my skull. I swallowed the lump in my throat to try and explain what happened to hopefully get off the hook.

"I almost called a damn search party for you! You had me and James worried sick about you thinking you were hurt or dead babe."

"Kirky please I'm sorry I didn't expect my friends to keep me this late." I said calling him his nickname. I was the only one who could call him Kirky not even James could call him that. Same thing with me calling James Jamie.

Kirk got up closing the distance between us his breath on my neck as he pinned me to the wall. I felt my body shiver when he kissed my neck. I knew what my punishment was gonna be and I gladly accepted it. Kirk licked his hickey mark he left on me before pulling away making me look up at him.

"You wanna make up for it, you don't get to cum tonight until me or James' says so. Speaking of James why don't we go upstairs and wake him." Kirk murmured seductively in my ear.

I nodded as I walked up the stairs with Kirk close behind me. I was already becoming a submissive mess. I always was when Kirk was in control unless he was in a submissive mood. James is always the dominant one of us. Kirk opened the door and I saw James'- sleeping figure under the sheets. Kirk grabbed my hips pulling me flush against his already hardening cock.

"Give James a blowjob baby. Like the slut you are."

"Yes sir." I said kicking my shoes off still in my black mini skirt and red shirt of James'.

I gently got on the other side of James and slipped my hand under the sheets. I already felt my arousal creeping up on me. I heard him murmer something in his sleep as I found he was in his fucking boxers. I slowly rubbed the front where his cock was while I leaned down to kiss his neck. When I heard his sleepy groan I knew I was gonna wake him up soon my nipples hardening. I wasn't watching what Kirk was doing but I knew he was watching.

"Mmm fuck just like that." James said in his sleep.

The urge to just strip and ride him was bad. I heard Kirk groan and looked over to find him touching himself over his pants. I was caught off guard when James rolled over and pinned me down to the bed now awake. I whimpered at his firm grip as I watched his eyes. I fed into his hunger by playing my card.

"I've been a bad girl James."

"Damn right you have! Trying to blow me in my sleep keeping me and Kirk waiting." James said nipping my earlobe.

I reached to pull his boxers down only to get my hand smacked away. I watched Kirk crawl onto the bed like I was a prey and he was hunting me. I felt James run his hands down every curve teasing and slowly. I felt Kirk rip off my skirt and panties tossing them to the floor while James did the same with my shirt. I couldn't help but let out a small moan.

"Time for your punishment doll." James murmured as he pulled down his boxers stroking himself.

Kirk pulled my hair a little forcing me to sit up on my knees. I was already wet seeing their boners drove me fucking feral. I tried to undo Kirk's pants to once again have my hair yanked in a no answer, making me groan as I got needier and needier. I wanted to touch myself to but James had grabbed Kirk's belt from his pants and used it to smack my thigh.

"You're at our mercy tonight darling. No touching yourself or us until we tell you too and no cumming."

"Jamie please I need to feel one of you inside me;" I moaned out.

As James got in front of me I let him pin my hands to the bed so I was on all fours. Kirk unbuttoned his shirt and shoved it off his arms his toned torso on display. I was gonna lose it just from their touches and roughness. I felt him run his hands over my back down to my breasts giving them a quick squeeze. When he went lower I arched my back as he kneeled my asscheeks. Kirk always did a little bit of body worshiping on me, sometimes James did.

I whimpers when I felt Kirk's hot breath on my slit as lick a strip making me moan loudly. I felt Kirk's tongue go in and out of my wet pussy, his teeth nipping my clit every now and then. I heard James groan as he pulled down his boxers and began to slowly jack himself off. I gripped his thighs for support as Kirk hiked one of my legs up for better access.

"Fucking slut you love it when I eat you out don't you."

"Ngh Kirky please I'm close."

"Don't you dare cum yet I'm not done with you." Kirk said his face muffled by my pussy as he delved back down into it.

I felt that knot build up in my stomach as I got closer to cumming. Once Kirk finished eating me out he dropped my legs onto the bed making my ass jiggle. James let go of his now precum leaking cock as he smacked my ass, making me moan in pain and pleasure. I knew there was gonna be a handmark there tomorrow. I looked up only to have James cock smack my lips smearing precum onto them.

"Open up doll." James said his voice was husky with lust.

I did as he said relaxing my throat so I could take as much of him in as possible and started sucking. I felt Kirk kissed and nipped at my neck leaving his marks all over me. I felt the knot in my stomach building up again as I rut into the bedsheets warning a hard nip from Kirk. I gagged when James started to buck his hips into his mouth.

"Fuck baby doll you like sucking me off while Kirk marks you don't you? We know you do, you're gonna take my load down your throat." James said roughly.

I sucked James harder as whimper when Kirk bit my neck again licking the area that started to bleed a tiny bit. I knew James was getting close as his legs tensed up. I took him deeper as I swirled my tongue around his tip. I heard James moan my name as I felt his warm cum run down my throat as I swallowed it all. I pulled off him with a pop and a string of saliva connecting me to his dick still.

"Fuck your so sexy when you suck off James like that darling. now it's my turn lay on your back and spread your legs. I'm gonna fuck that pretty pussy until you can't take anymore." Kirk said as he stripped all of his clothes down until he was bare.

I spread my legs invitingly as my eyes raked over Kirk's body. I loved the way his toned body looked as he crawled over as he straddled me and lined his cock up with my hole. I moaned his name as I felt him push inside me loving the stretch. After letting me adjust he started to roughly move his hips whispering sweet degrading in my ear.

James was already getting hard again as he gave me kisses down my body. He sucked my nipples and left Hickey's down my chest making me arch my back. Kirk grunted as he pulled out and slammed back into me making me moan loudly. I gripped James' thighs as I got closer to my orgasm for what felt like the 50th time.

"Ngh fuck gonna c-cum soon all inside that pretty pussy darling." Kirk grunted out his breathing labored as he got closer to his climax.

I wanted to cum so bad as I arched my back taking him deeper into me. I wasn't going to last longer than a minute at this rate. Kirk moaned out my name as he pushed his cock deep into me as he shot his load deep inside me. That triggered my own orgasm. I milked his cock until i finished cumming. Kirk collapsed on my chest as he pulled out of my pussy.

"You did so well babydoll."

[thruheavenandhighwater]

Pairing: Eddie Munson/ Female OC *this part is Eddie & Wayne*

Requested By: NA

Word Count: 1,717

Chapter Summary: Wayne sits Eddie down to have "the talk" with Eddie after finding that Faith has spent the night.

Stranger Things Masterlist Eddie Munson Masterlist Series Masterlist

~~~~~

It had been a week since Wayne walked in on Eddie in bed with Faith. It sounded worse in his head than it was. They'd only been sleeping, and both were clothed as far as he could tell. But Wayne knew that that didn't mean that nothing had happened. He knew they were good kids, smart kids. But he also knew what it was like to be young and in love in a new relationship. Though his nephew seemed to believe otherwise, he hadn't actually been born a 50 year old man.

He'd gone to the pharmacy before work a few days later and avoided eye contact with Sherri while he quietly asked for a box of condoms. The box sat in the passenger seat of his truck for three days. He'd toss his jacket over it and try not to think about the conversation he knew was coming. When he took Eddie in some ten years ago, he hadn't planned for this.

On Friday afternoon Eddie got home from work around 5. He seemed happy, which Wayne had expected. Friday nights had been family dinner nights for years and ever since Faith started to join them, it had been extra special. He knew that Eddie looked forward to their dinners all week.

Eddie kicked his shoes off next to the front door and took his usual seat on the couch. Wayne nodded at him from his recliner. "Anything good on?" Eddie asked, eyes on the TV in front of him.

"Just the news."

"Coulda just said no," Eddie laughed. He moved to stand up and Wayne cleared his throat. Eddie sat back against the cushion, almost nervous as he watched his uncle. "Everything good?"

Wayne sighed, set his beer on the coffee table, and turned the TV off. "Okay, look, I just wanna say that I don't want to do this anymore than you."

"Do what?" Eddie asked. "Did someone die? Is it grandma?"

"No," Wayne said, eyes closing as he shook his head. "Nobody died. Grandma's probably at bingo as we speak. But I'm gonna warn ya right now, boy, you're gonna hate this."

Eddie began to pick at a small tear on the knee of his jeans. His eyes were wide and almost terrified. Wayne shuffled in his seat, moving so that he could look at Eddie without straining his neck.

"Faith comin' over tonight?" He asked. Eddie silently nodded. "She staying' over again?" Eddie's face blanched at the question. By the time he and Faith had woken up last weekend, Wayne was snoring in the living room. They made sure to be extra quiet to not wake him. They'd been so careful…

"Shit, man, I'm sorry," Eddie stammered. "I shoulda asked if it was cool but I didn't think you'd mind and we just-" Wayne put his hand up. Eddie stopped his rambling in its tracks.

"I don't care if she wants to stay over here. But uh, well… Ah, fuck." Wayne ran one hand down his stubbled cheek as he searched for the right words. A lady at work had given him pointers for this but suddenly he was forgetting all of them.

He stood suddenly and walked to where his jacket hung on a hook near the door. He pulled the small blue box from the jacket pocket. That stupid caricature of a Trojan helmet stared at him as he walked back to his seat. He sighed deeply as he held the box out to his nephew.

"Wha- oh, Jesus, Wayne-" Eddie recoiled as if the box had burned his palm. His face that was ghostly pale a moment ago now looked about the same color as Toby Miller's winning tomato from last year's county fair. The box fell to the floor with an almost silent thud against the carpet.

"Oh, stop that. If you're grown enough to do those things, you're grown enough to be responsible about it."

Eddie dragged his hands down his cheeks. The corners of his eyes and lips pulled down harshly. A groan sounded from deep in his chest. "But we're not doing… that. Oh my god." His hands fell from his cheeks, slapping loudly as they landed on his knees. "I swear, man, we just slept. That's it."

Wayne nodded. His eyes that had been firm on the carpet at his feet traveled to his nephew. He looked almost as uncomfortable as Wayne felt. "You love 'er?" He asked suddenly.

Eddie curls flew around his head as he snapped up to look at his uncle. "What?"

"Do you love Faith?"

"Man, I don't know. Why you askin' me that?" His blush was now crawling down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. He pulled a lock of hair in front of his face, a nervous habit he'd picked up from his mother.

"You do know." Wayne answered flatly.

"Fine, oh my god," Eddie dropped his hair and Wayne saw that big, goofy smile on his face. "Yes, okay. I love her. Very much. Can this be over now?"

"No."

Eddie groaned again and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He rubbed his palms over his knees. He felt his body getting too warm beneath the thin t shirt he wore. Wayne was right. He was hating every single second of this.

"Okay, so you love her and she loves you too. Alls I'm asking is that if and when the time comes, you at least try to let your upstairs brain do a little bit of the thinking and use them."

"How do you know?" Eddie asked, his attention back on his uncle.

"Know what?"

"That she loves me."

Wayne sighed again. "I got eyes, don't I?" He asked rhetorically. "You gonna sit there and tell me you ain't seen the way that girl looks at you? Like you hung the moon. Girls got stars in her eyes every time she's here."

Eddie's smile softened as he listened. He looked down to where his hands sat in his lap. He turned over the large silver rings that sat on his two middle fingers. He thought of the cross ring that she'd taken off of his pointer finger at the prom and how it has lived on a chain around her neck ever since.

"Carrying you next to my heart every day," she'd told him.

"I got one more thing to say then I swear I'm done. Okay?" Wayne asked. Eddie nodded, goofy little grin still on his lips as he looked down to his hands. "I know you might not think so, or maybe you do. I don't know, but… sex is a big deal. It can change a relationship, for better or worse. I don't want either of you ending up hurt, so just… make sure you both really know what you're getting into. Okay, that's it. This conversation is done and we never have to do it again."

"Thank fucking Christ," Eddie sighed, letting out a breath so deep you'd think he'd been holding it his whole life. "I swear I was like two seconds from flinging myself into the goddamn quarry to get away from this."

Wayne chuckled to himself. "Always so damn dramatic."

"But like… just so you know… I really do care about her, ya know? I'm gonna make sure I do it right… when the time comes."

"I know ya will," Wayne nodded more to himself than to Eddie. "But apparently having awkward conversations is part of the whole parenthood deal."

"Lucky you," Eddie giggled.

The pair sat quiet for a moment. Eddie stared at the box of condoms on the floor like he was afraid they would attack. Wayne picked at a frayed thread on the arm of his recliner.

"When ya gonna tell 'er?" He asked.

"That my weirdo uncle thinks we're out here being whores together when he's not here?" Eddie asked, rhetorically and just a bit too loud. "I actually think I'm gonna keep that to myself, if you don't mind."

"That ya love 'er, idiot."

"Dunno," he answered with a shrug. "I'm kinda like… I guess I'm afraid that I'm gonna say it and she won't say it back."

"You spent how many years afraid to ask her out, and that turned out alright, didn't it?" Eddie silently shrugged again. "Just don't wait so long for this."

Eddie's lips tightened into a thin line as he considered his uncle's words. He had been right when he told him to take a chance on asking her out, so it stood to reason that he might be right about this, too. But he just couldn't shake that feeling. That fear that came from somewhere deep inside him.

"We should get started on dinner," Wayne said, sighing as he stood from his chair. "Faith's gonna be here soon and you know better than to keep a pretty lady waitin'. And do somethin' with those, would ya?" Wayne nodded pointedly at the blue box that still sat on the carpet.

Eddie stood from his spot on the couch and picked up the box from the floor. He walked past Wayne on his way to his bedroom to put them somewhere. Somewhere she wouldn't see them. He told her already that he did want to take that step someday, and he meant it. But he didn't want her to feel pressured if she opened a drawer and found them. He felt like he was hiding porn or drugs or something as he tucked the box into the back of his messy closet.

By the time Faith arrived an hour later the awkward air in the small home had dissipated. Eddie and Wayne were joking back and forth about Eddie's hopelessness in the kitchen when three soft knocks sounded from the door. Wayne didn't miss the way Eddie dropped the knife he was holding or the way his face lit up in a million watt smile as he made his way to the door.

He watched Eddie greet the sweet girl who loved him the way only a first love can. He knew that he'd raised a good boy. A sweet boy. As he pulled the chicken from the pan in front of him he couldn't help but to hope that their talk had gotten through to him.

[casspurrjoybell-25]

Skating on Thin Ice - Chapter 46 - Part 3

*Warning - Adult Content*

Elijah Ellis

"Wanna go upstairs?"

I answered Fox with a brief kiss before pulling away and dragging him up to my bedroom.

Fox straddled my hips on my bed, cupping my cheeks in his hands as I placed my mouth back on his.

My hands traveled to Fox's hips, holding him close to me.

I let my fingers play with his belt loops, tugging on them.

Fox pulled away but kept his face close to mine.

His glasses fogged slightly before almost instantly clearing.

My attraction to him was apparent as I gazed at him, biting down on my bottom lip.

He sent me a coy smile, knowing exactly how I felt about the way he looked.

His glasses were my weakness, I admit it.

Fox brought his hands to my shoulders, leaning me back so that I was completely reclined while he sat up on my hips.

He quickly pulled his shirt off, his glasses becoming disrupted on his face before he straightened them out.

Then he helped me tug off my shirt, kissing my chest as soon as it was discarded onto the floor.

He left marks up my chest and on my collarbone before brushing his lips against my ear as he spoke.

"It's your turn," he said in a low, raspy voice and I knew exactly what he meant.

"Are you sure you want to?" I asked him, unable to keep a smile from blossoming on my face.

"Yes," he instantly replied, bringing his lips to my jaw.

"I want to."

Those were the only words that needed to be spoken for us to switch positions and continue what we started.

********

After we had finished, Fox and I made our way downstairs to the living room.

Fox was flat on his back on the couch while I sat on top of him. 

"You're sitting on me like I'm not going to be sore later," Fox said, resting his hands on my thighs that were on either side of his hips.

"You'll live," I replied with a wide grin, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

Fox grabbed my head before I could sit back up, pulling my face to his to give me a long kiss on the lips.

I situated myself into a more comfortable position as I deepened the kiss.

I continued kissing him until a throat clearing caused me to spring upward.

My eyes met Dad's and they widened in panic.

I hadn't even thought about how he would feel about Fox and I being here alone.

He didn't even want us up in my bedroom.

Mandy stood beside him, an amused expression decorating her face. Fox practically shoved me off of him so that he could sit up, feigning innocence like we hadn't just been caught.

"I'm just going to pretend like I didn't see that," Dad said with a light smile, walking past the couch.

"And like I don't see what's on your neck, Elijah Christopher Ellis."

Fox groaned in embarrassment while Mandy chuckled and followed Dad into the kitchen.

"If your Dad didn't hate me before, he's going to hate me now," Fox grumbled, putting his face in his hands.

I rolled my eyes, lightly shoving Fox's shoulder.

"Stop it."

Fox sighed and glanced down at his phone after it buzzed in his pocket, then looked back up at me.

"I have to go," he said, staggering a bit as he stood from the couch.

"Ian is staying the night."

"Is everything okay?" I asked with concern, standing up beside him.

Fox shrugged with a solemn expression.

"He just needs to get away from his house sometimes."

I didn't want to let my mind wander to the absolute worst but I couldn't help it.

Even though Ian wasn't all that friendly, I had grown fond of him during my time here and I couldn't bear the thought of him being stuck in an abusive home.

"Can you drive me home?" Fox asked in a low tone, motioning toward the front door.

I nodded, heading to the kitchen to grab Dad's keys so I could borrow his car and letting him know where I was headed.

Fox and I made our way outside and into the car, starting toward his house.

"So..." I trailed, briefly looking over to Fox as I drove out of the neighborhood.

"I can't talk about Ian with you and keep your eyes on the road," was his instant response.

I scoffed.

"I wasn't going to bring up Ian. I know you can't share his business."

"So what were you going to say?" I paused for a moment, debating on whether I should actually start this conversation.

"I was going to bring up Wren," I admitted.

Fox sighed, throwing his head back onto the headrest.

"Don't be dramatic," I said, lightly swatting at him.

"Because he seems like he's feeling really guilty," I started.

"And wants to make up with you but doesn't know how."

"And he's too fucking prideful to talk to me about it?" Fox was obviously annoyed, like any other time his brother was brought up.

"You know you're cold to him," I retorted, raising my eyebrows.

"If he tries talking to you, you just brush him off."

Fox didn't say anything but I took that as him admitting I was right.

"Aren't you tired of feuding with him?" I asked in a soft tone.

"I guess," Fox admitted with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

"But I can't just flip a switch and get along with him all of the sudden."

"Maybe you should spend some time with him," I suggested which just earned me a scoff.

"Just because I don't want to fight with him doesn't mean I want to be best buddies with him," he said.

"Okay," I replied as I neared his house.

"But he does care about you. I can tell."

Fox didn't respond as I pulled up to his house but the look on his face said a lot.

I wouldn't care so much about helping Wren out if I didn't think it would be a good thing for Fox if the two of them got along.

The thoughtful, contemplating look on his face told me that his rocky relationship with his brother was something that weighed down on him.

Fox looked up at his house and then back to me, parting his lips slightly.

"If Landon tries showing up at your house or anything..." Fox started, causing me to shake my head.

"Don't worry about it," I stopped him.

"Go see Ian. He needs you."

Fox nodded before leaning in and leaving a slow kiss on my lips.

"I... um..." Fox stopped short, his eyes widening.

"I... um... I'll see you tomorrow."

He quickly got out of the car and scurried up to his house, looking back one last time before going inside.

I sat in the car for a few more minutes, shocked at Fox's rushed departure.

'Was he going to say he loved me?'

I couldn't push the thought out of my head.

Love seemed so unattainable but I couldn't help but wonder if the feelings of belonging, safety and pure happiness I felt with Fox, was all that made up what love was.

It felt too soon but at the same time, it felt right.

[angeldoll2000]

Easy Money (Part 5)

Dark!Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy) x Heiress!Reader

Warning(s): +18, Minor character death, Kidnapping, Mentions of past non con, PTSD flashback, Hostage Situation.

Author's Note(s): In all honesty this was very much rushed through. I’d like to apologize to everyone in the history of ever.

His warm embrace became your second home. Every day he would train you until you’d memorize his schedule by heart.

Robert parks his truck in the warehouse garage. Today he had earned a bonus while on the job. His employer hired him for a cyanide poisoning. His original targets were originally workers of a rival gang. But somehow his package had been sent to their boss. All thanks to an outdated ventilation system, they were trapped in a small enclosed room. Like sitting ducks they waited for death. His employer was thrilled to find out their one and only competitor had been wiped out. Robert was given a generous bonus for a job well done.

He had extra money to spend on himself. Some extra energy to waste on a particular someone. His manhood begins to strain in his pants. He palms it to the thought of his favorite toy.

You could hear faint whistling from the next room. He would be here by now. When the front door unlocks you’re unsure whether or not you should feel relieved or even more scared. All of a sudden a metal door swings open to what had been your prison for the past few weeks. It was Robert, back from a long day of work, “Honey, I’m home!” he hollers while jingling his keys back into his pocket.

You’re on the other side of the door, spread eagle on an old medical recliner. There are marks on your wrists and ankles from the rope digging into your skin. Streaks of dried up tears spread across your cheeks. All you could do was mutter in rambles. A faint, buzzing noise came from the wand set on your mound. It’s batteries were just about to give out.

This was your punishment for attempting to escape earlier. That and your time with Andy had been cut short. Now you weren’t even allowed in the same room together unless accompanied by Robert. He didn’t want you poisoning his son with your lies. There was nothing to fear of, as long as you stayed in your place. Simple instructions and yet here you were, in a situation you’ve created.

You’re practically sobbing when he turns the wand off. Robert rubs soothing stokes against your abused sex, picking up any slickness left from your previous rounds. He sighs soothingly at the sight of your naked form. Drenched from head-to-toe in a sheen of sweat.

When Robert shoves a finger in you don’t fight it. You’ve learned your lesson a long time ago. Fighting him never ended well. Your opening swallows his digit effortlessly. He adds in another slowly working you up. They curl up to brush against your sweet spot. He dares to try for a third appendage, “My, my, what a greedy little hole you have.” your body created enough self lubrication after what he’s already put you through.

Robert hums, “It’s so easy to fuck you like this…” he states, “Maybe I could fit my whole fist in. Wanna find out?” he raises a brow in excitement. You shook your head frantically. He chuckles. But you didn’t think his joke was very funny. He pulls his digits out to rub the wet-coated finger pads against your slit before flipping his hand over. His palm now flush against your bud while his fingers roughly swipe on your inner walls. He touch hard enough to stimulate, but slow enough to not finish you off. 

Robert considers himself a patient man. That is until he saw the desperate look in your eyes. How they grew in panic. He cuts the bindings off. A strong arm pulls you out of your seat. Your weakened body drops to the floor. You fall forward, clinging onto his sturdy legs. You knew what he wanted. Your hands can’t help but tremble while trying to work his fly open. His palm caresses the side of your cheek, “Brings back old memories,” he sighs fondly before sliding his member past your lips.

You gag as soon as you feel his combat boot prying your legs apart. You try closing them but the spreader had made it difficult to do so. There, pulsing in a deep shade of red was your poor, worn out pearl. Robert whistles, “Oh wow. Now that looks painful.” he slides his foot right underneath your dripping slit. He raises his shoe to brush against your mound. He lightly rubs the leather from side to side, indicating what your task would be, “Make yourself come.” he orders.

While bucking your head up and down his girth you rut against his boot. Your wetness made the friction of it all more bearable. You give it to him just how he likes it and soon enough he finishes off deep in the back of your throat. He leaves briefly only to return soon with a bowl of water, washcloth, and a pile of clothes. He places them in front of you.

Robert points a finger in your face then to the bowl, “Clean yourself up.“ he waits until you’re finished to chain your ankles together. A single loose chain connected your legs to avoid any chance of escape. You could only make it so far with short steps. He lets you spend time with Andy. Inside of the warehouse had changed drastically. Each day Robert would bring an item from your apartment to use while in captivity.

But it wasn’t for nothing. There were rules to be followed. Your only order was comply. Following them made life all the more easier. You were rewarded a different freedom with each task done. Robert would listen to every phone call you would make for your work to avoid suspicion from your absence. He’d leave some of his “friends” to run the shop while you weren’t there. That only gave him more control over your life. Robert called the shots around here. He was in charge of what you wore, what you would eat, and what time you’d sleep.

Meanwhile Andy was happy enough bonding with his father. He loved ice cream just as much as he loved spending time with his pop. Robert would return from work with Andy clinging to his side. Your son would go on about his day, “And then we went to the movies and then we went to the park and then we…” he pauses for a moment to catch his breath.

He seemed tired. Did Robert feed him? Anything other than ice cream? Of course not. Someone like him wouldn’t know a damn thing about raising children. You roll your eyes at the thought of him ever managing to fit the suburban dad lifestyle. Just the thought of it seemed absurd.

Robert would make sure to bring in meals regularly. It would always be the same old takeout. While eating dinner Robert drops the big news, “We should start packing.”

“…Why?” you kept your gaze low. Robert glares at you before stabbing a plastic fork into his meal, “Because I’m not raising my kid in a shithole-”

“Please.” you look at him in the eyes, “Could you please watch your language in front of him?”

He raises a brow, the corner of his lips curls up, “Yes ma’am.” he taunts.

When dinner was finished, he hadn’t bothered escorting you to your room. He knew you wouldn’t be foolish enough to endanger your son. While living here with him you spent your time filling out documents entrusting your business would be taken care of under the name Pronge. Robert chose specific people to work in the shop. Like he did with everything else. You slept alone on a pile of blankets, praying for a better tomorrow.

In the morning Robert had packed his van with enough essentials for the move. You sat beside him during the car ride. But he wasn’t a fool. Your wrists were chained together. While rope held your close to your seat. You made sure to pay close attention to Andy in the rear-view mirror. You and him had been playing a game of ‘I spy’ until the car finally stopped.

Robert made sure to play ‘house’ as much as possible while living in the warehouse. You were to take the alias of a dutiful wife and caring mother. He would have the role of the providing father. Little Andy hadn’t known about the game his parents had been playing. He was truly convinced that you both had unconditional love for each other.

Robert parks the van in front of a semi-large home. It was similar to the ones on the magazines he’d provide for you. After a few days you’d realize that he had been bringing over the same items for the magazines to the warehouse. Designer bags, earrings, furniture. At first it seemed strange enough that someone like him would bother. But after everything that’s happened you’ve learned quick to never question anything.

Despite the abandoned building being a bit run down, this place would’ve made a decent home. It was almost nice having a sense of normalcy. You wonder where he would take you to this time. Andy kicks his legs up and down with glee, “You’re gonna like this one mama. Me ‘n daddy picked it out for you!” he claps his hands and giggles in excitement. You sigh in relief. At least you knew now he hadn’t been planning on turning your boy into a mini version of himself.

Robert had been saving up for some time. He made sure to choose a quiet neighborhood. There were plenty of other families to blend in with. As ordinary as it could be. He unbuckles his belt then retrieves a gun from his glove department. Robert holds your chin until you’re face-to-face with him. A finger is in your face. His voice is deep and demanding, “Do not, under any circumstance, cause a scene.” he snarls. You look down and nod. He lets go of your chin to cut the bindings.

When you take the first step out of the van everything had felt surreal. The entire place gave off a cheerful aura. You noticed a woman around the same age as you, waving from next door. When you smile her way, she proceeds to start a conversation out of the blue. The conversation had been short but informative. As much as you enjoyed the company of another adult, you couldn’t help but feel as though Robert wouldn’t approve. All of a sudden, she stops mid conversation, “Oh sweetheart…that’s your husband?” her brows raise as soon as she spots Robert. He steps out of his run-down ice cream truck with a cigarette still in his hand.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. Your face heats up in embarrassment when he drops the bud on the ground and mushes it into the lawn. His hair is in a mess. There are stains on his shirt from god knows where. You look back to find the woman with her mouth agape, she leans in to whisper, “Blink twice if you need someone to save you.” her voice was stern.

You almost hesitate for a moment unsure if she were serious or not. She sharply jabs your side, “I’m kidding by the way! Let us know if you need any help!” she winks before returning to her home. You cringe from what she might’ve thought from that encounter.

You were dolled up from head-to-toe meanwhile Robert decided that wearing the same shirt for an entire week was good enough. If having a slob for a spouse was considered “normal” then you didn’t want any part in it. To think that this was a dream for some. You don’t bother meeting Robert’s gaze. Instead you lift Andy into you arms while bouncing him on your hip.

Your carry your son towards the house. Robert spots the two of you sitting on the front porch. He then eyes the other woman walking back to her home. He notices your discomfort instantly. What had she said to make you so upset? Were you planning something?

Originally posted by evansensations

“What did she say?”

“Nothing.” you roll your eyes, “Are you scared?” you push his buttons to see what his response would be. He leans in close and places a palm against Andy’s back, rubbing small circles against his tiny form, Robert looks you in the eyes, "Are you?" He really had the nerve to involve your son. Robert is caught off guard by you swatting his hand away.

There must’ve been something the other woman must’ve said to make you act up.  Surely his training hadn’t been left in vain. Robert could spot in the corner of his sight a certain nosy neighbor peeping through blinds. He pretends to not notice and stares at the wind chimes instead. Robert opens the front door, expecting you to play along. You walk in first, giving him a glare before heading inside.

Robert closes the trunk of his car before following. You slam the door in his face. Now you were in for it. He makes his way in. From what he’s noticed so far your training had been in vain. He expects you be waiting for him each time he’d arrive. But not even a shadow had been cast.

Robert walks around your new home only to notice there wasn’t a sound. Not a peep. He wouldn’t like it if you tried running off again. Perhaps this time breaking your legs would send a message. He opens each door until he’s reaches the master bedroom. He swings the door open. There you are, curled up on the bed, with your hands in your face sobbing hysterically.

What in the hell was it this time? He hadn’t a clue, and he was starting to get annoyed. This emotional dilemma had to stop. He yanks at your arm with an iron grip, dragging you to your knees. Your head shoots up. He stares down at you with a scowl on his face, “I think you need a reminder of where your place is…” his voice is a deep grumble. Tears begin to welt again. This time from fear. You had really done it now.

Robert let’s go of your arm, leaving an angry bruise behind, “By the time I get back there better be food on that table. I don’t keep you here so you could sit on your ass all day.” he growls. Robert had a chain hook waiting for you in the kitchen. He had one screwed to the floor in each room of the house. As soon as he latches your ankles to the ceramic tiles. He doesn’t care to leave you alone. He had already given you an order, and expects you to carry them out.

He knows within few days before your tantrum would die out, his calculations are never wrong. He pats Andy’s head before leaving for another mission. All the doors of the house are locked from the outside. No way of escaping. Robert’s hands begin to itch while driving. He smokes to get the jitters to stop. Nothing worked. If there was any use that Robert put his pent up anger into, it had to be work. He considers himself a man who takes great care into what he does for a living, and boy is he damn good at it too.

Originally posted by horrorseason

It was late at night, Robert still hadn’t returned. Was this another test? You lift yourself from the cool tile of the kitchen floor. Andy had offered you his blanket but you kindly refused. Poor little angel wanted to keep you company. He wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. But he was willing to negotiate sleeping on the couch instead. He insisted. You swear that kid would make a damn good lawyer someday. You watch over him as he dozed off. Sleepless nights were a new norm. Your attention had quickly been seized by the door unlocking.

Robert steps inside. He’s covered from head to toe in blood. His face is caked in it. He kicks off his muddied boots before walking over to Andy sleeping. You tug on the chains. Ignoring the pain of the metal digging into your ankles. Robert crouches down to the sleeping child’s level. He looks over his shoulder and smiles, dangling a knife for you to see.

You fall to your knees in a prayer and beg him to stop. He holds the blade in front of his lips and shushes. You quickly silence yourself, dropping your hands to the floor. Robert twirls the knife in his hand before facing Andy. In a swift motion he jabs the knife down. He made you look as he killed your baby. Blood from his small body drips down the couch. A stream of crimson travels down the wooden flooring.

Originally posted by leonseff

The bottom of your dress soaks up in Andy’s blood. You lift your hands up to cover your mouth. Only to realize now the crimson liquid is now smeared across your face.

You scream and scream. Until Robert shakes you awake. He holds the sides of your arms tightly, “Snap out of it!” he orders. You weren’t in the kitchen. Robert must have carried you back to the bedroom after he’d returned. You voice hitches, “W-where is he?”

“Kid’s asleep. Even after all that.” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. You turn to him and whisper, “Can I see him? Please?” you’ve never sounded more vulnerable. He lets out a long sigh before turning on the lamp. He retrieves a pair of boxers from the ground. Robert unhooks the leather binding and switches it with a chain. He leads you to Andy’s room. You held your breath as you twist the door knob open.

A small creak of from the hallway lights shine in. It shines on a familiar face. Andy doesn’t flinch from the gleam. He must’ve been fast asleep by now. You approach his sleeping figure. Careful not to make any noise from the chain dragging behind. You reach for his plump cheek and touch it. He’s warm. When you notice he’s still breathing you let out a sigh of relief. You place a gentle kiss on his temple before following Robert back to bed.

As you laid on your side you couldn’t help but think about your situation. It was hard to sleep under the amount of stress you were in. You felt an arm creep to your side. Robert was in the mood for a midnight snack. He lifts your silk slip on halfway up. He pushes a thick leg in between yours, letting one of yours rest on his thigh. Robert stokes his tip along your folds. He collects what little wetness was there to prep him. He pushes his entire length in without warning. You wince from the intrusion. His thrusts rock your bodies back and forth.

All you could do was stare blankly at the wall ahead, waiting for him to finish off. A few agonizing minutes later his fingers dig into your hips as he pounds his way to climax. He spurts your rear with his arousal. Robert wipes himself off on your skirt. He lies on his back consumed in pure bliss. You pull the strap of your now ruined dress up. Robert’s ragged breaths turn into soft snores. You were very much still awake, wishing now that you never woke up.

Nightmares are a common thing. After all, you live in one.

[ragingbookdragon]

Hell In A Cell

Batsis x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language and Violence

Author's Note: I can't believe I haven't put this one back up yet. Nothing's more fun than WWE references when you're kicking ass, ya feel? -Thorne

They could feel her eyes on them as they stared at their hands, too afraid to meet her gaze. Dick suddenly found the beds of his nails interesting, Jason and Tim kept looking at the steel seats they were sitting on, and Damian just turned towards the front. She sat opposite of them, on the bench against the other wall, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees. The last time any of them had looked, she had her fingers intertwined and pressed against her lips, her eyes cold and infuriated. After a few moments, Dick gathered the courage to look up from his nails and glanced at her.

He gave a fearful smile and asked, “Uh…sis? Are you still…mad?” Her eyes drifted to his and he visibly flinched from her gaze.

She tipped her mouth away from her fingers and seethed, “Mad is the smallest word for what I am right now.” The others flinched at her fury and looked up, taking in the image of their angered sister.

“It wasn’t that bad (Y/N). We’re just…detained…” Jason’s words died as (Y/N) turned her eyes to him.

“I told you four chuckleheads that the property we were on was protected, but nooooo, ‘we’ll just be in there for five minutes. No one is going to find out’.” She growled as she stood, flinging her arms out to gesture around them.

“Well guess what?! Someone found out! And now we’re stuck in a goddamn jail cell at GCPD, waiting for dad to come bail us out!” Each of their necks disappeared into their shoulders.

Tim spoke quietly. “At least none of us got hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter if none of us got hurt! This is going to be all over the news tomorrow! ‘Billionaire Bruce Wayne’s kids found trespassing on personal property’.” She looked at them as she snapped, “Do you have any idea what this is going to do to our reputations?!”

She turned to Tim. “What this can and will do to the company and future deals?!” (Y/N) sat back down and dropped her head into her hands. “We’ll be lucky to come out of this unscathed.” She groaned loudly and rubbed her face with her hands, sighing tiredly, “Dad’s going to be so pissed when he gets here.”

“Father will not be angry at us sister. He will understand what we were doing.”

(Y/N) let out another heavy sigh and from behind her hands, she muttered, “Oh, he’s going to be angry. He’s going to blow a gasket he’s going to be so angry. I highly doubt—”

A shout from the back of the room cut her off. “Will you five shut the hell up? God, you’ve been complaining ever since you got in here.” The comments made the four boys turn their heads to a group sitting in the back.

(Y/N) pulled her head up and turned, her voice dark as she retorted, “Buddy, I’m in a less than stellar mood right now and unless you don’t want me to show you what your insides look like—I’d advise you to shut the fuck up.”

Her threat made him stand up and he started walking towards her, his group of thugs following in tow. “What did you just say to me rich-bitch? Wanna repeat that?”

When he finally stopped walking, he was right in front of her, and she could see her brothers beginning to rise from their seats for a quick defense. She raised a few fingers in their direction, telling them to wait.

(Y/N) looked up at him as she rose from her seat, coming nose to nose with him. She pulled the most intimidating face she could muster and repeated, “I said, unless you want me to show you what your insides look like…shut the fuck up.”

The man turned to his friends and started laughing, causing them to follow in suit, then he turned back to her. “I don’t think you understand the position you’re in sweetheart.” He motioned to his friends. “We’re in Two-Face’s gang.” He motioned to a group in the corner. “And those clowns work for Joker.”

He turned back to her and reached out, shoving her shoulder. “You’re locked in here with us. Imagine what we’ll do to five rich kids that don’t have any bodyguards to protect ‘em.” The others laughed, and (Y/N) shot a quick glance to her brothers along with a nod before looking back at the man and letting out a dark chuckle. A feeling of apprehension came over them as they stopped laughing.

She flashed him an unsettling grin and leaned forward, whispering, “No pal, I don’t think you understand. We aren’t locked in here with you.” Her brothers rose, moving to her sides and she leaned back. “You’re locked in here with us.”

The man’s eyes widened, and she jerked forward to grab the back of his neck and slammed his head into the seat she’d previously been sitting on. He dropped and the cell went dead silent.

The gang members in the back had stood up, and (Y/N) looked at the ones in front of her. “Who’s next?” No one moved an inch, and she tipped her head side-to-side. “C’mon jackasses, we’re gonna be here all night. We might as well get this over with.”

The gang members looked at each other before nodding and they turned to her and her brothers. “You’re so going to regret that.”

(Y/N) tipped her head and gave a quick glance to her brothers, grinning evilly. “Whoever knocks out the most thugs gets to come with me to Tokyo next week.” They matched her grins and they got into fighting stances.

She turned back to the group and taunted, “Let’s dance.”

***

They all collapsed onto the metal benches, sweating and bleeding; (Y/N) glanced at Dick who was holding the collar of his shirt to his busted lip. “You good Dickie?”

He looked at her and tossed her a thumbs up, and she turned to Jason. “How’s the nose?” He grunted and held his nose before sucking in a breath and shoving it back into place with a sickening crunch. The others winced at the sound, and Jason let go of his nose, slamming his head back into the wall a few times.

“I’ll take it that you’re better now?” He raised a few fingers and she reached down, tearing a piece of one of the unconscious gang-member’s shirts and tossing it to Tim. “Put that on your eyebrow Timmy.” He caught it and raised it to his left eyebrow that had been spilt open.

He nodded at her and she finally looked at Damian who was continually spitting blood on the floor. “You alright Dami?”

He spat once more and looked at her. “I got a tooth knocked out.”

The others turned to him and leaned forward, trying to see. “Lemme see!”

He opened his mouth, pointing to a tooth in the bottom left of his mouth. “It was a baby tooth, so there’s no problem.”

Jason snorted, but immediately regretted it as he reached up to hold his nose; he turned to Damian. “You’re thirteen and you still have baby-teeth?” Damian’s retort was cut off by a tennis shoe whacking Jason in the head, and they turned to see (Y/N) reclining against the wall.

“Jason don’t be a douchebag.” He grumbled at her and rubbed the side of his head, but conceded, and silence filled the cell once again.

After a few moments, the sound of footsteps came from down the hall and they all turned their heads to see their father, Alfred, and Gordon staring at them in shock. They flashed sheepish smiles, and (Y/N) waved a hand. “Hey dad, hey Alfie…hey Commissioner Gordon.”

“What in God’s name happened here?!”

(Y/N) looked around at the ground littered with unconscious gangmembers and turned back, grinning. “Uh…they got their asses kicked six ways from Sunday.”

“Why?!”

“Well, first they insulted us, and secondly, they put their hands on us. So technically, we were well within our rights to whoop ass.”

Her father glared at her and rebuked angrily. “(Y/N) Wayne, not another word.” She gave him a mock salute and shut her mouth; Bruce turned to Gordon and began discussing something, and a few minutes later, her and her family were walking out to the waiting car.

They all climbed in and waited for Bruce to start yelling at them; no words came from him, but they could tell he was seething with rage. A few moments went by and they pulled into an abandoned parking lot.

Bruce turned around and let them all have it. “You’re all off patrol for two months. Reason number one, the trespassing. Reason number two, the Hell in a Cell you five had.” He paused and threw his hands in the air. “What the hell were you five thinking?”

They all looked at (Y/N) who rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Yeah sure, look at the oldest and expect her to explain.” They giggled at her and she turned to her dad. “First and foremost, I can’t believe you just used a WWE term. Secondly, they were thugs, and we were attacked. So, by default, we just responded naturally.”

“And breaking skulls and bones is natural?”

“Is that a legit question?”

“Don’t make me ground you, young lady.”

(Y/N) grunted at him. “I’m twenty-six. You can’t ground me. I don’t even live at home.”

The others watched them bicker until Bruce raised a hand. “Enough. We’ll discuss this at home.”

“Again, I don’t live with you. I live on my own.”

“(Y/N) Wayne.”

“Alright…whatever.” He turned back around and nodded to Alfred, and the car began moving once more.

After a few minutes of silence, Jason cleared his throat and nonchalantly mumbled, “Not that it’s super important right now…but I get to go to Tokyo with you next week.”

“The hell you do! I knocked out the most thugs!”

“No, you didn’t replacement. I did.”

“Neither of you Robin failures completed the challenge correctly. I won it.”

“Not to be rude little D, but you would be incorrect. I won the challenge.”

“Ain’t nobody asked you Dickhead.” This spurred an even bigger fight as the four of them began to bicker in the backseat, and (Y/N) groaned, leaning forward and rested her chin on Bruce’s shoulder.

His head tipped downwards, and he eyed her. “What’s wrong with you?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and mumbled, “I gotta them all to Tokyo next week because we aren’t going to be able to figure out who knocked out the most.”

Bruce sighed, but a small grin crossed his lips, and after a few seconds he murmured, “You won the most knocked out, didn’t you?”

“Oh totally.”

“That’s my badass daughter.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Master Bruce! Ms. (Y/N)! Your language!”

They both glanced at Alfred and said, “Sorry Alfred.” They looked back at each other before sharing a smile, then the sound of flying fists reached their ears and they both sighed. Then,

“OW THAT WAS MY NOSE!”

“AND THAT WAS MY LIP!”

“OW YOU LITTLE SPAWN! THAT’S MY ARM YOU’RE BITING!”

(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder and looked at her fighting brothers: Jason had Dick in a headlock while giving him a noogie, and Tim was trying to remove Damian’s teeth from his forearm. She turned back around and looked at Alfred and her dad.

“Do you guys wanna come with me instead of them?”

Bruce eyed her with an eyebrow raised. “Do you really think leaving the city to the four of them is a good idea?”

(Y/N) thought for a moment before muttering, “I mean it’s not a great idea, but it’s an idea nonetheless.”

“One that’s bound to end up in a city on fire.”

“…Yeah you got me there.” She paused a slight second before affirming, “But the offer still stands.”

“No (Y/N).”

“But I don’t want to take them with me.”

“Too bad.”

“Fuck my life.”

“MS. (Y/N)! LANGUAGE!”

[fivelakesinwriting]

Treasure Hunt (JJ Maybank)

Author's Notes: JJ gets The Chateau to himself for a night.. I haven't committed to writing a full JJ smut yet. Perhaps one day. The inspiration for this fic came from a line from a Drew story I wrote. Let me know what you think if you have a moment! xoxo

Warnings: Sexual innuendos - sexual references (Little smutty) , Swearing.

Requested? Nope. But requests for OBX are open!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

It wasn't very often that JJ Maybank had any one space to himself. He felt like an unwanted guest in his own home, the place he grew up in. And he knew one day he would overstay his welcome at John B's house. For now, his presence was welcome at the Routledge house so he stayed as much as he could.

Tonight was one of the nights JJ had The Chateau all to himself. He had told himself he would be, a respectful young man and not invite his girlfriend over for full naked reign over the house. He told himself he had enough self control to sit on the couch and watch whatever movies were on television for one night. Or that he could find some old DVDs, or even a VHS kicking around.

"What room do you wanna do it in first?" JJ smirked as he pulled his cutoff tank top over his head and tossed it carelessly across the living room.

Within ten minutes of being alone, JJ wrestled with the idea of a night by himself, then quickly ran down the street to her house and told her come over.

"Couch. We never get to do it on the couch." She smiled as she pressed her hands to his chest then backed him towards the threadbare couch that rested against the back window of the house.

The back of JJ's legs hit the couch and he let his body fall with an umph down. He grabbed her hips and pulled her to straddle his lap, his fingertips brushing over the skin beneath her shirt as he kept her close.

JJ made a show of pulling off her shirt. Slowly, and with great care, he pulled off the loose tank top and tossed it elsewhere in the house. He smiled at the soft lace bralette, jade green, beneath her shirt, a sweet change of pace from the bathing suit tops he usually saw her in. Not that he minded.

"Cute." JJ stated flatly as he tugged at the strap of her bralette with his index finger.

"Thanks. You can borrow it, if you want." She laughed as she threaded her fingers in his messy blonde hair.

"Next kegger, I might." JJ chucked as he laid both his palms flat on her back to pull her flush against him then silenced her with a kiss. He reached behind her to skillfully unhook her bra, pulling the straps down her arms then throwing the soft material somewhere within The Chateau.

She breathed a sigh of relief against his lips as she pulled at his hair, her thighs pressed tightly against his while her hips swiveled down on his lap. JJ grinned into the kiss as he used his body strength to flip her back to the couch and lay between her thighs.

"You have too many buttons on your shorts." JJ grumbled as his thick fingers fumbled with the gold buttons that lined her high-waisted shorts.

She laughed as she reached between them to help him with her shorts. She usually chose fashion over function, but if she was going to be with JJ, she might have to rethink that choice. She thumbed open the delicate buttons of her shorts and lifted her hips to let him know he was able to take the dark blue material off of her.

JJ grinned while he slid her shorts down her legs then tossed them over his shoulder. He knelt between her legs on the couch to pull his own shirt over his shoulders to throw it somewhere else in the living room. He laid back down on top of her, one arm holding his weight on the arm of the couch in front of him while the other kept a firm grip on her thigh.

"JJ.." She groaned as she wriggled beneath him, her hands on his bare shoulders.

"Yeah?" JJ asked as he kissed along her neck towards her shoulder.

"There's a spring from the couch cushion digging into my back. I'm rethinking our decision to have sex here." She replied as she placed her hands on his neck to prompt his head up from the crook of her neck to make him look at her.

"My room?" JJ asked as he looked down at her with swollen lips, his hair even messier from her hands tugging at it.

"Please." She nodded as she began to sit up again, a soft push of his chest.

JJ sat up, climbing off the couch and with a tug of her hand easily pulled her up with him. JJ bent at the waist to put her over his should, a smile on his face as she squealed when he placed a soft smack on her backside.

JJ carried her the few short steps through the house, down the hallway and into the spare room that he called his own. He carefully laid her down on the bed and smiled down at her while she looked up at him with just her jade green thong on. She reached for him, her fingers curling in the air, while her legs fell open to accommodate his frame.

JJ dropped his body down onto the body between her thigh, his weight held on his forearms above her. He smiled as he pressed his forehead to hers then playfully nudged her nose with his.

"Ready for me?" JJ asked as he knelt on the bed and unzipped his shorts.

"Yes, JJ." She smiled as she reached forward to run her fingers along the plains of his abs.

..

Even in the early morning the sun was hot through the spare room that JJ Maybank called home. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, careful not to wake the girl who still slept soundly on his chest.

"What time is it, JJ?" She asked softly against his pecs.

"It's like...9am or something." JJ muttered as he reached for the digital clock on the bedside table and turned it towards him.

"It's 9am? Shit. JJ, my parents have been awake for an hour now. I have to go home." She gasped as she shot up in bed and looked around the room to find her clothes.

JJ reached at the headboard behind him and pulled her jade green thong down to hand them to her.

"Let the treasure hunt begin." He smirked as he climbed out of bed and pulled on his shorts from the day before.

She kicked her legs up, pulled her underwear back on, then rolled out of bed and ran through the halls with JJ to find her clothes that had been carelessly tossed throughout the house.

"Damnit, JJ!" She yelled as she stood in the kitchen topless, hands on her hips.

"It's not my fault." JJ laughed as he looked through the living room. He released a call of triumph as he found her shirt and held it high in the air. He tossed it over his shoulder and continued his hunt for the rest of her clothes.

"Pants, JJ! I need pants." She muttered as she walked quickly into the living room with him.

"Not from where I'm standing." JJ smirked as he tipped his head and watched as she bent over to sort through a mess of blankets and clothes.

"Focus, Maybank!" She replied with a snap of her fingers.

JJ breathed out a laugh then continued his search for her bra and her shorts. He turned around and looked at the other side of the living room and squeezed his fist with pride as he found her shorts as he found her bra slung over the recliner chair.

"Babe! Shirt and bra." JJ called as he tossed her top and bra over to her, a weak tug in his heart as he watched her get dressed again.

"Thank you. Now where are my damn shorts?" She breathed out as she smoothed her shirt over her stomach.

"I didn't think I threw them that far." JJ replied with a scratch of the back of his neck while he tried to avoid looking at her legs.

As the two were about to come with another game plan, the front door of The Chateau opened and John B walked in. He stopped in his tracks, eyebrows raised as he saw his best friend shirtless in the living with a girl in just her underwear.

"Morning, JJ..." John B trailed as he slowly closed the front door and shrugged out of his backpack then placed it on the floor.

"Hey, John B. Morning." JJ replied, a slight panic in his voice as he shuffled slightly to stand in front of his girlfriend to cover her close to naked bottom half.

"There's a pair of shorts over the T.V. Is that what you're looking for?" John B smirked before he made his way towards the kitchen.

JJ turned around and looked down at her with an apologetic look. She gave his chest a playful shove before she made her way to the television and grabbed her shorts then pulled them up.

"Oh, by the way! Her parents are all over the block looking for her. So you might want to wrap this up." John B yelled from the kitchen.

JJ reached for her hand as she looked at him with panicked eyes then pulled her out of The Chateau and down the dirt path for one last kiss goodbye.

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you for your support xoxo

Requests for OBX are open!

[fanficimagery]

The Witch’s Companion

Imagine settling down in La Push and instantly hitting it off with a group of locals. You have an instant connection with Sam Uley and though you know exactly what the connection is, you find that you would rather have Sam tell you what it is. Only he has trouble finding a way and you find it rather amusing since you already know all about the supernatural realm. After all, you are a part of it.

Words: 6.3K Author’s Note: This is so bad, but I didn’t wanna trash it. I needed something to post. My apologies.

Since coming into your magic, you've always felt like something was missing. No matter how much you studied or how much progress you made in mastering your abilities, you always felt incomplete. You stayed home long enough to complete your high school education and then worked a few years to earn some cash before deciding to take a chance out in the real world on your own.

Fortunately for you, however, your family knew you'd be leaving the coven and they were more than prepared to send you on your way with funds they had saved up over the years themselves. It was a tearful goodbye, but as soon as you were on the road you felt it in every fiber of your being that you were making the right choice.

You drove for hours on end, not content enough to stop until the moon was high in the sky, and then found the least skeezy motel you could find to stay the night in. Then after paying for the night and putting a sigil of protection on your truck so no one could peek through the windows or break a window without setting off a blaring alarm, you showered and prepared for bed. But as you laid in bed, you tossed and turned as your brain wouldn't shut off. So instead of counting sheep, you got back up and dug out some of your supplies from the bag you kept close to you at all times.

As you sat on the floor with your legs crossed beneath you and a map spread out in front of you, you lit four white candles and placed one on each corner of the map. You took a white crystal on a chain and let it pool in your hand before closing your eyes, then holding the crystal against your chest. With nothing but good intentions and the hope of finding that missing part of you, you rubbed the crystal over your heart before grabbing the chain and letting the crystal hang over the map. And then with your eyes still closed, you twirled the crystal over the map before holding your hand still and letting spirits guide the crystal so you have an inkling of where to drive next.

Minutes passed and when you felt the chain still in your hand, you opened your eyes and found the tip of the crystal pointing towards the North-West portion of the map. So with somewhat of a destination in mind, you packed your belongings and was finally able to fall asleep.

Over the next few days you drove and drove, stopping for bathroom breaks, food and rest when necessary. When you hit the west coast and then started driving north, you were skeptical about where the crystal had really been pointing. But then you get to Forks, Washington and something just feels different. It doesn't feel right, but it's damn near close and you decide to drive around some more.

It isn't until you drive onto the reservation in La Push that it feels like you can properly breathe for the first time ever and you nearly cry tears of relief. But before you can start making plans of settling down, you know there are some things that must be addressed. Because growing up in a coven and learning of every supernatural creature you could, you know La Push is home to the legends of spirit warriors. And behind every legend is truth. So in order to be on good terms with the locals and the elders of the tribe, you know you must ask permission to stay on their lands.

The elders, surprisingly, needed no convincing. They were wary of a witch's presence at first, but after explaining everything to them they seemed to perk up with interest. More than a couple of the elders had twinkling eyes when you spoke of feeling as if a part of you was missing and that you only felt at complete ease once you crossed their borders. They even gave you a few suggestions on available houses in the area and you took your leave after asking them to keep your heritage a secret. You wanted to meet people on your own time and not have anyone seek you out because of what you could do. They completely understood and wished you well.

So a couple weeks later, here you are staring up at your very own two bedroom house. You had some cash put away for this exact occasion, but really it was the elders of La Push who were such a tremendous help in helping you purchase the place. The house itself was practically surrounded by trees and far enough away from any neighbors which granted you all the privacy you needed. So in other words, it was perfect.

You still need furniture and appliances to fill the house, so you've given yourself a time limit of about a week to get everything you need because that's as long as you're willing to stay in a small motel down in Forks. You've already ordered a basic refrigerator and stove, and they're to be delivered in a couple days time. You're still on the lookout for beds and couches, but nothing's caught your eye, so for now you've come to the house prepared with cleaning supplies.

The inside of the house is in pretty great condition, the only thing you really have to do is give it a good dusting, wipe down, and mopping. So after opening up all the windows, you walked around the house with a duster on an extendable arm made sure to dust every corner, nook and cranny of the room. You Windex every glass surface you can before sweeping the floors and then fill up a mop bucket to get started on the floors.

Afterwards, as the floors finish drying, you sit on the porch with a sandwich and Gatorade you had packed into a small ice chest. When you're a little more halfway through, two trucks rumble down the path to your house and you set aside your food in order to stand up and greet them.

Tribal Elder Harry Clearwater is easily recognizable, as is his beautiful wife Sue who is sitting in the passenger seat across from him. The two boys in the truck behind them, however, are new.

Stepping off the porch and meeting your guests halfway, you greet them all with a smile. Sue is the only one to receive a hug whereas Harry offers a handshake. "Hello, Harry. What brings you down here?"

The older man chuckles. "Just wanted to see how you were settling in and introduce you to a few of the young ones."

You finally meet the gazes of the boys behind Harry, taking note of the tribal tattoos on their upper biceps that they're showing off thanks to their sleeveless shirts. Both are wearing cargo shirts and have bare feet which you hardly bat an eye at. "Hello." You wave at them, smiling softly.

"Hey," the slightly shorter of the two smirks, leaning forward and offering his hand, "I'm Paul."

As you grasp his hand, his warmth sends shivers down your spine. "Y/N. It's nice to meet you."

Paul shakes your hand a little longer than normal and you find yourself fighting back a laugh. "Paul, would you let her go? She's clearly not interested." His friend clamps a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back briefly before thrusting his own hand forward. "I'm Jared."

"Hi."

After greeting the two boys, you give a very amused Harry and Sue your attention once more. "So thanks for checking in. I'm just cleaning out the house right now. Getting it ready for deliveries."

"Oh?" Sue perks up. "What did you find?"

"Just a refrigerator and stove for now," you say with a small shrug and sheepish laugh. "I rather have the cabinets and refrigerator stocked with food rather than worry about comfortable bedding. If push comes to shove, I'll happily camp out on an air mattress while I find a decent bed."

Harry chuckles. "I figured you'd be having trouble finding some decent furniture, so I went ahead and went through our storage. Come on," he gestures for you to follow. "Come take a look."

"What?" You stare, wide-eyed, and Sue chuckles before nudging you to follow. You do, with the boys chuckling at your surprise, and you find a wooden bed frame laying in the bed of Harry's truck.

"It's a bit old," Harry then admits, "but it's still very sturdy. It was wasting away in our storage, so I figured it could go to a good home."

"Are- are you sure?"

"Of course," Sue assures you. "We also have a couch and a recliner if you're interested. They're still in really good condition."

"Well yeah! If you say it's in good condition and are willing to get rid of them, I'll happily take them off your hands."

"Excellent. Boys!" Harry catches Jared and Paul's attention. "Go back to my house and have Leah show you to the storage. She'll know what couch and recliner we want to get rid of."

"You got it, Harry."

Jared nods at Harry to let him know he's on it and Paul spares you one last lingering leer which prompts you to laugh and shake your head at him. Then turning to Sue, you ask, "So what do I owe you?"

But Sue is quick to wave you off. "Don't worry about it. Consider this as our house warming present. And," she's quick to cut you off when you open your mouth to retort, "if you feel like you owe us something, then all I ask is that you stop by the health clinic once you're truly settled in. You have a very healing nature about you and I'm sure you'd be a great help to our little community."

Catching her drift, you can't help but chuckle. "Sure thing, Sue."

With nothing else to be said, Harry and Sue help you unload the bed frame and carry it into your house and into the appropriate room. Fortunately Harry has a bag of tools in his truck and instructs you what screws go where since you were more capable of getting down on the floor than he was. Paul and Jared get back right before you finish putting together the frame, so Sue walks out to go instruct them to bring the furniture in.

Afterwards, as you and Harry join everyone in the living room, you smile kindly around at the occupants. "Boys, thanks for bringing the heavy stuff in."

"Don't even worry about it," Jared says. "If Sue and Harry are already this attached, I have a feeling you're good people."

Before Paul can comment, there's a bone chilling howl ripping through the air. It's not too close to the house, but it doesn't stop the boys from awkwardly chuckling afterwards and assuring you the wolves around the reservation are completely harmless. You keep a faint smile in place, nodding along, and force down your amusement at their hasty retreat.

Turning to Sue and Harry, you laugh. "They don't have a subtle bone in their body."

"No they do not," she muses.

A comfortable silence follows the three of you out onto the porch, watching as Paul and Jared drive away in a hurry. Seconds pass before Harry makes it clear they should get going too.

As you follow them to their truck, you say, "Thanks again for the furniture. If I head out now I can probably find a box spring and mattress, and actually sleep in my own house tonight."

Sue smiles. "I'm glad we could be of some help. If you need anything," she then reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small white card, "here's my number. Don't hesitate to call."

You take the card and glance at the number before pocketing it. "I won't. Thank you."

The married couple climb into the truck and as soon as they're settled and the engine rumbles to life, Harry leans out his window. "Don't take too long to let the boys in on your secret. I have a feeling you'll be seeing them more often than not now that two of them know where you live."

"How many are there?"

"Three as of right now," Harry says, "but we're keeping an eye on a few others."

"This pack keeps growing and the vampires will be too scared to step anywhere near La Push."

Harry chuckles. "That's fine by me."

With nothing else to be said and the Clearwater's wanting you to get everything you need before the stores shut down, they bid you farewell and take their leave. Then after making sure you shut all the windows to your house and lock up, you hop in your truck and drive to the city in hopes of getting a box spring and mattress to fit your new bed.

Over the next few days, you get settled in and you've never felt more at peace. Even your magic seems to meshing better than ever within you and your coven back home couldn't have been more happier for you.

You've kept your promise to Sue, mixing concoctions that were easily added into lotions for aching joints and grinding powered mixtures that could be added to water that acted as a mild pain reliever. The reservation's clinic was mostly used by the elderly and you were glad you could offer them relief for their aching bones.

You've also run into Paul and Jared a handful of times, mostly at the grocery store and once when you had gone to the beach for the day. They had been leaving when you were just getting there and Paul had introduced you to his new girlfriend, but the way he couldn't take his eyes off her let you know it was something so much more. Jared kept trying to introduce you to his other friend, but apparently you and this so-called Sam just kept missing each other.

And it isn't until one drizzly day that you finally meet him.

You sleep in a little later than usual, the overcast sky and drizzling rain keeping you in a sleepy state. Then when you feel like you've laid in long enough, you get up and take the warmest shower you can before dressing cozy and curling up on your couch. Nothing on TV seems to catch your attention, so you turn it off and head into your kitchen. You're not particularly hungry, but you find yourself wanting to make something. So opening up your pantry, you find that you have all the ingredients you need to bake to your heart's content.

With your hair twisted up into a bun and the sleeves of your sweater pushed up to your elbows, you're mixing together the second batch of muffins as the first batch cools next to a peach cobbler. You've been in the baking zone, listening to the distant rumbling thunder, that when there's knocking on your front door it startles you into letting loose a yelp.

There's a bark of laughter before you hear the door creaking open and Paul and Jared walk in, both shirtless and in cut-off jean shorts. A third walks in behind them, this one unfamiliar, but you keep your attention on the two you do know.

Huffing, you set aside the bowl and pick up a washcloth to clean off your hands as you walk around the kitchen counter. "If you catch a cold, I am not helping you. Only idiots would run around barefoot in this type of weather we're having right now."

"Oooh, those muffins free game?" Jared asks, completely ignoring your words and walking around you. "I'm starving."

"Do I smell peach cobbler?" Paul then wonders, doing the same as his friend.

"Hey!" The third individual barks, Paul and Jared freezing at his tone. "Manners."

You smirk as the boys shift nervously and then look towards the still unknown man. "Thank you. You, my well mannered friend, are more than welcome to the snacks. I'm Y/N, by the way."

As he meets your gaze, his small smile falters. His eyes seem to subtly widen, his expression goes lax, and there's an instant connection with this man- a sense of warmth and comfort rushing through you. He feels like.. like home.

You blink and then.. oh. You know exactly what this is and while a little part of you is nervous because you hadn't planned to tell anyone other than the tribal elders what you were, you're also kind of excited.

"Sam?" Paul wonders, he and Jared snickering.

The second you break eye contact with him, he seems to come back to himself. Clearing his throat, he nods at you. "Sam. I'm Sam Uley." He then glares at the boys before sheepishly glancing at you once more.

You flash him a small smile. "Nice to finally meet you Sam Uley. Jared doesn't shut up about you."

"Hey!" The muffled response causes you to look at the boy in question and you roll your eyes fondly when you see his cheeks puffed out with the remains of a muffin he'd eaten when you weren't paying attention.

"So what brings you boys over here?" You ask as you walk back into the kitchen, whipping Jared with a small towel and shooing him towards the table.

"Just wanted to see how you were dealing with our weather," Paul says. "Now can I please have some of this cobbler? It smells really good."

"Have you eaten lunch yet? All that sweet is going to ruin your appetite."

Jared snorts as he takes a seat at the table. "Nothing can ruin our appetites. Trust me."

Paul is still eyeing the cobbler so you sigh and wave him on. "Go ahead. I'm sure you can find the plates and utensils." Then looking towards Sam, you smile. "Would you like to take a seat? There are brown sugar muffins, chocolate chip muffins and peach cobbler if you're interested."

"I, uh, yeah." He grins at you. "I'd like that."

Sam, Paul and Jared take over your kitchen table and instead of being annoyed you can't help but feel a bit of fondness for them. You're well aware of what the connection you had with Sam was and you wonder how long it'll take him to come clean to you since it's obvious all three at your table are shifters- Sam obviously being the alpha.

But putting that off for now, you walk into your kitchen and place some muffins in a bowl to take to the table. Jared is all too happy to immediately start digging in and Paul looks absolutely blissed out as he shovels bite after bite of peach cobbler into his mouth. Sam shakes his head at the two of them, but you find it all rather amusing.

Taking a muffin for himself and eating at a leisurely pace, Sam asks, "So how do you know the boys?"

"Sue and Harry introduced us when they brought over my bed," you tell him. Grabbing a few bottled waters from the refrigerator, you walk them over to the table and take a seat yourself. "Between you and me, I think the only reason Harry introduced us was because I'm a female living by myself. He wants me to have people in my corner should something ever happen."

Sam glances between you and the boys, and seeing as you're not offended he allows himself to chuckle. "Yeah. That sounds like Harry. He's good people."

"Oh for sure," you muse. "I kind of have this sense about people. I can tell who's a good and who's a bad one."

"Oh really?" Paul looks up long enough to spot the waters and take one for himself. "What do you sense about us?"

Jared freezes, Sam tenses and Paul smirks as he takes a gulp of his water. You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest, and smirk. "Honestly? I get a sense you and Jared are going to be giant pains in my ass."

Jared laughs, but Paul continues to smugly hold your gaze. "And what about Sam?"

Your gaze slides over to Sam who looks equal parts ready to strangle Paul and wondering what your answer is going to be. Eyes twinkling, you say, "That's to be determined."

Now that you'd officially met Sam and he imprinted on you- though you weren't supposed to know that- it seemed like he was everywhere. You run into him at the grocery store, at the local health clinic, and at the beach. And then sometimes all three of them would show up on your porch to check up on you, but mostly to raid your kitchen.

Usually when you run into them you run into all three, so as you're sitting on the beach and just soaking in the peace, you're surprised to see Sam approaching all on his lonesome.

"This seat taken?" He asks, gesturing to the empty half of the blanket you're sitting on.

You grin up at him. "Do my eyes deceive me or are you actually wearing long sleeves and jeans?"

"Ha ha," he deadpans. Toeing off his boots, Sam steps onto your blanket and sits next to you. He grins at you before looking out to the restless ocean. "So what brings you out here on this cool afternoon?"

You shrug. "Nothing really. Just felt like listening to the waves. You?"

"Same. Had some free time so I figured I'd come out here to decompress. Spotting you was just a bonus."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Uley."

Sam chuckles as he softly nudges you with his shoulder. You smile back at him, only to then look back out at the ocean. There's a moment where you and Sam just bask in the stillness of conversation before he's nudging you once more. "So tell me something, Y/N. What brought you out here to La Push?"

"I don't know if I want to tell you," you jokingly admit. "You'll think it's lame."

"No I won't. Come on, tell me."

Glancing at Sam you know you're in trouble at the sight of his small smile and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. You keep his gaze, sigh with a fond roll of your eyes, and he chuckles knowing full well you've caved. "Have you ever felt like you didn't belong? That something was missing from your life and, even though you had a pretty good life, you knew there was something out in the world you were destined to find?"

"Not until recently," he replies quietly.

Sam's gaze darts all over your face before darting down to your lips and your heart skips a beat. "I, uh," you pause and awkwardly clear your throat, leaning sideways away from Sam for a moment to clear your head. "I didn't feel complete for a long time," you say. "So after finishing high school and working a few years to save up some cash, I packed all the things I couldn't live without and hopped into my truck. I drove in whatever direction felt right to me and it wasn't until I crossed into La Push territory that it felt like I could breathe properly. It was weird." Well not really now that you know why you were drawn to La Push, but you couldn't exactly tell him that. Not yet.

"That's not lame at all. That's- well I can kind of relate," he says. When you glance at Sam, his faint grin morphs into a smirk. "I'm glad you found what you were looking for here in La Push, Y/N. It seems everyone here has taken a shine to you."

"What can I say," you muse, batting your eyelashes at him, "I'm a very likable person." Sam's phone dings before he can retort and he offers you a sheepish smile as he pulls it out of his pocket. He reads whatever's on his screen and sighs, looking at you with an apology in his eyes. "Go. It's fine. We can always catch up another time. You do, after all, know where I live."

Sam nods and pulls his boots to himself, slipping them on his feet and lacing up. "Do you, uh, maybe want to grab something to eat sometime?"

His stammering and avoidance of your gaze makes you smile. You hum, drawing out your answer before saying, "Like one on one or a group thing?"

He shrugs. "More like a date thing."

"Sam Uley," you chuckle. "Asking me on a date and breaking hearts all across the Rez. Who would've guessed.." When he's finally brave enough to meet your gaze, you smile. "It's a date, Sam. Just let me know when and where."

A date with Sam consisted of dinner at an Italian restaurant in Port Angeles. You had figured it'd be as awkward as first dates normally were, but from the moment he picked you up to the moment he dropped you off at your front porch and warmly pressed a kiss to your cheek, it was as if you and Sam had been doing this for ages. The conversation had flowed easily with quiet laughter here and there, and then you went for a walk around Port Angeles before deciding to call it a night.

The boys, when they took notice of you greeting Sam with a kiss to the cheek, took great pleasure in teasing the two of you. You could tell Sam was wary about it upsetting you, but you merely withheld food from the boys and they were quick to cut it out.

Sam slowly started to show up more often on his own, the casual touches turning into lingering touches, and it wasn't long until those on the Rez realized Sam was no longer on the market. Which was something Sue Clearwater was clearly ecstatic for, but it also led her to constantly nag you into telling Sam your secret since he was clearly struggling with admitting his own.

You've just gotten home from the grocery store, unloading the groceries when Sam pulls up.

Pausing in hauling the bags inside, you wait for Sam. He hops out of his own truck, grinning when he catches sight of you. "Hey, handsome. What are you doing?"

"Missed you." He leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth and you pout when he pulls away. He chuckles and takes the bags from your arms, grabbing another three from the backseat. "You have a good day?"

"It was decent." You shut the door to your truck, walking side by side with Sam up to your front door. Unlocking it, you push it open and let Sam walk in first. "I visited with Sue for a bit at the clinic and took the patients some goodies. What about you?"

"Decent. Got started on a table and chairs this couple want for their kitchen. Made good progress on it without Jared bugging me and Paul."

You laugh at the slight annoyance in Sam's features when he talks about Jared bugging him, but you know deep down that Sam would do anything for both Jared and Paul. He was just lucky right now since Jared was in his last year of high school and he had school five days out of the week which left Sam and Paul enough time to work without being pestered.

With Sam helping you, all the groceries are put away within a couple of minutes. You sigh with exhaustion, but a smile stays on your face because of the company you have. Sam walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you in against his chest. You sigh again, this time in contentment, and wrap your arms around his waist.

"Wanna take a nap?"

"Oh god," you groan. "Yes please."

Sam chuckles as you drag him to the living room, the sofa big enough to comfortably nap on. You both kick your shoes off and you impatiently wait for Sam to lay down and get comfortable before you lay down in front of him. With your back against his chest and his arm wrapped securely around your waist so you don't fall off, you close your eyes and listen to Sam's breathing to lull you to sleep.

Minutes pass and then, "Y/N?"

"Hmm?"

"I, uh, I need to tell you something."

Your eyes fly open. Is this it? Is this when he tells me he's a shifter? "Okay.."

"But I can't tell you until after the bonfire which I'm hoping you'll attend with me tonight."

Oh. "A bonfire sounds nice," you admit. "But whatever you have to tell me isn't bad, is it? Because now I'm going to be worried about it for the rest of the day."

Sam's laughter rumbles from behind you. "Nah. You have nothing to worry about. Get some rest, sweetheart. We deserve it."

          - - - - - - - - - - 

You and Sam fall asleep longer than you had anticipated, and it takes Paul barging into your house and startling you awake to realize how much time has passed. You remain grumpy and half asleep the entire time Sam tells you about the appropriate clothing for the beach bonfire, which Paul finds absolutely hilarious, and he only shut ups about it when you threaten to make him walk back to the beach since he had apparently walked to your house.

When you get to the beach, Sam takes your hand in his and you smile at him before he leads you to where there's already a roaring fire dancing under the night sky. There's a small group gathered around, but the ones who stick out to you the most are the tribal elders who appear as if they're holding court. Sam sits you on a log close to the fire before asking if you want anything and at your furrowed brow he gestures to the table of food that's dwindling down by the minute.

As you tell Sam you only want a hot drink, he leaves you be and you watch as everyone mingles. From across the fire Harry gives you a nod in greeting and you nod back. Your eyes are drawn to Paul who is wrapped around his girlfriend and you can't help but smile at how smitten he is with her. Jared is tossing chips at some young boy, the two of them running around as another unknown female watches them with fond exasperation.

All too soon Sam is taking a seat next to you, thigh to thigh, as his left arm goes around your shoulders after handing you a steaming cup of hot chocolate. You smile at him before snuggling into his warmth and blowing on your drink. Then when everyone settles down and Harry starts talking, you realize he's telling the legends about the Quileute Spirit Warriors.

You've heard the legends about the spirit warriors and cold ones, but never in such great detail and you're absolutely enthralled.

Afterwards, after being introduced to several more people and Sam dropping you back off at home, he walks you up to the porch. His hands are tucked deep into his pockets and he sighs, and you can just tell something is on his mind.

Grinning, you grab him by his belt loops and pull him closer to you. "What's wrong? I could hear you thinking on the drive here."

"Nothing." He automatically shakes his head. You raise an eyebrow at him and he exhales quietly. "I just- I'm curious as to what you thought about the bonfire. Only certain people have the special privilege of attending and I-"

"I loved it." You're quick to assure him. 'And I'm honored I was able to sit in."

"You didn't think it was odd? People turning into giant wolves and cold ones draining people."

You shake your head, smiling fondly. "Sam, I love learning about other cultures and their legends. Honestly, I had an amazing time." His shoulders sag in relief and you chuckle. "So do you want to tell me what else is on your mind?"

He shakes his head. "Maybe another time." His hands reach up to cradle your face and he brings you in to press a kiss to your forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

As the weeks pass, your happiness with Sam starts to dwindle under the pressure of his secret. For some reason, coming out and telling you all that you heard at the bonfire was true was harder than he had imagined. Of course you could have told him your secret to ease him into telling you his, but you were holding back as well.

Sue and Harry have had enough, however, after Sam snaps at Paul and Jared and starts straining the bond between the three of them. So sitting outside of your house, you wait for Sam to show up. If he won't tell you he's alpha of the Quileute pack, then you'll tell him your own secret and see what happens then.

Sam shows up on time and as he exits his truck, you stand up and walk towards the edge of the porch. He smiles in greeting, but you can see the strain behind it and you sigh. Immediately you wrap your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his chest.

"Come inside with me. I need to show you something."

"Uh oh. Should I be worried?" He says.

"Not at all." You pull back from him, pecking his lips. "But I am worried about how you're going to take it."

Sam's small smile falters, but you don't have any reassuring words for him. Now that it's out in the open about you having a secret too, you can see why Sam held back. It's scary. But it's out there now and there's no way in hell you're going to back out. So grabbing hold of one of Sam's hands, you turn around to lead him inside.

You lead Sam into your bedroom and gesture for him to take a seat on one side of your bed while you sit across from him. With one leg hanging off the side of the bed and your other curled inward, you grab one of your pillows and strip the cover off of it. "Can you rip it open?"

Sam huffs. "What? You want me to rip apart your pillow?"

"Yeah. I just- the feathers," you mutter. "Trust me." He stares at you a moment longer before grabbing your pillow and ripping the top sheet layer of it. You grin and reach in, scooping out a handful of the white and gray feathers. "So, um, please don't hate me."

"Hate you? I can never hate you, Y/N."

"You say that now, but-" Heart pounding, you lay the feathers down down on the bed right in front of your leg. Your hands tremble, but you're quick to shake it out and take a breath. Your smile wobbles as you briefly meet Sam's gaze and then you hold your hands just above the feathers. Concentrating deeply on them, you slowly lift your hands and the feathers slowly follow. You hear Sam sharply inhale as the feathers levitate and then start to twirl in a circular motion. "So, um, I'm a witch," you admit. "And to make things easier for you, I already know the secret you've been struggling to tell me."

"H-How?"

Your hands drop and you finally meet Sam's astonished gaze. "My coven's grimoire. It's filled with all sorts of knowledge of every supernatural creature out there and, though the passage on the spirit warriors of the Quileute tribe wasn't as detailed as what Harry said around the bonfire, it was enough to clue me in on what you, Paul, and Jared were the second I laid eyes on you. Well that and the fact the tribal elders told me when I asked their permission to live on the Rez."

Sam huffs and then does the unexpected. He reaches across your gutted pillow and tugs on your arm until you're crawling over and onto his lap. He holds you tight, chuckling quietly, and shoves his face into the side of your neck. You hesitantly wrap your arms back around him, sighing in relief. "You really should have told me sooner. It's been killing me not telling you about us."

"Yeah, well it's going to get a whole lot easier." He pulls back then, staring at you warily. "I know about the imprint thing too."

Sam's eyes widen. "You do?"

"Yep. Witches don't necessarily have mates, but we do have a sense of things. Since I came into my magic, there had always been a part of me that was searching for something."

"Yeah. Yeah I remember you mentioning that," Sam says.

"Well that something was you." The confession makes you nervously shift in his lap. "Whatever it was, it led me here to La Push. And then I saw you and.. I don't know. You felt like comfort. And home. And I knew-"

Sam cuts you off, grasping your chin between his fingers and facing you towards him. His lips press against yours and it takes a moment for your mind to be brought up to speed as to what's going on. When it does, you gasp and Sam smiles against your lips.

"Don't laugh at me," you mumble. "You caught me off guard."

Sam chuckles, his smile wide and eyes crinkling at the corners. It's one of his more genuine smiles and it feels like this huge weight has been lifted off your chest. "So the alpha and his witch," he muses. "The boys are going to be in for a shock."

"I was thinking more along the lines of the witch and her companion, but the alpha and the witch works too." You lean in and press your lips to his, once, twice, and then one more time. "And can we hold off on telling the boys? I kind of want to shock them with the reveal."

"Sure thing, sweetheart. We'll go at your pace."

"My pace, huh? I like the sound of that."

[metalbuckaroo]

Birthday

Summary: Toby invites Bucky to his 11th birthday party.

Warnings: good bit of sexual tension, rude ass parent, cursing, I think that's it???

AU: Babysitter!Bucky x Fem!Reader

AN: I waited soo long to finish this that I couldn't remember exactly what I'd planned for it, so I winged half of it.

THE FILL IN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Moodboard by @bucksdolll

"Toby seems to be warming up to the temporary pretty well." One of the Moms whispered to yours. "Bucky? He's a sweetheart. Isn't he, dear?"

You looked away from where Bucky was being swarmed by the younger kids and a couple of their older sisters you'd went to high school with; your mom giving you a sweet smile. "A big softie."

"He's great with Toby, and is sweet on a little miss someone." She grinned, poking your side as you got two bottles of water from the cooler. "Well, aren't you lucky." One of the other mom's chided. "Extremely."

"Go save him, poor boy looks like he's ready to combust." Your mom sighed, fixing a few things on the table that held cake and various types of snacks.

Turning on your heels, you went to where he was stood letting Toby babble on about his arm. "Can I borrow you for a sec?"

Bucky gave a bright smile and nodded, letting you guide him to the open back door. "I think he's have a good time showing off his super cool babysitter." You teased, handing him some extra drinks for the cooler. "Does he ever run out of energy?"

Shaking your head, you looked over the way the dark blue t-shirt clung to his skin, the dips of his muscular torso visible even through the wet fabric. "You're not gonna take that off are ya." You said, tugging the hem.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. "Nothing wrong with being a little modest, Buck." You smiled, noticing how he chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Don't wanna, uh, scare a bunch of kids."

"Or have their dads chasing you down because, the wives are gawking at you." You said, scrunching your nose up at him. He breathed a laugh and shook his head again, leaning down to peck a simple kiss to your lips. "Yeah. I don't think that's gonna happen."

After presents were opened and cake was ate, you and Bucky hid away in the kitchen again for a few moments away from the crowd of kids and parents. "You look beautiful, sunshine." He said, adjusting the thin strap of your dress. "Don't look too bad yourself, Buck."

Your fingers wrapped around the cool metal of his dog tags, tugging them so he'd lean down; his lips ghosting across yours when he turned his head to the opening back door.

"James! There you are." Your mom breathed, pulling the door shut behind her. "Mallory just extended her vacation for another 3 weeks. Please, tell me you're available?" She clasped her hands together and gave him pleading eyes.

"Yeah, of course." Bucky smiled, nodding his head. "Great, perfect. A few of Toby's friends are staying, so I hope they don't bother you too much." She said, looking to you.

"I'm sure Bucky wouldn't mind staying to help, right?" You looked up at him, patting his chest lightly. His eyebrows raised and he nodded, swallowing thickly. "I'll stay."

"Miranda, I've been looking for you." Darlene, one of the most judgemental moms, said, Toby and her son following in behind her. "I've been meaning to ask you- where's Matthew? Shouldn't he be here instead of-" She stopped when she saw Bucky, still standing very close to you.

"He had work." Your mom said with a forced smile. "No wonder it didn't work out, that's all he thinks about." Darlene said clicking her tongue. "Now, you're stuck having to pay a babysitter who-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stop you right there. Toby, go play outside." Bucky looked down at your hard expression, putting his hand on Toby's shoulder to walk with him into the backyard. "That's not an appropriate thing to talk about at a kid's birthday party. He is eleven, he doesn't need to know why his dad didn't show up."

"It's just- this new babysitter of yours is so-"

"Sweet? Shy, handsome, good with kids? If none of those are what you are about to say, then don't say it." She looked at you dumbfounded, glancing at your mom. "You're not gonna let her talk like this are you?"

Your mom shrugged, leaning against the kitchen counter. "She's grown. I don't dictate what she says. Besides, she's right."

"Unbelievable."

As the families dispersed, going home once the sun started to set, your mom looking exhausted as she cleaned the kitchen. "I've got it, go on to bed. You've had your stress fill for the day."

She gave you a soft thank you before shuffling away to the hallway, Bucky walking in from the chaos filled living room. "Make it out alive?" You teased, picking up the trash that littered the counter. "Barely. Need help?"

His hand rested on the small of your back, pink tinting his cheeks. "You could move the couch for me? Put this to use." You teased, fingertips running up the dark metal of his left arm before wrapping around his wrist.

You finished cleaning the kitchen and went to check on the state of the living room; Bucky laying out the blankets and pillows on the floor for the kids.

"Can we watch Nightmare on Elm Street?" Toby asked, looking up at you with hopeful eyes as you picked up the remote. "No, it's too scary for you." You said, clicking through the movie selections. "Please?"

Bucky chuckled when you rolled your eyes and nodded. "One scream out of any of you and I'm switching it to lullabies."

It didn't take long.

Not even 30 minutes into the movie you were switching it to Toy Story, ignoring the protests that sounded from them.

Another 30 minutes and they were all passed out, sprawled out on the blankets and snoring as you tugged Bucky with you to the kitchen.

"Knew that was gonna happen." You said, breathing a laugh and lifting yourself onto the counter.

Bucky moved to stand in front of you, your knees parting on instinct to let him stand between them. "Steve said he'll have your car done in a couple days. Want me to take you back to your apartment tomorrow? So, you don't have to take the train."

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely; pulling his lips to yours. You all but melted completely in his touch, cool, smooth metal on your right thigh a beautiful contrast to the warm skin on your left.

"I'm so fucking lucky..." He muttered against your lips before pressing his tongue against yours.

"Ew, stop eating my sisters face." You breathed a laugh at Toby's tired voice, looking over your shoulder at him. "Whst are you doing up?" You teased, turning slightly to see him better. "You know I don't like to admit when you're right..."

You were getting restless. Wanting more every time you'd get near Bucky; more of the sweetness of his kiss and gentle, adoring touches.

But hwahented things taken slow. Which you fully understood; and with the group of kids in the front room, it wasn't going to go far anyways.

"Scared?" He nodded softly and you slid off of the counter. "Calm that down and come watch some tv." You smiled at Bucky, gesturing to the strain against his athletic shorts.

Bucky's face burned as he watched you usher Toby back into the living room, staying back for a moment before following.

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this." Toby said, pointing a finger at Bucky that made him look to where you were holding the boy's hand from your spot, laid on the loveseat. "You're about as threatening as the neighbors ankle biter." Bucky retorted, sitting in the recliner.

You had turned some random TV show on, suddenly becoming extra quiet within an hour.

Bucky glanced from the screen to see you sleeping peacefully, Toby's hand barely hanging onto yours as Bucky stepped over one of the kids to grab the blanket from the back of the loveseat.

Gently laying it over you, he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek; biting back a smile when you subconsciously tilted your head to follow his lips.

There's always tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @likeahorribledream @cxddlyash @iwannabekilledtwice @bookstan0618 @marvel-3407 @glxwingrxse @yliumy @pineprincess @makbarnes @cupcakehinch @doasyoudesireandlive @magicwithinnightmares @preferredrealty @andy-is-gay @stucky-my-ship

[multifandomfangirl93]

Back at it again…….

Just imagine..

You are over worked and exhausted.

You are going through a breakup, are working 40+ hours a week, and you are taking 4 college classes on top of trying to have any life at all.

Sleep doesn’t come easy and you are stressed to the point of breaking out into hives. You just want to stop and let your best guy friends snuggle you in between them, but you don’t have time to stop. There is so much to do and so little time. The emotional and mental toll it’s all taking is making you even more tired than ever before.

Steve and Bucky arrive on your floor one evening. After realizing they hadn’t heard from you in a few hours, and knowing you are home since you got off of work hours prior, they felt the need to come check on you. They see through the charade you’ve been fronting for them. Hell, Bucky is an ex assassin. He knew as soon as it started, but Steve wanted to give you some space to get used to the routine of things before trying to fix it all for you. Steve knows you want to be independent, but they both know you are getting near, if you haven’t already passed, your breaking point.

You are sitting in your bed, music ridiculously loud, typing quickly on your laptop. A cup of coffee sits on your nightstand, even though it is pretty late into the evening, as you attempt to get as much done as you can. Exhaustion crept up on you before you even got home, but you had too many assignments due in one week, so you just keep the music up to keep yourself awake and drink a cup or two of coffee. Your getting the jitters as you haven’t eaten anything since lunch time and this is your 3rd cup of coffee today.

Steve and Bucky walk right into your open bedroom door, but you don’t even notice them. From afar, the boys see the tremors in our hands, the way your legs bounce even as you sit. They know that look. You are over caffeinated and exhausted, on the brink of a panic attack, and you don’t even realize it. Your face is flushed and sweat is starting to bead on your forehead as the boys witness your anxiety build when you obviously make a mistake.

Steve walks straight into your en-suite as Bucky calls to you.

“Hey doll. You okay?” Bucky practically yells over the music. You jump and quickly scramble into a fighting position, swaying dangerously on your feet. Bucky steps forward to steady you. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Just as Steve comes in, you collapses into Bucky, no longer able to hold yourself up. Your breaths are coming in short and fast as you claw to get ahold of Bucky. Your weakness and sudden dizziness scaring you.

“I’ve gotcha.” Bucky murmurs as he catches you, hoisting you into his arms. Bucky begins walking toward the living room as Steve follows suit, grabbing your trash bin on the way out. This has happened before. Your nerves, plus your exhaustion, plus not eating, plus the caffeine, plus the anxiety attack normally makes you sick to your stomach. Sometimes nothing happens, but Steve knows to be prepared.

“Hey. Hey. Hey. Look at me beautiful.” Steve said as Bucky sat down with you in his lap, your back to his chest. Steve sits beside y’all, grabbing your face gently in his hands, attempting to make eye contact. “I need you to slow down for us. Can you do that?”

You shake your head, reaching up to grip Steve’s wrists. You squeeze your eyes and your mouth shut as the nausea climbs and you squirm in Bucky’s lap.

Bucky rubs your stomach above your shirt and leans his head on your shoulder, quietly shushing you in between saying sweet nothings. Both boys are trying their hardest to calm you down, but they are having no luck.

“Excuse me, I have requested for Agent Romanoff to come assist.” Friday breaks in.

Just as the AI informs y’all, Natasha walks in with a glass of water and a few pills. “Banner asked me to run these up for you guys. Friday informed him of her vitals while we were doing some paper work in the lab.”

“Thanks Tasha.” Bucky replies, reaching out his free hand to grab the items from the assassin. “We got it from here. Don’t wanna crowd her too much.”

“Of course.” Natasha replies, gently running a hand through your hair. “Feel better немного любви (little love).” Then she’s gone.

Steve has a sharp eye on you and is preparing to lunge for the trash can that he has as he watches your face turn a grayish color as your breathing picks up even more. Steve watches as Bucky puts the wash cloth on the back of your neck and resumes rubbing your stomach. Steve keeps his hands on your face even as you tilt your head back to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. The temperature of your face rises as the panic and nausea rises.

Just as the nausea hits its brink, your face suddenly goes a bit colder. Steve feels the change and lunges to shove the trash can under your chin. Bucky pulls your hair away from your face as you heave into the trash bin Steve provides.

You attempt to hold back the wave of coffee that threats to come up. “Ste- uuurk” You attempt to cry out, but that sends the coffee up and out.

“Shhhhh Hunny. I know. You’re okay.” Steve shushes you. At this point, all they can do is let it happen and take care of you. Steve and Bucky exchange sympathetic glances over your shoulder as they each attempt to soothe you.

You get sick multiple times. Occasionally, Bucky gives your back a few thumps when you sputter. The boys shush you and try to soothe your shaking and jarring form as they wait it out with you.

After a few minutes, you sit back, finally finished. You pant as Bucky pulls you further into him and Steve backs off slightly. The trash can is placed a bit away, but still within reach. Steve takes off his shirts, using the white tank top to clean off your mouth before handing you the water. Steve has you rinse and spit before allowing you to drink any water.

The room is silent as you all wait to make sure the water will stay down. After a few minutes with nothing happening, but the sound of you panting between sips, they get to work.

“Here Buck. I’ll take her. Can you go clean that out and make her something light?” Steve asks his boyfriend, reaching for you.

You allow Steve to take you as Bucky gets up with a nod in Steve’s direction. You snuggle down as Steve takes the glass and sets it on the coffee table. Your head rests on his chest as you listen to his heart beat and Bucky working in the kitchen. You finally begin calming down as Steve sits with you in silence, letting you match your breathing to his own as he holds you close, rubbing your back gently.

When Bucky comes back, he gives you some soup and crackers, telling you to eat some so that you can take your medicine. You comply, exhausted and knowing that he is right.

“You gotta quit doing this to yourself doll.” Bucky says as he hands the medication to you after you finish up.

Steve still has you in his lap. You are reclined back into his chest and he rests his chin on your shoulder. “He’s right. You gotta quit overworking yourself. You just literally made yourself sick.”

“I know.” You reply, tilting your head down. You feel ashamed that they had to come to your rescue because you couldn’t have better time management. “I just have a lot on my plate. I’m sorry.” Then the tears start falling.

“Hey. Hey. Hey. None of that.” Bucky says, gently tilting your face up and wiping at the tears as they fall. “We know you do, but you gotta take care of yourself.”

“Like stopping for meals, drinking more water, sleeping.” Steve says, rubbing your arms.

“I know. Sometimes I get so stuck in what I’m doing. I forget.” You sigh.

“We know. That’s why we came up.” Steve replied. “We hadn’t heard from you in a while. You’ve been like this since the breakup and we were starting to get worried.”

“Well, I’ve been worried, but we wanted to let you have some time to readjust. Half a year is a long time to be dating someone. Some people might think otherwise, but by then, you have routines and you’ve been with someone romantically and it can be hard to get used to being alone again.” Bucky says, fighting to be that vulnerable, but knowing you need to hear it.

“It’s been so hard.” You answer quietly. “I got used to always having someone to talk to, someone to cuddle, someone to watch movies with and eat junk food. Someone who I loved and thought I would spend the rest of my life with. *sniff* I feel so alone and working or doing homework makes me forget sometimes.” You cry, leaning further into Steve, curling up in his lap as you talk.

Bucky continues to wipe your tears. He pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and covers you with it as he sees the look of exhaustion on your face. The battle for sleep has begun now that your body has been fed and properly hydrated.

“We know sweetheart. We know.” Steve murmurs, tightening his hold on you. “We’ve got you now though. We will help you in any way that we can.”

“Yeah.” Bucky agrees, snuggling into you and Steve. “We can snuggle. We can watch movies and eat junk. We can even talk to you all the time.”

“It may not be the same.” Steve says, turning to kiss you on the crown of your head. “But we love you.”

“I love you guys too.” You say as you drift to sleep.

Later on, once they are sure you are asleep, the boys carry you to bed and lay down with you. Bucky clears the bed off and goes around your floor to make sure everything is off for the night before returning to you and Steve. Once Steve gets his good night kiss from Bucky, they both place a kiss on your forehead before laying down beside you to sleep.

[candyflosstoxicity]

Wanna Be Your Setting Lotion

Endeavor x Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Power imbalance. Unsafe sex. Creampie. Breeding kink. Breath play. Pain play.

Despite the sizable uptick in his popularity after triumphing over the High-End Nomu, Enji still felt that his ability to relate to the everyday civilians was sorely lacking. There was still some doubt amongst the masses that he could be a suitable replacement for All Might. As much as that stung his ego, Enji knew that their misgivings weren’t unfounded.

He had promised his son that he would become a hero that he could be proud to call his father, and that meant more than just saving lives. Enji had to work to build a relationship with the public, and be a hero that was not only powerful, but approachable and relatable.

So, with his secretary’s assistance, Enji reached out to the most highly recommended media relations agency in Musutafu and requested that they pair him with a very particular type of publicist. He made sure to specify that they had to be thick-skinned and prepared to undertake all the work that would come with being the publicist to the number one hero. Though he had certainly made some important changes within himself, he still didn’t know how to talk to people and didn’t want to send the publicist running for the hills.

That was how you ended up standing outside the Endeavor Hero Agency. The glass skyscraper gleamed brightly under the sun, and really impressed upon you that this was happening. You had been assigned your first hero, but not just any run of the mill hero and it honestly had you feeling nervous in a way that you never had before. It’s not as if you doubted your ability to manage and improve the Flame Hero’s public image, but this was a major assignment that could either launch your career into the stratosphere or sink it like a stone.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you walked briskly through the front entrance and into the main lobby, where you were greeted by the receptionist. You explained who you were and what you were there for, and she immediately hopped up from her desk in a panic and hastily led you to the elevator. It did nothing to quell your anxiety, because if his receptionist was losing her cool, what chance did you have against the man?

Upon reaching the top floor, the receptionist all but shoved you out of the elevator, giving you a hasty “good luck” while frantically pushing the button to close the door. You stumbled forward and were faced with a large, hardwood door. Having decided that you simply could not delay your assignment any further, you squared your shoulders, took decisive steps forward, and knocked on the door.

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

That was several months ago, and you could say with hindsight that you were right to be anxious. While working for Endeavor was the best way to cut your teeth as a publicist, the man himself was...something fucking else.

It wasn’t just that he was physically intimidating, with his towering height and mountains of muscle. Honestly, you were able to quickly get past that and start working towards building a friendly, yet professional relationship with your boss. Except, he was the most tight-lipped, awkward person you had ever dealt with when he wasn’t in the process of saving lives. And when he was actually somewhat talkative, he was so intense that it left you flustered.

However, Enji always treated you with respect and courtesy, and when you did well, he told you as much. Heat would crawl its way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes whenever he would tell you, “You’ve done excellent work this week, (L/N)-san. Your efforts are appreciated.”

To anyone else and coming from anyone else, it might not mean much, but Todoroki Enji wasn’t just anyone. He had high standards for all of his employees, and you were no exception. Praise from him was hard to come by, and when it was directed at you, it made you feel some type of way.

It was obvious to everyone with a pulse that Enji was an incredibly attractive man. Indeed, every interview you scheduled for him with a female journalist found him being inundated with coy smiles, flirting, and pointed questions about his relationship status.

To be fair, you had asked him the same question, but only because it was important for you to know as the person who handled all of his public relations. It definitely wasn’t because you were lusting after your client and hoping that he was free to maybe, someday, knock your walls down.

Still, you had always prided yourself on being the consummate professional, so you refrained from asking any questions that were too personal. Even though you were so often alone with Enji in his penthouse office, with little to no interruption, and a lot of plush furniture he could fuck you on…

You shook your head sharply, your dark, curly hair moving with the motion. ‘Focus, bitch. Don’t be a goofy and try to fuck your boss. He would probably fire your ass before you could ask for a crumb of dick.’

It didn’t matter if you hadn’t gotten laid since you started working as his publicist; you were NOT going to fuck Todoroki Enji.

Little did you know, Enji was enduring his own share of suffering and sexual frustration. And he had no intentions of denying himself. For him, it was simply a matter of opportunity.

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

It was finally Friday evening, and Enji was more than ready for the weekend. After a solid week of double patrols, while squeezing in PR appearances that you had set up for him, he just wanted to sit down in his recliner at home and have a stiff drink. He was sitting at his desk with his laptop open, finishing up some last minute paperwork on a report he needed to submit to the Hero Public Safety Commission by Monday.

Just as he put the final signature on the last page, you came bursting through his office door, without knocking, of course. Not that he minded; it was always a treat to see you, even if you were a bit...distracting. Your shapely legs carried you briskly towards his desk and he couldn’t help but admire how enticing they looked sheathed in your sheer stockings. He almost missed what you were trying to tell him, too busy imagining them wrapped around his waist.

“Endeavor-san, I’m sorry to disturb you right before quittin’ time, but I just finalized the details of your appearance on Present Mic’s late night radio show for next weekend,” you chirped with no small amount of satisfaction. Ah, right; Enji had agreed to make time for that, considering Mic was very popular with the young crowd and an appearance on his show would do wonders for his popularity with that demographic.

“He promised to keep it light and casual, and most of the time block will be spent playing some music that you both enjoy. I cross-referenced his playlist with the list you compiled, and y’all have some bangers in common. We’ll need to go over your note cards again, but I’m sure you’ve got that part covered by now.”

Your eyes were focused on the folder in your hands, flipping through the papers there as you went over the last minute details. Enji’s eyes were watching you, though, and he found himself struggling to give a damn about Present Mic or his radio show. Not when you were standing before him, a radiant vision of smooth brown skin and a halo of curls. How badly he wanted to sink his fingers into them and tug your head back, make you submit to him…

“Endeavor-san, are you listening?”

The question coming from your pretty lips, in that sweet, but sharp voice, was enough to finally get his attention. He tore his gaze from your petite frame and looked up to see your dark brown eyes staring at him sternly. Enji coughed and shifted in his chair, trying to subtly adjust his now rock hard dick.

“My apologies, (Y/N), I’m a bit worn out from this week,” he hastily assured you. “If you wouldn’t mind emailing those notes to me, I will look over them again this weekend.”

Your expression softened and you tossed the folder onto his desk before walking around to the side and perching yourself on the edge. Enji could practically feel the blood rush to his dick with you sitting so close to him, the scent of your perfume immediately clouding his mind. Your already short skirt rode up even higher and he had to force himself to look you in the eye, which he regretted shortly after.

“Have I been riding you too hard, sir?”

Enji’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, thinking that you must be toying with him. But, your face was devoid of cunning, and you seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. He wasn’t used to that kind of consideration from really anyone, especially not one of his employees.

“No, far from it. You probably take it a bit too easy on me, but you still produce amazing results. I would be completely clueless about this public relations crap if I didn’t have someone as bright and clever in my corner,” Enji rumbled, almost bashfully, the tips of his ears still pink from your accidental innuendo.

He had no way of knowing, but the feeling that Enji’s praise gave you was like a shot of adrenaline to you. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks, and you quickly began stuttering and trying to downplay your contribution. However, Enji was having none of it and reached out to grab your anxiously fluttering hands, which had the desired effect of shutting you up.

But, Enji didn’t stop there. He was tired of you not giving yourself enough credit. More than that, he was tired of only being able to show his gratitude in words. So, he took advantage of your size difference and tugged you into his arms and then settled you on his right thigh, forcing you to straddle the muscular appendage.

“E-Endeavor-san?!” you squeaked out. Your tiny hands were encased in his much larger ones and even that small bit of skin to skin contact was enough to set a fire low in your belly.

“Please, call me Enji. It seems a bit formal considering the things I want to do to you.”

“And what exactly do you want to do to me, Enji?” Your voice was low and breathless, but he could see the excitement clearly in your deep brown eyes.

He released your hands and let his own wander down the curve of your sides to settle on your hips. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he engulfed the soft flesh there with a gentle, but firm squeeze. You gasped softly and instinctually ground down against the flexing muscles of his thigh.

Enji growled lowly in his throat and took one hand off your hip, and reached up to bury it in the soft curls that framed your gorgeous face. At first, he gently massaged the scalp with his fingertips, but when he felt you relax, Enji used the curls at your nape to tug your head back.

He loved how small you were in his arms, how easily he towered over you and controlled your movements. And there you were, gasping and squirming in his lap, letting him touch you in such a dominating way. It stoked a fire within him that he hadn’t felt in a long while, urging him to make you fall apart under his touch.

“There are so many things that I want to do to this tight, little body,” Enji whispered against your throat. He placed a heated kiss there, followed by a gentle nip before continuing, “But, for now, I want you to ride my thigh.”

To his delight, you didn’t hesitate to start meekly rolling your hips forward, your skirt bunching up around your waist with the motions. Still, you seemed to be holding yourself back, and he was having none of that. Using the hand that was still gripping your hip, Enji forced you to press down harder and move faster. Getting the message, you braced your palms against his broad, solid chest and began grinding against him in earnest.

The filthy moans you let spill from your plump lips were music to Enji’s ears, and he struggled to refrain from just ripping your stockings off and sliding your down onto his aching dick. There would be plenty of time for that later, but in that moment, he wanted to make you felt just how appreciated you were.

“Come on, little sparrow, I know you’re close. I can feel you soaking my pants leg.”

The desperation and desire in his voice drove your lust even higher. That, combined with the friction of your nylon stockings against your bare pussy, had you teetering on the edge of release.

“Please, sir!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but he seemed to. And he was going to make you beg for it.

“Please what?”

“I...I want you to fuck me, sir! Please let me cum on your dick,” you pleaded with a breathless whine, never ceasing your wanton grinding.

“Oh, you will be cumming on my dick. But, first, you’re going to make yourself nice and sloppy for me.”

Enji gripped your hair tighter and pulled your head back until your spine arched. Now, your nails were digging into the skin of his pectorals, but he didn’t care because the end result was you humping against him with reckless abandon. No longer needing to guide your movements, he reached up and wrapped his other hand around your delicate throat, squeezing just enough to make the blood rush to your head. That was just enough to tip you right over the edge.

“Oh, oh!” Your hips began to stutter slightly in their movements as your orgasm crept up on you. A scream that surprised you, but made Enji growl in triumph, was ripped from your throat as you bucked wildly through the peak of your release. Letting go of your tresses and throat, Enji pulled you gently into his chest and ran his hands soothingly down your back. As your body trembled and quaked through the vestiges of your orgasm, he murmured soft praises into the crown of your hair.

“You did such a good job for me, baby girl. I’m so proud of you and all your hard work. Are you ready for your reward now?”

Despite the fact that you had just cum your brains out, his words of praise had you moaning wantonly, your head bobbing lazily in consent. Enji wasted no time in standing you up between his legs, supporting your weight effortlessly as he slid his hands up your inner thighs towards the crotch of your stockings. A brief, but loud ripping sound echoed in the spacious office, and then you felt a cool breeze against your soaked lips. Enji took a moment to run a thick finger through your dainty folds, making you shudder and moan.

Enji considered having you ride him again, but a glance at the large sectional he had in the corner of the room gave him other ideas. Picking you up as if you weighed nothing, he carried you to the luxurious piece of furniture and laid you down on your back. He immediately covered your body with his own and locked his lips with yours, the kiss quickly turning heated. While your lips moved together with unrestrained passion, he busied himself with undoing his belt and slacks. Once he got them undone, he freed his aching length from the confines of his underwear, hissing at the sensation of the cool air hitting the too hot skin.

Pulling away from your soft warmth, Enji made you look him in the eye before he asked, “It seems a bit late to ask, but are you sure this is what you want?”

Thinking he was just being considerate, you smiled softly up at him and nodded in affirmation. He kissed you hard, one more time, before looking down to guide his more than impressive dick to your dripping entrance. As soon as he pressed the head in, you knew what he was really asking you before, which was whether you could handle being stretched to your absolute limit.

You threw your head back, pressing into the soft cushion underneath you, and struggled to breathe around the sensation of his girth splitting you open. It was a good thing he made sure you were wet enough beforehand, otherwise, you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to take all of him.

Enji made sure to take his time pressing in and withdrawing, inch by inch, enraptured by the sight of your pretty pussy stretching around him. It was a couple minutes more before he was fully seated inside you, the head of his dick pressed snugly against your cervix. He paused his movements to press sweet, but rough kisses along your jaw and collarbones. You reached up and buried your fingers in his hair, applying the barest pressure to bring his face closer to yours so you could press your foreheads together.

“I’d really like for you to move now,” you panted softly. Sure, it was quite the stretch having him inside you, but it didn’t hurt and you were still filled with a burning desire to be wrecked by the giant hovering over you.

Withdrawing slowly, so slowly, Enji paused again to watch your face as he gave a quick, experimental thrust. The cry of pleasure you let out snapped his resolve to continue taking it slow, and he began to fuck into you with a vigor. All you could do is tighten your grip on his red locks and hold on for the ride.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around me. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted this? How many times I’ve fantasized about fucking into you like this, making you my little cumdump?”

Enji was actually caught off guard with how visceral your reaction was to his dirty talk. He didn’t think it possible, but you became even tighter around his dick, nails biting into his scalp, as well. You began trying to thrust back up against him, but he was having none of that. Enji pulled back just enough to take your legs and throw them over his shoulders so he could put you in a mating press.

“Oh gods, yes, just like this, Daddy!” you wailed loudly, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You were overwhelmed with the pleasure from his rigid member rubbing against your velvet walls with the new angle.

A groan that sounded like a snarl rumbled in Enji’s chest at the sound of your fucked out voice calling him ‘Daddy’. It made him want to grind his dick deeper into you, until all you could see, feel, or taste was him and the pleasure he was giving to you.

“Fuck, if you call me that again, I’m going to fucking cum and I’m not going to pull out.” He expected you to object, or something but instead, you attempted to pull him in closer with the strength of your legs alone.

“Please, please, please fill me up, Daddy! I want it all, please, give it to me!”

Pace quickening at your filthy words, Enji leaned forward until you were practically pressed in half and his thrusts had the tip of his dick bumping your womb with every plunge deeper. You were unable to even scream, the air knocked from your lungs and your brain foggy with thought-warping ecstasy.

“Goddammit, you’re gonna make me cum, baby. I’m gonna fill you up to the brim. Gonna make you round with my child. Is that what you want?”

All you could do was nod frantically, incoherent pleas and his name spilling from your drooling mouth in an endless stream. You would do anything, say anything, just to feel his hot cum paint your walls.

From the way you were clenching and pulsing around him, Enji knew that you were close to the precipice again already, and he was ready to tumble over right along with you. Letting go of the last bit of restraint holding him back, Enji captured your lips in a searing kiss and swallowed your cries of passion as he began to piston into your tight heat, chasing his orgasm and hurtling you towards yours.

A shrill scream muffled by his lips and the sharp tightening of your walls around him signaled to Enji that you were cumming, and he quickly followed after you. His powerful hips stuttered once, twice before he drove his entire length fully inside you and stilled, his head pressed to the opening of your womb. Much hotter than you were expecting it to be, spurts of cum that seemed endless gushed deep inside you, prolonging both of your orgasms to the point of over-sensitivity.

When you both finally came down and got your breathing under control, Enji slowly pulled out from you and gently eased your legs off his shoulders. He gathered you up in an embrace and flipped the two of you over so that you were laid on top of him, head resting against his chest. Again, he stroked your back and sides soothingly, murmuring words of praise and comfort.

For your part, you were fucking wiped, your heart still racing and brown skin dewed with sweat. You could feel cum leaking out of your abused hole, but could hardly be bothered to care with exhaustion and satiation weighing so heavily on your eyes.

With strong arms wrapped around you and every bone in your body feeling like marshmallow, you snuggled closer to Enji and fell asleep to the steady pulse of his heart in your ear.

[marky4l]

Step by Step / Mark Lee

step by step / mkl

pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

From an innocent childhood friendship to a juvenile high school rivalry to a forced pairing for a Psychology paper, it seems you and Mark just can’t avoid each other. But something’s a little different now.

genre: fluff, angst (a little bit), suggestive themes, childhood friends (barely mentioned!) to enemies to lovers, college!au

notes: lia yeonjun chan hyuck jeno all make tiny appearances 

word count: 17.2k 

hi!!! this is my first work nd I’m really excited to put this out I’d looove if you could give it a read :^) hound me on my inbox if u wanna i take anything

“Remember when we were best friends in fifth grade?”

His voice is a little quiet, and there’s a very obvious undertone of boredom, but you hum softly anyway, nodding, as if to question why you would ever forget. Fifth grade was a suburban brew of Star Wars marathons, figuring out the world, and Harry Potter merchandise littering your house. Fifth grade was lemonade and oatmeal, knitted sweaters, and sneaking into your mom’s vanity to swipe her makeup. And fifth grade was Mark—bright eyed, geeky Mark, with his Death Star replica and weird electronica music. 

Mark, who had an affinity with Troy from High School Musical and Spiderman, and wanted to be just like them. Mark, who would show up grinning to your front door everyday, pie dish in his nimble grip. He was the one who had opened a lemonade stand at the corner of your block so he could buy you the Gryffindor scarf you’d been nagging your mom about the entire holiday season. He was the one who learned the chords to your favorite Jonas Brothers song and sang it to you each time you requested it.

“Yes, I do,” you answer instead, clearing your throat. 

You attempt to push down all the memories that just ran through your head and adjust the grip you have on your pen. “Well,” Mark continues, “that was ages ago. Beats me why it ever happened.” 

The timidity is replaced with a tidal wave of teasing, and the annoyance that had disappeared is beginning to crawl all over you. Again. You roll your eyes and pull up the slides your professor had assigned. “Beats me why we even ended up in the same university, let alone the same class,” you jab, “if you thought I forgot about how you outright failed our Spanish classes in high school, I didn’t.”

Your friendship with Mark had reached its unfortunate demise to the hands of middle school, where you had branched out with your interests and began to stick to societal (as societal as school can get) norms. He had joined the geeky, cool kids; you hadn’t joined a specific social circle, but you had a best friend, Lia, and you were generally good with everybody. 

Somehow, despite you both being in good graces with everyone, you had a deep-seated dislike for one another that stemmed from an intense academic rivalry. Specifically, the competition to become school council president. That had ended now, seeing as though you were both in college, but the abrasiveness of your banter had never worn off.

“Oh, because you were so good at Physics?” he says, voice even. His brow is raised. “We all have our strong suits, you know. You’re one to talk.” You decide to pay him no mind, instead jotting down the criteria for your final project in Psychology 1—something about the stages of grief. You’re supposed to relate it to a different human process and show how they fit with one another. 

It’s absolute fucking bullshit, and the fact that Mark Lee became your partner among a hundred students is beyond you. Absolutely beyond you. 

He nears your screen, reading the content of your project, eyes squinted—you’d noticed his lack of decent eyesight years ago, but it seemingly hadn’t improved. “Relate the stages of grief…hold up, what? That’s difficult as hell. What are we supposed to do, lose a loved one?” You roll your eyes, turning to him. “No, Mark. The point is to find another process that happens gradually and relate it to this—denial, bargaining, anger. Get it?”

He stares back at you. “No.”

You groan audibly, turning back to your notebook. “This is impossible. Can we just switch partners so I won’t have to deal with you?” He smirks, kicking his feet up on the library table. Absently, you note how nice his sneakers look. Reclining onto the seat, he shuts his eyes as if to contemplate. 

“I heard through the birdvine our professor’s the type to pair up people she thinks would look good together for shits and giggles. Girls and boys, boys and boys, you name it. Johnny”—he’s referring to a guy who’s a year above yours, studying Biology—“tells me over five couples have been born out of this class. Isn’t that nice?” You scoff, scrolling mindlessly through the slides to keep yourself distracted. 

“It really is. A shame we won’t be adding to that list, because I can’t fucking stand you.” He laughs loudly, the vibration of it remaining in the deadly silent air. “I can stand fucking you, though,” he says, and then, before you can even blush, “All jokes. Don’t get your hopes up, ‘kay?” He’s quick to get up, just as flustered as you are at the uncharacteristic phrase that just left his mouth. He collects his jacket and jogs out of the library with a small, half-assed bye under his breath.

—

Lia’s eyes bore into yours. “He actually said that? I’m telling you, he’s some weird kinky guy under that whole cool geek persona. High school Mark would never have. Oh my god. He’s a furry—he’s a furry!” She flops back onto your bed, laughing. You poke at her waist in protest. 

“It’s because he’s surrounded by too many weird classy fuckboys. You know, those that think that they’re all that because they haven’t roofied a girl.” You’re half-joking, and you’re really only referring to maybe two guys you’ve happened to see Mark with. As if to read your mind, Lia continues. “Hey, I heard some of them are okay. They’re not, like…those ‘nice guys’, if you get me.”

“I do,” you quip. “But I guess I’m just trying to find a way to justify the whole 360 in Mark. I mean, in high school, he was still nerdy—well, you know. Shy. But jump to sophomore year of uni and he’s suddenly some…” You rack your head for a proper term. “Sex god?” your friend asks, holding in a laugh. “Oh, eat shit,” you fire back, “really, eat shit. And while you’re at it, feed me some, too, because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to turn in at the end of the term. Like, Jes—”

There’s a faint knock at the door, and then. “Lia? It’s—uh, it’s me, Daniel? Er, Daniel Choi.” Your wide eyes can’t possibly match Lia’s as she tugs on a decent-looking pullover and puts it on. As she swings the door open, you manage to sufficiently hide yourself under your duvet and attempt to hear their conversation. 

“You know, it’s okay if you leave out the whole…saying your full name at the door part. Trust me…I know you,” she jokes, and you hear him laugh before you detect the crinkling of a plastic bag. “Chinese. Uh, I bought some extra for your best friend, because I’m not gonna pretend I don’t see the sentient blob on the bed.”

You pull the blanket off and smile sheepishly. “Hey, Daniel,” you say, “thanks for the food. I owe you an empty room next time, I swear by it. It’ll be easy, since I’m gonna be”—you heave yourself off the bed and onto the floor, where they’re both sitting—“holed up at the library for the next few weeks.” 

Lia nods, chewing her chow mein, and then when she’s done, she explains to Daniel your whole huge Psychology end-of-term paper about stages and grief and whatever, oh also she’s partnered with Mark Lee, this guy that we both know from high school, and she dislikes his guts, oh you know him? 

“Wait. You know him?” You repeat, and Daniel nods, ruffling his black mullet. “His room’s, like, three away from mine. He’s studying Theoretical Physics, right? Yeah, he’s always in his room doing school shit, but every weekend he’s out with the upperclassmen. He’s probably out now, ‘cause it’s Friday. How he even charmed them, though, is a mystery.”

Mid-dumpling, you roll your eyes. “Y’know, the hardest part is being partnered with him. But also, even finding what kind of gradual process to relate denial and anger too is weirdly hard. It feels like I could find something, but I haven’t gotten it…quite…” you trail off, your eyes landing on Lia and Daniel across you—they’re smiling softly at each other, and you distinguish their fingers interlocking quietly, as if you wouldn’t notice. 

“…yet. Except maybe I have. How would you want to participate in my end-of-term paper?” Their gazes turn to yours, and you nod frantically. “Oh my god, I’m a genius! Seriously! Falling in love! Yes! It’s denial—anger—whatever, whatever! It makes perfect sense. The end is acceptance, too! Oh god, Li, it’s perfect. I will owe you for life if you help me out.”

“Wait, what? You dove straight into it, what—recap, please,” Lia asks, and you compose yourself before explaining giddily. 

“Falling in love. It happens gradually, and we can compare it to the stages of grief. Seeing as you and Daniel are headed right there, we can use you as some test subjects. It’s not required to have respondents or subjects, really, it’s just an extensive paper, but it might help get the grade up. This is gonna be great, and if you ever wanna back out, you can, because it’s not mandatory.” Lia and Daniel meet eyes briefly, and then slowly, nod. “Okay, that’s pretty smart,” Daniel says, “I’m up for it. Are you?” Lia nods, slowly and hesitantly, and you smile widely. “You two just saved my Psych grade. I’ll be at Giselle’s tonight. Just…not on my bed.” You grab your keys and phone and bound out of your room, straight into the elevator at the end of the hall.

The elevator door nearly closes when a Converse-clad foot steps in, and your eyes rake up the figure, eventually landing on his face. 

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble, “you must be kidding me.” 

Mark enters the elevator with a small, teasing smile, hands tucked into his jacket’s pockets. “Hey, dude, what’s up? Was on your floor on my stop down to get some money Lucas owed me,” he says, “this is actually a godsend, because my genius brain found us a project idea. Relate grief to something else gradual? Easy as pie. Falling in lo—” 

You cut him off before he can finish, “Falling in love, right. I thought of it first, earlier,” you say profusely, absently noting the pettiness in your tone. He whistles. “No need to get all possessive over an idea the previous classes have used before, man.” You continue, ignoring him. “Whatever. Lucky for our grades, I went the extra mile to get us some test subjects. Do you know the two Chois? Lia and Daniel?” 

He nods once, “Yeah, their PDA on Instagram is fucking sickening, but I see your technique, and I like that—we get some extra data from their god awful PDA.” You nod once, and he continues. “It’s nearing 11 on a Friday night. Whose party are you headed to?”

“You’re welcome for the test subjects,” you gripe. “Anyway, I was so giddy about coming up with it, I just left them to…well, fornicate. As a compromise for being lab rats. I texted my…” you realize you’re starting to share too much to a guy you typically dislike talking to, and then there’s a silence in the air that’s painfully awkward. 

“You texted your…?” Mark asks. “My friend, but she’ll be home at 1AM, so I’m out to kill time. No parties, just…I dunno.” He nods again, and then the elevator lets out a blissful ding. You step out simultaneously, and then he faces you. “Look, it’s freezing out, you’re in shorts and a puffer coat, and it’s three hours to 1AM, so I doubt you’ll get far.” You scoff at his words despite feeling your legs shake from the breeze outside. “I’ll be fine, dumbass.”

“Just concerned,” he says, in a tone that sounds more blank than annoyed, but he turns and heads toward the door anyway. He swivels back around briefly. “It’s in Johnny’s apartment. Just a couple people, if you get bored freezing.” He jogs outside then, and you inwardly appreciate the small gesture, but again, annoyance returns just as quickly. You linger a bit before heading out yourself, walking briskly to a local Japanese restaurant. You consider this an opportunity to have some me time, some rest after a shitty week in university. Lasting ’til 1AM alone and entertained would not at all be a problem. 

You last one ramen bowl and head to Johnny’s apartment.

—

When Johnny Suh answers the door, he’s clad in a makeshift shower curtain gown of sorts, and is flushed and very buzzed all over. He hikes up the top to cover his chest and laughs profusely. “Did Mark invite you?” Behind him is a sizeable group of just about twenty people, which looks like forty in a cramped communal space. You’d been here before—Johnny likes to invite just about anyone to get stoned and listen to Kid Cudi on Fridays, and you had pushed Lia to accompany you before. 

You distantly spot the kitchenette, the small living room, and then the two bedroom doors opposing each other. “The rule was to show up wearing something not marketed as clothing, but Mark didn’t follow the rules, so. Anyway, you’re off scot-free, too…” he pauses, “…if you take off the puffer coat. We’ve got heating, anyway. Free booze and weed, too.” You figure being in a flimsy tank top isn’t so bad—you’re sure half the people here are already getting laid or trying to, and nobody would really pay attention to you.

You shrug off the coat as Johnny steps aside to let you in, hugging it close to your body and navigating your way to the kitchen. The granite counters are filled with various bottles of booze, and you also note the cigarettes and blunts lining the island. You peruse the brands before settling on a sealed can of decidedly not-so-cheap-looking beer, and crack it open to take a swig. It’s warm and fucking disgusting, but there’s not much glitz in an “anything but clothing” off-campus college party anyway. 

There are several people scattered among the living area, passing around a blunt—another group is playing suck and blow. You make your way over to the cheap couch on the far end of the room, taking a seat on the arm and stretching out your hand to claim the blunt. It’s Jae who passes it to you—Jaehyun Jung, an upperclassman whose infamy (for wearing nothing but toilet paper and running through campus) greatly surpasses him. “Who are you?” he asks, and you holler your name back over the Kanye West song playing in the background. “Mark invited me,” you tack onto the end as compensation.

He nods in understanding, watching you take a drag and pass it back to him. He only hands it back, saying, “It’s nearly done, just finish it,” and getting up to probably get some booze or another blunt. 

You scan the area for a better place to cherish your weed, because you’re definitely not going to do it on the arm of a couch housing three couples making out to the high heavens. You spot an open window and a fire escape just beside the kitchen and walk over, ducking into the cool night air. It’s not quiet, it never is, and you treasure the peace that comes with the noise, closing your eyes and trying to milk the last few drags. All that is flushed down the drain when somebody kicks you out of your reverie and your last two drags are falling down, through the grills of the fire escape. 

“What the fuck?” You look up to meet, of course, Mark’s gaze, teasing and mischievous. 

“That wasn’t fucking funny, asshat. Get away from me.” You get up instantly, ducking back into the house and searching for your coat. It’s (very unfortunately) buried under a couple who have escalated from making out to borderline public indecency.

“Fuck it,” you mumble, swinging the door open and mentally preparing yourself for the cold once you get to the sidewalk, floors down. Mark follows suit, a laugh gracing the atmosphere around the two of you. “You know, I forgot how fun it is to make you pissed off. I did it all the time in eighth grade when I told our teacher you knew the solution to the Physics problems.” You’re fucking pissed. However petty, you’re fucking annoyed that you couldn’t finish the blunt, and you pay no attention to him. 

He badgers on anyway. “Hey—it was a mistake, I wanted to say hi to you.” You scoff, finally turning—“Why? Because we’re friends? We’re not. We’re Psych partners, we came from the same high school, we share a couple mutual friends. But you and I are not friends, not objectively, anyway. Please, Mark. I only just re-acquainted myself with you today, but, like, you’re already so annoying!” You’re at the elevator now, and when the doors slide open, you step inside and let them close at once. You barely catch the unreadable look on his face in your annoyance, and you lean against the wall, shutting your eyes and breathing heavily. 

How you’d even get to Giselle’s, or how you would wait out the remaining half-hour before she got home, was just up to whichever higher power happened to be witnessing you that night.

—

The door of your professor’s office closes with a saddening click. You stare back at her name, embossed on the wood in bold, in defeat, accepting your fate with a heavy heart. Just fifteen minutes prior, you had entered with a whole spiel prepared on how you just had to swap with somebody from your class so you wouldn’t have to work with Mark. This speech had occurred twice now—with your TA, and then once with your professor. This was your second chance, your redemption: so you prepared notes, you prepared convincing words—you had a point. 

But your professor simply shooed you away, muttering how she didn’t have time for you because she was going to be receiving hundreds of papers in a few weeks’ time from a different class and she, quite honestly, couldn’t be bothered. You bite your lip, thinking back to the previous Friday—it was nearing two weeks since your small outburst at Mark. Since then, you’d expected to build a silent rapport of just working, observing Lia and Daniel, and then parting. And that was almost it. You would show up to your so-called “lab rat sessions”, cup of warm caramel latte in hand, and work. 

Except Mark would constantly make noise, jeer, swipe your pen, and do other things that got on your nerves.

“You’re going to have to stop trying sometime,” Lia says, backhugging you. She’d been waiting outside. You let your head loll back onto her shoulder and whine. “Do you know when you’re so frustrated you want to cry? Yeah? That’s exactly how it is, Li. I can’t keep up with this for another two, three months. It’s like he’s not even, like, fuck, like he’s not even trying, y’know? We’re building the foundation of a pages-long paper. This isn’t some finals essay he can bullshit in three hours.” 

You groan as Lia pulls away from you, whirling you around to face her. “It’ll be fine, I swear to you. I’ll help out, anytime you need it. I promise. If I start hating Daniel, I’ll even pretend like I’m in love with him. Head over heels.” You let yourself laugh and pull out your phone as you two begin to walk towards your dorm.

She tsks. “We’re gonna have a thing tonight, right? Like, a lab rat session?”

You nod, squinting over your calendar app. “Yeah, at around 5:30 to 6. It’ll be quick, but Mark and I are gonna have to stay behind to divide the work for the general paper and then start. Hopefully we can get some outlining done by tonight…so don’t wait up,” you sigh. She smiles apologetically, pinching your waist affectionately. 

“Daniel and I will totally help you. He’s a Mark anti now. I told him about the party outburst thing.” You had sent her a slew of texts that night, and like every other story you had told (save for the most private ones), Daniel had caught wind of it. You’re half sure he was capable of blackmailing you at that point. “Good,” you shoot back, “I’m going to need all the anti-Mark force I can get.”

“Why?” You both turn to see Mark standing idly behind you. There’s a beat, and then: “You look like an inane stalker,” you retort, turning to continue walking. Lia follows suit—with the two of you, the vibe of the atmosphere would always come easy. If one was mad, the other would act mad, too. 

“Hey,” Mark repeats, falling into step beside you, “why do you need an anti-Mark force? Tell me.” At this point, your nerves are on fire and your blood is boiling, and you’re beginning to envision beating him up on the quad. “Mark, it’s been great, but we’re going to our dorm, and in case you don’t want to catch a restraining order, I suggest you get off at your floor instead of following us like a creep,” you say sweetly, quickening your steps until he’s far behind you, smiling. Fucking asshole. 

“I’ll see ya this evening, then,” he teases, and you grumble under your breath.

—

It’s 5:45 when Lia and Daniel leave the library—fifteen minutes early. You and Mark leave ten minutes later, hours before you were supposed to complete your task. You’re fuming, and for once, Mark has the decency to read the room and feel remorse. 

The evening had started off well enough, though—Lia and Daniel had showed up, did their thing, described what was happening, and you and Mark had noted it down. And then, well. Mark spilled water all over your planner, which, in hindsight, was definitely unintentional, but in the spur of the moment, you could do nothing but your natural—everybody’s natural—response to getting something precious ruined. You began to cry. “What the fuck,” you sniffled, “is wrong with you?!” You had shaken the majority of water off your planner, but any and all dates had been smudged and bled, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. “I know I called you annoying, but this is too far,” you had said, watching his face go from teasing to genuinely sorry. “Dude, it was accidenta—” 

“I don’t give a fuck—!” You quickly cut yourself off and wipe your tears when you see a young library assistant heading towards your table. Everybody composes themselves—Lia and Daniel straighten out the things on the surface and Mark sits up straight. “Hey,” he says. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but two students already came in with a noise complaint. We’re gonna have to ask you to,” he makes a gesture, “leave for now and come back tomorrow. Also, the puddle on the table…yeah. I’m really sorry.” He leaves, as if to make sure you have no other choice but to just go, and you slump back onto your chair in exhaustion. 

“You two can go ahead,” you hear Mark say, “I’m really sorry about this. We’ll clean up and apologize.” Faintly, you hear them get up, and you feel Lia’s hand squeeze yours as she promises a text and food later. You let your eyes remain shut, drinking in the quiet, trying to calm your inner turmoil.

Ten minutes later, when you’re out in the cold November air, Mark finally speaks. You had cleaned up and collected your things in silence. “I’m really sorry,” he says, “it was an accident, for real. I know I tease a lot, but, uh, I’m being serious. I would never have done that on purpose. I see you write shit on that thing a lot, so…I know how much you like it. Treasure it…? I don’t—whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Like, really. T’was an accident. If you need me to pay for it…” You shake your head softly, hugging your damp planner closer to your sweater-clad chest. “It’s okay. Thanks, anyway. For helping. I’ll email you what you have to do. Bye,” you turn and begin walking in the direction of your dorm. The sun is beginning to set, golden orange hues casting a vast array of colors onto the landscape of the city. You sigh softly, heart heavy with annoyance and exhaustion, and speed up before you start having a mini-breakdown.

—

Stage 1: Denial|

Your cursor blinks back at you as you finish typing in your outline for the introduction. It’s early into November, but already, you’ve had to shut your window to shielf yourself from the biting breeze outside. Across you, Lia applies mascara and talks to you. “What are you up to?” she asks, face contorted. 

“This godforsaken paper,” you mumble back, “just finished the introduction outline. I’m trying to give a loose definition for each gradual ‘stage.’” Shoving your Macbook off your lap, you get up to stretch. “Which I’ll probably find on Google Scholar, honestly. If you had to give me a definition—what’s denial?” 

She hums contemplatively, wand on lash, and then pipes up. “I think it’s just a stage where you can’t face the fact that you’re interested in that person. Like, why them? With Daniel, he wasn’t really my type. So the whole denial was denying I liked him, because…well, yeah. But I think it differs. Some people deny it because they’re shy, or ashamed, or weirded out that they even like them.”

You’ve had your fair share of crushes before, and sure enough, you had denied them all. But that was high school—college, though, had only brought short-lived flings and one night stands; you were an overachiever, much too committed to your own prosperity to pay mind to anybody else for too long. (Except Lia.) So you hadn’t really experienced the whole boyfriend-in-university thing—not that you particularly wanted to, but you were just human; you were curious. Lia had gotten it, and it looked wonderful. 

Speaking of—“So, a week without meeting Mark in person, huh? How is that going for you?” You scoff lightly, shaking your head as you pull your hair into a bun. “It’s going just fine. Dandy, actually. We work from our dorms and you and Daniel just update us. It’s a fine arrangement that I regret was not formulated sooner.” Lia nods in understanding, and you watch her pull on a top, mutter I’m out and head outside. For the fifth time this week, you’re alone in the dorm, with nothing but your Alexa playing SZA and your laptop. You pull it onto your lap again, staring at the boldface letters you had typed minutes prior: denial. You had no firsthand experience of being mature and going through denial; not in that way, anyway. You found it stupid that people even denied when it would be less painful to just admit interest.

You blow a raspberry as you research studies related to the term, bored out of your mind.

—

Two days later, you meet Mark again. 

You’d also had the pleasure of, for a minute or two, meeting a friend of his, Donghyuck Lee from Economics. He’s loud and amusing and, from your viewpoint, undeserving of somebody as boring as Mark. (That’s from a minute-long intercation.) 

At Lia’s insistence (and likely Daniel’s, too), you two met up to properly work and collaborate. In fear of being kicked out again, the four of you had chosen to meet somewhere else—a cafe off-campus affectionately named something along the lines of Saltwater Coffee. Naturally, after Donghyuck leaves, you find yourself sitting idly (awkwardly) beside Mark. “They won’t be long,” he says suddenly, “er, Daniel just texted me. They’re near.” You nod, pursing your lips, eyes trained onto your laptop. “We’re almost done formulating the denial stage and we can start outlining anger and bargaining. This’ll take about a week more—maybe mid to late November? Uh, I know it seems justifiable to slack off with the holidays,” you say, “but I really want us to finish this early. The due date’s in mid-February, so we can pass this on the 14th.” You turn to face him. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s Valentine’s Day.”

He nods. “Okay. No slacking. I get it. The Valentine’s is smart, too.” You nod back in silent understanding, turning back to type frantically into your keyboard. 

You hear the door jingle and Lia’s small “hey, guys”, so you look up and offer a smile. “I’m gonna go order everyone some coffee,” Mark says beside you, getting up and shuffling over to the counter. Daniel joins him, and Lia takes a seat across you, her smile knowing and apologetic. “Everything okay?” You blow a raspberry, but smile, anyway. “It’s not so bad. It could be better, but no more banter, just very annoyed auras…? You get it. It’s just been tough trying to divert my focus to this and ignore all the annoyance I feel.”

“Totally, I get that,” she says, “but all the same, I’m glad he’s matured a little bit and lessened all the ribbing.” You smile at that, agreeing, and then the conversation spirals into one about both of your days—“Professor Callahan totally pops a stiffy over Professor Michaelson”, “Daniel tells me Joshua cheated. Yes, on Jess!”, “Mia dropped out the other day and nobody knows why, hope she’s okay”—before Daniel and Mark return, coffee cups in hand. Mark places one next to you, and profusely, you look up at him, who’s just about to sit. 

“Thanks, but I don’t drink brewed coff—”

“It’s a caramel latte, the only thing you drink. Heard you say that to Lia once.” He takes a seat and pulls his laptop open. 

You stare at him, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. Sure enough, it’s caramel—thick, and foamy, and sweet. You look up at him again, but he’s busy on Google Scholar, perusing through journals and studies. You shake your head before turning to Lia, who’s already looking at you, expression mirroring yours. 

Sweet, she mouths, but you purse your lips and choose not to acknowledge it. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and he hums to say you’re welcome. 

Your eyes flicker to him. He’s wearing a knitted sweater, but he’s pulled it up to his elbows. He’s typing quickly, and he can use all his fingers, too (you fail miserably at that), and his brows are furrowed as if he’s stressed, or in a hurry. You’ve never really noticed this much of Mark before. It’s probably, you think absently, because you’re confused. Puzzled at the gesture that you didn’t expect—at all.

After an hour, he angles his laptop to yours. “Nailed the intro. High five?” You open the Google doc on your own browser, and sure enough, the word count has increased monumentally. You can’t deny his knack for writing. “There are a few discrepancies in grammar,” you say instead. “But…okay. This is good.” You ignore his hand, in mid-air, and continue researching. 

Lia holds in a giggle, but turns back to Daniel, who, after fifteen minutes, turns to you and Mark. “Lia and I are heading out, guys,” he says, and Lia quickly tacks on. “Hey, if you need me to stay, I can,” she says quickly, but you smile and shake your head. 

“This might take a while. Go ahead. See ya at the dorm, Li. Bye, Daniel.” Mark bids his farewells, too, and they leave you alone in the cafe. It’s nearing a three hour crunch when he abruptly gets up to stretch, a low grunt leaving his lips. “I’m exhausted,” he sighs, “but at least we’re nearly done with this whole denial thing.”

“We’re actually only just starting,” you state, “this is going to go through a lot of editing and proofreading.” 

He chuckles and walks back to the counter to order something, and you shut your laptop to rest your eyes. Your glasses rest uncomfortably on the bridge of your nose as you breathe deeply. You lose track of time, and you open your eyes ten minutes later, fumbling to get up properly. There’s a panini beside your laptop, wrapped neatly in a tissue and laid on a plate. Mark’s is empty, save for crumbs, and he says nothing. 

“Get up,” he remarks teasingly after a while, and you groan in exhaustion. “I am, I’m up,” you mutter, straightening your back and flexing your neck. Inwardly, you wonder if you should thank him for the panini that is obviously yours that you obviously did not buy for yourself. 

Then Mark’s hand stretches out to take the panini, and he takes a bite. “Sorry,” he says, “I had to put my second sandwich in your space. This table’s a little small.” You hum back in acknowledgement, nodding once. “It’s, uh…all good,” you respond, voice small as you type into your laptop. Internally, your body fills slowly with humiliation and confusion, but you stay quiet, and that’s how the rest of the night goes: a silent, steady beat of keyboard clicking and the occasional question. 

No banter, no nothing—it’s a godsend, yes, it is, but you can’t help but miss the abrasive, playful conversations the two of you had built up over the previous several weeks. But really—had you truly assumed he had bought you a panini? As if a coffee wasn’t enough? You felt at odds with yourself for even expecting such a gesture from the guy whose main habit was to annoy you to the ends of the Earth.

“It’s late,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind and knowing you’re absolutely mortified inside. “Let’s head home.” You nod, deeming the night’s work satisfactory—maybe even beyond, considering the amount of effort you both put into the output. You shove your laptop and charger into your bag and pocket your phone, lingering awkwardly and waiting for Mark to finish packing up. He’s particular with it—he has little sections in his backpack for the wires and chargers, and even his AirPods, and his laptop. 

“Very organized,” you find yourself commenting offhandedly, your tone taking on a teasing edge. He glares playfully back at you. 

“Sorry I don’t want my wires to break,” he shoots back, eyeing your flimsy tote bag, “unlike some people.” You roll your eyes and, against your strongest wills, a smile appears on your lips, albeit a small one. His eyes linger on your smile for a little bit before he clears his throat and zips up his knapsack. “Let’s, er, go. Thank Jesus we’re in the same building.” When you exit, the air bites at you despite the jacket covering your body, and you quicken your pace. “It’s cold as hell.”

“Ironic,” Mark says. You hide a smile.

—

That’s what November brings you—the next week and a half are composed of just slowly learning to get used to working with Mark again and going home late into the night, crunching to the max. 

Your paper begins to take on more and more structure, and two out of the six days you’ve met, Mark has set down a caramel latte for you to arrive to. The acoustic music slowly phases into holiday guitar, and the coat rack at the entrance is weighed down more and more as the days pass, preparing to welcome December. 

You and Mark work silently, save for the rare banter and eyeroll, and very gradually, the annoyance that had bubbled up within seconds before had sank down. You’re not friends, per se—it’s just that the frustration and exasperation had lessened considerably. 

You were civil. That’s it. You won’t try to deny that you’ve been thinking about this a little too much—about what your “friendship” had become with Mark. You hadn’t snapped at him in days, and he hadn’t tugged at your ballpen in even longer. It wasn’t that you had cowered him into silence by crying over your planner—it may have instigated it, but his behavior was…different. 

More calm, more sure. Less childish. He would still tease you, but not as much. It’s nearing mid-November now, and you’ve successfully done much of your introduction and denial, needing less and less of Lia and Daniel’s presence. (Which you’re sure they’re grateful for.) But being left alone with Mark isn’t as bad as you once thought—

“Hello. Earth to you,” you distantly hear, and you whip your head in the direction of the voice as you pace back to your dorm building. Mark stares blankly back at you. “What,” you mumble back. He quirks a brow before continuing. “I was saying, I think I need to take a rain check tomorrow. The, uh”—he clears his throat—“um, yeah.”

You eye him. “Okay…?”

He nods profusely, “Yeah, all good.” The walk continues in silence, the sun finally setting down behind the Manhattan skyline beyond you and the breeze taking on a chillier temperature. You sigh softly, fatigue overtaking you as you stare at the building nearing you. “If you take a rain check, just make sure you write it within the day or after,” you say, half-sternly and half-tiredly. He mumbles a “got it” and you both jog up the steps to the lobby, where you run into, by some weird twist of the day, a small group of anti-abortion protesters.

“Jesus Christ,” Mark mutters under his breath. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You rub the bridge of your nose in your fingers, choosing to tune them out and instead maneuver your way through the door. Before you can even take a step, though, they’re all up in your face with pamphlets and brochures and a guitar. “Excuse me,” you grunt, trying to gently push them aside, but they only come on stronger. “A child is a child,” they say. “If you know anybody who’s—”

“Is this your new initiative? Preying on college students on school grounds, unaccounted for?” Mark asks from behind you. You turn to find he’s filming and stifle a laugh. “I’m surprised nobody’s kicked you out. Won’t be long, now,” he adds with a smile. 

You tune out nearly everything else—it’s really just them telling Mark to stop recording and him retorting with equally snarky phrases. It’s not until maybe after a solid two minutes of back and forth that one of them, a weird middle-aged woman, pulls out a burgundy gummy bear from a bag and pushes it into Mark’s camera. He takes it from her and examines it, puzzled. “That,” she says matter-of-factly, “is the approximate size of a fetus. It’s big. It’s sentient, alive. What, I beg of you, what would you do?”

Mark squints at it. Then he pops it into his mouth, takes your hand, and runs straight to the elevator across the floor. 

“There’s a bunch of anti-abortion people outside, it’s not cool!” He hollers to the receptionist before the doors close with a damning click. 

There’s a beat, and then.

Both of you are doubling over in laughter. “Why the hell would y—why would you do that?! You’re insane!” The response is: “Because they’re not cool! They’re fuckin’ annoying! So I ate their baby!” There are tears in your eyes, your laughter so hard it’s nearing silent—Mark’s, though, is loud and annoying sounding, though you seem to not mind so much. The laughter subsides when the ding of your floor sounds and you straighten yourself up. Getting into a different position reminds you of the very there, very obvious brushing of your hand against Mark’s, which he’d taken just moments earlier, post-baby eating.

You freeze and jerk your hand away. “I’ll, um, go now,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorr—no, the day after.” Against your wills, you meet his eyes, and you’re surprised to find that he’s already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Okay,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. Your heart beats faster at a very small increment, but you head out and semi-run to your room, swinging it open and leaning against it. 

You look up to find Lia and Daniel engaged in a heated Monopoly match. You make no noise, mind (and heart, but you can’t tell why) racing fast. You watch them play for a second before they both look up slowly.

“You’re smiling like a goddamn idiot,” Daniel says. Your face falls immediately. “I’m, um, no I’m not,” you say casually, pacing over to your bed and flopping onto it. Lia laughs loudly. 

“That sounded so freaked. Like we’re your mom and you just brought weed home kind of freaked.” Pause. 

“Are you hiding something from me?” She rises from her spot to look at you, head in pillow and all, and you let out a muffled “no!”, probably too defensive for your own good. 

It’s Daniel’s turn to snort. You look up and glare at him, “You’re getting too comfortable for your own good. You need to humble yourself, Daniel. What’s it again? Oh yeah, Yeonjun, right?” He rolls his eyes at the use of his Korean name and turns back to the Monopoly board.

Lia flops atop you, eliciting a grunt from your lips. “Are you okay? Did somebody flirt with you? Did Mark finally fuck off and leave you alone properly?” 

At the mention of Mark, your heart races—you will it to stop, and audibly groan in the process. “What is it, you bitch?” Lia asks, tugging on a section of your hair. “It’s nothing, Li! Nothing, I promise.” She glares at you before walking to Daniel and covering his ears. Instantly, he begins to let out a chorus of Lalala, and deeming the environment safe enough, you let it slip.

“Mark and I held hands. But it—”

“You what?!”

“It really, really doesn’t mean anyth—”

“How can that not mean anything? It’s hand holdi—”

“If you would listen to the backstory you’d know!” She pauses, and then uncovers Daniel’s ears and knees him. 

“Okay, get out. Monopoly postponed, Jun,” she says, pushing him out insistently. He barely collects his phone and keys before he’s out, but you swoon silently when you catch him pressing a short goodbye kiss to her forehead before actually leaving. She turns immediately, fire and curiosity awfully evident in her face. 

She nears you. “Explain.” 

And that’s what sparks the story of the weird protesters, Mark’s power move, and the unintentional hand hold that lasted a few moments too long. She nods the entire time, laughing, and then her face straightens out again. You can almost hear the gears in her head turning as she analyzes the situation, and then she nods once. 

“Okay. Perfectly justifiable to freak out.” Another pause. “But why were you smiling?” You stare blankly back at her, head working impossibly quick to formulate a reply. You’ve taken too long now, judging by the way Lia is looking at you with the most shit-eating grin on her fucking face. You groan.

“You like him, you bitch!” 

You shake your head, facing her. “I don’t, dude. Trust me. I just…it was a fun experience, so naturally I’d be laughing. And smiling. But I’m just not interested in Mark! I’m not,” you fumble, being completely honest. 

You didn’t—not even if you looked in the mirror and asked yourself. But you couldn’t deny the feelings you felt in the ten seconds from the elevator to your room, your heart racing and your fist curling and uncurling. When you look at Lia again, she’s still smiling, flushed. “You like him,” she says into her palm, which she’s slapped over her mouth in disbelief. You stare back at her, your expression baffled. “If I did,” you begin, getting up to discard your shirt, “I’d have told you by now. It’s really not that big of a deal unless you make it out to be.”

After that, you and Mark spend nearly three weeks walking on eggshells around each other. While conversations are no longer avoided, and you could talk without getting exasperated or too embarrassed, finger brushes are frequent, and eye contact only makes you extremely nervous. You had worked until the second stage—anger—already, but you’d still been polishing the denial and introduction. Considering November wasn’t over and the paper was due February, you figured you were moving at an okay pace. Besides, a lot of your friends hadn’t even begun.

—

There are two instances where you rush home, mortified beyond belief.

The first when when you struck up a conversation with the cute, Australian barista. Scrawled in big penmanship on his name tag is Chan. You had brought up, in passing, how often you’re at the cafe and how you probably deserve a free drink. He replied with a low hum, and you dialed down your flirty tone, slightly embarrassed. But not really. You’ve rejected plenty of people before. It’s when you’re already paying for your drink that he replied, handing you your (for a change) iced matcha with a small grin. 

“I’d have flirted with you weeks ago if you didn’t have your boyfriend with you all the time. He’s always buying you your drinks.” You spluttered for a good second, staring at him incredulously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you finally said. 

He had shrugged, nonchalant. “He sure as hell looks at you a lot for someone you’re not dating. And you do it just as much, if not more. I’m observant, by the way. Not a stalker.” You had taken your cup and paced over to the other end of the cafe, sat across Mark, cheeks heated.

He looked up, brow raised. You shook your head.

The second time was when Donghyuck graced you both with his presence. You quickly found out that he was a magnetic presence and you both shared similar interests. The energy you both created was both amusing and annoying to Mark. 

Although you kept quiet mostly, you enabled Donghyuck’s incessant teasing, which annoyed Mark to the ends of the Earth. “You’re a dork. Isn’t he?” You look up and nod with a smile. Mark rolls his eyes, sending Donghyuck into a laughing frenzy. Mark just grunts and continues typing.

Hyuck had made a joke about how two Physics textbooks discussed why the sad man named Mark owns two of them and didn’t have a life, and you laughed. 

You didn’t usually laugh, not around Mark, at least, since it was safe to say you didn’t have any source of entertainment in such a boring guy. But you laughed at the witty joke, and Donghyuck, without thinking much, had said in passing: “Mark, I guess you’re right about everything about her being pretty.”

Mark said nothing, typing. You said nothing. Nobody said anything, not even a sly Donghyuck or, from the counter, an even slyer Chan.

—

When you see Mark next, it’s three days later, and it’s, for the second time, in Johnny’s apartment. 

Lia had asked if you wanted to tag along, and you found no harm in going. (“You’re going because Mark is” becomes Lia’s favorite phrase of the night, so much it’s spread to Daniel, who you’d succumbed to and spilled everything to hours prior.) The walk there has something boiling low in your gut and you’re quiet, in fear you might end up vomiting in nerves or saying something stupid. Lia teases you, but her hand clasping yours reassures you, and you squeeze it tightly. 

You get there late—it’s past 1AM, and you have a sense of deja vu walking into the cramped space. It’s fuller this time—people are creeping into the bedrooms to smoke in private or do some other things, but suffice to say it’s crowded as fuck.

“Want a drink?” Lia hollers, and you nod over the music. Johnny’s neighbor is another upperclassman named Doyoung, though he’s mainly referred to as Doie by just about everybody around him.

You’ve seen his girlfriend call him bunny a few times, though you’ve long desired to repress that memory. 

Judging by the fact that you can faintly hear a different song from the next room, the party has probably extended to Doyoung’s. There’s quite a gathering this week—the rich freshman who you’d befriended once before, Chenle, and his horde of friends are here; from Lia, who hands you a drink, you learn that Kun and Sicheng, two incredibly attractive juniors, are here, too—in Doie’s, though. The party only intensifies, which is hard, because Johnny’s apartment is very tiny.

Eventually, you find yourself in the bathroom, smoking a joint you’d grabbed out of the clammy hands of a tipsy Chenle and kicking a couple out under the guise that you’re Johnny’s cousin. Chenle had protested but eventually given in, pulling a new one out of his pocket.

The bathroom light is white and harsh, but there’s a very funky lamp at the corner. From your place inside the dry (and thankfully clean…looking) bathtub, you eye it. It’s a tall one in the shape of a glass of margarita. 

You heave yourself up and find the switch, and then when it’s on, you giggle at the green light emitting from it. You have absolutely no idea why Johnny, Jaehyun, or their roommate Jungwoo (3J, as some call them) have a decorative, margarita-shaped green lamp, and in their bathroom nonetheless, but you shut off the main light and return to smoking your blunt. Deciding your ass aches far too much, you lean against the tile wall and cherish the smoke.

The door opens abruptly, and you curse, pushing it back closed. 

“I have explosive diarrhea,” you say robotically, using the same excuse you did for the previous three couples that showed up. 

From the other side, you hear a shrill laugh and sound of confusion. When you peer over the other side and see Mark, you groan and laugh. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I saw you come in. Like, twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m cherishing the party privately.”

Mark ushers himself into the dark space and shuts the door. He makes a show of locking it, as if to show you it’s possible to do so. The sound of it locking sends a wave of nerves up your spine. 

“I didn’t lock it in case a medical emergency happens and they have to rush inside.” 

Mark quirks his brow. “I doubt they would think to go inside the restroom and not panic and call 911, you know.” 

You shrug in indifference and take another drag, reluctantly offering it to him.

He takes it, and you pause for a second to observe him. His hair, dark, and which usually covers his entire forehead like a broom or at least parts in the middle slightly, is now styled differently. 

He’s in a fitting black shirt and blue jeans, and, upon your closer inspection, silver rings adorn his fingers. You will yourself to look down. It’s dark. “What’s that you’re holding?” You ask instead, trying not to extend your stare at his shoulders.

“Your puffer coat,” he says, tossing it to you. “Left it last time.”

“That time when you annoyed the shit out of me, right,” you retort.

“Yes, exactly that time. That was ages ago. Weeks ago. Look at us now.”

“Us now—what, still disliking each other?”

He laughs humorlessly, but doesn’t entertain you further. He turns to the lamp instead. “Do you know I was there when they moved this in,” he begins, gesturing to it, “Jae got it at some weird, awful flea market, and he had to buy some extra wiring to fix it or whatever. I was doing Physics homework. It was at the start of this school year. And I bet you didn’t know…” he bends down and reaches to the base of the lamp, pressing a button, “that it changes color.”

The room is bathed in red now, and you swallow. “Interesting,” you manage to say, despite the racing in your head. “Very,” he responds, taking a step closer to you. You gaze up at him. He’s tall. You breathe softly. You nod in agreement. You don’t know what to do. You want to punch him and kiss him and leave all at once. 

You want to kiss him, oh God, you want to kiss him.

“Oh God,” you say softly, out loud. Oh fuck. Too much weed?

He inches closer, leaving the blunt on the rim of the sink. “Why?” He smiles a little and you smile back, nervous. He’s so close now, and he smells so good—like cologne and laundry and weed. You shake your head. “Nothing,” you mumble back.

He’s even closer now, eyes boring into yours. You adjust your strap, a nervous habit. He takes your hand and does it for you. “I like this song,” he says casually, like he’s not playing with the strap of your dress. “Do you know what it’s called?” It’s vaguely familiar to you, but you shake your head. 

“It’s Jhene Aiko,” he replies, and you nod. You gravitate closer.

You stare at him. He stares back. “I’m high,” you say. You giggle. “I had a brownie and that blunt.”

“That’s a lot,” he says. “Don’t finish the blunt, ‘kay?” You nod back, and giggle again. In two seconds, your nervous mechanism has kicked in and you’re laughing like a psycho. “I’m high,” you repeat, and then he kisses you, effectively sobering you up.

Huh. He kisses you, effectively sobering you up. He kisses you.

You kiss back, shocked and relieved, deepening it, trying to get as much of him as possible. His hands are big and wide and warm, traveling all over you. You want him. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, lips molding against yours deliriously. 

“Want you,” you say when his hands play with the hem of your dress, teetering closer and closer to your core. “I said, I want you,” you whine, “now.” Mark only laughs, his hands under your dress and playing with the lace waistband of your underwear. 

“I like how this feels,” he mumbles. “Wanna take a look.” You whimper, hiking your leg up and nodding. “Please, just…touch me,” you say breathlessly. “Please.”

“I will,” he says, voice calm. “You’re being good.” You can’t deny the noise you make at the praise, breathy and loud. You pull him in again, drunk for more, your hands raking through his hair. It’s dark, the both of you basking in the small red light. Mark hikes your dress up, inching it higher, slowly, until he sees the hem of your white lace underwear. He grunts and pulls at it. “I love this,” he says. “So fuckin’, Jesus.” 

You giggle against the smile. He toys with your panties for a bit before finally pulling them down, watching them sink to your ankles. “Hot,” he jokes, and you laugh in disbelief. “Why would you even be joking abou—”

“Mark! Let’s go, it’s 2:30!” Donghyuck’s voice is just as loud and clear as it would be if you weren’t separated by a door. Jolted, you and Mark instinctively break apart and stare at the rattling door. “Maaaark,” he sing-songs, knocking to a beat. You stare at Mark, waiting for him to respond.

“I have explosive diarrhea,” he says. You stifle a guffaw, pulling your panties up.

He pouts, tapping your ass. “Bullshit,” Donghyuck says from outside. “I’m cooomin’ in!”

In the span of a minute, where you realize Donghyuck is not bluffing and in fact has a stolen bathroom key from Jungwoo’s bedside drawer, you manage to shove yourself into the bathtub and hide yourself with the curtain. Mark switches the light back on, much to both of your disappointment, and pretends to smoke the blunt you’d left on the sink fifteen minutes ago. Ergo: pre-kiss.

You find your phone on the bathtub floor and grip it, turning the brightness down. You have a plethora of messages and voicemails from Lia, five calls from Daniel, and an interesting iMessage of Donghyuck’s red, weed-induced eyes from an unknown number. It could be anybody, and that scares you.

The texts are all frantic, and they’re the last things that bring you out of your high and back to reality. Where are u, who u with?, u getting railed??!, Have you seen mark?

“Hyuck, if I actually did have a shitstorm coming out of my ass, you’d be so sorry for breaking in,” you hear Mark say. You sink lower into the bathtub, awaiting Donghyuck’s voice. “You were the one who suggested we go at 2:30, and you’ve been smoking weed for the longest time, dipshit,” he says, “now let’s go. I haven’t seen your Psych girl all night, so you can cry about it at home.” You faintly detect Mark protesting and then, “Let me just freshen up! Just go ahead.”

Reluctantly, you peek out and find Mark alone. You get up and fix your dress.

You’re sober now. The red lights are gone. It’s just you and Mark, plain and simple. Your feelings haven’t gone away, though. You’re fucking fucked. You want him to fuck you. Oh, fuck.

“Go,” you say instead, spluttering. “And I’ll see you. Tuesday.”

You leave first despite yourself, not turning around for even a split second, finding a worried (and then relieved) Lia and taking five consecutive tequila shots to down the nerves and denial bubbling in your system. She raises a brow, but you refuse to even meet her eyes, head and heart pounding impossibly fast. You want to kiss him again. So, so bad. But what the fuck did you just let happen?

—

Stage 2: Anger|

Lia hadn’t pressed, and you were nervous, but it was getting easy to diverge the details of what happened during Johnny’s party. You had instead opted to work alone, too much of a coward to even see Mark’s face. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you feared you might just kiss him if you ever saw him. So you spent days at class working, and then at your dorm working, adjusting your route to avoid, as much as possible, Mark or Hyuck’s buildings and that godforsaken cafe. You did text Mark, though, and the exchanges were brief, not even a “thank you” or “good morning” preceding them. It was awful.

Working alone forced you into a heavy load of retrospection. You would think deeply, like how you are now, spiraling into a series of questions where you studied the play-by-play of what happened in the bathroom, up against the wall. You liked it. A lot. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself. Why it even happened…God. You mentally berated yourself for giving into it. Didn’t you hate him? Or at least dislike him? Didn’t you take pleasure in scolding him or fighting with him?

“You’re freaking me out,” Lia says from her bed. She’s been staring at you. “You’ve been lying on your bed staring at the ceiling for twenty straight minutes.” She walks over to you, flopping next to you, her arms winding around your body. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you say, nervous. You gulp.

“Okay. If you’re n—”

“Mark and I kissed.”

She sits up and turns to look at you.

“Made out, more like. We were going to fuck if we didn’t get interrupted.” You’re mortified, refusing to meet her gaze. When you look up, her face is even, but you know she’s bubbling over with giddiness inside. “That is so fucking great, dude,” she replies. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Because it’s Mark,” you whine. “He’s not…I don’t know.”

She lies back down. “You’re overthinking this.” You laugh, poking her waist. “I know, but I just…I feel like he might not like me much anymore.” You recount the way you left him hanging, despite the lack of awkward air and the potential to talk and become something. She tsks but justifies it, because she’s so good at that, being a mediator, and you continue with your day quietly. 

Your mind is always on it, though, his hands and his lips, and you’ve scoured Spotify for the song playing that he had commented on.

It’s called Pussy Fairy. You cannot make it up. It’s a weird title, but the song is heavenly, and you can’t deny when it’s full blast on your AirPods and your hand is creeping closer and closer there, trying desperately to replicate what you felt in that moment. When you’re not sated, ashamed and sighing, you resort to working on your paper. There are moments where both you and Mark are working at the same time, and you hate yourself for getting all flustered when it happens. 

—

It’s a Tuesday, in the early afternoon, when you’re out of class and cleaning out the little litter in your dorm, repasting whatever decorations fell off, et cetera. You have the time, anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt to fix the place up a bit. You’re halfway into re-stringing Lia’s fairy lights when someone knocks on the door, jolting you. You curse under your breath, hopping off her bed to swing the door open and reveal—

“What is up?!” Donghyuck grins back at you. His hand is raised in a high-five invitation, which you hesitantly reciprocate. “Mark tells me you’re meeting today, and that I should come remind you, since it seems like you forgot. He says you haven’t texted all day. Since I was on this floor—do you know Jeno Lee? Do you know it’s so amusing how Mark, Jeno, and I all have the same surname? Anyway. I was here on your floor to remind Jeno about an Econ presentation, and Mark texts me and goes, if you’re with Jeno, then remind you—you as in you, you—to come meet me and work.” 

He talks so goddamn fast. “You talk so goddamn fast.”

He just guffaws, high-fiving you again. “Well, you get my point, right? Meet Mark at the cafe and work is all he said to do. If you wanna.” You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “Tell him I’ll be a little late,” you say simply, and as you’re about to shut the door, he talks again, his voice quieter this time. “I know you were hiding behind the curtain.”

You pull the door open again, so fast a minuscule gust of wind washes over both of your faces. “You’re kidding,” you say, “you’re kidding.” You stare at each other for a second before his solem features break into a smile. “I am. Mark spilled everything to me, so I decided to trick you.” Relief and annoyance break over your system as you swat Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You’re a dick,” you spit. “You’re bringing a bad image to Econ majors.”

He merely laughs and closes the door himself, light brown hair fluffing with the severity of his laugh (cackle.) Slightly annoyed, you drag yourself to get dressed, dread building up in your stomach at the prospect of seeing Mark again. Not when your mind conjures up what happened everytime you just see his name. Or the word mark. You’ve been out of it since it happened, not even responding to your usual heated debates with the conservative Trump supporter in class. You suppose the best way to confront it is to simply confront it.

When you get there, though, it’s clear that confrontation would not be an option. Immediately, when you sit, the air shifts into something oddly familiar—the atmosphere between the two of you when you first got partnered up. Except now, Mark won’t even give you a pinch of attention, or banter, instead typing his questions into the document to avoid verbal conversation. (He is a fucking petty bitch, you’ll give him that.)

You stroll over to the counter, pout set on your lips. “Hello,” Chan says politely, and you just smile half-heartedly. “Lover’s quarrel?” He teases, and you roll your eyes. “He’s ignoring me,” you respond, watching him make you a latte. “And we’re not dating. We never were.”

“Mm, right,” he says, finishing and setting your drink in front of you. You laugh a little, taking it. “No. We weren’t. But I’ll update you.”

When you return, Mark’s looking at you, quiet as ever. You break his gaze and continue working, working and working until the sun sets, nestled deep behind the horizon. When you look up again, the sky is already dark, city lights providing solace to the place. You look at Mark quizzically, as if to ask him what time you should both leave, but he just shrugs. “Any time,” he states plainly, and huffing, you get up.

“I’ll go right ahead then,” you say, trying your best to sound annoyed and get your message across. He says nothing, watching you pack up your stuff and sling your bag over your shoulder, and then eventually, leave.

Daniel is the first to see you in your raged, annoyed state—you meet him in the elevator of the lobby, your blood boiling and your fists balled. Knowing you’re headed to the same floor, he presses the button, ruffles his hair, and then lets the silence take over. And then, “What’s going on?” You breathe deeply, turning to him with a tired look on your face. “Mark’s going on,” you mumble, “he was ignoring me the entire time. And to think he was the one who requested my presence! It makes no sense. Why would he ignore me when we can just talk about it?”

“About what?”

It suddenly occurs to you that Daniel knows about your weird feelings for Mark, but not how they culminated. You splutter. “Um, about us. Everything.” Daniel looks amused, but the doors open, and you thank them for the temporary exit from the topic. He stops you right outside, though, and pulls out two ticket, card-looking things. “Wait, um. Listen, Lia and I are going to reach our seven-month…anniversary, I guess, of, y’know, being a thing. I know it seems really small, but I want to give her a little something out of appreciation, so I got us a room at this ski lodge outside the city.”

“That’s so sweet,” you say honestly, “but I must admit, it comes on sort of stalker-y. Like you’re whisking her off out of the city.”

He beams even louder. “That’s why you’re coming. With Mark!”

You gape back at him. “Did you miss the whole I-hate-him thing that happened in there?” You jab your finger towards the closed elevator doors, disbelief written across your face. He laughs. “Sometimes you can’t keep hiding behind”—he begins walking to your room, and you follow suit—“emotions, like anger. When I liked Lia, there was a point where I was just pretending to alienate her so I wouldn’t have to face that I was starting to love her. Like her. And you know, she did it right back.” 

“Oh, quit it,” you scoff, insistent. “You’re lecturing me like you’ve been married a decade.”

“That’s what I want,” he says, and you gag. “The first step to that would be ski lodge trip, so you’re coming!”

You’re in front of your room now, and you pinch his wrist as he reaches for the handle, gaining his full attention. “I’ll gladly go,” you whisper, “if Mark’s out.” Daniel just laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. An overnight trip would delay your paper severely. Plus, they have two beds per room.”

“We’ll be staying in the same roo—hey, Li,” you say, quickly cutting your angry rant off when she opens the door, her face confused (to say the least.) 

“Mm, hey,” she says, ushering the two of you in. “How long were you two out there?” Daniel shrugs, ruffling his hair and then pressing a kiss on Lia’s forehead. You boo from your place on your bed, buried under your duvet. “You both suck,” you holler, “always sexing it up in a sacred space. AKA my room.” Lia just grins and jumps on top of you, drawing grunts from you both. Daniel seats himself on the floor and busies himself with his phone. “How was Mark,” she whispers into your hair, and you groan.

“Bad,” you respond, “I’m so annoyed. We’re back to square one.” She makes an apologetic noise and gets up with a sigh, adjusting the strings of her pullover and then hugging Daniel. You watch them. You want to kiss Mark again. Life sucks that way.

—

Predictably, Mark turns down the offer of the ski lodge. He’s polite about it, too, especially since he and Daniel have grown a little bit closer since the start of your project. Daniel is, by no means, a “Mark anti”, but he would participate in the ribbing sometimes. Still, he’s insistent on the trip, saying it’s the best way to welcome December and that the forecast predicts a nice, thick layer of snow. It takes a week and two coffees everyday for Mark to give in, under the condition that he buy his own room when you get there.

Which, honestly, really, you have no problem with. Really, you think to yourself as you unceremoniously shove a knitted sweater into your bag. Really. Lia, who had graciously accepted the surprise, watches you abuse your bag, shoving sweater and scarf inside like they want to murder you. “Relax,” she says after a while. You laugh, playing it off (not so) casually.

The drive up there, courtesy of Daniel and a borrowed Prius, is fun, and cramped, but still decent, considering it was just an hour long. You’re in the back with Lia, and Mark is in charge of the AUX, which, of course, comes with its own bout of jokes. You even find the heart to participate and laugh in a few, not daring to meet his eyes. But all his songs are so fucking good. Frank Ocean, Jhene Aiko, SZA, and smaller indie artists flow from the speaker under his phone. The car ride has its share of epic karaoke moments—Mark plays ABBA, and Queen, solely to make sure everybody is belting out to the high heavens.

You get there when the sky’s purple and orange and there are some skiiers scattered around, though, since it’s not the proper holiday period, not too much. You trek over to the main lodge and that’s where Daniel pays for his reservations, and he and Lia retire to their room and promise to get up for dinner. You’re, again, alone with Mark in the lobby as you both stare at each other, willing the other to get up first. He does, to buy his own room like he said he would, and you can faintly hear the exchange from your seat on their nice, fluffy couch.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re renovating a majority of the rooms for the holidays. That’s why reservations were a prerequisite for staying here.”

Mark sighs. “Okay, right. I’m so sorry. Um”—it’s at this point that you go up next to him, polite smile on your face, ready to take the room key and fuck off—“could we just get an extra blanket, please? For one of the beds.” The receptionist gives a curt smile, handing over the keycard and nodding. “That’ll be one queen-sized warm blanket, then,” she hums, typing away. The receptionist beside her goes to the back, presumably to get the blanket. Mark nods, smiling. “For two queen-sized beds, it must be a big room for both of them to fit comfortably,” he comments offhandedly, fiddling with the card.

The receptionist chuckles. “There is only one bed, sir.”

Oh, God. “Oh, God,” you whisper. “One bed?” She nods with an eye-crinkling smile, like her words have not just rained hell upon the two people across her. “One bed and a sofa,” she corrects herself, reading the information on the computer by the desk. Not wanting to risk your last shred of sanity, you smile profusely, walking quickly towards your room which, thankfully, is on the same floor, at the end of the hall. It’s a small, quaint place that would be honest-to-God perfect if not for the fact that—

“There’s one bed,” Mark sighs, the truth clicking into place. “Daniel is a fucking shithead.” You drop your bag onto the carpeted floor, surveying the room with a scrutinizing gaze. It’s sizable—a bed, a couch, a window. There’s a small wooden desk that looks like its legs can barely hold its weight, and then another door, leading to the bathroom. It’s not bad at all. But you’re exhausted, the sun’s long gone, and your resolve is shredding away as the seconds tick by. “Take the couch,” you say dismissively, “or the carpet.” You make a beeline for the bed, but Mark’s arm wraps around your waist, effectively stopping you.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod “Shut up and let go of me, dick,” you stutter out. Mark loosens his grip and you shove him off, glaring at him. He gazes back down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t just make up terms without negotiation,” he says matter-of-factly, and you blow a raspberry. “Fine. Let’s negotiate then. I’m a girl and that puts me above you because chivalry isn’t dead, thus, boom, I get the bed.”

“I was in the uncomfortable passenger seat all day and my lower back hurts,” he counters.

“My legs are wobbly.”

“Bullshit. My back aches.”

“You already said that, it’s invalid.”

The back and forth only intensifies, your arguments growing more and more bizarre, until finally, your volume is so high Lia says she can hear it faintly, four doors down. 

“The couch looks comfy,” you try, but Mark stands firm. 

“Do you know what? The bed is big. It’s a big bed. And we’re not going to take up much space. If we divide the bed with the sofa pillows…” you pick up the cushions and line them up neatly along the middle, “…then we can sleep beside each other without having to make contact with each other.” He seems convinced, stepping closer to the bed and nodding. “Okay. I get first dibs on the shower.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you let him anyway. You’ve unpacked nearly all your things and he isn’t done yet, so you’ve resorted to scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok and laughing at just about everyone that pops up on screen. Mark finally exits after what feels like forever, and you keep your eyes trained on your screen to avoid looking at him. From your peripheral vision, he is very much shirtless. There are no words exchanged, the thickness in the air only building bit by bit.

—

Three hours later, post-dinner, post-abandoning the thought of working on your paper, you’re stumbling into your room after helping the very tipsy couple of the night into theirs. You’re beyond tired now, and you can tell Mark is, too, despite the lack of eye contact or communication between you. You don’t even look at him, brushing your teeth and removing your makeup and clipping your hair up into a bun. It’s when he does the same, and you’re both in bed, using your phones, that he finally breaks the silence.

“I’m not mad,” he says. His voice is even and calm, and you quickly shut your phone off and sit up, peering over the pillow boundary you had created. You look at him expectantly before he sighs and continues. “Why did you leave?”

You stand up, getting out, trying to increase distance. You’ve never really liked confrontation. “I was weirded out,” you spill, “and scared…? I guess with the nearness of being caught, and with all the lights on, I was just shocked back to reality.”

He sits up. “What’s reality?”

“I don’t—know,” you splutter, getting back on the bed. “Not kissing you?”

He laughs, and then it becomes silent. “Right. Let’s sleep, then.” Without another word, he pulls his lamp off, and only the white moonlight is left illuminating the both of you. Shucking yourself under the covers, feeling your heart practically thump out of your chest. You honestly think he can hear it, or at least feel it. Suddenly the boundary doesn’t do much. You turn away from him, nervous, and you can faintly hear his breathing even out. You shut your eyes for a second. When you open them again, he’s looking right at you. “Just checking to see if you’re asleep,” he says quietly. You nod. And then you lean upwards, just a touch, so your lips nearly brush slightly. “Night,” you say, before turning to sleep for real.

You’re not sure when. And how. Sure, you faintly remember digging your legs sleepily through the sheets to find warmth and tangling Mark’s in your own. But still—when you’re up, the pillow fort is at your feet, hanging precariously off the four post bed, and your back is against Mark’s chest. His breath fans lightly over your hair and you blearily register what happened overnight. His arm is slung over your middle, it’s quiet, and oh Christ, he is hard.

It’s fairly late. He’s hard. The antique clock mounted up on the wall tells you it’s around nine, which essentially gave you seven hours of sleep. He’s hard. You bask in the warmth of Mark for a while before your resolve solidifies and you gently push his arm off from its position on your hips. He only comes on stronger, wrapping fully around your waist, mumbling incoherence into your hair. He’s hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, summoning sleep to overcome you quickly, but it never does. Dread overcomes you as you feel your underwear grow damp.

“Mm,” Mark grunts, his hand around your waist loosening. You move away but his head suddenly lolls into the crook of your neck, his lips touching the side of it. You whimper. He’s a fucking asshole, even when he’s asleep. You pinch his arm, jolting him to half-awakeness, and you roll away, despite your body’s protests.

He blinks his eyes open. “Sorry, shit,” he says, voice deep and ridden with sleep. You’re fucked.

“It’s okay,” you splutter instead. “Just go back to sleep.” You faintly register that you sound just as exhausted as he does, and you bury your head back into the covers. Everything, plus the sound of his voice, has you dripping, and you breathe in deeply to poorly disguise a whimper. He chuckles, already half-asleep, from where he is, and it’s quiet for a few minutes before you realize he’s fallen asleep. Knowing Lia and Daniel will be busy for a while, you pull a spare pillow over your head and chant to yourself before falling back asleep, too.

When you awaken, the bed is cold and empty, and the shower’s running. You check the time to find only an hour has passed, but you’re much more awake now, getting up and knocking incessantly on the bathroom door. “Hurry,” you demand hoarsely, “I want to go skiing.” You hear a muffled okay and scurry over to your bag to find the pair of leggings you had packed for this. You also find your parka, and you pull off your shirt to clasp on a bra.

“Not that I don’t mind,” Mark says, eliciting a yelp from you as you tug a sweater on at record speed, “but generally, that kind of thing only goes unnoticed in nudist colonies. I could research some for you, if you’d—ow! I was joking, God!” You bonk him twice over the head with the Bible on the bedside table, your brows furrowed angrily. “You looked, asshat,” you say, collecting your things and locking yourself in the bathroom.

When it becomes increasingly evident that Lia and Daniel have no plans of exiting their room, you grumble and resort to skiing alone. But as you’re shuffling out, bundled up, you spot Mark leaning against the exit waiting for you. He looks up and tsks. “About fucking time,” he says, holding the door open for you. It’s not that cold out—maybe you’re just used to having snow and chilly weather, and so is Mark—so you barely shiver, walking around and looking for a good place to ski.

“Forget skiing,” Mark says after a few rounds. “Let’s go sledding. I have a thing.”

“A toboggan, you mean.”

“A funny word. Really, just say sled.”

You let up, anyway, the bright sky and cold ground sending serotonin right into you. Sure enough, Mark does have a nice, blue sled that he lets you on, and then the two of you are bolting down the hill at breakneck speed, laughing all the way. It’s quite a long ride, and you’re smiling and yelping so much the cloth you’ve used to cover your neck has ridden down, the cold air hitting your face harshly.

You land very ungracefully—the toboggan hits a small tree and sends you and Mark catapulting in the same direction, your hands clawing at the air for expense. You find Mark’s arm and cling onto it in the split second you’re in the air, landing on a clearing of thick snow. The arm you’ve clung onto pulls you closer, Mark grunting “be careful,” and when the whole fiasco’s over, you’re smiling like an idiot, and you’re right on top of Mark.

You’re not straddling him or anything, but you’ve just happened to land with your face a little above his. You can’t stop laughing, your face flushed and red with the cold air hitting your face. So you laugh. Why wouldn’t you laugh? It was a good day. A good ride down the hill. So you keep laughing until they’re reduced to giggles, Mark laughing right along as you pull down the covering of his mouth and tug his beanie off, ruffling your hands in his hair and dipping down to kiss him.

He kisses you right back, his lips cold but quickly growing warm with the friction. You smile into the kiss, your hands roaming all over his pink face. The kiss is giggly and light, your hands all over each other as the sunlight filters in through the thick trees overhead.

You pull away after a while. “I hate you,” you whisper. He presses a kiss to your jawline and lets it linger there. “You think I don’t?”

—

Stage 3: Bargaining, Depression|

You’ve begun to type the structure out when Lia tugs on your pajamas, her tone insistent and curious. “What’s up with you and Mark?” she presses, her cheek pressed to your stomach. You fervently hope she doesnt notice how your breathing quickens, and, keeping your voice even, you answer. “We’re…thinking about things.”

Which—you were thinking about things, to be fair. There were things to be thought and you had to think about them. It was a broad half-truth. It had been two weeks since the ski lodge thing, and you and Mark had decided it was probably best to shut the fuck up about everything you had done. (Everything meaning a few kisses here and there, and maybe a little more under the covers.) You’d hated yourself for hiding it from Lia, but you and Mark were actually feeling hesitant about moving forward with whatever you were. There was a lot of ambiguity and questions, and until you could clear it up yourself, you knew you weren’t ready to tell anybody else. You had talked about it already—clearly, the two of you were beyond jumping straight into a relationship after not liking each other that much and then becoming hesitant friends.

But it was, if you had to admit it to yourself, nice having that little secret.

“I’d want to tell Lia soon,” you tease, walking steadily beside Mark. The afternoon sun is warm on your heads, the snow falling intermittently. He turns with a small smile. “I’d want to tell Hyuck, too.” You scoff, burying your head in his chest. You probably look fucking disgusting. Around you, Washington Square Park is full of natives and tourists, and college students like you, all scurrying around and giving you that very much holiday feel.

He buys you a hot cocoa and hands it to you. “Are you heading home soon?”

You take a sip, your tongue hot. “If my ratty dorm counts as home, then yes.”

“Home is a feeling, not a place. Does your ratty dorm feel like home?”

“Kind of. Lia’s there. And so is the rat infestation in the ceiling.”

Mark nearly chokes on his cocoa. “You’re gross as fuck.”

You let out a loud laugh, your beanie nearly falling off with the bounciness of it. Mark reaches behind you to catch it, pressing a kiss to your lips in the process, soft and light and God, you like it. A lot. “Clumsy,” he remarks, pulling it back on and dragging a generous amount of your hair in front of your eyes as he does it. “It’s gonna be Christmas soon, and thank God we’re nearly done with this paper.”

“It was my genius idea to combine bargaining and depression,” you quip. “That’s my gift to you. Merry Christmas, Mark Lee.” He laughs at that. His laugh, you’ve noticed, is goddamn loud, and it’s a literal cackle, but he always looks so happy when he laughs. And buoyant. “You look stupid,” you say, but the smile on your face is undeniable. He glares playfully at you, taking your hand and walking you both in the direction of your building.

“New York in the snow,” he hums. “Always a great place.”

“It’s full of tourists,” you counter. Always disagreeing.

He chuckles and then, like clockwork—like how you’ve done it for the past six dates—you separate when you’re just shy of a meter away from the lobby entrance. Your fingers curl in search of his, and you jog up the steps, eager to get into the warmth of the building. The lobby’s pretty empty, save for a couple of students. Mark’s ahead of you, already pressing the elevator button and waiting impatiently. 

“We’re alone,” he sing-songs, his eyebrows wiggling. The doors open right as you take Mark’s hand, and you look up to meet Daniel’s wide eyes. Then you look to the right to meet Lia’s.

Despite your inner turmoil, you remain nonchalant, pinching Mark’s wrist instead of holding it like you’d planned. “That’s why our professor fucking hates you,” you say, narrowing your eyes. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, but you muster a neutral expression, shoving your hands back into your pockets. Lia knows you, though, and her furrowed eyebrows and parted lips say everything—but you just shrug, playing off what they could have caught you doing. “Hey,” you say, walking into the elevator with Mark. It all blows over.

AKA: Daniel has to drag a curious Lia away from you, with a promise that you would converse later. You and Mark are alone again, in the elevator, your hands barely touching, laughs loud. It’s all blurry after that. You’re high on a laugh and the thought of a kiss—you drag him over to your room, hands in his hair, breathless, loose kisses. You’re both so exhausted, though, that all you manage to extend your energy to is taking your tops off and making out lazily to the songs you’d recommended to each other.

“Mm,” he says when one of your songs starts playing. “It’s a nice song.” You nod with a smile. “I know it is, it’s one of my recommendations. It’s called Softly.” He plays with the strap of your bra. “I’ll give it more of a listen, then. Also, a red bra to school? Whatever will the professors think,” he jokes lightly, pressing insistent, but soft kisses on your shoulder. You laugh, pinching the inner part of his arm and eliciting a swear from him. “I was joking! I know you wore this for me, stupid.” The wind whistles outside, barely audible from the half-open window across the room, overlapping with the music.

This all feels too real, now.

You pout lazily against his bare chest. “Get off before Lia gets in,” you mumble, your heart beginning to race. He does, for what it’s worth, rolling off your bed with a loud thump and tugging his shirt and sweater back on. You watch him (fondly) annoyedly, your hair draping over you as you get up to properly shove him out. “Out, out,” you chant, laughing, and he giggles, turning abruptly to poke at your waist.

“Shut up,” you groan, a smile on your face. There’s a beat, then he pulls you close and kisses you, running outside right after with a literal guffaw. You watch him, wrapping your fleece blanket around your frame as he runs to the elevator, sweater backwards and hair messy.

—

Doubts are normal. This you’re assured of, but your head pounds with the sheer amount of things you’re cramming into it. You squint impossibly harder, trying to get the nail polish into the crook of Lia’s nail. You’ve probably overdone it, judging by the way she jabs her knuckle in between your eyebrows, her face contorted in worry. “Are you…okay?”

You narrow your eyes, the inner debate of telling her raging on and on. The nail polish drips onto her fingernail, rolling onto her pant leg, and she yelps, but her eyes are still on you. “You can tell me anything,” she says, softer this time. You know she’s serious—you know you can. You always have. You told her about every fling, one night stand, pregnancy scare, bad grade, hot professor, and spoiled deli food you’d encountered since you ever became friends. She knew you. And you were so sure she knew what you were about to say.

Except you didn’t know what you wanted to say. Your feelings were a mess, and you wanted one thing as much as you wanted the other. You couldn’t place what you wanted, and if you had to narrow it down, you’d realize that you were scared of what you wanted. You were never really one for commitment, or a relationship, or really anything, for that matter. And the fact that you were so hung up on thinking about what you and Mark would become—Mark? It all seemed so dystopian, almost. Like you’d never expected it. Your friendship was a childhood bubble that popped in the span of your first high school semester, and that was that. But just two days ago you were being kissed all over by the same guy you’d had a cutthroat student council president competition with.

It seemed so absurd? Crazy? Those adjectives were a little over the top. Deep down, if you dug deep enough into the parts you didn’t even tell yourself, you knew what you were. And if anybody else were to know, it would be Lia.

“I’m scared,” you choke out, your voice shaky. “I’m scared and sad, and happy and angry, and I want this but I don’t.” You cover the nail polish, shaking your head. “This is all so new to me. I hate how much I feel, especially because it feels so wrong. You know me—relationships are just not cut out for me. They’re scary and new. And people in relationships turn all gooey. I’m scared that this won’t last, but I’m scared that it will, and I’ll be doomed to an eternity of bland, padlocked relationships. It’s weird. I could be feeling this way for anyone, but it had to be Mark? If only I didn’t hate him, then maybe we could’ve gone off on a better foot. If only this whole thing never fucking happened, right?”

“It’s okay,” Lia cuts in. “Being scared is okay. It’s part of the whole process. And nobody said you had to get along like conjoined twins in a relationship. They just go when they go and end when they end. Not every relationship starts as a high school sweetheart thing and ends with three kids and a picket fence. And I’m so sure Mark would be so understanding if you didn’t like him or if you chose not to continue.”

“You knew?”

She laughs. “Of course I knew. I know a post-sex glow when I see one, and I was blinded that morning at the ski lodge.” You groan, pinching her indignantly, hiding your face in your hands as she laughs out of view. “Okay. Take some time and think about it, but for now, I want to get my nails done, so.” 

—

It’ll be a week before you come up with what you want, and the whole time you generally avoid talking about solemn topics with him in person. 

It’ll be another few days before you finally talk to him personally—with your paper nearly finished, you suggest a meeting at the library. It’s just two days before Christmas Eve, and you know Mark’s going to be driving to Canada, so you want to snatch him away for your own personal time for just a second. The snow has all but thickened as you meet outside the building, the silence deafening.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. You know he’s probably picked up on your erratic, quieter behavior in the past several days, but you gulp and lead him inside anyways, to your favorite section. “It’s almost Christmas Eve,” he says, watching you stall, surrounded by Philosophy books from just about every century. “I know,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too nervous.

“You sound nervous,” he says.

“Do I?” you ask shakily, your voice taking on an unnaturally high pitch. “I mean, er. I guess I sort of am. I guess I’ve been thinking about everything lately—about you and me and everything that just happened so suddenly. Because—because it did happen so suddenly. I just…needed time? Yeah, time. To think about everything. Because it all happened so quickly, I…” you stutter. “I’m scared of these things. I’m not used to them. Relationships? Things that last longer than a couple weeks? I don’t like these. 

I have something bigger I want to focus on and anybody who gets in the way just isn’t worth it. And it’s so weird how it was you out of all people I started thinking about it with. Usually I just have the rare fling and then they’re gone, and I’m not even mad. But you’re different. And I like it. 

But I just needed time to find out if I really liked it. If I really wanted to try. I know it’s only been a few weeks, and I probably sound really fucking stupid, but you get me—you get me, right? And that’s how I realized—if it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I don’t know why I overthought it. I mean, it’s a good thing and a bad thing that I did. Like, on one hand, I got to really think about how this would play out, and on the other, I’d just end up spiraling. And it’s just weird. I hope you don’t know I hated you. Hate you? Hated you. I was just—it was all so juvenile. Everything just stemmed from that one awfully dumb high school rivalry. But other than that, you were always a cool…see what I mean? I’m kind of rambling—even if I thought I had planned this out. And. Yeah. I dunno. I fucking…I hate you, stop laughing.”

Mark smiles down at you—you’re busy pretending to read a Sartre book to look unfazed, but your flickering gaze says it all. 

“Okay, stupid,” he says, bordering onto a laugh. “If that’s your way of saying you’re willing to give this a try, then I graciously accept. Should I be saying something equally long? I—is that how this works?”

You roll your eyes and kiss him instead, pulling him close, Sartre’s postulates dropping to the floor alongside your tiptoes.

—

Stage 4: Acceptance|

“Acceptance is just that. Just accepting that you love that person after weeks or months of all the other stages. With her, it was. Like. It’s the whole sitting down after silence, having some time for the revelation to set in before you realize you love them. Or like them? Well, love them, I guess. But I don’t know why you would be asking me this.”

You bury your head further into Mark’s shoulder, your eyes strained from how long they’d been trained onto your screen. You smile up at Daniel, thanking him for the input and beginning to type it in, watching Lia doze off on his shoulder. “We’re asking because we’re not quite there yet,” Mark hums, “it’s just February. It’s barely been two months.” You nod, watching Mark type where you left off on the document. Daniel snorts from across you. “You’re just about, I guess.” Mark chuckles, shrugging so your head bounces off his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Like I’d ever fall in love with that shitstorm,” he says pointedly.

“Oh, and I’d fall in love with this dickwad?”

“You’re perfect for each other. Bullying, but we all know Mark brought back gifts from Canada and that you stitched an initial onto his sweater.”

“To practice my embroidery. Also, I stitched Mark’s initial. M. Asshole.”

“Okay,” whistles Daniel, his hand unconsciously coming up to make sure Lia doesn’t fall off his shoulder. “But hey, you’re just about to submit this paper and I’m fondly remembering all the times you despised each other. And when you”—he points at you, devilish grin on his face—“started gushing to Lia about how he”—he then turns to Mark—“kissed you at Johnny’s party.”

“God, it’s not the time for that yet, we’re still a fresh couple,” you groan, burying your head in your hands. “You have so much dirt on me, Choi.” Mark just laughs, though, loudly, bringing the other cafe-goers’ attention to yours. He bites your shoulder to stifle it, eliciting a laugh from you. “I agree, there should be a certain time requirement for pre-relationship embarrassing stories,” Mark says, closing his laptop. Lia gets up at that point, already half-awake from the ruckus (AKA Mark’s laugh), pulling on Daniel’s sleeve. “Alright, and that’s my cue to get this girl some more coffee and then go.”

“Mm, I’ll come with,” you say, “I need a refresher before we leave soon, anyway.”

You walk in between them, your fingers laced in Lia’s as she squeezes them sleepily. They order first and then they’re off with a smile and a polite goodbye, leaving you to order your drink. You gaze up at the menu, and then down at—

“Long time no see,” Chan says with a knowing beam. “How is your not boyfriend boyfriend?”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

“See, I always know. What do you want?”

“An iced ca—how did you know?” You ask, tempted.

“It’s just…the energy? It was a hit or miss, but I kinda got that feeling that something was going to happen.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “An iced caramel then.”

“And a black coffee for her best friend!” Hollers a new voice that you could never miss, turning slowly towards the entrance to meet Donghyuck’s crazy eyes. He’s in a suit, which isn’t unusual given the sheer amount of presentations he’s had to do since the new year started. You roll your eyes but put in the extra cash anyway, much to Chan’s amusement. Hyuck nears you with a sly grin. “I hear you’ll be submitting your paper soon. I just want my name in there so I’m in your professor’s good graces.”

“She’s not even going to be your professor, Hyuck,” you say, taking your drink and smiling at Chan. You and Donghyuck both walk back to where Mark’s sitting, you beside him and Hyuck across the both of you. “Yes, but it pays to be in somebody’s good graces, I swear. See what happened? I got you two together. I orchestrated your entire love st—”

“Okay, now you’re just lying, Hyuck,” Mark says with a laugh, finishing up the first few paragraphs and closing his laptop. “We’re not even in love.” But his friend lets out a teasing smile, his eyes narrowed, and he gets up with a loud farewell and alibi about “being needed by my better friends.” You assume he’s talking about Jeno.

—

You walk to Mark’s room alongside him, thanks to the promise of his roommate, Jaemin, sleeping at a friend’s. Your fingers are intertwined loosely. The sun’s setting and Mark’s room is sheathed in beautiful shades of orange and pink, a vast array of dusk settling over the space. It happens quietly, but full of laughs, which is how it happens when you’re both tired and/or shitfaced. You do this a lot—a routine of sharing new songs or books you’d picked up over the week and then making out while they play in the background or while one of you read. It’s awfully, horribly, terribly fucking intimate. 

“Your bra sucks,” he jokes.

You love it.

“Get better abs and we can talk about it,” you counter, poking his toned stomach. He really, fully guffaws at that, pulling you onto his lap and then tugging his guitar out from where it stands at the corner. You flop back onto his bed, watching him play—and then registering the familiar opening of the Jonas Brothers song you used to request nearly everyday. “Lovebug,” you muse with a smile, singing along to his voice, carried away. You’re sleepy and light, and you know deep down—in that space of yourself where you’re all but honest—that you were going to fall in love with him someday.

Later, when all you’re doing is hugging him as he reads your latest Philosophy requirement to you, he pauses.

“Is this the 21st century idea of love?” He asks idly, unclasping your bra and connecting the moles on your shoulder. You hum. 

“It’s the Gen Z idea,” you say, connecting the ones on his bare back. “And this isn’t love.”

“Corny.” he smiles against your collarbones. You kiss his neck. It’s all very gradual.

—

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