#or talked around it or pushed it down) and it let him say it without pretenses or expectations; just because

[eddiesghxst]

i've been so obsessed w innocent!virgin! reader and perv!experienced! eddie (maybe even mean!dom! eddie) dating and eddie can't wait to take her virginity🫠

ohhhhh brother don’t get me started

18+ — MINORS DNI

god eddie is so handsy. he’s handsy and impatient and honestly he doesn’t know how he’s lasted so long without just bending you over and shoving his cock in you.

but you’re so nice, feeling sorry for your poor boyfriend who has to go home and fist his cock because you’re not ready for the full thing. so, to meet in the middle, you let eddie do things. not very often, you’re still so shy about it and eddie’s got a thing for making you embarrassed so you can blush and whine.

but it took a long time for eddie to get you to say yes— nearly half a year. half a year to stick his head between your thighs and eddie would do it over a million times if he’s being honest.

it took a little longer for eddie to talk you into letting him rub his greedy cock through your wet folds. you were hesitant— but by that time, eddie had already showed you how good sex can feel and you selfishly wanted more, even if you couldn’t fully admit it, eddie could see it. could see it in the way you’d get all squirmy when he touched you, or how you clung to him when a kiss got a little heavier than expected, or in the morning when you would nuzzle up against him like you wanted to meld your bodies together.

he’s a good boy for the most part, doesn’t push you too much, but sometimes he just can’t help it— like now.

you’re just so pretty like this, laid out on his bed in his shirt, messy hair with swollen lips and glossy eyes that had only just fluttered open less than 10 minutes ago.

you’re clutching his sheets, eyes gazing down between your thighs to watch as eddie drags his cock through your wet folds, moaning and trembling when his thick tip nudges against your clit.

this is only the second time you’ve done this, let eddie stick his cock this close to your pretty cunt. usually, you suck him off or eddie fucks your thighs, because the last time eddie got his dick on your cunt he nearly lost it and just went in for the kill— you weren’t too happy with him then. and eddie doesn’t wanna upset his girl.

he tries to keep it together, ringed fingers clutching to the fat of your thighs as he presses them together to make a tight fit around him.

you whimper and eddie groans, curly strands falling over his face as he ruts into the wet heat between your thighs, timid not to get carried away and slip into you.

“fuck, you’re so wet— you sure you don’t want it?” he purrs.

you whine, eyebrows furrowing as you mewl and shake your head, “not today, eddie— please. i wanna wait, i want—“ “okay, okay,” he softly coos, his thumb caressing the skin of your thighs. “i’ll wait… i’ll fuckin wait,” he grits out the last part with a particularly strong thrust, groaning as he tosses his head back, “ah shit, squeeze your thighs together, princess— there we go.”

you’re so cute like this, whiney and pliant beneath eddie— he can practically see your brain melting out your ears. fucked dumb and you haven’t even stretched around the actual thing. god, eddie can’t wait to fuck you— really fuck you.

and he knows you like it nice and sweet, gentle touches and kind words, but sometimes he slips and his grip gets just a little tighter, his words get a little sharp and his movements get a little rough.

he leans over you, your thighs pressing to your chest as he plows through your folds, sharing the same breaths as he grunts against your lips, “look at you crying for my cock— can feel you weepin’, baby— fuck— look at me. look at me.” he demands.

your eyes flutter open, glossy and blown with lust and he nearly growls, his cock throbbing with the promise of release, “always knew you want it, naughty girl.” he teases and you whine, “tell me you want it.”

you huff around a moan and blissfully nod, “i want it, eddie.”

“you’ll let me have it.”

you nod again, “i will, i will— just n-not now—“

“shh, shut up,” he places a hand over your mouth, “shut up, just feel good.”

your eyes roll and eddie can feel you fluttering as you cum against him, your thighs shaking beside his ears. eddie never gets tired of seeing it— watching the soul leave your eyes. he dreams about it.

he can’t stop himself, not when you’re throbbing and fluttering like your pussy’s just asking for it.

he’s cumming and you’re breathless and oblivious, so he knocks your thighs open and he sits up, grabbing his dick and fisting it with fervor. his chest rises and falls quickly, his chin pressed to his chest as he looks at your quivering pussy, moaning when he takes his thumb and index finger to part your cunt, sticky arousal dripping from your hole as he presents it to himself.

god, he doesn’t last a second, placing his tip at your gaping hole, fighting every urge to push in as he cums in thick, white spurts.

you moan around a gasp, hips squirming at the sensation of eddie’s warm cum on your cunt, whining and telling him that’s enough, “no more, eddie—“ “i know, i know— ffuck.”

and yet your hips keep quirking, your cunt seeking him out like it knows what it needs. greedy little thing you are, even when you pretend otherwise.

yeah, he’s gonna fuck you sooner or later.

[starmocha]

want me, need me, love me [Sylus/Reader ★ 1510 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] When you had made that plan to sell Sylus, you didn’t realize it would come back to (literally) bite you. A/N: This…was originally just a scenario, but I guess it turned into a ficlet in spite of my self-ban that I wasn’t going to write Sylus fics right now until I finish Bride of the Dragon King. In my defense, it’s only appropriate to post this during the cat banner and I always lie to myself <333 Snuck in some light breeding kink because @yourlocalcatscammer got into my brain and I fear I have already exposed myself enough with my last few fics so why bother hiding this anymore 🥹

It was pretend. Just a little ploy.

You knew it.

Sylus did too.

So how did it end up with you trapped underneath him on a couch, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his voice so hoarse and needy? He wouldn’t stop rubbing his cheek against you, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply.

“Sy-Sylus, what’s gotten into you?” You tried to push him off, but he was too heavy, too unwilling, too…gone. Was it because of the special gene product? It couldn’t have possibly rewired his whole demeanor, could it? You vaguely recalled him attempting to snatch a parrot earlier when, for a brief moment, the feline instinct in him was triggered. You continued to struggle. “Snap out of it!”

“Miss…you really are heartless,” he rasped, nibbling on your earlobe, “Letting another woman have me so casually?”

You flustered, confused. “What are you talking about?” You looked up at him wide-eyed, startled by the darkened gaze that peered down at you. You swallowed slowly, your words careful and measured, as if you were soothing an agitated wild animal, “Sylus…it wasn’t personal…”

He narrowed his eyes. “I know,” he said, his tone terse. His kissed along your shoulder, leaving little love bites along the way. You squirmed, feeling your body heating up under his feverish ministrations. He sighed and grunted softly, his touches growing bolder.

“Say I’m yours,” he mumbled into your neck, desperation laced his deep voice. He nuzzled his cheek against you over and over again, behaving just like a frustrated cat. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin, making you shivered as he husked, “Let me be yours.”

Want me.

“Sy-Sylus, snap out of it! What are you—ah…” Your words died at your lips, a gasp escaped. He had pushed your shirt up, your bra unhooked and tossed to the side without a care. Without hesitation, the Onychinus leader took your sweet little nipple into his warm mouth, his tongue swirling leisurely around the sensitive nub, making you arched up, gasping and crying from the sudden electrifying stimulation.

He grinded languidly against you, and as he suckled greedily, he murmured, “…touch me…my…my ears…”

Your mind was hazy, teetering between rationality and the growing lust that was clouding your judgement. You looked down at the head of silvery-white hair against you and the pair of cat ears twitching restlessly atop Sylus’ head. Nimbly, your fingers stroked the sensitive feline ear, feeling the soft tufts of fur between your fingers. He hummed happily, and he sucked harder.

“Ah—!”

His hands reached down to grab your hips, keeping you grounded against the couch. He brushed against you, and you trembled, feeling his bulge over your skirt.

“Sy-Sylus…”

He looked up, the normally haughty expression that graced the feared and notorious Onychinus leader’s face was gone. Right now, he wore a different expression, one that only you were allowed to see. He looked at you lust-filled and wanting, his lips slightly parted, soft sighs escaping. His eyes softened a little, enough for you to notice.

Need me.

You felt a burning ache inside you, one that he had started, and one that you knew only he could quell. Those soft crimson eyes of his beckoned you closer, silently urging you to let go, to submit to the growing heat between the two of you.

Hesitantly, you leaned up, taking his lips for yourself, long and slow. Sylus stilled, surprised, seemingly taking his time to register the moment. When he realized you were answering his silent pleas, he smiled against your lips. His ears flattened back as he kissed you deeper, his hands fumbled with both your clothes.

Your panties slipped off, his pants unzipped, and his hardened member freed from its confines. He nudged his hip forward, the head of his cock pressed against your slick folds. You gasped and gripped his jacket.

“…Take me…” he mumbled lazily, his mouth finding your nipple again. Your other breast was massaged, caressed and shamelessly groped, your sweet, irresistible moans lured out, answered by his own deep, sultry groans as he suckled hungrily.

You whimpered helplessly, giving up on your attempt to resist him. You were aching so much right now, wanting and needing him in a way you had never felt before. Your fingers found their way into his hair, getting lost in the silky strands. “…Y-yes…”

He moved forward and you arched up, crying out. More and more of him eased in, his deep groans were intoxicating, your own desires igniting as he filled you, your walls stretching wonderfully around the massive intrusion. You buried your face into his neck when he bottomed out, gasping into his shoulder as his arm wrapped around you securely. He guided you away from his shoulder and you lay beneath him nearly sobbing in frustration. He looked down at you, flushed cheeks and vulnerable. Again, his warm breath fanned against your mouth as he asked softly, “…Can I…”

“Yes!” You interrupted, your moans tumbling out as he started to move, slowly at first before he built a faster rhythm. Again, you vaguely wondered if he was still lost, still submissive to his feline instincts, because the way he was moving was much more animalistic than you would have expected. It was hurried, graceless, feral, but it was filling you just the way you wanted, the way you needed right now.

Every delicious stroke of his length had you mumbling deliriously, lost in this moment of heavenly pleasure. “Mm…ah…ah…Sy…Sylus…”

His lips found yours again, taking your moans selfishly. He groaned as you clenched around him. “…fuck…Miss…”

You cried out as he spread you more, pushing your legs back, taking you even deeper. “Oh god, oh god…!”

“Mm…breed you…need to breed you…make you mine…m…yours…yours…” He was moving more erratic, his words so frenzied and incoherent, you weren’t sure if he was even registering what he was saying. He was driven purely by a natural need, an instinct so feral, he seemed more animal than man in this moment.

You felt infected by him, by his words, your own traitorous body craving what he was saying. “Ah…yes…yes…ah…breed me…breed me, Sylus…” You weren’t thinking clearly anymore. There wasn’t a single rational thought left in your little head. The only thing you could focus on was his powerful thrusts, reaching you deep where you needed.

“O-oh, Sylus…”

So close. So close, you could feel yourself peaking. Just a little more, almost, almost—

“Mm…Miss…inside…?”

“Yes!” You cried out, your pitch higher than normal, so desperate and needy. He thrusted forward, pushing in even deeper with a heavy groan. His eyes met yours for a moment before you closed yours, screaming out your climax as he coated your walls with his seeds, filling you fuller than you thought was possible.

Distantly, you could hear Sylus mumbling in between his moans.

Love me.

“…mine…yours…yours…”

You panted softly, hearing his own breathing matching your own. You moaned, whimpering as he pulled out, feeling his seed dripping out of your cunt. Slowly, you opened your eyes, seeing Sylus’ flushed face close to yours. He still appeared to be under his feline influence, looking dazed and lost.

Your eyes traveled all over, taking in his satiated expression, seeing the sweats on his glistened skin.

“Ah…oh, I have my lipstick on you.” You touched his lips, seeing red lipstick smeared across. You rubbed your thumb against his mouth, trying to wipe it clean. He stopped you.

He smiled, almost delirious with joy. “Good,” Sylus husked, “You should cover me all over. Mark me as yours.”

Before you could respond, his face was buried in your chest again, his arms tightening around your waist. He nuzzled against you, behaving much more docile now. You rubbed the back of his head for a bit, the soothing act calming him even more. It didn’t take long before you realized he had fallen asleep on top of you. His breathing had slowed, the rhythm steady. He seemed much more relaxed than he was earlier.

You scratched the feline ear atop his head, smiling softly when it twitched in response to your light touch. Sylus instinctively hummed softly in his sleep, pleased.

When he would wake up later, you wondered would he even have remembered what had happened? Would he remember how he had behaved, the words he had spoken? Would he deny it? Make excuses?

You smiled.

You didn’t particularly care. You saw the real him. He would always lower his guard around you, always be transparent about how he felt about you, and now tonight, you realized it wasn’t just that he desired you, but he wanted you to reciprocate as well. Wanted you to be possessive of him, to want and need him in the same way that he felt for you.

To be equally possessive of one another, a mutual obsession with one another.

You almost laughed aloud. Why, what an exquisite idea, you thought to yourself.

You kissed your fingers before pressing them along Sylus’ cheek. He purred softly.

How cute.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 16

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15

Aside from bathroom breaks, Eddie doesn’t leave his room for two days. Friday bleeds into Saturday, bleeds into Sunday, and Eddie wallows in it. Wayne knows him well enough to not bother him, but Wayne also knows him well enough to barge into Eddie’s room Sunday morning without even knocking.

“Up, boy,” he says gruffly, turning Eddie’s overhead light on. “Your eggs are getting cold.”

Eddie groans, and tries to roll over to bury his face back into his pillow, but Wayne grabs him by the ankle and yanks until he goes tumbling out of the bed.

“Wayne!”

“I ain’t asking,” Wayne says, storming out of Eddie’s room without closing the door.

As is his right, Eddie whines and rolls around on his floor for a minute until he can finally find the will to get up. Clearly knowing that it would take Eddie a minute, Wayne’s just plating eggs and potatoes as Eddie walks into the kitchen, still clothed in only his boxers and the same shirt he’d been wearing when Carver’d kicked his ass on Thursday.

They settle across from each other at their dingy table, Wayne letting him get a few bites of breakfast in him before the interrogation he knows is coming begins.

“What happened?” Wayne asks, pushing his own plate away so he can focus on staring Eddie down.

Eddie swallows his bite of potatoes, throat suddenly dry. But, he wants to tell someone, he wants to tell Wayne, who, no matter how Eddie fucks up, is always in his corner.

“I’ve been getting these letters,” Eddie starts, using his fork to play with his food so he doesn’t have to meet his Uncle’s eyes as the whole sordid tale comes out.

He tells it like he experienced it: thinking it was a joke at first before getting wrapped up in the letters, finding out it was Chrissy, trying to connect the living, breathing girl to the words on the page.

And then, Harrington, strong and sure as he defended him from Carver, taking care of his wounds in the aftermath, lying to him for months until he couldn't get away with it anymore.

Wayne just listens without interruption while Eddie talks about Jeff’s betrayal, the fear in Chrissy’s eyes, the defeated slope of Harrington’s back as he’d walked out the door, going god knows where with his car still at the quarry where he’d left it.

When Eddie’s finally done, Wayne hums and pulls his now-cold food back in front of him, picks up his fork and starts to eat. Eddie watches him, gobsmacked.

“Wayne?” Eddie asks, moving his hand up and down in front of his Uncle’s eyes, checking to see if the old man can even still see him. “That’s all you’re going to say? Hmm, and then back to breakfast?”

Eddie scowls as he forks another potato into his mouth, chewing as he continues his tirade. “Where are your wise words, old man? Why the hell’d you even make me get up if this is all I was going to get?”

Wayne hums again, clearly just to piss Eddie off, then finally answers, “you needed to eat.”

Eddie stares at him, mouth hanging open half-masticated potatoes on full display for anyone to see. Not that anyone’s going to because Wayne’s gone back to polishing off his breakfast.

“That’s it?” Eddie demands, throwing his fork down in a huff.

Wayne sighs, like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable here and finally puts his fork down to meet his nephew’s eyes.

“Finish your breakfast, and we can talk.”

Eddie whines, but dutifully scarfs down his plate, never breaking eye contact with his uncle, like they’re in a stand-off. And in a way, they are.

Once done, Eddie tosses his fork across the room into the sink just to prove a point, leans across the table and glares at Wayne. Because he’s an asshole, Wayne takes another sip of his coffee, maintaining eye contact, before finally opening his mouth to speak.

“You like this boy?” Wayne asks.

Eddie sputters and stalls out. “You—I—what?” Eddie asks, fisting his hands into his greasy hair.

“It ain’t an unreasonable question,” he replies. “You’re talking about the kid like he’s a knight in one of those little games you like so much.”

“I—no I wasn’t!” Eddie cries, cheeks burning at the implication.

“Mmmhmm,” Wayne replies, eyebrow raised as he drinks more of his coffee like what he’s saying is of no importance at all.

“Wayne,” Eddie says, leaning over the table to clutch at his shoulders, ribs protesting at the pull. “I’m not gay.”

And that, out of everything, is what gets Wayne to put his mug back down and take Eddie seriously. “You ain’t?” Wayne asks, eyebrow raised. Eddie shakes his head, eyes wide. “You sure? There’s an awful lot of men in leather on your walls.”

Eddie squawks, sinking painfully back into his seat. “That’s Metallica.”

Wayne squints at him. “Is that one of them code words y’all use to stay safe?”

Eddie stands up, chair screeching against the linoleum floor. “It’s a band, Wayne!” Eddie cries, at a loss for what the fuck is happening. “I’m not gay!”

Wayne looks up at him, both eyebrows raised enough to scrunch up his forehead, wrinkling his mostly-bald head. “Well, alright then.”

Eddie stares at him, brain buzzing with even more questions than he’d had before. How long had Wayne thought he was gay? Why? What did he do?

Was he really okay with it?

Eddie turns on his heel and marches out of the kitchen and back to his bedroom without another word. He slams the door and collapses onto his bed, gut squirming with all the thoughts churning in his head.

*** 

Chrissy isn’t surprised when Eddie doesn’t come to school on Monday; she is surprised when Steve does. He’s got bags under his eyes and Robin Buckley super-glued to his side, but he’s still there.

She can’t help the way she runs into his arms, leaving Jeff behind without thought. Steve catches her—he always does, pushing his hands beneath his letterman jacket to grab at her waist and pull her in. They sway there in the middle of the hallway, all their classmates jeering around them.

Chrissy doesn’t care; she’s spent the entire weekend thinking about the crushed look in his eyes as he walked out of the Munson trailer without a backwards glance

“You’re okay?” she asks, face pressed into the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

He runs his hand up and down her back as he responds, “I will be.”

She pulls back to smile up at him and reaches up to brush a floppier-than-usual lock of hair behind his ear. “Walk me to class?”

He links their elbows, and does just that, Jeff and Robin falling into line behind them, Robin prattling on about some movie marathon her and Steve had had at her house over the weekend. 

Chrissy’s just glad he wasn’t alone.

Steve sighs, shoulders slumping as he says, “I’m sorry, Chris,” he says, not looking her way. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into my mess.”

She stops abruptly enough that Robin stumbles into them and bounces back, cutting off her stream of words mid-babble to squawk at them. Chrissy doesn’t acknowledge her, too busy standing on her tippy toes so she can grab Steve’s shoulders and yank him down to her level.

“You listen to me, Steve Harrington,” she demands, looking into his big, bewildered eyes. “Your mess is my mess, okay?”

He’s still just staring at her, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, so she digs her nails in hard and says, “forever,” with as much finality as she can muster.

He keeps staring at her, looking like he’s about ready to burst into tears in the middle of the hallway. Finally, he says, “come over tonight?” more a demand than a question.

She drops her grip on him and nods, content.

Chrissy doesn’t ask questions when Steve leads her over to Robin in the cafeteria. It’s easy to take that last, final step into social suicide with him at her side. 

They fall into their usual routine that night—they watch trashy TV neither would admit to liking to another living soul, and paint each other’s nails.

The lack of letter writing sits like a dead body between them.

“He won’t tell anyone,” Chrissy says, tightening her grip on his hand when he jerks. Chrissy keeps carefully painting his nails, her favorite pink, not looking up at his face. The color suits him—it’s not fair, but everything does. “He promised.”

Steve doesn’t ask for clarification, they both know who she’s talking about. “You believe him?”

She thinks about that torn, guilty look on Eddie’s face and replies, “I do.”

She finishes his pinkie and settles his hand down on her own knee to dry, knowing from previous experience that if she gives it back, he’ll ruin all her work running his hand through his hair.

“That’s good,” he mutters, looking down at his own hand, tilted so far forward that even when she looks up, his hair’s flopped too far into his face to see his eyes. “It still hurts.”

Chrissy sighs. She’d seen this coming all those months ago when she’d helped pen the first letter. Had seen the writing on the wall like it was she herself that was writing it. But, she’d helped him anyway, hoping to salvage his safety, if not his dignity.

She can only hope she has.

“I know,” she replies, biting her lip against apologies he won’t accept. “But, we’re in this together, okay?”

Steve’s fingers twitch on her leg, but he doesn’t pull away. “Even with you and Jeff?”

“You figured that out, huh?” she asks, and that’s what finally gets him to look up at her with a raised brow, making her laugh.

“I mean, you told me you were going to ask him out,” he starts, before leering over at her. “And you two aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Tell that to Eddie,” she replies, wanting to swallow the name back down once it comes out of her mouth, but it’s too late—it’s already been said.

Steve smiles wryly as he says, “well, he’s not exactly the most observant, is he?”

He has her there. Steve himself, no matter how hard he tried, wasn’t subtle with his affections: the compliments, the stuttering over his words, the blushing. But none of it had done more than make Eddie give Steve suspicious looks, like there was some sort of game he wasn’t in on.

There was, but even without knowing he was playing, he’d still beaten Steve.

“No, he’s really not.”

Steve hums, picking up his hand to check if it’s dry before moving onto painting her nails. He picks his favorite yellow for her, even though he knows it washes her out. She holds out her hand and doesn’t complain.

“I really like him,” Steve says, quietly enough that it’s barely audible over the murmur of voices coming from the TV.

“I know,” she whispers, watching the flickering sadness on his face by the illumination of the Harrington’s big television screen. “I love you. You know that, right?”

He pauses in painting her nails to meet her eyes, smiling for real now. “I know,” he says, stroking the skin on her wrist with the free fingers not holding the nail polish applicator. “And you know what? This was all worth it if I got you out of it.”

And then he just goes back to painting her nails like that wasn’t the most romantic thing anyone has ever said. Eddie Munson can fuck himself; Chrissy’s going to be buried in Steve’s letterman jacket and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

*** 

Eddie doesn’t go to school on Monday. He’s too busy rereading the secret admirer notes—the notes Steve Harrington left him—like if he reads them in the right order, it’ll all snap together in his brain in a way that makes fucking sense.

And it does, sort of. It’s like sorting out a bunch of puzzle pieces after finally knowing what the shape of the puzzle even is. Some parts of the letters just jump out of the page, the longer he looks. In the end, he processes this the way he processes everything: he makes a list.

   Proof that Steve Harrington is my Secret Admirer:

   1. I’m not trying to bully you.

   2. I wish I was brave enough to tell you. Brave like you.

   3. I know you don’t like them, but I like sports.

   4. My favorite color is yellow, like the sun, and sunflowers, and all those happy, bright colors.

   5. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours.

   6. I tried playing the piano again, and I’m a little rusty.

   7. Do you hate all of them, or just the bullies?

   8.   You laughed, but it wasn’t your real laugh like when Mr. Danver accidentally said ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’.

A jock afraid of Eddie labeling them as a bully? Check. Favorite color, the same one Steve Harrington had painted his nails all those weeks ago? Check. Rich enough to have a piano that’s just not played? Check. But the most damning part of all: Chrissy was never in Mr. Danver’s class with him last year, but Harrington was. And Chrissy? Her eyes are bright, translucent blue.

The longer he looks at those two incriminating bits of evidence, the stupider he feels. It was never her, and from the looks of it, they hadn’t put much effort into pretending it was. It was always Harrington from that first, forever-lost letter that they’d stuffed in his locker.

And the longer he pours over the letters, the less he can picture Chrissy sprawled on her bed, writing each letter with a shy flourish before spraying it with a puff of her favored scent. No. It’s Harrington, frowning down at the page because words have never come easy to him; it’s Harrington sleeping with Eddie’s letter placed gently beneath his pillow; it’s Harrington who’d made Eddie smile like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

And now that he thinks about it, wasn’t it Harrington whose eye he kept catching from across the cafeteria? Harrington who’d stutter over his words around Eddie, but still told him he was a good storyteller?

Harrington who wanted to go to his show. Chrissy hadn’t even remembered Corroded Coffin’s name. 

Harrington had–of course he had. 

And he can picture that, too now. Harrington in the crowd in his stupid polo with his bright yellow nail polish, sticking out like a sore thumb in the gruff crowd at the Hideout, beautiful brown eyes trained solely on Eddie.

He can still feel the way his pulse had ratcheted up when they were in the bathroom, Harrington between his spread thighs, palms warm against his tender ribs, sucking all the oxygen out of Eddie’s lungs with how close he was.

It’s too much.

“Hello?” Jeff’s mom sounds curt over the phone, already fed up with Eddie calling before he’s even said anything. Eddie doesn’t care; he can’t when he needs Jeff this badly.

“Can I talk to Jeff?” he cries out, hand shaking around the receiver as he listens to her grumble, but she still shouts for her son to come pick up the goddamn phone. 

“Hello?”

Eddie should wait until he’s sure Jeff’s mom is no longer in hearing vicinity, but he can’t, too wound up tight to keep from blurting out, “am I gay?”

There’s a moment of silence that Eddie can barely breathe through before Jeff says, “uhh, Eddie?” in such a bewildered voice that Eddie sort of wants to punch him.

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” he says, words spilling out over each other. “And I’m sorry about what I said, and you’re sorry that you kept secrets from me—we can do that later, Jeff!”

“Uh, oka—”

“Now, am I gay?” he’s panting by the time he’s done, not having taken a single breath during his tirade. He’s waiting for Jeff’s confirmation or denial, but all that comes down the line is his quiet breathing. “Jeff?”

“Uh, shit, we’re doing this? Okay.” Eddie can almost picture the fed-up palm Jeff’s rubbing against his face, as if it’s somehow Eddie’s fault that Jeff is taking so long explaining the squirmy nebulous feeling in Eddie’s gut. “I don’t know man, why do you think you’re gay?”

Then, Eddie does what he should have done all along, and spills everything to Jeff, from the first letter all the way up to Steve Harrington’s bitchy little speech in the quarry as he put himself bodily between Eddie and Jason Carver.

“—and then he kneeled between my knees like that’s a normal, straight guy thing to do and just like, put his hands in my shirt!” Eddie whines, long since having settled onto the cold linoleum of his kitchen floor. “I mean, what the hell?”

“I think you’re forgetting one important fact, dude: Steve’s not straight.”

“Which brings me back to my question!” Eddie replies, trying for breezy and landing on whiny. “Am I gay?”

Jeff hums down the line like he’s really thinking about it this time. “Well, when he was touching you,” he starts, like that already doesn’t have Eddie’s face flaming, “what did you feel?”

Eddie puts himself back into that moment, thighs splayed pressed open by the heavy weight of Harrington’s body, Harrington’s big, warm hands running over his skin, his worried golden brown eyes roving over Eddie’s face.

“I felt like I was on fire,” Eddie whispers, feeling that same heat now pooling lower in his gut.

“…in a good way?” Jeff asks.

Eddie’s brain goes static, full of too much to differentiate good from bad, if that’s a distinction that ever existed at all. Eddie makes a questioning noise in his throat, knees twitching restlessly where they’re crossed in front of him.

“Okay, okay, uhh—hmm,” Jeff hums across the line. “Did you want to move closer or away?”

Eddie closes his eyes and thinks, imagining that trapped, warm, overwhelming feeling of being caged in by Harrington’s body. “Both?”

Jeff hmms again, clearly trying to think it through. Eddie can’t blame him—this is the most confused he’s been in his entire life, and Jeff doesn’t even have an all-access pass to his brain to try to pick answers out of–not that it’s currently doing Eddie much good.

“Do you want to try kissing a guy?” Jeff asks. “I’d do it, if it was for you, dude.”

Eddie’s nose wrinkles, lips puckering in disgust, “ew, you’re like my brother.”

Jeff laughs at him and replies, “so you don’t want to, not because I’m a guy, but because we’re like brothers? Sounds pretty gay, dude.”

“Oh.”

Jeff doesn’t say anything; he’s always been good at sensing when Eddie just needs a minute to think. But this time, he doesn’t think a minute will cut it, so he continues with a, “hey Jeff?”

“Hmm?”

“I really did mean it, you know.” He squeezes the phone tighter against the side of his face, like that will help his sincerity ring down the line. “I am sorry, and we should talk about it, but I can’t yet.”

Jeff still doesn’t reply, but his breathing is steady and sure down the line, settling Eddie’s anxious heart down to a little flutter.

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, dude,” Jeff replies gruffly. “So, you’ll still call me?”

Eddie smiles. He’s missed Jeff, is the thing. They’ve been so distant lately, and no matter how well Eddie and Gareth get along, he’s no Jeff. “Or accost you at school, whichever comes first.”

That makes Jeff laugh; Eddie lets the sound warm him. “Okay, but I’m serious about the kissing thing!” Jeff replies, “Come over and I can plant one right on y—”

Eddie hangs up on his friend, feeling more himself than he has in days. No matter what happens, he has Jeff.

PART 17

[xinganhao]

NAURRR i NEEEDD a pt.2 of the soccer one with seungcheol and the reader going on dates!!! ughh that hhu one was sooo cutee

not a full part two (yet) but how about some more panels and a couple of headcanons �� aaah thank u for enjoying soccer team!hhu <3 i fear i have a soft spot for her too (✯◡✯) without further ado:

soccer captain!seungcheol who develops a crush on you, his english literature classmate. he knows he could probably just ask you out like a normal person, but the classroom isn't really his turf. the football pitch, though? maybe he'll stand a chance there, he thinks, as he invites you to try out for managership.

soccer captain!seungcheol who may not be obvious to you but is so obvious to the rest of his team. they see the way he preens, the way he strives to show off just a little bit more when you're around. mingyu gives him absolute hell over it.

soccer captain!seungcheol who drives you to and from every team dinner. who picks up the tab when the two of you have 'check-in's (something he swears is tradition, but no other student manager has actually done).

soccer captain!seungcheol who, post-confession, becomes the most insufferable suitor known to man.

soccer captain!seungcheol will throw his arm around you whenever you're talking with the captains of the other teams. never mind the fact that all your conversations with them are strictly professional. seungcheol will flash them a dimpled grin, hit them with a cool "everything good?" as he leans his weight on you.

soccer captain!seungcheol sends an obscene amount of photos/videos. post-workout? mirror snap. stuck in traffic? fifteen second-er of him belting along to a song on the radio. you call him vain. he says he's only trying to make sure he's always on your mind.

soccer captain!seungcheol is whispered about, because he starts waiting for you outside of your classrooms. "this isn't high school," you tell him with no shortage of exasperation as he wrestles your stuff out of your hands. "i know," he'll say. but he still walks you to your next class, refusing to let you lift a finger.

soccer captain!seungcheol who always pushes it. pre-game— whether it's one with high-stakes or just some training match— he'll pull out all the stops. his signature pout. his boba-like eyes. "c'mon," he whines. "just one good luck kiss."

soccer captain!seungcheol catches a lot of flack for his shameless displays of being absolutely-down-bad, by the way. vernon calls him a simp. wonwoo can only facepalm. but seungcheol doesn't care, can't give two damns about his team's relentless teasing. because, one day, all his outrageousness pays off.

soccer captain!seungcheol short-circuits when you finally give in. maybe you're fed up. maybe you're endeared. doesn't matter. all that he registers is that your lips press a chaste, barely-there kiss to his cheek. it's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, except seungcheol doesn't miss it, and neither does the rest of the shell-shocked team.

soccer captain!seungcheol can only stare at you— the perfect picture of innocence, like you haven't just tilted his entire world on its axis— as you tell him, "there's your luck. better win, choi."

soccer captain!seungcheol recognizes a command when he hears it.

soccer captain!seungcheol mumbles out a dazed, "yes, captain," because he may be the king of the pitch, but you're the center of his goddamn world.

(soccer captain!seungcheol wins that game, by the way. mvp and all that. when he's handed his award, he doesn't do his usual display of thrusting the trophy up into the sky. instead, his index finger extends— and he points straight at you.)

[oneluckydumbass]

Sabotage || chapter one

pairing: Charles x reader x Max (based on votes, but I might post another poll to confirm after a few chapters)

summary: You have a new boyfriend, and after it becomes clear attending race weekends isn’t so important to you anymore, your best friend and your “it’s complicated” person join forces to sabotage your relationship.

…

Rolling your eyes, you pick up a pillow and try to playfully hit your friend with it, but your effort is futile, because he catches it with ease, then tosses it on the floor next to the bed. He’s shamelessly laughing at you, but then he turns on his stomach and buries his face into the space between your shoulder and his pillow.

You’ve been stuck together like glue for over a decade, spending an unhealthy amount of time together, so the fact you’re lying in bed next to each other doesn’t mean much to either of you. He’s your best friend and nothing more, no matter what the press and fans say.

Just when you think he drifted back to sleep, a muffled voice cuts through the silence of the room. “Did you say something?” you ask with a laugh as you tussle his already messy hair.

A groan follows your words, and he lifts his head a little. “I said, I’m starving,” he repeats, this time letting you hear him loud and clear.

A small smile creeps on your lips as you watch him, taking a good look at those green eyes that are blinking drowsily at you. He’s hungover, so this means he needs his usual breakfast to get through the morning, and you’re more than happy to make it for him as usual. When the roles are reversed and it’s you who needs it, he does the same for you, so you don’t hesitate to push the blanket to the side and slip out of bed.

Well, you try to get out of bed, because Charles quickly wraps an arm around you to keep you in place. He digs his thumb into the plush flesh of your hips as his hand moves a little lower on your body. The look he gives you makes it clear he’s not gonna let you get away from him anytime soon despite the hunger that makes his stomach growl.

As soon as you cover yourself again with the blanket, he lets his head fall back on the pillow, being close enough to place a kiss on your shoulder before letting out a soft sigh of relief. Winning his home grand prix must have been one hell of a high, coming down from that and trying to sober up after the party the night before must be quite a challenge for today.

His breathing soon changes, it becomes slower, more even, and you think it might be time to go back to sleep yourself to recharge your batteries enough to function today. Just when you reach the edge of sleep, though, you hear your friend mutter something again, and he only repeats it a little louder when you let out a questioning hum.

“I’m gonna ask Arthur to bring us breakfast. He has nothing better to do today and he has a key,” he tells you the plan, earning a disapproving sigh from you. “What? He’s my little brother, this is the least he can do.”

There’s an edge to his rough, raspy voice that gives the statement the kind of finality you just can’t fight against. So you nod and close your eyes again, focusing on the sounds of him moving to get his phone and type a message to his brother. Once he’s done, he lies on his back and lets out a long sigh.

“I asked him to go to that little bistro where we eat and told him to ask for our usual, if that’s okay,” he says.

You open your eyes a little to look at him, a smile already playing on your lips as you turn on your side. “That’s quite a detour for him,” you note.

Charles lets out a huff. “I told him to bring himself something too so we can eat together,” he tells you, then he turns to you with that usual, boyish smile of his. “I transferred more than enough money, so yeah, he gets a little extra for the delivery and a hefty tip.”

After a nod, you prop on your elbow and watch him without saying a word. He hums to urge you to speak up, but before you could talk, your phone on the nightstand starts to ring. When you look at the screen, you can’t fight back the wide grin that wants to creep on your face, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by your friend.

“I need to take this,” you tell him, sort of as an apology for crawling out of bed to leave the room.

To be honest, you didn’t expect him to call. The whole time you thought the buzzing environment of the paddock made him say those things, but here you are, seeing his name flash on the screen so soon after race day. Shane is handsome, and nice, and he’s as far from the world of motorsports as possible.

A breath of fresh air, really.

He’s a fashion photographer, and he only attended the grand prix because he had to take some photos of Lewis and George, so the team thought it would be nice to give him a pass for the weekend. There he bumped into you, started a conversation, sat down for lunch with you, then asked for your number before going home. And now he wants a date, much to your surprise.

When he suggests meeting in New Zealand, you begin to talk about his new gig there, and you get so lost in the conversation that you only notice Arthur when he puts the boxes next to you in the kitchen with a wide grin on his face. It doesn’t seem to bother him that you’re on the phone with someone, because he kisses you on the cheek, then waits for you to tell him where his brother can be found.

Several minutes later you hear Charles ask “what” in the other room, which is followed by the sound of someone running towards you. You watch as he skids into the kitchen, then he takes the phone from your hand and holds up a finger to stop you from talking. Arthur massages the bridge of his nose in the background, while you’re trying to process what just happened.

“Are you really ditching her for some model? Come on, dude, I thought we—” Suddenly he stops talking and his eyes widen from surprise. “Oh, who am I speaking to?”

You watch as he tries to explain himself, looking embarrassed as he should be, and you occasionally glance over at Arthur who can barely hold back his emotions. Once your friend hands you the phone with a guilty expression on his face, you can’t help but feel sorry for him, especially after his little brother starts to point a finger at him as he erupts in laughter.

After saying goodbye to Shane, you end the call and watch as Charles gives his brother a disapproving look before playfully slapping his arm. “That’s not funny, I thought she was talking to Max again,” he says.

Here you go again. “Even if I was talking to him, it would be none of your business,” you warn him with an angry look in your eyes.

You’ve been over this so many times during your entire friendship, but he still feels like he has to protect you from him, as if Max is some vicious predator that wants to eat you alive. The two of you occasionally try to make this work between you, but more often than not it remains a friends with benefits setup. It seems like neither of you is ready to be in a committed relationship.

Your brother once hinted at the Dutchman’s annoyance whenever it came to your close friendship with his rival. For some reason he sees Charles as a threat, not only on the track, but in your relationship too. And given his friendship with your brother, you get these comments about your friend from two people, which makes it even more annoying.

And now you have to deal with the Monegasque’s overprotective personality too, which tells you this breakfast won’t be accompanied by carefree conversations between the three of you. You know you have to tell him that there is someone new in your life, and can only hope he will be a little relieved that it’s not who he thought it was.

While Arthur sits on a barstool next to the kitchen island, you and Charles bring some plates and silverware for the food, and you three dig in without hesitation. Even though your focus is on Arthur who’s talking about the party the night before, you can still feel your best friend’s eyes on you, burning a hole into your skull as he watches you.

“So who’s the guy?” he suddenly asks. You turn to him with a raised eyebrow. “You never told me you’re seeing someone.”

Letting out a sigh, you put down the fork and lean back a little. “I only met him on Saturday. This was the first time he called, there’s nothing to tell yet,” you reply, giving him a look that says enough of the questions.

“Yet? You mean you’ll meet him?” he wonders, completely ignoring your silent request.

“And what if I will?”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see the way Arthur winces and slips off the chair with his orange juice in hand, then moves to the living room to give you some space to talk. You and Charles only stare at each other for a while, both of you waiting for the other to say something, but deep down you know it’s him who has some explaining to do.

Since he doesn’t speak up, you return your attention to your breakfast and take a bite with your eyes still fixed on your friend. In the end, he lets out a sigh and reaches out to put a hand on your wrist. “Look, I’m just worried, okay? You barely know the guy,” he tells you.

Rolling your eyes at him, you end up shaking your head. “Meeting him will help me get to know him. In case you’ve forgotten, this is how dating works.” He licks his lips, a nervous expression visible on his face as he picks at his own food with the fork. You have no idea what could possibly be wrong with him, but you feel like telling him the facts and nothing more could be helpful. “We’ll have a few days for that next weekend in New Zealand.”

This catches his attention, because he looks back up at you. “But that’s the next race weekend,” he says, sounding surprised that you dared to plan something for the same time. When you give him a questioning look, he takes a deep breath. “You’ve never missed a race, I just… I don’t know. It would be weird to be there without you,” he replies.

“You can’t expect me to put my life on hold because you want me to be there at every race weekend. I gave up enough already, I’m not gonna waste more chances. I like this guy.”

“Does he have a name?”

Your eyes narrow because you know exactly what this is about. “You want to do some research,” you state with an annoyed sigh.

Charles shrugs, and you can’t help but roll your eyes before giving him the guy’s name, although he doesn’t seem to recognize it, so you explain what he does for a living. Those mesmerizing green eyes of his are mirroring the concentration he needs to remember every detail, and you can’t help but wonder why he finds this so interesting.

After all, you never say a word about his girlfriends, you never pry for more information, you just go with the flow and let him have his fun. It’s usually Max who’s more interested in who you’re dating, but even he restrains himself before he would interfere. At least the two of you have history, there’s a logical explanation for his reaction.

But this? Now, this you can’t put a finger on.

“Guys, we have a problem,” you hear Arthur’s voice before he appears in the kitchen, his phone held up. You exchange a confused look with Charles, then your eyes move to his little brother. “Mom wants me to have dinner with her.”

“Why’s that a problem?” Charles asks.

After a gulp, Arthur clears his throat and sits back on the barstool he previously occupied. “Um, well, she might have found out about my girlfriend, and now she wants to meet her,” he replies with an awkward smile.

His brother flashes a wide grin at him. “Why didn’t you tell me about her? What is she like? And what’s her name? Where did you even meet her?”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you reach out to take his hand and squeeze it gently. “I guess this is exactly why he didn’t say a word. No one needs the Spanish Inquisition.” When Charles opens his mouth to protest, you give him a warning look. “This is exactly what you did with me just a few minutes ago. Give him the chance to decide when he’s ready to talk about her.”

Arthur flashes a thankful smile at you, then takes a deep breath and begins to tell you about the girl. He really likes her, and this big, stupid smile on his face tells you that he really just wanted to protect her from this madness. When you look over at Charles, you notice how his expression softened, and in the end he assures his brother that he will talk to their mother and ask her to be patient.

Maybe there’s still hope for him after all.

[shybluebirdninja]

FADING BONDS: PART 2

Summary: Two broken souls—Logan, an aging hero, and a young woman overlooked by her own family—find solace in each other’s silent company, forming an unexpected connection that challenges their emotional walls.

Pairing             : UberDriver!Logan x Fem!Reader

Genre              : Angst, Fluff

It’s funny how silence can start to feel like company. You’ve been riding with Logan more often now, enough that you know his truck better than you’d like to admit.

The way the passenger seat squeaks if you shift just a little too much, the faint smell of old cigarettes and something like motor oil, and how the heater barely works, so you’ve taken to bringing a jacket even if the night’s warm.

He’s still as closed off as ever, his gruff demeanor acting like a shield against any real conversation. But there’s something about the way he drives, something about the heavy weight in the air between you, that feels... familiar.

Like the two of you are on the same wavelength. No questions, no forced smiles, no bullshit. It’s a strange, fragile kind of comfort.

One night, after your shift, you climb into his truck. He glances at you, eyes flicking up and down like he’s just making sure you’re still breathing. Not that he’d ever admit he cares.

“Busy night?” you ask, more out of habit than anything else.

“Same shit, different day,” he mutters, his voice low and gravelly. His hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles taut, like maybe if he squeezes hard enough, he can keep the world from crumbling around him. “Kids puking in the back, people yellin’ at me ‘cause I’m ‘too slow.’ You’d think drivin’ was easy for these assholes.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Sounds like a blast.”

“Yeah, real fuckin’ dream,” he grumbles.

And that’s it. That’s all you need to say. There’s a comfort in the way Logan doesn’t push, doesn’t prod. Everyone else—your parents, your sister, hell, even the occasional friend—they always want to know more.

They want updates on your life, your career (or lack of one), your plans for the future. They don’t get it. They don’t understand that sometimes, it’s enough just to exist.

With Logan, there’s no pressure to be something you’re not. No expectations. Just two people, broken in different ways, sharing space without needing to fill it with bullshit.

The drives continue. Night after night. Sometimes you’ll trade a few words, sometimes not. Logan’s grumbles are often the only sound breaking the silence, usually about how “kids these days don’t know shit” or how “people can’t drive for crap.” You’d laugh if it weren’t so damn true.

But every once in a while, he’ll let slip something from his past. It’s always brief, like he’s catching himself before he says too much.

“Used to know a guy,” he mutters one night. “Real pain in the ass... but smart. Smartest guy I ever met. Could’ve done a lot more if the world hadn’t chewed him up and spat him out.”

You don’t ask who. You don’t need to. You’ve heard enough by now to piece together fragments of the puzzle. You know about the loss, the pain, the countless people he’s watched die, one way or another.

There’s a heaviness in his voice that tells you this guy, whoever he was, meant a hell of a lot more to Logan than he’ll ever admit.

The nights bleed together. You start finding reasons to see him more. Sometimes you’ll tell yourself you’re just tired of the bus, or that you’d rather ride with someone who doesn’t force small talk. But deep down, you know it’s more than that.

There’s something about Logan—something that pulls at you, like you’re both just two lost souls floating through the same fucked-up world.

One evening, you catch him parked outside the diner after your shift, though you haven’t called for a ride yet. He’s leaning against his truck, cigarette hanging from his lips, staring off into the distance like he’s a million miles away.

“You waitin’ for someone?” you ask, stepping out onto the curb.

Logan glances at you, doesn’t bother with a smile or any of the niceties people usually fake. “Nope.”

“Didn’t think so,” you murmur, pulling your jacket tighter around you. The air’s cool tonight, biting at your skin. “Mind if I bum one of those?” You nod towards the cigarette between his fingers.

He grunts but hands you one, along with a beat-up lighter. “You smoke?”

“Not really.” You light the cigarette anyway, taking a drag and coughing a little as the smoke burns your throat. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Logan chuckles, low and almost imperceptible. “Figured.”

You both stand there in the quiet, leaning against his truck, watching the night stretch out before you like some endless void. The city lights blink in the distance, casting a faint glow over everything.

For a moment, you wonder if this is what life’s supposed to be—just one long stretch of nothingness, broken up by small moments that don’t really mean anything.

“Why do you keep drivin’?” you ask suddenly, breaking the silence.

Logan doesn’t answer right away. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, eyes focused on something far beyond the here and now. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, almost resigned. “Ain’t much else I’m good for these days.”

You don’t know why, but his words hit harder than you expected. You’d always seen him as this untouchable force—someone who’s been through hell and came out the other side, bruised but still standing. To hear him say he’s got nothing left... it stirs something inside you. Something painful.

“Feels like we’re both just tryin’ to survive, huh?” you say quietly, staring at the ground.

Logan glances at you, and for a split second, you swear you see something flicker in his eyes. Something vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

He doesn’t respond, just takes another drag of his cigarette and tosses the butt to the ground, crushing it under his boot.

“Yeah,” he mutters, voice rough. “Something like that.” You stand there a little longer, both of you too broken, too tired to say anything else. There’s nothing to be said. Not really.

[buckets-and-trees]

Did you intend to prompt more I'm Your Man Andy with this? Perhaps not, Kris, but... IYM!Andy's track record doesn't support doing things because YOU want him to, does it? 😏

Title: Burned Off the Haze Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 4.5k Summary: Things only continue to escalate after Andy's meeting your parents, and he only continues to keep his control of your lives together. Takes place directly after Don't Look Too Far.

Content/Warnings: emotional manipulation; mild smut: kissing, vaginal fingering; use of pet name (sweetheart)

Author Note: This is not a stand alone section! You can find the previous parts here.

A/N 2: No one should be surprised this man would make sure he got his week in the Countdown to Chris-mas!

You’re waiting impatiently for Andy to get home from his day at the country club with your father. You meet him at the top of the stairs leading from the garage on the lower level.

“When were you going to tell me you had decided on a wedding here in Boston instead of eloping?”

With casual determination, Andy wraps his strong arms around your waist and pulls you close. His lips meet yours in a passionate, all-consuming kiss that sends shivers down your spine. Every touch ignites a fire within you, the intensity of his embrace leaving you breathless and wanting more. The world starts to fade away as you get lost in the moment with him, but then you push against his chest and turn your head away.

“Andy! Answer me!” you insist as you extricate yourself from his arms - though he lets you go freely, not forcing you to stay in his embrace.

“I would have told you over dinner last night, but…” he trails off, giving you a meaningful look.

You step back, putting more distance between you and Andy. "But what? I was too busy smashing up your cars?"

“No, you largely refused to talk to me through dinner. And then after,” Andy's lips quirk in amusement, "we were otherwise occupied the rest of the evening, if you recall."

Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory of your passionate encounter. You push those thoughts aside, refusing to be distracted. "You made another huge decision without even consulting me."

“I only achieved what I have because I learned when to double down and when to pursue a different course of action,” Andy replies. “I thought you might prefer a proper wedding with your family and friends present."

You shake your head in frustration. "That's not the issue here, Andy. It's that you keep making these choices for us, for me, without including me in the process. Forcing our engagement, meeting my parents behind my back, making big calls about our wedding? What's next?"

Andy's eyes flash with irritation, his piercing blue gaze fixed on you. "After meeting your parents, I decided a small but proper wedding is the better move."

You narrow your eyes, sensing there's more to this sudden change of plans. "It can’t only be meeting my parents that inspired this change of heart; you’re not that sentimental."

Andy smirks. “Good assessment - your intelligence is one of the things that drew me to you. But your parents are good people who love you deeply,” he continues, his voice taking on a softer tone. “They've been dreaming of your wedding day probably since you were born. Your mother's eyes lit up when she talked about helping you choose a dress, about flowers and cake tastings. Your father... well, he tried to hide it, but I could see how much it would mean to him to walk you down the aisle."

He pauses, letting his words sink in. You feel a warmth in your heart for what he says about your parents because you know he’s not wrong, your mother had gushed about those very things while you had lunch together. But there’s also an ache in your throat because you’re so angry, you want to cry and yell and rage at him.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "And how does this suit your purposes, Andy?"

His eyes darken slightly as he regards you. "A proper society wedding cements our union in the eyes of both our worlds - the legitimate business sphere and the less legitimate one. It sends a clear message about my intentions."

"Your intentions?" you press, feeling a chill run down your spine.

Andy steps closer, his imposing frame looming over you. "That you are mine, irrevocably. That I will protect what's mine with everything I have." His voice is low, almost a growl. "And that anyone who even thinks of touching you or using you against me will face severe consequences."

You swallow hard, torn between fear and an unwelcome flicker of desire at his possessive words. "I'm not a possession, Andy. You can't just stake your claim."

Andy's eyes flash dangerously and in one swift motion he has you pinned against the wall, his body pressing into yours. One hand grips your hip while the other cups your face, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

"Can't I?" he growls, his voice low and rough. "You're wearing my ring. You're living in my home. You've shared my bed. Tell me, sweetheart, how are you not mine?"

Your breath catches in your throat. You want to argue, to push him away, but your traitorous body responds to his proximity. Heat pools in your core as his scent envelops you.

"I-" you start, but the words are cut off as Andy's mouth crashes down on yours.

The kiss is fierce, demanding, stealing your breath and your resistance. His tongue plunders your mouth as his body presses you firmly against the wall. You can feel every hard plane of his muscular form molded against your softer curves.

Despite your anger and frustration, your body betrays you. Your hands fist in his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. A moan escapes your throat, swallowed by his insistent lips.

Andy's hand slides from your hip to your thigh, hitching your leg up around his waist. The new angle allows him to grind against you, and you gasp at the friction. Your head falls back against the wall, breaking the kiss.

"Andy," you pant, your voice a mix of protest and plea.

He takes advantage of your exposed neck, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat. He trails his lips up to your ear. "You are mine," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "Have I not made that clear from the first night I claimed you, sweetheart."

His words send a shiver down your spine. You want to argue, to deny the claim he's making on you, but your body is singing with need. Andy's hand slips under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"You can’t tell me you don't want this," he challenges, his voice husky. “I know your body too well now. If I put my hand between your legs, I know I’ll find you wet for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat as Andy's words send a rush of heat through your body. You know he's right - you can feel the slick evidence of your arousal. But you refuse to give in so easily.

"That doesn't mean anything," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "My body's reactions don't change the fact that you're making decisions about our lives without me."

Andy pulls back slightly, his piercing blue eyes studying your face. His hand moves from under your shirt to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"Old habits die hard, sweetheart. I'm used to making decisions and having them followed without question."

You blink in surprise at his admission. It's more than you expected from him.

"But if I left every decision up to you now, we'd never get anywhere," Andy continues, his thumb stroking your cheek. "You'd keep fighting this, keep denying what's between us."

You want to argue, but you know there's truth in his words. You've been resisting at every turn, even as your body betrays you with its desire for him.

"That doesn't make it right," you say softly, your anger deflating slightly. "I need to have a say in my own life, Andy. In our life together, if that's what this is going to be. Do you even want that? Want us?"

Andy's eyes search yours for a long moment. "We will have our wedding, and I have some stipulations, but I’ll leave the rest to you. September fifteenth, and we leave the next day for our honeymoon in Italy."

It's not what you want, but it's the first thing he’s giving you. You let out a shaky breath, nodding.

He steps away from you completely, and your body falls forward slightly without his pinning you to the wall. Once he steadies you, he begins to walk away.

“The wedding planners will be here tomorrow morning at ten, and then after lunch I need you to accompany me to a business meeting with one of my lawyers.”

You stand there for a moment, processing Andy's words. A mixture of emotions swirls within you - frustration at his continued control, a flare of disappointment of him leaving you unsatisfied, and apprehension about these meetings he has already arranged.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts. "Wait," you call out. "Why are we meeting with a lawyer? Aren’t you technically a lawyer?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly, turning back to look at you briefly, “but does a doctor not have their own doctors?”

You nod, and he resumes his progress down the hall.

You watch Andy walk away, your mind reeling from the conversation and the intense moment you just shared. Part of you wants to call him back, to continue the argument or maybe even give in to the desire still thrumming through your body. But you stay silent, letting him go.

Once he's out of sight, you slump against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart. The whiplash of emotions - anger, frustration, desire, and now a strange brand of hopeful wariness - leaves you feeling drained.

You push yourself off the wall and make your way to the room you’ve been given as a personal study. You need time to process everything that just happened. As you enter, your eyes land on the engagement ring glittering on your finger. You twist it absently, thinking about Andy's words.

A proper wedding. Your parents' joy. Andy's claim on you. It's all so overwhelming.

But what haunts you is was what he didn’t say.

Does he want a life together? Does he want an us?

Caught in the danger of that before, you were able to get away, but there’s no telling how dangerous Andy Barber is. You’ve only witnessed a fraction of his power and control. He’s created a connection with your parents. You have no doubt he knows far too much valuable information about your life, so would any kind of escape even be possible? And if it were, would anyone you left behind be safe?

In the room you’ve been given as your study, you spend some time tending to your collection of potted plants, carefully trimming away a few dead leaves and watering where you find dry soil. You settle into your favorite armchair and immerse yourself in a novel, getting lost in its pages until the housekeeper interrupts to announce that dinner is ready. You make your way to the dining room, but notice that your partner Andy is not there. When you ask about his absence, you’re told he went out to tend to some business. Afterwards, you retreat to the couch in the living room and watch old episodes of your favorite sitcom, finding comfort in the familiar characters and laughter.

You go to sleep alone for the first time since the night of his gala.

The hours tick by as you lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. The vast emptiness of the king-sized mattress seems to mock you, a stark reminder of Andy's absence. The night stretches on endlessly as you toss and turn in the vast, empty bed. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimes eleven, then midnight, then one. Where is Andy? What "business" could keep him out so late? You try to push away the nagging worry, reminding yourself that you shouldn't care, that his absence should be a relief. But a small traitorous part of your heart that has begun to yearn for his presence betrays you.

No, you don’t yearn for him. You’re just accustomed to him.

With each passing hour, your anxiety grows. Eventually you drift in and out of fitful sleep, your mind racing with thoughts of the day's events, the impending wedding, and the uncertain future that lies ahead.

You wake just enough to register Andy pulling your body to his chest as he settling in behind you. The first hints of dawn are only beginning to creep through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues of pink and gold, “Mmm, Andy?” you hum sleepily.

“Shh,” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, “you can sleep, sweetheart.”

And so you drift off again, unaware of your body softening in his arms.

But when your alarm goes off at seven, you’re alone in the bed once again.

You tell yourself you’re relieved.

You stretch and yawn, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess from your restless night. As you sit up, your eyes land on a note propped against the lamp on your nightstand. Andy's precise handwriting stares back at you:

Meeting ran late. Had to leave early for another. Remember - wedding planners at 10. Wear something nice for the lawyer meeting after lunch. - Andy

You crumple the note in your fist, a mixture of frustration and disappointment churning in your gut. Even when he's not here, Andy is directing your day. You force yourself out of bed, determined to at least choose your own outfit for the morning.

After a quick shower, you select a casual but stylish ensemble - fitted jeans and a soft, short sleeved sweater in a deep emerald green that brings out your eyes. As you're applying the last touches of makeup, your phone chimes with a text from your mom. The one silver lining with the turn of events after the weekend is that your relationship with your parents is back on track since you’re no longer hiding a sudden and inexplicable engagement to Andy.

After a solitary breakfast, you go back to your study and set to work at a beautiful desk near one of the windows, diving into emails and looking over the calendar of upcoming events and the needs for your team this week to be ready for your weekly 11am strategy session.

Back in the spring when you had taken on Andy Barber as a client for the largest gala and one of the largest events your company had ever planned, you had strategically not accepted any book dates for a full six weeks afterwards. You had wanted to ensure that everything went off perfect for the Barber Gala without compromising any events that would come right in its wake. The fee for the services of you and your team was more than enough to accommodate that break in the events schedule, and it was a decision that you were infinitely glad you had made as it had worked out well for suddenly being ensnared into Andy’s life. Rather than renting any formal office space, you and your team worked remotely and always went to clients and vendors or the event venue to meet rather than making them come to you. It had the added benefit of building rapport with people you worked with and enhancing your reputation as being a team who valued the partner you were working with.

With the break in the schedule and fully remote office, you had been able to fully put off any revelation about your new arrangements with your team of three. Even with the video chats, you’d simply used virtual backgrounds to mask your new surroundings.

You manage to wrap up the agenda for your 11am a few minutes before the wedding planners are expected to arrive. You tap your pen on your planner, mulling things over. Since events are in your blood, it’s possible you could wrap up an initial meeting with the wedding planners before your team’s meeting - especially because you’ve been through all this before, you know who the best vendors are, and you have stowed away a slew of ideas for the wedding you thought may at some point take place in the future with some unknown future husband. Worst case scenario, you’ll excuse yourself from Andy and the wedding planners for a few minutes at eleven to jump on the call, say you’ve got an awful headache or something, and hand over the meeting to your number two, Effy, and then get back to Andy. Something tells you Andy would not love you bailing completely at 11.

Satisfied enough with your game plan, you close your laptop and head toward the front of the palatial home to be present when the wedding planners arrive.

“Just in time,” Andy says as you enter the foyer.

You freeze momentarily at the sound and sight of Andy. He's leaning against the doorframe of his study, looking impeccable in a crisp white shirt and tailored slacks. His blue eyes rake over you appreciatively.

"You look nice," he says, his voice low and intimate.

“Thank you,” you respond, trying to keep your voice neutral.

He reaches you and cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. Before you can react, he leans in and captures your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Despite your desire to stay simmering with anger at him, you find yourself melting into the kiss - as always, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire. "Good morning, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You're about to respond when the doorbell chimes, signaling the arrival of the wedding planners. Andy's hands drop from your face, one sliding down to the small of your back as he guides you towards the door.

"Shall we?" he asks, his tone light but leaving no room for argument.

You nod, squaring your shoulders as Andy opens the door to reveal the wedding planners.

Better known as your team - Effy, Lila, and Dev.

They cheer and shout “Surprise” and “Congratulations” and rush in with champagne, flowers, and a platter of pastries and fruit from one of your favorite bakery vendors.

Your jaw drops as you stare at your team in disbelief. Effy, your right-hand woman, is beaming as she holds out a bottle of Dom Pérignon. Lila, your creative genius, is practically bouncing with excitement, her arms full of a stunning bouquet of peonies and garden roses in shades of blush and cream. Dev, your logistics wizard, balances a tray laden with an assortment of pastries from Maison de Sucre, the French bakery you've used for countless events.

"What... how?" you stammer, torn between shock, joy, and a surge of anger at Andy for orchestrating this without your knowledge.

"Andy called us yesterday," Effy explains, her eyes sparkling. "He thought you might appreciate some familiar faces to help plan your big day - and who else would you trust to plan a rush wedding?"

You turn to glare at Andy, but he merely smirks. You’re acutely aware of not only a need to keep up appearances, but a want to save face on your part, as well. So as they laugh at your glare, you quickly shift into a pleasant game face and channel the part of you that does want to share in the excitement of your team, and rush to give them hugs and usher them inside.

in just under two hours, most of your wedding is planned. Your team came prepared, knew your tastes, and had connections they were ready and eager to tap for your whirlwind wedding.

Playing the part of Andy’s blissfully happy fiancé to keep your team from suspecting anything was amiss had been difficult and yet simple in equal measure.

Andy offers to leave when you suggest that you touch base for the weekly strategy session, but your team encourages him to stay. So he does. You marvel at how masterfully he charms everyone around him. You know he often manages this with you, as well.

Everything is on track with your team for the upcoming events - including a redistribution of tasks and responsibilities that they’ve already discussed to lighten your load leading up to the wedding. They insist so you can take care of all the bride things they imagine you’ll be doing leading up to the nuptials. Your eyes meet Andy’s, and you see the glow of satisfaction radiating off of him.

Your team begins to pack up their materials. You feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. On one hand, you're touched by their enthusiasm and grateful for their expertise, their thoughtfulness. On the other, you feel guilty for the deception, for allowing them to believe in a fairytale romance that doesn't truly exist.

"Well, I think we've made excellent progress," Effy says, closing her laptop with a satisfied smile. "We'll get started on the vendor contracts right away and have them ready for your review by tomorrow afternoon."

You nod and smile. "Thank you all so much. I... I don't know what to say."

Lila gives you a warm hug. "We're just so happy for you! And don't worry about a thing - we'll make sure your day is absolutely perfect."

“I know you will.”

As they gather their things and head towards the door, you notice Andy hanging back, eyes ever watching all your interactions.

You walk your team to the door, exchanging final hugs and promises to touch base soon. As Dev, the last to leave, steps out, he turns back with a grin.

"By the way, boss, nice job keeping this under wraps. We had no idea!"

You force a laugh, hoping it doesn't sound as hollow as it feels. "Well, you know me. I love a good surprise."

As soon as the door closes behind them, you lean against it, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. When you open them, Andy is standing before you, his expression unreadable.

"That went well," he says casually.

You push off the door, anger flaring. "You had no right to involve my team without telling me."

Andy raises an eyebrow. "You wouldn’t have agreed, I know you’ll appreciate the gesture in the end, and they’re the best in the business, are they not?"

"That's not the point," you snap. "This is what we talked about yesterday! Making decisions without me!”

“This was already arranged before that discussion, and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” he says with a smirk. “You love a good surprise - you just said so yourself.”

You raise your hand to slap him, but he catches your wrist, his smirk vanishing, replaced with a stern look. You huff and try to pull away, but Andy's grip on your wrist tightens, his eyes darkening with a dangerous glint. In the next instant, he pulls you flush against his body, his other hand snaking around your waist to hold you in place. The sudden movement knocks the breath from your lungs, and you're acutely aware of every hard plane of his muscular form pressed against you.

"Careful, sweetheart," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with."

A chill runs down your spine as you're reminded of the power this man wields. The charming facade he'd worn for your team has vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating persona you've glimpsed before. His blue eyes, usually so captivating, now resemble chips of ice.

"Let me remind you," Andy continues, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm not just some wealthy businessman playing at power. I've built an empire, both in the light and the shadows. I've crushed men who dared to cross me."

His words send a shiver through you - fear and unwanted desire warring within. You try to push against his chest, but he doesn't budge.

"I'm not afraid of you," you say, your voice shakier than you'd like.

Andy chuckles darkly. "You have no reason to be as long as you don’t cross me."

He releases your wrist only to cup your face, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "And here's the thing - I don't want you to fear me. But make no mistake - you are mine now. This is your life."

With lightning speed, Andy spins you around, pressing you face-first against the door. His body cages you in, one hand still gripping your wrist while the other slides up to wrap around your throat. Not choking, but asserting control. You gasp, your heart racing as Andy's lips brush against your ear. "The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be."

His hand tightens slightly on your throat, just enough to make breathing a conscious effort. You should be terrified, should be fighting to get away. But your traitorous body responds to his dominance, a rush of heat pooling low in your belly.

"Andy," you whisper, unsure if it's a plea or a protest.

“You'll be my wife, my partner. But you need to understand your place in this world we're building together."

He releases your throat, his hand sliding down to cup your breast through your sweater. You arch into his touch involuntarily, earning a dark chuckle from him.

"That's it," he growls. "Remember how good we are together.”

Andy's hand kneads your breast as his lips trail hot kisses down your neck. Despite your anger and frustration, a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy murmurs against your skin. "Let go of it all."

His free hand slides down your body, deftly unbuttoning your jeans. You know you should stop him, should push him away, but the heat of his body against yours, the skilled touch of his fingers, makes it hard to think straight.

Just as his hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties, there’s an insistent buzzing of his phone.

He answers the phone even as his fingers begin to work the slick lips of your cunt.

“Yes?” he prompts.

You can hear every word without the phone being put on speaker since Andy’s pressed up against you.

"Mr. Barber? The cars are ready for your lunch meeting, sir."

“Good. The future Mrs. Barber and I will be down in no more than ten minutes,” he says. There’s an acknowledgment on the other end of the line, and then hangs up.

Andy thrusts a finger inside you, making you gasp, before withdrawing his hand completely. “Go get changed,” he says, “you heard, we have our next appointment and need to be on our way.”

You're left breathless and frustrated as Andy steps away, his warmth disappearing from your back. Your body trembles with unfulfilled desire, and you have to resist the urge to reach for him, to beg him to finish what he started.

"Andy," you begin, your voice husky with need.

He cuts you off with a sharp look. "We don't have time. Go change. Now."

The command in his voice sends another shiver through you. You want to argue, to demand he explain himself, to finish what he started. But the ice in his eyes tells you it would be futile. With shaking hands, you button your jeans and smooth down your sweater.

"Fine," you say, trying to inject some venom into your voice.

You turn and head towards the stairs, feeling Andy's eyes on you the whole way.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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[daisymbin]

Can i request 16. "you still wear the necklace i gave you?" with cheol

yes of course!! 🫶

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist!

second chance prompt #16: "you still wear the necklace i gave you?"

the atmosphere at the dinner table was light, the boys laughing and chatting as they dug into their food, but a quiet tension lingered between you and seungcheol. the history between you two was thick, and though you tried to pretend everything was fine, your heart told a different story. you hadn’t seen him in months, not in a setting like this, not with all the old warmth and familiarity wrapped up in a shared meal.

soonyoung’s voice broke the silence, a grin on his face as he pointed toward you. "hey, didn't i get you a necklace for your birthday? i don’t think i’ve ever seen you wear it."

you stiffened, glancing down at your shirt, hoping the necklace wasn’t visible. it wasn’t—it was tucked neatly under the fabric, hidden from view—but the mention of it made your chest tighten. it had been a thoughtful gift from soonyoung, but there was something else more meaningful adorning your collarbones.

you gave a quick smile and brushed off the comment. "oh, i wear it sometimes," you lied; you've never once worn it. forcing a lightheartedness smile you didn’t feel, "just not today."

seungcheol’s gaze lingered on you from across the table. he didn’t say anything, but the bitterness in his heart grew as he thought back to the necklace he had given you. it wasn’t like he wanted to obsess over it, but every time he saw you, every time he thought of you, his mind kept circling back to that necklace—the one that was supposed to mean something. it made him wonder if you had thrown it away. if it was lying in some forgotten drawer, forgotten like the love you’d once shared.

you shifted in your seat, feeling seungcheol’s gaze on you, but when you dared to meet his eyes, he quickly looked away. it stung. the distance between you two had never been more obvious.

when dinner ended, you offered to get more soju for everyone. you rose from your seat and made your way to the kitchen, trying to push away the thoughts swirling in your mind. you hadn’t worn the necklace that soonyoung had gotten you—not once. the truth was, the only necklace you still wore was the one seungcheol had given you on your first anniversary. you had kept it on, tucked under your shirt, never wanting to take it off.

as you pulled out the soju bottles, trying to ignore the small sting in your chest, you heard footsteps behind you. jeonghan’s voice was calm, but there was an edge of amusement in it. "seungcheol, go help her with the soju. she’ll appreciate it."

you didn’t want to turn around, but you couldn’t ignore the hesitation in his tone. when seungcheol stepped into the kitchen, his presence felt heavy. you tried to act normal, focusing on uncapping the soju bottles, but the tension between you both was undeniable.

he cleared his throat. "you... need help with anything else?" his voice was tight, as if he was trying to make small talk but didn’t quite know how.

you glanced up at him, offering a small smile. "no, i’m good. just this." you tried to keep your voice light, but there was a coldness in the air that you couldn’t shake.

seungcheol nodded, looking down at the floor. he shifted awkwardly, his heart sinking with every passing second. she’s moved on, he thought bitterly. she’s fine without me, she doesn't need me.

you barely noticed the change in him, your focus fixed on the task at hand, afraid that if you looked at him too long, you might lose control of the feelings bubbling beneath the surface. you were terrified of what might slip out. the truth was, you hadn’t moved on. you couldn’t. but you couldn’t let him see that either.

the silence stretched between you two until you bent down to retrieve a cup from the bottom drawer. as you did, the neckline of your shirt shifted, revealing the necklace resting just beneath your skin. it was enough for seungcheol to see it. the sight of it caused his breath to catch in his throat.

his heart hammered in his chest. he froze, feeling an overwhelming rush of emotions flood through him. before he could stop himself, the words were out.

"you still wear the necklace i gave you?" he asked, his voice low, barely above a whisper, like he was afraid to hear the answer.

feeling caught, you didn’t look up at him immediately, but the weight of his words made your stomach twist. you felt the familiar cool metal of the necklace hitting against your skin like a reminder of him. you realised that even when it hurt to wear it, you still did.

slowly, you looked up at him, eyes soft but guarded. "i never took it off," you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. "it’s still with me."

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the world outside seemed to disappear, and the only thing that mattered was the look in his eyes—the way they softened, the way the pain you’d both buried seemed to surface all at once.

finally, seungcheol took a step closer, his voice barely audible. "i... i thought you’d moved on. its been 6 months, why are you still wearing it?"

you shook your head slowly, a sadness lingering in your gaze. "i never moved on, cheol. & it reminds me of you, feels like you're still here with me."

he swallowed hard, his heart swelling with a mixture of hope and guilt. he had been wrong. you hadn’t moved on. you still wore the necklace.

he stepped forward, his hand reaching out instinctively. "do you think..you could learn to love me again?"

you took a breath, meeting his gaze with more courage than you thought you had. "i never stopped,"

the tension between you two finally began to break, the air clearing, and for the first time in months, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

it wasn’t the end. not yet.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 51

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 48, part 49, part 50

“What if we let him stay with us,” Eddie says out of the blue, sitting on one of their new kitchen chairs.

Wayne stops unpacking glasses, turning to look at him. “What?”

“Steve, what if we let him stay with us. Just while he tries to find a place.” He fidgets with his hands, avoiding Wayne’s eye contact. “We’ve, uh, been talking, and he’s put off trying to find a place. Now that he knows the end date, he’s started looking but can’t afford any of places that are open right now.”

Wayne pushes the box back onto the counter, he can finish it later. He turns fully toward Eddie, leaning back on the counter and crossing his arms. “So, you want us to let him stay here.”

“Yeah, and it could be like paying him back, you know. For letting us stay with him. Return the favor, and everything.”

He sighs, wiping a hand down his face. “We don’t exactly have the space for that. Unless you’re planning on him sleeping on the couch.”

Eddie stutters, further ignoring Wayne’s gaze. Mouth opening with no sound coming out.

“Or is this the part where you finally tell me you two are seeing each other?”

Eddie freezes. “How did you know?”

Wayne shakes his head. “Cause I’m not an idiot. You two go from chewing each other’s head off to being super close and touchy. And I saw Steve try to sneak out of your room when I got back from a shift. He thought he played it off, but I knew.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Wanted to see how long it took you to tell me yourself. It’s been almost three weeks, and we all live together. You really thought I didn’t know?”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know. We were just feeling it out, didn’t want to tell anyone in case it blew up fast.”

“And now you want him to move in with us? Sleep in your room, in your bed. You really think that’s a good idea?”

“I thought you would be cooler about this. Steve’s a good guy, you know that.”

He does know that. But he knows a lot of things that leave him questioning. Even if it’s just from passing comments. Ammunition that could have been meaningless, but there was history behind it. History Wayne doesn’t know but can assume what it means.

Maybe he’s an ass for assuming. Maybe he’s just being overprotective. But when it comes to matters of the heart, people can be reckless. They can jump without looking just to get hurt in the end.

Steve might be a good guy for letting them stay in his house. He might be a good friend, a good role model for the kids. But a good boyfriend, for Wayne’s boy, he’ll never be good enough. No one will.

“I know. I’m just worried that letting him stay here would make a jump you’re not quite ready yet.”

Eddie nods, looking down at his hands. “It’s early, I know. And it’d be temporary. I just—I don’t want to leave him high and dry. He helped us when we had nowhere else to go, I thought we might be able to so the same.”

Wayne gets where his head’s at. He gets wanting to do something to thank Steve that would be anywhere near the way he’s helped them. Hell, Wayne does too. There are just so many reservations in his head. So many ways that this could go wrong.

“I’ll think about it,” Wayne concedes. “On a few conditions, it is actually temporary, and I’m the one who talks to him about it. You say nothing until I do, got it.”

“Got it.” Eddie smiles brighter than he has in a long time. “Thank you, it means a lot, even you just thinking about it.”

He sighs. “Yeah well, you have a point.”

“You’re not going to get, like, super weird and protective now that you know right?”

Wayne scoffs, going back to the box that needs unpacking. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve told me what happened while I was still in the coma. I know you didn’t like him around me. I know that has changed, but it’s different now. And don’t you remember back in my freshman year where I told you about that guy in my English class and you threatened to kill him if he looked at me wrong?”

He shrugs. “That’s just part of being a parent, can’t turn it off.”

That kid would have deserved what came to him if Wayne actually followed through. After the first few months of peace, he made Eddie’s life a living hell.

“Well, Steve’s a good guy, and he’s good to me, so just, tone it down a little bit.”

Wayne turns to look at Eddie again. He’s honestly surprised that this conversation is happening, but also glad that it is. Eddie’s hasn’t exactly seen that many people. Not in the town that threatens to crucify you for walking on the wrong side of the road. As far as Wayne was supposed to know, this was Eddie’s first time seeing someone. But he knew that on some of the weekends where Eddie would disappear for a night, it was to sneak into one of those bars down in Indy.

That was dangerous, this was less so. As far as Wayne knows, Steve’s romantic life is a mixed bag. Short term relationships and one long one that ended semi-badly. Sue him for being cautious. Sue him for looking out for his kid. After all the pain they went through in the past year, he could at least try to make sure heartbreak wasn’t added to the mix.

“You happy?” Wayne asks, watching as Eddie’s face softens.

“Yeah.”

“You being safe?”

“We haven’t gotten that far yet, but when we do, we will.”

Wayne nods. “Then I’ll tone it down a little. Just a little. Don’t go expecting miracles.”

The rest of the box gets unpacked, the glasses and other dishware slowly filling the cabinets. The home starting to really look like a home.

“Thank you,” Eddie says quietly.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Steve gets back from work late. Wayne wasn’t exactly waiting for him, but he wasn’t exactly not waiting for him. He was just in the kitchen, putting something together for a late dinner, knowing that Steve was going to be home soon. If it felt like a good time, he was going to bring it up. If it didn’t, he was going to give it a day.

But he can feel that protective burn bubbling up and can’t snuff it out. He needed to know.

“I know about you two,” Wayne says. More menacingly than he meant to, but doesn’t know how else to start this.

Steve freezes, hand on the fridge’s handle. Holding it open. “What?”

“You and Eddie, I know.”

He nods, closing the door and clearing his throat. “For how long?”

“Few weeks. You’re really not a slick as you think you are.”

Steve leans on the counter, crossing his arms. Ready for a lecture. “We were going to tell you, just wanted to make sure we weren’t making a mistake first.”

“Interesting word there, mistake.” Wayne’s pressing, trying to lure out what he needs to see. Make sure that this isn’t something he needs to worry about.

“I just didn’t want to lose another friend because of a relationship. It took me years to be able to be friends with Nancy. I didn’t want the same to happen with Eddie.”

Wayne nods. Satisfied with the answer.

“What you said a few weeks ago, that you saw the way I acted around him. And you wanted to stop the hurt before it started. I’m not planning on hurting him. I can’t promise I won’t mess up; I tend to do that a lot. But I always try to make up for it, to learn. I’ve gotten really good at apologizing.”

The protectiveness dies down, Steve hitting everything he wanted to hear. And Eddie’s right, Wayne knows that he’s a good guy. He’s made mistakes, but he’s grown. He’s changed. It’s as much as Wayne can ask for.

“You know, earlier today, Eddie brought up this idea of letting you stay with us until you find a place on your own.”

Steve’s face fills with shock. “He did?”

Wayne nods. “Yeah. As you can imagine, I had my hesitations. We don’t exactly have spare rooms like you do. But,” Wayne can’t believe he’s really saying this, but it feels right, “if you wanted, you could stay with us. With the promise that you find a place on your own, and that this won’t put an unnecessary strain on your new relationship.”

“I—” Steve tries to get out. “Thank you.”

Before Wayne can register what’s happening, Steve’s hugging him.

“Thank you,” he repeats. The words heavy with relief.

“Yeah, well. After all you did for me, it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

Steve lets go, taking a step back. “But you didn’t, a lot of people don’t. So, thank you.”

He realizes that there is so much story of Steve that he still doesn’t know. Hurt and pain that he keeps hidden away. Not for other people to see. Steve walks away before he can ask, or even question. Hesitating before walking down the hall to Eddie’s room.

This was going to be interesting.

apologies for the late post, I was at work and then driving home from break, and forgot to post before I left (like I planned to). And posting tag lists from mobile sucks ass.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[mooshkat]

missing car scene?? when i catch you, tim. timothy when i catch you i swear to god

Tommy feels lighter as he jogs to catch up to Buck. It's seared into his brain, the way Buck looked at him and said 'our people' in his speech to Billy.

He feels like his band of people is slowly growing, as he edges one foot into the door with the 118 again. He hangs out with Hen and Chimney more, and Eddie. Bobby and him are talking again. He gets invited to the family gatherings, and not just as Buck's boyfriend anymore, but for him.

They want him around and part of him still can't believe it.

The other part is throwing out warning signs saying how dangerous it is to let them be so close, telling him that this can only end in heartbreak just like it has every time before, but he pushes it away. Boxes it up and pushes those feelings deep, deep down.

He should be allowed to be happy, without expecting it all to come crashing down. Things with Evan are good, so good. He should get to have this. He does have this.

Tommy waits until they're both in the car before he leans across the center console and grabs Buck's face in a gentle hand, careful of the boils as he gives him a bruising kiss.

"See," he breathes, smiling into the next kiss as Buck leans into it, "it's not true."

Buck laughs and pulls away just enough to look at Tommy, his eyes bright and twinkling. It makes Tommy's chest ache, being looked at like that. "So you did it to prove a point?"

He shakes his head, and can't help but kiss him again. Their noses knock together, but they both grin through the brief pain. "No, Evan. You called me your boyfriend."

"Is–is that okay?" Buck asks, a little breathless from all the kissing.

"It's perfect."

[cyarikaplease]

You done?

dom!din Djarin x brat!reader

Din shuts you up in the best way possible.

“You done?” Din asks, sitting and watching you pace back and forth in the storage area of the Crest. There’s a hint of amusement in his voice. He’s enjoying watching you bitch at him. You don’t even know what you’re bitching about anymore, probably something about what Din did or didn’t do. Something about tripping over his blaster he left on the floor and laughing when you stubbed your toe…

“Not even close.”

“Mhm,” he says, stifling a chuckle. He’s sitting with his thighs spread wide open in a full man-spread, leaning back against the wall of the Crest. He would be so attractive if he wasn’t so irritating right now. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask, stopping dead in your tracks and folding your arms. 

“Nothing,” he says. He’s definitely smirking under that helmet.

“No, tell me,” you press.

“Just waiting for you to shut up,” he chuckles. 

“Make me,” you reply. It’s your turn to wear a sly grin now. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, rising from the crate he was sitting on and sauntering over to you. 

He pushes you up against the wall, grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head. He brings his helmet beside your ear, talking to you in a low, gravelly tone. 

“What happens when you act like a brat?”

“…I get punished.”

“That’s right, cyar’ika.”

You gulp and he chuckles, moving one of his hands on your inner thigh and feeling you shudder at his touch. 

“Strip and wait for me in the bunk,” he commands.

He releases your hands and you do as you’re told, removing your clothes and sitting on the cot's edge. You hear him rifling through one of the shelves. You know exactly what he’s looking for; the blindfold. 

Din doesn’t normally use the blindfold. He understands all too well having some sort of barrier on your head, depriving you of your senses. He only busts out the blindfold when you’re being a bad girl. 

He returns with the silky black fabric in his hands, leaning against the doorframe in the bunk. 

“Time for your punishment,” he says, walking towards you and crouching down in front of the cot to meet your eye level. 

You let out a groan as he begins to wrap the blindfold around your head, prompting him to stop and ask, “Are you complaining?”

“No!” you say quickly. 

“That’s what I thought.”

The blindfold is secured around your head. You can’t see a thing, relying on your other senses. Goosebumps prick your skin in anticipation of his touch. You hear his gloves hitting the floor and his hands pressing you down lightly onto the cot. His warm skin against you sets your nerves aflame, already shuddering in desire and need for him. 

“Patience, cyar’ika,” he reminds you. 

You hear the hiss of his modulator and kriff, he’s taking his helmet off. This is so unfair. 

Another groan escapes your lips and all of a sudden his face is hovering over yours. 

“What did I say?”

You don’t respond, only uttering a bratty wine. 

“I think you need to be punished even more now,” he tuts, pulling back and sitting on the edge of the cot by your thighs. 

“What?? No, I’ll be good. I swear!”

“Too late,” he teases. 

He spreads your thighs apart, his face inches away from your cunt. His breath sends a shiver up your spine as he watches how wet you’re getting already. 

“So wet. So ready for me,” he says, swiping two fingers up and down your entrance. 

You whine again, aching for more of his touch, more stimulation. 

“You don’t get to cum without my permission. Got it?”

“Fine,” you pout. 

“Do better,” he commands. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” you whine. 

“Good girl,” he praises. 

His words make you melt. He moistens his fingers with his mouth, sliding one inside you slowly. He takes his time curling his singular digit against your walls, feeling how wet you are for him; how bad you want him already. He pushes up against your g-spot, eliciting a moan from you. 

“You want more, don’t you, pretty girl?”

“Please, sir,” you whine. 

“Beg.”

“Please, sir, I can’t take it anymore. I’ll be a good girl, I swear!”

“Fine,” he sighs, faux annoyance in his voice, “Since you asked nicely.”

He inserts another finger, working your cunt closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. He’s talented with his fingers and it makes sense, being that he could never really eat a girl out, until you. 

Just when you think you can’t hold on any longer you ask, “Can I cum please?”

“Not yet.”

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you whine. 

“I said not yet,” he reminds you. 

But it’s a good thing he made you wait, because he brings his tongue to your clit, making swirls around it as he fingers you. 

“Sir, please. I can’t-”

He cuts you off with a hum of approval against your clit. Your hands reach down between your legs and grasp his hair, tugging on his curls while you cum against his face. Your cunt flutters around his fingers as the pleasure built up in your core spreads outwards, infecting your limbs with waves of euphoria. 

He pulls away once you’re done, wasting no time to be inside you already. He pulls his cock out of his flight suit and gives it a few strokes, before settling in between your thighs and entering you in one clean motion, without any warning. 

“Din… Ah!” you gasp in surprise. 

“You can take it,” he commands in a husky voice, drawing his hips back and slamming into you. 

You nod and that’s when he grabs your chin, keeping your face steady and fixed on him. You’d give anything in the galaxy to rip this blindfold off already. 

“Open,” he says with a squeeze on your chin. 

You open your mouth and he leans down, his mouth hovering over yours. He spits in your mouth, closing it shut with his hand. 

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing you passionately while picking up the pace and slamming into you unforgivingly. 

You moan against his lips and he pulls back to ask, “Pretty girl gonna cum already?”

“C-Can I?” you ask with a shaky breath. 

“Are you gonna keep acting like a brat?”

“No, sir.”

“Cum on my cock,” he commands again, finishing his command with a slam of his hips. 

You cum around his cock, walls fluttering and pulsating around him. Your orgasm pulls his own from him, painting your insides with his cum. He lets out a mangled, unmodulated groan as he finishes, a rare sound for you but nevertheless a treat every time. 

He pulls out of you and lays down next to you on the cot. You hear his modulator hiss as his helmet is replaced on his head followed by his hands undoing your blindfold. 

“I really am sorry about your toe,” he says with a chuckle. 

“It’s okay,” you laugh, looking over at him, “But I am gonna act like a brat again.”

“That was always a given.”

[girl-named-matty]

Little morning - Life after Hogwarts

synopsis ✧ Being a parent wasn't exactly easy and Sebastian found that out the hard way after the birth of his first son--who was now two-years-old and they were also expecting another. But regardless, he loved being a father. But the biggest problem with having a pregnant wife? A little toddler who just so happens to be a big mummy's boy that tries to wake her up at any chance he gets.

tags ✧ Fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, like so much fluff you guys. Talks of pregnancy and babies (ofc), toddlers (thats a warning in itself haha), marriage, just all the domestic cutesy stuff we all love. .

word count ✧ 1.6k

a/n ✧ Just some random cute idea I got and I have been ITCHING to write Seb and Matty as parents. You've probably seen my other posts about their kids when they are older but I really wanted to do some of the younger stuff as well because the baby fever is strong rn and I need a outlet LOL.🥺 Hope you enjoy! xoxo

Sebastian Sallow severely underestimated how difficult being a parent would be and just how much sleep he would lose by being one as well. Sure, he knew kids were difficult, and his wife had told him countless stories of the kids she had nannied or worked with who were difficult, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the real deal.

Little Eleazar was just past two years old by now, and yes, he was an abnormally well-behaved child; he still was a toddler, and well—toddlers did toddler things.

But despite the lack of sleep, the rough days, and the struggle of learning how to be a first-time parent, it was all worth it. They loved their little boy, and they loved him just the way he was.

And apparently it was “so worth” it enough that Matty was now pregnant with their second child. Or at least in Sebastian’s words, it was “so worth” having another. Matty had always wanted a couple of children, so she was up for having a second, but Sebastian was definitely the one who pushed the idea to have another.

Hence why she was now seven months pregnant and dealing with a toddler. But thankfully, Sebastian was a very hands-on and involved dad, and it made it all so much easier. He was an amazing husband and father. (She couldn’t lie and say that wasn’t the reason why she considered a second.)

It was nearing seven am when Sebastian, who was half asleep, heard the little pitter-patter of footsteps nearing the bedroom door. They had moved Ele into a different room a couple of months ago so he could get used to sleeping without Mum and Dad, especially once the new baby was around. But almost every morning, like clockwork, he managed to climb out of his crib and sneak off to Mum and Dad's room.

Sebastian, immediately knowing who it was, sat up and rubbed his eyes. The little footsteps stopped right at the door, which meant the door needed to be opened. Eleazar wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the door handle and turn it, so usually Sebastian would have to do it himself since he was the first one up.

He could practically hear his son pouting on the other side of the door, so he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake up Matty, who was still peacefully sleeping.

He walked over to the door before opening it, looking down at his son. “Well, good morning,” he said, his voice still gravelly.

Eleazar quickly put his hands up, babbling a little to let his dad know that he wanted to be picked up. Sebastian leaned down and grabbed the little boy up in his arms. “You’re two years old; you gotta start using your words, buddy.” He softly encouraged. But it seemed like Ele was too tired to speak anyway since he was rubbing his eyes the moment he was up in his father's arms.

Sebastian sat back down in bed, Eleazar placed in between him and Matty. “If you’re going to be here, you gotta go back to sleep.” He said, trailing his knuckle against his son's chubby cheeks. Of course, he was only saying this to try and get more sleep himself, but when did toddlers ever listen to anybody?

Instead, Eleazar turned around, seeing that his mother was in bed. “Mummy,” he babbled with a big smile, crawling over to where she was sleeping.

Sebastian’s heart almost jumped out of his chest as he had to quickly grab his son and pull him away from his mother in order for him not to wake her up. She definitely needed more sleep. “Wait, wait, no, we can’t go to Mummy right now, okay? Mummy is sleeping.” Sebastian tried to explain.

However, Eleazar did not like being told no. Especially when it came to his mummy. The corner of his lips curled down, forming a little frown, and by the way his little bottom lip quivered, Sebastian could quickly tell that he was going to start crying.

Panicking a little more, Sebastian quickly grabbed the little boy up in his arms. “Hey, hey, it's okay.” He soothed. “We just can’t wake up Mummy right now; she’s resting.”

He knew Eleazar couldn’t understand a lick of what he was saying, but he hoped the tone of his voice would help calm him down. “Mummy is very tired, and she has little brother or sister to deal with too, okay?” He continued. “I can assure you that definitely isn’t easy.” He half mumbled under his breath with a chuckle. But that was more for his own amusement than an explanation.

Ele didn’t cry, but he looked up at his father with his big blue eyes that he had inherited from his mother, a pout still on his face. “Mummy.” He repeated, this time more determined.

Sebastian sighed, shifting to where he was now lying down with the child in his arms. “Mummy is asleep. Which is what you should be doing right now too. You’re still so young to be waking up this early.”

“No.”

Sebastian sighed again. He hated the fact that usually one of the first five words for children was usually no. It was helpful when they could communicate what they wanted, but it also happened to become their favorite word very quickly. Saying no to everything mummy or daddy needed them to do.

“Yes.”

“Mm-hm.” Eleazar shook his head, clearly conveying that he was saying no.

“What am I going to do with you?” He chuckled, pinching his son's cheeks.

But luckily for the both of them, Matty shifted a little, signaling that she was indeed finally awake. Ele quickly looked behind him, seeing his mother begin to wake up. A big smile instantly appeared on his face, and he slipped out of his dad's arms and immediately crawled over to his mother. He was a big mummy’s boy and always wanted to be with her.

When Matty felt two little hands on her arms, she chuckled, opening her eyes. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she said sweetly, the sleep still obvious in her voice.

Eleazar immediately plopped his full body weight onto his mother, giving her a big hug. She laughed, giving him a hug back before sitting up. She looked over at Sebastian and then back down to her son. “Something tells me you’ve been giving your father a little bit of a hard time.” She said, poking her son's little tummy.

“I’ll say,” Sebastian muttered. “Little bugger tried to wake you up the moment he got into bed.”

Matty smiled. “He just loves his mummy,” she cooed, shifting little Ele so she could have him comfortably against her.

Raising a toddler and being pregnant definitely wasn’t easy, but to Matty, it was worth it in the long run. Not all mornings did she wake up as nicely as she did now, but these mornings definitely helped and made up for the bad days.

“Well, thank you for letting me sleep in a little longer.” She said to Sebastian before leaning in for a quick good morning kiss from him. Sebastian smiled into the kiss, enjoying the attention from his wife. Sometimes that was scarce between work and raising a baby, so he was always loving any attention he got from her.

Meanwhile, little Ele was looking at his mother's belly, still wondering what on earth was going on there. It started to frustrate him that he could no longer sit on his mummy’s lap, but he slightly understood the concept of having another new little sibling that was seemingly “in mummy’s tummy” and that it was a baby.

Matty looked down and chuckled. “Say hi to the baby, Ele.” She urged.

Eleazar didn’t say anything, but he did wave, thinking that his little brother or sister could see him do so. Matty giggled a little bit at her son's expression, and she leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. “In just a little bit you’ll have a new brother or sister, and it’s gonna be sooo fun,” she said.

“Sleepless nights and screaming babies are an interesting thing to consider fun.” Sebastian joked sarcastically.

“Remind me whose idea it was to have a second?” Matty said, raising her brow at her husband. She knew he was just joking, but she did like to poke fun at him because, after all, it was his idea to have another baby once Eleazar was a little older.

“It was mine, and I’ll totally own up to that.” He chuckled, pulling his wife close to him. “And I can’t wait to have another. Anything from you is a complete blessing, and I’m lucky to have you and our children.”

Matty smiled and leaned her head against his chest. She had married the right man, that’s for sure. And boy did she love him.

“I hope it’s a girl,” Sebastian mumbled into her neck.

“Don’t want another little boy?” She chuckled, looking at him with a raised brow.

Sebastian shrugged. “I’ll be happy either way. I just want a healthy baby. But since we have a boy already, I think it’d be nice to have a sweet little girl. Beautiful and intelligent, just like her mother.” He said, giving Matty a little squeeze.

“And here I thought you wanted a little mini-you.” Matty said.

“Oh trust me, I do.” Sebastian replied. “But who's to say that a little girl can’t be my mini-me? We can get into all sorts of trouble together.”

“Mhm, right. Not on my watch.” Matty joked with a laugh.

“Worth a shot.” Sebastian grinned.

I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you so much for reading! 🥺❤️

[fairyberkshire]

FALLING FOR SHADOWS | RAFE CAMERON AU

pairings: frat!rafe cameron x female!reader

a/n: here's some texts ! this chapter takes place the day after the party ! i hope you all enjoy !

parts: 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . .

There you were, off to the side in a bar, nursing a drink. The music and chatter of people all just a blur in the background to you as you feel disconnected from the crowd– the world. And, as you sit here surrounded by the crowd of the bar, you can’t help but feel isolated.

Your thoughts drifting back to your father…You had earlier had a conversation with Kiara, about her father and how he was always hovered a lot in her life…And you couldn’t help but feel…sad.

Sure, your relationship with your father was long gone. Always having been complicated. And you no longer wanted him in your life…but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt at times. 

Rafe soon strolls into the bar, spotting you almost instantly from across the room, a smirk on his lips as he walks closer to you…But when he gets closer he notices you're alone and that you seem slightly off. Shoulders slumped, and eyes distant.

And, he hesitates for a moment questioning if he should turn around or not. Wondering if it’s overstepping if he sees what’s wrong…Wasn’t even sure if you’d want his help or want him there.

After all, you two had only known each other for a short period of time…but at the same time. But another part of him– it makes him want to go and comfort you. So he does.

“So…what’s got you standing all alone?” Rafe starts, deciding to go with a more casual start, and you look up at him slightly startled, before quickly brushing off her discomfort with a laugh…But Rafe doesn’t but it, picking up fully that something is wrong. He knows you aren’t acting like yourself.The girl he’s seen before who’s witty and playful. 

And, as he doesn’t say anything back, you just give him a weak smile, dropping your gaze to your drink to avoid having to look at him. 

“Are…you alright? Sorry– you just don’t look like you’re having much fun” He says, and her eyes, flicker up to meet his, before dropping back down, giving him a small shrug.

“Just not my scene,” You say it, but he knows you’re lying. Sure, it wasn’t your scene…but neither were a few other places, and you hadn’t seemed like these before.

“Something’s off– Can tell. You can talk to me, you know” He says, reaching for your drink, gently taking it from you, not even waiting for you to protest. 

“Rafe– really. I’m fine. I just…need some space. Please” Rafe knows you’re trying to push him away, maybe as a defense mechanism…so he doesn’t take it personally. 

“I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to give me details– I know some things up. But I’m here…”  Rafe says this, and you just slightly roll your eye, but you can already feel yourself slipping to want to tell him. To let him in. But questioning if you should.

“Why do you even care, Rafe?” Your voice wavers slightly, and the crack in it…the vulnerability he can sense slip through…it hits Rafe harder than he expects. So, he pulls you with him to a table, sitting down with you, and for a moment he doesn’t respond, just watches you silently– this isn’t exactly what he’s used to…caring like this.

And sure, he’s been there for his sister at times…but with you, it feels different. “I care– I care because no matter what’s going on right now…I can sure as hell tell you I was probably in worse…And that look you had? The one that tells me that you felt like the world was moving on without you. Like you’re just…stuck. Yeah– I’ve been there. And it’s not something you should face alone…trust me” He admits, and it’s when you look at him, tears welling in your eyes that he feels his heart break.

“It’s stupid…Doesn’t matter–” “If you’re sitting here like this it matters…” His words hold the truth obviously, making you stare at your drink for a long moment, your fingers fidgeting with the rim of the glass, making the condensation smear against the…the words tight in your throat making you feel suffoacated– but his gaze makes it feel like you can say what you need to.

“It’s my father…” You softly say, and his brows furrow slightly, but he doesn’t say anything, giving you the time to say something more. “When uhm…When I was born…he didn’t want anything to do with me. Told my mom that– or some bullshit like that. He just…left. And I– I was okay with that, you know? Like, I told myself that I didn’t need him” You pause, your voice cracking slightly as the next words spill out.

“But then, he’d occasionally just pop into my life out of nowhere– and then when I was fifteen…He decided he wanted to come into my life again…more permanently, like he wanted to make up for all this lost time, making all these promises. And stupid me– stupid me believed him. I believed him. I thought…I thought maybe I was enough..”

You start again, but your hands start to tremble slightly, and all while yours do, Rafe’s do the same under the table…his chest becoming tight as his own mind flickers to his family. The pressure and expectations he’d felt growing up– how his father was never what he needed in a father…So Rafe pulls his hand from under the table, reaching out and letting his fingers softly brush yours to provide you (and himself) some sort of comfort…and it does.

“But then…he’d leave again…And now here I am. I’m 19...I’ve had him out of my life for a while. Blocked. And I don’t even want anything to do with him– But…It still hurts, Rafe” You say, tears falling, as you pause.

“What– What is so wrong with me that I couldn’t stay?.. Why– why wasn’t I enough? Why am I not enough…” Rafe’s jaw tightens as he processes your words, and he’s quiet for a moment, making you wonder if you’ve said too much, but then he starts to speak, and it’s steady and sure.

“There is nothing wrong with you, y/n. Nothing. If your dad couldn’t see how lucky he was to have you in his life he’s an idiot, and that’s on him– not you. That’s his failure. Not at all yours” He says, it, and you blink at him, his words hitting you like a truck.

“And for what it’s worth?...You’re amazing. So amazing. Hell, you barely know me and you’ve already put up with my crap more than most would” You give him a smile, and it’s the first one you’ve given him all night, even as the tears fall down your cheeks…and he too smiles, shifting closer to you, his hand now fully holding yours…

And when he does this, the heaviness in your chest starts to lift,  just a little, and he stays by you– not letting go of your hand as you both just sit in the quiet corner of the bar, and for once, you feel like you aren’t alone.

[firstelevens]

Sam/Bucky + “catastrophe”

also on AO3

Bucky knows that he fucked up the exact second that he steps through the door. Usually, even with decidedly more significant fuck-ups, it takes at least a few steps before the extent of his mistake is clear. This time, it rushes up to meet him on the porch, the air thick with the smell of baking: butter and burnt sugar and fresh bread.

When he'd caught a whiff of it in the front yard, he'd hoped it was from a neighbor's house, that maybe there was a bake sale or birthday party to justify it, but he'd known even then that that wasn't the case.

He leaves his boots by the door, hanging his jacket up in the hallway closet the way he almost always forgets to do. His backpack and go-bag get tucked away in a corner to be dealt with later, and Bucky tells himself that that's just for convenience and not because he'd have to cross the kitchen to get to the laundry room.

It's an argument that's a little bit undercut when Alpine slinks her way down the hall, immediately winding around his legs and clamoring for his attention, and the first thing that Bucky does is lean over and peek at the kitchen to gauge whether Sam heard either of them. He can't tell from where he's standing, so instead he sits on the ground and lets Alpine perch herself in his lap, butting her head up into his hand until he relents and gives her chin scratches.

"It's bad, huh, baby?" he asks, kissing the top of her head. She lets out a soft noise and noses at his hand again, which Bucky takes for a yes. "Has he been baking all morning?"

He doesn't need an answer from Alpine for that one. From where he's sitting, he's got a line on the dining room, where he can see two pies and a pan of what might be cinnamon rolls cooling on the table.

"Maybe I should've brought home flowers," he muses. "I just didn't want to wait. I skipped the debrief so I could get here faster." Yelena had complained about providing a mission report on her own, but she'd also told him to make his hair less of a catastrophe before Sam broke up with him, which was as close to approval as Bucky was going to get.

There's another soft noise from Alpine, and he's fairly certain that she's about to curl up on his leg, but then the oven timer goes off and she startles, letting out a yowl in protest and scampering away. She gives him a look of betrayal as she slinks up the stairs and Bucky huffs in response.

"What, now you're mad at me, too?" he asks, but she doesn't so much as glance backwards.

Without the excuse of Alpine, Bucky is out of reasons to linger out of sight, but he waits for another moment, listening to Sam move around their kitchen. There's a rhythm to how he opens and closes the cabinets, a familiar music in the clatter of his measuring cups and the way-too-big metal bowl that he finds every excuse to use. No matter how chilly a reception awaits him, just being able to hear Sam makes something slot back into place in Bucky's chest, the remedy to a quiet and persistent ache that he's felt for the better part of six months.

He pushes up off the floor and crosses into the kitchen to find Sam at the stove, peering critically down at something in a saucepan. When he opens his mouth to speak, Sam holds up a hand to stop him without looking away from what he's cooking on the stove.

"Not yet," he says, and Bucky closes his mouth with an audible click. It shouldn't be such a relief, but hearing Sam talk to him at all does wonders to ease some of the tension out of him. Sam doesn't acknowledge him beyond that, swirling the pan a few times before he turns off the burner and slides the pan off the heat.

Bucky distracts himself from the urge to talk by taking in the kitchen. It's reasonably neat, in spite of the evidence of hours of baking. From where he stands, Bucky can see the window boxes that he and Sam talked about, already bursting with herbs. There's a wheelbarrow full of soil in the backyard, waiting beside the raised planting bed that Bucky had only seen in sketches before he left.

He feels Sam's gaze settle on him while his head is turned towards the window, and he does his best not to squirm under the weight of it. Once, when they were still working together in the field, Bucky told Sam that he needed to get better at letting people sweat it out so they would give up information more easily. Sam had argued at the time, rightly pointing out that his friendly chatter usually was much quicker to disarm people, but apparently he's had time to hone those sweating-it-out skills in the months that they've been separated.

Still, Bucky knows a thing or two about patience. He spent the better part of a war lying in wait in a sniper's foxhole, and he spent years watching as his nebulous thing with Sam slowly transformed from acquaintance to friendship to the kind of love that he never thought he'd get to have.

He stays quiet, taking in the changes to the house and the backyard, and when he catches Sam uncrossing his arms and leaning back against the counter, he expects to hear literally anything except for the actual words that come out of Sam's mouth.

"Can you just come here, please?" he asks, and when Bucky looks over at him in shock, his arms are already open.

Bucky doesn't need to be asked twice. He's in Sam's arms in the space of a breath, face buried in Sam's neck as he tries to ignore the sting behind his eyes and the lump in his throat. It's only when he wraps his arms around Sam and feels him slump forward against Bucky that he realizes how tightly Sam was holding himself until now.

"I missed you," Sam croaks, and Bucky's fairly certain that he feels a tear or two soak into the collar of his t-shirt.

"I really thought you'd be more angry at me," says Bucky. "I mean, I'm not complaining, but--"

"Oh, I'm furious," says Sam mildly. "I just also missed you. Like, a lot. Way more than I should have, considering how annoying you are."

"I can work with that," says Bucky, pulling away just enough to chance a look at Sam's face. His dark circles are bad, and Bucky feels retroactively guilty about all the nights that he couldn't soothe Sam back to sleep when the worry woke him up.

"I also just wanted to make sure you weren't injured before I chewed you out," says Sam, and it's only then that Bucky clocks that Sam's wandering hands have been less about copping a feel and more about checking for bruised ribs and dislocated shoulders.

"I'm fine," Bucky says, frowning as he skims his fingers over a mostly-healed cut on Sam's forehead. "What's this?"

"Turns out cherry blossoms are less nice when you're being thrown at them face first," says Sam, waving a hand. "Stop trying to distract me."

(But he tilts his head just slightly towards Bucky anyway, and doesn't protest when Bucky presses a kiss to it.)

"I'm not distracting you," says Bucky. "You can ream me out whenever you want. I won't even interrupt you."

"If you're gonna lie, at least make it believable."

Bucky huffs. "Fine. I won't interrupt you that often."

"Better," says Sam, and Bucky can hear his smile even with his eyes closed.

When Sam doesn't pull away after another long moment, Bucky gives his waist a gentle squeeze. "Am I being subjected to a Sam Wilson lecture or not? Shouldn't there be fire and brimstone by now? I punched a car."

"You did not just punch a car, Bucky; you decided that the best way to deflect a whole ass SUV flying through the air was with your body and one single fist," says Sam, but in spite of the heat in his voice, he doesn't move away. "Your stupidity will keep, and so will my feelings about it. Just...just give me a minute, okay?"

"Okay, sweetheart," murmurs Bucky, bowing his head to kiss Sam's jaw. "Ready when you are."

"Okay," says Sam, and stays exactly where he is.

[sadceline]

THE ENHYPEN HOST || 21

|| Reverse harem || ft. TXT, Mingyu (Seventeen) & BTS

WARNINGS: foul language, explicit content, group sex, humiliation, sex in public, threesome, foursoome, rough sex, red flags, immoral acts, unprotected sex, morbid jealousy, comedy, parody, possessiveness, violent quarrels, arguments, betrayals, lies, femdom sometimes.

GENRE: +18, reverse harem, comedy, enemy to lovers, friends to lovers

INDEX (Chapters order)

I'm literally covered in Sunghoon's cum, I've got it in my hair, on my face, on both my breasts, but most of all… he keeps coming out of me as he continues to fuck me. I'm bent over in front of him, he's got me by the waist and by my hair, which he's twisted around his right hand.

"Fuck, you won't be able to walk."

I just gasp as I feel him come in my stomach for the umpteenth time for several long seconds. It's amazing he's got so much of it.

He pulls it out and lets go of me. He looks at me as I collapse between his legs, then smiles.

"Are you tired? Although… - he says under breath - you left something here." He sighs and pushes his long cock towards me.

I swallow, I'm not afraid at all, in fact… After everything he's done to me in the last few hours, I've succumbed to him so much that it seems the least I can do is return the favour.

"How does it… - I ask, rising weakly before crawling towards him - still be hard." "It's always this way because of you." He replies amusedly, stroking my head gently, letting a strand of my hair slip through his fingers.

I am now on my knees in front of him, taking his cock in my mouth, first helping myself with my hand, but then he moves his wrist and looks at me seriously as I raise my eyes to his in confusion. I can't do it without a little help at first.

"Shit. - He swears, biting his lip as he looks down at me. - You're so beautiful."

"Open sesame" I hear, wanting to please him even more. I take him in my mouth, wrapping my tongue around his thickness as much as I can and start to move my head more confidently.

"Ah… yes, clean it all up."

Even when he talks dirty, he doesn't use any swear words, he's never vulgar. He called me slut several times when we were not fucking, rather than during it. It's almost as if I have to earn that.

I start to go deeper and deeper, although it is really difficult for me because of his size. The more he moans, the more I am spurred on to continue and improve, I want him to go mad again, this time because of me.

"You like it so much, don't you? No… you're not tired yet. F-fuck…."

I realise I'm choking because I'm going too fast. I try to pull it out, to keep him from getting in the back of my throat and choking me, but all his cum ends up on my tongue and part of my lips.

I raise my eyes, he stares at me, even though he's just come for the umpteenth time, I pull my tongue out to show him what he's done, then I swallow it and he rolls his eyes in surprise. I lick my lips, too, to collect it all.

"Shit… shit, I'm going to have a heart attack, Amanda!" He shouts in surprise.

I manage to smile before collapsing on the floor, brain dead. He bends down, grabs my shoulders, lets me lean against him and for several minutes nothing happens.

He just lets me rest against him.

"You… you did well." He tells me after a while. "You're the worst…" I pant, but I cling to him. He does the same with his arm, pulling me close. "I know."

I don't know how much time passes, all I know is that eventually he lifts me up and holds me like a bride.

"Come on, let's take a shower."

This is how it really happens. All the while, in the not-so-clear showers of the women's changing room at the ice rink, Sunghoon rubs me with the sponge he took out of his duffel bag.

The water running over me is very warm, I feel really relaxed, I don't even have to move as he takes care of gently massaging and lathering every inch of my body. I feel really exhausted, it's been so intense it doesn't seem real.

For a while it really did feel like the last time.

I try to distract myself, but I don't even want to count the times he came between Wonyoung and me today. It's scary, not human, unnatural.

But I don't even want to think about it too much, I like feeling his chest when I rest my neck on his, I like how, even though he doesn't kiss me directly, he keeps resting his lips on my shoulders, on my back, while his still-bearded cock presses against my back.

"Are you all right?" I ask in a whisper. He smiles, but not sarcastically as usual. "Why? Are you worried about me?" "That sounds like the answer of someone who is fine."

We both laugh, albeit briefly, because after soaping me completely, he hugs me from behind, partially covering my face with his arms as he leans against my head.

"I wish we didn't have to come back."

Actually, I wish I did too.

I know this is the last shift, and I know that after today things will change.

I'm probably going to leave, although I don't think he's realised that yet… he looks worried.

When we get out of the shower, while he is still naked, Sunghoon covers me with several towels. He puts a bigger one over my shoulders, while with the smaller one he squeezes them a bit, to collect the excess water.

"Do you find me beautiful with my make-up off?" I ask him, before he starts blow-drying my hair. He's behind me, but we both see each other in the mirror in front of us. "No, not at all. - He replies, with the expression of someone who has done nothing wrong. - You're ugly as hell."

I honestly don't understand why he would give me such an answer, while he is obviously taking care of me, drying my hair, even putting his stupid expensive creams in it.

"I've always been told otherwise." I say. He twists his lips, I can see it. "Who?" "You don't know them." "Ah… then I don't care. - He replies almost offended. - If I don't know them, they are below my level, and certainly far from you." "You are rather jealous of a very ugly girl." "In fact, I advise you to always show your make-up around the house. Even outside, you should only show your made-up face to me."

Damn… he made me blush. When he sees that I don't react, he chuckles contentedly. Then he turns on the hairdryer and the hot air blast pampers me along with his fingers, caressing my curls and rolling them between them.

It's a good thing, because I wouldn't have known what to say.

When I am completely dry, he gives me one of his 'spare' pullover. My jumper is too wet, I risk getting sick, he says, and continues to be thoughtful….

"Are you sure there were no cams?" I ask as we leave the back of the building that leads to the car park where only Sunghoon's car is parked. "They gave me the keys to this place. I turned off the cameras myself." "That was risky." I remind him worriedly. "But nice."

I can't answer.

In the car, he even opens the door for me. He buckles me in, but doesn't look me in the eye. He's sad again, no, probably just serious - I'm fantasising too much.

We don't speak, not even after we've left. He's lost in thought, you can tell, I'm really too tired and the fear of the consequences of what happened in there makes me run away in my sleep. He notices but does not wake me.

In fact, when I opened my eyes, I did so spontaneously and noticed that the car had already stopped. Sunghoon was staring at me, as if he wanted to say something, but I didn't think he would.

We looked at each other for a few seconds and then looked away.

"You're awake." "I'm sorry…" "I didn't let you sleep so your sorry." I remain silent, bowing my head in respect. "Thank you for what you said to me today. - I say, even though my voice is shaking. - I, however, can't… I can't say that I have forgiven you. Sorry." He sneers, unbelieving, wistful. "You're sorry because you can't forgive me?" "I'm sorry… because I'm so guilty myself." "Things will change, you know? - He looks at me, finally, and I look back. - Things…" "Please. I… I am an engene before I am your host! - I find the courage to say, even though I can barely stand the game of glances, collapsing like an amateur. - What I want more than anything is for you to shine as you deserve. I need that. Please, please, Heeseung… and you… should be friends! - I take both his hands and shake them. - Heeseung is lonely and you know that. There are things you'll never be able to do that Heeseung can… but there are things you'll always be the best at because you don't even have to force yourself to do them.

Sunghoon gives me a serious, unyielding look, then swallows.

"I won't give up on you." "I'll be leaving soon."

His gaze changes, damn it, and it's frightening how quickly.

"What do you mean?" "I don't… - I push my hands away, a little scared. - I can't stay." "You want Heeseung to pay the debt? I told you, I can do it too, but if Hybe finds out, will send you to….. I don't know, Mexico!"

I laugh, but I'm actually too sad. Does he still think about Heeseung? He's really obsessed with him, maybe even in love. And here I was hoping he was with Suno…..

"No, Sunghoon. I… c-c-consider that I should stop working with you."

This time, his expression doesn't just frighten me, it completely petrifies me. I am truly scary by his dark gaze, at this time of night, locked in his car in the building's car park.

"Do you want to go to TXT?" "Are you… are you joking, right?" "What the hell do you think would happen if you left?" "I'm in too deep. - I admit, looking him in the eye even though I'm literally shaking. - If my presence can cause damage to something that is very important to me… I… have few things I care about very much. If I could go back…" "You like Enhypen more than fucking them?" "What a gentleman you are. - I comment disgustedly, he smiles amusedly, but quickly turns serious again. - Anyway, yes, it's possible." "If you're asking my opinion - he says after a while - I think you're better off shagging people I've known long enough. You're in the wrong business now, it'll take a while to get out of it and it won't be easy to shut those TXT fuckers up, but… it can be done. Wash your dirty laundry at home, right? This will definitely cause problems, but we're all so attached to our nice things, our nice clothes, that we'll make it work." "What about me?- I ask quickly. - Should I just stand there and hope it doesn't fall apart?" "You should use this time to find out who you want."

I look at him, unable to answer.

"Even if it were me, I couldn't protect you except by keeping you close to me. I'm not strong enough, no one can do it properly. But if you stay close, it'll be easier to hide you."

I sigh, lowering my sad gaze as I nervously run my palms down my thighs. The things he says make me particularly tense, he really does speak as if he cares, and yet it still feels absurd.

"I won't choose anyone. Not now, not ever." "Then resist me and break my heart if you can. - He tells me, in the tone of advice. - But don't go anywhere."

I don't know what to say, I feel like I could cry at any moment, but he doesn't give me the time. He strokes my cheek and kisses me one last time, his kisses are so warm, the warmth spreads slowly but intensely through my body, and to say he is such a block of ice is usually the wrong thing to say.

"Shall we go?" I ask, the second he pulls away from me. I know my question has offended him, but I did it on purpose, I wanted him to stop. "Are you in a hurry?" He asks annoyed. "The longer we stay here, the less… I want to come back." "You want to stay with me? That's fine, we can even sleep outside, I'll book a room." "I-I didn't say that. - I stammer, embarrassed and a little offended. - Stop please, ok?" "Pick me, Amanda." I laugh, nervously. "You'll get tired of this before I do that."

He doesn't answer right away, I don't know what his expression is because I'm not looking at him.

"Want to bet?" He just asks, taking the keys out of the ignition of the car, which turns off.

I don't dare answer. We got out of the car in silence, he followed me, then we got into the lift. It was late at night. Neither of us had anything more to say, or perhaps we both preferred to remain silent at that moment, which seemed darker than it probably was.

When we got back, Sunghoon used his keys to open the door, but he let me in first. How gallant…

I wasn't expecting it, but all six of them are sitting around the lounge table, drinking beer and soju, there are snacks on the table, but they look untouched.

As soon as I return, I look for Heeseung's eyes: I didn't find it, he looked away, almost as if he knew, as if he was avoiding me. Melancholy, later I find Jongseong's eyes, worried but also angry.

Next to him, Jake looked at me calmly, as if he expected nothing else from me. Jungwon smiles, which makes me uncomfortable, but I have to admit that smile is quite sensual. Sunoo, next to him, sips his glass of beer undisturbed, but when I look for his gaze, I find it immediately and he seems pleased. Niki, who's been on his phone almost the whole time we've been here, just looks confused and amused.

"Let's talk." Jay says.

I stop spontaneously. Sunghoon sighs behind me, then grabs my shoulders, Heeseung notices and turns around, I lower my eyes as he gently pushes me towards the low table and makes me sit on the floor.

"Let's talk." Sunghoon repeats, sitting next to me, close enough to rest the back of his thigh against mine. "We talked, we… exchanged opinions." Jay says in a rather sarcastic tone. "Without me." He reminds him of the peer next to me. "That's really funny." Riki comments, looking at them almost pitifully. Sunghoon looks at him coldly, Heeseung smiles unnerved. "It is, but let's talk about concrete things. The shift thing won't work, the council thinkers claim." The minor smiles amusedly. "Then we cancel it?" "Oh, no. That's the funny thing - Heeseung continues - they… have a pretty good idea. While Jay's dating Amanda's friend, you're dating Wonyoung, Jungwon's been dating Hanni for about two years, and Sunoo, he…. - laughs, even more nervous - he's also dating someone! He hasn't evenparticipated, but they all agree on that." "This what?" Sunghoon asks more seriously now. "Let's cancel the shifts. - He shouts with Jungwon's usual smile. - We can keep them, but you would have to give up yours and I'm sure you would never do that. Am I right?" "Explain yourself better, Jungwon." Man, that's scary, Sunghoon. "Let Amanda help us, in no particular order. With whomever she feels like, whenever she wants… - he explains, I can tell he's about to say something dangerous, he's even struggling to say the words himself, but he seems so amused that it makes me really uncomfortable. - Still, she should not refuse. Of course, if she agrees, but… that would solve everything. If we behave well and don't bother her too much, if she can't choose who to favour, everything will be fine, and it will be much more professional".

For several seconds I cannot tell if what I have just heard is an auditory hallucination. You… He didn't really say all that, did he, Jungwon?

Okay, funny. Really, ten out of ten for originalit - Sunghoon replies, grabbing my wrist and pulling me up. - We'll sleep in hotel tonight, tomorrow, if you're clear…" "You don't decide." Jungwon reminds him. Jongseong looks at us, I can see an almost imperceptible smile on his face, a mischievous grin. "Fortunately, the majority decides. Or it could just choose the leader. I don't know if that's convenient." Sunghoon looks at Heeseung, who seems completely impassive. "Aren't you going to do anything? You're the oldest!" "You don't understand the situation. - The elder answers in a whisper. - You don't decide, she does."

Sunghoon turns to me, stares at me for a long time, but I don't know what to say, so he lets go of my wrist and turns to his bandmates.

"Sunoo, what the fuck?! Why do you agree?!" The minor smiles amusedly and puts down his glass. "Why shouldn't I? Isn't it to my advantage, too? I could be a breath of fresh air for Amanda noona." Hoon doesn't seem to have expected such a reaction, he remains silent for a few seconds, then turns to Jake. "You always make the worst choices, don't you?" Jaeyun smiles, but is annoyed and quickly changes his expression. "Don't bother me. I've had enough of you and your women, I don't want boona to be one of them." "Noona?" He repeats in disbelief. "She likes to be called that. Don't you know?"

Oh. I've gone all red, this isn't the time to be embarrassed about these things, dammit!

"Sit down, Amanda." Jay says to me in his warmest voice.

Even though I know that this will break Sunghoon's heart, should he actually have one, I walk past Sunghoon after a few seconds of thinking and sit down at the table. The one who stands up is Heeseung, but also abruptly.

"Don't do it, Amanda." He tells me, it's an order. "Do you realise that if you don't, it will become more and more difficult to keep you with us? - Jungwon explains, becoming more serious, perhaps for the first time. - We… want you here, understand?" He says this as his cunning gaze squares me until I feel naked and helpless in front of him. "If we pay the debt, they'll send you to the farthest country, if we end the contract, you'll work somewhere else. - Jay continues with a sigh. - We don't want that." "If you stay here, you'll be safe." Jake finally explains, although he doesn't look at me. Jungwon bites his lips in amusement, then takes my hand in both of his and squeezes it. "You can set all the limits you want, except that… to… refuse you. Unless there are medical problems, of course! - He reassures me, as if he's talking about something completely normal. Then he shakes my hand a little more and his eyes become even more puppy-dog eyes. - After all, it's fun… and you're our fan, so I'm sure you'll enjoy it… helping us maintain our well-being."

I swallow, just hearing him talk like that makes me excited again.

"Ok, shall we make it like an opening ceremony?" Riki suggests with his sensual volatility as he gets down on his knees. "Fuck, you guys are crazy, aren't you?" Sunghoon asks with a nervous half-smile. "An opening ceremony?" Sunoo ignores him and looks at the minor. The Japanese boy begins to laugh in amusement, then lowers his gaze to his crotch, hymming something very unorthodox. "Well… all together, in the name of friendship." "Oh my God." Jay comments in disgust. Sunoo bursts out laughing, as does Jungwon, although for a few seconds he turns and looks at me strangely. "Let's do it, come on." Jake is speechless. "You… oh my… that's disgusting. You're a fucking child!" "I'm not!" Riki replies curtly.

Heeseung stares at him for several seconds, his gaze is icy, it sends shivers down my spine, but not only that… Then he turns to Sunghoon, the two of them staring at each other in silence, but I lower my gaze, intimidated.

"Amanda will sleep with Sunoo tonight." Heeseung says, massaging the space between his eyebrows as he tries to stay calm. "After the ceremony?" The unconscious Niki asks. "Say it again. - Heeseung raises his voice and looks menacingly at the maknae. - Look at Sunghoon's face, I'll make it much worse for you." "Come on, why don't do it, hyung?" The younger man replied. "It's still my turn. - Sunghoon says seriously, interrupting them thankfully, because Heeseung doesn't seem to be joking at all. - I want to finish it off." "I haven't had a full twenty-four hours either, get over it." Jay replies. "No problem for me, I can accommodate her before or after the ceremony." Sunoo laughs. "Amanda, the advice I gave you. Forget it." Sunghoon says behind my back. "What advice?" Jungwon asks curiously. "I changed my mind, completely. It was nonsense, you'll go to China or somewhere else." "What advice?" Heeseung asks in a darker tone. "Let's do it." I say suddenly.

They are all silent for a few seconds, I have a tired look on my face.

"Are you kidding? - Heeseung shouts. - I said I'll pay. I said I'll take care of it." "You don't have to do that. - I say with an edge in my voice. - I have nothing to do with you, look at me. - I'm being rhetorical. - I did it with Sunghoon and also with…. Niki. Why would you… it's humiliating for you. Don't do it. It's not worth it…"

I can't bring myself to meet his gaze, afraid his expression could easily tear my heart apart. I'm a bad person, whether he's that bad or not, he should know.

"Did you do it with Yeonjun and Soobin?" He asks me, as if it matters in any way. I don't answer right away, everyone stares at me, Riki laughs. "Go ahead, answer." Sunghoon urges me not so gently. "No… but what does it matter?"

Heeseung sighs and looks almost relieved. Sunghoon and Jay seem to do the same.

"It does matter." The three repeat with a dazed expression. "Glad you trusted her instead of asking who was there." He remembers Riki, who I look at confused, no, scared. Heeseung looks at him and purses his lips. "Yes, I believe her." "And you do well, Hyung. I would never let them do to her what I would have done to her."

Heeseung quick to violence, at least that's what I could see, but he still stops, perhaps because the one in front of him is still his maknae, the youngest. But the look he gives him… it's hard to describe how much fear he gives me.

"So… shall we officially end the fifth round?" Jungwon suggests. "Let's do it." Sunoo smiles and looks at Sunghoon, who for some reason can't answer in front of him. Jay swallows, struggling. He looks at Jungwon, he knows him very well, he seems annoyed by his behaviour. "Should we?" "Why should she sleep with Sunoo? Shouldn't she be able to choose where she sleeps?" Jake asks, already assuming that the fifth round will indeed end here. "Do you think she would sleep with you?" Riki teases him, sitting on the floor leaning on his palms.

Jungwon bursts out laughing and puts a hand on Jake's shoulder to stop him from getting up and hitting him. Sunoo just laughs, I'm just in shock.

"Do you want to, Noona? - Jungwon comes up to my ear and willingly places his lips on it. - Tomorrow we'll make all the rules, but tonight… are you ready? Has Sunghoon taken your strength?"

The way he whispers in my ear, the way his voice spreads through my brain, awakening primal instincts, immediately throws me off track.

As I try to hold my breath (I don't even know why), he notices and laughs.

"I… I don't… I don't think… " Jay has been watching us for a while, he's obviously annoyed. "Jungwon, what are you doing?"

Sunghoon approaches and notices, maybe because he's done nothing but watch Heeseung so far. He abruptly pulls Jungwon away and Jungwon resents it, Heeseung also approaches us and I involuntarily lower my shoulders as if to make myself smaller. I don't know what's going on and I'm afraid of what might happen.

"Ouch, hyung! I'm smaller but bigger. Don't make me angry." He says this in a joking tone, but he seems to be seriously annoyed. "I'd like to… sleep here." I admit, trying to restore order. "No, that's no good." Riki says, as if he had no obvious second ends.

Heeseung sighs, makes space between us and then grabs my arm with such force that it lifts me up, I'm scared, I admit, it's starting to scare me, it hurts. I don't like it. Sunghoon just did the same thing, but he was gentler.

I can tell he's really nervous, I don't like it at all.

As I stand up, I pull my arm away from his grasp just as abruptly, and he looks me in the eye, seemingly angry, but then seems to turn away unarmed, betraying some concern. Sunghoon lifts the sleeve of his sweatshirt, which I'm still wearing, to see if he's left a mark on me, but Heeseung looks away in annoyance.

"Let's talk for a moment, please." "Wait until tomorrow then." Sunghoon reminds him. "He can't even talk to me when she wants to?" The younger man glares at him; I never said I wanted to, but he takes it for granted. "Not on my shift." "It's not your shift anymore, haven't you heard?"

I sigh tiredly, I can't take it anymore, this day seems to never end. I look at Sunoo, he is smiling but I can still see some annoyance in his expression.

"I think noona is uncomfortable. - He says in a cheerful but mischievous tone. - Should she sleep with me? Do you want to, noona?" "Y-Yes." I nod quickly. "You don't even want to talk to me?" Sunghoon asks me.

I scamper ridiculously between them, standing behind the backs of Jay and Jungwon, who don't move and remain in front of me.

"I-I just want my phone."

Sunghoon remains speechless, Heeseung starts to laugh out loud.

"Go to sleep, both of you." Jay sighs. Jungwon goes up to his ear and covers his mouth from the side of the two bandmates, letting me see what he's about to say as he looks at me amusedly out of the corner of his eye. "Shouldn't he sleep with you? After all, you are the most serious of us, and Sunoo is younger."

I swallow and look down, pretending not to have heard, even though it's obvious that I have. I've heard everything and I don't even despise the idea… but it's not out of any ulterior motives, it's just that for some reason I think Sunoo has it in for me, and I also think that the only person I could talk to about how I feel is Jay, only he, maybe… would be willing to listen to me.

"No way." Heeseung replies. "Jay hyung is dating with his friend, nothing will happen." Jungwon reassures them, rightly in my opinion. "No way." The eldest repeats, looking his dongsaeng, who has the serious and unyielding look as if they were the same age. "You don't decide that, she does." Jay sighs and turns to me. "Really… don't you want to talk to me" Sunghoon asks me, seriously, no, even wistfully. I swallow, swallowing the lump in my throat and trying to fight the urge to cry. "I just wish… it wasn't a competition. I can talk to anyone."

Sunghoon does not answer me, but takes a step back and literally leaves the room to go to his room. Judging by the silence that follows, I don't think I'm the only one surprised by his behaviour.

"Oh, how cute - Heeseung sneers, although he has such an icy stare when he looks at me - did you delude him?" I lower my eyes, not sure if I did anything like that, but I know he is offended and disappointed to me and that makes me sad. "It's none of your business." "I apologised for earlier, but now we need to talk."

I still sigh, I can't deny him, but I'm still worried about Sunghoon. He left in a strange way, looking so nervous.

"N-no, you didn't. But I'd like to say something…'' - I try to steady myself as all eyes are on me - I… I hope this won't be misunderstood, but… couldn't we just finish the shift? Things will be different tomorrow and we're definitely not going to do anything tonight, but c-couldn't we create any more…"

Only now do I realise how stupid I am, that Sunghoon only went to get my phone back to me, instead I just blew it out of proportion, feeling really guilty and sad for him. I was so embarrassed that I immediately shut up.

Sunghoon looks at me, I look at him too, but only for a second, then I look down in embarrassment. I know Heeseung isn't happy with my words, but I don't want him to win… again.

I see the ice prince cover his face with one hand as he shrugs his shoulders, offended (maybe even embarrassed?), and then puts my phone back in his pocket. Jay sighs tiredly, Jungwon laughs but is nervous.

"We can't do this. The situation is already borderline". Jay says annoyed. "You will end up to fuck again if you spend the evening together." Jaeyun comments, sitting at the table, staring at us, resting his face in the palm of his hand. "W-What difference does it make? We've already done it and then… I honestly don't think he'd want to, knowing that I've agreed to the terms of the new contract." I explain, very uncomfortably. "Yes indeed, mind your own business." Sunghoon replies. "That's a nice way to get back at you - Heeseung says then, taking me by the wrist gently this time - but now, let's talk."

He takes me to the kitchen so fast they can't stop him, then we go to the balcony, his grip tightening all the way, careful not to hurt me.

"Do you like him now? Has he told you that he's willing to do anything and usual shit for you? "I look at him annoyed, but I can't take much more. "Would you stop it? And by the way, you say that shit too". "Why do you believe him and not me?" He raises his voice and lets go of my wrist. "Heeseung, it's… it's nothing, it means nothing. Let's finish the shift, so it's all even, no… no hard feelings." "You just want to be with him." He says in a deep, scary tone. I swallow and pull away. "No, Heeseung. I want to stay away from both of you. However…" "Then just talk to him tonight. Don't sleep with him." "Will that change anything? From tomorrow I'll be at the mercy of everyone!" I raise my voice, this time looking into his eyes, but he remains cold, unyielding. "I will fight every second to prevent you from spending another minute with Sunghoon. I don't fear anyone, Amanda - he tells me with an air of conviction and threat - but of him yes. I know you can't help wanting him, I just want to limit the damage. If I have to suffer to have you, he has to suffer too.

I smile, not because I am amused, but because hi answer, his speech, really frightened me, made me insecure and nervous. He sounds serious, he sounds sincere, but there is no reason why he should be.

"If I don't have you in the end - he says again, lowering his tone further, "he won't have you either, Amanda." "You… you have to stand by him." I reply. Heeseung stares at me blankly for several seconds, then smiles pitifully. "What?" "You're friends, you have to be, do… d-do it for your music, for your dream! Don't waste your light on me… I… I'm not enough… - I say and my voice shakes, it comes out irregularly. - I just want you two to be friends, to protect each other, I… I would give anything to make things right between you. I admit as huge tears fall from my eyes.

Heeseung stands like a fool in front of my tears, unable to speak, but then sighs as if embarrassed and hugs me, avoiding looking at me directly. He is… warm. His body is very warm and comfortable, although I think his heart is very cold right now.

I didn't think it would hurt so much to know that I had failed him.

"It's not your fault, don't worry about such things."

Letting him embrace me like that, almost in public, makes me feel worried, I fear every second that Sunghoon might see us and continue with the scenes, but just like with him, I cannot refuse Heeseung. His touch, his smell, his body, I am completely helpless.

He is always so sweet, even though there are sides of him that obviously frighten me. Who is the real Heeseung? And is there really someone else?

But why does he make me feel so special?

He doesn't give up anything for me, but it's like he's fighting with the whole world.

"I'm s-serious, Heeseung. I care more about your music… than you." Despite saying this, the boy continues to hug me as he sighs tiredly. "So if we become friends, will you choose me?" "You're not listening to me!" I reply, pulling away. But he squeezes me harder, forcing me to hide my face on his broad chest. "No, I've got it all worked out. You just need to leave it to me." "I don't think you understand."

Heeseung pulls away after a few dozen seconds in which I could feel his heartbeat quickening as a pain so intense, a burning sensation that radiated from his chest throughout his body, tore through me. Now he looks at me, still cold, but now also tired. He still strokes my arm, even though we are far apart.

"Sorry about earlier…" He whispers, sounding remorseful to me. I shake my head in embarrassment. "N-never mind. Thanks for apologising." "I didn't think I was that strong."

Heeseung looks at me again, caressing my face with the back of his fingers, he looks worried but I can't tell if he really is.

"Sunghoon… Did he tell you about the video?" "What video?" The boy blinks in displeasure, but still doesn't seem friendly. "Ah, I thought so. Get it from him." "Since you know… w-why don't you tell me?" His eyes aren't tired, they look completely drained, I shiver. "Because he has to pay a price if he wants to spend this night with you. - Then he comes close to my ear and sighs. - But we can be friends, really. I will, for you."

I am speechless. I don't know what to say, but I have a bad feeling. Heeseung doesn't want to tell me, he seems happy to have given the task to the minor. A video… there's usually nothing good in videos.

In the midst of all this, my heart exploded.

"How many saw it ? What video is it, Heeseung?" He walks up to me and kisses my forehead, the gesture so warm that it shuts me up again. "I'll take care of it, don't worry. Not everyone knows, don't worry… Jungwon is young and a bit crazy, but Jay keeps him calm. I'll take care of it".

I swallow, what the hell am I supposed to say? I don't understand, my head is spinning. Really, maybe I'm at my limit, maybe Sunghoon hasn't left me any strength to hold on and cope.

I fainted, totally. I can't see anything, but I'm not going to fall, I'm sure of that.

I don't know what's happening, I don't know how much time is passing, but when I wake up, I'm in Sunghoon's room and I don't understand. I was with Heeseung before, right? The owner of the room is watching me, and when he notices that I'm awake, he approaches me and touches my forehead with the palm of his hand.

"Are you all right?" "Ah… yeah, I think I got dizzy." Sunghoon doesn't answer immediately, but sighs. "You literally fainted." I look at him in silence, suddenly remembering Heeseung's words and stiffening. "How did I get here?" "Never mind." He replies more seriously, as if he has just remembered that he was angry with me.

His back is to me as he opens the wardrobe, takes off his jumper and remains shirtless, carefully tucking the jumper into the dirty laundry basket. I can't help looking at it, man… you never get tired of looking at something perfect.

No, Amanda! Stop it!

As he takes off his trousers too, but puts them back in the cupboard, I sprint to the bed and cover my face with both hands as I see his… I've never seen him look so good, but he's got a really nice bum!

"Come on! Don't c-change in front of me!" "You're kidding, right?" He replies annoyed. "Go to hell, Park Sunghoon." I say involuntarily. He gets irritated. "What did you and Heeseung talk about?"

I don't answer immediately, I want to ask him something first. He seemed to understand, even though I didn't speak, and then I looked away.

"Why do you have such a useless room?" "Useless? - He asks me offended. - You have it wrong, the word is 'tidy', you need an overhaul." "Is it because of what you told me at the ice rink?" "Why are you suddenly so curious?" "I want to ask you things because I may never get the chance again." I explain. "What are you talking about? - He raises his voice and comes towards me after pulling on a pair of baggy trousers, the fabric of which is so thin it looks transparent, beige in colour, and which fall damn well on his long legs. - Where are you going? You said you accepted, you…" "I've accepted, but I hope I never get to this level of intimacy with anyone again." I sigh, uncertain. "Oh yeah? Then why should I answer? - He says, looking at me reluctantly as he slowly buttons his pyjama jacket, the same colour and fabric as his trousers. - You just lied all the time and you enjoyed it. That was what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Sunghoon… that really seems to be him.

"Exactly." I nod sadly.

That's not true, I didn't lie, I tried not to expose myself and him, I tried my best to restrain myself, to deny and hold back, but Sunghoon didn't notice, and that makes me sad, even though it shouldn't.

"Stop it, stop it now." He tells me seriously. I look up… he's handsome, even in his pyjamas. "What?" "You can't really… say you didn't feel anything."

I swallow, we didn't talk about it directly, he didn't ask me, but… if I stop caring about him, that's good. That's what I want, for both of us.

"How… how did you know I was… t-touched for you?"

He blanches, growing more serious but also more nervous as he tightens his lips in annoyance, his beautiful eyes narrowing on me.

"When was I going to say that?" "Think about it." I answer him.

He swallows and remains silent. Then suddenly he sits down on the bed, facing me, staring at me.

"I didn't tell you so you wouldn't… get hurt. I'll take care of it… so you don't have to worry. - He says this with a solemn air, he understands the gravity of what has happened, he doesn't even touch me because he can see from my gaze that now is not the time. - Think about it, he didn't wait a second to tell you! It won't come out, you have to believe me, you shouldn't have known". "I shouldn't have known?!" I raise my voice, stunned. "So you're just going to get sick! You're already so nervous, I didn't want to put you through this." "Sunghoon, I'm not a child you have to protect! - I remind him, and he gets even grumpier (he looks like the child now). - These things are so important, you can't think of excluding me voluntarily! I… oh my God, there's a video of me like this? And I'm alone, aren't I? So… oh fuck". I say, curling up into a ball and covering my face with my hands as I make moaning, shocked noises. "I… - He tries to put his hand on my shoulder, but suddenly, uncomfortably, decides not to. - T-Told you, you don't need to worry." "Tell me what happened….. Sunghoon…"

He sighs, obviously not wanting to talk about it. I don't know if I should understand his decisions… they are so arrogant, but basically kind. No, it's disrespectful - and yet… why do I feel he meant well?

"Jungwon has a video in wich… - he looks up embarrassed and I can't believe he has the courage to be embarrassed in such a context - you… you touch yourself, for me, clearly". "I understood that too me…" "Well, he won't publish it, he just wanted to scare us. - He sighs and lowers his face. - He knows we'll do anything to get him."

I put my hands back to my hair, how embarrassing, how pathetic, but most of all….

"Why the hell does he have cameras in the room?" "I wish I could find out too… I'm so angry that he saw a moment like that. - He comments in a very nervous but distracted tone. - You touched yourself for me, I should have the video! "I didn't touch myself for you!" I remind him, because suddenly that seems to be the important thing, not the possibility of completely and permanently destroying my reputation. "Don't lie. You're so perverted…" He laughs.

I slap his arm, slowly but quickly, I don't want to hurt him but I want him to understand that I want to do it to him. He laughs again, then stops and stares at me, realising he has been smiling too long, he suddenly becomes serious again.

"Look, I'm sorry, but Jungwon is a good guy. It's just that…" "He hurt your face." I reply, just finishing his sentence, not feeling sorry for him, looking at the wound on his mouth that I've deliberately ignored so far. He nods. "Exactly, we screwed up. But nothing will happen, tomorrow I'll make sure it's erased, but tonight is… the last night." "I don't want to d-do it anymore. I'm tired." I explain, hastily and lyingly.

Even if I wanted to, I'm still angry. The fact that he wanted to protect me isn't enough, can't be enough.

"That's not what I meant… you're really perverted." I hit him again. "Stop it." My tone is serious. "So… Heeseung told you about the video, but didn't explain anything, leaving me with the thankless job." "It would have been nice if you two didn't take it as a game." Serious comment. "I told you to trust me." "He did too.- I force a smile. - But I'm still not quiet." "Not enough? - He says. - Everything I've told you, what I've done, even though we've known each other for such a short time… isn't it enough?"

I look at him in silence, even angrier, but I can't think of anything to say at the moment. Sunghoon, seeing me so transparent, smiles softly, but I can tell he's sad too.

"I'm not clear either, I can only say I'll do my best to protect you. But you can only trust me, I have no other way to prove it." "Please… don't use this video against me. Not now, not in the future, no matter what happens. C-Can you promise?"

Caught, he's speechless. That means he's seriously thinking about it, and I don't know whether to be happy or not.

"Of course, who do you think I am? - Sigh. - You should tell Heeseung." "Stop talking about him." I reply annoyed. "Stop telling me to." He replies again before pulling me into his arms and throwing himself onto his bed.

I can't even struggle at the moment, he's stretched out tiredly. He's holding me so tightly I can't even move, but he's made himself comfortable and even rests his chin on my head, breathing exhaustedly.

"This really won't be the last time." He tells me, although he seems to be talking to himself.

What should I do? What could I say? Even now I feel sad, and I'm pretty sure it's not because of the video. I like to close my eyes in his arms, I like the smell of his skin, so fresh.

"Stop saying… such things." "Sleep and shut up." "Are you… going to sleep like that?" "I said shut up. - He says, making himself more comfortable and holding me. - I'm sleepy."

[lunarruled]

Hearing Daryl tell her that he doubted he would ever get tired of her didn't exactly put to rest the voice in her head that told her that everyone got tired of her at some point, but it did quiet it down enough for her to enjoy their meal together. He didn't start immediately choking on the food either so that let her know that he wasn't lying about it being okay. Not that she thought he lied about anything when it came to her but it was her own mind that twisted every single good thing around that came her way. Since she didn't know how to reply to what he said she just nodded quickly, a desire to melt into the ground consuming her by the seconds.

She couldn't exactly say why but it was different now that they were back home. True it was just the two of them in the house but it felt like everyone was just right outside the windows, watching their every move. That wasn't the case, but out in that cabin it truly had felt like freedom. Telling herself that she just had to push all of that nonsense out of her mind and enjoy this rare moment of domestic normalcy with Daryl, the half lycan relaxed her shoulders and let out a deep breath (without trying to spit food everywhere).

At the mention of his bed not being that small here she giggled, her hand immediately coming up to muffle the sound. "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at that! Just remembering how uncomfortable you looked back at the cabin when we squeezed into that bed together. Although you did keep me nice and warm all night." Her own face was bright as a tomato as she snuck a glance over at him. She had been too bashful that night to attempt a move, but maybe the next time (which would hopefully be very soon) she would work up the courage. "You know, I keep coming around and people might start to talk. Would that bother you?" It had started out as a tease but she really did want to know. Not that it was anyone's business what happened between them, but the last thing Kyleigh wanted was to make Daryl feel uncomfortable in his own home.

"I doubt I'd ever get tired'a ya," he admitted before he could stop himself. He slowed his bite and gave a cautious glance her way. He feigned interest in his food a moment as he picked through it.

He was glad when she started digging in too. It kept the rising embarrassment at bay. Somehow it was different at home than out at his cabin. He felt freer without the added pressure of the rest of the community around - whether or not they were really around or not.

"Ya know ya don't have ta have a reason ta come 'round," he continued almost shyly, pushing past his worries. He'd already confessed his feelings. Could he really damage what they had by opening up more? "I'll have just 'cuz," he added with a half smirk. "N'here tha bed ain't so small," he only half-joked, turning his attention back to his food so she wouldn't see the soft heat starting to color his cheeks.