#pls just take this before i explode

[sch4r4]

Dream bubble ghosting

[litchi-tea]

I've only had Enele for a day but if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone in Teyvat and then myself.

[avocado62524]

Rise and grind, book club! I've got a new rec for us.

Please read this fanfic. I love it a lot

[alligaytorswamp]

stupid mo dao zi shi and its stupid ass devastating story

[mattsmunch]

── ⋆｡𖦹 ! friends? - m.s

MEAN!matt stunriolo x fem!reader

✎: “ fuck, that’s it ma, take what’s yours,"

ᝰ.ᐟ WC: 6.8k

⚠︎: matt is an asshole in this i apologize, MEANdom!matt x CRYBABYsub!reader, SMUT, unprotected p in v (wrap it up pls), oral (m! receiving), slightly public?? (if you squint), FWB!, and more..

⟢ REQUESTED?: no! request r open tho :)

⟢ AUTHORS NOTE: THIS IS AN ORIGINAL STORYLINE. i DONT allow any copying, "inspiration" or plagiarism. NOT proof read, sorry for any typos :,) + potential part two to this, lmk if you’d like that :3

ᝰ.ᐟ

the hot tears streamed down your face like a river as you frantically pushed your way through the crowded hallway, the press of warm bodies making the path forward arduous. the thundering bass of the blaring music was so loud it felt like your head was going to explode.

with a huff, you scurried past the long line of people waiting for the bathroom and began desperately banging on the door, your fists striking the chipped wood hard.

the irritated voice of the stranger behind the door called out from within, “hey, ease up on the door, man.”

you force the door open, causing the stranger to stumble back with a disgruntled scoff, shoving past you with a huff. you disregard the shouted protests of the rowdy, intoxicated frat kids as you quickly slam the door shut and lock it tight.

gripping the grimy counter top, you ignore the sticky residue that stains your hands as you break down into tears, the sobs muffled by the roaring music that blares through the walls of the house. the red lighting accentuates the glossy sheen of your wet eyes.

you gaze into the mirror, taking in the sight of yourself with your mascara streaming down your cheeks, ruining the painstakingly applied smokey eye you had spent practically hours perfecting. it was a look Matt had complimented, and now it was ruined. the red smudge of your lipstick, thanks to the half-hearted kiss Matt planted on your mouth before pulling you into the frat house, only adds to the mess. you shake your head in annoyance, letting out a contemptuous scoff.

“you’re a fucking idiot,” you mutter under your breath, realizing just how foolish you had been. the sweet words Matt had whispered to you after his tongue had explored parts of your body no one else had, just hours ago, now sounded like honeyed lies.

your pity party is suddenly interrupted as several loud bangs echo against the flimsy bathroom door, causing you to jump in surprise. the last forceful blow finally causes the door to crack open, revealing the familiar eyes, a shade so dark that you struggle to discern their usual color. the owner of those eyes stares down at you with a furious glare that instantly makes you shrink.

his jaw is set in a tight scowl as he storms inside the small bathroom, yelling out profanities for the people in the hallway to "get lost." the door shuts behind him with a firm slam, creating a resounding echo.

you watch his every move like a hawk, your chest heaving rapidly as he advances towards you. your legs instinctively propel you backwards until your back is firmly pressed against the cold surface of the bathroom counter.

“what’s with the dramatics?” he spits out, placing both of his hands on either side of you and gripping the counter with such force that his knuckles are turning white, even in the dim red lighting.

you choke out a bewildered response, sniffling as you attempt to blink away the tears.

"w-what? i-"

he cuts you off, throwing a hand up towards your face with a frustrated huff. "why the hell are you crying, y/n?"

as you ignore him, your teeth dig into your lip as your gaze drifts to the ground, the image of him holding the girl’s hips against his own imprinted in your mind. it’s the same way he was holding you that very morning, and the memory only makes the tears well up in your eyes. you suck in a deep, shuddering breath, wrapping your arms around yourself in a desperate attempt to find some comfort.

Matt groans, his fingers slowly gripping your jaw and forcefully tilting your head up to look at him. his voice drips with fake concern as he asks, "why are you crying, angel?"

his thumb gently brushes against your cheek, catching a stray tear and wiping it away. your bottom lip trembles as you look at his face, his features deliberately softened to match his sickly sweet tone. for a moment, you're almost fooled by it. almost.

you grab Matt's wrist and forcefully pull it away from your face as you turn back towards the mirror, blinking away your tears and bristling with anger.

he sighs, placing his hand gently on your hip and leaning his head into your shoulder, his lips brushing against the skin behind your ear. "talk to me," he coaxes in a soft voice, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your hip.

"i have nothing to say to you," you mutter petulantly, attempting to shrug him off your neck but only causing his grip on your hip to tighten forcefully.

Matt's patience snaps as he fumes, "i asked you a damn question. answer me."

you lick your lips, tasting the salty tears that ran over them only moments ago. sighing as your eyes fill with tears, again.

"you... you kissed her," you stammer out, your voice quivering as you stare back at him through the mirror's reflection. his eyes dart around your face for a minute before he slowly forces you to turn around, his hand gently cupping your face once again.

"why did you kiss her, Matt?" you murmur, your voice dripping with insecurity. his eyes slowly roam over your face, a small sinister smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he listens to your words. each syllable that passes through your lips digs your heart deeper into your chest.

Matt licked his lips softly as a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "it didn't mean anything, angel, you know that," he cooed in a soft tone, his tongue clicking against his teeth as you shook your head and swallowed your tears.

"doesn’t matter, Matt. you kissed her. in front of me!" you exclaimed, practically whining as your tears continued to roll down your face, landing on the hand he was using to cup your cheeks.

"c'mere, ma," he whispered gently, pulling your face towards his as he pressed his lips against yours.

the kiss starts as a gentle, reassuring gesture, but quickly escalates into a desperate, frenzied exchange of teeth and tongue. your fingers weave through his brown curls, tugging at them as he hoists you up by your hips and places you on the dusty counter. in the heat of the moment, you forget about the dirty surface and pull him in closer, determined to prove a point through this kiss. you need to show him that you're the only one he needs, just as he's the only one you need.

your tears and the taste of alcohol create an intoxicating mix as you desperately cling to each other, Matt pulling away with a deep, guttural groan.

your breath hitches as you look into his eyes, the weight of his question sinking in. despite his actions just moments ago, his gaze is now filled with a sense of ownership that both scares and intrigues you.

you slowly nod your head, your voice coming out in a whisper as you reply, "always been yours, Matt." my lip stick is smudge around his mouth, the dark color of it sticking out in the lighting.

his smile widens at your response, his grip on your chin tightening ever so slightly as he leans in to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck.

"damn right you are," he mutters against your skin, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along the sensitive skin.

his kisses send shivers down your spine, your breath hitching as his lips find their way to your earlobe. he gently nips at the skin there, leaving a faint mark as he whispers into your ear, "you belong to me y/n. only me."

your heart skips a beat at his possessive tone, his words stirring something deep within you. you find yourself nodding again, whispering back, "only yours, Matt."

he hums in approval, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you closer.

he pulls you off the counter, placing a firm hand on your shoulder and slowly pushing you down to the tiled floor. his words are laced with a possessive edge as he asks, "gonna show me, hm? show me whose you are?"

your bare knee makes contact with the rough bathmat on the floor, the hard spots creating a slight discomfort. but your thoughts are quickly discarded as you hear the sound of Matt unzipping his jeans, your gaze darting up to meet his. your hands reflexively settle on his thighs, your eyes never leaving his as you anticipate what's to come.

Matt's intense blue eyes bore into yours as he slowly lowers his zipper, revealing the tantalizing V-shape leading down to his groin. his large hands grasp your slender shoulders, fingers digging in possessively.

“there she is…my beautiful girl" he rasps, voice thick with lust. “always look so pretty on your knees for me."

he fists a hand in your hair, guiding your face closer to his cock until you can feel the heat radiating off his skin. the musky scent of his own arousal fills your nostrils, making your head spin.

Matt tilts your chin up with a finger, forcing you to meet his heated gaze. a smirk plays at the corner of his sensual lips as he takes in your flushed cheeks and parted mouth.

"i've been thinking about these sweet lips wrapped around my dick all day," he growls lowly. "been imagining fucking that tight little throat until you're choking on my cum."

his grip on your hair tightens, holding you firmly in place as he rubs the leaking tip of his cock over your closed lips. pre-cum smears across your soft skin, marking you as his.

"do you want it, baby? want me to stuff that pretty little mouth full of my cock?" Matt taunts, grinding himself against your face. "c’mon, show me how much better than her you are."

you swallow hard, feeling yourself flush even hotter at Matt's dirty words. you part your lips slightly, letting your warm breath ghost over his swollen tip.

“please Matt...need it so bad- wanna taste you, make you feel good.” you look up at him through your lashes, e/c eyes dark with desire.

the ache between your legs and the need to prove his statement correct has you feeling very bold, sticking out your tongue and licking a slow stripe up the underside of Matt's shaft, savoring the salty tang of his pre-cum. your tongue circles the tip, lapping up every drop before opening wide and taking him into the wet heat of your mouth.

Matt groans, hips jerking forward as your warm mouth envelops him. he watches, transfixed, as your plump lips stretch around his girth, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

"that's it- take it all like a good girl," he encourages, fingers tightening in your hair. "fuck, your mouth always feels s’good..."

he starts thrusting shallowly, not pushing too deep yet, letting you adjust to the size of him. each gentle pump of his hips rocks your head back slightly, sending vibrations through his length and against your tongue.

“mmmph...” you moan around his cock as he continues to gently thrust, the vibrations causing him to twitch in your mouth. your free hand slides between your legs, rubbing small circles over your clit through the damp fabric of your panties as you focus on pleasuring Matt.

"you love sucking my cock, don't you? can't get enough of tasting me," Matt teases, eyes flashing with dominance. "bet you'd let me do anything to you right now, wouldn't you, baby?"

you pull back slightly, looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and nodding eagerly. then, with a sultry smile, you take him deeper, swallowing around his thickness as you begin bobbing your head in earnest.

your nails dig into his thighs as you pick up speed, saliva dripping down your chin to mix with the precum coating your lips. the hand between your legs quickens its pace, rubbing you harder as you suck Matt off with wild abandon, determined to prove you're better than that other girl.

Matt's breath hitches as you swallow around him, the sensation of your throat muscles gripping his cock sending shivers down his spine. he leans back against the wall, one hand braced beside his head while the other tangles in your hair, urging you to take even more of him.

"that's it, fuck yeah, suck my cock just like that," he praises, voice strained with pleasure. "gonna make you take every drop of my cum, baby."

his hips start moving faster, pumping in and out of your mouth with increasing intensity. the wet sounds of your oral efforts fill the room, mingling with Matt's ragged breathing and the occasional grunt of satisfaction.

just when you think he might blow, Matt suddenly pulls out, his cock slick with saliva.

before you can protest the loss, Matt lifts you underneath your shoulders and spins you around, bending you over the edge of the sink. he swiftly bunches up the bottom of your dress he kicks your legs apart, exposing your soaked panties to the cool air.

"look at these, all wet for me already," he chuckles darkly, ripping the delicate fabric aside. "gonna fill this pussy up real good, watch." his fingers tangle in your hair and he forces your head up to look at you from behind in the mirror.

without warning, he slams into you, burying his thick cock to the hilt in one powerful thrust. you drop your head, crying out at the sudden intrusion, back arching as your body adjusts to accommodate his size.

Matt sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with animalistic ferocity. the force of his thrusts jolts you forward with each stroke, the sink creaking under the impact. your hips dig into the edge of the counter with each thrust, bruises already forming from the impact.

the pain of being stretched so abruptly gives way to intense pleasure as Matt continues to drill into you, hitting that perfect spot inside with every rough snap of his hips. your cries of discomfort morph into high-pitched whimpers of ecstasy, echoing off the tiled walls. you were entirely grateful for all the noise currently happening in the frat house.

your hands grip on the counter, knuckles white as you try to steady yourself against the relentless pounding. Matt's balls slap against your clit with each deep plunge, the lewd sound mixing with the squelch of your juices and his grunts of effort.

"fucking hell, you're so tight," Matt growls, sweat beading on his brow as he loses himself in the primal rhythm of rutting. "take it ma, take my cock like you were made for it."

Matt grips your hips tightly, pulling you back onto his cock with a harsh grunt. he yanks your head back up so you’re looking in the mirror, your reflection showing your glazed eyes, slack mouth, and the obscene sight of the small bulge in your tummy from his thick shaft plunging into your pussy.

"watch yourself getting fucked, baby," he commands, voice low and husky. "see how good i fill you up?"

with each punishing thrust, he ensures you remain locked in place, forced to witness the messy creating between your spread thighs. the mirrored glass captures every detail - the flush spreading across your chest, the way your breasts bounce in your dress with the force of his strokes, the desperate moans escaping your lips. your face is covered in a mixture of sweat, tears, mascara and saliva.

Matt reaches around and yanks the front of your dress down, your breast immediately spilling out giving him access to pinch and roll your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to your core. "that's it, look at how my cock stretches you open,"

he punctuates his words with a particularly hard slam, making you gasp and your eyes widen in the mirror. his hand leaves your breast to trail down your stomach, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he spreads you wider, giving himself an unobstructed view of where they're joined.

"fuckin’ love seeing my cock disappear into your tight little cunt," Matt rasps, thumb circling your clit in time with his thrusts. "you were made for this, weren't you? for taking my cock and loving every second of it."

the combination of his dirty talk, the sting of his touch, and the relentless pounding sends you hurtling towards climax. Your inner walls clench around him, trying to milk his cock for all it's worth as you teeter on the brink, desperate for release.

your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, each one punctuated by the lewd slap of skin on skin as Matt continues to pound into you. sweat drips down your temples, stinging your eyes, but you barely notice, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

in the mirror, your reflection shows a face contorted in pleasure, cheeks flushed a deep crimson, lips parted in silent cries. Your tits bounce wildly with each brutal thrust, the rosy peaks straining upwards as if begging for attention.

when Matt's fingers find your clit again, you throw your head back with a keening wail, the pressure building to a fever pitch within you. your nails scrape painfully against the countertop as you struggle to ground yourself, the world narrowing to the searing heat of his cock and the electrifying friction of his touch.

"M-Matt- im...im gonna..." you babble away, your orgasm inching its way closer and closer.

"yeah?" he growls, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own release. “gonna make you cum all over my cock baby”

Matt's words send a shiver down your spine, the dark promise filling you with a sense of possession, of belonging only to him. he reaches one of his hands to grasp your jaw, forcing your eyes to stare into his through the mirror, his thumb traces your lower lip, the calloused pad sending tingles through your sensitive skin.

he leans in closer, hot breath fanning over your ear as he nips at the lobe. "do it, angel. let go for me. show me who owns this pretty little cunt."

Matt's filthy encouragement pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. your pussy clenches viciously around his throbbing cock, milking him for every last drop as you scream his name.

through the haze of your climax, you dimly register Matt's guttural groan, feeling his own release barreling towards him. he buries himself to the hilt one final time before stilling, pulsing jets of hot cum painting your insides.

"fuck, that’s it ma, take what’s yours," he growls, grinding his pelvis against yours as if trying to push even deeper.

Matt continues to rock into you shallowly, drawing out both your orgasms until you're left boneless and quivering in his arms. only then does he pull out, his cock slipping free with a rush of fluids leaking from your abused hole. Matt steps back, breaking the intimate connection between you as he grabs a towel to clean himself up. he doesn't offer you one, the gesture lacking any hint of consideration. as he wipes his hands, he glances at you, mumbling a cold "here" as he tosses you the towel so you can clean yourself off.

you both stand in silent discomfort as you quickly wipe yourself off, tossing the dirty towels in a nearby basket. the air is thick with tension as you can feel Matt's gaze on you while you finish up.

when you turn back to face him, he's already looking at you, his eyes empty and devoid of any tenderness or affection. he checks his phone, seemingly unbothered by the intense moment that just passed.

"think you could catch a ride with someone?" Matt mutters, eyes glued to the screen of his phone. "i gotta head out."

his tone is cold and unfeeling, as if the intimate encounter you just had meant nothing to him. he turns to leave the bathroom without even waiting for your response. you're left feeling used and discarded, his indifference cutting deep into your heart.

you stand there, frozen in place. the abrupt change in his demeanor feels like a sharp knife to the gut. the love and tenderness he showed mere moments ago seem like distant memories now, replaced by his cold and aloof demeanor.

his hasty exit leaves you feeling discarded and unimportant, as if your presence no longer held any significance in his world. the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

you feel a lump forming in your throat as you force yourself to stay composed. you clench your fists, nails digging into your palms as you resist the urge to call out to him. but deep down, you know it would be pointless. he’s made it clear that your presence is no longer needed.

the thought of him leaving you behind, like a discarded piece of trash, adds fuel to the flames of anger and hurt that are rapidly consuming you. but you swallow them down, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing your vulnerability.

you force yourself to take a deep breath, pushing down the emotions that threaten to overcome you. you straighten your appearance, fixing your hair and readjusting your clothes before exiting the bathroom and making your way back to the party.

as you scan the room, your gaze falls upon Nate, Matt's best friend, chatting with a small group nearby. you approach him, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Nate," you begin, your voice shaky but firm. "i need a favor."

Nate turns to face you, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he takes in your disheveled appearance and solemn expression. he immediately knows something is off.

"what’s wrong y/n/n?" Nate asks, a hint of worry in his voice.

you hesitate for a moment before replying, "Matt...he...he left. i just need a ride home."

there’s a brief pause as Nate registers your words, his expression hardening at the mention of his best friend's name.

"Matt left you here alone?" Nate questions, clearly disapproving, but you nod in confirmation.

he lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair as he looks back at you. "fine. i’ll take you home. but i’m kicking Matt's ass later."

you manage a weak smile at his words, appreciating his immediate protectiveness towards you.

"thanks, Nate," you murmur, your voice laced with gratitude.

Nate nods in acknowledgement, his expression softening as he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"let’s get you home, alright?" he responds softly, guiding you out of the crowded space and towards the exit.

you follow Nate silently as he leads you towards the exit. the cool night air hits your face and you take a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

as you both settle into Nate's car, he glances over at you, a mix of concern and anger etched on his face.

you can feel Nate's gaze on you, waiting for a response, but you remain silent, unable to find the words to describe the emotional whirlwind you just experienced.

Nate, being the considerate person he was, respected your silence and didn't push any further. he turns his gaze back to the road, steering the car in the direction of your house. the drive is quiet, filled only by the sound of the engine and the occasional hum of the radio.

you stare out the window at the passing scenery, your thoughts still consumed by the mixed feelings you have for Matt. the quiet atmosphere does nothing to alleviate the storm inside you, and all you want is to get home and be alone.

after what feels like an eternity, Nate pulls up to the curb in front of your place. he puts the car in park and turns to look at you, his expression soft but concerned.

"we’re here," he mutters, his voice breaking the silence.

you unclick your seatbelt and open the car door, offering Nate a small nod in thanks before stepping out. the cool night air brushes against your skin, providing a temporary respite from the emotional turmoil consuming you.

Nate leans out of the window slightly as you begin to walk towards your front door.

"y/n," he calls out, his voice serious. "if you ever need anything, you can call me, alright? even if it's to kick Matt's ass, i’ll be there."

you glance back at him, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the emotional turmoil inside you.

"thanks, Nate," you murmur, appreciating his offer of support. "and yeah, i’ll keep that in mind."

Nate smiles at your response, satisfied that you'll at least have someone to turn to if you need it.

with a final nod, you turn and make your way up the path to your front door. as you insert the key and push the door open, you can feel Nate's gaze lingering on you, watching until you safely enter your house before driving off.

you go through your nightly routine, thoughts of your encounter with Matt tormenting you. his sudden shift from passionate to uncaring leaves you feeling hurt and confused.

throughout the night, you break down twice, tears flowing as you struggle to make sense of his behavior. by the time you finally fall asleep, you're emotionally drained and his name still echoes in your mind.

AUTHORS NOTE: i am oh so very sorry for making my husband be such an asshole but i SWEAR if y’all want a part two i’ll make up for it i promise.

TAG LIST: @freshloveee @chrissturnioloslittleslut @joces-wrld

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: you’re jealous and paige blows your back out to remind you she loves you.

warning (s): literally the nastiest thing I’ve wrote — smut, strap, pussy eating, finger sucking, choking, squirting, cervix play, dacryphilia, public stuff a little, nipple sucking, degrading, spitting, humping, drunk sex, Paige literally destroys you.

word count: 3k.

author note: been havin some terrible writers block so might be last post for a lil while — unedited, this sex is just so raw nd nasty I’m sorry bro I cannot pls read at own risk

You found yourself at the draft afterparty, separated from Paige, your girlfriend, but you hardly noticed as you knocked back drinks one after another. Time slipped away as you chatted with your two closest friends, Mrs. Griffin and Mrs. Arnold, jokingly referring to yourselves as future NBA wives, with you as Mrs. Bueckers in jest.

As the drinks flowed, tensions rose. You were on your fourth shot in fifteen minutes when Aubrey's girlfriend remarked, "You know, I understand why you're so possessive, girl. If I were dating Paige, I'd be on edge too. She's quite the ladies-man." In your interpretation, her comment suggested that if she were in your shoes dating Paige, she wouldn't let Paige out of her sight. You had full trust in your girlfriend, without a doubt, but it was other girls you didn't trust. Knowing Paige's attractiveness and the constant flirtation she encountered throughout her life, you understood she might not always notice when a bitch wanted to fuck, leaving an opportunity for other girls to take advantage of the situation. Spurred on by the alcohol, you staggered to your feet and clumsily balanced on the chair you had just vacated. "Where is she?" you slurred.

"Over there," Aubrey's girlfriend pointed.

You spun back around, irritation evident on your face. "Oh, hell no," you spat, contemplating. "Should I go? Imma go!"

"Don't do it, girl!" your friends called out, but it was too late. Determined, you marched over to Paige, who was seated on the couch beside another girl, chatting and laughing, the girl's hand casually resting on her shoulder as she spoke.

There was absolutely no reason for her hand to be on your girlfriend. You were gonna crash-out.

"Paigeyyy!" you exclaimed, drawing most eyes in the party to you. "What... are you... doingg, babe?"

Paige smiled at you and exchanged words with the girl beside her, pointing in your direction. However, as you approached, her smile faltered, turning forced. You hovered over your girlfriend's form, pouting down at her. "Fix your face," she murmured softly as her hands found yours, holding them tightly. Your eyes darted towards the company Paige was keeping, silently hoping that after her subtle request to fix your expression went unheeded, she'd catch the hint as you focused on the source of your discomfort. "O-uhh, babe, this is Holly. She's my high school coach's daughter," Paige explained.

You smirked, subtly digging at her. "You're breaking a cardinal rule, Paige. Didn't they say the coach's daughter was off-limits?"

Holly's response hit a nerve, even more so if you were sober. "Well, that was back in the day," she said, still grinning politely.

You smiled, amplifying yours to mimic hers as you sat down. Not in-between them, however. You swiftly settled into Paige's lap, feeling her hands involuntarily wrapping around your waist, since she was still holding your hands before you sat. "So it's changed now, Holly? You're one for bending the rules?" you pressed. "When a boundary isn't visible, breaking it becomes effortless," she smoothly retorted, a subtle dig that undoubtedly rankled you, adding fuel to the fire of your annoyance. "Well, Holly, I'm right fucking here," you asserted firmly, the intensity of your words conveying both defiance and a challenge to her audacious remark. "Safe you made it in time. It was like I had a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode," Holly remarked, subtly implying that any further delay might have jeopardized your relationship.

Before you could speak, Paige intervened, diffusing the tension as she spoke up, "So, guys. Who can forget that buzzer-beater from last year's championship?" As Holly began to yap, you couldn't help but stir in Paige's lap. Your girlfriend always looked majestic, but especially now, under the spell of alcohol. You rocked your hips forward, feeling the stirrings of arousal. You were now horny. And while tipsy and horny, if there was one thing you didn't care to respect was the conversation. So, while Paige was mid-sentence, you turned and began to make out with her, your desire overriding any concern for the topic at hand. Paige kissed back at first, but with your chest pressed against her, she couldn't resist allowing a hand to brush against it, stroking your hardened nipples in the process. When she noticed your arousal, she pulled away slightly and whispered sensually, "We'll continue this later," before unashamedly turning back to Holly, seamlessly returning to the conversation.

Later? You were a wreck. If somebody who wasn't already in the loop with all the others had been at the party, they'd surely be filming this, and you'd be looking insane. Your drunken antics drew a bemused smile from Paige as you pressed your lips to her jaw while she tried to speak, your warm breath giving her chills. She gently tried to steer your body away, to steady your hips, but you had other plans.

It was as if you had forgotten you weren't in the privacy of your own home as your hand moved to your own chest, intending to let your tits spill from your top before Paige stopped you, concealing your intent with a quick, "Wardrobe malfunction?"

At her words, you remembered she had lips, and kissed them before whispering, "Want them off," into her ear, "Want your mouth on them." Her mouth watered as her fingers helped you fix said wardrobe malfunction, giving her an excuse to marvel at your hardened nipples through your dress, begging to be sucked. With a playful glint in her eye, Paige allowed herself to be swept away by the moment, ghosting her hands over them and eliciting a hushed whine from your lips. Reveling in the sensation of your bodies pressing together, the allure of the party gradually faded. Soon, she found herself leading you home, your fingers intertwined as you stumbled through the door, eager to continue the intimacy in the privacy of your own space. Once inside, the air crackled with electricity as Paige pulled you close, her lips finding yours in a heated kiss. Your hands roamed eagerly over each other's bodies, seeking out every inch of exposed skin with fervent desire. "You know, I'm starting to hate Holly," you muttered against Paige's lips, jealousy prominent in your tone.

Paige leaned in, pleased, as she whispered, "Well, jealousy looks sexy on you, babe." Clothes were discarded in a frenzy of lust, and Paige found herself above you on the bed with her lips trailing a path of wet kisses down your neck and chest. With tender care, she teased your hardened nipples, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from your lips.

Her hand trailed lower, down the curve of your stomach, before finally finding its destination between your thighs. With gentle strokes, she teased your clit, reveling in the slick wetness that greeted her touch. She brought her fingers to her lips, sucking them clean with a sinful groan before plunging them back into your eager cunt.

Deftly, Paige slipped a finger inside you, marveling at the way you clenched around her in response. But she wasn't content to simply watch from the sidelines. Leaning down, she captured your lips in a searing kiss, her tongue dancing with yours as she devoured you whole.

With hunger in her actions, touch, and eyes, she descended lower, trailing kisses along your thighs before finally finding her destination. With a flick of her tongue, she tasted your essence, savoring the sweet nectar that flowed from your core. With each stroke of her tongue, she brought you closer to the edge, her fingers working in perfect harmony to push you over. "More?" she asked, her voice breathy and gravelly, and you nodded eagerly from above her. "Please," you whispered, breaths catching in your throat. She smirked up at you. "Fuck, you're a slut." she moaned, pupils dilated as she arched her back, pressing her mouth flush against your pussy, closer, for a more precise to-the-clit angle. When you nod, "I am, mommy," you watch hazily as she indulges in you, her tongue tracing a slow, tantalizing path from your clit down to your folds repetitively. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Your body trembling with pleasure, Paige knew that she had finally proven herself to you. She was the only one who could satisfy your deepest desires. She wanted to be the only one. For her to eat you like this, so unapologetically, it'd stole all those seeds of doubt from your mind that Holly had planted. "Wanna eat this pussy every day," she speaks tightly against your pussy, so deep in your folds, and your eyebrows furrow at the slight pinch of her teeth against your clit. But she swiftly distracts you by recycling the saliva and wetness on her lips, spitting onto you, further soaking your already dripping cunt. The feeling of being soaked, then getting lapped up like a dog drinking water, was making your head spin. You grabbed your tits, squeezing them like your own personal stress balls, and the sight caused Paige to moan. "Play with them like that, ma, fuck." she groaned, her fingers pumping into you ridiculously nice, the perfect tempo to match her tongue work.

Your toes curled. "M' gonna—"

She nodded like, "I know," and watched as your body writhed, surrendering to the pleasure.

"Fuck, Paige, please don't stop. You're amazing, oh shit," you moaned.

She didn't. Not for a second did she quit eating you like her life depended on it, and you cried out in pleasure until the moment you released all over her face and fingers, painting her in your cum. Your stomach contracted as she kept fucking her fingers inside you, pushing it all out. Not even a second later, she had turned you over on your stomach and whispered in your ear, "Looks like I need to show you your place again, don't I?" It might have been the alcohol in your system, but you swore you had never been this horny for anything or anybody before. There you were, sprawled out on Paige's bed, your legs spread apart with her in between them, to your utter dismay, the blonde doing absolutely nothing. You felt like you were about to burst as you nodded your head vigorously, turning back over to give her your puppy eyes. "Want it, baby," you whispered urgently.

She pressed herself flush into your body, her tongue eagerly exploring your wet lips, probing its way into your mouth as you whimpered desperately. Allowing you to speak, her tongue trailed up your neck, to your breasts, and as she sucked your tits gently, you whined. "Wanted this all night." "Please..." you pleaded, voice thick with need, "Please, Paige, don't make me wait any longer," begging for what you knew was merely inches away from your pussy, tucked away. Her finger, previously servicing you, found its way into your mouth, and she pushed the long digit into the warmth repeatedly, teasingly fucking your throat as you eagerly sucked and moaned around it, savoring the taste of your own arousal. It was so hard not to give in when you looked this way—just so fucked out and slutty, when nothing had even really happened yet. Breaking face, she pressed her lips against yours, and your tongues danced together in a manner that made you think Paige was genuinely trying to receive and keep your taste, eat you alive. By each passing moment, your bodies found themselves closer than before, deepening the connection between you involuntarily.

It was half-intimate and half-raw, and it felt all the way good. Way too good. When you finally felt the thick, hard piece of plastic against your pussy, you sighed into the kiss, tilting your head back as Paige began to grind it against you. Her hand, previously holding your thigh and pressing you into the mattress, trailed down your body with deliberate intent, settling at your hip. You tried to squirm away from the feeling below you both, but she effortlessly held you there, a showcase of her immense strength that only turned you on even harder. She continued to rut her hips against you relentlessly, dragging the member up and down repeatedly with slow, sharp thrusts of her talented hips. She groaned, the dildo on the other end vibrating, squeezing and fucking sequencly against her wet, warm, tight walls. "Feel that?" she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "You like it when I fuck you like this, don't you?" It was all euphoria—you were too spent to reply, but you managed to murmur, "Inside," Paige held the base of it with her hand, groaning your name as she watched your pussy slowly swallow it all in with her piercing blue eyes. "Look how that just stretched you out, ma, feel it," she moaned, pumping into you so hard your entire body rocked, and causing the dildo to slide past her G-spot precisely, coaxing a throaty breath from her.

All you wanted was to please her. It meant good for you in the end. She was in awe watching your incredibly tight cunt be stretched that wide, so you complied, reaching your hand down and feeling it with shaky hands. "Fuck," you gasped, "So big, baby, god." She smirked down at you. "Play with your clit, baby, let me watch you." and like a puppet, your hand falls to between your legs, rubbing yourself hastily. You're still sensitive from your last orgasm, but you keep going, the deepness of Paige's cock feeling like a punch and stab to your guts each time she plows down. But the pressure inside you and the one you delicately place upon your clit feel so, so good that despite the overcapacity, you find your other hand coming to her back, then to her ass, squeezing it as you plead, "Don't stop!" You're crying now, tears staining your cheeks, and all it takes is for Paige to really look at your face, seeing how hard you're working for her right now before the tension begins to mount. She tries to hold out, but everywhere she tries to look makes it worse. Her head dips low to avoid your face, and you're sluttily playing with your clit. At your mid-section, your tits are bouncing in her face. And she knows if she looks at you one more time, it's over. Her body falters, and she lays on you as she fucks into you so carefree of anything in the world. You cry out whinily as you feel her deeper, the tip placing kisses to your cervix, and her weight on your lower stomach pressing the bulge the strap makes DEEP.

"So good," you whimpered, clenching around her with each drag of her stroke against the depths of your body. "Take me, Paige, take all of me."

She loses it at that, growling out, "Open your mouth, sexy," and you stick your tongue out to meet a hot, thick glob of spit into it.

Without needing to be told, you swallow, knowing it's what she wants. Her impending orgasm is evident as she speaks, her voice filled with urgency. "Fuck, bae, I'm gonna cum. You gonna—" she waivers with a grunt, then continues, "you gonna let me cum in you?"

Your arousal allows her to penetrate you insanely deep, even though she shouldn't be able to on a regular, non-drunk sex having day. "Yeah," you moan, your body ablaze with desire, "fill me up."

The room falls silent, save for the embarrassing squelching sounds of your cunt. The sounds your pussy makes are just embarrassing. Like pure water being swished, and you grip her dick so tightly it burns momentarily when her stroke falters back, but it meets your guts again within no time, and all feels way too good again. Your pussy's grip on her tightens, your body craving every thrust she delivers. Paige's hand tightens around your neck, restricting your airflow as she fucks the life out of you. She is genuinely killing you. Stabs inside your cunt, hand around your neck, toned body weighing down on you — petite below her. She's relentless, her motions driving the familiar knot in your stomach to form, but this time, with a little something different about it that you just can't place your finger on. You want to be concerned on why your pre-orgasm phase feels this way, but with each thrust, you can't help but surrender further into the pleasure, neverminding it.

As your climax approaches, you're overwhelmed. Your eyes shut tightly, your world consumed by white light. When you feel it coming, you want to scream, but you can't. Before you know it, your body is involuntarily pushing, and pushing, and when the intensity stops, blending into an orgasm, you realize you've just squirted all over Paige.

She's realized long before you, apparently, because she's left cumming herself with moans and exclamations of, "Aw, fuck, baby, look at that."

You guys have no time to tell each other you're cumming; it's just wet, hot, and heavy, both of your releases coating the sheets and the both of you too. Paige collapses on you, and now you really can't breathe, so you have to use your remaining energy the squirt took to push her off, the strap exiting you with the most empty feeling ever. Your hand, still on your clit, feels all the cum, and you exhale sharply, shocked. Both of your bodies are drenched, covered in sweat.

And as you catch your breath, Paige rolls onto her side, looking at you with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness in her eyes. "Is that attitude gone?" she asks, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

You meet her gaze, a mischievous glint in your eye. "If I say no, will you fuck me like that again?" you retort, a hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

Paige chuckles, reaching out to pull you close to her. "Guess you'll just have to find out," she replies, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss.

When you guys draw back, you're panting as you confess, "I can't believe I just... squirted."

Paige raises an eyebrow, offended. "I can. You doubtin' me?"

You've essentially been fucked back into sobriety and know not to test her. "Absolutely not," you assure her, and she relaxes at that. "You're gonna be hella sore tomorrow morning," she teases, "I literally went swimming in that pussy, deadass."

You smack her gently. "Stoppp," you protest.

She grins. "Ion feel bad tho. Maybe next time you get an attitude, you'll think about how dumb I just fucked you." And Paige Bueckers is absolutely fucking right. You will. Attitude or not.

MASTERLIST

A/N: might be some errors in posting and stuff!! i'll correct it later i'm rly tired now lol.

[diremoone]

remember to water the flowers

no warnings really, just fluff and soft sylus wanting to take care of you and make sure you take care of yourself <3 (also first fic with him pls be gentle)

Sylus nearly chucks the twins out of the nearest visible window the second he sees you shift in your sleep. The two quickly get the memo to leave upon his glare and the heavily emphasized wave of his large hand.

You stop shifting when the door closes, unbothered by the energy that the twins had brought in. Sylus breathes a silent sigh of relief and goes back to scouring through the online auction. He stops at an expensive bottle of old wine, noting the sweetness level and the brand before flicking it away. You wouldn’t like that type of wine anyway. You were picky about the alcohols you indulged in.

It also didn’t help that him spoiling you with said beverages to try helped make you as picky as you are today.

Sylus glances at you again. The dark circles underneath your eyes are fading the more you sleep… He scowls at the sight of you having such awful eye-bags. Why on earth the Hunter’s Association had the audacity to overwork their best hunter was beyond him.

Well, it wasn’t them overworking you. You did that yourself. Your employer just didn’t want to do anything about it.

And that was how you nearly landed in the jaws of a powerful Wanderer to nearly be slung around like a ragdoll. Had it not been for the weapons he’d programmed into Mephisto, you’d surely be locked up in a hospital with severe injuries to your body.

No, he wouldn’t allow it. If no one else was going to catch you before you fell, then he would without question.

Even if it meant sending your precious Hunter’s Association into a frenzy of you missing in action for a few days.

Sylus quietly sips on his tea and watches your brows furrow peculiarly in your sleep. You would wake up shortly, he notes.

And you do. You blink your eyes several times upon awakening. You gaze at a spot on the wall before flicking your eyes to him. He chuckles at the disbelief in them.

You grumble and lift yourself off the couch.

“What’d you do?”

���Bold of you to assume I did anything, sweetie.”

You shake your head. “You did something. What’d you do?”

Sylus chuckles and places his head on his fist, elbow on the back of the couch and replies simply, “I protected what is mine and kept her safe. That’s all.”

He watches as your memories of the last 24 hours flood your mind. You toss yourself out of the weighted blanket and get up.

“I have to go,” you say. “People must be looking for me. Xavier must be—”

Sylus scowls at the name of another man coming from your mouth. He grabs your hand as you pass by him. Thankfully, you don’t fight him. You knew you wouldn’t win against his iron grip—not without hurting yourself—no matter how much you pulled.

“Stay.”

You’re unable to retort. Not with the way he’s looking at you. It gives him the opportunity to explain before you run off.

“I’m aware of how much you’ve been running yourself ragged, Kitten. Don’t think I don’t see it.” At that, he watches your lips press into a firm line. He continues on, slowly softening his grip. “After Mephisto barely made it in time to get rid of that Wanderer, I brought you back to the N109 Zone to rest.”

“Well…” You huff. “I’ve got to get back. Thanks for letting me nap, but—”

Sylus raises his brows. “What’s the harm in staying a few more days to get some rest?” he questions. “It’s not like they won’t find you near where you disappeared in a few days. Not after spending your time in a Protofield trying to get rid of a powerful monster.”

You shift on the balls of your feet, looking away from him. You know exactly what he’s doing.

“The cameras—”

“Exploded in the fight,” Sylus quips.

His warm hand lets go of your wrist, but he keeps his palm opened and outstretched.

“Stay. Rest. Take a break then return in a few days. Your people may be looking for you, but they’ll be alright without you for a few days… worried or not,” he argues, nailing his points down.

You exhale in defeat. “Sylus…”

“We never forget to water our own garden, sweetie. And yours is quite dehydrated,” he hums.

You can’t help the sudden tiredness that overcomes you again, even after spending goodness knows how long asleep already. You don’t think you can help it this time. Not with Sylus and his honey-coated reassurances.

Sylus grins that grin and you want to groan. He’s won, and he knows that you know he’s won.

You take his hand. His long fingers intertwine with yours and he gently pulls you around the couch to him. You don’t question it when he pulls you into his side to let you rest on him.

“Just one day,” you grumble.

Sylus chuckles and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“Just one day.”

(You spend a total of three. And no one is any wiser when you return to Linkon. Not after spending those days in a… ‘Wanderers Protofield’.)

a/n: help me i’m making a playlist for this man now i’m no longer sane AHH. lol, but why is this man the one getting me out of my writing slump?? then again I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s so fine haha

[ddarker-dreams]

I'm clutching on the bars rn pls give us more bf blade content before I explode

I GOTCHU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i'm joining you in rattling the bars of my enclosure .... bf blade is making me feel Things ... .

warnings: fem reader, not sfw implications

While changing into a new shirt, a deep voice drawls your name. 

Your heart jumps in your chest. If it weren’t for the recognizable timbre, you may have shrieked. It’s a small blessing that you’ve been spared this indignation. Huffing, you turn on your heels, pulling down the bunched-up fabric to cover yourself. 

“I thought you promised to stop jumpscaring me,” you chastise. 

The jumpscare in question — Blade — fixates on your previously exposed midriff. You note how his eyebrows pinch together, though you’re unsure what to make of it. He doesn’t acknowledge your comment. Not even with what Silver Wolf’s decreed his ‘limited NPC dialogue’ (a grunt, hum, nose exhale, or the occasional chuckle, solely procured by your antics). 

“Lift your shirt,” Blade requests. 

“Eh?” You stare at him like he has three heads. “Sorry, I’m waiting until marriage for that.” 

He gives you an unimpressed look. 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” you grumble, acquiescing to the strange demand, “And they said romance is dead…” 

Blade kneels onto one knee. Before you can reiterate the marriage comment was a joke, his gloved fingers hover over the sides of your hips. The leather is cool against your rapidly warming skin. Once you overcome your initial confusion, you consider his countenance. He’s frowning, his eyes playing host to emotions you can’t quite place. His thumb rubs circles into the skin, softly enough to be mistaken for a ghost’s kiss. He appears to be in deep thought. 

You’re rendered speechless — a most commendable feat. 

“These bruises,” Blade murmurs, his voice hollow and haunted, “Did I…?” 

Realization crashes into you like a meteorite. 

You yank the fabric down. “Well, uh, yes, but—” 

(He goes pale as a sheet, further increasing the urgency behind your words). 

“—It’s okay! You didn’t— it wasn’t— I didn’t mind,” you reassure. Clearing your throat, you continue, fighting against the embarrassment scorching you alive. “If anything, I… was into it, so…” 

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. His arms fall limp to his side as he mulls over what you’ve said, clearly unwilling to accept it at face value. Uncertain of what else to do, you join him on the ground, sitting on your shins. You take his face in your hands, brushing aside his bangs that’d obscured his eyes. His hair’s silky smooth, thanks to your products and insistence on combing through the knots. 

“Hey, old man,” you hum. “All that frowning’s gonna make you look your prehistoric age. You don’t want some young, dashing whippersnapper to steal me away, do ya?” 

Blade scowls. Smiling softly, you boop him on the nose, to which he scrunches it up. 

Your voice takes on a more serious cadence. “You didn’t hurt me. You could never hurt me. I trust you, so… trust me on this, okay? Just this once?” 

It’s gradual. He relaxes his shoulders, then the taut muscles of his face, basking in your closeness. He leans into your touch, reminding you of a stray cat that’s steadily being domesticated. You let the silence linger for as long as he sees fit. Eventually, his gaze meets yours. 

“... It’s a dangerous game you play, girl.”

I’m dangerous, the insatiable hunger in his eyes screams. I long to devour you, mind and soul. 

To this, you grin. 

“It’s a good thing I’ve already won, then.” 

[strawberrygyuuuu]

𝐓𝐗𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 —> 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒/𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄 / 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓

Genre —> Fluff

—> how they'd react to their s/o holding the hem of their sleeve / shirt.

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

YEONJUN

• will actually explode

• who said you could be this fucking cute? Huh?

• I actually believe this man does the day you start doing this and continues to die every single time

• his heart just melts for you okay?

• I think he tries to contain his feelings but you're just so cute he can't help but to show it

• like he'll literally look at you in that fond lovesick way with a dumb little smile on his face

• maybe a little blushy as well

• because to him it's like you feel safe with him so you're holding onto him so you don't get lost in especially big crowds

• hold onto him for as long as you want, he thrives for it...it's a bit of an ego boost as well lol

SOOBIN

• he'll think sum is wrong at first

• he'll look at you and scan your face to see if there's any distress or discomfort or anything

• but once he sees you're okay and just hanging onto him Soobin will smile his cute lil dimple smile

• little sparkles in his eyes because you're adorable wtf dude !!!!

• "you're okay?"

• you just smile and nod at him, "mhm!"

• I think he adores your habit because it's you and he adores you

• sometimes I think he'll gently take your hand and replace it with his so yours are intertwined with his

• idk man he might die from heart attack tho cause how cute you are

• so be careful pooks ‼️

BEOMGYU

• when he's in a playful mood he'll make a big deal out of it

• "hmmm??? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

• "you love me THAT much? Woah!"

• he giggles but he is slightly worried

• but when he's not, it's either he doesn't say anything and just has this smug look on his face

• or he'll look at you to make sure you're alright and pull you closer to him but that's more in way too crowded areas

• idk it's like a dice roll lol

• you might get a smug reaction, a concern reaction or he'll tease you

• but he does care I swear

• it also makes him feel proud because like...you feel safe with him and he can protect you

• he's so in love with you girlie

TAEHYUN

• once y'all are more comfortable in the relationship he'll learn to enjoy it

• he has boundaries and although he does love you vv much those are still in place

• but when you did it it was more out of instinct

• tae def looks at you, then your hand, back at you before smiling fondly

• just a small smile

• "everything good, Hun?" GHFF PLS I NEED HIM🙏🏻

• when you confirm you're alright, he figured you were js anxious or to not lose him or sum

• lets you be, but will tease you sometimes

• only because he thinks it's endearing

• he trusts you when you tell him that you're fine so he doesn't push or anything

• fosho wants you to do it more often, if you ask if it annoys him he'll simply shake his head and tell you it doesn't, because it really doesn't

• probably encourages you to keep doing it tbh

• idk pooks

• you're endearing to him

HUENINGKAI

• is soo blushy and shy it's cute

• you're cute

• like omfg???

• he adores you sm n I genuinely think he'd love when you do this little habit of yours

• he snickers and smiles so wide

• boy is ear to ear smiling he's so happy n in love 😭🙏🏻

• probably tried to be normal about it and not make too big of a deal about it but you can tell he's over the moon

• because again, it's like,, you trust him ??

• ARUGH he can't take it pooks

• when y'all get back to the dorms or your apartment or sum he'll be squishing your cheeks

• rubbing his cheek against yours squealing about how cutie you are

• full on fanboy

• but I can also see him silently being happy about it

• and maybe probably possibly tease you later on just to poke fun

• but nothing serious; please keep doing this !

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits. 

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country. 

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend. 

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly. 

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank). 

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored. 

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that. 

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was. 

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment. 

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage. 

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction. 

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!” 

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?” 

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks. 

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding. 

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone. 

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still. 

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him. 

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident. 

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way. 

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture. 

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you. 

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you. 

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”? 

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot. 

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly. 

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute. 

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night. 

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. 

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically. 

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying. 

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason. 

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching. 

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly. 

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face. 

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you. 

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text. 

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time. 

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy. 

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense. 

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him. 

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement. 

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him. 

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same. 

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray. 

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes. 

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him. 

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream. 

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name? 

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers. 

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform. 

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?” 

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful. 

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything. 

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight. 

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom. 

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through. 

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do? 

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought. 

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift. 

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance. 

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage. 

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology. 

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years. 

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug. 

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache. 

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor. 

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well. 

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers. 

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten. 

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him. 

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him. 

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick. 

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses. 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer. 

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you. 

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears. 

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant. 

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder. 

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back. 

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky. 

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought. 

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster. 

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one. 

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook. 

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind. 

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you. 

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs. 

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again. 

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out. 

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you. 

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent. 

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix. 

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it. 

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow. 

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles. 

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter. 

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope. 

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that. 

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears. 

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer. 

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too. 

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers. 

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare. 

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind. 

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class. 

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel. 

But you do know, the universe responds. 

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond? 

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing. 

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation. 

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat. 

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance? 

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air. 

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.  

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you. 

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door. 

[stevie-petey]

episode six: the dive

“You do realize Skull Rock is a super popular make out spot? It wasn’t popular until I made it popular, alright? I practically invented it.” The words slip from Steve’s mouth before he can really understand the consequences behind them. He stops dead in his tracks and stares at you, eyes wide in fear. “Nice one, Steve.” You pat his chest sarcastically, sharing a disgusted look with Dustin.

Summary: dustin rejects the pity pringles you offer, eddie is straight up not having a good time, nancy does some investigative journalism about you and steve (gossips with robin), and steve suddenly decides he wants to take up scuba diving. for some reason. but hey ! title drop time !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, cursing, mentions of death and violence

Words: 7.4k

Before you swing in: HI !!!! HAPPY ONE YEAR OF COME HOME !!! weve reached the scene everyone has so patiently waited for ;) can yall believe it took a full year before we finally reached the fated title drop ??? i can ! anyways, pls enjoy. i love this chapter and you guys so so so much :')))

–

“Want some?” 

Dustin smacks the pringle that Steve dangles away from his face. “Get that away from me.”

“But you love Pringles,” your hand waves in front of his face, holding yet another chip. You’re sitting in Nancy’s trunk with Steve, eating leftover pringles from the supply run from this morning for Eddie. Dustin sits in the middle, squished between Max and Lucas. “Here, take one as a peace offering.”

“I’d rather be stuck between Lucas and Max than you and Steve, Y/N.” Dustin huffs, though he does eventually take the chip that you offer him.

Steve chews another chip. “Totally harsh, dude.”

The car turns and you’re suddenly pressed against your boyfriend, knee bending at an uncomfortable angle. “Cozy car, Nance.” You quip, repositioning yourself so your ribcage is no longer in your lungs. 

“Sorry, guys.” She glances back at you. “I know this isn’t ideal, but Eddie is almost definitely low on food and he’ll want to hear what we found.”

“Not to be a wimp, but can I sit in the car for this visit?” Robin asks from the passenger seat. “‘Cause this is gonna totally and royally suck.”

You toss a chip into your mouth. “I agree. Especially after his weird broadcast yesterday.”

Dustin whips his head to look at you. “Eddie contacted Cerebro?”

“Did I not tell you?” 

“No!” 

“Shit, sorry.” Yesterday was a blur. After the lights exploded in Victor Creel’s attic, you’d all driven silently back to Nancy’s. Hardly anyone spoke afterwards. You all had gone to bed quiet, reeling from the implications of what you’d found. “It was weird. I couldn’t really understand him, the signal was weak.”

Dustin gestures wildly at you. “Okay, but what did he say?”

“Something about Jason? And holes in a boat?” You’d been recovering from your panic attack when Eddie’s voice came through the radio. The details were fuzzy. 

“A boat? Why the hell would Eddie need a boat?”

You shrug. “No clue, but I feel bad for the guy.”

The entire situation is grim. Eddie has been accused of murdering at least two Hawkins students, he apparently runs a cult, and now the only way of clearing his name involves El and the Upside Down. Both of which are currently out of reach. 

While you can barely tolerate the guy, it’s a shame that he doesn’t stand a chance.

“It’ll be fine.” Nancy insists, but Robin shakes her head. 

“I can’t stand to see those doe eyes of Eddie’s break again. I really, really can’t.”

“‘Doe eyes’ is a little much.” You scrunch your nose in displeasure. Steve snorts and Dustin glares at you. “Just saying.”

“At least he can drink himself into feeling better.” Steve offers, picking up the six-pack of beer and waving it around.

Max looks out the window. “That’s what my mom does.”

Lucas catches your eye. No one catches what Max has said besides you two. He looks upset, but you shake your head at him. Now isn’t the time. If he says anything to her, Max will close back in on herself. 

Robin and Nancy return to their conversation while you sit quietly in the back. Steve notices your change in demeanor and frowns. Unsure what’s caused it, he holds up a pringle and winks at you. “Bet you can’t catch this with your mouth.”

It’s a welcomed distraction. You sit up, eyes alight. “You’re on, Harrington.”

And the game is on. Steve tosses a chip into the air and you duck your head, angling your mouth so that you catch it just before it lands. Eyes wide, you throw your arms in the air and cheer. “I did it!”

Steve claps, whooping. “That’s my girl!”

Reaching for the bag of pringles, you grab one and don’t even give Steve a warning before you’re throwing it at him. He yelps, surprised, but with ease he catches it. He cheers again and chews triumphantly. “And you tried to cheat!” 

You roll your eyes. “Technically it wasn’t cheating, I just didn’t warn you.”

Steve pokes you side, eliciting a giggle from you. “I’ll get you for that, Henderson.”

“I’d like to see you try–” The sight of a police car stops you. 

Nancy sees it, too. “Oh, shit.”

You’re just outside of the boathouse Eddie is hiding out in. There are cars everywhere, cops walking along the perimeter, controlling a crowd that has formed. A news station van blocks your vision, but you get a sickening sense of deja-vu anyways. 

This is exactly how it’d been when Fred’s body was found.

Nancy ushers everyone to the side of the van, ducking down so you aren’t seen. Officer Powell is giving a speech to the press. He stands before the frightened audience, voice stern, but also tired. You can’t imagine what it must be like, being chief of police without having any idea of the horrors that Hawkins hides. 

“The Roane County line received a call a little after midnight, reporting a homicide here on the lake.”

Everyone freezes. Another body has been found. 

“That’s three deaths in three days.” You can’t breathe. This is all happening too fast. Faster than anything you’ve ever had to deal with before.

Chief Powell continues. “It was here that we found the body of the victim, an eighteen year old senior from Hawkins High, Patrick McKinney.”

Lucas stiffens next to you. Patrick had been his teammate. His friend. Numb, you rub his back, offering whatever ounce of comfort you can give him. 

“We have also identified a person of interest.” The chief holds up a photo of Eddie, showing it to the broadcasters before him. “Eddie Munson.”

You suck in a breath. The only thing Eddie had going for him was that no one knew he was the main person of interest. His identity had still been concealed, buying him a little more time while you tried to find answers for him. 

But now it’s too late. 

“This is not good,” Steve mumbles as officer Powell encourages the town to come forward with any information they may have about Eddie. “This is really not good.”

“He’s fucked.” You whisper. The crowd standing before Powell is large. Nearly half the town leans into his every word. They’re angry. All of them. Another one of their own has been taken. Another child. 

And they’d do anything to save Hawkins’ children.

The manhunt has begun. 

“Dustin, can you hear me? Hendersons?” Eddie’s voice cackles through the walkie.

Everyone scurries around your brother while he fumbles with his bag, anxious to respond. When he finally finds his walkie, he breathes out a sigh of relief. “Eddie. Holy shit. Are you okay?”

“Nah, man.” He sounds exhausted, seconds away from completely breaking down. Something within your chest tightens. No one deserves this. “I’m pretty goddamn far from okay.”

Robin prods Dustin to ask where Eddie is. No one wants him to be alone right now. Not when he’s become Hawkins’ most wanted.

“I’m at Skull Rock. Do you know it?”

Dustin nods eagerly. “Uh, yeah. That’s near Cornwallis and–”

“Garrett, yeah.” Steve is already running towards Nancy’s car. “I know where that is.”

You grab Dustin’s shirt. “Tell Eddie we’ll be there soon, alright?”

“Yeah-yeah I will.” The urgence in your voice scares him a little. He knows you’d do whatever to protect someone, but he never thought you’d extend this protectiveness to Eddie. Bringing the walkie to his lips, Dustin delivers your message. “Hold tight. We’re coming.”

The walkie clicks off. 

All you can do is hope that you make it to Skull Rock in time. 

– 

The last time you trekked through Hawkins woods, you had to endure Steve and Dustin constantly arguing as you all threw down chunks of meat onto the train tracks.

Now, over a year later, they’re still arguing.

At least this time there isn’t the stench of raw meat.

“I’m telling you, we’re going the wrong way.” Dustin nags Steve, holding his compass in one hand and a map of Hawkins in the other. “Skull Rock is in the other direction. You’re totally wrong.”

Steve shoves him, causing the teen to trip over a tree root. “What’s up with you always thinking I’m wrong these days?”

“Because you’re always wrong.”

You flick the brim of Dustin’s hat. “Steve has had a few good ideas from time to time. He’s taking us the right way.”

“No, he’s not. It’s north.” Dustin points behind him. Steve rolls his eyes in disbelief. “I’m positive. I checked the map.”

“You do realize Skull Rock is a super popular make out spot? It wasn’t popular until I made it popular, alright? I practically invented it.” The words slip from Steve’s mouth before he can really understand the consequences behind them. He stops dead in his tracks and stares at you, eyes wide in fear.

“Nice one, Steve.” You pat his chest sarcastically, sharing a disgusted look with Dustin.

“Okay, I didn’t mean it like that.” Steve trips over his words, nearly falling flat on his face as he struggles to keep up with you. “I mean, I did kiss a lot of girls there, but-but that was before I enjoyed kissing you!”

Your brother gags. “Real catch there, Y/N.”

“I’m ignoring you both,” you tell the boys, continuing down the path Steve pointed out earlier. The gaps in the trees start to become familiar. The rugged terrain smoothes over from excessive use, creating an unmarked trail that you’ve walked before. “More importantly, I think we’re getting close to Skull Rock.”

“See? I told you, little Henderson–” Steve starts to cheer, happy to be right. Then the joy on his face quickly dissipates. He’s realized something. “Wait, how… how do you know where Skull Rock is, Y/N?”

A twig snaps beneath your shoe. “Used to go there all the time with Jonathan.”

“What?” Steve and Dustin balk at you, nearly toppling over the other in shock.

Quickly you realize the horrific implications of your words. “Jesus, not like that! We would only go there to read together and listen to music!”

It was your way of escaping life together. Just the two of you, early mornings before the rest of Hawkins woke up. The dew would still be on the grass. Everything was easier, then.

You miss those days more than anything. 

Dustin’s suspicious eyes linger on you, though he seems content enough with your explanation. Steve, however, still looks uncertain and utterly mortified. His distrust makes you sigh in annoyance. 

“I have never once kissed Jonathan.”

“Right!” Steve snaps back to himself, coughing and wiping his hands on his pants. “Yeah. Totally already knew that. For sure.”

Dustin hits his shoulder. “Dude. Learn when to shut up.”

“Working on it.” Steve mumbles bitterly, trying to catch your eye, but you ignore him. 

Behind you, Nancy and Robin walk silently together. They’d been the odd ones out in the group. You had paired off with Dustin and Steve to try and quell their arguing while Max and Lucas wandered off alone.

Neither girl speaks. There’s not a lot to say between them. When you come across a fallen log, they watch silently as Steve extends his arm to you, helping you jump over it. His grip is delicate on your arm, though firm enough to guide you. After you’ve jumped, his eyes instinctively go to your ankle, the same one you sprained years ago, to make sure you aren’t limping.

It’s a subtle, easy to overlook action. But Nancy and Robin see it, and they both understand how painstakingly sincere it is. Your ankle never quite healed right. Some days it bothers you, particularly after walking long distances or jumping too much on it. 

And Steve knows your body well enough to understand this. 

“Ugh,” Robin’s scoff breaks the silence, happy to voice what she knows Nancy is thinking. “They’re so adorable. I just wanna squeeze ‘em, ya know?”

Nancy smiles at her, although it’s strained. “Steve is very… sweet. With Y/N.”

“‘Sweet’? More like tooth-rotting, Nance.”

And Robin’s right. The way Steve is around you, there almost isn’t a word for it. Nancy has never really seen the two of you together. By the time Steve finally asked you out, it’d been only a week before Joyce told Jonathan they were moving.

Steve had stepped back after that. He allowed you and Nancy to spend as much time as physically possible with Jonathan before he moved. He recognized the strained history between him and Jonathan; he hadn’t wanted to spoil the little time you had left together. 

When summer ended and senior year began, Steve had already graduated and Nancy had thrown herself into the school paper by then.

Now, after spending the last few days around you and Steve nonstop, Nancy can’t help but notice all the nuanced ways the two of you are together. She’s picked up the small cues between you, the quirks in your relationship. And she feels a strange sense of curiosity about it.

“Steve and Y/N,” Nancy pauses, unsure how to phrase her question. She doesn’t want to sound intrusive or rude. “How, um. Serious are they?”

Robin is slightly surprised by her question, but the flush of Nancy’s cheeks tells her that it’d been hard for her to even ask it. “Oh, they’re very serious. Like starting a life together serious.”

“A life together?” Nancy doesn’t believe it. She doesn’t understand how the two of you could already be at the point in your relationship. You’ve been together less than a year. 

A lot less longer than Nancy has been with Jonathan. 

“Yeah, Steve has this crazy idea of following Y/N to NYU.” Robin almost doesn’t think she should be telling her this, but Nancy seems to be hurting and she feels bad for her. Nancy wouldn’t be asking about this if there wasn’t a reason to. “His heart is like, totally set on it. It’s crazy and all, but it’s sweet in his own Steve-ish way.”

“It is sweet.” Nancy affirms, a far off look in her eyes. The same far off look in her eyes from the other day in the library. Robin had asked about Jonathan and suddenly Nancy’s entire demeanor shifted. 

Robin clears her throat. “I’m guessing you and Jonathan haven’t figured out the whole life thing yet?”

“That isn’t any of your business.” Nancy responds coldly.

“Well, you did start this entire conversation asking about Steve and Y/N’s relationship.” Robin points out, though not unkindly. “All I’m saying is that someone in a happy relationship wouldn’t ask about another person’s relationship and look totally depressed while doing so.”

Nancy shakes her head incredulously. “Jonathan and I are fine.” 

“Okay.” Robin says, but it’s obvious to them both that she doesn’t believe her. 

“We’re good.” Nancy tries again, but not even she believes her own words. Defeated, she turns away from Robin and sighs heavily. “It’s just, he was supposed to be here for the break and then he backed out at the last minute for some vague, mumbly Jonathan reason.”

She doesn’t know why she’s confiding in Robin about this. They’re barely friends, Nancy has never spoken to her outside of party related stuff. But Robin remains quiet, listening, Her attention is all it takes before the dam in Nancy’s chest collapses. 

“And, to be honest, I’m not that surprised because I’ve been feeling him pulling away lately.” All the hurt and anxiety and insecurity Nancy has pent away finally unravels as she speaks. She can’t stop. “And I don’t know if it’s because we’re 2,000 miles away or if he met someone new or-or if Y/N–”

Nancy stops herself, aware that Robin is your friend. Not hers. Looking away, she hopes Robin didn’t hear her slip. “And now I can’t find out why because apparently he’s blown up his family’s house phone or something, so yeah. If the mention of his name caused a slight muscle spasm or curiosity over another person’s relationship, that’s probably why.”

She swallows down tears. Her chest feels lighter, emptier. The frustration is gone, though the bitterness remains. 

Robin is quiet for a moment. The resentment Nancy has been exhibiting makes sense now. While Steve would follow you anywhere, Jonathan doesn’t seem to want to follow Nancy. “Feels like a perfectly reasonable reason to flinch or be nosey.” 

Nancy smiles at her, eternally grateful. “Does you accepting my nosiness officially make us friends?”

Robin immediately agrees, albeit in her own shy way, and Nancy laughs alongside her. It’s a nice moment, one Nancy hadn’t known that she needed. Your friendship with the girl doesn’t seem so strange now. 

Steve’s distant cheer alerts the others that he’s found Skull Rock.

“Oh, boom!” He crouches beneath a shrub and swats away a spider web. He’s too excited to gloat that he doesn’t even care that there could be spiders in his hair yet again. “In your face, little Henderson. In your stupid, cocky little face!”

“Who’s the fifteen year old here?” You ask your boyfriend, looking at him pointedly. 

Dustin looks down at his compass and frowns. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“You hearing him, Y/N?” Steve waves his hands in front of the giant boulder. “Even with it staring him right in the face, the kid can’t even admit that he’s wrong! And you’re saying I’m the immature one? He’s such a little butthead.”

“Sure, because every nineteen year old says butthead as an insult-fuck!” A body lands next to you with petrifying force. You fall back in panic, heart pounding in your chest.

“I concur,” Eddie smiles at you wickedly. “Your brother, Dustin Henderson, is a total butthead.”

Dustin is hugging Eddie before you’ve even caught your breath. The relief on his face is evident. “Jesus, we thought you were a goner.”

“Yeah, me too.” Eddie clutches your brother tightly, the weight of the last few days bearing their toll on him. Still, the glint in his eyes hasn’t left yet. Winking at you, Eddie’s mischievous smile is back. “Never thought I’d see precious Hawkins’ sweetheart at Skull Rock. Sorry for the fright, by the way.”

You glare at him. “I hate you.” 

Eddie pulls away from Dustin and nudges you with his shoulder. “To be fair, you were kinda useless when I needed you yesterday. Isn’t your whole shtick helping people?” 

Sheepish, you duck your head. “In my defense, the signal was shitty. You kept breaking up, I couldn’t really do anything about holes in boats.”

“It’s okay, you’ll just donate your liver to me the next time I need one.” Eddie nudges your shoulder again, eliciting a begrudging laugh, breaking any remaining tension between you two.

Steve stands next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist in a protective manner. His eyes never leave Eddie, distrustful. “You’re not taking Y/N’s liver.”

“No one’s taking my liver,” you roll your eyes at him fondly before turning to Eddie. “But I can bake you something as compensation.” 

Eddie clicks his teeth. “Even better.”

Nancy hands the bag of food over to him and he takes it eagerly. He rifts through its contents while everyone else gathers around him. You all allow him time to adjust, to breathe for a moment. 

But eventually the overwhelming need to know outweighs the guilt. Nancy, always the one to get straight to the point, finally breaks the silence. “What happened yesterday?”

Eddie’s face darkens. “Jason and his goddamn goons. They were at the lake house and I was cornered. Didn’t know what to do. The fuckers were angry.”

Your eyes wander his face, noting the lack of bruises and cuts on it. A fight hadn’t broken out, which means Eddie escaped somehow. “And when they found you?”

Eddie takes a swig from his flask. He winces at the taste, but it seems to settle his nerves. “Turns out, the boat didn’t have holes.”

“So Patrick’s body, was it…?” Nancy can’t bring herself to finish the question. 

“Found in the lake? Sure was.” Eddie smiles venomously. “He tried swimming after me, so did Jason. Only one of them made it back to shore.”

Lucas looks away, grief clouding his expression. You mumble an apology to him. You hate that there isn’t anything else you can do to help him. He’s lost so much already.

“It was the exact same thing that happened to Chrissy. Patrick’s body shot out of the water like a fucking rocketlauncher.” Eddie says bitterly. His teeth are clenched, the memories from last night are gruesome to recount. “Then his bones started snapping and Jason lost his mind. He thought I was the one doing it.”

Dustin paces next to you. He’s mumbling to himself, every detail Eddie reveals only worries him more. Vecna has made his third kill. You and Max are next. There’s something that he’s missing. He just doesn’t know what.

“I ended up falling into the water and swimming to shore. I tried calling, but my walkie was busted, man. Drenched.” Eddie drinks again. He shakes his head curtly, scoffs to himself. “So I, uh. Did the thing that I now, apparently. I ran.”

The condescension in his voice, the cold laugh, upsets you. He’s disappointed in himself, he hates what he’s done, but no one blames him. There was no saving Patrick. Anyone who witnessed such a cruel death also would’ve run away. “You had no choice, Eddie.”

He ignores your comfort and instead answers Nancy’s question of what time the attack took place. “Yeah, I know exactly what time it was.” Eddie unclasps his watch and holds it up. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.”

Nancy catches the watch he throws her at and quickly reads the time on it. “9:27.”

You and Robin look at each other in surprise. She raises her eyebrows, thinking what you are. “That’s the same time our flashlights went kablooey.”

“That’s one hell of a coincidence.” You mutter to yourself, but Steve hears you anyways and squeezes your side. 

“That surge of energy had to be Vecna attacking Patrick.” Nancy pieces together, tossing Eddie his watch back. 

It isn’t a comforting realization, but at least it’s information you can use. You now know where, how, and when he Vecna attacks. The only piece missing is what to do with the information you have.

Dustin continues to pace back and forth. He’s hunched over, and when you look closer, you realize he’s scowling at his compass as if it personally offended him.

“So now we just need to sneak into his lair in the Upside Down and drive a stake through his heart.” Max says, as if it’s the most casual sentence in the world.

You look at her like she’s crazy. “We’re not going to the Upside Down!”

But no one is listening to you. Instead Steve, Robin, and Max begin a philosophical debate about whether or not Venca has a heart or if he’s a vampire. 

“It was a metaphor.” Max informs Steve, slight disappointment in her voice.

“A bullet should work on him, right?” Eddie asks the group.

You shake your head at him. “Bullets never work.”

He stares at you, somewhat terrified. “How… how do you already know that?”

“We’ve had a lot of practice.”

“That’s actually even more upsetting to hear.” 

Lucas and the others start spewing creative ways to kill Vecna. They’re graphic and violent, but you already know that none of it will work. You’ve fought creatures from the Upside Down before; they’re notoriously difficult to kill, oftentimes requiring fire, bullets, knives, and bear traps. 

None of which you currently have.

Nancy knows this, too. “We can’t do any of that until we find a way into the Upside Down.”

“Why are we all suddenly okay with going there?” You ask incredulously. They’re all suggesting the Upside Down as if it’s fucking Disneyland. “I mean, haven’t we been trying to cut any connection to that goddamn place for the last four years?”

“What other option do we have, Y/N?” Nancy pushes. “You know there’s no other way to stop this.”

Max sighs in exasperation. “What we need is for El to get her powers back.”

“I miss her.” You sigh as well. You’re worried that there’s something wrong. You’ve called the Byers’ home a million times now, but no one is answering. Despite the weirdness between you and Jonathan, you still want him to be okay. He’s never gone this long without talking to you. 

And with Jonathan’s silence comes silence from El and Will, too. You hope they’re okay as well, especially knowing that Mike is supposed to be with them this week. You figured by now that Will would’ve called you to complain about Mike’s obsession with El. 

Instead all there’s been is silence, and their silence unnerves you.

Steve voices that he also misses El, turning to Eddie to explain how she has powers, but Eddie isn’t paying attention to him. 

“Hey, Henderson’s not cursed, is he?” His eyes follow Dustin’s pacing figure, nervous. 

“No, but I am.”

Eddie chokes on his spit and Steve snaps his finger at you. “That’s so not funny, Y/N. You’re in danger.”

“My point exactly. I feel that I’ve earned the right to joke about my demise.” You say, though you do grab his hand and squeeze it softly to voice your unsaid apology. As much as his concern warms you, you wish he didn’t have any at all for you. Worry has never been kind to Steve. Trying to brighten the mood, you turn to Eddie. “Don’t you agree?”

Eddie raises his hands. “I’m not a part of this.”

“Boom!” Dustin’s loud screech causes everyone to jump. He points his finger at you, a manic glint in his eyes. “Bada… bada… boom!” 

You shove his finger out of your face. “Are you done yet?” 

“I was right.” Dustin is smug, the mania in his eyes has yet to settle. “Skull Rock was north.”

You want to strangle your brother. You love him, you really do, but he can be very egotistical sometimes. He’s spent the entire conversation obsessively searching for a way to be right, rather than figure out what to do next about Vecna. 

He’s insane. 

Steve throws his head back in annoyance, equally as fed up with Dustin as you are. “You’re serious? This is Skull Rock!” He points at the giant boulder behind him. “You’re totally, absolutely, 100% wrong. Right now!”

“There’s literally nowhere else Skull Rock could be, Dustin.” You back Steve up. 

Dustin smiles. “Yes… and no.”

Steve has to step away, and you can’t blame him. You’re also seconds away from bashing your head against a tree. You’re in a forest. There are plenty to choose from. 

“This worked correctly when we left the Wheelers’.” Dustin holds up his compass. “It was correct when we got in the car on Kerley, but it started to slip the further east we went. Now it’s way off. When I was leading us here, I wasn’t wrong. The compass was.”

Steve insists that the compass is merely faulty equipment and that it still makes Dustin wrong, but you start to remember another time a compass started acting up. How it almost caused the party to split apart.

El had been the one controlling the compass, leading them in circles because she hadn’t wanted them near Hawkins Lab. 

Which would mean…

“It isn’t a faulty compass.” You look up at Dustin, now understanding. 

His face splits into a proud grin. “Correct. Lucas, do you remember what can affect a compass?”

The teen is startled by the question. Lucas’ face is masked with confusion, but suddenly everything clicks. “An electromagnetic field.”

Robin questions what any of this means, prompting Dustin to explain what Mr. Clark told you at Will’s funeral. He explains the electromagnetic theory and how the presence of a stronger field can make a compass stop working. “So either there’s a super big magnet around here, or…”

“There’s a gate.” You finish, ice washing over you. The idea terrifies you, but somehow it makes perfect sense. “Maybe even multiple gates.”

Everyone looks uncomfortable with this new information, but Dustin cuts through the tension. “It’d have to be smaller, way less powerful.”

“A snack-sized gate.” Robin adds, and you appreciate that she’s trying to make you laugh.

Steve asks how multiple gates can even be possible, and all Dustin can do is shrug. He doesn’t know, but it’s the furthest you’ve gotten to any semblance of an explanation. “The last time we’ve seen anything like it, it was a gate. And I hope it is, because then we’d have a way to Vecna. And a shot at freeing Y/N and Max from this curse.”

It’s the most hopeful you’ve seen Dustin all week. He’s optimistic, endlessly proud of himself for figuring out the missing piece of the equation. 

“Okay, but there’s still the Eddie problem. What do we do about him?” You remind your brother.

Steve nods. “Yeah, he’s still a wanted man. We can’t just go hike the woods.”

Dustin is already several feet away, eager to start following the compass. He’s so close to finally lifting the curse. He’s going to save you. He will. “This little capsule might be the key to saving all three of them! Max, Y/N, and Eddie.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that even if you do find a way to kill Venca, it’d be almost impossible to clear Eddie’s name. No one else knows about the Upside Down. Legally speaking, you aren’t even allowed to know about the Upside Down. 

But Dustin bows to Eddie and pretends to tip his hat. “What say you, Eddie the Banished?”

Everyone turns to the older teen. It’s a lot to ask of him. This entire time he’s been hiding, fearful of shadows and people. You wouldn’t think any less of him if he declined. And yet, Eddie surprises you. “I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor, which if I’m totally straight with you, I think is a really bad idea, but the Shire… the Shire is burning.”

Dustin bounces up and down in anticipation. You cross your arms, rolling your eyes at him, but his childish glee makes you smile anyways. It’s cute, as much as it pains you to admit. 

Eddie stands up. “So Mordor it is.”

He marches towards Dustin, no ounce of hesitation within his movements. He has complete and total trust in your brother. He’s following him into what could very well be Hell, and yet Eddie does so with a brave face. They really are close.

And Eddie has chosen to join, not run away. 

“No more running?” You catch his arm.

Eddie smiles at you. “No more running.”

“What the hell is Mordor?” Steve cuts in, lost.

You giggle at him and grab his hand. “C’mon, Harrington. To Mordor we go.”

– 

Dustin’s compass leads you back to Lover’s Lake. 

You and Steve walk quietly behind the others. Your fondest memories together are at the lake. It’s where Steve finally asked you to be his. That night, underneath the stars, you kissed for hours and felt as if you were the only two people in the world. 

As if reading your mind, Steve brings your hand to his lips and kisses it softly. 

The small moment between you is ruined when Dustin suddenly starts to speed up, practically running away from the group. Eddie shouts at him to slow down and the thought of your brother alone in the woods frightens you. Pulling away from Steve, you run after him. 

“I think we’re getting close!” Dustin calls over his shoulder, not seeing the water in front of him.

Eddie grabs the back of his hoodie and saves him before he can fall in. “Watch your step, big guy.”

“This is confounding,” Dustin is breathless, utterly in awe.

“There’s a gate in Lover’s Lake?” Max is skeptical.

You hum, thinking. “Unless there’s somehow another reason for Dustin’s compass going haywire, I’d say there’s a gate here.”

“Whenever the Demogorgon attacked, it always left an opening.” Nancy slowly says, her eyes scanning the water as she studies it. “Maybe Vecna’s the same way.”

Dipping the tip of your muddied mary janes into the water, you look down at it thoughtfully. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

You hate the Upside Down and all that it’s taken from you. Hopper, Will’s childhood, Max’s brother, El’s life. You hate all the violence and pain it brought into your life. The scars that litter your skin and the nightmares that will never leave.

But Max comes first. You have to save her. It doesn’t matter what it’ll cost you as long as she’s safe.

Eddie guides everyone to the boat he used to escape from Jason. Though its engine doesn’t work, he reassures the group that it’ll be fine. At the very least, it’ll get you deep into the water. Steve helps him push it to the shore’s edge.

Robin steps onto the boat first, using Steve and Eddie’s heads for balance as they hold the boat steady. They scoff at her, but she doesn’t care. Eddie goes next, then Nancy. When you go to step inside, Dustin pulls you back. 

“Have you lost your mind?” His hand doesn’t leave your arm. “In case you’ve somehow forgotten, you’re also marked. You’re not going anywhere near a goddamn gate.”

His voice shakes with fear for you. Your heart twists. “Dustin, I haven’t had any visions yet. Just the headaches. I even have my walkman on me. I promise I’ll be fine.”

“I’m coming with you.” Dustin juts his chin out, trying to appear brave before you.

But you see through him anyways. “You’re not. I need you to stay with Max and Lucas for me, okay?” Before he can argue with you some more, you kiss the top of his head. “I love you.”

Just as Dustin can’t stand the idea of losing you, you can’t stand the idea of losing him, either. 

Dustin snatches your walkman from your pocket. You lunge at him, but he’s fast. In a heartbeat he’s at his backpack, grabbing an old plastic bag, before he starts frantically wrapping your walkman within it. He ties the plastic tight around it, making it airtight. 

“I hate what you’re doing,” Dustin gives the walkman back to you with contempt in his voice. “But I’m not losing you to a waterlogged walkman.”

The pressure of tears builds behind your eyelids. You love your brother endlessly. Kissing his head again, you pull him into a bone crushing hug. “You’re never losing me.”

“I better not.” He mumbles, sinking into your embrace. “And I love you too, by the way.”

You laugh wetly, and Eddie takes it as his cue to finally speak. “Not to ruin this tender sibling moment, but this boat only holds like three people tops. Dustin wouldn’t be able to come anyways.”

Dustin sticks his tongue out at him and Nancy extends her arm. “Compass?”

Reluctantly, your brother hands her his compass. After he’s given it to her, Steve finally turns to Dustin. He lowers his voice, trying to give him some privacy. “Listen, I’ll keep Y/N safe, alright?”

Though he doesn’t want to, Dustin nods. Steve is the only person that he trusts your life with. If it were anyone else, Dustin would’ve thrown himself onto the boat and demanded he be next to you. But you’re with Steve and your walkman is safe. That’s all he can ask for now. 

“You better.” Dustin warns, but his heart isn’t really in it.

Steve claps his shoulder and kicks off the shore’s edge, sending the boat into the water. It’s a small boat, Steve has to wrap his arms around you to fit. You’re pressed tight against his chest while Eddie, Nancy, and Robin are squished on the other side of the boat.

“Bedtime at nine, kiddos!” Robin shouts as the boat floats away, giggling.

You hit her shoulder. “Be nice, they’re worried about us.”

She shrugs, indifferent, and starts helping Eddie steer the boat. Nancy guides them with the compass while you and Steve hold up the flashlights. It’s eerily quiet on the lake. The only sound that infiltrates the night is the soft crash of the waves against the shore. 

About halfway into the lake, Nancy orders Eddie and Robin to stop rowing. “Woah, woah, woah. Slow down.”

The boat comes to a stop. You shine your flashlight over the compass and watch as it spins wildly. It can’t seem to decide on a direction to point in. “Definitely not just faulty equipment.”

Nancy nods, her face grim. 

“Guys, what’s going on? Talk to me.” Dustin’s voice crackles through the walkie. He must’ve seen the boat stop.

“Your compass has gone from wonky to wonky with a capital ‘aah!’” Robin tells him, eyes narrowed at the instrument. 

You take the walkie from her. “I think we found the gate.”

“Steve, what are you doing?” Nancy’s concerned voice causes you to turn.

Steve has taken his shoes off and he’s already stripping his socks by the time you process what the hell he’s doing. “Steve Harrington I will drown you before I let you close to any goddamn gate.”

“Somebody’s gotta go down and check this out, angel.” He says hastily, taking his other sock off. “Unless one of you can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years.”

“What, did the swim team train you in dimension hunting?” You grab his arms, struggling against his strength to stop him. He fights back, overpowering you easily. You’re starting to panic now. “I-I’m not letting you down there!”

“It’s gotta be me.” He’s speaking to you in a hushed, understanding tone. Steve’s eyes find yours, and he pleads with you to listen. “Let it be me.”

Let me save you. 

“I…” You don’t want Steve to go; you’re scared you’ll lose him if you do. 

“Y/N, please.” 

Don’t make me beg for your life again.

Last summer Steve had been torn away from you by Russians. You watched as they took him from you, pried him from your grasp. The fear, the overwhelming sense of despair you’d felt back then had almost strangled you. 

You’ve already almost lost him once.

It would kill you if it happened again. You know it would. He’s your lifeline. Steve is the air you breathe and the flesh on your skin. He’s your constant, your home. 

“Come home to me, okay?”

They’re the same words you screamed to him the last time he was taken from you. It’d been the only thing you could think of, the only way to encompass all that he is to you. But Steve hadn’t been able to swear his oath to you. Time had run out. 

But not tonight.

“Always,” Steve promises. 

Then, ignoring everyone around you, Steve pulls you into a bruising kiss. His kiss, his promise, they breathe life back into you. The assurance that he’ll come back to you fills honey into your bloodstream. The taste of his lips coats your tongue in dandelion oil. 

Someone clears their throat aggressively, not so subtly reminding you and Steve that you’re still on a boat surrounded by three other people. 

Breaking apart, your cheeks burn when you see Eddie’s kissy face. “Romantic.”

“Shut up.” 

You help Steve undress. It’s intimate, tender. You would do anything for him. Pulling his sweater gently over his head, you kiss him again. “Good luck, honey. I love you.”

Steve rests his forehead against yours, breathing you in for the final time. His hands cup your face, warm and rough. “I love you too, angel.”

Eddie hands him a flashlight wrapped in a plastic bag. “Hey. What Y/N said. I mean, without the love confession. Um. Good luck.”

Taking the flashlight, Steve thanks him. Robin grabs your hand, both of you needing the other for comfort. She’s terrified, Steve is her best friend. Nancy looks at him with a look in her eyes that you can’t quite decipher.

“Be careful.” She finally tells him. 

Steve nods, looking back at you one last time, before taking a deep breath and diving into the dark water. 

The seconds drag on like hours. The moment Steve dives in, you feel every second he’s under the water like a knife cutting into your lungs. Your legs shake, Robin’s grip on you is so tight that it threatens to cut off circulation, but you don’t let go of her. 

“Where we at, Wheeler?” Robin asks after what feels like a decade. 

“Closing in on a minute.” She sees your shaking body and rests a kind hand against your shoulder. “Steve can handle it. I know he can. He’s strong.”

You bite your nails anxiously. Blood fills your mouth. You know Nancy is trying to comfort you, but her words only make you feel worse. Steve is strong, but he’s still only human. 

A horrifying thought crosses your mind: you’ve dreamt of this before, only it’d been Billy drowning you in the pool. Your body goes numb. Tonight can’t end that way. 

Almost another minute drags on before Steve’s head miraculously resurfaces. He inhales sharply, splashing water all over you, but you don’t care. You’re leaning over the boat’s edge the second his hands reach the surface. 

You can finally breathe again.

“Steve!” You kiss his soaked hair, grateful to feel his skin against your lips again. 

“I found it,” he gasps out, spitting water out of his mouth. He reaches for your hand, anxious as well to feel your touch. “I-I found it.”

Robin cheers, quickly alerting Dustin that he’d been right about the gates. You go to help Steve back into the boat, but he waves you away and goes back to holding your hand. He doesn’t want you getting wet, it’s cold out and you could get sick.

“It was wild.” Steve rubs his finger over the back of your hand. He’s smiling, adrenaline coursing through him. “It’s more a snack-sized gate than the mama gate, but still, it’s pretty damn big–”

Suddenly he’s back underneath the water, pulled so deep below that he almost drags you down with him. You scream, shrill and terrified. Nancy and Robin rush to your side, holding you back so that you don’t fall into the water as well.

Steve resurfaces again, but he must sense that this isn’t the end, because he rips your hand from his. He does it to save you, to ensure you don’t get taken with him. But you fight against it, you don’t understand why he wants you to let go of him. 

Steve pries your hand away. “Y/N–”

And then he’s gone. 

Everyone screams as Steve’s body disappears into the water. 

“Steve!” You’re dizzy with blind fear. He had protected you. He had spent his final seconds making sure that you wouldn’t get hurt, and now he’s gone.

Robin’s arms are around you, holding you back as you scream. She knows what you’re about to do. “Y/N, you can’t–”

“Let go!” You throw your shoulder back, prying your arm away. She screams at you, Nancy and Eddie do as well, but you’re already tearing your sweater off. 

You’re going in. You don’t care. Steve needs you. 

He needs you.

The water is cold. It shocks your system. Eyes burning, you struggle to make out where Steve is. Faintly, in the dark water, you see his body being dragged down. There’s something twisted around his ankle, pulling him towards a red light. You can hear his muffled screams. His arms flail, bubbles escape his mouth as he struggles against it, as he’s pulled through the red haze.

Lungs burning, you will your legs to kick as hard as they can. You’re both running out of time. 

The closer you get to the red haze, the colder the water becomes. Your ears pop at the depth. As the murky water settles, you realize that the red that illuminates is a crack in the earth’s surface. Vines encase its edges. 

Breaking through it, air hits your body as you fall to the ground. Your back scrapes against the rough ground beneath you, leaving you gasping for breath. You barely have time to gather your bearings before you hear Steve’s pained screams.

You stumble onto your feet, desperately searching for him. 

What you find is Steve’s body on the ground, vines choking him as he writhes in agony, demonic bats gorging on his stomach. 

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

[doomedmoth]

War is Over

Pairing : Reader x Daniel Ricciardo x Max Verstappen | Poly fem!reader

Warnings : use of y/n, smau, polyamory, queer drivers, reader is around 30

Synopsis : You’re just a mechanic at RedBull, not much more to say. Nothing in your contract says you can’t be friends with drivers, right ? The little lines very clearly says you’re not allowed to show it all though. When your chosen “family” fails you, all you can do is hope your loved ones save themselves too.

Moth’s prophecy💡: Hi cryptids, honestly I have no excuses to give, sorry for the randomness of it all, I just needed to get this out to process with the pain of loosing Daniel. I can only hope he finds happiness away from the shit show that RedBull is becoming. Probably going back to hibernation, see ya !

[Messages] Dumber has sent you a text

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yourusername : How it started / how it’s going (swipe for my face when I’m not covered in grease). Hello to everyone new here, I’m Y/N, Chief Engine Power Conformity Mechanician at redbullracing ! Based in the never-sunny town of Milton Keynes, but you might see me around the paddock at most races to make sure no one explodes ✌🏻

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F1mech little miss mini boss 🫡

yourusername be glad to have me around to do the dirty work

F1mech Yes ma’am very grateful ma’am 🫡

redbullracing Your work is so crucial and we are happy the world gets to know you more !

redbullracing Also it was sunny last we came to MK ???

yourusername nobody tell admin we take out the fake blue sky windows when he comes by

user1 lmao I live in Milton Keynes and can attest we haven’t seen the sun in weeeeks

user2 never wanted to be a redbull neon sign so bad

user3 I can see why they hide her in the shithole that is Milton Keynes, the whole paddock would go crazy over her

user4 she would make such a cute wag omg !!

user5 bet every girlie is on their man’s back whenever she’s around

user6 she works for RB soooo… d’you think her and checo…? 😳

user7 she already has someone guys !! Though we have never seen his face, but I think she’s more interested in the cars than the ones inside them

user6 checo is married and still it doesn’t stop him lmao

user8 are you part of the pit crew ?? Never seen you before ! /g

yourusername I’m not !! I mainly work on the cars before and after the races and practices to make sure everything is in place, not faulty, and compliant to both Redbull’s and the FIA’s standards of security 🤗 but 60/70% of my work is at the factory, and the paddock parts happens behind close doors, so no worries

maxverstappen1 she makes sure nobody dies

yourusername and god knows y’all make it hard sometimes

danielricciardo yeah this second pic is so much better

yourusername oh don’t start me boy

danielricciardo hihihi 🤭

user9 hello Daniel ???

user10 How can I work at Redbull too pls I beg you I’ll even make coffee and mop the floors

yourusername check our offers on the website honey !! Most jobs require some experience or diploma but we also offer internships and graduate programs if you want to make your way in

user10 thank u 🥹

user10 that’s how you got in ?

yourusername nope, I’ve worked on cars forever and in motorsports for years before getting to F1, but we have plenty of opportunities in non-technical fields too!

user11 pretty, kind, works in f1, not single, lemme just Google how to be like you

user12 you okay dude ? Throat not hurting too much from gagging on her dick

user13 lmaoooo yeah seeing her looks that’s probably a daddy’s girl who got put in exec and pretends to know what she’s talking about

user14 wouldn’t be shocked if her “work behind closed doors” is ordering actual mechs around like minions

danielricciardo is your little ego so hurt by the fact that you’ll never be talented enough to get to her place that you’ve resorted to running your shitty mouth online ? Breath getting stinky mate, careful 🤢

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yourusername : Everything’s twice as fun with you

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user15 lover boy lover boy lover boy !

user16 I’m more excited for the face reveal than for my best friend’s wedding

user17 pls get checked wtf

user18 wait isn’t he blonde ? who’s the dark haired one in some pics ? With tattoos ?

user19 you might be new but Y/N always post pics of lover boy randomly, so some pics are old, and he often dyes his hair !

user18 wow damn I need his hairdresser coz this is cleaaaaan

yourbff don’t tell me you let him touch your car

yourusername lmaooo never 💀 tried to teach him to change some parts on his

yourbff and…?

yourusername ended up doing it…

yourbff at least he’s cute !!

yourusername Hey ! That must counts for something !

user20 not them bullying him coz he either doesn’t have socials or is not allowed to answer

yourbff what ? us ?

yourusername Never 😇

user21 oh damn she bagged herself a hottie

user22 HE bagged himself a hottie have you seen her ??

user23 couple goals and we ain’t ever seen his face like

user24 ain’t no need for a face with a body like this

user25 kinda looks like Max on the 6th slide no ??

user26 lmao as if

user27 the man can bag any celebrity doubt he cares for a factory girl

user28 the pic with the RB can lol

yourusername trained him well 😇

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[Instagram] maxverstappen1 has added a story

user29 replied to the story :

oh yeah I keep forgetting y’all old money rich rich

user30 replied to the story :

so we all forgetting about Horner’s accusation ?? Truly just RB’s bitch in the end

user31 replied to the story :

Is that y/n ?? Didn’t know the mechs were invited to those events

danielricciardo replied to the story :

man I do take amazing pics when the models look so good

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yourusername : vitamin sea 🌊⛱️🐚 Australia, you never disappoint

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oscarpiastri wish we could have hung out more 🥺

yourusername we hung out at your house bby!!

user32 BBY ?? SOMEONE CALL LILY COZ THIS BITCH IS OVERSTEPPING

oscarpiastri we didn’t hang out you repaired my mom’s car while Lily and I were drinking WARM BEERS ON THE FLOOR

yourusername SORRY YOU CAN’T APPRECIATE MY CRAFT LIKE YOUR MOTHER DOES also hi to lils 💕🌸🎀

oscarpiastri DON’T BRING MY MOM INTO THIS she said she misses u 🤗💕✨

user32 oh

yourusername yeah

oscarpiastri yeah

nicolepiastri yeah

yourbff you need to turn off work like for reeeaaaal

yourusername how can I when those two are literally glued to my hip

danielricciardo shocked sad disappointed

maxverstappen1 Lover boy will hear about this

yourusername Are those threats ? Remember I literally have power over your life

danielricciardo not mine anymore lol Lover boy WILL HEAR about this

user33 oh so that definitely erases the possibility of Max or Daniel being Lover Boy

user34 as if there had ever been any evidence of that

user35 Lover boy in the Redbull cap ??

yourusername Yep ! Max gave it to him

user35 daaaaamn he is ripped

yourusername hihi 🤭

user36 no one questioning why the fuck is a mechanician hanging so much with drivers ??

user37 *chief mechanician

F1mech oh shit buddy thank you, we weren’t aware we couldn’t be friends with people we spend more than half of the year on the road with

maxverstappen1 cancel your ticket rn mate, you can’t vacation with us

F1mech come on user36, see what you’ve done ?? Maybe if you hadn’t questioned it I could have gone, fucker

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user38 has replied to your story :

Not you posting this straight after the checo announcement 💀

yourbff has replied to your story :

just saw the news, is Danny ok ?? Pls call me

maxverstappen1 has replied to your story :

Booked you a table at San Marco at 8, sorry I can’t be there tonight…

it’s okay, I know how it is, I just don’t want him to be alone… thx for the restaurant ����

[Instagram] yourusername has added a story

user39 has replied to your story :

omg same

user40 has replied to your story :

IS THAT DANIEL ???

user41 has replied to your story :

the tattoos ??? girl we knoooow

redbullracing has replied to your story :

y/n ?

yup yup yup sorry

This story has been deleted.

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user41 has replied to your story :

lmao miss thing is piiiissed

yukitsunoda0511 has replied to your story :

i can’t find my controller d’you have one more ? 🥺

yes bby just come before your food gets cold

user42 has replied to your story :

She supports Max’s rights but mostly Max’s wrongs

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user43 has replied to your story :

preeeaach 🙌🏻

user44 has replied to your story :

all redbull employees protesting the FIA has me going !! Tell Horner to open his mouth too for once

danielricciardo has replied to your story :

I want this pic as my new lockscreen

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danielricciardo : l've loved this sport my whole life. It's wild and wonderful and been a journey. To the teams and individuals that have played their part, thank you. To the fans who love the sport sometimes more than me haha thank you. It'll always have its highs and lows but it's been fun and truth be told I wouldn't change it.

Until the next adventure.

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redbullracing 🫶🏻

user45 SHUT UP

user46 the audacity

user47 you promised you would treat him better !!

user48 Daniel > Perez

user49 DTS fan

lewishamilton legend 🫂

user50 game recognize game

user51 tell Mercedes to give him a seat

maxverstappen1 Head up ! Many more beautiful moments to come, somewhere you’ll be recognized and appreciated 💪🏻 our time together isn’t over, but I’m glad for all the racing, the laughs, the nights, for you ❤️

user52 wow hm Max no need to make all of us cry

user53 I feel like I’ve just walked in on something very personal…

user54 maxiel 😭😭😭

user55 he was the best mate you ever had, never should have left RedBull

yourusername Working with you was an honor, but getting to know and appreciate you made my whole life brighter, and I can’t thank you enough for this 🌞 no contracts can bring us apart, see you around honey bee 💛

user56 the little dig at RB’s contracts lmao

user57 why does honey bee feel much more intimate than honey badger ??

user58 we haven’t seen this level of emotion for De Vries, yet you were already working for the “RedBull family” if I’m not mistaken ??

user59 maybe because no one gives two shits about De Vries ??

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yourusername : Well, there it is. After 15 years of working on cars, the last 10 in motorsports, last five in Formula 1, it’s time for me to take a break. It was just perfect to finish it off in my hometown Austin, and I’m so grateful to my friends and family who made the trip to celebrate together. I remember my first week at Milton Keynes, my whole life in a suitcase. Abu Dhabi 2021, and those stories we’ll keep for our old days. I was so proud to be part of this, the champagne, the fireworks, the love. The day Daniel came back to us. The people I’ve met, the opportunities I’ve had, none would have been possible without you, ‘Bull. It’s been oh so amazing, but oh so tiring. I’ve reached a point in my life where I need my environment to be aligned with what I want, my values and the people I love and care for. So it’s goodbye.

F1, thank you for everything. I’ll miss you, but I gotta go. 💙

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F1mech I solemnly swear to not make anything explode, to always triple check my laces, to never pick Yoshi in Mario Kart because it’s yours, and to forever keep you close to my heart. Thx mini boss, you were amazing 🫡

yourusername Thanks Callum, you’re gonna make me cry now…

user60 US TOO 😭

user61 naaaaah another one leaving RedBull, shit is really going down

user62 where do you think she’s going ? Aston ?

user63 or Ferrari

yourusername Sorry to disappoint but neither ! It’s really a full break, for a while at least, I need to get my head out of the oil and machinery

user64 leaving England then ?? What about lover boy ??

yourusername Lover boy was never British eheh, who told you that ? 🤭

user65 if Lover boy is confirmed to be Daniel I’ll loose my shit

user66 I will always root for Max though…

user67 he has tattoos omg it’s never been Max !!

redbullracing Now it’s pretty sure MK will never see the sun again with you gone 😭

user68 we still hate you

user69 fuck off

yukitsunoda0511 🥺🫶🏻

yourusername 😚🫴🏻💕

yourbff it’ll be hard, but it’ll be good

yourusername thankfully i won’t be alone

yourbff not long to wait

yourusername yeah, soon soon

user70 ???

user71 I have a headache just thinking about everything the soon soon could be about

user72 really doubt Max is staying much longer in RedBull seeing how many engineers are quitting

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user73 has replied to your story :

no yeah we get it this looks much better than the factory lmao

user74 has replied to your story :

Honey bee ?? I’ve heard that one before

oscarpiastri has replied to your story :

Mom said you haven’t gone to see her yet ! Meanie !

user75 has replied to your story :

crazy how Max starts winning again since you’re gone

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F1 : BREAKING : Max Verstappen has announced his retirement after winning his 4th World’s Drivers Championship.

Record breaker.

Late braker.

Legend.

#ThankYouMax

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user76 WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

user77 when I tell you I fell to my knees

user78 screaming crying throwing up

user79 I refuse to believe this is true

user80 what the hell was this season

user81 DTS is gonna have a field day with this one

user80 doubt 10 episodes are gonna be enough

redbullracing There aren’t enough words to describe the impact you’ve had on our history, Max. You’ll forever be a pillar of the RedBull family, and an icon of the sport. Tudududu 🧡

lewishamilton Thank you for the challenges, you’ve always pushed us to go harder. Never thought I would have to see you leave, but we’ll keep your legacy running 👑

user82 Alonso when ???

user83 Who’s gonna take his seat ? Honey badger comeback ?

user84 doubt it, he said in the only interview he gave that he had some friends to go see a few continents away, bet he was talking bout Danny

user85 April Fools ?

user86 In December ??

user87 I really don’t understand why, everything was going much better with the car lately

user88 I think he’s just done with the sport, he said multiple time he wouldn’t force it if he didn’t feel like it anymore

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user89 has replied to your story :

wait, if that’s lover boy, who’s the guy you were with lately ??

user90 has replied to your story :

Sydney airport !!

user91 has replied to your story :

OMG I KNEW I SAW MAX IN SYDNEY THIS MORNING WTF I RECOGNIZE HIM

yourbff has replied to your story :

you did it bby, it’s time to rest now

ily, we will 💕

user92 has replied to your story :

The timing with Max quitting RB is so odd I’m seriously questioning my sanity rn

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yourusername, danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 : War is Over.

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danielricciardo : From sneaking out of restaurants to barricading the doors of our shared hotel rooms, I wish I could have told the world earlier how much I love you. But I’m glad I can now. There’s something magical about finding the one, so when you find the two, you’ll make any radical change necessary to protect them. Think you were right Maxie, the farm life does suit us.

This was the Honey Badger, peace ✌🏻

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maxverstappen1 : Turning off comments coz those two are mine and you can only admire them from afar. I know they’re pretty. They’re mine. And I’ll say it as many times as I want now. Mine mine mine mine mine

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yourusername : Oh, I’m sorry, did I say Lover Boy ? I meant Boys 🤭

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user93 WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

user94 mother is finally letting us out of the cage and none of us can take it

user95 the first pic

user96 I could die

user97 who the fuck even took it

user98 she said “y’all won’t let me post their faces ? I’ll give you the whole sextape”

user99 I knew it I fucking knew it Maxiel nation we won

oscarpiastri so happy for you guys, go be free with the little goats 🥹

yourusername pls try to survive

maxverstappen1 and if RB tries to buy you RUN BACK HOME

user100 oh shit it’s time for no filter Max era

yourusername you’ve had a taste this year, be prepared for the real deal

yukitsunoda0511 finally i can stop pretending to not speak English when asked about you

danielricciardo you were pretending very well if I may say

yukitsunoda0511 thanks !

user101 oh yuki sweet summer child…

user102 don’t tell me in Japan already ??

yourusername you really took a good look at this pic and thought “yeah, those two are straight” ? It’s a you issue honestly

user102 yeah okay fair

user103 7th pic ???

maxverstappen1 Abu Dhabi ‘21

maxverstappen1 tasted better than champagne tbh

user104 oh so y’all are just leaking EVERYTHING now, no fucks given

danielricciardo I had to pay a lot for those pics to not get out back then so yeah kinda

danielricciardo which is a shame when we look so good

user105 sooooo… about the high performance athlete….?

maxverstappen1 yes.

yourusername yes.

danielricciardo 💕

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[Twitter] danyfanclub just posted

[anadiasmount]

giiiirlll you gotta write some smut blurb for me after this game !!!! the way jude was sooo aggressive and full of energy 🤭🤭 you have too!!

oh my!! here’s a mini blurb ig!! 🤭🤭 mind the spelling errors pls 😔

“don’t look at the window… look at me love… look at how good and so fucking tight you’re taking me y/n,” jude hissed, his hand sneaking up your sides as your eyes fluttered and pleasure. feeling so full. with courage and strength you managed to look him, jude’s eyes dark and lustful with one thing in mind.

he was still on his winning high, adrenaline still rushed in his veins and energetic. he couldn’t stop it, didn’t know how. especially when he saw you wearing his flimsy jersey and just panties underneath. he craved, needed you to his will just for tonight.

he started on the couch, denying your orgasm with his tongue and finger deep in your cunt. then once again on top your desk where he pushed away papers and pens as he took you from behind. it was so dirty yet so hot it made you dizzy. the way he used and manhandled you. yet also being soft to make sure you were okay and wanted this, just as much as he did.

you loved this side of jude, that appeared on games like this where everything could go wrong for him. you loved that he came to you first. with a needy and almost begging voice. how could you not let him? he was wrapped around your finger, and you’d do anything to give him what he wanted.

he kissed you messily, his tongue tracing his name on yours, gliding it along your pulse point and sucking before hitting the area. you bucked your hips down, the pleasure getting so heavy and cloudy the only thing you could focus on was how deep he was. hitting the angle that made your legs shake and whimper his name. clugging on his shoulders afraid to let go.

“jude please… i can’t… you’re so… mhm… so deep,” you cried out, walls clenching around his hard cock that slowly thrusted in and then out, so wet and so easily. “what do you want y/n?” he gripped your jaw gently, forcing you to look at his pretty and fucked out face. “i need you to tell me baby… or else it will be a longer night.”

“to cum… jude please… i need too. i given you all you asked jude… this isn’t what a goal scorer does…” you said struggling, a trembling chin as you kissed his face, your feet bringing him closer to you. “you’re right he doesn’t do this… and you’ve been such a good fucking gurl for me… listening and waited so patiently…” jude moaned, digging his head in the crook of your neck.

you feared that if he stopped you would cry out, your neighbors being able to hear you. the feeling was indescribable, so passionate, so intimate, you didn’t want him to stop. you but your lip, the bubble in your tummy exploding any second if he continued the pace he was at. “please jude, please-”

“yes holy shit… yes y/n you can cum, cum all over my cock, show me how good i’m giving it to you… how it feels,” jude said, kissing you deep hiding the loud moan that would escape your lips as you were driven to the breaking point. jude groaned feeling as you scratched his back, your legs trembling around him, saying his name like a devoted prayer.

so sweet. jude’s cock twitched inside you, being able to feel the white ropes of cum as he controlled his breathing as well, shaky breaths escaping his swollen and plump lips.

it wasn’t just one time. this was the beginning of something that would last until the morning if it was allowed. no matter how many times it happened, you loved this type of sex with him. so meaningful and so longing.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

GIRL YOUR NEW LEWIS STORY????? HELLO??? WHY ITS SO GOOD???PLS CONTINUE????

ask and you shall receive. ENJOYYYYYYY🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🎀🎀🎀🎀

ladies and gentlemen I present to you,

Pillowtalk

Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader

part 1 I

Warnings: Smut, Oral, Overstimulation, Light Slapping, Squirting,

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

instagram

Once both Lewis and I found out that I was capable of squirting he’s been doing anything he can to get me to do it again.

He’s fucked me in so many positions trying to get me to squirt again. Missionary, Doggy, Cowgirl, Reserve Cowgirl, The Pretzel, I mean we’ve done it all and each orgasm wasn’t the one Lewis was hoping for.

“Lew, Puh-Please, I can’t take this anymore. I’m so sore” I whimpered against his lips, my thighs shaking with such force I looked like I was trying to win a twerk off.

“We’re not done until I pull another squirting orgasm from you darling” the look in Lewis’ eyes told me that he in fact was not lying and that he would actually stay here all night until he was able to pull another out of me.

We’d been in the Hot Seat position for the last almost 10 minutes and Lewis was hoping that this new position would be a game changer in terms of making me squirt again. The one hand that Lewis had resting flat against my stomach traveled down to my clit, rubbing harsh and fast circles around the already swollen and already overstimulated bud.

I honestly lost count of how many orgasms I’ve had today from the last 2 positions alone, imagine how many more Lewis is gonna pull out of me as he continues to to find what made me explode.

“You gonna tell me how I got you to squirt or are you really gonna make me fuck you every single way until I get that reaction again?”

I dont know how I did it, really, it just kinda happened. It couldn’t have been the overstimulation, I’ve been overstimulated I don’t know how many times in the last 45 minutes. Was it the handcuffs? Maybe, that had been the first time I’ve been handcuffed. Or was it the fact that I was helpless while Lewis provided himself his own pleasure?

“Mmm d’know”

“Or was it when I had you cuffed up and helpless?” a moan escapes past my lips “Do you want to try that again? Hmm, wanna get locked up again?” a breathless ‘yes’ escapes past my lips.

With that, Lewis recuffs my wrists to the handcuffs that he left hanging from the bed posts. A look of adoration and lust filled Lewis’ eyes as he stared at me. I was helpless, naked and aching for him. I watched as Lewis’ eyes raked my whole body before ultimately landing on my core and he watched as my pussy leaked for him in anticipation.

“I can see your pussy dripping for me. This must be what made you tick, you like being helpless” My pussy clenched around nothing. Something about his words did something to me. “I’m gonna eat you out again, okay princess” Lewis stared in my eyes, not moving a muscle until he got a response and my subtle nod was enough clarification for him.

Without warning Lewis licked a stripe up my slit, circling my clit before sliding down and into my whole. Lewis repeats this motion a few times before he places a soft kiss on my bud and stops. My hands instinctively go to push his head back down given that I was close to my 12th orgasm tonight, god knows how many more I can take before I actually die from pleasure.

“Don’t want me to stop, do you?” A muffled ‘no’ escapes my lips, the muffled noises I made quickly turned into a mess of moans as I feel 2 fingers insert me.

Lewis’ fingers are long and girthy enough to hurt for a second as they were thrusted into me. Lewis sets a decent pace as he leans up to kiss my lips

“Please, never stop. feels s’good” the second those words left my mouth Lewis did in fact stop. A whimper left my lips at the sudden loss of contact but Lewis quickly caught me up to speed on what was going on in his head.

“S’okay darling, I’m just grabbing some more stuff for us to have fun with.” I watched intently as he walked right back to the bed side table, opening the drawer pulling out a blindfold, vibrator and a cock ring. Walking back over to the bed Lewis quickly pulled the blindfold over my eyes, placing the cock ring on himself after setting it to a medium fast pace and placing the bigger vibrator on the highest setting, slowly placing light touches of my body with it as it send small electrical bolts all throughout my body.

Lewis first started off by placing the big vibrator against the skin under my collarbone and he watched as my body tensed at the feeling. He let it rest there for a second before slowly bringing it down to the valley between my breasts, slowly gliding it over one of my nipples while his mouth attached to the other, tongue circling around the bud of my nipple.

Having one of my senses taken from me meant that my others heightened. Lewis' touch sent me into a frenzy before losing my vision. Now? My god, I was gonna explode at any second due to the vibrating against my breasts. A pathetic string of moans and whimpers leave my lips as Lewis keeps sucking on my nipples, the hand that was previously circling the drags the vibrator down to my aching clit. The vibrations bringing me close to the orgasm Lewis left me hanging with and the way my body jolted, he knew I was close which prompted him to attack my pussy with his mouth.

Everything was too much for poor old oversensitive me. Too much pleasure, too much pain, my nerves were going into overdrive “Lewis, please. I’m gonna c-cum, fuck fuck fuck fuckkkkkk” my body shook with my 13th orgasm. This time, it was the squirting orgasm Lewis was begging for. When I started squirting, something snapped inside Lewis and he opened his mouth that was already by my pussy. He collected my pussy juices before spitting out some and swallowing the rest.

“Fuck, Darling. You taste s’good. I love every bit of you, mmmm.” Lewis murmured as he continues to work me through this high. His lips attack my pussy again as he murmurs more things about how good I taste and how he could never get enough of me. My body shook as my legs encase his head between them.

Lewis’ mouth attacking my pussy was brief because after a few laps of his tongue on my already sensitive clit, he grabs my thighs that were trapping him and forced them open before aggressively thrusting his rock hard and aching cock in me.

My hands instinctively reach for the blindfold so I can see him as he relentlessly fucks my pussy at such a pace I was sure the whole neighborhood knew we were fucking. The bed moves inch by inch with each thrust and squeak of the bed.

At this point I had tears streaming down my face, I was losing my voice by how much I was screaming out his name and moaning in pleasure, my body was littered with so many hickeys it looked like I was found in a huge pile of snow and had major frostbite.

I can tell Lewis is getting close to his orgasm by the way his hips faltered and the grip he had on my waist.

“Mmm let me see your pretty face as you cum again.” his one hand goes to reach for the keys to undo my cuffs “you like my cock buried deep inside you, don’t you?”

The second my hands were set free, I ripped off the blindfold and my body reached behind his to pull him closer to me.

“Harder Lew, fuckkk I’m gonna cum. fuck fuck please i’m cumming.” I squirted again. Harder this time. Lewis only lasted a few more thrusts before he spilled his cum inside of my cunt.

“Fuckkkk, mmm you feel s’good. such a slut for me, my beautiful baby.” Lewis fucked me through both of our highs before he plopped his body down on mine as we both tried to catch our breath, his cock still buried deep inside my pussy.

Lewis pulled out of me before he flipped me around so we were cuddling.

“goodnight beautiful, we have a LONG morning awaiting us”

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[daddyricsdoll]

hi 💓 could you pls do “Do you ever shut up?” “Only when I’m eating you out.” w lando ? he's a yapper it just makes so much sense !!

His jpg photos and m0v video has me in a chokehold. And I decided to give you guys a sneak peek of what happened between me and Lando behind the scenes. 😉

1k ✭ Celebration!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I trusted my whole life with Lando, but if that meant he’d take me into random alleyways in Melbourne, oh… things could change. 

Leading me down graffiti adorned walls and no breaths of life. Getting lost in his words that he didn’t even realise where he was taking me, now astray, but still not registering the hints of fear in my voice as I asked him where we were going. Somehow ignoring my question until I finally grew annoyed. 

“Do you ever shut up?” I stop walking and question him, expecting his perfect lips to close and beautifully pigmented eyes to focus on me. But instead he smirked, taking a step closer to my still body.

“Only when I’m eating you out.” His words ticked me off and covered my vision in a haze to force me to forget whatever emotion I had before, and cover it in lust. Barely taking any steps back until my back hit a cold wall. Now becoming encased by Lando as he leaned further into my body. Nearly connecting my lips with his just until he decided to kneel down. Face inches from my body as he gets on his knees. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you.”

“Only if that means you’ll shut up.”

“For you? Always.” Lando whispers as he parts my legs, lifting my skirt and taking my panties off, not throwing them onto the ground but stuffing them in his pocket. Gripping my thighs to bring one of my legs over his muscular shoulder. Pulling my hips forward and making it an easier job for him to latch his mouth onto my core. Soft lips, roughly abusing my cunt. Immediately hitting the right spots and being an expert at pleasing me with his mouth as if he spent years studying women- better yet me. 

Lando’s curls, a magnet to my hand, being impossible to not dig my fingers between them. And of course if it were anyone that were to eat me out in a public alleyway, it would be him. Not caring if someone found us, spectating the way my head falls back and I moan in endless notes. Thighs shaking as the man beneath my skirt and between my legs plays with my clit and tongue fucks me into a oblivion where words simply don’t exist. 

Licking a stripe up my core and between my folds, spreading them with his tongue and exposing me to his mouth and eyes even more than a few seconds ago. Tensing my stomach and legs quivering just the same as my lips. 

It was impossible to just focus on one sensation he created inside of me, because there were so many. Two fingers thrusting inside of my devastatingly desperate pussy and lips delicately kissing my clit before sucking it into intense pleasure. Other hand pushing against my lower abdomen and dragging up to grasp my breasts. Just knowing how he wished his large hands covered my neck. 

It was no secret that my climax crept closer, my thighs involuntarily closing around Lando’s head and fingers pulling against his locks. Leaning further back against the wall for stability as I released. Exploding around his fingers and clenching tighter than a virgin.

Allowing Lando to finger fuck me out of my high. Slowly gaining the courage to pull out and look up at me. 

Eyes glistening with a mix of hues of blues and greens, and blown out pupils. With compliments of my slick around his mouth. I stare back down at him, in awe of his beauty, waiting for him to stand up. But instead he welcomes himself back inside my pussy. Going at it like a lost and starved man, my core being a map and a feast.

[joosthead]

We need more bottom joost content im so fucking serious…I need subby joost or I’ll explode RAUGHHHHHH

FUCK i love a subby man ... i fully agree we need more subby joost bc just look at him. guhh . anyways hope you enjoy these thoughts teehee it's genuinely filthy pls heed my warnings. also i'm unsure honestly if this is subby more than it is about edging and overstim but . send me another ask w more thoughts if you'd like something different as well < 3

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: nb!reader. lmk if i missed something and it's not nb, i will change accordingly!!

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (unprotected sex, edging & overstim m!receiving), drunk sex (both drunk, but this is where edging comes in). send an ask if you need more details about this part <3

rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it!! you've been warned. do not repost this on any other platform.

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni.

in general i feel like so much of his vibe is so pillow princey. he loooveess to lie down and take whatever you'll give him

he generally is a tease and loves being teased, and i think this is a huge part of his submissiveness—i won't pretend like i think he's the biggest subbiest sub ever with how fluid he is but i do think in every session together, he lurvsss some teasing and edging.

absolutely adores a handjob w edging. sunday morning and he's so so hard cuz he just woke up that way and he has to wake u up. you roll over and you're like "are you actually serious?" but you're not gonna let your baby suffer (and you tell him such, which makes him even harder). he doesn't know what's gotten into him—he's usually much stronger than this, usually the one pampering you, making you ask for it, but he fully turns so whiny when like this. in minutes, you have him moaning like a bitch, teasing him with your tongue but never actually taking him into your mouth; when he gets close, you cease your stroking of his cock, and watch as it's like his entire body reacts to it, and hear how labored and heavy his breathing gets when you've brought him to the precipice, but never over. a beautiful sight, his pink cheeks amidst his pale skin, the rosy color creeping down his neck and his chest and the leaking angry pink tip of his cock, wet and slick as you stroke him to completion.

loves being taken care of fsfs. being called pretty, handsome, pretty boy (this one especially). it's so serious for him. loves getting his ego stroked in all ways possible, but especially if he's on his knees for you.

it really never happens except for when you're drunk but. he fucking loves when ur both sloppy drunk and all you can really think is your own pleasure. there was one time you two came home from the club, kissed all the way up the stairs, you palming him through his jeans the entire way; then the moment you got him laid down on the bed, you rode him, got off, rolled over, and went to sleep. he had to jerk off by himself to get the edge off, looking at you next to him on the bed the whole time. in the moment, it was very (sad violin noises) but looking back on it—that drunk and frenzied look in your eyes, almost like you didn't care about him or his pleasure...it was so hot and a little part of him felt ashamed for thinking so.

but the shame never sticks around too often, never lingers. he knows you care about him, knows that it was just a symptom of one too many drinks and his hands exploring your body (i.e. your hips and ass) the entire night to make you use him the way you did.

drunk or not, i think his favorite occurrence is when you're riding him and he just gets to watch you lose it atop him, grinding back and forth on it. it may not be the most stimulating for him specifically. but seeing you use him, the only thought in your mind your own pleasure—he really loves it.

i don't think he'd be into being edged when you're actually fucking—the better alternative to being used like a toy is overstimulation. when he cums before you, there's something in his head that insists that he has to make you cum one more time before he can rest. then you say, "please, just a little more, joost," and he knows he has to do it. strangled, he says, "i can't, i can't do it anymore, schat," but he knows he should, sloppily thrusting into you before he gets soft, the pain of the overstimulation completely lost on him in the venture for your own pleasure.

i also have a lot of (good. great even) feelings about joost talking ab liking his ass eaten but idk if i can go that far here yet

i need him