#it's like... a crash and burn from when you were a teenager thinking that you know everything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

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Rigor Mortis (part 5)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 4, Part 6

summary: You deal with the aftermath of last night. Lyla has a party.

warnings: very suggestive. mentions of sex, vulgar language, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this is so so so self indulgent i cannot express it enough. probably ooc asf: you've been warned.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 8.5k (i'm on a strict plan and had a lot to get through lmfao)

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

and they were good.

Eventually, you're bundled into your room in a fit of giggles and with shaky legs. Even in Miguel's hoodie, insisted upon by the man himself, the sheets feel a little colder after he leaves. Initially, he had collapsed on top of you; smothering you with the heat of his bare skin and the sweats that ride down his hips, dangerously low. You're pushing him off, or trying to, heavy and leaden-limbed. Whether it's the weight of that orgasm or the remnants of that blunt that turns your arms to jelly – you don't know.

Honestly, you don't think you care. He's resorted to laying his head on your chest in mock sleep – clearly still high as fuck – and stretching out on top like a housecat. He's warm on your lap; so you bring a hand to card through dark brown curls that rest on the flat of your sternum.

You'd never have known it: Miguel has a playful side, beneath all the sarcasm and red tape.

In the morning, he's gone - with only his hoodie as proof that something happened. For you, it's a hazy memory - warmth tinged in the lazy light of last night's high. It comes and goes like the tide on a quiet beach: remembering how he touched you, the feel of bare skin on bare skin, the way it burned when he kissed your shoulder….

And it's gone, again. You're left tracing the hickey at the base of your neck, and it aches . A little moment like that, fooling around like teenagers on prom night, and it shouldn't feel as intimate as it does. Groaning into your pillow, you burrow into the expanse of your roommate's hoodie. With a busy week incoming, you can't afford to be distracted – not like this.

And so, you bury the urge to knock on Miguel's door, and put your lips around the words that mean… more. You want more. It feels greedy to verbalise it, as if you've seen too much of him already. The irony; humping almost fully clothed and yet, feeling so bare. It leaves a strange taste in your mouth – blood, maybe. Maybe he's finally done it: stuck the knife between ribs to find out what colour you bleed. Miguel's a scientist after all; prone to making things go pop and snap , slicing into specimens with a steady hand.

It's too much, too close for comfort and you can't afford it: affection and intimacy in any shape or size was a fatal wound , especially after last time. Instead, you let the morning waves crash over its outline left in sand. A body – blood and gristle and guts – washed away by the tide.

You find yourself pushing down dangerous feelings. After finally getting comfortable with Miguel, all that progress seems for naught; bumbling around the apartment like a deer finding its legs. The first morning, you're spared a confrontation as he's already gone from the apartment. Earlier than usual, and you hand-wave away that little voice in your head that says: he's avoiding you .

He's not. He can't be. And you know it because he's able to look you in the eye. Briefly, but it's much longer than you can last. You have a whole conversation when he comes home and it only makes you want to rip out your eyeballs a little.

You're on the sofa, hands in your lap and antsy. There's a stupid soap on the TV, but you can barely concentrate; head too full of cotton to make sense of the screen. You're so lost in thought that when the door clicks open, you jump half a foot into the air.

"Shit." You turn, watching Miguel kick his shoes off at the door. Flashing him a nervous smile, you wave limply and turn around to cringe.

"Heeey," God. You burrow into the cushions.

"Hey." He's got a plastic bag in hand. He drops the rucksack on his back, and goes straight to the kitchen.

You call out. "Takeout's in the fridge."

He hums, and you hear clattering from the doorway. Turning, you watch; sleeves rolled up in a smart shirt. You can see the muscles in his back from here; the ripple of hard lines under cotton. Craning your head, you can't help but be curious.

"Stop sticking your nose in."

You're halfway off the couch, and stop dead in your tracks.

"M'not-"

He peeks out from the doorframe; catching you in the act.

"You're not allowed to look."

It leaves you spluttering, getting off the sofa like a spoilt child. He's telling you not to look, and like clockwork you're itching for it; padding towards the counters. Miguel must have superpowers the way he catches you, leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed across his broad chest. You're on your tiptoes and trying to get a glimpse into the kitchen. He shifts in the way, tight-lipped and shaking his head.

"Meant it. It's a surprise." You cock your head, like you can't believe what he's saying.

You step to the other side and he steps along with you, blocking your view.

"... Miguel ." You say it slowly, incredulous. You're stepping closer, ever so slightly, but he stays stony-faced and resolute.

For the first time in 24 hours, since you basically fucked him in the room next door, you're looking each other in the eye. Squinting, you hold his gaze but he barely cracks a smile.

"Sit down." He says it sternly, but his voice is soft. "Please."

With a flourish, you bring your hands up in surrender and inch back towards the couch. It's the usual chopping and thudding of cabinets being opened and closed. It takes everything not to look back, but you force yourself to concentrate on the TV.

Finally, he places a bowl in front of you before flopping to your side. He's still in his work clothes, adjusting the waistband of black slacks and popping off the buttons at the top of his shirt. You're trying not to stare, not to drool at the way he just melts ; sinking into the seats like a lolly on a hot sidewalk. When he brings his bowl closer, that's when you inspect the contents of yours.

"Is this…?" You start, and he hums; taking a healthy slurp of noodles in the process.

You shake your head to no one in particular. It's the very same instant ramen you've stopped buying, after constant complaints and lectures from the man himself. There's enough salt in here to banish a demon, he'd spit. In retaliation you'd bite back, saying, maybe you'll fuck off where you came from, and retreat to your room to eat in peace. It's your favourite flavour; perfectly salty and flavourful and definitely not good for you. In the broth, there's the milky white and yellow of an egg, with spring onions and fresh veg breaking the surface. Even before you've taken a bite, you feel that warmth at your chest, again.

He doesn't even look at you, pointing a finger at the screen instead.

"I thought Jenny was dead?"

You clear your throat of that lump, rising up like a fishing boat spit up by the waves.

"That was her twin sister, Jane."

"...I thought Jane was dead." He frowns.

"No, no, Jane faked her death in the mining accident; and ran off with all that inheritance money… were you paying attention last episode?"

"No, you watched it without me."

"Yeah, but you said you hated this show–"

" –only because it's a total rip-off of La Patrona ,"

"And yet, you're begging me not to watch without you–"

"Begging seems a little strong–"

He's kept his sharp tongue, and you're too occupied with arguing to notice the hand wrapped around the back of the sofa; how you're both inching closer until your legs come to rest on his own. You're focusing on his lips, drawn in by a pull that seems stronger than gravity.

He's saying your name, and you snap out of it. Blinking up at him, a deer in headlights, you remember yourself and look away. Tension pulls at the both of you, a string as thin as fishing wire that snaps with your realisation. You like the way he looks, flushed and flustered after a long day. You could make him feel even better, right now, if he wanted it. You'd drop to your knees and wrap a hand around his cock, pulling those beautiful sounds out of him – the very same ones you'd fucked yourself to the thought of, not so long ago.

If, being the key word. And with the way he shifts back, away from you, you're not too sure if last night was a flash in the pan or something more.

Everything about Miguel screams dangerous; flags in deep scarlet that are telling you to stay the fuck away. He doesn't commit, sleeps around; refusing to define or put a label on any significant relationship in his life. He won't even admit, say the words, that he's fucking a half-dozen girls right now; even when you've got concrete proof in the form of messy lips and banging on the walls. Okay, maybe half a dozen is a stretch; but three girls, on three separate, multiple, occasions for sure. Probably; you haven't technically seen anything but if the precision of last night was any indicator – the terrifying speed at which he made you fold like a lawn chair – he had significant experience. He was a fucking veteran; dedicated to the sport for the love of the game.

You find yourself caught in his web all the same; kicking yourself at your naivete. He's turned away now, seemingly unfazed, making little comments at the show you've got on TV. It's becoming increasingly clear where you stand: caught in a game of chicken with your roommate – a man with balls of steel, if last night was any indicator. You're ill equipped to deal with such levels of conflict avoidance, despite years of hands on experience.

The question remains, stuck in the gaps of your teeth like udon, thick and dense and chewy: how exactly does he feel about you? Where do you belong?

~~~

It's been quite the week and a half, mostly spent trying to make sense of Miguel. One minute you're at each other's throats, and the next, he's talking you through rate laws and kinetics equations. Apparently , you've got a lecturer he used to have, and he insists on sidling up to you on the dining table; prodding at your paper and liberally crossing out errors. His inconsistency has you irate ; and it means you get petty, picking fights and laying easy bait. Frustratingly enough, all it does is make that tension worse; thick and choking ; in your little apartment.

The only thing you have to look forward to is the party at Lyla's; of which you've volunteered to help set up. It means food, and drink, and a couple hours of respite, hopefully.

On the day, you get to Lyla's early. Miguel's at work, promising to be there in a couple of hours, and so you take the subway instead. Yet again, walking up to her apartment feels like another world – one of marble and faux fur and lots of animal print. When she lets you up, you're left with only your thoughts and the quiet hum of the elevator. In the mirrored wall, you take stock of your outfit: snug denim and a little shirt. Admittedly, your wardrobe felt a little lacking – jeans and a nice top being your go to. Right now, your only hope is that the dress code would be more forgiving.

The door swings open and Lyla's pushing you towards the living room, chattering away at a mile a minute. It's overwhelming as you're dragged into the light, half a dozen boxes and its miscellaneous contents strewn onto the floor.

"–and Jess has the nose of a bloodhound, so if anything seems even a little off, she'll know… "

You nod slowly as Lyla squeezes your arm with so much force, it cuts off blood supply.

"Like clockwork. We need this to run like clockwork."

Fingers numb, you watch as her features set; a wide smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and shadow that cuts her face just so. Overcast and dramatic; simply put, it's terrifying.

There's a loud Pop! from behind, making you jump.

"... sorry !" Peter's voice rings out, and there’s a tangle of brown hair and dark eyes peeking over the kitchen island.

Walking over, you can see he's splayed out on the tiles, balloons littered all over the place. A balloon pump, long discarded, sits in its packet at barely an arm's length. More importantly, though, he's got a bundle of red hair and freckles in his arms; little May, sniffling and whining with what's left of a balloon between chubby fingers.

"Might need some help, over here…" He says it softly, rocking the little girl in his lap.

Lyla rolls up non-existent sleeves, face scrunched up in concentration. She closes her eyes ; fingers dancing as if typing on non-existent keys.

"...okay, okay, change of plans." She turns to you, eyes wrenched open and hands clasped together – Machievellian in nature. You suppose; with the sheer extent of her party planning skills, able to pull strings this way and that; it fits. "We've got exactly 3 hours and 23 minutes before everyone else arrives, plus about 17 minutes, give or take, before Jess does."

"How do you kno-" You start, but Peter presses a finger to his lips. She's in the zone, he seems to mouth.

“I need you and Pete to get these balloons done, and then we can set up the archway. I’ll call Ben, ask him where the fuck he is, and then we’ll see if we can get some banners and streamers up…. God , and the food…. think I need to threaten someone at the catering company, give me a sec,” She stalks off, muttering something that sounds important. Pete shrugs, kicking over a box of balloons; black, white and gold, a lot fancier than you had expected. May is eased off of his lap, and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She sniffles, holding her head up bravely. It's probably the cutest thing you’ve seen all year.

“I give her 5 minutes before she realises Miguel’s going to be late.”

“...and God help us when she does.” You finish for him, settling down on the cool marble.

You make a start on the balloons, opening the untouched packets and pulling out a shiny pump.

“How long have you known each other?” You busy your hands by stretching the neck of a deceptively small balloon.

“Oh, Lyla?” He frowns. “A couple of years, maybe. We met because of Miguel – same with Jess and Ben, actually.”

It's your turn to frown. Miguel was the glue? It’s a picture that doesn’t quite match up with the meet-cute that you were painting in your head. If they met because of your roommate, it must’ve been a contentious group project, or someone rear-ended in the parking lot, that brought them together: something with a lot of shouting and arguing, you decide.

Maybe Pete sees the surprise on your face, because he adds, “I’ve known Miguel for longer, though… and he’s a lot nicer than people give him credit for.”

“...I didn’t say he wasn’t.” Nice? Not a chance.

“But you were thinking it. Promise, once you get to know him–”

He’ll give you a mind-numbing orgasm and pretend it never happened. Or something like that.

“ –he gets less confusing?” You grumble. “I’ve seen enough, I think.”

“So maybe he’s a bit of a prick. But under that cold, stony exterior; buried deep, deep, deep…”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Deep down , somewhere, he’s got a heart.”

“I just,” You pause, choosing your next words more delicately. “I didn’t expect his friends to be like you guys. Fun and–” …a little batshit, and… “ – spontaneous. He’s so stoic sometimes, it’s worrying. Like, he’ll just blank out on the couch–”

“–frowning in the corner like the wall’s pissed him off personally? Yeah, I’ve seen that one a few times.”

“He’s just so hot and cold! Sometimes we’re good and almost friendly, and then all of a sudden he’s avoiding me at all costs, holed up somewhere. A-And then he’s making me breakfast, like that blip didn’t even happen… did I do something wrong? Has he said anything to you? I-I just want him to–”

The man besides you chuckles. And then, you flash him a violent look that has him flattening his features in a hurry.

“He just… takes some time to warm up, s’all. He’s changed – changing. I mean, we went to highschool together and I didn’t even realise ‘til we met again in college.”

“You went to highschool with him?”

“Yeah, but I was like, 2 grades ahead of him. We didn’t really talk except… we were both in this robotics club afterschool.”

“Robotics? Wires, and circuit boards, and–”

“ –robots. Honest-to-God, hand-on-heart, stupid little robots. And being teenagers with way too much time on our hands, we’d build ‘em, and then make ‘em fight to the death. Miguel… he took it way more serious than everyone else there. We’d mess around with goobers and battlebots – hell, sometimes we’d skip to get food. He was.. He was always there, though, hunkered down in the corner and tinkering away at something.”

“Now, I wasn’t popular in highschool, at all – I went to Robotics Club , so I think that about sums it up – but I remember… no-one could really understand him. Top of his class, always up for awards, but people thought he was a little weird. Come rain or shine, he’d always be in that corner seat with a screwdriver basically glued to his hand. And we didn’t have a clue what he was building.”

He seems wistful, thinking back to that time.

“When I finally asked him what it was, at the end of maybe… 2 semesters,” He smiles, one that deepens his dimples and brushes the corners of his eyes. “He finally told us. It was a… a fucking arena for all the stupid stuff we built. He’d really thought it through, too: all our equipment would get jumbled up, so he made little boxes and sections to separate them in. There was an LED pad he’d programmed to keep a scoreboard. It was made out of this… self-healing vinyl so we wouldn’t need to replace it too often. He got so excited when he was explaining it all; about how it folded up so we could bring it with us when we changed classrooms, and… honestly, I think they still have it there.”

He sighs. “I think that’s all he knows how to do, y’know. That’s the language he speaks, the only one he really understands. Taking care of people, giving them what they need. You’re barely friends with Miguel, then all of a sudden he’s giving you hangover cures cooked up in his kitchen, and cussing you out in the morning, ‘cus you went a little too ham after a breakup. Or…he’s bringing pizza to your apartment at 3 in the morning, ‘cus he knew you were lying about being okay after your Uncle’s funeral.”

He’s got a faraway look in his eyes, an absentminded hand in May’s. Her stubby fingers curl around his, and then he’s back, snapped out of that distant daydream.

“Give it time. He’s been through some shit. Miguel’s got layers, like–”

“Like an onion?” You offer, weakly.

“No, no. Like one of those cheese wheel things that May likes so much. With.. with the wrapper and the waxy red stuff on the..?” He handwaves it away. “Forget it. MJ knows what they’re called.”

~~~

You put your back into helping set up. You don't quite get the theme, but Lyla explains it all whilst you hang the contents of those boxes on the wall: a maximalist, hedonistic mish-mash of food, drink and decor. She wants it to feel like if Gatsby three raves, and actually fucked that sad twink – whatever that means. The visual representation of an orgasm, but classy, she says. More, more, more; and if your back doesn't hurt by the end of it, then it's not enough.

She's got you hauling ass across her front room, draping fabric and moving furniture like it's your job. Ben arrives and between the four of you (five, if you include May clambering on decor), it's all done. You can't help but think she's done a great job: the whole room decked out to look like the cover of an expensive wedding in Vogue – excessive but in a way that's only classy when rich people hire someone else to do it. Lush fabric in lieu of streamers draped on the walls, balloons sculpted into arches and tastefully dotted around the floor. The theme is black and white, with hints of gold, and gentle strings of pearl hang from ceilings and walls. It looks good, because it has to; Lyla's made you move everything around about a million times.

Gleefully, she rubs her hands together, turning to all of you. "Food's going to be here in 10, I think. You guys get changed and I'll double check when Miguel's bringing the cake."

Peter and Ben disperse into various rooms – with Peter noticeably rubbing his back, May on his arm. You're left with Lyla, awkwardly looking towards her for guidance.

"...get changed?" You look down at your woefully casual outfit. It seems you've come completely unprepared.

"Yep. Miggy didn't tell you about the dress code?"

…it's becoming increasingly difficult to cut your roommate some slack. With everything that's happened, rather conveniently, he's neglected to make any mention of a dress code.

Sheepishly, you start, "I didn't know, shit –"

Lyla cuts you off and brings a hand up to silence you. Bouncing on her toes, she's almost giddy with excitement.

"I know exactly what you can wear!"

She leads you upstairs to her room. You perch on her bed; and whilst you grapple with the fact that she even has an upstairs, you lose her in the deep depths of a walk-in. Lyla rummages through almost cartoonishly; wading through fur and leather and giant coats like an explorer hacking through dense forest. Eventually, she resurfaces, waving a bundle of white fabric. She hands it to you with a grin.

She gives you some room, pushing you through the double doors of her closet to get changed. The dress feels amazing on: well-made, thick fabric and endlessly snug in all the right places. In the mirror, you marvel at how such a simple garment transforms you: a silky slip that stops about mid thigh, draped beautifully on your shoulders, and hugging your hips like a glove. There's a little slit at the side that stops just a bit higher than you'd usually be comfortable with, but… it works. Incidentally, your makeup and hair compliments the look; soft and pretty and–

You hear a small gasp from behind the door. Lyla's got her head peeking out into the room, and then she's at your side with a gentle hand on your arm. She spins you around in front of the mirror.

"You look…" Her eyes light up, marvelling at you. " Gorgeous. You have to keep it."

"No, I can't… I won't . I was already underdressed, and this must have been expensive. I can't."

"No shit, of course it was expensive. But that's not a good enough reason… I barely wear it, and I've got more than enough clothes. Keep it ." She's smiling, head just over your shoulder in the mirror.

"It's not too much…?"

"Honestly, babe, it's not enough." She giggles. "D'you like it?"

It feels weird to look at yourself like this, dolled up and pretty – contrasting how you've felt in the past few months. It feels like you've been in survival mode; exhausted and perpetually tired. On, all the time, and sick with worry about one thing or the other. You've forgotten to take care of yourself, and as a result, this feels different.

Lyla notices: the way you stand up a little straighter and adjust your hair; the way you try your hardest to clamp down a smile. Do you like it? Slowly but surely, you nod.

"You're allowed to like it, y'know," She says, softly. "You look happy. You look good. "

You believe it, when she says it. You let that feeling carry you down the stairs; one hand on the railing and Lyla babbling away with an arm looped around yours.

~~~

Miguel is late – really late .

He was meant to be at Lyla'a about an hour and a half ago, which means he's rushing to get the cake. For once, at least that goes smoothly; and he picks up a little red velvet affair, piped to perfection and with " Happy 27th, Jess!" written on its face. It keeps him company on the way to the party, sitting snug on the passenger's seat as he drives more carefully than before. He figures it's better to be safe than sorry; already this late, there's no need to add cake smasher to the list.

The day's been draining, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with his favourite podcast. He knows his friends like the back of his hand, and knows that when Lyla says a small celebration for Jess, just a house party ; what she means is going the whole 9 yards, an excess of food and drink and disgustingly expensive decor, all for the sake of a birthday. He's had a glimpse of the guest list, and recognises about half of the people there – Lyla's too friendly for her own good, he thinks. He'd tried to talk her out of it, knowing Jess would be more than up for a smaller dinner, but she had her mind set. And it's impressive, what she's no doubt managed to achieve in the past few weeks of meticulous planning.

Nevertheless, it's not something he has the energy for, right now. Work had been a slog; and he'd had a couple hours of lectures before a meeting with his thesis supervisor – where she had ripped his outline to shreds, frankly. He's still sore from that verbal lashing, but fears the one he'll get from Lyla more, if he doesn't come.

And… and there's you, headstrong and stubborn and insisting on attending; even though he had made it abundantly clear you were under no obligation to do so. It must be out of spite, he thinks. But with the dress code, he can't help but daydream as to what you'd look like; maybe, a pretty little dress on, hair done a bit different, and… ohhh fuck. He didn't tell you about the dress code.

He's gripping the steering wheel, annoyed at himself for such a little slip up. And it's not just the fact that he's forgotten; but he knows, considering the past few days, you might take it the wrong way. He's not stupid ; he knows he's been wishy-washy, all because it's hard to decide how he wants you or if he should. More than anything, he feels guilt; getting you high and oh-so close to fucking you, just the way you deserve, and then… he can't. It's hard to explain, and even harder for him to wrap his head around. That logical part of him screaming: you can't fuck your roommate without consequences. But he's already had a glance into Pandora's box, a taste of that sweet fruit – of temptation , strong and heady.

It's that taste left in his mouth, of something sweet, that lingers when he walks into the party. The door's open, but even from down the hallway he can feel it: the rattle and shake of pumping music. He squeezes himself in, dodging the mass of bodies packed into the main room. The lights are low, music loud and the celebration well underway. More than anything, he's hoping it's so busy he can just show his face for a bit, and then slip out.

He towers over other people, shuffling past, giving a nod or hello to all the people that slap his back and greet him. A scattered chorus of 'Hi' s and 'S'up, Miguel's, and then he's placing the cake on the counter, pushing past half-empty drinks and beer bottles. He snatches one up, looking around. He's watching for the furred collar that Lyla's no doubt wearing, or mousy brown in the neon lights; but with the pumping mass of bodies, he can't see much.

He's ready to check upstairs when the crowd parts, and he sees you ; swirling in the mass. It makes his chest bloom with heat; you're gorgeous, dressed in white like an angel and smiling in a way he's never seen before. And then, his heart stops as someone else comes into view: another man, somewhat taller than you. There's an arm wrapped around your waist, and the man dances up against you in a way that makes something cold and bitter flare up within him. Miguel stays glued to the spot, for some reason, unable to take his eyes off of you: illuminated in the light, beautiful and flowing like a spectre. And like nails on a chalkboard, all he can do is watch as you dance up against someone else.

His mouth goes dry, and then he's making a beeline for the double doors at the back; a glassy entrance to a balcony tucked away. The air is stifling in there, but when he's on the balcony, finally, he's able to breathe.

There's someone nursing a brightly coloured drink, in its corner. Jess, big hair braided back and a velvety red jumpsuit on. She turns at the clatter of the door opening, before bursting into a wide smile.

" Miguel!" She cheers, enveloping him in a hug.

"Hey," He smiles warmly, sinking into her arms. "Happy birthday, Jess."

"Thank you, kindly." She curtsies, producing a faux southern twang and laughing all the same. Then, she wags a finger at the man in front of her. "You're late . "

He rubs his temples. "I.. I know."

"Lyla's gonna fucking kill you. "

"I know."

She gives him a playful punch. "You okay, over there?"

He gives her a rueful smile. "Yeah, Jess. Of course. When am I ever not okay?"

"I've got a list, big guy, but we'll be here all day."

She laughs and Miguel glances over through the glass; drawn to you even now. The song's changed, a bass line that rattles the panes, and you're still glued to that guy . Just as quickly, he looks away.

With a front row view to that display, Jess raises an eyebrow. She follows his gaze, connecting the dots.

" Oh. " Her voice is gentle. "S'that her?"

" Her?" Miguel echoes.

" Her . Your roommate. The one Lyla says you're fucking."

"You and I both know– "

"Okay, okay, maybe she didn't say those exact words…. but there's something there, for sure."

"Not possible . " He says it plainly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

She leans against the railing, taking a careful sip of her drink.

"Xina says you're doing stupid shit to impress her. Peter says you're making heart eyes whenever she's in the room. Ben says– "

"Xina? What's she got to do with anything?" He's deflecting, Jess notes. Miguel, usually so quick with the sarcasm, and he's refusing to touch the other half of what she said.

"...you're tutoring half of her classmates."

He purses his lips. "Yeah, but I didn't think –"

"...you didn't think girls would talk?" She splutters. Of course it sounds stupid, when she puts it like that.

"Yeah, well, Xina's still not talking to me , so…" He trails off, shaking his head.

"It's almost as if you broke her heart into a million tiny pieces, Mig." She rolls her eyes. "Get your head out of your ass, man."

She turns to face the city and Miguel does the same, with a heavy sigh. It's quiet for a moment, with only the sound of cars below and dull thrum of speakers behind to keep them company. He's always liked this, he thinks. A moment of calm with Jess, the only sane person for miles around. They're able to sit in comfortable silence, in a half-minute that transcends words.

He reaches into his front pocket, pulling out a little parcel that's wrapped up in red paper. He nudges Jess, handing the present over.

"Happy birthday."

She smiles, tearing into the little package. Then she stops halfway, heart melting at what peeks through.

" Miguel… " She coos, a hand on his arm to steady herself. Out of the packing paper, she produces two little boots; red and blue and made of soft wool. "How did you…?"

"It wasn't obvious, but… sick in the mornings, switching to soda when we go out to a bar…" He allows himself a smile. "And I asked what's-his-face, just to be sure."

"See, I can't tell if you actually don't know my husband's name or–" She cuts herself off with watery laughter. "F-Forget it. Fuck, I'm gonna cry all this makeup off,"

He takes a sharp intake of air. "They were… mamá made them."

"Thank you, oh God . I know how much this–"

He cuts her off with a hand wave, as if to say; don't worry about it. "Sorry I couldn't come to the wedding. Your husband seems nice, and he treats you well. Although , he's kind of–"

" Corny . Yeah, we get that a lot." She's half laughing, half crying, fanning her face to stop her mascara from running.

He wraps a big arm around her, pulling Jess into his side. Happy tears, he hopes as she blubbers.

"I think m'getting too old for this… we don't see each other enough, lately… a-and I would've been happy with the dinner, then Lyla told me there was an emergency over here–"

"She did good. Really good. Don't tell her I said that, though."

She nods, bringing a finger to her lips with a smile. "And you don't tell the other's about…"

"Of course not. When you're ready, Jess."

"I love you, man." She grins wide, and Miguel returns it with one of his own; an increasingly rare megawatt smile. It quickly falls with her next words.

"If you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll break your kneecaps and blame it on the hormones."

She grabs his beer, opening it with her teeth, and hands it back to him. A little scared, Miguel takes a healthy swig.

"Oh, shit. " Jess exclaims, batting his arm. "I completely forgot. Lyla's got some stupid games on, upstairs."

"Who with?"

"The usual suspects, Mig – though Peter's long gone and… I don't even know where Ben goes, actually. But you can bring your girlfriend up, if you promise not to eyefuck her across the room."

" Gross , Jess."

She raises a hand up in surrender, leading the way back inside.

~~~

Miguel's here all of a sudden, and in a moment you thought would be more of a bang ; you lock eyes with him as Jess herds you upstairs. It's less of a sharp pain at the ribs and more of a crescendo; pooling warmth spreading to fingers and toes. He's still in his work clothes: crisp white shirt with a couple buttons undone, and black trousers. A little formal, and yet, he doesn't feel out of place; wearing the monochrome of the dress code, and looking twice as good as any man in the room. Somehow, you've forgotten how tall he is; lumbering over everyone else as he cuts between the crowd. He snakes behind you, giving you a strange look as you walk up the stairs. All of a sudden, you're weary of your dress, tugging down its hem as best you can. Miguel stays behind you, a gentle hand at the small of your back.

"You're okay," He whispers, sending shivers down your spine. " I've got you ."

He doesn't mean it like that , but it's too easy for you to close your eyes and imagine what it could be; words he kissed into skin when you're on top, struggling to take his length.

You ignore that coil tightening at the pit of your stomach, choosing instead to focus on Lyla stumbling through the door, trademark pink shades slipping down her nose. Behind her, there's a little sitting room; plush furniture and a massive tv – with quite a few consoles in the corner, you note. She shouts your name, barely audible over the music.

" – oh, and hi, Miguel!" She's too drunk to be mad, and you don't notice Miguel visibly relaxing. She takes your hand, calling over to Jess just behind you. "We saved you a mocktail, J."

Taking your seat, you settle down next to Lyla; perching with your legs crossed on the seat. Miguel sits some way away, on the opposite side of your makeshift circle, clearly trying not to make eye contact. Jess elbows him, and he turns to her, before having a heated argument; all hushed whispers and hand gestures. It's the most animated he's been in the past week, for sure…

"We're playing Never Have I Ever, Jess! Like back in college."

The woman in question rolls her eyes, giving a flash of pretty dimple. Back in college, Lyla says, when they'd drink cheap beer and spill their guts in dive bars – a tradition Jess wasn't too upset to see go. She didn't have the stomach for it then, and she doesn't now; but it probably wouldn't hurt to relive some of that fun.

It's a warmup round, so to speak; a strong drink thrust into your hands. You take turns going around the circle, starting off relatively tame. First, it's Never have I ever skipped a class. Everyone, all college aged or older, drinks to that one. It's practically a given. And then someone chips in with Never have I ever broken a bone . Again, most people drink – taking advantage of the freebies to get a little tipsy.

It's Lyla that throws out the juicy ones, after a couple of duds.

" Never have I ever faked an orgasm." She says it from behind her glass, giggling.

Less people drink, this time. Sheepishly, you raise your glass, taking a healthy gulp. Lyla takes the opportunity to gasp, clutching at her chest and fanning her forehead dramatically.

You're whispering back, half laughing and half telling her off, "That's not that weird, Ly. Hasn't everyone…?"

"Not me. How's your partner meant to know it's shit if you fake it?"

It's her sincerity that makes you laugh; wide-eyed and completely incredulous. You're clamping down the giggles when you look around, immediately locking eyes with Miguel. He gives you an odd look, as if amused.

You're up next, and roll up metaphorical sleeves. "Never have I ever had a threesome. "

There's murmuring around the room, and a couple of people take a drink. Lyla does, with glee, and someone else you don't quite know the name of. What surprises you, however, is when Miguel takes a swig; eyes locked onto yours.

You feel heat rising, blinking away as best you can. You still feel his gaze, of course. That game of chicken, the one you've so desperately been trying to avoid, rears its ugly head. You think Miguel is winning.

The questions get more and more provocative. Never have I ever been pegged… or pegged someone else. Lyla drinks, Jess takes a gulp of her fruity mocktail…. and so does Miguel. Never have I ever been cheated on. Most people drink to this one, including yourself. A shitty teen relationship barely counts, you suppose; but you're taking every opportunity for a drink right now.

Never have I ever cheated on someone. One or two people drink, and at least they have the decency to be ashamed. When Miguel drinks, however, you shift in your seat. Something settles within you, discontent. Yet again, your image of the man in front of you changes. For someone who sleeps around, maybe it's not too much of a stretch for him to cheat ; but the word feels so final, too cruel. It doesn't match up, for some reason, with your Miguel, who brings you piping hot noodles and hot water bottles on a bad day.

This time, he doesn't meet your eye.

Lyla decides she's bored, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"New game – truth or dare!" There's faux groans from around the room. Lyla sticks a tongue out, ignoring them, and continues. "Jess, as the birthday girl… you get first pick."

Jess lights up, gorgeous , with the hoops at her ears swinging to and fro when she looks around. You haven't spoken much to her, but she seems like good fun; making a whole song and dance of picking the first victim.

It's obvious, in hindsight, who she'd pick. There's only one person in the room visibly squirming, almost sweating , at the idea of something so out of his control.

" Miguel," She says, turning to the man sinking into cushions. "Truth or dare?"

He gives her a look, and she combats it with one of her own; the kind that could melt steel beams, and says It's my birthday, don't be a dick.

" Dare ." He grits his teeth.

"I dare you," She pauses for dramatic effect. "...to show us your porn watch history."

Imperceptible, his eyes flash towards you. You notice , mouth dry. He groans. "We're not 19 anymore, Jess. It's childish. I'm a grown ass man–"

" Truth or Dare , Mig."

"Truth." It's quick – which is very reasonable, considering her tone.

"When was the last time you fucked someone?"

Everyone turns to Miguel. He's looking at you, of course, wincing at the words he's about to say.

"I don't…" He's swirling the beer bottle in his hand, and then he shrugs noncommittally. "I don't know. A… month, maybe."

" Bullshit!" Someone whisper-shouts, and then there's some laughter.

Jess' eyebrows jump up, and Miguel bats her concerns away, whispering something under his breath. You can't quite catch it but his body language is clear: don't ask. He downs the rest of his drink, lips around the bottle, as some liquid trails down the side of his jaw. You're watching, unrepentantly obvious, and he catches your gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he swipes a finger to the liquid and licks it up.

Heart racing, you force yourself to look away and try to concentrate on the next few dares. The circle seems to have moved on, more interested in whatever juicy shit they can drag up in the next poor victim.

You've all but zoned out when it's the turn of Jun, egged on by a couple of friends. You frown. He's that guy you were dancing with earlier, caught up in heady music and swirling lights. Jun is handsome, in that famous starlet kind of way; square-jawed, pretty eyes, and dark, cropped hair. Boy wonder is lean-lined with a nice smile; the very same that had reeled you in on the dancefloor. Maybe it's the liquor, but you think he's looking at you now; raking sharp eyes over your figure.

"How do you know him?" You whisper to Lyla.

She cups a hand to your ear, more than halfway to being absolutely wasted.

"Used t-to work with him. He's nice enough, I think…? There was a rumour around the office; and apparently, he's got a massive di-"

"Truth or dare?" Someone says.

"Dare. Obviously." He flashes a smile in your direction.

You squirm, and Lyla shines with realisation.

"Oh my God." She whispers, and then she's interrupting before you can stop her. "Makeout with the hottest girl in the room. A proper one, tongue and teeth and–"

You elbow her, square in the ribs. Thankfully, she takes the hint. Jun cocks his head, as if mulling it over. He gets up.

Your head spins with the drink, and you're concentrating on keeping your sneakers flat on the ground. Head down, you don't notice the man walking over. He crouches, tapping your knee.

"Oh." You say, blinking up at him. "Hi, again."

"Hi, again." He smiles. It's like you're the only two in the room, and with the way he looks at you, eyes darting to your lips… "Can I kiss you?"

The words get caught in your throat, so you nod, fumbling.

He places a hand to your chin, gently pushing you closer and then you're kissing; sweet and gentle. You separate, and you open your eyes to find his blown . You've got tunnel vision: his lips are pretty and wonderfully swollen – you just can't help it.

You go back in again, parting your lips to let him in. He's cradling your jaw, tracing a hand up your thigh and it feels good. Closing your eyes, you sink into the heady haze of booze, grabbing at his shoulders. They're not as broad as Miguel's, and Jun isn't as clean shaven. When you snake a hand to the nape of his neck; it's rougher than your roommate's hair, cropped into a boyish cut instead of Miguel's gentle curl. Sighing, you both come up for air, and you're almost disappointed at the distinct lack of red-brown blinking back at you.

Nails on a chalkboard, and you're back in the room. You look around to amused faces, catching Lyla wide-eyed besides you. Jun's cheeky, placing a quick peck to the side of your mouth before sitting down. From your vantage point, you're scared to look, to really look , in fear of what you'll see.

Miguel, in the corner, with a white hot grip on his beer bottle. Catching that stormy gaze, something just clicks. Something resembling power, absolutely intoxicating, that heady rush you got from kissing someone else. Or, more accurately, getting a reaction from your roommate. Notoriously unwavering, and yet … he reveals a gap in his armour. A silent swipe to the ribs that doesn't kill, but draws blood.

People are dispersing now, growing tired of the games. Lyla darts off; with the attention span of an excited pomeranian, and the excessive alcohol, she's already lost interest. You take a breather, sinking into plush cushions and catch Miguel's eye. In the commotion, he's tossing his beer and walking up to you, as if gearing up to say something.

Someone sits into the seat besides you: tall and handsome, but definitely not Miguel. It's Jun, who smells like fresh flowers and cut grass, nudging your side.

"You're good at that," He says, with a little smile.

"Good at what?" You say, confused.

"That kiss." He seems a little bashful, probably sobering up. "It was… good. "

"Not…" You're distracted, eyes flicking over to find Miguel. He's gone. "Not my best work, I think."

He stretches an arm around the back of the sofa, caging you in a little closer, and all you can do is blink up at him.

"....you want to try again?"

He's handsome. He's flirting . And he's present; able to give you clear signs that he wants you. It's more than a certain someone can provide, and you're left with a deep-seated need that no-one else seems to be able to fulfill. Four words ring out in your head, clanging around like pinball. You. Might. Get. Laid.

It's enough to have you leaning up against Jun, a hand tracing circles in his thigh and fluttering your lashes as best you can. Hopefully it's a look that's says seductive, and not pink-eye. This far into the night, you don't quite have the energy to care.

Heavy petting and drunk giggling; you spend God knows how long in that little room, whispering stupid shit to each other. You introduce yourself, and so does he. A brief overview of your life; and you find yourself desperately trying to skip the small talk. Jun works with computers. You're a student. Jun is very good with his hands. You're a visual learner. Everything seems to fall into place.

Soon enough, you're swapping numbers and leading him out the door to somewhere more private . His apartment ; you find yourself hoping, as you make your way downstairs.

He's draping a jacket on your shoulders, and you wade through the crowd. The lights are spinning a little less, you find, holding onto Jun's palm. In that great big room; people packed in like black and white sardines; all you're looking for is something to tether yourself to – or someone. Relationships, you've learnt, were overrated. You're young, and single, and gorgeous ; able to bag whoever you want. And what do you want? A hookup, clearly; something simple and uncomplicated, without the mess of feelings to untangle yourself from in the morning.

There's a commotion from a corner of the room, and Jun pulls you back; craning his head to see. A jumble of people, crowded around the epicentre. He nods towards the bustle.

"Isn't that Miguel?" He shouts over the bass, and your eyes widen.

You push past, trying to get a better look. Flashing lights, pumping music. In the red and blue and black, he's there ; hand wiping a bloodied nose. He's saying something; and a couple of guys surround Miguel, giving rough shoves and shouting something you can't hear. Someone throws a punch and he takes it, barely shifting at the continuous blows.

It's a sobering sight, and you're worried; looking left and right at the onslaught of bystanders.

"Why isn't he fighting back ?" You say, barely audible. No-one's doing anything but watching; one or two even pulling their phones out to record. The sight makes you sick, and you're shouting his name, trying to get closer. Like a gunshot, sudden and sharp and cutting through the noise, he locks eyes with you. His eyes dark, with that same look he gave you not too long ago.

Another cruel kick, and he's down on one knee, clutching at his stomach. You notice the broken glass, the blood in his shirt. He's goading them, and still , he refuses to fight back. 250 pounds soaking wet and at least 6"5; he's a fucking killer – and everyone knows it. Why won't he fight back?

There's a pounding at your skull, and something deep and dark and complicated that twists around your insides, threatening to rise up – and then.. and then…

The lights are turned on, and the music stops. Lyla's at the stairs shouting obscenities; telling everyone to get the fuck out, or I'm calling the cops.

People disperse out the doors, but only a few rush towards Miguel. You do, of course, and then Jess is by his side to help him up. He must look worse than he feels because despite the bruising and pouring blood; he pinches the bridge of his nose like he always does, as if it's just a headache. He's laughing ; the smug bastard; incisors sharp and dangerous and flashing pearly white. Your heart's still racing; betraying complicated feelings. As the last dregs drip out of Lyla's apartment, you're all left to deal with the aftermath.

Jess looks shaken, Lyla's sobering up; and you're holding Miguel's hand, elbow deep in the oil spill.

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #rigor mortis 😼#kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel x reader

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seventeenreasonswhy · 5 months ago

Text

Same Team! A YJH Office Romance Pt. 6

Idol!Jeonghan x ProductionStaff!Reader

You’re serious about your job, but not as serious as Yoon Jeonghan is about flirting.

~3k words

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Series Content: slooowwwwww burn, fluff! but with tension!, cute flirting!, will-they-won’t-they vibes!, did I mention tension!?, some alcohol consumption, appearances by all of the members, reader is shy and gets flustered easily!, jeonghan is jeonghan-ing!

My Masterlist

Author’s Note: The plot thickens!! Thank you for everyone who has read this far! I can’t stop thinking about these two! I just love a mischievous king and a buttoned-up queen! This part is kinda long, but we get a confession!!! The tension is palpable!! Thank you so much for reading!! Mentions of S.Coups and Dino in this part. (Also, sorry for portraying Dino as a lowkey alcoholic, I know he does other things besides drink! Lol).

Taglist: @yeoberryx @clownprincehoeshi @soffiyuhh @wonwoos-wineparty @hamji-hae @junniesoleilkth (let me know if you want to be added!)

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

You weren’t exactly avoiding Yoon Jeonghan... but you weren’t not avoiding him.

Ever since he’d given you a ride home, you would jump at any tasks that required you to go somewhere far away from him—on errands for other members, early subunit shoots that lasted most of the day with a team he wasn’t on, staying late to break down equipment... anything that made you too busy to stop and give him the chance to talk with you again.

There was no denying it, you had a full-blown crush on Yoon Jeonghan. And you were doing everything in your power to make it disappear.

I feel like a teenager... you thought as you sat at your desk, searching for food options in the area of an upcoming GoSe shoot—the crew and the members were going to be there all day and you had been tasked with finding lunch options.

Paris Fashion Week was only a little over a month away, and you couldn’t get the image of Jeonghan leaning forward against his steering wheel and asking you to hang out again... Guilt suddenly rushing through you at how you’d been avoiding him...

You replayed that whole night pretty often in your head, actually. The moment he invited you out with him and Joshua and Dino, the way he draped his arm so casually against the back of your chair, the way he looked driving you home, him saying that you seemed trustworthy... You would catch yourself spacing out, rerunning the moments play-by-play in your head, only to come crashing back down to reality.

“What are you spacing out about?” Jiyeon’s voice came from behind you. She had been a little nicer to you since Jeonghan called her out that one time. But she was still a pain to deal with.

“Nothing,” you said quickly.

“Well, they’re asking for you downstairs.”

“Who is?”

“Dino wants you to film a challenge of him and Seungcheol,” she said with a noticeable roll of her eyes.

Oh, good. You were relieved that Jeonghan wasn’t involved. You had been behaving so awkwardly around him. When you couldn’t avoid him, he always greeted you. You either bowed, even though he’d made it clear you didn’t need to, or you just completely froze. You were so embarrassed—you had been working together for months! Also, nothing had happened between you two!! These were things you yelled inside your own head, but it was pointless. Every time he walked through the door, it was like the floor had disappeared and you were floating through space, totally unaware of how to behave or what to say to him.

You knew that you weren’t like this around the other members—if anything, you’d gotten more comfortable around them. You’d even gone to drinks with Mingyu, Dino, and Minghao a couple of weeks ago—your second time spending casual time outside of work with the members. It had been nothing like the time you went out with Jeonghan. You’d felt relaxed enough to get tipsy and ended up having a fun time. You weren’t preoccupied with how you were coming off or whether you were saying the wrong thing around most of the members anymore. You’d even started drunkenly arguing with Minghao in Chinese, which Dino had embarrassingly caught on video.

Deep down, you knew you were being obvious and idiotic about this stupid, dead-end crush. You were both adults! And you worked together! You could be friends!! Why was this so difficult!?

The lines of text in your contract kept flashing before your eyes, despite how much you told yourself this was going nowhere.

Romantic relationships between employees are strictly prohibited and will result in the immediate termination of your position.

You tried to repeat this to yourself like a mantra until you realized that you were being completely delusional. Jeonghan has never said that he wanted to form a romantic relationship with you. You just got drinks the one time and got a ride home with him. He was being nice for your birthday, that’s all.

These were the thoughts rushing around in your head when Jiyeon snapped her fingers in front of your face.

“God, wake up! Did you not hear me? Dino asked specifically for you for some reason, so hurry down there!” she said, annoyed.

“Sorry!” You said frantically as you rushed downstairs. Jiyeon was being annoying, but you knew she was right: you were here because it was your job. You needed to stop spacing out and focus on what you were paid to focus on: helping the members with their content.

“Nunaaaa!” Dino said as soon as you entered the practice room. He and Seungcheol were going to do a cutesy challenge together. A favorite fan combo: the youngest and the oldest.

“Dinoooo,” you said in a silly voice. You and Dino had become friends at this point, which made you feel so relieved. He was like your cute little brother who came to you for advice, not to mention for help with his English and his dance challenges. You turned to see Seungcheol sitting against the wall, looking at his phone. He looked up and smiled at you. Seungcheol was easy to talk to. He was committed to being professional, which you appreciated, and you’d gotten to know him a bit more than some of the other members since he often spoke with the staff and was more involved in some of the content and scheduling. He really acted like a leader, on and off camera. You bowed slightly at him.

And then you saw someone sitting not too far from him—a designer bucket hat covered most of his face, but you would recognize those lips, that hair, that frame... you would recognize Yoon Jeonghan anywhere.

“Ah, hello,” you said, switching to a more formal voice and bowing.

“Y/N-nuna, why are you getting all formal with me!? Just say hi!” Jeonghan jokingly chided you and you felt like your chest was going to explode.

“Sorry,” you said, still using the formal language, “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, he won’t leave me alone about getting something to eat,” Seungcheol said, standing and putting his phone away.

“I’m hungry!” Jeonghan whined in a cute voice. God, you both loved and hated it when he did that. He was too good at being playful—he was able to get almost anything he wanted out of the staff, you included of course.

“I have to go to the gym first!” Seungcheol whined back. “Let’s get this over with.” He turned back to you, and you took out one of the many phones that the staff shared for this kind of thing. If the members kept everything they filmed on their own phones, they’d be overheating so much they wouldn’t be able to communicate when needed. So there were a handful of phones that were used for challenges and other random stuff, most of them only had social media apps installed.

“I’m just here to watch,” Jeonghan said, and he went back to leaning against the far wall of the studio.

You looked at him, and he lifted his head slightly to reveal a devilish grin underneath his bucket hat. He was looking right at you.

How am I supposed to keep my hands steady to film this challenge while you’re here?? You thought desperately.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” you said quietly. The challenge was an easy one, it only took a few takes—mostly because Seungcheol kept cringing at himself, which made Dino and you laugh, and then made Jeonghan laugh. You felt the tension start to mercifully dissolve.

“Let’s go eat!” Jeonghan said as soon as you decided on a video that would work. “Nuna come with us!” He looked at you so decisively that it took you a second to understand.

“Ah, yes,” Seungcheol said, giving you an unmistakable expression of relief, “you take him! I have to go work out first.” What is he, our shared toddler? You thought, even if you were already starting to get excited and nervous at the thought of eating with Jeonghan.

“I want to come!” Dino said. Okay, probably for the best, you thought. But some small part of you was... disappointed? This is getting out of hand.

“I can’t!” you said reflexively, your heartbeat in a frenzy. Your face had flushed as soon as you saw him, but you could feel it growing a deeper and deeper shade of red.

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t?’” Dino asked.

“That’s right,” Jeonghan said, “I thought nuna liked hanging out with us.” He was looking right at you again, standing now as Dino and Seungcheol gathered their things.

“I can give you a ride home again,” Jeonghan’s voice was lower, and more direct. You looked at him, and realized how close he was... He was looking at you so expectantly, one corner of his mouth turned up into the sexiest smirk you’d ever seen.

Jesus.

“Okay, let’s go,” you said, finally relenting. “But I’m not drinking!”

“Ugh, no fun,” Dino said as he walked ahead of you, leaving you and Jeonghan trailing behind.

“You don’t have to drink,” Jeonghan said, clapping you on the shoulder. You practically jumped at the sudden touch, and you swore you could see Jeonghan laughing to himself out of the corner of your eye. “I’m just glad you’re not ignoring me anymore.”

Your head snapped toward him at his words, purred out in a low voice right next to you.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you said futilely.

“You’re such a bad liar,” Jeonghan chuckled at you, his smirk still glued to his face as his dark eyes roved over you. “It’s so cute nuna.”

This was a bad idea, you thought. Your nerves couldn’t handle going out to dinner with Yoon Jeonghan.

He smiled beside you, his own chest thrumming quietly with relief.

***

The place was fashioned in the style of a Japanese izakaya, tucked away on a side street, on the basement level of a narrow building. There was almost no one there. You wondered how the members knew which places would be quiet and deserted. It must be knowledge that grew over time when you’re famous. It was probably second nature for them.

“Let’s drink beer!” Dino said excitedly, waving the bartender over as you sat between him and Jeonghan at the sleek but cozy dark wood bar. The bar stools were crammed together in the small space, and you felt your leg almost touching Jeonghan’s.

Once again, you wondered how you ended up here. How did you end up getting invited out like this? Why had Jeonghan been looking at you so much? Why had he clapped you on the shoulder?

You were deep in your thoughts, pretending to look at the menu, when you felt Jeonghan’s thigh press gently against yours. Your head jerked in his direction by reflex, but he was just smirking to himself and pretending to look at the menu. You tried to pull your thigh away, but he kept pressing his leg further toward you.

You let out a nervous laugh involuntarily.

“What?” Dino said, having completely missed your little vying-for-territory exchange.

“Nothing,” you said, your heart hammering out of control.

“Whoa, you’re already red nuna,” Dino said, “we’re not even drinking yet.”

“I overheat easily,” you said, trying to cool off your cheeks with the back of your hand. Jeonghan was leaning on the bar now, giving his order to the bartender.

“Two of these,” he said, pointing to the menu, “one for her and one for me.” You could only stare at him.

You may have been inexperienced in the romance department, but you weren’t an idiot. He was definitely flirting, and it was driving you insane.

You tried to maintain your composure, focusing mainly on having a conversation with Dino. But occasionally, you would feel Jeonghan’s thigh pressing against yours, making you stutter or blush and snap your gaze in his direction—only to be met with his typical smirk. You nervously downed more and more beer, Dino at least two glasses ahead of you.

“I have to piss,” he said suddenly, his face beet red.

“Uh oh,” Jeonghan said, “Dino’s drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!” Dino said, “you’re drunk...” and he staggered off toward the bathroom.

“Should we—” you started to get up to follow Dino, mostly because you didn’t want to be left alone with Jeonghan, but also because he really did seem wasted.

“He’s fine,” Jeonghan’s hand closed around your forearm, gently pushing you back down into your seat. You were so close to him that you could smell his perfume. He was looking right at you—staring at your face again. You felt yourself start to panic and looked away.

“Nuna’s so pretty,” Jeonghan said softly, and you turned to stare at him, incredulous.

“Stop making fun of me,” you said, your heartbeat skyrocketing to dangerous levels.

“I’m not!” his eyes got wider, and he straightened up a little in his barstool.

“Then what are you doing?” you asked, your tone coming out more bristled than you meant it to. Jeonghan paused, his face falling ever so slightly.

“Ah, nuna do you hate me?” He was using a playful tone, but you weren’t sure if he was asking as a joke or not.

“No!” you said firmly, now feeling panicked for an entirely different reason, “not at all!”

“Then why were you ignoring me?”

Is he drunk? You wondered as you watched his face fall into a full-blown pout. He was leaning kind of close to you... Did I hurt his feelings? You couldn’t help but wonder. He was playing idly with the edge of a napkin, glancing in your direction... and reality started to settle in your chest.

Holy shit, he’s not kidding. You thought.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little excited by this. You tried to calm your thoughts, already careening out of control. Was he interested in you? Was he messing around? Did he do this with new staff? It’s not like he got a lot of opportunities to flirt or even talk to women outside of the staff or other people in the industry... Was he just being playful? Your mind was so muddled with all of the possibilities, overwhelmed by any one of them... but you did your best to breath steadily, finally facing him and gazing directly into his beautiful, dark eyes.

“Yoon Jeonghan-shi.”

You had never used such a straightforward tone with him, and he stopped playing with the edge of his napkin—staring at you instead, stock still. His gaze was expectant, and you held it for a long time. You’d said his name so seriously, but now you weren’t sure how to ask what you wanted to ask...

“I’m bored!!” Dino came crashing back to where you were sitting, throwing one arm around Jeonghan’s shoulders.

Your timing!! Dino!!! You couldn’t help but scream inside. Jeonghan looked visibly annoyed, which you hadn’t seen before.

“Ya~!” He said in a raised voice, and Dino stood up straighter. He looked at Jeonghan, then at you, then back at Jeonghan.

��What’s going on here?” he asked. Even wasted, he could’ve cut the tension between the two of you with a knife.

“Nothing,” Jeonghan said before you could interject, “nuna and I were just chatting.” He looked at you seriously, and you understood that you should keep... whatever that was between the two of you.

“You both look like someone died, snap out of it!” Dino yelled, “let’s go to karaoke!”

“Let’s get you a car home,” Jeonghan said, pulling out his phone.

“I’m fine!” Dino insisted, but he was literally hiccupping like a cartoon. After some bickering, Jeonghan convinced him to go home—almost actually pushing him into the car.

The two of you were left standing on the deserted street, the warm glow of the izakaya’s lights hitting your backs. Jeonghan looked away from you, but you could tell the vibe had shifted. You were both a little tipsy...

“I’m sorr—”

“Nuna—”

Just as you were about to apologize for what happened inside, Jeonghan turned to you and spoke in a deeper, softer voice than you usually heard from him. You froze, licking your lips out of nervousness and feeling hesitant to continue.

“Nuna,” Jeonghan said again, then stopped. He exhaled sharply from his nose and looked across the street. Whatever it was that he wanted to say was not coming easily to him, which made your heartrate accelerate at an alarming pace.

“...Yes?” you asked, feeling awkward and exhilarated at the same time.

You stood there, until Jeonghan turned directly to you—staring right into your eyes.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

All you could do was stare at him in stunned silence.

“I think lots of things about you, actually. I want to talk to you. I want to spend more time with you. I think about you when we’re not at work. I wonder what you’re doing, who you’re with, what your house is like, what you do for fun... I try to find you when we are working. I wonder what you think of me. I get sad and frustrated when you avoid me.”

He was stepping closer and closer to you, as this stream of words that you could barely understand or believe came pouring out, all while he held your gaze.

“I don’t think I can say that I have feelings for you, but I am very interested in seeing you.”

He looked at you, the air between you now full of anticipation. You didn’t know what to say, or even what facial expression you might be making... This was... was this really happening?

“Is this really happening?” you barely whispered.

Jeonghan smirked, and your heart felt completely overcome.

“Jeonghan-shi...” you said slowly, “... I'm...” But the words couldn't come. Your heart was threatening to burst out of your chest, and your legs were threatening to give out...

"I'm sorry—"

#seventeen #svt #seventeen kpop #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan fic #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan #seventeen yoon jeonghan #yjh fanfic #jeonghan #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan x reader #svt yoon jeonghan #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan seventeen

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 days ago

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Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 55

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,950ish

Summary: Emotions rise and everything comes crashing down.

Notes: I couldn't help myself. Just had to get this chapter out before I went to sleep. Please share reactions! Please remember to review the timeline posted here.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

For the next week and a half, Logan and you had lunch together every day, Wade visited you during every shift, and Laura had begun pulling away. Laura had been a pretty easy child to raise, it was only a matter of time before the moody teenage years set in. Though, you knew it was more than that. You had tried to talk to her only to be met with short answers or grunts. You couldn’t help but blame yourself for some of what she was going through.

You hadn’t had an incident with your powers since the moment with Logan, in which you were grateful for. Your hands were thoroughly scarred over, but you were learning to live with it. You were trying to work past your own issues, in which Logan and Wade had a great part in that, constantly keeping tabs on you and Laura. You were becoming quick friends with the two men and it felt nice to have friends again after all these years.

It was your regular lunch with Logan. You were in your kitchen while he was drinking a beer at the table.

“I got a job,” he suddenly stated.

“You did?” You asked. “Where?”

“The mechanic’s down the street. They’ll let me work in the back and have minimal interaction with the customers.”

“That will be good for you. You need to get out more. Maybe make some friends.”

“I don’t need friends.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Well then, what are you and Wade and Laura?”

“We’re your friends, but you need people outside of this craziness.”

“And do you have any?”

“I’m getting there at work.”

The apartment door opened and closed, signaling that Laura was home. You peeked out from the kitchen.

“Hey, kiddo!” You greeted. “Logan and I were getting ready for lunch. Do you want to join us?”

“Not hungry,” she muttered, heading straight for her bedroom and closing the door.

You sighed, shoulders sagging.

“Everything alright?” Logan asked.

“It’s fine,” you responded, getting back to preparing lunch. “She’s struggling but is keeping me at arms length… She gets that from her father.”

“Or you.”

“What?”

“You’re still struggling. But you’re just masking it better than you were before.”

“You’re one to talk. I can hear you at night. These walls aren’t very thin. Do you ever get any sleep?”

“I get enough.” He took a long swig of his beer.

You scoffed. “Whatever.”

~~~

Another few weeks past with a similar routine, with the addition of Wade and Logan stopping by for dinner when you weren’t working. Between you, Laura, and Logan, you were all going through a lot but avoiding most of it. It was a night you weren’t working. Logan just got off and headed straight of your and Laura’s place. He had let himself in quietly, only to hear an argument between you and Laura.

“For the last time, Laura, you are not going to that party,” you were clearly exasperated. “I don’t think it will be safe.”

“You never let me do anything!” Laura spat.

“I’m just trying to do my duty and protect you.”

“You’re not my real mom! I don’t have to listen to a word you say!”

The pain those words caused was more heartbreaking than anything anyone had ever said over the last few years. Logan could tell that the words hit you deep, though you were trying to cover it up. He stepped between you and Laura with a protective fury, letting the both of you know that he had entered the apartment.

“You do not talk to her that way,” he was furious at how Laura was treating you. You were just trying to protect her.

“Why? It’s not like you’re my dad!”

Those words did little to rattle Logan. “I don’t care. Y/N raised you. Show her some respect.”

“Make me.”

You had no say in the chaos that quickly erupted in your apartment living room. The two had their claws out and were actively fighting each other. Too overwhelmed to stop it as your long pushed down anxieties bubbled up, you slipped out of the apartment, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“Hey, Buttercup!” Wade’s chipper voice echoed down the hall as he headed toward you. “What are you–” The moment he saw your tears he was down on the floor in front of you. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Nothing,” you squeaked, shaking your head. “Everything is–” You were cut off by a guttural roar from inside your apartment. You squeezed your eyes shut as a sob tore through you. “She said I’m not her mother… she’s right… so why does it hurt so much?”

“Hey, no one makes my Buttercup cry. Not even Little Wolf.” Wade stood up straight. “Stay put. I’ll handle this.” Wade waltzed inside before you could stop him. “HEY!” Wade shouted once he was sure the door was shut. Logan and Laura stopped their fighting immediately. Wade took in the apartment, noticing how your decorations and furniture were destroyed by claws and blood. “Well, well, well. Way to ruin my day, Peanut and Little Wolf. I was on my way over to see what was for dinner when I found my precious Buttercup sobbing in the hallway.” Logan and Laura’s eyes widened as they finally realized that you were no longer in the apartment. “You two assholes need to work this out, clean this mess up, and apologize. Until that happens, my sweet buttercup will be staying with me and Blind Al.”

“But–”

“Sorry, Peanut, no room for arguments. You assholes deal with this and I’ll handle Y/N.”

Spinning on his heel, Wade opened the apartment door. “Okay, Buttercup, we’re–” Wade stopped himself as he took in the empty hall. “Buttercup? Y/N?”

Logan and Laura rushed to the doorway as Wade stepped out to get a better look. Without a second thought, Logan and Laura both sniffed, taking in your smokey scent.

“This way,” Logan huffed, leading the group down the hall.

The group headed down the stairs of the apartment complex. The scent led them outside, where it had begun to rain. Both Logan and Laura stopped, taking in deep breaths through their nostrils.

“She’s gone,” Laura’s voice wobbled. “My mom’s gone.” Guilt was seeping into her soul. She had caused this and the words she said, she didn’t even mean. You were her mother, blood or not. You had taken care of her when she had no one– when you had no one. And now you were gone. “It’s all my fault.”

Logan knew he should have been the better person, Laura was still only a kid, but right now he was too concerned for your wellbeing. “You’re fucking right this is your fault.” Though he knew those words weren’t completely true. Ignoring the rain, Logan headed down in the direction he could only hope you could have gone.

“Do you smell her?” Laura jogged after him.

“No. But she shouldn’t be out alone.”

“Yay!” Wade clapped. “An old fashioned search party!”

“No. You two can stay here.”

“Ah, come on! It can be so much–”

Laura tripped Wade as he tried to follow after Logan. Logan’s strides became longer as he kept his eyes scanning for any sign of you. It was dark and rainy. Though Logan knew first hand you could take care of yourself, he was still scared for your safety. You weren’t okay. You were carrying a lot of anxiety and sorrow that you had been forced to carry it all yourself for years, slowly wearing you down to the breaking point that came tonight. Just like Logan’s original you, you weren’t a runner. This was something heartbreakingly new.

Logan also had a inclining that you were struggling more than you let on with being back in your original timeline in 2024, where you knew that a younger version of you and your original Logan were living at the mansion together. The TVA had made it very clear that if you intervened, there would be severe consequences. In the beginning, Logan didn’t think you would, now he wasn’t so sure. Would you risk it all for just a glimpse or one last interaction?

Logan wandered through the rainy city until dawn, with no sign of you anywhere. Deciding he needed to get Wade and Laura in on this, Logan headed back to the apartment complex. He went to your apartment first, hoping that you were in there. He wasn’t surprised to see that the mess was cleaned up and new decorations and furniture sat in place of the ones he and Laura had destroyed. Logan figured Wade had helped Laura.

With a sigh, Logan left the apartment and headed to the one he shared with Wade and Althea. When he entered, he found Wade in his Deadpool suit, loading his golden guns.

“Well, look who returned just in time,” Wade commented.

“What’s going on?” Logan asked, noticing that Laura was there as well.

“You really need to keep your phone on you, Peanut.”

“Just tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“The TVA took my mom,” Laura stated.

Logan’s head snapped in her direction as his stomach dropped. “What? Why?”

“She apparently got too close to her original timeline self.”

“So, we’re gearing up for a daring rescue,” Wade explained, pulling his mask over his face. “You in, Prince Charming?”

~~~

It had all happened by accident. You didn’t mean to. You were wandering aimlessly through the rainy streets, just trying to clear your head and to stop the flames that threatened to engulf you.

How were you supposed to remember that you and Logan had gone on a date in the city on this night? To you, it was a long time ago and a lot of traumatic life events have happened since. You didn’t even see your original Logan and your younger self before the TVA agents appeared and you were standing in the middle of the TVA offices, on the catwalk. B-15 was standing before you.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she told you. You could see that she truly meant it. “You got too close to your younger timeline self and Logan.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said, on the verge of tears once again. “I didn’t know– didn’t remember.”

“I know, but it was a part of the deal you made to return to that timeline. I have already informed Wade and Laura of the mishap. You will be sent back to The Void.”

“Please don’t do this!” You shook your head. “I can’t go back there. I can’t leave Laura alone!”

“I am so sorry, Y/N.”

Before you could fight, a TVA agent was behind you and used a time stick to send you back into The Void. You landed in the middle of an empty field. You were on your knees already, making it easier for you to bury your head in your hands and cry. It had all become too much. Losing your original Logan. Taking care of Laura. Your powers failing you. Being sent to The Void the first time. You hadn’t taken care of yourself mentally or emotionally, and it was finally taking its toll.

You had finally reached the breaking point of it all and you were now alone, and back in The Void. You could feel flames form on your back and your skin heating up. Pain radiated through you but you didn’t care. You didn’t have any more fight in you. After years and years of fighting, you were done. Maybe if you just curled up here, Alioth would find you and end your suffering once and for all.

next chapter >

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userautumn · 3 months ago

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this fandom is annoying me so i'm going to say this once and then fuck off back to my shows.

on the topic of eddie's parents: helena has always treated eddie like he is an unfit parent. both of his parents have, but helena especially has led that charge. yes, his parents love him. i do not doubt that. but i said some weeks ago that i think helena/ramon would have been much happier raising eddie and chris as siblings rather than letting eddie be a father, and i stand by that. throughout the narrative, they have indicated time and time again that they think his choices are wrong—from their unwillingness to accept shannon fully, to coming outright and saying they think eddie is on a downward spiral and that he's going to crash and burn and take christopher with him. this is not an "Evil Parents" buddie conspiracy theory, this is a canon fact.

at every opportunity, helena especially has been trying to pry christopher away from his father. this is also a canon fact. in 2x18, after shannon's funeral, she tried to get eddie to bring chris (and himself, but eddie was most definitely the afterthought in that conversation) back to texas. in 4x14, eddie says to buck that his parents will fight for custody. and while eddie's relationship with his father has changed since the early seasons, this is still very much so a recurring theme in their dynamic.

so it stands to reason that helena would feel gleeful, or satisfied, or maybe even triumphant over the fact that she's finally gotten what she wanted. again, this isn't a headcanon, this is just common sense. she's been wanting chris back in texas for years, and now she's finally gotten her wish. i mentioned earlier that eddie himself is an afterthought in the conversation of the diaz boys' return to texas, and this remains true. helena favors christopher over her own son. this is also a canon fact. in 8x1, she sees her son sitting on camera at the saddest looking birthday party anyone's ever seen, and her response is "oh well! better luck next time! bye!" she doesn't offer to call him back later. she doesn't even look sad that he's sad. she simply continues about her day like her child is not suffering.

now, i still firmly believe that helena diaz loves her son. but if she has empathy for her him and the struggles he's facing—and has faced—she has yet to express it. this is also, unfortunately, canon.

having said that.

christopher is a teenager. he is not a little boy anymore. it was cute when he took an uber to buck's house because his dad made him mad, but this is quite a different situation. we've talked ad nauseam about the kim/shannon of it all because the trauma and betrayal of that is significant. but there are layers here. because it's not just that christopher thought his mom was back from the dead, it's also that eddie did what he (in christopher's mind) does best—he messed up a good thing right as christopher was getting to enjoy it.

9-1-1 is designed so that we, the viewers, are able to empathize with eddie's struggles. we're adults so, on average, we know why he makes the choices he makes and we can, on some levels, relate to them. even if we don't agree, we can understand the logic behind these choices. but christopher does not have the luxury of adulthood. and, if you put yourself in his shoes, his entire life since coming to los angeles has been extraordinarily unstable. some of these things were obviously outside of eddie's control, such as the tsunami and his dad getting shot. but they still happened.

so now, he is this fourteen year old kid who has lived through trauma after trauma, all the while witnessing his dad try to put himself back together after a lifetime of pain. and one of those ways eddie tries to put himself back together is by dating again. first, he dates ana and, objectively, ana was the perfect choice. she was smart. she was beautiful. she was good with kids. she was latina, which his parents/dad would have approved of, and christopher liked her very much. but then, just as it's getting good and looking real, eddie breaks up with her. again, we, the viewers, know why he did what he did. he was having panic attacks at the mere thought of being with her. but if you're christopher it looks like dad is pulling the plug on a good thing for no reason.

same as when eddie leaves the 118. we, adults, know eddie is struggling. hell, even christopher knows eddie is struggling. but we can understand the depths of the layers here. christopher didn't/doesn't. all he knew/knows is that, not only did his dad leave behind his job/his family/his stability, he did all that and cited him as the reason for that decision. which is why christopher said, "i never asked you to [leave the 118]." so now we fast forward to the present and we have eddie and this thing with marisol. they go on family outings, she moves in, and all these things start to feel like permanence. they start to feel like eddie has finally maybe gotten himself on solid ground and can start to enjoy his life again, or maybe for the first time.

and then he goes and cheats on marisol. with christopher's dead mom.

so we can see the multiple layers of this situation.

eddie loves his son, christopher loves his dad, and eddie diaz is a good parent. i will stand by that to the day i die, and all of these things are overwhelmingly evident. but that doesn't change the fact that the most stable home christopher has ever known is the home he lived in with his grandparents. which is sad. it's really sad to say, because we know eddie has tried so hard for that boy in so many ways. as a single parent, raising his kid to the best of his ability was so much more a full-time job than he was prepared for. but he did it. he strapped in and did the work of two people and, in doing so, it became imperative that, above all else, he gave his son a safe place to land and didn't give him reasons not to trust him because, at the end of the day, eddie is the only parent christopher has.

but eddie's broken that trust. and now, he has to live with the consequences. but let's be clear, the consequences in question are christopher's absence. helena's satisfaction over having chris in texas is an enormous insult to painful injury that must be addressed by the narrative if they ever want me to like her or believe she has eddie's best interests at heart. but this situation, in typical 9-1-1 fashion, is one in which multiple things can be, and are, true at the same time.

but relative to the matter of christopher and what he's "allowed" to do? eddie's lucky his son is even taking his calls, and he knows that. so he's going to continue to do the work to earn that trust back because he's never done anything but put in 1000% for his son. and that is also a canon fact.

#okay now i'm finished #me writing a 500 word meta on 911 in This economy??? shocking #tv: 911 #jack.txt #the diaz boys

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shuacore · 2 months ago

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[ 00:23 ] orange show speedway

“racing?” you asked, perplexed.

vernon grins, showing all of his teeth, hand clutching two tickets to a race on friday. he’s wearing his brother’s letterman jacket and a pair of scuffed high top converse—the ones he always wears, but the jacket doesn’t hang on his shoulders like it used to—now it’s starting to actually fit him. he flops onto the couch next to you, and your nose is filled with the familiar scent of laundry detergent.

“yeah. chan didn’t wanna go. so i’m taking you,” he said. the casual way he said it, like this wasn’t the closest thing he’d ever done to asking you out. you laughed nervously, rubbing your hands up and down your thighs.

“um…sure,” you had replied, a goofy grin of your own slowly taking over your face.

vernon beams, and when he’s happy, you’re happy. it has nothing to do with the sudden explosion of butterflies in your stomach.

he’s your best friend after all. nothing more.

every guy at this festival has you in their eyes.

it was the middle of august. hot. sweaty. restless.

vernon holds his hand over his eyes, squinting in the sun. his hair clings to the back of his neck. you fidget nervously next to him, nails digging into your knees.

you don’t know why you’re so aware of everything right now; the humidity thick in the air, your thighs sticking to the metal bleachers, the smell of vernon’s skin next to you—citrusy and soft.

“oh! that one! number 25!” vernon yells suddenly, pointing excitedly as a shiny red car screeches past, engine growling as it corners the track. you turn your attention to the vehicle, pointedly ignoring his thigh touching yours, bare skin against bare skin in the summer heat, sticking.

you nod, only half listening, as vernon rattles off more car facts, certainly not looking at the sun illuminating his features, turning his eyelashes from dark brown to gold, and the boyish grin on his face as he watches the cars go by with wide eyes. your stomach lifts and then plunges downward.

this is the vernon you lo—

“what?” he asks, and you realize with horror you’ve been staring at him, but vernon is just your best friend so it’s fine–right? it’s fine. you can admire your best friend like that, and think about how nice his features are and—

“dude, what?”

his head is cocked to the side. his eyes look straight through you. when you fail spectacularly to offer an excuse, vernon grins. you’re dead.

we were stupid and young and i was so in love.

everything in between is hazy.

his lips had been so hot, burning on your skin, chapped and nervous as he kissed you by his car. tentative, worried about the repercussions, tasting of cherry cola and popcorn. yours were equally as hesitant, fumbling, buzzing with excitement.

everything was hot to the touch—you, the sun in his hair, the hood of the car.

vernon had smiled at you from under his lashes, gums and all, and you felt like your knees were going to give out. he says your name so softly, still somehow audible above the roaring of engines and the cheers of the crowd like he had spoken it right into your ear. you remember the way his brow softened as you lock eyes with him, your nerves apparent in the way you clutch his damp t-shirt in your fingers. his hands, resolute against your ribcage. surely he feels the pounding of your heart underneath them.

this feeling—the dizziness, the shortness of breath—

you tangle your fingers in the sweaty curls at the back of his neck—hair too long for the summer—as you pull vernon in again, lips pressed assuredly against his as you wreck the most important friendship you’ve ever had, crashing headfirst.

love is the unfamiliar taste on your tongue. love is what curves your body into vernon’s swallowing his gasp as he presses you against his beat up car, hands pressed on the hood on either side of your hips. your legs slip against the metal and he catches you clumsily; you feel his teeth against your lips as he laughs into your mouth.

you were only 19. barely still teenagers and still infinitely stupid, but you had never been more sure about anything.

i’m in the middle of the crowd and it’s like no time’s passed.

you haven’t been home in years.

the first place you go is the speedway. the sun beats down on the back of your neck as beads of sweat gather on your brow. you squint in the brutal afternoon light, watching intently as the cars zoom past, kicking up dust and clogging the air, and for a while it’s fine. your college roommate groans next to you, complaining about the heat and boredom and asking when can we leave? you shush them with promises of beer and karaoke.

even while looking into the clouds of dust, nose filled with the smell of burnt rubber and fake butter, it’s impossible to miss the familiar plunging feeling in your stomach. the deja vu of seeing that same red car, even so many years later. your blood runs suddenly hot.

“why do you have that look on your face?” your roommate asks, mouth stuffed half-full of popcorn.

a river of memories crash to the forefront of your mind, memories of oversized jackets and worn high tops. a cheeky grin and messy hair. boyish hands that gripped yours too tight. rushed kisses on beaten leather in the back of a junky car and promises breathed against skin that only teenagers who have nothing to lose could make.

you smile, cheekbones hurting. an old ache finds its home in your chest again.

“did i ever tell you about this guy i knew in high school?”

when i’m racing head-first towards everything i want back.

[ 2:32 am ]

you: hi….. i know it’s been a while

vern: oh wow hi

you: srry… know it’s late

this is so random

i was just at the speedway…. remember when we went in high school? i had a lot of fun

vern: i could never forget

[ 3:15 am ]

you: i miss u

vern: miss u too

you: do you ever think? about what could’ve happened?

[ 3:40 am ]

vern: i don’t think i ever stopped

ot13 | masterlist

#shuacore thoughts #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt fluff #vernon #vernon x reader #vernon imagines #vernon fluff #vernon chwe #chwe hansol

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wadewnstonwilson · 3 months ago

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not helpin' your case.

summary: wade refuses to let logan sink into despair, constantly teasing him to lighten the mood. logan pretends to be annoyed, he secretly appreciates wade's presence, which keeps him grounded.

warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), none just fluffy goodness

word count: 1.4k

a/n: okay so i absolutely adore writing for wade because my adhd gets to go off the rails. tons of fluff, tons of dumb idiots being dumb idiots. i'll probably keep my poolverine fics to one shots because i just like little things of them here and there but enjoy!

Logan’s healing factor made him damn near indestructible. No matter how many bullets tore through him, how deep claws or blades sank into his flesh, his body always knitted itself back together as if nothing had happened. But the pain? He felt every second of it. The tearing, the ripping, the burning. The scars may not last long, but the memory of the agony lingered.

The physical pain, though, was the easy part. Logan could take a punch, a bullet, or an explosion and keep going. What he couldn't shake were the emotional scars. Decades—no, centuries—of loss, betrayal, and endless fighting. It was a constant burden, a weight that settled deep in his bones, refusing to let go. The faces of the people he'd lost, the betrayals he'd suffered—they all haunted him in the quiet moments, in the dark of night when the world stopped and there was nothing left but his thoughts.

And then, there was Wade.

The walking contradiction, the human cartoon, the man who turned every nightmare into a punchline. Wade had his own trauma—probably more than Logan, though it was hard to tell with him—but Wade’s way of dealing with it? He laughed. He made jokes, crude, sharp, and relentless. Where Logan brooded, Wade cracked jokes. Where Logan tried to bottle it all up, Wade exploded with it in a constant barrage of sarcasm and humor.

And while it drove Logan insane, it also saved him. Wade didn’t let him sink into the darkness. Wade wouldn’t let him dwell on the pain for too long. No, Wade kept him tethered to reality, whether Logan liked it or not.

“Yo, Claws!” Wade’s voice cut through Logan’s thoughts like a knife. “What’s with that resting murder face? You’ve been staring out that window for, like, an hour. What, are you brooding about your tragic past again? Or are you just trying to figure out where your hairline went wrong?”

Logan, arms crossed, leaning against the window frame, didn’t even flinch. He’d gotten used to Wade’s voice crashing into his internal monologues like a freight train. He grunted in response, refusing to turn around.

Wade was sprawled out on the couch, his legs kicked up on the armrest, a katana in his hands that he was polishing far too enthusiastically. “Come on, man, you can’t be doing the brooding thing again. You’ve got more angst than a whole squad of moody teenagers at a My Chemical Romance concert. What’s going on in that big, furry head of yours? Still thinking about your tragic backstory? We get it—everyone you’ve ever loved has died, you’ve got an animal inside you, blah blah blah. Yawn.”

Logan’s lips twitched, though he didn’t give Wade the satisfaction of turning around. “I’m not brooding,” he muttered, voice low and gruff.

Wade sat up dramatically, hand on his chest like Logan had just insulted his honor. “Oh, really? And I’m not wearing pants!” He stood up, glancing down at his fully clothed legs with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh fuck, wait, I am wearing pants! Looks like we’re both liars, Lo.”

Logan finally turned, slowly, his arms still crossed over his chest. “You ever stop talking?”

Wade grinned, sauntering over with the swagger of a man who absolutely loved hearing himself speak. He tilted his head at Logan, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Nah. Someone’s gotta keep you from turning into a walking tragedy, and I guess that’s my job now. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Logan let out a long, slow sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t brood.”

Wade poked him in the chest, right between his crossed arms. “Sure you don’t, Moody McStabberson. You just stand by windows staring off into the distance, thinking about all the people who betrayed you, probably playing sad music in your head. Real original, man. What’s next? You gonna write some dark poetry and start a Tumblr?”

Logan couldn’t help it this time. His lips quirked, just a bit. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Wade threw himself back onto the couch, dramatically flinging his legs back up as if the weight of the world was too much for him. “Ridiculously awesome, you mean,” he shot back, grabbing the TV remote and flipping through channels. “So what’s it gonna be tonight, claws? You wanna watch some depressing documentary about the fall of the Roman Empire or maybe something more your speed, like... I don’t know... a show about emotionally constipated loners who don’t know how to ask for help?”

Logan moved from the window, finally sitting down beside Wade, though he didn’t say a word. Wade’s constant barrage of sarcasm and jokes was like background noise now, a familiar hum that kept him grounded, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Wade’s face lit up as he found some late-night talk show with overly enthusiastic hosts and an absurd number of bright lights. “Oh, shit, this looks good,” he said, grinning. “Nothing like watching rich assholes pretend to care about regular people. Warms my heart.”

Logan leaned back, rubbing his temples as the bright lights of the show flashed across the room. “You’re gonna give me a headache.”

Wade shot him a grin, clearly delighted. “Aw, come on, Logie Bear. I know you’re having fun. You can’t lie to me. I’ve seen that twitch of a smile, you can’t hide it. Admit it, I make your life better.”

Logan let out a soft, begrudging chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re a pain in my ass, Wade.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who took a bullet to the ass last week and then said it was ‘just a scratch’,” Wade said, flipping the channel again. “Seriously, I had to fucking dig a bullet out of your hairy Canadian ass, but sure, just a scratch. How’s the ass feeling now, by the way?”

Logan snorted—a rare sound from him—and Wade’s grin widened like he’d just won the lottery. He leaned over, jabbing Logan in the side with his elbow. “Admit it, you love when I get all Florence Nightingale on you. It’s like a sexy version of a nurse, except with more swearing, fewer clothes, and zero actual medical knowledge.”

Logan rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re not helping your case.”

Wade nudged him again, his voice full of teasing. “Oh, come on. You know I’m the only person who can make you crack that grumpy exterior. It’s like my superpower—breaking through the Wolverine angst. And trust me, pumpkin, I love using it.”

Logan finally gave in, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Yeah, you’re real special, Wade.”

“You bet your sweet ass I am,” Wade said, stretching out on the couch, draping his legs across Logan’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. He flipped through the channels with his usual reckless abandon, not really looking for anything specific—just something to keep the noise going.

For a moment, the two of them sat there in companionable silence, the TV flickering in the background. Wade’s energy, usually a hurricane, seemed to settle, just for a moment. His legs were still draped lazily over Logan’s lap, his head resting back against the couch cushion, and Logan found himself relaxing, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.

“You ever stop to think,” Logan began, his voice low and thoughtful, “that maybe you’re the reason I’m not as messed up as I could be?”

Wade paused, remote still in his hand, his gaze flicking up to meet Logan’s. For a second, the sarcasm faded, the usual wall of jokes and bravado dropping. Wade tilted his head, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I kinda figured that was the deal.” He winked, the sass returning full force. “But don’t go getting all mushy on me, alright? I’ve got a reputation to uphold. I mean, I’m an asshole, not a Hallmark card.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, wouldn’t want that."

Wade leaned back, kicking his legs up higher as he flipped to another channel. “You need me, Peanut. Admit it.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but as he glanced over at Wade—at the way his presence filled the room with life, with noise, with something that kept Logan’s mind from spiraling into the dark places it so often wandered—he knew Wade was right. The man was a walking disaster, but he was Logan’s disaster.

“I guess I do,” Logan said softly, and for once, Wade didn’t make a joke.

Instead, he smiled, turning his attention back to the TV, his legs still draped lazily across Logan’s lap.

And for a little while, everything felt just a little bit easier.

106 notes · View notes

peoniesnro · 3 months ago

Text

In Another Universe

#8. The Burning Pit of Fire

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – parallel universe / kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings- Language/SMUT- Making out/ Dirty talks/ Very brief Oral (F.Receiving)/ Brief breast play/ Protected sex/ Missionary/ Doggy/ Word 'slut' and 'whore'/ Angst / INFIDELITY

Word count- 16k+

a/n- I apologize for the delay in updating—life has been a bit overwhelming and hectic lately. I’m doing my best to bring you new chapters as quickly as I can. Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope you’ll enjoy this one!❤️

Taglist?

Chapter Index

Previous - Next

“Are you fucking kidding me bitch? What do you take me for? A fucking joke?” Key puts her coffee cup on the dirty table in your booth. Harshly. And loudly. Three students next to your booth look at you with judgmental looks on their faces. You hush your best friend with furrowed brows.

“Yah! Don’t cause drama here.” You put your own coffee cup down the table as well.

“Drama? Fucking drama?” She scoffs. Looking away from you for a second before looking back at you. Bewildered. “For fuck’s sake…. You just told me the most fucking insane story I’ve ever heard, and you want me to act calm. No, fucking scratch that, do you expect me to fucking believe you?” Key nearly laughs. Picks up her coffee to down the remaining in one go. Places the cup back again before pointing a finger at you. “Well, guess what my friend? If you want to come up with stupid lies and if you have things to hide, come prepared.” Almost gets to her feet but you prevent that with a loud ‘fuck you’.

You’re beyond frustrated at this point. Just at the moment you figured out a way to have the most possible way of living a normal life, it all started to come crashing down. Just like that. You’re still heartbroken after your last conversation with Park Jimin. It still pangs to think that he asked you not to ‘ruin his life’.

Fucking bastard.

He came onto you like a horny teenager first. Acted like he was a dumb pervert who thinks with his dick while forcing your mouth on his dick. And asked you to leave quietly? Like you’re a match struck in the darkness. Brightened his world for a moment and then tossed away when you’re no longer needed. You’ve never felt this used before.

To add a little more frustration and pressure to your current problems, there came your best friend. Maybe it’s not just your best friend but the whole ordeal. The fact that she didn’t recognize you for a moment this morning adds a whole lot of weight to your current burden. Oh, how scared you were. To stand in front of her near your lecture room. Crowding the entrance while she just gaped at you. Tilting her head to the side and thinking hard about who you were. It was only for a fractured second, but in that second, blood drained out of you. Your heart sank down. Cold beads of sweat started to form in your skin, and you felt an unexplainable fear. And then she had recognized you when you mumbled her name with a cracked voice. Making you breathe out a sigh of relief. Not for long though. That relief didn’t have much lasting impact. It was stolen from you when your best friend had started to freak out. Fair though.

What’s the possible explanation of forgetting someone who’s been a part of your life for so long?

See, you could’ve easily manipulated her to believe that it’s her fault. But you’ve already messed up so much. You didn’t need any more guilt. Besides she had firsthand witnessed how you started calling your family like a lunatic. And explaining that you were their daughter. Younger sister. There was no explanation except the truth.

So, here you are glaring at your best friend who obviously wants nothing but to leave. Here you are daring her to leave if she can, without words. Here you both are participating in a staring contest while the other students gaping at you.

“Fuck.” Key gives in first.

“Fuck indeed. So, what? You’re going to leave like that?” You ask.

“What do you expect me to do then? Believe you?” She counters back. You’re running out of patience. Well, of course you know what you’re saying is unbelievable. Even Jimin who experienced this mess with you from the very first moment didn’t believe you. Not that easily. Now though, you don’t have the energy to fight for your arguments. You just want her to believe you blindly.

“Yes. I want you to believe me Key, because what would I get from lying to you?” You stop glaring at her. Shoulders slumping down as you sigh heavily. Eyes closed as you pray for the strength to keep going. Key interrupts you before you can continue.

“How? How am I supposed to believe some bullshit about two worlds and what? You’ve been travelling there like every other day? And that happens every time you sleep? Do you even hear yourself?” She rants. You groan.

“Listen Key…. I know… gosh of fucking course I know. I know I sound ridiculous.”

“You sound fucking insane.”

“I know, I know all right? But that’s the fucking truth. I don’t know how to prove it to you but that’s what has been happening to me. You know, when you asked me why I go MIA, why I keep missing my lectures and due dates, why I look so tired and shit, it’s all because of this.” You try to keep calm. It won’t take you anywhere to act like she is your enemy. Because she isn’t. Key shakes her head slowly. Still in very much disbelief. Maybe offended even.

“So, let me guess… that fucking stupid letter…. Your fucking fatigue thing? They were all lies, weren’t they?” She leans forward. You were wrong to think she looks offended. No, she looks hurt. Betrayed. Well, fuck!

“Yes,” You admit. Feeling extremely guilty. Nibble on your bottom lip for a moment. “But I had no other option, I didn’t know what else to tell─” You start explaining yourself when she stops you with another scoff.

“What else to tell? You should have told me the truth. What, am I that untrustworthy, that you couldn’t share your prob─” It’s your turn to stop Key.

“That’s not that shit Key. It’s not about a fucking trust… it’s because I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Look at you. You don’t believe me, do you? I didn’t tell you because I fucking knew this is how you’re going to act.” That really got Key closing her mouth shut. And for the first time since you start this conversation, she starts to look guilty as much as you do.

“Okay, yeah, I don’t believe you but… like how can I? How am I gonna believe such a stupid story?” She resonates. You sigh again as you just stare at her. Thinking of words or reasons to make her believe you. Only to find you have none. Words aren’t believable. Words aren’t enough. But maybe solid proof will be enough. Just like the time you took the same approach with Park Jimin.

“Well, think about all the times I acted odd and maybe try to connect the dots. And I have something I can show you. Let’s go to my place.” You stand up. Ignore Key’s stuttering. Just start walking out of this café with one goal in mind. After all, you thank Park Jimin for buying you a phone. And for the party where you just snapped hundreds of pictures without knowing how handy they’ll be in the future.

……………………………………

A sudden jolt wakes you up. A soft groan escapes your lips as you close your eyes again, then open them slowly. Letting your brain register that you were just sleeping, not dead. Reminding you that you’re not in your apartment. Which is no longer a shock nor scary. You fully expect it to happen this way. You’re used to it. That, however, doesn’t stop you from snapping your head to Jimin’s side. Finding him peacefully still asleep next to you. On his tummy, cheek flushed against the soft pillows. One hand draping over your stomach.

Oh, great! Just fucking great

On another day, where he hadn’t hurt your feelings that way, this might have been a nice morning. A morning where your heart would try to leap away from your ribcage. Where you would get that uncontrollable urge to smooch his lips which are pouty as he presses his cheek into the pillow. Today, however, what you feel is a new wave of bitterness. Paired with a heavy heart. And a lingering anger. You feel humiliated. To think that he just discarded you like that. You want to get away from him as fast as possible. You want to act like he doesn’t exist. Act like he doesn’t matter the same way that you don’t matter to him. Like you’re not hurt at least a bit. Your ego is what speaking when you take another minute before deciding you need to put him in his place. You shrug his hand off your stomach with inconceivable speed. Your movements are so harsh that it makes Jimin awaken with a startle. A whimper escapes his mouth. His droopy eyes closing back instantly to avoid the ache of looking at light suddenly.

Great!!! Now you feel like a narcissistic bitch. A fucking asshole.

Jimin looks like an innocent cat. So out of this cruel world. Certainly not deserving such harsh treatments. No. Nope. He does. He fucking does. He asked you to leave quietly after using you to satisfy his horny desires. He treated you like a worthless slut. He deserves a slap across his face.

“I absolutely don’t fucking need your hands over me Park.” You hiss before getting out of bed at blistering speed.

“What?” Jimin raises his head. Asks groggily. His hair sticking out funnily. Looking at you with his eyes still half closed. You don’t intend on answering his questions. You’re not obligated to do so after all. Hence, your silent departure from the room. Not even minding the next ‘what?’ he throws at your retreating back.

See, you promised yourself that you’re going to show your middle finger to him when you leave.

…………………………………..

On your normal days, you use his kitchen like it’s your own. Floundering around and making breakfast. For both of you. You don’t do that on this day, however. Jimin loudly reminded you that you’re indeed no one. That this is not your place. How stupid of you to get so comfortable around him. Fuck, you need to slap yourself. Yes, Jimin deserves a slap, but you deserve two. For being a stupid and desperate bitch.

You just sit there on the kitchen island. Both of your legs are bouncing up and down fast. Your thumb is trapped between your front teeth. For a fact, you know this is going to get awkward. It’s always uncomfortable to face someone after a fight. Even though it wasn’t really a fight you had with Jimin, it’s still very uncomfortable. You don’t know how to act. Feel helpless. Gosh you’re stuck with him here despite how much you want to escape. He’s the one who fed you while you were here. Bought you a phone. Made you stay safe. And everything else. Come to think of it, you’re in fucking debt. And that worsens the situation. God, how frustrating to be dependent on him. True, it was your deal for him to help you find a job. It’s no longer an option. First, you can’t ask Jimin to help. Second, even if you find a job there would be no way you’ll earn something enough to pay him. You should never have allowed him to buy you stuff. Should’ve starved to death.

The sound of approaching footsteps is what snaps you out of your reverie. You have to bite back the annoying groan that is about to leave your mouth. What did you do in your past life that you’ve to put up with this? Why don’t you have an escape?

You stay very still. Not wanting to look at him. But your attempts come in vain when he walks to the refrigerator, which is right in front of you. He’s in sweats and white T like always. Hair still wild and he makes it worse by running his fingers through it. Looks fine in a godly way. How annoying.

“Did you eat anything?” Jimin’s sudden voice make you whip your head away. He isn’t looking at you. Is asking that while rummaging through his refrigerator, where he stupidly keeps instant ramen. See, so fucking annoying.

“Why the fuck would you care?” You ask back. Burning holes in his back. Jimin straightens up at your question. Turns around. Is burning holes back into your face. Takes a moment before sighing while tilting his head slightly.

“Lil─” He starts to say. And you snap.

“Don’t fucking Lil me. Just don’t. We’re not that close for you to give me nicknames, are we? You were fucking loud and clear when you told me I’m no one but a stand-in for your girlfriend. And I really understand that you don’t want me to ruin your life. So, that’s what I’m doing right now. I’ll make sure I don’t ruin your life for the remaining week- no it’s not just a week- it’s just three days─” You take a deep breath before continuing. “─ for the remaining three days.” The last words leave your mouth as a hiss. Due to how hard you’re grinding your teeth. “So, let me be that way, Park.” The anger you feel is enough to crush this entire apartment down to dust. Still, even with that you don’t feel any satisfaction after you throw those words at him. If anything, you can feel that lump in your throat once again. Well, that’s your cue to leave this scene. Jimin doesn’t let you, however.

“That’s not what I meant, Lil. You were the one who said you wanted to tell my fucking friends that you’re not Liya.” Jimin steps away from the fridge. Leaves the door open and walks forward to stand across from you. On the other side of the counter. His expression is stern. “I only asked you not to do just that.” Jimin grits his teeth too. You scoff. Very bitterly.

“Of fucking course, it’s my fault now─”

“I never fucking said it’s your fault. Stop making this shit bigger than it really is.”

“Then what are you saying, Jimin? What exactly are you saying? I fucking know I’m equally at fault for what happened between us and I’m fully aware it was for one day. So, listen, Mr. Park Jimin, I didn’t expect anything more either. I. FUCKING. DID. NOT. Do you hear me?” You scream this time. Get to your feet, feeling your eyes begin to sting. Your vision blurs.

“Then why did you want to tell them? What’s your fucking purpose?” Jimin rounds the kitchen island as he asks that. Standing tall before you. Well, you don’t know the answer to that. Don’t think that everything has a reason. Hell, you might’ve not told his friends the truth in the end. It was just a suggestion.

“I don’t know, Jimin. Maybe because I’m a person. Maybe because I’m not a fleshlight you can use or a fucking robot at your service. Maybe because I, seek self-worth like any other person. Good job Park. Good fucking job, making me feel like a useless, pathetic slut.” You throw your head up to keep the tears inside your eyes. “I thought we were fucking friends.” Oh, how much you hate the way your voice cracks. And the way Jimin’s face contorts into something painful from the anger. Feel like he is pitying you. That’s not what you want.

“Gosh, fuck. Listen I- I... uh...” Jimin rubs his face frustratingly. Stuttering over his words. You have no idea what he is trying to say. Not that you care either. You want to escape. He makes you want to cry. Your heart is aching. At least you expected him to apologize. But all he does is make it worse. You want to stop him by doing so. Don’t want to leave while hating his guts despite everything. So, you’re glad when your phone suddenly vibrates, interrupting you. You and Jimin both snap your head towards where your phone is. On the countertop. Screen has lit up and the caller ID reads, ‘Kookie’.

You catch the way Jimin furrows deeply for a brief moment before you pick up the phone from the counter. Answering the call and pressing the cold surface of the phone into your cheek. Clear your throat.

“H-Hello?” You will yourself not to sound annoyed or sad.

“Noona? Gosh, why couldn’t I reach you? I tried so many times.” Jungkook bellows from the other side. Well, he probably couldn’t because you were not in the coverage area. You don’t wish to tell him now though. Instead, you just ask him why. Throwing another swift glance at Jimin. He is still furrowing his brows, clearly disliking the interruption.

“Ah, I was just worried you know? Or maybe just dying in curiosity like fuck, Noona, I feel like I dreamt, and I wanted to make sure it was real…” Poor Jungkook is obviously very oblivious to the mood you’re in. Not that you can blame him. Under very different context you would’ve laughed at his small joke. Make fun of it. Not now. Not when you’re hurt. When you still feel the burning gaze of Park Jimin on your face. But you force a chuckle.

“Very real, unfortunately.” Mumble. Jungkook chuckles on the other side and you know his one is very genuine.

“Yeah? Then if I can remember correctly, you promised me an explanation… I mean... if you still want to. It’s not like you’re obligated, but I’m still fucking dying of curiosity.” You can hear some ruffling on his side. It’s impressive how he’s not losing his shit right now. If you were him, you might’ve had a stroke after hearing all that and then seeing someone just vanish in front of your bare eyes. Jungkook really is a one of a kind. It seems. And when you said you’d explain, you meant it. The thing is though, you’re not in a mood to do so. Maybe you should ask him to do it another day, but before you can, he speaks again.

“We can meet if you’re free. Where are you? I can pick you up.” Jungkook sounds hesitant when he says that. He’s sweet. But this is not the time. Right? This is not the time unless you’re desperately looking for an escape. Of fucking course─ here’s the escape you’ve been looking for. Jungkook is your guardian angel. And then maybe he could help you find enough money to pay Park Jimin back. You’d do that even if it meant selling your kidney.

You look at Jimin once again. Take a moment. Force yourself to smile. “Of course, Kookie, I can. I mean I’m always free─ not like I have anything to do. Like I don’t really matter at this moment, ─” Keep your eyes on Jimin. Unwavering.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m free, that’s what I mean. I’m at Jimin’s─ I’ll send you the location, pick me up.” You state while you can actually hear Jungkook’s excitement. He says something about being there within ten minutes, even though you haven’t sent him the address yet. He says some more but his voice is annoyingly drowned out when Jimin suddenly grabs your wrist. Nearly yanking the phone away from your ear. You don’t let him. With a glare at Jimin you mutter a ‘bye’ to Jungkook. Hang up the call. Eyes never stop glaring at the man in front of you.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Jimin yells the moment the call has been disconnected. His fingers still tightly wrapped around your delicate wrist. You wrench free your hand. Harshly as you could.

“What the fuck does it have to do with you?” You nearly turn around to leave when you’re trapped in his grip again.

“Fucking answer me, Lil… Where the hell are you going?” Jimin shouts in your ear. His grip is so harsh that it pains you. You grit your teeth as you try to free your hand again. Twisting. You’re not able to do so this time. If anything, he tightens the grip even more.

“None… of- your con─ cerns… Park Jimin. Let me fucking go….” You manage through your clenched teeth.

“Not till you fucking tell me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know─ you fucking saw who called me. Get your damn hands away from me, Park. Fucking let me go.” You seethe. Clenching your teeth so hard that they ache. “I don’t want you to touch me.” You sound desperate. Trying one more time to free your hand. This time, it works. Not because you’re the Wonder Woman, but because he lets go. Jimin’s entire expression morphs into a pain from anger this time. As though you hurt him. Well, you didn’t. It’s not like he cares for real anyway. Just using you again because he isn’t on good terms with Jungkook. Not your problem anymore. Jimin doesn’t say anything else. Nor do you wait to hear if he does. You just spin around and leave. Without another single word.

……………………………………..

It’s really exhausting and frustrating to recite the same story repeatedly. After Key wanted to hear the same thing from A to Z for ten fucking times, now you’re ready to faint after explaining it for the eleventh. This time, however, the listener is much more bearable. Out of only three people who know the truth, Jungkook is the easiest to convince. Or he was already convinced. All you had to do was tell him how it happened. And he, unlike some people, just accepted what you said. Key was the most difficult. Even after using the same approach, you did with Park Jimin, she was adamant you’d lost your mind. Hell, she even promised you that she’ll find those people in your photographs. And a phone of the same brand. Well, you wished her good luck.

“Holy fuck!” Jungkook exclaims once you stop talking. Telling him everything – or the things that can be said- up to where you and him both met that woman.

“Right?” You agree with him.

“I feel so special right now.” Jungkook mutters dreamily. “To know such thing and fuck, Noona, I know an alien. You’re a fucking alien.” He gasps as he looks at you with wide eyes. As if he’s inspecting to see something different from humans. Then shakes his head in disbelief. Reaches a hand to your head. Starts touching your head with furrowed brows.

“Okay, what the fuck are you doing?” You ask while trying to dodge his touches. Jungkook snorts. Amused for a reason you can’t fathom. “What?” So, you question again.

“Nothing. Just checking if you have antennas.” He states causally, making you whine and swat his hand away.

“Too bad dude. I don’t have antennas, nor do I have any special powers. Just a human girl like you. And yah! don’t call me Noona anymore, I’m younger than you.” You remind him. Jungkook just clicks his tongue. Dismissing your demand.

“I like Noona better. Let’s make that your name.” You are about to protest when he disrupts you with another question. “So, beside Jimin, am I the only person who knows?” He inquires. Picking up the cup of coffee, now probably ice cold. Takes a sip. Contorts his expression into pure disgust. Starts scanning the small café where you’re in. Presumably searching for a barista to ask for a second cup. You shake your head making sure he notices that.

“No, my best friend knows. I told you about her, Key. But then you’re the only one who knows beside Jimin in this world.”

Jungkook nods in understanding but doesn’t get to ask anything else when the searched barista reaches your table. “You need another one too Noona?” He asks instead, to which you shake your head again. Despite you having an escape. Despite Jungkook being an exceptionally good companion. Despite this little café feels like a cozy dwarf house. You’re still not in the mood to enjoy anything. It doesn’t matter how much you’ve talked until now. Or if you’ve smiled and snorted here and there. You’re still very heartbroken. Can still taste the bitterness of your own words on your tongue. Can feel the piercing pang in your heart.

Why the hell do you feel this hurt? Why do you feel so lonely? You’re not supposed to. Why are you hoping Jimin will barge in here like the time he did that day. The day you sat under the Gingko tree. Just wishful thinking. How ridiculous? Now why he would do that? He wants you to leave quietly after all. Besides, it’s been hours since you’re here with Jungkook. Jimin isn’t coming. Fuck him.

“So, did she believe you?” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the earth. Saves you from piercing pain in your chest.

“No, not really.” You give a simple answer. He nods again. He nods a lot. A beat of silence falls while Jungkook waits for his coffee. It arrives fast. Making the boy next to you giddy. He takes the cup from both of his hands. Bowing to the cute barista repeatedly. See, if you weren’t so drained, you might’ve snorted at that. You watch as he takes a sip from the hot coffee. Hums in delight. Using the cup to warm his hands. And then his attention is back on you. Not asking anything right away but just curiously staring. His keen eyes piercing through you. Like he’s trying to read you. You’re just about to ask him ‘what now?’, when he beats you to it.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook puts the cup back on the table. Momentarily drawing your gaze before you look back at his face.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay Noona? You don’t look like you’re okay. Are you sick? Is that because we smoked that day outside? It was quite cold…” Jungkook ponders. You chuckles. Yet again a forced one. You wonder if you’re really that obvious or Jungkook is just that observant. Decide it’s the latter in the end.

“Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?” You chuckles again. Looking away through the window. Avoiding those keen eyes.

“Maybe because you’re sad that you’re leaving?” Jungkook can be really annoying with his questions sometimes. You turn to him again, waving your hand in the air.

“Hah, that’s the most hilarious thing you’ve ever said. I was literally dying to find a way to stop─”

“You and Jimin weren’t just acting right? You two… uh… I mean you kissed like… I don’t know, like you were starving. So, I’m guessing there’s more?” Jungkook interrupts your ranting so rudely. But it’s not the interruption that got you wide eyes and open mouth. It’s the words. Fucking hell, he’s so observant. You gulp harshly, getting ready to deny his accusations, when he starts again. “Sorry for saying it like this but you... uh... did you cheat on real Liya? And fuck, are you in love─”

“Fucking NO… of fucking course no. Are you crazy? What makes you even think I’m in love with that asshole?” You really couldn’t bear to listen to him complete that sentence. Unbelievable.

“What about the first part? You said no to being in love with him, but what about the cheating part?” Jungkook asks softly. Making you shut your mouth tight. Oh, how hard this is. You knew it would be embarrassing and humiliating to be confronted about such matters. But this? This is exceeding your expectations in a scary way. You can’t even look Jungkook in the eye. Guit and shame burning you up. Hell, you can’t even bring yourself to defend. Even your eyes are beginning to sting. You want to run away. Well, who else is to blame but your stupid self. You dug this pit of shame for yourself. There’s nothing you can say or do but to downcast your eyes. Avoid his pitch-black ones.

This is fine. He can judge you. All he wants. It’s not like you’ll be here to endure those judgments for long anyway. You brace yourself to hear him saying how much of a lying and shameless bitch you are. Only for your eyes to go wide again. This time in surprise though. Jungkook wraps his hand around your shoulders. Bringing you pressed to his side in one swift moment. Gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay Noona, I’m not judging. I just asked. I’m pretty sure I’ve done far worst shit than that─” Jungkook quietly laughs. Body rumbling. “─ gosh it’s so fucked up. Once I fucked this woman knowing very well, she was married with kids. I couldn’t care less. Was so fucking horny.” That got you snapping your eyes to him. Not judging. No. Just curios. “Fucked up, aren’t I? And I fucked her couple times after as well.” He asks you with a second squeeze. You’re curious like a cat now.

“Then what? Are you like um… are you still….”

“No, No. I stopped that shit when J found out. She found out pretty soon to be honest. And ripped my ear off.” His free hand reaches to his ear to rub it. As he could still feel the pain. A ghost of a smile dances on your lips. “It’s not like I’m into married woman or something you know. It just happened and then I stopped. You don’t have to feel so shitty Noona. People always fucking up and if anything, Jimin should feel double fucked.” He justifies the situation. You know what he’s trying to do. But then it’s not exactly the same. Is it? You want to tell him that. Your mouth feel dry, however. How can you tell him when you don’t know for yourself?

You nod your head anyway. Let Jungkook know you understand. So, he gives you some more reassuring words. Justifies the situation to the best he can. Changes the topic subtly to the ways you’re going to make this work. Obviously, you still have no idea what you’re supposed to do after five days. Either way, you feel glad that he changes the subject. Glad that you at least have him here to talk to. Feel less lonely. Your little chit chat flows through. Making you regain your composure. Act normal.

Funny, how you never paid this much attention to the muscular ‘bunny’ beside you. Who’s now talking animatedly about a sci-fi he watched about parallel universes. Applying the same theories to your situation. Funny, how he is so nice to you, even when he thought you were Liya. Funny, how you only now realize that this man will be the one who you will miss the most after Jimin. Funny, how he is the only one who will miss you for who you are. Since he only ever knew you. Never knew Liya. There are few other people who probably haven’t met real Liya yet either. But Jungkook is the only one who knows you. And to know that you feel at ease. Feel touched. See, you’re a human just like you told Jimin. Maybe deep down you wish you found something in this world. Connections. Relationships. Friends. People to miss.

Of course you’ll miss everyone. Even Seoyeon. Even Hoseok. Then, oh, you will definitely miss Jungkook. You will. So, you let him know. Interrupting his interesting explanation.

“I’ll miss you.”

Jungkook’s head snaps toward you. His words fade as he takes you in. “Yeah?” Mumbles. After silently staring at you for more than a second. You stare back and then nod. “Me too─” He puts his hands on yours. “─I’ll miss you too.” Voice turns so soft. That cheesy, sheepish grin adorning his lips. Makes you smile.

“How come? You don’t know me that much.” Ask knowing very well it’s just the same as for you.

“Doesn’t matter, I kinda liked you the first day I saw you and when I knew you were taken─” Jungkook laughs heartily. “I was like damn man maybe you are into taken woman.” You both laugh at that. Shake your heads. Jungkook leans against the backrest before speaking again. Entwines his fingers with you. “But then you’re not. And you’re leaving? Fuck, Noona, why does this feel like a damn tragedy?” Those keen eyes are watching you again. He’s being silly.

“It’s not Kookie, I’m just someone you knew. And you’ll forget me pretty soon.”

“What if I don’t? I mean c’mon, you’re an alien. How many people do you think get to meet aliens in their life?” Jungkook questions very seriously. Earning a punch to his arm. “No but seriously, I don’t think I’ll forget you. And if you really think I will, maybe you could do something unforgettable.” Adds. You roll your eyes.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know, like hanging out for the remainder of your stay?” Quirks his brow smugly. Typical Jungkook. You take a moment to answer. You could’ve said no. On different situation. Now, however, you really like the idea of having someone to spend your days with. Or rather three days. Without needing to spend them in the presence of Park Jimin. Constantly being reminded of your heart break and humiliation.

“Only if you help me to find three fucking million Won in like three days.” You raise your brow as well. Trying to ease your own heart. Jungkook gives you an incredulous look.

“Three what?”

“Three million Won Kookie.” It’s fun teasing Jungkook. Only if you can really enjoy this.

“For what?” His eyes are bulging out of his skull.

“I’m kind of in debt to someone.”

“Well, I would’ve to sell my balls then.” Jungkook mumbles, matter of factly.

“Oh yeah?” You smirk. “How much will it worth?” Give him a very serious look.

“Change of plan, I don’t want to hang out anymore. Goodbye Noona.” The way he gets to his feet is comical. Covering his crotch. Makes you chuckle. This time for real.

………………………………………..

You’re partially in pain and partially in shame, when you return to Jimin’s apartment. To find it empty. No sign of him. Good. Brilliant. You don’t want to face him anyway. It’s well past midnight. Jungkook dropped you here after you traumatized the poor guy for an entire day. Bringing horrible ideas about how you can sell his male parts. He took you to his workplace. A restaurant where he works part time. Told you he rents one of the two apartments in the upper flat. Rent free. Namjoon’s parents owns the building. And they love Jungkook more than their own son. How you’re regretting not finding that place earlier. The lovely Kim couple or rather Mrs. Kim graciously offered you a job. Obviously, not knowing a Liya. Jungkook introduced you as you. By your real name. As a fellow college student. Too late, though. What’s the point if you only have three days. Especially when you’re not going to make three million within three days. So, you turned it down. In hindsight, you had a good day. From outside. Smiling and laughing. Nodding and agreeing. Talking and listening. Then from the inside there has been no change.

All day along, your mind has been swirling around one person. It’s frustrating because even you don’t know what you’re expecting from him. Is that really an apology? Is that it? Or just to know he cares? Then what difference would it make? You’ll still leave. He’ll still go back to his life. A happy one. You can have your miserable one. Then why the fuck are you so mad he didn’t even call you once. Why are you slumped on his couch raging with fury that he isn’t even here worrying about you. Why are you sad in the first place. He isn’t your boyfriend. Then why?

Why?

You groan loudly. Grabbing a couch cushion and throwing it across the spacious lounge. Repeat the mantra you’ve been saying to yourself the whole day in your mind.

He doesn’t care. He doesn't care. He doesn't care……

Fuck, it hurts. Hurts, hurts and hurts.

…………………………………………

Jimin is sitting in the kitchen. His face is buried in his laptop screen. That’s how you find him when you get down after getting ready. You know he heard your footsteps but is ignoring you on purpose. Fuck him. Fuck his adorable, puffy face and messy hair. Fuck his rude ass. You consider just disappearing out the door. Postponing the much-needed conversation once more. The case is; however, you’re running out of time. You only have one more day in this world. And according to your calculations, you’ll not be here on the destined day. It’s Key who give you the idea that you’ll have to stay here. Since you are required to do everything in reverse order. After all, she had no other options but to believe you when she failed to find a phone from the same brand. Failed to find the people she bet she could. Then you and she teamed up to find answers.

To make her idea work, however, you’ll have to spend another sleepless night. Then to add a pinch of salt to your wounds, you just realized this morning you can’t just make that decision by yourself. Park Jimin has been involved in this mess from the start. You’ll have to talk, whether you like it or not.

Well, to hell with it!

“Jimin.” You finally find your voice after standing here for more than one minute. Cringing at your own voice. It’s too loud. Jimin must’ve gone deaf since he doesn’t even flinch at the sound. Doesn’t acknowledge you at all. Oh, you’ll give Lee Seung a lap dance for a single chance to slap Park Jimin. Unfortunate that you can’t. All you can do is try again. “Jimin.” You call him again. Even louder this time. Still nothing.

For fucks sake! You practically storm toward him. Bridging the gap by just three long steps. Your palm hitting the countertop next to his laptop loudly. Harshly. That it hurts like a bitch. Then Park Jimin doesn’t even blink at that. Yet briefly glance at you.

“Will you fucking stop acting so immature.” You shout. Not that you intended to. It’s out of control now. In the end, it takes Jimin’s full attention to you. Incredulous look on his face as he snickers.

“Immature?” Questions. Finally closes his laptop.

“Yes. Stop acting so immature because we need to talk.” You take a step back. Hands crossing under your chest. Jimin tilts his head to the side.

“Immature...” Mumbles to himself. Stands up. Takes a step toward you. You’re proud at how you don’t budge. “Says the one who avoided me for an entire day.” Looks sharply in your eyes. You hold that eye contact. You hate how your breath hitches and heart skips a beat at his stare. Hate how your mouth goes dry. Ridiculous how you have to force yourself to stay still when he takes another step. Trying hard not to show that you’re affected right now.

“I wasn’t avoiding you.” You hiss through gritted teeth.

“Yeah? Then what were you doing? Staying away purposely for no reason, because everything you do has no reason?” Jimin isn’t shouting like the last times. And for some fucked up reason, to know that you don’t even make him frustrated, makes your heart ache even more.

“No. I don’t know what’s that even supposed to mean but I wasn’t avoiding you, Park. I was hanging out with a friend.” You answer his question. Feeling really annoyed. Earning another scoff.

“Friend? Good. Now you have lot of friends.” He rakes his eyes over you. “Looks like you’re about to do the same today.” Irony in his voice is clear.

“None of your business Park.”

“You’re the one who wanted to fucking talk, Lil. Don’t give me the fucking attitude after you reached me.” Jimin snaps. Finally. Sickening how you feel a bit better.

“I did and you’re not letting me.” You point out. He says nothing, just stares you down. You take that as a hint to continue. “We- uh I need to find what I have to do… To stop this.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“Every fucking thing. She wanted me to do everything in reverse order, which means I have to be here. Another night and- uh and you know Li─” God her name seems to get tangled in your throat. “─Liya won’t be here then, and I wanted to ask you whether if it’s okay or not?” You let down a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Jimin takes a moment. That pissed off expression softens. Sinks his teeth into his plump bottom lip. Funny how there are no wonderings anymore. You know how that feels. Those lips.

Okay fuck, focus.

Jimin sighs. Shrugs. Takes a step back. “Yeah whatever, I mean do what you have to do.” Gives you, his opinion. Turns around and grabs his device. Leaves.

Ouch!

………………………………

“You’re absolutely not going to do such thing Kook.” You rub the plate on your hand particularly hard.

“Why not? It’s not a huge sum. I can totally manage.” Jungkook looks alien in this kitchen. Doing the dishes even though it’s not his job here. He is just helping the new hire. Fucking sweet. Too sweet for his own good. That’s why he is about to lend you three million Won, which he doesn’t have yet. Will borrow from Namjoon. Ridiculous since Jungkook knows that you’ll not be here to pay it back. It’ll be on his account. Why would someone do that? Is he some kind of an angel?

“Because I’ll not be able to pay it back Jungkook. I don’t think there’s a way to transfer money across two different worlds.” You point out the obvious. Placing the dried plate on the pile of plates next to the sink. Jungkook didn’t want you to work. But of course, you do. You’re here since you’ve no other place to be. Besides Jimin, Jungkook is the only person you know. You're lucky to have met him. Don’t know what you would’ve done if it wasn’t for him. Today when you reached him, he let you know that unfortunately he can’t ditch the work but said you’re welcome to join him here. Not that the owners mind at all.

“I don’t want you to pay back Noona. It’s just... you look stressed.” He thinks, giving you another washed plate. You take it. Feel fucking awful.

“Well, I’m no one you should care that way Jungkook.”

“But I do. I mean… I’m helping an alie ─”

“Oh, shut up!” You nudge him with your shoulder. He giggles.

“But I’m serious Noona... I can manage, trust me.”

“But I don’t want you to─”

Your protest is interrupted by the sound of the kitchen door slamming against the wall, followed by an enthusiastic voice.

“Kookie─” You and Jungkook both spin around at the same time to face Namjoon, who stops in the middle of the track after his eyes land on you. “Oh! Liya?” He questions. A grin spreading across his face. Before you can respond, a second voice echoes from behind Namjoon’s broad figure.

“Who’s Liya?” Mrs. Kim soon appears to be the owner of that voice. Smiling. You, however, feel your blood freeze inside your body. Eyes wide and panickily snapping toward Jungkook.

Fuck!

When you and Jungkook introduced you as you last time, you didn’t really hope to come back here. Today wasn’t planned. And now, you’re fucked. Yet again. What’s so new? You try to open your mouth with an excuse when Namjoon turns to his mother.

“Her? I mean this is Liya. Holy fuck what are you doing here?” He says to his mother first and asks the latter from you.

“Will you mind your language? And that’s no Liya.” Mrs. Kim happily states, already turning away to mind her own work. But not without telling your name. Saying that’s how you introduced yourself. “You guys know each other?” She asks while peering over a pot. Namjoon, who is utterly confused, looks between her and you. Blinks.

“Uh… that’s her nickname.” Jungkook butts in. Quickly. Oh, you’re glad. Nod furiously agreeing.

“Yeah? Okay...” Namjoon nods to himself. Smiles with his dimples on display before it disappears again. As if a sudden realization hit him. His gaze averts to Jungkook. “Wait? Did you fucking make her do the damn dishes? Bro? Did you make the fucking CEO of The SE wash dishes in our restaurant?” The disbelief in Namjoon’s eyes is comical. “Seriously?” He deadpans. You hear Mrs. Kim gasp. Have no time ponder that though. You chuckle awkwardly.

“Ah no… Namjoon-ah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumble through your smile, gesturing to his mother with your eyes. Namjoon takes a moment. Looking at you like you’ve grown two heads. Not taking your hint at all. Jungkook to the rescue again. Throwing his hand around your shoulder and squeezing.

“Yeah, Hyung, what are you talking about? He is weird these days, Eomeoni.” Says to poor Mrs. Kim, who looks at all three of you. Jungkook gives a stern look to Namjoon. Namjoon opens his mouth again. Yet couldn’t utter a single word when Jungkook lets you go, only to walk around and grab Namjoon’s shoulders. “It’s time you should take a break Hyung. You’re delusional these days. I’ll escort him away.” Gives you a brief glance and says to the old lady in a very dramatic way. Practically drags Namjoon away, leaving you alone to keep smiling awkwardly.

…………………………………

You don’t like so many things. Among those so many things, you specifically don’t like how fast the days are passing. You’re just a day away from the fateful day now. According to your plan, you won’t leave today. Yet, you still have no idea what you’re going to do. It could very well be a special dance around a fire pit. A mortal sacrifice. A bond in blood. Or literally anything.

The other thing you specifically don’t like is how you haven’t seen Jimin. Not even once after your not so civil conversation last time. He is at it again. Ignoring. Avoiding. Being a fucking prick. You’re tired after staring at your phone. Hoping it will light up with a single text. With nothing much but perhaps with a request to talk before you leave. Then there’s nothing. He wasn’t there when you returned to his place that night. He wasn’t there when you woke up this morning. There’s a possibility that he won’t be there when you leave as well. You’re fucking restless. You can’t even hear what Jungkook is saying now. As you’re both sitting on the floor of his cozy little apartment. Your first time being here. If the saying that a person’s place reflects their personality holds true, it doesn’t apply to Jeon Jungkook. This place doesn’t reflect him whatsoever. Except for the mattress on the floor. A fucking mattress on the living room. Single size. For no apparent reason. He claims it’s for sitting purposes. Makes no sense. He sits on either floor or on the couch. Typical, random Jungkook.

“Okay, now you’re going to tell me what exactly you did that day one by one. And we’ll find what opens the wormhole to this parallel universe.” Jungkook shows you his tablet where he has drawn two circles. He erases a little part of the lines on both circles. Indicating the opened doorways between two worlds. You force yourself to pay attention to that instead of your phone. He continues after you hum in acknowledgement. “And then since that creepy lady said you need to do everything you did, in the reverse order, we gonna do it that way.” He opens a new page. And then writes number one on the top. “Go on tell me.” Urges you on.

You take a minute to gather your thoughts and concentrate. Then think about everything. There’s a reason you haven’t done the same with Key. You didn’t want her to know you were heartbroken that day. Not that you want Jungkook to know either, but what other options do you have?

“Um like what? Do we need to go through everything I did that day? I don’t think I remember everything.” You let him know. He shakes his head.

“I don’t think so. It obviously has to do something with sleeping, so let’s focus on that. What did you do before you went to sleep?” Jungkook bends down, ready to write down what you say. You take a deep breath before answering.

“I cried.” Mumble softly. Jungkook perks up. Head snapping toward you.

“Why?”

“Ah, nothing special, you know young heartbreaks. I’m fine now though.” You brush him off. See now, you and Jungkook just clicks so well together. Not just with age but you really like how he doesn’t push you. He does that most of the times but when you really don’t feel it- like now, he doesn’t. He just nods instead. Writes down what you said.

“Then?” Asks.

“I texted the college fuck boy.” How embarrassing to say that aloud. He doesn’t look at you this time, however. You watch him add the second point. “And he stood me up. I mean he was invited to my place, and he didn’t… and I cried myself to sleep and─” You don’t want to drag out the conversation. Want to get it all off away fast. Jungkook interrupts you though, eyes now back on you.

“What a stupid motherfucker to miss that.” Says nonchalantly. You gape at him.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Are you kidding me, Noona? Oh, c’mon I’d sell my soul to fuck you.” He is very serious. Got you blushing at the blunt word. You roll your eyes to hide that. Punching his muscular arm.

“Don’t fuck with me Kookie. Focus.” Turn his face away from you with his chin. You think you like how he giggles. And snort. And being annoying. Like how he doesn’t let go of the conversation. Even get you whining in complain. Yet does his job all the while. In the end, you have a list with only five points.

Cried.

Texted the fuckboy. (Stupid Motherfucker.)

Got ready. (Shouldn’t have)

Waited.

Cried again.

“Now what?” You ask, staring at the screen.

“Good question. It doesn’t make sense. Like okay, so you will not cry, obviously.” Jungkook crosses that point away.

Will you? Will you not cry? Well, you can’t cry, that’s the point.

“And you won’t be texting any fuckboys, so no get readying, waiting, or crying again.” He scribbles all the points away. Sighs. “Ah, this is so frustrating…” Groans. Puts the stylus on the table. You watch it roll away. Feeling equally frustrated. Or even more frustrated. A tense silence fall between. Both of you torturing your brains for an answer. For a moment where something special has happened. You can’t think of anything at all. Jungkook speaks again. Lazily and unsurely turning his head toward you.

“What if it’s something like a wish?” Asks with wide doe eyes. But they aren’t glistening. So, you know he isn’t excited about his idea.

“Really?” You peer at his eyes with a deadpan expression. “Easy like that? What is this? A fairy tale? Besides I don’t think I wished to be transported into a different world no matter how heartbroken I was, Kook.” You shake your head for more emphasis.

“I know but look─” Jungkook gestures to the tab again. “─those things don’t make any sense and since you’re so sure that’s all you did; it has to do something with your thoughts obviously. And I’m positive that halmeoni said something about miracles and shit.” Argues. When thinking about it that way, it makes sense in a certain way. Not that you can remember what exactly the lady said. It was like a dream to you

“I don’t know Jungkook, it feels funny to think it was wish.”

“I completely get it Noona, but what if it is? It’s not like we have other options anyway. Maybe, you should try that way.”

“Okay,” You straighten up. Fixing your posture and locking your eyes with him. “Let’s say it was a stupid wish. Then I can’t remember what I wished for. She asked me to do the opposite. How am I gonna do that when I don’t remember it?”

Jungkook fixes his posture as well. “Maybe uhh... because you were so hurt you wished to disappear?” Raises one of his brows skeptically. Oh, Jungkook sure does make sense. Theres a huge ass possibility you wished for that. But you certainly didn’t wish to be transported into a parallel universe. You take a moment to think it through.

“Well, it’s not like we have other options now, do we? But what if we messed up, like I make the wrong wish? Then what will happen? Should I go like, I wish to appear in my world again. It’s not really like I completely disappeared; I’m shifting.” You make your point, watching Jungkook shakes his head before turning toward you completely. Crossing his legs after he is facing you properly.

“I don’t think that is the case. If it was a wish, I think all you have to do is wish for what you want. Like this─” He closes his eyes. Hands in prayer. “─ I wish for my life back or I wish I would live my normal life again. Something like that. In the end, I think that’ll be the opposite of your initial wish either way.” Teaches you how to do it. This is a very serious situation, yet you couldn’t help the chuckle that escapes you.

“Oh, this is ridiculous but yeah whatever, I’ll chose the first.” You say with an eye roll.

“Good choice Noona. And if it doesn’t work?” He looks you straight in the eye. Smiles softly. “I’m sorry but I’ll be glad.”

The grin on your face falls. A pout replacing it as you take Jungkook in. At least there’s one person who thinks that way. You wish you could have some more time. Wish you can actually get to know Jungkook more. Wish you can have a happy life without anything messing up. Wish you can forgive Jimin and meet him for one last time. He doesn’t want to, however. Doesn’t even want to see you. Jungkook does and you need him to know you appreciate it. Without a single word you throw your hands around him. Placing your chin on his shoulder.

………………………………..

You and Jungkook stand in Jimin’s apartment building’s lobby. It’s getting dark. And is pouring down. Not it’s a common occurrence. Yet at the very moment it occurred, you knew how special the day is. How it is the day you look forward to. It’s exactly like the time you stormed out of this same lobby couple of months ago. A little colder than that. But it’s the same. You and Jungkook are slightly wet. It has been an exhausting yet exhilarating day. A day where you spent it to the fullest. Or at least try to do so. Still, despite Jungkook’s best effort you checked your phone more than a hundred times. Every time your hope was shattered into tiny million pieces. Jimin hasn’t sent you a single message. At this point, you think you should give up. Know he won't be home. Maybe, you should’ve given up and talked to him first. Then the last time you tried that; it went awfully wrong. All you can do is accept. Resignation.

You sigh heavily. Staring into Jungkook’s face. He isn’t smiling anymore. He was throughout the day. If he ever wondered why you don’t hang out with Jimin, he never asked. You’re glad. Know he just doesn’t think it’s because you and Jimin did something wrong. Wrong or not you and Jimin were close. This might raise questions, but Jungkook doesn’t bring it up. You know he can be stupidly annoying, running his mouth and asking things without any prior thoughts. But now he doesn’t. Is simply here for you without expecting anything in return. That breaks your heart. Jungkook made sure you have memories to cherish.

Starting from the last night spent watching movies and drinking beers on his couch. To every single place he could take you. You even have another plushie in your hand. See, it’s never about the time.

“I really don’t wanna do this.” You mutter in a hoarse voice.

“Neither do I. Is it so selfish to ask you to stay? I mean keep going.” Jungkook smiles, sadly. You chuckle. Just a way of hiding your pain. So many painful things.

“It’s not just about me you know?” You remind him about Liya. True, you did so many horrible things to her but still nothing will compare to stealing her life. Besides, you don’t want to hear Jimin confront you. Ask you to fucking leave. No. You’ll never put yourself in that terrible position. You’ll leave with your head held high. Jungkook nods again.

“In that case….” Sighs. “Noona, I really enjoyed your company, and I really do like you... I mean not in that way, but I do. If I knew you, as you from the first place, I might really have kept you here but yeah… so…” Gulps down his own words. Just bridges the distance between you and pulls you into a warm hug. “I’ll miss you Noona.” Mumbles into your hair. You wrap your hands around his figure. Squeezing him back with a same kind of fervor.

“I’ll miss you too, Kookie. A lot.” You ignore what he said. Partially because you don’t know what to say. Partially because it’s getting harder to talk. Your eyes back to stinging. This time though, you don’t hold back. You let the tears soothe the sting. Allow those tears to roll down your cheeks. “I’ll fucking miss you Kookie. Thanks for being with me for these couple days.” You pull away from him. Peering at his glassy eyes. “I’m kind of homeless, you know. So, it means a lot to me that you helped.” You chuckle through your tears. He does the same.

“I’m glad I helped an alien.” Bites on to his bottom lip coyly. This time you both laugh. Nod. Then you’re back in his embrace. Pass some more things you feel like sharing. Have no idea how long you take for this goodbye. When you finally find the strength to move away, you simply pat his arm. Wipe your tears. Silly.

“Well, then don’t forget you met an alien.” You say as the last thing. Jungkook just nods. “Okay.” You nod too, clutching the plushie in your hand tightly. “Then it’s g-good─” Gosh your voice is cracking again. “Goodbye Kookie.” You take a step back. Then before you can turn around and leave for good, he stops you again. Pulling out an envelope from his jacket pocket. Holding it to you. You look at it with your brows furrowed. Confused.

“Take it, I know you want to pay Jimin back.” He mutters softly. Your eyes widen as you realize what’s inside the envelope. Your head begins to shake involuntarily. You really thought he wouldn’t really do it. You already gave up on finding money.

“No Jungkook, I said no. I can’t take your money.” You take another step back in protest.

“Hey, I know… Listen, I don’t know what happened between you and Jimin but if you want to pay him back you should do it. This is not a lot Noona, I can manage. Joonie isn’t going to send me to prison because of this. Trust me.” Jungkook grabs your hand, trying to place the envelope in. You try your best to free yourself and walk away. Then of course, he is Jungkook. So, you find yourself waving to him, the envelope in your other hand. Eyes teary again. While you stand inside the elevator. He waves back at you. You wave and wave and wave. Until the elevator door closes.

………………………………….

The beeping sound of the keypad echoes through the empty hallway as you enter the passcode to the apartment. Since the day you locked yourself out of this place, Park Jimin has made sure you have access to every single thing inside this building. Everything he and Liya have, you share with them every other day. See, it makes perfect sense to repay him for what he did. Nothing to do with your ego. It’s just that you are being nice. You can keep saying the same thing.

You opened the door to the darkness. Until the sensors pick up your presence and the threshold lights up. In a gloomy yellowish light. You shed your partially wet jacket and step out of your wet shoes. Clutching the envelope tightly as you walk inside. Everything is still dark. There’s no sign of anyone else. The heaviness you already feel in your heart is becoming intense. Unbearable. Even when you knew this is what will happen, you’re disappointed. You stand up in the entryway, steeling yourself. Jimin isn’t here to say goodbye. All the rage and fury you felt has melted away into sadness. You’ll blame it on the goodbye you wished to Jungkook. It played a part truly. There’s no denying that you’re sad to part ways. Forever. You kind of wish you could say goodbye to each and every person you met in this world. But you can’t. Then among everything, you can’t even say goodbye to the person who matters the most.

Park Jimin.

After a deep breath, you step into the dark longue. Hand blindly touching the wall next to you. Searching for the switch panel. The moment your fingertips graze over it; the darkness disappeared. Bringing the world into light. Bringing a figure on couch into your sight. Making you jump and hit the wall accidentally. A low curse leaving your mouth.

Park Jimin.

Just sitting there. His hands entwined together, placed on his knees. Bended forward. Eyes on you. Doing nothing but staring. He really scared the life out of you. What the fuck is he doing like that? He must’ve heard you entering. Then he decided to stay quiet? What a freak? Oh, here comes that rage again. Why are you getting mad when this was what you wanted? You wanted Jimin to be here. Shouldn’t you be happy? Well, that’s the case after all. You’re getting mad because of the satisfactory bubble you feel on the pit of your stomach. That heavy feeling started to ease away. You’re mad because you shouldn’t be this desperate for his fucking attention. So, you let your mouth decide what to do next instead of your brain.

“Why are you here?” You step forward finally. Jimin straightens up, crossing his hands over his chest.

“Why? Do I need your permission to be on my own house?” Asks cockily. Of course, it’s his place.

“Well, you weren’t here all this time?”

“Why should I be here?”

“You shouldn’t, that’s why I’m asking what are you doing here today? Could’ve easily avoided me until I’m gone. Why bother being here?” You take another step forward. Jimin just keeps his eyes on you. Just like you, he’s attacking you with his words. But something in those chestnut eyes tell you he isn’t really mad.

“I didn’t avoid you Lil. You did. And I’m fully allowed to be anywhere I want to. Here, there, anywhere I want.” He shrugs. Your chest tightens again at the nickname. Should you have talked to him first? Why should you? You just nod. Once. “So, you figured how you gonna end this?” He asks again.

“Kind of yes.”

“What do you mean kind of?” Jimin knits his eyebrows. You shoot a glare at him.

“Kind of mean kind of Park. I think I know a way─”

“You think? That means you don’t know Lil.” He finally stands up. This time, it’s he who takes a step forward. “I thought you were working on solving this shit with that kid, but it looks like you’ve been having fun.” He scoffs. Oh, maybe you were wrong to think he wasn’t really mad. He was mad. And he still doesn’t care about you. Is just worried you’ll mess this and stay. Fuck that. Yes, you’re sad but you’ll never let him know. You’ll still say good fucking bye and show him your middle finger. You grit your teeth, preparing to counter back when he doesn’t let you. “And you cried? You’re that sad to leave him?” Laughs with his head tilting to side. “I’m sorry, I might be the villain of your story, demanding you to leave because I want my girlfriend back.” Looks straight in your eyes. You can see the fire in them. What did you do that suddenly he hates you this much. That’s the conclusion you can draw. He might be hating you from his guts. That’s why he looks so furious.

You’ll not cry. You’ll not cry.

You gulp down the lump that is creating on your throat. Cloud your pain with anger. “I fucking did my best Park. I fucking did. And guess what? No, I’m not just thinking. I know. I know how to stop this shit and I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow morning.” You like the look of confusion on his face as you stride toward him fast. You’re not sure at all. Like you told him. A wish? Jimin will double down with laughter if you tell him that was the idea you came up with. So, you won’t tell him. Instead, you’ll leave him in the darkness and pretend like you know everything. Then you’ll hope everything will work eventually. “Then you can live happily ever after, you fucking asshole.” You screech, inches away from his face. Stare furiously into his brown eyes for a minute before pushing the envelope into his chest. Your movements so harsh that it makes him take a step back. One of his hands involuntarily comes up to grab the thing you’re showing against him. Confused. Looking at you with wide, doe eyes.

“Here’s the things I owe you. I know it’s not enough but that’s something and keep this as well. Not that it’ll be useful anyway.” With your other hand you push your phone into his chest as well. “GOOD. FUCKING. BYE! Park Jimin.” You wait a minute as you grit the words out. Wait till he catches the phone too before you step away. Turning around to leave. Not completely knowing what’s the next step but you’ll just make a wish while you’re on the bed. Looking to your side to stop the tears from rolling down. Biting inside your lip.

You’ll not cry. You’ll not cry…

You nearly storm away for once and for all hopefully, when your arm is suddenly stuck between firm fingers. “What the fuck are you doing? What are these?” Jimin hisses in your ear. His fingers firmly and tightly wrapped around your forearm. This is fucking annoying. You need to get away before you tear up in front of him. You’ve put you through enough humiliation in your life already. Don’t need another one. You slightly turn around, making sure you shoot the same glare at him.

“That’s fucking money Park. Are you dumb? You can’t see that’s money? Why are you asking things that are so obvious?”

“I know that’s…. Why the fuck are you giving me money?” Jimin sighs before yanking from your hand to turn you properly to face him. Making you wiggle your hand. He lets you go. You’re still standing a mere inch away from him. Only if this is a different situation.

“Because I don’t want to leave as a debtor to you.”

“I don’t want your damn money Lil. What do you take me for? A fucking beggar?” Jimin pushes the envelope and the device back towards you. Which you don’t take in your hands. Instead, you take a step back.

“Well, I don’t care what you want Jimin. I told you; I won’t be in your debt.” Throw your hand in the air. “You’re so fucking rich, I know that. You don’t want the money, do whatever you want with it Park. Burn it for all I care.” You yell. Throw a murderous glare. Attempt another failed escape when Jimin grabs your arm again. Harsh. Hard. His other hand cups your cheek. Brings his face closer to you. So fast that you can’t even comprehend what’s happening until he is breathing on your face. You gasp. Surprised by his sudden actions.

“I don’t want your money. I won’t take it.” Grits against your mouth. His hand on your cheeks squeezing you tightly. Like he wants to break you. Or wants to make you realize he doesn’t want your money. You’re not someone to back away, though.

“I don’t fucking care Jimin.” You grit back. Still glaring. Not giving up.

“You’re taking that with you.” Jimin demands. Gets you laughing but failed since he is squeezing your cheeks. If you weren’t so furious and hurt, this might’ve been enough to get your knees buckling. The proximity. His breath. Warmth. Every single thing about him is enough. But you know better than that. So, you push him away at the same time you swat his hand. Failed. Yet again.

“You think you can demand me? Well, too bad Jimin.” You grab from his wrist. “I won’t take it back. I’ll make sure I pay you back even if it’s the last thing I do.” Try your best to push his hand away. Not working. If anything, he pulls you closer with your arm. Never stop abusing your cheeks.

“Then I’ll make sure you don’t even if it’s the last thing I do.” He growls. You don’t know how but somehow; he has inched his face even closer to you. His lips graze over yours when he speaks. Something changed. It’s not just stubborn anger anymore. It’s not the need to win this stupid fight anymore. And of fucking course, your breath hitch. Despite all the hurt and anger inside you, your body instantly start to react to Park Jimin. Because everything about him is just enough. All it takes is a light touch of his lips against yours. You’re breathless and speechless. Jimin shakes your face. Asking you to reply.

“Just take the fucking money Park. Burn it down like I said.” You weakly mutter this time. Trying to hide the beating of your heart. And your uneven breathing.

“I don’t want that Lil. Why are you stubborn always?”

“I already told you.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything to that. Just keeps his hold on you. Still harsh. Still hard. Then sighs.

“You want to pay me that bad?” Asks. You feel small under his intense gaze. Your heart is beating violently inside your poor rib cage. “Hm?” Pushes.

“Yes.” You’re glad you said that sternly. Jimin takes another silent moment.

“Fine…. Let me fuck you then.” Free your cheeks, only to curl that hand around your waist. Pulling you flat against his chest in one swift motion. Eyes burning into yours. The fire is visible. Wasn’t that anger? Your breath tangles in your throat. Yet again. Your tummy does a flip and heart stops. A shudder engulfs you. Still, you look at him with disbelief. Despite the wave of heat washed over you, you stare at him with wide eyes. Did he just?

No words escape your dry lips. “Let me fuck you Lil.” He repeats. “Let me have my way with you.” Whispers against your lips. Sending tingles all over your body. “You wanted to pay. Pay in this way.” Tilts his head to the side, so his lips are touching your cheekbones now. You can’t speak still. Speechless. Spellbound. You should slap him. What a fucking filthy, shameless…. “I know I’m an asshole to say this, but what’s new Lil… I am an asshole. You know that. I know that too. I’m a fucking selfish prick.” He presses a kiss to your cheekbone. Is touching you without your consent? Or is he? You’re not stopping him once again. You’re making the same mistake all over again. Isn’t this what they call taking advantage?

If you know that you should stop him. He should repulse you. Not this weak when his hands slips down to your hips. Grabs your flesh hard. Mumbling against your skin. “Baby please.” Whines. Park Jimin fucking whines. Breathless. Hands go past your hips to your ass. Molding the flesh roughly. You can’t suppress your uneven breathing anymore. “Just want you. Can’t keep this damn thing inside me anymore baby. I… I fuck, Lil please…” Presses your body hard against his, hands squeezing your ass cheeks relentlessly. Voice dark and low. You don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the damn plead. To hear him beg. For you. In that raspy voice. Dear god, it does things to your body that you can’t even bring yourself to explain. “Fucking please...” It’s the last straw for you. You find words.

“You are so shameless Park Jimin.” You should add your name to that as well.

“I know.” Jimin presses another kiss to your cheek. Pulls away to look at your face. “But I tried Lil. I really tried but fuck I can’t.” His lips meets yours. You stay still. Don’t kiss him, don’t stop him. He doesn’t mind that apparently. Kisses you hard. “I know how wrong and shameless I am. But guess what baby? I don’t care. Just want to fuck you. Say yes Lil. You wanted to pay. So, pay me for everything I did.” Kisses your jaw. “I’ll make sure I get everything you can give.” Kisses your neck. You absolutely don’t intend to touch him but that’s what you’re doing. Your fists bunched up in his black T-shirt. His hands are everywhere now. Touching you. Holding you close. Lips exploring the skin which is exposed to him with your long sleeve top. You don’t really think you said yes. Not verbally at least. In the end, however, you always give up. That’s how you find tilting your face to the side. To meet his lips which he keeps busy on your skin. There’s an uncontrollable, feral desire building inside you. And it snaps when Jimin latches on to your lips.

You really can’t understand how he gets you shamelessly moaning just with one flick of his tongue against yours. Can’t understand how your back suddenly ended up meeting the couch leather. Can’t understand what devil possessed Jimin that he is kissing you like he went mad. Hovering over you. You spread your legs so he can slot between them perfectly. His bulge can align with your cunt comfortably. He doesn’t break the kiss for a good long. Keep it messy and filthy. Sucking and licking. Teeth clanking. Until he can’t take it anymore. Until your already swollen and bitten lips aren’t enough. He wants more. So do you. That’s why you’re bucking your hips upward to create that familiar heavenly friction on your dripping cunt.

Jimin is attacking your neck now, propping on one arm to tug on your top with the other. In vain since he can’t tug the neckline down enough. Enough to reveal what he wants to see. You’re covered too much for his liking it seems.

“Off Lil, shit, I’ll rip it otherwise.” He makes space between your smushed bodies. This time tugging at the bottom. You nod and allow him. Not because you care about your cheap clothing but because now, you’re impatient. Just like him.

“Jimin.” A whimper leaves your mouth as Jimin get rid of your top. He groans.

“God, I missed this.” Mumbles. Makes you giggle. Not for so long when he is unhooking your bra. Giggles turn into another shameless moan when you feel his warm tongue on your hardened nipples. “Fuck baby, I missed this. Missed you.” He confesses. Almost as if he’s in an entrance. Doesn’t belong to this world. That makes your heart explode. You’re worried it’ll really explode. It’s too much. Everything is too much. His words. His hot tongue, sucking on your tits, making them drenched. His breath hitting your cold skin. His hands roaming over your exposed body, molding the flesh and rubbing. You’re in an entrance too. Brain’s empty and fuzzy.

“Me too. Missed you..” You hear yourself mumble groggily. That voice can’t belong to you now, can it? Your fingers go to thread in his silky blonds without your knowledge. Back arching and pushing your wet nipples more into his mouth. Jimin nods to your chest, acknowledging your words. Kissing every inch of your skin. Biting and sucking. Fucking worshipping your body. Kisses the underside of your boobs, kisses your cleavage, kisses your tummy. You’re moaning so loud now. Desperate and needy like always. It’s your turn to tug on his T-shirt now. Jimin isn’t difficult today, surprisingly. Relent without a single word. Throws it away somewhere in this spacious space. Apparently, doesn’t have the enough patience to be a little tease and make you suffer. Is unbuttoning your jeans the moment his torso is naked. Your jeans and panties face the same destiny. They are thrown somewhere in a second. He gets you bare in record time. You whimper watching his breath hitch at your naked figure. Pupils dilated and face flushed. Pure sin. The Park Jimin. Even his hungry stare is enough to make you cum. Odd.

He places his hands on your knees to spread your legs. Harsh and fast. Revealing your glistening pussy to his sight. Curses. “Fucking hell.” Groans. “You’re soaking.” Wets his lips, greedily. Oh fuck, he is going to be the death of you. “Wanna taste you so bad.” Gulps. Brings his fingers just to graze them over your sloppy slit. Over your sensitive clit. Making your thighs twitch.

“Do it please.” You plead with your sight hazy. Jimin dips down at light speed. His tongue taking a one long stripe over your slit. From your clenching hole to your clit. Feral. Moans into your cunt as he tastes you. You expect him to suck on your clit. But then after that one taste he is pulling away like all he wanted was a taste. Much to your dismay. You look at him with confused eyes. He is spreading your legs even more, however. Eyes glued on your cunt. Groans. Whimpers. Restless. Peeks at your face. “I- I can’t anymore Lil….” He doesn’t complete his sentence. There’s no need to. You know what he wanted to say. Simply he doesn’t know what to do first. He wants all. He, like you, is turned on in a humanly impossible way. Doesn’t know how to satiate that burning desire. Ache. You want to be helpful.

“Fuck me. Jimin fuck me. I can’t either, want you inside me. Now.” Your grabby hands reach him to pull him forward. Kissing him hard. Let him go when he abruptly stands up. “Condom.” He mumbles as he storms away. Isn’t it comical how his brain isn’t functioning properly? It should be but all it does is make new waves of arousals pool between your thighs. Now dripping down into his expensive couch. Jimin reappears in the lounge even before you can blink. Already tugging on the drawstrings to lose his sweats. You act on your instincts, spreading your legs wide to present yourself to him. To the furthest you can with the backrest limiting your space. Impatiently. Jimin lets his sweats pool around his ankles. Kicks it away. His boxers are the next to follow. Is completely naked when he reaches the couch. Foil package already tucked in his teeth when he is sitting between your spread legs. Rips the package and takes the latex out. Eyes darting from your swollen cunt to your fucked up face. Watching you biting down on your bottom lip. Eyes pleading and hips sneakily pushing up in search of anything.

“You don’t need prep baby?” Jimin questions. Concerned. Eyes now fixed on your face and his movements halted. “Can you take me?” Looks at your cunt again. As if he is assessing your abilities. The thing is you can’t wait anymore. Just like him. You nod furiously. “I can, I’m positive. Please.” Push your hips forward. Jimin takes a moment to make sure you’re telling the truth. When he is, he nods, going back to resume his work. Giving few pumps to his throbbing and aching member. You watch in awe how he does that swiftly. Pumping. Making pre cum spread across his tip with his thumb. You’ll always think he’s the most beautiful. No difference to his dick. Hard and swollen. Veins running down. Oh, you want him inside you now. You’re clenching around nothing violently. “Jimin please.” You hurry him up. Urging him to quickly roll down the latex on his pretty cock. What a shame! No time to brood when he is finally hovering over you again. One hand place next to your head and the other still holding his dick. Aligning it with your cunt. Rubs the tip along your slit couple times. Those blown out eyes looking sharp in your eyes.

“Ready?” Asks. You nod. Another push from your hips for more emphasis. Jimin doesn’t waste time. Places the tip against your tiny entrance. Doesn’t break eye contact as he slowly start to push inside. His swollen tip intruding your walls. Stretching you up. The initial burn hits you hard. How long it has been after all. Should’ve asked for preparation. Good thing you’re so needy and dripping. And Jimin taking it slow. “Shh... it’s okay Lil. Slow. You can take me. I know you can.” He coaxes you. “Take me Baby. Like that..” Soothes you while his hard member is sneakily entering your warmth. His teeth almost draw blood on his plump lip. Looks like it’s a war inside him not to accidentally hurt you by pushing forward hard. You try to relax as he keeps pushing. His dick perfectly sliding against your warm walls. Pleasurable inch by inch, he pushes forward completely. Finally, filling you to the brim as his hips presses against you. You both moan loudly. Your hands finding purchase in his hair again.

“Fuck, like that.” Jimin balances himself by bringing his other hand on the other side of your head. Eyes closed tight. You can feel his dick twitch inside you. What a feeling. That is. What a sight. Jimin hovering above you. Struggling internally because of you. “So fucking tight Lil….” Groans. You moan. Allowing your walls to adjust to his perfect size. To get use to the pleasurable burn. And it’s subsiding fast. Replacing only with pleasure. Pleasure that makes your blood liquid fire. You grind your hips against him. Languid. “Jimin.” Call. Jimin grabs your waist tight.

“A moment baby, give me a moment.” He is still closing his eyes. Basking in the feeling. You would’ve liked to do the same, but he feels too good. You can’t control yourself. So, you buck your hips again.

“Please.” Show your hands around his neck. Clutch him tightly. Holding on to him for your dear life. Jimin presses his forehead against yours. Groans.

“You’re so tight baby. I’ll come if I move now. Give me a minute princess.” He rasps. You shivered. Partially due to the pleasure. Partially due to his nickname. He called you what? And then to know he is affected that much. Going crazy. Makes your brain goes haywire. Makes you much more desperate. Hence, you’re doing the complete opposite of what he asked you to do. Instead of giving him the minute he wanted you’re pushing more into him. Your walls spasming around his rock-hard dick.

“God Jimin please, please. Please move. Fuck me.” You nearly cry. Jimin kisses you hard. Just to shut you up.

“God dammit Lil. Don’t plead... fuck, don’t do that.” Grinds his hips. You clench around him. Yet again. Involuntarily. Do it again. Then again and again. Until Jimin is whining. Breathless. Your foreheads are still touching. “Ah… Please baby, don’t. Stop it.” Pleads. This is how you’ll die.

“Can’t help it.” You slur. He accepts that. Takes a breath before finally composing himself. Giving you what you want. Drags his hard member out till only the tip remains inside. Looks at your face when he rams back. Not slow, not hard either. Just sensual and enough to let you feel every inch of him drags against your sensitive walls. You’re reeling. Moaning. Nails digging into his biceps. He does it again. Setting up a pace, thrusting in and out of your soppy cunt. Moaning when your needy hole sucks him up greedily.

“Fuck Lil. You feel so good.”

You can only nod. Mind completely full of the sensation between your legs. It’s pure pleasure now. Only that and Park Jimin. Covered in sweats. Placing occasional kisses on your lips as his hips slam against yours. Peering into your eyes. He looks otherworldly. Lost in the heat of your cunt. And the tightness. But then he looks like he is still struggling. That war is still going inside him. Holding back. You don’t want that. “Jiminie….” You breathe against his lips. Sniveling. He looks at you. Questioning with his eyes. “Harder please.” Request. Jimin tremble. His hand on your hips squeezing you so tight that you’re worried you’ll break.

“Harder?” Jimin repeats. You nod. “Yeah?” He is just asking for the sake of it. “Like this.” Stops his thrusting only to ram his hips against you so hard that your back leaves the couch. You moan, nodding. Eyes getting teary. “More?” Asks. Why should he even bother. You don’t even realize that you’ve nodded when he snaps his dick inside you harder than before. “Fucking hell, princess, take it like that.”

Within a minute he is fucking into you fast. Pounding. Desperate. And when he snakes his hand under your ass to push you up a little you know you’re wrecked. For now, and forever. The change of angle making his dickhead presses against your sweet spot. Your thighs shaking. Each hungry thrust brings you closer to your edge. You prepare yourself for that feeling. Eyes closed and scratching Jimin’s back. Only for his hand to disappear from you ass and grab your jaw instead. Making your eyes snap open.

“Eyes on me baby. Keep looking at me.” He picks his pace a notch up. Relentless. Brutal. Pulls away from the heat of your body so he can look at you properly. Keeps his hand on your jaw. “Keep your slutty eyes on me when you cream my cock.” Takes his hand away. Places that on your sensitive nub. Starts to rub it harshly. What more you could ask for. “Go on Lil. Cum. Squeeze my cock like the desperate slut you are.” Grits through his clenched teeth. And you comply. Of course, you do. Without a single word. The tension inside your body snaps so fast. White spots appearing on your vision and ears ringing.

“Jimin. Jimin…. Fuuckk.” His name is the only thing you can mutter. The orgasm hits you long and hard. Jimin prolongs it to the best he can. When your vison becomes clear again you can see how pleased he is. Wicked smile on his lips. Overstimulates you with his hand and hips never stopping. You believe he will keep pounding till he follows you. But then he pulls out. Confusing you. Yet again.

“Turn around. On your knees. Want to fuck you harder.” Commands. Doesn’t give you enough time to follow it though. Already manhandling you on to your knees. You place your hands on the arm rest. Grab it tightly since you can’t trust your legs. Your body is weak after the intense pleasure that washed over you. Pussy still spasming. Legs shaking. Jimin grabs your hips, pulling up so your ass is perked up perfectly. Your already ruined, throbbing hole full on display. Presses your head down. Back arched. You can hear him groan.

“You’re such a sight princess. Fucking slut.” He mumbles more to himself before you can feel his hot tip back on your entrance. This time he enters you in one hard thrust. You cry as he splits your cunt. “Jimin…” Back to chant his name. He sets a merciless pace without further ado. Fingers digging into the supple flesh of your ass. Smacks it. Not hard enough for you to hurt. Just enough to sting a little. And how you like the feeling. So, you wiggle your ass. Earn another one. Making him chuckle darkly.

“You like that?” Asks. Doesn’t wait for your answer when he does it again. And again, with his hips striking against your ass in a brutal pace. “Fuck. Fuck. Cunt sucking me in so good Lil. You feel so tight and good. I don’t want to stop fucking you, I can’t fucking stop.” Moans.

“Then d-don’t J-Jimin.” You say into the leather of the couch. Eyes now rolling back and drooling. He mutters something incoherent to that. Bends down to mumble in your ear. One hand snaking around your throat.

“Say you wanted this too baby. Just like me. Say you wanted to have my cock splitting you up.” Tightens his grip on your throat slightly.

“I did. I do. J-Jimin... I wanted it so bad... I want you. Want you to keep ruining my cunt.” A much-dignified version of you would’ve buried yourself alive to hear you say that. But that’s worthy when Jimin grunts. Parises you.

“That’s a good slut. C’mon baby make me cum. You need to pay me after all.” He straightens up. But takes you with him. Now your back plastered against his chest. Hand still on your throat and spilling filth against your ear. “But I’ll be generous. Cum one more time for me hm?” His cock keep massaging your inner walls. Hitting the spot repeatedly. “Be a useful whore and cum one more time princess. C’mon.” Squeezes your throat. Free hand starts assaulting your sensitive clit again. “One more for me.” Kisses your face. Messily. It doesn’t take much. Of course, it doesn’t. It’s Jimin after all. Even before you know it, your head is falling back on to his shoulder. You grab on to his hands for strength. Him being the only thing that keeps you upright as your second- even more intense orgasm hits you. Your whole body going feral as Jimin fucks into you through that.

“Like that. Yes, fucking like that baby. Squeeze me. Milk me dry.”

You do as he says. It’s out of your control anyway. He makes your body do whatever he wishes. Your cunt is gripping him tightly. How heavenly Jimin moans in your ear.

“Fuck yes.”

You know he is close. The way his grip tightens and how he is losing the precision of his pounding are the signs. “So close baby. Gonna cum so hard for you.” Promises. And all it takes is another pathetic beg from you. A beg for him to cum. To cum so good for you. He does. With a loud groan and teeth painfully sinking onto your shoulder. His hand around your throat leaving its position to wrap his arms around your petite body. Holding you close as his hips stutter and stills against your plump ass. Releasing his seeds to the latex wrapper. You keep clenching around his pulsing dick, milking every last drop like he wanted. Jimin keeps you in that position for a minute. The lounge which was filled with lewd sound of your cunt against his cock and the slapping of skin, now fills with the ragged breathing. You both trying to calm down.

Jimin lets you go after a moment. Your limp legs instantly give up and fall forward. His softening member slipping out of your cunt. He follows you. Putting his weight on your body as your face meet the leather again. Another peaceful moment passes. Then he is pulling away. You lazily turn your head to catch him removing the condom. Tying it up and placing it somewhere that’s hidden from your sight. Turning his gaze back to you. You don’t know what’s next. You never knew that from the first place. Not that it matters anyway now, is it? This is the last day and there’s no tomorrow to be worried about. Whatever he does, you’ll accept it. Only that you don’t expect him to reach for your face. Trace your cheek softly before looking at you with glittery eyes. Sparkling. Full of adoration. Affection.

Fuck!

Your heart is back to beating fast. “You okay?” He asks softly. Voice like honey. Music. Soothing. You nod. “Sure?” Always needs reassurance. “Yes, Park.” You mutter. He gives you a firm nod. Gently turns you around with your arm. You just let him, not having any strength. Stare into his glistening eyes when you’re fully turned around and comfortable. Jimin wipes your cheeks with his palm. Says nothing when he suddenly stands up. Searching for his discarded clothes. Finds his sweats and pull it up. Asks you to stay put as he leaves. You just keep lying there. Still stark naked. Wondering what he is doing. Get your answer when he is back with a wet towel in his hand.

Double fuck!

This is bad he is doing this after care shit. It’s bad he makes you believe he cares again. You’re already fucked up anyway. Because of this man. It never was about sex. Or burning, unrelenting desires. If it was just that, you wouldn’t have been that much of an emotional mess. Now him doing this, makes it all worse.

“Wh-what are you─” You don’t get to finish your question when he pries your legs open.

“What does it look like?” He gently places the warm towel on your sensitive pussy. You wince. Wipes down the slick that is covering your nether parts and thighs. He is so gentle that it almost makes you lull into sleep. Throws the towel away and holds his t-shirt for you. You lazily take it from him. Hiding your nakedness with it. Don’t have enough strength in you to protest. Are lying down again the moment you’re covered. Eyes never leaving his careful glance. You keep staring at each other for a long couple of minutes. As if this is the first time you saw each other properly. In deep down, of course, you’re beginning to worried. You finally did it. Committed the crime. So, now what? Just parting ways after a good fuck. Apparently, no. There’s more to it. Jimin sighs heavily. Makes you slightly wince in surprise when he leans down over you again. Back to caressing your cheek while you watch him with wide eyes. Halts his actions. “Fuck.” Curses softly. In a way of regretting. Closes his eyes and opens them again. You have no idea what’s going on inside his head. And you don’t expect it to be this when he finally speaks.

“I’m sorry.” He says. Catches you off guard. “I’m fucking sorry Lil.” Repeats. Voice wavering. Touches your face again. Brushes your hair out of your face. “I’m such a fucking jerk. I’m sorry.” Nudges your nose with his. Ever so slightly. Touch barely there. Says it again. Over and over. Mumbling an apology after an apology. You’re beyond surprised.

Is he sorry for breaking your heart? Or is he sorry for fucking you?

“I’m so sorry baby. Sorry for saying those shitty things to you. You don’t deserve… I… I... don’t deserve to have you like this.” He solves your problem. You keep staring at him. The worry in his eyes. Regret. And you swear you can see fear. You hesitantly raise your hand to touch his cheek. Don’t know what’s happening. You want to say something, but he doesn’t let you.

“But please don’t leave.” Says out of nowhere. If you were surprised earlier, now you are dumbfounded. Jimin looks down at you with panicked eyes. “Don’t leave Lil. I’m sorry and I’ll make it right. Just don’t go.” Rambles. Lenas into your touch. Pecks your lips. Looks like he is on the verge of crying. “Don’t go.” Hides his face on your neck.

What’s happening?

You stare into the white ceiling now. Keeping Jimin top of you. Pondering. Thinking. Not believing what’s happening.

He wants you to stay.

“That’s such a selfish thing to ask.” Mutter into his ear finally.

“I know.” He chuckles. Bitterly. “I’m selfish. I don’t even know what I want. But maybe there are other ways. I owe you, don’t I? I don’t want you to leave like that. Give me a chance to make it right. Please?” He says to your neck. You have millions of questions to ask. Why would he want to make it right at all. What’s the point? What’ll happen to Liya.

“What about Liya?” You voice out your concerns. You did what you did. No use of sugar coating the bitter truth anymore. “You want her to keep vanish like this.” You’re not accusing him. Just curious. Jimin is silent for a minute.

“No. But I don’t want you gone Lil.” Admits honestly. You don’t know if you’re fully on board with him. Don’t know what you’re doing. What will happen the next day? Still, you find your hands curling around his back tightly.

“Maybe, there are ways.” Say to yourself more than to him.

……………………………….

Jimin holds you close while his eyes are droopy. You’re already fast asleep but nothing has happened yet. You’re still in his hands. Safe and sound. Peaceful. Jimin doesn’t think he has been this sleepy in his life before. Yet he can’t find it in himself to rest his eyes. Doesn’t want you out of his sight. What if you don’t stay true to your words. What if you lied and never come back. He would deserve it then, wouldn’t he? For being immature. For not knowing how to deal with his own feelings. Figures out shits like an adult. He would deserve to lose you forever for treating you like trash.

When he begged you to stay. He didn’t plan that. He was so sure the best thing is to let you go. When he finally had you. He didn’t plan that either. Was just here because he couldn’t resist the urge anymore. Would’ve regretted it for his whole life if he had never said goodbye. At least didn’t see you for one last time. Nothing had been planned. But here you are. Back in his arms. Snuggle perfectly into his chest. As if that’s the place you should be. He told you half the truth earlier. He blamed you because he was scared of his own mind. What a fucked-up situation it was for him to be jealous of Jungkook, when you said his girlfriend will be permanently erased from this world. He should lose his mind over it. He did lose his mind that day. Not because of that. Because you’re leaving. And that scared the shit out of him.

You were his priority that moment. Not Kim Liya. That’s scary. It’s still scary. You are the priority. What is he going to do now. You agreed to stay. And no matter how stupid it sounded when you said that thing about the wish. There’s a possibility it could work. Then you agreed to use that wish to try and see if you could make everyone’s life better. You agreed to wish for Liya’s normal life while this situation keeps happening to you. Not either of you know if it could work. You and Liya can’t exist in the same world you said. But who’ll know. That’s the final decision you came up with.

Maybe he is jumping on to that pit of fire again. Choosing the wrong path. And he is dragging you with him. See, selfish. Selfish enough to be happy that no matter how hard the future will be, you’ll be in it. Through roughs and softs. Jimin has you. How comforting. To hold you back again after days in hell. Rotting inside his own body. Restless. In pain. Breaking. Going crazy. Hating Jeon Jungkook with passion. Just because he got to have you when Jimin couldn’t. Jimin doesn’t know why he’s being so possessive. What does he want from you? Sex? You? Or is it something else? It doesn’t matter in the end. All that matters is, he has you again.

It's okay if he’s jumping on to fire pits. As long as he can have this. As long as he can have you. He’ll keep choosing the wrong paths. Keep burning in fire pits.

He’ll gladly choose this torture.

The burning pit of fire.

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a/n- Leave a note if you enjoyed this one!

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Taglist - @chimmy-licious @graydolan12 @smoljimjim @likemeforme @sugas-baby-girl @canarystwin @jkayy @floboo6 @sunshinenmidnight @fiddlebiddls @unlikelycheesecakeenthusiast @mar-lo-pap @angelicsmilesworld @jimincrystal @datspjm @shakes0peare

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simpcityy · 15 days ago

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The Cost of Protection (Teen! Reader X Parental Figure! Sevika) Pt.1

Summary: After their father abandons them, leaving behind a massive debt, a privileged teenager from Piltover finds themselves in danger. Saved by Sevika, a ruthless woman from Zaun, the teenager quickly learns that their worlds couldn’t be more different. Tension simmers as their contrasting backgrounds—wealth and privilege versus survival and grit—create a rocky start. With no choice but to trust Sevika, the teenager follows her into the dangerous streets of Zaun, where they must both confront the past and navigate a growing, unlikely alliance.

Disclaimer: I do not own Arcane or any of its characters.

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Use of semi-violence, use of (Y/N), use of you and later on (Y/N), they/them.

Author Notes: Don't you worry, I will finish off My Little Spawn, just wanted to get this one out and see what you guys' thing. Yes, I have fallen into the Sevika rabbit hole.... Thank you for reading this and if you enjoy it, please like and reblog. It helps my creative ideas grow and gain more audiences. Happy Holidays!

The sharp stench of chemicals and rust filled your lungs as you sprinted through Zaun’s labyrinthine streets. Your fancy Piltover boots, polished just days ago, were now caked in grime. A group of angry Zaunites shouted behind you, their heavy footsteps echoing through the alleyways.

You turned a corner and slipped into a narrow crevice between two buildings, your chest heaving as you tried to quiet your breathing. “Think, think!” you whispered to yourself. You were out of your element here, far from the safety of Piltover’s orderly streets. Whatever plan you thought you had when you first ventured down here—it was in shambles now. The sound of footsteps drew closer, and panic surged through you. Desperate, you darted out of your hiding spot and into another alley, only to crash into someone. The force sent you stumbling backward, but the person barely budged. “What’s this?” a low, gravelly voice asked.

You looked up and froze. The woman was towering, her broad shoulders framed by the dim glow of Zaun’s flickering lights. A metal arm, sleek and powerful, hung at her side. Sevika. “I—uh...” you stammered, struggling to find words. “Please. I need help.” Sevika raised an eyebrow, her expression hovering between amusement and annoyance. “Help?” She glanced behind you at the sound of your pursuers. “Looks like you’ve already got company, kid.”

“I didn’t mean to!” you blurted out. “It was a mistake—I got caught up in something, okay? If they catch me, I’m dead.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied you, her lips curling into a half-smile. “Piltover brat in Zaun... You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But guts won’t save you here.”

“Please,” you begged. “I’ll do anything. Just—just don’t let them catch me.”

For a moment, she said nothing, the tension stretching unbearably. Then, with a sigh, she grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into the shadows. “Fine,” she muttered. “But you’d better make yourself useful. If you’re more trouble than you’re worth, you’re on your own.” You nodded quickly, too relieved to question her motives. For now, Sevika was your only shot at surviving this nightmare, and you weren’t about to waste it.

The fight was over in minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. You clung to the corner of a rusted railing, heart pounding as Sevika dismantled the gang that had been chasing you. Her punches were heavy and deliberate, her movements efficient, like she’d done this a hundred times before—and she probably had.

You, on the other hand, could barely stand straight. The acrid stink of chem-fumes burned your nose, and the chaotic neon glow of Zaun’s lights seemed to twist and blur everything. This wasn’t Piltover. There were no clean streets or polished fixtures, no order or logic to the chaos around you.

Sevika loomed over the last of your pursuers, her cybernetic hand gripping his shirt. “Tell your crew if they’re thinking of picking a fight in my streets again, they won’t be walking out next time.” She shoved him hard, and he staggered away, limping after his beaten companions.

She turned to you, brushing her hands off like this was just another Tuesday. “You’re still here? Thought you’d be halfway back to Piltover by now.”

“I don’t know where I am,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Figures,” Sevika muttered, leaning against a steel post. “Piltover kids like you think you can handle anything. But down here?” She gestured to the jagged skyline, where rusted pipes and crumbling buildings loomed like teeth. “This place eats people like you alive.”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to end up here. I thought I could... handle it.”

She laughed, a short, sharp bark. “You? Handle Zaun?” She shook her head, smirking. “You’re a walking target. That jacket alone probably cost more than most people make in a year down here.”

Looking down at your once-pristine coat, now stained with grime and torn at the hem, you flushed. She wasn’t wrong. Everything about you screamed Piltover—the clean lines of your clothes, the sheen of your boots, the polished accents of your speech. Here, it all felt like a joke, like armor that didn’t belong in a place where survival meant toughness, not style.

“I know I messed up,” you said, forcing your voice steady. “But... I can’t get back on my own. I don’t even know where the edge of Zaun is. Can you—” You hesitated, then pushed forward. “Can you just walk me to the border? Please?”

She stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, she pushed off the post. “Fine. But only because I don’t feel like scrubbing your blood off the street when someone else finds you.”

“Thank you,” you said quickly, falling into step behind her.

The walk was tense. Every turn she took seemed like a dead end, yet somehow she knew exactly where to go. The streets were cramped, lined with shanties and makeshift shops that sold things you couldn’t name. The people you passed—most of them gaunt and wary—eyed you like you were an alien, and maybe you were.

“You’ve never been out of Piltover, have you?” Sevika asked, glancing at you over her shoulder.

You shook your head. “Not really. I mean... I’ve heard stories about Zaun, but...”

“But you thought it’d be some exciting adventure,” she finished for you, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Let me guess—you thought you’d find some hidden treasure, then waltz back home a hero.”

You winced. That wasn’t far from the truth. “Something like that.”

She snorted. “You don’t get it. Piltover doesn’t care about this place. You lot look down on Zaun from your fancy towers, call us criminals and savages. But down here? We survive because we have to. We don’t get the luxury of screwing up and walking away.”

Her words stung, but you couldn’t deny them. Everything about Zaun—its smell, its people, its chaos—felt raw and alive in a way Piltover never had. Yet it was also terrifying, like stepping into a storm you couldn’t control.

“Is it always this... hard?” you asked, gesturing vaguely at the crumbling buildings and endless machinery.

She gave you a sidelong glance, her expression softening for a fraction of a second. “It’s hard because it has to be. Weakness doesn’t last down here.”

You nodded, unsure what else to say. When the border finally came into view—a rusted gate separating Zaun’s sprawling chaos from the cleaner, towering structures of Piltover—you felt a wave of relief.

“Well,” Sevika said, stopping short. “Here’s your stop. Try not to get yourself killed on your way back to your shiny life.”

“Sevika,” you said, hesitating. “Thanks. Really. I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing,” she said, turning to leave. Then she paused, glancing back. “But next time you think about playing hero in a world you don’t understand? Don’t.”

With that, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving you at the edge of two worlds—one you didn’t belong to, and one you’d taken for granted.

The gates to your family estate stood ajar, their intricate ironwork swaying gently in the breeze. It should have been comforting to be back in Piltover’s pristine streets, surrounded by order and wealth, but unease prickled at your skin. Something was wrong.

You stepped through the gates, the familiar crunch of gravel under your boots echoing in the unnaturally silent courtyard. The grand fountain, usually a cascade of sparkling water, was dry. The windows of the house, which should have been glowing with warm light, were dark and lifeless.

Your footsteps faltered as you approached the door. “Garet? Miss Lila?” you called out, your voice thin in the stillness. No answer came.

Pushing open the door, you stepped inside. The house smelled faintly of dust, as if it had been days since anyone had been there to tend to it. Your eyes scanned the darkened hallway, the absence of familiar faces sending a chill down your spine.

Then, from the drawing room, a voice cut through the silence. “Welcome home, little one.”

You froze. That voice wasn’t familiar. It was smooth and calculated, tinged with a menace that made your stomach drop.

Turning slowly, you saw a man lounging in one of your father’s high-backed chairs, his legs crossed casually. He was dressed in a sharp, tailored suit that looked out of place in the disarray around him. A glass of wine swirled lazily in his hand, catching the faint light from the dying embers in the hearth.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your effort to sound firm.

The man raised an eyebrow, his smile chilling. “A friend of your father’s. Or rather, his creditor. He owes me quite a lot.”

You swallowed hard. “Where is he? Where’s my father?”

The man’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, yes. Your dear father. It seems he’s chosen to leave you in his place. He fled days ago, leaving behind his debts... and you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “He left?”

“Indeed,” the man said, leaning forward slightly. “He thought he could outrun his obligations, but I’m a patient man. When he disappeared, I decided to wait. And now, here you are. Convenient, don’t you think?”

Your mind raced, trying to process the betrayal. Your father had always been distant, consumed by his business dealings and high society life, but you never imagined he would abandon you like this.

“I don’t have anything to do with this!” you said, your voice cracking.

The man’s gaze hardened, the false warmth dropping from his expression. “Oh, but you do. Your family’s wealth, your lavish lifestyle—it’s all built on the promises your father made. Promises he failed to keep.” He stood, and you instinctively took a step back.

“I—I don’t have any money,” you stammered.

“No,” he agreed, his smile returning, sharper now. “But you’re worth something. Perhaps as collateral. Perhaps as leverage. Your father will turn up eventually, and when he does, he’ll find you under my care.”

The air seemed to thicken, your breaths coming faster as you backed toward the door. “I won’t go with you,” you said, though the words sounded weak even to your own ears.

“Let’s not be dramatic,” the man said, his tone smooth but with an edge of steel. “This can go one of two ways: you come quietly, or I make a scene. Either way, you’re coming with me.”

You glanced at the open door behind you, calculating your chances of escape. The streets of Piltover might be orderly, but they weren’t safe—not for someone like you, not anymore. Yet staying here felt like a death sentence of another kind.

Your father had abandoned you to pay his debts, leaving you in a world you barely understood. But you weren’t about to let yourself become another piece of his collateral.

#sevikaxchild!reader #Sevika #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #arcane #Sevikaxteen!reader #Simpcity

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orgasming-caterpillar · 7 months ago

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And It's Too Cold//It's Too Cold

Songfic Based On: Sweater Weather, The NBHF

Nico was in the cooldown room when it happened. Towel in hand, he was wiping the cold droplets trickling down his torso when Lewis burst open the door. (They didn't even use the cooldown room at the same time anymore.)

“Nico.”

The name left his teammate's mouth for the first time in weeks. Nico's throat didn't have to tighten like that— he wasn't going to speak anyway.

“I need to talk to you,” Lewis said, something desperate in his voice that Nico wasn't sure was real.

All I am is a man

Nico’s words were careful, deliberately stern. “What do you want, Lewis?”

I want the world in my hands

“To talk to you- about the race.” Abu Dhabi. 2016. “You won. Congratulations. I still won the championship.”

That seemed to snap something inside Lewis. In a swift motion, he lunged at Nico. But his childhood friend was much too familiar with his tactics, he knew about his speedy attacks and had swift reflexes to match. All those teenage years spent wrestling on hotel beds weren't for nothing.

“I don't fucking care!” Lewis shouted, his collar grasped in Nico's hands, Nico pushed all up against the wall. “I don't fucking care that I won the race!”

“You seemed to care a fuck lot about it on the track, mate,” Nico spat.

Lewis jerked his shoulders, hitting his head on the wall in the process. “Why can't you see, Nico?! Why can't you understand? I can't take this anymore.”

I hate the beach

But I stand in California with my toes in the sand

“Take what, Lewis? Because all I've been doing this year is take and take and fucking take. You haven't taken shit compared to what you've put me through.” His eyes were burning now. He needed Lewis out of here.

“I can't take this— you pretending I don't exist. I will take the accidents and the crashes and the goddamn fistfights, but I can't,” —his voice broke, eyes welling up, and Nico had the urge to wipe them before any tears fell— “I can't take this, Nico.”

Use the sleeves of my sweater

“You really think you're the only one suffering? How self centred, how typical of you, Lewis.”

Let's have an adventure

“...What?”

“You think this doesn't hurt me? this non stop fighting and competition, and never making up? Open your fucking eyes. I don't like this any more than you do.”

Lewis' hands dropped from his shoulders, chest heaving. The air between them was electric, too dangerous to breathe in.

Head in the clouds but my gravity centered

“Then why do you do it?” It was the smallest voice Nico had ever heard.

Because it's better than admitting the truth. Because it has less consequences than saying 'I love you.' “Because you started it.”

Touch my neck and I'll touch yours

Dark eyes trailed from his wet hair to the damn skin of his torso, not in a lewd way, but like a man recalling all that he has to lose. When he looked back up, there was a hope in his eyes that Nico couldn't bear looking at. “And will you stop if I stop?”

You in those little high waisted shorts, oh

This was a terrible idea from the beginning. The Karting, the trip to Greece, the ride-or-die friendship, all of it— terrible.

Oh, she knows what I think about

“Stop fucking thinking so much, Nico, it can't get worse than this.”

It really couldn't.

And what I think about

The answer came in the form of a desperate hand grabbing the back of Lewis’ head to bring him closer.

It was a gunshot, the way their lips met each other's. It was the sweet shock of love after a lifetime of yearning. It was like their first sip of too-strong whiskey at fourteen, knowing they've crossed a line they can never go back to.

One love, two mouths

Lewis’ surprise melted into eagerness in a split second. Nico tilted his head and grabbed his bicep. Lewis had grabbed Nico's face with both hands like he was something dear and precious.

It really was a terrible idea, and nothing could ever fix it; but if they were going to burn they'd go down singing in the flames.

One love, one house

“Take off your shirt,” he grunted. Lewis obeyed.

Smooth brown skin burned under Nico's freezing palms. He grabbed a handful of the pecs, moaning into the kiss.

No shirt, no blouse

“Is this—” Lewis pushed him away. God give him dignity, Nico almost whined. “Is this a confession thing? Or a goodbye thing? Because I have no idea what I'll do with a goodbye fuck.”

Just us, you find out

Nico had no idea either. He didn't want to leave Lewis. But for now, the only thing on his mind was the throbbing heart under his hand. They were here. ‘Leaving’ seemed like something out of a hazy dream. “I don't know.”

Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no

Lewis had this look on his face— like he wanted to run away but his feet wouldn't take him. Nico wanted to tell him that there was nothing he could have done to change anything. There was nothing that could have ended up with them anywhere other than where they are. He didn't say anything.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

“Do you really? Or is this another game?” Yes, Nico wanted to yell. He knew what Hamilton was asking. 'Do you really love me?’ and he wanted to yell, Yes, yes, yes. I do love you. I do. I'm sorry. All he could do was nod.

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

Lewis put a hand on his cheek, kissing him again. Only this time it was so much more gentle, yet hurt so much more. Somewhere in his subconscious Lewis seemed to have realised that this was probably the first and last time they will ever do this; and he did it like he wanted to remember.

And if I may just take your breath away

There was so much Nico wanted to say, and he couldn't say any of it. He wanted to scream.

We will never be the same again, he wanted to say. I will never love another like you. A moan. You've destroyed all that I was. A sigh. Do not destroy what I am. Hands caressed his body, so soft it was painful. Build me a pyre, and I'll still whisper your name as I burn. A prayer. I love y—

“How do you want this?” Lewis whispered, hands working him out of his pants.

I don't mind if there's not much to say

Nico grabbed his shoulders, using the stability of Lewis’ hands on his thighs to wrap his legs around his waist. He relished in the way Lewis groaned, he would never hear it ever again.

Sometimes the silence guides a mind

To move to a place so far away

Lewis was gentle, so gentle. They both loved like an ocean. With Nico it was a tsunami; desire coursing through his veins as he groped, wrecked, swallowed everything that came in his way. And with Lewis it was this; sweet, gentle and relentless like moonlit waves in the darkest hours of the night. What choice did either have but to drown?

The goosebumps start to raise

“More,” he whimpered, arching his back against the wall. The soft gaze with which Lewis was watching him was more violent than any fistfight they've ever had.

And then I watch your face

Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah

It hurt— even with how tender Lewis was being. Maybe more so because of that. He harshened the pace at Nico's request, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. Their hearts beat in sync, thudding against the ribcages pressed together.

These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for

Strangling begins with holding. Cannibalism begins with a kiss. They both bring grief and hurt and madness; what is love if not just tender violence?

Inside this place is warm

Outside it starts to pour

He reached the peak of his pleasure first, spilling onto their abdomens. Lewis followed right after.

Coming down

One love, two mouths

They stayed like that for a while; chests heaving, foreheads pressed together, hearts broken like the promises they made at fourteen.

One love, one house

No shirt, no blouse

“Don't leave me, Nico.”

Just us, you find out

Why do you speak to me and why do I try to understand? he thought. We no longer speak the same language.

Not a word was uttered.

Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no, no, no

“We can fix this.” That damned hope.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

“Put me down,” was what Nico chose to say. Lewis did, searching his face desperately for an answer.

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

Nico picked his pants off the floor, pulling them on without another word. Lewis spared them both the pain and stayed silent as well.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

He was wiping his torso with a spare towel when Lewis finally spoke.

“You promised, Nico.”

Nico looked at him, no longer caring about the wet streaks on his cheeks. “We made a lot of stupid promises.”

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

“You said we'd race together. Forever. You said you wouldn't race without me. Then why should I?”

Wasn't forever such a sweet lie? It wasn't nearly as long as people thought it was.

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

“I'm leaving racing for good, Lewis.”

And it's too cold, it's too cold

Lewis was silent for what seemed like hours. “I love you.”

With a single whispered phrase, Nico shut the door behind him. “It'll pass.”

The holes of my sweater…

#f1 fic #f1 ships #f1 rpf fic #brocedes #lewis hamilton x nico rosberg #sunshine and britney #madhav ke lekh #brocedes angst #brocedes smut #formula 1 #formula one #f1

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andreafmn · 4 months ago

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Collision | Chapter 27

Word Count: 3.2K

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N: omg, this one is also coming to an end very soon 🫣🫣

<- Previous | Next ->

The longer (Y/N) remained in the Cullen house, the more she felt the walls closing in on her. For a moment, she couldn't distinguish the difference between dreams and reality. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare she couldn't shock herself awake from.

As soon as the tickets were bought and a plan was laid out, the girl ran outside. The smell of pine and wet dirt filled her nose, and for the first time in hours, she felt like she could breathe. The house taunted her as she leaned against her truck, trying to fill her lungs with air, tears burning the back of her eyes.

(Y/N) wanted to be strong. She wanted the vampires in the house to believe nothing they had done had affected her. Her heart had been shattered, but she had persevered. In fact, she had come out of the other end better than she had been left.

But she had been strong for long enough. She had swallowed her tears, and she had slipped on a mask. She had been pretending to be strong long before she knew that's what she was doing. Pretending to be okay had become her second nature.

Yet, everything breaks at some point. All the pressure—years and years of suppression—is bound to make even the strongest diamond break.

A tightness spread through (Y/N)'s chest, stopping her lungs from receiving oxygen. It had her gasping for air, taking as many breaths as her body allowed her. But it hazed her sight and numbed her limbs, pulling her to the ground as she tried to regain her composure. Still, try as she might, her body betrayed her. It raced her heart and forced tears to fall from her eyes, making her ache for air like a fish out of water.

"Hey, hey, (Y/N)," she heard distantly. "You need to focus on your breathing, okay?"

"I-I-I c-can't," the girl stammered.

"Yes, you can, (Y/N)," Theo said as she placed her cold hand on her cheeks, snapping her eyes to the vampire. "Focus on me. Copy what I'm doing."

Though she didn't need it, Theo took in deep breaths through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, keeping her gaze firmly on (Y/N). She took her friend's hands in hers and tried her best to keep her focus. She spoke slowly and calmly, instructing the girl's breaths and pulling her attention from the attack.

It was almost a play-by-play of the day the two had met.

(Y/N) hadn't realized just how scary it would be to find herself alone in a new school with faces she didn't recognize. The moment Sam and her mother moved her into her room, she found herself so alone. Her roommate had not shown up, and she'd been informed moments after that she had been unenrolled from the school. Without a roommate and without her family for the first time, the girl felt truly and completely alone.

She had been able to go on for almost a month. Classes kept her distracted enough during the day, and all students were forced to eat breakfast together, but at night, she still had to go back to an empty room, and she still sat by herself every lunchtime and dinnertime. The only thing that kept her sane was the picture of Sam and Allison on her last birthday by her bed. She didn't want to call and worry them. She'd already written to them every two weeks like she had promised, and even then, she felt she was bothering them too much.

The girl had just finished an English class when suddenly, her books flew everywhere, and her knees scraped against the hardwood floor. People around her laughed at their teenage insensitivity, but it was the words of one particular girl that struck her the hardest.

"I think it's better that you go back where you came from," she had spat. "Although I guess some scholarship girl should be used to being at our feet."

(Y/N) hadn't been able to look into the girl's eyes before she felt her chest wrenching from lack of air. Students lost interest in her seconds later, leaving her to scramble for her things as she fought against her own body. One more minute, and she was left alone in the seemingly never-ending hallway.

The lockers around inched closer to her as the seconds ticked by, taking over the little air that remained for her. Her eyes blurred, and her skin pebbled with sweat, all while her lungs screamed at her to breathe.

The tingling started at the tops of her fingers, like ants eating at her veins, and spread to her legs. She was numb and oversensitive all at once, yet she had no control over it. Her body was going crazy, and she had no control over it.

"Hey, hey," she heard a voice call out from a distance. "You need to focus on your breathing, okay? You're having a panic attack."

(Y/N) felt cold hands against her arms, and her eyes snapped back into focus. Before her stood a black-haired girl with striking blue eyes. She wore a burgundy polo, letting her know she was a junior.

"I-I-I c-can't b-breathe."

"I know, honey," the girl said. "Just do what I do, alright? Focus on me."

The older girl took deep breaths through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, telling (Y/N) to do the same. She didn't let go of her hands at any moment, instead keeping her centered with her touch and soft words. Her voice lulled her into a rare sense of calm she had not felt in a while and helped even out her racing heartbeat.

(Y/N) couldn't understand how this girl who knew nothing about her had stopped to help her, even after the tardy bell had rung. Unlike the peers she had shared for four weeks who had laughed at her and walked away without sparing her a second glance.

What she hadn't known was that those few minutes had been excruciating for the girl helping her. (Y/N)'s knees had been spilling small droplets of blood and had been testing the vampire's resolve. It had taken everything in her not to pounce on the girl's neck and expose her identity. But for some reason, she hadn't been able to just walk away.

"How're you feeling now?" the girl asked as (Y/N)'s breathing evened out. "Any better?"

"Y-yes," (Y/N) croaked. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. Some kids here don't understand common decency," she chuckled. "I'm Theo, by the way. Well, Theodora, but my friends call me Theo."

"I'm (Y/N)," the young girl responded.

"Well, nice to meet you, (Y/N)," Theo smiled. "How are you finding Greenfield?"

"Lonelier than I was expecting," she admitted with a dry chuckle. "I don't even have a roommate, and clearly, I'm not doing good at making friends."

"Then consider me your first official friend."

"Don't take this in a bad way, but why?" (Y/N)questioned. "I mean, you're a junior. I'm just a freshman."

"Eh, I don't really care about those things," she shrugged. "We all need someone, (Y/N). I'm good with being someone for you."

Theo had become the someone (Y/N) had needed for the next two years. She'd encouraged her to meet new people, she guided her in the direction of a few internships. Theo had even been the one to guide her through a dual-enrollment and started her on her path to medicine. She had been everything she had ever wanted in a friend. Except honest.

As the girl calmed, that realization dawned upon her. The Theo she had met in Greenfield had only been the vampire's mask. The girl that was standing before her was the real one, all golden eyes and perfect skin. She had pretended to be her friend for years, but she had disappeared the moment she needed her the most.

Everyone needs someone. That much she knew was true. However, Theo clearly was not the right person for (Y/N).

"How are you feeling?" Theo asked. "Any better?"

"I'm fine," she croaked, pulling her hand from the girl's grasp. "I can handle things by myself."

"I don't doubt that, (Y/N)," the vampire said. "But we all need someone, (Y/N)."

"Why do you care?" she spat. "After all this time of silence and no contact, why do you care now?"

Theo's expression twisted in confusion, clearly unaware of what the Uley girl spoke of. "What do you mean, (Y/N)?" she questioned. "Did you not get my letters?"

"What letters?"

"I've been sending letters to your home since I left for New York, (Y/N). Since I never heard back, I assumed you just didn't want to talk to me anymore," Theo confessed. "I stopped for some time, trying to give you some space. But when I saw what you were going through after... well, you know, I couldn't help but reach out. And yet again, I never got a response."

"I... I've never gotten a letter from you, Theo," the girl muttered. "Are you sure you sent them to the correct address?"

"I didn't break into the school and look at your personal file to get things wrong," she chuckled. "I'm a hundred percent sure I sent them to your mom's house. And I never got a return to sender post, so I just assumed you threw them away."

Suddenly, a thought popped into (Y/N)'s head. "Sam always gets the mail for mom and I," she mumbled under her breath. "And when he didn't, Paul was the one that got it. But... no. They wouldn't..."

"I don't know what they would or wouldn't do, but I did send those letters," Theo said. "I wished there was more that I could have done for you, but I couldn't without revealing what I really am and crossing into enemy territory. I tried to reach out the only way I thought I could."

"I just thought you'd forgotten about me after you left for New York," she muttered. "I even tried to email you, but the school deactivated your school email after you graduated. I felt like an idiot for trying to contact you when I thought you didn't want anything to do with me. I mean, you were a college student, and I was just a junior in high school."

"Well, a junior in high school and college," Theo teased as she bumped her shoulder softly into (Y/N)'s. "I didn't want to lose contact with you, (Y/N). But I always knew it was something that had to happen at some point—back when you didn't know everything, of course. Humans and vampires, it's just something that isn't meant to last."

"Yeah," (Y/N) scoffed defeatedly. "That's something I learned the hard way."

Theo remained quiet for a second, pondering over her next words carefully. "Would you have allowed him to turn you, then?" she asked tentatively. "Would you really have become one of us?"

"If he had asked me, I think I would have," (Y/N) admitted. "Now, I'm not even sure I want to be in the same state as him."

"You still love him, don't you?"

"I don't want to."

"But you do," Theo stated. "Which is why you agreed to get him home. Which is why you're helping him and his family even after all they did. But you must know you don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"W-what?" (Y/N) questioned in disbelief. "After all that begging, you're telling me there's another way?"

"Not exactly another way, but Esme and I will find a way to get him back," she said. "I didn't want to mention anything in front of her because she's already so distraught from losing her best friend, but you have a choice here, (Y/N). You don't owe them anything, okay? Not even me."

(Y/N) took a moment to ruminate on Theo's words. She'd known deep inside that she could deny them help, but she hadn't felt like it was a real option. The guilt alone would have consumed her, taking her body hostage from the inside out. Even if Carlisle couldn't die, he was doing the closest thing to it. "No, I want to help," she replied. "Regardless of everything that has happened, I want to help."

"Only if you're sure, (Y/N)."

"I am," she smiled. "I'll see you tonight, Theo."

"(Y/N)..."

"I'm okay, Theo," she said. "I'll see you soon."

The ride back home filled (Y/N) with anger and uncertainty. She had carried some buried resentment toward Theo since the girl had left the boarding school. The one girl that had gone out of her way to build her up into who she was had disappeared as quickly as she had come to her life. And she never got a reason why.

She had spent years thinking she was disposable, that she had lost the only friend she had made at school to distance and disinterest. Instead, someone had decided to try their hand at playing god and had believed they knew more than the universe's will. The only culprits he could think that would do that were the very ones who had been tasked to keep others like Theo away from their land. But she couldn't believe they would do something like that for years. Not to her.

Still, she had no time to ponder over the betrayal as she searched her room for a duffel bag to fill with the first clothes she could find. The girl ran from corner to corner, packing essentials and some non-essentials as well. It was her first time flying across the country to save her vampire ex-boyfriend from eternal hunger and punishment after he had shattered her heart—she didn't know what to pack.

All she knew was that she had very little time before she had to drive all the way back to the Cullen's land.

"What are you doing?" Paul's voice suddenly filled her room. "You smell like them."

"I'm going to New York with Esme and a friend to save Carlisle," she responded without taking her gaze off the clothes she was folding. "We leave as soon as I'm done here."

"So you decided to help," Sam interjected. "I thought seeing the bloodsuckers again would make you hate them. Serves me right for believing their charms wouldn't work again on my sister."

The spite in her brother's voice pierced her heart with calculated precision. He had only spoken with kind and supportive words while the vampires were away, and there was no sign they would come back. He had stood by his sister's side and told her what she wanted to hear, except when she needed him the most—except when she had finally made a decision he did not like. "You always knew there was a possibility I would go," she said through gritted teeth. "And they didn't work any charms on me. My mind had been made up before I even got there."

"We have enough with the ones that came back," Sam said. "Why do you have to bring another one?"

"Because his family deserves to have him here. He's not just your enemy, Sam. He's also a father and a friend, and they miss him. It is not my place to keep him away."

"After all we did to keep them from you," Paul mumbled under his breath, thinking she couldn't hear him.

But she did. "Oh, I know all about what you've done," (Y/N) spat. "Like keeping letters from me sent by the only friend I had in school. Where are they, huh, Sam? Did you chase the mailman until you got them?"

"How did you...?"

"That friend I'm going to New York with? Turns out she's a vampire, and she's the one that had sent those letters," she said. "Letters I didn't even catch a glance of since you and Paul had always been so kind to bring our mail in."

"I was trying to protect you, (Y/N)," her brother argued. "Those things have no place here."

"They are your enemies, Sam! Not mine," she exclaimed. "I thought she hated me. I thought the one friend I had made outside of the reservation hated me because she hadn't reached out. Come to find out, it was you that had been keeping her away."

"Those letters reeked of leech," he scoffed. "I was doing you a favor. Those things are poison, (Y/N)."

"That should be my decision to make! You took that from me, Sam. Both of you," she fumed. "People have always looked down on me. Whether it be for where I was born, how much money I have, or who my father is. I can count on one hand the people who wanted to be my friends without you intervening. Theo was the only person in that school who saw me as a person. I wasn't Sam's little sister or the smartest person in class. I was simply a person. And you made me think all of that had been a lie. You made me feel unlovable, replaceable."

"She's a vampire."

"She's my friend!" (Y/N) yelled. "Look, I don't need to explain why or why those letters mattered to me. What I care about is that you took away my choice to decide on the matter. I'm not a child anymore, Sam. I do not need you to make decisions for me."

"Are you sure about that, (Y/N)?" Sam fumed. "You fall for one leech, he breaks your heart, and you turn into a depressed alcoholic. I missed one delivery from those bloodsuckers on your birthday, and it sent you down a spiral that had you in bed for days. From where I'm standing, I did you a favor by burning those letters."

Tears threatened to spill from the girl's eyes as anger bubbled inside her. She wanted to believe her brother's ire was misdirected, that his poignant words were jabbing at marble skin. But it was her he was speaking them to, and she wasn't made of impenetrable skin. "If that's what you believe," she said in a scary and calm tone. "But we'll need to table discussion for later. I can't be late."

(Y/N) walked past her brother and her friend, her bag in tow and her anger boiling in her veins. She knew the longer she stayed, the more likely she'd say something she regretted. Unlike the wolves, she couldn't let her ire consume her—there was no telling when she'd come out once she allowed the darkness to take over.

She was in her truck and ready to go when a knock at her side startled her. "What do you want, Paul?"

"Don't go, (Y/N)," he said. "He's not good for you."

"No one will ever be. Not to you. Not to Sam," she scoffed. "But it doesn't matter because I'm not getting back together with him. I'm only returning him where he belongs—to his family."

"We have enough leeches across the pond. We don't need one more."

"This is not about you or the wolves, Paul," she argued. "This is about a family that is shattered."

"They didn't care when you were the one that was broken."

"Lucky I'm not them," she said. "Now, go away unless you want me to run you over."

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