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roosterforme · 5 months ago

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Mr. Right Now Part 3 | Hangman x Reader

Summary: When Jake teaches you about foreplay, he also gives you a lesson in patience. Your body feels like it wants to rush through the motions, but he has a way of coaxing pleasure from you that you didn't realize any man was capable of.

Warnings: adult language, sexual touching, oral sex, fingering, 18+

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Why is Jake on my masterlist!? Mr. Right Now masterlist

Your words were echoing in Jake's thoughts.

"I want you to make me feel good."

This was why he wanted to engage in small talk in the first place. To get to know you and let you see that he was capable of being more than a quickie to satisfy your agenda. He could be the opposite of the other guys, especially the ones at the bar. They wouldn't have the patience or take the time to make it good for you. But Jake would make sure you learned what you needed to know, and you'd have a smile on your face the whole time. As he gripped the globe of your ass with one big hand, he was getting more and more certain that he'd be smiling right along with you.

"That's more like it, Darlin'," he crooned. "I'll take care of you."

Your lips were brushing his with every little movement and every breath you took. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been with someone so eager, and it was almost comical how unwilling you were to accept that fact. He smiled as your fingers grasped at the back of his neck while you rubbed your lace covered pussy all over the front of his jeans without much finesse.

Not that it was unappealing. Not at all.

Just as your hand found its way down his body, ready to dip back inside his pants, he started to guide you away from his kitchen counter and your abandoned wine glass full of ice water. "Alright, Darlin'. Time to see how much you've learned so far. What was lesson number one?"

You seemed to be in a bit of a daze as he walked you backwards out of the kitchen and through the living room. "Um... don't talk about another guy when I'm touching your cock?" you whispered, eyes glued to his face.

"Very good. Now it's time for lesson number two: foreplay," he told you as he walked you backwards out of the kitchen and through the living room. You were wearing your tight tank top, a black thong, and your Converse sneakers. Your nipples were hard against his abdomen, making you all too appealing in your innocence. "And if you like the way that progresses, we can head right into lesson number three: oral sex."

Your eager eyes were wide as you looked up at him and asked, "You want me to give you a blowjob?"

He sure fucking did. He could already imagine the way you might hesitate before ultimately letting him guide you. His cock throbbed again as he thought about your excited but unpracticed moves. Shit. But truly, that's not what he'd been referring to.

"Not exactly," he grunted, mouth already watering at the scent of your arousal. You swallowed hard, your brow puckering softly like you couldn't understand his words. "We'll get there soon enough. But first..."

Jake liked to think he was good at foreplay. Whether he actually wanted to know about it or not, his older sisters were never quiet when they used to talk about guys, and he'd picked up a few vital bits of sage advice. One of them was the simple fact that women would go absolutely wild for a guy who was willing to spend the time required to really get them going. Even better if it was obvious he was enjoying himself, too.

So he got to work, but it didn't feel like work at all. Not when he had you pushed up against the wall in the hallway with his thick thigh wedged between yours. "Oh my god," you gasped, fingers tangled up in his hair. He let his lips meet yours before you finished speaking, and he kept them parted with his. One soft swipe of his tongue into your mouth, and you were rolling your hips against him.

You moaned softly as you broke the kiss, head tipped back against the wall. "Damn, you look cute," Jake grunted, and you made another soft sound as he examined your needy face. Then he licked a stripe along the side of your neck before kissing the same path and whispering, "You taste good, too. The other guys don't even know what they're missing."

"Jake." You were squeezing his thigh with your legs now as you clung to him, but he continued to casually sucked on your neck just above your collarbone. "Jake!"

"Feel good?" he asked, determined to make sure you were still enjoying yourself along the way before he kept going further. "Or you want me to stop?"

"Don't you dare stop," you practically shouted, ending on a soft whimper as he nudged at the strap of your flimsy little tank top with his nose. His fingers toyed with the lace thong along your hips as you gasped, "I'm... I'm really turned on."

Jake smiled against your shoulder, giving your hips a squeeze. "We're just getting started."

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

Foreplay was awesome. Foreplay was your favorite thing in the whole world. You'd never experienced it before, but now that you were in the middle of it, you never wanted it to end. Your skin was slick with sweat, but so was Jake's as he worked his hands up inside your top. Your voice cracked when you said his name which just made his rough fingers knead into you a little harder. God, he was something else.

"Jake," you whispered, already feeling like you were on the verge of an orgasm. He still had all of his clothes on, but his right leg was in between both of yours, and it felt better than it did when you touched yourself. Then his hands started slowly guiding your top up, exposing first your belly and then your breasts, leaving you no time to feel self conscious. He tossed your shirt aside as you stood there before him.

"God damn it," he groaned, and his hands slid around to your butt, hoisting you further up his leg. The sensation of your pussy rubbing his jeans again had you panting and scrambling to get your arms around his neck as your breasts mashed against his chest.

He was carrying you further down the hallway with his big hands gripping the backs of your thighs, and you were sucking in shallow breaths as you managed to ask, "Are you going to fuck me now?"

"Jesus Christ," he grunted. "You know, you're pretty fucking good at dirty talk for a virgin, Darlin'."

You were still clinging to him as you looked around his bedroom. A king sized bed, modern furniture, huge windows, en suite bathroom, and a walk-in closet. He was an adult. Jake was a thirty year old man, and you'd never wanted anything in your life as much as you wanted him. "You didn't answer me," you whispered, your lips brushing his ear before he practically tossed you onto his bed. You squeaked as you sank into the soft, white bedding, making sure you kept your sneakers from touching any of it.

He was looking down at you, eyes raking from your face to your breasts and even lower as he touched himself through his jeans. Then he yanked his shirt over his head, and you gaped at his muscular chest and abs and shoulders. "I promised I'll make sure you come. But I don't need to fuck you to make that happen." He reached for your left ankle, circling it with one hand while he untied your shoelace. "These are cute, but they need to go." He tossed your shoe toward his closet, and soon the second one joined it.

Just when you propped yourself up on your elbows, he was on top of you, kissing your lips as you muttered his name. When his mouth trailed back down along your neck, he didn't stop. You gasped when his lightly stubbled cheek found your breast, but he kept going until your nipple was in between his lips, and you spread your legs wider to accommodate his body. You gave up, letting yourself sink onto your back as his big hand palmed and teased you while he tasted you seemingly everywhere.

Your mind was swimming as you tried to figure out how he was going to make you come, but a few seconds later, you were convinced his tongue swirling around your nipples could be enough. You knew you were making needy little noises, but you felt yourself clenching around nothing, and you were still wearing your thong. Your soaking wet thong.

"Oh!" you gasped when Jake plucked at your nipple with his lips before looking up at you while he stroked your side lazily. He kept his eyes on you as he kissed at the underside of your breast, and you just gaped in response.

"If you were anybody else," he mused, "sure, I'd fuck you right now." Your body felt impossibly warm as his pretty green eyes seemed to darken. "But you have a lot to learn about." His hand trailed down your side, over your belly and to the tiny bit of lace covering you from being completely naked in his bed.

"Tell me what I need to learn," you whispered, and Jake slid back off the bed, pulling you to the very edge with him. He knelt on the floor, pushing your thighs apart and planting your feet on the bed. You almost screamed his name when he leaned in and kissed you through your underwear, and something like possessiveness flashed in his eyes.

"It's always about you, Darlin'," he drawled. "That's what you need to know. It's not about me. It's never about the guy. It's about you."

"What do you mean?" you panted as he reached for the lace at your hips and started to pull it down. You had to lift your butt up from the edge of the bed and raise your legs up in the air, but your damp thong was soon on the bed next to you.

Jake grunted, planting your feet in place again as you spread out completely naked for him. When he kissed your bare pussy, you bucked up off of his bed and grabbed at the duvet, trying to squeeze your legs together. His big shoulders were in the way, and his finger was running up and down your slit as he said, "It's always about you. I'm gonna come no matter what. Any guy would if you treated him to your body. So you make sure you get what you deserve before he indulges to the point of no return."

And then his mouth was all over your pussy, and it was better than anything you'd ever felt in your life. "Oh my god." It was like the breath was knocked from your lungs as he licked up and down and back up to your clit. It was as if your body was trying to fight you as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to watch what he was doing, and you just stared at him, mouth agape. It looked fucking hot as his glistening lips pressed against your clit before he started sucking gently, and you were already so close embarrassingly to an orgasm.

"You don't have to do this," you blurted out way too loud as Jake met your gaze. "Guys don't like doing this?" It sounded more like a question as you watched him drag his tongue in a slow circle around your clit before kissing you there. His pupils were huge, and now you were confused, because it definitely looked like he was enjoying himself as his fingers dug into your thighs.

"Men love this." His words and the way he dragged his nose through your slick pussy left you with your mouth hanging open. "But if you're not enjoying yourself, all you need to do is say so."

Your voice shook as he sucked gently on your clit once again. "I'm definitely enjoying myself."

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You were soaking wet, your arousal slick as Jake ran his tongue along your slit. You tasted sweet and tangy, and you smelled so good, he had to bury his nose in you over and over. Just a perfect pussy. Technically you'd never been fucked by a guy before, but maybe someone else already got to taste how exquisite this was? He had to know.

He released your clit and kissed his way up your belly, watching your chest heave with every breath you took as you tried to rub against him for more friction. "Anyone ever get you off with their mouth before, Darlin'?"

Your eyes were wide, and your stuttered response was music to his ears. "N-No."

"Nobody has ever tasted you like this?" he asked softly, as you touched his hair almost reverently.

"Never."

How was he supposed to do anything else at the moment besides guarantee that he was not only your first, but your best. Guarantee that you thought about him anytime any other man touched you here. He never wanted you to be disappointed, ever, but he needed to know you'd think about his mouth when someone else just couldn't seem to get the job done like he could.

If you thought guys didn't like eating pussy, then you must have heard that shit from some college jackasses who had no idea how fucking good it felt to lap up after an orgasm. They were the type to chase their own pleasure instead of finding out how much better it felt to cum after watching your partner fall apart at your touch. They didn't deserve to get to have you, and now he was rejoicing in the fact that he didn't let you go prancing around campus in your little leather skirt after all.

Your hands were wound up tight in his bedding, and your back was arched off of his bed as you keened and gasped his name. You couldn't seem to get control of your own body, but he didn't care. He was rock hard, enjoying every moment of this. He kissed the inside of your thigh to give you a break, and sure enough, you eased your ass back down onto the bed. But as soon as he ran his tongue back from your hole to your clit, your body jerked up again.

"Come here," he crooned, wrapping his hands around your waist, holding you gently in place. "God, you're eager for this. You ready for me to make you come?"

"Yes," you gasped as he held you down and licked his way through your pussy, each stroke more intentional than the last. Each press of his lips to your clit a little bit rougher. And you got louder again for him as he brought you to the edge. Your voice was hoarse as he sucked on your clit, your hips rolling gently in his grasp. "Oh my god, oh my god!" Your feet were digging into the edge of his bed, but he didn't let up until your legs were shaking. Then you reached the peak, and Jake couldn't remember ever enjoying himself this much.

He was never going to forget the pitch of your voice as you cried out and came all over his tongue. He lapped up every last bit of you as you panted on his bed, arms limp at your sides. He ran his nose along your thigh, and when he stood, he looked down at the little grin on your face as your eyes fluttered open.

"Did you have fun?" he asked, and you turned your head to the side in embarrassment as you closed your legs, but you were still smiling.

"Yes," you whispered as he eased himself onto the bed next to you, and you met his eyes. "I can't believe you did that without... you know...."

He ran his thumb along your lip as he lounged on his side in his jeans. "You gonna finish that sentence?" When you shook your head and laughed he said, "Come on, Darlin'. Enlighten me."

You squirmed a bit and sighed as you whispered, "You didn't... penetrate me... at all."

Somehow those words had him wrapping his arm around you and pulling you flush against him on your side. When he kissed you softly, you gasped and tentatively licked his lip. You pulled away, eyes wide before going in for a more aggressive kiss, and Jake groaned as you tasted his mouth. "Oh," he grunted. "You like the way you taste?"

You whimpered into his mouth as you swiped his tongue with yours, and Jake let you taste yourself on him to your heart's content. The only issue he had was the way you kept nudging his erection with your leg, and holy shit, he was starting to get blue balls. He carefully guided your leg over his hip as you licked your way along his cheek with your fingers in his hair. If you were enjoying yourself this much, then he was ready to give you more.

His voice was barely a whisper as you kissed his nose. "You wanna feel a little penetration?" When you pulled your face away from him a few inches and nodded, he said, "Lesson four. My hand."

When he reached between his body and yours and cupped your pussy, your eyes fluttered closed. He kissed your pretty face as he teased your hole until you were grabbing the back of his neck and whining, "Please, Jake!"

He gave you anything you wanted. First one finger and then two. And then his thumb on your clit when you begged for that. Your hips were moving in time with his hand, and it was evident that you were still worked up from your first orgasm. "I want you to think about me," he growled as you started to clench around his fingers. "When you touch yourself, but especially when someone else isn't quite good enough. You think of me."

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Jake was pumping two fingers inside you and easing you onto your back, and you'd be shocked if you could ever think of anything other than his soft hair and green eyes ever again. You started kissing him, pulling him closer with one hand one his neck and one on his cheek as he finger fucked you. Your body felt wrung out from your first orgasm, but he had you right there again already.

You shivered as you tasted his tongue, the feel of his sure and steady thumb on your clit making you unable to control yourself. You could feel how hard his cock was, pressed to your leg through his jeans, and you wanted to figure out how to give him a handjob or a blowjob, just like he'd done for you. If he let you try, you'd make sure you did your best, because he was about to make you come again.

"Jake," you gasped, your teeth grazing his lip as you held him close. But he pulled away enough that he could watch you with a little smirk as you looked up at him and started whining. It felt that good, the way his fingers pumped and the way his thumb circled your slick clit. You were riding his hand as you felt yourself clench around his thick fingers, and then it was all over. You saw stars. You heard a high pitched sound in your ears. You were babbling incoherently. You were coming so hard.

Jake's lips were on your breasts, your skin slick with sweat and saliva as the cool air in his bedroom hit you there, and you almost wanted to scoot away from him as you started to feel overstimulated, but he seemed to know it was time to pull his hand from between your thighs. His fingers were glistening, but you caught his wrist before he could wipe them on his jeans.

"Damn," he crooned as you guided his hand to your mouth. "You're the filthiest virgin I've ever met."

You laughed as you let his fingers slip between your lips, and you cleaned your taste off of him with your tongue. Jake's green eyes were wide, and as soon as you let his hand slip away, his tongue was swiping yours like he wanted another taste for himself. Even though he'd had his face buried in your pussy not too long ago. You kissed him and let his hand roam your chest and up to your neck, and just when you felt him grind his cock against your belly, you couldn't hold back your enormous yawn.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, trying your best to cover your mouth with your hand as a second yawn started up. "You wore me out."

"Don't apologize for that, Darlin'," Jake drawled, and he collected you in his arms and helped you stand up on shaky legs. "Let's get you cleaned up."

He held your hand and led you into his bathroom. You glanced around the tidy space at the fancy shower and the double sink vanity while he dug around in a drawer. The room was masculine and smelled good, just like he did. And you kind of liked the way he casually kissed your cheek as he handed you a green toothbrush that reminded you of his eyes. "Here's a clean washcloth, toothpaste and face wash. Let me know if you need anything else."

When he started to walk away, you said, "Wait." He turned back, green eyes on you as you asked, "You want me to stay?"

Jake shrugged and said, "Only if you want to. You've still got a lot to learn. Or I can drive you home instead."

His eyes looked a little guarded now, waiting for your response. "I'll stay," you whispered, and he nodded with a little smile.

You yawned again as he exited the room and pulled the door closed softly behind him, and when you looked in the mirror, you did a double take. It wasn't that you looked different exactly, but maybe you did. Jake hadn't even fucked you, but perhaps you looked a little older now. You laughed, knowing you were full of nonsense as you brushed your teeth. Then you washed your face and used the toilet, biting your lip at the way your body felt kind of sore after two delicious orgasms.

When you walked out of the bathroom, Jake was pulling the duvet back, wearing just a pair of boxer briefs. His cock was still hard, and you desperately wanted to show him some appreciation, but you couldn't stop yawning.

"Climb in, Darlin'." You were about to stay the night with a thirty year old man you just met a few hours ago, but you didn't feel apprehensive at all. Even though his mouth had been all over your body, and he knew what you sounded like when he made you come.

You ducked your head as you climbed under the covers, and Jake surprised you by leaning down and kissing your forehead. When he stood up again, you started to scoot over, but he turned toward the bathroom. "Are you coming back?" you asked softly.

Jake nodded and said, "Yeah, I just need a minute." His voice was strained, and as he turned off the lamp next to his bed, your gaze drifted to one of the huge windows and the stars in the late night sky.

"Can you hear the ocean from your room?" you asked with another yawn as your eyes closed.

"Sure can," he replied with a chuckle. You heard him slide the window open and felt the cool breeze on your face. Almost immediately, you dozed off to the sound of the ocean and the feel of Jake's fingers on your cheek.

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Jake had to be out of his mind for inviting you to stay over, but the last thing on his mind was booting you out like a random tag chaser. And besides, he wanted to spend more time with you. There was something about you that he really liked. You were a smartass, and you were funny. And your body was sweet and sensitive, and as a result of all of those things, he had a problem he needed to take care of.

He watched you curl up in his bed with a smile on your face as you listened to the sounds of the ocean, and then he rushed into the bathroom. With less finesse than he showed you, Jake yanked his underwear down and wrapped his hand around his cock. He was aching with need, your taste still on his tongue as he jerked off. You were in his bed. His room smelled like your arousal. "Shit," he grunted, stroking himself quickly.

When you asked if he wanted you to give him a blowjob, he should have said yes. The idea of you on your knees for him, practically oozing sweet innocence with your lips parted in invitation was too much. But he wanted to spend hours working you up, fucking you until you screamed his name. He wanted to teach you so many things and be the first one to do all of them. He'd already taken you to the brink of overstimulation and exhausted your body, and now he just wanted to do it all over again.

As soon as he pulled up the memory of your hand wrapped around his cock in the kitchen, Jake came. Hard. He was panting your name, a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he leaned against the wall. Exhausted and finally sated, he yawned before he cleaned himself up and brushed his teeth. When he walked back out into his bedroom and found you snuggled up in the middle of his massive bed, he slipped in next to you.

"Jake," you moaned softly, rolling to face him and wrapping your arm across his chest. He held you close as he listened to the sound of the ocean in the darkness, and then he was asleep too.

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I think she probably needs a few more lessons.... I'm going to let her have a few more lessons. What would you want Jake to take the time to teach you? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

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everyonewooeverywhere · 6 months ago

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pairing ✭ bf!mingi x gn!reader

content/genre ✭ smut

synopsis ✭ mingi really fucking likes spine tattoos

word count ✭ 600

warning ✭ smut, spanking, hair grabbing, pet names (baby)

notes ✭ i wrote this in like 45 minutes so if you see any mistakes….no you didn’t 😊

✭ ✭ ✭

If you knew that all it took was a tattoo on your spine to make Mingi lose all semblance of self-control, you would have done it months ago.

After not seeing each other in person for a couple weeks due to busy schedules, he already missed you more than anything. When he finally stepped into your apartment after weeks apart, his hands were glued to you. Not in an overtly sexual way, but certainly in a manner that made it obvious that he was keen on taking you to bed before the night ended.

But as soon as he caught a peak of the ink at the base of your neck, it was over. He’d thrown you into bed and stripped you naked before you could even blink.

And that’s how you got here, face buried in your pillows as he fucked you into oblivion. His right hand tangled in your hair pushing your face even further into the fabric.

“Fu-uck, baby,” he grunted, “You look so pretty like this.”

The low whine you let out made him groan, “Keep making those pretty noises.” He slapped your ass in an attempt to elicit another one from you. He was successful. “You like that?” He spanked you again.

“Mhmm…” you hummed into the pillows.

You knew he was close when you felt him lean over your back. His thrusts became even more and more uncontrolled. His breath was hot in your ear and his grunts were loud and desperate. The cold metal of his necklaces burned into your back as they hit your spine every time he snapped his hips forward.

His voice shook, “Oh fuck fuck fuck. Baby, I’m close.”

He felt you tighten around him as you moaned heavily into the pillows under you. He groaned, loud.

Your legs shook and gave out as you came, but he caught you with his arm around your waist. All it took was a couple more thrusts before he felt himself reach the edge.

You moaned again when he pulled out of you. He held your waist tighter with one arm as he pumped his dick a couple more times before you felt him come all over your back.

He finally let go of your waist and gently laid you back down on the bed. You heard him reach over to the nightstand to grab something, out of the corner of your eye your saw him holding his phone.

You giggled and wiggled your ass a bit. He slapped your thigh playfully. “Stop moving, baby. I’m tryna get a good one.” You waited patiently as he took a couple photos. Some with his hand on your ass. Some just closeups of just the tattoo.

He tossed the phone down next to you, and you felt his weight leave the bed.

You started to drift off a bit but were woken up by the feeling of a warm cloth on your back. You hummed as Mingi carefully wiped you off. Making sure you were completely clean before he dropped the rag off the side of the bed and began massaging your back. Softly kissing the ink periodically.

You sighed and sunk even deeper into the bed, “Do you like it?” You asked, referring to the tattoo he was so obviously enthralled with.

He hummed and kissed the base of your neck, “What do you think?” Tracing the outline of the ink softly with his fingers, he said, “It’s beautiful, baby.”

“Good, because I got it just for you.”

#mingi smut #mingi x reader #song mingi smut #song mingi x reader #ateez x reader #ateez smut #everyonewooeverywhere #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dj's work #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ smut #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ mingi

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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 15 days ago

Text

Over the Limit - pt.iv

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

summary: You and Jenna each reflect on your own choices and the growing tensions between you both. Torn between loyalty, responsibility, and personal longing, what does this growing conflict mean for the future of your alliance?

word count: 12.8k

————

"So, victory sex?" Hunter teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Victory sex?" You echoed, genuinely confused. "With who?"

"Who else? Your little Viper girl," he replied, rolling his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

After dropping Jenna off at home, you'd shot Hunter a quick text, asking if he wanted to come over. After the whirlwind of the race, and the intense feelings stirred up by Jenna, you needed someone to debrief with—someone who knew about the tangled situation you'd gotten yourself into. Fortunately, your mom didn't know Hunter was part of the Sinners, so he was in the clear to hang out without raising any suspicions.

"Come on, Hunter, I barely know the girl."

"Doesn't seem that way to me," he shrugs, taking a seat on your couch and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "You let her wear your jacket, didn't you?"

Did everyone see that?

You roll your eyes and flop down beside him, letting out a tired sigh. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say." Hunter smirks, but his teasing tone amplifies after a beat. "But there's no way you didn't feel Racer's High after winning."

You didn't need him to define Racer's High. You knew he was referring to that primal, raunchy, adrenaline rush of a feeling that overtook you once you won the race a few hours ago. You shudder remembering how much you yearned for Jenna in that moment.

"So, how are you feeling about it all? The race, the attention... her?"

You hesitate, considering how much to say. You trust Hunter—he's the only one in the crew you can really open up to, but you're also not ready to dive into the whole Jenna situation. Not with everything going on, especially since you're not sure how deep things go with Percy and this "Ghost Smoke" deal.

"I don't know," you finally say, running a hand through your hair. "The race was wild. Winning felt... intense. I get why people get hooked on that feeling."

Hunter raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"And... I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this. Like, there's this whole side to racing I'm not seeing."

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, watching you carefully. "What do you mean?"

You glance at him, trying to gauge how much you can say without tipping too much of your hand. "I don't know, man. I've been hearing things—whispers about this new stuff called Ghost Smoke floating around Brimstone. You heard anything about that?"

Hunter's eyes narrow, and for a second, you think maybe you've pushed too far. But then he exhales slowly. "I've heard the name. It's bad news, Y/n. Real bad. That shit's spreading fast, and people are already getting hooked. Some of the younger guys are sniffing around for it. Why are you asking?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just heard it mentioned. Thought it might be connected to some of the things I've been noticing. You don't think the Vipers are involved, do you?"

Hunter goes quiet, his face unreadable. Then he leans back, crossing his arms. "I don't know, and I'm not looking to find out. You shouldn't either. Percy's been getting into things outside of racing, and if Ghost Smoke's part of that, it's not something you or anyone else in the crew wants to be tangled up in."

You nod, though his answer doesn't satisfy you. Not because you don't believe him—but because you have this sinking feeling that the situation is bigger than either of you realize.

The conversation shifts after that, and the rest of the night passes with more casual banter. But the unease never fully leaves your mind.

"Looks like Madison's got a thing for you."

You raise an eyebrow, laughing lightly. "Mikey? That girl's never even cracked a smile at me. Pretty sure she barely tolerates me."

Hunter shrugs, smirking. "Nah, trust me. She was asking about you the other day in the garage."

Your brow furrows slightly. Was it because of what I asked about Percy? A small part of you wonders if Madison's caught onto your suspicions.

"And even during the Viper and Raven races, she was giving you these weird looks."

"What does that even mean, Hunter?" You roll your eyes, half-amused, half-worried.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying this too much. "Hell if I know, but winning that race definitely got you on some people's radar."

Maybe at one point, being on the radar of a few girls would've mattered to you, but not anymore.

————

While Hunter crashed on the couch, you spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed. If someone had told you a month ago that you'd be neck-deep in street races and shady dealings—all for the sake of a girl—you would have called them insane.

When dawn finally broke, you shuffled out of bed and headed into the kitchen, finding Hunter gone and your mom brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

"Morning, Mom," you yawn, stretching your arms out. "Did Hunter leave already?"

"You just missed him. He said he'd be back later," she replies with a gentle smile.

You hum in response, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the warmth. It was in these quiet, mundane moments that you hated the path you were on more than anything. Between the mess with Jenna, the unpredictability with Percy, and the weight of secrets and family legacies, you sometimes wished you could just be normal—not tangled up in rivalries or trying to make sense of feelings you didn't dare admit.

"You've changed," your mother's voice broke you out of your thoughts, catching you mid-sip.

"Changed?" You raise a brow, joining her at the dining table. "What do you mean?"

She sighs, studying you with a mix of curiosity and concern. "You seem... happier in some ways but also more stressed. Something's weighing on you."

You stare down at your coffee, catching your own reflection in its dark surface, letting your mother's words sink in. Of course she'd notice something different—you're her child. But she's right; you have changed. And now, in this rare quiet moment in the chaos your life has become over the past month, you're finally realizing just how much. You've changed so damn much—and the thought terrifies you, especially because you can't even pinpoint when it happened.

Or you do. And that was the scary part.

A month ago Anton told you to find what's your purpose, your drive. What makes your heart race. What's worth risking everything for.

But you'd been so careful, you tell yourself. You abandoned her the first night you met, didn't even share your name—but now, she's got far more than just a name. She's got you feeding her intel, leading her through Brimstone like her own personal guide, pulling you deeper into a world you swore you'd keep at arm's length.

When did it happen? When did you start dropping her home, buying each other jackets, eating ice cream together—and, hell, when did you start racing? Racing, something you'd vowed never to do. And now here you are, about to walk into a private meeting that likely involves drug lords fueling Brimstone's biggest epidemic—all because she needs leverage on Percy. Leverage to protect herself from some mystery he's holding over her, something she still won't tell you.

You try to rationalize. She's got leverage on you, too. She's got footage of you stealing her dad's car. But deep down, you know she'd only pulled that card to hook you in. She wouldn't actually use it. You knew that. You knew her.

Except—you didn't. You didn't really know a damn thing about this girl, yet here you are, throwing caution to the wind for her. Risking everything for her. Breaking your own rules, doing things you'd avoided for the past twenty years...all because of her. And all way too fast.

Maybe it's because you're finally sitting in front of your mom, and to her, you'll always be her little girl. And facing her now, all you can see is the woman who once opened the door to find cops there, telling her that her husband, the father of her nine-year-old kid, was dead. You remember watching her piece together her shattered heart, all while carrying the weight of resentment for the racing that took him. And now, somehow, you're part of it too. How could you put her through this?

"Y/n?"

Your mom's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you lift your gaze from your coffee to her face.

"I've been calling your name for a while now. What the hell is going on with you kid?" she asks concerned.

Everything you wished you could tell her was everything you couldn't. Everything she warned you to stay away from.

"Look I know I haven't been the best mom," she sighs. "But I did it because I care. I'm strict because I know how quickly things can go south in this shithole of a town."

"You're not a bad mom, stop—"

"I can tell there's something on your mind, I don't know if it's good or bad. But I want to know Y/n/n."

Just as you were about to respond your phone pinged and of course it was Jenna.

Hey Oil spillage, just got news that the meeting moved. It's on Friday at 10p.m. now.

Wonderful news. After the realizations you just had, you were not ready to face Jenna again. In fact you would rather anything but see her. And now you can avoid her for six more days. Without replying to her message, you turn off your phone and turn your attention to your mom.

"I guess I've just been thinking about my future and what that looks like." You decide to open up a little, seeing no apparent harm.

Your mom nods slowly, her brow furrowing slightly as she absorbs your words. "And I also have to consider the fact that we're in Brimstone," you add, your voice dropping a notch.

She looks at you intently, searching your face for clues. "I get that this place can feel limiting, Y/n. But remember, it doesn't have to define you. You have the power to change your path."

You take a sip of your coffee, contemplating her words. "It's just...sometimes it feels like I'm caught between what I want and what I should be doing."

"And what do you want?"

"I don't know! I don't know what I want," you finish, softer now.

She squints, registering the tension in your voice. "Then, what do you think you should be doing?"

Racing. The Club. The Sinners.

But you can't say that. Not to your anti-racing mom, but clearly your face says it for you.

"Y/n," she sighs. "There's no place for you in that life."

"You don't understand, Mom! It's easy on paper to say 'stay away.' But people talk. I'm the daughter of a founding member; they expect me to be part of this."

"And how exactly are you hearing all this talk?" she asks, voice tinged with sass. "I thought I told you to stay away from Anton and that whole club."

"I am!" you lie. "But people at the warehouse still talk," you lie again. "Is working in a warehouse really what you want for me? For the rest of my life?"

"If it keeps you out of that club, then yes, a thousand times over. That club killed your father. I don't get your fascination with it!"

"Maybe I like cars! Maybe I want to feel close to him by doing something that mattered to him. You never even talk about him," you say heatedly, pushing yourself back from the table.

"Sit back down," she says, rubbing her temples.

You sit, your frustration simmering.

Your mom's eyes, usually a fortress, softened with a sigh. "You're right, I don't talk about him much. Not because he wasn't worth it, but because it's painful. But let me tell you something about your dad, something I should've told you sooner."

A shadow of confusion crossed your face.

"He was a founder, sure," she admitted, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "One of the Y/l/n brothers who started this whole thing. But that's not the part of the story that matters. Not the part that should define how you see racing."

Your heart stilled, anticipation prickling at your skin. "What do you mean, then? What's the part I'm missing?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on a memory only she could see. "Your dad wanted out."

The weight of her words hung between you, more jarring than the rumble of any engine. The idea of your father—the man who had seemingly built his entire world around speed, thrill, and the camaraderie of the club—wanting to leave felt impossible.

"What do you mean, 'out'?" you asked, the question barely a whisper.

She sighed, running a hand over her tired face. "He didn't start the club for the glory, Y/n. Not for the rush or to become some legend everyone would talk about. He did it because he felt trapped, and for a while, racing felt like freedom. But when things got bigger, more dangerous... he saw where it was heading. He knew it wasn't sustainable. He wanted out before it swallowed him whole."

You stared at her, trying to process this new version of the man you thought you knew. The stories you'd grown up on were all about victory, triumph, the unmatched skills of your father and the empire he helped build. But no one talked about the nights he lay awake, second-guessing the choices that led him there.

"Why didn't he leave, then?"

Her eyes glistened with a pain that seemed older than time, a sorrow she'd carried long. "He did, or... he was supposed to. That last race—the one that took him from us—it was meant to be his farewell. He promised me it would be the last time, that after that night, we would start over, somewhere far away from all of this."

You felt like the ground beneath you had shifted. The race that defined so much of your past, the race whispered about in awe and grief—it had been an ending, but not the kind you ever imagined.

"He was going to walk away?" you asked, your own voice thick with disbelief.

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the weight of old promises and lost dreams shining in their depths. "Yes," she whispered, a tear finally breaking free and rolling down her cheek. "He was tired of what it had become—the danger, the violence, the way it devoured everything good. He wanted out for you, for us. But fate had other plans."

You looked at her, seeing not just your mother but a woman who had lost everything for the sake of someone else's ambition. The image of your father—legendary racer, fearless leader—began to fracture, replaced by the vision of a man who was trapped, fighting for freedom that never came.

"And now," she said, drawing a shaky breath, "you have to decide if you're going to chase his ghost, or choose a different path."

Suddenly, the image of racing, of the thrill that had always called to you, shifted. It wasn't just the adrenaline, the wind whipping past and the engine's roar. It was what lay beneath—the fear, the drive to outrun something that couldn't be escaped.

"So, what does that mean for me?" you asked quietly.

Her fingers tightened around her cup, eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "It means you decide if racing is freedom or a cage. For your dad, it became both. You don't owe this club anything."

You sat back, absorbing the truth. Racing had always felt like destiny, an inheritance carved into the fabric of who you were. But now, for the first time, it seemed less like a birthright and more like a choice—a choice you'd have to make on your own terms.

"Do you ever... want to get out of here?" you ask, almost too quietly, afraid of the answer. "Out of Brimstone?"

A question you should've asked your mother years ago, but is only leaving you now.

She raises her eyebrows, surprised by the question. It lingers in the air between you for a moment before she sighs, looking out the window to the tired streets beyond. "Sometimes," she says finally. "Sometimes I think about it, yeah. The way this place drags people in, holds them down... It scares me for you, Y/n. I don't want you trapped here. I want you to have options, a life that's bigger than this town."

"Then why do you stay?" you press, voice softer now.

A flicker of something unreadable crosses her face. "It's complicated," she says, her voice tinged with a weariness you hadn't noticed before. "Your father was here. This was where we met, built our lives, and after he... after everything, I felt like leaving would be... giving up on him. Like walking away from the one thing he was part of."

"But you don't owe this place anything," you say, echoing her earlier words back to her. "If it's just a memory keeping you here, then... maybe we both deserve better."

She nods slowly, her gaze returning to you, eyes softer, more vulnerable than you've seen in a while. "Maybe we do," she admits, voice barely a whisper. She makes a gesture with her hand of tapping a cigarette into an ash tray—a habit you noticed since you were a child. Something she does out of nervousness.

For the first time, it feels like you're seeing eye-to-eye, both carrying parts of the same burden—one that isn't really yours to carry. You've both been holding on, afraid of what letting go might mean.

You never thought you had a bad relationship with your mom. You both just worked and worked, trying to make a life for each other. Survival mode felt like autopilot—there was no time for bonding or deep conversations. Showing care meant keeping each other going, making sure you both were okay. Talking like this felt foreign, almost like a new skill you were both trying to learn. You wonder what prompted it, this sudden need to speak the things you both usually left unsaid

"So Hunter told me you had a girlfriend—"

You face palm, "for fuck sakes."

————

"Dude you told my mom I have a girlfriend?"

"She asked me if there was anyone special in your life!" He puts his hands up defensively.

You groan, feeling a wave of annoyance wash over you. What the hell are you supposed to tell your mom if she asks about this again? The image of her face pops into your mind. "Hey Mom, here's my supposed girlfriend I met at a race I snuck off to behind your back. Don't worry, she's not a Sinner—she's a Viper, though."

Luckily, Hunter had walked in earlier from whatever he'd been up to that morning, sparing you from answering your mom's question on the spot. Now, all you have to do is figure out what to say when she inevitably brings it up again.

It's still morning as you both settle into your room, falling into the familiar rhythm of your routine. You sprawl on your bed while he spins around in your chair, his energy infectious. Hunter dives into the latest gossip, animatedly sharing every detail, and you find yourself drifting in and out of his words, letting the sound of his voice wash over you.

You phone then starts ringing, and his voice suddenly stops. You glance at the screen, and let out a heavy sigh. You've really got to change her contact name.

"Who is it?" Hunter asks, hopping off the chair and leaning closer to your phone.

"Is she not your fave Viper anymore?" He jokes, sitting at the foot of your bed. "Come on, pick it up!"

You hesitate, staring at the screen as the name blinks back at you. The tension in the room shifts, Hunter's playful smirk fading as he senses your reluctance.

"Seriously? You're just going to let it ring?"

You shake your head, biting your lip. "I—I can't, Hunter. What do I even say?"

He leans forward, a look of mock seriousness on his face. "How about, 'Hey, Jenna, what's up? Oh me? I'm just living my perfectly normal life—definitely not spiraling into an identity crisis because of you?"

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that threatens to break through. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, but you know I'm right," he insists, nudging your foot with his. "Just answer it! What's the worst that could happen?"

A million thoughts race through your mind, each one heavier than the last. You're scared of what her voice will bring up—the memories, the feelings, the undeniable shift in your life since you met her. "What if she wants to see me again?"

"Uh, hello?" he raises a brow, giving you a look. "Isn't that the best-case scenario? Getting cozy with your fine, rich Summer Valley girl?"

You hesitate again, and the ringing seems to grow louder. Hunter's eyes are wide, filled with mischief and encouragement. "Come on! Just answer it already!"

"Huh, looks like I can't anymore, the ringing stopped," you smile, relieved that the ringing was cut short.

Hunter's expression shifts from playful to incredulous. "What the fuck, man? Why didn't you answer?"

You shrug, but inside, a storm of emotions brews, each thought heavier than the last. Jenna represents everything you're trying to escape, and yet everything you're drawn toward. She's the pull of a world that's dangerous, one you've seen tear lives apart—your life apart. And every second you spend with her, it feels like you're slipping further down a path you might not come back from.

You can't let that happen.

"Because I can't keep doing this," you say, the words coming out softer than you'd intended. Each moment with her feels like a step away from the life you once knew, from the version of yourself that kept your family safe. You're drawn to Jenna, but she's also a stark reminder of how much you've changed, of how close you're getting to undoing everything your mom worked so hard to protect, everything your father was trying to leave.

She makes you feel alive in ways you haven't felt in years. But that feeling comes with a vulnerability you're not sure you can handle. If you keep this up, you'll lose more than just yourself—you'll risk letting down the family that depended on you to be the strong one. The thought sends a cold chill through you.

"I don't think I'm doing the right thing, Hunter."

Hunter lets out a quiet sigh, watching you closely. "You were doing alright last night. What's got you all worked up now?"

You hesitate, the weight of it clawing at you. Saying it out loud feels like crossing a line you can't come back from. "Things just... feel different," you say, voice barely audible. "I've been doing things I never thought I would, getting in deeper than I should. I don't even recognize myself anymore."

Hunter frowns, studying you. "You're not a completely different person just because you're out there racing. Isn't this what you wanted?"

"It's not just about racing." You rub your face, trying to calm the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Jenna's got this... hold over me. She's made me cross lines I thought I'd never touch. She's tied up in a world I swore I'd stay away from."

Hunter's gaze softens, like he's trying to understand. "Maybe she's just got you seeing things differently. Doesn't mean you're losing yourself."

But that's the problem—you can feel yourself losing your grip, and the need to push her away rises, desperate, like an instinct. You know that the closer you get to Jenna, the deeper you risk sinking into something that could destroy you both. "Maybe it's better if I keep my distance," you murmur, more to yourself than to him. "I can't let this go any further. She's in the Vipers, and that's not a world I can afford to be part of."

Hunter shakes his head, not fully understanding. "So you're just going to shut her out? Because of some fear? Even if she hasn't been around long, what you two have—it's something real—"

"No." You cut him off, a hint of desperation in your tone. "What I have with her isn't real. Not really. We just thought... we could help each other. But that's all it is."

Even as you say it, though, you can feel the lie settle in your chest, heavier than you expected.

Hunter doesn't know the whole story with Jenna and Percy, or how you got roped into digging up dirt on him. You bite your tongue, stopping yourself from saying too much. A part of you wishes you could tell him, though—because if he knew you were supposedly getting mixed up in things like Ghost Smoke, he'd be the first one pushing you to cut Jenna out of your life for good.

"Alright, let me ask you this," he says, leaning forward. "You've had your first race, you were technically a Sinner. But from what you're saying, it sounds like you've made up your mind. So, what—you're sticking to your car hijacking ways, no racing, right?"

You hesitate—even after everything your mom has told you today, and he catches it.

"There's still a part of you that wants it, Y/n. You're not sure, and that's okay. This isn't about you changing; it's about something else. Unless you can look me in the eye and say you're completely done with this racing stuff, I don't see why you have to push her away."

You don't know why either. Maybe this wasn't about racing entirely and how much you've changed. But it feels foolish now to drag yourself deeper into this world after learning your dad died trying to leave it. Point is, you need to step back before you lose yourself completely.

And as much as it hurts to admit, that might mean losing the girl who makes your heart race. Looks like you found what makes your heart race, but not what's worth risking everything for.

————

"So, should I throw the microwave at your head now or later?"

Jenna tears her gaze away from her phone, frowning at her sister. "What are you even talking about, Aliyah?"

Aliyah grins, enjoying the confusion on her sister's face. "You don't remember? You told me ages ago that if you ever fell for someone again—or got caught waiting on a text—I should throw a microwave at your head."

Jenna sighs, the memory of that ridiculous pact making her groan. "Yeah, well... Wait—hold on. I am not falling for anybody!"

Aliyah raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Says the girl who's been glued to her phone all day waiting on a text. Sounds exactly like someone not falling for anybody."

Jenna scoffs, rolling her eyes, but she can't hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm just... checking my messages. It's not that deep."

Aliyah chuckles. "Right. Not that deep. Just let me know when to start unplugging the microwave."

The older of the two shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "You're so dramatic."

"I just know you too well. Face it, sis—you're hooked."

Jenna scoffs, though her expression softens. "It's... complicated," she admits quietly, her fingers grazing the edge of her phone. "She's—" She stops, catching herself. She's. But she's not about to explain all that to Aliyah.

"Complicated?" Aliyah finishes, feigning shock. "You? In something complicated? Never."

"Okay, fine, enough!" Jenna laughs, trying to brush off her nerves. But her sister's words stick with her. She can't ignore the fact that she's thinking about her way more than she should be. And she knows all too well that if Percy found out, it would be a whole new problem.

Aliyah flops onto the bed, scrolling through her phone with a satisfied grin, fully aware that she's already planted the seed.

The Viper tries to focus on something else, anything else, but her mind keeps drifting back. "You're hooked."

Aliyah tilts her head, watching Jenna with a knowing look. "You don't even deny it. Whoever this person is, they've got you in knots."

Jenna rolls her eyes, trying to dismiss it, but the truth settles heavily in her chest. "It's not like that," she says, almost to herself. "It can't be."

Aliyah raises an eyebrow. "Why not? Because of Dad? Or because of that sleaze Percy?"

Jenna's jaw tightens at the mention of the men, and she looks away, fighting the urge to share too much about her mystery Brimstone girl. "Let's just say... it's not as simple as having someone in your life and calling it a day," she says finally.

Aliyah's playful demeanor fades a bit, sensing the weight in Jenna's voice. "Jenna... are you in some kind of trouble?"

For a moment, Jenna considers coming clean, but she shakes her head, forcing a smile. "When am I not in trouble?"

Aliyah's smile falters slightly, guilt seeping through her playful demeanor. She shifts in her seat, Jenna wouldn't even know this kind of trouble if it weren't for her.

Jenna catches the look in her sister's eyes and instantly regrets her words.

"Aliyah, don't," she says softly, the tension in the room shifting. "You know I don't blame you."

"I know, but I can't help feeling responsible," Aliyah whispers, looking down at her hands. The unspoken reality—that Jenna's entanglement with the Vipers was to shield Aliyah—lingered between them, heavier than any words.

"Dad shouldn't have made you—"

Jenna reaches out, squeezing her sister's hand. "We're in this together, remember? Whatever happens, I'm the one who chose to stay."

Aliyah looks up, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But it's not fair. You shouldn't have to carry this for me."

Jenna offers a small, sad smile. "Family isn't about fair. It's about being there, no matter what."

Aliyah's shoulders slump as she bites her lower lip, a familiar crease forming on her brow. The guilt that's been gnawing at her shows clearly in her eyes, and Jenna's heart clenches at the sight.

"I hate this," Aliyah whispers, her voice wavering. "Every time you walk out that door, I keep wondering if you're coming back. And it's because of me."

Jenna's tough facade cracks, and she leans forward, wrapping an arm around Aliyah's shoulders. "Hey, don't go there," she murmurs. The words are steady, meant to reassure, but the tightness in her chest betrays her. For a moment, she lets herself imagine a life free of this cycle—a life where neither of them has to look over their shoulder.

"I won't be stuck for long," Jenna finally admits, a determined edge creeping into her voice. She pulls back just enough to look Aliyah in the eyes, hoping to pass on some of that conviction. "I'm working on something, alright? This isn't forever."

Aliyah searches Jenna's face, her eyes widening with hope and hints of disbelief. "You mean it?"

Jenna nods, "I mean it. I promise."

Suddenly the sadness in Aliyah's expression is replaced with a smirk, "Does she have anything to do with it?" she asks glancing at her sister's phone.

"Don't change the subject," Jenna says, trying to sound stern but unable to keep the corner of her mouth from quirking up.

Aliyah's smirk grows, the earlier heaviness giving way to something warmer, more familiar. "I knew it. Your mystery girl isn't just another risk, is she?"

Jenna rolls her eyes but can't fully suppress a small, reluctant smile. "It's complicated, Ali. She's... well, she's a lot more than I expected."

Probably the biggest risk of all, Jenna thought

Aliyah's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "Good. You deserve more than this mess, Jen."

Jenna's heart tightens at her sister's words. "Yeah," she whispers, more to herself than to Aliyah. "Maybe I do."

Suddenly an idea stirs into the younger Ortega's mind. In a swift motion, her hand darts out and snatches Jenna's phone from the bed. Before Jenna can fully process what's happening, Aliyah is already on her feet, eyes dancing with mischief as she clutches the phone to her chest like a prize.

"Aliyah!" Jenna's voice sharpens "Seriously? Hand it over."

Aliyah tilts her head playfully, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Relax, big sister. Just checking if your mystery girl left a love note or two."

Jenna takes a step forward, trying to maintain her composure as she reaches out for the phone. "I mean it, Ali. Give. It. Back."

Aliyah shifts her weight, effortlessly dodging Jenna's reach as she chuckles. Taking advantage of the height, she holds the phone above her head, reading the chat messages. "Greaser? Pet names already?"

"Aliyah."

"Left on read for almost three hours? And here I thought you had game."

"I don't like her."

"Sure you don't," Aliyah teases, tapping the screen. "Let's see if your non-existent feelings show up when I—"

Before she can finish, the familiar ringing tone starts, and Jenna's heart drops. Aliyah's eyes widen with mock surprise. "Oops. Guess we'll see soon enough."

"Aliyah!" Jenna lunges, grabbing the phone from her sister's hand after the phone rang for a while. Without hesitation, she swiftly hits the end call button. The silence that follows crackles with tension as Jenna clutches the phone, her face flushed.

Aliyah bursts out laughing. "Wow, if that's not feelings, I don't know what is."

Jenna takes a steadying breath, unable to mask the way her pulse races. "It's not like that," she insists, more to herself than to her sister.

She couldn't help but wonder why you didn't answer your phone. You had more than enough time to answer the phone while it was ringing.

————

Two days have passed since you left Jenna's call unanswered. The rhythmic clinking of tools filled the garage as you worked tirelessly on your latest project—the stolen Aston Martin. For the past two days, the garage had been your refuge, the metallic smell of oil offering a sense of your old routine amidst the chaos. In that span, you had buried yourself in work, starting early in the morning and ending late into the night, determined to keep your mind from straying.

You stepped back to study the Aston Martin, now wrapped in a deep green that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. The change from the initial black colour was supposed to help, to make the car feel less like a painful reminder of her. But as you ran your hand over the freshly smoothed surface, sighing at the ghost of memories it evoked, you realized that nothing had changed. No matter how much you worked, every inch of that car still spoke her name.

Your phone buzzed on the workbench, a sharp intrusion that pulled your attention. A name lit up the screen—Jenna's. A message providing you the address of the meeting, nothing else. Seeing her message made your chest ache with a guilt you tried to ignore. You glanced at the glowing screen, your resolve wavering for a moment before you shoved the phone into a drawer, the metallic clang echoing in the small space.

Out of sight, out of mind.

As you smoothed out the last stubborn air pockets on the Aston Martin's fresh wrap, the sound of footsteps echoed in the garage. It was nearly 1 a.m. and no one should be around at this hour.

"Y/n?"

You turned at the familiar voice, eyes narrowing slightly before recognition softened your expression. "Mikey?"

She walked toward you, eyes curious as they swept over the car. "What are you doing here so late?" she asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

You shrugged, forcing a nonchalant tone. "Just working on a car. Needed the distraction. And you?"

Mikey tilted her head, not satisfied with the answer. "I felt like going for a drive. Thought I'd stop by first."

Her gaze shifted between you and the green Aston Martin, catching the tension in the air.

"This is the car you rolled up in with your girl right? What was on the surveillance?"

Ahh yes my girl. Now you need to come up with a believable break up story for the crew.

You clenched your jaw at her question, the mention of Jenna sending a pang through your chest. "Uh, yeah," you muttered, hoping to keep the conversation brief. Mikey's sharp intuition wasn't something to underestimate.

"Trouble in paradise?"

You sigh, "something like that, I don't really want to talk about it."

Mikey nods carefully, and deliberates her next words before speaking, "Did you want to join me on my driv—

"Okay I brought Chinese!" Hunter's voice booms through the garage.

Hunter set the bags down on a nearby workbench, the crinkling of paper and the scent of takeout breaking the heavy silence. He glanced between you and Mikey, sensing the charged atmosphere and shooting you a raised brow.

"Am I interrupting something?" Hunter asked, his usual playful tone laced with curiosity as he tossed a napkin your way.

You caught it mid-air, forcing a smirk to hide the knot in your chest. "Just working late," you replied, shrugging as if that explained everything.

Mikey's expression softened, the slight edge from moments ago replaced with a grin. "Nope, you're just in time. I was about to drag Y/n out for a drive," she said, her voice lighter now, as if trying to pull you into an easier conversation.

Hunter's brows lifted. "Oh? That's a miracle. She's been glued to that car for the last 48 hours" he teased, nudging your arm.

The mention of the past few days made your stomach tighten. You hadn't told Hunter or anyone else why you'd been so buried in work. The truth was, it kept you from thinking about Jenna. The guilt, the confusion—it all seemed simpler when muffled under the sound of engines and the smell of oil.

Mikey leaned against the Aston Martin, folding her arms. "Come on, you've been cooped up in here long enough. What's a quick drive gonna hurt?"

Before you could answer, Hunter grabbed a takeout container and tossed another to you. "Food first, you too Mikey. And then drive second," he said with a grin. "Don't think we'll let you skip out on both."

You took the container, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. Maybe stepping away from the garage—and everything it represented—would be good for you. Even if just for a moment.

You could tell a lot about a person from how they drove, and never in a million years did you think Mikey would be a careful driver. She would teeter on surpassing street limits, but was a relatively relaxed and smooth driver.

The car rolled through the night, the city gradually giving way to quieter roads framed by dark silhouettes of trees. A comfortable silence settled among the three of you, broken only by Hunter's occasional commentary and Mikey's bursts of laughter when he cracked a particularly absurd joke.

"Remember that time you tried to drive with only three wheels?" Hunter leaned forward from the back seat, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You swore it would work."

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head at the memory. "And you were the one who dared me to, you idiot."

Mikey laughed, the sound deep and genuine. "And you actually tried it? That's commitment."

"Or stupidity," Hunter added, and the three of you erupted into laughter that carried through the night, momentarily easing the tension that had wrapped itself around your chest for days.

The conversation meandered through old stories and lighthearted teasing as the car hummed smoothly down the open road. But then, in a pause between topics, Mikey glanced sideways at you, her gaze more serious. "So, do you plan on racing again anytime soon?"

The question hung in the air, a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Before you could respond, Hunter's smirk dropped. He leaned back in his seat, his voice more subdued. "Don't bother, Mads. She doesn't know."

Your eyes flicked to Mikey, watching her reaction. She didn't miss the slight hesitation in your expression, the way your hands clenched. Her brow furrowed, a mixture of concern and curiosity flashing across her face.

"Still figuring it out, huh?" she said softly. "If you haven't made up your mind yet and you're not already back on the track, it's probably a no."

You kept your gaze on the road, the rhythmic whoosh of the wind outside acting as a buffer for your thoughts. Mikey's insight stung more than you'd admit; she was right. Your lack of being back on the track had to mean something.

"Maybe," you said finally, offering no real answer. Hunter glanced between you and Mikey.

Mikey settled back in her seat, a subtle understanding flickering in her eyes as her expression softened. "Trust me," she said, her voice calm yet pointed. "Most racers, when they're trying to get something off their mind, they hit the streets and push their limits. But you? You're here, spending your nights working on a car. That says a lot about where you really want to be."

She was the first person to openly discourage you from racing, and you couldn't help but appreciate it. It felt different, almost liberating—a break from the endless pressure to prove yourself. For once, someone saw the side of you that wasn't caught up in the thrill, and it was a relief.

But there was also that suspicious part of you. Mikey was close to Anton, and she knew how much Anton wanted you in the crew. Does she fear that you'll replace her spot in the club if you join? You brush off your intrusive thoughts and try to enjoy the rest of your drive.

————

Two more days had passed since Jenna had sent the text with the updated meeting address, and the silence on the other end gnawed at her. She leaned against the balcony railing outside her room, eyes skimming the darkened city skyline in the distance each blinking light a reminder of how life pulsed and moved without pause.

The air was crisp, biting against her skin as she shivered, but it did nothing to numb the restless ache in her chest. She scrolled back through the last messages, the words on the screen staring back at her like a mockery of the certainty she'd once felt. It wasn't like you to go this long without responding, but then again what did she know about you? You were the definition of uncertainty, you couldn't figure your own shit out how could you help with hers. She should've seen the red flags for your ghosting tendencies from the first time you met. You had no reason to help her, there was no personal gain.

Aliyah's voice broke through her thoughts, calling from inside. "Jenna, you're doing it again."

Jenna blinked, tearing her gaze from the phone as Aliyah stepped out onto the balcony, eyes filled with concern.

"You're still thinking about her, aren't you?" Aliyah's tone was soft, not judgmental, but knowing.

Jenna sighed, slipping her phone into her pocket as if hiding it would erase the gnawing uncertainty. "I can't help it. Something's off. She's... pulling away, I can feel it."

Aliyah's expression shifted, guilt briefly clouding her features before she masked it with a small, encouraging smile. "Maybe she just needs time. You know how it is—this life, this... chaos we're in. It's not easy."

Jenna met her sister's eyes, searching for reassurance that felt out of reach. "Yeah, maybe." But it wasn't enough. Aliyah didn't know the extent of your relationship. How you were going to help her get dirt on Percy. How you were her best bet.

Jenna had noticed for a while now that Percy was spending a lot more time in Brimstone, and that anything she could find would be found in that shady town.

"I saw the messages with her... something about a meeting? If she won't go with you, maybe I could?" Aliyah ventured, her tone eager but tentative.

Jenna's reaction was immediate, sharp. "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."

Aliyah crossed her arms, a defiant glint in her eyes. "Come on, Jenna. It could be good to do something together for once."

"I'm serious, Aliyah. This isn't up for discussion. It's not safe," Jenna said, her voice firm, eyes blazing with protectiveness.

Aliyah lifted her chin, stubbornness radiating from her. "Too late. I don't care," she declared, turning on her heel and striding out before Jenna could argue.

"Aliyah, wait—"

Jenna's phone pinged, jolting her from the tense silence that followed Aliyah's departure. For a split second, hope fluttered in her chest—a foolish, fragile thing—as she thought it might be you, breaking the days of silence that gnawed at her. But that hope quickly crumbled as she glanced at the screen.

It was from Percy.

Get yourself dolled up. Race tomorrow night. Be there. And you're on my arm. Look the part, don't embarrass me.

Jenna stared at the messages, her fingers itching to throw the phone across the room. He knew exactly how much he got under her skin and used it at every opportunity. And tonight was no different; he needed her there, not just as a racer, but as his accessory, some trophy to drape over his arm. Like she was at the Sinner race almost a month ago. It was a power move, one he'd pulled too many times, trying to keep her bound to him and his schemes.

Another ping. Don't even think about bailing. You know what happens when I'm not happy.

Jenna scoffed, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She could imagine Percy already preening in the mirror, smugly counting on her to show up, loyal and subservient as always. She could almost hear his oily tone, the mock concern he would flash when she hesitated, only to follow it with another thinly veiled threat. Percy loved to remind her how "lucky" she was that he'd given her a place in the Vipers—and what a shame it would be to lose it.

Jenna pushed away from the railing, the metallic chill of it seeping through her skin as she stood upright. The city lights looked dull now, swallowed by the storm brewing in her mind. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a part of her tempted to tell Percy to shove it. But she knew better. Defying him could mean losing her only leverage, the tiny foothold she had in this game of shadows and lies.

With a sharp sigh, she typed out a reply, each keystroke feeling like a betrayal to herself.

Swallowing her disgust, she replied. Fine. I'll be there.

It was almost too easy to imagine the smirk that would be stretching across his face as he read her reply. She could feel her muscles tense, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface, made worse by the fact that she'd lost any sign of you as a reprieve.

The phone slipped back into her pocket, but the weight of it pressed heavier than ever. The ache in her chest turned sharper, a reminder that even though she needed you, even though you were the one who was supposed to stand beside her, the silence between you spoke volumes. She just wished it wasn't so deafening.

Her eyes drifted to the hallway where Aliyah had disappeared moments before. She couldn't let her sister get pulled deeper into this mess, not when it felt like she was barely holding her own head above water. Yet, with every passing moment, the line between protecting the people she loved and keeping them at a distance grew blurrier. And Percy's summons felt like another shove towards the edge she was already teetering on.

Tomorrow night, she'd play the role. But Jenna swore, as she stared out at the city, that she would find a way out of this tangled mess.

Aliyah popped back into the room, her eyes bright but cautious as she took in Jenna's guarded stance. "Hey, so, the family's heading out to catch a movie right now. Are you coming?" Her tone was light, hopeful even, as if she already anticipated the answer but wanted to hear it anyway.

Jenna's gaze shifted to her sister, the corners of her mouth pulling into a tight line. The unspoken question lingered between them, though Aliyah's expression faltered as she awaited an answer.

"Is Dad going?" Jenna's voice came out sharper than she intended, and Aliyah's smile dimmed slightly.

"Yeah, he is," Aliyah admitted, her eyes darting down for a moment before meeting Jenna's again, trying to read her sister's mood.

Jenna's jaw tensed as she looked past Aliyah, the weight of years of resentment and disappointment pressing down like a vice. "Then no," she said flatly, the finality in her voice leaving no room for argument.

Aliyah's face fell, but she nodded, understanding etched into her features. She didn't push, didn't try to convince Jenna otherwise. The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the things they weren't saying.

"Okay," Aliyah said softly, turning to leave. But before she stepped out, she cast one last glance over her shoulder, eyes shadowed with a mix of concern and quiet resignation. "Just... don't stay up all night, okay?"

Jenna forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah. I won't."

But as Aliyah's footsteps faded down the hall, Jenna knew she was lying. The night was already hers to wrestle with, haunted by the things she couldn't change and the person she wished she didn't need.

————

Before you knew it, Friday had arrived—the day of the meeting. The meeting you weren't planning to attend. You started your day the same way you had over the past few days—in the garage.

You had been avoiding your phone all morning, afraid of what new messages might appear. Each buzz was a test of your resolve, a reminder that giving in would undo everything you had decided. You needed to stay strong, keep your distance, and not let the past pull you back in.

The project car in front of you demanded all your attention. You poured every ounce of focus into it, the sleek curves of the Aston Martin glistening under the dim garage lights. Tonight, you were determined to take it out for a spin, using it as an excuse to push out the stress gnawing at your mind.

The garage was unusually quiet, lacking its usual bustle. The regulars, including Anton and Mikey, were conspicuously absent, skipping their usual stops at the garage. You welcomed the peace; the last thing you needed was their relentless teasing about the car's dubious origins.

The sound of footsteps broke the monotony, and you didn't need to look up to know it was Hunter.

"Got a minute?" His voice came from the doorway, casual but laced with concern.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a rag before tossing it aside and standing up. "Yeah, what's up?"

"So you're really done with Jenna?" he asks wasting no time.

You couldn't even bring yourself to say the words.

"I'm hoping the drive with Madison the other day doesn't mean yes," he frowns. "I don't think she's right for you."

"Neither do I dude. I never said I wanted anything with Mikey. We literally all went on a friendly drive, nothing more."

"Good, she kind of gives me an off vibe," he shares. "I mean, she's cool and all, but there's just something... I don't know.

Hunter leans against the workbench, studying you. "But that still leaves Jenna," he says, quieter now. "Are you sure cutting her off is what you really want?"

Your chest tightens, and you look away, focusing on the glint of metal on the project car. "I don't know," you admit. "But staying away feels like the only way to keep things from going up in flames."

Hunter's eyes narrow with concern, but then he smirks, the corner of his mouth curling up. "Just don't forget—sometimes running from the fire only makes it burn hotter when it catches up," he finishes with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but a small chuckle escapes despite the tension in your chest. "Trust you to turn everything into a dramatic line."

————

Hunter left around the 6 p.m. mark and time slipped through your fingers, and before you knew it, the clock had struck 8 p.m. The Aston Martin stood before you, polished and ready. It looked solid, steady—exactly what you needed. Without a second thought, you grabbed the keys, took a breath to steady your nerves, and slid into the driver's seat. Tonight, it would be just you, the car, and the open road.

You eased the car through the streets of Brimstone, your hands gripping the wheel, your mind drifting as you weaved through the winding roads. The town looked different at night—darker, quieter, with the occasional flicker of neon signs casting long shadows on the empty streets. You passed by abandoned buildings, alleyways where the stray figures of drug addicts huddled together, their glazed eyes staring into the nothingness that had consumed them. They barely registered your presence, too lost in their own world.

You drove without a clear destination, allowing the car to take you wherever it wanted to go. The sound of tires on asphalt was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. The rush of the road beneath you, the flicker of streetlights, the occasional blur of other cars passing by—it was all you needed. Just you and the road.

And then your mind went to her. Of course it did. How could it not when you were sitting in this car. You were fooling yourself by thinking a single car wrap can get the job done.

You remembered the day you took this car, how you spilled your guts to her in the midst of your chaos. The way she'd listened—really listened—and kissed your cheek when you dropped her off. The memory was so vivid, you could almost feel her lips on your skin again.

She should be heading to the meeting now. The one you weren't going to attend. The one she was walking into, blind. No idea what it was really about, no clue what she was getting herself into. Alone.

For all you knew, she thought Ghost Smoke was some sort of cereal. But no. You knew better than that. She wasn't stupid. She was smart, and she could handle herself. You tried to tell yourself that, tried to calm your racing thoughts. She could handle herself. She would be fine. Nothing bad would happen.

But even as you tried to convince yourself, the doubt crept back in. The image of her walking into that meeting—unprepared, vulnerable—made your stomach churn. You couldn't help but picture the worst. What if they used her? What if she got caught up in something deeper than either of you realized?

But then, as you took a sharp turn, you found yourself on the road you hadn't meant to be on. The track.

The place where it all went down.

You didn't intend to end up here. Not tonight. But there it was, the race track standing still under the muted glow of the moon, the outline of the old fence barely visible against the darkness. The stories rushed back like a wave—your father, Anton's dad, both gone in an instant after the crash that took their lives. The race had been their last, the night that changed everything.

You slowed as you approached the entrance, the cars long gone. There was no movement, no sign of life, just the emptiness that had followed the tragedy. The track had been abandoned ever since. The Sinners stopped racing there out of respect, unwilling to return to the place that had claimed so much.

You parked the car on the side of the road. For a long moment, you just sat there, the hum of the engine ticking down as the silence of the night pressed in. The weight of the past, of your father's legacy, of everything you thought you knew about this town and the racing world, settled on your shoulders.

You couldn't help but feel the ghosts of the past watching, waiting, taunting you—what are you going to do Y/n?

You shifted the car into drive, the road ahead a blur.

————

"Can you not be mad at me anymore please?"

Jenna rolls her eyes, frustration evident in her posture. "I told you not to come. I seriously can't believe you followed me here."

Aliyah huffs, crossing her arms. "You're in this mess because of me, and god forbid I want to help! It's not like your girlfriend was dying to come with you, so you should at least be grateful I'm here."

Jenna's stomach clenches at the mention of girlfriend, but she holds her tongue. She's too tired for this. She could've corrected Aliyah for the thousandth time, but it wasn't worth the fight now. Better to focus on getting this over with. At least until this little mission was done, she needed to push all thoughts of you to the back of her mind.

You're not here anyway. You're not helping her anymore.

Aliyah continues, clearly trying to lighten the tension, but there's a note of sarcasm in her voice. "Seriously, there's no way you're not happy I'm here. Look at this place!" She gestures toward the imposing, dark warehouse ahead, a shudder running through her as she takes it in. "It's straight out of a horror movie."

Jenna doesn't disagree. The place does feel like something out of a nightmare. She can feel the resentment bubbling inside her, a sharp, unwanted feeling that she tries to push away but can't. How dare you ghost her, leave her to face this alone? If you were here, Aliyah wouldn't be, and maybe she wouldn't feel so exposed, so vulnerable. But you aren't, and her little sister is. The sting of abandonment hangs in the air, heavier than the looming shadow of the warehouse ahead.

Jenna sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in from all sides. With one final glance at the door to the meeting place, her shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine," she muttered, voice tinged with exhaustion. "But stay close, stay quiet. Don't do anything stupid."

Aliyah gave a small, relieved nod. "You've got my word."

Jenna leads the way into the dark warehouse, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cold, concrete floor. The place is completely abandoned, with broken windows casting faint, eerie light into the room. There's nothing in sight but dust and the lingering smell of stale air.

Aliyah looks around nervously, her eyes darting from corner to corner, but all she can see are the dim shadows creeping along the walls. The place feels like a ghost town, unsettlingly empty.

"Is this really the right place?" Aliyah's voice is low, the uncertainty clear in her tone.

Jenna pauses, squinting into the darkness, trying to make sense of the scene. She's not sure why the meeting is set up like this, or why it feels like they're walking into the unknown, but she can't let herself doubt now. "Yeah," she answers, her voice steady but with a hint of something unspoken. "This is it."

They keep walking, the air growing colder as they venture deeper into the warehouse. Aliyah keeps glancing at her sister, confusion written across her face. "What exactly is this meeting about?" she asks, her voice tinged with concern. "I mean, what's going on here? Is this about the club or—?"

Jenna cuts her off, shaking her head slightly, her gaze focused ahead. "Don't worry about it," she says, her tone sharp and final. "Just stay close."

And then, they saw him.

He was standing in the far corner of the warehouse, facing away from them, his silhouette sharp against the dim light filtering in through the broken windows. Dressed all in black, his figure was imposing in a way that sent a chill down Jenna's spine. He hadn't noticed them yet.

Instinctively, both sisters ducked behind a stack of old, dusty boxes, their breath held as they exchanged a look. The quiet tension between them thickened, and in that moment, everything felt so much more real—so much more dangerous.

On the phone, the man spoke with a low, almost mechanical tone. "Yes, boss. I'm the first one here, waiting on the other two."

Jenna made a mental note on the words. So this was a meeting between three people. Percy would be one of them.

Aliyah's voice was barely a whisper. "Do you know who that is?"

Jenna didn't answer at first. Her eyes stayed fixed on the man, analyzing his every movement, trying to make sense of the situation. Finally, she shook her head. No, she didn't know him. But something about this felt wrong—like they were in deeper than they had anticipated.

She reached out, squeezing Aliyah's hand tightly to calm her nerves. "Stay quiet," she murmured. There was no turning back now.

Jenna's heart skipped a beat when the door creaked open, and two figures stepped into the dim light. Percy walked in first, his usual calm confidence unmistakable, but it was the figure beside him that made Jenna's breath catch in her throat.

She remembered seeing him at the Raven race. The night you were racing. What the hell was he doing here? Her mind raced, the weight of the situation crashing down harder than before. Why was he with Percy? Was he the club leader? This meeting was about something far worse than she could have imagined.

Aliyah's grip on her hand tightened, her eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. But Jenna couldn't look away. She barely registered the tension in her sister's hand, too focused on the strange alliance before her.

Without a word, Percy and the Raven exchanged brief glances before walking further into the warehouse with the mysterious person in all black. The air around them seemed to thicken, the sound of their voices indistinguishable.

Jenna's pulse quickened as her instincts screamed that she needed to get closer, to hear more.

She crouched low, glancing over at Aliyah with an intense, silent plea. "Stay here," she whispered sharply, her voice low but firm, knowing the weight of the situation.

Aliyah nodded, her face pale with fear.

Jenna barely gave her sister another glance before she began moving, silent as a shadow, staying low to the ground as she crept closer to the three men.

But the floor of the warehouse wasn't as kind as she hoped. Her foot caught on a jagged edge, and in an instant, her body lurched forward, her heart skipping a beat.

Time slowed, the rush of panic surged through her, and in that split second, her heart seized with terror. She was going to fall—she was going to make a noise and blow their cover. Aliyah was going to be in danger.

She braced for the inevitable crash, for the sound of her body hitting the ground and the betrayal of her hiding place.

But just as the world tilted beneath her, strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back from the brink. Her heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked, disoriented, but when she looked up, her world seemed to freeze.

There you were, standing in front of her, holding her steady. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. You were here. You had come for her.

In the six days you had ghosted her, Jenna had planned what she was going to do if she ever saw you again. First was a slap, possibly the silent treatment—a taste of your own medicine. She even toyed with the idea of keying one of your cars. But falling into your embrace, wrapping her arms around your neck and letting out a sigh of relief was certainly not part of the plan.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You could feel her breath against your chest, soft and steady, and despite everything, her warmth was exactly what you needed.

Jenna pulled back slightly, her hands lingering on your arms as she looked up at you, her eyes searching for something—answers, maybe, or just reassurance. She was still upset with your disappearing act. "You really are something," she muttered, her voice softer than usual, almost vulnerable.

You couldn't find the right words, not when your heart was racing from the sudden rush of emotions. Instead, you simply nodded, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a quiet acknowledgment of everything unspoken between you. "We'll talk afterwards," you whispered.

She nodded, knowing you both have a bigger issue to deal with at the present moment. You notice Jenna worriedly glance behind you and you follow her gaze to see another girl you've never seen before.

Jenna noticed the fear that was once on her sister's face melted into a mischievous grin as she looked at her, raising an eyebrow and pointing a finger at you while mouthing, Greaser?

You'll have to figure out who that is later, but for now you take your attention away from the girl who is very close to you, and look up at the scene in front of you. Pissy, the Raven crew leader, and an unfamiliar man.

“Who thought holding the meeting here was a good idea?” Percy muttered, annoyance dripping from his tone as he glanced at the dust clinging to his shoes.

“We can’t afford any slip-ups,” the unknown man replied curtly. “Let’s keep this brief.”

The Raven crew leader smirked, eyes glinting in the dim warehouse light. “We’ve already pushed about fifty keys of Ghost Smoke into Brimstone over the past two weeks,” he said, voice smooth but full of intent. “No hiccups, no heat—just a steady stream. And trust me, the streets are starting to bite. By the time the next batch hits, they’ll be begging for more.”

"Okay, and you Percy? How's the Vipers' distribution going?"

You clenched your jaw as the conversation confirmed your worst suspicions. These guys were flooding Brimstone with product, exploiting the town's vulnerable, turning the Brimstoners into their playthings. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Jenna stealthily recording the exchange between the three men, every tense word.

Percy shifted uneasily, a flash of frustration in his eyes. "We've moved about eight keys so far," he said tightly, the disappointment in his voice evident. The number wasn't enough compared to the Raven's progress. "It’s not easy for a Viper to operate on Sinner territory without drawing attention."

"Maybe if you'd stop cozying up to your girl at races and focus on your job, things would be different," the unknown man snapped, his tone biting.

His girl?

"Relax," Percy retorted, his voice strained but defiant. "No one wants Brimstone to become a zombieland more than I do. Some of those Sinners have been getting way too fucking cocky."

Jacob, the Raven leader, let out a low chuckle and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Easy there," he said, smirking at the unknown man. "I can’t blame the guy. It’s hard to stay focused when your girl’s a knockout like that." He finishes with a whistle.

A whispered "ew" sounded behind you, and you felt Jenna tense, a silent fury radiating from her. Anger roared in your chest. Not only were these men scheming to drown Brimstone in Ghost Smoke, but now they were talking about Jenna like she was just another trophy. The rage that simmered inside you sharpened into a razor's edge.

But now was not the time to get angry. You had to remain calm, get all the info you can and get the fuck out of there.

Jacob, the Raven leader, crossed his arms, his gaze sharp as he looked between Percy and the unknown man. “And what if this operation doesn’t go as planned? What happens if someone decides to interfere? I know you tried this once and failed.”

The tension in the room crackled like static. The unknown man’s expression darkened, a slow, menacing smile creeping across his face. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, voice low and chilling. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of Bullet and Apex.”

You freeze.

But before you could fully process the implication, a sudden noise shattered the silence about 15 meters to your left.

“Hey! Who’s there?” one of the men barked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Heart thundering, you whipped your head in the direction of the sound and spotted the familiar mop of curls.

Hunter.

He was crouched low, eyes wide with a reckless determination that sent a jolt of both dread and relief through you. Before you could even react, Jenna’s urgent voice sliced through the fog of panic clouding your mind.

“We have to go,” she hissed, fingers locking around your arm like a lifeline and yanking you into motion. The edge in her voice snapped you back to the present, and your body jolted into action. The girl—clearly someone Jenna trusted—was already sprinting ahead, weaving between crates like shadows. You cast a quick look back, your gaze catching Hunter’s for a split second as he, too, bolted to follow.

This was a fight against time, and survival was the only thing that mattered.

Jenna’s grip on your hand anchored you as you both tore out of the warehouse, feet pounding the ground as adrenaline roared through your veins. The cold air bit at your skin as you charged towards the first car in sight—yours.

“Stop right there!” A shout from behind sent a surge of terror down your spine.

“Hey!” you yelled to the girl ahead. She glanced back, eyes sharp, just in time to catch the keys you tossed her. She was closer to the car, and with no time to spare, she slipped into the driver’s seat.

The three of you scrambled in—a blur of limbs and frenzied breaths. Jenna flung herself into the passenger seat, while you and Hunter dove into the back, your heart hammering in your chest like it might explode.

“Go, go, go! Step on it, Aliyah,” Jenna commanded.

Aliyah didn’t hesitate. The engine roared to life, and the Aston Martin peeled away from the warehouse, tires screeching against the asphalt. The last thing you saw in the rearview was the shadowy figure of the man pursuing you, growing smaller as you sped into the dark night, leaving danger and revelations in your wake.

No one dared to speak. The air in the car was thick with tension, the adrenaline still simmering just beneath the surface. Once Aliyah had put enough distance between them and the warehouse, she eased off the gas, slowing to a steady, legal pace. They were in Summer Valley now, the bright lights of the town casting fleeting shadows across their faces.

Ten minutes ticked by in silence before the red glow of a traffic light gave them a momentary pause. It was then that everything unraveled at once.

“Hunter, what the hell are you doing here?” you demanded, voice tight.

“How the fuck did you go from boosting cars to this?” Hunter fired back, eyes wide with disbelief.

Aliyah leaned back, throwing a teasing look Jenna’s way. “You didn’t tell me Greaser was cute!”

"Since when did you know how to drive?” Jenna shot back at Aliyah.

The car was filled with a low hum of murmured conversations, each person settling into their own thoughts as the road stretched on.

“Did you follow me here?” you asked Hunter, still in disbelief.

“Yeah, I did. And I’m glad I did.” His voice was filled with concern. “What the hell are you mixed up in, Y/n?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m just finding out about all this today, too.”

Hunter let out a frustrated sigh. “We need to tell Anton. They’re trying to destroy Brimstone.”

You exhaled, mirroring his sigh. “Yeah, this is bad. Real bad.”

As soon as Anton’s name left his lips, your mind raced back to the meeting. What the men had said.

Hunter could see it in your eyes—he knew exactly what you were thinking, and the tension in the air between you both grew thicker.

Up front, Jenna’s voice broke the silence. “Okay, yes, I get it! She’s cute. Can you just… shush? She’s right there,” she muttered in exasperation, turning back to her sister, who was practically grinning.

Jenna slouched back in her seat, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. This was not what she expected when she set out to gather dirt on Percy. She couldn’t wrap her head around it—Percy, the same person she thought she knew, was tangled up in a plot to destroy Brimstone. Yeah, he was a jerk, but this... this was murder, drawn out and deliberate.

The crew she had once considered family was directly linked to the distribution of Ghost Smoke, targeting people from the town over. She knew there was always a rivalry between Brimstone and Summer Valley, but she didn't think it would resort to elimination techniques. The shock of it all left her breathless, the pieces clicking together with an unsettling finality.

She got her dirt. But this feels far from over.

Despite everything, Jenna couldn’t ignore the pull to check on you. She knew you had to be feeling the weight of it all—learning that your town was the target of such destruction. But there was also the anger. The unresolved frustration from you walking away earlier. She couldn’t just let you back in without confronting it, could she?

But as the drive wore on, the pull to turn back softened, and she glanced at you instead. You were lost in your own world, staring out the window, looking like you’d retreated into yourself. Nothing could touch you right now. And she didn’t blame you. Tonight had been a mess.

She turned her gaze to Hunter, raising an eyebrow, silently asking if he knew how to handle this. He met her eyes, shaking his head in that subtle way that said, Not tonight.

Jenna nodded in acknowledgment, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. She gave a quiet command to Aliyah, who turned the car toward their place. The drive was silent, the weight of everything hanging thick in the air. When the car finally stopped, both girls exited, but Jenna couldn’t help but glance back at you one last time. Her gaze softened, seeing how much this was affecting you. You didn’t look at her once as you stayed seated in the back, your face unreadable.

Somehow, without even realizing it, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Hunter’s car. The shift had happened so subtly that you hadn’t even registered the transition. You assumed once the girls had left, Hunter must've taken over the drive. But the ride felt endless, every minute dragging in uncomfortable silence, like you were trying to outrun the truth without really knowing how.

When Hunter finally pulled into his driveway, the car came to a stop, and the air between you two felt suffocating. No words were spoken for a long moment.

Finally, Hunter broke the stillness. His voice was low, sincere, and filled with an understanding that made your stomach churn. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he said, his tone full of empathy. “That must’ve been a hell of a lot to take in.”

It wasn’t easy, not by a long shot. You could feel the weight of the words pressing down on you like a heavy stone.

Bullet and Apex. Your dad and Anton’s dad, their racing names. You had tried to convince yourself that you had misheard at the meeting, that it was some twisted misunderstanding. But as you turned to look at Hunter, his pitiful eyes told you everything you needed to know. You weren’t wrong.

Your father and uncle’s deaths wasn't an accident. They’d been taken from you on purpose. And now, the truth of that hit you harder than anything else.

#jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #beetlejuice #jenna x you #jenna x reader #jenna marie ortega

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pricegouge · 4 months ago

Note

horny knee-tattoo offerring...

ive had insomnia all this week and its super frustrating, bc you're tired but cant turn your brain off enough to sleep and its hard to physically tire yourself out at 4am yknow? maybe reader's 141 boy (any or all of em, its ur world babe) wakes up in the middle of the night and sees how frustrated and miserable their partner is, tossing and turning, doomscrolling, counting down the dwindling hours till their work alarm is due to go off, and they take it upon themself to fuck their partner to sleep. not just one round, no, orgasm after orgasm, squirting over the sheets, crying from tired frustration and then relief, till they fall asleep stuffed full around a cock. their boy(s) carefully get them all cleaned up and tucked back in the sheets dead asleep <3

i hope ur tattoo goes well! whatcha gettin 👀

Hii 💛

I went with Price cause I'm a simp

(also I'm getting Mothra)

cw: reader has a pussy which is referred to with fem terms, but no gendered pronouns for them. daddy kink (sorry). squirting. implied (non negotiated) somno. John's POV.

He's not expecting the glow of artificial light permeating the room when he opens his eyes in the dead of night, though by now he supposes he really should be.

You've been struggling to sleep for weeks now, the unhelpful sleep aids and your own frustration creating a bad feedback loop which left you tossing and turning into the early hours of morning when you would usually slink off downstairs to try your luck on the couch, leaving your side of the bed cold and empty.

It simply wouldn't do.

"Trouble sleeping, sweetheart?" His voice is rough with his own grogginess, sawing through the still of the night with enough force make you jolt, nerves shot with exhaustion.

"Yeah. Am I keeping you awake?"

He grabs after you when you begin to shift out of bed without even waiting for an answer. "Not at all. You stay right here." He pulls you closer to him, illustrating exactly what he means by tucking you in against his chest, his hand heavy where it cradles your skull. You sigh as if in contentment, but your body remains stiff and tense against him. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No," you grumble, just as much upset about it as he is. "Thanks though."

"Thoughts racing or just not tired?"

You shrug, shoulder jostling the arm he has slung over you. Your voice is watery when you respond. "Little bit of both I guess."

"Hey," John starts, immediately alert, pulling you impossibly closer. "What's wrong?"

You bury a sniffle in his chest, tension shifting rapidly to obvious frustration. "Nothing," you whine, obviously lying. "I'm just so fucking tired but it's like I'm not tired at all, you know? Like my brain's just decided we don't need it anymore even though body feels like a Furby with the battery running out, right? But there's nothing I can do; no matter what I try I'm still stuck laying here - wide the fuck awake and -!"

"Okay," John starts, easing you back onto the bed before you start rambling about more obscure nineties toys he's barely ever heard of. "Okay, let's just -." He pauses, at a loss, but then he looks down at you in the dim light of your forgotten phone and he sees your puffy face, the tear streaks, your hair a mess, tangled in sheets from all your tossing and your turning and he knows immediately how best to help you.

"I know something we can try, sweetheart."

"You do?" As if in contrast to your confused tone, your hands grip his forearms instinctively, eyes wide and hopeful as he lowered himself down over you, weight near crushing. He doesn't bother responding beyond a pleased rumble when your hands slip up over his biceps, kissing your fingertips when they curl over his shoulders. You're still so tense beneath him, but he's sleep-soft and heavy enough to smother you, thinks he can overwhelm you easy enough. Just has to ply you the right way.

The kisses your eyelids first, lips tracing the etch marks of your tears. He kisses the corner of your mouth, pulling back teasingly when he feels your lips part under his.

"John," you whine, and he can't help the huff of laughter which collects between you, humid and dense on your skin.

"Need me?"

"Yes."

He loves how eager you can get, the way you pull him down until he lays flat on top of you, the way you accept his tongue with a pleased groan. Your legs fall open beneath him and he grinds against you lazily, a tight contrast to your neediness, though he indulges you with the deep kisses he knows you crave.

When his lips trail down your neck, you thread your finger through his short cropped hair, your nails scratching against the tightness of his scalp and it eases that last little bit of lingering tension in him, makes him sink that last little bit into you. He's heavy, languid, forcing you to still yourself and meet his pace, rewarding you with a particularly dirty grind when you do.

He trails kisses down your chest, stopping to teethe lightly on your nipple as he slips down the bed. You jolt, undoing all his work, but he just chuckles, content to unwind you again and again if needed.

You're slick enough for a finger when he gets your bottoms off, but he makes you wait for that too, licks over your lips with fat, teasing stripes that have your legs falling open around him, blooming like a flower in invitation. He still doesn't give in, ignoring your clit in favor of pressing his teeth oh so gently into your fat mound and rubbing his beard into your soft inner thigh. It'll leave a rash, he knows, get you all huffy about it in the morning.

He'll kiss it better then, too.

"John, please," you whine and he smirks, pressed close enough to the crease of your thigh you can probably feel his incisors against your hip flexor.

"What was that?"

A pause. He can practically hear your breath catch in your throat.

"Need daddy to help?"

"Please," you sob, frustration bubbling up again.

"Shh," he breathes, lets his breath fan across your exposed clit when he thumbs the hood back. He should make you ask properly, but he hasn't forgotten this is about you. "I got you, sweetheart."

For all his patience before, John dives into your cunt like his last bloody meal. He's sloppy, spit and slick collecting on his chin as he licks into you, breath hot and humid, leaving him in heavy pants that have him groaning with your taste. You fingers find his hair again, pull him and he obliges happily, showing your cute little clit the love it needs as he finally sinks two fingers into you, moaning at the way you clench around him. He's efficient, a man with a purpose, and he makes you cum within minutes, your breathy whines sounding suspiciously like a low chant of 'daddy.'

You moan when he kisses you after, no finesse. Just a hot slide of slick tongues where he shares your taste with you, keeping you distracted as he lines himself up.

It's never an easy task. John's a big man, his cock nothing but proportional. It never matters how many times he has you, or how pliant he get you beneath him, the first press into you is always slow, measured in your breaths which he uses to his advantage.

His words are soothing in your ear, lips pressed flush against your temple as he tells you how good you are for him, how much he loves the feel of you stretched tight around him. You hand clutches at him blindly, distracting. He threads his fingers with your own and pins it by your head.

When his hips fall flush with yours he gives you a minute, stroking your hair and kissing away the tears that have sprung up again. "Poor pet," he murmurs, petting your cheek. "Daddy'll make it better. Promise."

You nod, perhaps a bit stupidly, and John kisses you as he begins to move again.

You're easy beneath him. Pliant, like he was looking for all along. He wrings the first orgasm out of you easily enough and knows he could probably call it a night, knows you'd sleep well enough by the satisfied look on your face.

He doesn't want 'well enough.' He wants to put you under on his cock alone, drill it into your head that he can give you anything you fucking need.

"What do you say to daddy when he fucks you that good, sweetheart?" His voice surprises him, borderline cruel.

"Th-thank you, daddy."

He hums, rolls his hips into you experimentally. "Want one more?"

He doesn't wait for an answer.

With your legs hooked over his shoulders, John shifts his weight to fuck down into you, his sheer mass keeping you spread and pinned like a butterfly beneath him. Your breath stutters, fingers across his chest, shoulders, biceps. Anywhere you can dig in, find purchase - mark him back.

He knows he's got you dead to rights when your moan turns deep, unaffected. "Fuck, daddy," you groan and John bites back a dark chuckle.

"That it, sweetheart? Right there?"

You nod tightly, cords in your neck nearly visibly with how tight you've already been drawn.

"You gonna cum for me again?"

"Yeah, daddy, please -!"

"Dirty slut, cumming already," he tuts, but he pistons into you exactly the way he knows you need, his own groan caught like gravel in his throat when your cunt starts milking him and you mewl like you're in heat.

He's not nice about it; doesn't even let you wind down completely before his thumb finds your clit, drawing a tight circle across your sensitive little nub while he rocks the head of his cock against that spongey spot deep within you that damn near makes you hiccup in pleasure each time. It's no different now, your breath stuttering out in while you tense and shake beneath him. John waits until you're arched beneath him, clenched so tight around the base of his cock he couldn't cum even if he wanted to -

And then he presses his palm down flat and hard on your mound and you cum so hard it soaks his belly, dripping down to the sheets and collecting in the creases of both your joints.

"Fuckin' hell," he growls, planting one fist on the bed by your hip to support himself as he watches you drift back to earth.

You're fucked out and dazed, already drifting off when John rolls you onto your belly to straddle your hips. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" he rumbles, lowering himself to settle snugly over your back, keep you enveloped in his safe, sturdy weight.

"Yes, daddy," you mumble into the pillow and John presses a whiskery, satisfied smile against your temple. He slips back into you with so little resistance you barely even seem to notice.

"Just needed me, didn't you honey? Get some sleep now, yeah? I'll give you some sweet dreams."

#asks #this was SO self-indulgent whoops #price x reader

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qierxing · 1 year ago

Text

A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. This is one of the longest fics I’ve written…..carried by my love for Heartslabyul. Been chipping away at this every so often until now. I would strongly recommend reading Shiny’s part first, or else a good part of this will not make sense. Part two will be something that will be floating in the future.

TW/CW: Graphic descriptions of PTSD & panic attack symptoms, self-harm from bad coping habits, dissociation, dismemberment, references to Alice in Wonderland, made up lore LOL

I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

"So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality…"

– Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

i. Cremation

Ramshackle's mailbox is a pitiful thing.

It sits right in front of the small graveyard near forgotten covered in tangled vines and weeds. Unlike its surroundings which shine from recent renovations and repairs, the hinges still squeak loudly when the latch is opened and the outer parts are scratched and dented. On bright sunny days, it sticks out like a sore thumb.

And today, it's even more obvious.

The box now is in danger of tilting off its support pole, filled with the weight of lumpy letters, spilling out envelopes upon the dirt. Around it sits various colorful wrapped boxes and packages that are piled haphazardly across each other. You swear it gets larger each passing day.

“How many does this make?”

A battered top hat pops into existence next to you, one of the resident Ramshackle ghosts who's been helping you around lately. (He had said you remind him of his siblings when he was alive. You're still unsure whether that was a good or bad thing.)

You let out a sigh through your nose. There's nothing to say about the situation in front of you. You wish they could disappear the minute you wish for it, yet the colorful wrappings and the various envelopes scattered around your feet don’t vanish the more you stare.

“I’m really sorry about all this.”

The ghost shakes his head, frowning at your apology.

“It’s not your fault, prefect.”

The words are reassuring, but they don’t make the gross feeling go away when you crouch down and start picking up letters that have fallen out of the mailbox.

From: Azul Ashengrotto

Sender: Vil Schoenheit

Sent by: Riddle Rosehearts

All of them are addressed to you, of course. You can already imagine their contents: filled to the brim with regret and guilt, blotted words begging for forgiveness for the wrongs they’ve done. When you told the Headmaster that you didn’t want anyone visiting Ramshackle, that wasn’t an invitation for them to flood you with unwanted mail. Then again, perhaps you should have foreseen that they would do this. All of them are stubborn to a fault. It wasn't like your phone was any better until you’ve blocked all numbers making it go off endlessly like a shrieking parrot.

The resulting letters alone are thick enough to rival the textbooks Professor Trein assigns students. Pressing your lips together, you turn around to start heading back to your temporary home.The rest of the bulky packages can wait. The ghost helps swing the door open and Grim perks up from his seat in the living room as you set down the letters.

“Grim, can you get a fire going?”

“Now?”

He eyes the thick pile of letters with wary slit pupils and asks, “Aren’t ya…gonna read ‘em?”

You did. For the first few ones, at least. They were barely discernible, their apologies blurring by as they begged for your grace and mercy. That they would do anything to right their wrongs. If you didn’t know any better, you would say their reverence was akin to a cult.

It makes your skin crawl.

After that, you stopped bothering to even skim through. What is the point of continuing to make sense of lunatics? Of cruel games and intrepid players?

"We have the wood, and the house is a bit chilly, so why not?" You reply. Grim scrunches his eyebrows but doesn't object as heavy wooden logs are dumped into the grate. He takes a deep breath and blows upon the letters scattered on the wood, encasing everything in familiar neon blue flames.

You settle into the armchair next to Grim, staring into flickering blue flames. Grim curls up next to you, purring contentedly. All too easily, your eyes lull close to the sound of crackling flames consuming paper.

–

When you step out onto the front porch the next morning, you're overtaken by an overwhelming fragrance.

There's crimson red petals floating through the air. Fluttering in the crisp morning wind, they fall in your hair and the rest end up crushed under your feet. You'd feel bad if it wasn't so pungent; the very air feels like it's infused with the scent of roses.

Your nose crinkles as you pick up the impossibly huge bouquet that is wrapped in silk and ribbons. It's certainly beautiful, you'll give it that. Yet this scent doesn't bring back good memories. It only brings vivid flashbacks of being lost among rose bushes, covered in dirt and scratches, trying so frantically to find a way out. When every single crack and snap was a possible life threat.

You don't realize you're crushing the bouquet until something trickles down your fingers. It doesn't feel like blood pooling between your skin. Relaxing your grip ever so slightly, you find pin sharp thorns running down the stems where you were gripping. The fleshy meat of your palm is punctured cleanly in the shapes of the thorns. Was it left unclipped on purpose?

The card is the next thing you find with bloodied fingers, rumpling white cardstock and soiling it without a care.

To our beloved player,

We deeply apologize for the pain we have caused you and beg for your forgiveness. We will make sure to atone for our sins of harming you.

The initial and the bouquet is too obvious of who it's from. Riddle must've penned it, because none of the card soldiers would ever write this formally. But it must've been Cater's idea to send the bouquet–Trey nor Riddle would've come up with such a sentimental and sappy idea. And Ace and Deuce would rather die than do such a cringey thing.

The door opens again behind you. You turn to see a half-awake Grim groggily yawning. He stops once his blue eyes land on the bouquet in your hands.

"Whazz that?" He points a paw at the rumpled roses, and you hastily shove them behind your back.

"Nothing." You say.

Grim makes a face before finally breaking the awkward silence with, "Do ya want me to go tell 'em off–"

"No."

The answer is rushed and makes Grim's eyes widen. It's crazy, you know. But to have Grim try to solve the problem for you doesn't sit well with you. It's not like it's his fault for what you went through.

And maybe, deep down, you couldn't bear the thought of telling them nasty insults and curses to make them hate you more.

"I'll take care of it." You add, trying to reassure Grim, who only stares impassively. He shakes his head.

"Am I making another fire?"

"...if you can, please."

ii. The Morgue

It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve been brought to Twisted Wonderland.

Yuu’s…body has been moved to another room. It freaks you out more than you would like to admit. It’s familiar, yet it’s not. It’s carved to your image, but with none of your personality. There’s something wrong with the way its eyes are tilted, the dip of its cheeks, the curve of the chin. An idealistic, dreamy mirror of yourself.

Still. You’ve seen many dolls in your lifetime, and even you cannot deny the life like artisanship. The seams of the joints are cleverly hidden and the skin is smooth and unfettered without any misshapen resin(or clay?)–these are marks of a true doll-maker.

“It’s your vessel.” Grim had said with a matter of fact tone. As if you weren't looking at an unmoving human body. “Everyone was freakin’ out cuz’ it just shut down outta nowhere.”

It must’ve been because you were brought here at that moment. The hypothesis doesn’t really make you feel any better. You should know better than to blame an inanimate shell of a vessel, but...

You jerk awake, cold sweat running down your neck and face. It takes a second for you to realize you're not being encased in burning scarlet flames and it's not claustrophobic verdant green hedges surrounding you. The bed sheets are tangled, wrapped in a chokehold around your legs and torso. Instead of translucent leaves, the bed canopy curtain shields you from the moonlight pouring in. The soft snores of Grim sync with your ragged breaths in time.

Tonight's nightmare had been recurring for a while. Every single time you thought you had shaken it off, it comes back like a bad omen.

Instinctively, your hand runs over the bumpy raise of scars running down your back and neck. Most of them had faded with magical treatment and time, but there are some that still have rough skin that has hardened like scales on a dragon.

Your fingertips curve inward and dig.

You thought you were safe. The rose maze is large and encompassing: hiding would be the best move. You breath in–

– and you were face to face with the Crimson Tyrant himself.

His face contains no humanity, his eyes only reflect dark, dark anger and resentment. You thought you were staring into a never ending abyss. Something inky black catches your eye, and you realize with horror that blot is trapping your feet and leaving stains upon your skin.

"Stop right there, imposter!"

Your nails scrabble at the bumps and raises, tearing through them with obsessive speed. Faster, faster–it doesn't feel right, you have to scrub your skin clean of those foreign textures.

Adrenaline is the only thing keeping your legs from collapsing to the blot climbing its way up. You have to do something–

–something wraps around your neck and torso, and all air leaves you as it squeezes and knife sharp needles gnaw into bone.

Your breathing grows more hoarse as your nails scratch faster and faster, desperate to remove more of those vile clumps of impurities.

"You will suffer as Yuu did." The verdict is declared with deranged gleeful vengeance. The tyrant points his scepter at your fallen body covered in thorny vines reminiscent of roses. Blot swallows your form and screams whole–

It's only when the familiar smell of iron registers in your mind, that you finally snap back to your senses. When you finally draw your hand back to view, it's covered in clotted blood and torn skin, both dead and fresh, all clogged under your nails. The open cold air now makes your neck and back sting sharply as blood trickles out of reopened wounds.

It's with a heavy heart that you quietly leave the bedroom entirely to wash away the blood in the kitchen sink. Crimson dyes the white ceramic for a brief moment before swirling away down the drain.

The wounds sting and ache, but you can barely be bothered to tend to them as you resign yourself to the living room couch with a thin blanket. You think of Grim sleeping unaware upstairs and close your eyes. The old weathered grandfather clock in the corner ticks on and on with each second.

No, you can't blame a puppet for functioning for its purpose.

But you could tear its limbs out of its sockets so it could never walk anywhere again. If you plucked out its fingers and eyes, it wouldn't be able to find its way around anymore. Sewing the mouth shut would seal the deal.

Then it would truly know how it felt to have no choice.

–

Working as Sam's assistant helps take the mind off things. Crowley had begged you to resume classes as Grim's 'beast tamer', but something in you screamed at the thought of having to shed your feelings aside to return to what normalcy was. As if this world didn't run on the giant malicious cogwheels of fate and lines of code.

How painfully obvious it is that your mere presence is just a substitute.

"Ah!"

You look up from sorting products on the shelves to a surprised looking Riddle Rosehearts. No no no no–

You take in his sunken gray eyes and pale skin, before going back to shelving products. It takes strength to play dumb. Your shaking hands betray the fear growing within as they sort through stationary merchandise. Finally, the products are lined up neatly and you're trying to bustle away as quickly as you can–

"W-wait!" You try to ignore the half whispered plea, moving behind the counter with an unnatural speed.

"Please, wait, I need something!" You do stop, because unfortunately, you can't completely ignore a customer in need. So you take a deep breath and grit your teeth, turning around with a polite smile. Stare straight ahead. Think not of smoldering flames and knife like rose thorns–

"What can I help you with?" He stares into your eyes, frantic and desperate. It's clear with the way his mouth opens and closes that he wasn't sure how to continue his case.

"If you aren't sure, take your time to browse, dear customer." The grin was starting to wear on your cheeks already with how much you struggle to keep it in place.

Please just leave, you internally beg. You settle behind the counter, watching as Riddle bows his head and disappears among the shelves for his items. A tired sigh leaves your nose.

Your hands keep shaking no matter how hard you clench and unclench them.

He can't hurt me here.

Sam is just a yell away and there's mace and a knife in your bag underneath the counter.

It'll be fine. It's not the Tyrant.

A clink of glass catches your attention, as some ink bottles are pushed on the counter.

"I've finished." Riddle's smoldering eyes choke you under their hues.

"I'll ring that up, then."

The exchange happens quietly yet as you hand him the bottles, he pauses, looking down. "What happened to your hand?"

Shit. There were still obvious swollen scratches and puncture holes imprinted on your hand. You completely forgot about bandages after Grim caught you with the bouquet the other day. You quickly hide your hand in your pocket. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He seems to want to say more, but is cut off when someone else comes up behind him, waiting to pay for their items. He only swallows hard and nods, setting out with only a guilty look back.

You finally breathe out a long sigh of relief when the door chimes echo behind him.

"That'll be ten thaumarks and thirty madols."

This is the fifth time Riddle's shown up during your shift and bought ink. This time, it's a deep crimson color not unlike the shade that saturates his dorm. It reminds you of torn skin on nails from that night, and it takes a minute to shake those thoughts off as you pick up the bottles.

"Prefect, could I talk to you after your shift ends?" You turn to fix him with an incredulous stare, and he grimaces.

"I promise I won't harm you! Did you not get our letters?" But how can I trust you? On this cracked chessboard you are forced to play upon, you don't know where to place Riddle at all. He is too much of an unstable bomb that could blow up in your face at the wrong impression.

"Fine." He definitely won't back down until you agree to hear him out, and it's best to let him state his case once and for all. "My shift ends in an hour. I'll meet you outside."

"Excellent. I shall wait for you then, prefect." He takes his bag and leaves with a small bow.

The time passes all too quickly. Sam shoos you out before you can try to coax some overtime hours from him. And much to your annoyance, Riddle is waiting for you promptly as you step outside.

He looks nervous as he bows his head in acknowledgement of your presence. You'd almost feel bad, if it weren't for the fact that he nearly beheaded you at first sight.

"Have you received our recent letter and flowers?" A long silence follows, before you reluctantly nod. Your hand throbs as you open and close it out of habit. You just removed the bandages this morning, but the unbearable itch to reopen the scars is too tempting. Steel eyes are immediately drawn to the movement. "I see. Then I won't drag this out. Prefect, could we prove to you our sincerity to make amends?"

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I said. Please let our dorm express to you our sincerity to mend our relationship." The intensity of his eyes makes you sick to your stomach.

"You've apologized enough, Housewarden Rosehearts. I'm sure your card soldiers have too." Subconsciously, your hand drifts toward your neck.

He winces. No doubt it must be a sting to his pride that his numerous penned letters weren't acknowledged. "It's not just about apologies. We want to start over–turn over a new leaf, if you will, for our relationship. It would be a disgrace to the Queen of Hearts herself if I could not atone for what I've done."

Always with the rules. You're not entirely sure what Riddle means when he says 'mending your relationship', but it seems he's already set his mind to it. It would be hard pressing to get him to change his mind now.

"...sure." You reluctantly acquiesce. The tips of your nails brush against scarred skin before drawing back. You shouldn't. It took so long for the wounds to close again, for sinew to piece itself together, and for skin to finally grow back. You don't want another lecture by Crewel or Trein.

He brightens considerably with a look of relief. "Good. Then, please wait for our call."

You watch in confusion as he trots off hurriedly after another deep bow. Wait for our call? What does that–

Something buzzes, and you realize it's your phone, lighting up with a notification from Magicam. You frown, tapping on the icon. A message?

cay4cay sent a message request

The second you processed the username and profile picture, you instantly hit the block button. With a frustrated scowl, you shove the phone into your pocket. You deleted Yuu's account and only had a burner account for info purposes. How the hell did that social butterfly find your handle?

You groan. This is all too much.

iii. Paying Respects

A letter arrives, but not by mail.

A jarring commotion rudely rips you from sleep's embrace. You groggily sit up, blinking once, twice, before realizing the noises were very much real and still happening. Who is this loud on a Sunday morning? Grim continues to snooze right next to you, unperturbed by the disturbances. You debate whether it's worth it to get out of the comfy covers. Then another yell echoes up to the room and you groan in annoyance.

You slam the entrance doors open, ready to give the lecture of a lifetime before you stop in your tracks.

Deuce Spade looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up whole. Even Ace Trappola, haughty asshole that he is, looks thoroughly ashamed to be caught in a compromising pose. The scene is so familiar that you can't seem to be confused. It takes a second of awkward staring from all three of you before you realize that you're still standing in your thin pajamas, out front in the public entryway in the cold.

"...May I help you?" The distant polite inquiry has them both flinching. They scramble to their feet, brushing off dirt and debris from their fist fight.

"We're very sorry!" Deuce bows deeply, while Ace scoffs and looks away.

"Housewarden Riddle told us to give you this, so…" Ace shoves a white envelope with a seal boasting a crown insignia into your hands. The Queen of Hearts. You exhale through your nose. So this is what Riddle meant earlier.

You open the envelope gingerly, carefully inspecting it as if it were some kind of trap.

"We're going to have a party soon." Ace is still determinedly avoiding your eyes. "You can come…if you want."

You hold back a sardonic chuckle. Even after everything that's happened, he's trying to act like some kind of cool, suave guy. Your eyes drop down again and you open up the flap to reveal the elegant crimson cursive that decorates the paper.

You're cordially invited to Heartslabyul's monthly tea party. Please send your response ASAP.

Date: XX/05

Time: 14:00 - 17:00

A silence lingers in the air, heavy as a rock. You can tell without looking that the two were holding bated breaths waiting for your reply.

This certainly was out of the blue. But. It was Ace and Deuce. Riddle may have issued the order, but they must've taken initiative in delivering her majesty's decree. Stubborn and tenacious, yet they were still endearing with their loyal friendship. Who in this world would run across a whole desert for you?

That wasn't for you though. The intrusive thought immediately makes your lips thin. The card soldiers shift at the subtle expression change, nervousness painted all over their faces.

You would be lying if you said you weren't curious. Why an invitation to a tea party? It was rather unlike Heartslabyul–or at least most of them–to be indirect like this.

"Sure. I'll be there. I can bring Grim, right?" You flip over the card and envelope, raising an eyebrow at their stunned faces.

"Wait, you serious?" Ace stutters. His ruby eyes blink rapidly as his mouth gapes open. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting you to actually say yes.

"Why would I waste my time lying to you?" You sigh, crossing your arms. Granted, you never did send any response back to that ostentatious bouquet, but you were already preoccupied with the hundred of other letters and packages flooding your mailbox.

"In that case, of course Grim can come!" Deuce says, looking like he's been released from an entire burden off his chest. It was no doubt plaguing him on what your answer would be.

"Great." You wave a careless hand, turning to close the door. You're so ready to go back under soft bed covers. "You can give my answer to your housewarden. See you then."

A hand grabs at your arm and tugs you back suddenly. You turn and open your mouth–

"You! You're the one that caused Yuu to shut down!!"

Wind blasts past you, leaving a thin trickle of blood down your cheek. Eyes wide, all you can do is stare at furious crimson eyes glaring you down.

"-Hey!"

Those eyes. It's the same bloody crimson. The same sharp glint of raw bloodlust. Your right cheek aches terribly. Cold sweat runs down your back. Try as you might, you cannot suppress the reactive instinct to flee.

"Don't touch me." Your terse response has Ace retracting his own hand immediately.

"S-sorry, sorry–" He’s scrambling to get past his mistake. If you were in a better state of mind, you would've laughed at his genuinely flustered state. "I–I didn't mean to grab you like that, it’s just that–"

"We also have something else.” Deuce cuts in, trying to cover for Ace’s blunder. He shoves something warm under your nose, and it takes a hot minute to process what you’re smelling.

Lavender. The cookies within his hands are simple and aren’t decorated, but the buttery floral aroma they emit leaves you salivating. You slowly take it from his hands, staring at the carefully packaged bag.

“...From Trey,” Deuce offers hesitantly after seeing your surprised expression. His tight expression and stiff posture betrays the way he is attempting to look respectable. “He's wanted to send you something for a while now.”

For a while? His dorm mates were all clambering to get any crumb of response from you. He might've had the manners then to understand that you wouldn't be delighted to hear from someone who only watched from the sidelines as you were being attacked. Did he only wait because his beloved housewarden didn't move yet? How typical.

“Tell him thanks for me.” The two of them shuffle their feet while exchanging glances at your freezing cold tone.

"Don't mind us, prefect." Deuce elbows Ace, causing the red head to click his tongue and glare back. "Sorry for bothering you like this–we'll get going now!"

The two actually leave without more fuss, leaving you to twirl the invitation in trepidation.

When you look down again, the flowy calligraphy has been smudged by your fingers, ink blooming on your skin like blood.

–

"What does one wear to a tea party, Sam?"

The question slips out before you know it, making the store keeper turn around and raise an eyebrow at you.

"And why is our little imp curious?" He teases. At your unamused face, his face splits into a garish grin.

"Perhaps you should ask Professor Crewel. After all, he does have quite the fashion sense." Sam strokes his chin in thought. "While we do have some outfits here, it might be best to get advice from someone who has been to these kinds of events."

And so, you find yourself standing in front of an indifferent Divus Crewel, who takes one look at you and takes another drag from his fashionable cigarette holder. He continues to shuffle through papers, all the while shaking his head.

“I should’ve known Sam would be the one to send you.” His voice sounds annoyed, yet carries no weight of anger. Much like how his bark is worse than his bite, Crewel isn’t one to heartlessly turn you away. “A tea party, you said?”

“Sam recommended that I go to you since you have more experience in this sort of thing.” Crewel does another critical once over of you, no doubt estimating your measurements for the look he’s thinking of. As expected of a former Pomefiore housewarden. He seems to already have an idea of what outfit would be best.

“I’ll help you, but you’re running some errands for me first, pup.”

You shouldn’t have expected anything less from the alchemy professor. Now you’re stuck picking out ingredients in the botanical garden while you’re waiting for him to get the materials together for your outfit.

Of all the botanical zones, it just had to be the tropical zone. The harsh artificial lights shine down as you lean down to pick herbs. While the temperature is bearable, you don't know how much more sweat your outfit can take before it gets soaked completely. The humidity is choking, and you feel dizzy from both the moisture and heat clouding your senses.

“Prefect?”

You look up wearily from basil plants to see Cater Diamond in his labwear, with a face that mirrors your stunned expression.

Give me a break. Immediately, your awkward customer service smile falls in place. First her Majesty, then Tweedle Dee and Dum, and now the March Hare? But Cater knows how to read the room. Maybe he'll know to let it go–

Your hopes are dashed as he immediately bounces up to you with a grin. “Didn't think I'd run into ya like this. Whatcha doing here?”

“Er, Crewel wanted my help with getting him ingredients…” This conversation was quickly swerving into awkward territory. “Why are you here?”

“Ah, you know…” Cater chuckles sheepishly, “I got assigned to water the plants…”

You take notice of the steel watering can in his gloved hands, then the long green hose by his boots. “Ah.”

“Guess that means we’ll be working together!” He chirps cheerfully and you cringe. Seven, anything but that! You quickly turn back to your basket and begin to pick up the pace in harvesting the basil. The quicker you finish, the faster you can get out of this deathly awkward situation.

“By the way, Acey and Deucey wouldn’t stop chatting about you accepting our invitation!” You flinch as Cater idles up next to you, using the hose to spray a generous amount of water over the patch of herbs. “It was pretty cute to see, y’know.”

“R-really?”

"Trey was also glad too. He and Riddle have been planning to make it the best tea party ever," he mock emphasizes. "They've been running the dorm ragged over the party deets. Cay Cay's been so busy with planning stuff!"

"That's not really necessary…" A feeling of guilt worms into your guts for a moment. You squash it. What Riddle and the others do is none of your business and no obligation of yours.

"Right? That's what I said too!" Is he implying that you're the reason there's more work than usual? How shameless is he?

After a good minute of dead silence, Cater pipes up again.

"Sooo, prefect, whatcha been up to lately?"

You can't take it anymore.

“Why are you talking like I have a gun to your head?”

Ever since he made his presence known, he's adopted a high pitched cheery tone that grates on your ears. It was akin to a customer service voice, but you know Cater. That's his influencer speak.

Cater's chipper smile vanishes instantly.

"Whaaaat?!" You catch a glimpse of his snaggle tooth in his exclamation. He quickly turns and moves to water a patch of sprouts further away, "Like, what are you even talking about? You know ol' Cay Cay's just trying to lighten the mood!"

More like he's desperately trying to appeal to you. He knows which attitude will get him the most views, and the best expressions to rake in likes and comments. You often thought that trait was endearing in its own way when you saw him as a fictional character. Now that you're dealing with him as a human being, it just pisses you off to no end. How could he? You know Cater isn't known for his genuineness but….you thought he would at least act his usual aloof casual self. Then you would know that it wouldn't matter if you offended him.

The straw basket is finally filled with everything Crewel asked you for. It's with dirtied skin and sore muscles that you turn towards the exit without sparing Cater a glance.

"If you say so, Diamond." You hurl the words like a molotov cocktail, and it's very effective. Cater's eyebrows twitch and his hands clench around the watering can. It's one thing to call him by his last name, it's another to completely blow off the nickname he blatantly shoves onto you. "See you later at the party."

“Wait, wait, time out for a second!! Can you at least unblock me on Magicam?” The last sentence makes you freeze in your tracks.

When you turn around, Cater’s somehow still smiling that insincere smile of his. Your neck prickles with dread.

You trust me now, right? His crinkled lime green eyes gleam.

You're not fooled. He is desperate to appeal to you not from genuine adoration, but rather guilty obligation. Although he tried to scrub it from his Magicam profile, you saw the blurry reels and pictures of you fleeing for your life. The detailed descriptions underneath. Each one boasting deliberate timestamps meant for best exposure. He put a bounty on your head with his own hands.

Two can play at that game.

"Block you? I don't have a Magicam account," is your dry response. Cater continues to smile as his eyes close.

"Really? I swear that it was you…" His lips jut out in an insincere pout, tilting his head. You shrug apathetically, hoping the conversation runs itself dead.

"Well, if you do make one, hit me up okay?" Cater calls out after your retreating back.

Once you're in the school corridors and catching your breath, you dig your phone out with shaky hands and pull up Magicam.

Hitting delete account has never felt more relieving.

–

The outfit, in your quiet opinion, was not worth the mental gymnastics you had to do in the botanical garden. Not that you were going to say anything to the very teacher who has been known to treat his students like barking dogs.

"It should fit just fine," Crewel smooths out the crinkles in the fabric before handing it to you. "Go on now. Try it on."

A simple white with a red ribbon bow tie and black slacks. It was rather simple, which is just fine. You didn't need or want to stand out in this party. But you certainly didn't want to end up looking like a slob either. This suit your needs quite nicely.

Smoothing down your shirt, you give a spin as Crewel looks on unimpressed. He waves you off with a dry "Don't expect me to do any more favors for you, pup." You mischievously grin and wave him goodbye as you trot off with your clothes in tow.

The last rays of the sun sets the hallway ablaze with orange and yellow hues. You hum as you take the familiar pathway back to Ramshackle. With everything crazy that’s been going on lately, it gets too easy to be swept up in the moment. As you watch the shadows flicker between the stone pillars, you slow down to observe the scenery for a bit.

The sunset catches a glint and reflects bright white for a moment. You blink and it’s gone when you focus. You stop, confused at the intrusion.

A loud click echoes behind you, but when you whip around, there’s nothing but the empty hallways.

You stand for a moment in place, waiting and listening apprehensively. Nothing else happens, and it’s with cautious paranoia that you turn around and start speed walking.

iiii. Funeral

It would be impolite to show up to a party without something.

But now as you're standing before the mirror leading to Heartslabyul, you're having second thoughts.

What if it isn't good? You glance down at your box containing the simple custard puddings you were able to make just last night. You didn't really have the skills to make complicated sweets and the puddings only took three ingredients. And your outfit, what if it isn't up to the Queen of Hearts' rules–

"C'mon, [First]! Or else the food will be gone by the time we get there!"

You breathe out a giggle. "I don't think anyone can beat you on your eating speed, Grim."

"You don't know that!" He hops up and down impatiently, waiting for you to adjust the box in your hands.

Right, who cares about any of that?

You follow your companion through the warped glass.

The fresh spring breeze graces you first, then the refreshing scent of flora, and finally, the warmth of the sun on your skin. When you open your eyes, the stretch of viridian green pastures and vibrant flowers greets you. The land of Heartslabyul is as picturesque as you remembered on screen. It feels unreal.

And waiting for you at the end of the path is the very first dorm you've befriended.

"Weird. Where's everyone at?" Grim grumbles, ears twitching in irritation.

The entrance is completely devoid of any human presence. You don’t sense anyone in the building either, which is completely strange.

Grim's right. Where is everyone? For an incoming tea party, wouldn’t there be various students rushing in and out for the preparations?

“Perhaps they’re in the maze?” You glance warily over to the tall hedges that bloom with beautiful roses. “Should we wait?”

“Ugh, that’s so rude of ‘em to keep us hangin’ though! I say we go lookin’ for them. Who knows how long we gotta stand out here!” Grim shakes his head, distraught at the thought of having to wait for his food. "Let's go to the kitchen!"

"You just want to see if you can eat something." You tut at Grim's scheming face.

"Mya, so what?!" He yowls. "I'm going and you can't stop me!"

"Grim, wait–" You call anxiously, but your companion is already scampering off into the dorm. You're left with no choice but to take a deep steadying breath and press on.

But the kitchen room is also empty when the two of you pop in. However, it seems like it was used recently, if not for the smell, then the sight of various dishes laid out on the counter would have clued you in. You sneakily compare your puddings to the spread laid out before you and wonder again if it isn't too late to put them away in a dark corner.

"What do you have there, prefect?" A low voice breathes in your ear.

You and Grim shriek in tandem, with you almost fumbling and dropping your box and Grim’s signature sharp nails digging into your shins.

The looming presence behind you is revealed to be Trey Clover, who has an apologetic face after spooking the two of you. At least he is conscientious.

"My bad, my bad," he chuckles, "I should've been more obvious about my arrival." He places a steady hovering hand behind your back. Just barely touching, yet close enough to feel its heat. Embarrassingly, the feeling is soothing enough that you can't find it in yourself to pull away.

"Sheesh, for real! You took some of my life with that, y'know Trey!" Grim hisses, detaching his claws from your poor legs. Trey only laughs and ruffles his head.

"I’m sorry about that Grim. Anyway, you guys came just in time," Trey begins to transfer the dishes onto a wheeled cart. "Food just needs to be carried out and the tea party can begin—but you have something, don't you?"

Regret seeps in when you think of your sad puddings next to all these gorgeous pastries and appetizers.

“Uhm, I don’t think it’s really needed since you got all this,” you laugh sheepishly as your hands automatically hide the box behind your back.

“No way.” Trey’s smile is warm but firm. When he gently guides your hands to give up the box, you can’t find it in yourself to protest. “It can’t be that bad, since you made it.”

You're struck silent, and Trey immediately takes advantage of your state to press his hand to your back to usher you forward. His fingertips graze your side, and for a second, you swear his lips quirk into a smirk.

You follow alongside Trey as he pushes the cart out through the door.

"By the way, I'm happy to hear you liked the lavender cookies." You look over to see the baker smile warmly. "I would've tried something with the candied violets I had, but I ran out just as I was making them." He sighs as he shakes his head.

Something with the way he's worded it makes it sound like there was more to the story, but you don't care enough to pry further. Trey's golden orbs slide to meet yours discreetly, and you realize he's waiting for you to respond. You murmur an apathetic response back, and he visibly droops.

It's a long, quiet walk through the rose maze.

It seems your arrival with Trey threw everyone off guard. You don't know why they look so alarmed: the venue looks absolutely resplendent. Colorful lanterns dot the tree lines, swinging back and forth cheerily with brightly colored flags. The long table is draped with fine cloth embroidered with intricate lace patterns. There's not a single wrinkle to be seen in the fabric. And the rose bushes, blooming with both red and white roses, are pruned cleanly, not a leaf or branch out of place.

It is a tea party fit for the Queen of Hearts.

"And the guest of honor is finally here!" Easygoing as ever, Cater calls out jauntily to you both. He seems to be the only one not visibly panicking. "Trey, what took ya so long?"

"Had to get the dishes here, you know." He shoots a knowing glare at Cater, who flinches with a sheepish smile. "Someone was supposed to help me, which would've made it a lot faster."

Ah. Cater giggles nervously while twirling his hair. Ace and Deuce exchange disbelieving looks before shaking their heads.

“Welcome, prefect.” Riddle greets you with a stiff bow. "And Grim." He hastily adds, seeing your companion’s face twist sulkily. The action makes you smile, if only for a moment.

“We’ve been waiting forever for you, Yuu—” Deuce jabs an elbow sharply into Ace’s side, making him cough and sputter mid sentence, but the damage has already been done. Another awkward silence reigns as everyone’s fearful faces are directed at you, trying to figure out how to best traverse the conversational minefield.

“W-What Acey meant to say is–” Cater is cut off immediately.

"Uh, er, come to think of it, what's your actual name?" Deuce is the one who pushes forward despite everyone else’s horrified looks. As if he had uttered a profane exclamation.

"My…name?" You echo back.

Right. Since all they knew was the puppet, they didn't know your true name. Heavy silence hovers in the air, even Grim was looking at you in anticipation.

"My name is…" Something chokes your throat. Reluctance? Or fear?

"[First]. [First] [Last]."

They mutter it among themselves, tasting the syllables and weaving the rhythms of the letters. How strange. With sugar coated lips, their voices ring like church bells for prayer. You're born anew, for the way they look at you is enough to make your heart soar for several fleeting seconds.

For a brief moment, you could believe that you were with your Heartslabyul again.

The tea party begins like a baby animal: slow, unsure, and always in danger of stumbling to the ground. But it’s Heartslabyul, and who else would know how to best host a party for its guests?

By the time the tea is being poured into your cups, a steady conversation has started naturally flowing between all of you.

“Is there something the matter?” Riddle asks for the nth time as he worriedly gazes at the way your eyes stray to the hedges and whimsical decorations beyond the table.

"Oh uhm…” You hesitate, still not meeting Riddle’s worried face. “Why are the roses both red and white? I thought one of your rules is that tea parties always have white roses."

Riddle exchanges a look with Trey at your question.

"That is true, [First], however…" He pauses, before continuing with a determined look. "Red and white roses are customary for parties celebrating with new friends."

“New…friends?” Your hand is frozen at your teacup.

Something fiercely warm fills your chest. There's cautious hope glimmering in Riddle and Trey's eyes. That wasn’t fair. How could they say something like that and not expect you to react?

The party ends on a light note unlike its stiff beginning. The soldiers gather to see you and Grim off, but once Grim scampers off with his leftovers in paw, her Majesty moves to your side.

“Prefect–no, [First], would you come again?” He asks. His hands are trembling, tugging at your sleeve timidly like a young child again. “F-For an Unbirthday party, of course!”

It’s a request that’s not selfish, you note. Her Majesty’s card soldiers look on expectantly behind their monarch, and it takes everything within you to not collapse.

“Of course. I can’t wait for it already.”

Your heart weighs heavy. They do not know that the promise is an empty white lie. Though you cherish them, you do not wish to act the role of a doll whose purpose is to play house.

When they looked at you with those pleading eyes, who did they see?

Yuu, the puppet they adored for its safe default responses and supportive words?

Or you, the player who has their own flaws and biased personality?

It's okay, you reason.

They won't be able to tell the difference between clay and flesh.

v. Burial

You have a hunch about Yuu.

Only a guess based on many hypotheticals, but better than nothing.

If the puppet stopped working when you arrived, then shouldn't it go without saying that if you left this world, that it would return back to life?

The wooden door creaks open, stirring up dust and sending it flying into the air. You cough and sneeze, waving your hand to disperse the irritant. Serves you right. After all, you refused to step into this room since Yuu's body was hauled here. Didn't even dare to come clean the room. The dust settles and you can finally make out the puppet's silhouette from the waning light rays of the window.

It still adorns its proper NRC uniform, wrinkled in the spots where you had lifted it. It hasn't moved at all from its sprawled pose on the sofa. You remember the dread at realizing the only fitting school uniform you could possibly wear was on this puppet. It only cemented your resolve to break away from the puppet's image. Even if you had to resort to clearing out ancient closets and haggling with faculty, you'd rather take the raggedy shawls and worn flannel over the crisp blazer and button up the puppet wore.

Its skin has become ashen gray, drained of any life. Old joints creaked in agony when you adjusted it to a sitting position for better examination. For a while, the both of you stare at each other.

Despair tugs at your mind. How long will you be trapped in this world? Has the Headmaster even done anything to help you get home? You snort. He couldn’t even bother doing anything when it was just the vessel. Why would that change now?

Can you hear me?

The voice, so quiet yet clear, makes you whip your head around. No one's in the room. Are you finally going crazy?

You can hear me, right?

Is one of the ghosts playing a prank on you? You can't pinpoint the source of the voice at all.

I'm here–look!

With dread and fear pooling in your heart, your head turns slowly to meet the doll's eyes; whose pupils are now fixated on you.

The urge to scream and push away the doll is overwhelming. But in a world where the supernatural is natural, you suppose that dolls that can speak are the least impossible thing out there.

I can help you find your way home.

You swallow thickly. Pursing your lips, your grip on its arms tightens as you lean in. Something stirs, and it’s crazy, but you swear it hums in pleasure.

Listen to what I say carefully…

Decorations? Check. Refreshments? Check.

Outfits? Check.

So why does it feel like there's something missing?

"What's wrong, Riddle?" He turns to see Trey's concerned face. He gives an awkward smile back.

"I'm not quite sure, but something feels amiss." He explains, rubbing his neck. It's obvious enough to make him feel the familiar slivers of irritation slither through him.

He tries to will it away. It's a good day, and there was nothing to be angry about. The player–no, [First]–had decided to give them a chance and agreed to come over to celebrate an Unbirthday party with them. Ace and Deuce are behaving as good, law-abiding card soldiers should be. The roses were saturated with dripping red, the dormouse had its nose smeared with jam–so what is this itch that won't go away?

"We can do a double check of everything again," Trey offers gently. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

Riddle shakes his head. “It’s almost time for them to arrive. I will not have them waiting on something that isn’t even a problem.”

“Housewarden~!” Speak of the devil. He turns with a frown at Ace’s loud shout, but it fades to a small smile when he sees you trailing after Ace.

"Hello, Riddle." You smile warmly at him, and his cheeks flush pink.

Wait. He stops. Have you ever called his name? He doesn’t have time to ponder this before he’s interrupted by Trey and Cater bringing in the food.

When everyone is seated and the party is in swing, he notices something.

“Is the food not to your liking, [First]?” He inquires as politely as possible, softening his tone to make it sound less accusatory.

You fluster, waving a hand. “Not at all. I’m just not that hungry right now.”

He decides to leave it, because it’s not as if it’s wrong, per se, if the guest wasn’t eating. He recalls Ace’s previous words to him.

“Housewarden, you really should loosen up a bit! Otherwise you’re gonna end up being a killjoy!”

He may be many things, but he is not a killjoy! Just because he was particular about certain things doesn’t mean he didn’t know how to let go.

But something feels off.

Then he realizes that while the conversation is flowing as usual, you are hardly speaking at all. You only speak when directly spoken to, and even then, it’s short, clipped responses.

He watches incredulously as you pour yourself a cup of tea and then drink it.

The golden scepter materializes in his hand as easily as breathing.

Everyone else reacts explosively, looking alarmed at the scene unfolding. Meanwhile, you merely stare blankly at the end of the scepter nearly several inches from your nose.

"Riddle, hold the phone, what are you doing?!" He barely hears Cater's frantic voice to his left. He's too focused on the way that…that thing is not reacting at all.

"You. Where is [First]?"

It's silent for a moment, and then a disturbing crooked grin breaks out from its poker face. It starts cackling loudly and it makes his blood start boiling.

"Start speaking or it's off with your head!" He screeches, scepter shaking uncontrollably in his hands.

"Boo, I was hoping you guys were stupid enough to fall for it.” The thing taunts, leaning back in their chair.

Red fills his vision. How dare this thing use your visage and breath such vile words? Before he could register it, his arm swipes across. By the time his eyes clear and his breathing steadies, he's staring at a decapitated body that is mangled beyond repair.

It takes another moment to realize he is not the only one who has raised their magical pen.

Trey is at his right, golden eyes dark as Riddle realizes he positioned himself to shield him. Cater mirrors Trey, but his arms are visibly shaking and his eyes keep switching from him to the broken body on the trimmed lawn. Ace and Deuce had positioned themselves to the backside, but they too, barely seem to be holding themselves together, clenched fists at the ready for physical blows.

“What…” he breathes, “is going on?”

The only answer he gets is the wind whistling through the grass blades.

He collapses to his knees as he fumbles with a body that has been torn asunder, but instead of flesh and bones, he only finds clay and chipped resin.

“What have we done?”

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere heartslabyul #my works #if this gets good reception i'll have a easier time of writing part 2

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headphonegrl · 9 months ago

Text

“Do you feel old?” You ask Jude, your voice hoarse from performing multiple songs back to back on the garish karaoke machine his mum had rented out for the occasion. There are now at least a dozen badly shot videos of you singing in Jude’s camera roll, including a rendition of ‘happy birthday’ sung by you and his brother where half his index finger is covering the lens.

“What’d you mean?” After hours of displaying nothing but rash energy, Jude finally feels himself getting sluggish while trying to endure the unbearable gnawing feeling of pins and needles rising up his legs; a big plush sofa sits untouched on the other side of the living room but you’ve both decided to drunkenly cram yourselves onto the armchair in a mess of tangled limbs.

“Just a silly question.” As you flutter your eyes shut, Jude tries to get a proper look at the glitter eyeshadow you had meticulously applied earlier that evening. In the wake of a large round of tequila shots, some of his friends had insisted on having their own ‘sparkle stuff’ and began queuing at the bathroom door like kids waiting to get their face painted like a tiger at the zoo. “Do you feel any older yet?”

“I’m not sure.” It’s the kind of question he’d once been asked in the primary school playground, with a blue birthday badge pinned proudly onto the fabric of his uniform. Back then it seemed very easy and obvious to answer plainly with a ‘no’, though now he’s finding himself stumped for a reply entirely. “Do you ever feel like that?”

“I think the last age I felt was seventeen.” You say definitively as if you've thought about it at great length before. Jude hadn’t known you at that age, but his home screen for almost a year was a photo your mum had shown him of you pulling a horrific face while blowing out the candles of your seventeenth birthday cake.

“That’s probably the same for me.” Embarrassingly, Jude had once referred to himself as a ‘seventeen-year-old’ during a frenzied post-match interview and then had to sheepishly correct himself by clarifying that he had just turned nineteen. Sometimes he feels like the years are slipping through his fingers like sand and there’s no sufficient way to stop them.

“Then before that it was twelve.” You continue as you do a little cat-like stretch with your free arm which Jude finds incredibly endearing along with everything else you do; he supposes it’s a very common side-effect when it comes to being in love.

“I found being twelve proper boring.” It was something he remembers expressing even at that age. Just as if he had been dropped off somewhere by his childhood and was painstakingly waiting for his teenage years to finally pick him up and take him somewhere exciting. “It’s such an in-between age.”

“That’s true.” The sky in the open window behind you is that awkward shade of grey that appears just before sunrise, like a page when a printer begins to suddenly run out of ink.

“I wish we’d known each other as kids.” Jude feels as though he goes through life with your name humming inside his chest like a second heart and yet this sentence seems so intimate that he can’t even look at you as speaks. Instead, he takes extra care and attention towards staring at the ceiling and inspecting all the sparse helium balloons that have floated up towards it.

“So do I.” Your words come out as a dozy whisper and Jude finds himself smiling up at a star-shaped foil balloon. He’s not twelve or seventeen, but he’s just turned twenty and loves you so much that he doesn’t even care that both of his legs have gone completely numb from sitting with you on this unbearably uncomfortable armchair.

#hiiiii everyone #excuse any typos etc just turned 3 am #headphonegrl comeback era 4 REAL #my writing #football imagines #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fluff #footballer x reader #footballer x you #footballer imagine #footballer fanfic #jude bellingham one shot #footballer one shot

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tcubunny · 11 months ago

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dom!jihyo x sub!fem!reader - “secrecy” (warnings: smut, slight angst, cursing, voyeurism, breast play, fingering, clit stimulation, first time, praise)

a/n: AHH i’m excited to be back even if it’s a little different and not very stable, thank u guys for waiting <3 anyway, enough about me. this is going to be the initial story on how the reader got tangled up in twice’s relationship. when i refer to tzuyu and chaeng being “teary eyed” in the story, that doesn’t necessarily mean they were getting punished. hope u guys find it decent even though this is something very different and new. enjoy 😘

word count: 4.7k

first it was just jihyo and nayeon sneaking around, locking themselves in a bedroom for a few hours, or trading mischievous looks. it seemed strange of course, but you accepted it and moved on; it wasn’t any of your business anyway. then you noticed it happening with jeongyeon and momo as well. they seemed to also engage in whatever it was that nayeon and jihyo were initially doing.

momo became extremely abrasive towards her older members and jihyo, but not in a genuine way, it seemed almost…flirty? no, that couldn’t be. you once again convinced yourself that you were overthinking—and once again; it was none of your business.

it became much harder to ignore when it started happening with sana, mina, and dahyun. you took notice of sana’s sudden brattiness around certain people for lack of a better word, and the way she would practically melt on the spot when jihyo shot her an angry look. the way mina would quietly squirm on the couch when she was sitting next to nayeon, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. you also noticed bruises on dahyun’s shoulders and chest. she clearly thought she was hiding them well, but that wasn’t the case.

it became all you thought about, but you were far too scared to ask. even when tzuyu and chaeyoung eventually started going into the others’ rooms at night and coming out hours later—sometimes teary eyed and with marks on their necks; you remained silent. even when what was going on became blatantly obvious, you still didn’t dare speak about it.

of course it hurts, you can’t pretend it doesn’t, but what can you do? you don’t know how to subtly hint that you so desperately want to be included, and god knows you’re not brave enough to outright asks anyone to let you participate. what would you even say? how does one ask a questions like that? “hey, i can tell there’s some sort of secret sex club i’m not a part of, can i j-“

shit.

your bedroom door shoots open, and you can hear momo and jihyo giggling as they walk in and shut it behind them. you’re frozen, you don’t think they’ve noticed you yet. momo being here is very normal, this is her bedroom as well, but it’s not jihyo’s, so you can only assume what they’re doing here.

“jihyo, stop. look.”

fuck, is she talking about you? it’s too late now, you can’t just get up and exit the room. your best option is just to be quiet and pretend to be sound asleep.

“it’s fine, she’s asleep.“

you hear what sounds like a kiss, you feel your face redden and suddenly start burning up under the covers. you know you shouldn’t be present right now, you feel like a creep, but at the same time, you can’t help but be extremely turned on.

“what if she’s not?” “oh my god, shut up.”

you hear kissing again, followed by giggling from both parties. you listen attentively, hyperaware of the wetness growing between your legs and the warmth in your cheeks. you want to turn and face them, but you can’t risk moving even an inch.

“take this off.” you hear jihyo almost whisper in a low, sultry voice that instantly makes your already soaking pussy even wetter. your desire to turn around is unbearable, you feel like you might explode.

“you take it off for me, please.” momo sounds so desperate all of the sudden, it just turns you on even more. your core aches, you swear you can feel the blood rushing to it. “of course, my love.”

my love.

that sounds divine coming out of jihyo’s mouth. how you wish she were talking to you instead.

you hear more kissing and clothes hitting the floor, keeping yourself still is becoming an impossible task. every single noise is driving you insane, you’re completely overtaken by the way they softly moan and whine between kisses.

so overtaken, in fact, that you don’t even realize when all the sound stops.

“you think she’s had enough of pretending to be asleep?”

holy shit.

you panic trying to think of an explanation as to why you were spying on them while they fucked, but you can’t come up with anything.

“c’mon, get up.” jihyo calls out to you, but you still don’t move. “we caught you, staying quiet isn’t going to do anything.” momo’s voice sounds like it’s getting closer, which is proven true when you feel them sit down on the bed.

“are you really not going to speak to us?” you almost get up, but jihyo’s next words leave you completely immobile.

“don’t you want to join us?”

you can instantly feel the slick soaking through your shorts. what the fuck are you supposed to do now? tell them that you’ve wanted to join them for months? stay quiet? jump off a cliff perhaps?

“y/n…”

“y/n.”

“Y/N!”

your eyes suddenly shoot open and you see jihyo violently shaking you.

of course, it was a fucking dream.

“good morning. it’s almost 11, how long are you going to sleep?” you groan at her and she pulls you up by your hands. “come eat, you can’t be on an empty stomach so late.”

she walks out of the room and you groggily stay sitting up in bed until you finally feel something wet between your thighs. what was happening in the dream wasn’t real, but your reaction definitely was because your underwear is soaked.

you stand up rubbing your eyes and walk to the bathroom to shower. as you shower, you keep replaying the dream in your head. you’re so angry at yourself for it, but you can’t stop. you only snap out of it when the water turns cold and you have to get out.

you’ve started to almost dread being with everyone else because that feeling of not being being included is always present. even if it’s an average conversation and there’s no subtle hint or underlaying meaning, you can’t shake it off.

you head into the living room where most of the girls are sitting on the couch. you take notice of sana’s flirty giggling as she’s talking to nayeon, and dahyun’s hand covering a fresh mark on her neck, but you try your best to ignore it.

you walk to the kitchen where jeongyeon and tzuyu are, the hand on tzuyu’s waist flys off as soon as they notice you. “good morning!” tzuyu walks over to you and hugs you.

“how’d you sleep?” jeongyeon asks while also walking over to you. “i slept okay. you guys?” they answer and walk into the living room with everyone else.

you grab something quick to eat try sneaking back up to your room, but jihyo stops you.

“you’re not even going to acknowledge us?” you turn around, smiling and telling everyone good morning. you start walking away again, but jihyo doesn’t let you.

“won’t you sit with us, your majesty? will you grant us the great honor of blessing us with your presence for a few minutes?” she asks in a mocking tone and looks over at nayeon, exchanging incredulous looks with her.

jihyo pats down a spot next to her for you to sit and you do so. she puts her arm around you and brings you in for a hug. you pull away nearly instantly and she furrows her brows at you. “seriously what is up? do you not like us anymore?”

you dismiss her question and everyone stays silent for a while until momo speaks up about something random. you sit on your phone, ignoring whatever is happening around you. you’re absentmindedly scrolling through instagram and still thinking about that goddamn dream.

before you realize, it’s already the afternoon. everyone else is still talking or watching the tv.

when sana and nayeon get up holding hands, nobody bats an eye, but you do. you don’t know what came over you, but you just had to comment on it.

“why is it a problem when i get up and leave but it’s not when any of you do so?”

nayeon and sana stop dead in their tracks and look around, waiting for someone to say something. jihyo scoffs and stands up in front of you.

“i’m so serious right now, what is your issue lately? why are you acting like this?”

your nose burns and your eyes start watering at her remark. what does she mean? you wouldn’t be acting like this if they weren’t excluding you from something everyone else is involved in.

“you guys, all of you, you’re my issue and you know why!”

you storm out and run to your room wiping your tears as you hear everyone shouting for you to come back. you get inside and slam the door shut, laying down in bed and sobbing into your pillow.

after months of enduring this and staying quiet, you just couldn’t handle it anymore. they’ve driven you to think there’s something wrong with you—something they don’t like. there has to be a reason why they’re doing this, but what? you feel bad for telling them they were your issue, but then again, why would you feel bad if they haven’t shown an ounce of remorse?

you keep crying uncontrollably until you hear a knock at your door. “leave.” you shout back in between choked sobs. whoever is on the other side doesn’t listen to you and walks in anyway.

“it’s me.”

you hear tzuyu’s voice as she sits beside you. you turn to face her, doing your best to make your face look better.

“why are you here? are you gonna ask me about my ‘issue’ as well?” she gets closer to your and takes your hand in hers. “no, i just genuinely want to know what’s wrong. you can’t deny that you’ve been distant lately.”

you sit in silence with her for a few seconds before finally speaking up about everything you’ve been holding back.

“tzuyu, do you all take me for such an idiot? do you really think i haven’t noticed what you guys do when you think i’m not looking? all of the sneaking around, and weird looks, and touching each other, and everything else, i notice it all.”

you pause to wipe your tears and take a breath.

“i’m not stupid, i know what’s going on.”

tzuyu exhales deeply and gives you a hug. “listen, i won’t pretend like you’re not correct, but i don’t know if i can do anything about it. and i know how you feel, i felt the same way. it’s not that you’ve done anything or there’s something wrong with you, they just think you’re too young.”

what she’s saying makes sense, and it makes you feel better, but at the same time it doesn’t because there’s nothing you can do to “fix” your age. “i’m only one year younger than you, i don’t understand.” she hugs you again and wipes a tear from your cheek.

“i’ll try to do something for you, i promise.” she gets up and walks out of the room, giving you a smile and blowing you a kiss as goodbye.

you spend the rest of the day avoiding going outside as much as possible, but eventually your stomach forces you out. you walk straight into the kitchen, not making eye contact with anyone. you eat something quickly and start walking to your room, but as you’re passing by the couch jihyo grabs your arm and pulls you down to whisper in your ear.

“come to my room in about an hour.”

she lets go of you and tunes back into the conversation. you walk away, puzzled at her request. did tzuyu say something to her?

you spend the next hour anxiously pacing back and forth in your room, wondering what will happen. there’s so many possible ways this could play out, and you’re not ready for any of them. all you can do is hope that it’ll turn out well.

the time quite literally flew by and you’re still in the same state, but you can’t make jihyo wait.

your hands are sweating as you walk to her room and your heart feels like it’s going to pound straight out of your chest. when you get there, you take a deep breath and knock on the door.

“come in.”

your hand shakes on the doorknob as you open it. you stare down at the floor while walking into the room, too scared to look up at jihyo. you try locking the door behind you as a reflex, but she stops you.

“no need to do that, my love.”

fuck, it already sounded hot in your dream, but it sounds infinitely better in person.

“tzuyu told me what you told her, and i think it’s time we have a chat. do you want to do that?” you freeze and your eyes widen, you’ve imagined this moment a thousand times but somehow you can’t react. jihyo laughs at your nervous state and it sends shivers down your spine.

“why are you being so quiet?” you try to stutter out a response, but can’t do so successfully. “okay, you don’t have to talk right now, don’t worry.” she takes a pause and you nod. “come sit.” she pats her lap and you hesitate to follow her instructions until she beckons you with her hand.

as soon as you sit down, you can feel the cold slick on your underwear and wonder if jihyo can feel it through your shorts. she looks at you while playing with your hair and you can feel yourself growing wetter by the second.

“i know that you’ve known what was going on for a while, princess.” the hand previously playing with your hair is now inside your shirt, pressed against your lower back. “and i know what you may think is the reason we haven’t included you, but i can assure you that whatever you’re thinking, that’s not it.” now she can definitely feel how wet you are on her thigh.

“you’re just our baby, we didn’t want to throw you into anything too soon. you can understand that, can’t you, darling?”

“mhm.” you swear you’re trying to form cohesive sentence or at least phrases, but that’s not an easy task when jihyo is drawing circles on your thigh; gradually inching closer to the spot where you need her most.

“i’m really sorry for making you so sad, but i think you’re mature enough now, do you agree?” you give her an enthusiastic nod in hopes that she’ll hurry up and do something already, but she doesn’t.

“good, i’m glad we’re on the same page.” she changes your position on her lap so that you’re straddling her and you almost let out a whine in anticipation.

“i want you to tell me if anything is too much, okay?” you nod again and she smiles at you.

she places a hand on your waist and sneaks the other one inside your shirt. she presses her lips against your collar bone and you unwillingly let out a moan. she huffs at your vocal response. “are you really that excited, love?” “yes.”

she continues placing soft kisses all over your collarbone and neck. at first you’re content with that alone, but soon the aching between your legs becomes too much. “jihyo…”

she pauses what she’s doing and looks into your eyes, moving the hair out of your face. “what is it, princess?” you knew exactly what you were going to say a second ago, but her gaze somehow stripped you of all thoughts. “more.” is all you can manage to get out. “more? are you sure?” “yes, please, i can’t keep waiting.”

your begging comes out in a breathy sentence as your body grows hotter. you’ve waited enough for this, you can’t keep going.

“you’re so cute.“ she smiles at you before lifting you off her lap and placing you beside her on the bed. “lay down.” you do what she says without thinking about it twice. “you’re such a great listener, love. i know a few people that would greatly benefit from your company.” as you take in her sentence it finally hits you that you’re really going to be a part of this. you don’t even know what that entails, but the curtain has finally dropped.

you were definitely showing your epiphany on your face because of jihyo’s laughing. “don’t worry, you’ll understand better soon enough. for now, stop thinking about anyone but us two okay?”

she doesn’t wait for your response and finishes her sentence with a kiss. you can feel your face heat up as soon as it happens, and apparently this amuses jihyo. “do i really make you that flustered?” she leans back down for another kiss and you grab her shirt, not letting her come back up.

her lips feel soft and warm, just like you’d imagined for so long. she leans down further and you can feel her breasts press against yours; your clothes start to feel uncomfortable and restricting. her tongue pushes its way into your mouth and without breaking the kiss, she pulls off your shorts and tosses them aside.

“remember what i told you earlier?” you nod, just wanting her to continue, but not really knowing what she means specifically. you guess it was what she said about telling her if anything is too much. she pulls away from your lips and you whine in frustration.

she places soft kisses on your neck while pulling your shirt up. you’re not wearing anything under it—partly because you normally don’t when you’re staying in for the day, but admittedly because you were desperately expecting since jihyo told you to meet her in her room.

you try to cover up when you notice her staring at your breasts, but she pulls your hands off. “you look so pretty, darling, don’t cover yourself.” the redness on your face returns, which earns a small chuckle from jihyo.

she kisses your neck and shoulders a few more times before making her way to your tits. as soon as her lips come in contact with your skin, you jolt. “you’re so sensitive, it’s so cute.” she wraps her lips around your nipple and you nearly climax just from that. she takes your other nipple in between her fingers, tugging and squeezing it softly.

exasperated moans leave your lips and you feel the slick coating your thighs through your underwear. jihyo switches her mouth to your other tit and starts slowly moving her hand lower. “please, jihyo.” your impatience makes her laugh against your skin, which just adds to your frustration.

she traces the hem of your panties with her fingers and looks up at you awaiting your permission. you decide you can’t wait any longer and take her hand into yours, putting it directly on top of the soaking wet spot on your underwear. jihyo pauses and bites the inside of her cheek, looking at you like never before, with venom laced in her eyes.

“i’ll let that slide because you don’t know any better, but you don’t get to make me do things, got it?” the anger leaves her gaze, but you can still sense it. “yes, i’m really sorry.” “just don’t do it again.” everyone’s apparent fear of jihyo suddenly starts making sense.

“you’re dripping, love. is this all for me?” she already has you seeing stars while drawing circles on the outside of your panties. “yes, it’s all for you.” “sweet girl. don’t worry, i’m going to take care of this for you.”

with that, she places her index and ring finger directly on top of your clit through your underwear and starts moving them in slow, circular motions. she brings her mouth back down to your tits, but you want her lips on yours. you almost pull her up yourself, but you remember her earlier warning about that.

“jihyo…” you completely lose your sentence when jihyo bites down on your shoulder. fuck, she’s so good at this.

“are you going to finish?” she stares down at you while speeding up on your clit. she’s reduced you to a moaning, incoherent mess in a mere 5 minutes. “i’m waiting.”

“kiss me.”

“whatever you want, princess.” you barely manage to get out two words in between moans and whimpers. she bends down and grabs your face with her free hand. you try your best to reciprocate the kiss, but you’re really just moaning into her mouth.

she gradually speeds up and adds more pressure. you’ve now fully lost it, there’s not a single thought in your head, and jihyo loves it. she praises every sound you make and chuckles in amusement.

“you sound so pretty, darling.”

you suddenly slap your hand over your mouth because you hear footsteps outside, but jihyo pulls it away from your face. “no, don’t quiet yourself. it doesn’t matter if someone can hear you.”

that comment sends you straight over the edge for some reason. the idea of another member hearing you turns you on more than you’d like to admit. your eyes squeeze shut and you grip jihyo’s shoulder as your hips jolt forward.

“i’m right here, princess. i’ve got you.”

she continues rubbing circles on your clit until you’re completely done and you don’t let go of her shoulder. “breathe, darling. can you take deep breaths for me?” you do what she says, realizing that you had indeed somewhat forgotten to breathe.

“you were amazing, love. you did so well.” your brain is still foggy and your vision hazy. you finally let go of jihyo and throw your arms over your head. she takes the opportunity to take off her clothes, which she still had on.

you watch attentively as her shirt slides off her body and she unclasps her bra, making her tits bounce out. your cheeks redden at the sight in front of you and jihyo notices, so she makes a big show out of taking off her shorts and underwear.

you’ve seen her naked before, but never in this context. she’s truly breathtaking. you stay still for a few seconds, admiring every inch of her body. she bends down to kiss you and her bare tits press against your own, sending an all to familiar rush of heat straight to your core.

when her chest separates from yours, you stretch out your hand to touch her, but stop yourself. “do you want to touch me?” your face turns red again, and jihyo takes that as a yes.

instead of giving you a verbal reply, she takes your hand into hers and places it on her breast. “don’t be shy, love. you can touch me however you want.” she winks at you and goes back to your neck, leaving a trail of marks with her lips.

you softly play with her tits, still somewhat hesitant. she separates from your body and tugs at your panties. “let’s take these off, they’re soaked.” she slides them off and throws them aside carelessly. you let go of her and close your legs, but she carefully pulls them open. “don’t close them.” “okay, i won’t.” she gives you a kiss while cupping your face. “good girl, you’re doing so well.”

your hand goes back to her breast, playing with it mindlessly. jihyo continues kissing you while letting her hands caress your inner thigh. you love all of it, everything she does makes your head spin.

she moves her hand closer to your core and you try moving your hips even closer to it, but she pulls away. “be patient.” she goes back to drawing circles on your thighs and teasing you by getting really close, but never actually reaching your pussy.

“please, jihyo, i need it.” she plants a kiss on your forehead and wipes the hair off your face. “okay, princess. i’ll stop being mean.”

she puts the palm of her hand over your clit, playing with it before spreading your folds open with her middle and index finger. that alone is already causing you to be outrageously loud, you’re sure everyone in a ten mile radius knows what’s going on.

“tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?” “okay.” she kisses your cheek before spitting on her fingers. maybe it’s just because jihyo is the one doing it, but that looks way hotter than it should.

she takes her fingers back down to your pussy, coating it in her spit. she traces her fingers along your entrance and pushes them in. you whine out in pain and squeeze her tit, causing her to remove her fingers.

“ah, fuck.”

her curse comes out as an almost whimper and you nearly lose your shit at the sound. you of course ease up, but part of you wants to keep doing it just to hear her again.

“be honest with me, have you ever fingered yourself, love?” you avert your eyes away from hers in embarrassment; you don’t want to admit the truth. you’ve tried masturbating before, but you can never seem to do it properly. and you haven’t dared finger yourself for fear of getting hurt. maybe you should have told her this before she started, but it’s too late now.

she grabs your chin and makes you face her again. “you can tell me.” you think for a few seconds, but finally admit it. “i haven’t, i’m really sorry for not telling you, i just-“ she cuts you off with a kiss and starts giggling. “it’s okay, darling. you don’t have to explain yourself. i’ll just go slower, does that sound good?” “yes, thank you.”

she smiles at you and her fingers go back to your wet pussy. she does the same thing as before, spreading your folds apart. she slowly inserts part of her fingers and lets you get used to the sensation before going any further. “tell me when you’re ready.” “okay.”

you wait a couple of seconds and instruct her to go on. she pushes her fingers in completely and you wince, a tear rolling down your cheek. she goes to take them out again, but you tell her not to. “i can’t wait any longer. i want you to make me cum again, please.”

she’s somewhat frozen in shock at your statement, but she snaps out of it quickly, giving you a devilish smirk. “if that’s what you want, but don’t push yourself too much.” “it is, please, jihyo.”

she slowly starts moving her fingers in and out of you while giving you soft kisses in an attempt to mediate your pain.

it hurts like hell for the first few minutes, but it quickly starts turning into the greatest thing you’ve ever felt. your quiet winces and whimpers become moans of ecstasy as the pain completely disappears.

“faster, please.” you beg, letting go of jihyo’s breast to grip the sheets beside you. she does what you told her without hesitating and starts curling her fingers inside you as well. you bring one of your hands to your mouth and bite down on your finger; she’s truly incredible.

“jihyo—hm, that feels good.” she places her free hand on your thigh, rubbing it softly. “i’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, you sound so pretty.”

you give her a half smile, too intoxicated with her movements to properly process half of what she’s saying. the palm of her hand slams against your clit every time her fingers are pushed back into you which only serves to make you feel even better.

she speeds up more, continuing to hit the perfect spot every time she curls her fingers. the air feels stuffy and warm, and jihyo looks absolutely enchanting in front of you.

you feel yourself on the edge, but not enough to cum just yet. that quickly changes when you see jihyo bite down on her lip however.

you hold onto the bedsheets even tighter than before as you practically scream and your legs start shaking. all of the muscles in your body contract and jihyo makes sure to let you completely ride out your orgasm.

“good job, princess. how do you feel?” you’re still a bit dazed as she sits against the head board and helps you onto her lap. “good.” she laughs and you straddle her, wrapping your arms around her and burying your face into her neck.

“i’ll let you rest for bit, but we have to get you cleaned up and go downstairs to have a very lengthy chat with everyone else.” you sit in silence for a few minutes as jihyo scratches your back and plays with your hair. you nearly fall asleep, but she speaks up.

“nayeon texted me, she says you sounded amazing.”

928 notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 1 year ago

Text

come pick me up.

part one to do you think i have forgotten (about you)

summary: it had always been you and eddie. but one night and a whole lotta unexplored feelings leave you both reeling and you’re not sure if it ever really was you and eddie.

a/n: ermm this is so so long i’m so sorry already LOL i’ve had it in the drafts for so long but i reread it n rlly liked it so i wanna post hehe! side note: there are ZERO pictures of eddie not in that fuckin hellfire shirt D: i can’t have a grown man wearing that now …

loosely based off of the cook/freddie/effy storyline from skins uk if you’ve seen it you’ll know.,,, they’re like in their early twenties n it’s set sometime in the 90s ish tho it’s not rlly mentioned

no use of y/n! smut, 18+. this is more so stevexreader than eddie but they do have a relationship of sorts n it’s a lil’ complicated.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ❤︎ ❤︎ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

the sound of a high pitched alarm screaming jolts you awake. still partially in last nights clothes, the grubby feel of makeup on your face. leg slung over eddie’s torso.

you groan, shoving his arm as he’s still very much asleep, ‘shut up,’ grimacing as the noise continues.

he mumbles something, wildly slapping his arm about to turn off the damn thing.

you run a hand over your face, remnants of your black eyeliner on your hand. that horrid taste in your mouth only found after a night of drinking. which seemed to be just about every night at the moment.

‘why’d you set an alarm, you freak?’ rolling over onto your stomach, perched on your elbows, watching as his eyes slowly open, obviously feeling as shit as you did.

‘i have- had class, you freak,’ he grumbles, looking up at you from the pillow, curly hair fanned out around him.

you scoff, ‘like you were gonna go,’ attempting to rub the rest of your mascara off, sure you looked similar to a wild raccoon.

he hums in response, shuffling under the covers to tangle his leg with your yours, ‘you gonna sort this out for me?’ referring to the obvious morning glory tenting the blanket.

‘you gonna ask nicely?’ you respond, snarling at his crudeness.

whatever he was about to say was interrupted with a knock at the door, ‘we’re coming in, you have five seconds to not be naked,’ robin’s voice echoes.

you look up as robin walks into the room, hand over her eyes until steve gives her a small nudge, indicating the coast is clear, ‘oh good-,’ she sniffs, ‘it smells like weed and sex in here, you’re fucking disgusting.’

‘thanks for reminding me,’ eddie leans over, retrieving the half-smoked spliff from last night and lighting the end.

steve’s eyes are firmly on yours, kinda sad and defeated. he had that same look on his face whenever you and eddie were together, which was often.

you’d sort of always had this.. thing with steve. encapsulated by his presence. there was always something unspoken between you and you were never sure if it was because he hated you or not. small glances and touches that seemed to linger just a bit too long.

you’d sorta taken his best friend from him at one point, coming between their friendship suddenly and with no warning.

steve was intrigued by you too. this mystical, unobtainable persona you presented to the world. something he couldn’t crack. just couldn’t quite understand it.

‘we’re getting breakfast, i was going to ask if you wanted to join but i assume that won’t be happening,’ she raises her eyebrows, noticing your severely hungover state.

they liked to party too, just clearly not as much as you and eddie. both of you had no understanding of when to call it a night, egging each other on til the point of no return.

‘i think we’ll give that a miss,’ eddie’s answers for the both of you. steve’s eyes immediately look down, suddenly interesting in the burn marks in eddie’s carpet.

you’d actually met steve first, on the first day of classes in freshmen year. you went over to a sheepish steve, who looked slightly scared, and obviously lost. offering him the directions to his room.

he’d smiled back, introducing himself to you on the way. appreciative of your kindness. you probably wouldn’t have helped if he didn’t look like that, but still, it was nice.

that’s when eddie had bounded over, all hair and denim. loudly taking over your conversation, introducing himself with a smirk, hand already creeping onto your lower back. that’s when steve had nodded towards him and informed you of their already established friendship.

you weren’t really sure when it became you and eddie. well, it wasn’t. not officially. god, you didn’t want official. he was fun to fuck and even better to party with. maybe the fact he dealt had been a factor in solidifying your strange relationship. maybe not.

robin rolls her eyes, ‘right, well you boring fucks can rot in bed all day, suit yourselves,’ ushering steve out of the door, slamming it behind her.

you blink, hating this awful, guilty feeling steve always left in your stomach. you’d tear a guy like him to shreds, maybe it was for the best.

whatever self-wallowing, steve-centric thoughts you had are interrupted when eddie’s arm snakes around your back, pulling you onto him.

‘i still need a little assistance here,’ he grins from beneath you, running his hand down your back, firmly grasping your exposed ass as you clamber on top properly.

you try your damn hardest to push the reflecting image of steve from your mind. though it doesn’t quite work until eddie’s calloused palm softly taps against your cheek, ‘anyone in there?’

you frown, returning the playful slap as you grind mindlessly against him, his fingers digging into the pliant skin of your ass.

‘you can do that again.’

eddie hadn’t shut up about his birthday for weeks. you’d all planned to go to the same bar you went to most weekends, except this time everyone had to go and he got to be centre of attention.

he’d been pissing you off all night. obviously far too drunk, jaw clenching from the copious amounts of shit he’d sniffed. hanging from your shoulder, speaking over you and splashing beer down your top as he slurred through his words.

‘i think we’re gonna head home,’ steve speaks up when you exit the bar, eddie already looking for the next place.

‘whaat? you’re fucking boring,’ he pokes a finger into steve’s chest, far too intoxicated, ‘you’re staying out, right?’ he looks over to jonathan, argyle and nancy who also shared an apartment not far from yours.

‘nah man.. it’s late, it’s been fun though,’ jonathan shrugs as nancy finds a taxi to take them home.

‘fuuuck you guys are really ditching me on my birthday? at least you won’t let me down,’ his arm hooks around your shoulder, yanking you into him.

you pull back, which wasn’t particularly hard in his state, ‘get off of me.. can i get a ride with you?’ looking over at steve, his hands cautiously poking out of his pockets.

he nods sheepishly as eddie practically erupts, ‘it’s my fucking birthday, and you fucking losers are going home?’ he’s screeching, throwing his arms around, making a royal scene in the middle of the street.

robin finds a cab willing to take the group of you home, calling you over to the yellow vehicle, ‘eddie let’s just go home, it’s late,’ attempting to coax him into going with you. you’d deal with his shit in the privacy of his bedroom.

he laughs, turning away from you and walking up the dimly lit street, ‘you.. you can get fucked,’ he slurs, disappearing into a nearby bar.

steve stands at the cab door, watching as you frown at eddie’s back. internally deciding whether to give in and follow him or to leave like you’d originally planned.

you let out an exasperated sigh, ‘he can go fuck himself,’ you spit as you slide into the back of the cab. steve follows, shutting the door behind him, flashing you a small cautious look as the cab pulls off.

you collapse onto the sofa the second you set foot in the apartment. completely at your wits end with eddie and his the way he spoke to you.

‘i’m going to bed,’ robin announces, slinking into her own room, leaving steve to awkwardly linger in the living room.

you didn’t want to worry about eddie. he was a grown man who could definitely handle his own. besides, why should you when he’d explicitly told you to fuck off?

steve clears his throat before taking the empty seat beside you, ‘he didn’t mean it.. it’s just drunk talking,’ he nods, attempting to reassure you.

it wasn’t as if you were really upset about it all. more so annoyed that you’d let him treat you that way. continually. over and over again.

whatever the fuck was going on between the two of you had started to wear thin. there were only so many times you could put up with his shit before it got tired.

eddie could be a horrible drunk. it wasn’t often but when that version of him came out you’d prefer to be far far from it. he was cruel with his words, venomous as they rolled off his tongue. then you’d get into a screaming match and then either end up hate-fucking or you’d just both never bring it up again.

‘no, he did,’ you sigh, kicking the shoes from your feet with a thud, ‘i don’t care.. really.’

‘right,’ he nods, not totally believing you, ‘y’wanna smoke?’

a small smile creeps onto your face as he reaches for the small black box eddie kept on the table, pulling out a small baggie of weed, something eddie definitely wouldn’t miss. he didn’t even need your reply, beginning to roll up.

perhaps you’d smoked a little too much, sputtering on the final toke of your second or third spliff before handing it back to steve. he sits on the other side, an awful lot closer than he’d been originally.

it was quiet, but comfortable. not awkward at all.

‘y’know..’ he speaks up, looking over at you, ‘actually.. nah,’ changing his mind almost immediately.

‘no.. what? what were you gonna say?’ you furrow your brows, vision hazy, the room full of grey smoke.

he sort of chuckles to himself, stubbing the end of the joint out in the glass ashtray before looking at you again, ‘it’s stupid,’ he warns.

‘even better.. tell me,’ you nod, encouraging him to go on.

he pauses for a moment, a tiny smile on his pink lips, ‘i always thought.. well, that you and me were gonna end up together, i thought you liked me for the longest time,’ shaking his head as he looks down.

your heart thuds. a mixture of your high and the unidentifiable emotion coursing through your veins. there was no questions to being with eddie. it was simple, sex and parties. no complicated feelings involved.

but within a second, steve had completely changed everything. a feeling you’d suppressed since your situationship with eddie had started. completely convinced that the odd relationship you had with steve was just because you were banging his best friend.

‘i didn’t.. i didn’t know you felt like that..’ you manage to get out quietly, watching as he slowly stands up, he doesn’t look at you once. too ashamed, embarrassed that he’d just admitted everything to you so easily.

‘well, now you know,’ he says quietly before disappearing into his room.

you linger on the couch for a moment. unsure of what to think of anything he’d just said. whether you should knock on his door and tell him you’d felt the same or just go off to your own room and wait for eddie to crawl in.

it wasn’t as if you felt nothing at all for eddie. you did, of course. but you didn’t love him. not the way you maybe should’ve. not the way you felt about steve, his gentle nature and soft caramel tinted eyes.

you stand from the couch, feet taking control as you walk to his door. a small slither of orange light peaking from underneath. raising your fist to knock but stopping, arguing with yourself. this couldn’t be a good idea.

before you can even convince yourself to knock, the door opens. steve stands on the other side, his own chest heaving as your eyes meet.

‘i-,’ he croaks, but you cut him off with your lips, pulling back just as quickly as you’d moved forwards.

you stare at him for a few moments, swallowing all the courage you’d just worked up.

‘..now you know,’ giving him a meek smile before walking back to your room. you lean back against the door, heart beating a million miles an hour.

a repetitive banging sound forces you awake in the morning. hissing as the sounds of an extremely dramatic moan get louder. high-pitched and obviously put on.

it takes a moment for you to realise just where the noise is coming from. eddie’s room backs onto yours. the headboard colliding with the wall at an alarming pace.

you stumble out of bed, throwing on an old dirty sweater and groggily making your way into the living room.

steve sits slumped over the table, looking particularly miserable this morning. despite what had happened last night. you wondered if he’d told robin who sat scowling at the door. steam practically coming out of her ears.

her eyes widen as you appear in the doorway, rubbing the residual sleep from your eyes, eyes flitting between your frame and the wooden door.

‘well shit, i was about to cuss you out,’ she remarks, astonished that you were stood in front of her.

steve’s whole face brightens when he realises you’re stood in front of him and not in the room making those god-awful, oscar worthy noises.

‘if that’s not you.. who the fuck is in there?’ robin gasps, now utterly bemused by the entire situation.

you shrug, choosing the seat opposite steve, making brief eye contact and flashing him a small smile. would he bring up last night? or was it never to be spoken about again?

relief is written all over his face. obviously under the impression that you’d made up with eddie at some point in the night. not once checking that you were in your room.

‘jesus christ i’m gonna kill him,’ robin fumes, sipping on a mug of coffee. her eyes are narrowed, attempting to set the room ablaze with her mind.

‘it won’t last long,’ you add, reaching over to steal a slice of steve’s buttered toast. he lets you, obviously. letting out a soft snort at your joke.

‘nothing is that good,’ robin shakes her head.

the noises quieten, a shrill giggle coming from the hallway as a scantily clad blonde appears in the doorway, closely followed by eddie, sporting a pair of boxers that hid absolutely nothing.

‘that way,’ he groans, guiding the smiling woman away towards the bathroom. his eyes momentarily meeting yours, total venom behind his glare.

robin jumps up, splashing coffee over the floor, ‘don’t you dare think about fucking in my bathroom,’ she warns, chasing after the odd couple.

you can hear an altercation as presumably eddie slams the bathroom door on robin, her fists pounding against the wood, hollering about her new bath mat.

steve glances at you, searching your face for any type of reaction. he doesn't find anything, instead you smile softly as robin re-enters the room, cursing at the bastard freak. she grabs her bag, slinging it onto her shoulder before stomping over to the door.

'i'm going out, let me know when he's done with his weird exhibitionist routine,' slamming the door as she exits, the poorly built walls shaking as she does.

there's a faint sound of running water, obviously coming from the bathroom, closely followed by a series of questionable grunts and groans. you choose to try and block it out, though engaging in conversation with steve at this very moment seemed almost too awkward.

'did you tell robin?' you pipe up, playing with your fingernails as you just about meet his gaze.

'uh.. yeah,' he grimaces slightly, 'i-i just thought.. well i thought that was you this morning, i was.. confused,' apologetic for his blunder.

you nod, 'i don't care.. i just wanna prepare for the inevitable grilling i'm gonna get,' chuckling in an attempt to ease the tension. it works as his lips curl into a small, playing with the discarded crusts on his plate.

the god-awful noises from the bathroom worsen and your eyes are pulled from steve, looking towards the cause. perhaps this was eddie's way of making you jealous. revenge for choosing to go home and not put up with his drunken assholery.

you’re sat tracing patterns into the velvet fabric of the sofa, practically shaking as you wait for steve to get back from campus.

he was your friend for fuck sake. why was this so nerve wracking? ask him to hang out, if he says no then so be it. you’ll deal with the awkwardness of your shared kiss alongside eddie’s misguided anger.

he’s later than you’d expected. becoming far too engrossed in the random soap opera on the tv when he does eventually get back. almost forgetting about what you’d got yourself so worked up over.

‘hey,’ waving his fingers as he comes in.

christ, he almost seemed more nervous than you were.

‘hey,’ not wanting to jump down his throat the second he walked in the door, turning the tv off and running your palms down the sofa.

‘spoken to eddie?’ he asks curiously, slinging his bag from his shoulder and slumping down next to you on the couch.

‘nah.. he went out this morning and hasn’t been back,’ you shrug, wishing that he wouldn’t have just bought that prick up.

he nods, looking down at his jeans, finding a loose thread to play with.

‘would yo-,’

‘d’ya wanna-,’

you both start at the same time, stopping to let him continue except he’d done the same thing. sitting in the silence for a brief moment.

you chuckle nervously, ‘sorry, what were you saying?’

‘i was just gonna ask if you wanted to.. maybe do something tonight? if- if you’re not busy,’ shrugging it off, trying his hardest to play it cool.

‘oh,’ laughing softly, the pair of you were like nervy teenagers, comical, ‘i was gonna ask you the same thing.. yeah i’d love to.’

steve grins, transported back to freshman year of high school, trying to find the gall to ask tammy thompson to the fucking movies. it all seemed so childish, innocent, the way you melted around each other.

‘okay.. i’ll get changed, give me five,’ he nods, leaping from the sofa and speeding off to his room.

you bite down onto your bottom lip, trying to contain your smile. kicking yourself for the adolescent excitement it gave you.

the bar was packed for a wednesday night, steve shouldering his way through the crowd with you following closely behind. not brave enough to cling onto his hand, wrapping your fingers around his forearm instead.

‘jesus christ,’ he exclaims when he finds a spot just about big enough for you both to stand. you were close. closer than you’d ever been. at least in public.

you hold onto the glass bottle he’d passed you from the bar, ‘d’ya wanna go somewhere else?’

‘what?’ he shouts, the music too loud to hear you properly.

you lean in closer, lips brushing against his ear, the feeling makes your heart pound, ‘you wanna go somewhere else?’

placing his hand on your arm so he could shout back, the mixture of his cologne and beer filling your nose. it was intoxicating, making your head giddy.

‘i’m good if you are,’ wisps of his hair sweeping against your cheek.

you nod, beaming up at him as you take a swig of the harsh beer. the crowd seemingly disappearing from around you as his eyes focus on you, his own smile overcoming his face.

okay, perhaps you’d had a little too much to drink. but a little dutch confidence never hurt anyone.

you’re definitely not complaining when you grab his hand on the way out of the bar, quickly intertwining your fingers as he weaves his way to the door. still as packed as when you’d got there.

you giggle as he trips over the step coming into the bar, sending you flying into his back as he regains his balance.

his hand is quick to steady you, resting on your waist. the street light illuminating the gleam of his eyes, slightly glossy from the multiple beers he’d sunk inside.

a drunk student roars past you, snapping you out of the moment, steve’s hand still lingering on your waist. something that would’ve never happened if he were sober.

‘shall we go home?’ you ask, not breaking from his gaze.

he nods, moving his hand to offer it out for you to grab. leading you over to an empty cab, leaning through the front window to talk to the driver.

the drive home is heavy with tension. sitting in silence as steve makes polite conversation with the driver, fingers still wrapped around yours. heart thumping as you near your street.

the apartment dark and silent when you get in, the only light coming from the old fairy lights robin had hung around the room. there’s no hesitation, your hands grabbing his cheeks, smashing your lips to his the second the front door closes.

it takes a moment for him to realise what was happening, hands quickly finding solace on the small of your back when it clicks properly. it’s greedy and desperate, tongue sliding into his mouth, wanting to touch every inch of him.

hands sliding down his chest, grabbing at the fabric, his leg slotting between yours, guiding you backwards. straight into the coffee table with a bang.

you spring apart, eyeing eddie’s room cautiously, saying a silent prayer and hoping he didn’t come out.

steve’s eager to resume, eyes hungry as they flit between eddie’s door and your face.

you pull back completely, taking your lip between your teeth and hooking your finger around his pinky, leading the way to his bedroom. it was the furthest away from eddie’s and made the most sense.

he shuts the door gently, flicking the small bedside lamp on, illuminating the obvious tent in his jeans. your mouth falling open at the sight of it, rubbing your thighs together to try and satiate the growing throbbing.

you’re quick to resume the kiss, moving on him swiftly, connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. he collapses backwards onto the bed, your body falling on top of his chest, hands caressing his cheeks.

the next moment you find yourself underneath steve, pressed into the mattress as he holds himself above you. eager hands finding the short hem of your skirt and sliding underneath on the soft skin of your thighs. you had never seen him move with such confidence before, normally a little shy in the way he carried himself.

his finger hooks into the waistband of your lacy panties, tugging them down to your thighs. his growing erection digging into your core with every movement. moaning into his mouth when his finger begins circling your sensitive clit. this had definitely killed any and all assumptions that he was a virgin.

it’s as if he had been waiting for this very moment for his entire life, sliding his fingers between your folds and into your already soaking hole, your mouth falling from his as your head rolls back onto the pillow.

‘oh my god,’ a breathy moan escaping from your lips as his fingers pump in and out, his other hand causing a dip in the pillow next to your head.

his fingers slip out of you and begin to unbuckle his belt, barely getting them down and around his legs before his cock springs up. bigger than you ever could’ve imagined, mouth hung open as your peer down between your bodies.

your shirt is pulled off over your head so quickly you weren’t sure if you had blinked, landing on the floor alongside his with a soft thunk.

you draw your eyes back up to meet his once more, ‘you’re sure?’ he reaffirms, pupils dilated, wetting his lips with his pink tongue.

‘so sure,’ nodding encouragingly underneath him, readjusting your legs to loosely wrap around his torso. you’d never been more sure of anything in your life.

he returns the nod, positioning himself at your sopping entrance and without breaking eye contact he slides in with a sharp intake of breath. you can’t contain the whimper that collects in your throat, the stretch of his cock taking you by surprise. the sting felt good, like he was always supposed to be there between your legs.

he’s still, waiting for your encouragement to move. you give it in the form of a squeeze on the back of his neck, clinging on to the skin as his hips move slowly. low, hungry grunts roll from his lips, the bed frame creaking in time with his thrusts.

‘fuck,’ you breathe out, taking your bottom lip between your teeth acutely aware that eddie was only a few doors away and could definitely hear the happenings in the room. even if you could manage to stifle yourself, the undeniable sounds of skin against skin would expose you.

‘is that- is that good?’ steve mumbles, moving slow but hitting deep, nudging against your soft spot, already hurtling you towards your orgasm.

‘jesus christ.. yes, yes,’ beginning to buck your hips back against him, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach. finger nails leaving crescent moon shapes in his skin as tears prick in your eyes.

steve groans as his heavy balls slap against the back of your thighs, pushing himself fully inside, ‘i’m not.. hmph.. not gonna last long,’ arm beginning to buckle with the weight of him.

you clench around him as your high topples over at his words, burying your face into the pillow next to you. unable to withhold the high pitched wail from leaving your mouth, barely managing to muffle the sound.

his rhythm falters, hips slamming into yours for the last few desperate pumps before he pulls himself out. thick ropes of cum spurting out and onto his hand. and the bed. and your thigh. crying out as his chest heaves above you.

‘holy shit,’ his arm gives way and he ends up next to you on the mattress, panting for air as he reaches for a dirty shirt on the floor, using the first thing he could find to clean off his hand.

you turn your head to face him, a lazy smile on your face as he offers the shirt out to you, mouthing a small sorry.

he throws it to the other side of the room, running a hand over his damp face, ‘i uh.. i last way longer normally,’ bashful and doubting his performance. it was only because it was you.

‘steve,’ you smile, grabbing his blanket to pull over your body, ‘don’t do that,’ seeing the shy boy from once before, you much preferred the steve from earlier.. confident and sure of himself.

‘yeah.. sorry,’ his lips curling into a soft smile, turning his body towards yours, arm snaking out to pull you closer, clammy palm resting on the small of your back.

you giggle quietly in response, settling in to your new position, sharing the blanket with him.

your eyes don’t leave each other’s as he begins to babble about something from the bar, clinging onto your skin as if you were somehow going to slip away.

you hadn’t even realised that you’d fallen asleep in steve’s room.

so when eddie comes in unannounced in the early morning, you thank your lucky stars that you’re facing the wall with steve’s body hiding yours. shoving your face into the pillow to hide yourself, hair sprawled around you, helping your case.

‘yo.. bro,’ he whispers, stepping into the room and over a pile of clothes, ‘good night?’ he cocks his eyebrow at steve as he turns around, glaring at the interruption.

‘uh.. yeah yeah,’ steve panics, realising what eddie had walked into and the chaos that’d ensue if he figured it out, his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

‘sounded like it,’ eddie chuckles, shaking his boot to rid it of the discarded shirt on the floor, ‘look, have you got ten bucks? i can give it back tomorrow,’ he bargains, smiling at steve.

‘yeah.. yeah, my wallet’s on the desk,’ steve nods towards the desk, adjusting himself to make sure he was covering you when eddie stomps over to the desk.

ten dollars was a worthy sacrifice to not have to deal with eddie’s temper tantrum in the morning. it wasn’t like he’d never find out. just not now.

‘thanks bro.. i’ll get it back to you tomorrow, hey,’ eddie rubs his stubbly face, ‘d’you know if dickhead’s in? i knocked but, uh.. no answer,’ quite obviously referring to you.

you have to resist the urge to sit up and cuss him out.

‘uhh.. no, no idea sorry,’ steve shakes his head apologetically, lying through his teeth.

‘alright well, have fun,’ wiggling his eyebrows as he exits, closing the door softly.

you exhale when the door clicks shut, though you stay in the same position, not entirely convinced he’s not stood outside the door listening.

‘don’t speak,’ you mouth to steve, who looks wearily at you until the front door closes and you fully turn to face him.

‘jesus christ,’ you breathe, ‘he doesn’t knock?’

‘usually he does.. i bet he wanted to see who was in here,’ his arm twitches, unsure of whether to keep clinging on to your waist or to remove it.

‘i mean,’ you shrug, ‘he’ll found out eventually, right?’ it was inevitable, especially as you were living together.

‘i s’pose.. you don’t care?’ taken aback by your nonchalance towards the situation.

‘not really.. i just don’t think he needs to know, not yet,’ you croak, he had literally just banged another chick practically right in front of you. any guilt you may have felt about the situation had disappeared.

‘yeah,’ he gives you a tired smile, nuzzling his head into the pillow, all soft and sweet.

‘i dunno about you but i’m going back to sleep, until at least lunch,’ your hand running along the curve of his bicep, mere inches away from each other.

he hums in response, his lingering arm pulling your waist closer, eyes drooping as sleep takes over.

you’re awoken again by the slam of the front door, robin leaving for work. letting steve know that everyone in the apartment could hear your late night activities.

steve grumbles, complaining about her heavy-handedness. you leer over at the alarm clock, wanting to get out of steve’s room before eddie gets back from work, making sure there were no possible chances of awkward questions this afternoon.

‘shit,’ you hiss, climbing over his still half-asleep body and grabbing whatever t-shirt you could find, pulling it on over your head, ‘eddie’s back in like five.. i’m gonna get out of here now, saves the aggro..,’ slipping into your discarded underwear.

‘right.. good idea,’ he mumbles, one arm folded underneath his pillow as he comes to fully.

you sprint out of there and into the kitchen, pouring a bowl of cereal when eddie strolls through the door, whistling some tune to himself. he glances at you before taking a seat at the cluttered dining table.

you don’t say a word, discarding your plan to sit at the table and instead tucking in to your cereal on the counter, pretending to read some flyer.

‘where were you last night?’ he asks, leaning back on the chair to get a full view of you, ‘i knocked on your door but..’ narrowing his eyes.

‘i was probably fuckin’ asleep,’ shoving another spoonful of cereal into your mouth, making brief eye contact with the man.

he squints, trying to figure out why that shirt was so fucking familiar. was it his? were you wearing his shirt in some weird goading way?

steve emerges from his room, shirtless and running a hand from his messy hair. eddie’s eyes flit between the shirt and steve. cogs slowly turning in his brain.

no. no the shirt wasn’t his.

it was the fucking shirt he’d kicked off of his foot when he’d stormed into steve’s room this morning. same boring design printed on the front.

on you.

from steve’s floor.

the night after steve had, very loudly, had a female friend over.

you’re oblivious, focussing on your bowl of soggy cornflakes as steve clatters around behind you. making his own bowl. neither of you looking at each other, making everything ten times more obvious.

‘you’re fuckin’ joking,’ he loudly proclaims, standing from the table, nearly sending the chair flying backwards.

your head shoots up, confused by what he had seemingly angered himself over now, ‘what?’ eyebrows knitted together as he storms over, mouth hung open in disbelief.

‘you fucked him?’ jabbing his finger at steve, ‘my best friend?’ arms flying around in anger.

you look to steve for some help, eddie positively fuming, his jaw clenched at your lack of an answer. in fact, your reaction, or lack thereof, had only solidified everything.

‘no,’ you eventually croak, ‘i- we-, that wasn’t me,’ stuttering for some excuse, though you know he didn’t buy a word of it.

eddie’s face twists up in a mix of anger and hurt, eyes glossing over as his lips tremble, ‘eddie-,’ steve begins, cut off as eddie storms out of the tiny kitchen, grabbing his wallet from the table and pausing when he opens the front door.

‘you deserve each other,’ he snarls before disappearing, shaking the walls with his violent slam of the door.

you stare at steve in silent disbelief, dropping the spoon into your discarded bowl. you’d predicted his reaction to go something along the lines of that, just not expecting it so soon. hoping to have prepared a solid speech in the meantime.

‘shit.’

‘it’s okay.. h-he was gonna find out eventually.. he’ll calm down,’ steve tries to soothe you, well aware that eddie held onto his anger, let it simmered until it all bubbled over and some poor soul got the brunt of months of rage.

you want to feel bad, feel guilty but when steve’s hand sits on top of yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze, it vanishes. his chestnut eyes providing a sense of comfort you’d never felt before.

you were used to eddie being out. missing in action for days on end. but by the fourth day of him not coming back to the apartment, the pit in your stomach starts to worsen.

the guilt had caught up to you, as if you were the one who had shoved him out of the door. you had, in a metaphorical sense.

the first few days were, nice. though you felt worse for even feeling that. but, you’d been hanging out with steve more. it was different to before, getting to know his personal quirks, the things that made him tick. something you would’ve brushed off before.

you were friends, sure. you hadn’t really had the opportunity to get to know him like this before. it would’ve felt like some sort of betrayal to eddie. even though in some ways the way it had come about now was much worse.

on the fifth day, you’re sat on the couch with steve. picking the hangnail from your finger, wincing as it started to bleed.

‘d’you think he might’ve gone home?’ you ask, looking up at steve who was spaced out next to you.

they were from the same small town, had started out sharing classes in high school and had since been friends. admittedly growing apart when you’d come into the picture. you’d heard stories from the others about how close they used to be, never apart, according to jonathan.

‘i dunno.. he hates hawkins,’ steve shrugs, seeing the worry spread across your face, ‘but i could call his uncle? see if he’s there?’

you nod, thumb in your mouth trying to pull off more of the sore skin. he gets up to grab his phone, already dialling the number when he comes back into the room.

‘hey! wayne.. it’s steve- yeah yeah, i’m good man.. i was just wondering if eddie was there? oh no, uh- well.. we haven’t heard from him in a few days, y’know what he’s like… sure, thanks man,’ clicking the button and ending the call.

he looks over at you, a pitying look on his face as he shakes his head no.

‘i’m sure he’s alright.. he’s dramatic, you know that,’ he collapses onto the couch, this time closer than before, nudging your elbow with a weak smile.

you were well versed with eddie’s dramatic personality. having dealt with his temper tantrums and storm outs for years now. though, it had never seemed this bad before.

realistically, you knew he was probably crashing on a friend’s sofa. overstaying his welcome and partying too much. he was likely coming down from some insane party as you sat thinking about him.

‘i just.. feel bad,’ you whisper, leaning into steve’s side. his arm reaches around to your shoulder, rubbing softly against your arm.

‘i know..i do too,’ he admits, you and eddie hadn’t been a romantic thing. not even really a thing, if you were being honest. it was sex and partying, getting completely trashed and using each other in an attempt to fill the void inside of you both.

but steve and eddie had been friends for years now. they’d argued over the stupidest shit but never something like a girl. steve had had to genuinely weigh up whether his friendship with eddie was worth losing.

if eddie couldn’t get over it, would steve be able to repress his feelings for you? or would he be fine with losing eddie if it meant that you were together?

when robin gets back from work, she narrows her eyes at the two of you curled up against each other, ‘is this gonna be a regular thing?’

‘would you have a problem with it if it was?’ you ask, watching as she dumps her back and slumps on the empty seat.

‘oh no, i’m just thinking about how much peace and quiet i’ll get if you and eddie aren’t screaming at each other every day,’ kicking her doc martens from her feet and leaning into the cushions.

‘if he comes back,’ you remind her.

she hadn’t really seemed too fazed when he’d stormed out. thankful for no more early morning wake up calls from his wooden bed frame. but you can tell that even she was beginning to feel at least a tiny bit worried.

‘he still not called?’

you shake your head, ‘no one’s seen him, he’s not home.. i guess we’ve just gotta wait til he’s calmed down,’ shrugging, more so trying to convince yourself rather than her.

no matter what, eddie had a special place in your heart. even if it wasn’t love in the romantic sense, there was too much there to disregard that. he was your best friend at one point, how could you?

it’s another five days of fretting and concern before you hear a word from him. your phone rings in the middle of the night and you sit up, feeling along the nightstand for the buzzing plastic. an unrecognised number.

‘hello?’ you speak into the receiver.

steve stirs, waking up at the sound of your voice. admittedly, you’d been sleeping in his bed. sharing kisses and late-night chats about just about everything. it all felt very quick, but just right. like now that’d you’d both realised that you could have this, that anything other than this felt wrong.

‘hi,’ eddie’s voice rings out, recognisable even through the phone.

‘eddie? you’re okay? where are you?’ you babble, steve sits up at the mention of his name.

‘i’m uh- with my dad, i just, listen.. i need you to bring me some shit.. we’re going away and i’ve got nothing with me,’ his voice crackles and you can hear him shift around in the payphone box.

‘what? you’re going where? where are you?’ baffled, unsure if you were still asleep and not understanding him.

‘away, i’m staying in porter.. look, can you do it?’

‘eddie that’s-,’ but you stop yourself, ‘yeah, sure.. when?’

‘tomorrow, i just need some clothes, my watch and my savings.. they’re under my mattress.. tiny box, you’ll see it,’ he rushes, running out of minutes.

‘o-okay, where shall i meet you? i don’t know it well,’ you garble, nodding at steve when he mouths a confused porters?

‘little bar called sam’s.. i’ll be in there, i’ve gotta go, this thing’s running out,’ he sighs, muttering a small, ‘thank you,’ before the line goes dead.

‘he’s at the fucking beach.. wants me to drop some shit for him.. he said he’s with his dad? i-i thought his dad left..?’

‘he did,’ steve looks puzzled, taking the phone from your clutch and looking at the withheld number, trying to figure out if he could call it back, ‘he left years ago..’

eddie’s smile falters when he notices that you’d bought steve and robin along. steve dropping your hand the second his eyes meet eddie’s.

‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ the chair scraping the wooden floor as he stands abruptly.

the man you can only assume is his dad looks over, gripping onto the beer bottle, eyes flitting between his son and your trio.

‘eddie.. i asked them to, we wanted to know if you were okay,’ your voice shakes, frowning when he scowls at you. you’ve pissed him off, again.

‘i called you because i trusted you, not him,’ he spits, walking over to where you were stood by the door, ‘where’s my shit?’

‘it’s in the car,’ quickly coming up with a lie, trying to keep him talking for as long as possible, ‘i need to talk to you.. before you.. leave,’ you pout, trying to get him away from his dad.

‘about?’ he hits back harshly, still upset that you’d even dared to bring steve along.

‘about.. everything,’ you exhale shakily, ‘give me five minutes, please.’

he looks back at his dad who checks his watch before shrugging. he couldn’t give a less of a shit as long he got this promised money.

‘fine,’ he says through gritted teeth, storming past a gormless steve and robin and exiting the restaurant.

you glance at steve before following him out, not sure how much longer you could convince him you’d bought everything he’d asked for.

he’s already lighting up a cigarette when you reach the street, perched against the windowsill in days-old clothes. he looked a mess. even worse than his usual gritty self. eye-bags and a sunken face to match.

you breathe out, how do you even start a conversation like this? sorry i fucked your best friend but i actually really like him was probably not the best way to go about it.

‘i’m sorry,’ seemed like the best place to start, ‘it wasn’t fair to you.. what i- we did.. i can’t tell you how shit it makes me feel.. to know that i hurt you.’

he blows the smoke out of his mouth, expressionless, ‘okay.’

is that it? after his great big performance that was all he could say?

‘what?’

‘i said, okay.. what d’you expect me to do? start crying and begging you to love me?’ scoffing as he takes a long draw of the cigarette. his eyes cold, merciless as he glares at you.

‘you ran away.. made everyone worried sick about you.. and all you can say is okay?’

he shrugs, ‘i’m over it.. you’re welcome to each other,’ stubbing the cigarette out on the brick wall, stepping closer to you.

your mouth opens and shuts, flabbergasted by his stinking attitude, ‘shout at me, scream.. fuck- hit me if you want to.. stop pretending like you don’t care.. because i know you eddie munson and i know you do.’

his eyes narrow, intimidating as he towers above, ‘i don’t give a shit, you’re only upset because you want me to.. that’s too bad,’ his adam’s apple bobs, a tell-tale sign that he was lying.

your eyes search his for anything. a glimmer of weakness.

but his eyes are stern, emotionless as his brows thread together.

the door to the bar creaks open and his dad stomps out, muttering to himself, ‘c’mon son, let’s get the fuck out of here,’ replacing eddie’s spot on the windowless ledge and lighting his own cigarette.

he doesn’t break eye contact, ‘i’m gonna take a leak and then i want my shit,’ jaw tense as he barges through the door.

you squeeze your eyes shut, biting onto your bottom lip before cricking your neck. that hadn’t gone exactly to plan. now what the fuck were you gonna do when he realised you hadn’t brought the one thing he’d asked for.

‘i know what women like you do,’ his dad speaks up, taking a long drag on the cigarette, ‘you don’t get to fuck up his life and then happily move on.’

eyes springing open when you realise he’s talking to you, ‘what the fuck did you just say?’

he laughs, a deep belly-laugh, ‘you heard.’

you’d love to smash the smug look from his dirty face. knock his head into the brick wall and drag eddie kicking and screaming back to steve’s cat whether he liked it or not.

‘women like me? the only person who cares enough to drive all the way out to this shithole to save your son? is that what you meant?’ stepping up towards him, as if you were even capable of doing anything.

‘you came to rub it in.. flaunting in with pretty boy there,’ his lips snarl, ‘pathetic really, shouldn’t have bothered.’

eddie comes back out, robin and steve trailing behind, trying to converse with him but being completely blanked, ‘where’s my shit then?’

‘uh.. steve’s car,’ beckoning to where you’d parked somewhere in the distance.

steve flashes you a worried look knowing damn well there was nothing eddie could want in his car. luckily eddie doesn’t pick up on it and instead starts walking in the direction you’d motioned, expecting you all to follow.

‘why’re you in such a hurry?’ you call out from behind, trying desperately to bide time. he was certain to flip his shit the second you reached the car and he figured you’d lied to him.

‘because i want to get the fuck out of here,’ he snaps back, charging on ahead.

you walk in silence to steve’s car, nervously glancing over at steve as eddie and his disgusting pig of a father walk on ahead. steve reaches over and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze though it doesn’t really do much.

eddie’s spots the car first, striding over and peering into the windows, ‘where’s my shit then?’ turning to glare at you with a disgusted look on his face.

your mouth opens and closes, no viable excuse coming to mind, ‘eddie.. i didn’t bring anything-,’ swallowing as you gain some slight confidence, ‘i’m not letting you go with him.’

his dad completely flips, turning to his son, ‘you’re fucking useless, you know that? how the fuck d’you manage to mess this one up?’ practically foaming at the mouth.

‘dad i told her! this isn’t my fault.. we can still go.. i’ll find the cash somewhere,’ his eyes pleading with the estranged man, he had shrunk back into a scared little boy right before your eyes.

his father shoves him away, snarling at his son, ‘you think i actually want to go anywhere with you? my colossal fuck up of a son? you’re dreaming,’ positively fuming.

‘but.. dad,’ he’s almost begging now, regressing back to the night he watched his father walk out on his mom, feeling the heartache all over again.

steve steps up, getting closer to the pair, ‘you should go,’ placing his hand on the man’s arm.

he jerks his arm from steve’s grip, scoffing at you all, ‘don’t bother trying to find me again.. i don’t wanna know,’ poking his sausage finger into eddie’s chest before pulling himself away and trundling off back to the bar you’d met in.

your eyes immediately turn to eddie who was watching the man leave for the second time, tears pricking in his eyes. your chest pangs with hurt, you’d never meant for it to happen like this.

eddie speeds off in the opposite direction and you have to pull on steve’s arm to stop him from going after the boy, ‘he’ll come.. just.. give him a few minutes,’ nodding reassuringly.

steve sighs before turning to face you, ‘okay, you should go anyway.’

‘yeah.’

deciding that it had probably been enough time, you follow eddie’s path and eventually find him perched on a crumbling stoke wall, aggressively wiping his cheeks when he spots you walking over.

you sit in the empty spot next to him, staring down at the grey concrete. not wanting to break the silence and potentially piss him off more.

‘fuck,’ eddie finally breathes, sniffing and wiping his nose on his filthy sleeve. he clearly hadn’t showered in days and you wonder what on earth they could’ve possibly been doing.

‘i’m sorry,’ you croak. you weren’t just sorry for not allowing him to run off with that wretched man but for the fact that you and steve had quite obviously betrayed him.

you hear him swallow and then a rustling from his pocket. looking up to find him with a cigarette hanging onto his lip. he offers the box out to you, as he usually would.

delicately taking one from the pack and placing it in your mouth, waiting patiently for the lighter.

you sit smoking your cigarettes in the calming silence for a few minutes. gazing out at the horizon, the sky awash with all sorts of moody greys. fitting.

‘are you coming home?’ you ask quietly, standing from the wall with your hands shoved in your pockets.

eddie exhales, his eyes closing briefly before he stands, ‘yeah.. yeah let’s go,’ admitting defeat as he lets go of his dad forever, ready to put an end to his reckless escapade.

robin and steve are leaning against his car when you walk back. there had been a silent agreement to not mention it. just get in the car and go.

you sat in the back with eddie, watching as he stares out of the window, pressing his forehead against the cold glass. you move over into the middle seat, resting your head against his shoulder.

things would be alright.

things had been actually sorta alright. eddie had seemingly come to terms with you and steve becoming a thing. at least, if he hadn’t, he’d been keeping it to himself.

you tried to keep things respectable of course, jumping apart when he’d enter the room or going off to your own room and creeping into steve’s when eddie had gone to bed. but he wasn’t stupid. and you knew he wasn’t stupid. it just seemed better than rubbing it in his face.

things were completely different with steve and you’d felt a sense of pressure that hadn’t been present with eddie. steve was soft and kind but you couldn’t be so laidback about everything with him.

when you’d disappear at parties to split a bag with someone, he’d want to know. or when you were upset and stressed out, he’d want to know why, how he could help.

which was fair enough, obviously. it was just different. before, eddie would offer some generic advice and a spliff and be done with it. now, you were expected to actually address your issues head-on, not just bury them with sex and drink.

finals week had been harsh on all of you. the apartment in disarray as you were all working overtime to save your grade and not get kicked out of college.

you’d, perhaps a bit unfairly, taken your stress out on steve. arguing with him about menial shit that you didn’t really care about, just finding any excuse to shout and push him away.

he’d sit there and take it, offering sensible solutions and trying to resolve whatever bullshit you’d made up that day. a stark difference to eddie who would’ve screamed straight back at you.

come friday night, you’d all finished exams, sitting around the table when eddie swanned in, flapping some flyer for a party, going on about how you should all go.

‘we’re finished, free,’ he argued, pleading his case to the three of you.

robin flat-out refused, said she needed to sleep for a solid week and then she’d be ready to party. steve umm’d and ahh’d, settling on staying in but he was down to go out tomorrow.

‘i’ll go,’ you speak up, eyeing eddie from across the table, you hadn’t hung out alone yet. this would be a new feat.

‘alright,’ he shrugs, looking at steve for his permission or straight up denial of you two going alone.

steve just nods, ‘alright, call me if you need anything,’ glancing at you with an assured smile.

he wasn’t worried. not really. you’d shown him plenty of times that you loved him even despite your incessant attempts to push him away. even in the bad arguments, he’d kept his cool and waited for you to come to him, keeping everything on your terms.

you’re nervous though. you and eddie partying together had never been a good idea, egging each other on, getting utterly trashed just because he’d dare you to.

not tonight. you swore to yourself before leaving. pressing a tender kiss on steve’s lips, leaving traces of your sticky lipgloss behind.

eddie’s pov

it’s a little after midnight when steve gets a phone call from eddie, asking him to come and pick you up. still waking up as he walks across campus, passing countless drunk students as he finds the thumping party.

you’re incoherent on the couch, steve’s eyebrows raising expectedly as he walks into the room. eddie stood to the side watching as your arms instinctively wrap around steve’s neck. even in your drunken stupor you went straight to steve.

it fucking stings.

he looks on worriedly as steve hoists you from the couch, ‘hey man.. uh, she said some pretty weird things tonight, i dunno.. i don’t think she’s okay,’ recalling your earlier slurred words.

you hadn’t meant to, but you’d spilled everything to eddie. a tequila fuelled rant about how steve was so perfect and how bad you felt that you just weren’t. how you didn’t know how to stop pushing him away, even when you didn’t want to.

steve nods, it wasn’t like he didn’t already know you were on this self-destructive warpath. he just wasn’t sure how to tell you that you didn’t need to do this without sounding like a dick.

your arms lazily flop around his neck, laying your head against his chest as he carried you bridal style through the party and right across campus back to your apartment. eddie trailing behind in silence.

‘thanks.. for calling me,’ steve smiles as he nudges his bedroom door open just as eddie was about to disappear into his own room.

‘course,’ he nods, melancholy as he watches your fingers curl around steve’s jacket, pulling him down onto the bed with you, babbling a chorus of steve’s and love you’s as his door closes.

cursing himself for never being that soft with you. never providing that level of safety.

he lies awake for hours, staring at the ceiling. at some point he hears you tumble out of steve’s room, rushing to the bathroom and subsequently throwing up into the toilet. debating whether to hop out of his own bed and help.

but then the padding of steve’s feet make their way through the hallway, his soft voice helping you brush your teeth and get cleaned up. eddie’s assistance was unnecessary. damn, he wouldn’t have a clue what to even do.

on the occasions that you’d thrown up in the morning, eddie would’ve led in bed and laughed. called you a pussy and waited for you to crawl back to bed in a mood. he wasn’t gentle like steve. that shit came as a second nature to him but to eddie? not a touch of it.

he even hears the soft kiss he gives you on the way back to his room, your appreciative little murmur and the click of his door shutting again.

and he wants to kick himself. scream and cry and throw a tantrum because in an ideal world, that would’ve been him.

but he can’t blame you, no matter how much he tried. it’s his fault he’s such a colossal fuck up. not yours. not steve’s. his.

he eventually gives up and moves to the couch, not getting much luck at sleeping in his bed. the suns rising when he hears snippets of your hushed conversation.

it didn’t sound angry. or even upset. just barely audible speaking’s about your feelings.

‘i know.. i don’t mean to,’ he can hear, a twinge of sadness in your tone.

‘you don’t need to.. not with me,’ steve mumbles and the blankets rustle, snapping him out of his trance.

he can hear small i love you’s and the sound of lips smacking. but then your muffled breathy moans start and the bile rises in his throat. undeniably he knew what was going on in there, everything being confirmed by the rhythmic creaking of the mattress.

and he knows what you look like. he can see it. feel it. hell, he lived for it at one point

pushes himself from the sofa and straight out of the door. not wanting to hear a second more.

you don’t feel as bad as expected in the morning, rough but not as bad as you should be feeling.

robin’s now ready to celebrate, steve agreeing and you almost want to hurl at the mention of going out. eddie sits in silence at the end of the table, he’d been pretty strange this morning and you’d wondered if you said something to upset him last night.

you could vaguely recall the self-pitying spiel you’d forced him to listen to. physically cringing at the fact you’d started crying and wailing about steve to him.

robin suggests having some people over, just a small thing with close friends. maybe if everyone was up for it you could all go out afterwards. that you could agree to.

she rounds the troops, calling the friend you all shared. who all agreed to get there at eight. something small and casual she repeats down the phone.

there’s a few tag-alongs, people you’d met briefly at parties or friends of friends who had been dragged along. so it wasn’t the small gathering you’d pictured with just the gang. but it was okay.

the speaker being turned to max and the living room full of people. everyone in high spirits because finals had finished and were relatively confident that they’d at least scraped a pass.

you edge through the crowd, waking over to steve who was splayed out on the couch, spliff hanging from his fingers. he grins when he sees you, opening his arms.

‘hey pretty girl,’ beckoning for you to climb onto his lap, arms snug around your waist as he passes the spliff to you, still giggling at his pet name.

eddie glowers from behind the couch, huffing before pushing himself up and storming into the kitchen. he hadn’t realised how much he’d already drank, liquor coursing through his veins.

‘watch it,’ someone exclaims when eddie barges into their arm, subsequently spilling his beer onto the boys shirt.

eddie sees red. turning to the boy and snarling as he shoves his chest, sending him to the floor.

‘what the fuck did you say?’ grabbing the boy by the collar before smashing his fist into the side of the poor boys face.

steve hears the commotion, leering over the sofa to see what the fuck was even going on. he shoves you off of his lap, running to go and grab eddie from on top of this boy.

you finally see what everyone had crowded around, watching as eddie’s fist pummels into his now bloody face. only easing when steve grabs onto his arms, gasping for breath as he’s thrown back into reality. realisation setting in about what he’d just down.

people rush to the unconscious boy, somebody screaming to call an ambulance. the music cuts out harshly, silence echoing around the room as you stare at eddie, wide-eyed. terrified.

you’d never seen him like this. so brutal, covered in someone else’s blood. his chest falls and rises, staring back at you with an equally as horrified expression. steve is saying something to him but it’s not registering. a ringing in his ears as the world crashed and burned around him.

the police turn up alongside the ambulance crew. taking statements from whoever hadn’t left and eventually cuffing eddie. muttering about crazy fucking kids and quite forcefully pulling him from the apartment.

his eyes lingering on yours as he’s guided out. steve’s arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head. you’re still in disbelief, tears welling in your eyes as you remember how unforgiving and downright cruel he’d been.

‘you wanna go to bed?’ steve asks, chest vibrating with his low voice. fingers combing through your hair, in your own corner of the living room as robin and nancy attempt to clean the floor.

jonathan and argyle are picking up tiny shards of glass, not an ounce of conversation between them. all still reeling from eddie’s outburst. you were sure he was going to jail, there wasn’t any way he could possibly wriggle out of this one.

‘we should-,’ the words getting caught in your throat, ‘we need to help clean,’ pulling back to look at the state of the room, discarded cups and splatters of alcohol on the walls.

‘we’re nearly done.. you should go to bed,’ robin nods, wringing the cloth out into the sink.

even they had come to the conclusion that this was something to do with you. you and steve in particular. the way eddie’s eyes had locked onto you the second steve had pulled him off of the boy.

you knew it. he’d been frosty and unusual with you all morning. with everyone in fact.

eddie emerges from his room for the first time in days. looking worse for wear and feeling just as shit. the tag on his ankle restricting him from leaving the apartment freely.

he peers down at the blinking red light, mentally cursing the plastic as he drags his feet along the carpet. he can hear you and steve chatting quietly, not really able to make out what was being said.

not expecting you both to be sprawled out on the couch, your leg draped over his waist as your delicate fingers combed through his hair. the last few days had been so bleak, that he couldn’t really find it in himself to hate that you were sharing these moments with steve.

he sighs loudly, hoping to let you know he’d entered the room. not wanted to be involuntarily including in whatever may have happened next.

you sit up slightly, gazing at him stood behind the kitchen counter, ‘hey,’ it’s quiet, but he hears it. almost deciding to ignore until he remembers how much you’d doted on him and helped him recently.

‘hi,’ but he doesn’t look back, staring into the empty fridge, waiting for something to materialise. but it doesn’t.

‘when’s your court date?’

the words sear in his ear, an unwelcome subject.

‘next tuesday,’ deciding upon a swig of milk straight from the carton, not exactly the five-course meal he was hoping for.

‘okay well, we were.. we’re gonna come, y’know.. for support,’ your eyes are unrelenting, following him around the kitchen.

‘don’t bother, i’m pleading innocent,’ completely monotonous in his response.

he’d already argued with the state provided lawyer about this. a shoddy man who could not care less whether eddie went down or not, just wanting to cash his cheque at the end of it all.

the balding man had called him stupid, ‘there are multiple witnesses.. plead guilty and they’ll probably pity you n’ slap you with some community service or summit.. don’t be stupid son.’

you scoff, using steve’s chest as leverage as you sit up properly, ‘you’re joking? right?’

his eyes finally meet yours, thumping his fists on the marble counter, ‘i am innocent,’ no one could understand where he was coming from, not even the man who was being paid to at least pretend to care and understand.

‘you beat the shit out of him, eddie.. you broke his fucking jaw,’ your eyes are wide, looking at him like he’s an idiot- which he was, but not about this.

‘i was provoked, self defence,’ he says in all serious. he was frustrated, lashed out but at the end of it all, the guy had bashed him first.

‘wh- because he accidentally knocked into you? you really must be fucking stupid.. what are you thinking?’

eddie notices steve, or what he could see of him, tense up, obviously not wanting to anger the violent monster eddie had become in so many people’s eyes.

‘it’s my choice.. i was fucking provoked, saw some stupid shit.. that’s not my fault,’ relinquishing the blame to you.

in his eyes, if he hadn’t seen the disgusting display of affection, he probably wouldn’t have fucked up that boy. but he had, and that wasn’t his fault. so how was he guilty?

‘you’re ridiculous.. i actually can’t believe you,’ your eyes full of disappointment.

the way your face falls, eyes narrowed and sharp as knives makes his heart twist. genuine hurt flashed on your face. almost paralleling the horrified expression you’d held as he was cuffed and dragged away.

‘it’s my decision, i wouldn’t expect you to know a thing about what it’s like to be me,’ kicking the fridge door closed with a loud thump.

you disappear from his sight, flopping back down onto steve’s chest with an exasperated sigh. he rolls his eyes before stomping off into his bedroom. his mood probably wouldn’t be so terrible if he could just leave this godforsaken apartment.

actually, why shouldn’t he? if you were so certain that he was going to jail anyway, what harm was there in going out? fuck it.

so he gets dressed, pulling his denim jacket on and spritzing himself with aftershave. he’d worry about the tag later, surely one of his buddies would have something to hack it off with. hopefully with minimal damage to his leg.

you don’t even look up from steve’s eyes when he comes back out, having had enough of his idiotic attitude for the day.

‘woah, where are you go-,’ steve starts before being cut off with the front door shutting, he was gone, without so much of a look back.

jogging down the stairs and out of this suffocating hellhole.

it doesn’t take long for the police to show up, banging their fists on the door and red in the face with anger.

they grilled you and steve for what felt like hours. making sure you hadn’t helped in his escape. tearing his room apart for some sort of clue to where he’d gone.

‘we found the tag at a location not far from here.. could anyone be hiding him? he’s in serious trouble.. we need anything you’ve got,’ the officer pleads, frustrated with having to deal with this bullshit on a thursday night. you don’t blame him.

you shake your head, ‘no.. i-i mean, there’s a few bars down on main but our friends aren’t stupid enough to help him.’

any previous feelings of worry had disappeared, replaced with frustration. you weren’t prepared to spend your whole life trying to find eddie every time he decided to run away. he so obviously didn’t give a shit about what you thought, it was a waste of energy at this point.

the officer sighs, ‘right, well you let us know if he gets in contact or comes back here,’ rummaging in his pocket for a small bit of card, ‘that’s my personal number.. call me straight away.’

you nod, thumbing the glossy card and flopping back onto the couch. steve shows them out, closing the door softly after they leave. he gives you a look, full of pity. he doesn’t say a thing but you know what he’s thinking.

‘i’m done,’ holding your hands up, ‘he can get himself out of this one.. i don’t care anymore,’ surrendering completely.

he nods, looking as just as tired as you felt. sometimes you forget that this isn’t just between you and eddie, steve is right in the middle of it all too, staying quiet and holding back for eddie’s sake.

you’d tried to be courteous and thoughtful with eddie. pulling away from steve when he’d enter the room, trying not to be so overly affectionate in front of him. you felt like maybe you owed him that for how you’d gone about it, but why?

not once had he ever shown interest in being with you romantically, he was the one that’d explicitly said that you and him were friends with some added benefits. screw him.

‘you hungry? i wanna get out of here,’ pushing yourself from the couch and throwing your arms around steve’s waist, cheek squished against his chest.

‘i could eat,’ returning the hug, swaying slightly as his hands roam around your back.

eddie’s pov

eddie checks his phone for the umpteenth time.

no new notifications

he was anticipating at least something from you by now. hell, even a pathetic hi would’ve sufficed. the man wasn’t dumb, choosing to hole himself up in gareth’s basement with a six-pack rather than hitting the main spots.

he questions whether the dinghy, dark basement was any better than the confines of the room he’d escaped. supposing that you and steve weren’t next door, anything would be better.

he debates just calling you first. curious to know why you hadn’t called. maybe after the next beer. or maybe now. fuck it, it’s already dialling.

it rings and rings, becoming increasingly concerned with your well-being.

‘what?’ your voice rings out after the fifth or sixth ring.

he’s taken aback, ‘hello to you too,’ taking another swig of beer, his knees pulled up to his chest.

‘what d’you want?’

christ. you really weren’t falling for it this time.

‘nothin’.. just expected to hear from you by now, that’s all.’

he can hear the eye roll through the phone, your tiny almost inaudible little tut, ‘i’m not saving you this time.’

‘i didn’t ask you to.’

‘so why’d you call then? i’m busy.’

‘you with steve?’ he doesn’t even know why he asked, of course you were.

‘yeah, i am.. is that what you wanted to hear? or were you hoping i was out searching for you with the police?’

ouch. you’d called him out. figured out his silly game and threw it straight back in his face.

‘i didn’t- you just had to rub it in, didn’t you?’ anger rising in his throat, ‘you always do.’

‘you think i’m doing this to make you jealous? this isn’t about you anymore.. you need to get over yourself,’ you sigh, empathetic about the harsh words that’d just spilled out, ‘i love him, eddie.. you’re gonna have to deal with that.’

and with that the phone clicks. you’d hung up. you had hung up on him, no grovelling or pleading for him to come back home. that was it. the harsh truth and now he had to just sit with it.

his head falls back against the cold brick, staring up at the damp covered ceiling, weighing up his options. he knew he’d fucked up. best case scenario, he’d get a couple extra months on his sentence. worst case, they’d throw the book at him for wasting their time.. not to mention the already hefty sentence for the assault.

you had completely and utterly exhausted yourself trying to support him and even you had had enough. he only had himself to blame for that. maybe jail would be a good thing? he could get his head straight.. get over you, maybe even find some purpose in his life.

he pulls another beer from the pack, cracking it open and taking a long swig. exhaling as the bitter liquid seeps down his throat. there was only one way out of this fucked situation and he knew that.

eddie perks up when he hears your key in the door, sat on the couch for what seemed like hours waiting for you both to get back.

your face drops the instant you see him, gripping onto steve’s hand as you walk into the dimly lit living room.

eddie stands, holding up his hands, ‘i’m gonna hand myself in.. i just-,’ he exhales deeply, ‘i wanted to say goodbye,’ jaw tense as he looms between you and steve.

‘you are? do you want me to call the sheriff? i- he gave me his number..’

‘no, no.. i’m gonna go down there.. it’s easier,’ eddie motions towards the door, shaking his head.

you stand dumbfounded for a second before nodding slowly, chewing on the inside of your cheek, ‘it’s the right thing to do..’ the lump in your throat growing as you look back at the pathetic man in front of you.

steve gives him a weak smile, patting his hand on your arm. there’s a brief moment of silence. the three of you all staring back at one another in awe of the fucked up mess you’d wound up in.

‘c’mere,’ steve motions to eddie, walking over to the boy with arms outstretched. he pulls him into a bear hug, clapping his palm on eddie’s back.

from the look on eddie’s face squished against steve’s shoulder you can tell he needed it, ‘i’ll miss you man..’ he breathes into his best friend’s sweater.

‘we’ll come and visit.. you’re not getting rid of me that easy,’ his laugh is shaky as he pulls away, smiling proudly at his friend.

you stand slightly behind steve, watching on with tears brimming in your eyes. even though steve had tried to reassure you, you couldn’t help but feel so guilty that this had ultimately all happened because of you.

eddie walks over slowly, throwing his arms around your body, gripping his fingers into your arms knowing that this may very well be the last time he ever got to hold you like this.

your arms cling around his waist, cheek pressed against his chest, ‘i’m proud of you..’ was all you managed to croak out, tears wetting his dirty t-shirt.

he sniffs, swallowing the lump in his throat, ‘thank you.. for everything,’ because truly, you were the only person to never give up on him, even if he had made it incredibly difficult for you.

you lift your head off of his chest, staring up at him with sodden cheeks, bottom lip quivering as you let go of him. both physically and emotionally.

he puffs his cheeks out, wiping his face with the back of his hand before clearing his throat and nodding at the pair of you, ‘you take care of her..’ eyebrow raised.

‘aye aye captain,’ steve gives him a tight lipped smile and a half-assed salute, watching as the man he had grown up with walked out of the apartment, head held high and a newfound spring in his step.

the end of the beginning.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington fic #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #steve harrington smut

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maybanksbabe · 1 year ago

Text

𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐋 | 𝐑. 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you'd assumed for the last 6 months that he'd lived nextdoor that your neighbour was just a very popular man with no end of female admirers spending the night at his place. Until a late night mark of desperation leads you to finding a very familiar face on your favoured XXX site...

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): pornstar!Rafe Cameron, language, mentions of and descriptions of sex and sexual content, *gasp* and they were neighbours!, Descriptions of masturbation (m + f), watching porn, oral (f) there's a lot going on lmao, if I missed anything lmk!

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: sex; cheat codes - church; chase atlantic - go fuck yourself; two feet

𝟷𝟾+ 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸 - 𝙸 𝙳𝙾 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙼𝙸𝚃 𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚂𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙵 𝙼𝚈 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙺

It started on a weekend, about three weeks after Rafe Cameron had moved in next door in your apartment complex. The walls were just torturously thin enough that any time he had a... Lady friend over, you could hear every obnoxious, high-pitched moan he could get out of her. Whoever she was every other night. Sometimes in the morning, you'd see various sorry states leaving his apartment; smudged makeup, shoes in hands and a slight wobble in their step.

He seemed nice enough when you bumped into each other at the mail collection or laundry room. A stunning smile and a God-given body. With it being late July he found any excuse to walk around shirtless. Not that you really minded. There was no indication of what he did for work; you'd never seen him in any uniform or office attire and there was nothing else that pointed to any kind of obvious profession, keeping you guessing.

Then, on the hottest summer night so far, you found yourself unable to sleep, tossing and turning beneath tangled sheets that did nothing but make you more uncomfortable. And then you noticed the faint knocking next door and distinctly female moans.

Did he ever fucking stop?!

You could hear a backing of male moans too, but nothing more than faint grunts and moans that were almost drowned out by whichever woman he was pressing into the mattress. And yet, instead of being faced with disgust, there was a spark of something else. Jealousy? Perhaps. It made your stomach twist and between your thighs began to ache.

Instead of being vindictive and giving the wall above your head a few sharp pounds with your fist, you decided to be courteous. After all, you have no other reason not to get along with him. Disgruntled, you kicked your sheets off and grabbed your keys before moving out of your apartment to the corridor, taking five steps to the right and knocking on Rafe's door.

The moaning stopped and seconds later the door opened, revealing, much to your bewilderment, Rafe in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. His chest, neck, cheeks and ears were flush with a rosy burnish and a delicate gold chain rested against his collarbones.

"Hi -"

"Is this about the noise?" He was slightly breathless as he tried to fill the space between the half-open door and the door frame.

"Yeah, sorry I'm just a really light sleeper and I've got a busy day tomorrow -"

"Don't worry about it, we're almost wrapped up here. Just give us ten more minutes and I promise you won't hear from us again tonight," he replied with a coy smile. Something about his demeanour made you melt a little inside. His eyes are heavy as they travel up and down your body, taking in your choice of sleepwear and your sleep-deprived state.

"Tom and Jerry, huh?" At a glance, you saw that he was referring to your pyjamas. Heat crawled up your neck and cheeks.

"Don't be an ass. Just - please keep the noise down, yeah?" He held a hand up in surrender, a boyish grin on his lips.

"Alright, alright. Promise. Enjoy the rest of your night, sweetheart."

Not as much as you will, it seems.

At that, you retreated to the stuffy air of your apartment, soon after the lurid sounds continued, accompanied by the percussion of the headboard against the wall. But true to his word, ten minutes later it fell silent and the distant sound of a door shutting set your mind at ease.

A week later, if that, a barrage of more late nights listening to Rafe's conquests drew you to a final, desperate measure. Opening an incognito window on your phone's browser you went straight to your favourite porn site. If he could have fun at all hours, so help you God you could too. The noise from next door made you wonder what they were doing; doggy, reverse cowgirl, some kind of bondage perhaps? He certainly seemed like the type.

Surfing the categories for a few minutes gave you a spark of inspiration to go looking for a specific type of video. And the first account to come up in the results had you intrigued from the jump. You selected the most recent video, put your headphones in and pushed your free hand into your sleep shorts. Though as your fingers began to dip and delve between your folds and around your clit, a familiar voice in your ear made you stop.

"- fuck yeah, so fuckin' tight -" Wide-eyed you turned your attention to your phone screen. You knew that voice. You'd spoken to that voice in the laundry room on multiple occasions. And as your eyes adjusted to the brightness of your screen in the dark you saw it. That chain. Those abs. That jawline.

"Oh, my god..." Solo fun forgot about, you sat up and began scouring the page. There were dozens of videos. Some by himself, some with co-stars (both female and male), and others with more than one co-star. Regardless of the content of the videos you selected and skipped through, he looked good. No, he looked hot.

The video you were currently on, you couldn't bare to skip through or speed up, too transfixed on what Rafe was doing. Lay on a pristinely made bed, beneath a beautiful brunette woman who was currently sat on his face. Then it all made sense. The constant noise, the late nights and the never-ending line of people leaving his apartment. And why you could never figure out what he did for a living.

Your neighbour was a pornstar.

Your insanely hot, surprisingly nice neighbour was a very popular pornstar based on the subscriber count under his profile name.

But now felt compelled to watch more. To see more and get to know him. It was wrong but you didn't have many other options given how he normally reduced to you a blushing mess anyway. So up you stayed for another few hours, scrolling through the countless videos that caught your interest.

Your favourite one so far had been a video from a month or two ago, Rafe was on the sofa, the camera set up on the coffee table and his legs spread just wide enough in the grey sweats that you could see most of him before he'd even stripped down. He used a vibrating cockring to get himself off. The string of delightfully sinful noises came from him as he fucked his hand and used the ring on the most intense pattern had you clenching your thighs and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Another week rolled on and you delved deeper into Rafe's content, using it selfishly to get off to your burning needs when every morning you'd exchange a polite smile and greeting when you both happened to be collecting your mail at the same time. Perhaps you were doing it on purpose. Or he was. You hadn't been particularly reserved in your late-night self-indulgence and there's more than a chance that he's heard you on more than one occasion.

How you found yourself standing in front of his door on a Thursday evening you're not sure, but you had to say something. It had been quiet for a couple of days next door. So you knocked and waited patiently. Moments later the door swung open. Rafe greeted you with his signature coy smirk, a bowl of cereal balanced in one ring-clad hand, and the other resting on the door.

"Hey, what brings you here?"

"I - I need to talk to you..." you forced out whilst wringing your fingers together.

"Oh? Sure, come in." Rafe stepped aside and propped the door open with his foot to let you in. You found it incredibly difficult not to ogle him as you stepped around him, sweatpants slung low on his hips and a shirt nowhere to be seen. He'd definitely been soaking up the Summer sun too, now more tan than when he first moved in and there was a faint spray of freckles across his back and shoulders, obviously brought out by the extra sunshine.

"What's the problem?" He leaned up against the nearest counter as you both came to a stop in the kitchen.

"No... No problem. I don't think. Look, Rafe, you seem like a really nice guy -"

"Oh, God I don't like where this is going -"

"No! No, it's not bad but... I found you." Rafe set the now empty bowl into the sink and turned back to face you.

"Found me?"

"Don't make me say it," you pleaded, face already hot with embarrassment. That cocky demeanour started to take effect and with the way he looked, standing there half naked so casually had you struggling to find the words.

"Online. Okay? I happened upon your online profile and -" His laughter cut you off and the panic and embarrassment subsided momentarily.

"Don't be embarrassed, everyone watches porn," he stated with a shrug and stepped towards you, caging you in against the counter. It took all your willpower not to drop to your knees then and there.

"I just - just didn't want things to be awkward. Thought you might want to know... We're still just neighbours, okay?"

"Sure. Y'know I'm surprised it took you this long to figure it out..." Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in. The scent of him was dizzying and you did the unthinkable. You kissed him. It transpired into a series of messy kisses, and obscene actions with tongues and teeth pressing and clashing.

A surprised gasp against Rafe's sinfully pink lips escaped you as he hoisted you onto the counter, large, hot hands on your waist, keeping you flush with him. Kissing Rafe was something you couldn't explain, it was a hungry, demanding exchange with languid tongues rendering you breathless.

"M' a big fan of your work," you confessed with a hot sigh against his parted lips, trying your hardest not to moan when he made contact with the column of your throat and his one hand made his way between your parted thighs.

"Yeah?" You made a noise of agreement but yelped when he tugged your soft cotton shorts down your legs, exposing your ass and the backs of your thighs to the cool surface beneath you.

"Don't - don't feel like you have to -" you panted, cut off by an unintentional moan as his fingers pressed against your underwear, adding a delicious kind of pressure against your aching clit. Your hand found his wrist, holding him there for a moment whilst his fingers teased you relentlessly.

"And what if I want to? Like I haven't spent the past couple of weeks listening to you play with yourself late at night when you think no one can hear you." His remark had you clenching around nothing,

"I -"

"You think I couldn't hear you? Watching my videos and moaning for me?" He kissed a line down your neck and bunched your t-shirt up so he could remove your panties, dropping them to one side. In your hazy state, you couldn't stop him from kneeling down in front of your bare cunt before he leaned in, making contact with an open mouth against your now-exposed clit.

"Fuck, Rafe -" you whimpered with a shaky breath as he used his mouth to get you off, suctioning around your clit with expert skill, his tongue adding just enough pressure and friction to have you dizzy already.

"Tell me all about it, sweets." You couldn't be sure if he was good at this because it was part of his job or if he was just that good, but in a matter of minutes, you were reduced to a whining, squirming mess on his kitchen counter, unable to form a coherent sentence. The pressure of a finger being added to your aching, wet cunt had you moaning even louder.

"Gonna cum for me? Hm? Wanna make a mess on my face?" All you could do in reply was moan. Unashamed and unhindered by the fact that any of the surrounding units might be able to hear you and that you were currently on your neighbour's kitchen counter being eaten out within an inch of your life by the aforementioned neighbour.

Practically grinding on his face, everything came to a dizzying peak. Eyes screwed shut, back arched off of the counter and your thighs trembling from their position over his shoulders, you came with a loud cry - a plea almost for the pleasure to last -

"That was hot," Rafe commented with a drawl as he eventually managed to free himself from between your previously tensed thighs. He made a point to stand up and offer the two fingers that had just been inside you. Some deep part of your subconscious didn't even hesitate to accept them in your mouth to clean them off.

"Good girl," he cooed with a wolfish grin.

-/-/-

@veescorneroftheworld @drewphyy @dreamingwithrafe @softcoremaybank @outerbankies

Just tagging a few who might be interested! Let me know if you want to be removed 🧡

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x f!reader #pornstar!au #pornstar!rafe #libra writes

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simonsezsewart · 6 months ago

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☀️Triangled☀️

Trigun Stampede X Tangled

Vashwood Tangled AU Comic

(Pages 1-5)

(Pages 6-7)

(See more for author’s notes)

It is wednesday my dudes 🤠

I enjoyed drawing/coloring these pages. In case it wasn’t obvious, panel 2 on page 7 is a reference to the big fall :,)

In this story, the July lantern festival is sorta like a memorial for that too. (Probably should’ve called it the July lantern memorial instead of the festival but it’s whatever lol)

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cramathonn · 2 months ago

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Hello! I see your rules and saw Seth on your list. I just got him recently and I wanted to ask if I can request something (a drabble or a oneshot, it's up to you) of our boyo. But let me give some idea worms first.

So, i heard somewhere that Seth is a Lynx thiren (unless I'm wrong, but looking at his thiren features, seems like his counterpart is from the Felidae family), and I researched that Lynxes can purr. So... imagine when reader (gender neutral) was petting Seth (or just give him some fluffy loving) he ended up purring because he's getting very comfortable

Sorry if it's kinda long! You can skip this if you want. It's my first time making a request 😅

This is adorable, anon

And don't worry, it wasn't that long! Throughout my writing history, I've gotten requests that are SO MUCH longer (and the context and worms are much appreciated). Also, I went to check his thiren subspecies and he's just a cat, not a lynx. Lynxes, while being felines, have considerably shorter tails when compared to other members of the Felidae family! Aka, bob cat short. So yeah, I referred to him as cat thiren in this little drabble, I hope you don't mind!

Hopefully you enjoy the sillies!

Warnings: none! Only fluff

Reader: gender neutral (no pronouns used)

Seth Lowell x GN!Reader

Purring

You and Seth were finally alone, relaxing inside the comfort of your shared apartment at Lumina Square. It was an exhausting day for the both of you, with either jobs sucking more energy out of you than usual.

While Seth insisted that you two asked for some food before ultimately sitting down to relax, you convinced him to do so later by bringing his head to your lap and starting to comb through his hair with your fingers. That immediately disarmed your beloved boyfriend and made his face flush red like a tomato. It didn't take long for his body to relax, the tip of his tail starting to slowly wag in contentment.

These small moments were the ones you adored most with him. Yes, you loved your walks alongside the riverbank, going out to run at the park or eat relax at the coffee shop, but this was perfect. Just the two of you, with you sitting on the couch while he had his head upon your lap, basking in each other's presence.

However, something was different this time. A noise, low and rumbly, echoing through your living room. You swore you didn't have any laundy today and you always checked all of your electrical equipment before having a chill couch session, so where was this coming from? You pay more attention to the sound, trying to pinpoint its origing. It was... Coming from beneath you? You looked down, now staring at the top of your boyfriend's head. His ears twitched every so often, leaning a bit backwards as a way to indicate how relaxed he was.

Wait, wasn't Seth a thiren? Specifically a cat one? The name of the noise coming from him was at the tip of your tongue and when you remembered it, the soft smile previously on your face widened slightly. He was purring. Seth, your uptight and slightly reserved boyfriend, was purring. The realization that he felt so at ease, so safe and comfortable in your presence to let his guard down enough to purr made your heart swell with contentment. You changed the way tou caressed the top of his head, which made him turn his head to the side so that he could look at you better, a curious look on his face.

"Everything alright? You changed how you were caressing my head... Not that I mind!"

He asked, voice much more relaxed than usual. It obviously still had that slightly loud factor that made his voice, well, his, but it was obvious to anyone who heard it that this man was calm and comfortable. You laughed at his inquiry, tangling your fingers in his silky white strands, combing through them.

"Oh, it's nothing, Seth. It's just that..."

You pondered for a second. Should you tell him? You worried that if you did he would go back to gaurding himself and stop allowing himself to purr around you, and you didn't want that! You wanted for him to feel free to relax and let his guard down, to allow himself to unwind and confide in you. However, knowing your lovely boyfriend, he'd think you were troubled with something, instead of just being deeply infatuated with his adorable noises. So you decided to simply say it.

"Well, you were purring"

You said, voice soft and filled with undeniable affection for Seth. His ears stood and tail flinched, immediately stopping its suave content swaying.

"O-oh, uhm, I'm sorry about that! It wasn't really meant to come out, it just kind of happens when I'm really relaxed... I'll make sure it doesn't happen again, I pro-"

There it was. Your sweet overthinker of a boyfriend thinking there would be a problem and that you would, most likely, think less of him for just relaxing and emitting natural noises. You made sure to cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"Seth, hey, it's ok. I don't mind the purring. I think it's cute! It shows me that you're comfortable enough around me to let your guard down and just... Relax, y'know?"

You said in an attempt to make Seth see your point of view. That apparently worked, seeing how his cheeks were now slightly pink and how his tail started to wag its tip once more. The thiren buried his face in your thighs, trying to hide how embarrassed your comment made him. But it also made him feel extremely giddy. You found his purring was cute? And, instead of ridiculing him for something that was natural, you were glad and happy that it meat he was comfortable around you? Heavens, what did he do to score someone as fantastic as you?

"I love you, Seth"

You said, continuing to caress his head and comb through his hair. At that, Seth turned his whole body to the side, hugging you as he shoved his face in your stomach, nuzzling your shirt.

"I love you too, (y/n)"

He answered, muffled by the fabric of your shirt. Seth's voice was soft as he allowed himself to relax once more, his purring returning and you could now feel its rumbling against you. The two of you remained there, you caressing his hair and him cuddling against your stomach. Yeah, you wouldn't trade this for anything in the world.

Written by Cramathonn, 29/09/2024

Concluded at 2:50pm

#seth zzz x reader #seth x reader #zzz x reader #zenless zone zero x reader #storytellerdemon #seth zzz #seth lowell

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bloodyinkandquill · 1 month ago

Text

Windforce x Reader cuddling/sleeping

drabble time!! as mentioned last time i did one of these DO NOT request a drabble i do them when i really want to they will be rare and again i don’t do them if requested:]

—

“Why do you do that?” Windforce questioned in her normal booming tone of voice. She was talking in reference to you preparing to sleep, putting on comfier clothing and fluffing your pillows.

“Why do I… sleep?” You asked in turn, with a confused quirk of your head as you questioned her question.

“Yeah, you don’t need to do why do you? I don’t see any point to it,” She replied with a huff. It is true you didn’t need to but you enjoyed doing so, it was a nice break and it was warm and comfortable.

“…Well how about you try it and maybe you’ll see why I like it!” You suggested with a smile, you weren’t sure if she’d agree but hey it was worth a shot.

Much to your surprise she grumbled and plopped down on your bed. Luckily she wasn’t in her bulky armor at the moment instead in more casual clothes, a black tank top and gray sweat pants, her outfits when not in her armor were usually monochromatic you noticed. You smiled at her happily sitting next to her on the bed, reaching up to give her a small kiss on the cheek, she blushed a bit looking away but kept her stoic expression.

You pulled back the top blanket, it wasn’t that cold so you figured the one would be fine, besides it was the fluffiest and therefore comfiest blanket. You gestured for her to get under it with you which she did somewhat awkwardly. You laughed slightly but got situated yourself.

“So, what do we do now?” Windforce asked voice gruff as she readjusted, having already dispersed her wings since she could much like her son could.

“Well we could cuddle, and then try and sleep,” you suggested with a slight hopeful tone.

“What does that mean?” She asked surprising you by her not knowing what cuddling was.

“It’s like uh- here let me just,” you cut yourself off man handling the deity to be on her side arms around your back going over your shoulders your own arms wrapped around her waist as you nuzzled into her neck, the hight difference was very obvious in this position but you did your best to also tangle your legs with hers. It was more comfortable than you thought honestly, since she’s such a strong buff woman you figured her mussels would make her less comfortable to cuddle but you were pleasantly surprised by being incorrect. “This is cuddling, is it alright?” You asked checking to see if she was comfortable.

“You’re telling me I could have been holding you like this the whole time?!” She shouted in a not quite mad voice, it made you laugh that she enjoyed it so much making you finish snuggling into her head in a comfortable position. She readjusted slightly too to be more comfortable herself and held you a tad tighter, but not enough to squeeze you.

“Okay just close your eyes now and try to not move, let your body relax, and be comfortable, try to also not think a bunch, just let your mind wonder but don’t think too much about what comes to mind. That should let you fall asleep,” you instructed trying your best to explain how sleeping worked. She made a sound of understanding, okay well it was a grunt but you figured it meant she understood, as you closed your own eyes softly.

It was very comfortable and you felt so safe in her arms, the only odd thing was her lack of heart beat, you supposed it made sense but it was still creepy to hear nothing in her chest. Eventually the two of you both fell asleep, warm and close.

A few hours later when you woke up you could tell she was still asleep, you tried to very gently pry her arms off and wiggle your way out of her grasp, unluckily it roused her as one of her eyes opened staring you down intently.

“You are not going anywhere,” Windforce practically commanded, you let out a noise of protest and she just squeezed you closer, you wriggled again to no avail. You sighed giving up on fighting to get out of her arms, you were the one who suggested this now you have to deal with her not wanting to stop.

—

hope you enjoyed! had fun writing it, tried to be neutral with the readers words and actions but i couldn’t help but project myself on them sorry lol, anyways im going to take an hour nap now im tired

#x reader #phighting x reader #phighting #phighting!#phighting windforce x reader #windforce x reader phighting #windforce x reader #windforce phighting #phighting windforce #windforce

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auspicioustidings · 30 days ago

Text

Kinktober Day 28

Moniker: N/A Risk Level: High as you may emerge with fewer brain cells. Brief: B-movie marathon Safeword: Refer to first brief.

If Soap gets frisky I can fuck it out of him luv, today is about you getting to lounge about and do nothing but eat, drink and relax - Gaz

Wanna cuddle and watch shite movies? - Soap

Not optional I’m afraid sweetheart. Ale reckons you’re sub-dropping, let the boys handle it for you - Price

Soap looked ruined and you suddenly felt the horror that came with knowing exactly what you must look like all clean and bundled up after having your brains fucked out. It was so obvious he was exhausted and so obvious what had exhausted him. Christ, it must be so apparent to anyone in here that you were getting ruined on the daily if you looked like that after.

The room was basically set up like you were having a childhood sleepover. Huge mattress on the floor piled high with plush blankets and pillows with a big TV and veritable mountain of snacks and drinks set up in little baskets on the floor. You raised an eyebrow at Gaz who was fondly petting at Soap’s mohawk.

“Ghost thought it’d be better if he was too tired out to try humping you” he said with a conspiratorial grin.

“Wait it’s possible to tire him out?”

“Aye very funny. Cuddle!” Soap demanded like a spoiled brat, holding his arms out and making grabby hands.

Ridiculous, this was ridiculous. You were getting paid to what? Cuddle Soap after Ghost had fucked the stuffing out of him? It was the 28th. The contract defined a month as 30. Shouldn’t they be looking to use your body for their pleasure as much as possible with so little time left?

“Hey hey, no, c'mere bonnie, come cuddle” Soap said, crawling over to the edge of the little almost nest to grab your hands and rub his thumbs gently over your knuckles.

You appreciated that neither him nor Gaz pointed out that your eyes were bubbling up with tears because you didn’t want to talk about it. What was there to say? You were an idiot who was falling in love with a bunch of the most dangerous people on the planet? You were starting to think you were no less a dog to be leashed than any of them were?

Instead of saying any of that you just collapsed into Soap’s arms and enjoyed being held by him and Gaz who had wrapped around the two of you in a tangle. The hazy fog of deep sadness that had settled over you slowly started to clear bit by bit as they took care of you.

The b-horror marathon was excellent if you were honest, Gaz kept heckling the characters and threw popcorn at the screen whenever one of the characters did something stupid.

You didn’t disagree and had your own little rants whenever the slut archetype died first. Poor Soap tried to have the discussion of sluts and violence infuse some horniness into him, but whatever Ghost had done had well and truly put him out of commission. He whined terribly when humping a pillow didn’t do anything at all for him, lamenting that his cock was broken.

When Gaz tried to tease him he just pointed out that Gaz was one of the Kennel's dogs for the next week and you found out that he was detained temporarily because of the day he had destroyed your poor ass. You protested but Gaz himself settled you, saying it was fair that they would think he seemed a little off kilter (you felt a little guilty knowing you hadn't reported Soap because he definitely should have been detained if Gaz was). Plus, he was planning on sticking around the place with you here anyway.

It was so silly and yet you couldn’t help but feel that it was real. That this was just a lazy night in with loved ones who were just as happy to be there as you were. That they enjoyed your company even when they weren’t fucking you.

“We should do a Christmas movie marathon” Gaz said as he scrolled through to find your next awful movie.

“Aye but only the pure awful ones.”

You blinked and took a second to catch up.

“I won’t be here at Christmas?” you said, meaning it as a statement but having it come out as a question.

The two of them shared a look that set the hairs on the back of your neck to standing and then just crushed you between them to watch the next movie. Maybe you should have wrestled your way out from between them and demanded to know exactly what that look had meant, but it was warm and cosy and you liked the feeling of safety that came from being wrapped up in them so you just snuggled in and ignored the alarm bells in your head.

#mhairi'skinktober

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fluentmoviequoter · 3 months ago

Text

Dress Up

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader

Summary: Lila wants to wear matching Halloween costumes with you, and you're both surprised when Deacon joins.

Warnings: pure fluff, Tangled references. I can't stop putting Transformers everywhere I can get away with

Word Count: 1.2k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Photo from Paramount Press

“This is the story of how I died. But don’t worry, this is a fun story, and the truth is, it isn’t even mine.”

You smile at the familiar sound of Tangled playing on the television. Lila has decided that it is her favorite movie since watching it with you for the first time several months ago. Since then, she’s started it alone, asked to watch it for family movie night, and pretended to be Rapunzel more times than you can count.

“Again?” you ask playfully. “Do you want popcorn?”

“Not until they get to the Duckling!” Lila answers, not looking away from the screen.

“The Snugly Ducking?” you clarify as you move to sit beside her. “Why then?”

“Because it’s a restaurant,” Lila says as if it’s obvious. “And I like the song.”

You hum and turn your attention to the movie. It’s a great movie, no doubt, and when Lila moves closer to you while Mother Gothel takes Rapunzel from the castle, you decide you’ll watch it as many times as Lila wants.

“Lila,” you whisper. “What do you want to be for Halloween?”

She frowns and says, “Matthew told me it was dumb.”

“Matthew was wrong. He clearly doesn’t know what you like. So…”

She gestures weakly to the screen, and you ask, “Rapunzel?”

She shrugs, and you pat her shoulder before you retrieve your phone and look for family costumes based on the movie. The third picture shows a man and woman dressed as Flynn and Rapunzel and a young girl smiling in a Pascal costume.

“Something like this?” you ask, passing her your phone.

“Yes!” Lila exclaims. “I can be Pascal?!”

“Sure!”

“And you’ll be Rapunzel?”

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. The goal had been to find Lila a costume, but if she wants a matching costume, you’ll gladly dress up with her. Deacon plans to spend every holiday of the rest of your life with you anyway, so this should be a good place to start.

“And we can surprise Dad,” Lila adds.

“Right. We’ll find the perfect costumes, make them, maybe, and surprise him after work that day!”

“Yay!” Lila screams.

“Hold on,” you say with Flynn. “Yep, I’m used to it. Guys, I want a castle.”

Lila laughs as she settles beside you again, and you save the picture to ensure the costumes you decide on are as perfect as possible.

“This is a very big day, Pascal,” you murmur softly.

With a week and a half to Halloween, you know every word of Tangled, and the final touches are nearly complete on Lila’s costume. She’s managed to keep it a secret from Deacon, but you’re not sure she can make it to Halloween without slipping up.

“Lila, can you try this on for me?” you ask.

“Yep!”

She runs into the bedroom where you’ve been working and sticks her arms out. You smile and slide the green sleeves over her arms before checking the covered zipper in the back.

“Adorable,” you decide. “Does it feel okay?”

Lila nods quickly, looking down at her costume as she sways.

“Try yours on!” she says excitedly.

“I have to finish mine first,” you explain. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Hello?” Deacon calls as he enters the front door. “Anyone home?”

“No!” you yell, quickly removing Lila’s costume to return it to the closet.

“Can we watch-“ Lila begins.

“Let me guess,” you interrupt. “Die Hard?”

“No! Tangled!”

“Oh, what’s that about?” you tease.

Lila hugs you, then runs to greet her dad. A moment later, he appears in the doorway, smiling at you.

“What are you doing in here?” he asks.

“I was looking for a pencil. They just can’t get Flynn’s nose right.”

Deacon chuckles and pulls you into a hug. He kisses the top of your head and then leads you back to the kitchen to help you finish dinner.

“Thank you,” Deacon says. “The kids love you; I love you, but you don’t have to do so much for us.”

“I want to. I love the kids, too.”

“Just the kids?”

You smile and tilt your chin up for a kiss. After Deacon pulls back, you nod and say, “I love you, too. Go sit with Lila and Samuel, I’ll finish here.”

“Matthew’s at the sleepover?” Deacon asks.

“He is. Everything was going well over there last I checked.”

Deacon drags his hand across your back as he exits the kitchen. When you walk into the living room a few minutes later to tell them dinner is ready, Lila points to Pascal. You know what’s coming but don’t have time to stop her before she speaks.

“That’s what I looked like!” she says.

“You’re dressing up as Pascal?” Deacon deduces.

She looks at you, guilty. When you smile and nod, she answers, “Yep!”

“Interesting costume choice.” Deacon looks at you with a smile. He adds, “I’m sure you’ll look just like him.”

“He’s a chameleon, so you might not be able to find me.”

“I’ll always find you, Lila.”

Your phone chimes with an incoming text while you’re securing Lila’s Pascal mask onto the back of her costume. Once it’s attached, you read the message from Deacon and smile.

“Your dad got off early,” you tell her. “He’s on his way home to trick or treat with all of us.”

“Can you help me?” Matthew asks, walking into the room with his costume hanging around his waist. “I can’t get my arms in the sleeves.”

“Of course, get over here, Optimus Prime,” you answer.

“I’m Nemesis Prime,” Matthew corrects as you pull the plastic plates over his hands.

“For now. Where’s Bumblebee?”

“Here!” Samuel announces, posing in the doorway with his hands on his hips.

“Wow! You look great.” Matthew steps back once his costume is in place, and you say, “Your dad is on the way home.”

Matthew and Samuel walk with heavy robot steps toward the living room to wait for their dad and fill him in on their Autobot adventures. Lila waits in the room with you as you put things away. Just before you reach up to close the window, someone stops outside it.

“Rapunzel!” Deacon yells. “Let down your hair!”

You laugh as you walk to the window. The laughter fades into shock when you see Deacon. He’s on the path to the front door in a Flynn Rider costume. Just when I thought he couldn’t get more attractive, you think.

“Let down your hair,” he repeats, smiling.

You pull the long braid you made of yarn, a blonde wig, and fake flowers over your shoulder and drape it over the windowsill.

“Get in here, Fitzherbert,” you demand.

Deacon salutes you, then walks to the front door. Once the window is closed, you follow Lila through the hall to greet Deacon properly.

“You’re Flynn,” you murmur, smoothing Deacon’s costume across his chest. “It’s a good look for you.”

“You look beautiful,” he replies, holding your waist. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Deacon kisses you quickly, but you’re interrupted by Samuel singing, “I want candy!”

“Rapunzel?” Deacon asks, offering his hand.

You take his hand, then offer your free hand to Lila. While Optimus Prime (already saved from his Nemesis Prime brainwashing, as you expected) and Bumblebee lead the way, you walk with the love of your life and the chameleon that brought you together.

“You can’t complain when she asks to watch this movie again,” you whisper to Deacon.

“I’m going to introduce her to The Goonies next,” he jokes.

Lila pulls you toward a house, and your hand slips out of Deacon’s as you reply, “Not until you do the truffle shuffle.”

#david deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay fluff #deacon kay #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯#swat cbs #swat x reader

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honeyhotteoks · 2 years ago

Text

this night together - chapter three (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter three: a want and a need

chapter summary: things get too intense too quick, but you're in safe hands as the wave takes you under.

warnings: smut, all the abo/omegaverse warnings, consent conversations, claiming references, so much breeding kink, pups pups pups, oral sex (f receiving), knotting, rough sex, hazy sex, dub con if you squint only they talked about it before, possessive sex, pet names, aftercare

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 5.3K

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

You don’t rest for long.

It’s dark when your mind reconnects just enough for you to register that it’s still night. Both of them are close, and for a moment you think they’re sleeping, but at the way you roll in the bedding with a light whine, you know they’re up and watching over you.

“Hold on,” Yunho soothes, “you’re stuck, just relax,”

His words don’t make sense but you comply anyways at his soothing tone, and you feel him unwrap the sheets from around your legs and torso, freeing you from the tangled mess you’ve made.

“You okay?” Mingi shifts to his side, searching for your face.

A tight spike of pain connects like a punch to the gut and you sob softly, “No,”

“That’s okay,” He murmurs, “I’m here,”

His words are like a balm, and you shudder a sigh. You twist further into the sheets below, hissing at the way your stiff nipples drag against the fabric almost painfully and your core throbs again, “Mingi,” you manage.

“Can I touch you?” He asks softly, his fingertips gentle on your spine, “Can I help?”

You reach blindly for him, finding his other hand in the sheets and tug it forwards, pushing it between your thighs and trying to press his fingers in the right places, “I need you,” you beg him.

Soft lips kiss your shoulder, “Mhm,”

“Please,”

He pushes your hand away, “Relax, I’ve got it,”

Relax is a funny word, there’s almost zero chance you’d be able to relax feeling like this, but you widen your legs a little and let him take back the lead. The first circle of his fingers has you moaning already, digging your forehead into the pillows and choking, “I’m gonna fucking come,”

“I barely touched you,” Mingi laughs softly.

You shake your head, gripping the bedding in your shaking fists, “It doesn’t matter, I’m,” your hips buck into his hand, “fuck, I’m too sensitive,”

“Then come,” He says, like it’s obvious.

All it takes is two more circles of perfect pressure and you snap under his hands, moaning into the sheets and rocking your hips to keep the feeling going, pleasure running up and down your spine.

“That’s it,” He murmurs, and then you feel his hands shifting to your hips. He’s moving you before you can register the change but before you know it he has you lying on your front and he’s pulling your hips up into a raised position, “do you still need a knot, beautiful?”

You’ve never heard a better sentence in your life.

You must make a noise, but your head is starting to get hazy so you barely register it, Mingi laughs again and then you’re moving. He drags you back gently to position you in the center of the mattress, lifts your hips high and widens your knees, and brushes his hands over your hips and the soft skin of your ass.

“Look at you,” He hums, “presenting yourself,”

You arch your back more deeply, responding to the pleased tone of your alpha’s voice, “Knot,”

Fingers sweep over your wet folds until his palm cups your sex, “I know, omega,”

You whimper softly.

He doesn’t respond with words, or at least you don’t think he does, but a moment later his hand is gone and the head of his cock nudges your dripping entrance. You beg softly, pressing up with your hands and trying to shake your hair away, you want to twist back to look at him but you’re a mess.

Hands brush back your hair and the weight of the bed shifts as Yunho comes to his knees in front of you. Mingi presses his thick cock inside, slowly at first and you can feel your body expanding to take every inch of him. You moan and pant, eyes filling with fresh tears at the sensation of being stretched so open, and then your eyes settle on Yunho.

“Does that feel better, omega?” Yunho asks, easing himself into a comfortable position in front of you and cupping your cheek.

“Mm,” You nod frantically, “I need more,”

“I’ll give you more,” Mingi says, a smile in his voice, and he snaps his hips suddenly.

You shudder and drop your head, focused on the sensation and pressing your eyes shut tight, “Harder, alpha,”

He drives into you harder, and you keen, and finally you hear him curse behind you, “Fuck, you’re tight,”

“God,” You choke.

“A perfect, pretty little cocksleeve,” He sighs with a groan, pumping his hips harder, but despite the lewdness of his words his hands remain soft and reverent on your hips.

“For you,” You nod, “for alpha,”

You feel like your head is filling with water, like your ears are plugged full after a long day at the beach and you can’t quite shake it out. Their voices are getting hazier, your body getting hotter, every sensation doubled and tripled as your body takes you further and further down into the deepest part of your heat. Your mind is spinning with need, pulsating with desire, a singular biological need forming clearly in your mind. You forgot how much heat makes you want it, but the way you need overtakes your senses.

“Please,” You hear your own voice echoing in your ears.

Mingi says something, it’s not quite clear, all you can focus on is the sudden feeling of his hand slipping over your abdomen and the drag of his cockhead over your velvet sweet spot.

You’re being lifted by your arms and you blink hard to clear your vision, Yunho shuffling closer to hold you up a bit and keep you still while Mingi fucks into you. You must be losing the ability to keep yourself steady, lost in sensation, but Yunho grounds you.

“I got you,” He sighs as he holds you, “let Mingi take care of you,”

Your walls clench tight around Mingi’s cock, and despite your bleary vision you realize quickly that Yunho’s cock is only inches away from your hand and left untouched. He’s only slightly stiff, not standing firm and tall and aching for you, but you want him suddenly in your mouth. You reach for him, taking him in your hand and pumping twice before he gently pulls your hand away.

“No, no,” Yunho shakes his head, twining his fingers with yours and squeezing you tight, “I’m okay,”

You whine softly, but Yunho squeezes your hand again.

“You come for Mingi, baby,” Yunho soothes you, “let him fill you up,”

Your brain ignites.

“Shit,” Mingi curses, “I’m close,”

“Yes, yes, yes,” You press your hips back, suddenly acutely aware of what that means.

Yunho holds your weight with ease, bracing you against his shoulder as Mingi’s thrusts start to get more frantic.

“You need my knot, don’t you?” His voice is a little teasing, coaxing you closer to your own peak.

“P-please,”

“You need my cum,” He groans through gritted teeth.

“Mingi!”

“Then take it,” He pants, his knot swelling suddenly inside you and locking him tightly in place, Mingi choking out a moan as he releases inside you.

You beg again, and he pulls you away from Yunho and into his chest, collapsing down on the bedding and grinding his cock in deeper, the hand over your belly dipping low to rub your swollen, aching clit and bring you up and over your peak fast. His mouth is hot at your ear, “Perfect,” he murmurs with a growl, “the warmest, wettest cunt I’ve ever felt,”

“Mingi, fuck,” You melt in his hands, your orgasm shuddering through you.

“Good girl,” He croons, “that’s my good girl,”

You feel yourself teetering on the edge of consciousness, even inside the ecstatic pleasure of your own release, barely understanding what you’re feeling - hands everywhere, a knot inside you, a hard cock pressed against your thigh, wet kisses all across your chest. Fingers brush along your belly, a tongue softly laps at your nipple, lips along your neck, a heavenly cloud of sensation.

Someone’s talking, and you moan and nod in response, and you’re dizzy, hot, sweating and foggy.

Mingi’s knot deflates, soft cock pulling out of you, pulling a desperate whine from your lips but suddenly you’re full again. On your back, tenderly held, a cock pumping inside you. Warm words at your ear but you can’t make it out through your fog, all you know is need. The want to be fucked, the want to be bred, the want to have nothing but knot over knot until you’re swollen and aching. Your heat takes your mind and plunges you deeper.

A knot fills you, expands just right, your mind sparking with delicious satisfaction.

The weight of the bed shifts and changes.

You register kisses, and then sounds. The low hum of the bathroom light fixture, the fan above you. The creak of the floor as someone shifts, the aching yawn of the mattress and the man above you collapses lower with a contented sigh.

He’s shaking above you when you finally surface, his head dropped onto your chest and his warm breath passing over your skin again and again as he tries to come back down. His body is slick with sweat, black hair still damp from the shower. Your eyes trace over the contours of the taut muscles in his arms, and your mouth runs dry at the way his body trembles.

“Yunho,” You brush your fingers through his hair, “hey,”

He sighs, dropping a kiss to your sternum as he lifts his head, “Hey,”

“You okay?” You ask him softly, your fingers tracing down the nape of his neck.

“Mm,” He nods, a disconnected smile on his lips, “you?”

You nod, blinking a little to further clear the fuzziness inside you, “Where’s Mingi?”

“Right here,” Mingi murmurs and you start at the sudden interjection of his voice, craning your neck to find him.

You twist in the sheets below you and see Mingi relaxing in the corner chair, towel still wrapped low around his hips, “Fuck,” You smile, “you scared me,”

“Sorry,” He smiles with you, leaning forwards in his chair, “I didn’t mean to,”

“What are you doing all the way over there?” You murmur.

“This one wanted you all to himself,” Mingi throws a cheeky look at his best friend.

You hope Yunho doesn’t notice the way you shiver at the words, and you’re about to open your mouth and brush the comment off, but Yunho gets there first.

“So, what if I did?”

“See?” Mingi nods at him, “But if you want me back in bed, all you have to do is ask,”

The hand Yunho has on your waist tightens and your head snaps back to him, “Yun-” your words get caught in your throat as you feel his cock start to stiffen inside you again.

His ears tint pink, but his eyes are still blown out and hungry, and his hips press into yours just a little bit more.

“Oh,” You breathe, looking down at the place where your bodies connect, the soft swell of another knot starting at your entrance.

“Shit,” He groans, his head dropping as his eyes rake over you.

Your hips rock just a little and you whine softly, “Oh, fuck,”

“By all means,” Mingi’s laughs, “pretend I’m not here,”

“Mingi,” Yunho’s teeth set, “please, shut the fuck up,”

All you get in return is another little chuckle from the chair in the corner.

Heat flares up in your stomach, and you reach up for the man inside you, “Come down here,”

He’s walking on a razor wire, you can feel it, a tense cord of control. He’s losing himself a little this time, his gaze possessive and hot, and you can feel every inch of your body responding even though the last knotting has your heat sated for the moment. Yunho registers your words and eases down above you, wrapping his arms around you and gathering you close.

“Kiss me,” You murmur, keeping your voice even and calming.

He nods, a little stiff as he shifts to find your mouth, pressing his closed lips to yours with trembling hesitation. He needs you to ask, you can feel it in every inch of him.

“Shh,” You soothe him, shifting beneath him to draw him closer, hooking your legs over his hips, “it’s okay,” you murmur against his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” He says, almost too quietly, “I just want you, I can’t stop wanting you,”

Your inner omega preens, your mind suddenly spiraling at the fact that it’s him who needs. A moment ago you weren’t sure you could take any more, but his words and the hot throb of his length inside you have your body responding again before your mind can catch up.

“Please,” You shudder a sigh into his mouth, “please, alpha, you have me,”

His head drops down onto yours at your words and then he moves. He draws out of you quickly, snapping his hips back hard against yours and driving his cock in deep. Pleasure rockets up your spine, twisting your body below his and the sound that leaves your lips is nothing short of wanton.

He takes your sounds and the muttered please on your lips as permission and in his eyes you see the moment he lets go. His hand tightens in your hair, he gets closer if at all possible, forcing your legs open wider and pressing you open for him. He fucks you this time with steady, firm strokes, no consideration for what you need for your orgasm, only for what he wants. Your nails dig into his back where you hold him, your muscles ache, your breath coming now in short staccatoed pants.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” He manages, his voice tight.

You can’t say a word, your body a raw mix of pleasure and aching, delicious pain.

“Pretty omega,” He kisses you hard, his mouth slipping off yours with a groan as he buries his face in your shoulder.

You grip him closer, a bubble of inside you starting to build as he works you.

“Mine to fuck,” He pants as he thrusts in again, “mine to fill.”

Your mind spins.

“To knot,” He shudders, and you feel his knot slip in and lock in place, much faster this time than before and you jerk beneath him at the sudden sensation.

“Yes,” You mutter into his chest.

Yunho grinds his hips into yours, releasing hot and hard inside you, and suddenly all you can think of is taking it all. Keeping it all. Your primal brain lights up with thoughts of what could be - your body round and perfect and theirs. Everyone would know who you belonged to, their hands spread wide over your growing belly, your alphas on either side of you and your child forever.

“Y-Yunho,” You choke, and you feel him lift his head.

He tries to shush you, but you’re desperate now, your own release a breath away if he’ll just stay right where he is and let you.

“I-I need it,” You sob, rolling your hips as best you can in the pressed back position against his pelvis, every rock dragging your clit over him and bumping the head of his cock inside you into your softest places.

“Alright, baby,” He sinks lower, shifting his hand under you to cup your ass and hold you against him.

“I can’t,” You shudder, eyes locked closed as you focus on the image you need. Mingi behind you, hands cupping your breasts and softly flicking your pebbled nipples. Yunho’s head between your thighs, tongue flicking against your swollen bud, shifting up to kiss the soft swell of your stomach.

“Baby,” He murmurs again, “look at me,”

Your eyes snap open at his soft command.

“There you are,” He smiles, squeezing your backside and urging you to keep rocking against him, “come on your alpha’s knot, pretty girl,”

You whine as you grind against him, so, so impossibly close.

“So good for me,” His hand slides up, coasting along your side, thumb stroking your abdomen, “for us,”

You snap open beneath him with a stumbling cry, arching up and gripping onto whatever you can find, every inch of your body shaking and coming apart with disconnected pops.

You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until you feel Yunho shift above you and withdraw his now softened cock from your channel. A rush of wetness between your thighs registers distantly and you make a soft noise, twisting in the sheets and towels.

New, warm hands lift you, and then suddenly every part of your body is warm. Cocooned in pleasant heat. Your hair is wet again, you hear the sound of water but it doesn’t register quite right, it’s not the steady stream of the shower like before. Trickles of water, something soft against your skin, washing over your arms and your chest, dipping between your thighs.

“You got her?” Yunho asks softly, and you can hear him but it almost sounds like you’re hearing him through a wall.

“Mhm,” Mingi’s tone is rich, “you almost done?”

“Yeah,” Yunho responds, “she seem okay?”

“She’s fine,” Mingi assures his friend, “she’s exhausted.”

You sigh softly and you feel their hands still.

“Jagi,” Yunho’s voice is soft, “are you awake?”

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head.

Mingi chuckles and you feel his lips press to your hair, “You sound awake,”

“Mm-mm,” You sigh again, your eyes still heavy and closed no matter how hard you try to blink them open.

“Okay,” He murmurs, and you feel his arms taking your body in his, “just rest,”

You're weightless suddenly, the sound of water again, a sudden shock of cold as you leave the warm embrace of what you realize now was the bath. A soft towel wraps around you, gentle fingers work through your hair. You’re wrapped up again with them both, one on either side, a downy comforter tucking you back into the bed.

An icy shiver passes through you and they move closer.

Your mind floats, each muscle in your body softening one by one.

There’s a quiet murmur above you, but this time it’s too far away.

You drift.

When you wake again, it feels like you’re waking inside a cloud. Your vision is hazy and distorted, your ears ringing, your head pounding. The pulse between your thighs is stronger than ever, and fleetingly in the back of your mind you know you’re at the precipice of it all. It gets worse before it gets better, they always say that, and right now it’s worse.

Deep in your belly you feel nothing but all consuming heat, an unquenchable ache. It’s as if your body knows that despite the half a dozen times you’ve been knotted, none of it’s taken, and now as your body starts to prepare for the comedown it’s pushing you over the edge for another try.

You shift in the middle of the bed, your hand connecting with skin but you don’t know whose. You’re all but crying, your hips bucking on their own to find something, anything to give you relief. You're slick with sweat, panicked and pained. Vaguely you think you can hear yourself begging, or at least you feel the echoing tone of your own voice resounding inside your head but you can’t be sure if you’re saying anything aloud. Maybe this is a dream.

It’s dark, and for a split second you wonder if you’ve been left alone, thrust into the worst of your cycle by yourself, head too full of cotton to even get yourself off. But then someone pushes your legs open wide, someone kisses your thighs, someone drags their hot tongue up through your wet slit.

“What a good girl,” Mingi’s rough tone pierces through your haze.

You babble something back.

“I know it hurts,” Mingi croons, kissing your cunt, “we’re going to make it all better, baby,”

Your fingers twist into his hair, dragging him forward as your hips jut up to find his mouth.

“Needy baby,” He hums, “so desperate for her alpha’s knot,”

Your head throbs, your body tight and shaking. You beg him, you plead, you ask for anything and everything he can give you.

“Hush,” His hand closes over your stomach as he wraps his arms under your thighs to hold you steady, “come on my tongue first,”

“Knot,” You choke out in response.

“We’ll knot you,” He assures, biting your inner thigh softly, “but you’re already so full and you think you can take more?”

You know you can.

“Mm,” He sounds pleased at your little noises, “I’ve never seen someone so wet,”

You attempt to tug him forward to your core again.

“Can I taste your pretty pussy, babygirl?” He sounds husky, and you know he’s rock hard, probably grinding down against the mattress. You want him inside. If he wastes a drop on the bed sheets you know you’ll cry.

You must have whined a yes, you don’t know inside the thick fog, all you know is that when his tongue flattens over your clit in earnest, you see color.

He devours you, his hands rough and bruising. His tongue feels everywhere, pushing inside in short little thrusts, rolling over your swollen bud, lapping up the excess slick from your thighs. He won’t even lift his mouth to breath, hot pants into your skin as he continues to bring you the most taut, pleasurable pain imaginable.

He’s determined to make you come this way first, before you can have another knot even though you’re so wet and aching that you could take anything they give you without an ounce of preparation. He’s focused but messy, using your every noise to guide his mouth.

When he pushes two fingers inside you, hard and fast, you come instantly. You feel like something has burst inside you, the sudden pressure of his hand over your belly as he thrusts his fingers, combined with how he’s sucking your clit leaving you boneless, moaning and writhing in the sheets.

Your ears are ringing, and someone’s talking, but the heat is back up to its peak again even after your orgasm, and you cry out. Your legs push open wider, your hips angled suddenly upwards, Mingi’s hand on your belly gone. You blink and try to make sense of it, but in all but a moment after Mingi’s mouth leaves you, a cock drives into you deep.

The colors behind your eyes spark again, blue and purple pops as you try to get your bearings and adjust to the weight inside you.

“Fuck,” Yunho’s voice breaks through this time and your eyelids flutter as you try to blink back the fog and see him. He curses again, “How are you still this tight, tiny?”

You whine again.

“You feel so good,” He groans, “so good,”

You reach for him blindly, finding his bare shoulders and tugging him down. You want his weight over you, you want every inch of him inside, your body feels dizzy and feral and desperate, but all of a sudden he’s clear. The only thing you can make sense of is him above you, on you, in you.

He drops low, sinking in deeper and gathering you closer in his arms, your bodies pressed flush against each other and his hot mouth at your ear. “Mm,” He grinds his hips down into you, “I’ll pop a knot too soon if you don’t stop that,”

Your hips still, you barely registered the way you were rolling your body against him, grinding your pubic bone up for the right kind of friction on your clit. A knot though, that’s what you need, and you feel a rush of wetness between your thighs as you adjust below him and redouble your efforts.

“Shh,” He tries to soothe, but you can barely register it.

“She’s too far gone,” Mingi says from the side, a little breathy, “she won’t calm down until she feels a knot,”

You twist beneath him, dragging Yunho’s face to yours, “Kiss me,” you beg, pulling him even closer.

His tongue dips past your lips, his hand on your cheek as he starts to rock his hips, “Tell me what you need,”

“Your knot,” You sob against his mouth, “I’m so empty,”

“Yeah?” He pants, pressing harder with his hips.

The feeling of his thick length splitting you open, dragging against your g-spot, hot and hard in your belly, has you shaking in his hands. “P-please, come inside me,”

“Come first,” He groans, rocking again, pushing your head to one side so he can collapse over your neck, “I want to feel you come around me,”

You moan, your hips rolling again in earnest, every shift of your body dragging him in and out just enough that his cockhead bumps against the right spot and you grind your clit hungrily into the hard plane of his abdomen.

You need more, and maybe you ask for it and maybe you don’t, but he answers you anyway. His next words send you over, “Come and I’ll fuck my knot right inside,” he kisses your jaw, “I’ll fuck you so full, you’ll be so sweet and round with my pretty pups,”

Your brain tunnel-visions instantly, the only feeling in the world is him. Something pulses in the back of your brain as you come apart around him, a thumping need, an impulse that you can’t catch no matter how hard you try.

“Alpha!” You cry as your legs shake, your fingers lacing into his hair and tugging hard to direct his mouth to your neck, “Take me,”

His breath catches and you feel him shake his head, but he keeps working his hips.

“Please,” Tears work their way down your cheek, “I’m yours, make me yours,”

“No!” Mingi’s cold tone spikes through but you wrap your arms tighter around Yunho.

“I need it,” You whine, and you don't even know what you’re saying anymore, body and mind possessed wholly by this deep intrinsic need, “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’ll be so good for you, alpha, so good,”

His knot swells.

“P-please,” You beg again, the feeling of his lips over your gland sinking you deep into another sudden orgasm.

His knot slips in, locking in place.

“Yours, I’m yours,” You grip him harder, turning your head to the side to stretch your neck long, pushing your aching gland harder against his mouth.

He spills inside you with a hot cry, breath warm on your throat, your body arching under him. You know you’re still begging, the singular thought in your mind, the all encompassing need to be his, theirs. His teeth brush your throat ever so gently. Your mind sings.

“Not like this, sweetheart,” He chokes finally, cupping you to him and shaking his head, “never like this,”

“Y-Yunho,” You’re shaking in his embrace, still locked tightly to him.

“Just breathe,” He soothes you, kissing your throat slowly and “I’ve got you,”

A light clicks on somewhere in the background, flooding the room with a low yellow glow and realization slowly starts to creep through you. When you had told them not to claim you, it was kind of a joke. It was a boundary that you felt like you should set, but you were confident in that moment before the flooding heat that you would never, ever ask that of anyone unless you were sure. But you had begged. Pleaded. Presented yourself for consumption in a way that you’ve never done before with anyone.

In a split second you had offered him your life.

You pull back from him with a gasp, pushing into the pillows behind your head and one hand flying to your neck, anxious tears bubbling up in your eyes, “What did we do?”

“Nothing,” Yunho pushes up with one hand to give you space, but reaches out to brush your cheek.

You pull back further and his hand stills.

“What did we do?” Panic rises.

“Nothing,” He swears again, “I didn’t bite you, I promise, I didn’t,”

“Nothing?” You repeat, but your body is fluttering in nervous panic beneath him.

“Show her,” Mingi enters your eye line over Yunho’s shoulder

Yunho swallows nervously, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “Give me your hand, sweetheart,”

You extend it just a little.

“Just breathe,” He repeats as he cups the back of your hand, directing your movement slowly until your fingertips rest over your gland, “see?” He presses your hand up and down gently, letting your fingers graze over your unbroken skin, “You’re safe,”

He didn’t do it. He listened. He remembered.

The relief in your body is indescribable, and you shudder a quiet sob before wrapping your arms around him and bringing him down to hold you again, “I didn’t know what I was saying,”

“I know you didn’t,” He soothes you.

“I didn’t know,” You press your head into his shoulder. Warm rain.

“I know,”

Mingi eases himself back into the bed again, sliding close and pushing one hand into yours, “y/n,” he squeezes you, “you didn’t do anything wrong. Just relax,”

You nod into Yunho, peeking up over his shoulder at Mingi’s kind eyes.

“You know we’d never hurt you,” He murmurs softly, “never. We’d never take that choice away from you,”

You nod again, but keep quiet, your mind still spinning with what ifs.

“y/n,” Mingi says again, “tell me you understand,”

“I understand,” You manage, “I believe you,”

Yunho’s knot softens and slowly he pulls himself free, but he stays resting over you, cradling your head in his hand. He studies your face, glancing over at his best friend.

“Yunho,” You murmur, your head finally clearing from the dizzy chaos of waking in the throes of hard heat and the panic of what could have been.

“Yeah?” His head snaps back so he can look at you.

“Thank you,” Your voice is quiet, just a breath, but his eyes soften and he dips to capture your lips.

The kiss is slow, chaste and tender and when you part you reach for Mingi to pull him down to your mouth too, saying everything you can with your kiss.

“I don’t know what to say,” You admit to the quiet room as you let them hold you steady.

“There’s nothing to say,” Mingi murmurs, “just rest.”

Yunho presses a kiss to your forehead, his thumb stroking a tender line across your cheekbone. You know it will start again soon, body cramping up and desperate for everything they can give you, but this time you feel safe. This time, you know they’ll hold you solid through the wave.

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