#it's been three years and this is still hysterical to me

[seongwars]

strangers by nature | vii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.4K Warnings: angst, character d*ath, feelings of despair

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a/n: if I cried writing this chapter, ya'll are going to cry too 😭

“This morning, we bring you breaking news about the arrest of a 48-year-old woman involved in a harrowing incident connected to one of the nation's most prominent families. The woman, identified as the former nanny of the Choi Group heiress, was apprehended late last night following her mistaken discharge from Utopia Mental Health Facility.

According to investigators, the woman, whose identity is being withheld due to privacy laws, had been institutionalized after multiple previous incidents involving obsessive behavior toward the heiress and an attempted kidnapping of another six-year-old girl earlier this year…”

You sat quietly at the long wooden table in the conference room, your gaze fixed on the polished floor beneath your feet. The low hum of the news droned on in the background, the anchors’ voices a static blur. Your bandaged arm rested on the table, the gash beneath the wrappings a painful reminder of how wrong everything had gone.

“What are we going to do!?” your mother paced around the room, her voice rising with every word. Your father sat silently at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. San and Jongho exchanged knowing looks, clearly expecting another one of her tirades.

“The press won’t stop hounding us!” she exclaimed, her voice nearly cracking. “They’re everywhere—outside this building, near our home—they’re relentless! I mean, we can’t even breathe without someone taking a picture or shouting questions!”

San leaned forward, his tone calm but firm.“Kira and the firm are already doing everything they can to handle the situation. The best thing we can do now is to have Y/N lay low while the investigation continues. We need to let the lawyers and PR team do their job.”

Your mother whirled around to face him, her frustration palpable. “Lay low? How exactly do you expect her to do that when her face is on every news channel right now?”

She grabbed this morning’s paper from the edge of the table and waved it in the air, the motion so aggressive it crinkled the front page. Your face stared back at you, frozen in a manufactured smile that you hated with every fiber of your being. It wasn’t you—it was the version of you your family wanted the world to see. 

You looked down at your hands, your bandaged arm resting awkwardly on the table. The memory of the attack flashed in your mind, sharp and vivid, as though it had just happened. This wasn’t the kind of attention you wanted—this wasn’t the life you’d ever asked for. Yet here you were, front and center in a drama you had no control over, and it was tearing you apart from the inside out.

“We’re already managing the narrative,” Jongho interjected. 

“The new cycle will shift, it always does. By this afternoon, Kim Namjoon’s official announcement for his political run will dominate headlines. It’s a matter of hours. Security at all your properties has also been significantly tightened, as you requested.”

Your mother’s laugh was bitter, almost hysterical. “How could security have been tightened when Y/N was still attacked in a public place!?” your mother shrieked, her voice growing shrill.

“You were supposed to keep an eye on her, and–”

That was it. You stood up so abruptly your chair scraped against the floor, catching everyone off guard.

“It was my fault,” you said, your voice shaking but growing stronger with every word. 

“I asked Kira to let me go out with her because I didn’t want to be locked away in the penthouse anymore. I made that decision. This is my mess, my problem, and no one else’s. Pointing fingers won’t undo what happened, so can we stop pretending it will?”

Your mother stood frozen, her face pale, her mouth gaping like a fish gasping for air. She searched for a retort, an argument, anything to regain the upper hand, but you didn’t give her the chance. Without another word you stormed out of the room, ignoring the calls from your family in your wake.

You didn’t stop until you were in the corridor, far from their judgmental stares and suffocating expectations. Slowly, you slid down to the ground, your legs folding awkwardly beneath you. The tears you’d been holding back pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision as you stared blankly at the ceiling. You hated crying, especially over this, over them. But it wasn’t just the argument with your mother or the media circus that broke you down. 

It was the loneliness. 

The crushing realization that no one in that room really saw you or understood what you were going through. To them, you were an asset, a liability, a problem to solve. Not a person.

Your fingers trembled as you fumbled for your phone. But the moment you turned it on, your breath caught in your throat. Maro’s face stared back at you from your lock screen, a photo you’d taken just weeks ago.

His tiny tongue hung from the side of his mouth, his fur slightly disheveled from spinning in circles on the couch, chasing his own tail. You’d taken the photo in the middle of laughing so hard you could barely hold your phone steady. You could almost hear the soft jingle of his collar as he burrowed into the cushions, glancing up every now and then to make sure you were watching.

But the laughter felt like a distant memory now, replaced by the crushing weight of grief. Your free hand moved to your bandaged arm and your fingers curled over the wound instinctively.  

You sat hunched over in the waiting room of the emergency animal hospital with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every second dragged on like an eternity, Every sound made you flinch, hoping it was someone coming to tell you he’d pulled through, that he’d be okay. But as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, your hope began to waver.

“Y/N!”

You looked up to see Yeosang rushing toward you after you had called him on the way to the clinic. 

“They took him back to the operating room, but—but they wouldn’t let me go with him,” you whispered as he crouched down next to you. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he squeezed your shoulder. “He’s a fighter. Maro’s tough, and he loves you. He’s not going to give up that easily, okay? And neither should you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without him,” you admitted. 

“He’s the only one who’s ever been there for me. He’s a dog but through these last few months he never judged me, never made me feel like I wasn’t enough. He just… loved me.”

“I can’t lose him,” your voice cracked, and just like that, the dam broke. Tears spilled freely down your cheeks, unguarded, as your body shook with uncontrollable sobs.

“He’s all I have, Yeosang.”

“I know,” Yeosang replied quietly. “I know, Y/N. And it’s not fair. But you can’t blame yourself. You did everything you could to protect him.”

His soft exhale filled the heavy silence that followed. Yeosang understood that no words could fix this. So, he simply stayed with you, letting your anguish fill the space, offering nothing but his quiet presence as you crumbled.

The sound of a door opening made you lift your head, your heart leaping into your throat. A vet in scrubs approached you, her expression solemn, and your stomach dropped. Her words were a blur, muffled by the roar in your ears, but you didn’t need to hear them to know. 

The look in her eyes said everything.

You curled in on yourself, your sobs muffled now as you pressed your face against your knees, as if trying to hold together the pieces of your shattered heart.

You let the grief take over, let the tears fall freely, because no one was there to see. You didn’t know how long you stayed there, but when the tears finally slowed, leaving you drained and empty, you lifted your head and stared blankly ahead.  

You were so tired. Tired of carrying everything alone, tired of being left behind. But no matter how much it hurt, you knew there was no one coming to share the weight. It was just you.

No one was coming. No one ever did.

It had always been just you.

⋆

Mingi sat in the garden, his small paws tucked neatly under him as he watched Hongjoong tend to his flowers. The garden was a vibrant burst of life and color. Golden marigolds lined the cobblestone pathways, nestled between the soft hues of blooming roses and sprigs of lavender. The gentle garden was otherworldly, which was appropriate considering where they are.

The afterlife was serene. Quiet. Too quiet, Mingi thought, though he’d never admit it. A part of him didn’t want to accept that this was how everything would end.

That this was it.

That he wouldn’t have the opportunity to make amends. That he wouldn’t get to see you smile again. He wouldn’t get to prove to you that he was worth forgiving, worth believing in, worth something at all.

He felt like he was suspended in a world that didn’t quite belong to him—a visitor overstaying his welcome.

Mingi sat atop a stack of books piled high with a cushion, his small, fluffy body perched precariously as his tail swayed lazily behind him. His ears twitched as he watched Hongjoong move around the cozy cottage.

“Comfortable up there?”

Mingi let out a soft huff. “I guess.”

The table was low enough for him to rest his paws on the edge, and he did so now, leaning forward as Hongjoong placed a small dish in front of him. Inside was a portion of scrambled eggs and bits of roasted sweet potato, the steam curling up in tendrils. 

“I think these are dog friendly foods, but since you’re in the afterlife now, I guess anything goes.”

Mingi sniffed the dish suspiciously, then gave an approving wag of his tail before diving in, the mess from the food around his snout making Hongjoong laugh.

“It’s good, right?” he teased, watching as Mingi polished off every last bite.

Mingi responded with an enthusiastic wiggle of his behind, his entire body vibrating with happiness. Once the dish was licked clean, he flopped onto his side with a contented sigh, his paws stretching out dramatically.

The fullness from the meal brought a fleeting sense of comfort. For a moment, everything felt simple, like when he’d curl up beside you after a long day and your presence putting him at ease. 

As his tail slowed and his breathing steadied, a hollow ache settled in his chest, heavier than the satisfaction of a good meal could counter. Mingi stared at the faint glow of the afterlife’s sky out the window.

He missed you.

The thought that he might never get to tell you how sorry he was, how much he regretted every cruel word, every moment of neglect, made his chest tighten painfully. 

Hongjoong moved among the flowers, humming a tune under his breath as he trimmed roses and pulled at weeds. Mingi’s eyes drifted to a bouquet of marigolds lying nearby, vibrant their bold orange and yellow petals standing out against the green backdrop.

His ears perked up as he stared at the flowers, a memory of you flickering to life in his mind. He remembered the day you brought home a similar bouquet, cradling it in your arms. You’d smiled softly with a distant look in your eyes, and then you disappeared again, taking the flowers with you. He realized now that those marigolds were for Hongjoong’s grave.

“Can you see what happens in the human world?”

Hongjoong chuckled softly, as if the question didn’t surprise him in the slightest. His hands stilled over a rose bush, as he turned slightly to glance over his shoulder at Mingi. 

“Sometimes,” he admitted, his gaze drifting upward, as if he could see past the skies and into another realm entirely. “It’s different for everyone. Some people can see glimpses, others nothing at all. It depends on what they hold on to when they’re here.”

“What about you?”

“I made peace with the fact that I was going to pass. Maybe a flicker here or there, but it’s never clear.”

Mingi’s paws shifted against the dirt, unease settling in his chest. That meant Hongjoong might have seen the way he treated you. Maybe not everything, but enough. Enough to know how much he hurt you in ways he could never take back.

“Do you hate me? For how I treated Y/N?”

Hongjoong didn’t respond. His expression remained unreadable, but Mingi could feel the weight of his scrutiny. Of course, Hongjoong hated the way Mingi had treated you. The way he dismissed you, how he walked away when you needed him most, leaving you to fend for yourself in ways you never should have had to. He hated the thought of you standing there, waiting for someone who never looked back.

And yet, Hongjoong also pitied Mingi. Because for all of his mistakes, for all of his cruelty and neglect, Mingi had been hurting too. As the saying goes, hurt people, hurt people.

“No, Mingi. I don’t hate you.”

Mingi’s ears twitched slightly waiting for the rest of his response.

“More than anything, I just wanted you to know what it’s like to love someone and be helpless to stop their suffering. Because that’s how I felt whenever I had the opportunity to glimpse into the human world.”

Hongjoong’s fingers trailed along the edge of a wilting petal, plucking it free and letting it drift to the ground. “But…” he murmured, his gaze flickering back to Mingi.

“What matters now is what you do with the time you have left.” 

Hongjoong’s smile turned wistful. He didn’t push for a response. Instead he gave Mingi the space to lean into his own thoughts. Mingi closed his eyes, his ears drooping as the weight of his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. 

“I…” Mingi started, but his voice wavered. He swallowed thickly, lowering his gaze to the ground as though afraid to meet Hongjoong’s eyes. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to tell her how sorry I am. I just wanted to be good for her. To show her that I can be better. That I want to be better.”

He turned to Hongjoong, the desperation tinged in his voice. "I want her to see me as someone she can trust. Not someone who always messes things up or leaves her behind." Mingi blinked back tears as he met Hongjoong’s gaze. 

“I miss her. I want to see her, but this time as myself.”

Hongjoong didn’t reply right away. Instead, he leaned back, his gaze drifting lazily toward the sky, where soft, golden light filtered through the clouds. 

“I don’t think it's over for you yet.”

Mingi’s ears flicked slightly, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean? I’m here, aren’t I? There’s nothing left for me to do. Nothing I can do."

He let out a quiet hum, neither confirming nor denying Mingi’s words. Instead, he stood, brushing stray petals from his sleeves before turning toward the small stone path leading away from the garden.

“It’s getting late, what do you want to have for dinner?”

You sat curled up on the couch in the suite, your chin resting atop your knees as you stared at Mingi’s body. Your fingers traced mindless patterns against the fabric of Maro’s collar. Sleep had been a stranger these past three days. The collar was a lifeline in your trembling hands, keeping you grounded as the weight of everything around you crushed you—the incessant calls from reporters, your family’s worried texts, the suffocating guilt.

The attack had turned your life into a circus. All you wanted was to disappear.

This room, though sterile and suffused with antiseptic air, was the only refuge you had left. Here, in the stillness of your husband’s hospital suite, you didn’t have to pretend to be okay.

“What do you think dogs do in heaven?” 

Your gaze dropped to your hospital slippers, the thin fabric worn down from countless restless nights pacing the suite. A sad smile tugged at your lips as you shook your head and set aside the collar. 

This was your reality now: sneaking away from the penthouse just to sit beside your comatose husband, pouring your heart out to someone who, if and when he woke up, would probably scoff and dismiss you for wasting your time on him.

“I heard they all go to heaven,” you continued, as your voice grew quieter. “At least…that’s what the movie says.”

A lump formed in your throat, making it harder to breathe, harder to swallow the ache.

“I think they get to run forever.”

You stared down at your hands, your fingers curling into the sleeves of your sweater.

“And…” 

Your voice wavered slightly as you struggled to find the words. 

“And there’s an endless amount of treats.”

The first tear slipped down your cheek, warm and unbidden, as if your body couldn’t contain the sorrow any longer. It was the smallest thing, but in that single tear, it felt like the world was coming apart. Your shoulders shook with a quiet sob, your chest tightening as you inhaled sharply. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to stop the flood, but it only made it worse.

“J-Just big o-open fields where it’s s-sunny all the time.”

And maybe it was silly, this imagining of dogs in heaven, free and happy, without the pain or heartbreak that followed you here. 

“God, I just feel so alone, Mingi. I had the worst fucking week of my life,” you cried into the emptiness, your hands trembling as you clutched your chest, hoping you could physically hold yourself together.  

“If I hadn’t begged Kira to let me go to that stupid store with her, this wouldn’t have happened. None of it.”

The words came out like a confession, one you hadn’t been brave enough to say aloud until now. 

“It’s all my fault. Everyone leaves me and it’s m-my fault!” 

Your sobs filled the room, echoing back at you like a cruel reminder that no one was there to answer. No one was there to tell you that you were wrong, that it wasn’t your fault, that the universe didn’t conspire against you with every loss. But the silence gave no comfort. 

“This is getting ridiculous.”

Unseen, Wooyoung sat perched on his bench in the courtroom, watching over you with a weary expression. His chin rested on the back of his hand, fingers idly tapping against his jaw as he observed the way your body trembled from the weight of grief.

He had seen countless souls in despair, had judged and guided those lost between life and death. But you, your suffering was different.

It was the kind of sorrow that settled into a person’s bones, an ache that would not fade with time. And as much as Wooyoung pretended he had grown numb to such things, this…this he could not ignore.

His thoughts drifted to the one soul tied to yours, the one whose fate he had carefully molded with his own hands. A certain puppy who was at the center of your suffering, both the cause of it in his human form and, ironically, the brightest light in your life now.

If Wooyoung had to guess, Mingi had made you happier than you had been in your entire life. It was a miracle, really, considering who he had been before all of this. But for all of his faults, he had taken to his new form with an earnestness Wooyoung hadn’t expected. He had tried.

The judge had watched him bumble his way through this second chance, a puppy who didn’t quite know what to do with himself. It had been amusing at first: the way Mingi stumbled over his own paws, the way he wagged his tail a little too eagerly, desperate for your affection.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

He had seen the way Mingi softened, the way he clung to you like you were his home. The way he curled against your side as if he could take away your pain and carry it for you. 

“Song Mingi, you idiot!” Wooyoung sighed, ready to pull his hair out. 

This wasn’t supposed to be the way things ended. Mingi’s final task was to make you truly happy, to undo the damage he had done. It was the last step before he could return to his human form. But no, he had to play the hero and sacrifice himself to protect you.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He hated to admit it, but there was something admirable about it. For all his faults, for all the pain he had caused you, Mingi had finally learned how to love you the way you deserved. He had given up everything—his second chance, his future—just to make sure you were safe.

Now you were left behind, drowning in the weight of his sacrifice and Wooyoung couldn’t bear to see how miserable you were. 

With a flick of his wrist, the air around him trembled, the very foundation of his courtroom bending to his will. The air split with a sharp crack, and in the blink of an eye, the room dispersed into smoke, replaced by the glow of the fireplace.

“Alright, Song Mingi,” he muttered, propping his feet on the dining table. “It’s time to go home.”

⋆

“You’re late.”

Mingi blinked, his vision still adjusting as he lifted a paw to rub at his eyes, as if that would somehow make sense of what he was seeing.

“W-Wooyoung!?”

The judge sat comfortably at the dinner table, tapping his fingers lazily against the polished wood. His presence alone was jarring and Wooyoung never just showed up. If he was here, it meant something.

“It’s rude to keep guests waiting,” Wooyoung huffed, tilting his head in exaggerated disappointment. “I’ve been sitting here for ages.”

“You didn’t have a reservation,” Hongjoong deadpanned, unimpressed as he set his basket of gardening tools onto the counter. Unlike Mingi, he wasn’t startled by the unexpected visit. Instead he hummed a tune and busied himself around the cottage, grabbing ingredients for dinner. 

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung whined.

“Can it wait until after dinner?” he replied. He set a pot of water on the stove, as if the all powerful judge of the afterlife wasn’t currently lounging at their dining table.

“Fine!” he groaned, kicking his feet up onto the chair beside him.

His gaze flickered to Mingi again, and suddenly, his expression shifted.

“Oh my god.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I forgot how small you are!”

Mingi flinched. “What?”

“No wonder Y/N was so smitten with you,” he cooed, practically vibrating with excitement. “You’re so cute!”

Mingi’s eyes went wide with horror. “No, wait—”

He didn’t stand a chance. Wooyoung lunged, faster than Mingi could react, scooping him up in one swift motion. Mingi let out an undignified yelp as he was lifted clean off the ground as his little legs flailed uselessly in the air.

He spun Mingi around in his arms, cradling him like the most precious thing in the world. Hongjoong, unbothered, continued chopping vegetables in the background, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board the only indication that he was even listening. 

“I can see why all those women refused to leave you alone,” Wooyoung mused, studying Mingi as if seeing him for the first time. 

Mingi let out a strangled noise of protest. “Put me down!”

Wooyoung ignored him, instead stroking the fur between his ears with a contemplative hum. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Mingi froze, sensing the shift in Wooyoung’s tone. It wasn’t teasing anymore. There was something thoughtful—almost wistful—beneath his words.

“I sent you there to right your wrongs,” Wooyoung said softly. “That was the deal. But instead, you sacrificed yourself like an idiot. Do you know how miserable that made her?”

Wooyoung sighed, shifting Mingi so that they were eye to eye. “You should see how sad Y/N is, I can’t stand seeing her cry anymore.”

Mingi’s ears flattened as he processed Wooyoung’s words. That didn’t make sense, did it? He had spent so much of his life pushing you away, saying the wrong things, hurting you without even meaning to. Even in the end, he had only caused you more pain by leaving.

Mingi swallowed hard, ears flicking. “But… I always made her cry.” His voice was small. “How could I have made her happy?”

Wooyoung huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You really are hopeless,” he muttered. “She was happy because you were there, dummy. Because you stuck around. Because, for the first time, you weren’t just someone passing through her life. You stayed.”

Had he really made you happy just by being there? By choosing to stay by your side, even when he thought he didn’t deserve to?

“You didn’t just make her smile a few times. You made her feel safe. You made her laugh. You made her happy without even realizing it. And you did it without asking for anything in return. I guess that's what dogs do.”

Wooyoung reached out, flicking him lightly on the nose. “And that’s why you’re going back.”

“Eh?”

“That’s right!” Wooyoung declared triumphantly, placing him on the ground. He grinned, straightening up and placing his hands on his hips.

“Even if you are an idiot who charged in without thinking, what you did was the purest act of love you could’ve shown. You held up your end of the bargain so… a deal’s a deal.”

“I’m…I’m going back?”

Mingi’s tail wagged furiously, his entire body practically vibrating with excitement. He was going back. Back to you. He could see you again, hear your voice, feel your touch. He could fix things and make things right. He wouldn’t waste this second chance.

“Eat first,” Hongjoong interrupted, scooping up a bowl of stew for the puppy.

“You won’t get far on an empty stomach.”

Mingi let out a tiny huff, his tail flicking in mild protest, but the rich aroma of the stew was too tempting to resist. He sniffed hesitantly before lapping at the bowl. The warmth of the broth spread through him instantly, soothing in a way he hadn't realized he needed. His stomach grumbled again, this time in appreciation, and he begrudgingly continued eating.

Between bites, his gaze flickered up to Hongjoong. Something about him seemed�� different. His expression was just as calm and composed as ever, but there was a certain wistfulness in his eyes.

Mingi’s little tail wagged as he padded closer, tilting his head. “Are you okay?”

Hongjoong blinked, seemingly caught off guard for just a second before his lips curved into a small smile. Mingi peered up at him, and noticed the longing in his eyes. Not for something lost, but for something he once cherished.

Hongjoong reached out, ruffling Mingi’s fur with a gentle touch. “Even if things get difficult,” he murmured reassuringly, “I know everything will work out in the end.”

His hand lingered for just a moment longer before he pulled away.

“You just have to fight.”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of the alarm blaring from your phone. The shrill tone cut through the silence of the hospital room, a jarring contrast to the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. Blinking blearily, you forced yourself upright, disoriented for a moment before remembering you had set it for 8 AM, the time you usually fed Maro.

You exhaled slowly, rubbing the sleep from your face. You hadn’t meant to doze off here again, but exhaustion clung to you. You needed to go home. There were things to do. You needed to eat, too—had you even eaten since yesterday? Probably not.

“Y/N…”

Your mind moved sluggishly through a mental checklist. Feed Maro. No, he’s not here anymore. Answer texts. Call Kira. Had you remembered to bring a change of clothes? You should grab something on the way home. Maybe coffee, too.  

“...Y/N.”

For a second, you thought you were hallucinating. There was no way—no way—you heard your name. Maybe you were just overtired, running on empty. Maybe it was your mind playing cruel tricks on you. 

You shrugged, shoving your belongings into your overnight bag, preoccupied with gathering the blankets you’d let slip to the floor in your sleep. 

A strange sensation washed over Mingi as his eyes fluttered open. His body felt heavier and his senses, once heightened, dulled. In the distance, he heard the faint chime of an alarm, followed by the soft shuffling of your footsteps. The sound was muted, like a memory being replayed from another life, but it was real. 

"Be good, okay?" Wooyoung's voice was light, but there was a tightness to it, as if he was holding something back. His hands moved with gentle care, adjusting the small bandana around Mingi’s neck. 

"I don’t want to see you for another 70 years!"

Beside him, Hongjoong let out a soft chuckle, crouching down to run his fingers behind his ears. "Take care of Y/N," he murmured. 

"But most importantly, take care of yourself, okay? Give yourself some grace.”

“I will,” Mingi replied, determination settling into his voice. He wanted to hold onto this moment, to express his gratitude, but time was already pulling him away as the gate for the human world was beginning to close. 

The path before him stretched endlessly, lined with delicate white flowers that glowed under the light of the afterlife. With each step, he could feel the ground beneath his paws become less solid, as though he were walking on the edge of a dream. His body tingled, his heartbeat echoing in a different rhythm now, one that matched the pull of reality waiting for him beyond this place.

As the world around him dimmed, as his senses faded into something familiar, one thing remained unchanged—

You.

Your presence.

And the moment he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was you. 

Not the flowers piled up in the corner of the suite. Not the wires draped across his chest or the monitors keeping him alive. Not the light of morning spilling through the window, chasing away the shadows of the night before.

Just you.

“Y/N.”

Still, you didn’t hear him.

Mingi watched as you flitted around the room, smoothing down your wrinkled clothes, sighing at the thought of stepping outside this room and facing reality again as you grabbed your bag. 

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name was sharper and more insistent and you knew for sure you weren’t imagining it. 

You froze.

Your breath caught as something inside you, some instinct, screamed at you to turn around. Slowly, hesitantly, your head snapped toward the hospital bed.

Mingi was watching you.

His eyes were tired and heavy with exhaustion, but they were focused. Determined. His brows drew together, as if mustering every ounce of strength he had left just to make you look at him.

Your bag slid from your shoulder and hit the ground as your legs struggled to keep up. A sharp gasp tore from your lips as your chest constricted with a surge of emotions you thought you had long buried.

Relief, disbelief, and something unnamed swelled within you as you staggered forward with tears in your eyes.

Mingi’s fingers twitched again. A little stronger this time, shaking as they lifted just an inch from the bed. For a moment, they faltered, wavering midair. Then, slowly, they stretched toward you.

Reaching.

Wanting.

Your fingers trembled as you reached out, letting your hand hover over his for a moment before finally brushing against his cold skin. His hand stilled beneath yours and his fingers curled weakly as you closed yours around them.

Mingi’s eyes softened, and for a second, you thought he might try to speak, his lips parting slightly, but no sound came. His fingers squeezed yours weakly in response, and despite his weakened state, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes held yours and were filled with something that made your heart ache in the best way.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough.

Because this time, Mingi had reached for you first.

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@vcutparis @kaituyyn @blvckarabixnvoid @amazaynaastha

[foldingfittedsheets]

I was telling my coworker Tyler about my weekend and he was in hysterics listening to my cascade of bad and bizarre decisions. Since most of my coworkers know I have some small notoriety here he asked, “Did you put this on tumblr?”

“No! I’m too embarrassed!”

He exclaimed, “You write about your UTI’s and dildo bathrooms and this is too embarrassing!? Pillows??”

So fine. Here’s my embarrassing pillow story for your enjoyment.

I have been struggling desperately to find a new pillow that I love. My Tempurpedic Symphony was over ten years old and disgusting and I needed to stop sleeping on a biohazard so I finally tossed it. I tried to replace it with a new one but Tempurpedic changed the density and the new one is shit.

Thus began the saga of pillows. My parents got me a Purple Harmony. I liked it very much in store. At home it was too tall. I exchanged it for the low. This was too low. Frustrated I called my mom to ask if she liked hers to which she said no so I asked to give it another shot.

Enter, the villain. My mom’s house does not smell bad. But it does smell strongly. It’s hard to quantify and again it’s not a bad smell it is simply powerful and foreign. The pillow I took from her was saturated with what my beloved and I began to call Mom Smell.

The pillow still smelled like mom’s house weeks after coming into our home, even after being slept on and with protectors and pillow cases, the smell permeated. The pillow was still too tall. So then I entered an experimental phase. The purple pillow is made up of a latex insert with a gel grid around it on the outside. The inset was too tall, but I could use the gel grid external to wrap around a pillow that was too low!

I stuffed every conceivable iteration into the purple grid. I tried the new symphony. I tried existing pillows in my home. I even borrowed a pillow from the back room at work which wasn’t in inventory so it was okay and the worst part was that was the perfect height but too soft to stay that height and ended up disappointing me and being surreptitiously returned.

I then tried an IKEA pillow that a Reddit thread suggested was similar to the original symphony and was delighted to learn that it came in three pieces so the height could be adjusted. This kicked off a new round of experimentation after I realized the pillow itself was rock solid and hurt my ears. The 1” insert could be added to things to try to bring too low pillows to the correct height. I still need to try to return this pillow.

I then turned to my friend who also owns a mattress store and asked if he had a Technogel pillow to trade for one of the Purple pillows. He agreed and I ended up with a Technogel that’s 5.5” which is sliiiiightly too tall. Then I remembered:

During this frenzy of pillow madness I’d foisted two pillows onto my mom in exchange for the purple pillow and belatedly realized that one of them was a Technogel that had been too low. Now with an insert I realized it could be perfect. So I got the pillow back but I faced a problem.

The Mom Smell.

I didn’t want to wait two or more weeks for the smell to pass normally. So I got the pillow back and indeed, it had Mom Smell. I then remembered that my beloved had been gifted something called “pillow mist” from their employer ages ago that had a sage smell I liked.

So I took the pillow, sprayed the inside of the dryer and set it to low to coat the nice sage smell into the foam.

This was a mistake.

The dryer suddenly reeked of sage and musk, the heat having amplified the mist out of all proportion. The whole upstairs screamed the contents of the innocuous bottle and my head instantly hurt. Now not only did the pillow reek of a new louder smell, so did the dryer.

I looked around and spotted vinegar and decided to wipe down the dryer with it in hopes of wiping out the overpowering mist smell. Afterward it smelled like hot vinegar which was something of an improvement. I regarded the pillow and could practically see animated smell lines coming off it. I wiped that with vinegar too. Then it smelled like SAGE Vinegar Mom.

I finally collapsed in a puddle of defeat, having created and defeated several problems but ultimately having made a pillow much stinkier than before.

My beloved came home.

They listened to my tiny tale of woe with increasing amusement.

They asked, “Why didn’t you use the Febreze?”

“What? They don’t have Febreze that’s unscented, do they?”

My beloved walked into the bathroom and came out with a bottle of unscented Febreze that would have solved my problem instantly. I facepalmed hard enough to cause brain damage.

I sprayed the pillow. It sat for a few days, ready to join my parade of pillow experiments. The sage and vinegar are both thankfully gone.

It does however still smell faintly of my mother.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage

The thing is, Tim didn't mean to put it on. He was just kind of playing with it to keep his hands busy while he was thinking about the recent murder case. GCPD had their hands full with the serial robbers that didn't rank high enough to catch Batman's attention, and Tim never had a problem with helping the police if he had time.

And the ring was a perfect fidget toy, if he is being honest. Small and plain enough not to distract him, but the round stone in the middle was loosely attached, making it able to spin inside the frame. Which is what he did, again and again, like those fidget spinners.

Of course, he was just destined to drop it sooner or later. And then, when he reached under the table to pick it up, his finger caught inside the ring, and, well.

The ring was now firmly on his finger.

The problem was that he couldn't take it off.

It wasn't stuck, at least not in the general sense of it - Tim could easily spin it around, and it wasn't tight. But it wasn't loose either, and as soon as he tried to move it past the knuckle, the ring heavily disagreed, almost like shrinking down and absolutely refusing to be detached.

Barbara suggested soap, which didn't work. Dick tried for a more mechanical approach, first with pliers and then with a laser, which the ring resisted with no effort. Cass, who was actually the one who brought the damned thing into the Cave after one of her adventures in Hong Kong, just smiled and shrugged, which was of no help either. Damian offered to cut the finger off, which probably would have helped, but Tim rather liked all his limbs attached.

Bruce called Constantine. The magician took one look at the ring, barked a humorless laugh, and pat Tim on the shoulder sympathetically.

"Congrats, mate," he said, a wry smile on his lips, "I hope you file for divorce."

Although, while all the rest of the Bats and Birds devolved into fits of hysterical laughter (Steph), indignant sputtering (Damian), and cries of outrage (everyone else sans Alfred, who was pointedly unimpressed), Tim couldn't even bring himself to be surprised. Really, his life had been a shitshow since he was around ten. It's not like he didn't expect himself to be accidentally married to some otherworldly magical creature by this point.

The worst part - worse than the actual engagement, that is - was that Constantine couldn't exactly tell them who the spouse was.

What he did say was that the Ring belonged to the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, and Eyes of Universe. But those were only titles, and, as John Constantine begrudgingly admitted, there has been a change in the management recently, so no one really knew what the new almighty monarch looked like or what they were, much less their whereabouts.

"You can't blame me for not being keen to find out, though," John said, wincing, "The last one was a bloody tyrant, and the Realms operate under the right of conquest rule."

At least, the mage assured them that since the being had not yet come to collect their shiny new spouse, they might never show up at all. The Ring has been lost for ages after all, so maybe the King didn't even remember having one. Or, the previous King didn't, and the new one didn't know about or didn't care.

The first week after the incident, they spent anxiously researching and worrying. Bruce even went as far as making Tim wear a tracker at all times, which was not great, but he did appreciate the gesture. Kind of.

After the first month with no sign of any changes, the worry started to abate. In half a year, most of the family stopped trying to keep an eye on Tim at all times lest he suddenly disappeared. Two years later, even Tim himself treated the Ring as a natural part of his daily life. The stone inside was still a great fidget toy, engagement or not.

Three years, one month, and five days after Tim first put the Ring on his finger, when the world was falling apart and breaking in front of him and there was not a single thing he could do to stop it anymore, Tim pressed his lips to the cold, dark strip of unknown metal on his finger.

"Whoever you are, I don't even care, please," he whispered in a useless prayer, his voice hoarse and his throat dry, "please, help."

And the world came to a stop with a short, amused chuckle.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

[part 2 ->]

[darksturnz]

CHEATER CHEATER . . . PUSSY EATER ?

CONTENTS: smut-heavy plot ・oral (f! receiving)・bf!matt ・AFAB!reader + more WC: 2k

The suitcase slipped from your fingers, landing with a dull thud against the hardwood floor. Your heart pounded in your ears, the moans echoing down the dimly lit hallway making your stomach twist into a sick knot.

It was late. Past midnight. You hadn’t even told Matt you were coming home early, wanting to surprise him after your work trip had been cut short. Three days. Three fucking days early, and this is what you come home to?

Your fingers curled into fists as you stormed down the hallway, the moans getting louder with every step. The door to your shared bedroom was slightly ajar, a faint, flickering glow seeping through the crack. Your mind was racing, every worst-case scenario hitting you all at once.

Matt. In your bed. With someone else.

The girl’s high-pitched cries sent another sharp pang through your chest. You didn’t recognize the voice, but it didn’t matter.

Bile rose in your throat.

Three fucking years.

You shoved the door open, already bracing yourself for the worst—for Matt’s horrified expression, for some half-naked girl scrambling under the sheets, for the complete and total destruction of your relationship right in front of your eyes.

But that’s not what you saw.

Instead, Matt was slouched against the headboard, bare chest heaving, his cock twitching in his hand as he stared at his phone screen. Alone.

Your heart was still hammering, your breath still ragged as you processed the scene. Matt, blinking rapidly in confusion, jerking upright the moment he realized you were standing in the doorway. His phone fumbled in his grasp before the screen went black, and he hastily yanked a pillow over his lap like a teenager caught in the act.

“Jesus Christ!” he gasped, eyes wide. “What the fuck are you doing home?”

For a moment, you just stared at him, chest rising and falling with the force of your adrenaline. The room still echoed with the sounds of the porno—some dramatic, exaggerated moan ringing out before Matt frantically hit the volume button, effectively silencing it.

Then, the reality of what was happening finally sank in.

“You—” You exhaled sharply, a half-hysterical laugh bubbling up from your throat as you pressed a hand over your face. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

Matt, still caught between shock and embarrassment, scrubbed a hand over his face. “What the hell is wrong with you?You scared the shit out of me!”

“I scared you?” Your voice rose an octave. “I thought you were cheating on me, Matt!”

His eyebrows shot up. “Cheating?”

“What the hell else was I supposed to think?” You threw your hands up, your heart still racing, blood still hot from the blind fury that had propelled you into the room. “I walk in and all I hear is some bitch moaning like she’s dying—”

Matt groaned, dragging the pillow higher up his lap like it could somehow shield him from the entire situation. “Oh my god.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. Now that the initial rage had worn off, you were left standing there, exhausted, overwhelmed, and, honestly, kind of confused.

“So what?” you said, narrowing your eyes. “You just—” You gestured vaguely toward him, still trying to process the fact that you had just caught your boyfriend jerking off. “You couldn’t wait three more days?”

“I didn’t know you were coming home tonight!” Matt shot back defensively, his face still burning red. “What do you want me to do, put my dick in storage until you get back?”

“I don’t know, Matt, maybe not blast it at full volume like a goddamn IMAX movie?”

“It wasn’t that loud!”

“It was fucking loud enough to hear from the front door!”

Matt groaned again, tilting his head back against the headboard with a long, suffering sigh. “Jesus.”

The room fell into silence, except for the distant hum of the city outside. You stood there, arms crossed, the weight of your suitcase still digging into the back of your mind, while Matt sat there, still clutching the pillow like a lifeline.

Finally, you exhaled, rubbing your temples. “This is not how I expected my night to go.”

Matt peeked at you, lips twitching. “Yeah? What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, suddenly feeling stupid. “Maybe a cute little reunion? You’d be all excited, we’d cuddle, maybe I’d let you rail me into next week.”

Matt made a pained noise, squeezing his eyes shut like he was physically holding himself back from combusting. “You cannot say shit like that while I’m still hard.”

Your lips twitched. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Oh my god.”

You finally let out a laugh, the tension in your chest easing as the absurdity of the situation caught up with you. Matt groaned again, rubbing his face, and you stepped forward, climbing onto the bed beside him.

“So…what were you watching?” you asked innocently, peeking at his phone.

“Absolutely not,” Matt said immediately, shoving it under the pillow.

“Come on,” you teased, nudging him. “If you’re gonna cheat on me with your hand, I at least deserve to know what kind of competition I’m up against.”

“Not a chance.”

“Let me guess—Furries?”

Matt shot you a look. “Do you think I hate myself?”

You snorted. “Taboo?”

“Absolutely not.”

“So, lesbians?”

Matt groaned and dropped his head onto your shoulder. “Can we not?”

You hummed, fingers threading through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Matt’s breath hitched, his entire body going still against you. Even with the pillow clutched desperately over his lap, there was no hiding how painfully hard he still was.

“Seriously, you’re not gonna tell me?” you murmured, tilting your head to brush your lips against his temple.

Matt exhaled sharply through his nose. “Yeah, not a fucking chance.”

You smirked. “That’s fine.” Your hand slid down, nails trailing over his bare chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. “I was just gonna suggest we recreate it. Y’know, make it a little more immersive.”

Matt groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “You are evil.”

You giggled, shifting closer until your thigh brushed against his. The heat radiating off of him was scorching, his body coiled tight with restraint. You could feel the way his fingers flexed against the pillow like he was fighting every instinct screaming at him to grab you instead.

“Well? Are you gonna just sit here and suffer, baby?” you taunted, voice sweet as you traced slow, teasing circles.

Matt inhaled sharply, and then, in one swift motion, he tossed the pillow aside and grabbed your wrist, yanking you into his lap. You gasped, hands splaying against his bare shoulders as your knees bracketed his hips.

“You think this is funny?” Matt’s voice was low, rough, his pupils blown wide as he glared up at you.

You bit your lip, feeling his cock twitch beneath you. “A little.”

Matt’s grip tightened around your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he tilted his head back against the headboard, exhaling through his nose like he was trying to hold himself together. His jaw was tense, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, but his hands were anything but still, roaming up and down your sides like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to punish you for teasing him or worship you for coming home early.

“You’re annoying ,” he muttered, but there was no real heat behind it—just a breathless kind of awe, like he still couldn’t believe you were actually here.

You grinned, rocking your hips just enough to feel the rigid length of him pressed against you, still achingly hard. “That’s what you get for trying to replace me with your hand.”

Matt groaned, dropping his head back against the headboard. “Oh my fucking—”

Before he could finish his sentence, he moved—flipping you both over so fast you barely had time to yelp before your back hit the mattress. The world spun for half a second, and then Matt was above you, caging you in with his forearms bracketing your head, his weight pressing deliciously against you.

“-God. You think you’re so funny,” he rasped, his nose brushing against yours, his lips barely an inch away.

You swallowed, your pulse pounding in your ears as his body heat consumed you. “I know I am.”

Matt rolled his eyes and let out a soft, breathy chuckle—then he was kissing you, slow and deep, his lips molding against yours like he wanted to drown in you. His hands were everywhere, skimming down your sides, slipping beneath your shirt to press against your bare skin, like he needed to feel every inch of you to make up for the time apart.

The need in his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and when he pulled back, his pupils were so blown out they nearly swallowed the hazel. “Missed you so much,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips.

Your chest tightened. “Show me.”

That was all it took.

Matt’s lips trailed down your neck, his mouth leaving open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone as he worked his way lower. His hands pushed your shirt up, and you lifted your arms to let him pull it over your head before he did the same with your shorts, tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion.

He groaned at the sight of you—just a soft sound in the back of his throat, but it sent heat pooling between your legs. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered, pressing his lips to your stomach as he slid lower. “Been thinkin’ about this all week.”

You shivered as he kissed just above the waistband of your panties, his fingers curling around the fabric before tugging it down. “Hurry up,”

He paused for a moment, giving you a look that had your own cheeks heating up as you huffed and looked away before he continued. The second you were bare beneath him, Matt’s breath hitched, his hands spreading your thighs apart as he settled between them.

“So beautiful” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. “ always so fucking beautiful “

You can’t help the small whine that falls from your lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, your breath catching in your throat as he dragged his lips up, his nose brushing against your soaking cunt before he licked a slow, teasing stripe through your folds.

A gasp left your lips, “Oh-..” your hips arching off the bed, but Matt’s hands were already pressing you back down, keeping you in place.

“Stay still,” he murmured, his voice dripping with heat. “Gonna me take care of you.”

Then he was diving back in, his tongue curling around your clit in slow, torturous circles that had your toes curling. He ate you out like a man starved, like he’d been deprived of you for far too long and was determined to make up for every second.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, thighs trembling as pleasure coiled hot and tight in your stomach. “Matt,” you gasped, your voice breaking on his name.

He hummed against you, the vibrations sending another jolt of pleasure through your body. His hands slid beneath your thighs, tilting your hips up as he buried his face deeper, licking and sucking like he was trying to ruin you.

You were already close, your body arching, your breathing uneven as Matt worked you closer and closer to the edge. His lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue flicking just right, and the coil inside you snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves.

Your vision went white as you came, a choked moan escaping your lips, but Matt didn’t stop. He groaned against you, his hips rutting against the mattress like he couldn’t help himself, desperate for friction. The realization sent another rush of heat through you, and you reached down, threading your fingers through his hair to pull him up.

His lips were slick and swollen when he looked at you, his pupils blown wide. “Kiss me please,” you whispered.

Matt surged up, pressing his body against yours, his cock hard and aching between you. His lips crashed against yours, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, the need in his kiss making your head spin. He shifts a little so his cock hits your inner thigh and with a low groan, he thrust against you—and the moment he did, his body stiffened, his breath hitching as he moaned into your mouth. His hips jerked against yours as he came, the tension finally snapping, and the sound that left him—deep, breathless, wrecked—was enough to send another wave of pleasure through you.

For a few moments, all you could do was lay there, tangled together, panting in the aftermath.

Then Matt looks at you, a small frown on his face before he spoke,

“Did you really think I’d cheat on you?”

authors note: i need to make a tag list post but im actually so lazy after writing it’s not funny

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken @mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @bluestriips @sturniolo-fann @chrisslut04 @owensbabygirl1987 @sturnslutz @sturniqlo @sofieeeeex @jadasmp4 @ncm9696 @courta13 @cutseylady

[0wlettie]

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

⏾⋆.˚─── caleb x fem!reader

⏾⋆.˚─── synopsis: you've been avoiding caleb recently because you've just realized how you truly feel about him, but when life hits you hard one day, you realize that you might need him more than you thought you would...

⏾⋆.˚─── tags: 16.9k, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, clingy, crybaby!reader, pet names (princess, good girl), light D/s dynamics, crying (but in sexy way), dirty talk, slight degradation/dumbification, possessive behavior, (because it wouldn't be a caleb fic if he wasn't at least a little bit possessive) fingerfucking, pussy eating, unprotected sex, subspace but it isn't really talked about, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

⏾⋆.˚─── ao3 if you want to read there ^^

⏾⋆.˚─── a/n: this is my first ever lads piece and i worked very hard on this absolute monster of a fic, so i hope whoever happens to come across this enjoys it; beta'd by me so any mistakes are my own; title comes from IKUK by ONEUS because i played the fuck outta that song writing this and it slaps ! as this is nsfw Minors Do Not Interact (ageless blogs will be blocked)

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

Burying yourself further into the depths of your hoodie, you slowly make your way up to your apartment. The elevator is currently out of commission; some sort of mechanical error, the bright orange note taped to the cautioned off doors stated, so you’re forced to make the grueling journey to the seventh floor by stairs alone.

After an eight-hour long shift working at a department store nearly an hour away by bus, you’re maybe a little more than upset at the prospect of being on your feet longer than you really have to be. Unfortunately, you’re left with little other options at this point. It wasn’t like you could magically teleport to the seventh floor. Sighing long and loud, you rub your eyes.

“Fucking whatever, man.” You grumble to yourself, readjusting your bookbag before turning around and heading to the stairs. The sight of all those floors is intimidating, but you force your feet to move regardless. Even if the soles of your aching feet are screaming at you to stop, you continue on. Once or twice you lean against the wall for a bit of a breather, only moving again when you’re startled by the notifications of your socials on your phone.

You are so fucking tired.

But still, you take one more painful step. Then another. Then another. One by one by one until—

‘Home sweet home.’ You think a little hysterically, barely glancing at the shiny gold 713 before pushing your way through the door. After, of course, fumbling through your various pockets looking for your keys. Your fingers are shaking slightly, but that’s easily ignored once you finally make it inside. You inhale sharply, blindly feeling for the door behind you as you toss your bag to the floor. You take in your apartment as you close your door with your back, absently kicking off your shoes.

To your right is your bathroom, to your left is your ‘bedroom’ and straight ahead is the kitchenette. It's a cozy little thing, your place; a studio you found for cheap a few months after graduating highschool three years ago. It’s not the greatest place—there's water damage on various parts of the ceiling, a few moldy spots in the bathroom that refuse to leave, the a/c unit does shit all during the summer, there’s basically no insulation so it’s freezing during the winter and you can hear everything going on with your neighbors upstairs and downstairs. Oh, and the indoor washer-dryer unit never works so you have to haul your dirty laundry down the elevator once a week to the nearest laundromat if you don’t want to smell like ass.

This place is a dump, but it's your beloved dump—all the plushies, figures and books lining the shelves prove that fact. Even if it’s a little chillier now that the sun’s gone down, the familiarity would usually be enough to slow your heart rate and lower your defenses.

It’s not enough, though. That thrum of anxiety still runs through your veins, and you’re about three seconds away from hyperventilating. You’ve gone past the tired phase of your day, and are now verging onto the ‘mental breakdown’ part. Groaning and pretending like you don’t feel the familiar burn in the corners of your eyes, you turn towards your little kitchen area and shuffle in. It's pure muscle memory that has you reaching for the cabinet above the stove, pulling out the hot cocoa mix and your favorite mug in seconds. Your routine has been the same for months now—hot chocolate, some cookies, your favorite plush throw and a show you’ve already seen before to help numb the panic. It was the most effective method you’ve come up with, the only one to work long enough for you to get some sleep.

Well. It was the second most effective. The first was currently a two-hour drive away at college, studying for a career in the aerospace field.

You bite down on your lip hard when tears pool in your eyes, and unconsciously, your gaze is drawn to the cluster of polaroids pinned to the front of your refrigerator. Photos of various things cover the pale surface—the sky at dusk, a stray cat that occasionally shows up by the park down the street, fireworks from a festival you went to last year, a silly picture of you in the mirror that’s mostly the flash of a camera—but the one that stands out to you the most is underneath a cartoonish magnet of an airplane.

You’re pressed together cheek to cheek with a boy a few years older than you at the time. A huge grin splits your face, your eyes squinting closed from the glare of the camera. His smile is a little smaller, controlled. But there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he holds two fingers up behind your head, his other arm holding onto the camera off screen.

It’s you and Caleb Xia. Your best friend in the entire world. 

The man you’re deeply in love with.

Seeing his face after months of barely any contact is enough for the ache in your chest to fully affect you. Your hands shake so badly that you accidentally end up dropping your mug. You’re too slow to catch it, and you watch in numb detachment as it falls and shatters against your wooden floors, shards bouncing off the floor to land on the soft purple cotton of your kitty socks.

You promptly burst into tears, squatting down to cup your knees as you cry loudly into the space you’ve made.

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

Thick, salty tears run warm tracks down your cheeks as you sob into the open air. You try to blink them away as fast as you can, and when that doesn’t work, you roughly scrub your face. You haven’t cried like this in a while, but it was a long time coming. You were on the verge of a meltdown—you could feel it as days passed you by. That doesn’t make you feel any better, though. Not when you’re kneeling on the ground trying to pick up shards of ceramic while blind from your tears. It’s a recipe for disaster, but nothing can really ruin your day more than this. You certainly don’t care if you accidentally cut yourself, not when it feels like your very world is ending.

“Shit!” You lose your grip on one of the shards you grab. You quickly yank your hand back to avoid getting cut as it falls back to the ground. It breaks even further upon impact, and a hysterical scream threatens to erupt from your mouth, but you hastily swallow it back down. The walls are thin and you don’t need a nosy neighbor to see you like this.

‘Can’t blame anyone but yourself, dumbass.’ The voice in your head berates you. No one told you to push away the one person who could make it all better—you were the one who decided that all on your own. It’s painful to admit, even to yourself, but it’s true. You’re trying your damnedest to avoid Caleb, and you’ve been doing so for a couple months by now.

It’s easy to blame conflicting schedules and the hours separating your homes for the distance. Easy to pin the blame on your exhaustion after long days, his work as a part-time mechanic, the fact that you’re an adult and you can’t keep going to him when you just feel like it. Waking him up at three in the morning because you suddenly feel lonely. Calling him during work or class because you have to tell him about this funny post you saw on one of your socials. Cuddling and hanging all over him because touching him makes you happy and warm and safe.

Kimberly—a coworker of yours—was right to low-key call you out on your seemingly unhealthy dependence on Caleb. As embarrassing as it is to admit, it was her offhand comment that got you to fully realize how you feel about him.

Wow, with how much you cling to the guy I was sure he was your boyfriend or something.

Except Caleb isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your best friend—the only friend you can confidently say you have.

But the thought of him becoming more than that was surprisingly…tempting. An idea you never dared to contemplate was suddenly brought to the forefront of your mind and now you couldn’t escape how right it would feel. But those thoughts were scary, and there were times where you almost slipped up and said something more than strictly platonic. You could only imagine the look on Caleb’s face as he’d let you down gently—because there was no way he���d ever consider you as a girlfriend, not when he still views you as nothing more than his childhood best friend, a little kid sister. It hurts, that realization; cuts deeply in a way you’ve never felt before and that’s when it truly clicks in your head.

Unconsciously, you think you always knew how you really felt about Caleb. It’s hard to pinpoint an exact time when you didn’t care deeply for him. A thousand little moments along the course of your lives together just eventually added up into something stronger than platonic affection; something that consumed your mind, body and soul until nothing was left for him to take. Not that you were trying to blame him for your own emotions, it’s just…hard to keep yourself out of his orbit. Harder still to try and live with these feelings of yours. So you took the coward’s way out and just…pushed them away.

You stopped calling so randomly. Stopped bothering him at work. Stopped sending him random links to nearby cafes where you could go together. Stopped inviting him over for sleepovers and movie nights. Started to decline his invitations out, his subtle questions of spending time together, his concerned texts until…

Until here you are; crying on the floor of your dumpy apartment, alone and cleaning up the broken shards of your favorite mug. A mug Caleb gave to you as a housewarming gift. It was one of the cutest little things you'd ever seen; stubby, round and in the shape of a panda bear, it fits your aesthetic to a T. It was large enough to carry at least two cups worth of tea or hot chocolate, and even though it was a bit bulky for your own smaller hands, it made your day whenever you did use it. And now it’s in a bunch of tiny pieces scattered along your wooden floors.

A fresh wave of tears fills your eyes as you stare down at one of the panda’s broken eyeballs. The furious churning in your gut makes you feel sick and more than anything you wish you weren’t here anymore. In this cold, lonely and broken apartment of yours. You wish you were with Caleb.

You miss him.

You miss his stupidly tall self. How safe and protected he makes you feel. How much he makes you laugh when you're sad. How comforting his hands are whenever you accidentally hurt yourself. You miss the gentle, teasing cadence of his voice; the depth of his pretty colored eyes; the security and warmth of his hugs. You miss him so fucking much.

“I’m such a mess.” You whisper roughly, trying to wipe away the tears as they fall, hoping they’ll stop soon. But they don’t, slowly but surely continuing to wet your flushed and puffy face. You groan and cover your eyes with your balled up fists, blindly sitting back on your ass and scooting along the floor until your back hits the nearest surface. You bring your knees up until they rest underneath your chin, wrapping your arms around them and squeezing.

There’s a brewing ache settling in your chest; a gaping hole where Caleb still sits despite everything. You were the one who viciously dug him out, but you still can’t help but feel sorry for yourself anyway. It’s not like he doesn’t still reach out, but you feel like there’s this wide canyon between the two of you now. You don’t know if you can even force yourself to reach out first, not when you feel so guilty for ignoring him in the first place. 

Unmoored and lost in waves of pain and loneliness, you sit there for what feels like an eternity, drowning over and over and over again. As time passes, though, that raging sea calms into something manageable. Your tears eventually dry up and your breathing evens out a bit, but you still feel like you’re on that precipice. Like one wrong move will have you slipping into a free fall, back into the angry, churning sea of your heartache.

RING! RING-RINNG!

An obnoxiously loud tone rings out from your stomach, and you just about jump ten feet into the air.

“Fuck!” You scream, accidentally hitting your head on the countertop above you. You yelp, squeezing your eyes shut as you fumble through your hoodie pocket for your phone with one hand, the other going to gingerly feel around the throbbing area of your skull. You recognize the familiar tone and it sends your slightly calmed heart back into overdrive; beating so fiercely that you’re afraid it’s going to burst through your ribcage. The pain immediately turns into something unimportant as you dig your phone out of your pocket.

Your eyes are locked onto a smiling photo of Caleb. It’s him in his mechanic’s uniform, unbuttoned halfway through and showing the white tank top underneath, grease smeared all over him and his clothes with his sleeves half rolled up. He’s unfairly and stupidly handsome and you hate that it’s the photo you have saved for him. You hesitate as the ringing continues. Should you pick it up? You’re still so hurt and lonely, but do you really have the courage to answer after you’ve been treating him so unfairly this entire time?

One more look at his smiling face has you immediately folding like a wet paper napkin, however, and you answer the call moments later.

Except that it’s a facetime rather than a phone call, a fact you realize once your face greets you after you pick up. Luckily, his eyes are drawn off to the side, so you quickly turn the camera around to face your socked feet. You frantically curse inside of your head, but there’s nothing to be done now. You don’t have the heart to hang up on him, not when you can see every little detail of his pretty face. The sight already has you feeling better, even when he hasn't even acknowledged you yet.

You’re a weak, weak person.

“You know, when someone facetimes you it's because they want to see your face.” The clear, teasing tone of his voice causes your cheeks to darken, his eyes flicking up and then down to lock onto your feet pointedly. The last time you two were speaking by voice was…maybe two and a half weeks ago? A far cry from how you used to call him at least twice a day. Despite the snark, you can’t help but savor the warmth in his words. Still, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t reply somehow.

“Fuck off, you know I don’t like facetimes, Caleb.” You grumble, attempting to be normal but you fail within seconds. Your voice cracks halfway through your sentence and there’s an audible stuffiness to your nose that carries over to your speech. It’s so painfully obvious that you’ve been crying.

That amiable cheer of his dissolves immediately, his eyes snapping to stare directly into the camera as his smile morphs into a noticeable frown.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His eyes dart over the screen frantically, like he can figure out the answer based on your socked feet and kitchen floor alone. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he somehow did—Caleb’s strangely good with small details and can tell your mood just by looking for your subtle microexpressions. While you know some others around him have found it a bit strange, you just think it's sweet how deeply he cares about things like that. It’s…cute, to you. You like that he pays so close attention.

You see some of that perceptiveness when Caleb zeroes in on something small near your feet. His eyes narrow slightly, but before you can even look to see what exactly he’s staring intently at, his eyes are raising up to stare back into the camera. Like he can see you even when it isn’t facing you directly.

“Turn your camera around.” 

You bite your bottom lip at the seriousness of his tone. The statement sounds more like an order and while normally you’d at least tease him for it, maybe even sass him back for the firmness of his words, you just can’t bring yourself to ignore him. Not when it feels like you can finally breathe after what feels like ages.

Still, you hesitate.

Rubbing your cheek, you look down at the ‘switch camera’ button. It would be so easy to just let Caleb in right now, to let him see just what a fucking mess you are so he can make everything be okay again. But your coworkers' words float through your mind—how strange it is to be so reliant on someone when you yourself are a grown ass adult. Nervously, you rub your feet together, taking a bit of comfort in the soft fabric rubbing against your skin. You don’t know what to do…both sides are warring within you and the more you try and decide, the harder it is to come to a decision.

That’s when Caleb speaks up, almost as if he can sense your indecision.

“Tell me what’s wrong, princess. You know I can make it feel better.” You breath hitches, your heart thumping so fast that all the blood rushes to your ears in an instant. Caleb’s voice is so soothing—so soft and sweet and comforting that tears prick the corners of your eyes. You want to be with him so badly that it makes your chest ache with longing. 

“Caleb..!” You sniffle out, hiding behind your hand when his gaze becomes too much for you. Your face feels so hot that you’re afraid of spontaneously combusting. God, he knows how to make you weak and you would be angry at him if it didn’t make you feel so small and safe.

“You don’t have to worry with me around—you know that I’ll take care of you, don’t you? C’mon, lemme help you out like you need me to.” You peek above your hand, shivering at the intensity of his stare. It’s in stark contrast with his softly murmured words, and your brain goes a little fuzzy the longer you meet his gaze.

Caleb has always taken care of you, even when you were nothing but the lonely, annoying little girl who lived next door. Three years his junior and acting like a crybaby at even the slightest of inconveniences, he should’ve naturally found you insufferable. But he never once turned you away, no matter how many times he had to dry your tears, play with you, help you study and so, so much more. He always made sure you were looked after when your parents were too busy to even care, bringing you over to dinner with his parents or even sharing some of his lunch with you when he knew you hadn’t eaten. Caleb has always been there to make it better, to take care of you and make all of your worries fade away. Why wouldn’t he do the same now? He’s completely right—you need him.

“You promise?’ You whisper, the tears pooling in your eyes overflowing as you hiccup.

“I promise.” He says solemnly. Silently, you reach out and press the reverse camera button.

His eyes track rapidly over your face once the camera switches, no doubt cataloging the very obvious evidence of your crying fest. The thickness of his brows furrow into slants as he takes in your face, a frown pulling the corners of his lips down as concern lights up his dusk-purple irises. You stare at each other for a few quiet beats, the only noise coming from Caleb’s end as he moves to somewhere a little quieter. The slight sounds of murmuring and laughter gradually fade away as he goes somewhere private, the lights casting a warm glow over his complexion as he sits down. 

‘Maybe he was at a party? Or a friend’s house?’

“...Bad day?” Clearly, he’s waiting for you to open up before he does anything else. You shy away from his knowing gaze, suddenly feeling embarrassed for your tears. You’re an adult who pays rent and taxes—you should be more than capable of handling these emotions on your own but…but you also can’t help but like that Caleb wants to help you too.

He’s obviously waiting patiently for you to reply, but you stall just a little longer. Tugging at a strand of your hair that fell out of your bun, chewing on your bottom lip as you count the handles on your cabinets, tugging at the loose thread of your hoodie pocket…the excuses continue until you have nothing else to do but stare at Caleb. It’s only then that you begin to tell him about your day, underneath the gentle patience of his warm gaze.

From your alarm going off a half hour late so you had to rush through your normal routine in order to catch the bus on time. To the older woman who yelled at you for not having the right dress size for her daughter’s baby shower and complaining to your manager. To the weird, creepy homeless man who harassed you at the bus stop and even followed you on until the bus driver noticed and kicked him off a few stops before yours. To then have to walk up seven flights of stairs because the elevator all of a sudden wanted to have a problem today of all days. And now, with your feet carefully tucked away from the mess you made earlier when you clumsily dropped your favorite mug ever and broke it into a million little pieces. It was all just too fucking much and you felt like you were going crazy because you should be able to handle these events but you just can’t—

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Just breathe with me, okay?” Caleb’s voice is like a beacon in the night; a guiding light for you to follow to safety lost amongst the roaring, crashing waves of your turbulent emotions. Shakily, you inhale deep and slow breaths, following Caleb’s instructions as he continues to stare at you. You feel ridiculous crying again, and something on your face must show that because Caleb shoots you a look.

“Stop that already. There’s nothing wrong with feelin’ this deeply, princess. Especially since you've already had such a long day.” You toss him a pout, trying and failing to not let his kind words affect you. He sees through your attempt easily, a helplessly fond expression taking over the worry as he watches you wipe the remaining tear off your cheeks. A comfortable silence follows his words, and you take the time to compose yourself a little. As much as you hate to admit, talking to Caleb did wonders for your current mood. You feel a whole lot better than you did before.

“How we doin’? Better, now?”

You nod, rubbing away the last of your stray tears. He smiles softly, eyes taking in your calmed expression.

“Good, good.” He mumbles, and you finally notice a peculiar jangling sound emanate from his side of the phone. Tilting your head slightly, you focus your attention back on Caleb. Before, when he called, he was dressed in a casual graphic-muscle tee and the shining silver chain you had gifted him when he first went away to college. Now, there was a leather jacket tossed over the shirt, and judging from the echo and the faint ringing sound, it looked like he was in a…car?!

‘He wasn’t–!’

“Caleb…please tell me you aren’t coming over to my place now!?” He shoots you a cheeky smile in response—something that makes panic and delight swell within your lower belly so fast that you have no idea what you’re feeling more. Logic wins out, however, and you try to dissuade him as quickly as possible.

“Caleb, it’s 8:30 p.m. on a Friday night! With traffic it’ll be at least a three hour trip!”

“Mah, it’s no big deal at all. I only have one class tomorrow and even if I do miss it, it won’t be too much of a hit. No biggie.” He says flippantly, shrugging his shoulders with a half-smile. You suddenly want to reach through the camera to smack him on the back of his head. This is not a ‘no biggie’ matter! A five to six hour round trip is just ridiculous, even for your best friend.

“Caleb!”

“Princess!” He tosses back mockingly, and you fight back the urge to melt. He knows that little nickname of his is unfair—it’s why he’s abusing it so thoroughly now. But this just feels like way too much, especially since you’re feeling a lot better than before.

“I-I’m fine now, there’s no need for you to go out of your way like this…”

He pauses, and you can see in his hands are the keys to his car. He shoots you a look as he lowers his hand, one that sends a bolt of heat through your veins.

“Then tell me not to come.”

“Wh-what?”

“Tell me, then. If you really don’t want me to come over, then say it.” You open your mouth, ready to do just that but you falter at his expectant face. As much as you were protesting before, the thought of seeing him in person—of feeling his big, warm hands around you makes your chest squeeze painfully. You easily acquiesce after a few moments of staring into his eyes, groaning into the palm of your hand to avoid his smug expression. Though, when you glance back at him, that little curl to his lips is still there—prominent when combined with the bright and satisfied look in his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I thought. I’ll see you soon, then.”

You murmur out something vaguely coherent, but Caleb doesn’t let you go without one last goodbye.

“Bye, princess.’’

“...goodbye, Caleb.’’

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

Freshly showered and an apartment as tidy as you can make it with thirty minutes left—glass cleaned up and everything—you anxiously wait on the futon that serves as your bed. Your skin is still a little dewy from the water, and your hair is a bit wet, but it’s safely twisted and pinned up into two buns on top of your head. Dressed in a soft and worn pair of grey sweats and an oversized maroon hoodie that you’re ninety percent sure is Caleb’s, you’re as comfortable you can possibly get at the moment. With a nest of plush and colorful throws as well as a few plushies to keep you company, you recline back on the futon, currently in its couch mode. You try to make yourself look as natural as possible, but an anxious tingle still remains low in your belly.

This will be the first time seeing Caleb in months and it’s nerve wracking.

You have no idea how to even act around him. Will he bring up the distance between you both? Will he avoid it? Or will he just wait for you to eventually tell him what’s wrong—something that you’ve done in the past on numerous occasions. Hiding things from Caleb never really is a thing you do; he’s just too good at figuring you out, and you have this compulsion to spill your guts whenever you stare at him too long.

But how would you even go about explaining it all? 

“Ugh, I hate this.” You groan, covering your face with one of your plushies as you curl up on the futon. Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel now. So much for trying to be self-sufficient. You ended up having to depend on Caleb yet again to help you. And he was driving all the way to Linkon! Three hours was a long time, and you know he’s had a full day of classes and work, so he was no doubt exhausted. Not to mention the stairs! Fuck, you really are the worst, aren’t you?

You curl up even tighter as the embarrassment blooms into bright and ugly shame. Tears push at the corners of your eyes again and you wish you could stop crying already, but you just can’t. Sniffling, you rub your cheek against the silky-smooth fur of your seal plush. Another gift from Caleb—a birthday one, actually. You both had spent the day at the mall where you two went around for hours. He won the little guy in a crane game that was outside of one of the cutesy stores you like to peek your head in occasionally. It had taken a few more tries than he would have liked—his words verbatim—but you eventually left the mall with one more plush heavier.

‘More evidence that I need to grow up.’ You puff out your cheeks before blowing out a loud breath. Yeah, you were never going to give up your collection of plushies. Childish or not, you deserve to have sweet, cute little guys you can cuddle up to when you need a bit of happiness. With one last cheek rub to your seal, you slowly sit up and pat your cheeks. Glancing at the clock, you realize that Caleb’s got about fifteen more minutes or so. 

“Maybe I can order something for us to eat? That fried chicken place that he likes so much should still be open now...” Opening up your phone, you’re about to tap the food delivery service app, but a knock at your door stops you. You blink, confused, before Caleb’s muffled voice comes from behind the heavy, brown wood.

“You mind gettin’ the door?” 

You scramble up from your seat, flailing a little when your feet get tangled up in your blankets. The struggle you go through is loud and obvious, so by the time you get the door open, Caleb’s smile is wide and amused.

“Doin’ alright there, princess?” You opt to ignore his rhetorical question, glancing down at the bulging white bag dangling from his left hand. Double bagged you can’t really tell what’s in it—just that it’s full and heavy looking, a logo of a nearby convenience store on the front. You glance back up at his smiling face. Normally, you’d have already jumped him, and your usual song and dance involves you hanging off of his neck like a monkey while he ushers his way inside; lightly bickering all the while. However…you’re trying to be considerate here. He’s likely tired from all the work he’s had today, so pouncing on him like some overexcited puppy wouldn’t be welcome, you’re sure. Instead, you opt for something a lot more toned down.

“Did you really buy snacks? I was gonna just order something for us. To, y’know, make up for all that gas you used.” You pout a little, pulling Caleb in by his wrist and kicking the door shut behind him. The warmth from his skin seeps into your hand, and you fight the urge to wrap yourself around him like a koala. Face feeling hot, you pretend like your thoughts aren’t totally embarrassing and pull him towards the futon. You carefully keep your eyes trained on the chains dangling from his jeans instead of meeting the stare you can feel boring through your forehead. 

Before you can get very far, though, he gently stops you by tugging his wrist back a little, mindful not to dislodge your own hold. He herdes you to your kitchenette with a little snort, depositing the bag in his hand onto the countertop with a muted ‘thump’.

“Why order out when I can just make you somethin’ instead?” He raises a brow, and you let go of his wrist so he can shrug out of his leather jacket. The thought of a home cooked meal sounds more than appealing at the moment, especially coming from Caleb. You swear that if he wasn’t so set on that aerospace engineering stuff that he’d be an amazing private chef. You tell him as much while he drapes his jacket over a metal hook drilled into the wall near the counter, belly growing warm at the sound of his laughter and the visual of his bare, muscled arms.

“That’s sweet of you to say, but I don’t think I’m that good.” His smile is a little lopsided once he turns back to you, but it’s the way he opens his arms that truly turns that warmth into something scorching.

“Before the food, though, I think there’s somethin’ you’re forgetting to give me, hm?”

You inhale sharply, your lower lip trembling as you look at his face. His expression is a mask of calm, but there’s an anticipatory sort of fire in his eyes, and you realize that he wants you to jump him like you would normally. Resolve cracking once again into pieces, you immediately jump into his spread arms. Your own limbs fly up to wrap around his neck, and you stand on your tippy toes for only a second before his arms surround you, lifting until your legs wrap around his waist. He squeezes you tightly, resting his chin on your shoulder while you hide away in the crook of his neck, your trembling hands fisting the fabric of his shirt.

The cologne he wears floods your nose—something deep and masculine that makes you think of late night drives, clear lakes and winter nights. That familiar scent instantly has you sagging in his hold, trusting that he’s strong enough to carry your body weight as you press even closer to him. His warmth, his scent, the strength in his arms and the low, soothing hum he starts when you inevitably let loose a few tears and sob a little; all of it causes you to feel human—something you haven’t been feeling in a long, long while. You vow to yourself to never avoid him ever again—you think you would actually just keel over and die if you have to live without his hugs.

“I missed you.” Your teary voice is muffled by his throat, but he understands you perfectly regardless.

“Missed you too, princess.” One of the hands supporting your waist slides up your spine, stopping when it reaches the nape of your neck. He rests his hand there, fingers absently playing with the baby hairs at the base as you rub your nose against his neck. Your face feels like it’s pure magma with the way it burns, and your heart is beating so fast that you’re positive Caleb can feel it, with how close you two are pressed together. As flustered as this is making you feel, however, there is a part of you that’s just melting into the easy affection between you two. A part that’s growing the longer you’re touching him.

It feels so good to be in his arms again, to feel him enveloping you, keeping you safe and protected. The slow rise and fall of his chest soothes you, and your slight sniffles calm down. Sleepily, you rub your nose against his throat again, the action surprising a low chuckle out of him that makes your brain go blank with contentment. Eventually, though, you have to part. So, with one last squeeze, Caleb pats your back and gently lowers you to the ground. You only realize you’re pouting when one of his large hands comes up to squish your cheeks together. You squawk in protest, using one of your own hands to swat at his hand before he lets you go. 

“Don’t do that!”

“Then don’t look like that. Makes me wanna bully you when you’re acting cute.” The smile on his face is teasing, but there’s something contemplative in his gaze as he regards you. 

Your face flushes a blazing red, that sleepy soft feeling evaporating in an instant. His voice echoes loudly in your head as your eyes widen. Did he just…call you cute? No, he said you were acting cute. But, doesn’t that mean the same thing? Doesn’t it? You feel like you’re about to go insane from his flippant words, and you bring your hands up to cover your hot face in embarrassment. This kind of banter is normal for you two—it’s supposed to be normal, but now it’s all too much. You can’t…you can’t deal with him talking like that, not when you’ve just noticed how you really feel about him!

A strange expression flits across his face after he takes stock of you, but before you can even think to ask, the look is gone and he slings an arm over your shoulder. He pulls you into his chest, the smile audible in his voice as he leads you into the kitchen.

“Alright, I’ve got a few options we can choose from…”

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You end up choosing something simple but delicious—ramen! 

Your kitchen area is small, but composed of two separate counters; one connected to the wall in an L-shape with the sink, microwave and stove, the other splitting the area in half. Caleb is working near the sink and the stove, all of the ingredients spread out in an organized fashion. The water is set on the stove getting hot, the packs of noodles placed on the counter by it. Various toppings litter the surface of the counter—eggs, some seaweed, what looks like bok choy and pork belly. He knows it’s your absolute favorite and the thought of him specifically going out of his way to buy you something makes your heart thump inside of your chest painfully.

You’re sitting on top of the second counter, lighty swinging your feet back and forth as you watch him work. A heavy, almost burning feeling settles in your lower stomach as you do. He looks…at home, here, like he belongs in your kitchen. Moving about with an easy finesse that speaks of his intimate knowledge of your apartment.

How he only uses the first two burners because the back flames don’t get hot enough; how he knows exactly where you keep your pots and pans and other kitchen tools; how he knows that the cool water doesn’t flow from the faucet so he grabs one of the water bottles from out of the fridge; how he expertly maneuvers in your kind of cramped kitchenette despite his height, dodging around sharp corners and the hanging overhead lights like it’s instinct. It’s all too fucking much for you to take in. Like some sort of rom-com, domestic fantasy brought to life. The soft lofi station playing in the background of your apartment from your speaker only cements that fact. 

It should be nothing new to you—it is nothing new to you. Caleb and you have ended up in the kitchen together countless times before in the past. But you were ignorant back then. Now, you’re completely aware of how strongly you love Caleb, how deeply and wholly it consumes you, so all of the normal things you did together seem to carry a deeper meaning. But it has to be your imagination—it’s just all in your head. You can't believe that Caleb sees this any different than normal. Caleb is your best friend so he obviously loves you, just…not like how you love him.

It stings like a bitch to admit, but you have to come to terms with it. You won’t be avoiding him anymore, you’ve already decided that, so you need to be able to handle it when Caleb does something platonically affectionate. ‘You’re his best friend—like a little kid sister to him.’ You chant like a mantra inside of your head, trying to control the blush on your face when you watch his arms flex as he uses a knife. You can’t help but trace over his profile, lingering on the length of his eyelashes, the sharp just of his jawline, the soft furrow of his brow as he concentrates, the softened line of his pink lips. It’s kind of creepy how hard you stare, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Not when everything about him draws you in like a moth to a flame.

“You’re unusually quiet. What’s goin’ on in that big ole brain of yours?” Caleb keeps his eyes trained on the pork belly he’s cutting, but you still feel his attention zero in on you regardless. You fidget a little, expecting the question yet not at the same time. What should you even say?

What you can only say, you think. The truth.

“I guess I’m just…sorry?” Your quiet voice comes out more like a question, and you drop your eyes to your socked feet as they sway. You can’t bear to look at Caleb anymore, not when the shame and guilt from before start to come back.

“Sorry?” 

You shrink back at the sound of his confusion, and as much as you loathe to bring it up first, the instinct to spill your guts wins. You’ve always been an open book to him, and after years of that habit, you don’t have the strength to change that now. 

“I…I’ve been avoiding you–,” A lump forms in your throat halfway through your words, and the rhythmic cutting of the knife abruptly stops. You keep your gaze down, but Caleb’s focus goes from being present in the background to suddenly being there. You can literally feel his eyes bore into your forehead. You hunch further into the hoodie on you—Caleb’s hoodie—as if it can physically hide you away from your problems. Still, you continue to speak, absently noticing Caleb start to move in the background.

“And I’m so sorry about that. It wasn’t your fault at all, I promise you. I just…I just figured that maybe I was, um, bothering you too much? I mean, I know I can be pretty annoying and you’ve been sweet to actually try and tolerate it, but I’ve got to grow up sometime, right? I shouldn’t be constantly texting or calling you over silly, nonsensical things about my day. I’m an adult, so I can’t be so selfish with you all the time, not when we both have our own separate lives to live—” You hiccup, and it's only then that you realize you’re crying again. Your fingers are bunching up the fabric of the hoodie you’re wearing, your knuckles turning white from the strain. You sniffle, opening your mouth to continue, but another hiccup interrupts you as more tears blur your vision.

The abrupt sound of the sink turning on momentarily quiets your crying fit, and you snap your head up towards the sound. Caleb is furiously washing his hands, and you can only watch bewildered as he does so for the next thirty seconds. He whips back around after, absently drying his hands with a nearby towel before throwing it across the counter. His face is slightly pained as he stalkes towards you, and you’re suddenly aware of how big he is once he gets close.

His shoulders block out most of the overhead lights as he crowds into your personal space, his hands coming up to cup your flushed cheeks as he slides himself in between your legs. The stare he gives you is complicated; emotions flitting too fast for you to decipher with your obscured vision. Gently, he uses his thumbs to clean away the tears falling down your face, wiping away the ones in your eyes just a moment later. You sniffle a little, staring up at him with wide eyes as he slowly lowers his head to bump yours. 

“Where in the world did you get the idea that I wouldn’t always want you around?” There’s a genuine note of distress in voice, though it’s clear he tries his best to hide it.

You only cry harder, shaking your head as your hands go from clinging onto the hoodie you're wearing to his shirt. It feels so stupid to admit that someone else influenced you—to say out loud that you were being so cruel to someone so important and close to you because you were afraid. Afraid that your feelings would get the better of you. Afraid that you would drive Caleb away with your clinginess. Afraid that you’d crumble to pieces if he ever rejected you. Because you need him in your life like you need air to breathe.

The grip on your face tightens.

“You don’t have to be so quick to grow up without me, y’know? Who said you needed to do that?” He switches tactics a bit, injecting a lighter tone in his voice as he wipes away more of your tears. Your lower lip wobbles, but you do take his words to heart. A little bit, at least. You open and close your mouth, and it takes more than one try to speak past the lump in your throat, but you do after a few moments of patience.

“...You don’t think it’s immature? You don’t…you aren’t annoyed by me being so-so clingy?”

He shakes his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling faintly when he gives you a soft smile. You sniffle again, leaning into the warm palms holding your face. Your fingers loosen the death grip you have on his shirt. He moves a little closer in response, and you can feel the heat from his body seep through the fabric of your pants. Goosebumps rise across your skin when you realize how close Caleb is to your inner thighs. ‘Focus.’ You demand yourself, breath hitching when Caleb swipes his thumb underneath your eye.

“Of course not. I like it when you call me up the way you…used to.” Pain briefly flashes across his face before that gentle smile comes back. Your lip wobbles at the sight, but he quickly shushes you, lightly squeezing your face. You understand the silent message and swallow down a fresh wave of tears.

“You…you seriously don’t mind that I want to,” live underneath your skin 24/7 “be near you anyway I can? Even if it means that I’m bothering you when you’re busy?” Your inner thoughts mortify you, but the idea of being around Caleb all day, every day is so appealing to you that you feel insane with the way your entire being yearns for that to be the case.

“You never bother me. You have to know that, right, princess?” You bite your lip, one part of you disbelieving while the other half sings with delight at hearing those words come from Caleb. Kimberly meant no harm when she planted the idea, but you’ve had months to turn it over repeatedly in your head, and your insecurities have been louder than ever in your isolation.

“I’ll start trying to…at least.” 

Caleb sighs a little, eyes flickering down for a moment before they meet yours squarely.

“Baby steps then.” He knocks your heads together gently before easing up his hunched shoulders. The palms cupping your cheeks leave after a few more seconds and he gives you one of his usual warm smiles.

“No more ignorin’ me, alright?”

You tellingly don’t say anything right away. You know you’re not going to avoid him anymore, it’s just, making your voice work after all of that feels like a herculean endeavor. Sniffling, you slowly blink up at him. Your silence makes his smile grow wide enough for his eyes to close, but there’s a rigidness to his expression that makes your stomach swoop. He leans back down, one of his hands tucking underneath your chin to raise it, the other falls to rest next to one of your legs on the counter. The back of his knuckles brush against your skin and you feel your eyes widen at the sharp look he shoots your way when his eyes open, smile fixed in place.

“You won’t ignore me anymore, right.” The soft murmur sounds more like a threat than a question, and that swooping sensation returns. You realize that you’re getting excited by the look in his eyes, your flush only growing more prominent when you feel yourself get embarrassingly wet from the intensity. You instinctively move to cross your legs, but since he’s still in between them they only tighten around his waist. His eyes drop to look down before they raise back up, one of his eyebrows arched as searches your face. After he looks his fill, a slight smirk curls the side of his lips up, and his head tilts to the side in an almost sarcastic fashion.

“R-right, I promise!” You stammer out, breath hitching when that downright mean look lasts for a beat longer before his smile becomes real. He pulls back the hand underneath your chin while the other gently rests on the outside of your thigh, lightly patting it before he removes himself from your personal space. Your breath whooshes out of you loudly, your heartbeat going a mile per minute as your red face gets even redder. His smile somehow gets brighter in response.

“Perfect. Now, just sit there and relax. Dinner should be ready in just a little bit.”

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You stop pulling away from Caleb after that night.

You never did fully explain to him why exactly you started distancing yourself, no matter how subtle and unsubtly he tried to pry. You guess you feel embarrassed by the reason. Embarrassed that you allowed your fears to get in the way of your friendship—that you allowed these stupidly intense feelings of yours to negatively affect one of the few good things in your life. So you keep the real catalyst to yourself, instead focusing on catching up with Caleb. You haven't really spoken-spoken in…four and a half months, so there was a lot to catch up on. Which was easy enough to do once you started regularly calling and texting him. 

However, some things were still different, no matter how much you tried for it not to be.

Since you had your little revelation, everything and anything Caleb did that was even the slightest bit affectionate had you blushing like crazy. Constantly, you were flustered by the very obvious care he showed you, which had been amplified ever since you started talking again. It was like he was compensating for your insecurities by being extra sweet to you, and it was driving you insane to try and keep your head on straight.

He made a point to see you in person at least once a week, alternating between taking you out to eat or to walk around the mall, or cooking you something at home and watching movies. Without fail, Caleb would show up at your door knocking like clockwork. It worried you, at first. You didn’t want him to overexert himself in an effort to make you feel better, but you realized something about three weeks into this new routine.

Caleb needed it as much as you seemed to.

He was subtle about it, but you knew the man as well as he did you. So you noticed how relaxed he would get when you would ask him for things. How genuinely thrilled he seemed when you spoke openly about your feelings. How quickly he would respond to your texts even when he was busy, or how he picked up every single time without fail whenever you called. How he would jump at the chance to spend even a little bit of time with you.

How easily he would touch you.

You guys were physically affectionate before, but now…it was happening way more often. A hand on your waist, your lower back, resting behind your back or draped over your shoulder when you sat down; ruffling your loose hair or snagging your wrist when you playfully pulled away for him; pinching your cheeks to tease you, cupping underneath your jaw to emphasize a point he was making; or, god forbid, the few times he stopped you from rushing ahead by resting his hand on the nape of your neck and squeezing. He loomed over you in public, bodily putting himself between you and random strangers, using his height to his advantage when he wanted to herd you in another direction, coaxing you to lay or lean on him whenever you were sleepy either at home or outside.

After realizing that your relationship wasn’t so one-sided, well…it was easier to accept your new routine. Easier to allow yourself to indulge, easier to not feel guilty when Caleb was getting exactly what he seemed to want by looking after you so well.

Which led you to your predicament now.

“...You want me to come with you to a party?” You hold your phone up to your ear with your shoulder, chewing on a fruity twizzler as you circle a word in your book of word searches. It was sanrio themed and Caleb had snagged it for you on one of your little outings two weeks ago. The page you were working on was thirty-three out of sixty and was filled with various little chibis of cinnamoroll. 

“It won’t be that bad. Gideon’s cousin is throwing a bit of a housewarming thing, and he invited me to come. Last week you picked what we did, so technically it is my turn…” He trails off playfully, and you pout because he’s right. You had forced him to stay inside and ordered pizza—you refused to let him go back to his apartment until you had finished all five of the twilight movies. Payback, really, when he forced you to watch all of those boring ass war movies he liked so much.

You roughly blow out a sigh, sliding your pen into the book.

“Is it a party or a…party party?”

“A party party, so as much as I wouldn’t mind you wearing one of my hoodies again,” You flush at the pointedness to his tone, “You should make an effort to wear something a little nicer.”

“Caleb~!” You whine, throwing yourself back across your splayed out futon. The only thing he does is laugh at your expense, and as much as you want to be truly annoyed, you can’t. His voice is too warm and soothing in your ear for you to feel any true irritation.

“C’mon, it won’t be so bad. We’ll stay for an hour or so, and then we can head back to my apartment. You wanted to see it anyway since I moved.”

“I guess so…”

“Just a little bit of human interaction, and then I’m all yours. Doesn’t that sound like a good deal?” His voice is softer now, coaxing almost. Like you’re some little kid that needs to be convinced to eat their veggies. It shouldn’t make you flush so intensely. Nor should it make your mind go fuzzy and cotton-filled, but here you are. Zoning out a bit because of his tone.

“...Yes, it does.” You mumble, blinking to try and erase that sudden fog.

“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it.” A fainter voice echoes from his side of the phone and he leans away for a moment to answer. You glance at the clock. 3:47 p.m on a Wednesday. He’s in the middle of his part time shift at the auto shop near his college. ‘He must’ve just been invited if he’s calling me during work hours.’ You finish nibbling on the twizzler in your mouth while you wait, a bit of dread filling your gut as you think about meeting Caleb’s other friends.

You weren’t scared of them, per se. You were just a little—okay, you were a lot introverted. Going outside only seemed like a good time if you were either with Caleb or going on a simple walk. Talking with people has never been something you liked or needed in your life. Too many bad experiences with others—both their fault and yours, depending on the situation—so you mostly keep to yourself. And Caleb’s friends are from college or from the mechanic shop. Places where certain kinds of men reside, and while you won’t just baselessly accuse his friends of being people you won’t get along with, you shied away from interacting regardless. But now…now you didn’t have a choice in the matter. So that meant you had to make at least a decent impression on them, if only to save Caleb some peace of mind.

“Sorry about that, one of the guys had a question about the truck we’re working on.” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your pensive thoughts.

“No worries, you know I don’t mind.” He hums absent-mindedly, before shuffling noises can be heard through your phone speaker.

“What time’s the party?”

“This Thursday night. It officially starts at eight, but people’ll probably start showin’ up at seven-thirty.”

“Oh, alright. I get out at six, if you wanted I could meet you halfway?”

He scoffs. 

“I can just pick you up, it’s no big deal. I’ll just make sure to leave a few hours earlier.” You bite your lip, but you accept his decision. You’ve gotten better at that, you think. Following his lead more without questioning him so much.

“Your vacation starts this weekend, right?” You blink. What does that have to do with anything?

“Mhm?”

“Stay the week with me.”

Your eyes widen and you stare blankly out your window, just barely catching your phone as it slips from underneath your chin. You…you stay in his new apartment with him…for a whole week…? You don’t know whether or not you want to scream in delight or pass out in flustered embarrassment. Just thinking about being alone with him in his space for a whole uninterrupted week sends those familiar tingles down your belly to your cunt. You suck in a breath, cheeks feeling hot as your fingers tremble around your phone. Denial sits on the tip of your tongue because if you’re in close proximity for that long you know you won’t be able to stop yourself from doing something incredibly idiotic—

“Please? I miss you, and we already don’t see each other enough.” He doesn’t really beg, but that soft, cajoling tone comes back and it has you caving immediately. Because you’re still one clingy bitch and you do actually miss him like crazy whenever you aren’t near him.

You just hope that you can somehow find the strength to keep yourself together the entire week.

“The whole week, huh. Sure, why not?” You say softly, smiling when that gets you a slightly startled intake of breath. Did he really think you weren’t going to say yes?

“You’re carrying all my bags, by the way. All of them.” You state without hesitation, smile curling into a devious grin.

“...How many bags are you planning to bring?” He asks cautiously, and you only giggle in response.

“You little brat.” He sighs out, but there’s nothing reproachful in his tone. You giggle again before you stop, hearing another voice pipe up from Caleb’s side. You’re a little sad to see him go, but he is technically on work time.

“Sorry, I gotta—”

“No, no it’s okay. We’ll see each other tomorrow night, then.”

“Alright. I’ll see you soon, princess.” He murmurs, and you hastily answer him back before the line cuts off. You sigh, bringing the back of your palm to your cheek. You get flustered so easily around him, but you’ve grown to handle it. Somewhat. Kind of. More importantly…

“Do I even have something appropriate enough for a party party?” You wonder to yourself, getting up to shuffle over to your closet. You never needed fancy or ‘nice’ clothes since you were in school, so you highly doubt you have anything on hand that was nice enough. You know Caleb won’t be super picky on the definition of ‘nice’ but…you want to make a good impression.

Ten minutes later you run through your whole closet and you have nothing to really show for it. You found a few hoodies that you’re definitely packing, as well as a couple pairs of fuzzy sweatpants you thought you lost. But nothing in the realm of ‘nice’ that this party required. You sighed a little to yourself, but picked out a week’s worth of clothes and shoved them into a duffel you had stored in the back of your closet. You’d pack the rest of your toiletries and other accessories you needed later. For now, though, you had to make a quick trip down the street. You’re lucky that there’s a relatively nice clothing shop within walking distance.

‘The fucking things I do for that man.’ You smile as you shrug on your jacket and slip on your crocs.

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

The soft ‘thump’ of your boots hits the ground rhythmically. You’re pacing a little, trying to get used to the added height the boots give you. While not your first time wearing boots like these, it is your first time wearing them with a skirt. It’s a strangely nice feeling, the gentle tickle of the soft fabric against your thighs, and you can admit you’re kind of obsessed with it. You make one last turn in your boots, almost tripping over a stray snag in your rug before you hastily right yourself.

Stopping in front of the floor length mirror propped against your bathroom door, you give yourself one last once over.

Your long hair flows down your back and chest, the thin braids you did topped off with shimmery white bows, lines of silver chains scattered throughout. Your makeup is simple—black puppy liner, highlighter brushed along your cheekbones and nose, and a thin layer of gloss that makes your lips twinkle a subtle black underneath your lights. Around your neck lies a thick, black choker with a layer of silver chains hooked to it. The real star of the show is your outfit, however. The one that you spent a decent chunk of money getting but one that you’re infinitely proud of.

The black bralette top you’re wearing is thin and stretchy; lined with lace and with a cute skull and bones decal. The top is the slightest bit on the small side, and combined with the sown in padded cups you not only don’t have to wear a bra, but your tits look fucking fantastic. The black skirt you’re wearing has ribbons lining the top like a corset, and cinches your waist in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you’re suffocating while giving you a nice shape. You paired it with wide-holed fishnet stockings and a pair of calf high, chunky black boots. You adjust the stockings a little, pulling them over the skirt up until they reach high unto your waist. You turn this way and that, cocking your head to the side to review your fit just one more time before Caleb appears. You’re mostly satisfied with it. 

The only thing that you would say kind of ruins it for you, though, would have to be…

‘Maybe I should’ve done the oversized look instead.’ Your mood plummets a little when you notice the layer of pudge slightly poke out from the sides of your skirt, as well as your slightly sagging arms. You cross your arms with an aggravated sigh, looking away from the mirror to ignore the imperfections you can see. You were so satisfied before…where did all that confidence go? ‘Wherever the hell my common sense went, that’s for sure.’ You think to yourself with a snarky tone, before you blow out a deep breath. You still have some time, maybe you could go and grab one of the graphic tees you have?

A knock at your door stops you, and you realize you’ve got no more time left. You sigh, lightly patting your cheeks before making your way to the door. You’re more than a little nervous—you feel a little sick, actually, but you’re trying not to think about that. With no time left, all you can do is grin and bear it.

One last breath and you swing the door open.

Your face gets hot when you realize how handsome Caleb looks—black jeans with rips in them and a grey button up hidden beneath an open dark blazer, a few buttons undone to reveal the sharp jut of his collarbones and the silver chain hanging loose—but what really has you flustered is the look on his face when he realizes what you’re wearing. It’s quiet between you two for a long beat as his gaze slowly travels your body from head to toe, something dark and hot swirling in his eyes. You lightly bite the inside of your lip, fingers gripping onto the edge of your door as you watch the rigid line of his body. It didn’t even look like he was breathing, and feeling the tension grow stronger the longer the quiet persists, you hastily try and break the ice.

“C-come in already, silly. Don’t just stand outside, I told you that you’d be helping me with my bags!” You swiftly turn away from Caleb at the door, blush spreading so fast that you’re dizzy from the rush. The look on his face…you shiver just thinking about it. That wasn’t the kind of look you give your best friend—not even close. You try not to let that stop you from gathering your purse and keys, though, heading towards your futon to pick them up. You bend over slightly, stretching out your arm to snag them from the other half of your bedding.

Except you’re a bit too far from the straps of your bag—a cute little thing in the shape of ghostface that you found in that store yesterday that just spoke to you. You huff, pretending like you don’t feel the intense stare burning holes into your back. You do in fact realize the position you’re in; you in your short and flowy skirt, half bent over your layed out futon, the entirety of your lower half nearly exposed. You feel a slight brush of cool air against the backs of your thighs, and feeling a little bold, you slide a knee up onto the futon. The fabric of the skirt slips higher and you snatch the straps of your bag quickly, blushing even hotter when you realize that you just most likely flashed Caleb behind you.

You aren’t that embarrassed about it, oddly enough. The look in his eyes when he saw you…it wasn’t one you’ve ever seen directed towards yourself before. But you can’t say that you’re upset by it, honestly it was a bit of a confidence booster. You…you don’t know the deeper meanings behind the heat in his gaze; you don’t know if it’s just surface level lust or if he thinks of you the way you think of him…but you are going to enjoy it for as long as you can.

Swallowing thickly, you slip the bag over your shoulder to rest across your chest, turning around with a bright smile.

“Ready!”

~~~~~

Caleb might have…miscalculated a bit.

The party was originally a way for him to segue into asking you to come over. He figured you’d give in easily enough and they’d spend a little time chatting in the corner before he’d whisk you back to his place. While he wasn’t certain what you’d be wearing, he also didn’t think it’d be too wild. That broken heart sweater and a pair of your black ripped jeans maybe. Or those new black cargos and the cropped graphic t-shirt of godzilla you adore so much. Something easy, something comfortable. You were being forced into a social situation you weren’t familiar with, so it’d only make sense.

Except you love proving him wrong when he least expects it.

He watches as your skirt swishes around the backs of your thighs, eyes trailing up the slope of your spine as you two walk towards his car. Thankfully, despite your earlier teasing threat, you only had a duffle bag and a book bag filled with your toiletries and other smaller items you wanted to bring—not that he was really worried about anything being too heavy for him to carry. Even if it was, he’d be way too distracted looking at you to feel any real annoyance.

Your hips sway in an unconscious, but sensual rhythm as you walk in front of him, your wild, dark curls bouncing softly, the thin chains in your hair tinkling ever so softly as they clink against one another. His fingers twitch with the sudden urge to tug at a stray braid swaying from the force of your movements, but he dutifully keeps ahold of your bags. He’s determined to keep his distance. If he really gets his hands on you, he wouldn’t be able to let you go long enough for them to leave. It’s difficult, however, when you keep shooting him these nervous little glances from underneath your eyelashes; almost as if you’re expecting him to do something. As if you want him to do something.

‘Not that I can exactly blame her for that. I wasn’t very subtle.’ He muses to himself. When he first saw how you looked, he was pretty sure he blacked out for a moment. He’d never seen you dressed so…boldly before. So much of your skin was on display, so much of your figure bared to his eyes. It took everything in him to not jump on you, but now wasn’t the time. He could have a little patience. It’d make when he finally takes you apart that much sweeter.

“You cold?” He asks after you rub your arms for the nth time coming down from your apartment. You purse your lips, the light from a nearby streetlight catching the enticing shine of your gloss. He pointedly looks into your eyes, as if that will stop him from imagining what your lips would look like wrapped around his fingers.

“I thought it’d be a little warmer out ‘cuz it’s still summer…” Caleb chuckles, fishing inside of his pocket for the keys to his car. You frown at him, lightly smacking his arm when he laughs again.

“Relax, princess. I’ve got a jacket in my car you can use.” He carefully gauges your expression, smirking a little when a glassy sheen covers your eyes. He expects it to quickly disappear—like it always does whenever he throws that pet name out—but it stays. The frown at your lips slacken into something close to a pout, your cheeks gaining a light dusting of pink that spreads to the tips of your ears peeking out from the fall of your hair. You go quiet again, but he leaves you to your thoughts, something forming in his head as he pops open the trunk.

He tosses your bags inside, slamming the back closed a moment later. When he looks up again, you’re poised by the passenger door, shivering slightly as you stare at your reflection in the window. That soft look still lingers in your eyes, and the idea forming inside of his mind solidifies. Caleb calls out to you, and you take a moment to blink before turning your head to face him. He rounds the trunk to the back door of the car, yanking it open and grabbing the jacket left on the back seat. 

“Here.” He holds the black bomber jacket open, watching closely as you shuffle over and turn around. He slides it around you, using the hands on your shoulders to flip you back around once you slip your arms through the sleeves. The thing practically drowns your figure, stopping just below where the skirt ends. You look good in his clothes, good enough that he's sorely tempted to just take you home instead of to the party. He has a slightly different plan—one that he thinks will work out just fine.

Looking into your eyes again, and seeing that hazy almost dreamy look, he gently tucks his fist underneath your chin. Using his other hand he guides you to lean against his car. Slowly, he tilts your chin up, lightly rubbing the pad of his thumb underneath the swell of your bottom lip, resting his fist above your head.

It has the effect he assumes it would.

Your breath hitches, that cooling blush of yours returning rapidly, coloring your cheeks and nose a splotchy pink. You…melt into the touch on your chin, wide eyes somehow growing bigger as you look up at him. Your hands reach for the edges of his blazer, fingers curling around the thicker fabric. He smiles, stepping in closer so that he can really tower over you, flattening his palm against the cool metal of his car. You stop breathing when he does and he lightly shakes your chin.

“Where are your manners at, princess? What do you say when someone gives you something?” He lowers the pitch of his voice a bit, softening his tone into something sweet yet chiding. You shiver, pupils expanding until a thin ring of your iris is left. Caleb allows the smile he wears to turn the slightest bit mean, relishing when that gets him a high pitched whine. 

“C’mon, you know the words.” He raises a brow and gives your jaw another shake. You inhale a trembling breath, blinking slowly before you open your mouth.

“...Thank you, Caleb.” He smiles at the sound of your lovely voice whispering out his name. He would bottle that noise, if he could. Drink it down for the rest of his life and never get tired of it. 

“Good girl. You’re welcome to keep that jacket, too. Don’t even have to steal it from me like you do my other stuff.” You only stare at him, lips parted and breaths coming in fast pants. He laughs, slightly mocking as he drags his knuckles up your cheek and down the side of your throat. He allows the contact to last for a few beats, taking in the obvious pleasure on your face, the way your legs shake, how you have to lean against the car to even stay upright. He hasn’t even done anything to you yet and you’re already like this. With one last gentle tap to your cheek, he finally leans back.

“Let’s go. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be stuck in rush hour traffic.”

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You’re floating.

Not literally, but you feel as if you’re walking on air. Not even your natural social anxiety is affecting you now, thick into the crowd of Greyson’s family and friends. Caleb had mentioned a housewarming party, but that’s as far as you know. As far as you care to know, sitting primly on Caleb’s lap as he talks with one of his mechanic buddies—a man whose name you immediately forget once you hear it. The conversation doesn’t last long, maybe ten minutes or so, before the other man is drawn off deeper into the crowd in search of something else to drink.

Once the other leaves, Caleb leans his head against yours and looks down at your phone. You're playing a puzzle app, and he quietly watches you play a game of sudoku, occasionally jumping in when you get a little stumped. His hand curls around your waist, absently rubbing one of your skirt’s ribbons in between his fingertips. The other holds onto a red solo cup—the contents you aren’t a hundred percent certain on. He was nice enough to let you take a sip, but you weren’t a fan of the artificially fruity flavor, nor did you like the kind of alcohol hidden underneath it. Wine is more your speed, and after making a face once, Caleb merely laughed and kept the cup to himself.

You aren’t entirely sure how you ended up sitting on him like this, but you can’t say you mind. It’s nice being cradled close; your back resting in the curve of Caleb’s arm, your legs thrown over his thighs and your head resting on his shoulder. You’re warm—courtesy of Caleb’s jacket hanging off your shoulders—and comfortable. Aside from a few friendly ‘hellos’ by the various friends and acquaintances that stop by your little corner of the living room, no one’s really bothered you and Caleb.

As nice as it is, though, there’s still a worry that’s niggling at the back of your mind. A question of…why. Why did Caleb pull you onto his lap as soon as you two walked in? Why did he touch you like that earlier? Why has he been so intense lately? All of the questions you have float through your mind and it slowly begins to push back that pleasant fog you’ve had since you first walked out of your apartment.

You aren’t stupid. You know that there’s a tension between you two. The kind of tension that leads down a road that you both won’t be able to turn back from, but it’s the why of that tension that’s eating you up inside. Before a few hours ago, you wouldn’t have thought that Caleb was interested in you. But that look combined with his behavior…it’s clear that at the very least he’s attracted to you. But does he want you the way you want him—does he love you the way you love him? You don’t know, and that, you think, is what scares you most.

The fingers on your waist lightly tug at the ribbons in your skirt and you look up at him in question.

“How we feelin’?” 

“M’fine. Comfy.” You pause, biting the inside of your lip to avoid getting gloss on your teeth. Caleb immediately catches your hesitation.

“What else?” 

“...I’m a little…confused, too.” He doesn’t seem shocked at all, merely waiting with a warm expectant look on his face for you to continue. You open and close your mouth, stopping and starting until you gather the courage to finally ask what’s been on your mind.

“What am I to you?” Your question takes him off guard a bit, his eyes widening in surprise. He looks away for a moment, the shock turning into something deeply thoughtful. His gaze swings back to yours after a few long seconds of silence, a burning intensity lightning up the dusky-purple hues of his iris.

“What am I, to you.”

“Caleb, I’m serious.” You frown, feeling a little hurt that he seems to be making fun, but he just shakes his head.

“So am I. What, or more like, who do you see me as, [✦].” The sound of your name startles you, and you begin to understand that he’s deadly serious. 

“Who..?” You trail off, breath hitching when Caleb’s hand cups your cheek. He says nothing more, brushing the pad of his thumb underneath your eye as he waits. Your hand grips your phone tightly, a nervous tremble wobbling your bottom lip. Is he asking…does he want you to speak your feelings? You blink rapidly, feeling the familiar itch at the corner of your eyes.

You’re scared. You’re fucking terrified, and if Caleb wasn’t holding you like this, you think you’d run away immediately. ‘But I’ve already chosen to stop hiding from him. I promised myself that.’ You inhale, closing your eyes briefly before opening them again, meeting Caleb’s stare resolutely. You can do this—you can explain to him how you really feel.

He’s asking you to, and how could you bear to deny him like this?

“You’re my best friend,” You reach out and lay your hand on the one holding your face. “You’re the most important person in my life. You drive me fucking crazy all the time with your relentess care. I’m basically spoiled because of you, y’know? Can’t even do anything by myself anymore, I need you around me all the time if I want to have any fun. You…you’ve got to know that you’re my entire world at this point, right? You’ve got to know that I—” You choke on the words, tears pooling in your eyes as your force the phrase your heart has been screaming for so long.

“I love you. I love you so much that it literally makes me fucking stupid.” You throw out with a watery laugh, blinking rapidly to try and salvage your makeup.

With every word spilling from your lips, Caleb’s eyes grow brighter and brighter; the smile playing at his mouth wide and baring the straight whites of his teeth. He’s absolutely gorgeous under the dim lighting of the living room you’re in, and the sight takes your breath away. He’s positively beaming with how brightly he shines, and it takes everything in you not to shake apart when he knocks his forehead against yours and that utter joy gets even closer.

“Then you know exactly how I feel about you.” He whispers, his warm breath puffing against your lips. You can barely believe your ears—it feels like a dream come true. For you to be held in his lap, close enough to see the little indigo flecks in his eyes, to count each individual lash on his eyelids, to see the wonder and love and lust in his eyes as he stares at you deeply.

“You–you do?” You know you sound disbelieving, but this moment truly doesn’t feel real to you. 

“That’s so hard to believe, to you? That I’d return your feelings?” 

You struggle to answer, struggle to do anything when the hand on your waist tightens, the one cupping your cheek sliding around to thread through the hairs at the nape of your neck. Caleb doesn’t look like he’s expecting an answer, though, his eyes dropping to focus on your parted lips. You flush at the heat in his gaze, swallowing back a groan when his fingers slip higher up your waist, catching on the fishnets and meeting your bare skin.

“I could show you, you know. If you give me a chance.” He murmurs, lightly dragging his nails against your skin. Goosebumps raise along your arms at the thought of him proving his love for you. You…you want that. You want that so much. Something must show on your face because Caleb chuckles, dragging his nose up to your temple to meet your hairline. You feel the soft warmth of his lips against your forehead, an action that makes you shiver.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” You nod, unable to speak as the anticipation rushes through your veins, the spreading warmth of your belly down to the throbbing heat of your cunt.

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You barely make it through his apartment door before he pounces on you.

His hands grip your face as he crowds you against the door, lips crashing into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. You moan into his mouth, your arms lacing around his neck. You scratch your nails lightly through his hair and he groans deeply into your mouth. The sound causes your cunt to pulse and you feel yourself leak against the cotton of your panties.

His palms slide down your neck and then down your sides before they travel around to grip your ass. Within the next moment, you're lifted into his arms, and you scramble to throw your legs around his waist as he blindly moves you toward his bed. You trail kisses down his chin to his throat, lightly sucking on the thin skin there. God, it feels like a fantasy to be here in his arms, getting the privilege to mark him up like this.

“Fuck.” He grunts when your teeth dig sharply into the side of his neck, the hands on your ass squeezing roughly before tossing you onto his bed. You’re panting harshly as your eyes travel up his own heaving chest. The lights in his bedroom are dim, and they cast exaggerated shadows against his tall form. As dark as the room is, though, it does nothing to hide the raw desire in his eyes as he begins to unbutton his shirt. Every inch of bare skin revealed makes you even wetter, and you squeeze your thighs together when he lets the shirt drape open. You shiver, biting your lip as Caleb drops to his knees on the bed, the buckle of his belt jingling as he unloops it from his jeans.

You swiftly follow when you realize you’ve just been staring, tossing off your top to reveal your bare tits to the cool room. Hands shaky from adrenaline and the slight chill, you reach for your skirt next, but stop when you’re suddenly yanked forward by your ankle. Gasping, you fall to your back and are pulled closer to Caleb. He easily positions you partly over his lap, legs spread and half folded over. Your entire body feels hot from that easy display of strength, and you whimper when he leans down to mouth against the side of your neck.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” 

His first sentence ever since you left the party startles you, but you don’t have time to speak when his teeth dig into your skin. All you can do is gasp out, fingers latching onto his shoulders as he licks over the mark before doing the same to another patch of skin.

“How long I’ve wanted to have you under me, spread out and fucking shaking apart.” Your back arches when one of his hands cup your tit, rolling a nipple between his fingers while the other hand slides down to unzip the back of your skirt.

“You looked so pretty tonight, you know that? Almost didn’t let you leave ‘cuz you were just too tempting lookin’ like that.” Those words send a bolt of heat through you, and you want to move against him, but you can’t, bent in half and held down by the bulk of his body.

“S’because of me, yeah? Got all dolled up cause you were going out with me?” You nod, helpless to do anything else when he slowly grinds his clothed cock against you. You can feel the hard ridge even through the layer of his jeans and your skirt, and you moan when you realize how fucking big he is.

“Wanted…wanted you to think I was pretty.” You gasp when the hand on your tit pinches your nipple, shaking when his other hand finishes unzipping your skirt.

“I always think you’re gorgeous, princess. But I don’t mind you dressing up for me. Can get you all the pretty little skirts and tops you want if you model ‘em for me. Only for me.” He presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat before separating himself slightly, the corner of his mouth ticking up when you chase him. But he easily pushes you back down, closing your legs and yanking off the skirt like it personally offended him. He doesn’t even bother taking off your fishnets or your lacy panties after he spreads your legs around his waist, merely pushing them aside enough so he can stick two fingers inside of your cunt.

“F-fuck…Caleb!” You cry out, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you toss your head back. His words combined with the stretch of his fingers makes you feel as if you’re losing your mind. You’ve never had sex before—the only experience you’ve had were the different toys and dildos you have stashed away in your apartment. Other boys never caught your attention, and you were always able to satisfy yourself just fine on your own so you didn’t think you needed the touch of another. But having Caleb’s fingers inside of you now, pistoning in and out was electrifying and you know that it was going to ruin you when you finally feel him inside of you.

The thought has you suddenly desperate for it, and you weakly paw at the bulge in his jeans. He bucks into your hand with a low groan, the pace he sets with his fingers faltering once you get a semi-decent hold on his cock. He returns to his pace soon after stopping though, using his left thumb to rub against your clit as he slides the fingers of his right hand in all the way and curls them. You jolt at the intense feeling, desperation getting stronger as that coil in your belly tightens further and further.

“Give it to me, please, want it so bad, gimmie it now—” You whine, your other hand tugging at the loose end of his shirt while the hand on his bulge clumsily rubs up and down his dick. You blink the half-formed tears out of your eyes, pleading with your face as you desperately try and get him to listen to you. He spits out something too low for you to hear above the squelching noises of your sopping wet cunt, but you soon forget about that when his fingers hit that one spot inside of you just right.

You jolt hard, legs wildly jerking as a white-hot bolt of heat sizzles its way up your spine. The cry that falls from your lips sounds more like a wounded animal, but Caleb’s eyes are dark with satisfaction. He presses that spot inside of you again, rubbing insistently while he does the same to your clit. You can literally feel your brain melt out of your ears from the dual sensations, hips instinctively jerking up to meet his fingers. You’re on the precipice, riding the edge of that peak but you still aren’t quite there yet and it makes even more tears fall from your half lidded eyes out of frustration.

“You close?” But Caleb’s voice was more statement than question, eyes piercing as he watches you start to break apart underneath his hands. You nod anyway, crying out in protest when he slips his finger out. Only to squeal when he lifts you so that you're balancing on your shoulders, your thighs resting around his neck while he buries his face into your cunt.

You can’t even form words when his tongue traces over your clit, his hands placed on the soft flesh of your thighs, gripping tight enough to bruise. He eats you out without any foreplay, going from sucking on your clit to dipping his tongue inside of your hole, trailing nipping kisses to your inner thighs before he’s right back to licking into your cunt while nosing at your clit. It’s so much stimulation—too much stimulation for you as tears drip down your flushed cheeks. You can feel it coming, your orgasm. It’s in the way you clench on his tongue, thighs wrapped so tightly around his neck that you have to be suffocating him. But, if anything, the fervor he eats you out seems to grow, trialing one of his hands from your thigh to lightly trace over your hole. He slips two fingers back inside again, and using his tongue, fucks your dripping slick back into you. Your orgasm crashes into you when he hits that spot again, eyes rolling into the back of your head as white sparks flash across your vision. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, legs spasming around his neck as you finally come around his fingers.

“Mhm, fuck, that’s it. C’mon, let me have it all, princess.” Caleb’s words ride out on a slight laugh, the vibration of his hoarse voice making your cunt clench around his still moving fingers. The intensity of your orgasm flees, but he’s still thrusting in and out of you. Your voice is shrill when he rubs your clit hard, purposely aiming for that little spot inside of you as oversensitivity wracks through your frame.

“C-C-Caleb—!” You can barely get anything past your crying mouth, hands reaching out to tangle in his hair as he continues to overstimulate you. You somehow get even wetter, the sounds he’s causing between your spread legs are absolutely filthy as they echo out into the dark room.

“You’ve got another for me, don’t you. You wanna be my good girl, yeah? Give me another and I’ll give you what you want.” He licks another stripe from your hole to your clit, fingers rubbing that spot inside of you, pulling back to widen, before thrusting back inside and repeating. Through the haze filling your mind, you can hear the order he gives you. And of course, because you are a good girl for him—his good girl who listens to everything he says—you give him exactly what he wants.

You come for the second time, squeezing so tightly around his fingers that he can’t even move them inside of you anymore when you do. Your back arches off the bed at an insane curve, ragged moans and cries erupting from your hoarse throat before you fall limply back to the bed, hands falling to rest at your sides. ‘Did I…just come on command..?’ You feel tired and wrung out, but that burn of arousal doesn’t fade. Even when the feeling on your clit and in your cunt make you squeal from oversensitivity, you’re still soaking wet.

“Did so well for me, princess. So fucking beautiful when you come. You’ll look even prettier when you’re spread out on my cock–mh, fuck.” Caleb groans, slowly retracting his fingers, watching raptly as your cunt gushes out more slick. You whine out something unintelligible, your entire body shivering from the aftershocks of two orgasms in a row. But still, you dutifully let yourself be manhandled, half lidded eyes lazily tracking Caleb as he bends you in half again. Your eyes lock onto the smears of your cum and slick across his mouth and cheeks, something inside of you strangely warm at the sight of him marked by you.

Caleb’s muttering all sorts of filth about you under his breath as your eyes trail down his chin to his jaw, that satisfaction burning brighter when you notice the hickeys you gave him darken. Your attention is captivated by him as he slips his jeans and briefs down just low enough to pull out his cock. You can see the tip of it from how you’re angled, and the sight causes your cunt to clench and unclench at the thought of finally taking it.

“Fuck, look at you. Prettiest fuckin’ pussy and for my eyes only, yeah? No one else has seen you like this, and no one else will, cuz your little cunt is mine, right? Say it.” 

“M-my pussy, s’yours, Caleb. It’s all yours.” You whimper out. Caleb slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, doing it again when you wheeze out a moan. You wiggle your hips as much as you can in your position, wordlessly begging for him to finally fuck into you. He smiles at your desperation, but it’s a far cry from those sweet, gentle smiles he usually gives you. The slant of his smile is mean, his eyebrows rounded out into a condescending expression that makes you gush.

“Need this dick, yeah? Need me to empty that little head of yours—to make that itch go away.” He slaps the tip of his cock against your clit again before trailing it lower, lightly pushing into your hole before slipping it out. He does that a few more times, all with that mean little smile on his face as he watches your desperation turn into more frustrated tears.

“Caleb!” You cry out, tears slipping down the sides of your cheeks. He tsks, leaning over you until the tip of his nose brushes your temple.

“What did I tell you earlier about using your manners?” 

You shiver at the warning in his tone, mouth falling open when he trails gentle kisses down the side of your face until he reaches your lips. This close, you can taste yourself covering the lower half of his face, see the sweat that’s beading on his forehead and wetting his hairline, the wideness of his pupils as they eclipse the natural purple of his iris, the flush to his cheeks as he poises himself over you. You do what you always do in front of Caleb when he asks you for something.

You cave in.

“Please, please, please Caleb fuck me. Need you so bad, need you to make me stupid, please, want you—” You choke as he pushes in, eyes rolling back as the stretch of his overwhelms all of your senses. He’s so big that it feels like an eternity before he bottoms out. And when he does, you can feel the tip bump into something smooth and hard deep inside you. You jerk when he brushes that place, hiccuping when he shifts and hits that point again. Something…different is building up inside you, something that doesn’t quite feel like a regular orgasm. But you don’t have the breath to voice that weirdness out loud, not when you’re stuck staring up at Caleb’s slack, wet mouth as he looms above you.

“Thaaat’s fucking it, fuck—” He cuts himself off with a low moan, large hands pressing down on your thighs as he pulls out a little, then pushes back in. You realize that you’re drooling when Caleb leans down to lick it away from the corner of your mouth, the silver chain bumping against your skin and causing goosebumps to raise along your skin. You chase after his mouth with a little whine—you can taste yourself on him and it makes you clench down on his cock. He shivers, groaning before meeting you for a proper kiss, all the while keeping up his slow and deep thrusts. He puts more weight on your thighs as he kisses you deeper, tongue tangling with yours as you shakily reach up to throw your arms over his shoulders.

His cock hits even deeper than before, and you fall back with a drawn out moan, eyes unseeing as he does it again. It’s hard for you to register anything else when all you can focus on is the feel of his dick hitting that wall over and over and over again. Your mouth stays wide open as he slowly but harshly pounds into you, hiccuping breaths exiting you every time he bottoms out. You feel like you’re dying—the heat damn near suffocating you as it spreads like wildfire from your lower belly throughout the rest of your body. It’s too much too soon but you can’t help but love it—love how Caleb feels inside you, love how wild he looks above you, eyes half lidded and mouth parted from the slew of filth he’s spitting at you.

“So fucking tight, princess. Feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He groans out, turning his head to lay biting kisses against one of your calves. Your mouth only drops open wider, hiccuping again when he slides his other hand over to play with your clit. It takes one, two, three rubs before you’re clenching down again. White noise fills the space between your ears as you come for the third time on his cock, except you feel something else come out of you.

You don’t even realize that you’re squirting all over him, the wetness slipping down your thighs and his dick to wet the sheets below. You don’t realize much of anything past that point. Not the fact that Caleb jerks his hips forward as he finally came. Not the fact that he bit down hard on your calf as he did so. Not the fact that his other hand kept rubbing your clit, causing even more liquid to squirt out of you. 

Nothing else mattered in your mind at that moment. You were floating, weightless and thoughtless in a fog so dense that you couldn’t see a thing. It was freeing. It was so, so fucking peaceful that you almost didn’t want to leave. But there was someone coaxing you back with sweet kisses and large, warm hands. So you slowly but surely woke from that fog, blinking your puffy eyes open to see Caleb staring down at you in slight concern.

“Back with me, princess.” You nod, but it feels like your head weighs about a hundred pounds when you do. 

“Mhm.” You hum when it’s clear that he’s waiting for a verbal answer. The smile you get is worth the slight discomfort of using your voice, though.

“Here, drink some of this water and we can go to sleep.” You blink again as he helps you sit up, holding onto a glass of lukewarm water with a purple bendy straw. You drink as much water as you can, and are slightly surprised when you end up finishing the whole glass. Caleb laughs a little at your bewilderment, but soon he’s bundling you up in his arms.

You two lay back down and get comfortable on clean sheets—something you don’t think too much of at the moment. You lean into Caleb’s heat as he spoons you from behind, sighing when he slides one arm underneath your head. That arm locks around your neck in a chokehold, while his other limb securely wraps around your waist, hand resting low on your stomach.

“Goodnight, princess.”

“G’night.” You whisper, pressing one last sleepy kiss against the bicep against your cheek before you allow darkness to encroach on your vision.

[unsteddie]

Steve and Eddie are on again off again for years after the events of st4. It's never too serious, they have basically opposite schedules. Eddie tends bar and plays with his band, existing mostly at night. Steve gets a degree and moves onto being a school counselor, late nights are the bane of his existence. It's easier when they live together, but over the years they've moved in and out of the little place they share with Robin.

Eddie's moved cities a few times, tried living with the band, has been on and off tour. Steve moved back home when his parents divorced for about a year to help his mom out, moved in and usually quickly out with partners. He volunteered a few summers to live in low income rural areas and help with the schools summer programs.

They just never quite get the timing right to try anything other than casual. It's honestly tearing Steve apart, it's been the source of every break up he's had since meeting the man. Eddie however seems entirely unbothered.

Steve knows for a fact he's Eddie's favorite person. Even when Eddie is "seeing" someone else, Eddie's relationships are never serious, he still prefers to spend his time with Steve. He just doesn't get why Eddie doesn't want something real, but he doesn't push, doesn't wanna lose what he has

It's a full decade of this nonsense before the song Quit Playing Games With My Heart by The Backstreet Boys comes out. Steve doesn't really care much about the band, he likes boy band music well enough. It's fun and catchy and danceable. But he's picking Eddie up from the airport, back from a three month stint in LA recording and promoting with the band. And the air is tense as the lyrics spill out of the radio, and it makes Steve feel heavy.

The song ends but he's still pretty misty, it's only ten minutes back to the apartment. He can hold it back, and when they're home he'll just excuse himself and cry quietly on his bed. He's done it plenty of times before, this is no different, he's got this, he's good.

"Stevie?" Eddie asks softly, and his his voice sounds strained, like something's got him worked up too.

Steve can't respond, not with his voice, so he just sort of nods, doesn't look at Eddie, but can feel the weight of Eddie's stare.

"What is it about me that you don't wanna stick around for?" He asks quietly, but there's a solid quality to his tone, like this is a question he's resolved to ask many times, and finally got his nerve up.

Steve doesn't respond for a long time, as pieces slowly move into place. Eddie has always seemed so unaffected, even congratulating Steve when things got serious with someone else. But if he looked closely at Eddie's reactions now, in retrospect, with the way he asked his quiet question, it clicks.

Eddie never liked any of Steve's partners, always gave Steve an out of he needed it, was always a little petty about Steve's ex's after a breakup. The thought that maybe, for all these years, a decade now, they'd been wasting their time keep things casual was just...well it was fucking hilarious. Terrible and heartbreaking, sure. But it kick started ridiculous sounding giggles.

Giggles quickly snowballed into full hysterical laughter. He glanced at Eddie who looked hurt, which was absurd. Steve's laughter became unhinged, and he had to pull off the road. Eddie didn't look hurt anymore when he looked back, he looked furious, and he was wiping his cheeks. Steve hadn't seen tears, but the idea that Eddie was crying over him did nothing to quell the laughter.

The moment the car stopped Eddie threw the door open, and climbed out. Grabbing his duffle from the back seat. He managed to stomp a good distance away before Steve could get himself together enough to chase after him. He was still giggling when he caught up enough to grab the strap of Eddie's bag. He pulled it back hard enough to knock Eddie off balance, and had to reach out to steady him.

"Eddie please," he paused to laugh and catch his breath as Eddie struggled to pull out of his grip. "Please, baby, give me a minute."

Eddie froze at that. They didn't use pet names like that. Nothing so relationship-y. It was enough to make Eddie wait for him. Steve didn't let go though, terrified Eddie might run off without a proper explanation.

He didn't know how to explain it, the years of longing, the way he'd wanted to ask the same question so many times, how he ached for him. He certainly didn't know how to explain his reaction.

"I don't know why it made me laugh like that." He started once he had his breathing under control. "Some stupid pop song-" and he was laughing again because this was stupid. He threw his hands up in frustration, immediately grabbing onto Eddie again when his hands came back down.

"some stupid pop song had me on the brink of tears, because my stupid, broken heart-" more laughter, and Steve was getting really tired of this. "Aches for you, when you've, I guess-" laughter, "been feeling the same way. God Eddie how stupid are we?"

And with that the giggles were gone, his insides had gone suddenly still, and he felt the loss of the time they could have had.

"how long?" Eddie asked, quiet again, he was never this quite. When Steve looked at him now his face was hard to read, tears still brimming in his eyes, but the anger and hurt were gone.

"since the boat house probably, at least since the hospital, for sure. When you woke up and you were cuffed to the bed. The first thing you said was some joke about being flattered they thought you were that dangerous. I knew for sure then, but I think it started in the boat house." Steve flushed, his face hot and pink.

"God, no, that's ..we can't have been feeling the same way so long. Stevie, what have we been doing?" Tears were falling, both men crying on the side of the road, and Eddie was holding onto Steve now too.

"Didn't think you'd want me for real. Didn't think anyone-" Steve coughed around the lump in his throat. "Tried to move on, so many times. Never could, it always came back to you."

And Eddie was suddenly in his arms, weeping, getting tight words out between sobs. "Never. Anything. Compare. No one. Even close. Just you. My Stevie."

"Didn't catch all that sweetheart. You'll have to tell me the rest later." Steve whispered into his ear, and Eddie melted in his arms, nodding emphatically into Steve's shoulder.

The time they waisted sat heavy on Steve's shoulders, but he had Eddie now. Eventually they would joke about it, about pining after each other for a decade before getting thier shit together, but it was gonna hurt for a while still.

[midnightfict]

What History?

— 𓆩𓆪 —

𓆩 Lee Byung-Hun x F!reader 𓆪

Summary — Squid Game fans have been shipping two actors not knowing they have a history together.

A/N — aaaa, writer’s block is killing me. but the reqs i've been getting is starting to help. i promise i’m currently drafting for the other reqs.

request post

— 𓆩𓆪 —

The room was brightly lit, cameras positioned at every angle, and a familiar nervousness settled in the pit of your stomach. You weren’t new to interviews, but something about these promotional videos always made you a little jittery. Maybe it was the anticipation of how fans would react, or maybe it was the fact that sitting next to you was none other than Lee Byung-hun—your former high school boyfriend and now your co-star in Squid Game Season 2.

The two of you walked into the room together, followed by director Hwang Dong-hyuk, who greeted the crew with a casual nod.

“Alright,” a staff member announced. “We’re shooting two videos today. The first segment is watching fan edits, and the second is reading fan letters. Just react naturally, have fun, and remember—no breaking into hysterics.”

Byung-hun chuckled beside you. “That sounds like a challenge.”

You smirked. “You sound scared.”

“I might as well be. Have you seen those AI edits of me and Lee Jung-jae?”

The staff gestured for silence, signaling that the cameras were rolling. You introduced yourself to the camera, followed by Byung-hun and Dong-hyuk. The screen before you flickered to life, and the first video started playing.

The first edit was cinematic—a high-energy montage of Squid Game 2’s most intense moments. Gunfights, chase sequences, close-ups of steely gazes. It had everything. The booming orchestral soundtrack made every scene feel ten times more dramatic.

Byung-hun let out an impressed whistle. “Did we actually shoot something this cool?”

You nodded. “Because I don’t remember looking this badass.”

Dong-hyuk leaned forward, squinting. “Wait—when did you do that roll behind cover?”

You snorted. “That’s the one where I landed wrong and bruised my entire arm.”

Byung-hun grinned. “Ohhh, right. And you tried to play it off like you meant to do it.”

“I did mean to do it.”

Dong-hyuk shook his head. “That’s not what you said when you screamed in pain afterward.”

Byung-hun burst into laughter. Your light punch to his side silenced him, earning a dramatic yelp.

“Give respect to your elders!”

You gave the camera a look. “He’s so dramatic. We’re literally only one year apart.”

The next edit was a deep dive into In-ho’s past, set in black and white with emotional piano music. It contrasted his life as a police officer with his role as the Front Man, highlighting the tragedy of his choices.

Dong-hyuk hummed thoughtfully. “This fan basically made a better teaser than we did.”

Byung-hun nodded. “Can we hire them?”

You pointed at a particular shot. “This scene—this is when you had to retake your mask removal, what, twenty times?”

Byung-hun groaned. “Ugh. The mask kept getting caught on my hood. Every time I tried to look dramatic, I just looked stuck.”

Dong-hyuk chuckled. “We had to cut out three takes where you sighed right into the mask.”

Byung-hun held up his hands. “No need to expose me like that.”

Then came the brainrot edit. An animation of Squid Game characters dancing to some bizarre, upbeat song.

You had the biggest grin—too silly not to laugh. The video didn’t even make sense.

Dong-hyuk had his brows furrowed, an amused but not entirely entertained smile on his face.

Byung-hun, on the other hand, sat perfectly still, eyes locked on the screen. No one could tell what he was thinking.

When it ended, you all exchanged an awkward glance.

“I mean… I like it. It’s an interesting video,” you said, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes, still laughing.

Dong-hyuk fixed his glasses. “Is this what people see when they watch my show?”

Byung-hun crossed his arms. “They didn’t do me justice. Why is the Front Man not included in this video?”

The staff smirked. “Don’t worry, there’s a Front Man edit in the next one.”

The next video was different. The music was softer, the pacing slower. It highlighted your character’s interactions with In-ho—subtle glances, moments of hesitation, scenes where your characters moved in sync. It wasn’t obvious in the actual show, but with the way the editor framed it…

It almost looked like something was going on.

Byung-hun blinked. “What’s this?”

Dong-hyuk raised an eyebrow. “They created scenes that aren’t even in the series.”

You squinted. “Are we too old to understand what this is?”

It was a ship edit.

Silence.

Then, Byung-hun let out a slow, amused chuckle. “Well. That was unexpected.”

Dong-hyuk crossed his arms. “You two do have really natural chemistry.”

You cleared your throat. “I mean, our characters have history, so—”

Byung-hun nodded. “Right, right. Former police officers.”

Dong-hyuk hummed. “Well, I had another love interest in mind for In-ho, but thinking about it… your characters being shipped makes sense. Maybe I should make it canon in Season 3.”

Both you and Byung-hun snapped your heads toward him.

“Huh?!”

The crew erupted into laughter. Dong-hyuk smiled and closed the segment with a thank-you and a Squid Game 2 promotion.

After a quick makeup touch-up, a staff member placed a stack of envelopes in front of you, Byung-hun, and Dong-hyuk.

Dong-hyuk stretched his arms and grinned. “Alright, let’s see what the fans have to say. If anyone insults my writing, I’m walking out.”

Byung-hun smirked. “I’d say you’re bluffing, but we all know you’re dramatic enough to do it.”

You laughed. “Place your bets, everyone. How many letters will be about Byung-hun’s attractiveness?”

Byung-hun scoffed. “Excuse me, I am a serious actor. Not just a handsome face.”

The cameras rolled.

You picked up the first letter and smoothed it out before reading aloud.

‘Dear Director Hwang, your storytelling is a masterpiece. Every scene feels like it has so much depth and emotion. How do you come up with such gripping narratives?’

Dong-hyuk’s face lit up. “Ah, A letter for me!”

Byung-hun immediately reached over, fingers grasping at the paper. “Skip it.”

You swatted his hand away. “No, let him have his moment.”

Dong-hyuk straightened his posture, adjusting his jacket with mock importance. “Well, since you asked… My process is simple. I think, ‘What is the most stressful, painful situation I can put my characters in?’ And then I do that.”

Byung-hun leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “I knew you enjoyed torturing us.”

Dong-hyuk grinned. “Absolutely.”

Byung-hun exhaled, then grabbed the next letter from the pile, unfolding it.

‘Was filming action scenes difficult? Especially the parkour scenes.’

You didn’t hesitate. “Oh, definitely. That scene where I had to jump from bed to bed? I had bruises for days.”

Byung-hun winced at the memory. “Oh yeah, you took a pretty bad fall.”

You sighed dramatically, throwing your arms up. “And no one even said ‘cut’ when I landed wrong! I had to just lie there in pain.”

Dong-hyuk raised a hand in defense. “Okay, to be fair, it looked intentional.”

Byung-hun let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. “You heard it here first, folks. The director is a masochist.”

Dong-hyuk smirked. “It builds character.”

Byung-hun rubbed his temple. “I worry for your future wife.”

You sifted through the pile and grabbed the next letter.

‘To Byung-hun, was it difficult wearing the Front Man’s mask for long periods of time? It looks heavy.’

Byung-hun groaned dramatically, flopping against the back of his chair. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Dong-hyuk snorted. “He complained about it every single day.”

Byung-hun sat up, pointing at him. “Because it was a legitimate problem! The mask was so heavy, and it pressed into my face so much that I had red marks after every shoot.”

You bit back a laugh. “And let’s not forget the time it got stuck.”

Byung-hun groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Oh, please, let’s forget that.”

Dong-hyuk smirked. “We have footage.”

Byung-hun immediately turned to the camera, eyes pleading. “Dear editors, if you have any mercy, don’t include that clip.”

They did.

Dong-hyuk chuckled and grabbed the next letter. “‘Director Hwang, who is your favorite character in Squid Game?’”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “Yikes. That’s like asking me to pick my favorite child.”

Byung-hun smirked. “But we all know you have a favorite.”

Dong-hyuk tapped his fingers against the table, pretending to contemplate. “Well… I have a soft spot for In-ho.”

Byung-hun gasped, clutching his chest as if he’d been struck. “You love me?”

Dong-hyuk’s deadpan stare didn’t waver. “I said I love In-ho. Not you.”

You burst into laughter as Byung-hun recoiled in mock betrayal. “Wow, I won’t return to Season 3 then.”

Dong-hyuk ignored him, his expression thoughtful. “I love complex characters, and In-ho has so much depth. There’s still so much left to explore with him.”

You leaned in. “So, does that mean he’s safe in Season 3?”

Dong-hyuk smirked. “I mean, it’s possible, but I don’t know. We’ll have to find out.”

Byung-hun cut in, laughing. “What do you mean you don’t know? You created the story.”

Dong-hyuk simply shrugged. “Let’s just say… No one is ever truly safe.”

The next letter Byung-hun picked up seemed harmless at first.

‘I don’t know what it is, but…’

He stopped mid-sentence, chuckling as he glanced at the camera, then at you and Dong-hyuk. “I don’t know if I can continue reading this without someone getting mad.”

Silence fell over the room.

Curious, you snatched the letter from his hands and scanned it. A laugh bubbled out of you. “Who’s gonna get mad over this?”

Byung-hun gave you a knowing look, subtly hinting at someone you had dated during filming.

Your expression faltered for half a second before you quickly masked it with a tight smile. Keeping your mouth hidden from the camera, you mouthed, “We broke up.”

Dong-hyuk grinned and leaned forward to peek at the letter over your shoulder. “Well, well, well. They think you two have some history together because you make the characters so compelling together.”

Byung-hun cleared his throat, spitting out a joke before anyone could dwell on the comment. “Have you guys ever considered we are both just very good actors?”

Dong-hyuk stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. “Seeing how everybody seems to ship you two, maybe I should create a romance movie with you both.”

You and Byung-hun turned to him in horror, simultaneously shaking your heads.

Dong-hyuk simply shrugged. “What? The fans love it. I should give them what they want.”

Byung-hun laughed nervously and quickly faced the camera. “Okay let's end it! Thank you for watching this video. Don’t forget to watch us on Netflix!”

After finishing the shoot, the three of you parted ways—but the internet did not.

A week after the video was published, fans went crazy. The shipping theories got worse. Your social media was flooded with comments. Multiple media outlets invited you and Byung-hun for interviews together, riding the hype.

One afternoon, before another press event, you texted him.

Want to grab coffee before the next interview?

Thought you’d never ask.

At the café, he took a sip of his drink and smirked. “Remember how broke we were from getting coffee every other day in high school?”

You groaned. “Oh god, that was what? Twenty—no, thirty years ago? High school was rough. I don’t even want to remember that.”

“You’re mean. So I meant nothing to you?” He feigned hurt, holding back a smile.

“Oh, shush. You know what I mean.” You playfully pushed his forehead as he held the door open for you. “Besides, we lasted ‘til university, no—”

Click.

A camera shutter.

You froze. He froze.

Through the café window, a crowd had formed. Some held up phones. Others were whispering excitedly.

Fuck. They found you.

Byung-hun exhaled. “Well, I guess there’s no turning back.”

Then, with a smirk, he grabbed your hand, laced his fingers through yours, and yanked you out of the sea of screaming fans.

[littlexdeaths]

𝕝𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕘𝕠, 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥 (𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣)

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: some bullying, little sprinkle of hurt/comfort, lots more smooching, underage drinking/partying, so so so much cuteness

part three | part five

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 4k

a/n: a shoutout to both @rebelfell for gifting me eddie’s costume idea and @thepurplelovewitch for shy girls! and the biggest kudos to @undead-supernova for looking this over and always encouraging/helping me to improve. <3

“Nance, if you think I’m wearing that, you’ve lost your damn mind,” you mutter with utmost distaste. 

The brunette peeks her head around the package she’s holding to give you a small pout, the other hand resting on her hip.

“Oh come on, live a little!” She sighs, putting the sexy nurse costume back onto the rack. “There is no way I am letting you sulk on your couch again this year.”

You roll your eyes but continue browsing the costumes, each one more revealing than the last. You didn’t mind spending your Halloween night curled up on the sofa with a scary movie, you were more comfortable that way. 

Besides you weren’t normally invited to such gatherings, even if you did want to go. Tina only seemed to invite you out of obligation, not because she wanted you there. 

“Well…maybe I won’t be spending it alone,” you mumble and her brow quirks up.

“Oh, are you and Eddie doing something?” she prods. 

But your shoulders sag a little, unable to hide your disappointment when you shake your head.

“I mean, he hasn’t asked me…yet.”

You continue to flick through the costumes, now too consumed in your own thoughts. 

It has been a week since he kissed you on the football field—and it’s still the only thing you can think about.

The warm press of his mouth against yours, breathes mingling together in the chill autumn air. The way his strong hands encircled your waist, brushing up against the cool skin of your cheek. The memory sends a delightful shiver down your spine, despite the suffocating warmth of the small costume shop. 

“Okay,” Nancy says with finality, abruptly interrupting your daydream. She nods her head in satisfaction. “Okay, this is the one!” 

She thrusts a costume into your awaiting arms. Once you catch a glimpse of it, you blanch before immediately shaking your head and giving it back. 

“And you’re actually insane, Nance.”

She rolls her eyes, but shoves it back into your arms anyway.

“Oh, come on, isn’t the whole point of Halloween to dress up? Go outside your comfort zone?” 

You glance down from her encouraging gaze to the costume in your hands. A woman with flowing blonde hair is smiling back at you, a black and white corset hugging her curves in all the right places. 

But it’s the pair of bunny ears perched atop her head and the white cotton tail attached to the backside of the costume that somehow makes you feel more insecure. 

“I am not dressing up as a pornstar—”

Nancy all but slaps a hand over your mouth to stop your hysterical shriek. A mother with her young son gives you both a distasteful look as they pass, the tips of your ears warming in embarrassment as you tuck the costume behind your back. 

“It’s not a pornstar costume,” she quips with a lowered voice. “It’s a Playboy Bunny.” 

You give her a look, blowing out an exasperated breath. 

“As if they aren’t the same thing?” 

By some miracle you manage to walk out of that shop a half hour later. Nancy’s promise of burgers and milkshakes fuel your last minute costume decision. But as you both descend onto Main Street, leaves crunching beneath your boots, you can’t help but feel like everyone is staring at you. 

It’s as if they can see that damned bunny costume hidden beneath the dark plastic bag, the contents weighing you down with each step you take towards Nancy’s station wagon. 

Twenty minutes. 

It’s been twenty minutes since he’s been kept waiting, and Eddie’s patience is finally beginning to run out. But the snap of a branch catches his attention, eyes darting to the trees ahead. 

Eddie is more than confused when he realizes the regular he was supposed to be meeting had bailed on him. And the person that emerges from the line of trees is none other than Nancy Wheeler. 

He quickly shuts the metal lunchbox as she approaches, taking a seat on the bench opposite of him, determination clear on her features.

“Uh…are you lost, Wheeler?”

“No,” she states flatly, swinging the other leg over the bench seat. “You’re just the guy I’ve been looking for.” 

He scratches at the stubble on his jaw, fingers tapping against the worn wood of the table. Eddie has seen a lot of odd things in his twenty years of life, but Nancy Wheeler making a drug deal was not something he ever expected. 

He glances at her warily when she folds her hands on the table, looking far too prim and proper to be sitting out here with him and his lunchbox full of weed. 

“Well, how can I be of service then, Wheeler?” he tilts his head towards the metal box, but she holds his gaze regardless. 

“I have a proposition for you.” 

He can’t help but snort, already beginning to shake his head. 

“Okay, I don’t know what rumors you've heard Wheeler, but the only type of payment I accept is cold hard cash.” 

And from the look of almost horror that crosses over her features, he instantly realizes he’s misread this entire situation. 

“Oh god, I’m not here for a drug deal, Munson!” 

It’s silent for a beat, neither of them daring to look at the other out of sheer embarrassment. 

“So, why are you here, Nancy?” he asks quietly. 

Her eyes flick up to look at him again, noting the splotches of pink rising up the skin of his neck. 

“Tina’s party on Friday,” she starts, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. 

His shoulders sag a little at her answer, arching a brow in her direction. He only can assume someone put her up to this, one of her more popular friends not wanting to be caught dead with the likes of him. Well, unless they need someone to supply the weed. 

Nonetheless, a part of him can’t help but admit he’s a little intrigued.

“What about it?”

Nancy flashes him a look before continuing. 

“There’s a certain someone that’s going to be in attendance…” she trails, biting back a smile when he instantly perks up. “And I think she would really want you to be there.” 

Eddie’s cheeks flush a rosy pink, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. While he had thought about going to try and make some extra cash, he wasn’t exactly sold on the idea. 

A costume party filled with a bunch of drunken idiots that hated his guts sounded like a goddamn nightmare. But knowing that you were going to be there? Well, that changed things drastically. 

“I’ll be there,” he asserts. 

Nancy is a little taken aback but happily surprised by his quick response. In her own way this was also a small test. A test to see if Eddie really liked you as much as you claimed he did. And she had gotten her answer. 

“Well, great!” she says, flashing him a polite smile and rising to her feet. “Be there by 10 o’clock sharp, and don’t forget to wear a costume!” 

Eddie doesn't have a chance to reply before Nancy turns on her heel and disappears back through the trees. 

Friday has finally come. 

And your stomach twists with every step you take toward the large house, the click of your heels on the sidewalk a far more steady rhythm than the beat of your own heart. Parties had never really been your thing and the only other one you’d managed to get invited to was at Steve’s house, back when he and Nancy were still together. 

So it was no surprise that you felt completely out of your element as you continued to strode up the darkened walkway. You can feel the bass pumping inside you before you even cross the threshold, wringing your hands together in a nervous manner. 

The air is thick with the smell of smoke and cheap beer, throngs of your peers in scantily clad costumes stumbling past you to the makeshift dance floor. No one spares you a passing glance as you take a step deeper into the hazy room, your own eyes seeking out your best friend. 

Her pale pink dress was surprisingly difficult to spot amongst the crowd, but it was Jonathan who you ended up spotting first. He looked out of place amongst the dancing teens, a dark blue suit hugging his shoulders as he leaned against the far wall of the living room. A pair of round sunglasses shielding his eyes. 

The Duckie to her Andie. 

Relief floods your chest as you begin to push through the crowd, the pounding bass echoing in your ears. Nancy looks surprised when she finally spots you, passing her drink to Jonathan before pulling you aside.

“Where’s the bunny costume?!” she shouts over the music, tugging at the sleeve of your cardigan.

“I couldn’t do it Nance,” you reply, wrapping your arms further around your middle. “It just wasn’t…me.”

And while you can see the clear disappointment written on her features, there’s a sparkle of understanding in her eyes. 

“Well, if you’re going to be a,” she pauses to look over your ensemble in its entirety. “…librarian,” she continues, “You at least need to be a sexy one.”

And without another word she’s pulling you into the nearest bathroom. When the door clicks shut behind her, she immediately gets to work. She reaches to untuck your button down shirt from your pleated skirt, popping open the buttons one by one to reveal the swell of your breasts.

You earn a small nod of approval when she sees you actually wore the push-up bra you had bought for your original costume. The brunette gives the lower half of your shirt the same treatment before tying it off with a knot right above your navel.

Lastly, Nancy hikes your skirt up a little higher up your hips and takes a step back to admire her handiwork.

“Perfection. There’s no way Eddie’s gonna be able to resist you like this.” She grins and you feel your palms begin to sweat.

“What do you mean? Eddie’s here?!”

Suddenly it all clicks into place. 

The real reason for why both her and Eddie were missing at lunch last Wednesday. Before you have a chance to question her any further, she’s fled the bathroom, her curly bob disappearing in the sea of drunken teens.

Damn her.

You take one last look in the mirror, fighting the urge to pull your cardigan tighter over your newly exposed skin when you rejoin the party. Your eyes scan the entirety of the room, in search of that tall lanky figure you’ve come to know all too well. 

To your dismay, Eddie is nowhere to be found. While you knew he wouldn’t be amongst the groups of people grinding against each other in the living room, you had expected him to be tucked in a corner somewhere—observing. 

You find yourself searching almost every inch of Tina’s large home and backyard, desperate to catch even a glimpse of him. And, unfortunately for you, instead of finding Eddie, you stumbled upon a couple getting hot and heavy in her parents bedroom. To which you quickly slammed the door shut and tried to scrub the image from your memory. 

You take those stairs back down to the main level slowly, disappointment weighing each of your steps. There was only one place you haven’t checked yet: the kitchen. And with your terrible success rate, a drink sounds too appealing to pass up. 

But once you cross through that open doorway, you stop dead in your tracks. Because there he is, in all his handsome glory—casually leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest, a drink long abandoned next to him. 

Has he been here this whole time? 

While his expression borders on cynical, all of that shifts once your eyes meet. Eddie’s throat bobs, jaw slackening once you come into view. The set of plastic vampire fangs sitting between his teeth fall to the sticky tile floor with a soft clack. 

He has to practically wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth as you approach, straightening up and trying to look at anywhere other than the swell of your breasts.

“Hi,” you breathe softly.

But his answering smile has your knees about to buckle beneath you.

“Hello to you, sweetheart.”

Only then do your eyes flick downward, towards the t-shirt adorning his broad chest. And you let out a soft snort of amusement.

This is my Halloween costume is written in dark Sharpie against the bright orange cotton. The words are slanted and messy, as if he scribbled it on in a rush. It’s barely visible beneath the lapels of his leather jacket when he crosses his arm over his chest.

He quirks a brow at you. “What? Are you not impressed?” he muses with a teasing glint in his eye. “I thought it was quite clever, if I do say so myself.”

His smile widens at the soft giggles that bubble past your lips, leaning further back against the counter before motioning to your ensemble.

“And what exactly are you supposed to be then, hm?” He chuckles, as if it isn’t obvious.

But you feel your face warm, suddenly hyper aware of every inch of bare skin that’s now exposed to him when your hands fall to your sides.

“Uh… a librarian,” you reply, trying to muster up some feigned confidence.

Eddie’s eyes darken slightly as he takes in your bare midriff, tongue gliding over his lower lip in deep thought.

“So, I take it you’ve come to reprimand me for my overdue book fines?”

Feeling slightly emboldened, you take a small step closer, lightly nibbling on your lower lip to stifle another giggle. 

“I mean, rumor has it you’ve had that copy of The Hobbit checked out since your junior year…” you trail off, carefully pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose. “That’s an awful lot of fines, Eddie.” 

“My sincerest apologies, Miss,” he grins before placing a hand over his chest, those dark eyes alight with mischief. “Is there anything I can do to remedy this…misunderstanding?” 

You hum in contemplation, gently tapping a finger to your pouted lips—an action his eyes can’t help but follow. 

“Hm, perhaps…” you say before glancing over your shoulder toward the crowded living room. 

While dancing isn’t something you normally gravitate toward, something in you wants to try. Although it’s a silly high school milestone you never expected to experience, you don’t want it to pass you by either. Especially with Eddie by your side.

Maybe it’s the trickle of confidence that’s surging through your veins or the underlying adoration in his eyes, but either way, you reach out and lace your fingers together. 

“Dance with me?” 

Eddie doesn’t hesitate before he grasps onto your hand, a dimple indenting his cheek as he grins down at you. 

“I’d be honored, sweetheart.” 

It takes all of your self control to hold back a small squeal of excitement, quickly leading him out of the kitchen and towards the heart of the party. You’ve barely made it to the threshold before you feel it. 

Warmth. 

Wet, sticky warmth splashes up onto your neck, dribbles down your chin and onto your chest. Soaking into the white cotton of your shirt and sticking to your skin, the red punch does you no favors as the lace of your bra is revealed through the fabric.

“Oops,” a sickly sweet voice croons, but the unmistakable snark in their tone tells you this was anything but an accident.

Roxy Carraway just smirks at you, now glancing down at her empty cup with a mock pout. Two of her friends flank her on either side, keeping you frozen in place.

A gazelle caught between three lionesses, their claws sharpened and teeth bared.

“Now I need another drink,” she whines, snapping her gum obnoxiously. “You know, you really should watch where you’re going, freak.”

She hisses, taking one glance at you and then the male behind you before flipping her blonde hair off her shoulder and striding past you into the kitchen.

You don’t say anything as she knocks her shoulder into yours, white hot shame blazing through you as you meet the eyes of several other party goers. Whispers and snickers of laughter begin to flow through the crowd that were there to bear witness to the interaction.

No one offers you a shred of remorse or pity as they continue on, the thump of bass dragging their attention elsewhere. Tears began to sting your eyes, lower lip wobbling.

Don’t let them see you cry.

When you turn to rush toward the front door a pair of strong arms envelope you, tugging you down the darkened hallway and away from the throngs of your peers.

“Hey, hey—are you okay, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s voice is more gentle than you’ve ever heard it but a newfound rage begins to simmer beneath the warmth of his irises. When all he receives in response is a small shake of your head, he carefully tugs you both into the small bathroom you’d been shoved into earlier by Nancy.

Only this time any ounce of excitement has been drained from your limbs.

When your eyes meet your reflection, you wince, noting the harsh red liquid that clings to your shirt. The fabric suctions to you like a second skin and accentuates the curve of your breasts from the bra beneath. But not in a way that makes you feel a lick of confidence.

Before you can stare for too long, Eddie guides you to take a seat on the lid of the toilet, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it beneath the stream of water. His ringed fingers catch in the harsh lighting as he wrings the rag out into the basin of the sink. The droplets slide over the rough calluses of his fingers.

Eddie turns to you then, sinking to his knees before you. He gently nudges your thighs apart before slipping between them, the stray water droplets soaking into the fabric of your knee-high stockings. His hands are warm where they rest against your upper thigh, the other gently gliding the washcloth over your chin and down your throat.

Despite your best efforts to remain calm and collected, your breath hitches in your throat—something the male doesn’t miss.

While you can see the small smirk that threatens to tug at the corner of his mouth, he says nothing. No teasing comment as he continues to clean the dried punch from your skin.

“I’m sorry this happened,” he mutters softly, that small smile now turning downwards into a frown. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You can tell by the mournful look that spreads across his features that there’s more he wants to say, but he refrains.

That should’ve been me.

While the words remain unspoken between you, you hear them loud and clear.

“It’s not your fault you know,” you whisper, eyes dancing along the strong features of his face. Memorizing each freckle that dots along the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. “They probably would’ve found another way to torment me tonight anyway.”

His hand stills once he reaches the curve of your chest, eyes flicking up for your permission before he delves into uncharted territory. But you are unable to hide your shy smile at his display of nerves.

With your nod of approval, Eddie continues on, fingers trembling slightly when the cloth dips past the collar of your shirt. He can feel the heat of your skin through the damp fabric, his body aching to feel that warmth melting into his own. 

But he keeps his composure, shifting slightly at the uncomfortable ache in his knees. You continue to watch him closely, that look of longing he’s witnessed for months now sparkling beneath your irises. 

Your gaze continues to travel lower, over his cheekbones until they reach his full lips. They’re pursed in concentration, just the tip of his tongue poking out from between his teeth. He continues to glide the damp cloth along your skin, wiping away the sticky residue. 

But Eddie can feel the weight of your stare. In a nervous yet teasing gesture, he glides his tongue over his lower lip. 

“Would it be weird if I wanted you to kiss me right now?” you whisper.

Eddie’s eyes flick up to meet yours, fingers hovering over the dip between your breasts. He swallows harshly, your eyes following the bob of his throat. But the corner of his mouth quirks up into a soft grin that has your heart stuttering beneath your ribs. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” he replies, washcloth dropping to the tile floor as he reaches to cup your cheeks. 

When your lips meet, you breathe out a sigh of relief, slipping your arms around his neck to tug him impossibly closer. Despite your newfound urgency, his movements are slow, gentle as he molds his mouth over yours. Almost as if he’s trying to memorize the feeling of your lips against his own. 

Your hands quickly find themselves in his wild hair, twirling the dark strands around the tips of your fingers. He groans softly when your nails scratch against his scalp, the deep rumble of it sends warmth blossoming beneath the surface of your skin. 

And soon, too soon he’s pulling away. 

The male is practically panting, gazing up at you with an almost dazed expression. But Eddie soon notes the small pout that’s beginning to form on your lips, leaning forward to press another tender kiss to your mouth. 

“How about we ditch this lame ass party?” he mumbles against your lips, earning a small hum of approval from you.

And he can’t help but press another kiss to your awaiting mouth. “We could go to my place, maybe rent a video…” He chuckles when you pull him in for another firm kiss. “Order a pizza? Large pepperoni—” 

“With olives,” you add, gently nipping his lower lip. 

The male groans low in his throat, lips ghosting over the edge of your jaw. 

“Half with olives,” he counters. 

“Deal,” you breathe, giving him one more spine tingling kiss before he begrudgingly rises to his feet. 

And when he begins to slip his jacket off his shoulders, your brows furrow in confusion, head tilting in a silent question. He just gives you a cheeky grin as he reaches to hook his fingers into the nape of his t-shirt. The male quickly pulls it over his head, his bare chest now on full display.

Before you have time to fully ogle the dark ink that swirls across his skin, he hands you the bright orange shirt. You can already feel the warmth of the fabric seeping into the palm of your hands, confusion still evident on your face whilst he shrugs the jacket back on.  

“There’s no way I’m letting those assholes get the last laugh, sweetheart,” he explains, motioning to your stained shirt. 

And your heart thuds at the implication, a half smile tugging at your lips. You eagerly slip the cardigan off your shoulders, reaching for the buttons on your blouse. You let out a soft giggle when Eddie quickly spins on his heel in an attempt to give you some privacy. 

Once you remove the ruined blouse, you gladly toss it in the wastebasket, slipping the borrowed shirt over your head. His scent hits you like a tidal wave, warm and spicy with a slight undertone of weed. It’s a smell you want to wrap yourself up in for days, have it imprinted on your skin forever.

You take another subtle whiff before you clear your throat and rise to your feet. The movement further closes the already short distance between you. 

“I’m decent,” you say finally.

You’re unable to hide your amusement when he turns around so quickly that he almost crashes straight into you. But his look of concern vanishes the moment your laughter rings in his ears, securing his arms around your waist. 

“What’s so funny, sweet thing?” he chuckles, head tilting down toward you. His wandering gaze now focused on your lips. 

“I thought you said we had to stop meeting like this, Eddie.” 

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld @scarlet-bitch @thecreelhouse @vamp-bunny @notwantingtoadult @keeksandgigz @josephquinnsfreckles

[sakur4ii]

Rooted Connections Pt.2

Charles Xavier x Reader x Erik Lensherr

the gender of the reader is not specified

Note: I will not make a third part, I hope you like it. Also reminder that English is not my first language, let me know if there are any mistakes I didn't notice (especially with pronouns).

Summary: feelings come out, plants love romance and you are still as blind as in the first part.

Finally, peace.

After supposedly saving the future from great chaos, Charles decided to reopen the doors of his school, offering you to stay with him. You accepted because you didn't want to leave him alone, feeling his sadness through the earth. Although in reality, he wasn’t alone; he now had his students, but the connection the three of you had created was so strong that you feared that if you also left, he would break again.

Years have passed, and now the school is full, and you are a teacher.

You walk through the halls, searching for something, maybe someone, though you’re not sure. The mansion’s plants have warned you but haven’t specified anything, so you proceed cautiously, trying to find some intruder.

"Professor Y/N,” you hear, a voice you know well.

“What is it, Jean?” You turn around; you can’t see her clearly, but you can feel her nerves and hear her heart beating faster than usual.

“Someone is approaching from the backyard.”

Before she finishes speaking, you are already running to the backyard. The plants don’t want to reveal anything, and for some reason, you don’t feel any unusual presence, leading you to assume that the earth doesn’t want you to know who the intruder is on purpose.

Once your bare feet touch the green, damp grass, you stop feeling the presence of everyone at the school except for the person sitting on the grass a few feet away from you, and Charles, who is coming up behind you.

You take slow steps toward the seated person, hearing a gasp behind you. You sit down next to him and wait for Charles to come closer until he is on the other side of the man.

“What are you doing here, Erik?” Charles asks. You can feel his conflicting emotions through his voice. On one hand, he is happy to see him again and that it isn’t to stop him from killing all of humanity and condemning mutants. On the other hand, he’d love to punch him again for prioritizing revenge and abandoning him.

But you focus more on the absolute pain you feel from Erik through the earth. You can feel him mourning, yet also very angry, seeking comfort to avoid vengeance.

When Charles doesn’t receive any response, and you can assume he also starts to feel the man’s emotions, you wrap your arm around Erik’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug, enough for him to start crying.

“I tried,” he sobs into your neck, while Charles sits on the ground, leaving the chair aside and firmly holding Erik’s hand between his own. “I tried to live like them, to blend in, and they… they killed my wife and daughter.”

You don’t know what to say; you don’t know how to comfort him with words, so you just rub his back. You know Charles is afraid of saying something wrong, something that will only make the situation worse, so both of you remain silent, comforting your old friend (and the third missing piece of the puzzle) through gentle touches.

“I didn’t know where else to go… you’re all I have left.”

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

You weren’t born blind; you had the privilege of seeing the color of the sky and vegetation. You had the privilege of having a favorite color, but an accident occurred, and it was no longer worth thinking about things like a favorite book or a favorite flower because you couldn’t see anything anymore.

Plants are very talkative; they always have been. They love to gossip, and they love drama. The day before the accident, they were very hysterical, sensing something bad was coming, but they couldn’t say what.

Then the accident happened, and you were hospitalized. The plants felt guilty, apologizing over and over, even the plants you didn’t know but who knew you, apologizing and feeling ashamed that they hadn’t been useful, that they couldn’t prevent the tragedy.

It was when you lost your sight that your powers began to manifest: control of the earth, the ability to feel through it. Your mentors were the plants, the trees, and the earth itself. You learned that you could see through the roots of trees, and that was an easy way to find something or someone.

When you met Charles, even before the man arrived at your house, the plants were more talkative than usual. They told you everything they knew, like how Logan was from the future and needed help, your help. But they mostly talked about Professor X and a puzzle. You couldn’t understand them, but their excitement amused you.

When they freed Erik from that cell, the plants began talking non-stop again, once more about a supposed puzzle and Erik’s entire life, about how angry they were with some of his actions but how much they appreciated him.

The first time they fell completely silent was when Erik shot Raven; the second was when Erik fled to avoid being captured.

The third time you didn’t understand the silence; you were listening to Charles reading to his younger students, and out of nowhere, the plants fell silent, a mourning silence.

And the fourth time was the day after the third when Erik appeared unannounced at the school. Although it was more for drama—did I mention they are dramatic?

Erik stayed at the school, purposely obtaining the room that was between yours and Charles’.

If before the plants always talked about Charles, Erik, and his family and the children at school, now, whenever you entered your room, they only talked about Charles and Erik. You only heard about the children if you went outside.

A couple of years have passed. Erik is visibly better, happier, and that makes you happy because it’s real, he’s not pretending, and you’re the first to know that.

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

Your room is a madhouse; you feel like you’re losing your sanity. They won’t stop talking about how handsome, intelligent, and kind Charles is, or how hot, serious, and cunning Erik is. They have the audacity to tease you for not being able to see them, those bitches. When did they go from remorse to mockery?

“What time is it?” you ask, tired, sitting on the edge of your bed while putting on your sunglasses. They all ignore you, except for some jasmine flowers Charles gave you for your birthday along with some heart-shaped sunglasses.

You leave the room, grateful for the silence the hallway plants give you. You don’t know what to do; maybe you’ll go to the kitchen and eat some ice cream, you’re not sure.

When you arrive at the kitchen and take out a tub of ice cream and a spoon, you’re surprised that no plant has told you not to eat something so cold in the middle of the night, raising your suspicions.

You focus on the earth, sensing how all the children and adults are sleeping, everyone except Xavier and Lensherr, which makes you sigh tiredly.

Lately, the plants not only wouldn’t stop talking about them, but they also did everything possible to ensure you spent most of your time in the same room with them, and you only complied because deep down, you wanted that too.

You finish the ice cream and walk through the halls to Charles’ office, without any obstacles in the way (the children make sure not to leave anything lying around that might hinder you, even though they know you could easily avoid it; they fear you might get distracted and have an accident).

—“Come in”— you hear in your head, making you jump in place, and some nearby flowers laugh.

You open the door, and for some reason, they’re both sitting on a three-seater couch. Charles’ wheelchair is set aside to not get in the way, and the plants laugh conspiratorially.

«Speak of the devil…» a flower murmurs, sparking your curiosity.

“Can’t sleep?” Xavier asks. You shake your head. The other man is silent; you know he’s watching you, his intense gaze on you. Sometimes you think he has the power to read souls and keeps it a secret.

Charles laughs at your thought, but you don’t notice him elbowing Erik to stop being so obvious.

“Come sit with us, darling.”

The flowers and plants in the room react as if the pet name was directed at them, as if expressing what you don’t dare express even in your own head for fear the telepath might discover your feelings.

Smiling, you approach the couch. Erik, the closest to you, takes your hand and guides you to sit between them.

“What were you talking about?” you ask.

“Nothing important; we were just planning to take the older kids on a field trip, maybe,” Charles responds, and you know he’s not lying, but from the booing of the plants, you can tell that wasn’t what they were discussing before you arrived.

Erik remains silent; you can’t figure out why. Lately, you can’t sense his feelings, only his emotions, and you can guess that the earth is hiding them on purpose—or maybe the metal?

What you do sense is his knee brushing against yours and his gaze trying not to linger on you for too long.

You tilt your head to one side, sharpening your hearing, trying to pick up something more; you don’t know what, but you want to hear all their movements and, above all, the beating of their hearts.

Just when you perfectly hear their rapid heartbeats, the plants start making a ruckus, making you frown.

“What’s wrong?” Erik finally speaks.

“Why don’t the plants want me to hear your heartbeats?”

Unbeknownst to you, Erik and Charles share a wide-eyed look of complicity.

—“We should tell her”— Erik.

—“Now?”— Charles.

The silence between the two men creates a lump in your throat. Since that day on the plane, you felt like you were missing something in the dynamic, all because you couldn’t see. You felt out of place in moments like these, where they might be communicating with just a glance—or worse, telepathically. You hated the thought that they were having secret conversations, thinking that they were using the fact that you couldn't see to communicate in secret. And you hated knowing they were communicating because you could feel the change in emotions through the ground, but what you hated even more was that now you couldn't even feel the emotions of the two men because nature decided to turn its back on you this time.

Tired, you get up from the couch.

"Sorry for interrupting your time alone, I'm going to bed."

You avoid the obstacles you can't feel now but know are there.

"Y/N, no, wait! It's not what you think, let me explain," Charles says, while Erik gets up and runs towards you, grabbing you so you won't escape (and without you knowing, preventing you from bumping into the closed door).

"Listen to them, listen to them, listen to them," the plants chant in unison as you squirm in his grip. The earth allows you to see through your feet again, finally letting you feel the emotions of the two men, which makes you stop struggling and fall into shock at what you're sensing.

"You two are in love," you whisper.

Erik leads you back to the couch and sits you down so that you're facing the telepath, while he hugs you from behind and hides his face in the crook of your neck. He's embarrassed.

Charles gently removes your sunglasses, and you can feel his emotions not just through the ground but also inside your head. He takes your hand in his.

"We’ve been debating whether or not to tell you; we didn't know how you'd react, darling."

"So much secrecy just to tell me you two are dating? I'm not homophobic if that's what you were worried about," you say with an amused smile.

You're sure both men are rolling their eyes.

«Don't be an idiot» a flower says.

"Shush."

Charles laughs while Erik raises an eyebrow in a questioning manner towards him, knowing he's missing something.

"We're not just dating, Y/N. We love you as much as we love each other, and we want you to be a part of what we have because you're the missing piece of the puzzle," says Charles.

"And we want you to be officially ours," adds Erik.

Their words take you by surprise, making your heart race a thousand miles an hour. You're sure you're blushing, and loose words echo in your head.

The missing piece of the puzzle... ha... that sounds familiar.

At some point during the evening, you moved to Erik's room (the one furthest from the other rooms, with only one flower that you gave him a long time ago), where you shared kisses, hugs, words, and feelings. Where you expressed the great love you share, making grand plans for the future. And where you realized that you never were out of place; rather, you had always been missing, so they could feel complete.

The End.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

@djlnkaled @kindlover @only-nope @larissa1379 👋❤️

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Holiday Special

Summary: You get ready for your first Christmas with the Maximoffs, but not everything goes according to plan.

Part 2 of 3 of the Holiday Special

A/N: Can you spot the major character we're introducing?

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

Wanda wakes up, alone and confused. The light outside tells her it’s later than usual, and she suddenly remembers it’s a school day.

The woman hurries down the stairs, finding you in the kitchen.

“Hey, chatty patty” you say with a smile, loving her disheveled state. “Hungry?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 11” you look at your wrist watch, pushing a plate towards her.

“School! The kids!”

“I already drove them to school, and yes they had breakfast that wasn’t just cereal” you explain. Wanda finally sits, and looks at the french toast you’re offering.

“This is really good” she praises as she takes a bite.

“I know I call you cute when you’re cooking, but that’s not the only reason I watch you do it, baby” you smile, kissing her temple as you stand up to pour her some coffee. “In Medicine you learn by watching and doing. I’m trying to learn cooking as if it was the same”

“You’re on the right track. Thank you” she comments as you hand the mug. “I’m just a little lost, why did I not wake up?”

“You really don’t remember?” you say, amused.

“No. Did we…?” she says, suddenly afraid that she fell asleep in the middle of sex.

“Oh, no. If we did, you’d remember. Trust me” you say in a low voice, moving closer. Wanda’s eyes drift to your lips and you smile, pleased with her reaction. “No, we didn’t have sex, baby. You woke up at two in the morning talking about a book idea and I wrote it all down until you went back to sleep”

Wanda notices the notebook on the counter, and she takes it. The story is about a girl that makes a drawing of her perfect pet. Her brother sees it and adds things like dragon wings and fangs. By night, the drawing comes to life, and it follows the girl everywhere she goes.

“This is a full story”

“Mhm”

“This is like three months work”

“Glad to hear we were productive” you nod, not understanding her issue with saving months of work.

“This never happens!”

“Counterpoint, you never had a light sleeper that woke up to your mumbling” you point out, stealing some of her toast.

“Yeah… that’s a good point” Wanda says, frowning. You miss the way she looks at you, as you lean forward to read over everything she said while asleep. Honestly, the story is sweet and very original. To think it was something she came up while asleep is bonkers.

“Wow” you laugh as Wanda lunges forward, kissing every inch of your face.

“You’re so hot right now” she says against your neck and you sigh, pleased.

“Well, let me show you what other stuff we could do to lose some sleep” you propose, carrying her to the couch.

—

For the next day, while you’re at work, Wanda is focused on meeting with Laura and her publisher. You get a few texts here and there, but you know she’s in the middle of a creative storm and you’re happy she finally found the inspiration needed for her next book.

Still, it’s a tough shift as you lost sleep on your day off.

“Wild night?” Darcy says as you’re sprawled across the break room couch.

“Jealous?”

“Meh” she shrugs her shoulders. “I hear Fury is going to be lighting up the Christmas tree in the foyer. Wanna come see?”

“Oh, yeah!” you stand up, eager to check if it will go down the same as every year. Without fail, someone forgets to test the lights and as he plugs it in, nothing happens.

Darcy and you are leaning against the railway, chuckling while Fury screams.

“Every damn year! We run a hospital. Why can’t anyone check the lights?”

“It never gets old” you smile, feeling like the holidays are finally here. You’re about to suggest a trip to the cafeteria when Carol comes right behind you, borderline hysterical.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Uh… is there an emergency? Did you page me?” you check your device, Darcy frowning at Carol’s outburst.

“Yes, there’s an emergency! Come here, the both of you”

With surprising strenght, she pulls you to one of the meeting rooms, a couple of sample cakes in display.

“We’re tied”

“Who is?” you say, reading the flavors written in the small cards.

“Maria wants one flavor and I want another one. We need a tiebreak. You are my maid of honor. So, help me!”

“Ok, we’ll try them out. Jeez”

“I’ll be right back” Carol says, leaving the room in a hurry.

Grabbing a fork, you begin to take little bites of every cake, nodding approvingly.

“Chocolate ganache is to die for” you moan, feeling so happy that Carol is in the middle of this predicament.

“You should have red velvet for your wedding” Darcy points at the one she’s tasting.

“I’m not getting married”

“Yet”

“Darcy, come on” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, like you don’t have an idea on how to propose to Wanda already” she mocks, which shuts you up real fast. “I know you better than anyone. And I better be your maid of honor”

“I’m not getting married” you insist, this time  with less conviction.

You keep discussing the flavors and come to the conclusion that chocolate ganache is the winner.

“That’s the wrong answer! Carrot cake!” Carol huffs when you tell her your decision.

“Not everyone likes it. It’s just a weird choice” you say, while Darcy nods.

“Everyone likes chocolate” she points out.

“Fine, whatever! You win, Willy Wonka” Carol storms out of the room.

“Wow, you dodged a bullet there” Darcy says and you nudge her side.

“Don’t be mean. She wants her wedding to be perfect. That’s nice” in that precise moment, you get paged and you decide to take the rest of the chocolate cake to eat on the way. “See ya!”

“Thief!”

A couple of emergencies take your attention, making you go into the OR. Your phone is forgotten and by the time you check, there’s a single text from Wanda.

W: Are you coming for lunch? I want to tell you something important.

Your heart begins to race, and you remember a few days ago during the snow storm. She mentioned something but you distracted Wanda and you figured it wasn’t that important.

Y/N: Is everything ok?

Coming out of nowhere, Carol once agains blindsides you.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Go…”

“Dress fitting. Your bridesmaid dress”

“Now?” you look at your phone. Wanda hasn’t replied. But Carol looks ready to kill you and you won’t take your chances. “Sure, let’s go”

Y/N: Gotta take care of something, will try to be back for lunch. Love you.

There’s no reply and during the entire car ride, you look out the window, wondering if you messed up in any way.

“I’m sorry” Carol says, mistaking your silence with annoyance. “For snapping at you”

“Oh, that’s… well, not cool, but I don’t take offense. I just never thought you’d be the Bridezilla type, Danvers” you joke.

“It’s more about the holidays. Maria’s family and mine are coming over. They’ve met each other a few times, but you know… it just feels like whatever happens during Christmas will set the tone for the wedding. And marriage”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure” you agree.

“I admire you for setting boundaries with your mother”

“It’s not a boundary, it’s more like thousands of miles and avoidance” you reluctantly admit, which makes her laugh. “It’s all gonna be fine. You’re marrying the girl of your dreams, and I will be there as well, in a cool, not at all pink bridesmaid gown to help with whatever happens”

“Actually…”

“It’s pink?” you say, mouth wide open. Carol nods, avoiding your eyes and you huff. “You’re lucky I’m such a good friend”

—

Wanda’s buzzing with excitement as she stops by the cafeteria, ready for her second meeting of the week with Laura.

It seems as if this new book will be out fast, and if it’s as successful as her past stories, Wanda could finally have some free time to focus on a whole different thing: a trilogy for young adults.

Wanda leaves the cafeteria carrying a tray with two cups and scones, knowing that you’d be the first one to support her if it all works out.

She’s surprised to find you walking across the street, as your last message gave her the impression you still had work to do. Wanda is about to call for you, when someone else joins you in the sidewalk.

Carol says something that makes you smile, linking her arm with yours. Both of you walk in the opposite direction of Wanda, getting inside a store.

Wanda replays the moment where Carol opened the door for you over and over again.

“Ready for day two?” Laura says as soon as her friend walks to her office. “Wanda?”

It doesn’t take much for Wanda to tell her what she saw. Beyond that, she goes over your strange attitude recently, smoking compulsively and having trouble sleeping.

“Maybe she’s rethinking our relationship, maybe Carol is trying to win her back…”

“Wow, slow down. You said they were going inside a bridal shop?”

“Yes, I think it was”

“Well, what if… she’s thinking about… ya know” Laura says, wiggling her eyebrows excitedly.

“No, I don’t. What do you mean?” Wanda says, resisting the urge to drive back and get answers straight from you.

“Ok, so she’s been nervous, she visits a shop with all kinds of things for a wedding. Could it be that she’s working up the courage to propose?”

“No… I don’t think so. Do you think that could be it?” Wanda says.

“I think based on everything I’ve seen and heard about Y/N, that makes a lot more sense than her cheating on you” Laura shrugs her shoulders. “Look, just tell her you saw her. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation”

“But what if she is proposing and I ruin the surprise?” Wanda pouts, torn between what to do.

“Let’s get to work, I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do” Laura tries to divert the conversation, which works for a little while.

Except, she’s typing and Wanda is just doodling instead of creating sketches.

“Would you say yes?” Laura asks, amused at Wanda’s enamoured look.

The woman shrugs her shoulders, biting her lip as she imagines what it would be like to be married to you.

Needless to say, she doesn’t get much work done after that.

—

The flowers might be too much, but you rather be on the safe side. Wanda never replied to your text, so you drove straight home as soon as you came back from the dress fitting.

“Honey, I’m home” you joke, leaving your winter jacket and scarf at the coathanger. To your surprise, Wanda is sitting at the kitchen counter, looking conflicted.

“Hey” she says, letting you kiss her cheek. “What is this?”

“My favorite girl’s favorite flowers” you sit next to her, worried. “Is something wrong? I know you wanted to talk”

“Yes. I…” she takes a deep breath and turns to look at you. “Is something going on between you and Carol?”

“What? Is that what you wanted to talk about?” you say, confused. Where is this coming from?

“No. I was at the cafeteria around Bleeker Street and saw you with her” she admits, sighing.

“Wanda, I’m sorry. No, nothing’s going on. Carol and Maria are getting married and she asked me to be her bridesmaid. I said yes, before even thinking about consulting you. I guess I didn’t even know how to bring it up. I know our past… makes things weird”

You hesitate about reaching out for her hand, but then she lets out a laugh.

“I was about to ran over Danvers’ bike” she says, bringing her hand to her chest. “I’m sorry for not trusting you”

“No, I’m the only one who should be apoligizing. I should have told you. Can you please forgive me, love of my life?”

“There’s nothing to forgive”

“You know, you should play hard to get” you point out, your arms around her middle, placing a kiss against her temple. “Don’t forgive me so easily, I was planning on taking you out to a fancy place to earn it”

“Mmm, you’re right. I’m too forgiving” she jokes.

“Wait, you sent me the text before I left with Carol. So that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about” you suddenly remember.

Going back to face her, you lift Wanda’s chin with your hand, making her look at you. She seems suddenly nervous.

“I was thinking… you don’t have to answer right now. And also, with this new book, I might be too busy and the house will be a mess for a while and you don’t wanna be around for it, you want your own space… forget I even asked”

She’s rambling, so you craddle her face in your hands, making her stop with your lips on hers.

“You haven’t even asked anything” you nudge your nose against her, smiling lovingly at the way she melts against your touch.

“Move in with me. Us”

“What?”

Never in a million years would you have guessed this was coming.

“This is your home as much as it is ours. I want you here all the time, I want to make room for your stuff, look for my clothes in the closet and stumble upon your scrubs” Wanda says. “Either way, you spend more time here than at your own place. You could also save some rent money”

“You had me at this is your home, my love” you laugh, kissing her again. “And no worries, no wet towels in the bathroom, I promise”

“We have a deal” she smiles against your lips, heart beating faster at this new step you’re taking together.

—

You should have listened to that Kondo lady when she was all the rage. Your house is full of crap, and none of it brings joy. Only dust and boxes that get in the way of packing.

Good news, it’s gonna be an easy move. All you have are clothes, books, some records and pictures.

“Are you sure you wanna throw this stuff?” Wanda says, holding a couple of trophies from Science Fairs and other stuff.

“Yes, baby” you nod, handing over a box. “I don’t think that has any value to my career as a surgeon”

“I think they’re cute. You were a nerd”

“Yeah, that I was” you smile. You keep digging through old boxes, until you get to one you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“What is this?” Wanda kneels next to you. She sees the picture you’re holding. “Is that your dad? Oh my God, you look exactly like him”

“Yeah, two peas in a pod” you laugh, admiring your matching Halloween outfits. Ghostbusters, obviously. You flip through the album, grateful that you had the sense to take it with you after you left for college. You know your mother would have thrown it in the trash.

“Why isn’t this in a frame?” Wanda takes a lose photo of you two during Christmas.

“I guess I never got around to doing it” you shrug your shoulders. There’s a tin box, and you kinda wished you hadn’t opened it. A broken wrist watch is the only thing inside it. “He loved this watch. Was wearing it on the day of the accident” you mutter, suddenly feeling small.

Wanda let’s you sit in silence for a few minutes and then places her hand on your shoulder.

“We can take a break from all the packing, yes?”

“Yeah, ok” you nod, standing up. Wanda takes your hand and leads you back to her -and now your- place. There are already several boxes in the living room of your new home.

Home, that word fits so well with how you feel here.

The only other time where you felt like you belonged was in college, in the dorm you shared with Darcy and then at the hospital, which wasn’t strictly a home.

Without saying anything, Wanda pulls you to the couch, and you let her rest her head against your chest as you watch “Golden Girls”. She had you to thank for introducing her to a whole new obsession.

“Shouldn’t we go pick up the kids now?” you say after a while, looking at the hour.

“Sharon is driving them here”

“Now she’s your best friend”

“I’m sure she only offered to see you again and annoy me” Wanda chuckles, looking up at you. “Unfortunately for her, I don’t share”

“Mmhm” you smile against her lips, enjoying her possesiveness.

By the time Sharon drops off the kids, Wanda’s shown you how she really feels about sharing, making sure there’s a visible mark on your neck as you walk out of the house to greet Tommy and Billy.

“Hey, Y/N” Sharon says, playing with her sunglasses.

“H-hi, Sharon. How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know. Enjoying the cold days, wishing I had someone to warm me up”

“Yeah, it’s cold. Outside, and inside too if you don’t have any heating” you mumble, trying to end the conversation. “Stay hot. I mean, warm. And thanks for dropping off the kids”

“My pleasure”

Sprinting back home, you lock the door and lean against it, hoping you won’t have to talk to the woman in a very long time.

“I see that little mark on your collarbone wasn’t enough. Maybe I should leave more on your neck” Wanda taunts.

“Baby, I could tattoo your name across my forehead and that woman would still try to get in my pants” you sigh, hands resting on Wanda’s hips. “Are we telling the kids about me moving in?”

“Yeah, come on”

Billy and Tommy are in the backyard, throwing a ball that Sparky chases around. They both approach you as Wanda calls for them, and she kneels to be at eye level with them.

“Boys, we have news. Y/N is moving”

“What? Where? You’re not gonna have your house across the street?”

“Mama, we should all live together” Tommy says, pleading to his mother.

“Oh, my darling boys, Y/N is gonna move with us! We’ll all live here. What do you think about it?”

“Yaaay” they run towards you, talking as fast as they can.

“I’ll make room in my drawers for you!”

“You can take one of my shelves”

Each kid takes turns on ideas to make room for you, and you hug them closer.

“I’m sure we’ll find a place for all my stuff. Don’t worry about it, I’m just happy you want me to live here”

“We do” Billy says, and then he turns to his mother. “Can we please get pizza to celebrate, pleaaase?”

“Yes, can we?” you join, pouting.

Wanda rolls her eyes, laughing.

“I can’t believe I set myself up. Now it’s three children against one of me”

“You love us” you say, standing up and pulling her in for a kiss.

Wanda smiles against your lips.

“I do”

—

You’re buzzing with excitement to tell everyone the news, but you want Darcy to be the first to know.

While you sit in the cafeteria, the perfect oportunity presents itself.

“Ugh, one of your presents will arrive too late for me to wrap it up. I’ll send it but you have to promise you won’t open it”

“Yeah, yeah. Just send it home”

“No. I’ll send it to Wanda instead. She’ll keep it away from you”

“Same thing. Home for me, her. But I won’t open it” you smile as you take a bite of your sandwich, waiting for Darcy to understand what you mean.

“You? And her? Moving in together?” this is the first time that you see Darcy so excited over your relationship, and she hugs you. “You’re not gonna die alone”

“Oh, shut it”

“What are we celebrating?” Carol says, taking a seat next to you.

“Y/N and Wanda are moving in together” Darcy says, practically singing. “And now I have to rethink my second present”

“Why do you give her two Christmas presents?” Carol looks between you two and Darcy gasps.

“She saw you naked but didn’t tell her about your birthday?”

“Eh, what can I say? I have intimacy issues” you shrug your shoulders, laughing as Carol catches up with everything.

“Your birthday is on Christmas Eve”

“That’s correct” you nod. Eager to change the subject, you ask about the wedding. Lunch is cut short as they’re both paged and you walk back to the front desk, dropping off some paperwork about discharges and patient forms.

You’ve been talking for a bit with the nurses when you feel someone stand behind you.

A beautiful redhead with striking green eyes smiles at you, and it takes you a moment to notice you’re staring.

“Hi. How can we help you?” you say, pulling the charts close to your chest, pretending to be casual.

“I’m looking for an old friend”

“Sure thing, do you know his room number?”

“I know his name. Nick Fury” she says with a smirk and you laugh.

“Oh, the Chief. He should be in his office reviewing schedules right about now. Just go upstairs and turn rigt” you point behind her.

“Thank you, Doctor…” she leans forward to read the name on your badge. “Y/L/N”

You’re about to ask her name when you’re paged.

911.

“My pleasure. Enjoy your reunion with the Chief” you excuse yourself, going back to the ER.

As a group of people involved in a car crash arrive, everything that just happened becomes irrelevant.

You have no idea how crazy your day is about to get.

—

“Let me see if I understand” Fury says, the tips of his fingers aligning as Natasha looks from the other side of her desk, impassive.

She’s got a poker face that no one can break, not even someone as respected as Nicholas Fury.

“You want to teach us the new surgical method your mother invented"

Natasha nods.

“Why the sudden interest in sharing with us?”

“You’re a teaching hospital. Stark is on this quest to make everything accessible for everyone. It gives us good press, and will draw attention to your program”

“No ulterior motive?”

“The world is getting more complicated. The Starks and Romanoffs are the families with the greater research capabilities, I think it’s time to stop competing with each other and work together” Natasha says.

“Just like that?”

“Well…”

Natasha doesn’t get to complete her sentence, as Tony walks in the room without knocking.

“Chief” he says, a bit distressed. It takes him a minute to process the other presence in the room. “Romanoff?”

“Hey, Tony”

“What are you…? Ok, that’s for later. There was an avalanche in Silverton Mountain, several people are trapped and injured. They’re requesting aid”

“Let’s page Y/N and prepare the ER to receive them”

“Sorry for cutting your meeting short, I’m sure it wasn’t important” Tony winks at Natasha.

“I’ll be back later” she says. “Don’t be such a sore loser, Tony, not everyone can have a Nobel Prize”

“Your mother won that, not you” he says, trying to keep his cool.

“Well, let’s see if another Romanoff can beat you to it again” the woman says, smiling while Fury stands up.

“Children, not now. Call me tomorrow, Romanoff”

The two men leave his office, walking to the ER to find the head of Trauma.

“Is it a good idea to leave her alone there?”

“She’s not a spy, Stark”

“Her mother sent her for some nefarious purpose, I’m sure”

“That’s a talk for later. Y/L/N” Fury finally spots you.

“Chief, what’s up?”

“Avalanche in Silverton Mountain. I’m sending the chopper with you, Barton and another doctor of your choice”

“We’re only transporting critically injured patients, the rest will be taken by ambulance to local hospitals” Tony adds, while you walk back to prepare.

“Ok, I’m taking Bishop with me. Anything else I should know about?”

“Expect a long day” Tony pats your shoulder and you sigh.

Looking for the storage room, you find a three layered rescue suit, preparing for the cold and relentless weather of the mountains. Next are medical supplies, rope, thermic blankets, comms and avalanche probes.

Once you check everything’s set up, you change your sneakers for hiking boots and carry everything in a waterproof backpack. Just as you’re about to leave, Kate comes in. You show her the clothes she should change into, and what to put in her own backpack.

“I’ll meet you at the rooftop”

Wanda doesn’t pick up the phone when you call her, so you leave a voicemail explaining you won’t be reachable for a couple of hours.

As you walk to the elevator, you meet the mysterious woman again.

“Up or down?” you ask as you both reach for the button.

“Down. You?”

“All the way up”

“Going somewhere?” she teases.

“Just a helicopter ride. Care to join me?” you say, not knowing what makes you joke with a stranger.

“Perhaps next time. Take this one. I’ll wait for the other elevator” the woman says when the doors open. You nod your thanks and your eyes meet as you press the button. “I do hope we’ll see each other again, Y/N”

“I didn’t get your name”

“Natasha” the woman smiles, doors closing. The last thing you see is that cryptic smile as the elevator starts to go up.

The cold wind hits your face as soon as the doors open, Stark’s helicopter ready for the 15 minute flight to Silverton.

“Hey, Barton. Wilson?” you say, surprised. “Didn’t know you could fly these things”

“Hell, yeah. This is Redwing” he says, pointing at the helicopter.

“Stop calling it that” Stark grumbles.

Clint and you check for everything to be in its place and you nod as Kate joins you.

“I’m having everyone on standby, we’ll start preparing as soon as you call with more information on number of patients and status” Fury says. Then he turns to look at everyone else. “Stay safe and good luck”

The building becomes smaller as you fly away, and Barton chats with Sam for a bit about the weather and the rescue plan. You follow the conversation here and there, but instead look out the window and then to Kate, who seems to be deep in thought.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, just nervous” she admits and you nudge her knee with your hand.

“It’ll be fine, you’re gonna fly back with patients that need to be at Stark hospital. I’ll show you what to do”

“Ok”

As soon as you land on the area, a group of first responders run to greet you.

“Lee Jones” the team leader introduces himself. “There are six people still missing, we secured the area and will be starting a second round of search” he says, pointing at a nearby hill.

“Doctor Bishop, head to where the rescued people are to evaluate them” you say, and she walks back to an operations center with several stretchers. “Do we have a list of the people missing?”

“Here”

You take the paper, inspecting it. Two women, one children, four men. Your stomach drops as you get to the last name.

“Barton” you pull him to get his attention. He reads over your shoulder, alarmed as well.

“Is this accurate? Have you doble checked these people are not back in their hotel?” he says, knowing that information could get lost during rescue.

“Yes, sir”

“Crap” he says, looking at the hill.

The name at the bottom of the list is Pietro Maximoff.

“Come on, no time to waste” you say, sprinting. A couple of people follow you, and you have to remember the training you got.

The first 15 minutes are crucial. And now, the people who didn’t die instantly, will pass from asphyxia, hypothermia or critical injuries.

Except Pietro. He knows what to do to stay alive. You just gotta find him.

“We gotta let Wanda know” Clint shouts next to you, the cold wind hitting you straight in the face.

“There is nothing to tell her now”

“Y/N”

“Go back and call her if you want. I can’t waste time right now, Clint”

It looks like there’s a storm forming. If you’re lucky, you’ll get an hour of not so bad weather and then, it will be too risky for them to continue.

Not you, though. You’re not leaving until you find Pietro.

“Here!” two people shout at the same time. You turn to run where they are. One of the rescuers is digging through the snow, and a woman’s face is visible. You want to keep looking for Pietro, but you came here to help everyone.

“I’ll keep searching” Clint nods your way.

The second person they find is the woman’s child.

“Hypothermic, hard to say if they have other injuries. I’d recommend you take them back to Stark Hospital, call and ask for doctor Lewis and Rambeau. Wilson will fly them there” you instruct the rescuers.

“I found one, he’s dead” you hear through the radio and your heart drops. You race to where the rescuer is, praying that it’s not Pietro. “Male, approximately 50”

You take a minute, holding your side as the cold air makes it hard to breathe.

“Mark the spot so we can recover the body and alert his family” Lee instructs.

They keep using the avalanche probes, to no avail.

“You’re walking too far away and the wind is getting worse” Clint warns you, but you ignore him. Pietro has to be here.

“Come on, come on” you walk faster, the wind almost knocking you down.

“Y/L/N, come back” Clint says, this time through the radio so everyone can hear him. “Now”

You ignore him, looking around. Everything is white… except.

A spot of color. Bright yellow and green. Just like the gloves you gave Pietro.

“Pietro” you run towards it, heart beating out of your chest. There he is, you can see his face, and part of his hands, as he managed to dig through the snow to be able to breathe. “Clint, I found him”

Pietro’s vitals are weak, but he whines when you call his name. Everyone comes running to help you, digging him out.

“Can you hear me? Frosty, come on” you insist, inspecting every inch of his body. “He’s going back to Stark Hospital with us, now”

“As soon as Wilson comes back”

You nod, stabilizing his neck as the men carry him to the operation center. You hear through the comms that they found the last man, unfortunately deceased as well.

“It’s a miracle we found him alive” Clint comments.

You stay quiet, going over statistics and the list of injuries that could be life threatening and you won’t know about until you do imaging.

“I’m calling Laura, so Wanda’s not alone” Clint says. You should have brought your phone. He greets his wife, and a moment later his face falls. “Wanda’s there with you? Can you put her on the phone?”

Now it’s your turn to feel dread, taking the phone with shaky hands.

“Sweetheart” you say, feeling awful when you hear Wanda’s voice, knowing what you’re about to say will destroy her. “You might want to sit down”

—

“Male with helmet and airbag, was conscious during rescue and prior to boarding the helicopter. Heart rate weak, slow, irregular due to hypothermia; passive warming techniques started on the way to the hospital. No visible trauma, do a complete body scan” you say as soon as you land, Carol and Stark the first to greet you at the rooftop.

Wanda’s not here yet and you’re not ready to face her, especially since you have no idea on the extent of his internal injuries.

“Are you ok? You’re shivering” Darcy comments when you change into your scrubs, and all you can do is nod.

“Fine”

Thoracic spine fracture, comminuted knee fracture and intracranial hemorrhage. The room is silent as you look at the images, knowing it’s gonna be a long and challenging intervention.

“Wanda’s here” Kate says as soon as you take the elevator to the OR.

“Not now, Kate. Tell her we’ll keep her updated and then scrub in”

Carol gives you a curious glance, but keeps her comments to herself.

There’s silence in the OR as you work with Carol and Kate, while Stark and Parker deal with the hemorrhage.

“Doctor Y/L/N” Fury steps in.

“Not now”

“Miss Maximoff would like an update”

“I don’t have one for her” you let out an exasperated sigh when Fury insists, turning to look at Stark. “Do you have an update? How about you, Danvers? Alright then, when we know something other than his body is all kinds of fucked, we will give Miss Maximoff an update”

“You’re too close to this”

“No, I’m stabilizing his spine so he can teach his nephews how to ride a fucking bike and all you are is a distraction. Leave my OR, now”

You can feel Fury’s angry stare in the back of your head, but ignore it and keep working.

Stark is the first to break the silence, if only to ask for more suction.

“I’m done with the knee. If you want to update her” Carol says after a while.

“You heard her, Bishop”

“You should go. I’m sure Wanda will want to hear it from you”

“No” is all you say, voice shaking.

No, you can’t face Wanda now. You don’t know if Pietro is gonna make it and you won’t lie to her.

Beyond that, you can’t imagine what she’ll say to you if you can’t save him.

Why didn���t you find him faster? Why didn’t you help him?

This is your fault.

“BP’s dropping” the nurse alerts you.

“One minute” Tony says, eyes glued to his work.

“Stark, he’s crashing” you insist. He ignores you and you’re about to throw your scalpel and start CPR when Pietro’s vitals stabilize.

“You gotta let me work too” Tony says. “Peter, close here. Let’s see that spine now”

After three more hours of work, there’s nothing left to do but wait. While Pietro’s transferred to the ICU, you stay back, removing your facemask and surgical cap.

Carol stands next to you, without saying a word.

“If he doesn’t make it, Wanda’s never going to forgive me” you say, looking at the ground.

“You don’t believe that” Carol says.

“I don’t know. But I guess I’ll find out”

“It’s gonna be fine” she says, giving your arm a squeeze and you nod, leaving the scrub room.

Your hands shake as you press the elevator button that will take you to Wanda. The adrenaline is slowly leaving your body, but your muscles can’t relax, still waiting for an even bigger disaster to come.

Forcing yourself to step into the hallway, your eyes meet Wanda’s across the room. They are reddened by the tears, her hair a bit disheveled and all over the place.

Whatever you were about to say dies in your throat. She stands up, walking towards you, and you brace yourself for a myriad of insults and bitter words.

Instead, she throws herself in your arms, crying.

“You’re ok” she keeps saying. “I was so scared. I’m so sorry”

“It’s fine. I’m here” you hold her closer, kissing her head and shedding a couple of tears. “We did everything we could, Wanda, please believe me. Now we have to wait for him to recover. Please, please don’t hate me”

“You saved him. He’s alive because of you” she says, her arms still on your back. “I don’t know what I’d do without you”

“I’m here” you sigh against her temple. “It’s all going to be fine”

But you don’t know if that’s true.

—

Natasha answers the call as soon as she’s in her suite, knowing her mother only had a few minutes to chat.

“Hello, dear. How did it go?”

“It was cut short. An emergency” the redhead sighs, sitting in the bed and taking off her heels. “They used Tony’s helicopter and everything”

“The Stark boy, always wanting to be the center of attention” Melina tsks. “Did you get to see their ER?”

“Not yet. I did meet their Head of Trauma”

Natasha’s mind goes back to you. She was honestly surprised when she saw you waiting for the elevator in the rescue gear. You weren’t like any other of the Trauma surgeons she had met before.

“What did you think of them?”

“Very heroic. Jumped straight into the danger, no questions asked. And she yelled at Fury when he tried to keep her out of the OR”

Another pleasant surprise. It was hard to tell you had that fire in you, with those kind eyes and gentle smile.

“Do you want to hire her or date her?” Melina picks up on her daughter’s tone.

“Can’t I do both?”

“My darling girl, of course you can. When was the last time you didn’t get what you wanted?”

—

It’s cold and you can’t reach for whatever it is you’re looking for.

What were you trying to find in the middle of nowhere?

It’s dark, except for a circle around you, and there’s no way to tell up from down.

Except when you see something next to your feet, and you kneel down. As you pull from it, the snow moves and you can see Pietro’s face. You dig deeper, and then you see Wanda. Every time you remove snow, there’s another face, until you find your father, staring at you.

You try to reach for him, but the watch on your wrist reaches zero on its countdown, the beeping sound mocking you as you run out of time.

“Wait” you jump up, looking around.

On call room. You’re in the hospital. There’s solid ground beneath you, not layers and layers of snow.

The sound comes from your pager.

911.

Everything feels like an emergency these days. You’ve lost track of time, alternating between your shifts and the ICU, where Pietro is still recovering.

It’s been four days and he hasn’t woken up yet.

“What do we have?” you ask Kate, who begins to give you the overview.

It’s not something that requires surgery, which makes you sigh with relief. This is the end of your shift and you need to eat something before heading back to the ICU.

“When was the last time you left the hospital?” Darcy says and you shrug your shoulders, eating your sandwich and feeling ill the second you swallow.

You have to force yourself to eat lately.

“I don’t know”

“The day of the accident. Five days ago. You can’t keep going like this” your friend says, but you avoid her stare.

“Wanda is not allowed in the ICU and Pietro shouldn’t be alone in there”

“Pietro is unconscious. Wanda is the one that’s at home, alone and scared. I think her brother would appreciate you keeping her company” Darcy reasons with you.

You rub your temples, trying to not throw up.

Truth is, you’re scared that the other shoe will drop. That things between you and Wanda could turn sour if her brother doesn’t show any signs of improvement.

“You are carrying an immense responsibility and burden, that it’s not yours. Nor anyone’s. It was an accident. It’s life” your friend insists, knowing very well the meaning behind your silence.

You keep looking down, chin resting on your hand as a couple of tears run down your cheeks.

Darcy’s expression softens at that.

“I’ll stay with Pietro for a bit. Wanda is in the foyer, ready to take you home. Please, go with her”

You try to say something, but the words get stuck in your throat. It’s been like this for days. When it comes to work, you function even better than usual, accostumed to chaos and uncertainty. The minute the conversation pivots, your throat closes, making it hard to utter a single word.

In the end, you nod, throwing away your barely touched food to go meet your girlfriend.

Guilt overwhelms you as you notice the bags under Wanda’s eyes. It’s impossible to be everywhere and be everything to all the people that matter to you, but you still feel like a failure.

“He…” you prepare the update, but Wanda kisses you, stopping the words from leaving your mouth.

“I’m here to take care of you. I already know everything there is to know. Let’s go home”

Taking a breath, you nod and walk behind her towards the exit. The light hurts your eyes, and you have to look down, frowning. Wanda’s hand is on yours, leading you to the car.

The ride home is silent. There are still some boxes in the living room, pushed to the wall to make room for walking. It gives an eerie vibe, another reminder that your entire world stopped almost a week ago.

“Are you hungry?”

“Just tired” you say in a low voice. “I smell like hospital”

Wanda nods, closing the door and walking you upstairs. All you’ve done for the past days is take quick showers, with cheap shampoo that is in the hospital and leaves your hair dry.

For the first time, you don’t have to hurry and jump into a spray of cold water, rinsing as fast as you can. The warm temperature  and pressure on your muscles feels like a luxury.

“Feels good?” Wanda whispers against your ear and you nod. She places a kiss on your shoulder’s scar. You step back, trying to chase after her touch, and she laughs.

That sound is enough to make you feel ten times lighter.

As you step out of the shower, you admire the way Wanda places a towel around her, and without thinking you meet her in a slow and tender kiss.

“Missed you” you say against her lips.

“I missed you too, sweetheart”

There’s no rush as you change into comfortable clothes, and rest your head on Wanda’s lap while she reads a draft for Laura to review.

“How’s the book coming along?”

“Good, very fast thanks to your help”

“So, do I get credited on the cover or something?” you joke, looking up.

“I can pay you in other ways for your very valuable contribution”

“I’ll hold you to that” you joke, feeling sleepy as Wanda runs her hand through your hair. 

The next time you open your eyes, it’s past noon. You turn in bed, Wanda looking at you.

“Were you watching me sleep?”

“No” she answers way too fast. “Maybe. I… you looked upset. Like you were having a nightmare. I just wanted to make sure you were ok, that’s all”

“I’m ok” you promise, pulling her so she’s resting against your chest. “How are Billy and Tommy?”

“Quiet. I know they’re worried and they’ve been missing you too”

“We could go out to the movies today” you suggest.

“Actually, they have a surprise for you” she looks up and you smile.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And I promised them you are wearing an ugly Christmas sweater”

“Is that so?” you turn her in your arms, tickling her sides. “I don’t have any”

“I got you one” Wanda says between giggles and you pull her closer as she tries to get away from you. “Stop, please”

“Not until you show me that ugly sweater”

“Nu-uh, you’ll find a way to get rid of it”

“Then, you shall pay the consequences” you declare, laughing as she distracts you with a kiss.

—

“Is this absolutely necessary?” you say, walking towards the school auditorium. The sweater is not exactly ugly, it only has some paper figures hanging along the arms, which makes it uncomfortable to move around.

The biggest issue is that Wanda and everyone else is wearing normal clothes, which earns you a couple of funny looks.

“Babe, let me get changed, I have some scrubs in the car” you turn around, but Wanda catches you and pulls you back.

“I promise you, I’ll make it worth it” she says in a low voice against your ear. The little kiss Wanda gives behind your ear seals the deal.

“Are you gonna wear something slutty?” you whisper against her temple and she laughs.

“You’ll have to find out, detka”

“Detka?” you repeat, your pronunciation awful. “What does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you later. It’s part of your Christmas present” your girlfriend says, biting her lip.

She’s such a tease.

“Show’s starting, come on”

“Show?” you say, following her all the way to the front row. The lights go out but to your horror, your sweater glows in the dark. You struggle to take it off, but Wanda takes you by the wrists, laughing while you look around, embarrassed.

The first number is of really small children, who try to follow their teacher as they sing and dance, but looking adorably confused is enough to have all the parents clapping and cheering. After two or three more songs, you finally know why you’re there. Billy and Tommy are in the front of their class, singing Holly Jolly Christmas.

“Those are our boys!” you shout excitedly, looking around so everyone knows they’re your kids.

“Baby, I think they got it” Wanda smiles lovingly as you take out your phone and record, zooming in on the twins.

Once the song ends, you give them a standing ovation, and the only thing most people can see is a floating figure that glows in the dark.

The show goes on for another forty minutes, but you’re the first to go find the kids backstage. As soon as they see you, they jump into your arms.

“You were amazing! Next stop, Broadway!”

“Did you like the sweater we picked out for you?”

“Yes, it’s so original!” you say, hearing Wanda laugh behind you. “Come on, let’s get some pizza. Or burgers and milkshakes, whatever you want”

“Can we go to Burger Galaxy?" Billy says and you nod.

"Sure, let me check if it's open" you say, pulling out your phone. You frown at the missed calls from Darcy. She's still at the hospital and there's only one reason why she'd call. "Give me a second"

Walking away, you dial her number.

"He's awake"

"How is he...?"

"Just come to the hospital" she insists. Wanda is talking to the boys as you return, her face dropping when you lock eyes.

"We need to go to the hospital"

You take the keys from her shaking hands, smiling as she tries to control her breathing. The ride feels like an eternity, but it's only ten minutes. You're about to head to the ICU, when Darcy sees you.

"Over here"

"How is he...?" you catch up, aware that Wanda and the kids are right behind you.

"Awake and annoying. A bit confused as well, but all things considered, he'll be fine. Congrats, pal. You worked a Christmas miracle"

You stand by the door as Wanda walks past you, speaking in Sokovian and holding her brother's face between her hands. Tommy and Billy stand next to his bed, waiting for a chance to greet their uncle. Between all the fuss, Pietro looks at you, mouthing a thank you.

You can't help the tears from clouding your vision. After taking a breath to calm yourself, you wipe the corner of your eyes and smile at him.

"Welcome back, Frosty"

[therealcocoshady]

Hey! Can you please write marshall's reaction when doctor tells him that his wife is pregnant with TRIPLETS and all of them are BOYS?

Boy dad 🩵

A/N : I find it absolutely hilarious that you sent this request right after I mention I had a soft spot for writing Eminem as the ultimate girl dad 😅. You’re challenging me and I like that 👀. Also… I had SO MUCH FUN writing this request. I don’t think I have written anything this fast ! I hope you enjoy it ✨.

CW : Mention of infertility diagnosis - surprise pregnancy - triplet - mention of abortive measures - angst - fluff

I imagine that he’d react differently to all these news, this pregnancy definitely bringing him on some type of emotional rollercoaster.

He absolutely did not expect you to tell him you were pregnant. You’d been together for a while and, early on in the relationship, you’d told him that you had endometriosis, and that the rather advanced stage of the condition affected your fertility. He didn’t mind it one bit, though. He already had daughters and did not necessarily want any more kids. If you had mentioned that being a mom was important to you, he would have done everything in his power to make your dreams come true, whether it was by doing IVF or adopting. But you didn’t. You’d known about the condition for more than a decade and, though it hadn’t been easy at first, you were at peace with the idea of not raising kids. As long as you had the love of your life by your side, you knew you’d be happy. The two of you went on to get married and enjoy life together. For years, you enjoyed marital bliss and a childfree home, his daughters being all grown up and out of the house. Never in a million years did you expect to get pregnant. The absence of period didn’t exactly tip you off, since your cycle had always been very irregular. And you almost laughed in the face of your GP when she suggested you get some bloodwork done and do a pregnancy test. Sure, you’d booked a consultation because of fatigue and nausea, but there was no way in your mind that the symptoms could be pregnancy-related. After all, the doctors had evaluated your chances of conceiving as « slim to none ». The only reason you agreed to the pregnancy test was because the bloodwork prescription also included other things, so you figured your GP would actually find the cause, probably anemia, and prescribe you some supplements.

You nearly fell from your chair when she called you about the result, and you had her confirm several times that there was no confusion, or that it was not a prank. When the call ended, you burst in a fit of nervous laughter, still in disbelief. Your laugh echoed throughout the house, causing Marshall to come to your office. You realized you probably sounded manic and demented when you saw your husband’s concerned expression. « Are you… alright? » he asked with a raised eyebrow. You didn’t even think twice abut breaking the news to him. « The doctor called. She had my results », you said, struggling to form a complete sentence. He looked at you, nervosity creeping up on him. When it came to you, he seemed to have the ability to get paranoid over nothing. And if it had you sounding this insane, he figured bad news weren’t exactly out of the question, especially with how sick you had been in the past few weeks. He kneeled by your side, holding your hand in his. « So… Is there anything wrong? » he asked in a concerned tone. « I’m pregnant, » you cackled, sounding like a hyena. « Fifteen years ago, they said I was infertile. I did three years of therapy after that and now… pregnant », you hysterically guffawed. You had tears streaming on your cheeks and you struggled to catch your breathing, the nervous laughter taking over your body. So much so that you didn’t even register Marshall’s reaction, or lack thereof. But, minutes after you said the word, you slowly realized he’d remained silent. He was still in the same position, staring at you without so much as blinking. For a spare second, you thought he’d turned into a wax statue and you suddenly understood why some people had described his stare as « creepy ». As your mind became clearer and the silence settled, you started freaking out. « Marshall…? » you asked. He slowly started blinking, looking at you as if he were a deer in headlights. « P-pregnant? » he whispered. « You’re… pregnant? ». You gently squeezed your hand and nodded, the news dawning on you in a different way. « I am » you confirmed. « And, uh… eight weeks along, approximately ». He let out a sigh, visibly surprised. Then, he took both of your hands and kissed them profusely.

« But you’re alright? » he asked, and you nodded again. « Fuck, babe, you scared me. I wasn’t sure if you were dying, or demented, or both » he let out with a chuckle. « Nope… Just… Pregnant », you giggled, still in disbelief over the word. « That’s wonderful » he said emotionally, a smile appearing on your face. You looked at him, scanning his face, just to be sure. « You really think so? » you asked. « Because I know it wasn’t planned, and… ». He gently pressed his finger to your lips and shook his head. « It wasn’t. Fuck. It really wasn’t. But if you’re happy about it… Wait. Are you? » he asked carefully. You gave him a nod and a smile. « I am. I just… I can’t believe it ». He cupped your face and smiled at you tenderly. « If you are happy about it, so am I. That’s great news, Y/N. We made a baby » he said. You couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear, happy tears welling in your eyes. « I thought I’d never be a mom » you whispered, waves of emotions crashing over you as you remembered the first time you were told you couldn’t conceive. « Apparently, you thought wrong » he said, happiness radiating on his face. « And I know our baby already has the best mama » he added emotionally, bringing you into a tight, heartfelt embrace.

The following couple of weeks was emotional but happy. The two of you were ecstatic, determined to welcome this baby as the most beautiful blessing ever. You were still sick and exhausted, but the perspective of welcoming a bundle of joy that was the product of your love certainly made it easier to bear, as did your husband’s gentle care. He seemed determined to make your life easier and give you the most beautiful pregnancy experience, constantly dotting on you and spoiling you. You thought he’d given you the princess treatment in your early courting days but apparently, he was able to take it to another level. You didn’t need the numerous bouquets of flowers (in fact, the smell made you nauseous but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that), nor the many presents, but you enjoyed them nonetheless. Most of all, you loved seeing his excitement and devotion for the baby, whom both of you had yet to see.

Both of you felt a sense of childlike excitement, going for the ultrasound appointment. The closest thing you could compare it to was your niece’s first trip to Disneyland, preparing to meet her favorite princesses. You were a little nervous, praying that the baby was healthy. You’d asked Marshall about the gender, and whether he’d rather have a boy or a girl, but both of you were in agreement that, as long as the baby was healthy, it did not matter. « You know, I always thought being a girl dad was what made me so soft, but I know the baby will have me wrapped around their finger, even if they’re a boy » he said. You knew that it was too early to know the gender anyway, but you couldn’t help it. You kept on trying to imagine what that baby would look like. Marshall held your hand in his as the doctor put the probe on your stomach, squeezing tighter as both of you noticed the furrowing of her eyebrows, looking at the screen. « Alright », she said. « It looks like I made a little mistake while interpreting the hormone rate results » she said, turning to you. You turned to Marshall, a sense of nervosity taking over, unsure what the implications were. Did she mean that there was no baby ? Or that there was some health issues? You felt a lump form in your throat, unable to talk. « What mistake? » Marshall nearly barked, nerves taking over his usual politeness. « Well, you see, we usually use the hormone rates to give an estimate, of how far along the pregnancy is » she explained. « However, we tend to assume that it’s a singleton ». Both of you opened wide eyes and you held two fingers up. « Twins? » you asked in a throaty voice. « Triplets » she announced with a smile. « You’re not as far along as I thought. About six weeks. But all three babies are healthy ».

Part of you wanted to sigh in relief, over the news that the pregnancy was healthy but learning that you were carrying not one, not two, but three babies sent both you and Marshall into a spiral. As you drove home, pictures in hand, none of you knew how to feel, and you both remained rather quiet, exchanging banalities, visibly in shock and in need of some time to process. Not so long ago, you were sure you’d never have kids and now, you had to wrap your head around the fact that you were carrying three. In a way, it was a blessing, for sure. But you’d spent so many years envisioning your life without kids of your own that even the perspective of raising one was overwhelming. Multiplying it by three left you speechless and terrified. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to do this. And you weren’t sure how your husband felt either. That would make him a dad to… Six kids. You spent the night in your bed, trying to get some rest and emotional clarity. You took to Google, typing vague and stupid requests such as « pregnant with triplets and freaking out ». You were hoping for some support, some testimonies of parents who had shared your concerns but made it work. Instead, you were met with hundreds of resources about selective fetal reduction procedures. You read a couple of them but, soon enough, you ended up bawling. You couldn’t bring yourself to consider it. You weren’t really churchy or religious by any means, but part of you wanted to believe that life had given you triplets for a reason, and there was no way you would get rid of one of your babies. They were there, and you already loved them so much, even if the perspective of running after three toddlers was nerve-wracking.

When Marshall walked into your shared bedroom and found you crying, he immediately engulfed you into a hug. « Babe, what’s wrong? » he asked softly. « I’m so scared. Three babies is a lot » you hiccuped. « But I don’t want to kill any of them ». He stepped back and looked at you in shock. « Woah, woah, woah. Calm down. Who said we needed to kill babies? » he asked. « I learned that there’s this surgery, that you… I don’t know. Apparently, people do that when they’re carrying too many babies » you tentatively explained in a shaky voice. « I’m freaking out, Marshall. And I know you are, too ». He hummed and nodded, not denying it. « Of course I am » he said gently. « I mean, I wasn’t prepared for a new baby. And now, knowing there’s three of them… It’s a lot. But we can do it. It’ll just take… a lot of logistics. And diapers, I guess. ». His tone was reassuring, though you could tell he was definitely stressed out. « But how are we going to do? With work and all? And do you think we’ll get any sleep at all? » you asked nervously. He shrugged and pressed a kiss to your forehead. « I don’t know » he admitted. « But we’re lucky enough that we can afford anything we need. If you want to quit your job, you can. Or we can get nannies, or a chef, or whatever. Or I can quit my job. But we’ll manage, I know it ». You let out a sigh and let your head roll on his shoulder. « It’s going to change everything » you said. « Yeah, it is. But we’re doing this together. » he replied. « So… You don’t want to get rid of two of them? » you nervously asked. « No. If you think you can’t handle three kids and you want to have that surgery, I’ll support you. But other than that, it’s not up to me to decide. It’s your body and your pregnancy. And whether we have one, three, or seven babies, I will love and support all of you ».

In the months that followed, Marshall continued to dot on you, trying to provide comfort and reassurance, but you could feel each other’s nervousness. This wasn’t help by the reaction to your pregnancy announcement. Your friends and family, though they were happy for you, were not exactly tactful about the huge change the triplets would bring in their life, sometimes making little jokes about Marshall being « too old for this shit ». They also seemed concerned about the impact on his career, though he made it clear that family would remain his priority, as it had been in the past, and that he would put his career on hold if need be. He reiterated the sentiment when you confronted him about it. « You don’t have to do this, you know? I know your career is important to you, and that you had so many plans in mind. The last thing I want is for the pregnancy to ruin it for you » you told him one night. « I know I don’t have to » he assured you. « But you’re my wife. You became my family the day I put a ring on your finger. We vowed to support each other and you held your part of the deal all these years. You supported me in everything. I want to be here for you and our babies. And it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to sacrifice more than you have » he said. You nodded, swallowing dryly. You had felt his tension and nervousness in the past weeks. He remained loving and caring, but you knew he was trying to anticipate everything. «Look, I’ve already talked to Paul. We cleared the schedule for a while. Two months before your due date, and six months after that. Then, we’ll reevaluate. But it’s not just all the career, you know? We’re welcoming three babies, everything is going to change and, some of it is going to be hard, but it’s also going to be happy. I don’t want to miss any milestone. The first time they smile, the crawling, the first steps… I want to be there. So, really, you giving me three amazing, beautiful, healthy kids is not ruining anything ».

As the pregnancy progressed, however, the nervousness remained. The two of you certainly had a few cold sweats when you tried to prepare for the birth, overwhelmed by the amount of baby stuff. Cribs, diapers, bottles, car seats… Everything was to be multiplied by three. In true dad fashion, he decided to buy a new car to accommodate the needs of your growing family, but you could see his frustration. « I think I’ll just end up repurposing a tour bus » he sighed. « The amount of stuff we’ll be driving around is insane ! Have you seen the space we’ll need, just to fit the stroller and diaper bags?! ». The more you tried to prepare, the less joyful it became. The two of you were still happy, determined to welcome the babies and love them, but you were both overwhelmed, especially Marshall. Carrying the babies, feeling them growing inside of you was your main source of comfort and reassurance but, even though your husband was involved, he didn’t have that bond. For him, it still felt distant and logistical. Until the gender reveal.

Prior to learning you were having triplets, the two of you had toyed with the idea of waiting until the birth to find out the gender. But now that the planning was overwhelming, it felt like knowing the gender would make things easier. You also suspected that it might help Marshall feel a little closer to your little ones, since he would be able to at least picture it a little better. However, you opted out of turning it into a huge event. Carrying triplets was exhausting and you were in no mood to be social for a whole afternoon. Instead, you decided to enjoy the moment, just the two of you. The doctor had given you an envelope with the gender of the triplets, which you have to the owner of your favorite bakery. You ended up with a three-layered cake, the color of each layer representing the gender of one baby. « Are you ready? » you asked as you opened the box, revealing an elegant cake, coated in white frosting. « Ready » he said with a smile. « Still no preference for the gender? » you asked teasingly. « I’m hoping for at least one son, » he admitted. « I love being a girl dad, but six daughters and a wife would feel… A little lonely » he chuckled before crouching in front of you and placing a loving kiss on your belly. « But I love y’all anyway » he whispered. You took a deep breath and cut the cake, careful not to look before he could. « I can’t do it! » you said. « I can’t look! You have a look and tell me! ». He chuckled as you closed your eyes. You heard the cluttering of cutlery, followed by a « HOLY SHIT!!! ». You immediately opened your eyes and saw all blue layers inside of the piece of cake on the plate.

Marshall was covering in mouth, in absolute disbelief. « Boys! All boys! » he said. « Looks like your wish came true » you whispered. He took your hands and kissed you lovingly. « You’re going to be a boy mom » he stated with a smile, knowing full-well you’d always said the boy moms were the most annoying of the species. You giggled and pressed your forehead to his. « Hopefully, I don’t become too annoying » you chuckled. « Do whatever you want, I’m definitely going to be an annoying boy dad » he grinned. «After we eat that cake, I’m ordering Lions jerseys for them. And Jordans. Oh my God, I’m having sons ». You watched lovingly as he rambled about how great it would be to introduce them to football, how much fun they’d have bonding over sports. His joy, which had seemed quieted by the logistical concerns, was overwhelming and he was positively beaming. « I’m quitting » he finally said. « You’re what?! » you asked. « Babe, picture this: you give birth to these three, and you do it twice more. Maybe just twins for the last pregnancy. We only need 11 players for the Mathers football team! ». You rolled your eyes at him and patted his chest. « We’ll see how you feel about it after the first night home from the hospital » you said. He rolled his eyes back at you and placed a kiss on your lips. « I can’t wait to meet these guys ».

[pretty-blkgirl]

Say Yes [Part Two]

//fem!reader x Ot8!Skz//

Synopsis: You get slipped a note from your favorite idol to meet him at his hotel room, but he's not the only one there

Genre: smut/suggestive, crack, fluff

Warnings: sexual situations, reader uses she/her pronouns

A/N: thank you @seoyeonleexoxo for the requestttt ❤️ I initially didn’t want this to be three parts but this part ended up so lengthy 😭 Third part is gonna be the conclusion 💗

~~~~|~~~~

“Okay y/n, breathe” You chant to yourself as the elevator rises quickly to the second floor. Admittedly, you get out and pace around the hallway a little, catching the eye of some curious staff members walking between the rooms.

“Excuse me,” One woman says, coming up to you. You know she’s staff, especially since her employee badge is still hanging around her neck.

“This floor is reserved,” She says politely, “Are you supposed to be up here?”

You dig in your pocket to fish out the envelope you had gotten. A little panicked, you give it to her. Wordlessly, she looks at the picture and the (signed) NDA.

A tight-lipped smile graces her face, “Follow me.”

She gives you the envelope back and practically jogs down the hall. You walk quickly to keep up, and you two end up in front of room B6.

“Please remember the stipulations of the NDA,” She says, “The rest of the document should be in the room. Read over it when you receive it”

The envelope in your pocket feels heavy as she bows at you and walks off.

You stand there for another 5 minutes before knocking four straight times. Your heart beats out of your chest as you hear a hushed voice on the other side of the door.

It opens soon enough, and you come face-to-face with Bang Chan himself.

“There you are” He smiles, the gorgeous dimples in his cheeks making you feel at ease. He moved aside to let you in, and you go in with a little less hesitation than you should have.

“I didn’t get your name,” Chan says, “I’m Chris”

This makes you giggle, of course, you know who he is. But he’s just being polite, which makes you a little more relaxed.

“I’m y/n” You say

He nods and takes you further into the rather large room. The lights are dimmed, but you can make out the other two silhouettes lying across the king-sized bed.

You jump a little as Han Jisung sits up and confidently walks over to you. His cool nature spikes your already high anxiety levels.

“Hello,” He says, “I’m Han”

He points over to a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne sticking out

“Want a drink?”

You can’t even answer before Changbin gets up and walks to the three of you. He’s wearing a tight, black tank top, making you a little dizzy as you get a full view of his muscles.

“You can’t just ask her that, Han,” He says, flicking the younger’s forehead and giving you a nice smile, “I’m Changbin”

“I’m being polite” Han defends

Changbin rolls his eyes, “She’s gonna think we wanna get her drunk or something- We dont by the way”

The two start to argue in Korean, making Chan laugh from behind you.

“Please excuse them, how about we take a seat?”

You nod and follow him over to a small table with two chairs. Everything seems to be going in slow motion. How in the hell are you in a hotel room with 3racha? THEE 3RACHA?

Once you two sit, Chan immediately starts to ask you about yourself. You reveal you just graduated college, and the concert earlier was a little treat for yourself after managing to save money while still paying your tuition and other expenses. You talk about your hometown, your favorite shows, your favorite songs, and how you got into Skz

“In my sophomore year of college, I had a professor who loved to play music at the start of class. She usually played louder music to wake everyone up since the class was so early, one day she played Gods Menu- I Shazammed the song and the rest was history”

Chan laughs hysterically at this, even more so that you added the fact that your teacher was a 70-something-year-old lady.

“That’s so cute” He smiles, “So you’ve been a fan for a couple of years”

“Yep. My friends have been fans for much longer though, one of them since pre-debut”

“That’s sweet” He grins, “We love our Stays, especially ones that are so beautiful”

He takes his hand and caresses your face, making your heart start to beat concerningly fast. You hear the other two men stop arguing, looking over to see them watching you and Chan with twin looks of lust.

“We saw you in the venue,” Chan says, bringing your attention back to him, “I’m sorry if all of this is overwhelming, please tell us if you feel uncomfortable”

“It’s okay,” You say quickly, “I’m okay”

Changbin and Han come and stand by the table, Han giving you a shy smile and Changbin’s smirk making you bite your lip.

“The other members saw you too,” Han says

“Where are they?” You question

“In their rooms. We figured we may scare you off if you saw all eight of us. Don’t want you to feel cornered” Chan explains

A strong sense of boldness and pure disbelief fill you as you utter a quiet, “They can come in here”

And with that, Changbin leaves the room and comes back minutes later with the other five members.

“Hi” Felix’s deep voice and bright smile greet you, “Glad to see you”

“Thought you wouldn’t come,” Seungmin says, “This is a little strange, isn’t it?”

The boys all sit in various spots in the room. You and Chan remain at the small table, him giving you reassuring looks as you contemplate the situation in front of you

“Why did you guys invite me here?” You ask

“We wanna fuck you,” Seungmin says bluntly

A chorus of scoldings comes his way as he laughs

“It’s true!” He exclaims, “It’s not fair to keep her guessing. We saw you and thought you were so gorgeous that we thought it’d be worth a shot to ask you here”

“Of course, you don’t have to do anything,” Felix says, “You can leave right now, no problem”

You contemplate for a moment. How is this real life? How in the fuck did you find yourself surrounded by eight of the most beautiful men on Earth, all wanting to fuck you?

If this is a dream, you don’t want to wake up -so with that in mind- you say;

“I wanna stay”

Hyunjin is shocked at your acceptance of the offer, “Are you sure?” He asks

“Yes,” You say with an odd sense of confidence, “Give me the NDA”

Han goes to one of the nightstands and pulls out a stack of paper from the drawer.

“You have the last page of it, this is the rest.” He says, handing it to you

“Do you guys just have NDAs on standby?” You joke, but Chan looks at you with a look of seriousness

“Our team does in case any of us choose to have a random hook up” He admits, “This one is more lengthy though”

You start to look through the papers, all the men patiently waiting for you to read through everything.

There’s a “hook up” clause, essentially saying that you can’t reveal anything about the one night you and any member have had.

There’s a “Causal” clause, one stating that if you and any member(s) were to have causal interactions, you are not to say or allude to anything.

However, there’s a “Connection” clause, this one revealing that you are allowed to spend time with any member(s) [If you and he choose to stay in contact in a serious matter] with help from JYP staff. You are allowed to attend any Skz events of your choosing, be at their residence, and go out with them on dates while swearing to not say anything about the arrangement and allow the staff to keep a close eye on you.

“Interesting” Is all you say by the time you finish the paperwork. I.N. had silently given you a pen to write your signature on a couple of dotted lines.

“There are three arrangements” Felix reiterates, “Do any of them sound good to you?”

“I’d prefer the connection arrangement,” You say truthfully, “I’ve had casual sex here and there but I’d like to build some kind of relationship with you all”

Heat rises to your face as you look back at a smiley Chan.

“I understand I’m only a fan but I would hate to just fuck you all and then leave. Especially if I’m offered free concerts and shit”

Chan and Felix burst out in laughter, making you even more comfortable than you were before

“No, I understand” Chan nods, “We’d love to get to know you as well.”

“Great, I’m glad we’re in agreeance”

As much as you wish you could have just hugged all of them and started the process of getting to know the members, you caught sight of how good they looked right at that moment.

And well, you have needs.

You look around the room and your eyes stop at a shy-looking I.N, whose face turns red at the way you were looking at him.

“Do you guys have condoms?”

~~~~|~~~~

Taglist: @anxiousskylar @openthevale @kaiyaba @blackbluerose666 @angelhyunjinnie @hyun-hwanj @shuporangporangilinos @jisungsbammey @yumiblogs @sillyhal @chrizztopher97

[odinsblog]

Worth re-reading

Rule No. 1: Believe the autocrat. I argued against the expectation that Trump would change in the months following the election, becoming somehow “Presidential” and abandoning his more extreme positions. This belief, it seemed to me, stemmed from the inability to absorb the fact of a Trump Presidency, and not from any historical precedents of similar transformations. The best predictors of autocrats’ and aspiring autocrats’ behavior are their own public statements, because these statements brought them to power in the first place.

Rule No. 2: Do not be taken in by small signs of normality. Most catastrophes unfold over time. Following the shock of a disastrous election—or a Presidential tweet—the sun rises again in the morning, and life appears to proceed as before. One adjusts, until the next shocking event.

Rule No. 3: Institutions will not save you. During the election campaign, one often heard the argument that institutions of American democracy are strong enough to withstand attack by Trump. A year ago, I pointed out that many of these institutions are not enshrined in law—rather, they exist as norms—and even those that are enshrined in law depend for their continued survival on the good faith of all actors. There is no law, for example, guaranteeing daily press briefings at the White House and media access to these briefings. I predicted that the investigative press would be weakened and that reality would grow murkier.

Rule No. 4: Be outraged. If you follow the first three rules, you ought to be outraged. But I know from experience how hard it is to be the hysteric in the room.

A year on, progress is mixed. Activist groups like New York City’s Rise and Resist, founded by alumni of the aids-activist organization act up, stage regular, vivid, act up–style actions. On the occasion of the first anniversary of the election, they vowed to begin weekly demonstrations demanding impeachment. The A.C.L.U. continues to file lawsuits; late-night comedians continue to amplify the painful absurdity of Trumpism. On the other hand, Washington has absorbed Trump, and so has the Republican Party. (It’s the other party whose national organization is imploding these days.) No single event or revelation has produced enough outrage to cause Trump to be removed from office, nor has one seemed to hurt his chances for reëlection. Not Charlottesville. Not the revelation of a Trump Tower meeting with a Russian lawyer who promised to deliver dirt on Hillary Clinton. Not the regular revelations of past acts of corruption and of current lies. Not the continued spectacle of a government of haters and incompetents. The outrage dissipates, and Trumpism persists.

Rule No. 5: Don’t make compromises. I predicted that Republican Never Trumpers would fold and offer their loyalty to the new President. I also feared that a great many federal employees would face an impossible choice between staying in their jobs under a reprehensible Administration and leaving, forfeiting the chance to do good within a system that had started rotting from the top. Trump’s attacks on the institutions of government have been so fast and brutal, however, that many people made the choice without torment: they left. (Remember the President’s arts and humanities committee? Or the business advisory councils?) Still, a few people remain in what’s left of the State Department; some people have joined the Administration with the explicit goal of using their expertise to help minimize damage. But to watch General McMaster struggling to mislead journalists on Trump’s behalf is to see the built-in problem with the project of minimizing damage: one inevitably becomes an accomplice.

Rule No. 6: Remember the future. There will come a time after Trump. What will we bring to it? I wrote that the failure to imagine the future—to offer a vision in opposition to Trump’s appeal to an imaginary past—had cost the Democrats the election. A year later, the national Democratic Party does not seem closer to proposing a vision (or a candidate); instead, the last week has seen the Party plunged into a vicious re-litigation of the 2016 primaries.

(full article here)

[ballroamblitz]

caramel pie | J.P

summary: james smells caramel pie on the amortentia potion

james potter x fem!reader

word count: 3.750 content: teeth rotting fluff, angst warnings: crying, reader blushes notes: one thing about me is i love me some amortentia fic with a side of james fluff ughh also i listened to glue song by beabadoobee while writing this :) p.s i accidentally posted this on my side acc so if anyone wanna be mutuals my main blog is @beastofbrden :)

- Someone please, kindly remind me why I decided that continuing Herbology after the O.W.Ls was a good idea? - Y/N huffed out, sitting at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

The four boys sitting around her laughed. 

- Learned a lot today, uh? - Sirius asked, ironically. 

- Oh yeah, loads! We had to feed toad flesh to those terrible toad-eating plants. For some reason, mine just didn't feel like eating it without regurgitating it all back on me! 

The boys went hysterics, and even the girl couldn't help but laugh along. 

- There's still a little piece there - James pointed. - Here, let me take it out for you.

He took out a small chunk of toad flesh off her hair. 

- Well, may I remind you, Y/N, that no one told you to keep up with Herbology. We all dipped from it while we could and no one else has pieces of toad on our hair - Sirius noted, clearly getting a good laugh out of the girl's toad disaster.

- I just didn't want to hurt Sprout's feelings! 

She sighed and brushed her hair with her fingers, only then looking at the food in front of her.

- Merlin, I'm starving! Could eat anything right now.

- Even toad? - Remus joked, sending the group on another laughing crisis.

By the time of dessert, Y/N started scanning the table for something. Clearly not finding it, her panic started showing. 

- Oh no. Where's the caramel pie? 

- They didn't serve any today - James replied, needing all the strength on his body to stay deadpanned. The other three boys were deep in conversation, and him being the one sitting closer to Y/N (as always) only he noticed the girl's agitation. 

- What??? What do you mean they didn't serve any? In the six years I've been here they never not served it and I can't believe they chose today to…

- I'm just joking - James pulled a plate that was hidden behind the steak pudding, smiling playfully at the girl - Saved it for ya.

- James! I would go mad if they stopped serving this pie, y'know! - she let out a relieved breath. 

- Nah, don't worry. They will keep serving it, or I would fight the elfs for ya. 

- One day I’ll hide your figgy pudding, then we’ll see.

- You wouldn’t dare, missy.

James watched with a soft look on his eyes as the girl took the first bite of her favorite dessert.

- Thank you for saving me a piece, Jamie - she leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment to show gratitude. When she got closer, he smelled the vanilla scent of her hair and the caramel pie on her lips.

After lunch, the five went straight to Slughorn's classroom. 

- Good evening, dears, good evening! Now if you could get up and get closer, I want to show you something!

The whole class shifted near the table Slughorn was sitting behind. 

- Here, we have a very special potion. - He pointed towards a bubbling caldron full of a crystal clear liquid - Very tricky to make, very characteristic and perhaps one of the most dangerous we can brew. Can anyone tell me it's name?

Y/N's hand rose in the air.

- Yes, ms. Y/L/N. 

- It's Amortentia, or simply the love potion. Since true love can't really be produced by any sort of magic, it causes more of a crush or an obsession. 

- Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor! - Slughorn smiled.

- Nerd - James whispered,  messing up Y/N’s hair.

- Sod off, Potter.

- You see, one of the most intriguing things about Amortentia is its scent. Everyone smells something different, because its scent is completely dependent on what each person feels personally attracted to. Now, who wants to come forward and tell me what it smells like? 

No one volunteered. No wonder, since it's a very particular thing to simply say in front of a whole classroom.

- No one? I'll pick someone then. Let me think... - Slughorn scanned the faces around. - Ah! Mr. Potter, you will do. 

James was caught by surprise. He had been distracted by the warmth radiating off Y/N, that was almost resting her head on his chest. 

- Me? - he asked and pointed towards himself.

- Of course you! Is there any other Mr. Potter?

The whole class laughed as James stepped closer, his signature boyish grin splashed on his face. 

- Now Mr. Potter, lean in and smell the potion.

James ran his hands through his hair and did as told. One single sniff and his smile fell off his face completely. The scent was unmistakable: vanilla and caramel pie. Vanilla body cream, caramel pie for dessert, everyday. He had the urge to see if Y/N wasn't standing next to him, but he knew she hadn't moved from across the table. He knew he had to lie. If he said what it smelled like to him, everyone would know it was Y/N's smell.  

- So, Mr. Potter. Whenever you are ready to share. 

He looked at where Y/N was. She was looking at him, just as well as everyone else. She looked relaxed, the potion's glow making her look specially pretty, angel-like. Think of something, fast. Something not at all related to what you are really smelling, something like...

- It’s wood and broomstick polisher.

- Very well then Mr. Potter. Looks like you've got a thing for Quidditch, uh?

The class laughed, and everyone looked convinced. James Potter, Quidditch captain, smelling broomstick polisher and wood? Fitting. James high-fived himself for his quick thinking, and let out a relieved sight. Now, no one would go around thinking the wrong things. 

Later that night, in the common room, however, the potions class was almost burning a hole through James' head. Slughorn said Amortentia smelled of what attracted each person the most.  Attraction was romantic, sexual attraction. But Slughorn had been pretty vague, hadn't he? He could've meant attraction in any context. It could mean anything. It could mean platonic love, right? If Slughorn didn't think much of James smelling Quidditch, it probably meant it could smell of anything the person liked a lot, right? But it was a love potion. That caused passion. And Slughorn said he had a thing for Quidditch. A thing. But he didn't have a thing for Y/N! He loved her, of course. Everyone knew she was his best friend, they did everything together and she was probably his favorite person in the world. Yeah, maybe he went to extreme lengths to see her happy, and yeah, maybe he was a bit too affectionate with her, but she was his best friend.

- Can't do homework anymore. - James was ripped off his thoughts by Y/N's presence. She threw her backpack at the ground in front of the sofa he was in and layed down - My brain feels like mush.

James looked at her. Her head was resting on his lap, and she looked extremely comfortable. That was obvious, since they always had been this affectionate towards each other. They both were very touchy people, and it felt natural to be in constant physical contact. James was always happy, eager even, to be like this with her. In a platonic way. Obviously. Today, however, her skin on his felt like it burned. 

- How was it? - James asked, coughing to conceal the way his voice failed a bit in the first word.

- Homework? Awful. It's not that difficult, but it's too much. And it just seems pointless, you know? What will I actually learn from writing 19 inches about toad eating plants? Nothing, I tell you what! - The girl sighed and closed her eyes again - Just wanna go to sleep, really.

He didn't know what to answer. He normally would have made a joke about the plants, added more criticism about essays or something. But he didn’t even do his homework, with how paranoid he was. For the first time ever, he was completely speechless in her presence. Her eyelashes were resting peacefully on her pink cheeks. The light from the fireplace made her skin look more flushed, and her hair had a golden glow to it. She looked awfully pretty. James knew that, of course. She had always been pretty. But tonight.. when she moved her head a little bit, he smelled the amortentia smell. Vanilla and caramel pie, just as strong as it was that afternoon. 

- You are way too quiet today, Jamie. - She opened her eyes and he felt something weird in the pit of his stomach  - Ate too much pudding? 

- Yeah, probably. 

She stretched and yawned, sending another wave of vanilla and caramel pie to James' nostrils. 

- Going to bed - she got up. Her hair was messy and the light from the fireplace behind her looked like a halo. - Night, Jamie.

She lowered herself and pecked his cheek lightly. 

- Sleep well - her soft voice was way too close to his ear, turning James' legs into jelly. 

He watched her going up the stairs to the dormitory, and the place she had kissed burned long after she was gone. 

He had no reason to be this nervous for the potions class the next morning. Slughorn had already moved on from amortentia, since it was a difficult, dangerous and time-consuming potion to make, but James was half hoping the potion would be brought up again, and half hoping everyone would collectively forget about it completely. Slughorn didn't mention the potion again, moving on directly to Felix Felicis. He watched the whole class on the edge of his seat. He had decided he would ask the teacher about the potion just to calm himself down. Just to make sure. Everyone had been really concentrating on making the best draught of living death the whole period, but James just wanted the class to end so he could ask Slughorn and stop eating himself alive.  

- Alright, alright. Congratulations mr. Snape on your draught. Truly outstanding! - Slughorn said, raising a round of applause - Class dismissed!

Everyone started to gather their backpacks and leave, but James made sure to stay back. He pretended to be very interested in a weird type of algae that Slughorn kept in a little ampoule. Just a few more moments and then he'll say that no, I don't have romantic feelings for Y/N and that i just really like caramel pie or something, and then i'll stop going mental... 

- Gillyweed. - Slughorn’s voice dragged James off of his daydreams 

- Uh? - James frowned in confusion, wondering what the teacher was talking about.

- The algae you're looking at, Mr. Potter. Gillyweed. Helps the person breathe underwater. 

- Oh, yeah, right. Professor Slughorn, I was wondering if I could ask you something.

- Sure, my boy, ask away - Slughorn encouraged while distractingly stacking some parchments.

- I was wondering… about the Amortentia potion.

Slughorn stopped his movements and lifted his eyes directly to James. 

- Oh, I see - He looked very amused, for some reason. - What were you wondering?

- Let's just say a friend of mine smells it and it reminds him of someone. It could smell like someone he just truly cares about, couldn't it? Like, it doesn't necessarily mean he's in love with the person that the scent reminds him of, right? 

Slughorn's lopsided smile grew bigger.

- I'm afraid, no, my boy. 

- What? - James felt like the classroom got three times smaller and hotter by the minute - But I smelled wood and polishing oil, and I'm not in love with a broom, am i? 

- Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter... - Slughorn chuckled. - I think we both know you didn't smell any of that. 

James felt his face getting warm and red. 

- But, if you did, that would mean you have a crush on a Quidditch player, let's just put it like that. Amortentia is a very strong love potion, and we can only smell things in it that romantically attract us very deeply. Those of us that aren't in love with anyone would smell something quite abstract. But if this friend of yours smelled amortentia and recognized the scent as someone's, then boy do I have news for him. Does this answer your question? 

      - Hm, yeah, sure. - James agreed. He felt like he was gonna fall down from the absurd speed at which his mind was racing. - Thank you, Professor.

- Anytime. - James began to leave, completely out of it. - Oh, and Mr. Potter?

- Yes? - James turned around, hopeful that Slughorn would start laughing and admit he was joking.

- Tell your friend I wish him the best of luck with this new, blossoming love. 

As James went out of the classroom and up into the common room, he deeply regretted not stealing that ampoule of gillyweed and swallowing it whole. That way, he could spend the rest of his days in the black lake with the merpeople. I bet amortentia wouldn't smell like anything down there, he thought. 

For the rest of the week, James spent every waking hour trying to not think about what Slughorn said and what it meant, and he was succeeding. He kept himself busy with classes, Quidditch and even homework. He also did his absolute best to avoid everyone. He ate before anyone else and made sure he was far away from the great hall by the time he knew Y/N and the rest of the Marauders would go down to eat. In classes, he sat very distant and left early. He even pulled some pranks he didn't even feel like pulling on Filch to get detention in the nights he couldn't schedule Quidditch practices. He walked the halls in the invisibility cloak. Anything to keep his thoughts away from the big fire alarm going off inside his head. The only problem was that he missed Y/N in all of those moments. When he was doing homework, he missed the sound of Y/N's pen scratching the parchment next to him. While he ate, he missed the warmth of her body next to his, the satisfaction humming while she ate her pie . He missed laying down together after homework. He missed seeing her on the stands at practice. He even realized that the real fun in pranks wasn't the actual thing, but to see Y/N laughing hysterically afterwards. To put it quite simply, it felt like he was sleep walking all the time. He couldn’t go on avoiding her forever, but what he was gonna do, he had positively no idea.

Until Friday night.

It was late, and he had been in detention. Filch had made him write “I shall not turn the school’s trophies into pigeons” a hundred times, and his hand was hurting from all the repetitive writing. Normally, he would have complained, but this time, he was glad for the distraction. Enjoying detention, he thought bitterly while crossing the fat lady, I must be really going mad. His grouchy thoughts were interrupted by a sound. It sounded like.. crying. Or better yet, it sounded like someone was sobbing their heart out. He looked around the empty common room, but didn’t see anyone. He followed the sound to the sofa near the fireplace, where he and Y/N always rest after studying. Before you turned into a chicken. 

Y/N was laid on the sofa, her face buried in a cushion, her whole body shaking with her sobs. James was flooded with panic.

- Y/N, baby, what happened? - he cooed, his voice altered with anxiety. Y/N never cried, except when something very serious happened.

Y/N looked up like she thought she was seeing visions. 

- Jamie? - her voice was soft and shaky, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot red, like she had been crying for multiple hours. The hurt on her eyes broke James’ heart in a thousand pieces. 

His mind raced with possibilities: maybe someone was mean to her? Maybe someone died? Maybe she was hurt? The thought of her being in pain panicked him even further. He sat down and pushed her into his lap, laying her head on his shoulder. 

- Are you hurt, baby? Where does it hurt? Please, tell me. 

She cried violently on his shoulder. He inspected her legs for bruises, but she seemed well physically. 

- Y/N, tell me what’s wrong, I can’t stand to see you like this - he begged. -  Did someone hurt you?

The question seemed to trigger something on the girl, because suddenly she was on her feet, out of his arms. 

- Did someone hurt me? Seriously? - the tears streamed down her face, but her eyes glimmered with something new: anger.

James was confused, to say the least. He noticed that she was wearing one of his old sweaters, one that had vanished from his suitcase a few weeks ago. 

- Baby...- he begged some more.

She looked as if he had twisted a knife on her wound.

- Don’t you dare “baby” me, James. Not after ignoring me like the plague for a whole week! 

Oh. Oh. James had been so involved with his own confusion regarding the amortentia incident that he forgot almost completely that Y/N didn’t know what he was doing, or why. She was crying because he hurt her feelings. That was a lot worse than if she was crying because of another person: he could’ve gone out to kick said jerk’s ass. But if he hurt her, what was he supposed to do? Punch himself? 

-Y/N - he cooed, apologetically. - Y/N, I…

She showed him her palm, urging him to stop talking.

- You don’t have to explain wanting to be away from me. I’m sure you had your reasons. But you could have at least told me that you wanted some space from me, or something, because I’ve been miserable, and…

She thought he wanted space from her. The sorrowful shaky breath that escaped her lips mid-sentence threw him over the edge. 

- No, no, no… - he repeated while pushing her back into his lap - Oh my god, Y/N, no…

He caressed her hair while she sobbed violently on his shoulder. Her fists were closed tightly on his shirt, her tears dampened his neck, and he couldn’t recall the last time his heart ached this badly.

- Did I do something? Did I bother you? I’m so sorry.. - she whispered softly, like she was voicing what had been repeating in her head over and over again during the last few days. Her words were laced with anger, resentment, but, above all, hurt. He wanted to double over in pain.

- Listen - James lifted her chin up gently, forcing her to look into his eyes. - I’m the one who’s sorry. 

The tears kept coming, but she was listening.

- I shouldn’t have avoided you last week, and it’s not your fault, okay? It’s my fault. I’m the one who got scared. 

She looked confused.

- Scared? Of me? 

James would have to confess what happened at Slughorn’s class. He had given zero thought about his messy feelings, and even though unraveling them in front of Y/N scared him endlessly, he would have to do it, because he could never let her think that he wanted space from her. That he wanted anything but to be close to her, at all times, if he could. 

- Please - she asked, incisively, noticing his wariness. - Tell me.

He took a deep breath, feeling vulnerable, raw. As if he would undress himself fully in front of her.

- Remember Slughorn’s class about amortentia? - Y/N nodded, encouraging him to move on - He asked me to smell it, right, and I…

- You said it smelled like broom polisher. 

- Well, yes. But I lied. - he decided to avert his gaze to the ceiling, or else he would never talk. - It was caramel pie and vanilla cream. So, I smelled… you.

Silence. A moment, two. He couldn’t muster the courage to look at the girl. He felt her hand grazing his cheek, urging him to look at her.. 

- Jamie… - She looked wonderstruck, and his heart seemed like it wanted out of his chest - Really?

- Really.

James was sure he’d never seen something as beautiful as Y/N after his response. She was smiling the biggest, most shiny smile he had ever seen on her face. Her eyes shined like gemstones at him, so soft he wanted to cry.

- Do you want to know what I smelled? - she asked, soft as a feather. 

His heart somersaulted when she brought her face closer to the side of his neck. She whispered on his ear:

- I smelled… - She sniffed his neck once - Sandalwood - another sniff, followed by a chuckle  - Broomstick polisher…

She distanced herself, looking deep into his eyes.

- And homework parchment. And fireplace naps. And figgy pudding.

His heart was hammering against his ribcage. Y/N smelled him. On the amortentia potion. Him.

- Y/N - James whispered, all warm and fuzzy on the inside. - Really?

She didn’t answer, just grabbed his hand, the warmth and softness of her skin overwhelming his senses. Placed his hand on top of the point of her chest where her heart was. Through the fabric of his shirt, he could feel her heart beating faster than a hummingbird's. She never unglued her soft eyes from his. 

She likes him. Suddenly, all the thoughts he had been avoiding throughout the week came crashing down on him, like a dam.

James was an affectionate friend. He liked physical touch. But he never liked it half as much as he did with her. James was a thoughtful friend. He remembered things about his friends. But he remembered every single thing about her. He was a sensitive friend. He hated to see his friends suffering. But every time he saw her cry, it was like his heart was being crushed. James was an attentive friend. He loved spending time with friends. But when he was away from her, he couldn’t even function properly, like he was missing one half of him. Y/N is his best friend. But she is more, too. He loves her. But there’s something else: he is in love.  Amortentia never lies, after all.

When his hands tangled on Y/N’s hair, he smelled vanilla cream. When he kissed Y/N’s lips, he tasted caramel pie.

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

Hi! Can I request a Hua Cheng x bottom male reader x Xie Lian one shot? Maybe that the three of them are already in a relationship together. And maybe when they all go to Qi Rong's (the black water calamity) lair to kill him in that one chapter/episode, Before they start fighting Qi Rong starts flirting with reader and it makes HuaLian jealous as fuck. And so when they defeat him they drag reader back to the Puqi Shrine and reminds him who he belongs too 🤭

Also if possible can you make it smut?

Feel free to delete this ask if you want tho!

Look At Me

Hua Cheng x M!reader x Xie Lian

Sorry it took so long I'm still in school guys 😞 at first I was confused because I thought you were talking about He Xuan because I was sure he was the black water calamity

I forgot the prince's name guys

I made up connections for Qi Rong and reader

Ignore grammar mistakes

Slight ooc?

Smut ahead!!!

____________________________________

They knew it wasn't going to be easy, nor was it going to feel good. Hua Cheng has meant to find Qi Rong, reveal the truth to Lan Qin Qao, and continue on with their lives. Well, he just wanted to beat the shit out of Qi Rong for what he did to Xie Lian.

All of you went to Qi Rong's lair, and watched Hua Cheng beat Qi Rong's face into the ground. Then you all got to listen to the truth about the banquet. So far so good. 'good' is an emotional ride for everyone there. But that was the whole point anyways.

Everything was going as planned, in Hua Cheng's book anyways. Until Qi Rong started slandering Hua Cheng and Xie Lian. He started yelling about how Hua Cheng was Xie Lian's dog, and how Xie Lian is so pure he must've been blinded by it.

You have a deep past with Xie Lian, and a relationship with both men so of course you aren't happy to hear these things. Especially from Qi Rong. You used to be close with him, of course you were. He was Xie Lian's cousin so obviously you would've met him. Now look at Qi Rong. It was truly pitiful.

You were upset by the words Qi Rong was saying, he used to be such a good child for you. The things he was saying weren't fair to your lovers, you also didn't want to see Qi Rong get beat up anymore. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng already had a go at him.

"Qi Rong you've grown to have such a vulgar tongue, please be quiet." You weren't going to hit anyone, you're too sweet for that, so you could only ask him nicely. It's the first thing you've said since you've been here. You haven't said anything, rather staying quiet instead. You just didn't want things to escalate further.

You hadn't expected it to work, Qi Rong is. . . Unstable, to put it nicely. Plus he hasn't looked at you this whole time you doubt he remembers you at all. It's been so long.

Qi Rong snaps his head towards you and his giggling dies down. "Y/n? Y/n is it really you? What a wonderful reunion this is!" Even though Qi Rong had just been upset about 'people throwing a party in his lair'.

"Come closer, come closer I want to see your face y/n. It seems you've been by my high and mighty cousin all this time." He grins widely. You don't reply to that, you don't know what to say. You had gone to step forward though, to allow Qi Rong to see your face after all these years.

Xie Lian stopped you though. Where he usually is so hesitant to touch you has been thrown away, he pulls you by the elbow, behind him now. Xie Lian doesn't know why he does it. Anger? Jealousy? Selfishness? Protectiveness? Hostility? Who knows but he knows that him and Hua Cheng will lose it if Qi Rong dares to spit harmful words towards you.

But Qi Rong doesn't. He does the contrary, as if Qi Rong had really missed you. As if he had a right to your person. He laughs, finding it hysterical how Xie Lian pulls you behind him. How his big cousin is selfish even though he acts like the most selfless person to ever breathe. "Hahaha! Look at you big cousin! Look, look! You've always been selfish! Selfish!" He laughs and laughs against the ground.

Qi Rong looks at you, what he can see peaking over Xie Lian's shoulder anyways. "Y/n, Y/n I've missed you over these 800 years. You must've been blinded by big cousin's light too! His pureness and selflessness right?! You should come with me instead. I miss Y/n's pretty face I haven't seen it in so long!" And he dares to try and reach a hand to your robes.

You don't know if he's being honest in his words or if he's saying it to piss off your lovers. You wouldn't put it past him. "Qi Rong please" you hiss through your teeth. You had been so focused on Xie Lian that you had completely forgotten about the seething ghost behind you.

Hua Cheng's devotion to Xie Lian is admirable and his devotion to you is the same. Qi Rong very quickly finds his face being slammed into the ground again. It's a very gruesome sight and you didn't enjoy it all. Hiding behind Xie Lian and covering your ears as Qi Rong continues to roll your name over his tongue.

Things pass, and tensions increase. Eventually leading to Qi Rong being cut in half and thrown into boiling liquids. Even though Xie Lian drags you off, you can't help but stare where Qi Rong was thrown.

Once the three of you are out of the lair, you're all interrupted by Shi Qingxuan and Feng Xin. Feng Xin wants the two of you to come back to the heavens. To come home. He demands it actually, threatening Hua Cheng with his bow and arrow. Shi Qingxuan stops him though. You and Xie Lian get pulled behind Hua Cheng.

Once things smooth over with them and Hua Cheng bullies Feng Xin with blood rain, you were expecting to go back to the heavens with Xie Lian. The two of you do need to get up there and explain everything that has happened. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng decide differently though. Instead you're dragged off and your lovers are eerily silent, seething quietly. You don't know what to say, because you don't know why they're upset. So you don't say anything you let them drag you along.

They've taken you to Puqi shrine. You can only assume that maybe after such a tiring day, that everyone is missing home. Maybe your lovers just want to spend a few hours with you and have some peace. To make what happened earlier a distant memory. Your mind is quickly changed.

Your assumptions prove wrong when Xie Lian drags you through the door and shoves you down on the mat. "H-hey! What is wrong with you?" You look away. Xie Lian grips your jaw and snaps your gaze back towards him. "Look at me, don't look away again" Xie Lian has never treated you so roughly. You've known him a long time and he's always treated you carefully. Not even in bed does he usually dare to treat you so hard.

You try to gain your balance, and to get off of the floor. You're quickly pulled back by your shoulders and your back meets Hua Cheng's chest. Leaving you between your two, seething lovers. And you? You poor, oblivious thing. You don't even understand why.

"A-Lian, San Lang! Why are you acting like this!?" You're left with no answer besides Xie Lian practically tearing at your robes and San Lang pinning your back against his chest. He's not giving you the chance to move away. Not that you would anyhow.

Hua Cheng being angry, and upset is nothing new. It's concerning sometimes but he tends to pout a lot so you expect it. Seeing Xie Lian angry, is frightening. Well, not exactly but you haven't seen him angry in a long time but he's never been angry with you. Ever.

You're stripped quickly, and your hands shoot out to Xie Lian's face. Holding his face in your hands, making him look at you, forcing him to pause in his ministrations. "A-Lian, what's wrong?"

Xie Lian's brow furrows and he lets out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry y/n" he huffs softly and holds your wrist. He moves his face to the side and kisses your palm. "Qi Rong was right I am selfish. I am, I shouldn't be but I can help it. But I'm selfish for good reasons" he moves closer, nipping at your neck. His usual soft kisses, become possessive bites.

"I have a right to claim you, to touch you. You're mine. You're San Lang's. You're ours" he hisses through his teeth and he bites your shoulder hard. His hands roam while he talks, spreading your legs and his oiled fingers prod at your hole. Where did he get a bottle of oil? When did he even do that?

San Lang makes himself busy by kissing you and shoving his tongue down your throat. Stealing your breath as if it were his. Not that he needs to breathe.

Xie Lian continues, "But what right does he have to claim you? To try and take you away from me, from us?" Xie Lian growls out, and presses fingers up against your prostate. It didn't take long for him to find it, he's explored you many times. It causes you to arch against San Lang's chest and moan into his mouth.

Xie Lian doesn't feel like being nice today though because his fingers continue to rub and curl up against your prostate. You squirm against them both, moans being ripped out of you by Xie Lian nimble fingers. "A-Lian, A-Lian, please~!"

San Lang bullies you too, making you dizzy from his kisses and his forces your legs apart. He's encouraging Xie Lian to bully you. San Lang is good in bed and Xie Lian is usually obedient, but Xie Lian getting out of his shell to bully you? San Lang enjoys it thoroughly.

One of his hands wraps around your dick and he strokes you, he only makes it worse. The two take out their frustrations on you, leaving you to mumble their names. With both of them bullying your front and back, it's not long until your cumming. A long moan spills from your lips and your legs try to clamp shut. San Lang doesn't let them though.

You double over and heave a breath when they don't stop. Xie Lian bullies your prostate and San Lang moves his fingers faster around your dick. It quickly puts you into overstimulation and pretty tears drip from your eyes. "No, no, slow down~" You whine, and your legs shake into San Lang's hold.

"Tell us who's you are then" San Lang purrs in your ear. Another orgasm is forced out of you and you babble some more. "Xie Lian d-does, San Lang too. Please!" You squeal from the pleasure.

Those words are forced out of you many times that night, because they don't intend to let you get away so soon. They bully you for the rest of the night and when you show up in the heavens the next day you have a slight limp. The other officials are worried you were injured by Hua Cheng, but it was both Xie Lian and Hua Cheng who made you cry on their cocks.

____________________________________

I hope you like it 😁🙏🖤🖤

[justevelynnnn]

He’s better

Summary: After constant mistreatment from your boyfriend Logan, someone else starts to catch your attention…

Warnings: Smut near the end, cheating mentioned, cussing, logan gets kinda cucked in the end

A/N: I’m in my Scott summers era rn. I’m here to feed all 12 of the cyclops fans with this one💯

You really don’t know how or when this feeling started.

Logan hasn’t been treating you right in ages. The relationship you two started was passionate. But that was the issue. “Passionate” in this case just means sex. Lots of it. And it was cool and all at first, especially because Logan was very good in bed.

Veryyy good.

But that was it.

Valentine’s day came and he did nothing but offer to get you off for a few hours. Couple of lazily thrown rose petals on the bed. A chocolate bar. He never got you flowers or spent actual time with you.

Your final straw was your one year anniversary.

What did he do?

He forgot.

You hinted all day but he just looked at you sideways. Then he had to “leave” early in the day and said he wouldn’t be back for days. You said nothing. You just stared at him as he left with a bag full of clothes, cigars and booze. That was another pet peeve.

He was so bad at communicating. Not even a kiss goodbye nowadays.

You knew what most would ask at this point. What did you think you signed up for??? That was Logan Howlett for you. Cigars for breakfast, Booze for lunch and a combination of both for dinner. And the sex thing was just obvious. That man loved sex but did he reallyyy care for a serious relationship?

Obviously not.

Jean and Scott find you crying outside after Logan left on you guys anniversary and offered to take you out for drinks. You wanted to take your mind off things so you agreed and that night you three went to a nearby bar.

Scott decided to be the driver so he didn’t drink but you drank a few. You and Jean sat at the bar and Scott sat at a booth by the door, looking out the window but also occasionally looking over at you two. Jean also got drunk for some reason, but you later found out it was because her and Scott were also having relationship issues.

Jean was starting to become sloppy and just before you turned to tell Scott, Jean started crying and confessing random things to you. Guilty conscience you supposed. Wasn’t this night for you?

She tells you times she lied to Charles and things she said that she regrets. But one thing stuck out to you.

Apparently, she slept with logan a month ago.

You froze. What?

She claimed she did it to get him off her back and stop flirting but apparently that’s made him worse and now Scott is mad and is threatening to break up with her.

By now she’s crying hysterically and the bartender had told you guys to leave. Scott shakes his head in annoyance and disappointment as he rushed over and apologizes to you.

It was then you thought.

Maybe it’s cause you were tipsy but in the dim, soft light of the bar Scott looked kind of…..hm.

Wait, did he always look this good? No, no, no…well?

Was his jaw always that defined? Wait a minute.

You watched as he carried an inconsolable Jean out the bar.

Those arms…those muscles…

Hm.

Scott broke up with Jean the next day.

Logan was still gone so you had your shared room to yourself but you supposed you’d break up with him too. Not that he’d care since he couldn’t take you seriously.

You were still very hurt as you sat in the kitchen at the island with a glass of wine. How’d you get hung over from a few drinks? Your head pounded while your heart hurt with sadness.

Scott came in a few minutes after you got settled.

“Hey, y/n…” He said as he walked to the fridge.

You mumbled a soft “hey.” as you looked up at him.

Why was he shirtless? Good lord.

Those abs…

Maybe you were still drunk because Scott was looking very sexy right now.

“Hey, sorry for last night again.. I don’t know what’s gotten into her..” Scott sighed and put his hands on his hips. “I’ve been nothing but loyal to her.”

“You and me both..” You said sadly. You didn’t even realize how you and Scott were in the same boat of being cheated on.

Scott smirked as he saw you still staring at his torso.

“Feeling all right over there?” He asked, playing innocent.

You jump. Shit, has he caught on already? You quickly replied, “Oh, yeah yeah, just.. bit hungover I guess.”

He nodded and moved to sit next to you still smiling.

“I got a few remedies for that yknow…”

You could also smell his breath now. Minty.

Hundred times better than beer or whiskey. Actually clean.

He was so close now as he leaned in a bit. He licked his lips too. Those lips..so many details about him you never noticed til now… You could feel his eyes on you as you shifted in your seat. Remedies? You hated where your mind was going.

His “remedy” was to eat food and not drink more.

You felt like a dumbass. You needed to get your mind out the fucking gutter.

And this stuff went on for a bit.

In the few days Logan was still gone you stole many glances at Scott. One day, you caught him in just gray sweatpants working out. You watched as his body moved, glistening with sweat. Listening to his grunting. Then looking away when he looked your way.

You didn’t know what got into you either but you just couldnt shake Scott off your mind.

You thought about him when you woke up, went to bed, worked out, watched tv…

He ran circles.

And he was so kind to you after Logan got back. You and him had an argument about Jean and how he forgot the anniversary thing a few days ago. He said some hurtful things to you. Really hurtful. Scott comforted you as you cried again, rubbing your shoulder and telling you everything it gonna be okay.

He brought you a few flowers with a ribbon tied around the stems.

“Just something to cheer you up.” He said smiling at you.

He cooked you dinner another day—your favorite foods too, how interesting, how’d he know?— and even offered to teach you after you ate it and complemented his cooking.

This went on for weeks. This “nice” thing quickly turned into flirting.

It horribly irritated Logan to see but he says nothing much.

Jean apologized to you again and again and you didn’t know if you ever really wanted to accept her apology. She stayed away from logan now, responding harshly to his attempts of flirting. It was his “fault” she lost Scott she’d tell him.

And she was so caught up with teaching she didn’t notice how close you and Scott were becoming either.

You were worried. Scott made you melt but you were worried if you were just some rebound or if you slept with him it would just be some stupid payback to logan. How would you know if he was just buttering you up just to get between your legs and then leave?

But maybe you were too swooned to care. You started to hang out with him more and more, like you teo were already dating. You thought, why not? He was sweet to you, caring, patient…

He even opened up to you. No offense to Logan but you were tired of prying for answers on true feelings.

One afternoon, after a month of heavy flirting and sneaky touches, you were in his bed. One thing led to another and now you two were sloppily making out, hastily removing clothes from each other. The door was left wide open. You were worried if anyone would hear and tried to tell Scott but he ignored you, pulling your panties off.

Maybe he wanted a certain someone to hear..

“You’re so beautiful, y/n.” Scott said taking your nude body in, probably saving a mental image.

Scott was in nothing but his boxers now. You could see the semi-hard on. You were no longer distracted by the open door. He was big alright. Not that Logan was too but with Scott it was more length than girth.

“Scott…this is…i still haven’t broken up with him yet…are you sure we should be doing this?” You breathed. You wanted this…so bad. But it wasn’t right.

“So? Mentally, you have. Plus..”, He kisses your neck and whispers in your ear, “He doesn’t know how to treat someone like you clearly.”

His soft voice sends shivers down your spine. He gently thrusts against you once more as you softly moan his name. He’s right. Logan didn’t know how to treat you. Not anymore at least. He was always rough and quick with you but Scott…so patient, calm. Soft.

Scott kisses you one more time then he gets up to grab a condom (be safe guys!) and pulled his boxers down.

“Fuck…” You say barely audible but Scott hears you and smirks.

“Like what you see?”

You just nod. He was beautiful. Head to toe. And where has he been hiding all of that dick?

Scott climbs on top of you once more, rubbing and kissing all over you. Practically worshiping your entire body. Savoring you like he will never fuck anyone ever again.

He rubs your clit once more, preparing you for when he enters and asks you if you’re ready. Again, all you could do is nod as he lines himself up with you. He tells you to take a deep breath and let him know if he needs to stop at any point. God, he was so so gentle with you.

It was definitely a stretch.

It’s been awhile honestly. Scott let you adjust as you heard your breath hitch. He rubs comforting circles on your clit once more and kissed your lips softly.

Once you were ready he started to move. He was nice and slow at first, giving you a few good deep thrusts. It didn’t take long for him to bottom you out. Then he changed to a pace that was quicker. Still deep, but faster. The headboard on his bed started to bang against the wall.

You were worried people would hear but what you didn’t know was Scott picked a perfect time to fuck you like this. The students were on a field trip and the other xmen were with them. It was just you and Scott today.

And Logan.

You sound like a broken record at this point, calling Scott’s name over and over. Moaning things that barely make any sense. The sheets below you are already damp. Scott barely made any noise as he thrusted into you. Listening to the wet slapping noises coming from you two. And for any other reaction…

You really forgot about the open door the second Scott was inside you. You begged him to go faster faster faster until you felt like the bed could soon break from how quick it was moving and how loud it was.

A few positions later and you were getting close. Scott had you on your hands and knees now though he had pushed your face into the bed. You were out of it, nearing an orgasm. He had you facing the door but face down. He could hear footsteps as you whine about how close you were. Knowing you was coming only got him closer too. As he saw a shadow appear he quickly told you to tell him, “Who’s making you feel like this? Tell me and then you can cum.”

“Y-you Scott! Fuck- You! Scott you!” A muffled voice in the sheets. You were so cockdrunk you couldn’t even hear someone approaching the door.

You finally came in one of your most intense orgasms yet, moaning Scott’s name loudly once more.

Scott soon followed but what you didn’t see what how he was staring right into Logan’s eyes as he came inside of you. Biting his lip, glaring at him as he sloppily gave you his final thrusts.

You plopped onto the bed when it was all over but your attention was soon caught again as you heard the familiar sharp snnnnkt sound and a growl right in front of you.

“You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?” Scott said in a mocking tone. “Toooo late…”