#it took me freaking two days to write this

[falling-star-cygnus]

watching gay detectives and ballerinas isn't enough anymore, i gotta write gay time sleuths while doing it

Kisses for GuangGuang ao3 fic: here where Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi show their appreciation for their hardworking introvert, as well as one other

Cheek Kisses

"Qiao Ling-jie."

Lu Guang rounds the corner, a brown package held delicately between his palms. Her package. Probably.

"You really should have these delivered to your own address."

Yeah, her package.

Qiao Ling hops up from the couch, a little giggle tittering out of her chest. Ah, where did Cheng Xiaoshi find such a helpful best friend? How did he keep him?

She loves her brother, truly, but... well. He couldn't be called tidy by any sense of the word. Maybe that's why the two worked so well together..

A slob and a neat freak.

Talk about a match forged in hell.

"Why would I do that?" Qiao Ling asks, taking the package over to where her boys kept their scissors, "You always bring them right to me this way."

Huh.. where were they? She could've sworn they kept them- oh! Lu Guang slides them into her hand, prepared as he always is. Considerate as he always is.

"Because Cheng Xiaoshi broke the last one." he reminds her, standing snug by her side to peek at what she bought.

"....fair point."

Boo.

"Still not changing it though."

He sighs in defeat.

Hah.

Qiao Ling giggles triumphantly and rifles through packing peanuts to find her prize. Three weeks, it took three weeks for these to get here- can you believe?

Three weeks all for some ruffle socks.

Really, really cute ruffle socks though..

So it was worth it, actually. Mhm.

Before Lu Guang can slink away, probably to steal the couch in all its sunlit glory, she catches his sleeve. He always bruised so easily, like a peach..

"Thank you for bringing it in, Guangguang," let it always be known Qiao Ling knew her manners.

But she was still a big sister, and he was still her family by proxy [or in-laws], so~ she pulls him down to her level- shifting her grip to his chin.

MWAH

And leaves a big kiss on his cheek!

"aCK- do you have to do this every time!?" Lu Guang complains, honestly not fighting her all that hard.

At least, not as hard as he could. He bats at her shoulders and wrist and pushes at her with about as much strength as a newborn kitten, so so careful not to hurt her.

Or maybe he actually enjoys the affection.

Qiao Ling presses a few more pecks into his criminally soft cheek for good measure, leaving a bright pink gloss in her wake- strawberry flavored.

When she finally lets him go, the fair boy is flushed a bright embarrassed red. Like a cherry.

snap!

He goes stock still, startled by the shutter of her phone, before somehow getting even more flustered, "Delete that!"

The landlady dances out of the way as he lunges for her phone, already opening a chat to Cheng Xiaoshi.

"Qiao Ling!"

Hehe.

Neck Kisses

Xia Fei should really stop getting drunk at public functions.

Like actually. 

Laoban was going to kill him for it one of these days. 

Though, of course, that would only occur to him later. Of course it would never occur to him in the moment, no, that- you know, hanging off a near complete stranger was a bad idea! Especially when said stranger was prickly enough to put cacti to shame, and especially when you were supposed to be spying on his- his…

...friend..?

Boyfriend? Partner?

Secret third thing? 

Whatever.

Whatever Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi were was uniquely just.. that. Just- them. 

…huh.

Anyway-

Why couldn’t his shame work proactively? It always seemed to hit full force after the deed was done, and never ever before. It wasn’t fair, actually, shame should not operate on ‘hindsight is 20/20’ rules.

Fuckin’ hell- he didn’t even have 20/20 sight! Which really makes contacts a lifesaver in his line of work, all things considered.. 

As it stands, all Xia Fei can really do is thread through his memories- and try to gauge just how badly he’d messed everything up. 

It was late, he remembers that much, maybe… maybe just after the shoot with those two? Afternoon probably. Did that count as late? It should. 

All of them had gone for celebratory drinks, which Cheng Xiaoshi had been ecstatic about- Lu Guang less so- and… that’s where it started to get blurry.

Xia Fei had downed one… two.. four shots? Maybe more?

God please let it be more, he wouldn’t be able to handle it if he got shit-faced off four shots. 

But what happened after that?

How had he ended up koala'd around Lu Guang? And why did Cheng Xiaoshi look like he wanted to punch him?

There hadn't been a surplus of seats, not like there'd been when they'd met, so Cheng Xiaoshi and Xia Fei had gotten the last two available- with the fair featured man left leaning against his.. secret third thing.

Last two might've been a stretch, considering it was one weirdly thick booth that they had to sit thigh to thigh on to even marginally make it work.

"I got it at the shoot earlier. Take it." "Ehhh? But Guangguang-" "Sit. Down."

And that was that.

Until Xiaoshi had gotten up to get them more drinks.

Oh.

Oh no.

Now he remembers. He remembers pulling Lu Guang down to sit next to him, remembers throwing his arms around him and nuzzling at soft soft cheeks while blubbering out praises.

Oh god.

"No- no one's ever stood up for me beforeee! Lu Guang, you're a good guy!" "You're welcome, now get off me-" "Has anyone ever told you that you have really- hic- really soft skin?" "You're drunk, Xia Fei."

MWAH

He'd meant to kiss his cheek, his cheek! It wouldn't of been any more appropriate, sure, but it was easily explainable as friendly! So Xia Fei was a clingy drunk, so what!?

Easily explainable and apologized for.

Bu his mouth had landed on Lu Guang's neck.

Right under the hinge of jaw, closer to his ear than anything, but still undeniably HIS NECK.

The pale haired boy jolted under his arms, with a bitten off squeak! that would've been adorable in a different context, and addictive in a romantic one. Especially when his fingers subconsiciously clenched down on the fabric of Xia Fei's jacket.

If, you know, if he was the model's type.

Which he wasn't.

Not that he was bad-looking, of course! The fair haired man was unfairly pretty, downright ethereal even- but.. well..

Back on track-

All he remembers after that is nearly face planting onto the sticky floor... which- you know would've been deserved, considering Cheng Xiaoshi had chosen that exact moment to reappear.

He'd easily pulled Lu Guang into his own arms, away from Xia Fei's affections, and tucked him away. Tucked him right into his chest, with his own body between the two.

For a terrifying moment, one that very nearly sobered Xia Fei right then and there, there was something sinister in Cheng Xiaoshi usually friendly eyes.

Something cold.

And then it's gone, nearly, survived only by the slight thread of tension in his tone:

"I think you've had a bit too much to drink.. let's get you back to your home, yeah?"

Xia Fei, the one tucked into bed with a raging hangover, buries his aching head into his hands. Reaches for his phone.

He had some apologies to make.

Forehead Kisses

Lu Guang's alcohol tolerance should really be studied.

With his fair appearance, his delicate disposition, you'd think it'd only take a few drinks to get him three sheets to the wind. But no.

Nooo.

Cheng Xiaoshi was beginning to think it was impossible.

Like- maybe his fair friend had some Russian DNA somewhere in him, specifically in the part that processes liquor, and that's why he could down three beers and not even come out flushed.

It'd explain his fair skin too..

Hm.

He'll ask later. When Lu Guang wakes up.

Which... hopefully wouldn't be anytime soon. Cheng Xiaoshi sits down on their shared mattress, at his friend's back, as a heavy sigh swooshes from his lungs.

His best friend had curled toward the center, like a cat in a sun beam or a pillbug. Maybe they'd wake up in a cuddle.. if he was lucky.

They'd have to leave early tomorrow, though, before the sun would even begin to rise and probably before he could even enjoy it. That wouldn't be fun for anybody, morning person as he is, but especially not for someone like Lu Guang- who wasn't even lucid before 10am on a good day.

He'd been so stressed lately too...

Dark shadows lined the thin flesh under his friend's eyes, stark against his paleness. Darker than they'd been in months.

Unbidden, Cheng Xiaoshi's hand reaches out for Lu Guang's shoulder.

It's thin as ever, maybe a little more than normal, but familiar as he smooths the tension out of the limb- motions as known to him as his own name.

What's not known or common or usual is the way Cheng Xiaoshi finds himself levering his torso over his friend's sleeping frame- using that same hand on his shoulder to guide him to his back.

His breath ruffles fluffy white hair, fans over slightly parted lips.

chu..

And his kiss lands on the soft, soft skin of Lu Guang's forehead.

"Sleep tight.. Lu Guang. We'll be home before you know it."

[tsukikoayanosuke]

One's Dazzling Light - Ruikasa Week 2024

Day4: Fantasy

Rui always thought that the world was cruel. That happiness doesn't exist in his play of life. The curtain rose to reveal a dark wood where he lived since he was born. A poor peasant couple; the toy maker husband and the housewife. In a world where magic surrounded the air, what could a pair of magicless humans do? 

Neither of them could raise a child of magic. Not just any magic; the Pure Darkness. A magic of jinx and curse. A magic that could bring ruin to the world. 

A magic bestowed on the only son of the poor Kamishiro family. 

His parents tried their best. They did. They loved him more than anything in the world and he lived him back. His father taught him about crafts and his mother taught him about flowers. 

But Rui was a child. A lone child who only wants friends. 

And yet no children his age wanted to step onto his stage. They shun him for having the cursed magic. He could count on one hand the children who eventually accept him the way he is; a shy mermaid named Nene who accidentally swam too close to the beach when he was practicing and a knight-in-training named Mizuki who had been outcasted for being too feminine. 

Those four people are the people Rui kept close to his heart.

And the world decided to take them away almost immediately.

"I got accepted!" Nene said to him, happy tears streaming down her cheeks. "Phoenix Orchestra. I get to sing and travel the world."

He didn't have the heart to beg her to stay.

"I'm going to the Knight Academy next year," Mizuki said to him. "Do you want to join in as well?"

He just shook his head, knowing he had no place there.

"We'll be home in just a week, okay kiddo?" His father ruffled his hair.

"Don't forget that we love you." His mother kissed his forehead.

They never came home. Their carriage was attacked. It was not an accident, Rui knew that. The punishment of being the parent of a cursed child. 

They tried to kill him as well, but a burning house could never hurt him. He sent it back to them, burning them to the bone. After all, Pure Darkness magic could increase misfortune. Perhaps he accidentally cast it upon himself. But he no longer cares. 

If the world tries to kill him, then he'll destroy them first with his own hand. 

"I understand you," the spotlight shone upon a lady in black with pink hair who smelled like death. She offered a hand toward him. "There are many who seek justice, to restart the world with a blank canvas. With your power, we shall bring salvation to those who seek." 

"What must I do?" 

"There are people who are the opposite of you; four people hold the power of Pure Light. Find them, bring them to me, and with the power of Pure Darkness, we shall create a Utopia." 

Rui, who has nothing left to lose and a desire to see the world crumble, took the hand. 

The title 'Alchemist' was bestowed upon him.

The world trembled before his title despite never seeing his true appearance for his illusion magic. In his search for those Pure Light, he brought judgment upon evil. Those who commit crimes will receive punishment from him. Those who wish for revenge upon their enemies, he shall fulfill it. The true Utopia may not come sooner, but he shall bring a little salvation to the people.

*****

In the small provincial town of Phenny, Rui had found one of the Lights. He had sensed a shift in magic the moment he stepped into the town. It was warm, inviting, peaceful... It was everything that Rui wasn't. A Pure Light, such presence they had.

It brought him to an inn. Rather crowded this late in the evening, filled with drunkards and knights off-shift. Rui schruched up hin nose. Could the Light possibly be here in this lowly place?

"Rui? Is that you?"

Rui turned toward the voice and saw a familiar pinknette, now dressed in a silver uniform. "Mizuki..."

"Hey, man!" Mizuki ran toward him, not hesitating to hug him. "It has been a while!"

"I thought you were still studying at the Knight Academy."

"I am. I'm in my final year, so we had a one-year service thing."

"Who are you servicing to?"

"Oh, just some guy." Mizuki didn't look at him as they waved their hand nonchalantly. A gesture of avoidance. They were hiding something and Rui had his guesses.

"Mizuki!"

There it was. A Pure Light walking toward them. Taking a figure of a young man dressed in simple, yet elegant, clothes at the same time; a suit, blue hat, a bow as a tie, and a coat over its shoulder with constellations. Hair as gold as sunset and eyes that shine with innocence.

The Light widened its eyes. "O-Oh. Hello! Are you a friend of Mizuki?"

"You can say that." Rui smiled just for pleasantry. "I'm Kamishiro Rui. And who might you be?"

"Tenma Tsukasa. But you can call me Tsukasa." It offered its hand and Rui took it. Such power radiated from that hand, sending shivers down their spines. "Are you a traveler?"

"You can say that."

It smiled. "Well, I hope we see each other around."

For a prey to invite its predator into its nest, perhaps the Light was more gullible than Rui thought it was.

*****

Passing Akito's room, he could hear the sound of him humming. It wasn't an unusual occurrence, the Wanderer is often one who announces his presence with either a whistle or a caw of his eagle. 

This melody, however, sounded more cheerful, more passionate, and filled with excitement.

"What are you humming about?"

Akito raised his eyebrow from his spot on his bed. Book perched on a thigh and a pencil in his hand. "Why do you care?"

"Just curious."

Akito rolled his eyes and looked back to his book before writing something. When Rui thought he had decided to ignore him, Akito said, "It's just something Kohane taught me."

"Kohane?"

He paused. His gaze shifted to avoid Rui. "I mean, the Light."

Rui chuckled. "Oh, aren't you getting too chummy with it?"

"Shut up. It just happens we have the same interest."

He jumped off his bed and pulled his hood. "Where are you going?" Rui asked when Akito walked past him.

"Meeting-" He stopped himself. "I mean, keeping an eye on Kohane."

"Sure you are."

For a Darkness and Light to be friends... 

How ridiculous.

*****

Phoenix Orchestra arrived at Phenny. It was said that this small town was the birthplace of the most well-known orchestra in the entire country. The same orchestra that Nene joined. Thus their reunion happened in Phenny.

"Rui!" Nene was never one with physical contact, but she leaped into his arms. Even in his cold heart, Rui couldn't deny returning it. "It has been too long."

"I'm glad I can see you again."

"Me too." Nene pulled back. "Oh! I need to introduce you to someone!" She pulled him toward a small pinknette with a smile so wide. "This is Emu. She's the daughter of the head orchestra."

"Hello!" Emu took Rui's hands and shook them hard. "It's nice to meet you! Nene told me a lot about you!"

"She did?"

"Yup! I would love to get to know you!"

Rui couldn't help but chuckle. "Likewise."

"Oh! Oh! Now it's my turn to introduce you to my friend!" She pulled them toward the inn where Rui was now staying. And upon entering, he could hear the sound of a piano. A beautiful melody; soft and inviting. The Light sat there, eyes closed and smiling softly. Fingers glided down the keys, foot pressed the pedal to a ringing tone. A harmony that left Rui speechless. 

"It's just something Kohane taught me."

Was this what Akito felt when he met his Light? To hold a melody close to his heart and cause a change of heart.

When the piano stopped, Rui craved for more.

"Tsukasa!" Emu leaped into Tsukasa's arms, almost causing him to fall from his seat. 

"Emu! I didn't know you were coming back."

"We'll be here for a couple of months! Keisuke is thinking of holding another audition soon. You should try in." 

Light smiled and patted Emu's head. "I'll think about it."

"But you always said that!" Emu pouted.

"It's a hard decision, Emu."

"And why is that? If I may ask," Rui asked.

Light looked at him. His gaze softened and sighed. "I have a personal reason. I don't want to be a bother."

"You'll never be a bother," Emu said again. "Everyone will love you. I just know it! You'll be a star! Don't you want that?"

"I did." He sighed again. "But that was just a phase, Emu."

Emu stared at him with a slight sadness and Rui was curious about that answer.

Thus, when one night came as Emu, Nene, and Mizuki hung around at one table, Rui walked up to the piano where Light was playing once again. Even after a couple of times listening, Rui could say that he was quickly attached to Light's playing.

"What do you mean 'it was just a phase' last time?"

Light smiled. There was a hint of melancholy in his gaze. "I always know my time is limited. I can't let myself indulge in dreams." He glanced at him. "Aren't you here to take it away quicker from me?"

Rui hummed. "So, you know."

"Pure Light and Pure Darkness always resonate with each other. I've never met with you fellow, but I had sensed you the moment you arrived here."

"Are you going to fight me for your life?"

Light paused his playing. "Tell me, Rui." He fully looked at him. "Do you know what it means to bring salvation to the world?"

Rui didn't answer. The question haunted him in his sleep.

*****

"Rui, do you think we're doing the right thing?" Shizuku had asked him one day.

Rui turned to her. "What do you mean?"

Among the four of them, Shizuku had always been the most compassionate. She loves humanity, which includes her sister who she hadn't seen for a long time. The secret of her being the Pure Darkness was spoken and the guilt of leaving her sister behind always burdens her. 

"Minori told me," Minori was the name of the Light assigned to her, wasn't it? "that maybe we're heading to a decision that we couldn't go back anymore." 

"We are aiming for a Utopia. It's only normal that once the world is rewritten, everything won't be the same."

"I know that." She looked at her hand as Pure Darkness danced between her fingertips. "But still." She brought up her hand to her chest and smiled. It wasn't like the cold smile of the Songstress who charmed her victims. But it was Shizuku's smile; a smile filled with warmth. "I think I want to try to live in this world with her for now."

*****

The Light - Tsukasa - stood in the middle of the plaza, surrounded by children. There was a hint of jealousy blooming in Rui's heart. How funny that he hates the sight of children playing around him. He had gotten close these few days under a self-reassurance of building trust. His conversations with Tsukasa about their daily days were pleasant. In the evening, Tsukasa would play at the bar for his part-time job. Rui had asked once why he even bothered to have a job. Tsukasa just answered with, "I just want to experience life."

That was also a thing that Rui was confused about: the desire to live. Rui had given up on life for he had nothing else to do other than wait for salvation Lady Death would bring. Watching Tsukasa going on with his daily life (buying cute stuff for Mizuki with his own money, attending Nene and Emu's rehearsal, inviting Rui for stargazing), Rui wondered if he could do this as well in the new world. Perhaps, if he ever met Tsukasa again, they could live together and experience it.

...

What was that thought again?

"Do the magic, Big Brother Tsukasa!" One of the kids cheered. "Do the magic!"

Tsukasa giggled. "Alright, alright." Tsukasa looked up to Rui, smiling and offering a hand. "Come and give me a hand, Rui."

Rui frowned. "Me?"

"Yeah, come on." Tsukasa skipped to pull Tsukasa into the circle.

"Is he magic too?" One of the kids asked.

Tsukasa nodded. "Yeah, and a great one." He turned to Rui, still smiling at him.

"Are you sure?" Rui whispered. "Pure Darkness brings destruction."

"And Pure Light brings creation." Tsukasa opened his palm and Rui's keen eyes could see magic dancing on his palm. "When combine..." Tsukasa brought Rui's hand closer. "A miracle can be created."

Their hands joined together and Rui could feel their magic intertwined. It felt so right. The wind picked up underneath their feet, fluttering Tsukasa's coat and Rui's robe, carrying white and black feathers. The children cheered from the spectacles. When they reached for the feather, it burst into fireworks and bubbles. 

It was beautiful...

A feather landed on Tsukasa's head and it burst into bubbles. Tsukasa giggled and Rui's heart skipped a beat.

*****

"Luka, I don't want to do this anymore." 

Lady Death didn't even look surprised when Mafuyu stood up from her seat. The table felt so empty after Akito and Shizuku's departure, leaving only a pot of a single black lily in their seat. 

"Kanade had told me everything. You lied to us." 

"You trust the Light more than me?" Luka commented. 

"You never told us anything about sacrificing us all!" 

"What?" Rui looked between the two. "Mafuyu what are you talking about?" 

Mafuyu turned to him. The Marionette had always been emotionless, but at the moment Rui could see the great anguish in Mafuyu's eyes. "In order to create a new world, you need to destroy the first world before creating the new one. If Pure Light is the power of creation, what is needed for the destruction?"

"Darkness? We already know that Mafuyu-"

"The Pure Darkness is tied with our own soul. The same goes for the Pure Light to Kanade's. Once magic tied with one's soul, it became harder to extract." She turned back to Luka, glaring at her. "Any attempt of extracting Pure Darkness or Pure Light won't only result in death, but also the erasure of our existence."

What?

"What... What are you saying?"

"We won't be able to enjoy this Utopia is we disappear for good!" Mafuyu curled her fingers into a fist. "The only one winning here is Luka! She's just using us to get all the Pure Light and later killing us to get the Pure Darkness!"

No...

"Luka..." Rui stared at her. "Tell me this is not true... We're not going to die, right?"

Luka never answered them. But her silence was enough.

"I don't want to die..." Mafuyu lowered her head. Rui couldn't see her face, but he knew the devastation feeling she felt. "I don't want to leave Kanade... She's the only one I have..."

*****

"Sacrifices need to be made to reach one seemingly impossible goal," Tsukasa said as they stared into the sunset from the hill of white lilies. It was a secret place that even Mizuki wasn't told about. And yet Tsukasa showed it to Rui out of all people. "Four Light. Four Darkness. For one utopia that we won't be able to enjoy. Is it worth it?"

Rui turned to look at him. "Are you saying it's better just to let evil roam around this Earth?"

"No." Tsukasa shook his head. "Evil can't roam freely if law and order exist is being held up high." He looked up to the orange sky. "If a Utopia is a paraside where people can do whatever they want, then what's stopping them from doing evil again? Light and Darkness, good and evil, will always be there. One cannot be there without the other. How can one judge that something is evil if good doesn't exist? How can you say you've done a good deed if you don't know what evil doings are?"

"So, what do you suggest?"

"It's a tough question." He reached to snap a lily of its stem, bringing it closer to his nose to smell the scent. "But I don't think bringing the end of the world is a good solution." He giggled. "I still love this world and the people in it."

Tsukasa looked at him with a smile as soft as the sunset as he tucked the lily behind Rui's ear. His fingers lingered on his cheeks for a second too long. Rui caught his fingers, pressing Tsukasa's palm onto his cheek as he kissed it.

"I don't want to die," Tsukasa whispered.

"I won't let you," Rui answered. He leaned into Tsukasa's face and pressed their lips together.

He understood now. He understood why Akito resonated with Kohane's music, why Shizuku wanted to live together with Minori, and why even the thought of leaving Kanade brought Mafuyu to tears.

Rui always thought that the world was cruel. But the simple action from Tsukasa, his Light, made him want to stay in this world together with him.

*****

The city was empty when Rui arrived and immediately he felt dread.

Luka is here.

No no no no no.

Rui ran.

She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to be here!

The inn was empty when he barged in. Not even the sound of the creaking window. The bartender who usually already working on his order, was nowhere to be seen. Rui could feel the darkness coming from upstairs inviting him, challenging him.

Rui ran up and slammed the door open.

There, under the moonlight that shone through the window, Luka stood in the middle of the room. With an unconscious Tsukasa in her arms.

"You really think I would let walk out of our deal that easily?" She smiled at him. "Out of all the Pure Darkness, you were the last person I expected to betray me. I guess all those big talks about hating the world are just for shows."

"Luka..." Rui knew he had the power and yet he felt utterly hopeless under the gaze of Lady Death herself. "Let him go."

"Didn't I tell you?" Luka glanced down at Tsukasa, eyes gleaming with greed. "We need the Pure Light if we ever going to create Utopia."

"But you also need us Pure Darkness."

"That's true. But you'll come." She stepped back, separating Tsukasa from Rui even further. And Rui couldn't even lift a finger. "You will all come. All of you are attached to those Lights. And I'll be taking everything."

A portal appeared as the wind picked up again. Rui could feel the world shift, returning to its original form before being visited by death herself.

And Tsukasa slowly opened his eyes, dazed. He didn't even register that he had been captured. All he knew was that Rui was standing there, just a few feet away from him. "Rui..."

He reached out for him. And Rui snapped as if a freezing spell was finally being lifted from him.

"TSUKASA!" He ran toward the pair, arm stretched to reach his Light. But before he could even graze a finger, Tsukasa was gone.

He's gone.

Tsukasa's gone.

Luka caught him.

He's going to die.

All because of Rui.

"Rui!" He didn't even realize Nene was there, clutching his shoulder and shaking him, because Tsukasa was gone. Luka has Tsukasa. He's gone. Rui couldn't stop her. She's gone with Tsukasa.

"We'll find him." Nene clasped his cheeks, grounding him. "We'll bring Tsukasa back."

Bring Tsukasa back...?

"We'll bring him back." Mizuki knelt beside him, hand on his shoulder. Emu gave him a determined nod. "Not just to stop the end of the world."

Right. They can Tsukasa back.

Rui looked at his hand. A hand that could bring disaster with his magic. But Tsukasa believes that he's a good person, even if his hand is cursed.

Rui would believe him. He clenched his fingers into a fist, feeling Pure Darkness flowing in him.

"Wait for me, Tsukasa…"

[taniushka12]

I've got two exams in three weeks and quite literally the only thing holding me together is writing my silly little fic in between studying

[quin-ns]

Cherry (Joel Miller x Reader)

Word count: 3K

Summary: you didn’t except that the first time joel said he loved you that he would mean he was in love with you. you did love him. like a friend. even a father. but you always wanted to hear those words, and you couldn’t break his heart, could you?

Tags: (18+), cw: dark themes, age gap, biting, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, couch sex, complicated/unhealthy relationship, mutual desperation, not dubcon but heed the adjacent warning (joel doesn’t know how yn really feels), sorry I don’t know what came over me guys I wanted something with some insane desire, angst, and smut

A/N: guys… I haven’t written for joel in almost 2 years that’s actually crazy… how?? he’s literally my fave dilf ever?? what a fic for me to come back to joel with tho wow enjoy fellow freaks I’ll write fluff for him soon too

tlou masterlist + main masterlist

It didn’t matter how long Joel had tried to convince you that he had just done the right thing, you still believed you owed him your life. Because he saved your life.

And after a period of Joel insisting you stay away from him for your own good, back when you lived in the QZ, he eventually took you under his wing. Now, he was intent on keeping you there.

It was his responsibility to protect you. It was his responsibility to make sure you had everything you needed. It was his responsibility to make sure you never got consumed by the darkness of this world like he had. It was his job to keep you safe. And you? You loved it.

More like you loved Joel, but you never bothered to separate the man from his actions. Why would you? You loved him. You really did. And he did the same for you.

The love you had for him was all consuming ever since he had told you, “I want you by my side, no matter what.”

Being in Jackson brought peace and security, and you were assured that your connection wasn’t merely out of necessity. You continued to choose each other. You would always choose him over everything else. It was just what you did.

You loved him because he saved you, but it was more than that. So, so much more.

You loved him like a friend, who you could talk to about anything. Your age difference hindered your ability to relate to one another on a lot of things, like the way you looked at the world, or how you solved problems, but even when you weren’t agreeing, you at least understood one another in a way no one else could.

In Jackson, it had been suggested that you could live with some other girls closer to your age, but Joel ended that discussion. Instead of a two bedroom house, he took up residence in one with three. You never would’ve wanted to live apart from him and Ellie, but you were relieved he had been the one to decide. It reaffirmed that you were just as important to him as he was to you. You needed that reassurance more often than you’d ever let him know.

When you first arrived, before you found your place in the community, you would hide out in the house. It was hard for you to grow accustomed to the way of life here, and even harder to trust people. Joel made sure you never stayed alone too long. When Ellie was out, which was more often than you but less than Joel, he would end up returning. Some days you found yourselves talking nearly every waking hour, and laughing together more than either of you could’ve expected.

He knew you loved him like a friend, but you loved him like a father as well. You never told him that flat out. You could just hear the grumbly comments about making him feel old, and even though it would be light hearted jokes, you wanted to keep the relationship as it was.

Joel was a toughened person, but he treated you delicately when he could. It would get to a point where you thought the label ‘fragile: handle with care’ was printed on you, but he never talked down to you. You liked that he protected you and made you feel safe without controlling you like he would a daughter. Not like how he was with Ellie. You were fine seeing him as a father without him seeing you as a daughter. It was best this way.

Needless to say, you loved him simply as the person he was. It overwhelmed you sometimes.

No, not sometimes. Often.

Everything he did made you okay with the fact that he had never said the exact words. He’d come close, had said them in many other ways, had proved to you that he did, but you never got the real thing. That was something you had thought you could live with as long as you could feel it. And as long as you could continue to love him as well.

So with Joel, now, sitting on the couch by your side, facing you and saying, “I love you. I have for a while,” your heart jumped from your chest. It changed everything in an instant.

You were smiling before you registered that he wouldn’t meet your eye. And was that… shame, maybe, in his voice? The way he kept it low, like he wasn’t sure he should be speaking.

Joel, in the distant past, would get frustrated with your naivety before it became a thing that endeared you to him.

It took you a long moment to get it. Then, all at once, you did. You wondered if he could read the shift in your face. From the moment your awe became tainted with understanding.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Joel continued. “But you know I hate lying to you, and not telling you… it felt like lying and I couldn’t do it anymore.” He swallowed. “I love you,” he repeated, to both you and himself.

Deep brown eyes that held years of life you couldn’t even begin to understand met yours, and you couldn’t seem to speak. Those words felt forbidden from him. You had spent so much time wanting to hear them, longing to hear them, before you made peace with the fact you wouldn’t. You had become okay with never hearing them from Joel because he consistently proved it to you in every other way.

And now, here he was, telling you he loved you, and you hadn’t leapt at the chance to say it back.

You knew why, and so did he. You could see him searching your face and with every second that passed, you watched his confidence crumble.

Joel was hurting. Your silence made him ache.

He took a long breath, bowed his head and shook it a little to himself. Experiencing regret in its entirety.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered finally. It felt like a knife to hear the defeat in his voice. He turned to face forward. “I- I should’ve known better.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m so much older than you, and I’ve done things that I can’t come back from, and you…” Joel stole a lingering glance. “You’re so perfect.”

You were the furthest thing from perfect, but you believed that Joel believed you were. It was the way he said it. He was so sure and you loved him for it. For seeing you in ways you couldn’t even see yourself.

You watched him, knowing that the man you loved was hurting. It didn’t seem fair to let him continue when you knew you were the only one that could make it stop.

It was almost an out of body experience, the way you moved. First closer to him, so close your legs were touching. Then your hand reached for his, your smaller fingers wrapping around it to squeeze. When he met your eyes, you saw the moment hope replaced pain, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I love you, too,” you said, because it was true.

It was both a surprise and not when he kissed you. It was soft at first, and it reminded you of the way he often was with you. When you didn’t pull away, it ignited something in him. Suddenly his hands were on your face, deepening the kiss.

You kissed him back because he needed you to.

When Joel felt your lips moving against his, it told him two things. One, it told him what he needed to know, which was that you loved him. And two, it told him what you wanted him to believe, which was that you wanted this.

Joel grew a little more sure, pulling you closer to him. He couldn’t get enough and was struggling to hold back. You could feel it. Both his want and his restraint.

You weren’t sure what to do with your hands, so you put them over his shoulders, rubbing the back of his neck, letting your fingers card in the longer ends of his grown out hair. You always wondered what his hair felt like.

Joel liked your curiosity and let his own get the better of him. His lips trailed from yours down to the side of your neck. You sucked in air, your face hot as you tried to catch your breath, when all of the sudden his kisses were replaced with a small, suckling bite. You gasped. You couldn’t help it. His hands moved, one resting on your back when the other held the back of your neck. Not hard, just keeping your close. You buried your face into his shoulder as he grew more confident with the use of his teeth.

The moan that escaped your lips when he soothed the harder bite with his tongue made his grip tighten. His breath hitched. You swallowed, flustered, unsure of yourself as your body shivered on its own. Joel pulled back to look at you, just long enough for you to see the desire clouding his eyes, and then he was crushing his lips against yours.

The weight of Joel’s body pushed you down onto the couch. You kissed him back, trying to keep up with his rough, hungry mouth, but your inexperience was catching up to you. You’d only ever kissed boys before, and now you had a man on top of you, his body pressed firmly to yours, his hands running down your frame as he devoured your lips and nipped at your skin. Muttering about how beautiful you were and that he was trying to be gentle but that you could tell him to stop if you wanted. He didn’t know you wouldn’t because as wrong as it felt, you wanted to give him everything he wanted. In turn, all you wanted was to hear him say he loved you again.

You didn’t need it before but now you couldn’t get enough. It wasn’t enough when Joel peppered kisses to your lips and neck. It wasn’t enough when he pressed himself between your legs and caused you to dig your nails into his back. You needed more. You needed him to say it again.

You let him take off your clothes when he asked so, so sweetly. You knew Joel was going to admire you, and he did, and that look on his face was worth the uncertainty you felt. He wouldn’t let you cover yourself, and it felt kind of nice when he kept your arms from crossing over your chest. It reminded you how strong he was, but how even with all that strength, and even when using it on you, he was careful. He didn’t want to truly hurt you, and you loved him for it.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised, lips against your ear as his fingers settled between your legs.

“I know,” you managed, breathless.

It made him smile, which made you smile. You couldn’t stop staring at him when he lifted his head to look at you. That is, until he pushed a finger into you. Your eyes fluttered shut and he was immediately in your ear again, and you understood for the first time the term ‘sweet nothings’. His low, soothing voice against your ear helped you relax as he pushed in another finger, and after a few minutes, another.

You were wet, you couldn’t help it. You found yourself apologizing, but he encouraged it. He liked you squirming beneath him, liked that your body was responding.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re doing good,” he groaned. “I want you to be ready for me

You didn’t know what possessed you to say it, but the words, “I am,” slipped from your lips. It was all he needed to hear.

His fingers slid from your body. A little voice in the back of your head told you to get them back, but it was silenced when he pulled the rest of his clothes from his body. You felt the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance. You couldn’t look down, and you were too embarrassed to look him in the eye, so you shut yours.

A hand touched your face.

“Look at me,” Joel urged. “Don’t be shy. I wanna see you.”

You obliged, forcing your eyes open, watching him above you. You found it hard to believe you never fully saw how handsome Joel was.

When he began to push into you, the stretch was much more than his fingers. You had to open your legs wider. Joel ran his hands up and down your hips and waist, soothing you as he eased himself inside, telling you, “It’s okay, you’re doing great. Just relax. You’re taking me so well,” and you couldn’t help but bask in the praise. It hurt a little, but you were practically purring by the time he was fully seated inside. You didn’t mean to, but your body squeezed him, and his cock throbbed inside you.

Joel made a noise of pure bliss as he let his weight rest on you. You were so overheated, sweat slick between your bodies. When he started kissing you again you almost forgot about it. He was a good kisser, which made sense given he had more experience than you. A twinge of jealousy ran through you at the thought of him with anyone else and you pulled him closer. It wasn’t quite a laugh he let out, most just a sound of amusement at your actions.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.

One of his hands found the back of your head, holding you so your mouth was his and he could have his way. The other hand ran over your ass and down your thigh, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him. You did.

He started to move, then. Pulling back a little and pushing in. It was such a foreign feeling. You couldn’t keep your noises to yourself, but Joel savored them. When he started to move a little faster, his methodical motions turning into thrusts, he seemed to be seeking those reactions from you.

It was a cycle. The rougher he moved, the more whimpers and moans he pulled from you, and then in turn the sounds spurred him on. You were holding onto him for dear life by the time he was pounding you into the couch, groaning your name, telling you how good you were.

“It’s like you’re made for me,” he grunted into your ear, and you hoped he meant it, because you believed it.

“I’m yours,” you told him.

“Tell me again,” Joel started in a grunt, thrusting forward. He held himself completely inside you for a moment, shuddering as your nails dragged down his back. It took your breath away, feeling so full. He pressed his forehead to yours as he said, “Do you mean it? You love me?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation. It was true. It was the only thing you’d known to be true and maybe this wasn’t the way, wasn’t something you imagined, but it didn’t make that simple fact any less true.

“Say it.”

“I love you.”

Joel groaned, shoving his hips forward. You whimpered. He was already in you to the hilt.

“Again,” he groaned.

He needed it just as bad as you did.

“I love you, Joel. I love you.”

He pulled out before thrusting back in. Again and again you told him, and he moved, building back up to an even harder pace than before. You could hardly stand it but you told him over and over again like a chant;

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” and even breathless you never faltered. Even when Joel kissed you rough and needy, like he was starved, you still got out the words, “I love you.”

Your legs were barely holding on despite your effort. Your hands began to slide from his back but you continued to grasp onto him. One of his hands found your wrist. You would let him if he wanted to, but you didn’t want him to hold it down. You needed to touch him. Needed to feel him. Needed the security that he proved.

As if he could read your mind, he turned his face to kiss your palm, then let your wrist go. He gave you free range. You chose to run that hand fully through his hair. Every part of you needed to be touching every part of him. He invaded your mind and soul, the last step was your body, and he was accomplishing that this very second. You belonged entirely to him. Even as tears pricked in your eyes at how overwhelming it all was, to love and be loved by Joel was all you’d ever wanted and known for years.

He huffed out a half grunt half laugh when your body started to tense. He was pleased. Could read your body better than even you. You were so lost in the sensation that you let out a yelp when a hand moved between your legs, rubbing at you in tandem with his cock slamming into you.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Just let go.”

And you did. It didn’t even feel like a choice. It just happened. The pleasure became too much to handle. It rippled through your whole body as the knot in your belly snapped. You tensed and shuddered around Joel, holding onto him as your cunt clenched down around him, trying to keep him inside to allow you ride out the wave without feeling empty. Joel wasn’t keen on denying you. His thrusts became shallow but hard, sending jolts through you until you felt it. With a groan he stilled inside you, and then warmth flooded your insides. He rocked his hips forward a little as he spilled inside you, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

As the haze started to fade and awareness returned, something akin to dread settled over you. Everything became all too real all at once.

Joel kissed life back into you. His hand between your legs moved to run across your belly and thighs, while the other held your face so he had as much access to your lips as he wanted.

You started to move, feeling crushed, but Joel took care of that. He managed to turn your bodies so you were lying on top of him, but he was careful to not withdraw from you. He bucked his hips up a little and you whined. Joel chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you to him. You turned your head to the side, your cheek resting against his chest. You listened to his heart rate come back down, unfocused eyes trailing around the living room. Joel kissed the top of your head and ran his calloused hands over your back.

“How did I get so lucky?” he asked, not really looking for an answer. You didn’t have one, anyway.

You wanted to crawl off of him. It was all becoming too much again. As good as it had all felt, it confused you, and you thought maybe you wanted to cry, but then came the words that had you subdued.

“I love you, Y/N,” Joel breathed.

You didn’t think he understood the power he had in his words. As far as he knew, you loved him the same way as he loved you. You would continue to let him think that if it meant you could protect him from the heartache, and if you could keep hearing him say the words you craved. You knew, eventually, you could learn to love him this way, too. If he was happy, you knew you could be too. Being loved by him was all you ever wanted. It didn’t matter how else you felt because that need would take priority over everything. You would always choose him over everything else. It was just what you did.

joel taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose @dontphunkwithmylove @cilliansangel @amethystwonders11 @frogsmuahh037 @andy-rocks @melllinaa @alitaar @melanie451 @b00kw0rmsworld @reverieisaway @avengersfan25 @aheadfullofsteverogers @strangeh0rizons @spideysimpossiblegirl @shannonmariebee @str84pedro @koukatsuki @darleneslane @larascorneroftheworld

I wasn’t sure whether to use the taglist for smut since I’d only written fluff for him before, so if you’re on the taglist and only want to be tagged in fluff not smut just lmk

if you would like to be added to the joel taglist just send me an ask or a message!

[letsbangts]

paint me, play me: moonlight || jjk

⤷ summary: you are the day; he is the night. you are the sun; he is the moon. not meant to collide—one must set for the other to rise. but what happens during that rare moment when an eclipse occurs? can you both coexist peacefully together?

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 46k+

18+ // mdni

⟶ genre: e2l, college au, fluff, angst

⟶ content: grumpy!jk (+ rocker!jk, fuckboy!jk) x sunshine!reader (+ cheerleader!reader, artisit!reader, bimbo!reader), rockband!bangtan

⟶ warnings: explicit language, mean comments, jk being a jerk, jess is a b*tch, bullying?, insults, bickering, insecurities, self-doubt, past trauma, ptsd?, mentions of death, mentions of car accident, mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of smoking, mentions of alcohol, flirting, teasing, (idt there's anything else, but if there is pls lmk!!)

⟶ part: 1/4

↬ a/n: this took forever but I hope the wc justifies why lol but I’m so excited to finally have pt. 1 of pmpm out. the response I got from my initial post about this series was way more than I expected so I hope you all enjoy. and to my little freaks there’s no smut in this chapter but just you wait my loveys ;) happy reading! angel xoxo

↬ a/n2: AND LET IT BE KNOWN I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT UNIVERSITY, ROCK, ART, OR CHEERLEADING. I have no knowledge about anything I’m writing about sooo readers discretion is advised. *also this is edited to the best of my ability but she is a beast so feel free to let me know of any mistakes*

˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ moonlight ariana grande 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

series masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ main masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

i never knew, i never knew you could hold moonlight in your hands 'til the night i held you you are my moonlight, moonlight

New beginnings and change are hard for people, but you have grown accustomed to them. You have come to embrace them. There aren’t many things that could bring you down, and a new town and school aren’t among them. This move might be good for you; a shift in your surroundings may be what you need.

At first, you felt a bit nervous when your mom accepted a new job out here, but once you saw the new house, it sold you on the move. Then, when you looked up the university located here and discovered it is known for its Visual Arts major, all your worries faded. So, when you applied for a transfer from your previous university to Borahae and not only got accepted but also received a scholarship for all your achievements, you felt as if everything was falling into place. You felt as if it was all destined to be.

You walked around to familiarize yourself with the area; it was a pleasant town. It has a small-town vibe but is still a bustling city, and the people are very nice. When the adorable elderly lady who works at the convenience store you stopped by heard you were new to the town, she gave you your lollipop for free. You would never pass up free sweets, even though you were ready to pay.

With a skip in your step and a treat in your mouth that tastes even sweeter because free food is always more delicious, you head home with a newfound high – not from the sugar, but from the feeling that things are looking up.

You practically bounce up the stairs and through the front door, where you find your mom doing some of the last bits of the unpacking. It was overwhelming when the two of you first moved in, but you expected to be stressed out when relocating your entire life from one place to another. But as always, you both had each other to lean on.

You could not ask for a better mom, even without a biased opinion, because she is the woman who gave you life; she is the strongest and kindest woman you know. She has always been in your corner, cheering you on, and had your back when things got shaky. As you have gotten older, she has also started to come to you for support, and you have always been there to give it to her. The past year and a half have been tough on both of you after your dad’s passing, but you noticed she seemed to carry the weight of everything much heavier on her shoulders.

You have seen how this move has brought back that spark in her. Everything about your old home was like a constant reminder of his absence, making it difficult to move on from grieving. Although you both will never forget him or all the memories shared with him, a new space for building a new chapter in both of your lives has boosted her drive for life.

Your mom looks up from the box she was unpacking when she hears you come through the door, and a smile forms on her face as you walk into the living room.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re back already! How was everything?”

“It was nice! Everything is so pretty and old-timey, and the shop lady gave me a free lolly!” You wave the dwindling candy in the air to show her.

She laughs lightly and continues unpacking, placing books on the half-full bookshelf.

“Well, that was nice of her. I will have to stop by myself and greet her. The town seems full of kind people; you just missed one of our neighbours. This sweet young man helped me bring in this box,” she gestures to the heavy box of books. “He mentioned how he and a few other boys live together next door. They’re actually around your age and even attend Borahae as well.”

“Oh, what a coinkydink!” you giggle.

“I know, right? And get this: he said they all play in a rock band! Talk about coincidence! They rehearse in their garage, so he wanted to be sure the noise wouldn’t bother us, but I told him not to worry.”

You nod with wide eyes and your mouth in the shape of an ‘O’.

“I wish I was here to say hi to him.”

Your mom waves her hand, “Oh, it’s okay, sweetie. You’ll meet him soon. I mentioned that I have a daughter his age and that you will be attending the same university as him. I’m sure you’ll meet all of them eventually.”

You nod again, with your lollipop perched between your pursed lips.

“Well, I guess I’ll finish the last few boxes in my room.”

You walk over and kiss your mom on the cheek.

She smiles and continues with her box. As you walk up the steps, she calls out,

“Keep an eye out for him; he was a nice boy. His name is Namjoon!”

☾☀︎

You walk down the sidewalk as fast as possible in your wedge heels. Being late on your first day isn’t ideal, but you had to be sure you looked cute. As you hurry towards the enormous building, your pink mini-dress flows in the light breeze. As you step onto the school grounds, you hear the roar of an engine. When you turn your head towards the sound, you see a motorcycle zoom past you at top speed.

“Ooh, shiny,” you gasp, coming to a halt as you stare at it, mesmerized until it banks the corner and disappears. You shake your head, pulling yourself from your trance and refocus, resuming the trek to the main entrance.

The large building makes you nervous; butterflies form in your stomach as you get closer. You see two guys at the bottom of the stairs leading to the main doors. The guy standing with the broadest shoulders is talking to the other guy sitting on the large stone bannister. The shoulder guy is laughing at something he said, but the other guy sits there with a neutral look as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

You approach them with a big smile, their conversation pausing as they both turn to you. The shoulder guy raises his eyebrows in question while the other looks you up and down before turning back and continuing to smoke.

“Hi! Do you know where the office is?”

The shoulder guy smiles and nods his head.

“Uh, yeah. When you enter the building, turn right, and you’ll see a big ass wooden door, that’s it.” He says, gesturing up the stairs to the building as he talks.

“Big ass wooden door,” you mumble to yourself, nodding. “Got it, thanks, Shoulders!”

You turn and walk away, following his directions before he can reply, causing you to miss his reaction to your name for him and the grin that spreads across the other guy’s face as he chuckles.

“Did she—Did she just call me Shoulders?”

“Well, that is like 75% of you.”

You also miss the guy holding a motorcycle helmet who walks up and joins the other two.

☾☀︎

In the office, you are filling out some forms, making sure all your ‘i’s are dotted with a heart, when you see a middle-aged woman walk out of the back office with a red-haired girl, immediately catching your attention.

She looks the complete opposite of you in her black denim dress, black fishnet tights, thick-winged black eyeliner, and a hoop nose ring.

The secretary assisting you interrupts the two’s conversation, notifying her of your arrival.

“Mrs Baek, this is Y/N L/N.”

Once the woman sees you, she grins and extends her hand for you to shake.

“Ah, Y/N! It is lovely to meet you. I’m Mrs Baek, the dean here. We are so honoured to have someone of your merit attend Borahae. I was very impressed by your work. You are such a gifted artist with a great eye for fine detail. I am sure you will make our school proud.”

You don’t notice how the red-haired girl’s eyes light up.

“Thank you, Mrs Baek! I am so excited to be here!” you bounce in place while giving her hand a little squeeze.

Mrs Baek chuckles, giving your hand in hers a pat with her free hand.

“If you have any questions, my door is always open, dear.”

You nod eagerly, and with that, she turns to leave. She gives the red-haired girl a tiny nod, which she returns with a smile.

You and the girl are now left standing at the counter alone. She steps closer to you, her hand gliding across the wooden surface.

“So you’re new here, huh?”

“Yup! My mom and I just moved here—not to the school, to the town; we don’t live here.”

“I hope not; we’re here enough as it is,” she laughs, and you join in.

“Y/N, right? I’m Chaerin.”

“Nice to meet you! I love your hair, it’s so pretty, it reminds me of a–”

“A cherry?”

“Yes!” you gasp.

“My nickname is Cherry; all my friends call me that. You can, too.”

“Oh, yay! Are we friends?”

Cherry nods with a smile.

“Wow, I haven’t even gone to a class yet, and I’ve already made a friend. This place is great!”

“I heard Mrs Baek say you’re an artist. I’m guessing you’re an art major?”

“Yeah, Visual Arts. Are you studying art, too?”

“Oh no,” Cherry shakes her head fervently, “I can’t even draw stick figures properly. I’m a music major, Music Technology.”

Your mouth hangs agape because your new friend keeps getting cooler and cooler.

“What kind of art do you do?” Cherry asks.

“The one with pictures...” you furrow your brows.

“No, no,” she laughs at your confusion, finding it adorable, “Like, what do you specialize in? Drawing, painting, sculpting?”

“Oh! I’m good at everything, but painting is my favourite!” you beam.

“So you draw too?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Oh my gosh, this is perfect,” Cherry mutters, thinking aloud.

Before you can ask what she means, she grabs both of your hands, bringing them up to her chin with pleading eyes. You look at her in surprise.

“I know we just met, and I’m not usually this forward... that’s a lie, I am, but I don’t want to seem rude. But what are the chances that I would run into the new artist getting the dean’s praise? It’s like fate crossed our paths,” she rushes out her words in one breath, “So as your new friend, I need a favour from you. You see, my boyfriend is in this rock band with his friends, and they have been looking for someone to design a logo for them.”

“A rock band?” your look of surprise only grows.

First, you move in next door to a rock band, and now your new friend is dating someone in a rock band. What crazy odds.

“Yeah, Army of Bombs is what they go by. I help them with their songs sometimes. I know I’m a little biased, but they are amazing!”

“And you want me to design a logo for them?” you say slowly, taking her request in.

She nods desperately, squeezing your hands tighter. “Please, pretty please, with a cherry on top. No pun intended.”

You giggle at her remark and even more at her puppy dog eyes and pout.

“I would love to help you, but—”

Cherry, thinking you’re about to say no, interrupts.

“Look, I know rock music is probably not your thing,” she gestures up and down at you, “But I mean, you don’t have to like it,” she says, trying to reason.

You chuckle at the irony.

“No, that’s not it. I just—I don’t know the band well enough to design a logo for them,” you shrug with a small smile, not wanting to disappoint her.

“You can come and sit in on their rehearsals! You can get a feel of the band’s vibe. The guys won’t mind. They’re cool; you’ll like them.”

She stares at you nervously as you tilt your head in thought, considering her offer.

“Hmm, okay! I’ll do it!” you exclaim.

“Oh my gosh, seriously! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She pulls you into a tight hug, swaying side to side. “You’re the best, Y/N! If you ever need anything, say the word, I’m your girl.”

You hug her back just as tightly.

“I can’t help this week though. I have a lot going on since it’s my first week here,” you tell her as you pull apart.

“That’s cool, I get it. Whenever you’re free, let me know. You can text me. I’m usually always at the rehearsals anyway. They rehearse at their house. Oh yeah, here, let’s exchange numbers.”

She pulls out her phone, encased in a piano phone case and hands it to you to put in your number. You pull out your pink rhinestone-covered phone and give it to her to do the same.

She enters her number and flips your phone in her hand. She looks at the sparkly case before glancing at you and chuckling as she hands the device back.

You look at her with wide, curious eyes.

“You really are like a little Barbie, huh?”

You light up at her comment, “Thanks!”

“They will be so pumped; I can’t wait to tell the guys about this! My boyfriend is waiting for me outside. He’s probably wondering what’s taking me so long.”

“I’m excited to meet everyone,” you smile.

“Barbs, I believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” she smiles back.

You think the same thing.

☾☀︎

You are nearing the end of your first week; it has been great so far. You like all your classes, and your professors have been very welcoming; they have all heard of you and your scholarship. You’ve made connections with a few classmates and gained more friends, but Cherry still sits at the top of the list.

You and she have been texting all week, and it’s not just about the band logo; she has been making sure you are doing okay with adjusting to everything. However, she did mention that she told her friends that you agreed to design their band’s logo and that they were excited.

Speaking of bands, you have yet to meet any of your neighbours that your mom told you about. You would think no one even lives there if it weren’t for the music you hear coming from the garage almost every night. That Namjoon guy must be nice if he warned your mom about the noise because it is loud. But they are talented; you’ve caught yourself bobbing your head to the music numerous times. You’ll tell them you’re a fan when you finally meet them.

You are headed to the gym to try out for the cheerleading team. Art is a relatively sedentary and solitary activity, so you enjoy cheerleading because it gets you moving and allows you to socialize with others. Also, the uniform is super cute, and you love cheering people on.

You push open the gym door and walk over to the girls gathered on the bench, waiting for the tryouts to begin. You sit down next to a strawberry-blonde girl who is texting away on her phone. You notice a pink gummy bear charm dangling from her cell.

“I like your charm; it’s so adorable!”

She looks up upon hearing your compliment, and her eyes dart from you to her phone and back to you before she smiles.

“Thanks, I like your set,” she gestures to your hot pink sports bra and matching pants, “I see we both have great taste in colours.”

“I love pink and candy, so this is like they had a baby,” you say, taking the charm between your fingers and examining it more closely.

“You’re funny. I’m Rina, by the way,” she lifts her hand in a small wave as she introduces herself.

“I’m Y/N,” you wave back gleefully.

The doors open before you two can talk anymore, and the room fills with the echo of laughter. Three girls walk in, wearing purple and white cheerleading uniforms, and stand in front of the waiting students. The tallest girl among the three stands between the others and plasters a wide, fake smile on her face before she speaks.

“Hello, everyone. Welcome to the cheer tryouts for the Borahae Belles. I’m Jess, the cheer captain. And this is Mei,” she points to the girl on her right, “And this is Kat,” she points to the girl on her left.

“This is our second year cheering for the school; we had a stellar year last year, winning nationals,” Jess flips her ponytail over her shoulder, placing a hand over her chest, “And like I did last year, I plan on leading us to victory this year, so I hope you brought your ‘A’ game.”

Everyone’s faces fill with fear, but you aren’t worried. You are excited to be cheering again; you missed it.

“We would usually have tryouts out on the field, but the football team has practice today, so we had to settle for in here. As you can see, we only have a few roll-out mats, so try not to get injured because we really can’t deal with that right now,” Jess rolls her eyes, and the other two girls snicker.

“Okay, enough talk. Let’s get started!” Jess claps twice, and Mei hands her a clipboard with the signup sheet.

One by one, people start going to the centre of the room and performing their routines. The three cheerleaders give little to no response, simply calling out the next name after each performance.

“I’m so nervous, are you?” Rina whispers to you.

“No, not at all,” you shake your head.

“You must be confident.”

You are. You were cheer captain throughout high school and even at your old university. You don’t have a big head, but you know you’re good, so you’re confident you’ll make the team.

“I am; you should be, too. I bet you’ll do great,” you say, squeezing Rina’s shoulder in encouragement.

Just then, Rina’s name gets called out. She gives you a weak smile, gets up and makes her way to the mat. She performs her routine flawlessly, finishing with a back handspring, jumping into a herkie, and landing in a torch position.

“Yay, Rina,” you applaud enthusiastically for her, thinking she had no reason to be nervous.

You don’t see the dirty look Jess gives you.

Rina mouths a silent “thank you” and “good luck” and gives you a thumbs-up before she leaves the gym.

Four more people’s names get called out before you finally hear yours; you spring up and skip over to the mat.

“Hi, I’m Y/N L/N! I’m very excited to cheer for you.”

“Yeah, we know your name’s on the signup sheet,” Kat says as she and Mei snicker.

Jess tilts her head, eyes scanning you, “Why don’t you start your routine?” she smirks.

While you perform your routine, Jess sits up straighter than she has since tryouts began. Both Mei and Kat’s eyes are wide in shock. You’re good–excellent. You’re better than they thought you’d be, better than the others who have tried out. The two girls don’t say anything for fear of upsetting the captain, but you’re even better than Jess.

Mei and Kat glance warily at Jess, her eyes are narrow, and her lips are pursed from her sucking her teeth.

You finish with a toe touch and land in a liberty pose. Once you face the three girls with an anticipatory expression, Jess immediately breaks into a smile, which you return, unaware of her disapproving look throughout your routine you were too absorbed into to notice.

“You’re good. Y/N, was it?” Jess asks, raising an eyebrow.

You nod, clasping your hands behind your back.

She hums, glancing down briefly before continuing, “I shouldn’t say anything before the official list goes up, but I think you can consider yourself a Borahae Belle.”

You hop up and down in place, hands balled up, nearly bursting with joy.

You’re clueless about how the other two cheerleaders whip their heads towards the captain in surprise, taken aback by her complimentary words and acceptance of you.

You thank the three girls before practically bouncing out of the room.

As soon as you’re out of sight, Jess’s smile disappears.

☾☀︎

Cherry is sitting on the sofa in the guys’ garage as they get ready to rehearse, tune their instruments, and set up the equipment. Seokjin, who is rolling out the amplifier and plugging it in, calls her name.

“Hey Cher, when are we going to get to meet this art girl? I’m dying to discuss logo ideas with her.”

Hoseok, who was tuning his guitar, chimes in at the mention, “Yeah, it’s about time we finally got one. Every iconic band has a logo; branding Army of Bombs if we want to make our mark is a must.”

“She’s super busy this week; I told you she just moved here. Once she settles in, she will start working on the design. She’s going to sit in on rehearsals to help her get ideas,” Cherry replies.

“If she is as good of an artist as you said, shouldn’t she be able to draw something up at the snap of her fingers?” Jimin comments.

“The logo has to fit the band, and she knows nothing about you guys or your music. Also, rock and roll music doesn’t seem like her style, so she has to get familiar with it.”

“Did you get to see any of her work? You know, to see how good she is?” Namjoon asks.

“No, I never got a chance to,” Cherry shrugs.

The band exchanges pessimistic looks with one another.

“So let me get this straight, you asked a girl who doesn’t like rock and who might be a shit artist to design our logo? Well, that sounds promising.” Taehyung smirks, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“She is talented; I heard the dean praise her myself.”

“The dean would kiss anyone’s ass. You know how much people pay to go there,” Taehyung rebuts.

“She said she was honoured to have her attend the school. I don’t remember ever hearing that she complimented any of you.”

“She once told me I was, and I quote, “unbelievable” actually,” Jimin says.

“She wasn’t saying that as a compliment, you idiot. She said it in disdain,” Seokjin clarifies.

“Semantics,” Jimin waves off. “The point is that Cherry has probably roped us in with some new girl and opened our rehearsals to her without checking her credibility.”

“What are you blaming my girlfriend for?” Yoongi inquires as he walks in with Jungkook a few steps behind him. He sits on the sofa beside Cherry and wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side.

“We just found out that she doesn’t know if the girl she got to do the logo has any real talent,” Hoseok updates while pointing at Cherry.

Yoongi turns his head to look at her, his brows furrowed, “I thought you said she was good?”

“She is!” Cherry exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. All the guys jump in shock at her outburst.

“I can’t believe you guys are giving me such a hard time. You were eager to find someone, and now that I have found someone willing to do it, you are complaining.”

“We aren’t complaining, Cher; we are sceptical. She might be willing, but that doesn’t mean her work will meet our standards,” Taehyung states.

“Didn’t you see any of her drawings or something?” Jungkook asks while grabbing his guitar and putting the strap over his head. When he looks up, he sees the rest of the band staring at Cherry, whose eyes are rolling in exasperation.

Jungkook smirks and snickers, “You didn’t. Way to put in the work, Cherry.”

“Okay now, step off. We gotta give this girl a chance at least; I’m sure Cher is vouching for her for a reason.” Yoongi comes to his girlfriend’s defence, calming everyone down. He kisses her on the temple before making his way to his keyboard.

“Yeah, who knows? She might be like a little Picasso,” Namjoon says, intervening to lighten the mood. He pats Cherry’s shoulder as he walks by her and sits behind the drum set.

The guys take their positions, and Cherry leans back onto the sofa with a huff.

“I’m telling you, she’s good and doing us a big favour by agreeing to help us. Once you guys meet her, you’ll be eating your words.”

Namjoon does the count-off, his drumsticks hitting together with each number, “One, two, three, four.”

☾☀︎

Rehearsal ended a little while ago, and the band was scattered around different spots in the garage resting.

“Kook, what happened to that chick you were seeing? I haven’t seen you with her since Junho’s party,” Hoseok asks from his seat in the beanbag chair in the corner.

Jungkook, sitting on top of an amp, looks up from his phone, tilting his head in thought.

“Which girl?” Jungkook questions in return.

“Wow, seriously, man? You’re an animal,” Jimin laughs, shaking his head.

“The one who always showed up at the venue an hour before our shows and sat on stage the entire rehearsal,” Hoseok describes the girl.

“Oh her, I got rid of her a while ago.”

“Why? What was wrong with that one now?” Seokjin asks from the sofa, accustomed to the youngest one’s pattern.

“I just ended it,” Jungkook shrugs.

The older guys shake their heads, some chuckling at Jungkook’s nonchalance.

“Ugh, you are such a stereotypical rocker,” Cherry scoffs.

“Don’t hate the player, babe, hate the game,” Jungkook smirks, sending her a wink.

“Getting with girls shouldn’t be a game, Kook.”

“Hey, it’s all good fun, and we’re all consenting adults. It’s not like I hunt for these girls; they come to me.”

“More like they cum for you,” Taehyung jokes and daps Jungkook.

“Disgusting,” Cherry turns to Yoongi sitting beside her, “I sometimes question your choice of friends.”

“How come in moments like this, they’re not your friends, too?” Yoongi laughs.

“Speaking of girls, Joon, didn’t you say the lady who moved in next door has a daughter our age?” Jimin diverts, sitting on the armrest of the recliner Namjoon is sitting on.

Namjoon nods, “Yeah, she said she goes to Borahae too, but I haven’t run into her yet.”

“She must be one of those students who live their lives studying–home to school to the library and back,” Jimin says, waving his hand, tilting his beer bottle back and forth.

“Wait a minute, did you say a girl our age? Why am I only hearing about this now? I would have gone over to introduce myself, like a good neighbour should,” Taehyung perks up on the stool he’s perched on.

“That is what we don’t want,” Seokjin points to the three youngest, “You three are prohibited from going next door.”

“Hold up! Why are we being singled out?” Jimin exclaims.

“Because you guys wreak havoc wherever you go, and her mom is nice and was cool about us rehearsing out here. We don’t need you ruining that by messing around with her daughter,” Seokjin explains.

“Excuse me, I am a perfect gentleman. These two are the ones you need to worry about,” Jimin says, pointing two fingers at Taehyung and Jungkook.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me; I don’t shit where I eat,” Jungkook raises both hands in surrender.

“And I resent being classed the same as Kook; I am nowhere near as big of a hoe as he is,” Taehyung defends himself.

“We’re not taking chances; don’t go anywhere near the kid, all three of you,” Yoongi declares.

“Yeah, the poor girl just moved here. Don’t corrupt her with your sleaziness; give her a break,” Cherry smirks.

“I can keep my hands to myself, but if she approaches me and she’s cute, I make no promises where my hands will be on campus,” Taehyung shrugs before sipping his beer.

The conversation shifts after that, and various topics are discussed, from upcoming shows to party invites they have received. The current topic is their female escapades despite prior denials.

Seokjin is in the middle of a story when he gets interrupted by a low whistle from Taehyung.

“Hottie headed this way,” he announces, his eyes focused on the street where a girl is walking down the sidewalk.

All heads, excluding Yoongi’s and Cherry’s, turn to follow his line of sight.

“Those are our school colours,” Namjoon notes.

“Damn, since when did cheerleaders roam this street,” Hoseok says.

That causes Cherry to glance in reluctance briefly before doing a double take. She suddenly stands up from Yoongi’s side, “Y/N?”

The guys all redirect their eyes to her in question.

“Y/N? Didn’t you say the art girl was named Y/N?” Yoongi asks.

She stands up, walks out of the garage, and yells, “Hey, Y/N!”

☾☀︎

As you expected, you made the cheerleading team, but you were still excited when you saw your name on the list of those who made it onto the team. Rina also made the team, so you were extra happy.

You changed into your new uniform right after you picked it up and made your routine stop by the convenience store on your way home. You told Mrs Lee, the adorable elderly lady who works there, that you made the team and twirled around to show off your new outfit. She was just as excited as you were and told you how pretty you looked. When you went to pay for your lollipop, she refused to let you pay, saying it was a reward for the special occasion.

So now you are walking home in your cute uniform and with a celebratory lollipop in your favourite flavour: bubble gum.

You think you’ve reached peak happiness at this moment. You can’t wait to get home to tell your mom the news and have her happiness added to it all. You turn the corner to your street and walk down the sidewalk to your house. As you get closer, you notice your neighbour’s garage open, this being your first time seeing any sign of life from the residence.

You pick up your pace, wondering if this is when you’ll finally meet the elusive rock band from next door that you’ve been hearing through the walls all week.

As soon as the garage comes into full view, you hear your name called.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You look up your neighbour’s driveway to see Cherry waving at you. With a big smile, you run up to her and hug her, making sure not to get the sticky candy caught in her hair. The thought of finally meeting the rocker’s neighbours gets instantly forgotten.

“Cherry!”

“What are you doing here?” she laughs as you pull away from the hug.

“I’m on my way home,” you point towards the direction of your house.

“You live close by?”

“Yup!” you giggle.

“And what’s this,” Cherry gestures to your uniform, “You didn’t tell me you were trying out for the cheer team.”

“I guess I forgot to mention it,” you knit your brows and pout briefly before lighting back up, “But isn’t it great! Don’t I look so cute?” You give her a twirl with your arms stretched out at your sides.

The guys watch in amusement while Jungkook slides off the amp, rolling his eyes as he heads over to the mini fridge in the back.

“You look cuter than anything my eyes have ever seen,” Taehyung interjects from his seat.

You glance over Cherry’s shoulder and smile at the boy. She lets out a huff and grabs your hand.

“I guess this is a time as good as any to introduce you to the band,” she tugs you into the garage with her.

“How do you know them?” you ask as you walk behind her.

Cherry turns and looks at you with a confused yet amused expression, letting go of your hand, “Huh? What do you mean? Remember when I asked you for help? I said my boyfriend was in a band with some friends.”

You nod slowly, still not caught up.

She smiles at you and flails her hand at the guys dispersed around the garage, “This is the band. Y/N, meet Army of Bombs.”

Your mouth hangs agape at the news. Your rocker neighbours are the same band Cherry asked you to design for. Wow, another coinkydink!

She pulls Yoongi from the sofa by his arm, “This is my boyfriend, Yoongi. He is the keyboardist of the band.”

He gives you a nod in greeting before a look of realization crosses his face.

“Wait, haven’t we seen you before?” he asks, pointing to you but turning to Seokjin.

You follow his gaze and gasp, “Shoulders!”

“I usually go by Seokjin, but I’ll take the nickname as a compliment,” Seokjin says with a laugh as he gets up to shake your hand.

You laugh as you shake hands while Cherry’s eyes dart between the three of you, puzzled.

“You met her already?” she asks the boys.

“She asked us, well, me, Yoongi — as usual, gave no help, for directions to the office,” Seokjin tells her.

“That was the day I met you,” you add, lifting your lollipop back to your mouth.

“Wow, that’s so crazy. Fate seriously crossed our paths!” Cherry exclaims.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you formally, Y/N. I’m the band’s manager,” Seokjin explains.

“Or, as we like to call him, our roadie,” a voice adds, stepping forward to join the introductions.

“I’m Taehyung, the visual relief of the band, but my official role is bassist,” the boy says, bared with a suave smile. He takes your hand and is about to bring it to his lips when Cherry rips his hold of you and pushes past him.

“He is also the official buffoon; ignore him,” Cherry glances back, glaring at Taehyung, who sticks his tongue out playfully at her before smirking.

“This is Hoseok. He’s the rhythm guitarist. Jimin, he’s the lead singer.” The boys give you a friendly wave and a smile, greeting you.

“Namjoon’s the drummer,” the boy flashes you a dimpled smile.

The name catches your attention, and your perplexed expression has Namjoon and Cherry looking at you bewildered.

“What’s wrong?” Cherry asks.

“Namjoon,” you mutter, tapping your lollipop against your lips in thought.

Namjoon sends Cherry a worried look, and she shrugs.

“Ah!” you exclaim, and they both raise their brows at your sudden outburst.

“You’re the sweet young man,” you smile and point your candy at him.

He gives you an amused chuckle, tilting his head slightly, “Am I?”

You nod, “Yeah, my mom said you were a nice boy.”

“Okay, Joon, going after MILFs now,” Jimin hollers but receives a quick nudge in the ribs from Yoongi and a dirty look from Namjoon.

“Your mom met Namjoon? Where?” Cherry questions.

“Outside,” you point out of the garage, answering Cherry.

The boys let out a small chuckle; Cherry ignores them and gives you a stare, urging you to explain further.

“He helped my mom bring in a heavy box.”

When everyone comes to the same realization, their faces turn to shock. You glance around and giggle at their expressions.

Cherry grabs you by your shoulders and turns you to face her body.

“Y/N, you moved in next door? Like into the house beside this one?” Cherry simplifies, trying to get a clear answer.

“Mhm,” you nod up at her, sucking on your lollipop.

“So you’re the daughter she mentioned,” Namjoon sends you a gentle smile.

“Well, now we know she for sure isn’t one of those students who live their life studying,” Jimin whispers to Hoseok, causing both of them to stifle a laugh.

A clink is heard from the back of the garage, catching your attention. You gaze in that direction, catching a glimpse of a broad back closing the mini-fridge door. As the person turns around, you encounter the most beautiful human you have ever seen.

His dark hair is black like the night sky, his skin is golden like a radiant star, and his eyes are big and intense like a black hole. He is like a galaxy walking on two legs, his gravitational pull too strong to escape; you feel the need to move towards it.

“Oh, right. Y/N, this is Jungkook; he’s the lead guitarist,” Cherry says, though her voice is almost like white noise to you, yet you still hear her.

“Jungkook,” you repeat.

For a brief moment, Jungkook, wearing a blank expression, his eyes unreadable, holds your gaze before breaking it, opening his beer, and walking over to sit on the stool in the corner. But you can’t ignore how your heartbeat quickens, the tingling sensation, how you somehow feel warmer.

“We never got to thank you for agreeing to design our logo,” Namjoon says, pulling you out of your trance and resting a hand on your shoulder.

“O-oh,” you blink, collecting yourself, “It’s no biggie!” you smile brightly.

“You’re doing us a solid; we’ve been searching for someone for months to do it,” Hoseok says.

“I’m so excited to do it and to sit in on your rehearsals. I’ve wanted to meet my neighbours. I can hear when you guys play through the walls, and I’m already a fan. You guys are super duper,” you say, giving them a thumbs-up.

Jungkook scoffs to himself quietly while the rest of the band smiles at you in gratitude.

“We’re excited to see what you come up with. Do you have any drawings so we can see your style?” Jimin asks.

“I don’t have my sketchbook with me; it’s at home,” you shake your head.

The boys give Cherry a doubtful look, which she ignores.

“Oh yeah! I have to go; I told my mom I would be back in time for dinner,” you say.

“Of course. We’ll see your stuff when you come to rehearsal. You’re still coming tomorrow, right?” Cherry asks as she walks you out.

You nod eagerly, “Yup, I’ll be here!”

She smiles, and you hug each other goodbye.

Before you take the few steps to your house, you turn and wave to the band.

“Bye-bye, see you tomorrow! It was nice seeing you again, Shoulders and Shoulders’ friend! And it was nice meeting the rest of you,” you call out, saying the last part while looking at the beautiful boy on the stool.

He doesn’t even acknowledge your words, occupied with his phone. The band bids you farewell, and you head to your house.

As you walk up the steps to your home, you smile with a blush, “Jungkook,” you muse, “What a pretty, pretty boy.”

☾☀︎

After your departure, Cherry turns to the boys with a raised brow.

“She’s nice,” Seokjin nods in approval with a smile.

“I can’t believe the person who asked for directions, the one Cher got to help us, and our new neighbour are all the same girl. What are the chances of all that?” Yoongi raises a finger with each point.

“I can’t believe you failed to mention how hot she was,” Taehyung says in disbelief to Cherry.

“Maybe because that has no relevance to anything,” Cherry deadpans.

“To you, but a hot cheerleader who is a talented artist and lives next door is like the female trifecta,” Jimin says.

“Oh, so now that you guys see she’s cute, you’re suddenly backtracking and agreeing with me that she’s got talent,” Cherry notes.

“I’m more hopeful about it,” Taehyung shamelessly declares with a nod, receiving an unimpressed look from Cherry in return.

“You guys can’t be serious,” Jungkook pipes up.

“What?” Cherry asks.

“You couldn’t find someone whose head isn’t in the fucking clouds.”

“Come on, don’t be so judgemental, Jungkook,” Cherry scolds.

“I have to admit, Cher, I’m still wary that she’s got any real art skills; she does seem a bit... ditzy,” Hoseok says gently, trying not to offend.

“She’s an airhead. I’d be surprised if she can even spell art,” Jungkook comments, his tone harsh.

“All of you should be the last to judge someone so quickly. Do you think when people hear you say you’re in a rock band, they don’t immediately assume you’re a bunch of wannabe rockstar losers before hearing how talented you are?” Cherry rebukes.

“You’re talking as if you’ve seen how “talented” she is,” Jungkook counters, his fingers making air quotes around the word.

“You know just as much about her supposed talent as we do. You’re just being defensive because she’s your new little friend,” Jungkook continues.

“And you’re being rude because she isn’t all doom and gloom like you,” Cherry argues.

“More like I’m calling it as I see it; she’s living in a world of her own,” he ripostes.

“And what does that have to do with her capabilities?”

Namjoon steps in to de-escalate the conversation: “She has a point: We can’t evaluate her abilities based on her personality. I say we wait to see what she shows us before jumping to conclusions,” he says, throwing Jungkook a look of reassurance; he adds, “We may be pleasantly surprised.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook mumbles, backing off. But he remains very doubtful that you can bring anything of substance, not believing that there is anything under your surface of lip gloss, bows, and lollipops that will surprise him.

☾☀︎

The next day couldn’t come fast enough for you; it was a bit after lunchtime when Cherry texted you that she had arrived at the garage and that the band was setting up for rehearsal.

As you skip next door with your sketchbook held to your chest, it feels like you are floating on a cloud. You thought about the pretty boy with the pretty big eyes all night, and you couldn’t wait to lay your eyes on him once again.

The garage door is wide open. You turn to enter and nearly bump into the very man you’ve been eager to see. You look him up and down shamelessly; he is wearing baggy jeans, black chunky combat boots and a white shirt with a black bomber jacket. With a chance to look closer at him, you notice his plump pink lips adorned with two piercings, his right eyebrow pierced, his ears decorated with several earrings, and a small scar on his left cheek.

“Oh, um, hi!” you smile at Jungkook with a tiny wave.

Jungkook gives you a once-over, his face emotionless, and walks away without a greeting.

You pout slightly, glancing down at your pink frilly crop top and white jean skirt, but don’t stay hung up on it for too long as Cherry notices your arrival.

“Barbs, you’re here. Come in,” Cherry waves you over.

She gives you a quick hug, and the rest of the band greets you warmly with head nods and waves.

“Hey, Shortstack,” Taehyung says with a gentle pat on your head.

You giggle at the nickname the tall boy has given you. Cherry sees the book cradled in your arms and smiles at you, excited for the guys to finally see how talented you are and, quite frankly, to see herself.

“Is that your sketchbook? Can we take a look?” she asks.

“Mhm,” you nod and hand her the baby pink sketchbook, a picture of two swans with their beaks touching on the cover.

The guys abandon their instruments as they overhear and huddle around the red-haired girl. You sit on the worn-out black leather sofa, glancing around the grungy place decorated with posters of different rock bands and filled with musical equipment. Your eyes land on Jungkook tuning his guitar in the back, not concerned with seeing your sketches like the rest of the band.

You watch as Cherry opens the sketchbook, and her eyes light up. Her mouth drops open as she flips through the pages, and her eyes widen with the guys’.

“Y-You drew these?” Hoseok asks dumbfounded, pointing at the book.

You nod brightly.

“Holy shit, Y/N! These are amazing!” Jimin exclaims.

“I knew you were talented, Y/N, but I didn’t think you were this good,” Cherry chuckles at the pages, shaking her head.

“They’re okay; I’m better at painting,” you blush at the compliments.

“No need to be humble, kid. These are way better than okay,” Yoongi says.

At Yoongi’s comment, you watch Jungkook walk over to the group, look over their shoulders at your drawings, glance at you, and then walk back over to continue tuning his guitar, all while his face remains impassive.

“Huh, you are like a little Picasso,” Namjoon says with a kind smile.

“Thank you,” you mutter shyly.

“I get why the dean was kissing your feet,” Hoseok says in awe, nodding.

“She didn’t kiss my feet,” you correct, shaking your head with knitted brows.

“He means why she praised your work,” Cherry explains.

“Oh... yeah. Mrs Baek is very nice,” you nod.

The guys all snicker, “Nice? Now that’s the first time I’ve heard that said about her,” Jimin tilts his head to the side with a slight shake.

“Well, the scholarship was nice of her,” you shrug.

They all look at you with faces of astonishment, and you give them the same look in return.

“What?” you ask, eyes wide.

“You got the dean’s scholarship?” Cherry asks, amazed.

“Yeah… is that bad?” you ask, worried at everyone’s shocked expressions.

“Man, we hit the jackpot!” Seokjin laughs with a clap of his hands.

“Getting a scholarship at Borahae, especially in Visual Arts, is very impressive, Barbs,” Cherry says as she comes and sits beside you, handing you back your sketchbook.

“You are very talented, Shortstack. Army of Bombs is honoured to have you design our logo; I’m sure you’ll make us proud,” Taehyung winks.

“I’ll do my bestest!” you declare with a determined nod but then pause before continuing, “On one condition, though,” you say, holding up your index finger.

Their eyes fill with apprehension, “What is it?” Yoongi asks.

“Remember to thank Y/N with $1 million when you become rich and famous,” you smile brightly.

They all chuckle at your cuteness when an irritated voice interrupts.

“Are we rehearsing today or not; because I have other places I could be,” Jungkook says in exasperation.

The boys roll their eyes and then move to take their positions. Seokjin sits beside you and nudges your shoulder with his; you turn to look at him.

“Thank you for helping us; we seriously appreciate it,” he says, shifting his eyes to the band. You follow his gaze to Jungkook. “All of us,” he finishes.

You look back at Seokjin, “I’m happy to do it,” you reply with a soft smile.

Cherry puts an arm around you, pulls you into her side, and gives you a little squeeze. You rest your head on her shoulder as the band begins to play. The loud music you previously had only heard through the walls shakes the room. Your body vibrates, and your ears ring as a sentimental smile forms on your lips at the nostalgia.

���☀︎

It has been two weeks since you started attending the band’s rehearsals, and Jungkook still has not said a single word to you. He barely even looks at you, but when he does, it is brief, as if he is looking right through you.

The rest of the band seems to have accepted you into their circle quite warmly, even Yoongi, who isn’t very expressive; however, Jungkook remains cold and distant. You refuse to believe someone so beautiful could be so closed off. You have never been a girl who gives up quickly, so you have become determined to get the boy to embrace you just as the rest have — maybe even more. You can’t ignore the attraction you feel for him, not just physically, but it seems something deeper is compelling you to him.

Sitting in your newly designated spot on the sofa, Jungkook approaches you, and you perk up at the hope that this is the breakthrough you have been waiting for. But to your disappointment, as usual, your presence is dismissed as though you don’t exist; he reaches to the side table next to the sofa and picks up a water bottle. You stare at him as he chugs the liquid, watching his Adam’s apple bob and the sweat trickle down his neck.

He is captivating and handsome no matter what he does, even with the moody, intimidating aura around him.

Your eyes flicker down his body, and his arm catches your eye. As this is the first time you have seen him without a jacket on, you have never gotten to admire how his right arm, from his fingers going all the way up, is fully decorated with intricate ink designs.

This time, your gawking must be too much for Jungkook because only a second later, he sets his gaze on you.

“What?” he snaps.

You lift your eyes to his own, “What?” you blink.

The roll of his eyes is something you’re familiar with now, so you don’t take it to heart.

He sighs, closes his eyes, and exhales slowly through his nose as if calming himself, “You’re staring.”

You nod, “I am. I always do. You’re so pretty,” you say as if it’s obvious, gazing into his eyes.

You smile when his eyes meet yours. He turns his head to the side, looking away from you and clears his throat.

“You’re staring more than usual,” he states.

You seize the opportunity and jump off the sofa to his side; he flinches slightly at your suddenness.

“I was looking at your tattoos; I never noticed them. I like them! They are almost as pretty as you,” you take hold of his arm to examine the designs.

Jungkook rips his arm out of your grasp like your touch burns his skin. You don’t let his movement stop you, carrying on.

“They must have been painful. You are so brave to have done that,” you point at Jungkook’s arm, smiling in awe.

“They’re tattoos, not battle scars,” he grumbles, his tone grim.

“You’re so funny, Jungkookie,” you giggle.

His head whips, his jaw clenched, and he steps forward, towering over you.

“Don’t call me that,” his teeth gritted, his voice low, almost a growl.

Jungkook’s eyes flash dangerously, throwing a look meant to be a warning, but it completely unfazed you.

“Why don’t you like it? I think it fits you perfectly; your eyes are like big chocolate chips,” you tiptoe to peer into his eyes, not paying attention to how close your faces are to each other.

Jungkook stares back silently, then he leans back, looks to the side, blinks, clears his throat again, and pushes you back by your shoulders.

You turn your head to his big hand on your shoulder and blush; his touch is warm and not too forceful, just enough to create a suitable distance between you.

Then he tilts his head, “Are you always so annoying?” he sighs.

“I don’t think I’m annoying,” you say nonchalantly with a shrug yet pouting.

Jungkook only shakes his head, blinking once again before he walks away with a quiet curse escaping his lips.

☾☀︎

You waltz into the garage, no longer hesitant; it has become a place of comfort for you.

“Hi!” you announce your arrival and are greeted with hellos from those present. Your eyes shift, and you notice that a few members are missing, most notably the man of your dreams.

“Where’s Jungkookie?” you ask, not bothering to name the others absent.

Namjoon picks up on this but doesn’t mention it. He chuckles as he replies, “JK, Tae, and Jimin are on their way; they should be here soon.”

You nod, relaxing slightly; your eyebrows unfurrow, and your shoulders ease.

You settle beside Cherry on the sofa in your spot, pull out your sketchbook from your tote bag and open it to see the rough drawings you have made for the Army of Bombs logo. The book now has several pages of draft illustrations that you hope will lead you to the final design. You also pull out a new lollipop, unwrap it, and pop it into your mouth, humming in satisfaction.

“What flavour is it today?” she grins and nods towards your candy.

You pull out the red sweet and point it towards her with a wink, “Cherry,” you giggle.

“Ah! The superior flavour, as expected, great taste, Barbs,” she says, shooting a finger gun at you.

“Bubble gum is the greatest flavour, actually, but cherry is a very close second,” you correct jokingly.

You hear gravel crunching, and then Jungkook and the other boys enter the garage. His figure almost glowing as you watch him walk in.

“Sup,” Jungkook says, greeting the guys and doing that dap-hug guys do.

“Hi, Jungkookie!” you wave enthusiastically.

You don’t see how Cherry raises a brow at him, knowing his habit of ignoring you. He sighs and turns to you reluctantly.

“Hi,” his voice curt. The second the word is out of his mouth, he turns away, but you beam at the attention.

“Hey, Shortstack.”

Taehyung walks over and hugs you, patting your head.

“Hi, Taetae, where were you guys?”

“We were at the venue for our upcoming gig, just checking some last-minute stuff. Why did you miss us?” Taehyung pinches your cheek.

You nod, although you missed one of them more than the rest. Taehyung chortles, patting your head again with fond eyes.

“Sorry, Shorty. We had to take care of business,” Jimin taps your chin.

“Bold of you to call her Shorty,” Cherry quips, eyes darting up and down Jimin’s body.

“Haha. Funny,” Jimin laughs mockingly, “Why don’t you tell that joke to your boyfriend?”

“Touche, Park,” Cherry narrows her eyes at the mention of her equally short boyfriend.

Although, the whole band still towers over you.

“Why am I getting caught in the crossfire? I’ve been silent,” Yoongi comments.

Cherry waves him off, “Barbs, you should come to the show,” she taps your knee lightly.

Jungkook, whose back is facing you, winces at the invitation. The idea of you coming to their show already agitating him.

“Yeah, Y/N! You have to see us at our full effect!” Hoseok agrees.

“Really? That would be so cool!” you smile, bouncing in your seat.

“She has already been sitting in on all our rehearsals; is it necessary for her to come to our gigs?” Jungkook counters.

“Rehearsals and live shows are completely different,” Namjoon replies, “You have to come and see us to get the total Army of Bombs experience,” he adds, speaking to you.

“It’s not real rock and roll if you don’t have a crowd cheering you on, it’d be great to have you there,” Taehyung says.

“And it’d be great to have someone else to keep me company; Seokjin doesn’t cut it,” Cherry pouts to you.

“Now I’m catching strays,” Seokjin whispers to Yoongi.

“So you’ll come?” Cherry’s eyes are hopeful.

“I’ll come!”

And Jungkook grits his teeth at your answer.

☾☀︎

You’re in your bedroom with Cherry, and the both of you are getting ready to go to the guys’ show. They are playing at a bar known for having live performances—The Golden Bottle. It usually attracts a large crowd, but an even larger turnout tonight is expected since Army of Bombs is well-known in town.

Cherry had picked out your outfit: a hot pink latex strapless mini-dress paired with silver chunky platform heels. It’s still you—as Cherry had put it— “with just a little edge”. Since she picked your outfit, you’re doing her makeup in trade.

“When you told your parents you’re going to see a rock show, did they freak out?” Cherry asks as you apply her eyeshadow.

“No, my mom thought it sounded like fun! Plus, she knows you’re my friend, so she trusts me to go with you,” you tell her.

”What about your dad? You seem like you’d be a daddy’s girl?”

Your hand freezes as you move to pick up the blush brush, but you gather yourself quickly, hoping Cherry doesn’t see your falter.

“Um, my dad isn’t around,” you say, phrasing your words carefully.

“Hey, I understand. My parents are divorced too,” Cherry waves her hand at you, “My dad lives in a different city; I barely talk to him, let alone see him.”

“Oh, no, that’s not... I-I mean, that’s sad too... but,” you stammer over your words, “My dad, he, um, he passed away,” you finally get out.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Y/N—” she begins, her eyes widening with a face of guilt.

“You don’t have to apologize; you didn’t know,” you cut her off, offering her a reassuring smile.

“How long ago? W-wait, oh god, I’m being insensitive, aren’t I? That’s insensitive. I didn’t mean to—” she starts nervously babbling.

“You’re not, Cher,” you let out an airy laugh, “It’s been a little over a year and a half. It was a car accident,” you tell her, knowing she probably wanted to ask but was already feeling remorseful.

”So it’s just me and my mom now,” you say, dabbing the blush brush into the powder.    

Cherry’s sad eyes look down as she fiddles with her fingers in her lap, not knowing what to say. You begin applying the peach powder on the apples of her cheeks.

“But you were right,” you break the silence. “I am a daddy’s girl, but he also would have thought it was super cool that I was going to a rock show.” You smile fondly at the thought.

Cherry smiles, and her body is no longer tense. She gets a view of her reflection in your vanity mirror and gasps.

“Oh my gosh, look at me! If they made a punk rock Barbie, it’d look like me,” Cherry laughs.

”Hey, no fair. You weren’t supposed to see yet,” you fake pout, “I still have to do my finishing touches.”

You twist open a tube of lip gloss and apply it to Cherry’s lips. Your tongue sticks out slightly as you focus, and Cherry pokes at it with her finger, causing you both to giggle.

“Okay! All done,” you back up, admiring your work, “I have finished my new masterpiece. You were pretty before, but now you’re pretty with sparkly eyelids,” you smile proudly.

Cherry gets up and hooks your arms together, dragging you to the full-length mirror to check out your final looks. She is wearing a black leather mini-dress that fits her like a second skin; she looks phenomenal.

“Damn, we look hot!” she exclaims, “Wait till the crowd gets a look at us. I bet the whole audience won’t even be watching the band play; they’ll be too focused on us,” she jokes.

“I hope Jungkookie thinks I look good,” you giggle as you fix some strands of your hair.

“Barbs,” Cherry’s voice now a bit cautious, “You don’t like Jungkook for real, right? Like, have feelings for him?”

“I do,” you nod, your eyes brightening, “Why is something wrong? Does he have a girlfriend already?” you question, worried.

“No, he doesn’t,” she shakes her head.

Your shoulders relax at her answer.

“But,” she continues, “I don’t think Jungkook is the best fit for you,” she rushes to explain when she sees you frown.

“He’s my friend, don’t get me wrong. I get it if you have a crush on him; he’s a good-looking guy. I just don’t think,” she pauses to think over her words, “You’re such a sweet girl, but Jungkook isn’t the type of guy to commit. And when it comes to girls, he isn’t the nicest, and I don’t want you to take him not liking you back personally.”

“He doesn’t have to like me back; me liking him is enough for me,” you shrug and give her a grin. “I think he’s the most handsome guy ever, and I want to get close to him.”

“He doesn’t open up that easily, so don’t take him not being the most caring to heart. He doesn’t consider others where feelings are concerned. You’re my friend, too, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You pull Cherry into a hug, and she rubs your back. When you pull away, you smile.

“Don’t worry about me, Cherry. I like being around him; there’s no harm in that. I won’t get hurt.”

She nods, “Okay, but still, just be careful, alright?”

You nod, and she sighs, “Then, with that, let’s get going, Barbs. Yoongi will have my head if we’re late.”

☾☀︎

You and Cherry enter the bar arm-in-arm, and the smell of sweat, alcohol, and smoke hits you. The aged dark wood reveals how old this dingy bar is. It maintains its historical familiarity, but a few newer elements show the renovations made to keep the place relevant for younger patrons.

The venue is full of people, bustling with life when you arrive. The two of you push through the packed crowd to the front of the stage, with Cherry leading. You navigate through the crowd with relative ease, thanks to her aggressive elbowing, while your eyes wander all over, scanning the mass of people, all about to see Army of Bombs perform.

“There are so many people, it’s like they’re celebrities,” you lean over, speaking directly into Cherry’s ear due to the noise of the patrons, the soft clinking of glasses, loud drunken chatter, others laughing boisterously in their groups.

“In this town, they are. Almost everyone knows of them or at least has seen them play before,” Cherry tells you, leaning in as well.

The lights overhead dim, and then the crowd erupts out into cheers. You can feel the energy pulsing through the air. You and Cherry stand pressed close together, shoulders touching as she keeps a secure arm around you to keep together amongst the upcoming chaos. You can see the silhouettes of the band as they take their positions. You find Jungkook’s figure right away. The stage lights turn on as Jimin takes the mic, and the feedback rings through the speakers.

“What’s up, everyone? We are Army of Bombs! Hope you’re ready to rock out!” he yells before turning and nodding to Namjoon.

Namjoon does the count-off, and the set begins with the last hit of his sticks. Jungkook plays the opening note to the first song, followed by Jimin’s voice as the rest of the band joins in.

The bar’s atmosphere becomes electric with the music, the audience’s screams, the many devil’s horns raised in the air, and the headbanging. The guys are performing their all, but your eyes remain on Jungkook: how fast his fingers move on his guitar strings during his solos, how his melodic voice resounds as he sings backup, and how his body glides around on stage in tune with the melody so effortlessly. The lights shine down, glistening as sweat accumulates on him, and you’ve never seen someone look so angelic and sinful all at once.

You and Cherry get lost in the music, jumping up and down while you sing along to songs that you have now memorized. All too soon, the last notes of the final song of the set fade, and the crowd roars, chanting the band’s name.

The guys all come to the edge of the stage out of breath, bowing and sending out waves and winks to the audience, basking in the glory. Jungkook pushes back his sweat-dampened hair, chest heaving as his eyes sweep the crowd; they find you.

His gaze lingers on you longer than usual, and you swear everything else fades; you two are the only people in the room as your eyes lock. The world moves in slow motion. You get tunnel vision; he is all you can see, and all the screams become white noise. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and feel your blood rushing through your veins. But then the spell breaks, and he’s walking off the stage with the rest of the band.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and spin around, spotting Seokjin standing behind you and Cherry.

“Hey, Shoulders,” you wave.

“Hey, I had to make sure the VIPs of our fan club attended the after-party. I’m heading backstage to meet the guys; I gotta talk to the bar manager, but we’ll be at the lounge afterwards, so meet us there,” Seokjin points his thumb over his shoulder behind him.

“Okay, see you guys there,” Cherry nods.

Seokjin walks through the mass of people and disappears, heading backstage. Once he’s gone, Cherry grabs your hand and leans in to speak to you.

“Let’s go touch up our makeup first,” she says, and you nod. You let her lead the way to the restrooms, holding your hand.

☾☀︎

With the time it takes the two of you to wait in line for the restroom, freshen up your makeup, and elbow your way to the lounge, the guys are already there.

When you approach the entrance to the lounge, a security guard is blocking it. Cherry yells over his shoulder to get Yoongi’s attention. When he sees you two, he walks over and pats the security on the back, telling him to let you two in.

Cherry wraps her arms around Yoongi’s neck, kissing him on the lips and complimenting him on how much of a good show it was, and you think you see a blush form on his cheeks. You smile at their interaction and decide to give them a moment alone.

You look around, hoping to spot Jungkook, but there are too many people in the lounge to get a view of everybody. You spot Namjoon standing in a corner talking to some people, so you go to him.

He shifts his head while in conversation, and once he notices you approaching, he smiles and hugs you.

“Great show, Joonbug!” you speak loudly over the music playing.

“Thanks, I’m glad you made it. I told you it was way different than rehearsals, didn’t I,” Namjoon nudges your elbow with his.

”It was insane; it was like you guys were different people. I felt like I didn’t know you at all,” you laugh, and he does as well.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Invitation is always open to our shows; you’re more than welcome to them.”

“I will! I got told I am a VIP of your fan club, so I can’t disappoint,” you wink, “By the way, where’s everyone else? I want to congratulate them on the show,” you swivel your head around; finally asking the question that you have been itching to ask.

You follow the direction he points to with the neck of his beer bottle and see the rest of the band sitting on the couches surrounded by people, primarily women. You try to mask the frown that threatens to take over your face when you notice Jungkook sitting between two girls, his arm resting on the back of the couch as the girl on his right leans into his side.

Ignoring the twist of your stomach, you saunter over to the couches with your head held high. When you are close enough, Jungkook’s eyes flicker in your direction absentmindedly, and just as he glances away, he does a subtle double take once he registers it’s you approaching. He gives you a discreet up and down as you walk closer.  

Hoseok notices you, already seeming to be a bit tipsy; his arms shoot up like he just shot a goal.

“You made it!” he smiles, his voice booming.

You wave nervously as everyone’s attention lands on you, but your face flushes from having Jungkook in front of you. Jimin and Taehyung give you a much more blatant scan of your body up and down with approving smirks on their face.

Taehyung rests his drink on the glass table in front of the couch and gets up to give you a tight hug. When he lets go, his hands run down your arm, squeezing your hand as he steps back to glance over your outfit again.

“My, my. Shortstack, don’t you look extra lovely tonight,” he says.

“Lovely? She looks fucking hot!” Cherry appears beside you, wrapping an arm around you in a side hug, causing Taehyung’s hand to let go.

“I was going to be gentlemanly with my words, but yeah, you look fucking incredible, Shorty,” Jimin shoots you a wink, raising his bottle.  

“Thank you,” you smile bashfully.

“Speaking of incredible, the performance was fantastic! You all looked so so so cool, you sounded so so so good, and—and everything was just amazing!” you beam, bouncing in place.

“You know how to boost a man’s ego, Y/N,” Hoseok chuckles.

You continue brightly, speaking to Jungkook, “Your guitar playing was really, really awesome, Jungkookie!”

Jungkook raises his brows and stretches his mouth in a tight line, his dimples emerging even though he does not smile.

“Wow, Y/N, I’m sad. You’re just going to ignore your cheer captain without even saying hi?” a voice makes you turn your head.

You failed to catch that the girl sitting to the right of Jungkook was none other than Jess, and with a quick scan, you soon see Mei sitting on his left and Kat sitting next to Jimin. A frown threatens to break out on your face for the second time when you see Jungkook’s arm resting on the backrest behind her. Somehow, it bugs you more now that you know the girl.

You compose yourself, keeping your voice bright, “Oh, Jess, I’m sorry I didn’t know it was you. Hi!”

“I didn’t think I would run into you here. I didn’t know this was your kind of scene,” Jess says, eyes raking over you in a judgemental manner you don’t pick up on.

But Cherry instantly does, and alarm bells go off as she carefully observes Jess’s behaviour. Jungkook sits silently and watches your interaction.

“They invited me to the show; they’re my friends,” you smile as you gesture to the guys.

“Friends, huh?” Jess turns to Jungkook, tilting her head with a fake pout and laying a hand on his chest, “Where was my invite? I thought we were friends?”

Jungkook shrugs in response, taking a sip of his drink. Your breath hitches at their contact, but you keep calm.

Cherry pulls you to sit down with her, and you find yourself sitting directly in front of Jungkook.

“Y/N is designing our band logo for us since she is an art genius,” Jimin says to Jess and motions to you.

“Ah! So you’re working for them,” Jess nods to herself as if she finally understands the situation.

Cherry narrows her eyes but grins as she speaks, “More like she’s a friend helping out; she’s doing the band a huge favour.”

“Well, AoB is the hottest band in town,” Jess rubs a hand along Jungkook’s thigh with her eyes fixed on him.

Your heart clenches. For one, because Jungkook accepts Jess’s touch and welcomes it—something he doesn’t do with you. Also, because she’s pretty, and a pretty boy like Jungkook belongs with a pretty girl like her.

She continues looking at you with a smile.“So I hope you’re able to design something worthy.”

“I hope so too!” you answer warm and cheerfully, oblivious.

“She will,” Cherry says curtly to Jess before switching her attention to Seokjin, “So what did you talk to the manager about?”

“Oh, right!” he claps, remembering his previous conversation. “He was so impressed with the response we received from the crowd that he offered us a full weekend gig! Friday to Sunday, baby!” he hollers.

The band also celebrates, with high fives going all around. You even catch a hint of a smile on Jungkook’s face.

“Fuck yeah!” Jimin fist pumps.

“What are we celebrating?” Namjoon asks as he and Yoongi join the group. He sits beside you, and Yoongi sits beside Cherry.

“We got offered a full weekend gig here,” Hoseok informs them.

“Man, that’s great! Y/N must have brought us good luck,” Namjoon punches your knee lightly.

“Or the manager must have finally caught up with the rest of town and realized how talented you guys are,” Mei says, fluttering her eyelashes.

Seokjin bypasses her comment, “It’s not for another month, and I’m not trying to rush anyone,” he glances at you, “But it would be a perfect time for us to unveil our logo.”

“That would be sick! Do you think you could finish it by then, Shortstack?”

Feeling put on the spot with everyone’s hopeful eyes on you, you stutter, “U-um, I—”

“Don’t pressure her, you nimrod. Art takes time; she’s not a machine,” Cherry chides him.

“It was just a question,” Taehyung defends with his hands raised.

“A stupid question,” Cherry disputes.

Namjoon leans over to you as they bicker, “There’s no pressure, seriously,” his voice soft. He nudges your knee gently with his.

You look at him and nod with a grateful smile.

“Have you designed a logo before, Y/N?” Jess asks.

“No, this is my first one. I’m so excited to do it.”

“Are you sure you can do it? I’m sure you’re good, but a rock band logo isn’t the same style as painting flowers and trees, right?”

This time, her words sting. It’s a common occurrence—people doubting your art. You don’t let it get to you; you know what you’ve done and what you can do. You don’t have to prove your talents to anyone; your work speaks for itself.

“It is, but I am good. I can do it,” you shrug with an assured tone.

“Enough about the logo. You guys are playing a full weekend; I’ve never heard of a band booking three nights in a row here,” Cherry enthusiastically changes topics.

“I know. The manager said he couldn’t remember the last time he booked the same act for an entire weekend, but the crowd’s reaction blew him away,” Seokjin matches Cherry’s enthusiasm.

“We should write a new song and debut it on our first night, create some extra buzz. What do you say, JK? Up to working on one?” Yoongi says, asking the member who has been silent so far.

Jungkook nods, “I have a few different scores I’ve been working on; I recorded some of them already. I’ll send them to you.”  

Yoongi nods in reply. You’re awestruck by this revelation; it shows on your face and tone of voice.

“You can write scores?”

His eyes shift to you, and he nods as his hands fiddle with the rings on his fingers. Your eyes stay locked on each other until Jess’s voice cuts in.

“He’s a musician; obviously, he can write,” she sneers, with Mei and Kat snickering.

Cherry, fed up, is about to clap back, and her mouth opens, but you speak before she can.

“A lot of musicians don’t know how to write or read music,” You lift your fingers and count, “Jimi Hendrix, Slash, Eddie Van Halen, all of The Beatles, some of the greatest guitarists in rock and none of them could write or read scores. So it’s impressive that he can do both.”

Cherry looks at you with proud eyes, and the guys look at you taken aback. Even Jungkook looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes, although his face is still emotionless.

You fail to see how Jungkook hides his smirk when he raises his beer to take a sip and how his arm no longer rests behind Jess.

You bat your eyelashes, chuckle, and add, “But what am I saying? I’m sure you already know playing an instrument isn’t the same as writing scores, right? Since this is more your scene than mine.”

“Exactly, I meant he’s a trained musician, so of course he knows how to do both,” Jess tries to save face, her eyes shifting in embarrassment, “No need to get all defensive, Y/N.”

“Y-Yeah, Jess knows all about rock,” Kat says. Mei nods in agreement.

Cherry scoffs audibly and grabs your wrist, “Let’s go get drinks before I say something I won’t regret and hurt some feelings,” she glares at the three cheerleaders.

She gets up and pulls you with her. When you both reach the bar, she huffs, rolling her eyes, “Can you believe them? What bitches! The nerve! I’m usually a girl’s girl, but—ugh! I hate girls like them, acting all high and mighty when all they are are a bunch of desperate groupies. I was so fucking close to giving her a piece of my mind.”

She glances at you and smirks, “But I didn’t have to, huh? I didn’t know you had it in you. You sure are full of surprises, Barbs. Where did all of that come from?”

“Me? What did I do?”

“Oh, don’t give me that! I know you were giving her a taste of her own medicine. You kept your innocent demeanour but were quick with your comeback about guitarists. How do you even know all that anyway?”

“It’s just something I know,” you say casually with a shrug, hoping to bypass the topic.

Luckily, the bartender comes over before Cherry can say anything else. She tells him her drink order and looks over at you, to which you shake your head, not wanting to drink tonight. When the bartender walks away to make her mojito, she leans in to speak to you.

“I have to pee,” Cherry says as she looks towards the restrooms. “Can you grab my drink and wait for me here?”

You nod and give her a thumbs up, not bothering to give a vocal response over the music. She returns the gesture and manoeuvres through the sea of people.

You puff out your cheeks as you wait, tapping your fingers on the glass bar while staring at the shelves of alcohol bottles on the wall behind the counter illuminated by red and blue lights.

When you feel a hand on your lower back, you turn with a small smile, stunned at how quickly Cherry peed, but instead of your vibrant-haired friend, you face a sweaty, tipsy, dishevelled man.

The man is drenched in sweat but not in a soft glow from dancing. His face is dripping, several beads streaming down. The dark stains on his shirt sticking to his skin are apparent even in the low lighting.

His presence instantly fills you with worry. You step away, sure not to be within arm’s reach of him. He stands in front of you with a greasy smirk; although he is standing in place, his body sways due to intoxication.  

“Hey,” he says over the music, voice a bit louder than necessary.

“Hi,” you reply, leaning over the counter to get a glimpse of the bartender.

The tipsy stranger ducks his head into your view, blocking your line of sight of the bartender. You try to suppress a cringe when the stench of perspiration and booze hits you, burying your nostrils.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing at a place like this? Get lost on your way to an Ariana Grande concert,” he laughs at his lame joke.

“I’m here with friends,” you say, hoping he will leave you alone if you mention you are with people.

It does nothing of the sort, and his smirk widens, “Hmm, with friends, so not with a boyfriend?” he asks, his speech slurred.

“Um—”

He interrupts, stepping towards you, invading your space again, “If I were your boyfriend, I would never let you out of my sight. A sexy woman like you should never be left alone.”

His bloodshot, predatory eyes and creepy attempt at flirting were making you extra uncomfortable; drunk guys and rejection often led to anger, and you did not want this guy to become aggressive with you.

“I-I’m not alone; my friend will be back soon,” you glance over your shoulder, pointing to the restrooms. “Uh, so—”

“I’ll keep you company then. It’s not safe for a gorgeous girl like you here,” he licks his lips and coats them sloppily with his saliva, taking a step closer to you. He leans in, his wet lips disgustingly brushing the shell of your ear, “There are plenty of bad men just waiting to get their hands on a sweet thing like you.”

With the crowd surrounding you, you cannot back away from him. As a sense of panic begins to form in the pit of your stomach, you internally scold yourself for not walking away from this guy the second he approached you.

You try to muster your refusal, but the lump in your throat makes it hard to speak, “I don’t—No, I don’t want—”

You feel physically ill. Your breathing starts to pick up, and your palms turn clammy as they raise to push at the creep’s chest to create even the smallest distance between you two.

Suddenly, the drunk creep is yanked back by the back of his shirt, sending him stumbling back into the people behind him. He barely manages to catch himself with a hand on the bar.

A gasp leaves you, but despite the slight chaos, so does your panic. The man’s red, glassy eyes widen and match yours in shock. Your body stiffens. Slowly, you both turn your heads towards the source, your heartbeat pounding. Your eyes remain the same while his eyes narrow into slits filled with irritation as your sights land on your saviour. And as much as it adds to your shock, instant relief takes over your body, and you visibly relax as you release a breath.

“Everything okay here?”

Jungkook stands beside you, his stance intimidating. Towering with his hands in his front pockets, he shows no sign of agitation, but his stern calmness and his strong physique show he is not to be messed with.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What’s your problem?” the drunkard spits out, too intoxicated to recognize this is one of the guys he just watched perform.

“You good?” he asks, focused on you, completely ignoring the man.

“We were just having some friendly conversation, right, doll?” the persistent creep slurs his interjections, sending you a wink.

“I didn’t ask you,” Jungkook retorts sharply.

“We were just talking, bro. Ease up,” the man tries to defuse the tense encounter he has got himself in.

“Were you guys talking?” Jungkook looks down at you, waiting for your answer.

You look at him with big, uneasy eyes and shake your head.

Jungkook steps in front of you, blocking your view of your harasser. His firm body acts as a shield. You feel so small standing behind him but have never felt more protected, more safe.

Jungkook narrows his eyes in a glare with his chest puffed out, “Looks like now you’re done talking; conversation over. Bro.”

With way too much pride and ignorance, in an attempt to get in Jungkook’s face, the drunk takes a step forward, but instead of standing nose to nose, the men stand nose to chin.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the creep sneers.

But Jungkook doesn’t move. He doesn’t budge.

Jungkook tilts his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. He almost looks amused, but there is nothing funny about the way he lets out a snicker through his nose and bends slightly, burning gaze staring the man dead in the eye to say,

“The guy telling you to fuck off.”

There are about three seconds of them having a stare-down. Jungkook is unrelenting, his confident yet harsh stance unmoving.

The drunkard cracks under the unnerving pressure, and his alcohol-induced cockiness falters. Accepting the evident disparity between the two and becoming reconciled to the physical disadvantage he is at, the drunk finally gives up. With a parting huff, he mutters one last expletive and stumbles away.

You are still left with some remaining shock, partly from that whole interaction and also partly from Jungkook coming to your rescue. Relief could barely settle in your chest before it’s ripped away.

“Thank you, Jungk—”

Jungkook turns around, runs his tatted fingers through his hair, and his eyes settle on you, annoyed.

Your breath hitches, your entire body frozen in place. Jungkook had just jumped in and rescued you from a drunken creep. Yet, there isn’t a single ounce of sympathy in his expression—only irritation. It feels as though you have caused him an inconvenience. Gone is the protective man who was an impenetrable defender. Now stands an uncaring, vexed man.

He clicks his tongue.

“If you can’t hold your own, you shouldn’t come to places like this,” he gestures around vaguely, unimpressed.

“I-I’m sorry, I—”

“Everything’s not all sunshine and rainbows all the time. There isn’t always gonna be someone around to babysit you and come to your defence.”

You are stunned in silence, not expecting to be reprimanded for being cornered by some intoxicated jerk and saddened that this is the most Jungkook has ever spoken to you.

“What? You’re constantly running your mouth and suddenly have nothing to say. Where did all that insufferable boldness go?” he scoffs, continuing, “I mean, you’re a chick at a bar; you didn’t expect some tipsy guy to make a pass at you? You seriously can’t be that naive, Y/N.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself not to cry. Not here. Not in front of Jungkook.

For the first time since meeting him, Jungkook’s gaze is unwanted. You wish his attention were on someone else as you hang your head in shame and embarrassment.

It stings that this is the most you’ve ever heard him speak and the most emotion you’ve ever seen him express, but it’s nothing like what you’ve dreamt of; it’s all negative. It’s hurtful.

That familiar feeling surges back within you: being berated, talked down to, made to feel small.

Overwhelmed by everything that has happened—Jess, the drunk creep, and now Jungkook—all these confrontations are beginning to take a toll on you. You feel your throat tighten, and your breathing picks up once again.

“I d-didn’t—”

“I’m back! Sorry, that line was killer. I swear I was about to piss myself,” Cherry returns. Surprise on her face at seeing Jungkook with you, she quickly looks between you two, sensing the tension and scanning your face; she gently touches your upper arm, “Hey, you okay?”

Still avoiding looking at Jungkook, you sheepishly give Cherry a nod and a tight smile. Jungkook’s gaze drags a quick once-over, a slow run of his tongue over his lip rings, and a sniff before he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“If you insist on bringing her here, watch after your friend.”

Jungkook walks away, and from your peripheral vision, you see the same broad back that was protecting you minutes ago disappear into the crowd.

“What the hell is his problem?” Cherry says as she watches him walk away. “Did something happen? Was he mean to you? I’ll kick his ass if he was an ass to you.”

With a hand still on your upper arm, she uses her other to point in the direction Jungkook walked off to and is already taking a step forward to go after him.

You frantically shake your head, pulling her back by her wrist.

“No, no, he helped me. There, um, there was this creepy guy who was drunk and was bothering me. Jungkookie made him leave me alone.”

Cherry doesn’t hide the astonishment on her face; her eyebrows shoot up so high that if they go any higher, they will touch her hairline.

“Jungkook? He helped you?” she asks in disbelief.

You find her reaction interesting; Jungkook is standoffish, but was it so shocking that he would help someone in need? Even someone as aloof as him would swoop in when they see a damsel in distress and save them, so it shouldn’t be such a shock to his good friend. Right?

Or was this really out of the norm for Jungkook? And if so, why did he save you?

You nod.

“Oh…” Cherry glances in the direction Jungkook went, and after coming out of whatever thoughts were running through her mind, she turns back to you in worry, “Well, what about you? Are you sure you’re alright? He didn’t do anything to you, did he?”

“No, I’m okay. The guy got a bit too close, but Jungkookie showed up before he could do anything,” you reassure her, putting on the best smile you can muster right now.

Her eyes flicker over your face, assessing your expression to be sure you’re telling the truth, and she takes your word with a worried nod. She pulls you into a hug as she sighs in relief.

“Okay, good. I’m glad someone was here to help you. I would have hated myself if my bladder had created the opening for some drunk creep to get to you,” Cherry shudders at the thought, “That fucker, though! What’s with tonight? I’m so sorry, Barbs. I did not want your first AoB show to turn out like this.”

“Don’t feel bad about it, Cher. I’m honestly okay,” you squeeze her hand and gesture around at the bar, “And no offence, but I didn’t expect this place to be crawling with prince charmings,” you giggle, attempting to lighten the mood regarding how the night went.

Cherry also glances around and giggles, “Fair, and hey, I mean, I did say we look hot. I should have been on high alert for creeps. Hotties like us always have to be on the radar for hopeless losers,” she rolls her eyes, smirking.

“I think Yoongs was keeping the losers at bay for you, you know, with his… face,” you wave a hand over your face and laugh.

“Yeah, gotta love my Yoongi the Grouch,” Cherry smiles fondly, her eyes twinkling at the topic of her boyfriend, “He’s like my own personal creep deflector. We should get back to him before we start attracting them,” Cherry grabs her mojito, the glass now covered in condensation.

“Do you mind if I go home? There has been a lot of excitement for me for one night. I’m still getting used to this rock and roll lifestyle.”

“Sure, let me finish this drink and tell Yoongi; then we can head out.”

“You don’t have to leave because of me. I can go on my own; I don’t want to ruin your night,” your words trail off as Cherry sends you a look.

“Barbs, I invited you. We came together, and we’re leaving together. I have been to enough shows; I know I’m not missing anything. Plus, I would never let you go alone at this time. Are you crazy? What kind of friend would I be?”

You smile, this one reaching your eyes. You have to blink back tears. Cherry’s friendship is unwavering; she is one of a kind.

With that, Cherry lifts her drink to her lips and chugs it down like it’s water, and you two are off to tell Yoongi that you’re heading out.

When you return to the lounge, subconsciously, your eyes find Jungkook. He’s back to sitting on the couch with Jess tucked into his side as if he never left that spot. You catch his eyes flicker over to you so briefly that you almost doubt it even happened.

Yoongi notices Cherry return without a drink and gives her a questioning look. She leans down slightly to speak to him.

“We’re going to go home now; tonight’s been a lot for Y/N,” Cherry tells him. Without Cherry even asking, Yoongi nods, downs the rest of his beer, and gets up to leave with the two of you.

“No way! You guys are going? You can’t leave yet!” Hoseok calls out.

Namjoon smirks at you, “Party too hard, Little Picasso?”

“I was right; this isn’t your scene after all, huh?” Jess remarks with that antagonizing smile you are becoming familiar with. Mei and Kat snickered at her remark.

“No, some drunk bastard was harassing her,” Cherry speaks for you.

That shuts Jess up quickly and catches the band’s attention. Jungkook sits up straighter as his body tenses. The rest of the guys focus on you, their faces now serious.

Jimin and Taehyung stand up, “Are you okay, Shortstack? Did he touch you?”

“I’m okay,” you smile, shaking your head lightly.

“Who was the son of a bitch? We’ll find him and take care of him,” Jimin says.

You wave your hands to stop them.

“It’s fine now. You guys don’t have to. It—He’s been taken care of,” you tell the guys to calm them down, your eyes going to Jungkook for a fraction of a second.

Jungkook, who is still avoiding looking your way, is biting on his lip rings—but otherwise seemingly totally removed from the conversation.

“I don’t want to cause trouble,” your voice is smaller than usual, but your eyes are as big as a scared puppy, and you can feel your face heat up again from all the unwanted attention you’re causing.

“We can’t let him get off scot-free, especially doing something like that on our night here and to one of our crew,” Namjoon remarks.

Being called part of their crew doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you are too worried about them causing a ruckus because of you, especially after the whole Jungkook thing, his words still lingering in your head.

“There isn’t always gonna be someone around to babysit you and come to your defence.”

“She’s right; he’s been dealt with already,” Cherry says, her eyes locking on Jungkook, who meets her gaze, holding it for a moment, then continues, “I don’t think he’ll be a problem again. Y/N wants to get out of here, and I can’t blame her. I would want to call it a night, too.”

Reluctantly, the guys settle down, and Taehyung pulls you into a hug and cranes his neck to look at your face, “This didn’t scare you off from coming to our shows, right?”

“Y/N? Are you kidding? Nah, she just joined the fan club; I even made her a VIP. Of course not,” Seokjin says, winking and playfully ruffling your hair.

The drastic change of now being flooded with words and touches of comfort warms you and melts away the anxiousness.

“Yeah, I can’t give up my spot that quickly,” you laugh.

“Well, just to be sure, I’m promoting you to fan club president, so it’s mandatory to attend live shows,” Taehyung narrows his eyes and points at you.

“Yes, sir!” you bring your hand to your brow in a salute.

“Get some rest, Prez. We’ll see you at rehearsal,” Jimin bids you farewell, hugging you tight and kissing the top of your head.

Hoseok and Namjoon also hug you goodbye. While hugging Namjoon perched on your tiptoes, you glance at Jungkook over Namjoon’s shoulder.

Jungkook, with his typical impassive expression, has his arm back to resting on the backrest behind Jess. He faces her as she leans into him, whispering in his ear, her nails running up and down his thigh, her hand getting close to his crotch; you’re sure her fingers have grazed over it.

You tear your eyes away once you feel a hand pat your back, “Let’s get you home, kid,” Yoongi says gently.

You give him a soft nod and smile, turning to leave. With your back turned, you’re unaware of how Jungkook’s eyes trail after you. Jess, however, is very aware; she follows his gaze when she sees how uninterested he is in her flirty words and wandering hands.

You hear a voice call out.

“I’ll see you at practice Monday morning, Y/N,” Jess says with her phoney smile, her hand still inappropriately gripping Jungkook’s thigh.

You plaster on a smile that matches hers and seal it with a friendly wave.

“See you bright and early Monday, Captain!” you hesitate but decide to continue, “Bye, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook appears surprised by how his eyes widen slightly, his brows twitching, but you get no other kind of acknowledgement of your goodbye. Not a word, a wave, not even a nod.

You and Cherry tell the guys one last goodbye, and Yoongi gives them a nod before you three make your way to the exit and bring an end to this eventful night.

“I should’ve asked her what the guy looked like. I could’ve told the manager to keep an eye out for him,” Seokjin mentions after your departure.

“The girls made it sound like he won’t show his face around here anymore, but we can tell them to let us know if he does,” Namjoon says.

What you don’t know, what the guys don’t know, is that Jungkook did talk to the manager. He had him check the cameras and pointed out the guy. The drunkard is banned from the bar now.

☾☀︎

You are at cheerleading practice, doing some warmup stretches with Rina by your side. Today, the team is supposed to be running through a routine for an upcoming game; this will be your first performance since joining the team, and you are so excited to experience that rush again.  

You are helping Rina stretch, holding her leg down, when you see Jess and her minions walking across the field towards the team.

Jess jumps into business without greeting the team; she claps her hands twice and yells, “Okay, into your starting positions! You should all have this down by now; if not, don’t bother. I expect perfection.”

Practice ensues, and it’s not the smoothest. Some people make minor mistakes: a little stumble, timing a bit off, pose slightly mispositioned. But Jess watches them like a hawk, scrutinizing everyone’s performance or sending Mei or Kat to chastise them immediately if she doesn’t do it herself.

As the end of practice nears, the field erupts into mild chaos as the football team arrives, gathering for their practice. Their booming voices and boyish roughhousing practically take over the area. The quarterback, Mingyu, walks away from his team; the players are huddled at the side of the field by the bleachers while waiting their turn.

He approaches Jess, Mei, and Kat. He is still far from them when he calls, “Hey, Jess. Are you guys coming to the party tonight?”

You are performing the routine flawlessly, as you always do when Jess stops when she reaches you as she makes her rounds around the team.

There hasn’t been any mention of seeing each other that night at AoB’s show, so you thought Jess had moved past it. The little back and forth you two had was probably so minuscule in her whirlwind of a life that she must have forgotten about it already.

“Hey, Gyu, hmm, I don’t know. Jungkook and I were supposed to hang out tonight. Unless he’s going, too,” Jess turns to you, “Y/N, you’re friends with Jungkook and his band, right? Do you know if they’re going to the party?”

“I don’t know, they haven’t mentioned anything,” you shrug, “But if you already have plans with him, why would he go to a party? ” you ask, slightly out of breath.

Rina’s eyes widen beside you, and Mingyu laughs lightly with his head down. You are unaware and lost in your genuine curiosity when Mei interjects.

“Well, obviously, if he didn’t mention it, then he’s not going because he has plans with Jess,” she narrows her eyes at you.

“You can hang out at the party; it’s gonna be wild! You know how we Borahae Bears get down! You should still pull up. All of you,” Mingyu says loud enough for everyone to hear, motioning to the cheer team.

Mingyu speaks directly to you when he adds, “Tell Jungkook and the guys to come, you as well,” he smiles.

“Thanks! I’m going to their rehearsal later, so I’ll let them know,” you smile back at him.

“And if I talk to him first, I’ll tell him,” Jess adds.

“R-Right,” Mingyu nods stiffly, his eyes shifting between you and Jess.

“Well, I should go start getting ready for practice,” Mingyu points a thumb over his shoulder, “But I’ll hopefully see you all tonight,” he flashes a wink before turning around and jogging back to his team.

“A party sounds like a lot of fun!” you say to Rina with a big grin, softly clapping your hands.

With you not facing her, Jess narrows her eyes at you while clenching her hands into fists, yelling, “Practice is over!”

You flinch at the sound and see her spinning around and storming off the field with Mei and Kat running after her.

���☀︎

Since the night at the bar, things haven’t changed regarding your interactions with Jungkook—or lack of interaction, you should say. You’ve been attending the band’s rehearsals as usual, and just as he was before, Jungkook ignores your entire existence. But of course, just as you were before, you don’t let that stop you.

Despite his harsh words, you can’t forget how he was like your knight in shining armour that night. After spending a month in his presence, he may not treat you like a friend or be as cordial as you would like, but he was there for you when you needed help. He stepped up without being asked and protected you. To you, that means something, so even if he continues to ignore you, you won’t ignore him.

Jungkook can keep up his cold, grumpy attitude, but you know, within him, there is a kind man. What he said to you may have been hurtful at the moment, but when you reflected on it in bed that night, his words sounded more like a lecture for your safety than an insult. And although he may disregard you, he has never really been rude to you despite your persistent efforts to get close to him.

So tonight, like every other time you’ve entered the garage, you say hello to all the guys present—including Jungkook.

“I’m here!” you sing, dragging out the words as you skip in, still in your cheer uniform and, of course, with a lollipop in your mouth. It’s watermelon flavour today. And once again, Mrs Lee didn’t let you pay; something about that being the last one of that flavour, so there was no point in charging you for it.

“Hey, Prez,” Jimin smiles as he looks you over, “Had practice today?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “Hey, Jungkookie!”

Jungkook keeps tuning his guitar without raising his head to spare you a glance. Taehyung, standing beside him, gives him a serious look, “Dude.”

Jungkook raises his head, “Hi,” lowers it and resumes tuning his guitar.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, swinging his bass around to hang behind him, “Hey, Shortstack, how was practice? Were you getting thrown around in the air today?”

“No, not today, Taetae,” you giggle, “But I did tumble a lot today; look how red my hands are!”

You pop your lollipop into your mouth and hold your palms up in his face, “I’m going to end up with ugly, rough hands like you guys,” your words mumble due to the candy as you pout with a slight grimace.

Taehyung grabs your wrists with a fond smile, then furrows his brows as he pretends to examine your hands, “Well, aren’t you one tough cookie.”

You smile—wait, cookie, cookie. Hmm, why does that remind you of something? Cookie? Cook? Jungkoo—Jungkookie! Right!

You gasp, startling the members; even Jungkook’s head shoots up. He watches you sceptically as you approach him.

“I almost forgot! Jungkookie, I’m supposed to tell you about the party.”

“What party?” Cherry jumps in, asking as she and the rest of the members walk through the door, entering the garage from inside.

She walks over and throws an arm around your shoulder as you answer, “The football leader told me to tell Jungkookie and the guys to come to his party. What did he say… teddy bear party?” You tap your chin, thinking.

“Football leader? Do you mean the captain, Mingyu? The Bears are having a party?” Namjoon asks with an amused grin.

“Mingyu! That’s his name!”

“Sometimes I forget you hang around those frat douches,” Cherry says.

“You know, I think I remember Jaehyun telling me about the Bears having a party at the frat house,” Jimin comments.

“Why would Mingyu tell you to tell JK about the party?” Hoseok asks.

“During practice, Jess asked me if you all were going, even though she has plans with Jungkookie tonight,” you point to Jungkook with your candy. He looks confused by what you’re saying, but you continue, “But I told her I didn’t know, so Mingyu said you all should go. He invited the cheer team, too!”

“You have plans with that bitch?” Cherry asks Jungkook.

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head, then juts it to you, “I don’t know what she’s going on about.”

“Jess said you’re hanging out with her tonight. You’re not?” you ask Jungkook, looking up with big, hopeful eyes.

He looks down at you, surprisingly meeting your gaze, “No, I’m not,” he sighs.

You release a breath and can’t hold back the smile on your face, “Oh... okay,” you break eye contact, looking down at your feet as you blush. His stare and words take over you; you honestly didn’t expect a direct response from him.

Cherry squeezes your shoulder, “You seriously wanna go to this party?”

“Yeah, I have to! My friend on the team is going, and I told her I would go,” you see the look of reluctance on Cherry’s face.

“Pretty, pretty please! The muscle bear said it would be fun,” you add, attempting to convince her.

“Wait, did I hear you say the cheer team is going? Like the whole team? As in multiple cheerleaders at one party?” Jimin asks you.

You nod.

And Jimin turns to the band with a firm nod and says,

“We are going to this party.“

☾☀︎

The frat house comes into view, music already pumping through the walls. You can hear the music as you walk up the porch steps, the bass thumping through the floorboards under your feet. People pack the house from the inside to the backyard; even the front lawn has a few partygoers scattered. You’re arm in arm with Cherry as you step into the house, with Yoongi and Namjoon behind you, having chosen to come here with you two instead of leaving with the others. A decision they later regretted if their groans about how long you two took to get ready are any indication.

“Okay, first objective: find the alcohol. If I’m going to be mingling among jocks, I need to be intoxicated,” Cherry announces.

The three of you chuckle at her, but the guys lead the way to the kitchen anyway. You glance around, bodies swaying to the beat on the makeshift dancefloor in the living room, pairs locking lips against the walls, a rowdy game of beer pong in the corner. Your eyes fail to find any familiar faces; although you don’t catch sight of a certain doe-eyed boy, you are scanning the place in search of Rina.

You refocus when a red solo cup gets shoved into your hands. You sniff it, scrunching your nose at the strong smell; nevertheless, you cheers with Cherry and down the drink—tequila, oh God, it’s tequila— in one go. Once the shot burns its way down your throat, you ask Namjoon to mix you a drink, asking for something much sweeter this time.

With your drink in hand, you pull Cherry in, “I have to try and find Rina.”

She nods and turns to say something in Yoongi’s ear; he nods at her in reply, and then you are off to search for your teammate. Luckily, you don’t have to search for too long; you’re passing the beer pong table when you notice a head of strawberry blonde hair sitting on the sofa nearby. You grab a hold of Cherry’s wrist as you guide her over with you.

“Rina!” you call out.

Only when you get closer do you see that she is sitting with none other than the guy who invited the team himself: Mingyu. Rina pauses midcoversation, turning away from him.

“Y/N!” she jumps up and smiles as she swoops you into a hug. You chuckle at your seemingly already intoxicated friend.

“This is Rina, my closest friend on the cheer team,” you say to Cherry, then switch to Rina, “And this is my bestie for the resties, Cherry.”

The girls give their greetings after your little introduction, and just as you expected, the three of you get along seamlessly. After a few minutes, Rina seems to remember the football player she was conversing with earlier; she sits back down beside him, bringing him into the conversation, “I was just telling Gyu, I can’t recall the last time I’ve seen so many people enjoying themselves like this. It’s nice.”

The nickname doesn’t go unnoticed by you, nor does the way Mingyu flushes it; you make a note to tease Rina about it another time.

“It is! Thanks again for the invite,” you say to Mingyu.

“Don’t mention it,” he flicks his hand, “The football and cheer team have always had a good bond. Oh, and thanks for extending my invite.”

Mingyu tilts his head to the side, and you turn to see Jimin and Taehyung playing against Hoseok and Seokjin in a game of beer pong. Your eyes wander behind Jimin, landing on Jungkook braced against the wall, drink in hand.

When you set your sights on him, your knees almost give out. He looks hot—somehow hotter than usual. He is wearing his signature baggy jeans and black chunky combat boots; his black leather jacket, unzipped to display how his fitted white shirt hugs his firm body that sets you off, and his fingers, clad with several silver rings, send you right over the edge.

Beside him stands Jess, who is without her two sidekicks for the first time. She is leaning into him, whispering in his ear, and you get a sense of Deja Vu; images of them from that night at the bar flash through your mind, but you shake them out.

Jungkook said he didn’t have plans with her. She’s here because Mingyu invited her to the party. Jungkook wouldn’t lie to you—or at least he has no reason to. If they had plans to hang out together, he would have just said so.

Last time, your disappointment held you back from interfering, but this time, you have the warmth and courage of alcohol coursing through your veins. So, with a confident stride, you head in their direction.

“Prez!” a very tipsy Jimin stops you, tackling you into an embrace.

“Hey, Chimchim,” you pat his back.

He pulls back, but his hands remain on your shoulders, clutching them, “Thank you for reminding me about this party, Prez. This is amazing! You are the best! Forget president! You are officially the queen of the fan club,” he slurs.

“Man, how are you already this far gone?” Cherry walks over.

“Cher!”

He tackles her next, swaying their bodies back and forth. Now free from the shackles that are Jimin, you spin around and find your target with his eyes already on you. You don’t let it sway you.

You exhale sharply, then force yourself to meet his gaze. And then, with zero hesitation,

“Hi, Jess,” you give her the briefest of glances, then settle on Jungkook, “Hi, Jungkookie, you look handsome!” you run your hand down one side of his jacket along the zipper.

His eyes widen in shock, and his lips part, but no words come out due to Jess’s interruption.

“Y/N, I see you made it. Jungkook and I were talking about you and your little mix-up earlier. We cleared it up, though; no need to worry.”

She takes a small, almost inconspicuous step forward, her body between you and Jungkook’s. She squeezes your elbow in faux cordiality, and you’re left puzzled.

“Mix-up? What do you mean?”

“At practice today, you misunderstood when I said I wanted to message Jungkook about hanging out at AoB’s next show, for me saying he and I had plans for tonight.”

Now, as much as you may be a bit forgetful, there is no way you mistook how she went on about having plans with Jungkook tonight. She made it clear right when Mingyu mentioned the party.

“No, I didn’t, you said—”

“It’s okay; I understand how you could get confused.”

Jungkook is still looking at you from behind Jess with an expression you can’t determine. Being blamed for something untrue this blatantly with your crush watching would typically embarrass you, but being portrayed as a liar bothers you.

“That’s not what happened, you said—”

“Little Picasso, it looks like you need a refill. Let’s get you one, come on,” Namjoon suddenly comes behind you.

He takes you by the shoulders and guides you to the kitchen; you don’t have time to grasp what’s happening.

Once at the array of bottles, Namjoon begins mixing you a drink. While pouring the liquid into a new red plastic cup, he speaks.

“You shouldn’t let her get to you.”

“Hmm?” you watch him.

“Jess. She’s trying to get a rise out of you, don’t let her.”

“But what she said wasn’t true. I heard her. I would never lie to Jungkookie,” you fret.

There’s a pause as he finishes mixing your drink and hands it to you. He sighs, “People like you are better off staying clear of people like Jess, who provoke others to make themselves feel superior. She’s the kind who will always take the opportunity to walk all over you if you let her.”

“We’re on the same team; I can’t avoid being around her. And she’s the cheer captain, so I can’t be rude to her.”

“I can respect that,” he nods with a sympathetic smile, “But that doesn’t mean you should let yourself get belittled.”

You lower your head, swishing around the drink in your cup.

“She’s patronizing because she feels threatened by you.”

“I never did anything to her,” you pout.

“No, I’m sure you didn’t,” he mulls his words, “Evny comes out without you having to incite it. From what I heard from Cherry, you are an equally talented cheerleader as she is, dare I say more. Among your other great qualities, you also seem to be gaining attention in other areas where she seems to fall short,” he smirks after his statement.

Namjoon looks over at Jungkook and Jess, the latter failing to capture the interest of the man beside her despite her forceful attempts. With your cup covering your view from taking a sip of your drink, Namjoon averts his eyes before you notice.

“Huh?” you wonder what other areas you’re exceeding Jess in.

He shakes his head, bypassing you, and continues.

“There aren’t many people like you, Y/N. You’re a very positive person, and the world needs that. Plenty of things and people will try to test how brightly your light shines but never dim it.”

His words wrap around you like a hug, a much-needed hug. A comfort you didn’t realize you needed till now.

“Thanks, Joonbug,” you smile, but a frown soon takes place, “I don’t like this, though. I don’t care if she doesn’t like me, but I don’t want her to make Jungkookie not like me too.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Jungkook isn’t someone easily deceived; I wouldn’t worry about that,” Namjoon pats your shoulder reassuringly.

☾☀︎

After your talk with Namjoon, Cherry came looking for you with Yoongi in tow, and Cherry, ever the encourager, kept the drinks flowing. One shot became two, and two became seven. You stopped counting drinks during several rounds of beer pong against Hoseok and Taehyung.

How Jimin got cut off by Seokjin but not you two is beyond you.

Now you and she have some concoction of a cocktail in hand as you dance—or try to dance in your heels to the EDM music blasting through the speakers.

After the current song ends, you and Cherry crash down onto the sofa, out of breath and plastered. The party is still in full swing around you. You two chat and giggle about insignificant topics for a while; your sense of time has long gone. There’s a peaceful lull in between when you are both sitting there with your head resting on her shoulder, no talking, just being. Your lingering thoughts break through the pause.

“Cher, do you think I’m naive?”

“Hmm? Where did that come from?”

“Just—” you shrug, “Do you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

The words pierce through the noise of the party; you wince, deflating emotionally and physically. You slouch deeper into the sofa. Cherry doesn’t seem to catch on to the effect of her words, yet she doesn’t stop there.

“You have this… innocence about you. A pureness as if you have been untainted by the world. It makes me want to shield you from it.”

“You don’t think I’m… useless?”

Cherry cranes her neck to look down at you so fast you’re surprised she doesn’t get whiplash. Her eyes widen.

“No! Why would you ask that? Did someone call you useless?” she sits up straight.

You pull her back to sit comfortably and place your head back on her shoulder.

“No. Not recently, anyway; I have been called that before. I was just curious what you think.”

Cherry rests her head against yours.

“Do you think you’re useless?” she asks gently.

You shake your head, “There was a time I did; someone I thought loved me made me doubt myself. I know other people’s opinions don’t matter. But I still care about how the people that matter to me think of me, and you matter to me.”

“I think you are naive, but not in the typical sense. You are one of the wisest people I’ve ever met. And that’s saying something when you know someone like Namjoon,” you both chuckle at that.

Cherry reaches for your hand and holds it.

“It takes a certain kind of person to walk through life so optimistic and unaffected by—well, by life.”

You inflate; your self-esteem is experiencing a huge boost tonight.

“You matter to me too,” she squeezes your hand, “I have always been a protective person, but the guys have always been around to look out for me. Since I’m an only child, I’ve always considered them family, so it’s nice that I have a sister to look out for now.”

The sentimental bubble bursts when Yoongi emerges, smirking down at your bodies on the couch as if dumped there.

“There’s my little boozer,” Yoongi pinches Cherry’s cheek with a grin on his face like a Cheshire cat.

She swats away his hand, and he laughs.

“You ready to head out? I should get you home before your mom sends the cops after me,” he tilts his head towards the front door.

Cherry groans, tossing her head back against the couch.

“Going home means moving. I don’t know if I can manage that,” her eyes are shut while she speaks.

“Again, with the dramatics,” Yoongi grabs her hands and pulls her up with a soft grunt.

“You too, kid. Let’s go,” he reaches out and pulls you up.

The three of you walk to the door, you and Cherry stumbling, Yoongi trying to make sure neither of you falls on your face. When you see Yoongi’s shielding hand on Cherry’s lower back, you remember Jungkook. You were having so much fun in your tipsy state you didn’t realize you hadn’t seen him since you tried talking to him earlier when Jess tried embarrassing you.

The cool night air washes over you; the contrast to the inside instant. The crisp breeze kisses your hot skin, and a shiver runs down your spine as you step onto the porch. The muffled music and laughter echoed from inside; you shut your eyes and inhale deeply to try and sober up with fresh air, but instead, breathe in the scent of cigarette smoke.

You have no time to relax when Yoongi’s low voice cuts through the quiet night air.

“Oh, sick, you’re here. I need to take Cher home, so make sure Y/N gets home,” Yoongi tells someone.

“Why me? Get one of the guys to take her.”

You open your eyes, and there on the porch is Jungkook, smoking a cigarette. The smoke curls up into the air as he holds it near his face, halting his movements at Yoongi’s order.

“Jimin and Tae are even more wasted than these two, believe it or not,” he refers to his girlfriend and you, “So Seokjin has his hands full with them. And I have no idea where Hoseok and Namjoon are.”

“Throw up,” you mumble.

Jungkook and Yoongi both quickly look at you with startled expressions.

“Hobi went to throw up. Joonbug is with him,” you drawl, clarifying.

“There you go, that’s why you,” Yoongi claps Jungkook on the shoulder.

“If anything happens to her, I’ll rip one of those piercings out of your face, Jeon,” Cherry rounds Yoongi and stands chest to chest with Jungkook poking at his chest threateningly.

Cherry hugs you goodbye, and the couple are off before Jungkook can make any more protests.

Just like that, you are left alone with the guy you have been enthralled with since you met him. The thumping bass and the joyful murmurs are the only sounds between you and Jungkook as you both stand there in painful silence.

You keep your gaze locked on the street, trying to focus on anything but the suffocating presence beside you.

Jungkook leans against the railing like he has nothing better to do, smoking the remainder of his cigarette, his gaze fixed in the distance on the night sky. You sigh, side-eyeing him as you shift, restless with your arms crossed. You try to remain calm, but inside, you are as excited as ever, pondering how to use this chance to your advantage.

He doesn’t attempt small talk or any other interaction, so you leave him immersed in his thoughts.

What makes this situation a little more nerve-wracking is that you know you are not really in his good books. Yet, you can’t miss out on this moment with him because being alone like this won’t happen again so smoothly. He dismisses you whenever he gets the chance or keeps his engagement short and curt when he does pay you attention.

A beat of silence later, you ask cautiously, “Did you have fun?”

“I did,” for the first time in minutes, he looks at you. “Until I got stuck chaperoning,” he snarks.

“There isn’t always gonna be someone around to babysit you and come to your defence.”

His sharp response had felt like a slap. Your drunken pride steps in, “You don’t have to. I can take care of myself,” you meekly contest.

Jungkook doesn’t answer this time.

Instead, he merely shifts his gaze from you to the empty, streetlight-lit road ahead before he begins to move. He drops the butt of his cigarette, putting it out with the toe of his boot, then stomps down the steps as he takes out his phone from his back pocket.

You follow immediately, walking by his side until he says, “I’m ordering an Uber.”

Your chest tightens, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

It all flashes before you in a millisecond.

Tires screeching. Glass shattering. Metal crunching. Blood. Pain. Fear.

“No!” you react instinctively and grab his arm, stopping him.

When you meet his eyes, Jungkook eyebrows furrow. Surprised and annoyed, he sends you an intense, fiery glare.

“I can’t take an Uber,” you shake your head frantically.

“Do you expect me to fly us there?” he huffs, pulling his arm out of your hold.

Your mouth opens and closes, but your throat seals shut. What possible defence could you offer?

Your nails carved crescents into your palms as you clenched your fists, your eyes tightly shut, “I-I just can’t ride in an Uber,” you force out quietly, ashamed; your voice is barely audible. A single tear slips down your cheek before you hurriedly wipe it away

Jungkook hears your voice crack and your sniffle. His scowl falters for a split second as he takes in your appearance—your teary eyes, chest rising and falling far too quickly, hands trembling at your sides. You are practically hyperventilating.

“Jesus…” he wavers, staring at your face, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes flicking around awkwardly, “You don’t have to cry about it.”

He shifts uncomfortably; abruptly, he walks away, his back now to you. You are left standing there like an abandoned kitten. He calls over his shoulder without even looking at you,

“You gonna stand there and sulk all night? Are you coming or not?”

His voice is cold and detached—as if he’s doing this out of obligation rather than concern.

Your eyes narrow, and your lips press into a thin line.

“Not,” you frown.

Jungkook freezes, leans his head back, looks up at the stars and groans, dragging his hands down his face in frustration. He lets out a slow breath before turning to you to speak again,

“What?”

You shake your head, cross your arms in protest, and pout, “I don’t want to go with you if you’re going to be a grumpy pants.”

He looks genuinely perplexed. As if you have just spoken in tongues.

“Grumpy pan—Are you a child?“

You remain silent, fixed in your spot. Feet planted on the sidewalk, arms crossed, as you and Jungkook engage in a staring contest.

Jungkook rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek, cocks his pierced eyebrow. He squints his eyes at you, slipping his hands into his front pockets, “And how exactly do you plan on getting home then?“

“By myself,“ your chin lifts defiantly.

“By walking there. The same route I have to walk. Because we’re neighbours,” he deadpans.

Oh. Right. Damn, you didn’t think that through. You try to conjure up your next comeback to counter.

“Do you always have to be this difficult?” he exasperates.

“Hmph!” you stomp your foot, turning away from him to face the road.

Jungkook, for a brief moment, can’t tell if he wants to laugh or cry.

“For fuck’s sake,” Jungkook mutters his curse to himself between gritted teeth, exhaling a long aggravated breath before returning to your side.

“Alright.”

You ignore him.

Jungkook places a hand on your upper arm, using it to have you face him. The warmth of his touch vanishes just as quickly as it came.

“Look, let’s just walk home. I won’t say anything,” Jungkook holds his hands up in surrender.

You peek at him through your lashes, “You won’t be a meany? You’ll be nice?”

“I won’t be mean,” Jungkook replies, disregarding the second part of what you said.

“And…” You bite your lip, trying not to smile. Your eyes are innocent, but your tone is playful when you tiptoe, lean in a little, hesitantly, and say, “We can stop to buy a lollipop on the way?”

Jungkook, holding onto his last bit of strength, doesn’t say anything. He breathes through his nose, pressing his lips together and responding with a stiff nod.  

Like a flip of a switch, your mood brightens so fast that Jungkook flinches slightly.

“Yay! Okay, let’s go,” you cheer and brush past him.

Jungkook is stunned as he watches you head off, swaying your hips.

“Come on, Jungkookie!” you yell back to him.

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

That damn name.

Jungkook walks after you, wanting to hurry and get you home as fast as possible so he can get away from you just as fast.

He is left thinking about how he has a feeling that wasn’t his last hurdle of the night.

☾☀︎

Jungkook, true to his word, is on his best behaviour. But that is because he doesn’t utter a word on the walk to the convenience store. Even when your heel snags on the sidewalk and you lose footing, he catches you by the elbow with a displeased grunt and proceeds on.

“Are you seriously going to stay silent the whole way?” you wonder.

Silence.

Your shoulders brush his as you walk, your steps in sync with his, although yours are more clumsy.

“I know you said you won’t say anything, but it feels like I’m walking with a ghost,” you mope.

Silence.

You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands, “Maybe you are a ghost,” you raise a hand to poke at his bicep.

Is he made out of stone or something? His arm is rock solid, like a statue. Having the perfect view of Jungkook’s profile, he does look like an ancient Greek sculpture, with chiselled features and sharp, distinct edges that Adonis would envy. With the moonlight breaking through his hair, you marvel at his beauty.

Jungkook tuts and throws you a disapproving glare.

“Didn’t you want me not to be mean?“ he gruffs.

You gasp again dramatically, “Oh my gosh! I can’t believe it, he speaks,” you joke.

The thought flashes through Jungkook’s mind. With your wide, happy smile, your hands cupping your cheeks. How you look up at him with big eyes, sparkling under the glow of the night—it’s almost… cute.

He shakes his head, this time not at you but to force the thought out of his mind before it accidentally spirals into something worse.

“We agreed on just walking home—”

“And to stop and get a lolly,” you add, correcting him.

“Yeah. Whatever. My point is I didn’t agree on any conversation.”

“But it’s boring walking in silence. Plus, you said you’d be nice,” you whine.

“I said I wouldn’t be mean.”

“Well, isn’t ignoring me pretty mean?”

But he won’t answer. He only makes a disapproving sound.

“I’m so nice to you. I don’t know why you ignore me all the time. I wish you liked me as much as I like you. Jess also doesn’t like me, so you aren’t the only one. What she said wasn’t true, by the way,” you turn to face him while walking, “I know what I heard. I would never lie to you, Jungkookie. Joonbug said you wouldn’t believe her, but I still wanted to tell you myself,” you ramble on, filling the silence.

“Jeez. How drunk are you?”

“Only a little,” you singsong, pinching your index finger and thumb together, leaving a tiny gap in between.

“But I got you to talk to me,” you smile, bumping your shoulder into his arm.

He stares at you and tilts his head slightly, studying you. Then, he lets out this half-laugh, half-disbelieving breath.

You don’t look away. Jungkook’s warm stare seeps into your skin, grounding you in a way that feels too easy.

The pure gaze you give him throws Jungkook off guard for a moment — it’s somewhat endearing.

Jungkook’s stomach lurches. He snaps his head forward and coughs awkwardly into his fist.

Woah. Stop. What is with him tonight? How drunk is he?

You give in to Jungkook’s silence this time, sighing and letting him sink into his thoughts.

The convenience store’s sign comes into view, flashing in the short distance.

“Jess’s words hold no merit to me. Whether what she says is true or not doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Because I don’t care about her,” Jungkook’s tone is flat, emotionless, as if he’s simply stating a fact.

The convenience store’s sign comes into view, glowing in the near distance.

“The same goes for you,” Jungkook says casually before turning to enter the shop, his response so abrupt that it catches you off guard.

↬ THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ boo 1k block limit!! you can read the second half of the chapter in this reblog!! it continues where this leaves off and begins with a new scene <3

[kthologue]

meet cute — dick grayson

synopsis. dick finally meets his match.

contents. fluff, meet cute, banter!!, dick found someone that matched his freak, matchmaker haley, established relationship

notes. quick drabble. there’s nothing i love more than writing banter for dick

The first thing Dick registers is the smell of coffee, its scent curling through the morning air. The second thing is the warmth pressed against his side, a familiar weight shifting slightly as the bed dips.

"You make the coffee, or am I dreaming?" he mumbles, cracking an eye open.

"Dreaming," you tease, brushing your fingers through his hair. "But I got up first, so I figured I'd be nice."

Dick hums, pulling you back down beside him. "Mm. Marry me."

"Already did, remember?"

"Best decision of my life." He presses a lazy kiss to your temple. Dick softly grips your chin before slotting his mouth against yours. Outside the bedroom, Haley lets out an impatient whine, toenails clicking against the hardwood.

A smile curves against your lips as Dick deepens the kiss, his free hand trailing down your back, holding you close like he never wants to let go. His grip is firm, his warmth intoxicating and you already know exactly where this morning is heading.

But the insistent scratching and pitiful whines from outside the door refuse to be ignored.

You pull away just as Dick leans in, earning yourself a dramatic whine of protest. His lips chase yours, his grip tightening. "Babe," he murmurs, a little breathless, "she can wait."

"She’s been waiting," you counter, amused. "And she’s missed you."

"Well, I missed you," he huffs, leaning in again, only for you to dodge him, fixing him with a knowing look.

He sighs, defeated. "Alright, alright. Duty calls."

Grumbling, he rolls out of bed, and you laugh, tossing a pillow at his back as he trudges to the door.

“Be nice,” you tease as he lets Haley in.

The second the door cracks open, she barrels into him, tail wagging so hard she practically vibrates. Dick catches her effortlessly, laughing as she smothers him in licks, all lingering traces of sleep and reluctance melting away.

“She’s our little matchmaker, after all,” you remind him, watching the way his face softens.

Dick looks up at you, a smile tugging at his lips between Haley’s eager kisses. His laugh fills the room, warm and familiar. Your favorite sound.

"How could I ever forget?"

Dick hadn’t expected anything unusual that day. It had been a normal walk. Until it wasn’t.

Haley was a good dog. A well-trained, even-tempered pitbull who never pulled on the leash, never bolted, never strayed. So when she suddenly yanked forward with enough force to nearly dislocate Dick’s shoulder, he barely had time to react before she took off.

"What the–" He staggered after her, half-jogging, half-stumbling as she dragged him down the street. "Haley, slow down! What has gotten into you?"

She wasn’t listening. Her ears were perked, tail wagging like she’d just spotted the world's biggest stash of treats. Dick barely had a second to brace himself before she barreled straight into a woman standing at the corner, nearly knocking her over.

"I'm so sorry–Haley!" Dick gasped, yanking the leash back.

The woman let out a startled laugh, catching herself just in time. "Wow, okay. Not how I expected to start my morning."

Dick winced. "Yeah, sorry about that. She doesn’t usually– uh– body-check people. Are you okay?"

"I think so. Can’t say the same for my dignity, though."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, if it helps, she only does this to people she likes. Which is a very exclusive club, by the way."

"Oh? So I should be honored?" you asked, arching a brow.

"Very." He smirked. "You’re in the same category as rotisserie chicken and that one mailman she has a crush on."

You snorted. "High praise. I’ll try to live up to it."

The two of you linger on the sidewalk, grinning at each other like idiots. The moment stretches just long enough for him to realize he had forgotten to introduce himself.

“Oh– uh, I’m Richard. But everyone calls me Dick.”

Your lips twitch as you nod slowly. “Nice to meet you, Dick.”

The way you say it is so smooth, effortless. It shouldn’t make his brain short-circuit, but damn if it doesn’t send a spark straight through him. He swears he can feel it in his fingertips.

Great. He’s a fully grown man, and somehow, you’ve got him feeling like a teenager with a crush.

Haley’s tail was going so fast her entire body wiggled with it, pure joy wrapped in fur. You crouched down, scratching behind her ears. “Well, aren’t you gorgeous?”

Dick cleared his throat, barely audible. “Yeah, you are.”

Your head snapped up. “What was that?”

“Must’ve been the wind.”

“Oh,” you mused, turning back to Haley. “Your dad’s got a pretty face, but I think he might be a little unhinged.” You don’t bother being discreet.

The pitbull tilted her head, eyes flicking between the two of you like she was weighing the evidence.

Dick huffed a laugh. “She’s deciding whether to defend my honor or side with you.”

“Smart girl, taking her time with the verdict.” You grinned, giving Haley an approving pat. “But seriously, I’ve never seen a dog so determined to tackle a stranger. Did you train her to be your wingman, or is she just naturally talented?"

Dick placed a hand over his heart. "I would never exploit my dog for romance."

"Uh-huh. So this is just a coincidence?"

"Purely."

"Right." You smirked. "And I’m supposed to believe this isn’t a well-rehearsed scheme?"

Dick grinned. "If it were, I’d like to think I’d have prepared better material. I’m usually much smoother."

"You’re really not."

"That’s the tragic part."

You laughed, standing up and dusting off your pants. "Well, Dick, I think your dog just got you a date."

He blinked. "Was that a yes? Or did Haley just finesse me into this?"

"Guess you’ll have to keep up and find out."

Dick opened his mouth, then paused, brow furrowing. "Wait, did I even get your name?"

You grinned. "Did I give it?"

"No, but I feel like I should have it before I let you con me into a date."

You tilted her head, considering. "I suppose that’s fair. But where’s the fun in just handing it over?"

Dick huffed a laugh. "So what, I have to earn it?"

"You’re catching on."

Haley barked once, tail thumping against the pavement like she was enjoying this far too much.

"Alright." Dick crouched, giving his dog a scratch behind the ears. "Haley, girl, looks like we’ve got a mystery to solve."

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to walk away. "Try to keep up, Dick."

In that moment, he knew he was in trouble.

Dick didn’t have to be told twice.

comments n reblogs are appreciated!

[vinnyvamppp]

To Be Desired PT 2

⭐:ViltrumMark, OmniMark, Hooded Invincible, Masked Mark, HeadCap Invincible (Requested!), Mentions of Invincible. (PART 1 HERE)

Commenter: Can u write some viltrumark n Omni mark. Pleasee. (Special at the end!)

Synopsis: Variants of your childhood best friend spawn across the globe, and you find yourself in the crossfire of their previous lovers. What happens when you experience the parallel pleasure they can offer?

Warnings: Power Struggles, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Morally Grey, Nipple Play, Fingering, Pussy Eating, Overstimulation, Public Sex, Ejaculating Inside, Rough Sex, 69, Car Sex, Switch!Reader, Switch!Invincible Variants, Plot changes for convenience, Matching Freaks, Position Changes, Porn w a Plot, etc.

Invincible Variants x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6,079

Previously on 'To Be Desired' ... Helping where you could, you began assisting in fighting off the weaklings who figured now was the best time to attack Earth. Micro tears riddled your uniform as you tore through them mercilessly, all through a look of pity. There were days you'd resent this “job” you'd granted yourself, the little recognition and appreciation you'd receive from the public. How selfish of them and you. You wanted an excuse to have this world fair alone, without a need to rebel when no one would notice. As luck would have it, a voice suddenly dawned behind you, his body floating midair and adorned with the appearance of your dearest friend.

ViltruMark

Gazing upon the malignant figure, his jaw ticked ever so slightly at the sight of you. A mangy mutt of a man was within his grasp, its maw bludgeoned with the imprint of his knuckles. The sound of a body hitting the ground beside you was like a heavy, wet slap, followed by a faint whoosh of air being forced from its lungs. It was a sickening thud, like a ripe melon dropped from a great height, and you froze with a sense of unease.

The impact was startling and violent, and for a moment, you forgot about the raging havoc being reaped around you. The suddenness of it all made your heart race—you were almost certain he could hear it—as every instinct shrieked within. Your body language became defensive, his gaze hardening in response.

"I've killed you once, and I'll kill you again," he proclaimed, yet it held little intent. His uniform was a staple of the Viltrumite Empire, its clad symbol emboldened in the sky’s smoke like a false beacon of hope. "Then get it over with. You won't be the first variant who dies tonight." The snarky remark was met with a confident scoff. His padded feet landed in front of you, his eyes absorbing your features as if to reminisce. "I won’t. That was my first mistake," he replied, his fingers finding themselves tangled in your hair.

It was sudden; you couldn't help but grimace at his words. A Viltrumite admitting their mistakes? Unbelievable. That was until his grip suddenly tightened, cocking your head to the side as he whispered in your ear. "I've come to right my wrongs and take you with me." The man's grip was a hold of domination, a vice-like clamp that strangled the last vestiges of hope. It was merciless, like that of a warlord who wielded power with an iron fist. Yet the soothing hand around your waist and the calloused fingertips that scratched against your costume told the story of a starved man.

It wasn’t a debate, nor did you intend to argue, as your annoyance with your reality simmered. "Right your wrongs…?" you questioned, a wicked grin slowly spreading across his face as you two suddenly took flight. Tears bubbled at your waterline from the speed, your fingers clinging to him as you could’ve sworn he nearly melted. You always did talk too much, so he figured he'd show you. The underground vibrations beat against your eardrums as he cradled you. Your gaze was fixed upon a newly formed crater within the valley, only destroyed rubble offering privacy. "We’ll do it here. You’ll be my new beloved and will give me children."

His fingers traced down your abdomen as they tore through the fabric, gooseflesh rising from the exposure. It was a depressing past, really—having to murder you in cold blood so soon due to his agenda—but not this time. You would stay ignorant of his past, and he would provide it, given your indulgence.

His hands grasped the spandex material of your suit, prying it open as his lips began their pleasurable assault on your neck. The wet warmth of his tongue tickled your skin as he harshly nipped the welcoming flesh. Your faint pulse beneath it enticed him to experience what he had yet to. So alive and welcoming.

Head resting against the soft soil, his hardened cock imprinted beneath the loincloth. His body did little to hide his excitement, though his expression remained cold. Once the clothing was peeled from your body, his lips continued their journey south, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue erratically around the hardened peak while his hand kneaded and caressed the other.

You moaned at the sensations, your hands instinctively tangling in his hair as his hips ground against your clothed cunt. He didn’t stop. He worshiped your breasts until you were writhing beneath him, the skin tender and reddened from his teeth. As he traveled lower, you could feel his warm breath on your most intimate area, his pre-cum now staining the cloth of both his and your costume. Just before his lips could reach your sex, he pulled away in satisfaction. All mild waves of pleasure were ripped from you, and a feeling of annoyance bubbled within.

Pressing back against him, your eyes pleaded seductively, a hand resting against his chest. "It’s not fun when it's just me; let me please you," you muttered, watching as the faintest smirk graced his lips. He sat on his knees as you shuffled yourself forward, hands eagerly tugging at his clothing. His costume splintered as it fell from his form, your mouth practically watering at the sight of his swollen cock eagerly awaiting your touch. You leaned in, inhaling deeply and savoring his musky scent. You ran your tongue along the underside of his veins, from the base to the tip, feeling it twitch against your lips. He shivered.

You circled the head with your tongue, dipping into the slit to taste his essence before taking him into your mouth. Instantly, he sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth. The man was more sensitive than expected. As your throat relaxed and another inch slid inside, the soft lining of your esophagus welcomed him so fruitfully that his eyelids began to twitch. His pride had failed to forewarn him, and his temperament began to crumble.

As his hips bucked forward, you gagged, only to see a placid grin etched onto his face as his nose crinkled with restraint. He groaned loudly with every bob of your throat, his dick twitching with each contact. Suddenly, his hand gripped your hair, pulling you back. "Enough," he muttered, his voice carrying enough command to make you pause.

Before you could process it, you were flipped onto your hands and knees, panties being lowered as his eyes devoured the sight of your pussy. "You’re soaked… I would’ve fucked you sooner if I knew you’d be so willing." The mumble seemed more to himself than to you. His tip glided down the skin of your folds, the squelching sound causing his grip to tighten as he pushed your head into the ground. Just as he pressed himself inside, the quietest whimper slipped.

Your eyes met his with a smug expression; he returned it as a warning before your velvety walls swallowed him whole. He sighed, like a man being gifted after a long day of work. He didn’t give you time to adjust, immediately pulling out and setting a brutal pace, pounding into you with a force that rocked your entire body. Each thrust pushed you forward, your hands scrabbling for purchase in the burrow of grass. His balls slapped against your clit with every stroke, sending sparks of pleasure through you.

One of his hands left your hip, wrapping around your hair and pulling your head back, forcing you to arch your spine. He fucked almost with a hatred. With every stroke, your body bounced forward, and you could swear you heard your vertebrae popping. Does he not know what gentle is?! No! He’s a Viltrumite, born and raised!

Unbeknownst to you, the dual stimulation of his balls slapping against your skin and the soft twitching of your pussy had him hunched over. He began to chase his own release, loud growls echoing in your ears as you could barely formulate sound. His free hand rested against your ass, enjoying its recoil as a pathetic whine scratched his throat. He was hellbent on burying himself within you, each thrust deepening with the swivel of his hips. His muscles tightened as his jaw clenched, heavy pants echoing between groans. It was beginning to sound needy, a rough greed that consumed him.

Your moans were muffled, his hearing sharp enough to catch every one, his tactics shifting subtly to bring you the utmost pleasure. God, why did he kill you? He could barely remember as his brain began to fizzle out from the pleasure. “Mphm… Mark… can’t breathe,” you muttered, his eyes finally snapping into focus. In a last-ditch effort, he tugged you back, ripping a hiss from you as your spine curved. Your back rested against his chest, and although the sex was rough, this was a moment of gentleness. “Aah—ugh, mm, fuck, I’m going to fill you,” he whispered, sheathing himself one final time as he came.

You two remained still as his stamina recovered; he pressed a chaste kiss against your lips, both of your suits ruined. No matter, he couldn't care less about flying into space naked. It was short-lived as he abruptly readied himself from a voice buzzing within his ear; you remained seated in absolute awe. “How long can you hold your breath?” he asked, a plan to return home brewing.

OmniMark

His gaze remained fixed on you, expression unimpressed as he observed. You had just defeated another swarm of enemies, their blood coating the streets. As you stumbled toward him, your breath came out in labored gasps, and your vision blurred, making it hard to focus on his figure. Mark—or rather, this mysterious figure in similar fashion—seemed to be studying you intently, his eyes piercing through your facade.

The sound of his cape billowing finally caught your attention. Roving over his figure, you observed his costume. A dried patch of blood littered his hand, pink lint from the fabric clinging to it. It resembled Omni-Man's and only struck you with confusion as your mind rang from your probable concussion. "Hey, are these giving you any trouble?" he asked, his body idly bobbing midair as he awaited an answer.

"Who are you, really? If you're Mark, why are you dressed like... well, like him?" You gestured to his costume, a near-perfect replica of Omni-Man's, complete with the red and white color scheme, only missing the distinctive 'O' emblem. He sighed, almost regretfully, as a realization seemed to dawn upon you. Omni-Man in his world was dead; just why did I have to run into this one?! He glided toward you with a strangely disturbing grace.

"I've come to defend you. There are many of us gathering over Chicago." Your question was swatted away like a fly as he continued. His response made you drop your guard, albeit naively, since there was no reason to trust him. He landed in front of you, dark goggles showing your reflection as he contemplated. "Why? What happened to me in your dimension?" you inquired.

He replied with the slightest look of pity and weariness. "She… was like a pet. Served her purpose and got in the way after I killed my father." His words made your heart drop. "I've been looking for you… for a new pet. So, understand me this time, and we can conquer together." The tone of his words was low, almost careful, like it somehow softened the demeaning blow. Every word was woven in silk, but underneath lay a quiet demand. His fingers gently wrapped around yours, his gloved thumbs ghosting over your knuckles.

Truthfully, he hated his dimension's version of you. Such a nuisance, but you were already proving to be more favorable. A glimpse into what you could've been.

"But you have more to offer than she did. She had no powers, no abilities… but she was cute while it lasted." A sense of sadness lingered in his voice as his eyes focused behind you, on the destruction your battle had caused.

"Fine, I'll let you protect me," you said, releasing his fingers.

"It’d be best if we stayed together at all times," he replied.

"I don’t think I could stomach being around you." It was a petty jab, spit with unintentional venom.

"I could change that," he quipped with the cockiness of his father, his palm outstretched to you.

Just how did you allow yourself to be swept away like this? Yes, the Mark you knew was the son of Omni-Man with morals; this one went against every principle you had when becoming a hero. Like father, like son. His words were sensitive, meticulously put together to string you along—not that you cared now, not with his fingers buried deep inside your cunt.

Somewhere along the way, he had flown you to Paris like some fancy vacation. The leveled city burned brightly, the embers painting your skin in a dewy orange that made you look so divine. The Eiffel Tower stood tall, almost as a harbinger of justice, and here you were, on the structure, being fingered by him. You let out a sharp cry as he started to stroke, his digits gliding through your wetness with ease. The very sight of your cunt had him in a hedonistic trance, his thumb slotting over your clit. He teased and circled, applying just the right amount of pressure to have your hips bucking beneath him. His pace quickened ever so slightly, reveling in the ridges of your pussy that he anticipated to hug him so snugly.

"You like that, don't you? You like it when I touch you like this?" he purred, watching as your face scrunched in pleasure. It wasn't like he needed a response; seeing your reaction was enough. Your abs began to tighten as your orgasm built, and just as your body lurched forward, his hands pulled away, leaving you clenching around air.

"You said that would be it," you whispered, watching as he smiled faintly, almost pleading. "I know, but it would be better this way… I can't monitor with just my fingers." He excused himself, and your eyes rolled sarcastically. "Last thing." It was a harsh spat that crawled from your throat and into his ear. "Last thing," he agreed—when you both knew he was the type to say that while fucking you senseless for the tenth time.

Against the cold metal, he spread your legs wide, his free hand freeing his weeping cock from its confinement. It's been punished enough for now. Clothes were shed quickly, eagerly, until you were both naked and pressed together, skin against skin. He hovered over you, his eyes roaming your exposed body hungrily. Circling his tip around your entrance, he finally pushed in, jaw clenching with a shaky exhale.

His hips began to build into a relentless pace, your bouncing legs wrapping firmly around him to pull him in deeper. He was becoming lost within you—quite literally—as your pussy swallowed him balls deep. No wonder his father remained active with Debbie; this was fucking godsent to him. Perhaps his words from earlier were no longer manipulation but the truth. He would vow to know you on a personal level later.

Moans of pleasure from you both echoed. He was shameless about his noise, enjoying the sound of skin slapping in the air. You could have sworn his particularly deep thrusts sent the tower shaking. Sweat formed on his brow as he concentrated, ab muscles flexing as he withheld his orgasm. Mark loved it here. He would do anything not to pull out. His body began to tremble with restraint, nearly convulsing with the overarching effort. Your bodies shifted with each powerful thrust. Lost in your own pleasure, you barely noticed your head now dangling from the structure.

His attempt at being romantic after destroying a city was dreadful. "Mark…!! Ah! I'm gonna fall, fuck—!" you wearily shouted, and he grimaced slightly, his fingers shoving themselves into your mouth to simulate sucking his cock as he watched you gag on them. "You know better… swearing doesn’t make you cool." He stated it so casually, as if he weren’t balls-deep inside you.

Flying you both into the air, his hands gripped your ass, fucking himself into you. His thrusts grew erratic, his whimpers barely contained. It was obvious—his toes curled in his shoes, his feet flexed, his eyes rolled back into his skull, the veins in his neck prominent. Clasping his chin, you focused his attention on you as your insides nearly squeezed him dry. It was your minute revenge. "T-Take what you… what you want." His lips were caught between his teeth. "I wo… won't stop you."

The words were weak, both of you heaving, breath fanning against each other's faces. Wrapping your legs tighter around him, and with bated breaths, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he came with a shout. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he hissed, unable to stop himself. After realizing what he had done, he ironically cursed under his breath.

"S… shit, I should’ve come in your mouth; it would’ve been better," he muttered, disappointed in himself. Wrapping your bare body within his cape, he gingerly kissed you with praise. His lips parted, as if to utter something sentimental, his gaze hardening. Suddenly, he observed heroes gathering within France to save the people. A grimace enveloped his face. He had enough decency to place you securely at your apartment before taking off. HeadCap Mark

“Oh…? And who do we have here?” he asked rhetorically, one hand resting at his side. His overzealous grin gleamed beneath the obscurity of his features. Not to mention… was he bald? His appearance was a far cry from his better counterpart. You kept raking over every detail, unsure what unsettled you more.

“I… I don’t want to fight you. You look like my friend… I couldn’t,” you replied timidly, tension stunning your body. He landed without a sound, the silence eerie—like a grinning cat toying with its prey.

There was dried blood riddled through his costume, his demeanor confident as he strutted toward you with his head held high. You were awfully perturbed, not noticing him already in front of you. “Well, this is gonna be fun,” he chirped as he gazed expectantly at you, his amusement only growing. “You know how hard it was to find you? Your friend's bug brother straightened me out on my way here.” A series of sharp, satisfying cracks from his spine echoed through your ears, each pop releasing tension like bubble wrap as they twisted. His octave dropped a notch as he leaned in.

“Now it's time to straighten you out.” The words were of insincere politeness, their meaning striking you upside the head. His fingers curled around your neck as he guided you backward. The cold metal of a now disheveled and crumpled car met your back. “Ah ah ah, don’t even think about it,” he whispered, your ear tingling from its warmth, your fingers relaxed at your side.

The smile on his face was almost sweet as you complied, only begrudgingly allowing his touch. “Then move before I change my mind.” You snorted in response. It was scandalous; you’d never admit that the hand around your neck nearly made you weak. Just how could you reject a man so desperate to have you? He wasn’t going to deny you either; in fact, he felt almost obligated to show you he deserved this.

He shoved you roughly against the hood of the car, his fingers tracing the length of your curves. The loud creak of the vehicle settling, the sputtering electricity of nearby landline wires, and the open air of dust filling your lungs made you feel truly exposed. Even without the removal of clothing. His tongue flicked over his lips, a brief, deliberate motion—like a cat after cream. The elastic fabric of his costume fell down his muscled legs, his hands eager as they jutted forward. It was rushed—he stripped the latex from your body with the urgency of a man digging for gold.

Only then, when he saw the pretty lace covering such delicate areas, did an audible groan of delight scratch his throat. “Pretty,” he teased, his hands reaching into his boxers as they clung to his thighs. His dick was flushed a pale pink, longer than it was girthy, as bulging veins pathed their way to his tip. “Pretty,” you mimicked, legs spreading as he closed in like a moth to a flame. He left your bra and panties on, enjoying the sight too much to tear them off. Instead, he pulled the fabric aside to watch your tits bounce, your pussy lips already weeping.

His tip parted you like a river, his head hanging back as he bottomed out. Your walls fluttered to accommodate his length; if he wanted to, he could kiss your cervix. Your legs crossed over his shoulder, and his hips reared back before driving into you. Each thrust pushed you further up the car's hood, your breasts bouncing with the force of his movements.

Your hands reached to clasp at anything behind you, only to find a shattered windshield to dig your fingertips into. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he watched you bounce on his cock; it was something deserving of a painting. His head turned, tongue slithering across the soles of your feet in a gesture of worship. As much as he didn't care about this world, in this moment, he was determined to make you feel like a goddess. His pace quickened, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

The movements were entirely guided by lust; broken chuckles bubbled from his throat as moan after moan was ripped from him. Your eyes nearly lost focus, and every stroke caused a slight bulge to imprint in your lower abdomen. Your moans encouraged him—urged him to go deeper, to claim you completely. “So… so much is d-different about this world, but this… t-this was made for me.” His lips grimaced as his hips purged through the trembles riddling his body. The car creaked as it rocked violently, his fluid motion throwing you against him in time with his thrusts.

The street fills with the unfiltered sounds of your moans and the slap of skin against skin. You could feel your throat becoming raw; he was practically silenced, communicating with the tightening of your cunt and its impending orgasm.

Propping yourself onto your hands, you leaned back slightly, one leg gingerly switching to his other shoulder, giving him a full view of how you drank him in. His thumb rolled tight circles around your clit, watching as your hole puckered so vigorously around him.

A ring of your juices—mixed with what he couldn’t tell was pre-cum or cum—sputtered against his pelvis. The sight was enough to tip him over the edge. “Come… all over my cock—mmm—like the good l-little ssslut you are!” he groaned, eyes darting between your folds and your eyes as he inhaled your intoxicating scent.

As he thrust into you with increasing fervor, you felt your body begin to tense, your walls clenching around him as your orgasm approached. He seemed to sense it, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release.

You cried out, fingernails scraping against the car's metal; his jaw clenched wearily as his knees grew weak. A grin etched across his face once more, eyebrows knitting upward as he sighed shakily. With frantic pacing, he waited until his eyes nearly crossed before pulling out and ejaculating on your stomach.

You were winded, arms giving out as you rested against the car; he stared at you, unnaturally tired himself. But as he watched your juices bubble around your entrance, a new energy suddenly surged to his cock. “W-What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, stroking himself with a strangled whimper. “Mmm, I plan on using every inch of this car while I’m here.” Hooded Invincible

The momentary silence was deafening; the veiled mask drifted ever so slightly to show the grin lurking beneath. His costume had blood leaking down the front; the amount would suggest he’d been bested, yet he stood defiant and cocky before you. Just how powerful was he to remain standing? As you readied yourself for another battle, a sigh leaving your lips, his hands suddenly bound together over his head before slamming his full weight onto the concrete road. The rubble cracked beneath your feet, and a strong gust of wind slid you back. It wasn’t nearly as strong as anticipated. He was holding back.

“You won't be enough. You’re not even a fraction of my power!” He enunciated every other word, making the insult feel a little more scathing. “No wonder you get jumped so often, you fucking asshole,” you chided with annoyance. The dull ache in his head was the last thing he registered; the blow landed with a sickening thud, its crack making him stumble back slightly. “Oh, fuck off.” His return strike was swift, a flash of movement followed by a grunt of pain.

You nearly crumpled, the floor rushing to meet you before you regained stability. He was quick to compliment, almost too eager. “Okay… I’ll admit, you’re stronger than I thought.” The feeling of his hands cupping around your wrist, dried blood flaking from his palm. “That’s not why I’m here though,” he finished, his yellow-tinted goggles reflecting off the sunlight, a faint glimpse of his eyes meeting yours.

Just why did they have to have the warmth of your friend's? This was making it difficult to hate him. “Not interested,” you deadpanned, arms tugging within his grasp. He sucked his teeth with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t remember you being this fucking mouthy.” His head cocked slightly to view your expression change like his personal performance. “Wrong dimension; I’m not her.” Your words made him pause as that grin made its Broadway appearance. “Nah, you’re better; I love it when my girls are a bitch.” He taunted, your eyes searching for an escape route as you mentally dismissed him. “C’mon, give me a chance.” The words dripped from his lips, less of a plea and more of a certainty.

You couldn’t deny he had certainly piqued your interest in more ways than one. Suddenly, a pair of calloused fingertips ran a strip down the center of your costume, the fabric outlining a faint camel toe. His fingers pressed against the indent of your pussy lips, a desired dampness nearly causing him to groan. “Oh, you’re fucked,” he said with mocking restraint. In almost an instant, you were dragged into an alleyway and, with the weight of a feather, flipped upside down. “Put me down! What are you doing?!” you grit out, but the words lacked conviction, lost in the echo of his ragged breath.

He ignored your plea, fingers now deftly parting your swollen lips, teasing the clit that throbbed insistently through your costume. Your question was more of a criticism of his crassness. “Relax, you’ll like this.” He brushed off every critique, his focus narrowing to the only thing that mattered—his next dessert.

A firm finger dug into the fabric above your cunt before the screeching sound of fabric tearing. It was better than he imagined; his tongue already sought a taste as he admired the view. “That's it. I know you want this.” His tongue flicked out, tracing a wet path from your clit to your swollen opening. A jolt of electricity shot through you, silencing you momentarily as your hands dug into his hip. He chuckled again, pleased with your reaction. “See? Already loving it.” His response made your pleasure-filled veins run cold.

Returning the favor through shaky moans of your own, your fingers tore through the fabric of his clothing, leaving little time for him to react as your teeth sorted through the pocket of his boxers before his cock sprang out. Its tip was greeted with fervent kisses as a guttural growl rumbled from behind his veil. His tongue, hot and demanding, flicked out, tracing the sensitive flesh. A gasp escaped your lips, a mix of grit and nascent pleasure. He lapped at you with deliberate strokes, teasing and testing your limits. The fluttering of his tongue grew desperate to draw more sounds from you as you writhed.

That was until his toes curled upon a pair of nails dragging down the length of his swollen, veiny cock. He grumbled a string of curses, his tongue pursuing to ravage you in the wake of this being a competition. With practiced ease, your lips parted, bubbles of spit gathering around his tip as you toyed with him. “Fuuuuck me,” he sighed.

You took him in, the softness of your mouth enveloping him as you began to move, your head bobbing rhythmically. The swirl of your tongue was like pleasant lashings against his cock. Your throat relaxed as your nose met the tightening sack of his balls; he was losing his ability to resist. Every so often, you would flatten your tongue, ruining what might’ve been the build-up of his orgasm.

Your combined groans echoed mindlessly in the alleyway. With a clenched jaw, he flipped you right-side up, your hands dragging across the pavement momentarily. The sight of him frazzled you, his hair disheveled from the clenching of your thighs, and the front of his veiled mask drenched in your taste.

“How do you even have the energy to still hold me?” you asked, bewildered as he chuckled. “You underestimate my power.” His response made your eyes roll, and you both were winded nonetheless. He shifted again, his hands now gripping your thighs, spreading them wider. He positioned himself between your legs, his hard cock pressing against your clit, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. As he penetrated the twitching valley of your warmth, you both responded to one another with a moan—a sound of pure, unadulterated need.

Holy fuck, was he glad you couldn’t see his face. He was holding on by a thread, eyebrows furrowed with a quivering lip. “You probably… would’ve made me cum a-already if you didn’t keep playing,” he rasped, somewhat annoyed. “Shut the fuck up and keep going.” He couldn’t argue; his grip tightened against your upper thigh. With every drawback, you tightened around him, threatening to suck him in. Through labored breaths, his jaw went slack as his body nearly locked up on him. “Haa… ha… haa! You r-ready?” he drawled, dick pumping into you with his last shrivels of energy before his dick milked him dry inside you.

You both remained in somewhat of a daze. That’s when the familiar clang of Cecil's reAnimen echoed in the distance. Setting you down with a strange gentleness, he promised his return… leaving you with a hole in your pants. “Fuck.”

Masked Invincible

“Finally…” he whispered; you could’ve sworn his eyebrows creased beneath his mask—the full obscurity of his features made him difficult to identify. “Mark…?” you questioned, his shoulders drooping slightly as a relieved sigh left him. His costume was barely recognizable if it weren't for the signature black and blue; his frosted lenses left little to be discovered.

The instinct for danger—and to fight—was suddenly drained from you as he spoke. “We didn’t all make the same deal.” He approached, desperation weighing down his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter, Mark. You all murdered thousands… I don’t know you. I don’t care to hear you plead your case.”

Your response stunted his movements as the sound of padded feet quickened their pace.

“I—I know, but it was for a good reason, I swear,” he continued with a slight stutter, his hands gesturing to his chest. This somehow felt manipulative. “I liked it here… I came back to bring you and my mom back with me. We can start over.” His hands clung to your shoulders as he spoke, fingernails digging into the flesh. “And why would I do that?” you inquired, your gaze hardening as you anticipated a response. “Because… because I need you.” The delivery was purely pathetic, a voice cracked, edging his words as he nearly pleaded.

Considering the whole ordeal, it didn’t sound like an awful offer. However, it would be unsafe to assume the woman you once loved in the past was the same in every dimension. His submission might’ve unlocked a new kink you were unaware of, the sentiment tugging at your heartstrings. He was similar to the Mark you knew—emotional—but this one felt far more dangerous, a dog off its leash. You began to lie through your teeth. If it meant having a variant as an ally rather than an enemy, then so be it.

“Okay. I’ll come with you if—” Your words were abruptly sawed off as his hands hastily lifted half his mask and his lips found yours with fever. He brushed his lips against yours, featherlight, as if testing the moment—savoring it. He sighed into the kiss, his hands cradling your face, drawing you closer, deepening the space between breath and bliss. His fingertips dug into your skull as he was encased in your warmth.

Just how could he have ever let this go? Not this time. No, he would do better. He’d imagined this countless times.

Hands quickly shifting to your hips, he decided your apartment was best. Being on his best behavior would convince you more, right? Landing on the balcony, he slid open the door as you shuffled backward into the kitchen. You both pulled away, erratic breaths dampening one another's faces. Interestingly, as his costume loosened and pooled around his ankles, the mask remained. He seemed truly hellbent on keeping it on—not that you paid any mind.

Slowly tugging each article of clothing from your body, he watched as if hypnotized. It was nearly comical watching him progressively become aroused as seconds ticked by. His mind and body were one. His ragged gasps produced a small cloud of condensation through his mask. His dick a red, irritated mess with smeared pre-cum. Messy. Desperate. Guiding him into a chair, he manspread to allow you plenty of room once you straddled him, feet hooking against his inner thigh.

His tip pierced through you, giving you little time to adjust as gravity pulled you downwards. Your puffy lips cushioned him between hungry blows, combined arousal leaving a stringy mess in his lap.

Gripping your hips, his jaw clenched as he assisted you in riding him, the pace solely reliant on his stamina. "Wait, wait, slow down," you gasp, trying to regain control. But he's too far gone, his lust clouding his judgment. He grips your hips tighter, slamming you down on his cock with bruising force.

The pleasure is intense—bordering on pain—but you can't deny how much you're enjoying it. He leans forward, his masked face inches from yours. "I—I can't slow down," he pants, his breath hot against your skin. "I've wa… wanted this for so long. Needed this."

You can feel him throbbing inside you, his desire for you evident. But you need to take back control, to show him who's in charge here. You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as your ass meets the meat of his thighs from your efforts to ride him.

He groans, his head falling back as you take what you want from him. "F-fuck, yeesss," he hisses, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing and spreading it. "Take it all; take everything I have to give."

It was his most coherent sentence—just barely—as his voice cracked with a whimper.

Your moans began to mingle until it was a harmony unable to be differentiated. The sound bouncing off the walls sounded ten times louder than it was. His nose scrunched from beneath his mask, jaw flexing with an effort to remain sane.

"I am. And I'm going to use you until I'm satisfied." He shudders beneath you, his cock twitching inside you at your words. You can tell he likes this—likes being used and controlled by you. After all he’s done, he’d gladly let you go for today.

Your hips slammed against his with every downward thrust. The sounds of skin meeting rang in your ears, a whine of pleasure filling your lungs as unrestrained sounds began to filter. His pubic hair caused delicious friction against your clit as he began to grow sloppy.

He reaches up, his hands cupping the back of your shoulders to hold you in place as he rams into you. The added stimulation sends you closer to the edge, your body tensing as your orgasm approaches.

"C-...Cum for me," he growls, his eyes watching you intently with the goal of watching your face contort in lust. "Fuck… fuck… fuck, yes! G-Give it to me! Please…!"

His voice nearly gave out as he came with a shout, finally being able to make you his.

You soon followed after, collapsing on his chest as remnants of a moan leave your lips. It takes a while for you two to finally gather your bearings. He pulls his mask down, a smile etched into the fabric, before that damned voice calls out within his ear. “I’m sorry… I—I have to go. I'll come back for you,” he stutters, reluctantly leaving and flying into the murky horizon.

This was actually fun to type up. (If interested in Mark's subplot (same scenario), it's linked: here.)

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

[kokokoula]

you fall first, but he falls harder

a/n: i can only write fluff, so please trust me that it's fluff. there's like, one usage of 'she', timeskip spoilers, and a bit of language. it's my longest fic yet (which isn't saying much), no beta we die like daichi

you don't know that tsukishima kei knows about your crush on him. it's so damn obvious, how you turn red so easily when he's around. unfortunately for you, though, he doesn't reciprocate, nor does he bother confronting you about it. you are his closest friend other than yamaguchi, and as much as he hates to admit it, he doesn't want to lose you as one. it's so tedious, anyways.

---

"it's our last year in karasuno, do you have anything planned?" you ask as you lay on the floor of tsukishima's room. you're supposed to be studying, since it was what you came over to do with kei and tadashi, but you gave up somewhere halfway in geography.

"it is my last year, but who knows about you? you've been slacking so much, you'd probably have to repeat a year. and could you get up?" he sighs and nudges your side with his foot.

"asshole," you mutter, cheeks growing red. if you knew that he just dodged your question, you don't do anything about it. "just you wait, i'll enroll into kyoto university and make you eat your words, beanpole."

"sure." his reply drips with sarcasm, but he doesn't doubt that you can make it far. there's a knock at the door.

"sorry for being late!"

"tadashi!!"

---

kei knows you can read him like an open book. you can tell he's having a bad day just by a conversation with him through text. he also knows that when he says that he doesn't want to talk, you immediately ring his phone.

the first time it happened, he had tried to decline your calls, or just ignore them entirely, but you're insistent. eventually he picked up, filled with pure irritation at that point.

"could you--"

"i'm heading over. i promise i won't push for any details. i'll even get strawberry shortcake on the way." you immediately stated. he paused to mull it over.

"fine, but if the cake sucks, i'm kicking you out." it's safe to say that the cake was good enough to make this a habit, so much so that tsukshima doesn't even know why you still call him to let him know you're coming over. the both of you know you will no matter what.

so here you are, sitting on his bedroom floor with him and eating desserts in silence, save for the music playing softly from his computer.

"you're gonna get in trouble with your parents when they realise you snuck out." he remarks. you shrug your shoulders, stuffing the remaining taiyaki in your mouth.

"i know."

"don't talk with your mouth full." you roll your eyes with a furious blush. somehow, you being here with him becomes sweeter than the strawberry shortcake.

---

you were there when tsukishima made the decision to go professional with volleyball.

his last match as karasuno's middle blocker had ended. his body was sore all over, but somehow the freak duo managed to convince him and yamaguchi to play one more match back at school, just the four of them with yachi. but even with landing third in nationals and a final intimate match with his teammates, he still somehow felt so unsatisfied.

the walk home with you was silent. he was grateful you didn't say anything. he couldn't handle any more questions about how he was feeling when he himself was unsure. it was when you two stepped outside the convenience store after getting ice cream did he come to the conclusion that he never wants to have a last match.

"i'm not going to give up on volleyball after graduation." he announced out of the blue. you were caught off guard for a bit, before grinning at him. "i expected that."

"why?"

"you call hinata and kageyama freaks for being so insane about volleyball, but you don't even realise that you're just as equally crazy about it as them." you said it so nonchalantly as you eat your ice cream, like you're stating a fact. now it was his turn to be taken off guard. he took a while to let it settle in before chuckling softly.

he should have known that you know him better than he does himself.

---

it's graduation day. tsukishima and kageyama are stuck with their four teary-eyed friends by their side. kei awkwardly pats your head, not knowing how to comfort you. you laugh at his feeble attempt, your rosy cheeks burning red. have you always been this cute? in the midst of all the bittersweet interactions, you get distracted by something on your phone, and let out a gasp.

"what is it, (name)?" yamaguchi asks. you're trembling slightly, and tsukishima grows worried.

"i, uh, got into kyoto university," you say in disbelief. "i actually got in!" everyone congratulates you, but you only care about one thing.

"tsukki, remember that day i told you i'd make you eat your words?" he hums in acknowledgement. you shove the acceptance email in his face, but he can only focus on how proud you look with that shit-eating smirk. "what do you have to say now, beanpole?"

he smiles. that's my best friend right there.

"nothing."

---

you were gone before the new year, and kei was handling your absence well until semester started. he had believed it'd be fine, you were only across the country, not across the world. plus, you promised you would call as often as you could.

but he doesn't see you in his classes anymore, and you don't come over when he's having a bad day. he got himself strawberry shortcake to lighten his mood like it usually does, but he only feels hollow. it doesn't help that since he's going pro, his volleyball training is almost everyday now, and with your commitments, he rarely gets to call you anymore. it hurts like hell inside.

"hey tsukki, you've been off recently. is everything ok?" tadashi calls him one day.

"i'm fine, yamaguchi." kei lies. tadashi isn't convinced.

"does it have something to do with (name) being in kyoto?"

"why would you say that?" he answered too quickly for his liking.

"well, you bring (name) up quite a bit, and when you realise she isn't there, you get all quiet and snappy." tsukishima is about to retort back, but then it hits him.

oh shit, he's in love.

---

the day you finally return back to miyagi to visit, tsukishima waits at the station with yamaguchi. kei's eyes are constantly searching the crowd and flickering to his watch every so often.

"tsukki, relax, she'll be here soon." he ignores tadashi's reassurance.

tsukishima kei is a composed man, always able to think before he acts. but when he catches sight of you, he runs. before you can register anything, he hugs you, gripping onto you like a lifeline, like he will die if he lets go of you.

"tsukki--"

"gosh, i missed you so much, you idiot." he knows you could have easily lost feelings for him when you were away.

"wha--"

"i've suffered so much because of your stupid, dumb ass." he doesn't care.

"wait--"

"i like you, so go out with me before you have to head back to kyoto." you're back, and he's scared to lose you again. every second you stay quiet, the louder his heart beats in his ears.

"really?" you finally say, your voice barely over a whisper.

"yea." another pause.

"guess i'm yours then, beanpole."

bonus:

"you know, i knew about your crush back in high school."

"what the heck?"

"you didn't necessarily hide it well."

"then i'll have you know that yamaguchi told me everything that had happened when i've been gone."

"...fuck."

[reiderwriter]

Flirting with the FBI

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???

Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.

A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭

Masterlist

You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.

If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.

Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.

You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.

You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.

“There once was a serial killer,

Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,

He cut, diced and slashed,

Left the feds quite abashed,

So I leave this message to be clearer”

The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.

You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.

You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.

None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.

And you really wanted to listen in.

The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.

Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.

A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.

With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.

“There once was a bullpen full of agents,

Who thought they were very surveillant,

But a simply code crack,

And there system did hack,

A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”

This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.

The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.

Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.

He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.

Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.

“The tall, dark and handsome employee,

How I do wish that he could enjoy me,

I would gladly submit,

we match wit for wit,

But he's trying his best to arrest me.”

The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”

The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.

You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.

A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.

After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.

By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.

So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.

“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,

I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,

the killer, you see,

Is right now hunting me,

You're the ones who can do better tracking.”

You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.

That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.

You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,

Who I simply and truly just need,

I would lie on my back,

And then let him attack,

Any inch of my body with his seed.”

He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.

Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.

You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.

He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.

This latest limerick was his last straw.

“The cameras are how I can see you,

I do find myself enjoying the view,

His hair is so fine,

I wish he was mine,

The agent with more PhDs than two.”

“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.

“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”

“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”

“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”

They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.

“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.

“The agents grew closer by day,

As the killer wanted to escape,

He paced across the floor,

As I watched by his door,

Getting closer than the agents could say.”

He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.

“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”

“Officer Falstaff, why?”

“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.

“Spencer, wait-”

“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”

Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.

“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.

“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”

Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.

“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”

His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”

“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”

“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”

The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.

The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.

Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.

Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.

The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.

“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.

A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.

The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.

You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.

“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,

Working with you has been like a dream,

When Reid comes it is wet,

And my mind is all set,

Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”

The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.

“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.

“When you find me there's lots for me to say,

I can't help simply feeling this way,

Your profile I read,

Can't believe you're a Fed,

I yearn for you all night and day.”

Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.

He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.

You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.

“The Doctor had finally cracked it,

The only identity that could fit,

The pretty young thing,

Who'd been flirting with him,

And was thinking of sitting on his…”

You sent a second message along with the first.

“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”

The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.

xxx

So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.

You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.

Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.

You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.

He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.

He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”

“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”

“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.

“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.

“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”

“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”

“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”

“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”

He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.

“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.

“As much as anyone does.”

“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.

“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.

“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.

“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”

“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”

For the first time in a while, you were speechless.

“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”

“Why, Y/N?”

You sighed and looked back up at him.

“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.

“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.

“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”

He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.

“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.

“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”

To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.

“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”

You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.

“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.

“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.

“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”

Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.

“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”

“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”

The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.

A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.

“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.

You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.

“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.

“No, you don't.”

“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”

“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”

“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”

“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”

He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.

“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”

He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.

“Can we keep this serious, please?”

“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”

“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.

“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.

“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”

Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.

“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”

“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”

“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”

“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”

You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.

He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.

“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”

“I'm driving you home.”

“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”

“What about friends?”

“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”

His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.

“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”

“What?”

“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.

“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”

“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.

“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.

He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.

The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.

“Spencer!”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”

“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”

You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.

“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.

“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”

The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.

He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.

“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.

“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”

“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”

He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.

“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.

“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”

“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.

It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.

When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.

“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

“And let you touch my things? No.”

You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.

“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.

“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.

“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.

“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”

You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.

He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.

You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.

“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”

“What's the difference?”

“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."

"And what would that be?"

"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”

“Brat,” he spat at you.

“Fed,” you spat back.

“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.

“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.

“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”

His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.

“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”

You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.

“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”

“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.

“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”

With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.

The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.

His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.

“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.

With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Spencer-”

“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”

“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.

“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.

“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”

“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.

“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.

Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.

“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”

His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.

“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”

“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.

“Say it.”

“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”

“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.

“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.

“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.

Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.

Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.

They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.

“Who I simply and truly just need.”

He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.

“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”

A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.

“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”

His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.

“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.

You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.

He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.

If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.

He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.

Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.

When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.

“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.

“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”

“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.

When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”

[ambivalence-is-me]

All I Want (One-Shot)

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Do opposites really attract? Feyre didn’t think so but Y/N and Azriel prove her wrong.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: fluff

A/N: this is kinda from Feyre’s pov, beginning of ACOMF. I’m in love with the idea of someone from the outside looking at two people in love. I’m thinking of turning this into a series? Or just more one shots? Like write about the dates, the wedding, that stuff. Let me know if anyone would be interested to read it!

————————————————————-

Feyre was shocked. Well, lately it seemed that’s all she was: shocked with a side of skeptical and scared. How else was she supposed to feel after everything she’s been through? She’s thinking of the very first times Rhysand took her to the Night Court. It was during one of those ‘’visits’’ that she first met you.

‘’She’ll help you with anything you need’’ he had said and that you did.

Feyre had taken one look at you and didn’t really know what to think. Physically you didn’t look like a threat, you were beautiful (it seemed there weren’t ugly faes) and your posture was relaxed, like you weren’t standing in front of the Cursebreaker but just another fae. You were smiling kindly at her, no judgement in your eyes and then you started talking.

And you never really stopped.

You were a yapper. Answered all of Feyre’s questions as best as you could and more. You walked her through the court’s history, culture, customs, everything. On her second meeting with you, she had concluded you definitely weren’t a threat. Instead, you were easygoing, kind and just freaking…happy? It seemed like you were always shinning, that nothing can bring you down. Feyre had tested that after a particularly bad day when Rhysand was driving her up the wall. But instead of running away, you stayed and helped her, saving Rhys from another shoe-throwing incident.

You had this soft and gentle angle that reminded her of her sister Elain. But you weren’t quite as graceful as Elain. You were louder, clumsier and upbeat, not afraid to strike up a conversation with anyone about anything. And you definitely weren’t like her sister Nesta but she could tell you shared her observation skills.

Truthfully, for Feyre, you were a saving grace. Someone she could go to in this new world that was thrown at her. She never really expressed any of this of course, scared that if someone found out you’d be in harm's way but she kept you close to her whenever possible.

That’s why Feyre was extremely happy that you were accompanying her to a dinner with Rhysand’s family. Thanks to the information Feyre had gathered from you and meeting them beforehand briefly, she inferred that you obviously knew them but you never stated what was your relationship with them.

Which is why Feyre is now shocked to see the turn of events.

She had expected you to be close friends with them, how can you not? You were a social butterfly and if Rhysand’s family was anything like him, she was sure you had befriended all of them. And you had but not in the way Feyre had expected.

‘’Feyre darling, care to share why you look so shocked?’’ Rhysand asked her with that stupid smile of his. But she couldn’t even bother to answer him, not when she was still staring at the scene in front of her.

Again, Feyre had met these faes…briefly. She’d experience Mor’s welcoming energy, Cassian’s cheeky smiles and jokes, Amren’s silver bright eyes and of course…Azriel’s quiet and intimidating presence. The latter preferring to stay in his shadows and observe the chaos around him.

Which is why Feyre NEVER expected for him to be with…you.

Obviously Feyre didn’t know him, not at all, just what you and Rhysand had told her but she was confident that her observations of him helped her come up with an idea of him. It seemed that she was wrong.

They were all gathered in this beautiful grand room, just chatting and sipping on expensive wine before dinner. Cassian and Amren were in conversation in a corner of the room, the latter looking annoyed at whatever the big Illyrian was saying. You, Mor and Azriel occupied a big comfortable looking sofa. You and Mor leading the dialogue and Azriel, unsurprisingly, was just sitting there listening and assessing. But that’s not what had Feyre shocked. No, it was the fact that you were almost sitting on the Shadowsinger’s lap.

He had one whole arm wrapped around your waist, it screamed ‘’she’s mine’’. His other hand touching your hair softly, as if he put any more pressure on it, it would break. His eyes went back and forth between all of the faes in the room but stayed mostly on you. And Feyre didn’t know if he knew that he was smiling.

SMILING

A small soft smile that Feyre didn’t know the Shadowsinger was capable of. It made him look a thousand times more irresistible. A thought that didn’t go unnoticed by Rhys, who arched an eyebrow at her in return. But Feyre didn’t say anything, she opted to try and hide her surprise and continue on with the evening.

An evening that only continue to bamboozle her. At the dinner table, you were sitting infront of Feyre. Azriel on your left side, Cassian on your right. It was a pretty funny picture Feyre would love to paint. Your frame and sunshine aura in the middle of two big intimidating Illyrian soldiers. As she had expected, you were mostly leading the conversation during dinner. Cassian and Mor quickly keeping up with your jokes and laughter, Rhysand chimed in at times but seemed content to take it all in with a soft smile. But Feyre was observing Azriel and Azriel was observing you.

His eyes didn’t seem to wander off too much, seemingly staying on you throughout the night. He looked at you like you held the world in your hands. Honestly, Feyre had never seen anything like this up close. There were no doubts that this male was incredibly in love with you and honestly, Feyre didn’t even know how to react.

Feyre thought she loved Tamlin at one point but now, after witnessing how Azriel looked at you, just this one look, she was extremely in the wrong.

If you moved, Azriel moved. He was so attentive to your needs: refilling your drinks, serving you more food, he held your hand, brushed your hair away from your face; all of it without you having to ask once. At one point, you looked at him with a smile Feyre hadn’t seen from you before and kissed his temple. An act so simple and yet so intimate that Feyre had to look away. Small tears graced the corner of her eyes, her chest felt so…whole?

She was in a room full of so much love that it was overwhelming her. This isn’t what she expected at all.

You seemed to notice that something was wrong with Feyre. Asking her with your eyes what was wrong. But she didn’t say anything, just gave her a look that you hoped would understand that said ‘’we’ll talk later’’. And later you did.

‘’You’re with Azriel?!’’ She had all but exploded the next day when it was just the two of you.

You smiled and said ‘’Yes’’ like it was a fact so obvious that Feyre should’ve have known. But it only confused her more.

‘’But-you-you’re so…’’

‘’Different?’’ You finished. The same smile still on your face. Feyre could only nod.

This wasn’t the first time someone had questioned your relationship with Azriel. To be fair, you were the very first one to question it back when you started courting a couple of hundred years ago. Because the truth was that you and him truly were opposites. You, an extrovert and him obviously an introvert.

But it was your differences that somehow made it work, that completed each other. At the beginning it had taken time. You never seemed to stop talking and you worried that it was only annoying Azriel. But you never did, at least, he insists that you don’t. But you’ve learned to know his little quirks and expressions. You’ve learned when to stop your yapping around him, particularly only for few moments after he’s had a bad day. You’ve learned his ways, and he learned yours.

He learned to interpret the moments when you kept a conversation going because you wanted to and not because you felt like you HAD to. He learned how to ground you back and remind you that your job wasn’t to make everyone’s day brighter. He learned to take care of you, and you took care of him.

You explained all of this to Feyre, a soft smile never leaving your face when you talked about your Shadowsinger and Feyre couldn’t help but smile back.

‘’In the human world, we- ‘’..She cleared her throat. ‘’When people love each other, they get married but here that seems so…miniscule. Like, marriage isn’t enough for the love you and Azriel have.’’

It was the best thing Feyre could say because really, she didn’t know how else to compare the love you and Azriel seemed to have.

You beamed at that. ‘’I thought the same actually but our wedding day was one of the best days of my life. Right after our mating ceremony.’’

Feyre looked confused. Mating ceremony? But you only kept smiling.

‘’ We’d already been married for a hundred years when the bond snapped. Mating bonds are so special and rare, Feyre’’ You looked at her.

‘’I was already blessed to have found a male that loved me and all of my loudness. And then, to be gifted a mating bond with him?’’ You shook your head as if you still couldn’t believe it.

In truth, even many years later, you still couldn’t. And that was all Azriel. He made you feel so incredibly happy and whole. He still made you feel like a fool, as if you’re a female who’s experiencing falling in love for the first time. And perhaps that’s why the shock Feyre had felt still hadn’t left. Because she couldn’t comprehend how you and Azriel made it look like it was just yesterday that you got together. Like you were still in the honeymoon phase.

Feyre had seen married couples in her village. They fought and yelled at each other frequently, almost never held hands and especially didn’t show public display of affection. But what you and Azriel had didn’t look like that AT ALL.

Later, after you had left saying ‘’Azriel said he had a surprise but I’m pretty sure I know what it is. I don’t care what his job description is, I can find out what he’s planning!’’, Feyre was still processing your love story.

It didn’t seem real. It didn’t seem real that two people/fae could love each other so much, who would do absolutely freaking anything, including die, for each other. After her experience with Tamlin, Feyre wasn’t sure if she’d ever have what you and Azriel have. Deep down inside, she wanted it. She felt like she didn’t deserve it, specially after what she’s done but…she hoped that maybe one day, however far it may be, she would have someone who would look at her like Azriel looks at you.

[comically-callous]

Can I request headcanons for Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Wade reacting to his gender neutral crush kissing him because they're so in love with him before apologising when they realised what they just did please?

Ofc!!

X-Men with a gn!crush!Reader who suddenly kisses them 🤯🤯🤯

Includes: Remy LeBeau, Wade Wilson, Logan Howlett, and Kurt Wagner

A/n: I love them a normal amount. This took me a long time to write because tumblr kept deleting all of my work 😋😋😋 But, it’s here now. Hope you freaks annoy it. Requests are OPEN 💜

Remy:

It happens one day when you guys are in the kitchen cooking together

Remy (ever the opportunist) is helping you out by occasionally guiding your hands or gently grabbing your waist/hips whenever he moves past you. And you're definitely not complaining

Overall, the vibes are very flirtatious and cutesy, and you sort of get caught up in it.

After the food is in the oven and Remy is washing dishes, you walk over and kiss him.

Remy damn near drops the bowl he was rinsing, but he manages to keep his cool and almost immediately starts kissing you back

You're the first to pull away because it suddenly clicks for you that you're kissing your friend, so you break the kiss to start apologizing

"What you apologizing for, mon Ami?"

"I kissed you."

"And? I certainly didn't mind."

Remy has liked you for a while. That was pretty obvious to everyone. Everyone except you, since you thought he was just being flirty with you like he was with nearly everyone.

But, that's obviously not the case. He makes sure to make that very clear.

Once all of your feelings are cleared up, Remy pulls you closer to him by your hips and smirks softly. "You wanna try and kiss me again? For real this time?"

His ass did NOT finish those dishes 💀

Logan:

He comes back from a long mission, exhausted and not really in the mood for dealing with anyone

Well, that is until he sees you walking down the hallway. Then he decides he can maybe deal with one more person.

You're happy to see him back, wrapping your arms around him in a warm embrace that he didn't know he needed

"Ugh, I missed you!"

“You say that every time I come back from a mission."

"Yeah, because it's true."

He missed you too, but you don't need to know that.

You pull back from him just to lean in and kiss him.

That's probably the last thing he expected you to do. I mean, yeah he really like you, but he'd always been certain that you'd never want a guy like him.

After a moment of shock, he starts kissing you back, arms tightening around you

You pull away to ask "is this okay?" And he doesn’t even let you finish, just pulls you in for another kiss.

Sorry. He’s just wanted this for such a long time.

Wade:

He's liked you for a pretty long time. But, he knows you probably won’t like him back with how he looks. And he tells himself he’s fine with that.

But, since you two have been friends for a while, you get curious. So, you ask if you can see his face.

He agrees eventually and pulls his mask off to show you.

Normally he doesn't get so nervous to show people his real face. But, it's different with you. He doesn't think he can just laugh off your disgust.

When he pulls his mask off and your eyes widen, he immediately assumes the worst

"Yeah. Hideous, I know. Not the chiseled supermodel that I sound like under the-"

"Wade, you're like, hot."

"Excuse me?"

He can't believe it. Actually, he doesn't believe it. After you repeat yourself, he starts telling you that he doesn't need you to lie to him and that's when you cut him off with a kiss.

He pulls away immediately just because of utter shock "Woah! Cool down, hot stuff. What are you doing?"

You tell him you've always liked him, and that you still like him (maybe even like him more) now that he's shown you his face.

He's over the moon.

"Well, why didn't you tell me sooner? We could've been doing this all along!"

"Doing what?"

And then he kisses you again. Heheheheehehehe 👅👅👅

Kurt:

Kurt loves helping you with anything and everything whenever he can. It’s one of the ways he shows his appreciation for you.

So, when you receive a (very minor) injury during training, he’s at your side almost immediately

He drags you away and makes you sit down, treating your small cut as if it were a leg that had fallen off

“Don’t move, Schatz. I will be back with a first aid kit.”

“Kurt, you don’t need to-“

“Stay, please.”

So, you let him patch you up, and he does far too much for a wound that you could probably just slap a bandaid over

But, you don’t mind. You admire him as he’s crouched down to the floor, delicately treating the small cut on your knee

And then he looks up at you with those bright, yellow eyes and he smiles. And you can’t help yourself. You lean down to him and kiss him.

This poor boy is so surprised he can’t do anything. He just freezes up. So, you assume you’ve done something wrong and you pull away.

“I’m so sorry. I thought- I was just-“

“Please do that again.”

“What?”

“Please.”

And you do 🧚‍♀️

[andvys]

the edges of your soul (i haven’t seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter nine

⭐︎ Pull the trigger on the gun I gave you when we met

warnings: fluff, post apocalypse au, alcohol consumption, drinking game, mentions of sex, mentions of masturbation, mention of virginity, hurt/no comfort (i guess?), angst, sunshine x grumpy, jealousy jealousy jealousy

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: during a game of never have i ever you find out things you weren’t prepared for

word count: 9k+

authors note: i wrote this part in two days, that’s how excited i was to write it hehe. shoutout to @hellfire--cult as always 🤍 we came up with this chapter months ago and now it’s finally here! roe added the last bit aka THE PAINFUL ONE! I am so excited for the upcoming chapters hehe

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

The air is crisp. The wind is cold and harsher now than it was a few weeks ago. The first snow started falling about a week ago, making the journey a lot harder and slower, which isn’t in your favor at all. You want to go home sooner rather than later. You have already lost so much time, when you were alone and even now too. Your sickness slowed you down, slowed them down. 

You are much better now. The fever had gone down five days into your antibiotic treatment. Your cough is still there, not as strongly as it was before but it’s there. On top of that, you don’t perform as well as you used to before the sickness. You get tired quickly, your muscles get sore and you struggle to breathe. 

Nancy told you that it’s normal, that it might take a longer while for you to recover fully. Her brother Mike suffered for nearly two months after falling sick with pneumonia, carrying an inhaler with him at all times, just like you do too, now. 

It frustrates you a little, because now they all watch you like hawks to make sure that you are not moving around too much. You are not allowed to go on runs or scavenge areas, at least not until you’re healthy again. Steve is scavenging with Eddie now mostly, but today Nancy joined him instead, leaving you and Eddie to stand guard on the snowy parking lot. 

You don’t mind. You like spending time alone with Eddie, but you want to do something. Not being able to help is driving you crazy. 

You play with the hair tie around your wrist, the one that Steve left on you, the one you haven’t taken off yet because he told you to keep it when you tried to give it back. You didn’t question where he got it or whose it was. You have a hunch. 

“Fucking Nebraska.” Eddie murmurs as he leans against the side of the RV, looking up into the grey sky. 

“What’s wrong with Nebraska?” You ask, chuckling. 

Eddie shrugs at you, raising his axe, and he points all around at the snow. “That.” 

“Nebraska isn’t the only state that’s covered in snow right now, Eddie.” You smile in amusement. You rub your glove covered hands together as you turn your body towards him. 

He narrows his eyes at you, sighing loudly. 

“Yeah well, we should have been in uh… Wyoming, Idaho or freaking Utah by now but instead we’re stuck in this godforsaken state. I swear it’s only gonna bring us bad luck.” 

You furrow your eyebrows and giggle at him, shaking your head. 

“This state is really on your most hated list, huh?” 

Eddie scoffs as he turns to face you. His cheeks are red, his nose is too. His bottom lip is trembling from the cold. A few snowflakes adorn his curls. 

“Yup.” 

“Well… if it makes you feel any better… It took me a year to get to Indiana from New York,” you admit, shrugging. “Something always gets in the way. Just like now, if it isn’t the blocked roads then it’s the time we use for scavenging. If it isn’t that, then it’s the time we spend looking for gas… and if it isn’t that then… It's a sickness.” You sigh, looking down at your feet as you kick the snow on the ground. 

Eddie’s eyes soften. Sympathy flashes in them. You felt guilty for falling sick, for slowing them down, for being a ‘burden’ as you had called yourself. He felt a little angry for the way you talked about yourself, for the way you thought you had to apologize for not feeling well.  

A soft huff falls from his lips as he bumps his shoulder into yours. He reaches for your hand and gives it a tight squeeze. 

“Sweetheart, if you mention that one more time… I swear to Ozzy I will eat all your Kitkat’s.” 

Your dimples show when your lips curl into a smile. You shake your head at him, looking back into his eyes with a mean look on your face. You raise your hand up and point your finger at him. 

“Not my Kitkat’s.” You threaten, making him chuckle. 

Eddie grins at you. 

“Stop feeling guilty and I won’t steal your candy, Sweets. It’s simple.” He shrugs. 

You roll your eyes at him and he gasps at that, looking at you offended. He throws his hand to his chest and leans back. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me, Sunshine?” He asks shocked, using the nickname Steve calls you by. 

You shake your head at his act, giggling at his dramatics. You lean down and sink your hand into the snow, scooping some up into your hand. You move back up, smirking evilly at him before you throw it at his face. 

“You’re such a dork, Eddie Munson.” 

Another louder gasp falls from his lips when the coldness hits his skin and he stares at you bewildered. He brings his hand up to his face and wipes away the snow that is now stuck to his skin. 

You are slowly backing away, eyes glinting with amusement as you giggle loudly. 

“You did not just…” He glares at you, taking a step towards you. “You little witch.”

Your eyes widen when he leans down and scoops some snow onto his palm before he charges at you. A squeal falls from your lips as you turn around quickly, trying to run from him. 

“Oh, now you’re trying to run?” Eddie chuckles loudly behind you. “Don’t you wanna finish this little snowball fight?” 

“Nope!” You giggle loudly, hoping that Steve won’t come out of the store and catch you and Eddie running around like little kids. 

“Come here!” 

“Nuh uh!” 

You make the mistake of looking back at him, not controlling your steps like you should. Your foot catches onto ice under a layer of snow and you suddenly lose your balance, slipping on the ice with both feet. You try to steady yourself but to no avail, you are falling. Though you don’t feel the rough concrete underneath you like you were expecting. Instead you fall on something soft… well, softer than the concrete would have felt. 

“Oof…”

Only when you’re on the ground and you feel the arms around your waist and your head protected against a chest, do you realize that you didn’t fall on the ground because Eddie caught you and you landed on top of him instead while he took the fall for you both. 

“Ow…” He murmurs underneath you, grunting at the pain in his back. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble as the shock wears off and you quickly turn around to face him, not getting up just yet. Your eyes are wide and your face is serious, at least until you look at him and all the snow in his hair. 

You stare at each other in silence, breathing heavily. His lip twitches first and then yours follows suit. His eyes flash with amusement and before you know it, you both burst into laughter.

Tension falls off your shoulders. Tension you didn’t realize you even had. But this feels good, you can’t remember the last time you laughed. Especially like this, to the point of tears. 

“Goddamn, you’re a klutz,” Eddie laughs as he leans his head back into the snow, not caring anymore at this point. 

You shake your head, unable to stop the laughter that keeps falling from your lips. 

Eddie lets go of your waist and brings his hand up to your back, patting it softly. 

“Are you okay?” 

You bring your hand up to your face, wiping away the stray tear that escaped from your eyes. You nod at his question. 

“I had a safe fall,” you giggle before it gets cut off by a cough.

Eddie continues to pat your back. He presses his palm against the snowy ground and pushes himself up into a seating position, grunting a bit. You turn away from him and cough into your elbow, clenching your eyes shut. 

“Shit, Sweets.” He mumbles. “Do you need your inhaler?” 

You shake your head at him. Once you calm down, you press your hand against your chest and turn back to face him. Your eyes are a little glassy from all the coughing. 

Eddie’s eyes soften, he gives you a tight lipped smile as he pats your back one last time. 

“No laughing for you anymore, young lady.” He gives you a pointed look. 

You snort and roll your eyes. 

“Hey guys, we–” Steve halts in his tracks suddenly when he finds you on the ground with Eddie. His face falls and his eyes flash with confusion when he takes in the position you’re in – Eddie is sitting up on the ground while you are on top of him, in his lap. By the look on Eddie’s state, he knows you both must have slipped and fallen but how did you get to that point in the first place? And why is Eddie’s arm around your waist? 

He clenches his jaw without realizing it. The sourness inside of him spreads quickly, burning in his chest and taking over his whole body. He clenches his fists around the basket he is holding, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He stares at Eddie’s hand and how he places it on your hip. Eyes burning with anger. 

Steve doesn’t like this and he doesn’t even realize why. 

Your head snaps towards Steve and you frown at the look on his face. Before you even begin to question it, your eyes fall on the basket he is holding and curiosity gets the best of you. You carefully get off Eddie and place your feet back on the ground, accepting his hand that he offers to you. 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together strongly and the fire in him spreads further and up to his face, causing his cheeks to redden. 

You don’t notice but Eddie does, especially when he catches Steve watching how you help him up. How you remove the snow from his jacket and his cheek, making sure that he is clean again before you make your way towards him. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows in surprise, seeing the glare that is directed at him, the murderous gaze. If looks could kill, he would drop dead by now. If he didn’t consider Steve to be one of his best friends, he would have feared him right now. But Eddie only feels smugness and amusement. 

If jealousy had a name, it would be Steve Harrington. 

Eddie’s lip curls into a smirk, and he snickers under his breath. 

“This is too good,” he murmurs under his breath. He is gonna tease him. Oh yeah. He is gonna enjoy this one. 

“What’d you find?” You ask cheerfully as you make your way towards him, smiling brightly already. 

Steve looks away from Eddie and down at you. His eyes instantly soften when they meet yours. The sourness remains in his chest but something else spreads even quicker… warmth. 

You grab the edge of the basket with both hands and peek inside. Your smile falls and your eyes widen. A gasp of excitement falls from your lips when you catch sight of the knitted scarf. 

You look up at him, mustering up your best puppy eyes. 

“Can I have that one?” You plead. 

Steve’s heart skips a beat at the look on your face. Those eyes. He feels his knees falling weak every time you look at him like this. 

He swallows the growing lump in his throat and he nods. 

He almost wants to laugh at your question though. He spent fifteen minutes picking out a scarf for you. He didn’t want just any one. He grabbed the pink one at first before he caught sight of this one. He was unaware of Nancy’s smug face. 

“I picked it out for you.” He mumbles, lip curling upwards when your wide eyes meet his again. 

“You did!?” You nearly squeal as you grab it from the basket, jumping on your feet slightly as you wrap it around yourself. 

Steve’s eyes sparkle as he takes in the pure happiness on your features, all because of a pastel yellow colored scarf. 

“How’d you know this was my favorite color?” You ask, feeling the fluttering of your heart so strongly at this moment, especially when you look into his hazel eyes. 

Steve feels caught and he sinks into himself a little. Heat creeps up to his cheeks and he grows flustered… embarrassed. He clears his throat, shifting from one foot to another. 

He clears his throat, wanting to punch Eddie now more than ever as he catches sight of the smug bastard in the back. 

“I honestly didn’t know… I– I just… remembered you said you had a sunflower field behind your house, so I thought…” he trails off and looks back down into your eyes. They are sparkling for him. Your smile is wider than it was in weeks. You’re happy. “Good to know, though…”

Your heart skips a beat, and your stomach flutters wildly. He remembered your sunflower field? You told him that in the very beginning, when he didn’t even talk back much, when you just rambled his ear off. You didn’t even think he listened to you, let alone remember what you talked about to him. 

“Thank you so much, Stevie!” You smile widely as you take a step closer to him. You rise to your tippy toes and grab onto his shoulder as you press your lips to his cheek, pecking it softly. 

Steve freezes. He tenses up. Not because he didn’t like it but because he did. He liked it. He liked the feeling of your lips on his skin. A little too much. 

You pull away and brush past him when you notice Nancy coming out of the store, carrying two bags. You leave him standing with glowing cheeks. 

The need to escape takes over and despite feeling like his feet are glued to the ground, he forces himself to make his way towards the RV, ignoring the racing in his chest. 

He walks past Eddie but not without sending a glare towards him. He reaches into the basket, and picks out the grey beanie, throwing it at the metalhead without a single word. 

Eddie catches it before it hits him in the face. A loud snicker falls from his mouth when he realizes why Steve is so salty and why his cheeks are like the color of a ripe tomato. He follows him. Of course he does. Eddie sees the perfect opportunity. 

“Thanks for that, man.” Eddie holds up the beanie. 

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Steve grumbles under his breath. He throws the door open to the RV and steps inside. Dropping the basket on the table, he starts taking out the cans of food he found and starts stacking them up in the cabinets. 

Eddie leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“What were you two doing out there?” Steve asks after two minutes of silence. 

“Had a little snowball fight.” That is an exaggeration, and he knows it, but he wants to see Steve’s reaction. “And then we fell.” 

Eddie can’t see his face. Steve’s back is turned to him as he fills up the cabinets. Though he can see how he tenses up and falters a little. 

“Right…” Steve scoffs. “She fell on your lap?” 

There it is. Eddie is surprised; that was quick. 

He doesn’t bother hiding his snickering. He pushes himself off the wall and moves up beside him, tilting his head at the former jock. He smiles smugly when he sees the clenched jaw. 

“Is that jealousy, Big Boy?” 

Steve narrows his eyes at him. He grips the edges of the counter and slowly turns to face him. 

“I’m just…–”

“You’re just what, Steve? Jealous?” Eddie cackles, enjoying this far more than he should. He raises his hand up and places it on Steve’s chest, patting it roughly. “Don’t worry, man. She is all yours, I promise.” 

Steve huffs and he shakes his head, opening his mouth to speak. 

“Yellow is her favorite color huh? I didn’t know that. You didn’t either, she didn’t even tell you–”

“Stop.” Steve sighs. He brings his hand up to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. The tension in his shoulders rises when he realizes the weight of Eddie’s words. Deep down he knows he is right, he knows it. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to admit it. He fears it. He can’t have those feelings. He can’t allow himself to care more than he does right now. He knows where this will end – how it almost ended a few weeks ago. If he allows these feelings, if he lets them out only for something to happen… he will never recover. 

The smug look on Eddie’s face falls when he realizes the seriousness of this situation as he reads the look on his face. 

Steve is holding back. He is holding back out of fear, not realizing that this could potentially make everything so much worse. 

“Steve…” Eddie sighs as his hand moves to grip his shoulder. “I know what you’re trying to do here–”

“Don’t.” Steve warns him. Like he doesn’t want to hear it, like he doesn’t want to even consider his words. “Just don’t, Munson.” 

He couldn’t even finish the sentence. He couldn’t even utter a single word and it frustrated him a little but he also understands it. 

“Fine…” Eddie sighs, and he lets his hand fall back to his side. 

Steve takes a deep breath. He runs his fingers through the mess of his head. His hair got so long in the past few months. The past self of him would be mortified at the sight of him now. 

Steve glances at Eddie. He can’t stand the sympathetic look in his dark eyes. He doesn’t want to be pitied. 

“You know what you need–”

Steve rolls his eyes and he pulls back, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I said don’t–”

“Hear me out, will you?” Eddie mumbles in annoyance. He rolls his eyes back at him and turns around, opening the cabinet where you have put all the special things. He reaches for the bottle. A grin spreads on his face before he turns around. He holds it up with a wiggle of his brows. 

Steve shakes his head, “nope.”

“Oh yeah.” Eddie nods and by the look of his determined face, Steve knows he will lose this argument. “You gotta let loose a little. Swallow those feelings down with a little help of my former best friend.” Eddie grins at the whiskey bottle. 

Steve sighs. 

“We’ll play a little drinking game… and who knows, maybe we’ll find out some dirty truths from your girl's past.” Eddie cackles. 

“She’s not my–”

The door bursts open and you come rushing in, carrying one of the bags you grabbed off Nancy’s shoulder. You halt in your tracks and look between them. The frustrated gaze in Steve’s eyes and the excited one in Eddie’s tells you everything you need to know. 

Nancy comes stumbling in behind you. 

Eddie turns towards you, smirking at the two of you as he holds up the whiskey bottle. 

“Wanna play a game?” 

-

The fire keeps you brittle warm, allowing your cheeks to burn a little. The cold doesn’t even touch you right now, you’re so close to the heat. The bowl of soup is warm in your hands. You keep glancing towards Steve as you watch him eat. 

Eddie is rambling his ear off about DnD, something Steve couldn’t care less about. He keeps humming and grumbling in response. 

Nancy had already finished her dinner. She is rubbing her hands over the fire, warming herself up. 

You found a little hidden spot, behind trees and ruins, allowing you to let the flames burn higher than usual. Allowing you to feel a little more comfortable. You did a perimeter check with Steve before dinner, and he demanded to do it slowly for you, and this area seemed pretty safe and clean. 

“So… how about some good ‘ol never have I ever?” Eddie smirks as he picks up the bottle of whiskey he carried outside before. 

Your eyes light up. The urge to let loose, even if just for one night, for a few hours is so big. You nod at him, putting your now empty bowl on the ground beside your feet. 

“Yes, please!” 

Nancy chuckles at the enthusiastic smile on your face. Eddie’s eyes lock with hers and she shrugs at him, mumbling “sure.” 

Eddie grins at her, knowing she wouldn’t have given in so easily in the past. She sure has changed. 

He looks at Steve last to find him staring at you. Eddie knows that he is curious, it’s in his eyes. 

“I’m not drinking—“

“Oh come on!” Eddie groans, throwing his head back.

“If I am willing to drink then you gotta do it too, Steve!” Nancy says, shrugging at him. 

“Someone’s gotta stay sober.”

“Not like we’re gonna get blackout drunk, man. Besides the area is safe—“

Steve sighs, shaking his head. “You can never know.”

“Steve…” You sigh, pulling the attention on you. You tilt your head to the side, pouting at him. “Please…”

Steve huffs softly. 

Your features, your skin, your hair look so soft in this light. The golden flames make you look even more beautiful. Something flutters in his chest when you bat your eyelashes at him. 

He breathes in shakily, and by the way Eddie snickered beside him, he knows he heard it. 

Steve clears his throat as he shakes his head. 

“You’re not drinking either, Sunshine. You’re still coming down from your sickness and you’re still on pain meds.” He says sternly. 

Now your frown and your pout deepens. Your stomach sinks a little and the excitement wears off instantly. 

“Oh… right.” You whisper. 

Steve watches the way your face falls and your shoulders slump. A saddening look flashes in your features. He is surprised to see you giving up so easily, he expected you to put up a bit of a fight. 

“Shit,” Eddie murmurs. He didn't think about it either. 

You sigh deeply. You look between all of them and straighten your back again. 

“You can still play!” 

Steve can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt bubbling up inside of him. He saw how excited you were when Eddie suggested the game. 

“Hold on,” Steve mumbles as he pushes himself up from his seat. He disappears into the RV, making you all frown in confusion. You hear some rustling, some cans moving around before he comes out again, holding a can of Dr. Pepper in his hand. He makes his way to you, lips curling into a small smile. He holds it out for you. “I know it’s not the same but… you– we can still play.” 

You stare at the red soda can in his hand. Your soft eyes light up as you look up at him. 

His throat bobs when he swallows nervously. His heart skips yet another beat as he looks down into your eyes. 

Steve couldn’t care less about the game. If it wasn’t for you, he would call it a day and go to sleep. 

“Yeah,” he whispers softly. 

You are both unaware of the eye contact Nancy and Eddie are holding. To the looks on their faces and of the mischief crossing Eddie’s face as he grabs the plastic cups he had already prepared before. He unscrews the lid and pours the whiskey. 

“Thank you,” you whisper as you take the soda from Steve’s hands. Blush rises to your cheeks and your hand warms even more when your fingers brush against his own. 

Steve only smiles at you before he makes his way back to his seat. He curls his fingers into his hand, clenching it tightly as he still feels the mark of your touch. A sigh leaves his mouth when he sinks back into his camping chair. 

Eddie holds the cup out to him, and Steve only accepts it reluctantly. 

“Don’t think too much,” Eddie says to him. “It’s gonna be good for you, trust me.” 

“If you say so.” Steve snorts as he accepts the cup. He can’t remember the last time he even smelled alcohol. 

A pop sounds through the circle as you open the can. You bring your knees up to your chest and tug the blanket tighter around you, getting comfortable as giddiness rushes through your body. This reminds you of high school… only this is even better. You’re around friends. 

Eddie puts the bottle back down after handing Nancy her cup. He leans back and looks around the circle, smirking at Steve – the latter already knowing that this means nothing good. 

“So…” Eddie starts, wiggling his eyebrows. “Who’s starting?”

Steve sinks deeper into his seat, he looks down at his drink, sloshing it around in the cup. 

“Never have I ever played DnD.” Nancy says, making both you and Steve chuckle. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows at her, tilting his head as he brings the cup up to his lips. 

“You’re doing me a favor here, Wheeler.” 

Before he can even down the drink like he had planned to do, Steve leans forward and grabs Eddie’s wrist, “hold on. You ain’t downing that drink. We’re not in high school going home safe after. Doesn’t matter how safe this area seems to you, we’re still in the middle of nowhere… during the goddamn end of the world. We’re taking sips, not shots.” 

Steve’s face is stern as he lectures Eddie, who looks like a kid getting scolded by his father. 

You can’t help but giggle. 

“Okay, dad.” Eddie mumbles with wide eyes. “Sips, not shots, got it.” 

Nancy laughs at their interaction. 

Eddie takes a sip, keeping his eyes on Steve, who watches him closely, warning him with his eyes. 

“See.” Eddie shows him the cup. “I just took a sip.” 

“Good.” Steve grumbles before he leans back into his seat. 

Eddie turns back to Nancy, grinning evilly. “Alright Wheeler. Never have I ever… gotten straight A’s in high school.” 

A groan falls from her lips, she rolls her eyes at his lame attempt at making her drink. She brings the cup up to her lips and takes a sip. 

Steve glances at you, expecting you to take a sip as well but you don’t. Your can remains propped up on your knees. 

“No A’s?” Eddie raises his brows at you. “I’m surprised.” 

You shrug. “The best I got were B’s.” 

“Something I could only ever dream of.”

Nancy rolls her eyes at him again, “you were just lazy, Eddie.” 

“Are you saying I’m smart, Nancy Wheeler?” He smirks at her. 

“I’m saying you could have been better, dumbass.” 

Eddie waves her off and looks between you and Steve, “who’s next?”

Steve shrugs and gestures to you, holding his cup. 

You blush a little when he flashes you a smile. You tug your blanket tighter to you and look back into the fire. 

“Um… never have I ever…” You pause, trying to think of something you have always wanted to do. “Gone on a picnic date…?”

Eddie sits still, not bringing the cup up to his lips. Steve is not drinking either. The three of you glance at each other before you all look towards Nancy, who is the only one to take a sip of the whiskey. She scrunches up her face at the bitter taste. 

A sullen look takes over her face and if you didn’t look close enough, you would have missed the way her eyes flashed with sadness before she took that sip. She breathes in sharply and clears her throat before she plasters a smile onto her face as she looks back to you. 

“You have never gone on a picnic date?” 

Steve glances at you too with curious eyes. 

You shake your head. You always wanted to go but no one ever asked you out. Your ex-boyfriend always told you that he wasn’t a fan of date nights – must have been because he was too busy taking other girls out. 

Steve’s chest pains a little at the saddened look on your face. 

“No, but anyways… It’s your turn, Steve!” 

Steve blinks as he stares at you, your eyes now gazing into his. His cheeks flush under the weight of your eyes. He shifts on his chair. 

“Uh…” He can’t focus when you look at him, especially with that little tilt in your head and the innocent eyes. He looks down, at the crackling wood and the golden flames. His heart skipping a little harder. This is ridiculous. “Never have I ever uh…” 

What stupid thing would Robin say? 

What silly line would escape her mouth? 

“Been arrested…?”

Eddie chuckles loudly beside him. “See for someone who doesn’t want me to get drunk, you sure are doing a bad job, Harrington.” He laughs before he takes a big sip of his whiskey. 

You gasp and lean forward, “how, when, where, why?” You ramble. 

Steve’s shoulders shake when laughter escapes him at the look on your face. The wide eyes and the dropped jaw. 

“Oh, Sweetheart…” Eddie trails off. “I got arrested several times.”

“For what!?” 

“For being an idiot!” Nancy chuckles. She witnessed it herself once, Hopper running after a handcuffed Eddie who somehow managed to escape before he was forced into the cop car. 

“Then Jonathan must’ve been an idiot too!” Eddie scoffs. “Didn’t you get arrested with him!?” 

She shakes her head at him, “nope. I just went to the station with him.” 

You don’t notice the way Steve looks away, awkwardly and tense at the current conversation. 

“Why are you all getting arrested!?” You ask, confused. 

Nancy shrugs at you. 

You glance at Steve and raise your eyebrows at him, “did you get arrested too?” 

He purses his lips and shakes his head, “nope. Always managed to get away before the cops were at the crime scene.” He jokes. 

You roll your eyes at him but chuckle softly. 

“So I’m friends with a bunch of criminals, is that it?” You joke.

“Oh yeah.” Eddie nods his head, making his curls bounce. “Bet you’re the worst of us all though.” He points his finger at you. 

You press your palm against your chest, humming. “Cold blooded killer, you said it before.” You joke, looking at him seriously. 

“Exactly.” 

The game continues and the lines get sillier as Eddie keeps refilling the cups with Whiskey. You notice how the tension in Steve’s shoulders disappears after a few bigger sips of the liquor, how the redness in his cheeks glows stronger beneath the orange hues of the campfire. Your heart flutters every time his eyes flash with amusement, with happiness. Every time his laughter echoes, you feel something in you heating up in a way it never has before. 

For a moment, the world out there is gone. It’s just the four of you, being normal people. You aren’t out here trying to survive. You aren’t out here surrounded by death. You aren’t out here barely pushing through this world. Right now, you can be a group of friends having fun… just that. And you enjoy it so much. You have never felt more welcomed than you do with them. 

Nancy’s eyes shine with tears of laughter as Eddie continues his story of the girl who threw up on his shoes when he tried flirting with her. His goal was to ask her out on a date, not realizing that she was fully drunk until it was too late. 

“God… why do you always have the lamest dating stories, Munson?” Steve laughs, blinking away his own tears. 

“That poor girl! She must have been so embarrassed!” You mumble, trying not to giggle as much. 

“Sweetheart, I threw up right after. We were both embarrassed.” 

You break into laughter again, though your face cringes in disgust at the image of it in your head. 

“Did you ever see her again, after?” Steve asks, his lips twitching as he tries to stop laughing. 

“Yeah, in the school hallway. It was awkward as hell.” Eddie admits with wide eyes. 

“God…” Nancy mumbles, amused. She leans back and tilts her head up, looking up into the sky with a lazy smile on her lips. 

“Yeah…” Eddie chuckles to himself as he looks into the fire. His finger traces the rim of his cup. 

For a moment, silence takes over. Only the crackling of the wood is heard around you. You watch the flames too, contentment filling you. 

You don’t notice his eyes on you or the way they scan your face, the way they look at you. You don’t realize that he is smiling or that his eyes are sparkling. If only you looked up. 

“Never have I ever had sex.” Eddie snorts, knowing he will make everyone drink this time. 

“Of course,” Nancy snorts and straightens up in her seat again, bringing the cup to her lip, she finishes the remains of her whiskey. 

Steve rolls his eyes as he follows suit, finishing the last bit of his drink. He turns to face you and a frown appears on his face. 

Eddie notices the look on his face when he has taken the biggest gulp of the night. 

You avoid their eyes, blushing furiously as you continue to stare into the fire. Your shoulders, your whole body is tense. Embarrassment is written all over your face. You sit still. The soda can frozen in your lap. You haven’t taken a single sip and you don’t plan on taking one as your fingers play with the loose string on your blanket. 

Steve’s eyes widen when the realization hits him. 

Oh. 

Nancy’s lips part in surprise, her eyes soften when she sees just how flustered you are. 

Eddie is the last to realize but when he does, he nearly chokes on the whiskey. He gulps down and coughs a little. Bringing his hand up to his chest as his wide eyes search for yours. 

“You… You’re a virgin, Sweetheart?” He gasps, knowing he should be approaching the topic a little more gently but he is too shocked, too intoxicated to let that rational voice in his head tell him what to do. 

Eddie is flabbergasted. 

And Steve… Steve’s eyes are filled with confusion and disbelief. His heart is pounding in his chest. How?  

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry but… how?”

Eddie asks the question that repeats itself in Steve’s mind. 

You bite your lip and look at him, avoiding Steve’s eyes. You feel too embarrassed. 

“You’re not fucking with us, are you?” Eddie squints his eyes, finding it hard to believe. 

“Nope.” 

“But… You said you had a boyfriend!” Those words come tumbling out of Steve’s mouth. 

Eddie’s and Nancy’s heads snap towards him. This is something they didn’t know about you. 

You roll your eyes and huff, “just because I had a boyfriend doesn’t mean that I slept with him. Besides… that was the exact reason why he told me I was immature… the exact reason why he cheated on me.” You mumble, looking down. 

Steve’s eyes harden at that. His chest burns with rage over that prick that was given the chance to date you only to fuck you over. 

Nancy leans forward, her protectiveness kicking in, shooting off the roof. 

“He cheated on you because you weren’t ready to sleep with him?” She scoffs, slurring her words a bit. Her blue eyes burn with anger for someone she doesn’t even know. “What– Men! Men fucking suck!” 

You smile a little. 

Eddie moves closer and pats Nancy’s back. 

“Hey, not all of us are bad,” Eddie chuckles. 

Steve looks down at his cup. His heart aches at the thought of how you felt back then. He knows your heart was crushed and you were devastated. You don’t have to tell him that for him to know. 

“I hope he died. Gruesomely. Fucked in the ass by an infected–”

You crack up at her words. The tension slips away as amusement takes over and you and Eddie start laughing loudly at her. 

Steve leans forward, he puts the empty cup down and presses his palms together, entwining his fingers. He glances at you, his eyes tracing your features while you are distracted. 

“So uh… nothing?” Eddie asks after your laughter dies down. His curiosity gets the best of him. His eyes keep glancing towards Steve to catch his reactions. 

You shake your head shyly. 

Nancy eyes you, wanting to make sure that you are comfortable talking about this. 

“No… It’s not like I don’t have the need…” You admit, surprising yourself even. But you feel safe talking about this, comfortable. Like you won’t get judged. “I mean– I had my own you know…”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, playing coy, playing dumb. 

Steve straightens up a bit, nerves growing wild inside of him as he stares at you. 

Eddie bows his head a little. “No? I know what?”

You avoid Steve’s eyes still. Heat rises to your cheeks, not from the fire but from the embarrassment inside of you. From talking about this in front of the guy you… you like. 

You blink. Tapping your fingers against your knee. 

“A helper…?”

Eddie almost bursts into laughter. He enjoys seeing you like this. He enjoys the way Steve is cracking his knuckles beside him, shifting on his chair. 

Nancy licks her lips, holding back her smile when she realizes what he is doing, when she realizes how red Steve’s cheeks are. 

Frustration bubbles up inside of you when you notice the mischief flashing in Eddie’s brown eyes. 

“For fucks sake! A vibrator! A fucking vibrator!” 

Nancy giggles loudly beside you. She is definitely gonna bring that up later. 

Steve nearly falls over. His heart almost beats out of his chest. His eyes are glued on you. Heat spreads across his whole body and before he can even stop it, images start cursing through his mind. Images of you… of you on your bed, of your hands on your body, on your bare body that he had seen already. The realization strikes that he was the first to see you like this, to touch your soft skin, to hold you. 

Suddenly his heart does more than just flutter. 

Eddie smirks at you. His shoulders shake. 

“Yeah, just wanted to make sure it was that.” 

You roll your eyes at him. 

“You fucking dick!”

Nancy and he chuckle at you, sharing amused glances. 

“Now…” You start after a moment of silence. “I don’t know if it’ll ever happen, and I regret not giving my virginity to my ex…” You admit a little shamefully. 

The three of them look at you in question. 

“Why do you say it won’t?” Steve asks. 

You chuckle softly and shrug as you look up at Steve, “look around us, Steve. It’s the end of the world… I could die tomorrow and I think it’s obvious to say that the chances of finding someone in the apocalypse are pretty scarce.” 

They all fall silent, looking at you with pity – something that you don’t want, something that you hate. 

But they notice that you are actually afflicted by it. 

Eddie narrows his eyes, shifting in his seat. He looks at Steve, noticing the way he watches you intently. A sliver of yearning in his hazel eyes. 

If he doesn’t take the chance… 

Eddie clears his throat. Licking his lips, he looks back at you. 

“Listen, if I didn’t have my sweetheart, I’d offer to make your first time the best night of your life,” he says cockily. A smirk tugging at his lips when he feels Steve’s angry eyes on him. 

You don’t even pay much attention to his comment. You nearly give yourself a whiplash by how fast you turn towards him. 

“You have a sweetheart!? Wait! Are you talking about your guitar? You showed me pictures of it and–”

“Of course not my guitar!” Eddie interrupts you, grinning. “I have my love waiting for me in California!”

Your eyes lighten up and you sit up straighter, curious to hear about his love story. 

But Steve and Nancy roll their eyes and groan. 

“Don’t listen to him, he never wanted to tell us… so obviously he is bluffing.” Nancy murmurs. “If he had a sweetheart we would have known about her or him!” 

Eddie scoffs, though the smile on his face doesn’t disappear, instead it grows even wider. 

“Honestly Nancy… If I were really single, I would have tried my luck with this young lady I have in front of me the moment I saw her. She’s funny and sweet and she’s hot as hell. Who wouldn’t try to make a move on that piece of ass?” 

Your eyes widen, and you instantly grow flustered, cheeks burning like crazy. 

The bitter taste on Steve’s tongue returns and he can’t even hide his frown this time when he looks at the metalhead beside him, only to realize that he fell right into his trap. Eddie is already looking back at him with a smug smirk on his face. 

Nancy is watching you, how you flush all over while you sip your soda. She holds back her smile, thinking that it’s cute. 

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I see you as nothing more than a friend.” He makes the message very clear… to Steve. 

Yet, it does little to calm him down. The same sour feeling as he felt before spreads through his chest. 

Silence fills the space around you for a moment and the air suddenly shifts. You don’t know what it is yet. You don’t notice the look on Nancy’s face and how the amusement slowly fades as the alcohol kicks in differently, affecting other kinds of emotions now. 

“Well.” Eddie looks around, clapping his hands together. “Anyone else got a confession to make?”

Steve shakes his head just like you. 

Nancy hesitates. A sullen look suddenly takes over, crossing over her features out of nowhere. She blinks rapidly as she stares into the fire, chewing on her bottom lip. 

“I love Robin.” 

You slowly look towards her, unlike Eddie who snaps his head into her direction, looking at her in surprise. 

But Steve, he already knew, well– he suspected it. He knew about Robin’s feelings. He knew that she fell in love with Nancy. He remembers how guilty she looked when she confessed to him, fearing that he would hate her for falling in love with his ex-girlfriend. He remembers how scared she was, how she looked at him, like she thought that she was about to lose her best friend. He hugged her then and promised that it was okay. His love for Nancy was in the past and it was never real love to begin with, nothing to mourn over. Puppy love. And the thing that happened back in ‘86 was nothing more than a moment of desperation to feel the only real thing he once thought he had. 

Eddie’s smile slowly fades, lips curling downwards as he stares at Nancy’s glossy eyes. She is his best friend but it’s something he didn’t know. It’s something she wasn’t ready to confess. To speak into the universe. To let out. 

“She… She confessed to me. She told me that she loves me… that she’s in love with me. And then she died…on the same day.” She whispers and bows her head to hide the tears that are about to slip down her cheeks. 

Steve breathes in shakily, he looks away and closes his eyes. 

“I never said it back.”

Your heart breaks for her. She kept it all to herself for such a long time, it must have been eating away at her. Her sniffles pains you even more. You lean forward and place your hand on her knee. 

“Shit…” Eddie whispers, staring at her with sad eyes as the realization slowly sinks in. “I didn’t know, Nance.”

“Yeah…” She whispers, not looking up just yet. “And now… I can never say it back.”

You don’t know what to say. Eddie doesn’t either. You’re both not even sure if words are what she needs or if she just needs to let this all out. 

“I-I honestly never made a move on her before that because I thought she hated me…” She confesses, talking without a filter now. Her emotions take control, guided by the alcohol in her system. 

You frown at her words, gripping her knee tighter as you try to see her face but it’s covered by her long hair. 

“Why would she hate you, Nancy?” 

Eddie looks between you both, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Because of what I did to Steve.” She whispers, slowly looking up at you. 

Anxiety builds up inside of you and you begin to feel nervous. 

“W-What did you do to Steve?”

Steve snaps his head towards the two of you, shaking his head with a panicked look on his face. “Nancy–”

“I cheated on him. Hurt him. I thought Robin would hardly forgive someone like that. That Robin wouldn’t even like someone that did that to her best friend… Even if that happened a long time ago…”

Steve closes his eyes with a sigh, murmuring a quiet ‘fuck’.

Eddie winces under his breath. 

You draw back instantly, your hand falling off her knee. You take in a sharp breath. The realization rushing through you coldly. You grip the soda can tighter and look down. 

Nancy was the girl he told you about. 

She was the one who hurt him, who broke his heart. 

All this time you have been traveling with them and you didn’t even know. 

You feel like a fool. 

And it’s sadness and insecurity that hits you the hardest. She was the girl. And you are nothing like her, not even in the slightest. 

Steve looks up at you slowly. He tries to catch a glimpse of your face but it’s tilted so far down.

You don’t know what to feel, what to think. 

How can he be around her? You’d never be able to travel with your ex-boyfriend who cheated on you, lied to you, acted like he loved you. You could never be around him, let alone be his friend… unless you still loved him. 

Suddenly it’s nausea that bubbles up. Your heart sinks to your stomach. And now you wonder, would you have known sooner if you just put two and two together? If you would have taken a closer look? 

“I never knew.” Eddie murmurs, patting her back. 

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” Nancy whispers. “A-And that’s all… that’s all I got to confess. What about you…? Do you have anything…?”

You suddenly feel suffocated and you no longer want to sit here in this circle. It’s all become too much and all these questions running through your head begin to drive you crazy. You want to be alone. You need to think. 

You clear your throat as you get up, picking up your discarded bowl from before and your empty soda can. You take a quick look around and force a smile on your face when Nancy looks up at you with her big eyes. 

“I’m gonna go to sleep. I’m tired and my head is starting to hurt again.” You lie. You avoid both Steve’s and Eddie’s eyes. 

“Oh.” Nancy mumbles, her shoulders slumping. 

“Good night.” You whisper before you brush past Steve, ignoring the way he looks up at you in concern. You quickly make your way into the RV and shut the door behind you before any of them can question you. 

You set everything down on the kitchen counter. Gripping the edges of it, you lean against it and close your eyes, sighing loudly. 

You are confused and shocked, not understanding how it all went over your head for months. You could have known sooner. You should have. You wish you did. 

A part of you wants to know more, the other part doesn’t. 

You clean up your bowl and put everything away before you make your way into the tiny bathroom to brush your teeth. You hurry, wanting to be asleep before anyone comes in to check on you. 

Not even the mint flavor of your toothpaste can get rid of the bitter taste on your tongue though. 

“Sunshine?” 

You almost groan in annoyance. Almost. You would have if it wasn’t him. You spit out the paste and rinse your mouth before you walk out. You plaster a smile on your face when you notice him standing by the kitchen counter. 

He offers you a smile, “I uh… are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

Your eyes soften. You press your lips together and shake your head, “no, I just… I wanna get some sleep.” 

He brings his hand up to the back of his neck as he nods, “alright…”

You don’t move and neither does he. 

Steve is so selfless. He’s so kind and sweet when he allows himself to be. He would do anything for his friends, showing you that he would do absolutely everything for the one he loves. There is not a single bad thing about him. So… how could she do this to him? 

“I’m–”

“So Nancy…” 

Steve can’t read the expression on your face nor can he figure out the emotion in your voice but if he didn’t know any better, he would think it is hurt… sadness. But why? 

“Yeah…” Steve whispers. 

He doesn’t know why he feels the urge to show you, to tell you that he doesn’t feel anything for Nancy, that he hasn’t felt anything for her in years, that he could never again. 

You swallow harshly and nod. You take a seat on the bench and he follows you after a second, sitting down beside you. 

“Do you…” You pause, not knowing if you’re actually ready to find out. 

“I don’t love her anymore if that’s what you think.” Steve confesses, wanting – needing you to know. 

He wishes he could ignore the way your shoulders slump in relief or the way your eyes fill with something that looks like hope. 

“No?”

He shakes his head, “no. It was uh… It was puppy love but not real love, if it makes sense?” 

“Oh.”

Steve takes a deep breath. He continues to look into your eyes, wanting to catch each and every one of your reactions. 

“It was the first time someone else… cared for me. That someone seemed to like me for me and not because I was this popular guy… I only knew loneliness thanks to my parents being complete assholes.” 

Your eyebrows furrow as though you’re in pain. The sympathy and the sadness the flashes in your eyes reminds him of Robin. 

Steve runs his fingers through his hair, swallowing the lump that grew in his throat. 

“I’m so sorry, Steve.” You frown, knowing how that ended for him. 

“It’s okay, Sunshine.” He shrugs, his whisper is soft. 

How could she look into his hazel eyes and not fall for him harder every day? How could she look at him and think that he wasn’t good enough? That there could be someone better out there? How could she look at him and not think that he was the best thing that’s ever happened to her? 

There is little distance between you and your hand finds his before you can even think rationally. 

Steve looks down at it. It’s not the first time he feels your touch like this. It’s also not the first time he feels that electric feeling cursing through him. 

“But then… Robin came.”

“Wait then… you for Robin–”

“God, no, no…” Steve shakes his head, interrupting you quickly. “She just… She just filled that loneliness, and it made me realize that I was just chasing Nancy… pretending to be in love… Just to noy feel alone again…” He explains, cringing a little. “And then, Robin kind of started dating this girl, and I felt that bit of bitterness inside of me cause she was spending a little less time with me.” 

You nod in understanding as he keeps talking. 

“I tried dating around as well… But nothing worked out, no one wanted me for anything other than sex.” 

You frown at his words, feeling anger and a sliver of jealousy burning in you. 

“So I kind of… set my eyes back on Nancy again, not because I still loved her but… She was just the closest thing I had to a ‘real’ relationship. It was dumb to chase her again, to go after someone who hurt me. It took me a moment to realize that there are other versions of love that can be fulfilling.” 

“Robin.” 

He gives you a small smile, tapping your hand with his finger. He eyes the lilac hair tie around your wrist. It’s yours now. For safekeeping. 

“Robin.” He nods. 

He stopped seeking her out when he let go of a love he thought was… love. Maybe it should calm you down a little but it doesn’t. 

“And now… that Robin is… gone?”

He knows what you’re asking. 

You want to know if he will do it again, if he will chase after her again. 

Steve shakes his head, humming. “I would never make that mistake again,” he chuckles, cringing at his younger self. “Besides, I don’t feel lonely.”

“Oh… Eddie and Nance?” You ask. 

You secretly hope that you are the reason for that he doesn’t feel lonely anymore. 

“No, I felt lonely with them too. I was… grumpy, remember?” He asks, cocking his eyebrow as his eyes flash with amusement. 

You shake your head, “then what–”

“You came.” He confesses. 

And it makes your heart flutter like crazy. Your eyes fill with so much hope. You straighten up and curl your hand around his as you gaze into his hazel eyes. 

“You are… as stubborn as Robin was.” He whispers. “You remind me of her.” 

Oh… 

And then it hits you. 

It hits you harder than anything else ever has before. 

He never liked you for you. 

He gave you a chance because you reminded him of the one person that meant everything to him. He gave you a chance because he saw her in you, because he could pretend. 

You were never to him what he is to you. 

You are a replacement. A placeholder. 

And here you thought you found someone who likes you for you. 

But of course not. 

How did you never see it? Every time he talked about Robin, every time that he mentioned a memory, and– His eyes, they are looking at your wrist. At the hair tie, and– It was him… he put that on you, and now you knew. This wasn’t just anyone’s hair tie… this was Robin’s.

Your hand slowly slips away from his, looking down at the floor. You caught feelings only to find out that he saw you as a replacement for his soulmate. For someone he thought of as family, as a sister. He sees you that way, he will always see you that way and not as a woman. Not as someone who can try to give the love he wants and needs. 

Because you are like Robin… and you are the opposite of Nancy.

You’ll never be like Nancy. She looks like… a woman, a strong woman that knows what she wants, that is experienced, that is mature, that knows how to handle most of the situations with a clear mind and you– You are reckless, a klutz like Eddie had called you, and you also were–

“You want a kitkat before bed, Sunshine?”

Immature.

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx

[deansbeer]

COACHELLA, BABY.

꒰ . ⋮ minors do not interact .ᐟ ֹ ꒱

☆ synopsis. vinnie fucks you dumb at coachella after carrying you on his shoulders all hot and sweaty.

☆ warning(s). smut | semi-public sex (?) | exhibitionism | rough sex | fingering | dirty talk | spanking | overstimulation | vinnie is obsessed and possessive in the hottest way ever | reader isn't wearing any panties | daddy kink.

☆ kari notes. like missy elliott once said "get ur freak on" <3 ummm i will say writing for him took me back to '23 and it made me SOOOO emotional ???? (ur probably wondering how tf do u get emotional writing smut ….. i don't know.) s/o to all my vinnie girlies !!! this one is dedicated to u 🤍 + divider creds to me.

you don't even realize how good you've got it until vinnie's crouching down in front of you with that stupid half-smirk and his hands extended like he's about to carry you across a threshold.

"c'mon, baby," he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours through strands of messy, sun-drenched curly hair. his skin's glowing, flushed from the heat and a few drinks, chain around his neck glinting under the setting sun. "get on."

you blink at him, confused for half a second before you realize what he means. "on your shoulders?"

"unless you wanna keep jumping like a chihuahua trying to see over people's heads."

you roll your eyes but grin, because he's right. the crowd's thick, the music's good, and you've been struggling to see the stage for the last ten minutes. and vinnie? well, he's tall and broad and annoyingly strong, so you don't hesitate. you climb onto his shoulders, hands bracing on his head as you settle in, your thighs around him, your short little dress riding up dangerously high — not that either of you mind.

his hands grip your legs, steadying you, and he lets out a low whistle.

"jesus. you're not wearing anything under this?"

you lean down just enough to murmur into his ear, "not a thing under here."

he groans, head tipping back just slightly, and his hands squeeze your thighs. "you're gonna fuckin' kill me, baby."

but he doesn't ask you to get down. doesn't tell you to fix your dress. he just stands there, solid and proud, letting you dance on his shoulders as the bass shakes the desert air. his hands linger on your legs, warm and possessive, fingers brushing higher than they should in public. you don't say anything about it. you just smile and keep moving to the music, knowing full well he's getting the best view of the night.

later, when the sun's down and the sky's dripping in neon, you find a quiet rest tent tucked a little off to the side. it’s not really private — nothing at coachella is — but it's quieter, away from the crowd, dimly lit with soft cushions and low couches, the kind of place people come to cool down or make out for a few minutes in between sets.

you barely make it through the flap before vinnie's got you pressed up against one of the tent poles, his mouth on your neck, his hands already sliding under your dress like he's been waiting all day.

"you have no idea what you did to me out there," he mutters, biting at your jaw, his voice already rough. "you think i didn't feel that little pussy against the back of my neck every fuckin' time you moved?"

you gasp when his fingers slide between your thighs, two knuckles deep in your heat before you can even catch your breath.

"vinnie—fuck—someone could see—"

"and i don't give a fuck," he groans, curling his fingers just right. "you're mine. let 'em see for all i care."

you whimper, legs shaking, and he pulls back just enough to drag you toward the couch in the corner — low and wide, with a ridiculous little armrest that's not meant to be used like this. he bends you over it, your chest pressed to the cushion, ass up, dress bunched around your hips like a fucking ribbon.

he groans when he sees you. "fuck. look at you. look at this beautiful ass. all for me."

his hands palm the curves of your ass, thumbs digging in, fingers spreading you open. he's not shy about it — not with you. not after everything you've done to him today.

you hear the sound of his belt, the low clink of metal, and then he's behind you, cock dragging through your folds, teasing your entrance.

"so wet already," he murmurs, lining up. "you been thinkin' about this all night?"

you nod, but that's not enough for him. he grips your hair, pulls you up just enough to make you moan, his voice like gravel in your ear.

"say it, princess."

"yes, daddy," you breathe, eyes fluttering shut. "been thinking about you fucking me since the second you picked me up."

he growls and drives into you in one hard thrust, your mouth falling open in a silent cry. the stretch burns in the best way, your fingers gripping the cushion as he sets a rhythm — rough and deep, his hips slapping against your ass with every thrust.

you try to hold back your noises, try to keep quiet, but it’s impossible. the music is still thumping outside, but here, inside the tent, it's muffled — and that only makes everything feel louder. the wet sound of him fucking into you, his low groans, your soft cries.

"gotta be quiet, baby," he pants, one hand covering your mouth while the other keeps your hips in place. "don't want 'em hearin' how good i'm fuckin' you, huh?"

you whimper against his palm, eyes rolling back, the pressure building fast. he leans down, mouth hot against your ear.

"you love this shit. don't even care who hears. fuckin’ filthy girl."

you nod, a mess under him, your orgasm cresting with every thrust. he feels it — the way your walls flutter, the way your body starts to tremble — and he doesn't let up.

"that's it, mama. cum for me. cum on my cock like the good girl you are."

you choke on the moan that rips out of you, muffled by his hand, your body convulsing as you come hard, legs shaking, nails digging into the cushion. he fucks you through it, not stopping, chasing his own release now.

"goddamn," he groans, pulling out just in time, stroking himself once, twice, before he spills across your lower back, thick ropes of cum painting your skin.

you're both breathing hard, the air thick with sweat and sex and the distant thrum of music. you collapse forward onto the couch, dress still hiked up, thighs trembling.

vinnie leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your spine.

"coachella, baby," he murmurs with a grin.

and you laugh, breathless, because yeah — it's definitely one for the books.

@ deansbeer is tagging you .ᐟ @titsout4jackles @daylighted @soldiersgirl @bluemerakis @heartsforvin @slvthrs @lowkeycasanova @jensenacklesballsack @h8aaz @bluestrd @ultravi0lence14 @blue-d @stereotypicalbarbie @tinas111 @cupidzbunny @kamisobsessed @acaibcwl @coquitokisses @americanvenom13 @samslovebug @starzify ╱ wanna follow the chaos? join my taglist <3 + library!

[lovelyahoy]

Dr. Stone: One-shot.

Word Count:7,858.

Warnings: Not much I can think of, except it's all over the place, and a bit suggestive towards the middle. I needed a quick break from a book I'm writing and these two freaks have been plaguing my mind, so this is basically just word dumping.

Summary: Nothing is really set, some parts are over-explained and others are barely developed, I typed until I got bored. (If you're seeing this again it's because I accidentally posted earlier without finishing aha..)

Pairing: Stanley x Fem!Reader x Xeno

Edit: part 2.

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Endless hours of science had never been an issue for Xeno, he was accustomed to working on the same project for multiple days—even months straight. Science (and Stanley) was his sole love, it wasn't filled with unsolvable scenarios, it always had a solution. His nights at the NASA laboratory were lonely, just how he liked it. No noise, no meaningless chatter, only him and his thoughts.

Stanley wasn't much different in this regard, obviously not science, but his priority in the military (and Xeno). Guiding those bambi-like soldiers brought a thrill like no other, they shot perfectly? It was because of him. They landed a really good calculated punch? Also his doing. He was always expected to be at the top, and no way in hell would he ever let anyone distract him from it.

It wasn't until they met [Y/N], the newest addition to the NASA board, that they discovered another love and priority. She wasn't what they had expected at all, [Y/N] wasn't a scientist or an exceptional engineer, nothing even close to any position they offered at NASA. It only took a few days to find out she was only there as a temporary chair filler, for her father who was out of commission due to a "family issue".

Xeno grimaced as the bubbly [H/C] haired girl, read over his file alongside the other board members. He could barely hold in his anger as they skimmed over his perfectly chosen words, equations and unique idea. One by one, the thick file was placed down and he was met by taunting expressions.

"It's interesting I'll give you that Dr. Xeno, however we can't endorse it. The cost of the inevitable failure will be far too much."

The older generation spewed more words onto the already rejected scientist, yet he could only focus on the girl still holding his file open.

"I don't know much about this position, my father asked me out of the blue to show my presence." [Y/N] hummed and softly closed the file cover, a small—yet mischievous smile graced her glossy lips. "But, he did say I could have fun, and this?" She lifted up his idea and waved it around, "This sounds fun! Let's do it."

"You have no authority to do so!" The voice was loud and rough, it bounced off the soundproof walls and [Y/N] tried hard not to show her annoyance.

"Woah~ I wonder what my father would say hearing you talk to his daughter like that, Dr. Von." She playfully waved him off, keeping eye contact with the blank scientist in front of her.

"If he fails the first, second or even third time, I'll cover the cost. When he gets it right, none of you will have the privilege of profiting a single dollar. How about that?"

Oh how she loved playing around with these greedy corrupt monsters.

As for Stanley, his encounter with [Y/N] wasn't as nerve-wracking as it was for Xeno. No, it was absolutely entertaining to say the least.

The blonde puffed out another trail of smoke, his eyes glanced to the side to see the sprawled mess of [H/C] locks on the bar counter. He hadn't even considered sitting down for this long, but something quietly begged him to sit next to the seemingly tipsy woman.

Her head lifted up to meet his amused gaze, he twitched noticing tears flooding her pretty [E/C] colored eyes. A finger was pointed at his face, close to jabbing his nose. Stanley couldn't help but smile at how silly she looked right now.

"G-get away from me before I do you a favor b-because you're cute!" Her voice came out stumbling and mumbled, he managed to catch onto every single word due to his good hearing.

"Like what?" He teased, playfully twirling a strand of her hair while she failed to push his hand away.

"Like agreeing to pay for your experiments!" Her finger finally managed to boop his nose, "My dad is gonna kill me when I write the $600,000 check, not once but maybe even thrice! All because he was so cute, that stupid cute looking Dr. X."

Oh. Stanley's eyes widened with recognition, his childhood friend had been happily rambling on about his fully funded project, he tuned out the nerdy details and only paid attention when Xeno brought up that it was all thanks to a temporary board member. [Y/N], her name was [Y/N]. There was no way he could forget it, that mad scientist had practically engraved the name into his mind with how many times he mumbled it.

"It's not even about the money actually, but how could I ever say no to him? And you—!" She sighed dramatically, moving her hand away from his gorgeous face. "Don't you dare propose anything!"

He couldn't help but let out a chuckle at her cute rambling, he had to agree wholeheartedly. "Don't worry, I can't say no to him either."

"IS HE YOUR BOYFRIEND? I'M SORRY BUT HE'S SO CUTE I WON'T TAKE IT BACK!" [Y/N] lunged forward grabbing ahold of his shoulders and shook him back and forth, the tears that had disappeared moments ago were spilling again.

Stanley grabbed her elbows gently, stopping her movement. A meek apology left her pouting lips as she settled into her seat, [Y/N] tried to flag down the bartender, desperately needing a shot to down her embarrassment. The man next to her shook his head at the girl behind the counter, she nodded taking away the dirty cups.

"Let's get you home."

After getting her address he made sure her seatbelt was on before driving off, his window rolled down letting the smoke drift out the car. The cigarette dangled from his lips, a hand on the steering wheel while the other guided the cancer stick.

[Y/N] softly snored into the seat, holding onto a pillow she had stolen taken from one of the sofas at the bar. Stanley tried to take it away, god knows what or who touched it prior. He failed miserably, a little ticked off but low-key proud of her deadly grip.

Dropping her off was awkward, nothing Stanley couldn't handle. Still, he was not used to dropping off people he met at bars anywhere other than his own apartment. Her dad managed to wake her up, guiding her back into the grand mansion.

"Thank you for helping her, she gets carried away sometimes." He laughed it off, but couldn't hide the worry in his voice.

"No problem."

"noooo~ dad! Don't let the pretty man leave!" [Y/N] turned around in her dad's arms and made grabby hands towards a humored blonde, her [E/C] eyes were wide filled entirely with sparkles, a small bambi is what she looked like.

She had definitely become his favorite bambi.

︽❀═══❀═══⌘═══⌘═══❀═══❀═══⌘═══⌘═══❀═══❀︾

[Y/N] entered the NASA laboratory looking for a certain white haired male, while she had practically forced the board to accept his crazy idea, they needed to skim over a few details before proceeding. Except she hadn't expected both of the different worlds she met yesterday to be standing closely together watching small sparks emit from a glass container.

"Ah, how elegant of you to join us, [Y/N]." She brushed off her heart skipping a beat, the way his voice uttered her name was heavenly.

After remembering last night, she was absolutely mortified. Not only did she ramble to a total stranger, she rambled about their boyfriend! The blonde man hadn't denied or confirmed their relationship, but when her eyes trailed over how tightly he was hugging the scientist with a gentle expression on his face, there was no denying it.

"Yeah, Hi." She squeaked out, walking towards them almost robotically. [Y/N] placed down her notebook and sat on the grey stool, face warming up when Stanley rubbed his cheek against Xeno's affectionately before pulling away.

"I need to know which parts you need, these old assholes decided to leave everything to me as punishment." She huffed, eyes softening before looking at a stone-faced Xeno. "Don't look at me like that! I never said i regretted it or anything."

"I was only joking, dear." He sent her a smile, starting to disassemble the small experiment he had shown Stanley. [Y/N] couldn't help but admire how the sleeves of his white lab coat were rolled up showing off his arms, sure he wasn't super built but it stirred something in her. Her hand slowly raised up to hide her mouth, annoyed at how attractive these two men were.

"Hangover?"

"Huh? Oh, no. You stopped me before I could teeter into that hell."

"I've been wondering, what exactly is it that you do, [Y/N]?" Xeno finished up wiping down the counter and threw away the towels before sitting directly in front of her. His head rested against his hand, elbow propped on the counter.

She noticed the way he crossed his legs too, how could a man look so hot just sitting there? [Y/N] cleared her throat, fidgeting in her seat as she felt both pairs of eyes staring at her intently.

"I'm a medical student, well I was..." A sigh left her lips, "I'm taking a gap year." They didn't press her for further answers, seeing how she made no move to add more details.

"So you're going to be your old man's stand-in for a year?"

"Basically." She chuckled remembering the words her father had given her, "He specifically asked me to annoy the hell out of the board members by doing whatever it is I wanted. Apparently he was fed up with good projects being denied while he wasn't present."

Xeno did remember Dr. [L/N] giving him proper feedback on why they couldn't and could do certain projects of his, he was a man he respected.

"I really have no clue what I'm doing Xeno, so please don't hand me a file filled with a world-ending plan."

"Why, you wouldn't deny it?"

Oh.

Oh.

"NO YOU DID NOT!" [Y/N] stood up quickly, the stool fell to the ground with a loud 'clank'. Her face was beet red trying her best to glare down at the duo smiling at her with nothing but amusement dancing in their eyes.

"Did what? Tell Xeno how you found him cute and that's why you couldn't say no to him? No, I didn't—oh wait." Stanley turned his face away from them and slid open the window to bring out a cigarette.

"If it makes you feel any better, that's news to me."

He was definitely playing with her, the smile on his face hadn't faltered in the slightest. This bastard was having fun.

"Why would that make me fe—just fill that out!" [Y/N] pushed her notebook towards the scientist and stomped out the room extremely flustered.

"So, what do you think?" Stanley exhaled while turning to see Xeno curiously looking at the door she had left through.

"An elegant possibility."

A few months had passed and before they knew it, hanging around the laboratory had become the new normal. Stanley by the window, Xeno playing around with chemicals (and settling very, very far away from the cancer smoke, he didn't need anything blowing up.) and [Y/N] getting distracted by the cool colors the mixtures made.

"Stop staring and get back to studying, bambi."

Bambi. Stanley's oh so 'perfect' nickname for her, she tried to get him to drop the name for weeks but he refused to budge. It bothered her only because of what it represented, a defenseless and cute thing. Only she was allowed to call them cute.

[Y/N] mocked his words under her breath with a high pitch voice, focusing on her medical notes scribbled and highlighted. Even if she was taking a year off to help her dad, there wasn't any time to slack off. Board meetings were so goddamn boring, she couldn't even hide the sparkles that bounced around in her [E/C] eyes whenever Xeno came into a meeting with a progress report or new idea.

"By the way, you guys never answered me. Are you dating?"

They barely reacted to the question, still focusing on their own activities. She didn't know why exactly she craved and feared for their answer, [Y/N] was undoubtedly attracted to them both equally.

Xeno's happy little face while info dumping on them, onyx eyes that lit up whenever she'd ask a question genuinely intrigued by the topic. Stanley, who always teased her but never crossed the line. He knew when to back away and change his words depending on how she was feeling that day, his awareness towards both her and Xeno was...to say the least...hot.

[Y/N] stopped writing, a blush taking over her face when she noticed Xeno peeking over the counter to read her notes. Her heart dropped into her stomach hearing his laugh, she was not going to live this down, was she?

"Inflammation of the myocardium, a great percentage of high risk patients are usually men in their 20 to 40's. Men, men, stanxeno."

"STOP READING IT!"

The medical student was too focused on trying to block Xeno's field of view to notice Stanley walking up to them, he leaned over her shoulder to stare down at the notebook. His face slightly bumped into hers and gave zero indication that he planned on moving.

She knew he could feel her warm cheek pressed against his, Xeno smirked leaning even more forward over the metal table. His face was only inches away from hers, they were messing with her, again.

[Y/N] swallowed the knot building up in her throat, she was deeply embarrassed. Her thoughts on them were running wild from the close proximity of both men, she slammed her book closed—still not moving away from them.

"Why so curious, bambi?"

"Is there a deeper reasoning to your question, dear?"

God the nicknames, how could she ever function like a proper human after hearing the way they called her? She always felt giddy whenever they'd do this, invading her privacy with lingering touches and words falling like sweet honey—but she couldn't ignore the small, teeny tiny part of her that felt as if they were just playing around. To relish in her obvious attraction towards them, something she miserably failed at hiding.

"Am I imposing on your quality time together by always being here?"

[Y/N] was as surprised as Xeno and Stanley, that isn't what she was even thinking at the moment! Why'd she go and say it? Sure she thought of it sometimes but never had the courage to ask, what if they said yes? She'd never be able to meet their eyes again.

A few seconds of silence were starting to scare her, she felt Stanley shift, thinking he was pulling away until warm lips pressed again her cheek softly. Her [E/C] eyes widened keeping eye contact with Xeno, who raised a hand to brush a strand of [H/C] hair behind her ear. They both pulled away at the same time, leaving a stuttering [Y/N] to collect her thoughts that were in shambles.

Her fingers lightly pressed against her cheeks, one where the kiss was placed and the other where Xeno's fingers brushed by. She took a hand away, blush intensifying seeing the purple lipstick staining her fingers. [Y/N] took a deep breath in before looking up at them standing next to each other now, brain melting when Stanley wrapped an arm around the scientist, Xeno caressing the blonde's face as they both continued to stare at her.

"We've never labeled it, it's like an open relationship."

The girl in front of them deflated comically like a balloon, face almost slamming onto the table. Nope, all her dreams and fantasies had been drained at that sentence. She liked-liked them, both. An open relationship meant their loyalty lied emotionally between them but not physically, she couldn't work with that. The faces they were giving her stirred nothing but worry within, almost like an invitation to join them on this little adventure.

[Y/N] badly wanted to scream yes! and take the opportunity they were offering on a silver platter, sure it'd be okay at first...however in the long run she knew jealousy would win her over. They wouldn't be hers they'd still see other people while being with her, and the [H/C] haired girl wouldn't be able to emotionally endure it.

"I see."

"You sound disappointed, dear." Their little show melted away, awkwardly glancing at each other when they noticed her flustered state disappear into a neutral expression.

She sighed lightly, might as well try and get over her feelings now rather than letting them grow further. Her fingers twirled the mechanical pencil as a way to fidget, building up the courage to spill her words.

"I like you both." Their faces didn't change in the slightest, they knew already. "As much as my heart is telling me to leap at the offer, my brain is encouraging me to step away before I hurt myself."

[Y/N] started to pack her things, avoiding their eyes. Oh my god, she was going to jump off the fucking NASA rooftop after this. She didn't want to keep talking but it felt like word vomit.

"I'm interested in a relationship with just us three, having other people linger in-between would make me feel like I'm not good enough for you guys." She zipped the backpack and hugged it close to her chest, hiding the bottom half of her face. "Thank you for today." [Y/N] rushed a polite bow and made her way to the door.

Before she could even grab the handle, a hand landed on her head, it turned her to come face to face with Stanley. She couldn't muster up the courage to ask what he was doing, but she didn't even have time to. His lips landed on hers, an arm wrapped around her waist colliding her into his chest and in turn causing the backpack to slip from her arms.

A few tears built up as she indulged the blonde, his lips were soft, avoiding rushing her. It only took a few milliseconds for [Y/N] to return the kiss, lips parting and allowing him to slip in his tongue. She'd never kissed anyone like this, it left her feeling vulnerable, like her heart was on her sleeve.

Her hands cupped his face with a gentle grip, she wondered if his body hurt bending down slightly to kiss her. [Y/N]'s lips slipped from his, only to get pulled back in quickly. Xeno took this opportunity to stand behind her and nuzzle his face into her neck, unbuttoning her white collared shirt and slipping it down from one of her shoulders.

His own lips made a trail from her jawline down to her neck and across her bare shoulder. One of the hands on Stanley's face was moved back to come in contact with Xeno's. He cupped over her hand with his own and continued to pepper kisses on her [S/C] skin, a whimper was muffled.

The tears finally escaped her eyes, trailing down her face. The droplets landed on both men, they pulled away from her still holding [Y/N] close.

"D-don't do that!" She unenergetically hit Stanley's chest, "Don't give me false hope.." her sniffles echoed lightly in the laboratory, she was flooded by nothing but embarrassment.

"Let's do it." The blonde ignored her weak fists against him and wiped away her tears, Xeno gently turned her head to place a chaste kiss against her swollen lips.

"Just us three, right my dear?"

[Y/N] woke up the next morning feeling like she was on top of the world and still drowning in shyness. Her face was stuffed into a pillow, concealing her squeals. She kicked her feet roughly, leaving her personal maid to hide her smile behind a hand.

"Ruby, I'm so happy I could dieeeee."

"Please don't, Miss [Y/N]."

Ruby had never seen [Y/N] this giddy, she was absolutely over the moon. Her trip down memory lane was cut short when the loud sound of the girl in her care falling reached her ears, she hurriedly walked around the bed to see the mistress still letting out happy noises.

"I'm going on a date with them! Help me pick out the best outfit Ruby!" It was barely noon on a sunday, NASA had issued a full day off to every employee, why? She didn't care to listen for the reason, her ears were preoccupied hearing Xeno and Stan plan a date.

"Them? Are they gender neutral?" Ruby caught all the clothing being thrown out the closet, doing her best in the thick maid outfit she always had inside the manor.

"Huh? Oh, no, them. As in, two." The poor maid couldn't even dodge the shoe thrown her way, hitting her square in the forehead and falling back.

"Shit! Ruby I'm so sorry!" [Y/N] frantically bounced around the dizzy woman, Ruby blinked her hazel eyes twice before settling them onto the worried rich girl.

"How will your father react?"

haha...oh,

"I didn't think of that."

Her father sent her to NASA to fuck around with the board members, not fuck with employees! Well technically Stanley was only there during his free time, but still! She couldn't go up to him and say, 'Hey dad! I managed to piss the old dudes off, and I got myself not one, but two boyfriends!'

World end her now.

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"Oh my gosh!" [Y/N]'s body was over Xeno's shoulder, face a few inches away from his screen. Unfortunately Stanley was too busy to come by for the week, so it left the mad scientist and the medical student to hang out together.

Xeno held a firm hand on her midsection, holding [Y/N] up to the best of his ability. He was in the middle of responding to his mentee, completely immersed in the lengthy email consisting of rocket science, when [E/C] eyes landed on the picture of the white and green haired boy holding a test rocket.

"He's so cute!" She poked the screen, ignoring the English gibberish of science littered around the zoomed-in picture. "He's like a mini you."

"[Y/N] dear, you're crushing me." She apologized and got off of him, scooting her chair closer and settling next to him. He smiled feeling her shoulder bump into his and stay there, [Y/N] had been a little reserved with her physical contact towards them but after two solid month of dating she'd gotten comfortable and extremely cocky.

Xeno didn't mind it, he felt pride knowing she felt lucky to have him, even if he felt like him and Stanley hit the jackpot instead. The blonde usually tuned him out during his rambles, that didn't bother him in the slightest, Stan listened when it was important and that was good enough for him. [Y/N] on the other hand, indulged him quiet often, even if she didn't understand most words and comparisons, her questions and interest made his heart fill with a warm feeling.

"I still can't believe an elementary kid built a rocket, that actually went up in the air..." Her childhood was filled with music up until she picked up a book about hearts in her big library, at the mere age of eight she completely spent her time studying. To acquire the ability to help as many people as she could, sparked something she couldn't understand. Xeno tried to explain the feeling in his usual science-y way and she got lost along the words.

"He's from Japan, reading and writing these emails using an English dictionary. Senku's efforts are quite elegant."

"Devoted little thing isn't he? I wanna meet him and pinch his chubby cheeks." She cooed once again at the picture, whining when Xeno clicked off of it and continued scrolling through the information.

"Fawning over a different scientist is—" He didn't even get to finish his sentence before his face was being quickly peppered with light kisses, from his forehead to his cheeks, to his nose and finally his lips. [Y/N] pulled away and snuggled back into his side, leaving him with enough space to type away at the keyboard.

Xeno didn't continue speaking, trying to fight the light red on his face before she could glimpse at it. She effortlessly achieved flustering him on multiple occasions, something Stan regularly tried—and failed at. If he knew, he'd never let Xeno forget it.

"That part, isn't it like $10k? How is a kid going to get that?" Xeno smirked adding a picture of said part, a machinery she had to purchase multiple times because he kept exploding it. [Y/N] grabbed her phone and used a currency exchanger to see the total in yen, ¥1.5 million.

"A true scientist finds a way."

"Seriously? Tell him to send you his address!" Xeno's eye twitched as his girlfriend pulled out a checkbook, scribbling a big number obscured to him. "I'll set up a card for him, hmm but can he buy stuff in dollars while he's in Japan?" She tapped the pen against her chin.

"Oh! I'll just make it an online account so he can order the parts instead." The scientist didn't even try to interfere, knowing full well rich people just thought differently from the rest. He finished up writing his email and added a small note at the bottom.

'P.S, you'll be receiving an email from [L/N]_@NASA.×∆×.com.'

Senku had read an article about [Dad Name] [L/N], a genius who built one of the strongest rockets recorded in history. He was excited to receive some sort of mentorship from the older man, sure Dr. X was plenty of help, but more couldn't hurt.

The boy had just come back from school, eagerly rushing towards his computer ignoring Byakuya's yelling for him to go eat. He skimmed through his emails, first reading an update from his mentor then his eyes sparkled seeing the anticipated email appear at the top of his inbox.

'Hi! Here's an account with around 10 million yen, it's in American currency so you'll have to order online. Have fun, oh! And make sure to send more pictures.'

Bank of America details:

User: [Y/N]Senkufund

Pw: adorablesenkufund223

Love, [Y/N].

...

...

What the hell? The entire email was littered with heart symbols. Adorable? Who was this [Y/N] weirdo? Despite his suspicion, the email address checked out with what Dr. X mentioned. He opened a new window tab and went to the bank website, typing in the details. His scarlet eyes lit up with ¥ signs, he could get past the creepy message if it meant he could buy the parts he needed. It was temporary until his dad managed to be an astronaut an get his very own NASA card.

Senku typed out a hasty thank you, his mouse hovered hesitantly on the add image option. He had taken a new one just recently with Taiju included, it was them covered in ash from a mild explosion, should he send it? He glanced at the money this person sent, well it wouldn't hurt to do it once right?

He was startled at how fast the reply had come. He didn't bother reading much of it, noticing the paragraph beginning with capitalized letters and once again, being plastered with hearts all over. The title itself was five red hearts.

Despite thinking it'd be one time exchange, this [Y/N] person toned it down after a few more exchanges. Senku had even looked forward to their little medical lessons, it was a type of science after all.

'So you weren't a complete oaf. Good to know, I was starting to doubt Dr. X.'

+Image attached

-Senku.

That offended [Y/N], how dare this little bok-choy looking kid doubt her boyfriend? The image sent made her forget his initial words, squealing at how cute the boy looked grumpily looking into the camera holding his latest science project he presented at his school fair.

'I know I promised no more hearts but you're too cute! ❤︎❤︎❤︎ Once I get married I'll adopt you.❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

Love, [Y/N]❤︎'

-

'Already adopted, and who would even marry you?'

-Senku.

The little gremlin chuckled, slurping his ramen. The sound of a new inbox and Senku choking on his food filled the room. He blinked frantically at the response.

'First of all, I'd win the court case if i wanted.

As for marriage, it's going to be your dear Dr. X and someone else, obviously~

Love, [Y/N].'

Senku could only focus on his mentor being in cahoots with this mental case, he was definitely going take the logical route and avoid taking this path.

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[Y/N] groaned into Stanley's chest, body feeling extremely sore. She had jokingly encouraged her blonde boyfriend to teach her how to shoot a gun, that turned into a full blown training regiment he made. It included physical training and he even body slammed her! (very carefully, but not the point.)

The mixed smell from his earlier cigarette and cologne filled her nostrils, at first it did tickle her nose, now she was used to it and even longed for it throughout her days. She could cope at work when Xeno was around, still, having the blonde away from them felt like an eternity.

"Did you learn anything?" He was amused by the sounds she was making, he held her in his arms, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on her back.

It wasn't until his girlfriend slept over for the first time that he and Xeno found out she slept with a long T-shirt and her underwear, obviously now she constantly stole their shirts, sometimes finding them back in the closet with a cute gloss lipstick stain. Stanley was guilty of doing this himself, with purple of course.

After starting an established relationship between this little doctor in the making and his childhood friend, both men agreed to get their own apartment together. [Y/N] mentioned wanting to stay with her dad while he was usually at home now, planning to move in with them after the year passes.

"Yes, three things."

"Hm?"

"That you look really fucking hot when you're drenched in sweat." She snuggled closer into him, blushing when his hand gripper her hip in response. "You look even hotter holding a gun, and...when you uh..." her words were low and muffled.

Stanley heard them loud and clear, mumbling like that only worked with Xeno. He smirked flipping their bodies over, her legs were wrapped around his hips due to the startle he gave her. [Y/N]'s blush intensified when the blonde caged both her hands above her head, his free hand performing a 'tactile exploration' near her inner thighs. The pads of his fingers left lingering tingles on her skin, a gasp flying past her lips when they made contact with her clothed clit.

"When I had you at my mercy, huh?" Repeating her words with a teasing tone, Stanley leaned forward while pulling her shirt up above her bra. His purple lipstick left marks on her cleavage before slowly descending down her stomach, hips and lastly a quick kiss on her underwear.

"Stan.."

"[Y/N].." He mimicked her breathless tone, annoying her and barely avoiding the knee she raised to his face. They stayed in that position gazing into each other's eyes, her [E/C] irises relaxed significantly. [Y/N] lowered her knee and settled it around him again, the heels of her feet slightly digging into his back pushing him lower onto her.

Stanley release his grip on her hands and welcomed the embrace, allowing his head to rest between where her neck and shoulder met. [Y/N]'s fingers tangled into his slightly long blonde hair, massaging his scalp.

The sound of keys jingling and the front door opening made them both glance a their bedroom door, silently waiting for the person to walk in. Xeno came in loosening his tie and dragged it down, showing off a bit of his collarbone. He sent them a tired smile and walked towards the closet, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and slipping it off.

"Did you see that, Stan? Him and ties.."

"He never lets us take it off for him."

"Because it always ends up in sex."

Xeno finally slipped on more comfortable clothing, folding his lab coat and setting it in the laundry basket. He walked towards the bed, immediately getting pulled into a hug. His stress melted away as his partners cooed him gently, the new position consisted of Stanley slightly propped up by two pillows, followed by [Y/N] resting her back against him and finally Xeno's face squished into her chest. Arms wrapped around each other in any way possible.

"They held you up for so long, is everything okay?"

"The board was trying to convince me to swap sponsors, my project is estimated to bring a huge revenue." The laugh leaving his girlfriend causes his body to move up and down alongside her chest, he huffed a chuckle in response.

Stanley reached over to massage Xeno's tense shoulders, watching the scientist groan happily in response. No further words were exchanged, all three relished in comfort.

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A happy [Y/N] bounced down the halls of the NASA building, eventually making it down to the break room where a lot of employees gathered to eat or talk together.

She no longer wore a work outfit, her year was up and now was fully focused on her career (for the most part). Most of them didn't know who she was, except one present man who always greeted her every morning she came in.

"Good morning [Y/N]!" Byakuya greeted her with a bright smile, [Y/N] turned to gaze at the newest addition to NASA. Despite only being there for a month or so, he'd become a friendly face. He opened the shared fridge, chuckling when she put a black plastic container with a cute heart-shaped note on it inside.

"Your boyfriend sure is a lucky guy." The older man raised an eyebrow when he caught glimpse of another lunch inside her backpack, she didn't react to him noticing nor did she try to hide it.

[Y/N] wasn't aware of his concerned gaze, thinking solely on how late Xeno would be getting home today. She had made an earlier stop at the laboratory for a quick kiss and was sadly sent on her way right after. A sigh left her lips, she turned to look at Byakuya who now held a tight lipped smile—an eyebrow raised at his changed expression.

"Yeah he is, well I'll see you later Byakuya, I have to go drop off lunch for my boyfriend." [Y/N] waved making her way to the door.

"Bye [Y/N]—" the door closed, "wait, what?"

He turned to look at his coworkers who shrugged in response, why did he have to witness or hear this? He didn't want drama, but letting someone string along a fellow coworker felt harsh and guilt overwhelmed him. Byakuya opened the fridge to glance at the note.

'YOU BETTER EAT IT XENO.

Love you, [Y/N]❤︎''

Xeno, Xeno, that Xeno? He had seen him very few times, the scientist spent 90% of his time cooped up in the laboratory. Woah, never would he had expected the serious white haired male to be dating such a cheery person. That thought brought down his mood, how should he bring it up?

Byakuya didn't get much time to think it over, seeing the man clouding his mind walk into the break room and head straight over to the coffee pot. His thermal cup was black and littered with colorful stickers, he noticed they resembled the shape of hearts [Y/N] always drew.

"[Y/N]?"

Xeno noticed the finger pointing at his cup, a huff of amusement left his lips before nodding. "She insisted on it, mumbling something about marking territory."

"I hope I don't offend you, uh—" His voice froze when the scientist turned to give him his full attention, head slightly tilting and encouraging him to continue. "Ithink[Y/N]isseeingsomeoneelseotherthanyou!"

"Is that right?" Xeno quickly took a sip of coffee, a perfect way to hide his smirk and compose himself. "How un-elegant, say, Byakuya right? Would it be too much to ask if you could find out for me? Lately I've been stuck at work, leaving almost no room to speak to my partner."

...

...

"WHAT!? BYAKUYA WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR!?"

After a solid week of being ticked off by the older man's squinting gazes, and always asking her about her earlier or later whereabouts, [Y/N] finally had enough and cornered him once everyone left the room, he was sweating bullets when she asked what was wrong. The glint in her [E/C] eyes scared him like nothing else.

To which in a state of panic, he replied with a rushed "ARE YOU CHEATING ON THAT SCIENTIST?"

"Ah! I'm sorry but i couldn't ignore the signs! And when I asked Xeno, he asked me to figure it out for him."

"Oh that motherfucker," [Y/N] made a strangling motion with her hands, scaring the poor man in front of her. "Xeno and I have another partner okay! I'm not a cheater."

The amount of apologies that spilled from Byakuya were starting to overwhelm her, tears threatening to spill out as his body flung back and forth in a fast bowing motion. She awkwardly pat his shoulder, accepting his apology. From an outside perspective she guess it did look suspicious, Xeno was going to pay for this.

"Don't listen to that disney villain, he may look serious but he's a mischievous little thing."

"H-have I met them?" His attempt to change the conversation topic was easily received, her aura took a complete turn into a gushy looking fangirl.

"You've probably seen him around Xeno, he's a soldier. Tall, blonde, pretty face, caramel eyes, wears purple lipstick, hot, always smoking, did I say hot already?" She rambled a few more compliments before clearing her throat.

"His name is Stanley, Xeno and him were technically together before they met me."

"How does it work? I'm curious, a relationship with one person is sometimes very complicated, I can't wrap my head around three people in one."

That is how Byakuya had become her gossip buddy, how she frequently chatted up a storm while balancing her focus onto her studying, always astonished him.

The following night had the polyamorous couple sitting at their small dinning table, the girl sat in the middle while both men sat at the ends of the table—still close enough to each other though.

"You let him think I was a common whore!" [Y/N] angrily shoved a spoonful of rice into her mouth, cheeks puffed out and [E/C] eyes glaring into Xeno's soul. He couldn't take her seriously, to him she looked like a squirrel right now.

"Stan, tell him something." Her eyes were wide, sending a pleading face to her soldier boyfriend, he playfully ruffled her hair before turning towards the amused man.

"Bad Xeno."

"I'm going to choke you fuckers."

"Oh? sounds like a threat."

"That's right!"

"Would it perhaps be happening in the bedroom?"

[Y/N] stopped. Stanley stopped. Hell even Xeno's eyebrow raised at his own words, he wasn't one for sexual desires, usually leaving it up to his partners to decide and act it out. He smiled down at a [Y/N] who scooted closer to him with no traces of her earlier fake anger, she looked like a curious kid.

"Did you mean that?" she whispered, truly wondering if she heard him wrong.

"Shall we find out?" [Y/N] glanced back at Stanley who only shrugged in response, he didn't know what was happening either.

"Ok, you're forgiven." She snatched up the plates and the cup in the blonde's hand, practically throwing them into the sink. "Bedroom now."

"I think you awakened something within her." Stanley stood up and pushed his chair in, making eye contact with a sweat dropping Xeno.

"How...elegant.."

(He was scared.)

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The soft light of the candles decorating the dining table made her [S/C] skin glow, she blinked curiously as her boyfriends of nearly three years now stood in front of her. They quickly shared a glance then nodded, they both dug into their suit pockets and each took out a small velvet colored box.

Her [E/C] eyes filled with tears when they opened them, in Stanley's box laid a beautiful ring with a honey colored gem shaped like a diamond. Xeno's was the same size and shape, but his had a black diamond.

"[Y/N], when we first met—"

"YES! YES I WILL!" She extended her hand out, eyes closed and sporting a huge smile on her face. Hearty laughs reached her ears as she felt the rings slip onto her finger, a hand brushed away the tears on her face.

She opened her eyes to see them holding out two more rings, this one had a gem with the same color as her eyes. Xeno and Stanley held out their own hands, already wearing each other's colors. [Y/N] softly slid her ring right above the other, quickly taking out her phone to take a picture of their hands.

"I love you both." The [H/C] haired girl sniffled as they brought her into a sandwiched hug, their own confessions tickling her ears. To say she was happy was an understatement, she felt a bit bad not letting them pop the question in their own way—however her eagerness had won over her rational thinking.

It was a bit unfortunate they couldn't legally get married, despite this minor thing, she happily gushed about her husbands to anyone who asked about her rings. Some were understandably confused or amazed, [Y/N] defended her relationship with every fiber of her being no matter what comment was thrown at them. Both guys often told her to ignore it like they do, but it made her mad how people had the balls to question them so rudely at times.

"My baby is all grown up!" [D/N] wiped his tears away with a handkerchief, Ruby providing a new one every few moments.

"We celebrated on our own already, but I remember you made me promise to let you plan my future wedding." [Y/N] gave her dad a bright smile, "So go for it."

"Of course darling, it's time to show everyone how my daughter is the only one who could bag two successful men at once."

"Okay, where in the world did you hear that term?"

"From this app called tweeter, people are very funny there. [Cousin's name] got it on my phone."

"Delete it and go back to reading your nerdy articles."

The wedding ceremony was held in her old home's gigantic backyard and it was absolutely beautiful, the gleeful bride was chatting away with her bridesmaids, leaving both grooms to stand by the wine station. Stanley's fingers itched to hold a cigarette, although because he promised to avoid it for today, he was coping with wine—glass after glass.

From the red carpet leading up to the wedding arch, to the flowers on every table and grass, it all screamed money. Xeno's eyes lingered on the snack table, filled to the brim with expensive looking dishes ranging from caviar to weird looking oysters, and…were those golden flakes?

"Stop drinking like a madman, Stan."

The blonde could only smirk, leaning down to place a kiss on Xeno's cheek before pouring himself another glass. The scientist could only smile in return, his heart bloomed with pure warmth.

"Our wife looks quite elegant." She wore a white dress with a sweetheart neckline, fabric hugging her waist and hips tightly before flaring out near her mid thighs. Her veil was removed earlier by them, showing off her [H/C] hair styled perfectly into a bun with curly strands framing her face.

"Best part of today." Stanley's eyes softened up seeing [Y/N] making her way towards them, surprised when her cheek puffed out close to his face.

"You gave Xee one..."

Oh.

[Y/N] refused to clean up the dark purple lipstick, showing it off with every ounce of pride she could muster. After what felt like a billion pictures, she made a quick trip to her room and changed into a much lighter and shorter dress. It didn't take long for the girl to start stumbling in her heels thanks to downing five glasses of alcohol in a short span of time.

"I'm so happy, we're getting married!"

"Last time I saw her drunk was when we first met."

"Think she agreed to our proposal because we're cute?"

Stanley chuckled, "I wouldn't put it past her." they both watched her stuff her face with anything she came across with adoration in their eyes.

"Not going to dance my dear?" She gazed at the guests moving in sync with the slow song.

"We can dance in private later."

"You've gotten quite bold, bambi."

[Y/N] wiped away the sauce that stained her lips with a napkin, turning to look at them. "No offense hubbies, neither of you can dance. I'm saving you."

That didn't stop her from swaying around them, playfully twirling them as she bit into a cookie. They indulged her cute antics throughout the night, even having a few minutes of Stanley forcing Xeno into a very intimate dance of waltz. By the end of the celebration, both [Y/N] and Xeno were plastered with purple stains over their faces and neck.

Very few guests lingered, most had given their blessings and bid them a goodnight. They stayed in their own little bubble, the very annoying topic of a secret gathering they needed to attend in about a week came up. Strange appearances of stone swallows were being posted online, surprisingly Senku had been the one to post a full article on it, giving the scientists at NASA a bit more information.

[Y/N] was only attending because she was nosey, and no way she was going to spend a week of her honeymoon vacation alone. Even if it was work only, she'd sure as hell be next to them.

"Right after that stupid meeting, we're settling in our room and staying there forever!" Stanley gently took away the half empty glass from her hands, downing it himself to avoid her getting even more wasted.

"You'll get to meet that Dr. Chelsea girl you found adorable." Xeno knew exactly what to say to lighten up her mood.

[Y/N] brought their hands into her lap, squeezing both with a smile on her face. It had been a few days and still, she couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she was married to her soulmates.

"Tonight was amazing, we should do it again and again....we can, right?"

"We can."

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Xtra thing

"—god I miss my husband's blonde hair." [Y/N] had her body sprawled dramatically on the boat's floor, an amused Xeno sat nearby with his hands tied together.

"Wait, I thought you were married to this weird man." A blonde girl with blue eyes blinked at the whining woman, she was 100% sure [Y/N] mentioned "My husband's really smart huh?" while hugging Xeno.

"No way, she was talking about the other dude." Chrome nodded his head along with his words.

"Who hugs someone like that, while saying—well that!"

"A woman who has two husbands." Senku walked into the room, narrowly avoiding the hug sent his way. "This idiot managed to trick them into marriage."

"I did no such thing!" [Y/N] shoved her hand into the leek's face, showing off her glittering rings. Right before the beam reached them, she saw one of Luna's boy toys stuff a ring into his mouth—not having any time to rationally think, she did the same. Waking up and seeing her hubbies with nothing on their finger had her depressed for the first few months, until Xeno replicated them once again.

Before the teenager-not really a teenager anymore could untie the older scientist, his wrist was grabbed by the [H/C] haired doctor. His scarlet eyes filled with confusion.

"Leave his ass tied, not only did he issue a kill order on my child, he looks hot like this."

"I'm not your damned child."

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help idk.

[levanterhaze]

── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader dirty talk, masturbation, rough sex, slight choking, use of nicknames, overstimulation among other things I can't even name

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[10k words ]♡― once again, I must thank you all for your love and for continuing to enjoy gameboy! this chapter is a bit long, but for me it's interesting to write the development of the characters to get where we want to go! don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two] ♡ [part three] ♡ [part four]

On the corner of my bed Oh, and maybe on the beach You could do it on your own While you're lookin' at me

After absolutely killing your performance of Out Here On My Own, the applause hit you like a tidal wave. A standing ovation. Even Mrs. Baek looked mildly impressed, which, considering her usual stone-cold demeanor, basically meant she was internally sobbing.

And just like that, all the nerves? Gone. Vanished into thin air like they were never even there.

Bangchan had been watching—because of course, he had—but before you could revel in that fact for too long, he got a call and had to bounce. Typical.

You should have been freaking out about the whole making out backstage situation. Should’ve been scanning every corner for witnesses, mentally preparing for a campus-wide scandal. But weirdly? You weren’t. That reckless, confident part of you—the one still floating on cloud nine—did not care. If anything, you could still feel him. His touch on your waist like a phantom burn, his lips still branded on yours.

But whatever. You had bigger things to stress about. The final list wasn’t coming out until Monday, which meant you had the entire weekend to sit in pure, unfiltered agony over it. Luckily, Saturday’s party was the perfect excuse to get out of your head for a while.

Fast forward through a day of pretending to be studious with Sohee—aka desperately trying to focus while your brain replayed that kiss—you finally took a well-earned shower and decided to go for a solo nighttime stroll. 

Campus was still alive, students buzzing around in little clusters, laughing and talking like they didn’t have impending deadlines. You shoved your headphones in, following the athletics track, which was mostly empty by now.

The night air had that perfect, crisp breeze—the kind that made you grateful you threw on a cardigan. And just when you thought the moment couldn’t get any better, Wonderwall started playing. You smirked to yourself. Damn, you loved this song.

And yet, with every step, your brain kept poking at you like an annoying little sibling. Anxiety, sure. But let’s not forget the other mess currently occupying premium real estate in your mind—Hyunjin.

You hadn’t talked to him since you drunkenly spilled your guts, quite literally, about your whole Bangchan situation. And if you were being honest, which you weren’t, at least not with yourself, you were actively dodging that conversation. Because talking to Hyunjin meant facing your own feelings, and frankly, you were not clocked in for that emotional labor.

Your phone lit up mid-walk.

Mingyu: can I see you today?

You chewed on your lip, staring at the message. It was almost ridiculous how this boy—new, uncomplicated, and seemingly sincere—wanted something real with you. And yet, here you were, hesitating. Because no matter how nice Mingyu was, your brain wasn’t stuck on him.

It was stuck on someone else.

On a certain maddening, frustrating, insanely good kisser who had, at some point, tattooed himself onto your skin. If physical touch could be permanent, Bangchan’s hands would be everywhere on you. And, let’s be honest, you wouldn’t exactly be filing a complaint about it.

Before you even processed the decision, your feet had already made it for you. You were crossing campus, heading straight for his dorm.

Because you needed to talk. Like adults. No teasing, no sarcastic little jabs—just honesty.

And, okay, maybe you needed to see him, too. Feel him. More than ever.

Your determination was fuel to the fire already burning inside you. Your heart was pounding, your brain was screaming at you to calm down, but your body wasn’t taking any orders tonight. That feverish, all-consuming pull settled deep in your gut, an intoxicating mix of adrenaline, nerves, and something terrifyingly real.

You took the stairs two at a time, like the damn dorm might vanish before you got there.

By the time you reached his door, you were clutching your excitement close, biting back a smile even as your fingers trembled. Deep breath. You knocked, quick and sure.

It’s fine. He’ll listen. You’ll talk. You’ll finally—

The door swung open.

And instead of a tall, dark-haired boy, you were met with her.

She was pretty. Unfairly, effortlessly pretty—the kind of girl who belonged on magazine covers and in the daydreams of poets. Medium height, light hair, bright eyes. The kind of face men went to war over.

Your stomach dropped like a stone.

“Hi!” she greeted, all warmth and ease, completely oblivious to the way the air had just been sucked out of your lungs.

You swallowed, forcing a polite nod. “Uh, hey… is Bangchan here?”

She shook her head, smiling like this was just any other casual conversation. And that’s when you noticed it—his black t-shirt, draped over her frame.

“Oh, no. He went to grab some food.” she tilted her head, something curious in her gaze. “Are you a friend of his? Oh! Sorry—I’m Yeojin. His girlfriend. And you are…?”

Her words hit like a gut punch, sucking the warmth right out of your chest.

A bitter laugh bubbled up, but you swallowed it down, masking the sting with a tight-lipped smile. “A classmate,” you said smoothly. “I just had a question, but… I think it can wait till Monday.”

And just like that, the fire inside you? Extinguished.

The girl pursed her glossy lips, then nodded politely. “Okay. I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

“No need.” the words left your mouth before she could even finish. “Thanks, Yeojin.”

Her name felt like venom rolling off your tongue, thick and bitter, coating your mouth with something vile.

By the time you hit the stairs, you were moving so fast you were honestly surprised you didn’t wipe out. Your pulse was a hammer against your ribs, your breath uneven. Your brain hadn’t even caught up yet—stuck on a loop, trying to process the absolute train wreck that had just unfolded.

He had a girlfriend this whole time.

He lied to you.

He did exactly what everyone said he would.

The sharp sting of disappointment curdled into full-blown anger. Your steps turned heavier, each one smacking against the pavement like a silent war drum. You were so locked into getting to your dorm—so wound up with the need to disappear into your own space—you probably would’ve plowed through half a dozen people without a second thought.

But fate had a sick sense of humor. Because halfway across campus, you spotted him.

Bangchan, heading back toward the dorms, a paper bag dangling from his hand—food, obviously, because why wouldn’t he be casually picking up dinner while your world imploded?

His eyes lit up the second he saw you, but that moment of warmth flickered out fast when you didn’t even look at him. Didn’t slow down. Didn’t hesitate. Just walked right past him like he was nothing—like he was air—nearly clipping his arm in the process.

He stood there for two seconds, frozen, before spinning around. Your name tore from his lips, sharp and urgent.

“What happened?” when you didn’t answer, his voice shot up, strained. “Where are you going?”

You sucked in a deep breath, your whole body practically vibrating with anger. Then, before you could stop yourself, you spun around and marched right back toward him, each step digging into the grass like you were stomping out a fire.

“To my dorm,” you snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business. Oh, and fun fact—I just came back from yours.” sarcasm dripped from your voice like honey laced with poison.

Bangchan blinked, his brain buffering like a slow-loading webpage. The look on his face almost made you laugh—almost. Instead, you just smiled, sharp and humorless. Yeah, process that, asshole.

You turned to leave, but before you could, his hand caught yours. Not your wrist, like some desperate last-ditch grab—your hand. Like he meant it. And the second your skin met his, it was like touching an open flame.

“Let me explain.” his voice was tight, urgent.

“Don’t touch me.” you yanked your hand back like it burned. “I don’t give a shit about whatever excuse you’re about to pull out of your ass.”

His jaw clenched. “Can you stop being so damn stubborn and just listen to me for once?”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, you wanna explain?” you licked your lips, tasting nothing but bitterness. “Go ahead. Explain how you had a girlfriend this whole time while you were fucking around with me.”

The words landed like a punch to the gut—on both of you.

Because, deep down, being with you had never been defined. No labels. No promises. No safety net to fall back on. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Bangchan’s brows snapped together. “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t even try it.” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re really gonna stand there and lie to my face? I saw her.”

His frustration bubbled over, his arms flying up in exasperation. “I genuinely have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” his voice cracked with frustration. He looked at you like he was praying for some divine intervention to make sense of this mess. “If you’re talking about—”

“Just go back to your girlfriend and leave me alone, Bangchan.” your voice was steady, but he wasn’t stupid—he saw the fire still burning in your eyes, catching in the moonlight.

And maybe if he had taken half a second to think, he wouldn’t have said it. Maybe he would’ve swallowed his pride and stopped himself from making it worse.

But he didn’t.

“Whatever, right?” he scoffed, voice laced with something bitter. “It’s not like we were anything.”

You pressed your lips together, jaw tight, throat burning like you’d swallowed glass. And for the first time in your life, really the first, you felt so humiliated—so stupid—that your eyes burned with unshed tears.

Bangchan saw it. Saw the way your waterline glistened, saw the way your breath hitched, but you wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him. Not for him.

“If you really think that’s the problem, then that says a whole lot more about you than it does about me.” your voice was sharp, but quiet, like a blade sliding back into its sheath.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

You turned on your heel and walked away, each step fueled by a firestorm of anger, hurt, and something else you weren’t ready to name. Bangchan watched you go, standing frozen in place, and by the time he even thought about stopping you—

It was too late.

Outside your dorm, you yanked your phone out of your pocket, fingers flying across the screen like a woman on a mission. Your pulse was still hammering, adrenaline buzzing under your skin as you pulled up Mingyu’s contact and typed without hesitation.

You: Feel like crashing a party on Saturday?

Barely a beat passed before your phone vibrated with his response.

Mingyu: You had me at “party.”

Bangchan pushed open the door to his dorm with more force than necessary, letting it slam shut behind him. His pulse was still racing, his jaw tight with frustration.

And there she was. Yeojin.

Lying on his bed, scrolling through her phone like she owned the place. His old sweatshirt was hanging off her shoulder, and she barely spared him a glance when he walked in.

“Oh, you’re back,” she said, swinging her legs idly. “Didn’t take you long.”

Bangchan set his bag of takeout on the desk and exhaled sharply through his nose. “What the hell did you say to her?”

Yeojin finally looked up, her expression the perfect blend of innocence and amusement. “Say what exactly?”

His fingers flexed at his sides. “You know what,” he ground out. “You told her we’re together. Why?”

She tilted her head, brows lifting. “I never said that.”

Bangchan let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeojin, don’t play games with me.”

“I didn’t, Chan.” she sighed dramatically, stretching her arms over her head. “She asked if you were here, I said no, and I introduced myself. It’s not my fault if she jumped to conclusions.”

He clenched his jaw, glaring at her. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

She just smiled. “So what if it is?” her voice dropped, teasing, as she sat up. “You used to like when I messed with people.”

Bangchan took a step back when she reached for him, his whole body recoiling instinctively.

“We’re not kids anymore, Yeojin,” he muttered. “And I don’t have time for this.” he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “I got Thai food. Help yourself.”

Before she could say anything else, he was gone.

The cool night air did little to calm Bangchan’s nerves as he walked toward the basketball court, fists shoved in his hoodie pockets. His mind was a mess, replaying the way you had looked at him—like he was exactly what people warned you about.

Before he could spiral further, a familiar voice cut through his thoughts.

“Damn, what’s with the face?” Changbin asked, appearing from the other side of the path. “You look like you wanna punch a hole in a wall.”

Bangchan exhaled sharply. “Not a wall.”

Changbin frowned. “What the hell happened?”

Bangchan hesitated before tilting his head toward the court. “Basketball first. Talking later.”

Changbin smirked. “I like where this is going.”

Fifteen minutes later, Bangchan sat on the edge of the basketball court, legs stretched out, elbows resting on his knees, looking like life had personally drop-kicked him.

Across from him, Changbin dribbled the ball lazily, waiting. And waiting. Until his patience ran out.

“So?” Changbin finally asked, passing him the ball. “Spill.”

Bangchan caught it, staring at it for a second before shaking his head. “Yeojin’s here.”

Changbin nearly fumbled the rebound. “I’m sorry—what?” his face twisted in immediate disgust. “What the hell is she doing here?”

Bangchan sighed. “She came to visit. Said she was in town. It’s been years, and I figured—whatever, right? No harm in catching up.”

Changbin let out a dry laugh. “No harm? Bro, she’s a walking red flag. Why would you even entertain that?”

Bangchan pressed his tongue against his cheek. “I don’t know, man. Nostalgia? I mean, we didn’t exactly end badly, we just—” he sighed. “Didn’t work.”

Changbin scoffed. “Yeah, well, I never liked her. You know that.” 

Bangchan dribbled once, then tossed the ball toward the hoop. It hit the rim, circled, then dropped through the net. “There’s more.”

Changbin folded his arms. “Yeah, no shit. You’re sitting here like you just found out Santa isn’t real. What else happened?”

Bangchan caught the rebound and exhaled. “She saw.”

Changbin frowned. “Saw what?”

Bangchan gave him a look.

“Oh.” Changbin winced. “Shit.” he let out a slow whistle. “That’s… bad.”

“No shit,” Bangchan muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “She showed up at my dorm, and instead of me opening the door, Yeojin did.”

Changbin groaned. “Dude. No.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Bangchan went on, voice dripping with frustration. “Yeojin, being the manipulative little menace she is, basically introduced herself as my girlfriend.”

Changbin stared at him like he just admitted to murder. “And she believed that?”

Bangchan laughed bitterly. “Why wouldn’t she? The look she gave me, man… like I was exactly what she expected. Some asshole playing games.”

Changbin studied him for a second. “And that bothers you.”

Bangchan scoffed. “Of course it fucking bothers me.” he leaned forward, gripping the ball tight. “She drives me insane, Bin. Like—she acts like it’s nothing. Like whatever we had was just this casual, meaningless thing. But then she turns around and—” he exhaled sharply. “Her actions say otherwise. She looks at me like she feels something. She reacts like she cares. But every time I get close, she shuts it down.”

Changbin snorted, rolling the ball between his palms. “So basically, she’s bullshitting, you’re bullshitting, and now you’re both miserable?”

Bangchan shot him a glare.

Changbin smirked. “I mean, she won’t admit she likes you, and you’re sitting here trauma-dumping on me instead of doing something about it.”

Bangchan groaned, tilting his head back against the wall. “She’s pissed, Bin. Like, really pissed.”

“So fix it.”

Bangchan laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. Easier said than done.”

Changbin passed him the ball. “So what now?”

Bangchan caught it, staring down at the faded lettering on the rubber. That was the question, wasn’t it? Because right now, you wanted nothing to do with him.

And honestly? He deserved it.

Saturday morning. Group breakfast. Good vibes. At least, that’s what you were aiming for.

You were mid-story, telling Felix how the auditions had gone, when the universe decided to test your patience. Again.

Changbin strolled in with Jisung, Bangchan, and—you had to blink twice just to confirm—Yeojin.

Of course. Because it wasn’t enough that he lied. He had to parade it around like some kind of grand event.

“I need a fat slice of chocolate cake,” Changbin announced, dropping into his seat. “Something sweet to cleanse the absolute trash energy in the air.”

Your eyes flicked to Yeojin, who was standing a little too comfortably next to Bangchan. 

“Yeojin, long time no see,” Hyunjin greeted, all polite and civil.

She beamed. “Hyunjin! Oh my God, it’s really you!” she gushed, voice dripping with enthusiasm. You wanted to be a girl’s girl, really—you did. But something about her tone made your eye twitch.

“Who’s that?” Sohee whispered, not even bothering to be discreet.

“Oh, nice to meet you,” Yeojin said, flashing a smile that felt way too rehearsed. “Yeojin. Chan’s friend.”

She said it like she was accepting a damn award. The table went dead silent. Everyone shared a look.

You, however, remained completely unbothered, taking a slow sip of your strawberry milk like you had all the time in the world.

Bangchan slid into the seat across from you, throwing not-so-subtle glances in your direction—just in case you maybe wanted to acknowledge his existence.

You didn’t. Instead, you busied yourself with literally anything else. The napkins. The straw in your drink. The slow, satisfying process of ignoring him.

If he wanted your attention, he’d have to earn it.

Yeojin was annoyingly easy to get along with. Effortless charm, perfectly timed laughs—like she’d studied the art of socializing and graduated top of her class. And maybe that wouldn’t have bothered you if you didn’t feel an immediate, inexplicable urge to dislike her.

Maybe it was the way she smiled just a little too much. Like she was in on some inside joke that no one else was laughing at. Or how she leaned into Bangchan like he had his own gravitational pull, always conveniently this close to falling into his lap.

For someone who had been so desperate to explain himself last night, he looked awfully comfortable letting her cling to him now.

“So, everyone’s going tonight, right?” Jisung asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

Yeojin jumped on the conversation like it was an open invitation. “What’s tonight?”

“Jisung’s DJing at a party,” Eunji answered, taking a sip of her drink.

Yeojin hummed, tilting her head in that thoughtful but not really way. “I was going to leave after lunch, but… I guess I can stay a little longer.”

She glanced at Bangchan like she was waiting for permission.

Too bad he wasn’t paying attention. His focus was glued to his phone, fingers tapping out a message.

Your own phone buzzed in your pocket.

Bangchan: can we talk?

Your eyes flicked up, purely on instinct. And there he was. Watching you.

You frowned, pulled out your phone, read the message, and stuffed it right back in your pocket. No response.

The table blurred into background noise. Laughter, conversation, the occasional clatter of silverware—it all melted into static. Because Bangchan was still looking. That steady, expectant stare that made your skin itch. That made your chest feel a little too tight.

Your phone buzzed again.

Bangchan: you can’t ignore me forever.

Bet.

You smirked to yourself. If Bangchan thought he could tell you what to do, he had another thing coming.

Grabbing the strap of your bag, you stood up, all casual confidence, and turned to Sohee and Eunji. “I’m heading out with Hyunjin.” no further explanation. Just a statement.

Hyunjin, caught in the crossfire of whatever this was, frowned. “Wait—what? Since when?”

You just kept walking, tossing a grin over your shoulder. “Since right now. Just smile and act natural.”

 You made sure to take the long way around the table, passing directly in front of Bangchan—not looking at him. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Just air.

Hyunjin, still struggling to keep up, shot a quick glance back before leaning in. “Okay, seriously, what was that? Bangchan looked like he was about to start breathing fire.”

You flicked your hair over your shoulder, your smirk widening.

“Revenge, Hyun. Just a little harmless revenge.”

The house was packed.

Neon lights flickered wildly, splashing the room in chaotic waves of electric blue and fiery red, pulsing in sync with the bass. The air was thick—heat, sweat, cheap cologne, and the sharp sting of alcohol weaving together into something intoxicating. The floor thrummed beneath your boots, bodies moving in effortless rhythm, a silent agreement to just let go.

Jisung was at the DJ booth, throwing in ad-libs between transitions, hyping up the crowd like he was born for this. A remix dropped, shaking the walls, and the entire party roared in approval. Off-campus ragers had a way of making reality blur, like stepping into a fever dream.

Perfect.

Eunji and Sohee spotted you first, their eyes going comically wide, like they’d just witnessed the second coming of Christ.

“Jesus, look at you,” Sohee gasped, gripping your arm for dear life.

Eunji gave a solemn nod. “This outfit should be illegal.”

You twirled, just enough to let your skirt flare out, a little reminder of why you picked it.

“Drinks first, right?” you pointed at Hyunjin, who gave you an approving nod.

You peeled away from the group, squeezing through the sweaty crowd toward a corner where a massive keg stood like a beacon of bad decisions. There were stronger drinks, but you decided to take it easy—for now.

Then, in half a second, you felt it. Like your body already knew, like a moth drawn to a flame.

Under the pulsing red lights, he looked dangerous. A predator in slow motion, moving through the crowd with that effortless, lazy confidence that made people either run toward him or clear a path. Flashes of white and blue caught the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint sheen of sweat at his collarbone. A contrast—razor-edged and infuriatingly soft all at once.

And yet. You couldn’t focus on any of that.

Because Yeojin was practically clinging to him.

Talking—laughing, leaning, performing—but Bangchan barely seemed to notice. If anything, he looked somewhere else entirely. Somewhere you were. Because the second your eyes met, his focus locked in.

And he started moving. One step. Then another.

But before he could take a third, an arm slid around your waist.

Mingyu.

His touch was warm, firm—a perfectly timed lifeline. His lips brushed against your ear, voice low and deliberate. “Have I mentioned you look insane tonight?”

A slow, satisfied smile curled on your lips. Perfect.

Through the neon haze, you caught Bangchan’s reaction over Mingyu’s shoulder. Electric blue light flickered across his face like something straight out of a movie scene.

Oh, he was pissed. Not just annoyed. Not just irritated. Seething.

Jaw clenched. Shoulders tight. Eyes locked onto you with an intensity that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

Good.

Mingyu pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Dance with me?”

You let the question hang, stretching the moment just because you could—fully aware of your audience. Then, with a casual flick of your fingers, you grabbed Mingyu’s wrist and turned back to your friends.

And that’s when the remix hit.

The song of the summer. A full-blown club anthem blasted through the house, lights flashing in sync with the bass, and suddenly Eunji and Sohee were dragging you onto the dance floor. You barely had time to toss Mingyu a look before pulling him into the crowd with you.

Sohee was already wrapped around her boyfriend’s neck, hair flying as she danced like she was possessed, while Minho just laughed at her antics. Jisung was losing his mind behind the DJ booth, hyping up the party like a man on a mission.

And Bangchan? He didn’t move. He just watched.

Watched as you danced. Watched as Mingyu’s hands found your waist. Watched as you threw your head back, laughing, moving with the beat like you had nothing to prove.

And under the pulsing red lights, with silver glitter catching on your cheekbones, you didn’t just look good. You looked untouchable.

And he looked like a man about to start a war.

You spun around, arms draped over Mingyu’s shoulders as his hands trailed down to your waist, pulling you into the rhythm. To anyone watching, you two looked dangerously close—every move synced, every touch easy, like this was something more than just a party moment. But in the back of your mind, a small, annoying voice reminded you that this wasn’t about Mingyu at all.

Still, too late now.

The strobe lights flashed in bursts, making everything feel like a glitch in time—jumping, dancing, bodies moving like there was no tomorrow. You lost sight of Bangchan for a while, which was probably for the best. So, you let go. Had fun. Actually enjoyed yourself with your friends.

Until someone slammed into you, knocking the air right out of your lungs.

One second, Mingyu was right there. The next, he was gone, practically launched across the floor. “What the—” you barely got the words out before you saw the damage.

Changbin stood there, wide-eyed, drenched in a suspiciously pink drink, looking like he just survived a battlefield. And Mingyu? Equally soaked, equally stunned, like he was still processing what the hell just happened.

“Dude, shit—sorry!” Changbin shouted, voice barely cutting through the music.

You blinked, taking in the absolute mess before turning back to him. “Are you good?”

Changbin nodded rapidly, looking between you and Mingyu like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or start running. “Yeah, yeah, my bad!”

Then he turned back to Mingyu, hands up like a man pleading for his life.

Mingyu just let out a sigh, lifting the hem of his now ruined white T-shirt like he was mourning a fallen soldier. “Alright. I’ll be right back,” he said, shaking his head before disappearing into the crowd.

Meanwhile, Changbin grabbed your arm, his expression serious—well, as serious as someone drenched in a neon-pink drink could look. He gestured for you to follow, weaving through the bodies until you reached the foot of the stairs.

“What?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Can you grab me a shirt? I left one in Jisung’s backpack.”

You took a second to assess the situation. Changbin, slightly tipsy, covered in pink, blinking at you like a lost puppy. He looked ridiculous.

With a dramatic sigh, you caved. “Fine.”

“You’re the best,” he said, clasping his hands like he was praising the heavens. “It’s in the room on the right, upstairs.”

You turned, climbing the stairs while dodging couples making out on the steps like it was some kind of kissing marathon. Once you reached the hallway, you scanned the doors—long corridor, a few rooms—until you spotted one slightly open on the right.

Alright. In and out. Quick mission.

Stepping inside, you started searching for Jisung’s bag—first the floor, then the bed. Nothing.

And then—

Movement.

From the corner of your eye, a figure emerged from behind the bed, rising like a shadow from the dark.

Your breath caught. Bangchan. Standing there. Watching you.

A black cable twirled between his fingers, slow and deliberate, his gaze unreadable under the dim glow of the hallway lights.

“What?” you were the first to break the silence, arms crossing instinctively. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Bangchan gave you a flat look, holding up the black cable like it was evidence in court. “I should be asking you that. I came to get Han’s charger.” he raised an eyebrow, gaze sharp, like he wasn’t entirely convinced.

You opened your mouth, fully prepared to deliver something scathing—but before you could get a word out, the door swung open again.

“Sorry, kids! Not opening this door until you sort yourselves out!”

You barely had time to process Changbin’s smug, drunken grin before the door slammed shut.

For half a second, you froze.

Then you launched at the door, fists pounding like you could open it through sheer rage. “Changbin, open this fucking door right now!”

No answer. Just the distant thrum of music, too muffled for anyone outside to hear you scream bloody murder.

You yanked at the handle—definitely locked.

With a sharp inhale, you turned, glaring daggers at Bangchan, who was just… standing there. Watching. Amused.

“Are you just gonna stand there? Do something!”

His lips twitched, like he was this close to laughing. “Pretty sure this is your problem, not mine.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, so now you don’t wanna get involved?”

Bangchan sighed—slow, exaggerated—before strolling up to the door, resting a lazy hand on the knob, and giving it a completely useless jiggle. Then he turned back to you with a straight face.

“Yeah. It’s locked.”

You stared at him. Blinked. Then scoffed so hard you nearly choked.

“No shit, Sherlock. Are you serious?”

Bangchan couldn’t help it—he laughed. Because you were spiraling, and honestly? It was funny as hell.

“I’ll call him,” he said, still smirking.

You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly left your skull and made your way over to the double bed in the corner. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, collapsing onto the edge like this was some Shakespearean tragedy.

Then a thought clicked, and suddenly, everything made sense.

Your head snapped up. “Wait—” you shot to your feet, eyes narrowing. “He knows. You told him.”

Bangchan barely looked fazed. “He kinda figured it out on his own, if that makes you feel any better.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Bangchan was so into you, stealing glances constantly, and Changbin wasn’t stupid. The man could read a room like it was his job.

You dragged a hand down your face, exhaling sharply. “This is a nightmare.”

Bangchan tilted his head, amused. “Jesus, is it really that bad being stuck in here with me? Last time, you weren’t exactly complaining.”

The second those words left his mouth, you hit him with a look so deadly he immediately shut up.

“Just get Changbin to open the damn door, Bangchan,” you said flatly, plopping back down onto the bed, dead center, legs crossed like you were settling in for a long, miserable wait.

You pulled out your phone, thumbs flying across the screen as you sent a message to Hyunjin—the only person who knew about the whole situation. You could have asked Sohee, Eunji, or even Mingyu, but that would just open a very annoying can of worms.

And you were not in the mood for questions.

This couldn’t be real. No way. The second you got out of here, Changbin was getting his ass handed to him. And Mingyu was probably already wondering where the hell you’d disappeared to. Just like Yeojin was probably searching for Bangchan.

Perfect.

“He’s not answering,” Bangchan announced, completely unfazed. “Which means he’s ignoring me on purpose. So, we wait.” he sat by the window like it was just another Tuesday, leaning back on his palms.

“This is your fault.”

That earned you a scoff. “How the hell is this my fault?”

You shot him a glare. “If you hadn’t spilled everything to him, none of this would be happening.”

Bangchan let out a dry laugh, tilting his head like you were so predictable. “Right. And if you hadn’t jumped to conclusions without actually listening to me—like you always do—none of this would be happening either.”

Oof. Direct hit. You hated when he had a point.

“I have nothing to hear from you,” you muttered, crossing your arms and staring at literally anything else in the room.

Silence.

Annoyingly, maddeningly, deafeningly loud silence.

Bangchan rested his arms on his knees, watching you like he had all the time in the world. And pretending he wasn’t there, yeah, that was a joke. His presence was like gravity—pulling, heavy, impossible to ignore.

Less than ten minutes passed before the anger started simmering down. Because that’s how it always went with him. Like a fire that burned too hot, too fast.

“You seriously thought she was my girlfriend?”

You turned, locking eyes with him. “What else was I supposed to think? She said it herself.”

Bangchan hummed, tapping his fingers against his knee. “She’s not. Yeojin’s an ex—from high school. Ancient history.” he exhaled sharply through his teeth. “She’s just… a little clueless.”

“A little?” you let out a sharp laugh. “She was wearing your clothes when I showed up at your dorm.” you rolled your eyes, but Bangchan only smiled. Because, yeah, that sounded a whole lot like jealousy.

Then something clicked. “Wait—what were you doing there that night?”

“Nothing.” you looked away, ignoring the sudden heat crawling up your neck.

His laugh was soft, almost teasing. But the way he was looking at you? Like you were the only thing worth seeing? That was dangerous.

“C’mon. Seriously.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, because he was so annoyingly persistent. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Doesn’t it?” Bangchan tilted his head, lips curving in that cocky little smirk. “I doubt that.”

“Well, I don’t care,” you shot back, folding your arms in defiance.

Bangchan pushed himself off the floor, moving to sit on the edge of the bed—close, but not too close. Still, he was big. Broad. Built like a problem. And despite the space between you, he somehow took up all of it.

Worse? He smelled stupidly good.

“What do you want?” you asked, bracing yourself for the answer—because Bangchan was stupidly honest, and you weren’t sure you were ready for whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

But he didn’t say a word. Just kept looking at you, pupils blown wide, gaze slow as it dragged over your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

Then, finally— “Why’d you come that night?”

You swallowed. “I went because… I wanted to talk. And… I wanted things to be okay between us.”

For a second, he just stared at you like you’d punched the air out of his lungs. Because you had gone after him. To fix things. To close the distance.

“You wanted to?” you barely nodded before he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Well, we’re two idiots, then.” his lips curled slightly, his whole energy shifting. “Because that’s all I want.”

Your eyes locked, and something about the way he was looking at you made your chest tighten. He had this insane ability to make you feel completely seen, like he could pick apart every thought in your head just by watching you.

“Why?”

Bangchan was never one to hold back, never afraid to be himself—especially when it came to being honest about what he wanted. And right now, he was this close to just laying it all out. Because the truth? He was ridiculously into you. More and more, every damn day.

“You’re stubborn, and I’m an idiot,” he muttered, lips pressing into a thin line before he let out a short laugh. The kind that made you laugh, too, before you even realized it. And honestly it pissed you off a little how easily he could do that—swing you from one extreme to another like it was nothing.

“Look,” he sighed. “I’m just gonna be straight with you, like I always am. I’m not playing games. I didn’t mean it when I said we were nothing.”

“But we are,” you mumbled, even though the words tasted like a lie. You weren’t anything. No labels, no relationship. Just a mess of late nights and tangled sheets—until things got way too complicated.

“I don’t want us to be nothing,” he said, shrugging, like he was just casually throwing his cards on the table. “Because ever since that first time, I haven’t wanted anyone else.”

Your breath caught, and suddenly, the bed felt too small, the room too warm. What the hell? You hadn’t expected this conversation to go there.

Bangchan? Not with anyone else? That was news. The guy was basically campus royalty when it came to hookups. Half the girls in your year had probably been in his dorm at some point.

And now he was sitting here, telling you this?

But now he was standing there, saying it out loud—no one else. Just you. And it sent your stomach into a tailspin.

“I shouldn’t have given you shit for it,” you muttered, nodding like that would somehow make the awkwardness go away. “I mean, since we’re not… you know.”

Bangchan lifted an eyebrow, clearly amused by how flustered you were.

“Oh, I know,” he said. “But you don’t get it. I don’t want anyone else.”

Your pulse spiked. Too fast. Too loud. What the hell was he trying to say?

“No, you’re just—” you let out a breathy, nervous laugh, stepping back like that would help. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bangchan didn’t let you go far. His hand caught yours, warm and steady, fingers wrapping around your wrist before he pulled you closer—right between his legs.

And then his hands were on your waist, fitting there like they belonged.

Your breath hitched.

His voice, suddenly lower, smoother, like silk wrapped in heat. “I know exactly what I want.”

Your eyes met his, and damn it, he was beautiful. That kind of beauty that wasn’t just about sharp jawlines and perfect features—it was something deeper, something that burned. The way his eyes locked onto you, glowing under the dim light. The way his expression was serious, but there was still softness lingering beneath it.

You knew what you wanted too. You just weren’t ready to admit it.

Your hands moved before your mind could catch up, tracing the curve of his brow, the sharp edge of his cheekbone—slow, like you were trying to memorize him by touch. Then, without thinking, you cupped his face, thumbs brushing over his skin.

Bangchan didn’t pull away. Didn’t even flinch. He just leaned into your touch, like this was normal, like you did this all the time. But you didn’t. Not like this.

Then he kissed the back of your hand, soft and slow, and damn it, you smiled.

“Say what you want,” he murmured.

“I…”

“I don’t care if I’m your dirty little secret,” he cut in, voice rough, low, burning at the edges. “I don’t care about any of it. As long as you’re mine, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

Something shifted inside you—hot, sharp, irreversible. Like a match hitting gasoline.

Bangchan tilted his head, pushing a strand of hair from your face. “What are you so afraid of?” his lips curled into a half-smirk. “You hate me that much?”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. “I don’t hate you.” your fingers tightened against his jaw. “Not even close.”

Bangchan pulled you in, arms locking tight around your waist, pressing you so close you could feel every breath he took against your skin. A shiver shot down your spine, anticipation curling in your stomach. You were teetering on the edge, seconds away from giving in—giving him everything. And if he was willing to take whatever you had to offer… What was stopping you?

With one swift move, his hands traced up the back of your thighs, fingers pressing into the sensitive skin behind your knees, guiding you onto the bed and onto his lap. The air between you shifted, crackling, something unspoken but heavy settling in the space only you two could understand.

It was automatic—this need, this burn. Like gravity, like the sky being blue, like the way your chemistry was always one spark away from setting the whole place on fire.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, yanking back just enough to force his eyes on you. And God, he looked wrecked—vulnerable in a way that made your stomach flip, pupils blown wide like he’d already lost the battle.

That’s when you kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate—a clash of want, frustration, and every second of tension that had built between you. Like a wave crashing against the shore, wild and uncontrollable. You rocked against him, fingers tightening in his hair, barely biting back a moan when his hands gripped your ass, lifting you further into him.

Your skirt had already ridden up, but Bangchan wasn’t complaining.

He knew exactly what he was doing—kissing, nipping at your skin, hitting every spot that made you gasp. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. More contact, more of him.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it up with shaky hands. Bangchan barely hesitated, lifting his arms, muscles flexing as he pulled the fabric over his head. The low, guttural sound that left his lips sent a shiver through you—deep, raw, almost primal. And God, he looked unreal.

“You want me to stop?” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with restraint.

You shook your head immediately, body betraying you with the way it trembled against him.

“I can stop,” he teased, but this time, the possibility made your stomach flip. Your eyes snapped to his, filled with something dangerously close to panic.

Stepping back, just for a second, you took him in. And no matter how many times you’d seen him like this, you never quite got used to it. All of him. Broad, sculpted shoulders, solid arms, every inch of him screaming strength. And all of that was yours.

Bangchan smirked, eyes narrowing with smug satisfaction. “You look like you want something.”

You huffed a laugh, shoving him back. “Shut up.”

But before you could move away, his hands gripped your waist, pulling you down with him. You landed against his chest with a startled yelp, his warmth pressing into you.

Then he kissed you—slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second, every breath, as if the night stretched endless before you, mapping every inch of your lips with his own. Your laughter faded, swallowed by him.

Pinned against him, you could feel the effect you had on him, the heat of him beneath dark denim. And if there was one thing you knew, it was how to push him over the edge.

So you kissed him harder, rolling your hips against his.

His hands flew to your ass, squeezing before delivering a sharp slap that had you moaning into his mouth. That was just how it was with you two—obscene, messy, utterly shameless. And nothing turned you on more.

Your fingers found the zipper of his jeans, finally breaking away from his lips to look down at him. Bangchan pushed up on his elbows, watching you through half-lidded eyes, his breath ragged as he fought to stay still. His fingers twitched, desperate to put an end to the torturous wait. He was so hard it was unbearable—just seeing you like this had him on the edge.

He didn’t hesitate to help, making quick work of what little fabric still separated you. And fuck, you were drenched. Just the sight of him like this—wrecked for you—had your whole body tightening in anticipation.

There were so many ways this could go, and you wanted them all. One night would never be enough.

Your hand wrapped around him, firm, deliberate. A shaky curse tumbled from his lips, his head tipping back as he melted into your touch. He was barely holding it together when you lifted your hips, and for a second, he thought you were going to sink down onto him. Instead, you slid against him, rolling your hips so he could feel everything—dragging over your entrance, teasing up to your clit before sliding back down.

“Holy shit,” Bangchan groaned, voice strangled.

His hands twitched, reaching for you, aching to do something. But before he could, you leaned in, pinning his wrists down against the mattress.

He was at your mercy now. Completely helpless. And he fucking loved it.

Meanwhile, your hips kept moving, sliding over him, teasing but never giving in. The sheer size of him, the way he dragged against your clit with every slick roll of your hips—it was maddening. You lost all sense of rhythm, chasing pleasure in short, frantic motions, needing more, always more.

Bangchan was wrecked beneath you. His breath came in ragged bursts, his chest rising and falling as he groaned through clenched teeth, letting you take what you wanted. And the sight of him like this completely undone because of you? It was enough to make your head spin.

Your wetness mixed with his pre-cum, making a mess between you, the heat of it dizzying. Another deep grunt tore from his throat, and fuck—his orgasm was creeping up way too fast. He wasn’t about to let that happen. Not yet.

Your grip on his wrists loosened, your body trembling above him, so damn close—

“Want me to fuck you?” the words were a rasp, low and filthy against your skin.

And God, hearing him say it like that, made you feel absolutely ruined.

You were right there, wavering on the edge, but then—Bangchan’s hands gripped your waist, flipping you with ease. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he pulled away, standing at the edge of the bed.

For a second, frustration flared hot in your chest—he’d just ripped away a mind-numbing orgasm—but the way he looked at you, eyes dark and full of promise, made it clear.

He wasn’t done. Not even close.

With impressive speed, Bangchan yanked your panties down, leaving you in nothing but that tiny skirt. You reached for your blouse, tearing it off without a second thought. Meanwhile, he fished a condom from his pocket, standing at the foot of the bed like he owned the place.

You bit your lip, taking in the sight of him—so big, so stupidly gorgeous.

Bangchan climbed onto the bed, his strong hands wrapping around your thighs, keeping them pressed together. His voice was low, commanding. "Spread your legs."

Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, parting them slowly. The skirt inched higher, higher, until it was bunched up around your waist.

He muttered something under his breath, gaze locked on how wet you were—for him. Almost dripping. You bit your lip, the weight of the moment thick in the air. "Please..."

Bangchan leaned in, kissing your stomach, then up to your chest. One arm braced against the bed, the other gripping himself as he brushed his cock against your cunt. The slow drag, the teasing, was cruel, and he knew it. He was watching you unravel—your body torn between frustration and aching need.

You were this close to grabbing him, to taking what you needed, but before you could, he caught your wrists in one hand, pinning them down.

"I'll let you..." his voice was a husky whisper, dark and full of promise. He kept that agonizing friction going, dragging against you, just enough to drive you insane. "But you have to tell me."

You were burning up, mind hazy, barely able to process his words. "Bangchan," you tried for something firm, but the second the tip of his cock rubbed against your clit—just the right mix of pleasure and frustration—a strangled moan slipped out instead.

"Tell me what you want, and it's yours," he murmured against your lips, smug as ever.

Your gaze met his, dark and needy. He picked up the pace, teasing you mercilessly—only to stop again. You let out a desperate whimper. This was torture.

"Just say it, love."

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, frustration bubbling over. "Your ego is too big."

Bangchan chuckled against your skin, stealing a quick kiss. "You know what else is big?"

You hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him in close. His breath caught, and for a second, he just looked at you—lips parted, eyes searching yours, ready to dive in.

"Guess you'll have to show me."

And Bangchan never turned down a challenge.

The moment he let you go, he was all action—rolling on the condom with practiced ease before yanking you flush against him. "Gonna fuck you so good you'll take it all back."

Then he slammed into you, deep, all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs. Stars burst behind your eyelids. Fuck, you’d never get used to the stretch. And neither would he, not with how tight you clenched around him, inch by inch.

Bangchan started slow, deliberate, watching every little reaction like he was committing it to memory.

"More," you gasped, nails dragging down his back.

And who was he to deny you?

A low, guttural curse slipped from his lips as he gripped the back of your leg, struggling to keep himself in check. But even he was failing. That dark, insatiable hunger inside him wanted to ruin you, break you apart piece by piece, and devour whatever was left.

"Yeah..." his hand found the back of your neck, and in one brutal motion, he buried himself to the hilt. Your eyes rolled back as a cry of pure pleasure ripped from your throat. "Fuck."

He did it again. And again. Testing you. Seeing just how much you could take. And then restraint snapped—his rhythm shifted from slow, deliberate thrusts to deep, relentless strokes that had you gasping, moaning, melting beneath him.

Your lungs fought for air, your body wrecked by the force of him. A tangled mess of curses and broken sounds spilled from your lips.

Bangchan leaned down, catching your mouth in a searing kiss, fucking you through every ragged breath. The filthy, desperate moans leaving his lips had you clinging to him, desperate to consume every last one.

"Bangchan—my God!" your fingers dug into his back like an anchor, but you were weightless, floating, dissolving into nothing.

You tried to pull him closer, but he straightened, still gripping your throat, keeping you right where he wanted.

"Say it." his thrusts were brutal, hitting so deep you thought you’d break apart. Faster. Harder. You cried out, a mess of pleasure and desperation, dizzy on the edge of something devastating."Tell me— you want me? Wanna cum on my cock?"

Your vision blurred, the sheer intensity forcing a tear to the corner of your eye. It was too much, but not enough, never enough.

"I want you," you choked out, voice ragged, shaking. "Fuck—" you barely finished the sentence before your body gave in, collapsing into pure, obliterating pleasure.

Bangchan caught your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it before murmuring against your mouth, “Good girl.”

Then his hand slipped between your bodies, finding your clit as he thrust into you, his fingers moving in tandem with his strokes. And that was it. The tipping point. Your back arched, but he pressed a firm hand to your stomach, pinning you down as pleasure overtook you. The last few thrusts sent you spiraling, your body clenching tight around him as you came hard, waves crashing over you.

Bangchan cursed under his breath, his grip tightening as his own release hit him like a freight train. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—" his whole body tensed, abs flexing as he emptied himself, barely managing to keep from collapsing on top of you.

Your chest rose and fell in sync with his, both of you wrecked, tangled, completely undone. He was so close, his forehead pressing against yours, damp hair sticking to his skin. And just like that, you kissed him—slow, deep, something unspoken passing between you. A shift.

Something had changed, and you both felt it.

"We need to stop doing this," you muttered against his lips.

Bangchan pulled back slightly, his brows knitting together. "What...?"

"Having sex in strangers’ rooms," you teased, the corner of your mouth quirking up. "Bad habit."

Relief flickered across his face before it was replaced by something far more dangerous. "Then let’s go to mine," he said smoothly, his voice thick with intent. "I’m not done with you."

You just laughed, shaking your head as you reached for your clothes. No argument, no teasing comeback—just that breathless, satisfied chuckle that told him you were just as wrecked as he was. And God, he admired you. The way you moved, the way you carried herself, as if what just happened was the most natural thing in the world. Like you hadn’t just left him completely undone.

He leaned back against the bed, watching as you slipped your blouse on, covering up inch by inch what he had just memorized with his hands, his lips, his tongue. A damn shame.

“I could go like this all night,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. His eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate. “I’d never get tired of you.”

You paused for half a second, then, with a smirk, you glanced at him over your shoulder.

“Sweet talk won’t get you another round.”

He grinned, unbothered. “Who said I was asking?”

"Alright, lover boy," you sighed, straightening your skirt. "Call Changbin so we can get out of here before we end up adding ‘breaking and entering’ to our list of bad decisions."

But Bangchan just huffed out a laugh, reaching into his back pocket. You frowned, watching as he pulled out something small, something metallic—

And then he dangled a tiny key in front of your face.

Your breath caught. "You absolute—"

"Had the key the whole time?" he finished for you, grinning like the unapologetic menace he was.

You just stared at him, utterly gagged. "Are you telling me we could’ve left at any time—and you let me believe we were locked in here?!"

Bangchan had the audacity to laugh, and before you could get a single word of protest out, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you against him and crashing his lips onto yours. You let him. You melted into it, kissed him back like you weren’t even a little mad.

When he finally pulled away, his breath ghosted over your lips as he murmured, "I’m sorry, baby." But he was still laughing. Not sorry at all.

"No, you’re not," you shot back, trying—and failing—to sound pissed.

"You’re right," he admitted without shame, pressing another kiss to your mouth, slower this time, smug and indulgent. "But, in my defense… I knew you wanted me just as bad as I wanted you."

You narrowed your eyes, heat licking at your spine because—damn it—he wasn’t wrong.

Cocky bastard.

Still, you snatched the key from his fingers and shoved him toward the door. "Move before I leave your ass locked in here and tell everyone you cried for help."

Bangchan just smirked, twisting the doorknob with infuriating ease. "Joke’s on you—I’d make it sound sexy."

Bangchan slipped out first, leaving you alone in the dimly lit bedroom, the air still thick with everything that just happened. You took a breath, running a hand through your hair and letting out a low, incredulous laugh. Insane. That was the only word for it. Completely, absolutely, batshit insane.

You took your time freshening up before heading downstairs, blending back into the party like nothing happened—like your whole world hadn’t just been flipped on its head by a cocky bastard with unfairly good hands.

You found the drinks and poured yourself a beer, the cold liquid grounding you, when Hyunjin appeared at your side, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Mingyu was looking for you,” he said, tilting his head. “For a while. Then he gave up and left.”

You took a slow sip of your beer, carefully masking any reaction. “Huh. Tragic.”

Hyunjin squinted. “Okay, where the hell have you been?”

You shot him an easy smirk. “In the bathroom, Hyunjin. I have bodily functions like every other human being.”

His eyes narrowed further. “For that long?”

“Maybe I got lost,” you said with a shrug, taking another sip. “Or maybe I was reevaluating all my life choices.”

Hyunjin was still staring at you, unconvinced. “You were with someone.”

You huffed. “Stop being nosy and dance with me.”

Before he could pry any further, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the dance floor. The bass thumped through your veins as you moved to the beat, thankful for the temporary distraction. But Hyunjin was sharp—too sharp. His gaze flickered to something over your shoulder, and then his lips parted in realization.

You didn’t have to turn around to know. You felt it.

Bangchan was across the room, talking to Changbin and Seungmin like he hadn’t just been inside you not too long ago. But the way he looked at you—steady, knowing, like he was still feeling every second of what just happened—Hyunjin caught it immediately.

“No way.” he gaped at you. “You didn’t.”

You met his stare, unfazed. “I did.”

Hyunjin groaned, rubbing his face like this was his personal crisis. “You two are so fucking messy.”

You just laughed, finishing the rest of your beer. “And yet, I’m having a great time.”

A while later, when you finally decided you’d had enough social interaction for one night, you nudged Hyunjin. “I’m heading out.”

He nodded. “Cool, I’ll get you an Uber. I’ll go with Lix.”

Before you could even reach for your phone, a familiar voice interrupted. “No need.”

Bangchan. Standing way too close, hands in his pockets, looking like the devil who got exactly what he wanted.

“I’m driving back,” he said smoothly. “I’ll take you.”

Your mouth opened, but Hyunjin’s eyebrow was already rising, looking between the two of you like he had front-row seats to a drama he needed to see play out.

“I can go alone,” you said, keeping your voice level.

Bangchan smirked. “I insist.”

You sighed, side-eyeing Hyunjin. His expression was nothing short of feral with interest.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But no funny business.”

Bangchan only chuckled, walking off first. You lingered behind for a few beats before following, slipping out quietly, only Hyunjin watching your exit with a smug, entertained look.

He was never letting you live this down.

The night air was sharp against your flushed skin, a cruel contrast to the heat still licking at your nerves. Bangchan stood by his car—a sleek, black beauty that suited him too well. Under the dim glow of the streetlights, he looked almost unreal, all sharp lines and confidence as he pulled the passenger door open, his gaze never leaving yours.

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to get in. But because you knew—the second you did, there’d be no turning back from whatever the hell this was becoming.

Bangchan saw right through you. He always did.

His voice dipped low, rough with amusement. “Get in, baby. Or I’ll put you in myself.”

Your stomach flipped. You rolled your eyes, masking the way his words sent a pulse of heat straight through you. “Such a gentleman,” you muttered, but your lips twitched, betraying you.

Still, you slid into the seat, the cool leather kissing your bare thighs. He followed, reaching over—closer, closer—until his fingers brushed the seatbelt, tugging it across you.

And suddenly, the air inside the car felt thick. Heavy.

His breath ghosted over your collarbone, close enough that his lips could’ve skimmed your skin if you so much as moved. You could feel the warmth of him, the way his fingers lingered just a second too long before clicking the buckle into place.

Your throat went dry.

You cleared it quickly, forcing out something—anything—to cut through the tension threatening to swallow you whole. “I’m exhausted.”

He pulled back just enough to smirk. “Sure you are.”

The car hummed to life, but your brain? It was shot to hell.

Because now you had to sit there and endure the sight of him driving one-handed, muscles flexing, veins peeking through his skin like temptation itself. It was obscene, the way he handled the car—like he did everything else. With control. With ease.

You swallowed, shifting in your seat, pressing your legs together.

Bangchan noticed. Of course, he did.

His smirk deepened, eyes flicking toward you before drifting back to the road. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied, voice far too even to be convincing.

He made a sound, low in his throat, clearly unconvinced. Then, like he lived to ruin you, his hand dropped to your thigh—warm, steady, fingers pressing just enough to make you feel it.

Your breath hitched. “Bangchan.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough to let you catch the edge of his scent—clean, intoxicating, laced with something that made your pulse stutter. His thumb stroked slow, lazy circles against your skin.

“You’re always ready for me, aren’t you?” his voice was nothing but a taunt, silk-wrapped sin.

A shiver licked down your spine. The worst part? He was right. And he fucking knew it.

His fingers crept higher, brushing against the inside of your thigh, deliberate and slow. “I could fuck you right here,” he murmured, his breath feather-light against your ear. “No one would see. No one would know.”

Your body responded before your brain did, every nerve alight, screaming at you to let this happen.

But you had to be smart. For once.

With every ounce of restraint you had left, you grabbed his wrist, halting his movements before they ruined you completely. “I have to go.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, eyes dark, unreadable. Then, his lips curled—not in disappointment, but something far more dangerous.

“Fine.”

But before you could breathe, before you could move, he reached for you, tilting your chin up with maddening ease. His gaze locked onto yours, deep and knowing, before his tongue swept over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, claiming.

Then he kissed you. Deep. Slow. Devastating.

By the time he pulled away, you were wrecked. Breathless.

“Goodnight, baby,” he murmured, unlocking the door like he hadn’t just unraveled you in a single move.

You barely remembered getting out, legs weaker than they had any right to be. As you walked back to your dorm, dazed and burning, one thought rattled through your skull like a warning you’d never heed:

He’s gonna be the death of me.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4@chrizrizz @meerabmalik @gnabnahcsworld @gncbnahc @jinniejjam @skzworldx @itsacatastrophe-xo @soonie1010 @4ng3l-ch1ld @justwonder113 @tsunderelino @eastjonowhere @lyracarvahall @akindaflora @victoriaaf @ebnabi @wickedbutlovely @bitchysunflower11 @grandpasb0ng

[sh4nksslvt]

Smoke Break

A collection of fiery, smoky encounters where passion burns as hot as the cigars and blunts exchanged between you and some of the world’s most dangerous daddies i mean men — every kiss laced with smoke, heat, and unspoken desire.

Benn beckman x reader x sanji x smoker x crocodile | ONE SHOT

Tags: fluff, flirty, smok!ng, w3ed mentions, blvnt smok!ng, cigarette smok!n, mouth-to-mouth sm0ke sharing, minor spit description, light nsfw tension

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

word count: 3.3k

MINORS DNI!!

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

Is it hot in here or is it just me?

I'm so high in here, been smokin' on this weed

Only drug a bitch is on is the tree

But I lasted ten rounds like a freak

Like a G

Benn Beckman

The deck still stank of gunpowder and sea salt by the time you slumped onto the steps leading up to the helm, boots heavy with exhaustion. Your knuckles throbbed from the earlier brawl with some no-name pirate crew dumb enough to pick a fight with the Red Hair Pirates. You won, obviously—but victory didn’t erase the tight coil of stress still buzzing under your skin.

You dragged your hood up over your head, shielding your face from the low sun. Hands steady, you pulled out a battered little tin from your pocket, the familiar ritual already soothing your frayed nerves. You broke down the nug slowly, fingers working with careful, practiced motions. You barely even registered the distant sound of boots approaching.

Benn Beckman stopped a few feet away, cigarette halfway to his lips, brows lifting slightly at the sight of you hunched over the tray.

He leaned against the rail, arms crossed.

"Rough day?" he drawled.

You didn’t look up right away, just finished rolling your blunt with a lazy flick of your thumb. When you finally glanced his way, your gaze was cool, detached—like you were sizing him up and decided he wasn’t worth worrying about.

"Nothing a smoke can't fix," you muttered, voice low and even.

Benn whistled low under his breath, impressed.

"Didn't think you were the type to roll your own medicine."

You snorted, lighting the blunt with a snap of your lighter.

"Cigs are for rookies," you said, plucking the cigarette from his fingers without asking. You tucked the blunt between his lips instead, your touch casual, intimate.

Benn played along, inhaling deep. His eyes hooded slightly as the taste hit him—stronger, sweeter than he expected.

"Holy shit," he coughed out, laughing.

You took the blunt back from him with two fingers, tapping it lightly against the railing.

"Too much for you, old man?" you teased, the faintest smirk curling at the edges of your mouth.

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that vibrated in his chest.

"Old enough to know better. Dumb enough not to care."

You offered the blunt again—not by hand this time, but by leaning in, smoke trailing from your lips in a lazy, tantalizing swirl. Benn caught on quick, closing the small distance between you. His mouth brushed yours just enough to catch the exhale directly, smoke passing from your tongue to his.

The heat flared instantly.

Before you could pull back, he tilted his head slightly, deepening it into a kiss—slow, languid, tasting of smoke and adrenaline. His hand found your jaw, rough thumb grazing your cheekbone with a kind of reverence that didn’t match how fucking cocky he was about it.

When you finally parted, a thin, silver thread of spit clung stubbornly between your tongues until it snapped, leaving a hot smear of want in its wake.

You sat back, lazily dragging the blunt between your lips again. Your expression barely shifted—still that same unreadable cool—but your hooded eyes glittered with something dangerous, something alive.

Benn wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, grinning like he just won the biggest prize in the world.

"You always this generous after a fight?" he asked, voice low and rough.

You exhaled slow, letting the smoke roll between you both like a secret.

"Depends who's asking."

Benn’s grin widened, cigarette long forgotten at his side.

"Good," he said, leaning in close enough that you could smell the faint whiskey on his breath.

"'Cause I’m not planning on being just a one-time habit."

Sanji

The galley was quiet at night, all the chaos of the day gone still. It was your favorite time—when the ship seemed to breathe slow and easy, and nobody was around to bother you.

You sat perched on the counter, blunt half-rolled between your fingers, working fast but precise. You glanced around — no way in hell you could borrow a lighter from anyone without exposing your little habit.

Of course you didn’t bring yours. Of course.

You sighed through your nose and hopped down from the counter, moving toward the stovetop. You twisted the burner’s dial, letting a tall flame lick up from the gas, the soft click click whoosh breaking the silence.

You leaned into the flame, lighting the tip of your blunt directly against it, shielding it with one hand like an old habit.

That’s when you heard a low whistle behind you.

"You know," Sanji’s voice drawled from the doorway, lazy and amused, "most people come to the kitchen for food. Not... that."

You turned slightly, the blunt between your lips, glowing softly as you took your first pull. You held his gaze through the smoke, your expression unreadable, unbothered.

"Guess I’m not most people," you said coolly, exhaling a slow, thick ribbon of smoke into the low light.

Sanji didn’t flinch. Didn't fawn.

Instead, he grinned, a slow, dangerous curve of his mouth as he stepped into the kitchen, cigarette tucked behind his ear, hands sliding easily into his pockets.

"You could've just asked for a light," he teased, voice like silk and heat. "I would've given it to you. Anything you want."

You shrugged one shoulder, casual.

"Not exactly advertising my hobbies."

Sanji stopped a few feet away, head tilting just slightly, studying you. You could feel the weight of his gaze — not heavy, not invasive — just... there, like a hand trailing just over your skin without touching.

"You're full of surprises," he murmured, voice dipping lower.

You took another hit, slow and deliberate, letting the thick taste settle on your tongue. As you exhaled, Sanji moved closer, crossing into your space so naturally it felt like gravity.

"Mind if I...?" he asked, eyes dropping to the blunt between your fingers.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer with words. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, parting your lips just enough to offer the smoke right to him.

Sanji caught the game instantly.

He plucked the cigarette from behind his ear and set it on the counter. Then he leaned in, mouth brushing dangerously close to yours—not kissing, not yet—and drew the smoke straight from your mouth with a slow, deep inhale.

His hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing the warm skin behind your ear.

When he exhaled, it was right against your lips, warm and intoxicating.

The space between you crackled.

You barely had time to process before he closed the gap completely, his mouth pressing to yours in a kiss that was all slow burn, all slow claiming. His grip tightened just a little, guiding you against the counter behind you without force—just the kind of confident pressure that made your stomach flip.

You kissed him back, matching his heat with your own, the taste of smoke and fire mixing between your tongues. When you finally parted, a thin, sticky thread of spit clung between you, snapping when you tilted your head back, breathless but still wearing that same cool smirk.

Sanji stayed close, his forehead brushing against yours, his fingers still tangled loosely in your hair.

"You," he said, voice low and warm, "are way too dangerous to be left alone in my kitchen."

You chuckled, flicking ash into the sink.

"Then don’t leave," you said, voice lazy, teasing.

Sanji smiled against your cheek, teeth just grazing your skin as he whispered,

"Wasn't planning to."

And from the way his hand slid down to your hip, you knew he meant it.

Smoker

The port was busy, noisy, and reeking of salt and sweat.

Perfect place to disappear for a while.

You slipped between two battered brick buildings, finding a patch of shade away from the main street. No patrols, no Marines. Just the low hum of the sea and the sharp scratch of your lighter as you tried, once, twice — and cursed under your breath.

Dead. Perfect.

You rolled the unlit blunt between your fingers, considering your options. Borrowing a lighter wasn’t on the table — too many judging eyes. Especially for someone like you, already treading too close to the Navy's leash.

"Problem?"

The deep, rough voice made you freeze. A shadow stretched into the alley. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

Vice-Admiral Smoker stepped into view, coat draped over his broad shoulders, two cigars clamped between his teeth, smoke curling around his head like a storm cloud.

You gave him a flat look, the blunt dangling lazily from your lips.

"No lighter," you said simply.

Smoker snorted, amused in that dry, almost imperceptible way of his. He pulled one cigar free and tucked it into his coat, flicking his silver lighter open with a smooth motion.

He lit his remaining cigar, took a deep drag — and then, without saying a word, held the lighter out to you.

You raised an eyebrow but leaned forward, cupping a hand around the flame as you lit the blunt, your face close enough to his chest that you could smell the faint scent of smoke, leather, and something warmer underneath.

You inhaled slow, savoring the first pull, then leaned back against the rough brick wall with a sigh.

"Didn't peg you for the sharing type," you said, smoke curling from your mouth.

Smoker grunted, replacing the cigar between his lips.

"Don't make me regret it," he said, but there was no real bite in his voice.

For a moment, you just stood there, passing slow, lazy pulls between you. The world outside the alley blurred into meaningless noise.

Then, bold from the buzz creeping in your veins, you leaned forward again—holding the blunt between your fingers—and offered the smoke directly to him, a silent challenge.

Smoker’s gaze sharpened slightly, amused. He plucked the cigar from his mouth and stepped into your space, his broad chest almost brushing yours.

Without hesitation, he caught the smoke straight from your lips, leaning in so close you could feel the heat of him — and then, instead of pulling back, he kissed you.

It was rough at first, full of the same heat and tension that always seemed to spark between you. His hand came up to cradle your jaw, fingers pressing firmly as he tilted your head back just slightly.

You opened for him without thinking, the kiss deepening into something slower, hotter — tongues brushing, breath hitching between you. His mouth tasted of smoke and salt and something that was just him.

The world outside the alley dissolved entirely.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t messy — just breathless, lingering. His forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath in the haze of smoke curling between you.

"You," he muttered, voice low and thick, "are nothing but bad news."

You smirked against his lips, your hands still fisted loosely in the fabric of his coat.

"Good thing you’re terrible at saying no," you murmured.

Smoker let out a rough, half-laugh, half-growl, and kissed you again—deeper, slower, like he had no plans to stop this time.

And honestly, neither did you.

You barely had time to settle into the heat of Smoker’s mouth again, the slow grind of his body pressing yours back against the brick wall, when—

"S-smoker-san?!"

The sharp voice cracked through the alley like a gunshot.

Both of you froze.

Smoker broke the kiss with a low, almost feral growl under his breath, his hand still curled possessively around your waist.

You cracked one eye open lazily, barely lifting your head from Smoker’s shoulder to glance toward the entrance of the alley.

Tashigi stood there, sword awkwardly bumping against her hip, her entire face rapidly turning the color of a boiled lobster.

"I— I— I was looking for you to discuss patrol routes— but I can—! I can come back later!" she sputtered, already halfway turning on her heel, practically tripping over herself to get away.

Smoker let out a long, slow exhale through his nose, the kind of breath that usually meant someone was about to get absolutely wrecked—but he didn’t move away from you. His hand stayed right where it was, fingers still flexing slightly against your hip.

"You’d better," he said, loud enough for Tashigi to hear as she fled back into the chaos of the port.

You couldn't help it—you laughed. A low, smoky sound that vibrated against his chest.

"Think we traumatized her," you said, voice rough with amusement.

Smoker shot you a sideways glare, but there was no real fire behind it. If anything, he looked... pleased. Dangerous. Like a man who didn’t give a damn who saw what he wanted.

"Serves her right for barging in without knocking," he muttered, gruff.

You arched a brow, grinning lazily up at him.

"Maybe you should install a door in your alleys."

Smoker huffed a laugh — a real one, low and brief — and bent to kiss you again, less careful this time. Hotter, a little messier. His free hand finally dropped the half-burned cigar, grinding it under his boot as he pressed you back into the wall, fully claiming your mouth again like he had all the time in the world.

And honestly, for once, you hoped he did.

Crocodile

The lounge was dim, soaked in the kind of golden light that made everything seem a little more expensive than it probably was.

Low jazz music played from hidden speakers, and the soft clink of chips and whiskey glasses filled the background.

You slouched lazily in a velvet armchair near the back, rolling the blunt between your fingers, cool and unbothered. No one really noticed you here — not with the heavyweights and high-rollers stealing the spotlight.

But, of course, he noticed.

You felt it before you saw him — a shift in the room’s atmosphere, a change in the way conversations dropped to murmurs.

Crocodile’s presence was like a thundercloud creeping over sunny skies.

You kept your expression blank, indifferent, even as you realized your lighter was nowhere to be found.

Perfect.

Exactly what you needed.

You sighed, the blunt sitting unlit between your lips, considering your next move.

A shadow fell across your table. You didn’t bother looking up.

"Need something?" Crocodile’s voice rumbled, amused.

You tilted your head slightly, fixing him with a bored stare, the blunt still balanced at the corner of your mouth.

"Seems I’m short a flame," you said, voice dry.

Crocodile’s lips curled around his cigar, eyes gleaming with something sharp and entertained.

He didn’t say a word.

Instead, he bent slightly at the waist — slow, deliberate — bringing the burning tip of his cigar close to the end of your blunt.

Too close.

He stopped just shy, forcing you to lean in to meet him.

You exhaled through your nose, slow and steady, and leaned forward, lips brushing barely near his cigar, lighting your own off the glowing ember. The flame caught with a faint crackle, a tiny hiss.

The whole time, Crocodile didn’t move an inch.

The smell of smoke, expensive leather, and something faintly spiced wrapped around you like a second skin.

You leaned back into your chair, taking a long, slow pull from the newly lit blunt. The first hit bloomed warm in your lungs. You exhaled lazily toward the ceiling, your eyes half-lidded.

"You're welcome," Crocodile said, voice dripping with dry amusement, straightening to his full height.

You tapped ash into a crystal ashtray nearby without even glancing at him.

"Didn’t say thank you," you replied coolly.

He chuckled — a low, dangerous sound that vibrated in the base of his chest.

"Didn't expect you to."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension crackled softly between you, thick and slow, like molasses dripping from a knife.

Crocodile shifted, the gold of his rings catching the low light as he pulled a chair up to yours — close enough that his knee brushed yours under the table.

Deliberate.

Territorial.

"You planning to cause trouble tonight?" he asked, cigar smoke curling lazily around his words.

You blew out another cloud of smoke, just as lazy, just as unbothered.

"Depends," you murmured, voice low. "You planning to stop me?"

Crocodile smirked around his cigar, eyes gleaming with something dark and hungry.

"Not tonight."

He sat back, perfectly relaxed, the image of a king amused by the antics of his favorite piece.

You could feel his eyes on you as you smoked, weighing every slow drag, every lazy exhale.

Watching.

Waiting.

The house always won in places like this.

And tonight, it was clear you weren’t going anywhere.

The minutes slipped by in a slow, heavy haze.

The blunt burned low between your fingers, each drag slower than the last. Across the small table, Crocodile watched you like a predator sizing up easy prey — not rushing, not moving, just waiting for the exact right moment.

You met his gaze through the rising smoke, your face blank, but your heart starting to thrum a little harder behind your ribs.

He shifted finally, leaning forward slightly, elbows braced on his knees. The gold of his rings caught the light again, flashing like a warning.

"Come here," he said lowly, almost conversational, like you were a thing he fully expected to obey.

You didn't move immediately. You took another lazy pull from your blunt instead, blowing the smoke off to the side with a small smirk. Testing him. Pushing.

Crocodile huffed a small laugh under his breath, all amusement gone razor sharp.

Without warning, he reached across the table, hand catching you by the wrist — not rough, but firm, dragging you forward until you were pulled out of your chair and into his space.

The blunt dangled forgotten from your fingers as he leaned in — close enough that you could see the faint scar cutting across his face, the glint of amusement and warning in his heavy-lidded eyes.

He reached up with two fingers, plucking the blunt casually from your grip and setting it in the ashtray with a careless flick.

"You’re slow," he murmured, voice like warm gravel. "Let me show you how it's done."

You barely had time to process it before Crocodile’s lips crashed into yours.

It was rough — like he was making a point. His mouth devoured yours with an intensity that was unexpected, yet exactly what you needed. His cigar still burned between his fingers, and before you even had the chance to think about it, he tilted the cigar toward your lips, offering the smoke as you kissed.

The warm, glowing tip of the cigar hovered near your mouth, and you instinctively opened up, taking in the deep, spicy taste as you inhaled. The heat of it filled your lungs, mixing with the taste of Crocodile’s kiss — rich, dangerous, intoxicating.

You pulled back just a bit, lips brushing against his, then exhaled slowly, the smoke curling out from your mouth and into his.

Without breaking eye contact, Crocodile inhaled the smoke you gave him, his gaze darkening as he held it in for a beat, then exhaled it slowly, sending it back toward you.

The air was thick now, saturated with smoke and the lingering taste of him. Every breath felt like it stretched the moment, making it last forever, and yet, you knew it was only a brief exchange.

When he pulled away, his lips were curved into that same smug, dangerous smirk.

"Better," he muttered, voice rough with satisfaction. "Now you’re getting it."

You smirked back, though your chest felt a little tighter than it had before.

"You’re insufferable," you said, the words coming out softer than you intended, but your heart was still racing in your chest.

Crocodile chuckled low, the sound like a dangerous promise.

"Only when it suits me," he said, leaning back in his chair and taking another slow drag from his cigar. He didn’t look at you directly but you could feel the weight of his gaze on your lips. "You’ll learn, eventually. That’s how the game is played."

You stayed there, breathless and still, as the tension simmered between you.

The house always won.

And tonight, you were playing Crocodile's game