#maybe ... I'll just make a post for when new years hit and tag people that have just. went in my life and just. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prodagustd · 2 months ago

Text

surprise | myg

this is an extra chapter of the so it goes series.

—pairing: rapper!yoongi x reader

—rating: +18

—genre: established relationship, ex fwb, angst, fluff

—warnings/tags: implied smut, lots of angst, fluff, subtle talk about aborti0n, DON’T trust my poor knowledge in contraceptive methods and use condoms!! english is not my first language btw

—words: 7.6k

a/note: this is proof that if you ask me enough, I'll finish writing my wips!! it's been a long time but I finally get to post the surprise drabble I've been planning and it makes me sososo happy to come back to this couple 😭 I missed them so much I just hope you missed them as much as I did!! BTW I was planning to post this after two other drabbles, so if you read any additional information it's because this was intended to be posted after that, but i wanted to post this so badly😭 so here it is!! hehe anyway enjoy!!

A few years ago, when you and Yoongi were beginning to be a thing and you still lived with your best friend, Nayeon, while he lived alone in his big apartment, he picked up this habit of begging you to stay the night with him every time you visited, even though he knew you couldn’t. You used to say no, trying hard to ignore the way he kissed your neck and sneaked his hands under your blouse while explaining that, if you said yes, he was willing to wake up early and drive you to your first class the next day. You'd think that after the first or maybe even the second time he tried this, the effect would wear off, but you ended up agreeing every single time.

Back then everything was so new to him, he couldn’t remember the last time he liked someone that much, he didn’t know what was happening to him and why he wanted to spend every night with you, why he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Sure you were pretty, sure you were beautiful and funny, and your lips tasted like strawberries and you looked at him like one else ever did, maybe it had something to do with that, who knew? The only thing he knew was that he felt like a teenager everytime you kissed him, or every time you ran your fingers through his hair or every time you were naked under him, or on top of him, or anywhere close to him for that matter.

It took Yoongi a few hits, ten drunk nights and way too many days to realize that you were the only thing that he needed, that the world only made sense if you were by his side.

With time, Yoongi learned to kiss slowly, to make love slowly, to take things with ease; he learned that you were going nowhere, but there were still those moments where he felt he couldn’t get enough of you; like tonight, to be exact.

You were sure that in the last four years of dating Yoongi you had made it clear enough that you were a city girl, and you were certain your boyfriend knew that. You loved the noise and the chaos—the people bumping into each other on the streets, the busy days and nights. It wasn’t something you planned to give up anytime soon; this was the perfect time in your life to embrace the city's hustle. You’d have plenty of time for a quiet life when you got older.

Yoongi liked the city too—he enjoyed the view from his apartment window and the convenience of ordering food at any hour of the night. But he also loved road trips and sleeping in the middle of nowhere in a tent, bonfires, fishing and swimming in lakes. Yoongi had always been into camping, but instead of planning a trip with his good old friend Seokjin, who didn’t mind sleeping in a tent and loved fishing, he invited you—someone who hated bugs and couldn’t stand the idea of walking more than three minutes to find a bathroom.

You were still trying to decide whether not being able to say no to Yoongi was a problem, but it was his last free week before going back on tour. When he looked at you with starry eyes and asked you to go on a trip with him, which included spending the last two days sleeping in a tent, you couldn’t say no.

It was only two days, you were sure you could endure not sleeping in a proper bed for that long if that made him happy, you made the effort of not complaining just for tonight, after all you only had tickets to go visit him on tour in exactly five weeks, you were going to miss him.

It was easy not to complain when Yoongi’s plans for your last night together were exclusively romantic; he cooked for you, built a campfire and spent the rest of the night stargazing until it was too cold to be outside, and when you were inside the tent he made sure to have hot water bags under the blankets, but they were no use when he was determined to get you naked.

Did you mention that it was still winter?

Now you were trapped in a tent with him, straddling him as he kissed you deeply and gripped your thighs, begging you to ride him against your lips. That was when you started to complain.

You felt your whole body shivering when Yoongi’s warm hands pulled your t-shirt over your head, leaving you almost naked. You hugged your torso, attempting to cover your breasts as you sat straight on top of your boyfriend, who was comfortably laying on the sleeping bag, fully clothed.

“Yoongi, I’m cold.” You whined.

“C’mon, it’s going to wear off” He tried to convince you, rubbing his palms over your shoulders to keep you warm. You shook your head, laying your head on his still clothed chest as he covered your bare back with the blanket. It was easy for him to say that when he was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt.

You knew that Yoongi was already missing you. He was fully aware that after tonight, he wouldn’t see you for a whole month and he wanted to make it last as long as he could, to hold you and kiss you as much as you let him. He had gotten too used to you—used to sleeping and waking up next to you, having you all to himself—but it became a problem every time he had to leave for work, it was impossible not to miss you. You still had texts, calls and FaceTime, but he was also taking into account time difference, work, and the fact that all of that wasn’t the real thing. And if you were honest, you were already missing him too.

“What if I catch a cold?” You mumbled over his shirt.

Yoongi kissed the top of your head, running his hands down your bare back and sending chills to your spine. How was he able to get you almost naked but you didn’t even get the chance to take off his t-shirt? “It’s not that cold.” He said, not willing to give up.

You raised your head to look at him, frowning “Says the person who’s still fully clothed.”

He huffed, flipping you over to leave you under him. Suddenly, warmth rushed over you as you felt his body hovering over your frame. He was quick to take off his own t-shirt, trying to make you happy, but he quickly realized that maybe you were right, it was fucking cold, but he wasn’t going to back down.

“Happy now?”

“No, it’s freezing out there!” You kept complaining “Why do we have to do it without clothes? I don’t mind clothes, I actually think that doing it while being dressed is quite hot.”

You threw your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. Even though you were in fact turned on from the kissing and grinding session you had a few moments ago, you still were thinking about the logistics of fucking inside the tent.

Yoongi scoffed, amused. “And I actually think that you being naked is quite hot, too.” He said, sneaking his face in the crook of your neck to trail down little kisses, nibbling the skin softly. “C’mon, baby. I won’t see you for weeks, let me make love to you.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “You had been using that excuse the whole trip.” And you’ve fallen for it every time. His plans for this trip were very simple: fishing, camping and fucking you on every opportunity he had. It was not like you were against it, it has been a long time since you and him had time only for the two of you.

“But isn’t it true?” He gazed up, looking at you with his soft eyes, his hair falling like a curtain on his face. “I’m gonna miss you.”

You took a second to observe the tenderness of his features, to take in the softness of his voice, and for a moment there you knew why it was so hard to say no to him, you just didn’t want to say no.

You closed your eyes, scrunching your nose. “We are gonna make such a mess.” You whined, but he just chuckled, knowing he won.

“I’ll take care of it, I promise.” He said with a soft voice, reaching for your lips as he roamed his hands towards your chest. You didn’t exactly know how he was going to “take care of it”, but his hands were gentle, the kiss was slow and when he opened his mouth to let his tongue slip past your lips, you were too into it to keep protesting about it.

As you sat on the cold bathroom floor of the home you shared with Yoongi, you tried to remind yourself of two basic things that you hoped would stop the sinking feeling in your chest. First, three weeks without Yoongi never killed anyone, this was something you knew from experience, Yoongi’s job demanded him to travel all the time, you were used to it, or at least you were supposed to be. Second, you were an independent woman (right?). You have been an independent woman since you were eighteen when you moved to Seoul alone, since you started a new life in a new city on your own. You woke up at six am everyday, worked hard your whole shift, paid the bills every month and managed to keep your house in order every day of the week. Sure, you loved Yoongi, and he loved you, and you could never imagine a life without him, but you didn’t need him, you wanted him. He wasn’t an extension of you, you were your own person, but why did you feel like the world was about to end right now if he was not there?

Crying your heart out like a five year old kid, you remembered the only time you had to take a pregnancy test, and how it looked nothing like this.

Four years ago when you and Yoongi still didn’t kiss in front of your friends, when he still thought twice before holding your hand in public but still had the nerve of sneaking in your bed. That seemed like a hundred years ago, a universe away, but no, it was not too long ago when you were stubborn and kind of irresponsible for agreeing with him as he kissed your neck and ran his hands down your thighs while asking you if it was okay for him to “pull out” that night, since both of you completely forgot about condoms. You winced at the memory, but in your defense, you were too far gone to say no, take a cold shower and kiss him goodnight. You agreed only for that night, but three weeks later you were three days late and losing your mind, the only logical thing to do was to take a pregnancy test that, of course, came negative, but to this day you couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that you felt in your stomach those minutes before the negative sign appeared, and you couldn’t forget how pale Yoongi’s face turned when you told him about it.

And now you were there, one hand covering your face while the other held a pregnancy test—only this time, it was positive.

The one on your hand wasn’t the only one, no. There were two other positive tests laying on the floor in front of you, and even if you wanted to not trust the results, they couldn’t be all wrong, right? The plus sign was very clear in each one of them and you were five days late. The problem was that you were on the pill, you had been on the pill for the last couple years and this never happened to you, this wasn’t something normal or a simple mistake.

You breathed out, trying not to panic. You got up on your bare feet to look at yourself in the mirror. You were a mess, that was not a surprise at all, your face was all swollen for the amount of time you have been crying and your hair was a big nest above your head. You washed your face, attempting to remain calm and evaluating your options. You glanced at your phone resting on the sink, and an overwhelming urge to call your mother surged within you, but as you imagined how the conversation would go, you quickly realized it wouldn’t be a good idea.

Your mother was not nosy, but she could be a little dense, a bit complicated, and it was not what you needed right now. You were sure that calling her while having a mental breakdown was going to drive her crazy, and consequently, drive you crazy too. She would want to know every single detail, date, place and hour to understand the situation better, and you would have to explain something you didn’t even understand yet. You could imagine the conversation, she would try to explain every contraceptive method like you were a teenager and ask why you didn’t use a condom, because you knew she would ask, and you didn’t want to explain to her how you went on vacation with your boyfriend to have a bunch of condomless sex, the thought alone made you want to vomit.

Calling your mother was not an option, not only because talking to her on the phone was complicated enough, but because she was in a different city, which brought you to discard calling Nayeon too, who was on vacation with her boyfriend (yes, boyfriend, that sounded ridiculous to you, too.)

The last option was something you couldn't even fathom doing unless you were desperate, but you know what they say, desperate times call desperate measures, so you blew your nose, brushed your hair and called the only person in this city who would come running without asking any questions, Jungkook.

Breaking the news to the person in front of you wasn’t easy, especially when the words you needed to say were as unreal as they sounded. You didn’t look much better, you spent the next thirty minutes that Jungkook took to arrive crying, as Holly, the brown fluffy dog, looked at you like you just went mad, the worst thing was that you weren’t far from it. It was difficult to keep it together when your mind refused to look at the bright side of things, when you couldn’t call your mom and Yoongi was in another country, but when Jungkook rang your bell and entered through the door, you tried your best to smile at him and act like you weren’t in the middle of a mental breakdown.

Your act wasn’t convincing, your friend looked at you like you were about to tell him that you killed someone and you needed help to hide the body.

You would have never recur to a man other than Yoongi for this kind of situation, but you decided to trust your ten years of friendship with the man in front of you and hope that he could be of any help.

“You are what?” Said Jungkook, standing in the middle of the living room with his eyes wide open, trying to understand the meaning of your words.

There, in your pajamas and your hands on your hips, you closed your eyes shut, sighing. “Jungkook…” You said through gritted teeth.

“I’m serious.” He said, letting his backpack drop to the floor. “I crossed half the city to get here, are you not kidding me right now?”

“I’m serious, too!” You whined “I’m not kidding, I don’t know what to do.”

He slowly approached you, walking towards the couch to take a seat. He suddenly felt his blood pressure dropping, his stomach sinking and his mouth dry as if he was the one developing a human organism inside his body. “Are you sure?” He murmured. “Are you not having one of those crises you had when you were a teenager? I remember that time in college when you freaked out when you thought you were pregnant because some guy-”

“Jungkook, I’m sure.” You interrupted him, already knowing the whole story, but this time it was not just you overreacting. “My period is late and I took three tests, all positive.”

He gulped, letting the room fall silent for a few seconds as both of you contemplated what that meant. You knew he was trying his best not to freak out, so you were grateful for his reaction, at least he didn’t faint like you expected him to do, but he was still white as a sheet, trying to find a solution in his head as though you had told him he was the one who was going to be a father.

“What are we gonna do?” He said under his breath.

“What am I gonna do?” You corrected him, sitting next to him “You are supposed to help me.”

Jungkook took one hard look at you, looking terrified. “How?”

“God, I shouldn’t have called you.” You rolled your eyes.

“No, I mean, what do you want to do?” He said. “Did you tell Yoongi?”

“Of course not.” You replied, feeling your eyes getting teary, but still trying to hold back.

“Do you want to… tell him?” He continued to ask.

You sniffed “I mean, I don’t know how.” You pouted “I’m seeing him in two weeks, I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

He threw himself back against the couch, sinking in the cushions. It was like Jungkook’s life flashed before his eyes, how come he was discussing this with you right now? He still felt like you were kids, there was no way you were pregnant right now. “How did this happen?” He murmured to himself, looking at the blank wall in front of him.

“Is it necessary for me to explain it?” You cried, snuggling closer to him as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Did you not use condoms?” He scolded you like he was your mother.

You shifted your weight uneasily, eyes darting down to your socks. “We don’t… use condoms.” You cleared your throat, the words coming out hushed and hesitant. “I’m on the pill, I don’t know what happened.”

On second thought, that wasn’t something Jungkook wanted to know. It was like finding out how his parents had sex, he squirmed at the thought, shifting in his place. “Can you not call your doctor?” He suggested, his voice laced with uncertainty.

You paused, considering it. It was probably the most logical thing Jungkook could say, but you weren’t sure if your doctor could do anything about it.

“Even if I call her and tell her what's going on, it’s not like I can get a refund.” You huffed, a dry smile tugging at your lips.

He raised an eyebrow. “Well…” he began, dragging the word out. “In some way, you could get a refund.” You blinked at him, opening your eyes wide in surprise. “I mean only if you want to!”

You were so nervous you wanted to laugh. It wasn’t like the thought didn’t cross your mind for a moment, but only when you tried to evaluate your options; if you were being honest, you couldn’t see yourself getting rid of the baby—or whatever organism had been living rent-free in your body for the past three weeks. Jungkook looked terrified that you might explode at him, especially when it seemed like you were on the verge of tears, but his question made you think, if you didn’t want to get rid of it, what was that you wanted to do?

You sank your shoulders, feeling completely lost. “That’s the problem.” You murmured “I don’t know if I want a refund.”

Jungkook stood still for a moment, his eyes softening as he watched you. His thoughts swirled, trying to grasp the weight of your words.

"Would Yoongi want a refund?" He asked, his tone lighter than before, but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. Despite the attempt at humor, his eyes betrayed the concern he was masking with the joke.

A shaky exhale left your lips, the weight of uncertainty pulling you down. “I don’t know…” Was the only thing you could say.

“But do you know if Yoongi wanted… kids?” He said as if that was a forbidden word. “I mean, do you want them?”

It wasn’t like you didn’t know what Yoongi wanted. You sighed, suddenly remembering all those times when the idea of a family came up in conversations, between drunken thoughts, before falling asleep, at dinner with his parents and on the ride home when he apologized on his mother’s behalf when she asked when you were going to give her grandchildren. His soft eyes, his hand on your tight and the view of the future laying in front of you like a promise. The thought warmed your heart for a moment, but the truth was that there was a difference between talking about it and actually having kids.

“We’ve talked about it…” You admitted. “But we’ve never planned it, let alone now that he’s on tour.”

Jungkook hummed, still thinking.

“But you both agreed to have kids at some point.” He affirmed, and you just nodded.

It was in that moment where you realized you were crying again, tears slowly falling down your cheeks as you stood in silence, contemplating the overwhelming weight of the situation.

“Fuck, don’t cry.” Jungkook said, rushing to wrap his arms around you, he enveloped you in a tight hug. As soon as you buried your face into his chest, something inside you gave away. You began sobbing against his hoodie, the tears flowed freely and uncontrollable, unable to hold yourself back. “C’mon, it’s okay, you’re okay. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.” His voice was soft but firm, holding you tightly. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb gently wiping away a tear from your cheek, his gaze filled with nothing but concern. “You don’t need to have it all figured out right now. Let’s go step by step, okay?”

You nodded, feeling like a kid lost in the mall. “Okay, if you want to see him as soon as possible, you have to change your flight first.” He said, but you shook your head, trying not to panic.

“He’s going to ask why.” You said, your voice hoarse “What am I going to tell him?”

He kept silent, his eyes fixed on a distant point as he was trying to come up with a solution.

“Let’s not tell him.” He proposed.

“What do you mean let’s not tell him?”

“I’m leaving for tour next weekend, you should come with me and not tell him.” He kept going “Say that you missed him and you wanted to surprise him or some shit like that, and when you get him alone you talk to him about this.”

Now you were reminded that Jungkook had to leave to join Yoongi on tour in just a few days, you completely forgot about that. It was not like you couldn’t get on an airplane alone, but if your friend was going to be there you were sure it would make things easier.

You couldn’t believe it. After so many years you were there, sad and upset and still with the same idiot as a friend, willing to follow whatever plan he was going to make for you. You didn’t know if the plan actually sounded good or you were losing your mind for listening to Jungkook.

“Jungkook, Yoongi texts me all the time, he facetimes me everyday. It’s impossible to travel to another country without him noticing.”

“It’s not impossible, I’m gonna help you.” He insisted “If he texts you, you say you’re at home, if he wants to facetime you, you say you’re busy, turn off your location, it shouldn't be difficult.”

“It is difficult, what if he realizes I turned off my location?” You groaned, running your finger through your hair exasperatedly.

“You say it stopped working or something! C’mon, I thought you were smarter than me.”

You threw yourself back against the couch, crossing your arms on your chest, it was almost comical that you were considering the idea. Your friend could sense the hesitation in every move you made, he could only hope that you agreed because his mind couldn’t come up with another idea if his life depended on it.

“Jungkook, if he suspects anything…” You raised a finger, digging it on his chest.

“He won’t suspect a thing,” He affirmed confidently. “When have any of my plans ever gone wrong? Never. Trust me, by the time you get back home, you’ll have already decided to name your baby after me.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your laugh and punching him in the arm playfully. The tension was still there, and you still felt an inexplicable ache in your chest that wasn’t going away anytime soon, but being there with Jungkook made you feel that this wasn’t the end of the world, nor of your life, but the beginning of it.

Jungkook's plan wasn’t the master plan he had been bragging about the whole airplane ride, but it worked. A few days later, after a few calls and arrangements to change your flight, after another three mental breakdowns and several crying sessions in the shower, you had somehow arrived in Berlin without Yoongi suspecting a thing. You had managed to dodge facetime calls and weird questions, maybe Yoongi missed you so much that he didn’t have time to question why you couldn’t wait two more weeks to see him when you arrived at the hotel and hugged in the hall, because, if he were honest, he couldn’t wait two more weeks to see you either.

Yoongi was happy with the surprise, you went to see his show that night and after arriving to his hotel room he made love to you like he hadn’t seen you in a year, kissing your neck, grabbing your waist, murmuring things in your ear, saying how much he loved you, how much he missed you. For a moment it was like nothing changed, the two of you sharing what happened these last three weeks tangled between sheets, laughing between kisses as you ignored why you were there in the first place.

“You can’t keep spending time away from me.” He said, hovering over you as he left a small kiss on your lips. “I’ll keep you in my pocket if it’s necessary.”

You sighed, knowing that you couldn’t keep this a secret for much longer, but for tonight, you’ll let it slide.

You didn’t know when you were returning home, but you promised yourself that before leaving for the next city, you would have to break the news to Yoongi, which was becoming more difficult by the second, because if you were good at something, that was procrastinating. It was absurd, a few days ago you were crying because all you wanted to do was to have your boyfriend by your side and now you couldn’t even look him in the eye without feeling like you were about to throw up, and your mind wasn’t helping at all. All those doubts invaded your head, attempting to drive you crazy, making you believe you were not ready to tell him yet.

Three days later, when you finished the last show in Berlin, Jungkook gave you a knowing look as you were leaving the arena holding Yoongi’s hand. He knew that you haven’t said a thing to Yoongi yet, he was all over you like he was your mother, asking you if you were okay, if you needed anything, when you were going to tell Yoongi, it almost made you regret telling him, but you knew he was right.

A night was all you needed, just one night to gather your thoughts and practice what you were going to say. You couldn’t keep declining glasses of wine forever, you could only hope no one noticed how weird you were acting, how sensitive you were since you stepped foot out the plane. Time was running out; you knew that when Yoongi invited you to an after-party before the whole crew left Berlin. Instead of telling him the truth, you simply said you weren’t in the mood to go, hoping that your time alone would help to gather enough courage to confess.

You weren’t trying to keep Yoongi with you, you told him a million times that he should go without you and that there was no problem with it. You hid under the blanket and hugged your body, watching him change his shirt into a black tee. He ran his finger through his hair in an attempt to tame it, looking at himself into the mirror and stealing a glance towards your reflection. He knew you too well not to notice the sad expression on your face as you scrolled through your phone, searching for a Disney movie to watch while he was out. He turned around, approaching the bed and kneeling beside you to catch your eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asked once again.

“Yeah, I just need one night.” You said, which was true. You needed a few more moments to finish fighting with your own thoughts.

“But are you okay?” He continued to ask, cupping your jaw in his palm.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” The words came out of your mouth with more emotion than you intended to, he couldn’t ignore it.

“I don’t know… You look like you want me to stay.”

There was a beat of silence in the room. The sweetness of his voice broke your heart into a million pieces. You couldn’t say yes and make him stay just because you were feeling down and you really had no problem with him leaving, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him no either. You were full of contradictions, wanting to be alone but wanting to be with him at the same time, something in your chest pulled, wanting him close.

“What makes you think that?” You murmured, fighting the urge to cry. God, you were too sensitive.

“Mmm… The Disney movie kinda gives you away.”

You huffled, playing with the fingers of his hands without looking at him. “I don’t want to ruin your fun… You should go, I mean it.”

He scoffed “You won’t, there’s going to be a bunch of parties until the tour ends, this one is nothing.”

“They’ll miss you…”

“You’ll miss me, too.”

“But do you want to stay, though?” You asked him a whisper.

“Of course I want to… But you have to let me choose the movie.” He warned, automatically making you giggle.

Letting Yoongi choose the movie was the worst decision you have made in the last week so far, but you felt grateful he couldn’t see you as he hugged your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, because as the ending of Inside Out approached, you were sure you were about to cry.

When you arrived at the airport you promised yourself not to cry anymore, not in front of Yoongi at least, but your body was full of emotions you didn’t even know you could feel. It was certain that you’ve always been a sensitive person, you cried at the drop of a hat, Yoongi was familiar with that, but now it was impossible to stop it.

You’d stopped paying attention to the screen entirely; one by one, your darkest thoughts crept in, pressing heavily on your chest. The feelings you’d tried so hard to bury rose up, churning uneasily in your stomach, and when you least expected it, tears began to fall down your cheeks.

A sob escaped from your lips at the same time the main character began to cry, making your boyfriend shift in his place.

“Are you crying?” Yoongi suddenly asked, softly grabbing your shoulder to turn you around. He looked at your face, at first amused, thinking you were crying because of the movie. But his expression softened when he saw the sadness in your eyes and the damp lashes heavy with tears. You covered your face, unable to hold back, and the sobs came harder, each one swallowing the words you couldn’t say. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He reached for your arms, attempting to pull them away from your face, but you turned away, burying your face in the pillow.

“Nothing,” You lied, desperate to avoid this conversation again. “I’m just… emotional, I don’t know.” Your voice cracked, hoarse, as the emotions you were trying to hide slipped through.

Yoongi was confused, but mostly worried. You had been weird since the day you arrived, he would be a fool not to notice.

He turned the light of the lamp on the nightstand, illuminating the room with a soft orange light and turned the tv off.

“Hey, look at me.” He softly said, brushing your hair with his fingers, it only made you want to cry harder. “I know something’s up, I’m not a dummy.”

You turned to him, hitting him with the most heartbreaking sight he could witness, your face soaked in tears, nose and eyes red as you pouted at him. What was so wrong to make you cry like that?

“What do you know?” Was the only thing you could say, daring to be upset at him when he hadn't done anything wrong.

He frowned at your tone. “Well, I know that you suddenly came here two weeks earlier just because. You are weird, you almost don’t eat, your suitcase is almost untouched like you’re going to leave anytime soon, you look… sad? I don’t know, baby, you tell me.”

You kept silent for a second, wiping the tears with the sleeve of your t-shirt. Uncomfortable, you sat in the bed, taking a deep breath as your mind completely blanked. You didn’t realize yet, but there was no way to get out of this one.

Contrary to popular belief, your boyfriend was kind of a dummy. You confirmed it when he decided to say the following words.

“Is it because of Lily?” He said, making you dart your eyes at him. “You don’t like her being here?

You couldn’t blame Yoongi for not understanding why you were crying, but the suggestion that you were jealous of one of his coworkers made you want to punch him. Lily was one of the new producers at Yoongi’s label, and a few months ago, Yoongi had noticed that you were starting to feel uneasy about the amount of time she was spending with him, which led him to realize that you were beginning to feel unexpectedly jealous of her. Yes, that was a whole deal back then, but it was water under the bridge now; the fact that she was touring with him and the boys didn’t faze you. The idea that he thought you were crying because of her was ridiculous.

“Yoongi, are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not.” He defended himself. “The last time I saw you we were fine, but now you’re here crying and I don’t have a clue what I did wrong.”

Suddenly, you felt your heart sink. He hadn’t done anything wrong; it was you who was an emotional wreck, struggling to keep your feelings in check. A wave of guilt washed over you for the mess you’d just created, convinced there must have been ways to prevent all this conflict. But now, all you could do was sit there, tangled in the aftermath of your own emotions.

You sighed, defeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You said “And it’s not about Lily, I couldn’t care less about that… It’s just that- … Yoongi…”

“Baby…” He said in the same tone as you, “What is it?”

As Yoongi’s gentle question hung in the air, you felt a knot tighten in your chest. The truth sat heavy on your tongue, you glanced away, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, buying time as your thoughts spiraled. “Yoongi, my period is late.” You confessed, observing Yoongi’s eyes go wide, his brows lifting in surprise as he tried to understand what he just heard. “It’s been a week now, I don’t know what happened. I tried to wait, but I had to take a test”

“A test?” he asked, voice low, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“A pregnancy test, Yoongi.” You said, trying not to roll your eyes. “I took three damn tests.”

“And what-... what happened?” He asked, his voice unsteady, eyes fixed on yours.

The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thick with unspoken fears and questions. A quiet stillness settled between you both, there was a weight to the silence, stretching out the seconds as you waited for whatever words would come next.

“I mean, guess what happened,” you whispered. Before you could finish the sentence, you got up and reached for the zipper on your suitcase pocket. Your hand closed around the large object, and you felt his eyes on the back of your neck, following you as you moved around the hotel room. Returning to the bed, you sat down and handed him the pregnancy test.

Yoongi didn’t know anything about pregnancy tests—he’d never needed to. He’d always been careful, using protection with every girl he’d been with, including you, until things had started to get serious. So no, he wasn’t familiar with the variety of pregnancy tests out there. But now, here he was, staring at a white stick with a tiny screen, showing a clear positive sign, which could only mean one thing.

Yoongi’s hands trembled slightly as he held the pregnancy test, his gaze locked onto the tiny screen, staring at it for a moment, speechless. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud enough that he thought you might hear it. Now everything made sense, how you said you were nauseous in the morning, each time you refused to drink wine, how you looked like you were about to cry when you saw a stroller with twins this afternoon at the park. How could he not notice?

You pressed your lips together, feeling the familiar sting of tears welling up once more. A small, shaky hiccup escaped your lips, breaking the silence and snapping him out of his daze. “No, no, no,” He murmured urgently, setting the test aside and pulling you close, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist as you buried your face in your hands, trying to hold back the tears. “Hey, there’s no reason to cry,” He whispered, gently guiding your face up, his fingers lifting your chin as he coaxed your hands away. “C’mon, look at me.” His voice was soft, reassuring, his gaze full of warmth and understanding.

“I don’t know how it happened.” You blurted out, your voice shaking with uncertainty.

“That doesn’t matter now, why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, you could tell he was trying to remain calm by the soft tone of his voice, but his face had gone as white as paper, like he’d just seen a ghost.

“I arranged the flight to see you as soon as possible, but... I was scared. I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t,” you admitted, your words barely a whisper.

“Baby, you don’t have to be scared, okay? You can tell me anything.” He assured you, his hand gently squeezing yours. But the uneasy feeling in your stomach refused to go away.

“I know, but… we haven’t planned for this,” you murmured, glancing down. “It just… came out of nowhere.”

“Well, it didn’t exactly come out of nowhere. These things can happen,” he said gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You groaned, burying your face in his chest.

“But it wasn’t supposed to happen,” you whined, your voice muffled against him. “I didn’t expect this at all. I was drowning in work when I found out. I’m stressed, I’m lost, I don’t know what to do… and I miss my mom.” The words tumbled out in a frantic ramble, and you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the soft laugh he let slip.

“You miss your mom?” he asked softly, careful not to upset you further.

“Yes!” you cried, voice cracking. “I feel like a kid lost in the supermarket.”

He shook his head gently and brushed away your tears with his thumbs, pulling you closer. “Baby…” he began, his tone soothing.

“Yoongi…” you whispered, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His expression was still worried, but the warmth in his eyes was reassuring.

“You’re right, we didn’t plan this. But we’ve talked about it before, and you have options. Whatever you choose, I’ll be right here beside you, no matter what. You know that, don’t you?” He searched your eyes for confirmation, and you nodded, feeling the ache in your chest begin to ease.

As his words sank in, a new wave of emotions stirred inside you. The weight of worry and loneliness began to ease, replaced by a warmth that softened the ache in your chest.

“But… what do you think?” you asked softly. You knew that whatever you decided would ultimately be your choice only, but you needed to know what was going on in his mind.

He sighed, a hint of hesitation in his expression. “I mean… we’re not sixteen, baby. We’re adults, we’re about to buy a house together, and we love each other.”

“Well, those are just facts,” you replied, searching his face. “What I mean is… do you want this, now?”

It was hard for Yoongi to believe you were really asking this. There you were, sitting on his lap with swollen eyes and a red nose from crying, asking him if he wanted to start a family with you—as if that hadn’t been his dream all along. Of course he felt like the life he had been living was going to completely change from now on. It was terrifying, but he couldn’t help but feel excited at the same time.

“I've always wanted it, are you serious?” He laughed, the sound light but filled with disbelief. “And I only want it with you, haven’t I made it clear enough?”

Those were the main differences between the two of you: while he was calm, always taking a moment to think before acting, you were emotional and, more often than not, let your feelings take control of your actions. It was only in that moment that you realized how irrational you’d been. There wasn’t a world where Yoongi didn’t want this, and there certainly wasn’t a world where you didn’t want it either.

“I want it, too,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought back tears.

“Then why are you crying, huh?” he asked gently, squeezing your face in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Because...” you said, struggling to catch your breath. “Maybe you didn’t think it was the right time... You’re on tour right now.”

He frowned, his expression softening with concern. “I won’t be on tour forever...”

“I know, but... we’re not married. What would your parents think?”

He let out a laugh, clearly unable to believe that was a real concern of yours. “You’re not seriously thinking about my parents right now, are you?”

“How could I not?” you said, raising your eyebrows. “What if they force us to marry? God, I don’t want to be one of those couples who only marry because the girl is suddenly pregnant!”

He laughed even harder, shaking his head. “Oh my god, baby, no one’s forcing us to do anything!” He grinned, clearly finding your worry amusing. “If we ever get married, it won’t be because anyone pressured me. Trust me.” He paused, happy to see that the worried expression abandoned your face. “Besides, my parents love you, you have no idea how happy they’ll be once they know. Married or not.”

“Yoongi, it can’t be that simple.”

“But it is.”

You sighed, feeling like all the mess you’d made was for nothing—and thank God it was. You’d been so caught up in your own despair that you hadn’t realized everything in your life was falling into place for this to happen. Yoongi was right. You were about to move into a bigger home, you had your job, Yoongi had his, and you loved each other. You've always wanted it, this was the perfect moment for this to happen. Why had you been so worried?

“You’re right, it is.” You finally admitted, letting your body rest against him.

Yoongi laughed, gently grabbing you by your hips and laying you on the bed, kissing you softly. “You don’t have to worry, baby, not with me.”

“I know.” You breathed out, feeling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “But I am-… I’m so scared. How am I gonna have a baby? It sounds crazy.”

“Of course it does, it is.” He said “I’m terrified, too, but we’re together, right? Nothing bad can happen if we have each other.”

You nodded, feeling your chest unclench. “I guess you're right,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I just... needed to hear you say it.”

Yoongi smiled, leaning down to steal another kiss from you, this time deeper, longer. “I love you, baby, don’t you know that?”

You brushed your nose against his, nodding. “I love you, too, bubba.”

“C’mon, baby, stop crying.” He said, making you laugh.

#fic: so it goes #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x oc #yoongi fic recs #yoongi imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #bts masterpost #bts fic rec #yoongi bts #bts one shot

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mc-i-r · 1 year ago

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Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

Taglist: @tea-beloved @starry-eyedlune @hyperfixationgoddess @zerokrox-blog @nicovania @invisibleflame812 @chaoticvictorianspirit @justforthedead89 @dacremontgomeryay @vhelt @adhdsummer @nerd-and-nervous @i-have-three-feelings @mimicori @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @solliesolesito @romanticdestruction @vanillatwist @bowl-o-queerios @grimmfitzz

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

#steddie #stranger things #pre steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fillet #stranger things drabble #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #things get better for Steve i promise #hes just having his angsty time right now #robins part is next tho so stay tuned for that #disposable heroes

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zepskies · 5 months ago

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What Does "Supporting Writers" Mean? ✍️

Apparently it's Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day! To all my fellow writers, I truly appreciate you for bringing me joy, making me smile on rough days, and giving me my weekly/daily dose of escapism and warm fuzzies. (Shoutouts to you personally below.) 💓💓

But what does it mean "practically" to appreciate your favorite writers, especially on Tumblr?

For example, I know some fanfic authors are starting to block "serial likers": people who'll go through someone's entire masterlist and hit the "like" button on 20-something stories without commenting or basic reblogging.

While I think blocking them is extreme, I understand the authors' frustrations. I've actually been asked if I'll ever leave Tumblr, since many of them have dropped off over the past few months, or even the past few years.

I'm still here for two very important reasons:

I love to write about my favorite characters. I write primarily because I love it, not just for the kudos.

I'm friggin' blessed to have a lot of friends and lovely readers on here and Ao3 who support me immensely on my writing and on this blog in general. I love and appreciate each and every one of you! Which is why I do my best to reply to your comments and reblogs. 💖💖

Of course, there are many reasons why a writer might take a break or stop writing entirely, but one of those reasons is also why the #supportwriters tag exists...

And why you'll see us include banners like this on our posts:

(Credits: cafekitsune, me, inklore)

That being said, here's my own rule of thumb on how I try to support my fellow writers when I read something I enjoy:

If I "liked" something, it means I had the time to read a story all the way through and I enjoyed it! (Or I'm bookmarking it for later in the day lol)

If I have the time to read it, I have the time to leave a comment on what I liked the most about it.

If I have the time to write out a comment (anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes), I typically put that comment in a reblog -- maybe even add a gif or two for ✨razzle dazzle.✨ That way I can share it with the rest of my followers, so they can see it and hopefully enjoy it too...

Why? Because Tumblr isn't TikTok or IG. Reblogging is the best way to help a post gain traction on Tumblr. The algorithm doesn't care much about likes.

But on a more human level, supporting writers is just the basic thing of -- if you enjoyed something you read (that a writer shared for free), just let them know what you liked about it.

Remember that there's a person behind the content you enjoy. They might have been working on that story for weeks or months, or even years before they got the courage to post it.

They might really be putting themselves out there, writing about a topic or subject matter that they're not sure people will even like or engage with.

Maybe they're exploring something new, like a character or trope they've never written before.

Maybe they're expressing part of themselves that they haven't even told another living soul.

Maybe they just wanted to write something fun and smutty or angsty or fluffy and want to share the escapism with you.

Whether they've been writing for years or are just starting out, any and all is valid.

For me, as a writer and a reader, supporting my fellow writers often means supporting my friends. And 9 times out of 10, the way we became friends was by leaving feedback on their work and asking them questions, or responding to their awesome feedback on mine.

If you want a little jumpstart on how to leave feedback, whether encouraging or constructive, here's an awesome post about it (not mine).

Shoutout to some of my favorite writers 💞:

(In no particular order)

@waynes-multiverse @luci-in-trenchcoats @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @thatonewriter15 @rizlowwritessortof

@waywardxwords @tofics @kaleldobrev @deanbrainrotwritings @deanwritings

@jawritter @deanwinchesterswitch @justagirlinafandomworld @ravengirl94 @waywardxwords

@spnbabe67 @deanwanddamons @ejlovespie @kittenofdoomage @venus-haze

@talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word @jacklesbrainworms @artyandink @princessmisery666 (I just starting reading your stories, but I'm continuing with Samnesia soon!) -- and I'm sure many more! 💋

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admirationandromantics · 20 days ago

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Teacher's Lounge

Another request! I'm thinking about not posting updates to anonymous requests, and instead just pasting said request in here? I'll tag you if you didn't ask anonymously. It's easier and more neat.

🍋‍🟩 Hear me out, Josh becoming a temporary teacher for film with his own office, he often let you study in there seeing as the campus didn’t have enough study space to accommodate everyone and you become quite overstimulated on a normal day (@b3rryb3t)

This is therefore maybe a teacher x student thing, but you're roughly the same age anyway (maybe 2 years difference), since he graduated before you and has already come out with his debut movie. You're still hanging out with the friend group as well.

Word count: 1,6k (Unedited)

It’s hard to find good reading spots on campus. My messy room could be an option, but I can’t get inspired there. I need different surroundings than what I’m used to. Booked rooms are a no-go, especially now that exams are coming closer. They’re always booked, and everyone uses them. I’ve tried going to the library, but if there’s room, the place is never quiet. The librarians don't care. I get it though, everyone is stressed, and the only place you can work on a group assignment is the library. You have to talk, you have to discuss. This means that I’m still left without a spot to study. I’ve tried other libraries, other cafes and even at my friends place. Nothing works. Maybe there’s something in the other buildings? Somewhere quiet where I’ll feel content.

The first building that comes to mind is the Teachers house. A large building with some group rooms and many small study sofas. Many of the teachers have offices there, but if I'm quiet, they won’t mind. These spots are usually also taken, but maybe I’ll have a chance if I’m quick.

I walk down the hall, stopping when I see the old abandoned office. This room is usually always empty, waiting for someone to inhabit it. But it’s not empty anymore. The previously collected dust is cleaned away, the wood door has a new furnish and a brand new slide-on plate reads a familiar name. Joshua Washington.

I widen my eyes in surprise, it cannot be. Why is he here? Didn’t he already finish his degree? He just finished his debut movie, which was excellent. I saw him at one of Emily’s parties too, which was not long ago. About three weeks. He looked good then, very good. Like he felt fulfilled and accomplished. He should feel good about himself. Not many people do that on their first big project. He did talk about a new job he got, but I assumed it was another film-related gig. Was this the job?

My curiosity gets the better of me, and I carefully knock three times. The sound is beautiful, hard and dark wood which doesn’t vibrate as I hit it. I wait, hearing shuffling and metal clinking inside.

“Um, yeah, come in!”

I open the door, holding the handle hard. If I was wrong, then this would be an awfully awkward encounter. The door glides easily without making any sound. They have really improved this place. He lifts his head, meeting my stare as he does. A smile creeps on his face, eyes lighting up by the sight. I stand still, mouth agape and furrowed brows. He’s really here.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite student”

“You teach here?”

“As of this Monday, yes”

I close the door behind me, looking around the room. It’s cozy, filled with family pictures and a couple of movie posters. His diploma is also on the wall. On one surface are many small film trophies from his childhood, and in front of all of them, the price he got last year for his first debut Hollywood movie. I look around in awe, the yellow light making everything feel so professional and real.

“And by the way, I’m not your student, I take another course”

“That can’t stop me from stating that you’re in a superior’s office”

“How did you get this job?”

“They offered it to me”

“Just out of nowhere? You don’t have experience in teaching. You’re not even a professor”

“I guess my talent shines through”

I look at him and his smug face. He’s leaning back in the roller chair, feet upon his desk. Everything here is so neat, so unlike him. He also loves being able to joke like this, but honestly, I’m still surprised by the circumstances. He made one movie, and now, the university wanted him to teach a course?

“If I know you correctly, you’ll probably be fired by the next month”

“And why’s that?”

I take a seat in front of him, not surprised that the chair is lower than him. Oh, how he loves his power trips. The chair is comfortable, and suits the surroundings, but I feel small.

“Because you can’t keep your hands to yourself”

“That’s true”

“There’s only a question about time, when will you fuck one of your students, and when will you get caught”

He laughs, shaking his head as he fiddles with an expensive ball pen. He looks at me in disbelief, maybe a little surprised that I said exactly what I thought.

“Who’s to say I haven’t done it already?”

“One week into the job?”

“Maybe”

“You’re disgusting, Washington”

“That’s Mr. Washington to you” he corrects, pointing at me with the same pen. I smile at him, almost unable to hide my laughter.

“I’m not gonna start calling you that”

“Ugh, damn you”

A slight silence follows, and analyse his desk. Many, many pens, his laptop, a stack of papers and a couple of memory sticks. Again, everything is so neat. It makes me feel weird.

“By the way, I actually haven’t had a teacher-student relationship”

“You shouldn’t” I quickly shoot back. It would not be a good idea. Being in the filming industry is hard in itself, but he also has a shot of doing something more. This was not something to take lightly.

“At least not gonna with my own students”

“Jesus Chris Josh”

He laughs again, loving my overdramatic reactions. He knows what gets me to tip over, how to make me irritated and upset. Of course he’ll use it to his advantage.

“Anyways, what are you doing here? Isn’t your building on the other side of campus?”

I sigh loudly, leaning back in the chair and letting my head fall back. I’m tired, exhausted even. But just two more weeks, and I’ll be finished with the exams. My diploma isn’t far away.

“Trying to find a study spot, but everywhere is taken”

“Why don’t you just use your dorm?”

“Easy for you to say, you never lived in one”

He leans back, furrowing his brows and being deep in thought.

“You could sit here?”

I look up, surprised by the offer. Is that even okay, am I, as a student, allowed to do that? I think about it, the place is quiet, cozy and a completely different atmosphere than usual. It could work.

“Can I?”

“Of course, it wouldn't be the first time you’ve been in my quarters” he teases, leaning back over the desk.

“Haha, very funny, but are you serious?”

“Yeah, I mean, my students usually don’t come here, too busy actually understanding the material, compared to some” he points at me and my backpack. I roll my eyes.

“Well, if getting my degree consisted of knowing the on and off button of a camera, I would excel at it”

“Careful, or you might not get to study here”

“Okay, okay, sorry. You’re an accomplished producer and teacher who’s totally awesome”

“And you have to call me Mr. Washington”

I scoff at his request, shaking my head. He’s still smiling, biting casually into his lower lip.

“I draw the line there”

“Fine”

I take up my laptop, immediately starting to type. This was gonna be great. Might have some negative effects though. We’ve got a history. Too much time spent together has usually led to more uncivilised activities, but that’s not something I have to worry about now.

***

The weeks pass, and I truly enjoy his company, even if it’s in silence. He’s busy grading papers and making schedules. I’m prepping for my exams, writing, reading, and memorising. Everything was going great, and the day of the exam finally came.

I took one look over the questions, and my heart fell. What the hell was this? I did my best, drawing out a mind map to help me refresh my memory. It actually went quite well, if I do say so myself. Not the best, but I’m definitely not failing.

I walk down the hall yet again, not bothering to knock on Josh’s door. His head rises, noticing my presence, and he smiles. God I love how he smiles.

“So, how did it go?”

I close the door, biting my lip as I turn to face him again. He looks up expectantly, eyes big and round. He rises, walking around the desk to face me.

“It went great!” I blurt out excitedly, arms going out. He smiles, meeting me in a hug as I throw my arms around him. His hands go to my waist, pulling me closer against him. I bury my face in his neck, warm skin against mine, smelling his expensive cologne.

“See, you just needed a place to study”

“I indeed did”

We break apart a little, arms still holding tight so none of us leaves. He leans in, eyes lowering to my lips. I know what’s about to happen, it has happened a million times before. In his bedroom, a couple of random bathrooms, the mountain lodge, but never in an office. My finger finds its way to his lips, stopping him in his tracks.

“Mr. Washington, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Just celebrating” he whispers against my finger, hand going up to take it away. He finds his way to the back of my head, tangling in my hair as he pulls me closer.

“You can get in trouble”

“Never stopped us before”

His breath feels hot against my skin, head getting dizzy and body warmer. How long were we going to keep this thing alive?

“Fuck it” I whisper against him, capturing his lips on mine.

#until dawn #joshua washington #josh washington #josh washington x reader #josh washington x reader smut #until dawn josh #josh until dawn #josh washington imagines #josh washington until dawn #josh washington smut #joshua washington x reader smut #joshua washington smut #joshua washington x reader #Joshua Washington x fem reader #until dawn oneshots #until dawn imagines

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venusbyline · 23 days ago

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Bucky Barnes — Christmas and Candies.

— summary: The former sergeant decides to spend some time living in London a few years after the war, to get rid of the memories that haunts him. Christmas is not a celebration he enjoys anymore, however, meeting a waitress at a bakery is the kickstart he needs to feel a little softer again for the first time.

— pairing: Bucky Barnes x waitress!reader

— type: fluff, angst, 1940s AU

— word count: 1.6k

— tags/warnings: female!reader, war veteran!Bucky, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), mental-health issues, strangers to lovers, pre-relationship, angst and hurt/comfort, Christmas fluff, implied cheating, emotional infidelity, hopeful ending, ambiguous/open ending, argument, social anxiety, post-World War II, no powers (and no Hydra or Winter Soldier), 1940s, canon divergence. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— author's notes: This is my first fic with a character from the MCU. Bucky's my fav and maybe I'll write more about him later hahaha. Anyway, Merry Christmas <3 <3 I love you guys, thanks for everything and I hope you have fun with your families and friends.

— crossposting: AO3

Bucky had decided to take some time away from the USA a few years after the war, some time for himself, to rest and try to get to know new places and new people.

At least, that is what he had said his family and friends when he told the news. He needed to stay away from the cruel memories involving everything that had happened in the war, try to get rid of everything that made him wake up desperate and in a cold sweat at dawn.

Get rid of the nightmares that plagued his mind all the time.

However, nothing would go right. The apartment that Bucky was renting for a limited time was a complete mess. The acoustics of the rooms were terrible and he found himself constantly complaining to himself about the noise that the neighbors on each side made. And even more irritating were the children's cries at the front door. Bucky did not know how to approach the neighbors and complain about the sleep deprivation he was experiencing because of their kids, so he decided to just keeping silent, at least for a while.

That morning, Bucky woke up frustrated and took a shower before deciding to buy something for breakfast at a nearby bakery. He had not slept well and the look of frustration was evident on his face as he walked the streets. The dark gray scarf did little to warm him from the annoying fog that hit his face with every step he took.

He had gotten used to being cold during the war, but he could not help but keep complaining about it inside his thoughts. He had never been the biggest fan of winter days, just as he was not the biggest fancier of celebrating Christmas anymore.

During his innocent times, Bucky liked to look at the Christmas decorations. Now, after everything he was forced to face, he found himself constantly frowning every time he saw someone on the streets happy with the arrival of that commemorative date.

"Happy Christmas Eve. How can I help you, sir?" A soft voice caught Bucky's attention and he barely realized he had entered a bakery. He frowned when he saw the pretty girl with a red scarf so vibrant and it almost made him turn around and walk away.

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to ignore the discomfort with the color. Why did people like that damn red so much? It was just a stupid color to show love and passion, but in the former sergeant's eyes it only represented anger and reminded him of how much blood he had shed during the war.

How much blood he had been forced to watch his friends lose...

The girl remained looking at Bucky with a confused and excited expression at the same time, clearly not realizing how disturbed his mind was at that moment. Or at least pretending not to notice, perhaps due to a lack of empathy or simply to not make their situation even worse.

Bucky took a few deep breaths and finally managed to mutter. "A cream donut."

The sentence sounded with an absence of enthusiasm that made the waitress swallow hard, nodding with a raised eyebrow and then looking for a cream donut in the showcase. She could feel the man's eyes following her and every movement of her hands, poking his cheek with his tongue as he noticed that the donut had some red and green sprinkles on top.

"Don't you have a normal version of that fucking candy? Some version that doesn't look like Santa's elves threw up on it?"

The waitress' eyes widened at Bucky's sudden outburst, staring at him without knowing what to say other than looking at him as if he had just said the most cruel words in the world.

Bucky took a deep breath when he noticed how the girl had her hands shaking, confusion and a little anger written in her face, not knowing whether to put the donut on the plate or not. Guilt ate him alive when he noticed that his words had sounded angrier and louder than he expected. If it were before the war, Bucky would have excitedly entered the bakery, flirted with the cute waitress, bought several delicious and decorated candies, eaten them right there and flirted with the girl one more time before leaving.

The old version of him was a womanizer and philanderer. And his current version was nothing more than a traumatized asshole.

"You know what, doll... Forget it. You can put the candy back where it was before, I'll buy something at another bakery." He murmured, hoping that the nickname would soften his rudeness and his refusal to buy anything to eat there.

During the night, you finished selling the last candies and sighed in relief as the customers left. It was already more than ten o'clock at night and the need for a rest began to become clear on your face. Christmas Eve was always extremely busy at the bakery, and as much as you enjoyed the holiday, there was something strange about that night.

Maybe it was just the random man's rudeness during the morning, or maybe it was the feeling of emptiness and sadness that consumed your body every time you looked at the clock. You knew that your fiancé could not fulfill his agreement once again, and you could not help but feel quite melancholy when you realized that you were always falling for every stupid nonsense he promised.

When the door bell rang, revealing another customer entering, you sighed still facing away. "I'm already closing, sorry. There are no more candies to sell." You said with a cold and distant tone, wiping away the single tear that fell. There was silence after that and you frowned, crossing your arms as you looked back, sighing in frustration as you recognized the man standing there. "Oh, you again."

He nodded, his facial expression remained serious, however, his body language gave away his true emotions. "My name is Bucky. Bucky Barnes. And... I was a soldier. A sergeant, actually..."

"Bucky Barnes." You tested the name on your tongue with some curiosity and looked back at him, completely confused. "May I know why you are standing in front of me now, telling me your name and your former career?"

Bucky took a deep breath, crossing his arms like you as if trying to portray a confident image of himself, someone who was not shaken, until he finally gave up on the stupid charade and sighed. "I was a jerk to you, miss. I'm sorry. I just... I know that's not a good excuse, but I'm still so traumatized from the whole war that I couldn't help but feel angry seeing the arrival of the Christmas. And you..." He ran his hand through his hair, sighing again, brushing the brown strands away from his angelic but sad face. "And you're so beautiful and in the morning you were really so excited about this damn holiday. I ended up stressing out about that, I'm truly sorry I took it out on you. You don't even know me, it wasn't fair to you and your bakery. "

Bucky's quick and objective explanation caught you off guard and you had your mouth open for a few seconds. You tried to take it as a simple apology from a traumatized former soldier. It was only fair that he apologized to you after his selfish rudeness...

However, you took a deep breath. You took another look at the clock, realizing that in fact your fiance was not going to come back to take you to his house. He had done that during the last two Christmas Eve. Your family tried to convince you that it was just a difficult phase in your relationship and that it was not worth breaking up with a rich man to remain single around the world and be talked about badly as if you were a whore.

And you tried. You tried so much. Sometimes even too much.

And now you were tired from maintain by yourself the perfect couple charade.

A sigh escaped your lips and you looked back at Bucky, a hint of curiosity in his tired blue eyes while you picked up a bag from behind the counter and moved yourself to the table next to Bucky, his gaze admiring your face and also admiring the light brown wool dress you wore, as well as the dark red sweater with your initial embroidered in a shade of gold, perfectly matching the scarf you had been wearing since the beginning of the day.

As soon as you took some pretty candies out of the bag, Bucky chuckled. "I thought you said they were all sold already, doll."

You shrugged, feigning some indifference. "I said. But these were for me to take and eat during Christmas Eve dinner. You cannot blame for that." You gave Bucky a light smile. "Anyway, if you're free tonight, we can celebrate together.'

His eyebrows rose with shock at your point and clear flirt despite the engagement ring on your hand. Even before the war, Bucky was not a man to get involved with committed women.

And despite everything, now he did not even blink when he joined you, returning your smile and waiting with some excitement while you arranged the desserts on the table. That was a very unlikely way to celebrate Christmas Eve, having dinner with an unknown waitress who he had been rude to just a few hours before. In fact, this scenario had never crossed Bucky's mind when he moved to London or when he decided to buy some food at your bakery in the morning. Despite how unusual and even funny the whole situation seemed, Bucky felt alive for the first time in a long time.

Celebrating the special night with you was much better than being locked up inside his own apartment, brooding over each of the traumas that haunted his mind, always consumed with melancholy and self-loathing. At least from that night onwards, he would have a reason to visit your bakery quite often.

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velarisdusk · 10 days ago

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Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

Thank you @xxvalkyriesxx for the tag!! <3

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

this made me have to actually update my AO3 with all my fics lol so thank you for that. 168,286 🫣

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

47!!! lots of them were super short ones for kinktober but still very very proud of that wow

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

3 >:)

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

im gonna give two because i cant choose and y'all just have to deal lol i LOVED Unveiled Pleasures, one of the Rhysand x Reader fics i wrote for kinktober. but ALSO i love the bat boys fic i just wrote, I slept with Someone in Wings of Illyria

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

Shadows at Twilight!! it's a nesta and azriel fic (not slash, just &, lol). it wasn't suuuper experimental i guess but still different from my usual stuff. it was the first fic i've ever written that wasn't slash, and i loved writing their big argument, i was really really fun :)

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

i wrote VWMT thinking it wasn't gonna be a huge deal, i posted it and didn't think about it for a while. and then the notes started coming in. and they still have not stopped 😭 i didn't like it a whole lot when i wrote it but so many people loved it and im so so grateful for that.

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

Held by a Whisper, a Tamlin x Reader angst fic. very short, very sweet, very sad. i love it with all my heart.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

i only recently started indulging bass player az, but it all started months ago when i saw this by elenana.art. last i saw, there were only 2 things in her au, but now there are more and i LOVE THEM AAAAA

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

there are a good few but most notably @azsazz, @rhysazriel, and @readychilledwine, they're all incredible authors :')

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

@highlordofkrypton !!!!!!! thank u for wildflowers it's what got me into tamsand i love them sm

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

No, none..... yet >:)

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

I FINISHED A SERIES!!!!!!! Breaking the Ice was originally gonna be just Ice Cold Jealousy, but a lot of people enjoyed it so i planned the whole thing out. usually once i plan a series i get sick of it and bored and i quit. BUT I FINISHED IT!!!!!!! and thats all thanks to you guys, if you all hadn't given me such wonderful feedback i definitely would've gotten sick of it haha

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

i've had to learn to not get discouraged if something i really enjoyed writing doesnt do well. notes/hits/kudos/comments do not determine the quality of what's been written, i still have to remind myself of that. i've ALSO learned that i personally cannot write a whole fic and then post it once im done. i get burned out and discouraged and then i start to resent writing. it works for lots of peope and thats wonderful, just does not work for me :/

14. What is your advice?

get a beta reader omfg i swear it's like a lifehack its like youre CHEATING. i've been saved from so many embarrassing typos and repeated words

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

man idk i just wanna keep writing. maybe i'll start and finish this az x reader series i thought of. i really think y'all will like it, i just wanna make sure ive got the foundations of it before i start posting lol

if you'd like to, @halo-hanging, @rhysazriel, @highlordofkrypton, @acoazlove @inkedinshadows @scorpioriesling <33 if not, no pressure, and happy new year!! <3 :)

#tag game #<3

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tamelee · 1 year ago

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As a beginner artist im only happy when people reupload and share my art. I don’t want to be arragont enough to think im like samdoesart or something and you’re not really on that level either no offense though your art is inspiring me a lot

Okay, I'll address this then... (Art-rant for anyone who cares;)

... no offense taken. I'm very aware of my (skill)’level' in art and definitely feel a certain type of way about it ;-; .... but that aside, what is your argument here?

Is anyone who doesn't want their art reposted or uploaded on other accounts considered arrogant? Is there some kind of popularity threshold you need to cross before you can request something as simple as this? And if so, what's that threshold to you? I'm genuinely curious.

When does someone become "good" enough to have the right to say that their art is theirs and protect it from being stolen or decide where it gets shared? Who has any say in it, other than the artist or creator themselves? Isn't that extremely subjective to base it solely on that?

Hm. If you're a beginner artist, I'd like to offer some advice....

It's entirely up to you whether you read it, give it any thought, or find it valuable in any way. I'm no Sam, after all. But there are plenty of ways for others to support your art, engage with it, or share it even in their own accounts without taking anything away from the original creator, whether it's art/writing or any other type of creation. However, it's also perfectly fine if you personally don't care about it or if someone allows it only with proper credit because that's your decision as.. you know- the original creator.

You mentioned that you're happy when your art gets reuploaded as a form of "sharing." But do you know what makes me the happiest as an artist Nonee?

Do you know what really brightens my day? 🥹

...It's knowing what people are saying about my work because I can read it on my own posts that are on my own accounts. When I can respond and take it in fully. When I see people using tags that make me snort my drink or when I have to stifle a laugh to the point I’m choking because it's just SO funny! (I genuinely need to make a compilation!!) Sometimes, I get comments that are cursing me out in a playful manner, and it's often followed by an incoherent keyboard-smash. I end up making embarrassing alien-like noises because of it that makes me more grateful than ever to live alone. Other times, I bawl my eyes out because someone left a comment or tagged it with something that just hits differently. A while ago, I got an ask that said I should stop saying 'thank you' on everything because it got repetitive/annoying(?), but I genuinely feel so grateful for all of it 😭!!

I get new ideas because someone suggested something different. I see friends having entire conversations under a drawing that I'm not even a part of because apparently, what I drew resonated with them personally, or it made them feel a certain way, which is oddly fulfilling with art ;-; Just so you know, I read everything... and all this feedback (because it's all feedback in a way) can be very inspiring, don't you think?

Honestly, when it comes to activities like drawing, it's true that it is better to never do it solely for the sake of engagement. Drawing, or more specifically, living as an (aspiring) artist is incredibly lonely.

So, so lonely...

Relying on engagement alone to keep you creating for hours, days, years, or maybe even decades is just not sustainable. It takes an enormous amount of time and dedication to practice, come up with new ideas, and endure the inevitable frustrations that come with it. With anything, keeping yourself inspired at times takes effort also because it requires for you to be in a state of mind that allows new idea’s in the first place which in itself takes practice because you won’t always feel like drawing. You might even encounter nasty comments or discover that something you poured your heart into gets criticized, YOU as a person may even be criticized because what you drew with your current skills (and such a journey is never-ending) in a single moment could get paired with your entire personality or even your humanly morals (ffs) to judge. Which can be more hurtful than you'd expect... especially in the beginning.

Although it may sound silly, the saying "the fun is in the journey” is very real and likely the most important thing to keep you going as an artist. No matter what, you gotta have fun or find a way to have fun.

Yet, even so, now more than ever, the process of creating is very underappreciated as many are looking for “content” that's quickly generated for entertainment. Tsk, some even call art “content” which, IT IS NOT. It's a proven fact that we, as humans, currently have become dopamine junkies with short attention spans. (I totally understand this – I was diagnosed with ADD, hence my extreme hyper-fixations also 😆 it's both a blessing and a curse, tbh.) So, right now, the very thing that can support artists (which means you as a beginner also!) on their creative journey is letting them know you appreciate their art in any way or just let them know your thoughts maybe even by specifying what it was you liked about it so they can carry that into their next drawing.. which is only truly possible through your own accounts y’know? :’) I'm being sincere when I say this really can help.

I get that many people believe that creating should be satisfying in itself, and everyone may expect you to think that way because, after all, you want people to see what you've made and a reposter ‘helps’ you with that, so, it should be enough and you should be happy and grateful actually. Anything beyond that might be considered "arrogant."

And... based on your ask, it seems like you might view having your art reuploaded as a form of 'help,' and if that's the case, it's totally fine. But I want to share a rather harsh reality, because even if those who repost your art provide credit...

They don’t do it for you and it’s not necessarily because they love your art so much 👀 rarely anyone cares to go through a description full with useless trend-based tags or promotive texts they always use only to put in the effort to find your name and most likely, if they follow such accounts there is zero connection with the original artist/creator which means it is WAY more likely in this case that the art you worked on for idk how long ends up becoming a forgettable blur as it is scrolled past 🤷🏻‍♀️

And even if the reposter likes your art personally, that's probably not their primary motivation to share it (except for a very few who are in it for a fandom, sns has a few also). Art that gets ‘selected’ for reposting is typically selected with a specific, often trend-oriented, goal that has little to do with the artist. It's frequently shared with the mindset of a rather poorly-driven marketer. Especially on platforms like IG- many of these accounts exist to benefit the account owner only by making high(er)-follower accounts that later get a different purpose. Many of these accounts will discard all art once it has reached an engagement goal to then move onto something new that's more financially profitable to the account owner, which original art by others is not. And yeah, a lot of these accounts are sold after. There are especially many now due to the IG affiliate program, and recently tiktok also. The same is quickly happening on X with its monetization... and guess what :’)!!! Although original art is hard to monetize, Ai is completely approved.... 🤨🙄 But I won't bore you with all the specifics any longer.

Me not wanting my art on other platforms/accounts, has little to do with credit nor do I think in the very least that I have some sort of control over it by making that decision... but still. I refuse to willingly take part in anything that currently takes ‘art’ (any creative form) and makes a mockery of it, using it for mere "content" or treats it as this ‘thing’ that appeared out of nowhere to then just use any way people like and participate in the narrative that gives the impression that investing time in creating something isn't valuable or a cherished part of human expression that brings and promotes joy.

Because rarely do people take the damn time anymore.

I want all artists/writers/creators/etc- to be acknowledged for their work in general, or, even in the least, acknowledge the work that isn't seen that goes into the final result for others to enjoy. I don't want to continually see art stolen and exploited so rapidly. This phenomenon enables tech bros who don’t have a single ounce of argumentative skill or self-proclaimed "entrepreneurs" to generate their little stolen jpg’s for their absurd 3 a.m. morning-routine videos and use them as banners on their get-rich-quick schemes, scamming the unsuspecting and spamming the internet with this bs, largely thanks to AI making this partly possible... for example. There's not a single platform left that supports artists or helps them fight for security and protection for their work. I know and I'm aware. At the very least, we can say 'no' to reposting because giving up completely makes no room for possible solutions... and then we can work from where we are at all times to find ways to protect a right (because it is) that some might perceive as trivial.

Nevertheless, it is a right, and it definitely isn't an issue of arrogance or skill.

#asktamelee #art talk #anti ai #personal #art theft

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mooncello · 10 months ago

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What a fun Sunday so far. ⚡ thank you for the tags @bookish-bogwitch (LOVE seeing some of your writing process), @shrekgogurt (still haven't recovered from ch 13 of ikabikam in the best way possible), @emeryhall (happy anniversary!) & @you-remind-me-of-the-babe (anguished Baz is such a vibe fr).

For today's update:

Enter Niall & Dev.

Truly one of the most unexpected delights of writing this fic has been the insistence of Niall and Dev to show up and take a prominent role in the story. I adore them. I adore them as individual characters, and I love who they are for Baz.

Here's a little from chapter 2 of lost boys. This chapter will publish next week! I'm traveling this week, so I'll post once I'm back.

Under the cut because of length. It's a 30+ sentence Sunday, y'all.

Baz POV, 16 yo, year 12 (school).

Towards the end of lunch, I hear a familiar booming laugh across the canteen. I figure I have two minutes until impact. I tuck my sketchbook and pencils away and twist the lid back onto my thermos of tea. “Just a head’s up,” I say to Niall, who is still contently working away, “we’re about to be interrupted by the demon of chaos hims—” “Bazza!” There’s the solid thump of a hand against my shoulder and the dramatic collapse of tall, muscular limbs into the seat beside me. “My favourite nerd. How’s it going, cuz?” Dev flashes his white, perfect teeth at me before snatching my remaining bourbon biscuit. His fingernails are painted turquoise today, his dark hair is swept away from his face, and he’s wearing eyeliner. The bastard looks amazing. Despite being cousins, we never really hung out as kids. Always kept to different social circles. Which is to say Dev constantly had a roving pack of friends, and I had nobody (save for the lost boys in my dreams). But when I got outed this past spring, Dev decided to take a more active presence in my life. He even convinced me to join the football team with him. He’s charismatic and popular in his own way, and so unabashedly and loudly himself that even the nastiest bullies don’t bother him. It's been nice, having Dev in my life. Even though it means I now deal with his chaotic, abrasive personality all the goddamn time. “Dev, this is Niall.” I make a small sweeping motion to the boy across from us. Dev raises his chin in greeting. “New kid. Hey.” Niall smiles faintly. He looks rather disoriented. Possibly awestruck. I don’t blame him. Dev tends to have that effect on people. I’m almost envious of it. Another smack hits my upper arm. “Did’ya hear about practice this afternoon? Thirty minutes later than usual.” “Yes, I received the same team-wide notification, Dev, thank you.” Dev is now peering at Niall’s drawing tablet without shame, while continuing to talk to me. “A bunch of us are getting ice cream after the match on Friday. Wanna join?” “That’s a very solid maybe,” I tell him in a tone that communicates I’d rather eat grass laced with slug poison. I like playing on the pitch, but I’m not about to huff dairy with a bunch of footballer lads. “Great.” Dev stands, all six feet of him, and squeezes my top knot. I sigh and bat his hand away. Clearly I need to have another conversation with him about acceptable physical contact. “See you at practice then. Nice meeting you, Niall.” He’s off in a swirl of flair and overpriced body spray. “Sorry about him,” I murmur to Niall. I really hope he’s not scared off.

hellos & tags! xoxo

@thewholelemon, @best--dress, @facewithoutheart, @cutestkilla, @whatevertheweather, @artsyunderstudy, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @fatalfangirl, @youarenevertooold, @raenestee, @orange-peony, @ileadacharmedlife, @nightimedreamersworld, @rimeswithpurple, @iamamythologicalcreature, @shemakesmeforget & @arthurkko (your merwolves ... still thinking about your merwolves)

#niall and dev #my beloveds #dev is wearing tom ford's oud wood body spray #it is EXPENSIVE #total flex on his part #dev is so extra #I love him #30+ sentence sunday #lost boys #snowbaz fanfic #my writing

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formula-fun · 2 months ago

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Fic Writer Interview (thank you @chandelier-s-notebook for the tag my dear!!)

I'll use a cut as well!

How many works do you have on ao3?

On this account, 6! In total its something like 50 I think!

What’s your total word count?

you will probably not believe this but it's 1,021,939. most of it is on different accounts or on anon. i promise you a lot of the early ones are....not really worth reading

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

fire + sound (you guys are freaks ily)

i'd sing you a morning golden and new

Of Shadow

remember me love, when i'm reborn

something for band of brothers from 10 years ago that's anonymous

Do you respond to comments? Why/ why not?

Yes, i try to respond to all of them! it means a lot to me when people take the time to comment, so i try to always take the time to give a response

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Definitely this one. I used to have a no sad endings policy and this is the first thing i've ever written that's broken that!

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

if i had words has a pretty happy ending! once the sequel is done it will have a VERY happy ending

Do you write crossovers?

Not in the sense of crossovers with two characters from two different fandoms. i love a good au though!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don't think so. Occasionally I get comments that come off as a little rude, but I try to give people the benefit of the doubt and assume they didn't mean it like that

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

hahahah do i ever!! and now i have friends who enable me so its only getting worse from here im afraid!!!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, i've floated ideas online and had them stolen before but i've never been plagiarized

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! A couple of my older fics. It's one of the biggest compliments imo

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, I cowrote a crack fic a few years ago and i'm gonna be cowriting another soon! we're still in the brainstorm stage right now

What's your all-time favourite ship?

oof ok canonically i think stucky is kind of boring but some of the fics really went off

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

................we will have GTA6 before we get the pacrim au...............

What are your writing strengths?

Hmm probably setting descriptions? i get a lot of compliments for the capri scenes in if i had words. sometimes i write decent smut but i dont consider it to be reliably something im good at, it can be hit or miss

What are your writing weaknesses?

planning, outlining, anything like that. there are many cases of me writing 90% of a fic and then taking a million years to post the final chapter because i'm not quite sure how everything is tied together at the end. usually i write 20%, stop and make an outline and then write the rest, but the outline for the ending is always so vague that it just doesn't really work out and it takes way more brain power than it needs to. i am aware of this. unfortunately i will probably never change.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

this is such a good question okok so it depends a little? say its charles' pov and theyre speaking french. i usually just put it in english but indicate theyre speaking french because the reader knows as much as the pov does. but if someones speaking dutch i usually just say "x said something in dutch" because he doesnt understand it so neither does the reader. sometimes i put the actual dutch if doing it the other way would break the flow of it, but i dont provide translations unless its something that charles would understand

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

band of brothers i think!

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

actually i dont know if there are any!! maybe piarles? yukierre? honestly though i'm pretty happy where i am <3

What's your favourite fic you've written?

if i had words is my baby <33 i dont know if i have a favorite out of the two parts though. i love them both in different ways. i maybe have a slight preference for charles', though!

going to tag @talkingismylifewrites @wedriftlikelonelyplanets @mvpanda1 @samu-writes

#writing tag

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sukifoof · 2 years ago

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I was thinking about Asriel as the Royal Scientist, and I remember in one post you said in the tags, how you considered drawing him as one for your Asriel survives AU, before saying you can't imagine him holding down any job without freaking out

Now, I'm not asking you to draw him anyway, I'll be fine either way. It is just important context cuz that's what gave me my personal thoughts right now about him, and I wanted to spread them because I think they're optimistic in the end, if cliché and generic (warning, I'm really bad at sympathizing with other people, so I might be just, completely wrong about what I say next)

I have little doubt Asriel would be very lost at first about what he is going to do with his life now that The Barrier is gone. Typical confusion after exiting a time loop, compounded by the years of untouched trauma and other mental health issues. Maybe spiralling further as he may consider himself a burden for all those problems he can't handle on his own

He would try resuming being The Prince, go back to what he thinks people want of him, but it's not going to work, he distrusts himself too much after everything he has done. When he inevitably fails, he hits a new low. But eventually, perhaps with Frisk's encouragement, he finds it in himself to open up about it, talk to other people, seek help

Alphys, who in a very real sense is his creator (slightly more metaphorical in this AU, but she's still the one who woke him up from his coma), and one of the few people who know how he works, might be one of the first people that Asriel speaks to about his problems, feeling that she'd understand. They talk to each other about the regrets that they have, bonding over similar troubles, and maybe shared interests (bonding as friends. Alphys is faithful to her wife, and Asriel is on the aspec, so it doesn't go further)

At some point one of them might just naturally suggest that Asriel help out around the lab, and while he's helping, and they're talking with each other, Alphys realizes just how much knowledge about all sorts of things Asriel has, and one day she offers that he become a full-time assistant at her lab. This freaks him out, and in the moment he rejects it and runs away, which both of them later despair over, in a sense of "oh god I was to hard on him/her, now I destroyed our friendship, I'm the worst, I can't do anything right"

But eventually they talk to each other about it (encouraged by their friends) and they realize that neither is harboring any resentment towards the other, and they make amends. Asriel starts out working with her part-time, and while it's initially very scary for him, and he probably has several other freakouts along the way, I think Alphys, being prone to freakouts herself, would be more than understanding. Eventually he becomes her full-time assistant after all

Hopefully combined with therapy which he really, really should receive, he eventually starts feeling good about himself again, even if it takes years to get there. And he realizes, yes, this is the job he wants to do. He can help people without actually having to be there, with a much more manageable amount of responsibility to handle. He's finally happy, as the Assistant Royal* Scientist (* although at this point it is possible that Asgore and Toriel would abdicate, seeing as their son won't take over from them, it might just be easier to end the monarchist government right then and there)

Of course, while Asriel is immortal, Alphys is not, and as the decades pass, she will get older, weaker, less able to do her job. The day when she resigns from her post to let the (physically) younger Asriel become the next Royal Scientist will be a difficult one for both of them, and even more so when she finally turns to dust, although I hope that by this point he would be better equipped to handle the loss of those close to him. It will still hurt, but I hope with new experiences and skills he's learned over the years, he'll be able to deal with that pain, or the pain when his parents or his other friends die, better than he did with the pain of Chara's death

Frankly, not being seen as royalty anymore, especially by the younger generations who won't remember monarchist rule, he might find life easier as he's no longer so isolated as he was as a prince, no longer has to reach the same standards as before

The trauma, and other pain that follows, they will never fully leave him, but he's got a quite literal eternity to learn how to live with them and not let them control his life. And if mortals can do it, then I think he too can, over the course of several years, or even decades, figure it out. I think, as fucked up as he is, at the end of this nightmare road there is happiness waiting for him, however long it takes him to get there. I just want him to be happy goddammit. And I think that a 30-or-40-something Asriel will be happy

Thanks you for listening to my TED talk, and have a magical day

HI IVE BEEN MEANING TO ANSWER THIS FOR SO LONG CUZ ITS SO GOOD AND IN CHARACTER!!! u are so right for this i LOVE this i dont have much to add on cuz ur points are all so good. asriel has so many issues and i think he would probably feel a Bit Better if he was able to put his knowledge to use to help people and it might help him come to terms with death a little better..... anyway they are siblings and they occasionally bother each other. extremely kind mayor who took over after papyrus and local freak scientist who is seemingly some kind of sludge <3 i may draw more of this when i get the chance cuz the idea of these middle aged freaks is so funny to me i love them dearly

#undertale #utdr #asriel #asriel dreemurr #flowey #frisk #livingprinceau #utdr analysis

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eyesofshinigami · 6 months ago

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WIP Weekend!

I was tagged by the always wonderful @shares-a-vest, so here we go!

The Rules:

In a reblog (or a new post w/ rules attached) post up to five (5) file names of your wips. Not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

The WIPs:

Teenage Dirtbag: where Eddie is a lot a bit of a creep when it comes to Stevie Harrington, but wouldn't you know it, but she's kind of into it too?

A/B/O Rarity: Where the Alpha and Omega genes are incredibly rare, but with Steve's luck, he's one of the few people who's got it. He hides it for years, until he can't/doesn't want to anymore, especially after he meets Eddie, who is the only other person he's ever met who also has the gene.

Adventures in Babysitting: another A/B/O idea where Eddie is an older Alpha and needs a babysitter/nanny for his young son, and cue them meeting Steve, the incredibly hot, young Omega babysitter who immediately pings every box he's ever had.

As for a snippet, here's one from Teenage Dirtbag that's a wee little spicy.

Things changed again, after that. Stevie abandoned all her old friends, stuck by Nancy and Jonathon Byers of all people, the three of them looking haunted and weary in a way that stuck in Eddie’s mind like a splinter in his finger. Gone was the ice princess who roamed the halls of Hawkins High like royalty, and instead was a girl who looked like she had Seen Some Shit. Eddie knew that look. He saw it enough in the mirror when it was a bad night.

And still, it didn’t wane. It got worse again, where Eddie pictured himself as some kind of black knight that would ride in and make everything better. He thought about getting her flowers. Or asking her if she wanted to go to one of his concerts and watch him play. Wondered if she would like having a picnic by the quarry, where he could get his hand up her skirt and kiss her and tell her that she was a supernova that had completely consumed him.

But he didn’t. Maybe there was too much Munson in him, too much of a coward to try and reach out and touch the untouchable. Stevie Harrington was always going to be the pipe dream, even more than Corroded Coffin getting discovered and him hitting the big time. Especially because she was graduating, and Eddie was still stuck spinning his wheels in this lame-ass school because he couldn’t figure out how to get his head out of all of his imaginary fantasies.

She was probably going off to some rich-kid school on a coast somewhere. She’d probably find some blonde-haired blue-eyed guy named Chad or Kevin or something and get married, pop out kids and live in the suburbs.

Until she didn’t leave. Until Eddie was fucking assaulted with the sight of Stevie Harrington in a tiny sailor’s uniform, slinging ice cream at the mall. That skirt was criminal, even more than the stupid tennis skirts she wore to school all the time.

His thoughts took a turn for the worst, sitting outside Scoops Ahoy like an absolute asshole and just drooling over the thought of bending her over the counter. Thinking about pulling her into the freezer and fucking her until neither of them could move, her clawing at his back and pulling at his hair and telling him what a fucking freak he was.

No pressure tags: @ghostinthelibrarywrites, @just-my-latest-hyperfixation, @marvel-ous-m, @devondespresso

I'm sure people have already been tagged, if you have, please poke me and I'll go take a look!

#wip weekend #les writes things

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anewp0tat0 · 2 years ago

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AAAAHHHHH!! CONSIDER MY SHIT FLIPPED!! THE BLACK BUTLER LIVES! What are your thoughts on the new art style?

BRO I'm with you, flipped like that pancake I managed to throw half out the pan😩 I still can't believe. best Monday every fr.

and ooo thanks for the question, I wanna hear your thoughts after this👀 I've already said a little bit about this in the tags of some other posts, as well as touched on it in my master post of the crew, but I suppose I may give a big final answer(for now, from this teaser).

judging the art alone, not the fact that we get a new anime or anything exciting like that, just the art alone... it's very pretty!

yea this is very pretty. the kid looks great, small and good, and his hair looks feathery and neat, so I approve. I think they nailed his general proportions, I think they'll do a great job at keeping them consistent during episodes! the image to the right does looks a tiny bit like a 3d asset, which is a bit jarring compared to the previous anime style, but I'm flexible towards this change. even if he looks like a video game cutscene character, I usually love cutscenes!!

but here's the drama I'm sure you're here for. yes, unfortunately, there are some wee things that I don't love as much🤏

the first thing, it really doesn't matter and I should shut up about it now... but YOU asked so ajdjfksksk why did they have to shrink sebs jaw cmon my favorite art of him ever was during the Greenwitch arc so don't tell me I'll NEVER be able to see that style of him animated😫 I just like prominent features man. I know he's meant to be pretty but but but....

ah okay. heres the main thing that I think most people may agree with.

these are two screenies of sebster from the teaser. honestly, as ☆luxurious☆ as his lashes are, I'm not a fan of the left image. the airbrush on his hair feels a tad overdone. I love the attention to detail, especially in the one on the right, it shows a lot of love! but there's just something about it that's a bit off for me.

and I think after 24 hours I've finally figured it out: it's the colors.

the realization started to hit me when I saw my favorite edit so far here by @ashxketchum. the colors have been edited to be much more saturated and warm. and I think this is exactly what is missing here.

I even tried my own hand at it, and yea personally, I think slapping a saturation, tint, and just a BIT of contrast on the whole thing can do numbers on it.

already I like it(no I'm not just praising my own work, it's not the best edit out there I did it in 30 secs). I think the reason for this is because the background is very rich in contrast and warm tones, so the characters(particularly sebastian who is all black) stand out when they are muddy and low contrast. I love stylistically when contrast is high, but that's just a personal thing, and I shouldn't hold a studio to those standards.

I tried it for the poster too though, which again I felt was a bit off. official art has never been the most top tear, and the poster is GOOD, the background is awesome and the two peeps looks amazing. but my problem with it was clear once I did another color edit.

(edit on the right)

again, I feel like everything was very muted in the left original, not to mention a tad monochromatic. I really think a kick of contrast and hue could do wonders.

BUT. I know that at the end of the day, it's not a big deal. I don't really care. would it make my day or whole year if they slapped a color filter on it, or continued to work on the color grading of the scenes? probably yea! but my opinion isn't obsolete, and most of all, I look forward to and respect the artists decisions.

so no I'm not "fixing" the art😅😒.

and finally, I think this is awesome:

(I had forgotten but this gif is edited by @kilruas from this post)

GORGEOUS. could it turn some people off cause it's mostly cg? maybe. idc though. gorgeous. gimme some of that beverage.

sorry for the rant, hope it's what you wanted! I think that's everything... I like it 85%!

#my asks #thanks for the ask bud!#kuroshitsuji #black butler #kuroshitsuji 2024 #2024 anime #my text posts

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sugaredrhubarb · 1 year ago

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Reading with Ru: 2023 oct/nov/dec fic and book recs

Hello hello! Back again with some final recs from what I was reading towards the end of the year. Gonna start with cod because that's where most of my moots are, and then some from other fandoms and published romance I've been enjoying as well.

Just in case this goes outside my little circle, please check the tags of anything I rec; I'll try to mention if I think something is particularly dark, but don't read anything you won't like!

COD

landscape with honey by @ceilidho - (bear shifter!price x reader) starting with ceil because, at this rate, I can't write a list without including her. my friendship with ceil partially started from bugging her asks about bear price, so this one is always gonna be special, but I genuinely love it, ceil writes blatant dubcon really well (as we all know), but I think it's in fics like this—when the hero is just a little off, and the reader is caught between what seems too good to be true and a gut instinct that something isn't quite right—that her writing really thrives. Anyway, I'm okay with a big, burly man hibernating with me in a cozy cabin in the woods for a winter. (side note: we need to be talking about ghost x feral witch reader more)

Mind the Drop by @sprout-fics - (BDSM au, price x reader) more aftercare in fics!!! This wonderful one-shot is based in a universe where people are biologically designated as dominant or submissive. Reader is a sub who is feeling the effects of some missed aftercare, which Price takes notice of and offers his... assistance. Honestly, this is just some really well-written comfort and aftercare from a fun concept.

My daddy didn't love me, so I guess I've moved on to you by @makoodles - (price x reader) clearly, I was back in my Price era, and this fic hits on the central theme of my attraction to him in the first place: daddy issues :) So, if you may want to read 17k of Reader and Price succumbing to their attraction and mutual daddy kinks, this one is for you.

Light On by @peachesofteal - (ghost x singlemom!reader) I feel like everyone was reading it, but if you haven't checked out this lovely story yet, please do! It's nice to take a break from the darker fic, and this one is so lovely while still acknowledging Simon's trauma and obsession. Peaches is an excellent writer, and this sent me down a rabbit hole of single-parent fics and books! I could read so much of this.

Pornstar!ghost by @ghosts-cyphera - ( x reader) lo is on a little break right now, but this is another wonderful entry on the soft side of cod fic. I really enjoy Ghost's charisma and confidence on display here, and every update had me giggling and kicking my feet. (I found lo through her price wife x 141 post, which is also a must read)

okay, so @ohbo-ohno (hopefully) knows I love her, and she wrote a ton and is constantly throwing out mind-bogglingly yummy drabbles, so here are some of my favs from her kinktober and 1k celebration: price x reader breeding (surprise, surprise), soap x reader somno (drugged noncon), 141 x reader orgy, ghoap ft price deepthroating, 141 x free use reader (the dream), kingpin price x reader, ex husband price x reader, gaz x reader a/b/o, and my personal fav I think about all the time ghoap x brand new vampire reader. Maybe got a little carried away, but I adore Bo's work, and she has a unique ability to make everything hot.

And finally, @charliemwrites. When making this list, I was tempted to just rec everything Charlie has posted in the last few months, so if you aren't reading her stuff already, I'm jealous that you get to experience it for the first time. Obviously, it would be a mistake to not start with her current fics: charmed slasher simon (he's a serial killer, so violence warning) and woof woof johnny, which are both so fun and compelling, I get so excited whenever I see a new update. I almost daily think about this dark(ish) Price decides you're his wife post. Charlie also writes just wonderful fluff and lighter but emotional relationships too, and both childhood friend simon and bodyguard!gaz have a special place in my heart

other fandoms

casualties by little fools writing/tianawritesfic - (darklina) yet another person I could rec every single work by. This is a boyfriend's roommate cheating fic with the perfect amount of mean man.

You kept me like a secret (i kept you like an oath) by burninghoneyatdusk - (darklina) I genuinely think everyone should read this; it's modern setting, so no canon knowledge needed. Alina wakes up after an accident and discovers she's pregnant, but she doesn't remember the last year of her life, doesn't know who the father is, and most importantly, doesn't remember the affair that ended her relationship. I could talk about it for ages, but I'm just gonna share my comment on the last chapter: "every action, line of dialogue, description, and internal thought felt deliberate— not a single word felt wasted. you stripped both aleks and alina bare and it felt impossible to not take them in completely. i don't even know how to talk about the therapy sessions and alina's healing. the exploration of her guilt, her past, her anger, her confusion it all felt so earnest and raw. what a gift to read."

Bury Us Both by morriganmercy - (Lavinia Lucia/Nick Bruin) this is sibling incest! For the love of god, don't read it if it's not your thing. I know nothing about The Royals of Forsyth series (books?), but this was recd by someone, and I saw the tags codependency, slowburn, heavy angst, pining, and religious guilt, and now here we are.

bonus! published romance I enjoyed

links are to goodreads

Return to Monte Carlo by Cate C. Wells - set in 1982, fmc runs away from her stifling life with her rich italian husband and his snobby family before discovering that she's pregnant. fun, smutty, warning for miscommunication galore. i saw some comments about the fmc being immature but she's swept into this crazy life at like ~19 so idk enjoy your smut and stop thinking so much.

Between the Devil and Desire by Lorraine Heath - a widowed duchess must learn to get along with a notorious self made rogue when he is given guardianship of her beloved son. I'm a sucker for historical romances and for single parent stories but the combo is so hard to get right and this one did it for me! while sometimes a little ridiculous, i felt the characters actions had clear motivations. watching the mmc's relationship with the son grow was really nice and it actually made sense given his backstory rather than the sudden "guy who hates kids suddenly cares" trope other books do. (warning for discussions of childhood abuse and sa)

Luna and the Lie by Mariana Zapata - say what you will about MZ slow burns but no one else can get me to read 600 pages for one sex scene at 95% in. are most of her character's really similar? yeah. but they're never annoying and i love that they're always good people trying their best. i love all the small details and i love me an older man who is secretly down horrendously bad only to gets worse and worse at not showing it.

Icebreaker by Hanna Grace - people have things to say about this book. do the characters get together early on? yeah. do they hook up in the back of an uber filled with their friends? also yeah (i thought it was hot so). is their very little plot in a 400 page book? sure. i'm here for a good time not to be intellectually challenged. i actually enjoyed seeing their time together and really enjoyed that they just fucking communicated even if there were mistakes along the way. plus big nice hockey player who cares about consent? swoon my little canadian heart.

check the reading with ru tag for more!

#reading with ru #oh boy it's so hard to pick favs #if you read any of these lmk!!#ao3 #fic rec #fanfic recs #fanfiction #cod #darklina #book recs #romance books #romance recs #i had an aneurism trying to make sure everything was linked right

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anylady-fics · 6 months ago

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Need to know | Jeongin x F Reader (1)

Summary:

[...]

“You would like that, right?” I got closer, but I aimed his ear instead of his mouth, then I started to whisper. “You can dream as much as you want, Jeongin. But it’s never gonna happen.” I blew his ear and watched his body shivering, like the silly teenager he was. This time I was the one who was laughing, then I came back to my spot, and after that, the game was over.

[...]

Or Jeongin shows her that he knows things despite his age.

*** this work is for adult audiences. Minors DNI ***

Tags: #small age gap #jeonginfanfic #smutfanfic #roughsex more tags below

12,625 words - cross posted on ao3

Part 2

Ⴡ Masterlist

♦ 8 years ago ♦

It was really weird playing spin the bottle at 17 years old, but I wanted to have fun with my friends before going to college. We were always doing stupid things like that on weekends, and it was fun most of the time. Of course, some relationships could get complicated after that, but I didn't mind since I never dated anyone from that circle.

We tried to keep the age average always close, because it would be really problematic if some brat joined us and told people that we were there tongue kissing and drinking stolen beer from our parents. Sometimes we let new people in, but we had to be sure that they wouldn’t ruin our teen tradition, even if it was already at the end.

It was almost 7pm on a Saturday, we could get some beers to bring to the boys basement whose parents would not be at home during the night, and I was already feeling the nostalgic sensation hitting me really hard, since it would be my last reunion with them for a while. I really wanted to enjoy and do everything like it was the first time. And I thought that since there would be some new faces coming over to the game, I got excited to meet someone new, maybe even kiss a pretty boy that I haven’t kissed before, and I was really anxious to know who was coming over.

I was sitting there with my friends, drinking a beer and feeling sorry for how warm it was. Suddenly I heard the door opening and three people coming down to the basement stairs.

I got really confused when I saw the people, because unfortunately I knew all of them. Two girls were from the same school as me, and Jeongin was my neighbor. My brat neighbor who is 13 years old, and because of that I felt the urge to go home, because i didn't like him already.

“What the hell is he doing in here? He is 13!”

“But he is cute…” My friend said, making me even more pist off. “He almost begged to be in here, I thought that you’re going to like it because you guys are friends!”

“No, we’re not! Where did you get that from?!”

“He told me that! I’m sorry… you don’t like each other, then?”

“Nope, I don’t like brats.” I turned to face him, furious and wanting to throw my empty can at his face. “And you, liar! If you tell anyone what we do in here, I'll beat the shit out of you.”

I was deeply embarrassed because I’ve already beaten him once. Not long ago, I noticed that some panties were disappearing from the clothes line and clearly my first suspect was the brat who was coming to puberty and lived by the next door. I did catch him stealing, so I yelled at him and pushed him to the ground. He just laughed, letting me know that he wasn’t sorry, even ashamed of getting caught. So young and already that shameless.

“Relax. No one can know that I’m here, too. I’m a brat, remember?”

I stared at him, while he was sitting with us, really shocked that my friends let him stay and play with us. At the same time, I felt a little guilty, because he was the proper age for this game, but I wasn't.

“I think he likes you…” My friend told me, sitting by my side. “He lied just to be here with you.”

“He's just a brat who steals panties. For god’s sake, it’s disgusting.”

She was there laughing, but I couldn't, since I was still angry with them. Besides, the two new girls were talking to him, both of them looking really excited, which made me roll my eyes. I was really too old for that shit.

The game started, and everything was alright. People were kissing a lot in the way they wanted, and if they refused to kiss, they had to drink half a can of beer and be out of the game for three turns.

I was kissing the same people I had kissed before, so everything was fine until it was his turn. For three or four turns, it was always him with someone, and I started feeling really uncomfortable watching him kiss the girls because I didn’t see him as someone mature enough for that, despite everything. Sometimes we switched places so we wouldn't keep kissing the same person, but the game was already coming to an end. Soon, everyone would just be talking and laughing, and if a kiss led to something else, they could use the bathroom.

Right after the last place switch, the bottle spun and pointed at me and Jeongin, and before anyone said anything, I just drank the beer as fast as I could and stepped out of the game. I had never done that before, so everyone stared at me.

“Geez, just because he is younger than you? Everything needs a first time, you know?” One of the girls said, and I took a deep breath.

“He is a brat, and he shouldn’t be here.”

“I may be the brat, but you’re the one who’s afraid…” The bold brat said, and everyone listened and started looking at me. “It looks like you’re afraid of kissing me and end up liking it.”

Everyone started to laugh, and that got under my skin really hard. They’re obviously wrong because I didn’t want to kiss that brat, not even a little. I felt the need to prove that I wasn’t afraid, so I stood up and walked to where he was sitting.

“Stand up.”

Still showing more boldness than I could stand, he stood up and got really near me. We were the same height, but he was really skinny and really looked like a brat, it was too much for me so I couldn’t do it.

♦ Nowadays ♦

After college, I went back to my parents house, with a lot of student debt. I had to start working right away and luckily I found a job in my degree field. I finished college at 22 years old, it was just 4 years but it really felt like an eternity.

I was trying to save some money since I got back, and I already had a good amount, the college loan was already paid off. I was thinking about moving as soon as I could, but I need more to feel safe even if I lose my job. I was working for more than 3 years at the same place, with the same thing. I considered myself as a really stable person, but we cannot predict the future.

“Dear, I need you to take this pie to the neighbor. She made me one last week, now I’m returning the kindness!”

My mom always exchanged food with our neighborhood, something that I would never do, but I used to enjoy the recipes.

“Yeah, sure.”

I took the plate and went outside, going to my neighbors house, as I already have done a thousand times since I got back.

Since I moved back in, I often wondered about their son. They had told me that he was abroad for college, which surprised me. I had always thought that idiot would end up on the streets, being a felon, as he used to steal underwear shamelessly. It was a long time ago, but I couldn't forget how angry I was with him. Now it just sounds really stupid. We were both teenagers, and he used to stress me out a lot.

When I knocked on the door, I heard a lot of voices coming from inside, and I asked if it wouldn’t be a bad time. Maybe they had someone visiting, and I could go back later. I had just decided to go back home when the door opened, and I was shocked when I had to look up to face the person who showed up.

“Long time no see! Remember me?”

It took me a few seconds to associate the image in front of me with the young Jeongin that I knew, and it doesn’t fit at all. Of course, it was normal for him to be taller, but that much? I think I was hitting his shoulders.

His hair was blonde, bleached, with the original color already showing at his roots, making him look like a surfer. And it was pretty clear that he spent a lot of time at the gym, since his shoulders were so wide and his arms were really muscular.

Despite all the visual changes, what was more surprising to me was the fact that he still sounded the same. The boldness, the shamelessness... maybe he was still the same brat, but now old enough to drink and drive.

"Yeah, sadly I remember. The panty thief. Did you finish college already?"

"I did. I just got back! And in my defense, I was really young, and your panties were the only available material that I had."

"Material?"

He raised his eyebrows and smirked, so I understood what he was talking about. Geez, this man is talking to me for less than two minutes and he's already discussing his methods of jacking off. Really…

"No explanation needed! Anyways, could you give this to your mom? My mom sent it to her."

He just took the plate from my hands, and we were in complete silence. Since I didn’t have anything else to talk to him about, I said goodbye and turned my back to go home. I didn’t hear the door close, so I knew that he was still looking at me. I did the math, and he was at least 21 years old now, so he wasn’t supposed to behave like a teenager yet. But I can’t say that I was surprised. When I looked behind, he was really staring at me, and he didn’t even try to cover it. Looks like his childhood flaws just followed him through adult life.

When I came home, I mentioned to my mom about the neighbor's brat being back, and she couldn't help but comment on how she had seen his pictures and found him handsome, etc. I brushed it off and headed to my room, spending the rest of the afternoon lying on my bed. I was planning to go out with my friends that night, so I wanted to rest for a while.

I was just scrolling through my phone when I received a notification about a follow request on Instagram, and I chuckled when I saw that it was from my neighbor. His profile had the name 'I.N.', something he must have picked up in college. I allowed him to follow me, but I didn't follow him back; his profile was public, and I could already see everything.

After spending a few minutes looking at his pictures, I was glad to see that my assumption was correct—he was indeed close to beaches. However, I couldn't help but notice that he seemed to be seeking a lot of attention; he was shirtless in almost every picture, often posing in front of mirrors, at the gym, or on the beach. There were numerous comments and likes, as expected, but I was still somewhat puzzled by his looks. I took some screenshots and sent them to two of my friends who know him well. They had kissed him in that stupid game years ago.

I didn't mean to spark a discussion, but that's exactly what happened. They just kept on commenting about him, and it was non-stop. Even though I agreed with some of the things they were saying, it was overwhelming. I muted the messages and decided to get some sleep.

When I woke up, I realized I was running a little late, so I hurried to shower and get ready to head to the bar. My friends were supposed to pick me up, and we were going to this place with good music and great beer.

It had been a while since I had been on a date, and I was thinking about at least making out with someone, so I decided to put a little effort into my appearance. I chose a short leather skirt and a long-sleeve shirt to maintain a balance. Since the weather was really nice, I chose some pretty boots. My makeup didn’t take long, and I spritzed on one of my favorite perfumes.

My cell had been buzzing for ten minutes already. I knew I was late and that they were waiting for me outside, even though I finished getting ready at my own pace and came down the stairs.

"I thought you were getting ready for a wedding. Why the hell did you take so long?"

"I woke up a little late, and it was just 15 minutes. Don’t be a bitch about it!"

"You’re dressed to kill today, huh?" My other friend said, touching my bare legs. "And the perfume, oh…"

They kept talking, and I kept ignoring them. That's real friendship, I would say.

When we got to the bar, it was a bit full, and the place was a little different, with colorful lights blinking in the slightly darkened room.

We went to the barman and started drinking right away. I always kept a bottle of water near me because hangovers hit differently since I turned 25.

A few guys tried to hit on me, but none of them caught my attention, and the bad pickup lines made me a little depressed. I decided to walk around and dance among the crowd, enjoying the way my drink was already affecting my body.

I bumped into a tall guy, and he held me by the waist, preventing me from falling onto the floor. I couldn't see his face, but it seemed like he had black hair and a nice smile. I could feel his leather jacket with my fingers as I held onto his arm.

"Thanks... I barely drank and I’m already stumbling." I had to get really close to him to talk, and I could smell his hair and his perfume. Neither of us moved, and I felt the heat coming from his body, so I had to step away before that ended up leading us to something else. And I don’t even know why I was worrying about that, because I was really in the mood to make out with someone.

I turned my back on him and started to dance again, still a little shy from being so close to his face seconds ago. My glass was almost empty, so I took a big sip to relax a little more. Not much later, I felt someone putting their hands on my waist. My first guess was that it was the guy I had bumped into, so I confirmed by feeling his jacket again. My first thought was to step away, but I didn’t move. I really wanted to kiss someone, and he looked cute, so why not?

I just keep dancing, basically rubbing myself against him, his hands squeezing my waist and his body really close to mine, following my rhythm.

"Are you with someone?" His hot breath on my ear made me shiver, and I answered too quickly. Why would I be doing that with him? Wasn't it obvious? I decided to be polite and just confirm, since I was enjoying what he was doing. His bold hands were already under my blouse, and my skin was really hot under his touch.

I didn’t realize how close we were to the wall; I was almost certain that he guided us there while we were dancing. The corner he took me to was even darker than the middle of the dance floor, so I thought it was really convenient when he switched places with me, pinning me up against the wall. There were a few people there doing the same thing that we were about to do, so no one was paying much attention to us.

The height difference between us was really good; I liked tall guys. I put my hands on his shoulders and pulled him closer, kissing his lips and feeling how soft they were. His tongue invaded my mouth, and I sucked it, deepening the kiss and pressing our bodies closer together. I let my hands slide down his back, only stopping to squeeze his butt, already feeling the erection against my belly.

I smiled as his hands slid down my body, mirroring my actions. He squeezed my buttocks really hard, almost lifting me up, and then he pressed my body firmly against the wall and kissed me. He only stopped to kiss my neck, and I let my fingers run through his hair, closing my eyes and feeling my thighs shiver as my body weakened.

I didn’t care if people were looking at us or not, when he cupped my breasts I moaned against his shoulders and started to feel how wet I was getting because of that.

“You’re so hot…”

I bit my lower lip while he touched my thighs, tilting my head back to expose my neck, inviting him to kiss and suck the skin. He left a wet trail as his hands slid up my legs, squeezing as they got close to my panties, since my skirt was short.

I'm not sure what came over me, letting a stranger masturbate me at a party with so many people around, but his touch on my clit felt so good that I didn't care about the potential embarrassment if my friends saw us. At that moment, I just spread my legs to let him keep going.

We started kissing again, and my panties were pulled to the side, allowing his fingers to explore, sliding through my folds and touching me where I was most sensitive. I gripped his waist with both hands, desperate for him to finger me... but he was just teasing.

"Are you this wet because of me?" His deep voice echoed through the sensitive skin of my neck and ear, leaving me speechless. I just stood there, clenching at nothing, and I flinched, which told him everything he needed to know.

He stopped touching me to pull down my panties, and I let him. The guy knelt in front of me to remove my underwear, and while he was still down there, he got really close to my pussy. I thought he was about to go down on me, so I was ready to stop him—it would have been too much to do in public. Thankfully, I was wrong; he just wanted to smell me and quickly stood up after that. He kissed my neck, chin, and lips again, then slipped my panties into his pocket.

"I've been wanting a new one for my collection."

I took a while to understand what he meant by that, and then I felt an immense void taking over me as I began to understand what had just happened. There was no hole in the world deep enough to bury all the shame I felt, and I was so furious about it… fuck.

Without thinking, my hand came to his face and I delivered a well-placed slap, one that would surely leave each of my fingers marked on his cheek.

I realized I couldn't speak, and that I hadn't even come close to venting all the anger I felt towards this cheeky guy for doing this to me. I raised my hand to slap him again, but I was restrained.

“You’re an asshole!”

“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t like it…” He was holding my hand to keep me from slapping him, and he used the same hand to touch himself. I felt his hard cock through his pants, and suddenly I was really confused about what I should be feeling at that moment.

I pulled my arm free, feeling unsure of what to do. I still couldn't believe I was making out with Jeongin, my neighbor — the same brat who almost made me cum in public. Fuck!

“For someone who said 'never'...” Jeongin licked his fingers, which were still wet with my arousal, then he looked at me with the most obscene expression I’d ever seen. “You surely went back on your words really fast…”

I hated every reaction he provoked in me, and given the whole situation, all I could think about was that the bastard had dyed his hair that very day, or I would have recognized him right away. My god, I'm so stupid.

I wanted to scream and run away, and I almost did. I pushed him away, feeling extremely uncomfortable because my thighs were soaked, and it was even worse without my damn panties. I just left and grabbed a cab.

On my way home, I felt so embarrassed… and I was even more pissed off than before. Even though I didn't want to see him again, I knew I had to get to the bottom of this.

I let my friends know I was home, then I quickly got into a cold shower. I was still wet and horny from what happened earlier, and I was furious because I couldn't accept that it was because of him.

How could I just accept that I liked what he did? I couldn’t. But the body never lies, right?

That’s why, still in the shower, I had to take care of my tension, and I really couldn't believe that. I put so much effort into not thinking about him while I was fingering myself, rolling my hips against my hand and almost cumming, holding my sounds so anyone listened to me.

Even though I was trying really hard not to think about him, his face popped into my mind while I was cumming on my fingers. I couldn't stop thinking about the way he kissed my neck and the feeling of squeezing his clothed hard dick when he made me touch it.

After showering, I put on a random shirt and panties before lying down, still in disbelief. Jeongin should have told me it was him, but I also could have asked... I'll probably never make out with a stranger again.

Oh god, when my friends find out about this… because they're definitely going to. They probably saw all the explicit stuff happening against that wall, and they won't miss the chance to tease me about it for the rest of my life if they get the chance.

I tossed and turned in bed all night, and I heard the birds as the sun started to rise. I couldn't sleep at all. I thought about going to my neighbor's place and slapping him again, but I held myself back. I was feeling better than last night, but still embarrassed.

After a lot of thinking, I felt much calmer. Sure, a lot of dumb ideas crossed my mind, like blaming it on the alcohol, but I knew that wouldn't work. I concluded that I should treat this whole mess for what it was: a mistake. The moment I realized it was him, I didn't stay—I ran away.

About what I did later in the shower? No one needed to know about that.

I grabbed my phone and saw a small commotion in my group chat. Everyone assumed I slept with the guy they saw me with. I assured them I had slept alone and miserable as usual, hoping none of them had filmed what happened there.

I looked at Jeongin’s Instagram profile and checked his recent updates. If I had followed him, I probably would have seen the new photo of his freshly dyed black hair that he posted just hours before we were at the bar. Great, my plan to play dumb was falling apart.

And because I'm pretty clueless, I forgot he could see that I had viewed his stories. So I had to press the follow button before I clicked to send him a message.

Me: You’re a jerk. You could have told me it was you. Since I’m nice, I'll let it pass this time.

He read my message immediately.

Jeongin: If you want, you can enjoy it even more. [single-view picture]

I had to think hard before opening the photo because I had a feeling what it might be. When I finally did, it was even more than I expected. Not just my panties, but they were wrapped around his hand. I couldn't see much, but it was clear he was lying on his bed, wearing only underwear, and his dick was really hard, apparently rubbing against my panties.

I hated how the picture made me clench. Damn it. I was horny again, and it was because of him.

Jeongin: Your smell is still on my fingers...

I just stared at the message, speechless. I was getting really wet again, but at the same time, I was in complete denial.

Me: You’re shameless. Jeongin: And you’re still afraid. Me: Afraid of you? Of course not. Jeongin: You know you liked what we did. If you want more, just ask. Me: Like you could handle me, brat. Jeongin: Wanna bet?

I felt butterflies in my stomach, and that didn’t happen for a long time. I wanted to grab my pillow and scream when I caught myself really considering and thinking about how it would be. Oh, I hated myself.

Me: No need to bet. I know you can’t handle it. Jeongin: I feel the same about you. [single-view picture] Think you can handle it?

I clenched my jaw, because I was pretty sure that the picture would be more explicit this time. It took a while to open, and I was even thinking about erasing the conversation and pretending that nothing happened, but my curiosity…

I opened.

It was exactly what I had imagined. Jeongin was in the same position, but now he had removed his underwear, and my panties were wrapped around his cock. His long fingers were holding it at the base, providing me with so much detail that my mouth began to water. The veins, the color, the texture... Oh... god. It made me imagine what it would be like to touch him or even gag on him.

Me: So this is what you do with my panties? Jeongin: Yeah... this one is my favorite now. It's soaked. Me: That’s depressing... Jeongin: You’re gonna keep acting like you don’t want it? Me: Actually, I’d like to know why you want it so much. Don’t you get tired? I mean, since we were kids? Jeongin: I had let it go, but then I saw you again.

I still couldn’t understand, but I was pressing my thighs together because I was really horny, he was a thing. And the pictures… oh. He was being really honest, and very clear about what he wanted.

Me: Stop being funny, we're not going to do it, brat. Jeongin: I think we’ll see about that. You must have gotten home dripping through your thighs. Did you take care of it? While thinking about me?

I swallowed hard, feeling very tempted to provoke this idiot, but at the same time, I didn’t want to give him any more rope because I was the one hanging myself with it. I was hiding things, he wasn't.

Me: Why would I be thinking about you?

Jeongin: I'm pretty sure you did. You were so hot and desperate... Did you touch that pussy thinking about me? Please, tell me. I wanna know. Me: Yes.

After I sent the message, my conscience screamed that I was out of my mind. But when you're horny, you can't think straight, and I was no exception. Jeongin was persuasive, especially because I have a weakness for sexting, not to mention everything else that had happened. It was really good and hot, even if I didn't want to admit it. I loved every touch, every kiss.

Jeongin: Fuck, I’m gonna come in those panties of yours. Me: Again… depressing. Jeongin: Come here. Me: No!

I started trembling in bed. No way I was going to do that. Going to his parents' house to hook up with him?! That would be the last shred of dignity I had left.

Jeongin: Then let's go out. I can show you what you're missing. Me: Probably just wasting my time. Jeongin: You can say that now, but you won't say it later. Me: Don't you think you're being a bit too cocky? Jeongin: After seeing you all spread out for me in public, I think I've earned some confidence.

Well, he had a point. I just stared at my phone again, now hearing the sounds from downstairs that told me my mom was awake. He sent me a voice message, and his voice was really deep and soft, bringing flashbacks of that moment against the wall. Dangerous.

In the voice message, he was telling me that he could pick me up at 7 PM. I was thinking about declining the invitation, but my whole body was screaming for me to say yes. My pride, on the other hand, was telling me I could just find another guy to hook up with and be done with it.

I told him I needed time to think about it and would get back to him later. I rolled over in bed, wanting to get some sleep, but there were so many things I had to do, so I had to get up.

I was having breakfast and scrolling through my phone, looking at the guys I used to go out with, just to see if any of them could spark my interest, but… nope. All I could remember was how they never really satisfied me; there was always something missing. I didn’t think it would be any different with Jeongin, because even though he had that cocky attitude, he was still younger than me. I had an idea of what might be in store, but I doubted he’d be anything special in bed.

I had to take my mom to several places, and that took up my whole day. But the conversation with my neighbor kept playing in my mind, and I knew I had to tell my friends, even though they’d roast me for it.

And sure enough, my three closest friends betrayed me, telling me I should definitely fuck Jeongin and enjoy it, because he was really cute and hot. I didn't tell them about the pictures and the conversation—I didn't need to.

I must confess that I almost gave in, but I still chose to let it go. I got back home in the middle of the afternoon and tried to rest a little; I was really exhausted from the sleepless night. I slept for less than an hour and then gave up trying. I just got up and tried to reduce the damage with skincare and other self-care routines.

While I was listening to some music and taking care of myself, I decided to check my messages and started laughing really hard at all the things my friends were saying in the group chat, mocking me for almost "getting ready to take care of a man like he was a project." Me, of all people, who has never gone out with a younger guy in my life.

It was already dark, and I realized I hadn't answered my neighbor. I thought he would just assume we could leave things as they were, and everything would be fine. But then I heard the doorbell ring, and my body just froze.

I couldn't go downstairs like that—I was wearing really short pajamas and wasn’t even close to being ready to go out. I started to worry about what would happen if Jeongin was down there, talking to my mom in my living room, so I had no choice but to go down. I ran downstairs and saw him entering my house. It was the first time I could really see his new look, the black hair. And he looked so damn handsome, the bastard, wearing a denim jacket, black pants, and a white shirt.

“Did you forget about our date?” Jeongin had the guts to say that in front of my mom. “I’ll wait for you to get ready.”

“I forgot to send you the message, but I’m not going…”

“Oh, you’re definitely going!” My mom suddenly decided to chime in, which startled me even more. "He's a sweetheart, you need to get out a bit instead of always hanging out with that crazy group you call friends."

"Yes, I'm a sweetheart. If you like, I can chat with your mom while you get ready. I could tell her about how we're getting to know each other much better these days."

I widened my eyes at him and I was speechless. Was he blackmailing me or just teasing? I really hoped it was the latter because, even though he was taller and stronger than me, I'd beat him up until I was exhausted. Ugh, he's so shameless.

"There's no need. I'll be ready in ten minutes."

I stormed up to my room, furious, and opened my closet, thinking about what to wear. With no time to put together an outfit, I grabbed a black dress that came down to my knees with a modest neckline. I picked some accessories for my neck and arms, and choosing shoes was easy—a comfortable pair of high heels with a chunky heel, since I had no idea where this idiot would take me, and I needed to end this date as soon as possible.

I did my makeup faster than I thought it was possible, and went downstairs, taking just enough care not to trip and hurt myself. The look on my face made it clear how annoyed I was with the whole situation.

"You look beautiful, honey! Have fun!" My mom said, smiling happily.

As soon as we stepped out of the house, I punched Jeongin in the arm.

"How do you just show up out of nowhere?! Have you lost your mind?!"

"I told you I'd come."

"And I hope you didn’t tell my mom anything, or I'll kill you."

"Tell her what? That you let a stranger take your panties home? Nah, I didn't say a word, don’t worry. And you know I was just joking, right?"

"You..."

"Just get in the car." He spoke more firmly now, without the playful undertone that was usually in his voice. "I'm taking you to dinner, and you're going to behave. Between the two of us, you're the one acting like a kid, did you notice?"

He opened the car door, and I got in, silently. I thought about what he said and felt embarrassed for how I had been acting; it was a reality check, hitting me out of nowhere. I took a deep breath and accepted that we were having dinner, it would be fine.

But I was really surprised when he just took me to the best Italian restaurant in town... I was speechless. Not just that, he chose a great wine and paid the whole bill at the end of the night, something I wasn't expecting, since I was still having trouble seeing him as an adult.

"Did you ask your parents for money to go out?" I tried to hold back, but I couldn't. I had to make a joke, it was Jeongin. I was on a date with this brat!

"You know I've been working since I started college, right?" He smiled at me, puffed his chest out a bit, and leaned on the table, edging closer.

"And what did you study?"

"I did IT, I'm a programmer. I'm moving out of my parents' house next month." I hated how adorable he looked, smiling and all proud of himself.

"You're already ahead of me. Because of my student loan, I had to stay there for a few years. But I think I can move out within the next three months."

"This might be the first time you're talking to me normally."

"Jeongin, I still see you as a 13-year-old stealing panties from my clothesline. Don't push it."

"That was a long time ago, I'm 21 now. And you're 25. The age gap isn't that big, I don't know what your problem is."

"I know, I just can’t stand younger guys. I've never hooked up with any. I mean, until yesterday… without knowing it was you."

"If you hook up with strangers, how do you know none of them were younger?"

"I don't hook up with strangers, it was something I decided to do yesterday, and look how that turned out..." I felt my cheeks heat up, not understanding why.

"It turned out that you had a very nice dinner. Should I keep going with our date?"

"What else did you plan?"

"I made a reservation for a large suite at the hotel." He wiped his lips with a cloth napkin and carefully folded it before placing it back on the table. "What do you think?"

"I don't know what to say."

"Just say yes. Are you scared?" I hated when he said that. The smirk on his face annoyed me even more.

"No, I just don't know if this will be worth it. I still don't understand you… why do you want this so much?"

"Is it that weird to want to sleep with my hot neighbor? I've wanted to since I was a teenager, I thought that was pretty clear already."

The ease with which he said this was truly impressive. I blinked a few times, thinking about what I could say. I don't think anyone has ever been this persistent with me before. I couldn't decide whether to feel flattered or scared.

"I guess we can try, since we're already here. Just don't make me regret it."

His smile changed, it was victorious and smug, the audacity of this guy…

I felt a bit nervous, thinking he would make me feel embarrassed, but so far, that hadn't happened. I’d given in, and I really needed to know what it would be like.

We managed to have a decent conversation for several minutes once I let go of the fact that he was a brat. We talked about college, money, parties, and our experiences had been quite similar, except he spoke one more language than I did because of an exchange program.

We finished dinner, and once again, I got into the car with him opening the door for me—something that happened occasionally on my dates, but wasn't all that common.

He asked me to pick the playlist, and I did. On the way to the hotel, Jeongin placed one hand on my thigh, and I shrank into my seat; my whole body reacted to the simple touch, and I watched the way his fingers moved, sometimes gripping a bit more, sometimes gently caressing. I still didn't know what to expect from him, but I had realized he was direct. I liked that.

The lower part of my dress was loose, and every time his hands got a little bolder, I shivered. A few times, he touched the inside of my thighs, getting close to where I could feel the heat, but he never touched me directly, he was just teasing me.

We arrived at the hotel, and once again, I was surprised that he'd booked one of the best suites, considering it was our first date and he didn't even know if we'd actually use it.

I went up the stairs to the room ahead of him, feeling a wave of nervousness. I still couldn't believe this was really happening.

Jeongin took off his jacket and hung it up as soon as we entered the room, and I could get a better look at his defined arms and the way his T-shirt fit over his strong shoulders.

"Are you nervous?"

"A little..."

I was glancing around the room; there were lots of mirrors. A huge one on the ceiling, the bed surrounded by them. An erotic chair, a counter with sex shop items, and a bathtub. The room offered so many possibilities that I didn't even know where to look, but I was avoiding looking at him. I turned my back, pretending to be interested in every detail of the room, but I was just… lost?

"I can try to help you relax."

It was quite hard for me to feel intimidated by a guy four years younger than me, considering that just hours ago, I was convinced he wouldn't know what to do with me. He had already proven me wrong a few times, and I suspected this would continue. Well, I hope this is worth it.

Jeongin moved closer and I felt his body pressed against mine, just like it had at the bar. His hands gripped my waist, and his chest was against my back. He breathed against my neck, then kissed it lightly, just brushing his lips against the sensitive skin, sending shivers down my spine.

Not knowing what to do with my hands, I grabbed his thighs and squeezed, feeling how firm and thick they were, the ideas starting to bubble in my mind.

Jeongin used his hands on my body, first groping my waist, then moving up to my breasts. My dress didn't require a bra, so beneath the fabric, my nipples were already hard and sensitive to his touch. I had to hold back, biting my lips to avoid moaning.

We were in front of one of the mirrors, so I watched everything he did to me, the way his hands cupped my breasts, playing with my nipples even through my clothes. He slid his fingers under the straps and let them fall, pulling the dress down and exposing me, our eyes locking in the mirror's reflection.

The pressure from his erection against my back was really good, so I missed it when he moved away, but he soon stepped in front of me and pulled me close again, this time holding my face with both hands and kissing me on the lips.

I was still a bit tense, but it was easy to relax with the way he started grabbing my ass, pressing himself against me as our kiss deepened. I slid my hands under his shirt, eager to feel his skin, and let my fingers roam all over his body, across his back and abdomen. The warm heat from his skin when I lifted his shirt enough for us to make contact made me moan into his mouth.

Jeongin took off his shirt and proceeded to pull down another part of my dress, leaving me in just my underwear. I mean, I knew from his photos how hot he was, but seeing him in person… wow. I stared too long, and he laughed, clearly aware of the effect he had on me. Yeah, it was embarrassing.

This time, I pulled him closer, and we kissed again. I slid my hands to his belt and unbuttoned it, taking the opportunity to squeeze his cock through his pants, rubbing it a bit, which made him bite my lip a little harder.

Kissing him like that, with our skin touching, felt so much better and so much hotter. I finally let myself go, and we deepened the kiss until he pushed me onto the bed. I sat back, leaning on my elbows for support, watching him take off his pants, socks, and shoes. When I saw his boxers and everything else that was exposed, I clenched hard, sure that my panties were sticking because of how wet I was.

"Slide up a little." I shivered at the sound of his voice, the way he looked at me, devouring me with his eyes. I scooted up toward the headboard, where one of the illuminated mirrors was. The light was dim and golden, casting a warm and inviting glow in the room, which helped to ease the nervousness of seeing Jeongin crawling across the bed, heading my way.

I couldn't take my eyes off him; my whole body was tense, begging for the touch I knew was coming, but he loved to tease me. He knelt in front of me and placed his hands on my knees, gently parting them and causing me to spread my legs. He leaned in slightly, never breaking eye contact, and pulled my panties down on both sides, just like he'd done when we hooked up at that bar. But this time, he sniffed them in front of me, and I wanted to understand why that had such a powerful effect on me.

After he undressed me completely, he lay on top of me, careful not to put his full weight on me, and supported himself with his arms. I watched as he leaned in to kiss me again, his face close to mine.

"You have no idea how long I've been imagining this," he whispered, pausing the kiss and moving to my neck, licking it and making me shiver. I spread my legs even wider to give him more space.

"Tell me..."

My hands were on his back, and I didn't realize how hard I was digging my nails into his skin until he smiled at me and then bit my shoulder.

"You always knew, didn't you? You always knew the way I looked at you..." he said, kissing his way down to my breasts, his lips leaving a wet trail on my skin. He sucked one of my nipples, swirling his tongue around it, then gave the same attention to the other. "How I fantasized about you, and your panties..."

"I did…”

Many memories flooded my mind. We even went to the pool with our parents when we were younger, and I knew he'd always been watching me. However, because he was younger, I pushed him away. He really was a kid back then, and now look where we are.

I looked up to follow the scene through the mirror as he kept kissing my body. His hands were all over me, and I was getting really anxious until he finally reached between my legs. He started by kissing my inner thighs, then spread them apart, pushing them to the side as he caressed me. I felt a bit embarrassed, because there was enough light for him to see everything, but at the same time, I was really turned on, knowing I could watch it all.

"I wanna see what you can do..." I tried to provoke him, but I was clearly losing my composure while he seemed completely in control.

"I wanna try something with you..." He licked his lips before smiling at me, watching me from down there. He lay down on the bed and slid his arms under my legs, holding them to keep them open for him. I grabbed a few pillows to prop up my back, wanting to see him from every possible angle, especially with the mirrors surrounding us. My body sank into the bed as soon as I felt his nose touch me, and his lips were so soft on my clit that it made me clench in response.

Using his tongue, he licked my folds, tracing them and sliding along my labia, exploring everything but deliberately avoiding the places where I wanted his touch the most. His teasing had me clenching hard, but I refused to beg him just eat me out already. I was eager to see what he could do, and the suspense was driving me crazy.

He released one of my legs and spread me open with his fingers, sliding them along my folds, teasing my entrance, and using my juices to make me even wetter as he rubbed along my pussy. When he finally touched my clit, I almost screamed, oh god, it was too much relief and pleasure all at once.

Jeongin buried his face between my legs, rubbing his lips over every inch and kissing me as if it were my mouth, leaving no area untouched. I gripped the bed sheets, but soon I started threading my fingers through his hair, pulling him against me and instinctively rubbing myself against his tongue.

My body was writhing with so much pleasure that I could feel I was soaking the bed, having already come close to my orgasm a few times. I even thought he didn’t know what he was doing, but then I realized he was doing it on purpose. Every time I pulled him closer or pressed against him, he changed the rhythm, controlling my orgasm and always keeping me on the edge of madness. I couldn’t take it anymore, it was driving me insane.

"Aren't you going to let me cum?" My voice was barely audible amid my heavy breathing, and it came out a bit whinier than I intended.

"Hm..." he moaned, his face still buried between my legs. When he finally looked up, I saw his face was wet from his nose down. "What's the rush? I told you I wanted to try something with you." His fingers teased me again, pressing harder on my clit, then moving down to my entrance.

"And what are you gonna try with me?"

"Have you ever squirted?" I was eager for him to push his fingers inside me already, but I got really frustrated when he stopped again.

"No..." I tried to hide the disappointment in my voice. I was incredibly turned on, and I would cum so quickly if he just kept touching me without stopping.

"Wanna try it?"

"How?"

"I'm gonna fingerfuck you just like you're almost begging me to do..." He placed his fingers at my entrance again, teasing me by pushing just the tip in, and even that was enough to make me melt. "But it's gonna feel a little different... you'll feel the pressure, and it'll be like you need to pee, but you have to let it out. Can you do that for me, baby?"

"And how do you know all of this?"

"Why do you think I like older women?" he asked, his eyes locked on mine. Without breaking his gaze, he finally pushed his fingers deep inside me and knelt on the bed, watching every reaction I made. He didn’t move his fingers in and out like I was used to. Instead, he curled them inside me and began moving them in a kind of up-and-down motion, hitting a particular spot.

My entire body shuddered. I was getting soaked, and the lewd sound of my juices filled the room as he fingered me intensely. I started to feel something different, my body growing weaker, but he kept going.

"Yeah, just like that. I want you to make a mess on me, come on. Give it to me…"

The pressure was almost too much to handle. He began touching my clit with his free hand, and for a moment, I thought I might pass out from the overwhelming pleasure. His fingers kept hitting the same spot inside me, and I felt my release really close. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

"Oh, god... I'm gonna cum. Jeongin, oh-"

I closed my eyes, and it felt like my release was both incredibly far away and impossibly close at the same time. Then I couldn't hold it back any longer. The wave of pleasure hit me hard, all at once, and I felt my walls clenching around his fingers so tightly that I almost pushed them out. I came intensely, squirting and soaking his thighs and the bed. My legs shook so much that I thought I might collapse. My clit was still extremely sensitive, but he didn't stop touching me until I came again. I was nearly in tears, begging him to stop, but the pleasure was so overwhelming that I couldn't get the words out, I was still really high to be able to talk.

I closed my legs when I could, because he wasn’t letting me. I had a lot of trouble breathing normally again, and I could barely move. I sat on the bed and looked at the wet spot, the mess he had asked me to make.

"Wow…" I said, genuinely amazed. I could hardly believe that the best orgasm of my life had been with him.

"I knew you could do it..." He leaned in to kiss me, my taste still on his lips. We kissed for a while, and then I noticed he was touching himself, stroking his clothed cock and leaving a wet spot on his underwear from the precum. I touched him to feel the dampness, and my mouth watered as I recalled the pictures he had sent me. I wanted so badly to taste him…

"You did very well..." I whispered, leaning in toward his neck. We were both kneeling on the bed. "Now it's my turn."

"You don't have to... if you don't want to."

"Oh, but I do want to. I like it. And I really want to see if you can handle it..."

"I almost came from eating you out, I gotta say..." He lay where I was before, with the pillows. “But if I let it slip, I can get back quickly.”

“How can you be that cocky?” I pushed the waistband down, freeing his erection, which made me completely forget what I was about to say. I slid his underwear down his legs and returned to my position, on all fours between his thighs.

“It’s a really good thing about going out with younger guys, you know…” He used one of his hands to stroke his cock again, and I felt so turned on watching him that it was as if I hadn't just come twice minutes ago.

Since he was grabbing his cock, I moved in and started by staring at his face before moving downward, smiling at him and getting closer with my mouth. He was wet, leaking precum, so the first thing I did was lick it all up, tasting him and enjoying his reactions. He had such a pretty face! I removed his hand and used mine, stroking him slowly and teasing him just as he did with me, but I wasn't as patient.

I used my lips on his cock, then my tongue, licking from bottom to top while keeping as much eye contact as I could in that position. I was really losing my mind because of the way he was looking at me, so thirsty and desperate. I decided to take him all the way into my mouth—I just took a deep breath first and then sucked him until he hit my throat, causing me to gag. I did it like that for a few seconds, with my nose touching his pelvis, drooling all over his cock, and squeezing his firm thighs.

When I had to stop sucking him to catch my breath, I used my hands again, stroking him and rubbing his cock against my lips and chin.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that..."

"You can come down my throat when I gag on you again..."

He was panting, and his expressions were so good and satisfying to watch... The way he was trying to relieve his own tension by biting his lips was driving me wild, making me want to suck him off even more. When he grunted after what I told him to do, I felt the sound right between my legs, how could he be that hot?

I played a little longer, sucked him slowly, just tasting him, his texture with my tongue and hearing his pretty sounds. I couldn't wait to have him all inside me, so far everything was really beyond my expectations.

Jeongin was holding my hair, but he never pushed my head—such a gentleman. It was great teasing him, but I really wanted to feel his hot cum in my throat, so I sucked faster, letting him slide down my throat again and again. My eyes were tearing up, but I didn't stop until I felt his thighs tensing up under my touch, a clear sign he was getting close. I breathed through my nose and kept gagging on him. Then I heard his moans and felt his body tense up and start to shake. It didn't take long before I finally felt his cum in my mouth. I waited a few seconds before stopping, then took a moment to catch my breath, savoring his taste on my lips.

"It'll take a while until you're ready again, huh? I think I can have some fun..."

I knelt down and positioned myself so that his thigh was between mine.

"If you do what I think you're about to do, I'll be ready really fast..."

I leaned forward slightly until my clit touched the warm skin of his thigh. I'd been thinking about doing this since I squeezed him earlier. I moved my hips just a little, leaving him all wet and sticky with my juices—I couldn't remember ever being this wet before.

"Do what?"

"This, riding my thigh. Fuck, you're going to be the death of me..."

"I told you that you couldn't handle me..."

"Oh, but I will, even if I have to do it all night. Please, just keep going."

I spread my legs and rolled my hips, this time really rubbing myself on his thigh. I used my hands to cup my breasts, pinching my sensitive nipples, and I was having such a good time that I even forgot he was watching me. I started to sweat and get a little tired as I increased my movements—I was really close to an orgasm, but he made me stop. Since my eyes were closed, just using his body for my own pleasure, I hadn't noticed how hard his cock had gotten as he was stroking it.

"I could let you keep doing this, but I really wanna feel you cumming on my cock..."

I got off him and smiled because of what he said, I was still very sensitive and couldn't believe that the puddle on the bed had really happened. Jeongin reached over to the nightstand where there was a basket of different condoms and chose a thin one, showing me the package. I shivered—I hadn't realized just how thirsty for him I was.

He knelt on the bed and pushed me to lie down, which I did easily as I spread out the pillows. I got a bit confused when Jeongin pulled one of the pillows and asked me to raise my hips, placing it underneath my body.

"Trust me, it'll be even better like this…."

I did trust him, and it made sense. Having my hips raised would certainly make it easier to hit some sensitive spots inside me, but I refused to admit that he was teaching me something.

I was still a bit shocked by the situation, almost in disbelief, until I watched him put the condom on. I found myself staring at him, at every part of his body, thinking about how hot he looked. My legs were already spread open—I was sooo ready for him, wanting him so much that I could feel my body clenching with anticipation, so needy...

I touched my clit and shivered a little from the sensitivity, but I was still dripping wet for him. I used my fingers to spread my labia and open up for him, and through the mirror, I could see how much of a slut I looked and how much he enjoyed it. Since we entered the room, it was the first time I saw him lose control, and I loved it.

Jeongin just fucked me. He slid his dick inside without hesitation and bent my legs until my knees were almost touching my breasts, letting me feel just how deep he was inside me and I almost let a scream of pleasure leave my mouth, but I held.

At first, it was a bit painful to be fucked like that, but everything got better when he fucked me even harder. The pillow under me made a big difference, allowing him to hit my sweet spot, over and over. I touched my clit again, sliding my fingers a bit lower to feel his cock thrusting into me so hard that it made my whole body move on the bed.

I looked up to catch the scene in the mirror, loving the sight of him fucking me, my breasts bouncing in rhythm with the way his body slammed into mine, and my legs spread so wide that he could go even deeper, fuck… it was so hot.

I was rubbing my clit slowly, making myself really stimulated and trying not to cum, but he was fucking me so good that I was considering just let my release come.

My moans were barely audible, my voice caught each time he thrust into me, maintaining a very fast rhythm for several minutes straight, showing me once again that I had underestimated him. Jeongin slowed down his thrusts, leaned over me, and I finally felt the weight of his body, giving me a chance to grab his shoulders and back, to touch him and feel him even more.

He kissed and bit my neck, and I was sure he’d leave plenty of marks because of the way he smiled against my skin after making me squirm with his caresses. He moved up to my chin, then to my mouth, biting my lower lip and watching me closely. I could tell he was studying my reactions and expressions as he thrust deep, his hips pushing me further up the bed, almost making me go insane.

The pace slowed down after that—he was just enjoying the tightness of my walls and whispering dirty things in my ear about how tight I was, how my pussy was clenching around his cock. Jeongin used one arm to lift his body, while his other hand squeezed the sides of my neck, but not too hard… at least not yet.

"If you don't want this, I'll stop." His thrusts quickened, and I was loving every sensation—the way he moved, the way he was touching me, everything about him. My hips were still elevated, so he was always hitting a spot inside me that made my eyes roll back, and the grip on my neck got a bit tighter as I started masturbating with more intensity—I wasn't going to hold back anymore.

"I.N..."

I only noticed I'd called him that when he slowed down again, staring at me and smiling, even more cocky than before. He'd really managed to drive me out of my mind, and I kept touching myself while looking at him, my eyebrows knitting together, and my mouth opening involuntarily as I got closer to the edge.

"You're creaming me so good... cum for me, come on baby."

His fingers pressed deeper into my neck, and the lack of oxygen gave me a new, intense sense of pleasure as I came hard on him, screaming as I climaxed, unable to stop touching myself until it became unbearably sensitive. I tried to open my eyes to see myself in the mirror, completely wrecked, with tears welling up and my body trembling uncontrollably. Our eyes met when he also looked up.

"You look even prettier when you're all fucked up like this."

I didn't have the strength to laugh, but I tried anyway. I was too sensitive, and he pulled out slowly—I almost whimpered because the orgasm had left me so damn weak. As crazy as it sounds, I wanted more. How the hell could he do that? I wouldn't believe it had really happened, that it was so good, and that I was stupid for trying to avoid it, until at least two days later when I’d still be feeling the soreness from being fucked so well.

"Can you keep going?"

"Of course I can! I’m just a little… tired."

"Hm..." He brought two fingers to his mouth and licked them, and I spread my legs because I knew where those fingers were heading. "You're so sensitive, I don't want to hurt you too much."

I really was sensitive, but that didn't mean I didn't want to be hurt a little. In fact, I wanted it even more. My neck was covered in marks—I could even see the imprint of his fingers, and I knew there was no way to hide those. I'd ruin my reputation at home if anyone saw them, but it was a small price to pay considering all the fun I had so far.

His fingers touched me, first very lightly on my clit, which was already so sensitive that I flinched at the slightest touch, then they slid inside, teasing just enough to get me moving again.

I pushed his body so he'd kneel on the bed again and took another good look at him, really satisfied with what I saw. He was hot from head to toe, knew how to fuck, and had plenty of other qualities that I won’t go into—I'd be insane to keep denying it. I kneeled in front of him and saw the condom, all smeared and cloudy with my fluids, which gave me even more fuel for what I had in mind. I grabbed his cock and stroked it a bit, just to tease him, before turning around and letting my upper body fall forward, getting on all fours and arching my back as much as I could.

The mirror in front of the bed was crucial for seeing his reaction, and he looked pretty amazed looking at my body while I used one hand to spread my buttcheeks and made eye contact with him this time.

"Put it in…"

"Wow..." He grabbed my ass with both hands, squeezing both sides, and I moaned because he did it really hard. When he stopped squeezing, I first heard the slap and then felt the pleasant sting growing as the pain spread. "You're making one of my dreams come true, do you know that?"

“So enjoy it… and fuck me really hard.”

He bit his lip and shook his head, noticing the marks already on my buttcheeks. Before he began, he made sure both sides matched, giving me another slap — this one even harder than the first.

Jeongin moved closer, rubbed his cock against my clit, and slid inside all at once. Despite the slight discomfort, I pushed my butt against him even more and lay down on the bed, resting my head on the pillow and stretching my arms forward, pretending to be relaxed while he was destroying me, fucking me so good and so hard.

The sound of his thrusts was loud enough to drown out our moans, I knew I’d be sore and bruised for a few days, and I really wanted that. I wanted to look in the mirror later and remember everything we did—I think it's never felt so good to be wrong like this.

I tried to touch my clit, but I knew I wouldn't be able to cum again. I was too sensitive, even sore, so it was out of the table for me. For a moment, I thought about how much I wished he wasn't wearing a condom, how much I wanted to feel him cum inside me. Just the thought made me clench even tighter, and it triggered a great reaction from him: he grabbed me by the hair, pulling me up. He pulled me in real close, his body almost pressed against mine as he kept fucking me, and my scalp hurting on his hand. I smiled at the mirror while looking at him.

Jeongin let go of my hair and grabbed both my arms, pushing me forward again. I couldn't take my eyes off the mirror—he was holding me and using my body to drive his thrusts. I could see how my ass bounced against his body, and I noticed my breasts also had some bright red marks. I couldn't help but smile again, especially when we made eye contact. I was really aware of how much he liked that.

His thrusts became less stable—it was clear he was about to cum by how he gripped my arms more tightly, bending me back while continuing to thrust deep into me.

I watched his expressions as he came, his body trembling, and his movements slowing as he gradually released my arms, allowing me to rest on the bed again.

I was very sore, and I felt the friction had been too much once he pulled out, and I just fell on the bed, lying on my stomach. I turned over to look at him—something I realized I really enjoyed doing. He removed the condom and tied a knot before heading to the bathroom to throw it away. When he came back, I noticed how sweaty he was; his hair was wet, and his entire body had a sheen, and I was finding that so attractive that I was thinking I was insane.

If I wasn't so wrecked, I'd want more. I guess it must've been written all over my face because he started laughing while looking at me. I wish I had the energy to hide my thoughts, but… I didn’t have too, at this point.

"I really almost couldn't keep up," he confessed, sitting down next to me on the bed. "Was it worth it for you, or are you gonna keep making jokes about my age?"

"I can't even move, and I'm going to be useless for days. What do you think?" I looked at the mirror behind the bed and saw the new bruises on my butt.

"Besides the bruises..."

"But you like it, right? You came pretty hard when I choked you earlier..." He lay down next to me and hugged me, pulling me close and kissing me on the lips.

"You're so cheeky."

"Another thing you seem to like. Do I need to tell you how you reacted when I was talking dirty to you?"

"No need. My god, I'm a mess. I need a shower!"

"We can use the bathtub, we've got the whole night here. Even breakfast in the morning and I can give you a massage if you want."

"Hmm, are you trying to win me over? I thought you just wanted to have sex."

"Who knows?"

"You know it's not happening again tonight, right?"

"I'm glad you said 'tonight.'"

We both laughed, because I was really hesitant about doing this again—but that was before the night began. After what we did, I knew I'd want a replay, and since we would be living on our own soon, it would be even better. For now, I'd still have to endure the awkwardness of showing up at home in the morning, with a fresh face and in a great mood, making it obvious what I’d been up to that night.

We headed to the bathtub and drank half a bottle of wine before showering and then heading back to bed, both of us too exhausted. We fell asleep quickly, and when I woke up, I had to grab my phone to take a picture of the view in front of me: Jeongin sleeping on his back, mouth open, with a nice tent forming under the sheet that was covering him. It was still early, and we had plenty of time before we needed to check out, so I moved closer and slipped my hand under the fabric, touching his hard cock and slowly waking him up. I was ready, very wet, and still a bit sore, but I was willing to take the risk. I climbed on top of him and slid him inside without a second thought, deliberately leaving the condom aside because I really wanted him to finish inside me.

It burned a bit, and I thought I might regret it, but he quickly started rubbing my clit with his thumb, his eyes still half-closed, saying that it was the best way to wake up. We didn’t last long—within ten minutes, we were all over each other in the shower, without any penetration because I couldn’t take any more. My pussy was really sore but he still made me cum again just with his hands, while kissing my neck and pinching my nipples. I don’t think I’ve ever been this satisfied.

We really enjoyed the room and everything else, had breakfast, and on the way home, we were awkwardly quiet. I didn't know what to say, and suddenly I felt a little embarrassed thinking about what we’ve done, which was silly. He was driving with one hand on my thigh, wearing sunglasses and smirking even more than usual.

When we got home, I got out of the car, and he walked me to the door. I felt awkward when he pulled me in and kissed me right there, where everyone could see. It wouldn’t be a secret to anyone living with us, since we’d spent the night out, but I still felt strange about it, and I didn’t want my mom to see that.

"It was totally worth the hassle."

"Yeah, you did pretty well."

"I guess I should get your number, right?"

I laughed, because even though we’d known each other for so long, I had never even thought about connecting with him on any social media—we’d never exchanged numbers, never followed each other, nothing like that. This was so unlike anything else I’d done, but so much better.

"Only if you're planning to call me." I handed him his phone, with my contact already saved.

"Not just call. If you keep waking me up like that, I'll have to do something about it."

I felt like a teenager again, because I was so nervous and butterflies in my stomach hit me hard. Embarrassed, I slowly pushed him away from me and said I needed to go inside. When I closed the door, I was smiling like an idiot and thanked that no one was watching.

I looked at my phone and there were almost a hundred messages in my group chat with my friends, the latest one being a brilliant deduction from one of them that I spent the night out with Jeongin, since I didn't respond. How the hell would I tell them I was totally into the younger guy? Well, they would find out anyway, so I went up to my room and took a deep breath before starting to type.

I had already written a huge text about how the date went, but I wouldn't give too many details, and then I received a message notification from an unsaved number, I recognized the photo instantly and started smiling again, with the additional dirty flashbacks from last night.

I just really hoped that no one would ever see me smiling at my phone the way I am now, and that this passes, because I'll die of embarrassment if he ever finds out about this.

#small age gap #jeongin #in #skz #stray #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #jeongin fanfic #jeongin is younger #jeongin knows stuff #smut #smut fanfics #spin the bottle #jeongin smut

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