#she doesn’t have to pick up everyone else’s slack

[babymorte]

🤞🏻👽✨

[emotionoitme]

trouble

trouble - coldplay

part 3 of don’t call my name

warnings: angst, hurt + arguing but it’s steamy, drinking and clubbing, some violence (she gets grabbed and threatened but nothing happens), guard dog carmy bark bark, carmy throws hands & brief mention of blood. comfort sex, sappy and sweet but hot, it’s unprotected what else did you expect from me, dirty talk, some drama with claire i’m sorry 

wc: 9.0k

a/n: so…i told everyone this was going to be 3 parts when it actually needs 4. i fear i am just too much of a yapper. i love these two and think i needed to do the story justice. so stay tuned for ch4. hehehehe. hope u enjoy!!! (it is going to get angsty) 

playlist

carmen berzatto is a shitty communicator. 

this we know to be a fact. 

it’s just, sometimes when there are a thousand thoughts swarming around his head, it’s easier to not say anything at all. that makes sense, right? 

the girl wakes up the next morning to find herself alone. the plush king sized bed almost mocks her with emptiness.

she knows that carmy is a hard worker. a michelin star kitchen doesn’t just run itself. still, it might be nice to get a note, or text, or anything that would reassure her last night wasn’t just some fluke to to him. 

the silence of the apartment is almost deafening. she trudges down the stairs and walks to the kitchen, pouring herself what was left in the coffee pot from carmy’s early morning. 

she feels lethargic, sore, and a little stung from waking up alone. no text or anything, she thinks. 

but there was still time. maybe he was just really busy today. she pushes away the negative thoughts and slaps both of her cheeks lightly, trying to wake herself up. it would be a good day. he would text her or call her when he got a break. and they would talk about it. she puts a smile on her face at the delusion and hops back up the stairs to get dressed for work. 

the girl tries to busy herself when she gets there, picking up extra slack from coworkers and bustling around to finish projects. trying to not check her phone. 

she goes on lunch break with no text from him. 

gets off work at 5 with no text from him. 

throws his sheets in the wash and remakes his bed with no text from him. 

eats dinner with no text from him. 

watches a movie at 9:30 with, you guessed it. 

she throws her phone back onto the bed angrily, the false wall of positivity built in her mind beginning to crumble. she’s tired and annoyed, so she shuts off the movie and buries herself in bed, trying to push thoughts of him out of mind so she could sleep. 

she tells herself that they can talk tomorrow. but then, tomorrow comes and it’s the same nothing, almost like she didn’t even have a roommate. 

three silent days go by until the girl decides she’s had enough, and plans to wait up for him and have a talk. maybe he just wasn’t a texting type of guy, she tries to comfort herself. 

she grabs her book and a throw blanket and camps out on the couch, waiting for him to get home. 

it’s close to midnight before she hears keys jingling and the lock turning. her heart drops inexplicably but she remains nonchalant and continues reading her book until she hears him take a few steps inside. 

she turns her head, watching him talk on the phone as he slides his shoes off. he doesn’t notice her in the dim light of the living room, and his brows are furrowed, hand running through his messy curls. 

“yeah. yeah, i’m- i know….sorry again,” a pause, “okay. i’ll see you saturday. bye, claire.” 

her eyebrows shoot up at the name, the sinking feeling with in her stomach increasing tenfold. this motherfucker. 

carmen makes it halfway into the living room before he notices her on the couch, slightly startling at her presence, mumbling a “shit”

her face feels hot, but not in the good way she had grown accustomed to the past few weeks. 

“hey,” he greets softly, eyes looking tired, shoulders slumped. 

she just glares at him and goes back to reading her book. 

he says her name. she ignores him.

the man lets out a small scoff, stepping closer to the couch, hand on his hip. 

“what, you, uh, ignoring me?” 

she glances up at him and there’s a small smirk on his face, like he thinks it’s joke or something. 

she opens her mouth to say something mean, but stops herself. takes a deep breath. recenters. 

she slams her book shut and turns to face him. 

“i’m going to bed.” 

the man’s small smirk drops, watching as she shoots up from the couch and starts heading towards the stairs. he grabs her wrist to stop her. 

“hey,” he says, firmer this time. 

she whips around and pulls her arm back. 

“what?” she snaps. 

his brows furrow at her tone of voice. he pauses for a second, eyes raking down her face, taking in her expression. 

“why are you acting like that?” he asks. 

the question does nothing but make her feel angrier. 

“because you’re being fucking confusing,” the girl exclaims, her throat growing tight.

“how am i confusing?” carmen replies with a surge of annoyance, “you woke me up the other night with…” his eyes dart down her frame, “half your fuckin’ clothes on.” he tries to sound angry, but his voice betrays him a bit. truthfully, it was like his prayers had come true when he opened his eyes to find her straddling him in underwear and a tiny little top that barely kept her chest contained. 

“yeah cause i thought you were into me,” she frustratedly sighs, “but you’re just…using me to get over claire.” 

the allegation wasn’t rooted in fact. but that’s how the girl felt, and she confuses the two in the moment. 

“don’t say that.” he snaps, “that’s not fuckin’ true in the slightest.” carmen had been done with claire for months at this point. if anything, he had been trying to use claire to get over his roommate.

“it’s been three days since we-… and you haven’t said anything,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead, feeling a headache come on. 

he knows his, and feels guiltier than she could even imagine. but he also knows she’s leaving in a few short weeks, and doesn’t want to fall any deeper than he already has for her. 

“i got busy at work.” he defends. it’s a shitty excuse, but as usual, it’s the first to come to mind. 

her eyes brows crease further. 

“you have a phone.” she chides.

“i just…i didn’t think about it,” he lies, “i’m sorry.”

she scoffs and shakes her head. 

“god, you’re so-,” another sigh, “you know, whatever, carm.” she turns from him and begins to walk up the stairs. 

he hates how his eyes glance down to her ass, peaking out from beneath a pair of short shorts. 

god he’s a fucking loser, he tells himself. 

carmy calls her name again. she ignores him. 

-

the girl slams her bedroom door behind her and throws herself onto her bed. she tries to fight the hot, angry tears that stream down her face, telling herself it doesn’t really bother her. telling herself that he’s just another stupid guy, and she can find better. this does nothing to ease the burning feeling in her chest, though, a pair of soft blue eyes flashing in her mind. thinking of the way he was rough with her while still being gentle, kissing her face and calling her sweet names. thinking of how he held her and wiped her tears and assured her that things would work out. 

fucking asshole! 

she grabs her duvet and pulls it over her head, wrapping herself tightly and burrowing into the pillow. she tells herself that she won’t make the mistake of giving into him again. wouldn’t ever grace him with her lips or fingers or sweet moans again. 

she tells herself that she doesn’t need him. she could easily find someone else that would satisfy that same feral craving she had for carmen. 

in fact, tomorrow would be friday, and she hadn’t gone out in a long time. she decides on calling up a friend and making a friday night plan to go out. drink, dance, and prove to herself that there’s better for her out there than carmy. 

the girl aggressively rubs her face of tears and shoots up out of bed, grabbing her phone to send the invitation to a girlfriend. her phone pings with a quick response, and the girl confirms her plan for the following night, already envisioning what to wear. the thought of seeing carmy tomorrow night before she goes out makes her stomach churn. the thought of seeing him at all makes it churn, actually. 

she tells herself that she only has to stick it out for another month or so. then she would go back to california and things would be normal. no more stupid boys. no more heated touches. no more whimpers being greedily devoured by hungry kisses. 

she tells herself that’s what she wants. 

it doesn’t feel genuine in the slightest. 

the following morning she rummages through her closet and picks out a couple of skimpy options. she studies herself in the mirror, holding up the various items up in front of her nude body, wondering what carmy would think of the outfits. she quickly tries to push the thought out of mind. she doesn’t care what he thinks, she reminds herself. her eyes fixate on the finger-shaped bruises scattered about her hips. she thinks of how they got there. 

her day at work seems to go impossibly slow. the girl finds herself thinking of carmen constantly, caught between hoping there would be a text from him when she would check her phone and hoping she would never hear from him again. 

her mind frequently flashes to the way he handled her a few nights ago. how he kissed her obsessively. how he held her up once her legs had given out. how he relentlessly plowed into her and called her a pretty girl and told her she was made for him. 

the thought simultaneously makes her horny and angry, something that she had never experienced so vividly until now. she wanted to slap his face, but at the same time she wanted to kiss him and grind against him and beg for him again. 

it’s entirely confusing. 

by the time 10 o clock rolls around, she begins to get ready, meticulously styling her hair and applying her makeup. she opts for a sultry, smokey look, accentuating her eyes with dark shadow and liner, glossing her pouty lips with a clear lacquer. the girl tries to hurry the routine, anxious to make it out the door before carmen gets back. 

she strips her clothes off and slips into her club apparel, then decorates her look with rings, bracelets, earrings, and a necklace. as she slides her thigh high boots on, she hears the front door open, then slam closed.

“fuck,” she harshly exhales. looks like she would have to see him after all. 

carmy racks his keys onto the hook and steps out of his shoes, taking a deep breath at the relief of being home. it’s not until he notices the light coming from upstairs that the relief is replaced with a sense of anxiety. 

he knows he needs to fix things between him and his roommate, if he could even refer to her as just that anymore. he had felt like a jackass all week, but apologies were never really his strong suit. he didn’t even know where to start. 

the man empties his pockets out onto the credenza, then begins to make his way into the living room. he stops in his tracks when he hears the click of heels descending the stairs. 

as he turns his head and catches sight of her, he fights to stifle a groan. 

she comes down clad in a tight top and mini skirt, length of her legs emphasized by black thigh high boots. his eyes rake down her body, admiring the curve of her figure and the appealing fit of the clothes. he wishes that she would dress like that all the time, but he doesn’t tell her that, instead just opting for a casual, albeit slightly strained “hey.”

she looks at him, but doesn’t reply, instead sauntering over to their bar cart and pouring herself a shot. he realizes the top is backless, and clenches his jaw a bit, trying to recenter with a deep breath. 

“you, uh…you look nice,” he clears his throat. 

she throws back the shot and shivers. 

“thanks,” her response comes dryly, walking over to grab her purse, “i’ll be back in a few hours.”

carmen feels his brain stutter, processing what she said, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“wait you, uh, you’re going out dressed like that?” he can’t help but feel a bit protective, even if she is pissed off at him. the girl scoffs. 

“i can’t really go to the club in sweatpants, carm.” 

he rubs a hand over his face, trying to keep calm. 

“you could, uh….at least put a fuckin’ jacket on or something though?” he tries to suggest kindly. his tone betrays him. 

“yeah?” she turns towards him, “why the fuck do you care?” bite in her tone. 

his eyes fall over the multiple hickeys that litter her neck, then flicker over her face, realizing how striking her features look accentuated by dark makeup. she looks angry. a little hurt. he wants to say something soothing. 

“cause i-fuck,” hand threading through his hair messily, “because i know how guys think.” 

nice. real soothing. 

“yeah? n’what do they think?” she challenges. 

that anyone would want you. that you look fucking hot wearing those tight little clothes.

carmy opts to not respond so directly, and walks closer to her. 

“i just don’t want you to get… hurt.” his tone is firm, jaw set tightly. she lets out a sardonic laugh at this. at the fact that he’s her biggest source of hurt at the moment.

“what, you think it’s funny?” he barks, “you could get fuckin’…picked up or drugged or something.” 

she rolls her eyes. 

“that’s not gonna happen. i’m going with a friend.” she snatches her purse off the credenza, fumbling through it to make sure she has her id. he takes a few steps closer. until he can smell her sweet perfume. 

“well, let me drive you guys then.” 

she shakes her head. 

“no. we’re getting a cab.” zipping up her purse and hanging it over her shoulder. 

“fuck, then call me when you get there. and when you’re leaving.” he snaps a bit, becoming a bit fed up with her attitude. 

“not gonna fuckin’ call you, carmy,” her face scrunches up in anger, “i’ll probably end up going home with someone, anyways,” she fibs, locking eyes with him, unintentionally leaning in a bit. 

“you what?” he angers, moving even closer to her, their faces mere inches apart. 

she can feel the shot she took now, eyes darting down to his lips. fuck his deodorant. the smell of it makes her want to give in.

“‘mgonna find someone tonight,” her tone lower now, lids low, “‘n they’re gonna fuck me better than you ever will.” 

he scoffs, blood boiling at her words, shaking his head, eyebrow twitching. 

“yeah, uh, that’s not gonna fuckin’ happen.” his hand comes to wrap around her hip, squeezing. his face comes closer, lips nearly ghosting hers.

“yeah?” she challenges, actively fighting to keep from diving in, eyes locked on his lips.

“yeah,” tone firm, “tell your friend you’re staying in tonight.” 

she doesn’t know why she feels so turned on. still pissed off, yes, but mostly aroused. 

she rolls her eyes and lets out a laugh to hide this, but he can tell. he can always tell by the slight flutter of her eyelids and the way she’ll part her lips. he knows that she likes when he talks to her like that. 

the girl channels all of her strength and steps away from him, opening the front door. 

“see you tomorrow,” she chimes, walking out. he calls her name as she walks away, but she ignores him. he tells himself he’s too proud to chase after her, but really he wants to do nothing more. 

as she makes her way down the hall, his eyes rake down her exposed back, settling on her shapely ass. 

this girl was going to drive him fucking crazy. 

-

carmy berzatto (2hrs): you make it there? 

missed call from carmy berzatto (1hr)

carmy berzatto (30min): call me if you need a ride home. 

the girl shuts off her phone, shoving it back in her purse and strutting to the bar counter. sure, now he cared enough to send a text. 

jealous motherfucker. 

it had been a girls night out until her friend went home with an ex boyfriend, leaving her all alone at the club. she leans over the counter, pushing her hair over her shoulder. her feet are sore from the boots she had picked out, coupled with an hour or so of nonstop dancing. 

the girl had planned to leave as soon as her friend did, but made the mistake of passing through the main room where they were playing 2000s music. she couldn’t just not dance to 2000s. 

the bartender works quickly to accommodate the numerous orders. she feels the drink she had been sipping on affecting her, comfortably bathing in the multicolored lights of the club. it was packed with people, and she had been noticing eyes on her all night. 

the girl feels a hand on her lower back, and she turns to meet the eyes of a tall man.

“hi,” he says.

“hey,” she softly replies.

he was admittedly handsome, and his muscular stature didn’t hurt to look at either. 

“can i buy you a drink?” the man asks. 

the girl softly smiles and nods. he raises his hand to flag the bartender. she was planning on getting a water, but since she wasn’t paying for it…

the stranger makes small talk with her, the two having to practically yell into each other’s ear to hear over the bass of the music. jobs, what part of town they live, compliments. not that she really cares about any of it, though she tries to. 

as he leans in to ask if she’ll dance with him, he places his hand on her waist. she tries to ignore how it doesn’t feel right. 

he’s cute, she tells herself, and i needs to stop thinking about carmy. 

the girl takes a long sip of her drink and nods softly, taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor. they squeeze through the crowd of bodies, and she turns to face him, hand on his chest. he places a hand on her lower back, and they begin to move to the beat. she takes another long sip of her drink, closing her eyes, coming closer to the man, swaying her hips. his deodorant doesn’t smell as good as carmen’s does. doesn’t comfort her like his does. 

she takes another sip, and she circles around, moving her hips, facing away from the man. the music resonates through the whole building, lights flash and change color, making her movements feel dreamlike. he places his hands on her hips. 

she wishes that she liked how it felt. 

the man presses his hips into her backside. she imagines it’s carmen, and the thought makes her bite down onto her lip. her head falls back against his chest. she thinks of her roommate’s strong arms. his tattoos. the way his face scrunched up when he fully engulfed himself in her. the girl lets out a breath. her skin feels hot and sticky in the muggy club air. she takes another long sip of alcohol, feeling lips on her neck. they feel strange and unfamiliar. it doesn’t set off that tingling sensation in her lower stomach. she groans out of frustration. 

“mmm you like that don’t you, pretty girl?” the man slurs into her ear. 

the name makes her heart drop, and all of the sudden she feels like she needs to throw up. she shoves the stranger’s hands away and stumbles forward, pushing her way out of the crowd. the floor feels like it’s tilting on an axis as she cringes at the feeling of other sweaty bodies touching her. she gets shoved into by a big group and loses her drink. 

it’s suddenly hard to breathe. the girl feels her throat tighten, her chest burning, wiping hot tears away. she fights and pushes and weaves through the crowd until she finally breaks free, making a beeline for the glowing red exit sign. the girl shoves the door open, almost tripping over the frame, and stumbles out into the cold night. 

the frigid air helps alleviate some of her nausea, skin rising in goosebumps. she trudges along the brick wall and leans her back against it, focusing on taking deep breaths. her hands run through her messy hair, pushing it out of her face, closing her eyes, trying to stop the steady flow of tears. 

this night was supposed to be fun, but all she wanted to do was go home and sleep this booze off. all she wanted was carmen. 

her hands fumble through her purse, grabbing her phone. she drops it, muttering a “shit,” and crouches down to pick it up. she squints her eyes at the light of the display, struggling to navigate to the uber app. she enters her address, cursing internally when she sees the friday night surge prices. instead, she exits uber and finds her contacts, hovering over the number of a cab company. her eyes glance towards carmen's contact, right below. 

she doesn’t want to call him. he was being an asshole, and she hates how easily he was able to get under her skin. so she dials the contact for the cab, listening to the line ring. and ring. and ring. almost infinitely, then a automated voice of “your call cannot be completed.” 

“fuck,” she curses, terminating the call. 

her eyes fixate on his name, pausing and contemplating. 

she rolls her eyes and dials it. the line rings twice and gets picked up with a raspy greeting and a “y’okay?” 

she stays silent for a second, not sure what to say. he says her name. 

“did you know that you are-” she hiccups, “s-so mean?” it’s the only thing that comes to mind. 

“are you drunk?” he asks.

“no. m’not” she argues, wiping a stray tear. 

“you sound drunk,” he retorts, “where are you? i’m coming to get you.” 

“you’re so fucking…rude. ‘nyou think you can just do whatever you want because you’re so-” hiccup, “hot… and big…you irritate me, carm,” she slurs into the line. she opens her mouth to say more, but he cuts her off by saying her name sternly. 

“you at prysm? tunnel?” 

“yeah. that one.” she hiccups again. 

“tunnel? okay, stay right there. i’m getting in my car now.” 

“ok but i’m still mad at you,” she murmurs, leaning against the cool brick. he scoffs, and starts saying something about her bad attitude, but she cuts him off by hanging up, harshly exhaling and closing her eyes tightly. the tears continue falling, so she just tries to focus on her breathing. 

a cool breeze causes her to stiffen, wrapping her arms around herself, shivering. it’s uncomfortable, but grounding. her head stops spinning so much as she begins to breathe deeply. the tears come to a steady stop, but the aching in her chest doesn’t. she wishes carmen would hold her and kiss her head. 

around fifteen minutes pass before she hears the back door of the club open. the girl keeps her eyes shut, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t bother her. though it seems she’s not so lucky tonight, unfortunately. 

“hey, you,” a deep voice says. she snaps her eyes open to find the same tall man she was dancing with earlier standing in front of her. 

she just stares at him silently, crossing her arms in front of her to help provide some modesty. 

“listen, i think we get along well. and you’re really hot,” he explains drunkenly, “why don’t i help you get home?” 

she feels icked out, trying to refrain from rolling her eyes.

“m’not interested, sorry. i have someone coming to pick me up.” 

the man scoffs. 

“you were plenty interested earlier when i bought you a drink,” taking a step closer to her, “c’mon. don’t be a tease.” he has a smirk on his face. she feels her heart begin to pound against her chest. 

carmy was right, it was a mistake to come out. she tries to take a step away from him, blocked by the hard brick wall. 

“seriously, i’m not interested,” she tries to sound assertive, “my boyfriend will be here any second so just leave me alone.” she hopes he can’t read through her lie. 

“your boyfriend?” he asks, smirk turning into a grin, “you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you? someone should fucking straighten you out.”

her heart drops to her stomach, and she feels sick all over again. she steps forward to shove past him, and he grabs her waist, slamming her back into the wall. 

“don’t fucking touch me!” she yells, grabbing his wrists and digging her nails in. he doesn’t let go. tears begin to stream down her face, heart hammering against her ribcage. she sees headlights from down the street and prays that it’s carmen, continuing to struggle against the man. 

the car speeds up to the curb and jerks to a stop, door flying open. she shuts her eyes tightly and digs her nails in hard enough to draw blood, giving a final attempt at trying to get his hands off of her. 

the girl is suddenly released as the man is jerked backwards by his shoulder. her eyes snap open and graciously land on the person she’s been wanting to see the most. 

everything happens so fast—watching in a haze as carmen practically decks the guy in the face, sending the stranger stumbling back, gripping a bloody nose. 

“you muverfuckr!” he slurs, words muffled by a dripping hand, lunging forward again. carmy shuffles back, then throws another jab square in the face. the man falls backwards onto the ground, sitting on the concrete, looking entirely disoriented. the girl gasps, feeling partially sobered by the scene. 

she watches as the stranger’s blood drips onto the pavement, then darts her gaze over to carmen. his eyes look crazed, jaw tightly locked. he begins to stalk towards the man, clenching his fists that were spotted with red. 

the girl reaches out and grabs his arm. he turns to look at her and his features immediately soften, taking in her tear-soaked cheeks and swollen lips. without thinking, he grabs her arm and pulls her into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around her in a protective bear hug. she clings to his shirt, and cries. he kisses the top of her head. 

he smells so good. smells so safe. 

“s’okay. i got you,” he soothes, “you’re okay.” the man says this as a reassurance to himself as well, rubbing her back, feeling his throat tighten and eyes water a bit. 

the stranger lay flat on his back now, clutching his bleeding nose, mumbling incoherently. 

carmen pulls back from the embrace, but keeps an arm wrapped tightly around her, ushering her to the car. she stumbles a bit, holding onto him securely. she wishes the tears would stop, but they don’t. she feels so scared. so relieved. so fucking grateful. 

he gets her into the car, shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side. she doesn’t want to look at him when he gets in, so she hides her face in her hand, elbow leaning on the arm rest. he doesn’t say anything for the duration of the drive home either. 

she feels embarrassed, tired, and still a little mad at carmy. the whole reason she had wanted to go out and meet guys in the first place was because of his stupid situationship with claire. it was like it made her go into defense mode. 

they had been driving for about 5 minutes, before she feels a dull throbbing in her head, stomach growling, alcohol in her system making her crave greasy nasty salty food. 

she raises her head from her hand, looking at carmen. his eyebrows were knit together tightly, jaw clenched. she leans her head against the headrest as she stares at him lovingly. she loves how protective he gets over her. how strong he is. how blindingly handsome. 

but she’s still mad, of course. 

he catches her gazing at him in his periphery. he looks over, features softening as he catches her eyes momentarily.

“what’s up?” he asks, voice low.

she just looks at him. her lip pouts a bit. 

“you hungry?” comes his question, perfectly timed. 

she allows a soft smile to grace her lips at the accuracy of his guess. 

“mmhm,” she nods, “a burger sounds really good right now. and french fries.” 

he lets out a quiet chuckle, nodding his head, glancing at her again. 

“let’s get you a burger and french fries, then.” 

he turns his signal on and moves to make a quick left, pulling into a drive-thru after a few minutes.

they sit in line waiting for the order to be cooked. she glances over at his face. she wants to kiss him, a little. 

“d’yknow what the ultimate hangover food is?” she asks softly. 

he turns to face her, eyebrows raised in question, a look of amusement on his face. 

“an all american breakfast,” she murmurs with a smile.

“yeah?” he asks, “like…pancakes?”

she nods, biting her lip with a smile. he lets out a soft laugh at this.

“and bacon and eggs. and hash browns. fuck,” her eyes are closed, like she’s imagining it in front of her. this makes the man laugh a bit harder, hand coming to smooth over his face. 

“good answer,” he tells her once he stops smiling as much. 

“what’s yours?” she asks, gazing at him a bit longingly. 

“my what?” 

“your hangover cure food.”

“uh, probably…saltines?”. 

the girl lets out a laugh. 

“the alcohol upsets my stomach,” he admits. 

she laughs harder, burying her face in her hands. 

“you are so cute,” she amuses. 

he fights the heat that rushes to his face when she says this, and they pull forward to the pick up window. 

the girl takes her first bite into the greasy burger that carmen insists on paying for, and it makes her feel more human than she has all night. 

-

carmy parks the car in his assigned lot, then gets out to assist his roommate out of the car. the food helped her feel much more grounded, but she still has to cling onto his arm to be able to walk straight through the building. 

neither of them say anything. this lasts until they get back to their unit, and carmy locks the door behind them. he watches as the girl stumbles out of her shoes and crashes onto the couch. she throws an arm over her eyes and tries to push away the nausea that comes with laying down. 

“thank you,” she murmurs into her arm after a moment.

“mhm,” he responds, “told you to call me when you needed a ride, though,” shrugging off his jacket.

“i did,” she argues.

“no, you called me… way after you needed one. and you stood outside waiting for me,” his tone grows harsher.

if she wasn’t so nauseous, she’d roll her eyes. 

“i was trying to get away from all the guys that were trying to take me home,” she retorts. she means it to be teasing, but it’s clear he doesn’t take it that way by the peak she steals through her arms. 

“y’know, you-,” he scoffs, “i’m glad you think it’s fuckin’ funny because i-fuck…i was worried about you” he throws his keys onto the table, feeling angry, feeling scared. 

she throws her other arm over her face. her cheeks are hot with embarrassment. her throat suddenly feels tight at his words, like she’s going to cry again. she doesn’t say anything out of fear of her voice breaking. 

carmy chides her name, stalking over to the couch. he stands over her, expectantly waiting for a response, jaw clenching with annoyance. he nudges her arm. she moves it, revealing her tired bloodshot eyes. 

“can we not do this tonight?” she begs hoarsely, “m’so drunk.” 

“you fucking scared me,” he exclaims, grabbing his hair, “what would’ve happened if i didn’t get there in time, huh?” 

“i know,” she sobs, tears now freely flowing, hiding her face in her arms again. 

his heart breaks a bit, watching her cry like that. but he feels so angry that she put herself at risk like that. 

“you-” he stops. takes a deep breath to recenter. “you’re right. let’s not do this tonight.” 

she peaks at him through her arms, feeling completely pathetic. she watches him turn on the small lamp by the couch. he drapes a throw blanket over her before turning to walk upstairs. 

tears continue inexplicably trailing down her cheeks, as her deep breathing begins to lul her into sleep. 

an hour passes. 

she shifts to try and get comfy to no avail. 

30 more minutes. 

everything was so uncomfortable. 

she sits up quickly and shoots off the couch, beelining for the stairs, desperate to get the crunchy makeup and scratchy clothes off. 

she falls up the stairs in her sleepy scramble, knocking against the wall loudly. slowly stands up, holds onto the rail, and exhales before continuing to ascend much more carefully. 

as she walks down the hallway, she unashamedly begins to strip out of her clothing, leaving a trail that leads to the bathroom, telling herself she would take care of it later. she feels sick and lethargic, needing a shower immediately. 

the girl leaves the bathroom light off as she draws a cold shower and steps in right away, drenching herself in the frigid water. she tenses, letting out a sharp exhale, feeling almost immediately soothed. 

it’s as if the water washes away everything bad from the night. she meditatively goes through her routine, cleaning herself. cleaning away everything that happened tonight. cleaning away the man who touched her on the dancefloor, outside of the club. 

the shame and embarrassment that begins to seep in as the alcohol wears off doesn’t wash away as easily. she needs to apologize, she knows that.

the girl dries herself off and wraps her hair in a towel as she walks back to her room, feeling more of a pep in her step following the refreshing shower. she bends down to pick up the strung out clothing she left behind, feeling like she was going crazy because her underwear was nowhere to be found. it would just have to wait until tomorrow, she supposes. 

she’s moisturized and laying in bed, trying to fall asleep. tossing and turning. taking a deep breath. softening her face, muscles. thinking of nice things.

drifting off. mind flashing back to the man grabbing her and slamming her against the brick wall. thinking of what would’ve happened had carmy not come to her rescue. 

her eyes snap open. she sharply inhales and sits up, hanging her legs over the side of the bed. it was going to be impossible to get sleep like this, heart beating way too fast to try and relax. 

she just wants to feel safe. 

without a second thought, she stands and begins walking to carmy’s room. 

she knows he’s pissed off at her. knows he’ll probably tell her to get out. even so, she’s so desperate to get some sleep. so desperate to ease the anxiety that had been festering inside of her all night. 

his door is closed, and she hesitates for a moment before twisting the knob and slipping inside. 

it’s dark—the curtains drawn when they usually aren’t. he lay shirtless on his side, facing away from the door, clutching a pillow in his arms. 

the girl peels back his sheets and slowly slips into bed, resting her head on the soft pillow. she stays there for a moment before scooting closer and laying her face against his back. he’s so warm, and his skin smells safe. her eyes fall shut. she feels him shift. 

carmen wakes up unexpectedly to the feeling of warmth behind him. he knows it’s her without having to look. when she had noisily stumbled upstairs and into the shower, he went to go check on her—almost knocked on the bathroom door, but refrained once he heard soft cries from within. 

he feels her face nuzzle into his back, and he reaches his arm back behind him, wanting to feel where she lay. he touches her hip.

“hi,” she greets softly. 

“hey,” he returns, voice raspy, “y’can’t sleep?” 

she scoots closer to him, hand splaying over his back. 

“just a little… freaked out still…” she whispers. her tone wobbles. 

he shifts at this, and turns around to face her silently. in the low light she can make out the worried furrow of his brows.

she feels guilty for being the subject of his worry. 

“i’m sorry,” the girl confesses, biting back tears. 

carmen’s brows crease further at her apology, immediately wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his chest. she tucks her face into his neck, shutting her eyes tightly, smelling his skin. 

“y’got nothing to be sorry for,” he plants a kiss atop her head, “wasn’t your fault.” 

“it was my fault,” her voice breaks, “should’ve listened to you,” her arms come around his neck, and she presses her body flush with his. 

“it wasn’t,” he asserts, “that guy was a fuckin’ creep.” his tone is hushed. his arms wrap around her as if he’s scared of losing her. 

“are you still mad at me?” she asks. her breath tickles his neck. 

“i wasn’t mad,” he admits, “just scared.” 

“me too,” matching his hushed tone. “thank you carm,” she whispers, pressing a kiss below his ear, “feel so safe with you.” she shuffles closer, pelvis pressing against his. 

“you are,” he buries his nose in her hair, “always.” hiking her leg over his hip to bring her closer. 

the girl kisses his neck again. and again. pulls him in closer. his smell is completely addicting, and with the angle of her leg she can feel his erection growing against her core. she hopes he can’t feel the wetness that begins to form beneath her shorts. 

his big palm spreads over her ass and squeezes, desperate to hold every inch of her. 

the girl deeply exhales, bothered by how easily he’s able to rouse her. 

the man harshly exhales at the repeated feeling of her bites and licks and kisses, holding onto her with an urgent desperation. trying to wrap around her as if he were keeping her from the world. 

the room becomes hot, and the two shuffle the duvet off. 

carmen calls her name, trying to break her attention. he wants to apologize. wants to confess his shortcomings. wants to look in her big eyes and tell her he’s not enough and never will be. but she ignores his beckon and continues enthusiastically biting and sucking and kissing, hand pressing against his chest. 

he forces his eyes to stay open, weight of his bottled apology heavy on his tongue. 

“hey,” he tries again, voice strained from the pleasure.

“can you put it in?” she breathes into his neck.

“fuck,” he groans, surprised by her forward request, feeling himself pulse against her wetness. 

“please,” she whines, hiking her leg further up onto his hip, trailing her kisses along his jaw, up to his cheek.

he squeezes her ass again, fingers slipping under the fabric of her tiny shorts. her skin was so soft. so hot with arousal. 

“let me play with you,” he strains, “get you ready f’me.”

the girl makes a sound of protest, kissing his face more, hand coming to his neck. 

“m’ready,” she whispers earnestly “wanna feel you so bad,” another kiss, “please, carm.”

he lets out a strained breath and removes his hand from her ass, shoving his boxers down just enough to free his erection. she moves her thigh higher up his hip, and carmen slips his fingers beneath the fabric covering her core, hastily pulling it to the side.

“yeah,” she exhales desperately, edge of her lips touching his, trying to watch him press his cock into her opening. 

carmen pushes forward, sinking into her tightness. he lets out a groan at the way her wet heat engulfs him. the girl releases a sound of appreciation, her nails indenting the skin of his shoulder. 

he takes a deep breath and begins slowly rocking his hips, turning his face to catch her lips in a hungry kiss. he greedily swallows her sweet noises, catching the edge of her shirt and bunching it up over her chest, exposing her breasts.

“please,” she breaks the kiss to plead, not really even knowing what she was asking for. 

“i know, baby” he groans in between kisses, “gonna take care of you.” rolling his hips, hiking her leg further up his hip to bury himself to the hilt. 

she wants to cry at how good it feels, eyes scrunched shut and mouth falling open in pleasure, releasing her first breathy moan. 

carmy swears he could cum at the sound of it, hand grabbing her ass again, pulling her impossibly closer. his forehead comes to hers and he begins slowly thrusting into her, completely drunk off of her. her smell, her wetness, her whimpers. 

“y’so fuckin’ cute,” he growls, “can’t get enough of you.” his admission sends a fluttering sensation throughout her chest, arching further into his touch, beginning to hungrily rock her hips to try and match his thrusts. 

the man grabs her hip, holding her still. 

“slow down,” he commands softly, catching her lips in a deep kiss, continuing to gently thrust into her. 

she complies, savoring the sweet, lazy rocking motion as he holds her tightly. it feels far more intimate than what she’s ever experienced with him, even though the two weren’t even fully naked. it was needy and frenetic, yet slow and gentle. 

carmen buries himself deeper, beginning to thrust up into her at an angle. he kisses her with frenzy, tongue swirling around hers, swallowing each and every noise she makes. the room grows incredibly hot, their skin sticky, each trying to apologize to the other using their bodies. 

carmy snaps his hips forward, and the girl releases from his lips with a loud cry. her nails dig into his shoulder. it’s so good she feels like crying again. 

“y’such a pretty fuckin’ girl,” he growls, “love how you feel, y’know that?” 

her droopy eyes meet his. she loves the way it sounds from his mouth. loves everything he does. 

“i’m all yours carm,” she gasps, savoring the deep, satiating feeling of his thick cock.

“yeah?” he asks breathily, “all mine?” grabbing her ass, pulling her in time with his thrusts. 

“y-yeah,” she cries, eyes tightly shut, “yours. i love-ah,” she’s interrupted by a punctuated thrust, losing her words, head falling back, breathing heavily. he feels so good.

“what d’you love?” he asks, leaning forward to kiss her exposed neck, “huh?” 

“love y-how you make me feel,” she cries. 

his chest flutters. he bites and kisses the skin of her neck. he wishes she would’ve said something different. 

“what else, hm?” a kiss, thrusts speeding up, “what else d’you love?” 

“love-fuck, right there,” she whimpers, “i love-ah,” trailing off as if she can’t even think straight. 

carmy smiles into her neck, giving her skin a final bruise before pulling away to catch her lips. 

“tell me,” he growls, grabbing the side of her thigh and continuing to upwards. 

her eyes fill with tears. she’s scared to say it. 

“i-,” an gasp, “i love you, carm.” she catches his gaze as she says it, and watches how his expression softens. how deeply he looks at her. the man dives into her lips again, kissing her with a ferocity she had yet to ever receive, groaning into her mouth. 

“fuckin’ made for me,” he growls in between kisses, “love everything about you,” pulling her leg further up, “perfect fuckin’ girl.”

he rolls over her and lifts her hips up, continuing to thrust into her. 

the girl wraps her legs around his back accommodatingly, dizzy from his words and the pleasure. she slips her fingers down to circle her swollen clit, feeling as if she teters right on the edge of climax, overcome with a white hot pleasure. 

“love you,” she cries, nails scratching down his back, “iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou m’gonna cum” she babbles. he smiles down at her, almost overwhelmed by a feral need to claim her. 

the man deliberates throwing caution to the wind and cumming inside of her. he knows she wouldn’t mind. he rationalizes the logistics of making her a mom in his frenetic state, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, her wet eyes, her open mouth. he decides he’s in love with her. decides he wants her to be his forever. he watches her cum. watches her eyes roll back and her body start shaking. listens to the sweet harmonic moans that spill from her lips. 

“there y’go,” he coaxes, “such a good girl,” kissing her swollen lips, “fuckin’ in love with you,” heightening the pace of his thrusts, feeling himself approach the brink of orgasm. he seriously considers cumming inside of her, telling himself he would if she asked. he looks at the girl for confirmation, but she’s too far gone. he begrudgingly pulls out, shooting thick ropes of cum onto her stomach with a groan, missing her warmth as soon as he leaves. 

carmy rolls off of her, grabbing her face and pressing a firm kiss onto her cheek, collapsing on the bed for a moment. he feels spent.

the girl pants, trying to catch her breath. carmen nuzzles into her neck, wrapping around her tightly, kissing her tenderly. they bask in the afterglow, cherishing the presence of each other, an encompassing silence following the heavy words exchanged.

she’s the first to speak. well, complain. 

“there’s….cum all over my stomach.” she rasps. he smiles into her neck. 

“shower?”

quiet, for a moment. 

“i can’t move.” 

he kisses her bruised skin with a lazy smirk and sits up to grab her a washcloth. 

-

when the girl wakes up alone the next morning, her heart drops a bit, finding the bed next to her empty once again. she shuts her eyes immediately, hoping to be swept away by sleep so she could postpone the disappointment. 

that is, until she hears noises from the kitchen downstairs. and smells the bacon. 

the girl groggily pushes herself up out of bed, stalking down the hallway. she gets halfway to the stairs before realizing she’s completely naked, stopping in her tracks, turning to carmy’s open door, eyes falling on a t-shirt on the ground. she quickly grabs it and slips it over her head, then continues to curiously make her way downstairs. soft music comes from the speaker in the kitchen, and she slowly descends the stairs to find carmy deftly working over the stove. the whole house smells incredible. 

she slips behind him to get to the coffee pot, sliding her hand along his back as she passes. 

the man turns his head.

“hey,”  he watches as she retrieves a mug from the cabinet, graciously taking in the sight of her wearing his shirt. 

“good morning,” she smiles, “smells so good in here.” 

as she stretches to get the mug, the hem of the shirt lifts ever so slightly over the curve of her ass. he clears his throat.

“nice shirt,” carmy says, turning back to tend to the bacon. 

she lets out a soft giggle, pouring her coffee. 

“yeah?” taking a sip and leaning against the counter, “figured it would be better than coming down naked.”

his brain stutters for a moment. he turns to catch the smirk on her face. 

“i, uh…. i dunno about that,” he responds, small smile on his face. she shoves his arm playfully and he breaks into a grin. 

“no work this morning?” she asks, grateful for the unusual saturday morning presence. 

“no, i, uh…m’taking a personal day,” he replies, turning the heat of the stove off, “had some stuff i needed to get done.”

“good,” she replies with a nod, “you deserve a day off. i didn’t take you for much of a breakfast guy, though” she comments, tilting her head slightly. 

“i’m not, really,” he plates the bacon over a paper towel, “but i, uh…thought some all american might help with your hangover.” 

she feels a pang in her chest, eyes glancing over the assortment of pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and bacon. everything she had told him last night. 

“carm,” she whines, “that is so kind. you didn’t have to all of this for me.”

the food looked delectable, plated beautifully and piping hot. 

“i wanted to.” he begins to pick up the plates. 

she puts her coffee down and helps him set the table.

when she takes the first bite of her bacon and eggs she practically moans at the taste. 

“fuck,” she locks eyes with him. 

“yeah?” he watches her with amusement.

“yeah,” she breathes, nodding, “that’s…wow.” 

he can’t help but grin, hand coming to rub over his face. 

“good?” 

“yeah.” she nods, “really fucking good.”

he feels his skin heat at the way she says it, having no idea why watching her enjoy his food was so deeply satisfying (and maybe just a little arousing).

“try the pancakes,” he tells her, pushing the syrup closer to her. she nods enthusiastically, slathering the pancakes the maple syrup and taking a big bite. 

the girl groans, and her head falls into her hand, savoring the taste. she doesn’t think she’s ever had pancakes so good. 

“i could kiss you right now,” she looks back up at him. he lets out a breath of amusement and his cheeks warm with her praise.

“i’m glad you like it.” 

“no, seriously, i’m…going to kiss you.” she tells him, putting a hand on the table and leaning over it. she grabs his shirt and pulls him in, kissing him firmly. 

the man lets out a soft groan of surprise, enthusiastically reciprocating. she tastes like maple syrup. 

when the girl pulls back, he grabs her face and pulls her back in, wanting another sweet taste. it’s better than any pancakes he’s ever made. 

carmen loosens his grip on her face and she slowly pulls away, pressing a last kiss to his lips before sitting back down. she gives him a mischievous smile and continues eating her breakfast.  

-

“go sit down,” she tells him, taking the pan from him, “you already cooked, let me clean up.”

“we can do it together,” he compromises, “it’ll be faster.”

she shakes her head, making a pile of dishes in the sink and turning on the hot water.  

“no. go sit down and relax,” she demands, beginning to scrub. 

she feels arms wrap around her waist, feels lips on her neck. 

“so bossy,” he chides in between kisses, pressing his hips against her backside. she lets out a slow breath, leaning into his touch. her eyes flutter as she feels his hand creep under her shirt, splaying over her stomach. she’s not wearing anything besides his oversized shirt, and her skin suddenly feels hot from his touch. she arches into him slightly, and he bites her neck.  

it feels very domestic, fighting over who would clean up the kitchen. it feels domestic wearing his shirt and being pressed up against the counter by him, skin littered with his bruises, lips intertwined with his name. 

carmy begins to lift the borrowed shirt up, kisses trailing up to her ear, hand coming to squeeze her breast. 

the girl releases a soft noise, completely distracted by her task of washing dishes. her head falls back against his shoulder, and she leans into his touch. 

carmen thinks of telling her to strip the shirt off. thinks of hoisting her up onto the counter and eating her out until she cums. touching her until she cries.

he pushes the shirt up further. 

knock knock knock 

they both startle and look to the front door. carmen checks the time, and his heart drops a bit. 

he pulls away from the girl and runs a hand through his curls.

“who is it?” she asks him, observing his look of stress. 

“it’s, uh….fuck. just wait right here, okay?” his hands fall from his hips and he stalks to the closet by the front door, pulling out a scarf she doesn’t recognize. 

he opens the door halfway, and she hears a familiar woman’s voice greeting him. 

her face gets hot. her chest feels tight. 

“claire,” he greets quietly, thrusting the scarf forward, “here.”

“ugh, thank you, carmy. i’m so forgetful sometimes.” 

“no problem. i should, uh-”

“it smells good in there,” claire comments, peaking in. 

carmen steps back, eyes darting over to his roommate. she stands with her arms crossed, leaning against the counter, staring at him.

“i’m uh…cooking breakfast,” he turns back to claire, “so i should probably get back to that. i’ll see yo-”

“-i was thinking we could talk?” she cuts him off, “can i come in?”

“i don’t know if that’s…,” carmen hesitates. he glances to his roommate to find her walking behind him towards the stairs.

claire’s eyes follow the girl, taking in her attire. carmy watches her expression slightly falter. 

his roommate stalks up the stairs. was walking behind him in plain sight a little petty? maybe. but she’s sick of carmy never saying exactly what he means. she undoes the hair tie holding together her messy updo, walking to her room. 

she quickly grabs a change of clothes and rushes into to the bathroom to shower, feeling the overwhelming need to leave the apartment. 

the front door slams shut, and she hears his steps ascend the stairs.

[nativegirltapes]

⋆˚࿔ angel x drew thoughts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

i live to think about drew just always defending angel. even in situations where he knows she’s in the wrong. she’s been trotting around his movie set like a little brat because they’re arguing. and everyone is complaining about her bc she’s acting up, and when someone brings it up to drew he’s just like “yeah, i know. but she’s just having a rough day okay? just cut her some slack.” knowing damn well she is not having a bad day, she’s just not getting her way so she’s making it everyone’s problem, especially drew’s. but he’s learned to live with it because he loves angel and doesn’t want anyone else. and even if that means picking up the pieces, he’s okay with it.

[rems-writing]

When the mountain meets a shy girl

》 Pairing: stripper!San x afab!reader

》 Trope: strangers to lovers

》 Wordcount: 4,062 words

》 Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

“Oh come on, Y/N! It’s literally one night!”

“Guys, I don’t know -”

“Omg just ignore her and drag her along! We’re going to be late!”

This is how you found yourself on a Friday night. You got off work but instead of going straight home, your lovely coworkers pressured you into going out with them. They claimed that you needed to ‘live a little’ since you can’t ‘be a miserable hobbit’ your entire life. They say that like it’s a bad thing! If you want to stay home, you will stay home. If you want to go out, you will go out on your own free will. Alas, your coworkers didn’t understand. Or they did. They just didn’t care about your boundaries nor your personal preferences, especially the leader of the extroverts. 

Her name was Chelsea. 

You honestly didn’t know how she was able to get hired. She doesn’t know anything about the company you both work at, she slacks off most of the time, and almost always engages in the freshest office gossip. She speaks like she’s texting someone, has an annoying giggle whenever a man hits on her, and never follows the dress code. 

At least she takes responsibility for her fuck-ups and picks up the slack. And never throws you under the bus for anything. 

Other than that, she was dumb as a rock. 

You steered clear of her radar every day. You only talk to her, along with others, about work related things. The only time you don’t is when you give her the usual formal greetings. Other than that, you were never her concern. 

Until today. 

You honestly wished people would leave you alone. Why were they talking about you? You never did anything to them, didn’t snitch on them when they weren’t doing what they were supposed to do, and you were polite when you needed to be. So what’s with the sudden interest in you? 

You were 24, lived alone (aside from the many figurines you owned. They were your children), and only went out if it was required. Other than that, you preferred to stay home. You weren’t interested in dating nor sex (you’ve been there, done that way back in high school) so you tended to stay away from men since they honestly scared you.

A lot. 

If you wanted pleasure, you either took care of it yourself or you just left it alone. You didn't need anyone else to take care of it for you. But now back to the topic at hand. 

You were trying to figure out ways to excuse yourself from this outing. The last place you wanted to go was a damn strip club. You didn’t need half naked to almost fully naked men thrusting and grinding in your face. And you certainly weren’t about to waste your precious hard earned dollar bills on someone else. It’s not that you were selfish or greedy. 

You were simply frugal. 

And according to Chelsea and your coworkers, that’s ‘super hella lame’ of you to do. 

What were they? Newly oriented high school freshmen? 

Alas, you couldn’t think of any excuse to get out of this ‘extraordinary adventure’ you were on. As you neared the entrance of the strip club, everyone had to go through an ID check. Some of them complained, but you didn’t mind. Rules are rules after all. When the bouncer landed on you, you felt intimidated by the sharpness of his wolf eyes. You shakily handed your ID to him and you were ready to be scrutinized by him. You were used to being mocked by bouncers whenever you went to clubs or high-end bars with your coworkers or your family members (i.e. cousins). Surprisingly, nothing came out of the bouncer’s mouth. Instead, he gave you back your ID and offered a warm and comforting smile that reached his eyes until they formed crescents. He then leaned in and whispered in your ear. 

“If you need to find a way out, have the bartender page me. I’m sorry you were dragged out here by those… uh… lovely ladies.”

His deep and husky voice sent a small shiver down your spine and you couldn’t help but be flattered with the offer he gave you. You nodded rapidly and thanked him quietly before following the rest of the girls inside. At least someone understood how you felt, even if they were a complete stranger. When you got inside, the host led you to your table. You wanted to sit at the far end of the booth so you could make your escape (you were not about to turn down the hot bouncer’s offer), but your request fell on deaf ears. Instead, you were smack in the middle of your group with Chelsea seated to your left and someone else on your right. As soon as you were settled in, a waiter approached you. He seemed young and you couldn’t help but find his round cheeks so adorable. 

“Hello. Welcome to Cyberpunk. My name is Jongho. I’ll be taking your orders tonight. What can I get started for you?” 

“IS IT STILL GOLDEN HOUR RIGHT NOW?!”

An overly excited coworker screeched right into Jongho’s ear and you felt yourself cringe for him. Apparently, Golden Hour is what they call happy hour here. Good to know. Jongho laughed awkwardly and nodded before presenting the menu for Golden Hour. That same coworker practically clawed it out of his hands and thanked him shamelessly by running her manicured hand down his chest. You couldn’t stand it and reached over to grab her wrist. 

“Leave the poor guy alone!”

Your angry hiss made your coworker shrink into herself but still had the audacity to roll her eyes at your sense of duty. As payback, she ordered drinks for everyone else but made sure to save the strongest drink for you. And she said this out loud. You sighed and sat back with your arms crossed while Jongho nodded and wrote the order down. Before he left, he looked at you with a grateful expression and mouthed something to you. You were confused at first, but then you looked in the direction of where the young waiter was nodding at and you saw the hot bouncer waving at you with his heavily ringed hand. 

Oh. 

Jongho was giving you the name of the hot bouncer that offered you an escape earlier. 

His name is Mingi. Got it. 

You made a mental note to remember that, along with the name of the bartender you needed to page Mingi for. 

His name is Wooyoung. Got it. 

After Jongho walked away to fulfill your order, you observed your surroundings while your coworkers were talking amongst themselves. It’s a shame that they didn’t talk to you, but you didn’t care. It was better this way. 

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

Drink after drink. Shot after shot. And the cycle repeats. Your coworkers were astonished with the way you could handle your liquor. Even that nasty cocktail that you received made you feel nothing. If anything, you were only about five percent tipsy. As the night progressed, a lot of strippers made their way towards your booth and did what they needed to do. You weren’t interested in any of them. At all. You just wanted this night to be over. While the girls were fawning over the tallest stripper giving them lap dances (his name is Yunho), you saw Chelsea approach you with an evil look in her eyes and a mischievious grin on her overly painted lips. Before you could even question her intentions, she dragged you out of the booth and into a private dance room. The last words from your coworkers left you mortified. 

“YAS, QUEEN! GET THAT DICK, SIS!”

This was not happening. You refused to believe it. Not only did they pay for you to experience a private dance with one of those greasy oiled up men, but they truly believed that you needed this. As Chelsea sat you down on the plush lavender couch, she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at you. Although, you couldn’t tell since her fake lashes were too thick to comprehend anything. 

“We all chipped in for this dance. It could’ve been one of us, but we decided that you needed it the most. So like… don’t be yourself and weird him out, ok sweetie? Great! Have fun! Oh and provide us with juicy details once you’re done!”

She patted your head before exiting the room. You wanted to cry. You never asked for this. For any of this! You just wanted to go home, curl up on the couch, and watch reruns of your favorite k-dramas. But nope! You were here in a dimly lit room, anticipating who would come out. As the strange techno music played, you saw a figure approach the pole. Your eyes widened as you saw who it was. 

The Mountain. 

His seductive smile and the way he curled his fingers around the pole did nothing to quell your anxiety. You sat up straight and darted your eyes around towards every movement he pulled. Sure, you found him extremely fucking attractive, but you had to be honest with yourself. With the way you are and with the way you wanted nothing more than to escape, you wanted to shrink into the couch you were sitting on and just fade into non-existence. He noticed it at first but thought nothing of it. He believed that your shyness was just an act. Soon, you’ll pounce on him and beg for him to take you. That’s how it always was with women like you. However, he was in for a shocking awakening when he slid down the pole and tore away his shirt, leaving his muscular upper body bare. As he crawled towards you, he was getting closer to your legs, which you shut tightly. It didn’t last long before his strong hands grabbed your knees and forced them open. You shut your eyes when his nose touched the side of your right knee, almost nuzzling it in a way. He soon dragged it upwards before stopping just at the hem of your pencil skirt. He then stood up fully and looked down at you. 

This is where the hesitation began. 

He looked down at your rigid form and the way you screwed your eyes shut. His gut told him to stop, but he pushed through. He bent down and whispered huskily in your ear. The action had you open your eyes wide and look straight at him, which was a mistake since he was so close to your face.

“Don’t be shy, kitten. Come on. Touch me.”

Not waiting for your response, he gingerly grabbed your wrist and made sure your palm was flat against his broad chest. He kept eye contact with you as he slowly slid your hand down to his abs. The pace was snail-like and you found yourself shaking. Your anxiety was at an all time high. When you felt your wrist stop at the hem of his jeans, your eyes widened even more. You retracted your hand and cradled it like he had broken it. You muttered so many apologies as you curled into yourself even more. 

Oh… he felt his heart break at the sight. 

A sigh left his lips as he turned around and walked away. You were panicking internally, thinking the worst. What if he had Mingi kick you out? What if he told the owner of this strip club to blacklist you? What if he snitched on you to your friends and sneered at the way you trembled before him? And not in a good way. The anxiety died down a bit when the lights came on and you saw him walk back to you. He knelt before you and had an unreadable expression on his face. He then stuck out his hand and spoke in an authoritative voice. 

“Let me see your ID.”

You immediately thought to yourself that he was simply following protocol. However, it didn’t help that his seemingly angry look unnerved you. You dug into your pocket and fished out your ID before slapping it into his waiting palm. He held it up to his face and narrowed his eyes as he scanned over the details of it. 

‘It doesn’t look fake right?’

‘It’s as real as it can get.’

‘You probably should’ve brought your passport just in case.’

‘Oh shit he’s looking back at you! Fuck!’

As he gave you back your ID, he helped you stand up. The look on his face melted into one of concern and compassion. He gingerly grabbed your hand and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. 

“Can I hug you? I understand if you don’t want to be touched, but I can tell you need it.”

That’s all it took for you to break down in his arms. He shushed you gently and made sure his hold on you was tight enough to provide a sense of comfort for you. He walked the both of you towards the couch and held onto you until you decided to pull away. You looked up at him and sniffled. As much as he found that action to be utterly cute, he knew it wasn’t the time to address that. He gently wiped away your tears and put some distance in between you two. However, he still had his arms wrapped around you. You didn’t mind it of course. You were just glad someone empathized with you. 

“I’m guessing this is just your personality. Your ID checks out and from what you’re wearing, you definitely are of age.”

“Y-Yeah. I’m sorry if this is how you’re spending your night. I’m s-sure you weren’t expecting someone like me.”

“It’s ok. I think this is a good change of pace. If it helps, we can simply talk. I know you don’t want to be here and I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

“It’s ok. And yeah… I would love to talk.”

“Great. Let me start by introducing myself. I’m San.”

“Y/N.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Your light-hearted giggle made his heart soar and soon, he found himself in a deep conversation with you. You two talked about everything. From the basics down to you willingly explaining how your current personality came to be. And San listened tentatively. After talking some more, you checked the time. 

“Oh shit! My two hours are up! I’m sorry for holding you here longer than I should have.”

“Don’t worry about it. I enjoyed talking with you.”

“Really?”

San nodded and gave you an award winning smile. One that showcased his dimples and was similar to Mingi’s but brighter. After the both of you stood up, he gathered his things and stared at you affectionately. His gaze made you blush and you looked away. He gently grabbed your chin so he could look at you. 

“If you want, there’s a ramen place next door that’s open 24/7. Once this place closes up, we can chat some more. Or… I can take you home, either by calling an uber for you or driving you home myself. After what you told me, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you with your coworkers.”

You swore you fell in love with him.

“Actually, I would love that. I sort of need something to absorb all the alcohol that’s in my body.”

“Great! In the meantime, go speak with Hongjoong. He’s the owner of this place. Explain your situation with him and he’ll let you stay in his office for the time being. I still have work to do.”

After accepting his offer, he walked you towards his boss’s office. A short man came out and he was immediately about to interrogate you when you held your hands up in defense. The last thing he needed was to file a case for harassment. As you explained yourself, his form grew less rigid and he looked towards San, who gave a nod of confirmation, indicating that you were speaking the truth. 

“Oh, darling… here. You can stay in my office. Do whatever you need to do. I’ll have Mingi fetch you once this is over.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Please. Call me Hongjoong.”

You nodded shyly and Hongjoong patted your head before walking out of his office so you could get comfortable. San looked at you one last time before leaving to continue his job. He didn’t want to leave you there alone, but he knew you needed space to breathe and gather your bearings. After all, you went through a lot. 

TIME SKIP

It had been some time since that horrible outing with your coworkers. Sure, you met some angels and your savior along the way, but the events leading up to that moment left you drained. After that night, you didn’t speak with Chelsea or any of your coworkers. Instead, you worked faster and more diligently than before so you could clock out early and go home immediately. You did not want to interact with any of them whatsoever. As soon as you reached home, you flopped on the couch. 

“Aww. You didn’t want to greet me? That makes me sad.”

“Shut up, San!”

San giggled at your sassy voice as he walked over to you and sat on the couch beside you. He lifted your head so you could lay on his lap. As he ran his fingers through your hair and massaged your scalp, you talked about how your day went. 

Did I mention that you two were roommates now?

Ever since you met San, he’s been a comforting presence in your life. You asked him to move in with you since you felt at ease with him. One thing led to another and the two of you were now a couple. It was awkward at first since you haven’t dated anyone in the longest, but San was patient with you. He took things at your own pace and made it less awkward. He still works at the strip club unfortunately, but he reassures you that he will always come back to you since you have his heart. 

“As I motherfucking should!”

That was always your response to him and he could never get tired of it. As the relationship progresses, you slowly find yourself coming out of your shell. You no longer feel overly shy whenever he walks around shirtless or whispers sensual words in your ear as he flirts with you. Instead, you play along and even tease him sometimes. That’s an effect only San can bring unto you. In addition, he taught you how to be more confident and stand up for yourself. 

His hard work paid off when you told him about how you told your boss about how you felt with your coworkers.

You came back into the office feeling nervous yet invigorated. You needed to put a stop to your coworkers peer pressuring you into going out. You also needed to stop caring about what they might say. As San has stated to you despite being only in tight jeans with dollar bills peeking out from the top, if you liked staying in, then stay in. You knocked on the CEO’s front door and heard her honeyed voice telling you to come in. When you entered, your eyes landed on your CEO boss, who was also your long time best friend. “Hey. What’s up, Y/N?” She smiled that beautiful smile and you felt relieved momentarily. “Um… we need to talk, Ms. Hwasa.” 

“I thought I told you to call me by my real name. After all, we have been friends for seven years.”

“Sorry, Hyejin.”

“It’s ok. Anyways, what did you need to talk about?”

It was now or never. 

Slowly but surely, you vented about everything. From your coworkers to Chelsea all the way to the main topic: disrespecting boundaries. You also explained how you were afraid of what she might say despite vowing to always have your back. Of course you didn’t doubt her words. You were simply afraid of her brushing you off like you were nothing more than another employee. When you finished speaking, Hwasa had her eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. Finally, she spoke. 

“Thank you for telling me this. I honestly didn’t think they would be dumb enough to forget common sense. Set a meeting right now. I think I need to remind these women of how everything works around here.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Hwasa laughed slightly as you saluted before turning around and marching back to your cubicle. A couple of hours later, a lot of employees were in a meeting room, standing nervously as they watched their CEO pace back and forth whilst looking at them with an unreadable expression. You were in the middle of the crowd, pretending to be nervous, but in reality, you were playing it cool. 

“It seems to me that you guys keep forgetting about the one thing I wanted all of you to have.”

Oop - 

“Common courtesy.”

A lot of your coworkers were sweating nervously, including Chelsea. You felt bad for them a little bit since you know Hwasa to be strict. 

“Just because someone doesn’t like the things that you do after work doesn’t mean you have the right to change their dynamics. We are all different here. And yet, we still work well together. So please. The next time you want to take someone away from their comfort bubble, think twice before doing so. Either do nothing about it or do something about it the right way. Ask first! That’s always a requirement. If they say yes, then there you go. If they say no, then no means no! Do we have an understanding?”

Everyone nodded.

“In addition, I am putting a stop to the unnecessary gossip swimming around here. The people you gossip about? They have done nothing to you and they don’t do that to you. So why do it to them in the first place?”

It was a rhetorical question that no one dared to answer. 

“This meeting is adjourned. Get back to work.”

“Yes, Ms, Hwasa!”

Everyone scattered and scurried back to their places. Hwasa looked at you and smiled while you profusely thanked her. 

“You can go home now if you want. I know your boy toy misses you.”

“Girl, shut up!”

“And that’s what happened!”

“I’m so proud of you for standing up for yourself.”

San sat you up and hugged you tightly. You returned the hug happily and remained in his arms for a while before he pulled away. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he stood up from the couch. 

“This calls for a celebration. Time to give you that private dance you originally signed up for.”

Oh…

OH!

Before you could protest, San turned on the stereo system and played the track before standing in the middle of the living room to begin his routine.

‘SHIT! WHY THIS SONG?!’

‘THIS SONG IS A BOP THOUGH!’

‘YEAH BUT NOW LOOK AT THE SITUATION YOU’RE IN!’

‘JUST RELAX, BITCH! DAMN!’

You watched as San performed his routine perfectly. It catered to the song and you found yourself drooling as you leaned in to observe him more. San smirked at this as he jumped and did a diving move before crawling towards you. Your legs were open for him and he came in between them, nuzzling his nose into both of your inner thighs before slowly standing up. He gingerly grabbed your hand and took off his shirt before placing your palm on his broad chest. 

DID HE GET BIGGER?! WHAT THE FUCK?!

You watched your hand slowly trail down to his abs until your wrist stopped at the top of his sweats. It was then you noticed how low they hung on his hips. You looked back up to see him lean in closer, his eyes dark with lust and desire. His other hand cupped your cheek and he used his thumb to drag your bottom lip down slowly. 

“Can I have you for tonight, kitten?”

You were not about to pass up on the opportunity to ride that dick into the sunset. With a small ‘yes’ leaving your mouth, he kissed you passionately before grabbing your waist and carrying you to your shared bedroom.

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: 365 days | pgw

summary | the first year of your relationship with park gunwook, quantified by 12 separate events.

genre | park gunwook x fem!reader, high school!au, very slice of life, fluff, angst, y/n is bisexual, roughly 1 month has passed in between every part

warnings | jealousy + attempted sabotage, the horrors of girlhood (insecurity, slight mention of beauty standards, comparison)

wc | 12.7k

a/n: if you listen close enough you can hear me screaming in agony ++ can someone please remind me how to think up ideas that don't require several thousands of words

ft. youngeun and yeseo from kep1, boys planet/redstartz junhyeon, ppl i made up

i. confession

Tears bunch in your eyes as you sit behind your school building, the intensifying heat of spring embracing you like a warm hug. You feel devastated like someone had just stabbed you through the heart and left you to bleed.

“I think you’re overreacting, [First].” Youngeun’s voice is gravelly over the phone yet still uneasy, overall impacted by the sound of her gym class. Yeseo, who’s sitting next to you, hummed, although you weren’t sure if she was agreeing with Youngeun or not. “I mean, is it so bad he knows? It was bound to happen, probably.”

“Well, no, it wasn’t,” you stuttered, trying to keep the urge to sob and scream at bay. “And, to be fair, that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried about what else Yukyung was telling people without me knowing.”

Youngeun begins to speak but doesn’t get more out than a squeak, and you can almost imagine her opening and closing her mouth in an instant. Yeseo picks up the slack, saying, “Well, it’s worse to assume than to deal with the facts. Yukyung, for whatever reason, told Gunwook about your crush on him and showed him the texts, and it’s getting out among our classmates. In my opinion, there’s one course of action you should take.”

“Which is?”

“Youngeun tells Gunwook that you want to talk to him after school, and then you talk to him after school.”

You groaned audibly and Youngeun gasped, presumably in horror. You stared at her in exasperation, letting a single tear fall down your face. Yeseo wiped it off with her cardigan’s sleeve, frowning at you. “I mean, the worst that could happen is that he doesn’t feel the same way and you feel embarrassed for a couple of months. And we all unfriended Yukyung pretty much instantly, so she won’t be around anymore.”

“Doesn’t matter, still happened,” you replied. “I don’t want to see him ever again. I’d rather die than see him again.”

Yeseo put a hand on your back, while Youngeun yelped at the sound of a basketball hitting the closet she was hiding in. “I’ll ask him, and you’re gonna do it, [First]. You can’t skip a week of school during the first week of school.”

“Who said I was going to skip?”

“Every time you’re minorly embarrassed by something you skip school,” Yeseo said, looking at you like you were insane. “Like that one time you got a bad score on our math midterms during our first year and the teacher asked you what happened in front of everyone, so you skipped 2 days and sulked in your room.”

“That was warranted,” Youngeun commented, which caused Yeseo to glare at the phone. “But! Not the point. For all you know, Gunwook could like you back, and you’ll be able to say you had a boyfriend in high school. Right?”

“The chances of that are incredibly low,” you whined, drawing your knees up to your chest and burying your head in between them. “We’ve barely even talked. We just sit kind of next to each other during our cram classes, and that’s it.”

“He could be delusional too!”

“Are you calling me delusional?”

“The bell is about to ring,” Yeseo cut in, grabbing your phone out of your hands. You immediately popped out of your fetal position, reaching for it as quickly as you could. “Youngeun, leave the supply closet and ask him, please. Pick a location and text the groupchat. [First] and I have to go back to the classroom so we don’t get in trouble for skipping our study block.”

With that, she hung up and left you to your devices. The day passed agonizingly slowly after that, and you found yourself struggling to focus on anything your teacher said. At some point during your study block, Yukyung had left, leaving you alone at your desk with no seatmate to annoy or watch (not that you wanted her there, anyway) for the day. That was likely out of embarrassment, too, as now your classmates, who generally liked you, weren’t as sure on how to deal with the newfound information.

The only other thing worth noting was that, during your 5-minute break in between classes, Yeseo told your homeroom teacher what happened and she approved you switching hers and Yukyung’s desks after school, but, other than that, you felt your sanity whittling away by the minute.

Youngeun had haphazardly chosen a tree behind the gym, typically reserved for successful confessions, because she’d been staring at it out the window as she talked to Gunwook (which she described as the scariest conversation of her life) and didn’t know where else would work.

According to her, he’d blushed as she asked, accepting on the pretense that it wouldn’t take long because he promised his older brother that he’d get dinner with him that night. Initially, you lamented over the fact that you wouldn’t have anyone to stare at during your after-school classes, but it quickly dawned on you that he thought you were going to confess to him (which was true—you were going to confess to him).

Then, when you got done with class for the day, one of your classmates—Gyuvin—hit you on the shoulder on the way out with a quick “good luck!”

It took Yeseo dragging you to the gym and offering you $20 and a free fun drink afterward for you to get used to the idea you were doing this, and about another 3 minutes of you panicking at her in a hushed whisper while she told you to get over yourself. Then, Youngeun sprinted over, panting and still half in her gym clothes.

“You didn’t change after gym?”

“Not the focus! You’re actively making him wait!” she choked out, apparently exhausted from her mad dash. You rolled your eyes, dropping your bag down next to them and taking a deep breath.

“If I throw up on him, I’m going to kill you.”

With that, you began your death march to the tree, where Gunwook stood, scrolling through his phone. The sight of him made your stomach explode with butterflies, which you tried to shut down given your (supposed) fate of rejection. You were mentally preparing yourself to be in turmoil for the next few days, but deep down, all you wanted was to rewind time to when you told Yukyung about your silly, little crush and stop it from ever happening.

Your crush on Gunwook was never meant to go anywhere but your brain, and now you were walking up to him, about to pour out feelings that were half-manufactured by Yukyung convincing there was a future that would come with them.

“Hi,” you managed, causing Gunwook to spin around and shove his phone in his pocket.

“Hi,” he replied, scratching his neck as if he was unsure what to do with his hands. “Um, how are you?”

It was a stupid question, and you could tell he knew that. Of course you wouldn’t be doing well—one of your best friends told the entire world (him, and then one of his friends leaked it to the rest of the school) your entire life story (a single crush).

“Could be better.”

“Yeah.”

You looked off to the side, seeing Gyuvin and Junhyeon, who you knew were close to him, watching from a second-story window in the school building. You tried to ignore it, but you knew you’d hyperfocus on it now.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you finally breathed out, twiddling your thumbs. “Yukyung—I don’t know what to say that you don’t already know. I guess I have a bit of a crush on you. Sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” he asked, sounding genuinely perplexed. You looked back up at him, shrugging.

“Well, it’s weird. We don’t really know each other, and then a girl you don’t know very well is suddenly telling you that I’m head over heels for you.”

“You’re not?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it that way, no. Just a crush. Not much else.”

You thought there would be a weight off your shoulders once you managed to say it to his face, but it was, quite literally, the opposite. Your stomach was tightening up and your throat was closing, but you didn’t move, just staring him in the face.

“So it would be awkward if I professed my undying love for you right now.”

You flinched at that, frowning. “That was kind of mean.”

Gunwook’s face dropped when you said that, and he shook his head rapidly. “No, not—I wasn’t making fun of you, I swear. I promise. It was a bad way of saying I have a crush on you too. Sorry. Uncalled for. Didn’t mean it.”

The words fell from his mouth like an avalanche, and all you could do was stare at him in awe. “Wait, really? Why?”

“Why? I don’t know. We spend a lot of time together, even if we don’t talk often,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “We were in the same class for our first year, then we started at the same cram school, and now we sit near each other. You’re entertaining to watch when you’re taking notes.”

“You stare at me in class?” you asked, genuinely shocked at his admission. You thought you stared at him enough during the same classes that it was impossible he could’ve been doing the same thing. Apparently, he was good at catching you when you weren’t watching his every move. “Creep.”

“Like you don’t? If I’m a creep, what are you? You’re way worse than I am,” he replied. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. What now?”

You tapped your chin, looking back over at the window Gyuvin and Junhyeon had been in. They were gone now, presumably to meet Gunwook when your conversation was over. “We could try being a ‘thing.’”

“A thing?”

“I don’t think we know each other well enough for like—I don’t know, for me to call you boyfriend,” you replied. “So we can just be a ‘thing.’ No strings attached! And we can go on a date or two. Maybe.”

“A date or two? Whereabouts?”

You smiled, and he did too; you were shocked at how well he managed to goad information out of you. You tended to say things but never follow up on them, not unless you were pestered over and over again—it had taken Yeseo nearly a year to get it down.

“Do you like the zoo? Recently, I’ve been wanting to go to the zoo. They have a new baby bear—cub?—that I wanna see. Perhaps on Sunday? Are you free then?”

“I might be free on Sunday,” he said, handing his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it, pressing a couple of buttons before handing it to you with an empty contact screen open. “How about we talk about it later? I’m late for meeting my brother.”

You typed in your name and number, sending yourself a quick text so you’d be able to initiate if you felt he didn’t text you fast enough. “Sounds good to me. I’ll see you later. Tell your brother I said hello.”

“Okay, sounds good,” Gunwook chuckled. He reached out and ruffled your hair, giving you a wide, bright smile that could’ve overpowered the sun if he tried hard enough. “I’ll see you later, so we can start our ‘thing.’”

“Yup, bye-bye. See you tomorrow.”

ii. lunchtime

You and Gunwook, mostly on purpose, don’t spend a lot of time together at school. Sometimes, you say hi and smile at him when you walk into his classroom to grab Youngeun, but, other than that, you keep it separate.

For one thing, it makes it easier to keep it “no strings attached,” as you’d proclaimed the day Yukyung briefly ruined your life, but it also was somewhat fun for you and him to not address what happened. Thanks to Gyuvin, half—if not all—of your grade had heard about it, and someone had spotted the both of you under that god-forsaken tree, but you hadn’t said a thing.

For you two, it was like nothing had happened, and, for everyone else, it was like a bomb they were just hoping would go off. It was fun—like you were living out a cliche, teen drama.

So, when Gunwook sauntered into your classroom in the middle of your lunch period, proudly holding a bottle of special juice you briefly talked about wanting, you were somewhat shocked. For the most part, you weren’t mentally prepped to interact with him during the day, especially as Yukyung watched on with her new couple of friends from the corner of the room.

You, Youngeun, and Yeseo stared at him as he approached, Gyuvin following close behind. He put the drink down in front of you, a proud smile on his face. “Look,” he said, gesturing towards it, so you looked. It was a brand of juice—they advertised it as a “smoothie,” but it was just slightly thicker juice—that you’d enjoyed a lot on a trip to the United States that you’d gone on a while back.

You hadn’t seen it once in Korea, even after taking Yeseo with you to search for it for hours. “Where in the world did you get this?” you spluttered out, picking it up. It was chilled, too, as if he’d been keeping it in a refrigerator (or, an insulated lunch box with an ice pack in it).

“He didn’t,” Gyuvin snorted, putting an arm around Gunwook’s shoulder. “Junhyeon did while he was in Busan this weekend.”

Gunwook hit him hard on the chest, clearing his throat. “Do you like it? Are you excited?”

“The right flavor and everything,” you replied, a surge of joy running through you. “Thank Junhyeon for me, okay?”

Gunwook scoffed, mumbling, “It’s not like I didn’t pay him back twice the price or anything,” under his breath. You held up your fist, to which Gunwook stared at it, somewhat dumbfounded.

“What?”

“You want a fist bump from me?” he asked incredulously. You nodded, exaggerating the movements to make it seem like he was missing the obvious. So, he bumped your fist with his, shaking his head. “See you after school, [First].”

“Yup, I’ll see you.”

And you watched him walk out, Gyuvin in tow—and, from the corner of your eye, you saw Yukyung watching his every move, up until he left the classroom.

iii. field trip

The third-year field trip was something you’d looked forward to for a long time—as a way to force students to take a break from their studying, your school sent all the first years to some fun location, paying for most of it with donations they got from alumni and parents.

This year, they’d had the bright idea to send you all to Hawaii, which had been both shocking and exciting. The farthest they’d ever sent anyone was Jeju, and that was a few years ago; but, they’d got some huge donation this year and decided to splurge.

So far, the trip had been fun, for the most part. On the airplane, you’d forced Gunwook to sit next to you so that you could hold his hand every time the plane shook (he’d laughed at you over your fear of turbulence, but you were too aware of the fact that he was rubbing your hand with his thumb to care). Almost all of your classmates, to whom you had not disclosed the nature of your “thing” yet, had stared at you every time they walked past. About halfway through, Youngeun, who’d volunteered to be the third wheel, leaned over and told you she was pretty sure the news was making its way down the plane, and people were getting up to fact-check it for the row members.

“That’s stupid,” Gunwook laughed, pulling your hand onto his tray table. “Doesn’t everyone know [First] is just afraid of planes? Nothing else going on here, not at all.”

Then Yeseo had popped her head above her seat and turned around to face you, an eyebrow raised. “Have you two kissed yet?” she’d asked out of nowhere, to which you shrugged.

“Why would we kiss when nothing is going on?”

Then, upon arrival, you and Gunwook had sat next to one another on the bus to the hotel, to which you’d promptly fallen asleep on his shoulder (since you didn’t sleep much on the plane) for the entire ride. You woke up to him holding your hand again, scrolling through his phone haphazardly.

After that, you’d had all eyes on the both of you—when you got to the hotel, while you were listening to your teachers give instructions, while keys were being handed out. And, as a result of what you assumed was anxiety over not knowing English, Gunwook and his two friends, Junhyeon and Gyuvin, followed you, Yeseo, and Youngeun around for the entire trip.

Then, on the third day of the trip, Gunwook asked if you’d want to go on a date with him. The idea was silly to you—not because you didn’t want to, but because you were two teenagers going on a date on your almost-all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii.

That’s what you were doing now. It was the day before you were to head back home, and Gunwook had, for lack of a better word, taken you out. To a fancy restaurant—where he made you translate the entire menu and order for him—and to get some sort of fancy pineapple dessert afterward. Now, you were strolling on the beach, watching the sun fall below the horizon slowly but surely.

“How much longer until curfew?” you asked, turning around to face him. You continued walking backward, lacing your hands together behind your back.

“About half an hour. We’re close enough to the hotel that we don’t have to start walking back now, but we should think about it soon.”

You hummed, stopping abruptly. You faced the shoreline, listening to the sound of the waves draw in and out like breaths from a sleeping person. It was so alive, yet not at the same time, and it mesmerized you; you’d never seen an ocean like this before.

“You look pretty tonight,” he mused, staring at you rather than the ocean. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the comment.

“Look at yourself in the mirror.”

“I’m not pretty, I’m beautiful, thank you very much.”

A question was bubbling up in your throat now, much like the water in front of you. You felt a surge of anxiety wash through your stomach, and you were mentally transported back to that tree from a couple of months ago. The pure embarrassment you felt was gone and replaced with a sort of hope that was more painful than uplifting, as if it was a glass cup teetering on the edge of a table.

“I have a question,” you started, banishing the unease from your stomach.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. He wouldn’t look away from you, no matter how much you tried to focus on the sight in front of you. A crooked smile bloomed on his face which should’ve quelled your worries in an instant, but, for some reason, it only made them worse. “I suppose I have an answer for you.”

“Do you?”

“I just might, if you manage to ask the question.”

“Okay, here I go,” you said, mustering up all your courage and turning to face him. His eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and you immediately felt discouraged just looking at him. He was right—he was beautiful, almost impossibly so. Yet, here you were, boring and average, barely even able to hold a T to him. Plus, the only reason you were even here was because someone you’d considered a best friend had told him you liked him, and now you were getting into your head over something that was long over.

His smile dropped a bit when he (most likely) realized you were panicking a bit, but he didn’t say anything, simply waiting patiently for you to continue. You forced yourself to regain focus, shaking your head as the image of Yukyung permeated in your mind. He grabbed both of your hands as a way to help soothe the worry, and it worked as well as it could, pulling you back into reality.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend, maybe?” you finally asked, watching as his face lit up against the sun.

“Do I?” he asked back, allowing himself to smile fully. “This is the best question I’ve ever been asked. Seriously.”

“Seriously?”

Gunwook giggled, swinging your hands around a bit. “Can I kiss you? Pretty please?”

“Can you?” you mimicked, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. Gunwook giggled again, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips. It was slow and sweet, his lips soft and tasting slightly of the pineapple you’d had earlier. He laughed and smiled through the entire thing, squeezing your hands in delight before letting go and wrapping his hands around your waist. As cliche as it was, you draped your hands around his neck, starting to giggle too.

When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours, still chuckling in delight. “This is so exciting,” he said, rocking you back and forth on the sand. “I’m so excited. I feel like I’ve been waiting for this for my entire life, you know? Even if I’ve only known you for three years. I can’t explain it—it’s unexplainable. I’m so excited.”

“You know what, I’m getting the idea you might be excited.”

And Gunwook shut you up with another elated kiss, ending your night in an impenetrable wall of pure joy.

iv. sleepover

Your parents were adventurers and you decidedly weren’t, which often meant you had your house to yourself. It was nice, mostly because it allowed you to spread out all your study stuff on the dining room table and do all of your work right then and there without your parents talking to you every 20 seconds.

Sometimes, though, things didn’t go as planned, and you had to do things you didn’t want to do. Namely, spend the night in the house completely alone. Every creak or thump made your heart beat out of your chest, which ended up in you taking a knife and a flashlight through the entire house with the emergency number pre-dialed.

Oftentimes, it ended with you not sleeping and then having to miss school because of over-exhaustion.

You were sitting in your living room while on the phone with Gunwook (he claimed you were moral support for his studying) when your mom texted you, the message starting with a bunch of emojis, which was her way of beginning a message with bad news.

“Oh god,” you said, cutting through the hour-long silence you’d maintained with your boyfriend.

“Huh? What’s up?”

“My mom texted me. There’s some huge accident on the freeway, so they’ve got the entire thing blocked off. Traffic is awful on other routes so they’re just going to pull off to a motel and sleep there tonight.”

“Oh no,” he said, and you could tell he was preoccupied with whatever math problem he was doing. “House to yourself, I guess?”

“I’m glad it’s Saturday,” you said, frowning. “I’m not gonna get any sleep tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like being completely alone in the house. I’m convinced someone’s gonna come in and kill me.”

“Hmm,” Gunwook hummed, pausing briefly. “I could come over and stay the night? I’ll leave early in the morning so they don’t find out I was there.”

Realistically, you knew you should say no because the chance of your parents finding out about Gunwook terrified you, but you had poor judgment and liked your boyfriend too much to turn down seeing him. “Would you actually? It’s kind of late, and I wouldn’t want to make you walk that much in the dark.”

“It’s not that far of a walk,” he said, and you could hear him packing his school stuff already. The sound of pencils clinking against pencils and books closing made you feel all warm and fuzzy—instead of studying for the test that was going to decide his fate as an adult, he was coming to make sure you felt comfortable and safe.

“Oh yeah, because 30 minutes is ‘not that far.’ Just get it over with and tell me you’re in love with me.”

Gunwook cleared his throat at your quip, choking on air. You snickered, finding how flustered he got at the “L-word” quite cute (as if you wouldn’t do the same thing). “I’ll be there shortly.”

He hung up the phone without saying bye, most likely out of embarrassment, which made you feel proud of yourself. And, true to his word, he showed up about fifty minutes later, balancing his school backpack on one arm and another bag on the other. “Do you know how hard it is to jump out of your window with two bags?” he asked, walking into your house as if it was his own. You wondered if he cared about the fact that he’d never actually been inside before, given he’d only ever walked you home, but you assumed his unwillingness to do his usual hello-and-hug meant he was somewhat flustered by it.

“Are you moving in, or something? What’s in the bags?”

“Well, I can’t stay the night without all my nighttime stuff,” he huffed, breezing past you and dropping his bags off next to the stairs. You watched him look around frantically, and you somewhat assumed that he’d hung up on you because he’d realized what exactly he had suggested and had no way of backing out of it now (you hoped he hadn’t even thought about backing out).

“You’re such a diva,” you scoffed, shuffling back into your living room and returning to your position on the couch. He sat next to you, leaning against the armrest and putting his legs on top of yours. You rolled your eyes, picking up the remote and pressing play.

“So, what are we watching?”

“Whatever romcom was playing when I turned the TV on,” you replied, keeping your focus on the screen. Suddenly you were feeling embarrassed even though you’d been feeling so egotistical a second ago, as you were realizing you were in more danger here than he was. He’d successfully snuck out (or so he said, but you were pretty sure he probably told his mom and then snuck out the window to avoid his dad finding out), but your parents lived here, and if they got here before you were expecting them, it was over for you.

It dawned on you that you needed to find out when they were planning on getting back, so you wrenched your phone out of your pocket, furiously typing to your mother. Gunwook noticed, pointing at you and laughing. “You were so high and mighty a second ago, and now look at you. Somebody realized they’re going to be in bigger shit than I am.”

“Shut your mouth,” you hissed, watching the little bubble that indicated your mom was typing.

“Maybe we should send her a selfie, huh? Just so she knows a random teenage boy that she doesn’t know is in her house,” Gunwook continued, sucking all of the confidence you’d once had out of the air. “She’d be super excited, right?”

“If you’re not out of my house by 5:30 tomorrow morning, I’m going to break up with you,” you announced, glaring at him. He made a face at you, shaking his head.

“Be glad I like you so much. Waking up at 5:30 is brutal. I didn’t even do that when Gyuvin got his appendix out and texted me thirty times to ask if I’d be there when he got out of surgery.”

“You liar, Gyuvin literally told me that you showed up with flowers and a get-well-soon card.”

Gunwook blushed at that, clearing his throat. “Okay, whatever, fine. Let’s just watch the movie.”

The two of you got about twenty minutes of the romcom in before he checked the time and announced that you were both going to sleep. You said he could go on his own—midnight was early for both of you, and you weren’t the one waking up at 5:30—but he got all whiney, turning the TV off and picking you up from the couch.

You’d gone through the motions of your nighttime routine together, with Gunwook’s being about fifty steps longer than yours. You ended up sitting on the floor while he put on a million serums and waited thirty minutes in between each one, claiming it was to “let each product soak into his skin.”

You texted Youngeun and Yeseo about it, not thinking about the implications behind waiting for him to finish his skincare routine. Immediately, they began blowing up your phone, and you promptly muted your group chat and their individual text threads, not wanting to deal with the onslaught of questions they were likely unleashing onto you.

Then, you looked up to see Gunwook putting on a lip mask. Knowing it was probably the last step in his routine, you hopped up from the floor, staring at the small, pink container that the gel lived in. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to try that out,” you said, not thinking about it too hard. “Is it nice? Does it work?”

“Shouldn’t you know better than anyone whether it works or not?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You slapped him hard on the shoulder, causing him to yelp in pain. “Okay, geez, yes, it works. Do you want to try some?”

“Oh, can I—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Gunwook leaned down and kissed you somewhat hard, almost causing you to stumble back a bit. Either way, you almost immediately broke it off, incredibly flustered at the act. You slapped him again, although this time it was a million times weaker. “You’re so stupid, oh my god, you cliche loser.”

“Be grateful I was willing to give you any, this stuff is expensive,” Gunwook said, cackling. He put a bit more on his finger, rubbing it into his lips to compensate for what he lost from kissing you. “I thought you liked kissing me, no?”

“I also like the thought of you getting hit by a train. These things aren’t mutually exclusive,” you huffed, looking to the side. “Whatever. I’m going to my room.”

“Ooh, me too,” he said, draping an arm around your shoulders as you walked past him. He kept himself in step with you, flicking the bathroom light switch off as you both exited the room.

“Who said we’re sleeping in the same room?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. Gunwook laughed in your face, causing you to frown.

“Okay, sure, but one noise and you’ll be prancing into the guest room like a scared dog.” “Who said I had a guest room? Go to the couch.” You wiggled out from under his arm, opening the door to your bedroom and flicking the lights on. Gunwook continued following after you, but quickly walked past you and climbed under the duvet on your bed. Somehow, he’d already plugged his phone in and put his bags neatly in the corner of your room—it must’ve been when he walked out to grab his toner pads from his bag—and had settled into your bedroom quite nicely. You stared at him in awe as he yawned, patting the bed next to him.

“It’s bedtime.”

“For you.”

He laughed at you again, patting the bed once more. You shut your bedroom door behind you, turning your phone’s flashlight on and turning the lights off as soon as they’d come on. You shuffled over to the bed, sliding in next to him and cuddling up to him. He reciprocated, putting an arm on your waist and giggling.

“You giggle too much.”

“Good night, [First]. I won’t wake you up tomorrow morning, but I’ll be out by 5:30. Promise.”

Even though you weren’t tired, you fell asleep like a baby next to Gunwook, basking in the warmth he brought. You were pretty sure you’d fallen asleep before him, actually, but you swore up and down it was because he’d been humming to you and rubbing your back in a way that was more relaxing than you would’ve liked it to be.

So, when you woke up the next morning, the sun barely peeking through your curtains, to find him gone, you felt relief. You groaned, turning over to search for your phone, which was, as always, placed on your bedside table.

You picked it up, barely being able to make out the time—5:01 am. Huh, you thought, frowning. He left earlier than he needed.

And then you looked at your notifications—three texts from your mother.

2:34 am—Hi honey, the motel was uncomfortable and we couldn’t sleep, so we’re getting an early start. I know you get paranoid, and I hope you’re not awake, but texting to let you know just in case you are. Should be there about 4:30.

3:47 am—Update, we’ve hit some early traffic, so probably closer to 4:45. It might still be 4:30 if we’re lucky.

Finally, 4:11 am—We got lucky!!! We’ll be there in 10. Assuming you’re asleep…am glad. Can’t wait to be in my own bed.

You shot up from your bed, suddenly feeling more awake than you’d ever been in your life. With what little sunlight there was, you looked to the corner of the room, clearly seeing two black bags that didn’t belong to you. Then, an extra phone on your nightstand.

Panic set in. You, as quietly as you could, got out of bed, shuffling to the door. With a hand haphazardly placed on the knob, you pulled your door open, cringing at even the slightest of noises. You heard the sound of a glass hitting your table downstairs, and you felt like crying.

Slowly, you tiptoed down the stairs, catching sight of Gunwook, blue sweater on and exhaustion written on his face, sitting across from both of your parents. Breakfast was ready on the table, and Gunwook had a full plate in front of him, but it had barely been touched.

He noticed you first, looking up at you from the table. He looked violently uncomfortable, pleading for you to come save him, and you just about turned around and went back to your room.

“[First],” your dad said, turning his head to look at you. “Why don’t you come join us? I suppose you have a few things to explain.”

v. ice cream

You loved summer for a multitude of reasons—the lack of school, the increase in fun treats, and the overall happiness that came upon everyone during your one month off of responsibility. So, when you caught wind of a fair opening up, you knew you couldn’t pass up going.

Your first invites were Yeseo and Youngeun, since the three of you always spent your summers at amusement parks and pop-ups. But, they’d had the bright idea to invite along your boyfriend and his couple of friends—it would be okay, they said, since there’s three of you and three of them. So, you did, and you were entirely grateful that you had.

You didn’t know Gyuvin or Junhyeon very well before today; Gyuvin tended to follow Gunwook around, and Junhyeon had bought you juice once upon a time, but that was about it. It was the same for Gunwook and your couple of friends, as the most they’d interacted with him was on your plane ride to Hawaii.

Seeing your friends getting along with his warmed your heart, and it had put together a day you would never forget, most likely. About twenty minutes ago, your four accompaniments had made up some excuse as to why they needed to separate from the two of you, which had left you strolling through the fair as the sun was beginning to set.

The sky had erupted into a million different colors, namely pinks and purples, which you were particularly enamored by. You’d endearingly linked your arm with Gunwook’s and you’d been walking through the local artist alley that they’d put up.

“I’m glad it’s cooling down,” you said, staring at a booth where a woman was showing off all of her handmade jewelry pieces, which you found to be quite impressive. “As much fun as a fair is, it always sucks when it’s too hot to enjoy.”

“It wasn’t that hot today, though, was it?” he replied. “I mean, it got warm around 3, but that was just about it. I thought today was relatively tame compared to the rest of the week.”

“Okay, Fireboy, whatever you say. But, for the record, tame compared to the rest of the week doesn’t mean much when it was nearly 35° the other day,” you scoffed. Gunwook chuckled, and you looked over at him, intending on continuing to talk about the heat. But, a booth behind him caught your eye, distracting you from whatever you were planning on saying next.

You unlocked your arm from his, smiling mischievously at him. “Wait here,” you said excitedly, pulling your wallet out of your tote bag. You quickly walked over to the ice cream booth that you’d seen in the distance, the thought of how cold it would be tainting your mind. Even just a little bit of freedom from the heat was enough to sweep you off your feet, at this point.

“What would you like?” the server asked, to which you smiled at her, staring at the menu.

“Um, just two vanilla cones, please,” you said, realizing you had no clue what flavor of ice cream he’d even want. You hoped he didn’t have a terrible disdain for vanilla, but you doubted he did, given you’d never seen him actively dislike any food in your life. You got the amount of money it cost out of your wallet and placed it on the counter, shoving your wallet back in your bag.

The server handed them to you, and you thanked her, turning back around to hobble back to where you’d left Gunwook. And, as you did, you were met with quite possibly the worst sight in the world—he stood off to the side of the jewelry booth talking to someone. Namely, he was talking to Yukyung.

Of course she would be here—before she’d broken your trust, she tagged along on your summer adventures. She was your best friend once upon a time, and now, she was not much other than a bad memory, and she was talking to your boyfriend.

You didn’t know how to describe the feeling it evoked. It wasn’t jealousy—you knew what jealousy felt like, and this was too mellow and depressing to be jealousy. Yukyung looked gorgeous, as she always did, dressed in a pretty, flowy, red sundress that just barely brushed against the tops of her shoes. Her makeup was perfect and rosy to match the dress, and she’d braided white ribbon into her hair, which you thought made her look even more elegant than she had before.

Oh, you thought, biting your lip. This is inadequacy.

You watched them talk, and you watched the way she smiled and the way he seemed uncomfortable just from the way he stood. For a brief moment, you thought they even looked a bit good together, but that thought was quickly washed away when you felt ice cream drip onto your finger.

When you looked back up, she was gone, and Gunwook had gone back to lingering. You shook your head, jogging up to him with a smile. “Happy summer,” you said, handing it out to him. He smiled back at you, taking the ice cream cone from your hand.

“Thank you,” he said, taking a big bite straight from the top. You widened your eyes in shock and your face distorted into one of disgust.

“You bite ice cream?”

“And what about it? Do you have a problem with it?”

“Yeah, actually, I do. That’s weird and strange.”

“You know what else is weird and strange?”

“Huh?”

“The fact that you’re letting your ice cream melt all over your hand.”

vi. overwhelmed

You’re wondering how long you can get away with staying in the bathroom before someone notices that you’ve been gone for much longer than you were expecting. You hug your knees to your chest, playing a mindless game in hopes it’ll calm you down at least somewhat.

You knew this would happen at some point—every upperclassman you’d talked to told you that, in the months approaching your college entrance exams, your mental health would plummet. From panic attacks in the bathroom during math classes to not being able to fall asleep until four in the morning.

You just underestimated how much it sucked to feel like this in the first place. You’re no stranger to stress, that much is certain, but this was much more real. And, this sort of panic hit you anywhere and everywhere—including Gyuvin’s birthday party.

Briefly, you glanced at the time—8:02. You’d been in the bathroom for about 10 minutes, and nobody had come looking for you yet, which was good. The bad news was that you weren’t any closer to calming down and were feeling utterly helpless.

As if you’d jinxed yourself, Gunwook texted you at that very moment, asking where you’d gone. You half-assed your reply, saying you were still in the bathroom taking a break from the chaos, ignoring the temptation to ask him to come help you. It would be mean to Gyuvin and him—so, for the sake of your sanity, you’d stay quiet.

Meanwhile, Gunwook stood in one of Gyuvin’s hallways, staring at his phone. Junhyeon had followed him back as Gyuvin was well entertained by Ricky, who he hadn’t seen in nearly a year, and stood next to him, leaning against the wall.

“Things have been weird lately.” Gunwook frowned, reading over your text again and again. Junhyeon tilted his head inquisitively.

“Weird how?”

“Just…I don’t know, she’s been weirdly distant from time to time. Everything will be fine, and she’ll shut off with no warning. It happens no matter where we are, too—if we’re studying, if we’re walking home, if we’re eating dinner. It’s strange.”

“Could it just be test jitters? I know a lot of couples who broke up in anticipation of the test, with plans to get back together afterward. Like Yuna and Jaechan, in class 4. They did that.”

Gunwook’s frown deepend. “I don’t want to break up with her, though,” he sighed, watching as the typing bubble on your end appeared and disappeared. “Would it be weird to look for her? Like would she find that strange?”

“She probably walked off because she didn’t want to take you away from Gyuvin, but Ricky’s here now, so I don’t think it would be a bad idea, per se,” Junhyeon said, patting his shoulder. “But make sure she doesn’t feel bad taking you away from everything. I think Gyuvin would understand. And Ricky wants to meet her, so no harm in making sure nothing’s wrong.”

Gunwook bit the edge of his lip, shoving his phone into his pocket. Gunwook gave Junhyeon a pat on the shoulder, and he nodded, walking back toward the bulk of the party.

The bathroom was behind a bed sheet curtain that Gyuvin had hung up before the party, with a lame “do not enter” sign taped to it. He’d proceeded to give you, Gunwook, and Junhyeon special permission to break the rules, as the three of you had been in the house before and knew which rooms were okay to enter and which ones weren’t.

The door was closed and the light was on, which meant you’d gone out of your way to go to the off-limits bathroom, where Yeseo and Youngeun wouldn’t be able to find you. He frowned, raising his hand to knock on the door.

Then, he heard a small sniffle behind the door and stopped. Gunwook had never seen you cry—early into your relationship, you’d told him you weren’t a crier, and not many things pushed you to that point. At the time, it had been relieving, as he didn’t know you well enough to even attempt to comfort you.

But, now a good three months had passed, and he still had no clue what to do, which made him feel more stressed than relieved. Nevertheless, now that he knew, he couldn’t just leave you, so he knocked on the door.

Your response was, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Gunwook took that as an invitation to open the door, finding you sitting on the floor of Gyuvin’s bathroom while holding your phone. You weren’t crying, but he could tell you were close to it. He slipped inside, closing the door behind him, and sitting next to you on the ground.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, scooting closer to you so you’d be shoulder-to-shoulder. You shrugged, looking off to the side.

“I’m stressed. You know, with the college entrance exams and graduating stuff, the world is just a lot right now. I didn’t think it would hit here, though, but the number 18 being passed around made me think about it too much. It’s silly.”

“No, it’s not,” Gunwook replied. “It’s okay to be stressed out about something stressful, even if you’re at a birthday party. And it’s okay to tell me because Gyuvin’s friend came to surprise him after he moved to California, so he’s not upset that I’m gone. Okay?”

Your lip quivered a bit, and Gunwook put his arm around you, pressing you into his side. He rubbed your shoulder reassuringly as you sniffled again, obviously having to try harder to keep your feelings in.

At that moment, you wanted to spew everything at him. Your feelings of insecurity towards Yukyung, the stress you felt knowing he was going to get into some fancy university and you probably weren’t, how scary everything was right at this moment.

But, you stayed quiet and chose to burst into tears instead. The moment one tear escaped from your eye, the rest did, too, and you found yourself crying into Gunwook’s chest. He was rocking you back and forth, rubbing your back while you covered his shirt in your tears.

You felt miserable—if you could, you wanted to pause time, run outside, and scream. At what, you were unsure, but you needed it, more than you needed anything else in the entire world. You could only take this for so much longer.

“I’m here for you,” Gunwook whispered, squeezing you gently. “I’ll always be here, I promise.”

You took his words to heart.

vii. wisdom teeth

On day four of Gunwook’s wisdom-teeth recovery, you’d been asked to be his caregiver, which you were okay with. His mom, who was infinitely grateful that you’d offered to take care of her son, assured you that he was technically cleared to go back to normal after day 3, but he was still feeling a bit wonky, and his pain medicine enhanced the wonkiness.

Your jobs were as such: make soup or mashed potatoes when he asked, remind him to clean his wounds if he forgets, and hang out with him. You found the list quite easy and told his mom that you’d make sure he was all good and cared for.

You underestimated, however, how needy your boyfriend would be. The moment you’d walked into his bedroom to wake him up, he attached himself to you, whining about how much he’d missed you over the past few days. He spoke as if you’d gone off to war and left him behind with your nonexistent children, insisting that your absence had ruined his life.

After you managed to make him brush his teeth, spray salt water into his mouth, and eat his breakfast (a bowl of yogurt), he passed out on the couch, leaving you to do whatever seemed appealing at the moment. Initially, you spent your time scrolling through all the selfies he’d sent you of his face all swollen and puffy, which had got you giggling. Then, you had the bright idea to help 

You started by slightly cleaning his room up, feeling pretty good about yourself as you washed his clothes and his sheets. In your mind, you were building a resume to ensure his mom liked you, and you were going to earn extra affection from it, so you didn’t care about the repetitiveness at all.

About halfway through your cleaning adventures, Gunwook appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, staring at you folding the load of laundry you did. “How are you?” you asked, continuing to fold his t-shirts.

“Have I ever told you that you’re perfect?” he mumbled, shuffling over and draping himself onto you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and shoved his face into your neck, nearly knocking you over by putting his entire weight on you without warning.

“Only every day,” you replied, giggling. “Seriously though, how are you? Anything feel off or more painful than it did before you napped?”

“No,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your neck. “Stop sounding like my mom. It’s weird.”

“What do you want me to say? ‘I hope you get dry socket?’”

“It’s better than mom-speak,” he replied. “She’s going to love you after today. Not gonna shut up about it.”

“That’s the entire reason that I’m doing all of this.”

“And not to help out your hurting boyfriend? You’re terrible.”

You scoffed, finishing folding the rest of his clothes. “Are you hungry?”

You patted his arm and Gunwook unattached himself from you, letting you turn around to face him. He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. “No. I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you a lot.”

“Did you?”

“My mom said I cried about you being at school right after I got out of surgery,” he replied. You widened your eyes, not expecting him to be that forward about it. “I don’t like being away from you for so long. I hope we never, ever separate.”

You smiled, half-heartedly punching him in the shoulder. “I hope you stay this nice even after you feel fully better.”

Gunwook gave you a serious look as if he was thinking hard about something. You waited awkwardly, staring at one another as he sounded out whatever he was thinking in his head. “Over the past few days, I’ve been thinking a lot about something.”

“Which is…?”

“I’m going to say something,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders. “I’m not expecting a reply. I just need to say it. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Okay, go on ahead. I’m listening.”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if whatever he was going to tell you was stressing him out. It made you get a bit anxious, wondering if he was going to break some terrible news to you. “Over the past couple of days, I’ve missed you a lot, more than I missed Gyuvin and Junhyeon combined. And it was hard only being able to talk to you through texting, even though I only text my friends for days on end sometimes. And it got me thinking about everything, you know? Because it’s all I’ve had to entertain myself since I got my teeth pulled.”

“Right.”

“I love you, [First]. A lot. And it’s okay if you’re not ready to say that yet, I get it. But I do. Truthfully. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

It felt like a rock was stuck in your throat. You opened your mouth expecting words to come out, but they didn’t—so, you just stood there, staring at Gunwook. He stared back at you, eyes glossy from tiredness and cheeks pink. You weren’t ready—the words were so big and so scary, and it wasn’t that you didn’t love him, you just couldn’t find the words to say it.

Your solution to this was to engulf him in a hug, latching to his waist like you’d done a second ago. No words were needed as he did the same, and, for a while, you stood there, enjoying one another’s company.

viii. mirrors

You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this gross when looking into a mirror. The dress you’re wearing is gorgeous—it’s long, flowy, and summery, the type of dress that doesn’t look bad on anyone. Yet, staring at yourself right now, you feel utterly disgusting.

It’s the same type of dress you saw Yukyung wearing at the fair, and, when you look at yourself, all you can do is compare yourself to her. Even when you were best friends, this was a problem you had, but it wasn’t nearly as awful when she made you feel safe and loved. Now, it felt threatening and nauseating.

Gunwook knocked on the door of your dressing room, causing you to wince. “[First], are you done? Can I see?”

“Yeah, sure. One second.”

You quickly retied the bow around your waist, hoping it would make you feel a little less awful. It didn’t have the intended effect, but you turned around anyway, opening the door to the dressing room. Gunwook’s expression bloomed into a smile the moment he saw you, but, instead of feeling loved, you only remembered the way he looked at Yukyung with slight disdain at the fair while she wore the same thing.

“You look so beautiful,” he said, which caused you to subconsciously frown. He noticed immediately, his smile morphing into a frown to mirror you. “What’s wrong? Do you not like it?”

You turned around, staring at yourself in the mirror once more. “I don’t feel pretty in it,” you said, trying to be as upfront with your emotions as you could. You saw Gunwook’s jaw drop in his reflection in the mirror as if he couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“How in the world could you not feel pretty? It fits you perfectly, and it’s entirely on theme for your cousin’s wedding. You look gorgeous, I swear. Everyone would agree with me.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, hoping and praying that, if he said it for a third time, the image of Yukyung in your mind would miraculously go away. He nodded earnestly, making the most serious look you’d ever seen him produce.

“One thousand percent. And I’m not just saying it because I’m your boyfriend, I mean it. You look beautiful, and every other synonym of beautiful. I’m serious.”

You nodded, fabricating a smile so you could take it off and put your sweater back on. “Okay, I’ll get it then. I’m sure my mom will agree.”

You shut the dressing room door, fighting the urge to slam your head into the mirror. You just pulled the dress off of you, replacing it with your normal clothes and putting it back on the hanger, swiftly exiting the room so you’d no longer be facing the mirror.

After that, you’d tried to escape the mall as quickly as you could, dragging Gunwook through the corridors like you were on a mission. He’d followed without saying anything, but you could tell he was somewhat confused—and you hoped that confusion would go away when you arrived at the bus stop just as it arrived.

Gunwook knew you better than that, though, shooting you multiple inquisitive looks for the duration of your bus ride. And, the moment you got off, he whistled a small tune, which was a clear sign that he was going to bring it up.

“So, what’s up?”

“What do you mean?” You feigned ignorance, hoping he’d get the message and leave it alone. He wouldn’t, though, and it was now a question of whether he meant today only, or why you’d been acting so strange over the past month or so.

“You’ve been acting weird for a while, [First]. Not all the time, just sometimes, and it has me worried. Did I do something? Or is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“I’m just on edge,” you lied, clearing your throat. “Exams are next month. I don’t like the idea that a single test could dictate the rest of my life, and the idea that, if I do poorly, I have to spend another year studying for it.”

“Are you sure that’s it? You seem fine every time we’re studying, and your grades are good. You don’t ask for nearly as much help as you did a few months ago either.”

“I promise. Things will go back to normal next month, I swear.”

“Okay.”

Great, you thought, kicking a rock on the sidewalk. He knew you were lying, and now you had one month to fix your ex-best-friend troubles before you had to face your issues. And, you had no idea how.

You kicked the rock again, and it flew out in the street, falling into a storm drain, never to be seen again.

ix. exams

Before today, you didn’t think your hands could hurt this bad. Nor did you think your brain could hurt this bad, either.

The moment you walked into Gunwook’s room, you drop everything you’re holding, face-planting into his bed. He laughed at you, and you could hear him neatly placing everything he was holding onto his desk.

“How can you unpack things right now?” you asked, mentally praising whoever created mattresses. “I feel like my brain is short-circuiting.”

“I’m good at school stuff, that’s why,” he replied. Outside, the rain that you’d dealt with walking to his house got worse, and you briefly considered the possibility that you wouldn’t be returning home tonight unless one of your parents were willing to drive to Gunwook’s house. “Do you want something else to wear? Other than your uniform.”

“Really?” you asked, hopping out of his bed. He nodded, opening his drawer and taking out a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants.

“They’ll probably be a little big,” he said, handing them to you. You waved him off, shaking your head.

“They’re not this god-awful uniform, so they’re winners in my book.”

You practically skipped out of his room and into the bathroom, changing into the pajamas he’d given you hastily. They were soft and smelled like the detergent his mom bought (which smelled exactly like you thought Gunwook would smell, back when you just had a delusional crush on him).

Before you went back to his room, you folded your uniform, giving yourself a once over in the mirror. You looked exhausted and you felt it too, overloaded from the hours of straight testing that you’d endured for the sole purpose of going to university. You were so tired you couldn’t even muster the strength to be worried about your test scores.

You shuffled back into Gunwook’s room, shutting the door behind you. He was already laying down, scrolling through his phone and wearing the black-and-white sweater he’d been so obsessed with recently. You put your uniform on top of your bag, which he’d moved to a chair in the corner of his room, before collapsing on top of him and forcing your hands around his waist.

The act caused him to laugh at you before ruffling your hair, kissing you atop the crown of your head. “I’m proud of you,” he said, and you felt his chest rumble as he talked. “I’m sure you did well.”

“Stop being sappy,” you replied, suddenly feeling a lot more tired than you had been. “But I’m proud of you too. I know you did well.”

He hummed, and you assumed he went back to scrolling through his phone, which you weren’t angry about. You had about five minutes before you fell asleep on him, and you were fine spending it in complete silence save for whatever random thought you had.

“Oh, did you see the Yuna-Jaechan reunion? It was, like, dramatic. He gave her some super expensive necklace or something.”

“I didn’t see it, but I heard about it. Junhyeon hasn’t shut up about it. He thinks it’s hilarious.”

“If we’d done the CSAT breakup, would you have bought me a super expensive necklace?”

“We wouldn’t have, but I would’ve bought you the most expensive necklace ever. With Gyuvin’s money.”

“Aw, how romantic.”

It went quiet again, and you felt yourself fading quickly. The rhythmic up-and-down of Gunwook’s chest paired with the rain pitter-pattering against the window was putting you to sleep with ease, to the point where you could barely keep your eyes open.

And then a bright flash and near-immediate thunder awoke you instantly, causing you to flinch hard. Gunwook laughed at you instantly, causing you to feel embarrassed.

“Oh, is someone afraid of thunder?”

“No,” you huffed, closing your eyes again. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Okay, whatever you say. But that jump was pretty intense. I almost thought you were convulsing, was scared that the test had killed you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Good night, [First]. Sleep well.”

Now aware that you were enduring a thunderstorm, the booming noise that came with the rain only added to your sleepiness. Within minutes, you were almost completely asleep, barely able to register when Gunwook laughed at something on his phone or shifted slightly.

“I love you,” he whispered, putting a single hand on your waist. With that, you were asleep and entirely dead to the world for the next few hours.

x. gossip

You didn’t like the way Youngeun was looking at you. She couldn’t keep secrets—it was obvious she knew something, but you couldn’t figure out what exactly she could know.

Yeseo, on the other hand, seemed completely fine, even if Youngeun kept giving her worried glances. She simply drank her juice, mixing her noodles around with seemingly no intent to actually eat them. It was silent at your table, the sun beating down on you as you sat outside the 7/11 you’d all agreed to go to after school that day.

“What is up with you two?” you finally asked, frustrated with whatever was happening. Youngeun winced and Yeseo put her drink down, balancing her chopsticks on top of her bowl of ramen. It was silent for a few moments, and you felt anxiety eating you up.

“There’s a rumor going around,” Youngeun blurted out, causing you to tilt your head. Yeseo crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair.

“It’s not a big rumor. It’s small and contained, and it shouldn’t get much bigger, but we don’t want you to hear it from someone random, or to overhear it when you don’t mean to. We don’t think it’s true, but you deserve to know.”

“Okay, just tell me. I don’t need this huge build-up.”

“There’s a small group, and I mean small group, that think Yukyung and Gunwook are dating behind your back.”

You went quiet, feeling your heart drop into your stomach. Realistically, you knew it wasn’t true—from the way Gunwook talked to you to the way he looked at you, there was no possible way that this was true. The part of you that was borderline traumatized by her sudden switch up on you believed it in an instant, though.

“Do they have any proof?”

“Apparently, they see her talking to him a lot. I mean, she doesn’t hang out in your classroom often, ‘cause her new friends are in mine and Gunwook’s class. And, to be fair, they aren’t wrong, she does talk to him a lot, but he doesn’t like it. It wouldn’t shock me if she’s trying to get him to break up with you, but they’re not dating,” Youngeun said, suddenly sounding a lot angrier than she did before. “I’ve seen him shoot her down several times. But people take it the wrong way, I guess.”

“Long story short, don’t believe it, [First]. We both know it’s not true and if you start hearing it from other people, ignore it. Okay?”

Like the world was playing an awful, cruel joke on you, your phone started ringing, and one look confirmed your suspicions. You picked up, hearing Gunwook’s voice come through, clear as day. “Do you want to see a movie tomorrow?” he asked, skipping over the greeting. Intrusively, you thought, would he go with her, too? “I’ll pay. It’s a showing of a Ghibli movie that Yujin said was good.”

“Sure,” you said, feeling Youngeun’s and Yeseo’s eyes burning through you, as if to say don’t you dare overreact about this. “What time?”

You were going to overreact about it anyway, though. You couldn’t do this, at least not with Yukyung—or, at least the thought of her—breathing over your shoulder at every moment. She meant too much to you that your mind was racing through every single thought you’d had over the past few months.

She was your best friend, and you’re pretty sure that, before Gunwook came into the picture, you were in love with her. You spent hours upon hours with her, and now you spend hours looking through the old pictures that you refuse to delete. You’re stuck on her—not in love with her anymore, but yearning for a friendship you lost—and it’s getting in the way of your relationship, and your mind concludes that there’s one viable outcome.

And, now, you have an excuse to carry it out.

xi. her

You don’t have the time to knock on Gunwook’s door before he throws it open. He hugs you immediately, picking you up and spinning you around right there in his doorway, and, for a minute, your mind is clear of all the terrible things that you’ve been trapped with for the past month.

“We did it,” he cried out, putting you back down so he could see your face. “We did it! Oh my god, how could we not have done it? We were always going to get in.”

About twenty minutes ago, both you and Gunwook received an email from Seoul National University that you’d gotten in. After you’d cried for four hours over your good CSAT scores, you nearly passed out at this news, wondering in what world you had deserved this. And, among your caving-in mind over Gunwook and Yukyung, you’d immediately left your house and ran to Gunwook’s.

He cupped your face in his hands, planting a kiss on your lips in utter joy. You laughed, feeling immensely happy for the both of you.

You tripped over your feet as you walked into his house, kicking off your shoes and emerging into his living room. “I never thought this would happen,” you said, pacing around the room. Gunwook watched you from behind the couch, smiling. “I mean, for the last month, I’ve just—I haven’t caught a break. I’ve been miserable every waking moment and now I finally have something to be happy over. Can you believe that?”

You look at him, and you watch his smile drop. You backpedal over what you said, realizing that you’d let your little secret slip; since Youngeun and Yeseo had told you about the rumor, you’d done an excellent job at hiding your panic, acting like everything was fine when it wasn’t in the slightest.

“What do you mean you’ve been miserable?”

You stopped pacing, and the room went quiet. In an instant, you’d knocked the happiness out of the room and brought in everything you’d been avoiding. The breakup plan you’d thought of night after night flashed in your mind, along with Yeseo telling you that you were an idiot for even considering it.

“I don’t know where this came from,” he continued, his voice a bit tight. “But I was under the impression everything was okay. We took the test and you looked better—why wouldn’t you tell me you were miserable?”

You weren’t sure what to say. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you felt nauseated, no longer feeling the excitement of the college acceptance you’d yearned for since you were a kid. “It’s stupid,” you said, your voice small. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it.”

“I don’t know if you understand how that sounds to me,” he said, and you were getting the idea that he also had an issue that he hadn’t been talking about, either. “But we’ve spent a lot of time together over the last month, and you saying that you’ve been miserable the entire time sounds a lot like you saying you were miserable being with me.”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant.” You shook your head, feeling mortified at the idea. “I promise, that’s not it. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Then why won't you tell me? I don’t think I’m entitled to hear anything from you that you don’t want to talk about, but when it’s been torturing you for months, [First], I feel like I deserve to know. Especially since it seems like Youngeun and Yeseo haven’t gotten any of the side effects.”

You bit your lip, closing your eyes. “You know Yukyung was my best friend, right?” Even saying it aloud made tears bunch into your eyes. For the first time since nearly a year ago, now, you were facing something you hadn’t even talked about with your mom. “Like, best friend. We’ve been—we were friends from our first year of middle school. She was my everything. And she threw it all away over—over you, and it’s been hard for me to stomach it.”

Gunwook rolled up his sleeves, leaning on the couch. “That happened in March,” he said, almost sounding frustrated. You knew it wasn’t directed at you, rather, he was probably angry that Yukyung had any say in your relationship even though you’d never even spoken about her.

“It killed me, Gunwook. I didn’t sleep well for a week. I mean, she was telling people things I told her in middle school, running around and painting a picture of me that I didn’t know she had.” You felt exasperated, unsure of how to convey what you needed to without sharing a secret you’d never shared with anyone. “It was hard for me. Even though I was happy about us, I couldn’t get over losing her like that with no warning. And then, I saw her talking to you at the fair, and then Yeseo and Youngeun told me about the rumors, and—”

“Rumors?” he interjected, furrowing his eyebrows. “What rumors?”

“People think you’re cheating on me,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. That seemed to confuse Gunwook, as he looked down, staring at the couch rather than looking at you. “It’s just hard, okay? It’s hard.”

“And you couldn’t have told me you felt like this? It didn’t cross your mind, even for a second, to just be honest?”

“Well why didn’t you tell me that she’s been talking to you at every chance she gets?” you rebutted. That caused him to wince, and you watched him realize that he couldn’t say much, either. “It’s not like we’re both innocent, here. So let’s get it over with. Now.”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Gunwook said, pushing off the couch and mirroring your stance. “Gyuvin brought it up during our second year before we knew each other. It didn’t cross my mind again until I saw you staring at her when I came in to give you your calculator back. And then—it’s been months and you haven’t said you loved me.”

Every muscle in your body tensed, and it, once again, occurred to you that you could never pull anything over on Gunwook.

“Are you in love with her?”

You gulped, your throat suddenly feeling drier than it ever had. “I was. A long time ago.”

It went silent again, and you wondered if he believed you. “I promise you it’s in the past. It was only during my first year and some of my second, but I got over it when she started dating Seungeon. And they lasted long enough for me to get over it, and we added Youngeun to the mix, so I was preoccupied. That’s in the past. But it doesn’t change that she threw out five years of our friendship without a second thought.”

He didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, beginning to pace back and forth. You let him think, hoping that your defense was sound enough that he wouldn’t break things off then and there.

“Do you love me, [First]?”

Two months ago, Yeseo had asked if you’d said “I love you” yet. You’d, embarrassingly, had to share that Gunwook had but you hadn’t, which perplexed both of them. And, when they asked why, all you’d been able to tell them was that the last person you’d said “I love you” to was Yukyung, the night before Youngeun called you, telling you everything she’d heard.

“Yes,” you said, nodding. “I do. I love you.”

Right in front of you, Gunwook burst into tears, walking straight past the couch and enveloping you in his arms. “I thought you were going to break up with me for so long,” he choked out, squeezing you so hard you could barely breathe. “I was terrified the entire time, and I thought things got better after the exams, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I was so scared, [First]. I love you so much that I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

“I love you too,” you said, although it was muffled. “I promise. And I didn’t love her as much as I love you.”

xii. graduation

You were realizing that your claim that you didn’t cry often was quickly becoming a lie. You were sitting on the floor of your room, holding your diploma to your chest while tears streamed from your eyes. Gunwook was staring at you with a mixture of amusement and worry as you rocked yourself back and forth.

“Youngeun is leaving me,” you said, hiccuping. “Both of them are. For Japan. I’m going to have to make new friends.”

“But you’ll still be able to talk? They won’t even be in a different timezone.”

“Okay, and?” you said, hiccuping. “It’s so far. I won’t be able to go to 7/11 with them anymore.”

“We can go to 7/11?”

“That’s different, you’re my boyfriend. 7/11 is a commitment when it’s with you.”

“What does that even mean?”

You let out another Earth-shattering sob, and you supposed that convinced Gunwook to come over and attempt to comfort you. “There, there,” he said sarcastically. “Japan is very far. And you’ll have to pay more to call them. I’m sorry.”

“At least try to sound a little serious!”

“Neither Junhyeon nor Gyuvin got into SNU.”

“Okay, but they’re still in Korea, so you’ll be fine. There’s no train to Tokyo here.”

Gunwook wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leaning his head on yours. “It’ll be okay. They’ll be here over breaks and you’ll get to see them then, right? And you always have the—wait, why don’t you have a picture of us framed?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m serious,” he said, pointing to your dresser, which was right in front of you. On top were multiple framed pictures of the three of you, smiling, laughing, and doing other things. “What’s up with that? Am I less important than them?”

“Shut up.”

“No. I’m going to buy a disposable camera right now, and we’re going to take pictures so you can print and frame them.”

You rolled your eyes, wiping away your tears. “Okay. Whatever you say. Even though you’re my wallpaper, and you’re the only number pinned in my text messages, and you’re the only person who’s ever known the password to my phone.”

“You love me.”

“Not when you’re a greedy loser.”

“Aw, I love you, too.”

thank you for reading !

[cameronsprincess]

Topper omg 🤭💕 maybe topper stealing rafe’s date at midsummer. Top has always had a thing for her and Rafe knew that but he asked her out regardless and Top and Rafe’s date bang it out heheheheh 🤭💕🩷

kel, i love this too much bc yes top, take his date king 😏 also, FIRST TOPPER FIC AHHHH. this will be in topper’s pov🙂‍↕️

CW: topper steals rafe’s date, heated kissing, fingering, public sex, unprotected sex, strong language.

He knew I liked her, yet, he still decided to ask her to midsummers. I honestly don’t know why I expected anything less from Rafe, he was always getting first pick of the girls, always taking whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted.. It was just a fact of life, and our other best friend, Kelce, has told me multiple times already to “just get over it” but I can’t do that.

That’s how we ended up here, in the men’s locker room, her lips on mine while my hands explore the length of her perfect body.

“Rafe’s gonna kill me.” She whispers between kisses, her hands gripping tightly at my white dress shirt.

I run my hands down her sides, finding her ass and squeezing at it harshly.

“Don’t think about him, he’s the one who ditched you to talk to Bethany, right? You’re just… Returning the favor.”

Her lips crash into mine again and I slip my tongue into her mouth. She tastes sweet, like strawberries and vodka. I’m addicted to her.

My hands rub at the fatty flesh of her ass through her dress, pulling the sweetest moan from her. God, she sounds like an angel when she moans, and my cock is so hard, I need to fuck her now, before I embarrassingly cum from just kissing her.

I break the kiss, shoving her back against the lockers. “You wanna do this or what?”

She eyes me warily for a moment, and I think she’s going to say no, tell me that she needs to get back to Rafe.

But she doesn’t.

She slowly pulls the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders, letting her arms fall free. Pink, silk material covers her breasts, and the rest of her body and my fingers itch to rip the dress from her body, but I refrain. She has to go finish the night with Rafe after all.

She turns slowly, allowing me access to her back and I slowly work the zipper down until the silky dress fall down her body and pools at her feet.

I’m met by her bare breasts and white, lacey panties. She looks like a fucking dream and I never want to wake up. She’s mine after tonight, fuck Rafe, he can finish the night with her, but after that, I am claiming her. Everyone will know she’s mine.

I watch as she slowly picks her heeled feet up, stepping out of the dress and kicking it to the side. She rests the palms of her hands on my chest, running them up and down slowly, her gorgeous eyes never leaving mine as she makes her way down to work my belt.

Once my belt is off and on the floor she pops the button of my black dress slacks and works the zipper down, her hands shoving the slacks and my boxers down my legs. My hard cock springs free, slapping at my stomach and already leaking precum for her.

I grip the backs of her arms, turning her to face me once more and my lips find hers again. I could kiss her forever, but we unfortunately don’t have the luxury of time on our side right now. I have to make this quick before Rafe — or anyone else for that matter — stumbles in here and finds us. I wouldn’t care if we got caught, but the idea of anyone else seeing her naked makes my blood boil. She’s mine.

We kiss fervently, a mess of teeth and tongues clashing together as I rip her white lacey panties from her body. She yelps at the aggression in my actions, and I swallow the sweet noise. I slowly trail my fingers down her sides, running them along the length of her stomach, hips and pussy before my fingers find her sopping wet slit. God, she’s so fucking wet, I can’t wait to feel her wet warmth squeezing my cock.

I slowly run my fingers through the slick, gathering her arousal on my fingers before running them up to her swollen clit. I apply firm pressure to the sensitive bud, rubbing slow, lazy circles around it while my mouth continues to dominate hers.

Sweet moans slip past her lips when I slip two fingers inside her, pushing them in and out with a quick pace. My thumb continues to rub at her clit while my middle and forefingers fuck into her tight cunt, her knees begin to buckle, and I know she’s close when I feel her clenching around my fingers tightly.

I slip my fingers from inside her, making her whine in frustration. “Shhh, don’t worry, doll. ‘M gonna take care of you. Want you to cum on my cock, okay?”

My fingers dip back down to her wet entrance, gathering her arousal on them again before I pull away and grip my cock, coating my cock with her sweet juices.

I pump myself once. Twice. Three times before I push her body forward, her palms landing on the bench in front of her, keeping her upright while her ass and pussy are out on full display for me. I bite my bottom lip, teasing her entrance with the head of my dick before I slowly push inside of her.

Moans of pleasure fall from her as I push myself in inch by inch, filling her completely. Her pussy sucks me in, swallowing my dick whole and clenching around it, pulling my own groans of pleasure from me.

“God, you feel so fucking good sweetheart. Your pussy was made for my cock. Say it. Say you’re mine.”

She whimpers as I slowly pull back, ramming myself back inside seconds later.

“Ffffuck! I-I’m yours, Top! All yours.”

I smile to myself. Fuck yeah you’re mine.

My hands find home on her hips, holding onto her tightly as I begin brutally pounding myself inside her. I use my grip on her hips to pull her back, her ass meeting each of my thrusts. I continue my brutal pace, not wanting this to ever end but knowing people will start looking for us soon.

“Fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy with my cum. Then you’re gonna go dance with Rafe, act like everything’s fine, when in reality you’re pussy has my cum leaking out of it.”

A loud whine escapes her when the head of my dick hits her sweet spot, her pussy tightens, squeezing my dick and making my eyes roll back.

“Go on, make a mess on my cock baby. Let me have it, show me you’re all mine.”

Her pussy tightens once more, a guttural whine falling past her lips as her pussy clenches my cock over and over again. Her legs buckle, body shaking as she comes undone around me.

I push myself into her two more times, my thrusts sloppy and my dick swelling before I explode, painting her insides white. I lean forward, sinking my teeth into her shoulder as I fill her with my cum.

I let her calm down before I slip my softening cock from inside her. I quickly pull my boxers up, tucking myself inside them before working on my slacks and belt. Once finished, I help her get redressed minus her panties. I ripped them off her body and I’m keeping them.

She slowly turns to face me, her face flushed and hair slightly knotted, but she looks okay enough to join Rafe again.

“I’m sorry I came with Rafe.. I just… I didn’t know you felt for me the way you do.”

I smile softly. It’s not her fault, I never told her how I felt. Rafe on the other hand… He knew. But it’s fine, after tonight. She’s mine.

“S’all good. I never said anything, that’s my fault,” I pause, smoothing her hair down with my hand. “But, Y/N… After tonight.. You’re mine. I don’t wanna see you with anyone else.. I can’t.”

She smiles, lifting herself up on her toes to leave a soft kiss on my lips.

“Don’t worry, Top. I’m yours.”

TOPPER TAGLIST: @princessslutt // @rafescurtainbangz // @romaescapes // @kisses4angel // @princesssuki21 // @baennied // @justheretoreadthestories

obx masterlist | requests | taglist form

[glade-constellation]

Man, I really feel like today’s LAES episode was an agreement to my character analysis post (not literally but all my points were there). Everything Earth talked about and explained was my exact feelings on the matter. Sun is in immense grief. Moon was doing nothing. Lunar is doing worse than nothing. Solar is the only other competent one in the situation, and he’s also probably feeling like shit.

It’s so upsetting when Earth is hurt because people never ask her if she’s okay unless she brings it up. Solar was the only one to ask so far. He only left her when she told him she would talk with Monty about it, and expressed she would feel guilt about putting her problems on him when he is going through his own. She is always placed on the back burner and is rarely ever comforted outside of when she asks for it.

I almost feel bad for saying she was going to be the best off in this situation because she very much isn’t. She is grieving too, but she’s having to pick up where Moon and Lunar are slacking off and doesn’t have time to process her feelings herself. She expressed several times how upsetting it was that she has barely any help taking care of Dazzle on top of her own work. She’s also had to pick up their slack at the Daycare, since Sun can’t come in and Lunar isn’t actually the best at his job by himself. She needs someone to help her right now, and I’m so glad Monty was able to step in and help. It made my opinion his reaction to all this change very quickly.

Her feelings on the matter are also just heartbreaking. She cares so much for Nexus, and any time she tried to express it Lunar would brush it off. Tell her that he didn’t care about Nexus. That, in a way, probably felt like he was telling Earth “I don’t care about your problems because they don’t interest me”. Stuff like that alongside his already spiraling relationship with her is causing a riff she doesn’t need right now. It’s something she simply can’t deal with on top of literally everything else.

Since this episode was set before Moon started helping, I am glad that Moon finally did help. But Lunar is still dragging his feet on this whole thing. “He wasn’t my brother, I was never close to him, I genuinely don’t care”. Then he’s all surprised when Sun was genuinely upset over Nexus’ death. Like he’s projecting his feeling onto everyone else. He didn’t care, so why does Sun? Every episode I watch leads me to believe more and more that Lunar’s entire sense of being is being changed by this Star power. Even if he is an animatronic, he still used to act very human. After the Astrals entered the picture though, he has slowly began to act more like them. Hearing that Earth feels the same way really validated my feelings on this. Literally used the word apathetic, like I did in my earlier character analysis post.

All in all, I am desperately waiting for Earth to get the help and time she needs. Because I do not want to watch her try and bottle this all up. I am so very thankful that Monty is willing to help her and that she has an outlet. If Monty wasn’t there, I think Earth might have eventually snapped. I don’t think that outcome would have been pretty, especially between herself and Lunar.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kinktober 7 - Slasher Chase

Slasher Ghoap x Reader

CW: Anxiety/panic, minor character death, Brandon mention, confusion, Final Girl Actions, no smut, a tiny smooch

Note: This is unrelated to the existing slasher universe, because Slasher Ghost is rude and has been fighting me all month.

Mind the tags

You can see road. The parking lot of the little general store, it’s right there, you just have to keep running. Your lungs are screaming at you, but if you can just get to the lights -

You almost don’t believe it when you spill through the tree line. There’s only one truck near you, but a man is there, putting paper bags into the bed. Brandon. For once, you’re glad to see him. You’re too breathless to shout, so you just stumble toward him while waving one arm wildly.

When he sees you, his usual smarmy smirk falls, just a touch. He doesn’t approach you, though, just puts his hands in the pockets of his stupid, puffy jacket and watches you stumble closer.

“Damn, Kitten,” he calls, that damn pet name, but you’re so close to safety. “What happened to y-”

You’re halfway to him when a crack echoes off the mountains and the brick of the building. Brandon’s head snaps backwards. The rest of his body follows, crumpling at the same time as you do. You barely feel the concrete scrape up your hands as you collapse. You watch as the front right tire pops from another shot, and then a hole pierces the body of the truck. It doesn’t take long for you to smell gas.

You’re not sure how long you’re there, panting and shaking on your knees. Your mind is racing so fast it feels quiet. Your heart pounds like it’s arrested. You don’t have any tears left.

“Ghost did tell him naetae talk to ye again.”

You can’t even flinch as Soap strides past you, whistling a jaunty little tune that will haunt your nightmares, if you survive this. You watch him crouch over Brandon’s body, the red skull of his mask cocked to examine the damage you can’t see. You don’t feel anything when he lifts Brandon’s slack arm, until he strips his wrist of that stupid, fancy camping watch.

That watch was two and a half thousand dollars, and Brandon had ruined your life over it.

That’s the only thing you can focus on, as you clamber to your feet. Your hands hurt, but not as much as that watch. You’re exhausted, but nothing is as exhausting as that watch. You need to run, but not as much as you need that fucking watch.

Soap watches you approach with that infuriating smirk. “Aw, hello, hen.”

Your knuckles crack against his jaw. You know that the only reason your fist connects is because he isn’t expecting it. You expect the way he laughs, but that doesn’t matter. You snatch the watch from his hand.

What you don’t expect is the huge hand that closes around your throat from behind. You flail, catching Soap in the thigh with a desperate kick, but Ghost has you well in hand before you can do anything else.

He pries your fingers open, but lets you keep your thumb gripped around the band of the watch. “Well, well. Kitty’s first trophy.”

Soap makes a disgruntled noise, even as he catches the rifle Ghost tosses his way.. “Finders keepers!”

“Don’t get greedy,” Ghost growls. The arm he’s wrapped around your upper chest gives you a squeeze. “She ‘elped line up the shot, she gets to pick ‘er prize.”

“Wasnae hardly a help,” Soap grumbles, kicking Brandon’s sprawled body. “Fucker lined himself up.”

You feel like throwing up as Ghost turns you around and pets a huge hand over the top of your head. The edge of his skull mask is hard against your eyebrow when he dips down to kiss your cheekbone through his mask.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles. “Everyone starts somewhere. We’ll make an 'unter of you, yet.”

[blushstories]

Hello! Just saw your quick fire blurb series and I'd love to suggest:

Gale x Tav

Where Tav is upset because their feelings for Gale are one-sided.... or are they? 👀

Hope you get tons of inspiration from any asks you receive! 🥰

hi!!! yay thank you so much for being my second request:))) i will do my best <3 set during the party after the grove is rescued !!

Glass crashed somewhere behind you, followed by an uproar of laughter and cheers. Someone’s just won a drinking race.

You don’t know what Karlach’s saying to you, she’s a blur in your vision; your eyes have drifted over her shoulder to where Gale stands. His head is bent over a book as usual, strands of his hair falling slightly over his face. Karlach is so lost in her anecdote that she doesn’t notice your concentration failing, gesturing animatedly, perhaps partially due to the alcohol from the festivities.

Gale’s finger follows a line in his book as he reads, then flips the page. He considers something for a moment, then his eyes flit up to meet yours. Your heart gives a massive thump as you avert your gaze, heat rushing to your cheeks. You tune back into your conversation with Karlach, only for her to cut herself off. She scans your flustered appearance, fingers gripping your cup just a little too tight.

“You alright, soldier?” She asks with a quirked eyebrow. You nod, relaxing a little as you shake yourself back into reality. A knot tightens in your stomach as you scold yourself for getting caught up again in your feelings. Specifically, your feelings for Gale. He’s never shown much interest in you in that way, but your rational brain can’t pull you out of your crush. The knot will remain, and you will be reminded of it every time you see Gale.

“Yeah, sorry,” you shake your head, as if these thoughts were going to fall out of your ears. “Just thinking. Maybe I’ll put this down,” you say, putting the bottle onto the crate next to you.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Karlach asks. You freeze and she smiles. “You’re not so subtle. Lucky if he hasn’t caught on already. Is he still looking?”

You jaw goes a little slack, and you feel foolish for wearing your heart on your sleeve, and forgetting to hide it. Your eyes flicker between Karlach and then Gale, who is still watching the both of you.

“Yep. Yeah. Great. Um, I think I might go and hide now. Until tomorrow. And Gale could do with a rest, so you can join us on the road if you want. Yeah…” your heart has picked up a little and you try to slip away, but Karlach’s voice stops you.

“Trust me, Y/N. Give it a shot.”

Maybe her confidence influences yours. You spin on your heel and start walking towards Gale, who is putting his book away. You mutter something like I hope you’re right as you pass her, and you approach Gale with a small smile.

“Ah, Y/N. I was hoping you’d spare me a moment. Have you been enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s nice to see everyone happy for once,” you say. He hums in agreement as he scans the small crowd behind you.

“How come you’re not over there? Don’t you want to join in?” You say.

“Oh, I’m perfectly content to stand here and watch. Their happiness seems to be my own. Your company is, however, most welcome.” There’s a glint in his eye.

“Can I sit with you?” You take a small chance, realizing that there’s nobody else you wish to spend time with tonight.

“That would be delightful,” he says, pulling out an extra cushion for both of you to sit.

The night crawls on lightly, you and Gale enshrouded by the shadows around his tent and whispering under the stars and moonligb, the promises of something beautiful blooming glistening on your skin.

[writebackatya]

McDuck Family Members Most Likely to Start Sh*t at Thanksgiving Dinner

Ah Thanksgiving. The holiday celebrated on the 4th Thursday of November (in America that is), one with food, family, and celebrating what we’re thankful for! (Wanna feel bad? Learn about the holiday’s origins!)

And no family is quite as big as the found family from DuckTales; so arguments are bound to happen at a dinner table filled with so many zany characters with interesting pasts and quirks. Let’s honor those who would throw the first punch at a family dinner, shall we?

Bentina Beakley

I wanna cut Beakley some slack. She most likely had a long day before dinner even started what with all the preparations she did for dinner. Not just cooking for 20+ family members plus other side/recurring characters but also the cleaning and presentation

But let’s face it. This woman can be so condescending at times. And judgmental. You just know if someone is showing up to dinner wearing jeans and sweater she’d have something to say about it. And she strikes me as someone who would slam the dishes while cleaning them only for someone to say, “Hey Beakley do you need help with the dishes?” and then she’d be like “No. It’s fine. I got them”

But it’s not fine. Go help her with the dishes. She deserves a break

Dewey Duck

When I was first thinking about this list I originally thought “No way any of the triplets would start anything on Thanksgiving” Huey is a good boy and Louie would definitely take it easy on a day where you’re legally allowed to sit around, be lazy, and eat food. But then I remembered Dewey and how much of a diva he can be

We know Dewey is an entertainer and with everyone coming to dinner, he has a huge “captive” audience that he can perform for. Whether it be an original Thanksgiving song, a one man Dewey show about the first Thanksgiving, a sonnet about a bonnet, or a very special Thanksgiving episode of Dewey Dew-Night; that kid will want all the attention in him. And the very second the spotlight is taken off, oh boy…

Gladstone Gander

Look at this prick. Don’t you wanna slap his face!?!Anyway I love Gladstone Gander, but he’s the kind of family member that just would go on and on about himself and bring every conversation back to him again and how great his life is

That’s great Gladstone. Happy for you, the rest of us have to pay for our sushi but cool. Glad your good luck is really paying off, jerk

But honestly. It’s his tone. It’s the kind of tone that gives off that he knows he’s starting shit but won’t admit it

Goldie O’Gilt

I mean, it’s Goldie. What else can I say?

Gandra Dee

Oh man. There’s so many different ways controversy would start with this morally gray ex-FOWL agent and I’m here for it. Let’s face it, out of all the characters present, Gandra Dee would most likely be the one to bring up the holiday’s horrible origins. If anyone is making it their duty to make a rich white family uncomfortable on Thanksgiving, it’s Gandra Dee

She’d get political and even directly ask Scrooge who exactly he voted for in the past two Presidential elections (he claims to be progressive, but he’s still the richest duck in the world. Just how many tax cuts is this man getting to keep that status?)

Oh and what about the treatment of her overwork and underpaid boyfriend? Why is he still working in the bathroom?

Oddly enough, I can see her and Scrooge bonding over a mutual disdain for Gladstone Gander. What a prick

Kit Cloudkicker

It’s not that exactly what Kit does that’ll start a fight, but what he doesn’t do.

Kit is the kinda guy that was supposed to bring a dessert but totally forgot to pick something up from the bakery so instead he’s stopping at the gas station on the way to dinner to pick up some Twinkies

Kit is the kinda guy that would “take a walk” before dinner and not do anything to hide the scent and now all the kids are wondering how a skunk got inside

Gyro Gearloose

It’s Gyro. Something is bound to piss him off at some point

Doofus Drake

I am so tired of the fandom not including Doofus in this found family (Louie and him made up and are friends now and BOYD is his brother, sorry it’s canon) so he’s here on the list

But he’s still a new addition to this family. And a weirdo and a rich brat with a lot of issues that someone should seriously help him with. He’s gonna make everyone uncomfortable. Is it intentional? Or is he just being Doofus? Who knows

What I do know is this, don’t eat the dish he brought.

Della, Donald, and Scrooge!

The original three!

These three are responsible for splitting up the family in the first place so it’s no surprise that they’re number one on this list!!

Yes they’ve squashed their beef with one another and moved past the Spear of Selene, but they are still themselves

The ones most likely to start shit over the dumbest things

These three are going to be bickering over who should carve the turkey. And the argument will be so loud and hectic that no one will question why a bunch of birds are eating a turkey

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this list. It wasn’t meant to slander any characters, just did it for fun. Happy Thursday everyone.

[atinylittlepain]

I Wanna Marry You

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!OC

Hungry Hearts masterlist

he has a black velvet box waiting in his sock drawer. what will her answer be?

wordcount | 5K

warnings | this bad boy has it all. a little smut, a little angst, a whole lot of fluff

a/n | the jerry proposal and wedding event of the century. i had a lot of fun with this and would love to hear what y'all think <3

................................

Here’s the thing, Joel Miller is not slick. At all. And Cherry is pretty sure she knows what he’s up to.

For starters, she keeps finding him in their bedroom, his arm stuck way back into his sock drawer, though he never fails to whip around and slam it shut when she catches him, face flushed down and palming the back of his neck, a pantomime of casual guilt. He has also started making frequent trips out onto the back porch in the evening, leaving her on the couch while he takes a call. 

No, Joel Miller is not slick at all. She bets it’s Tommy’s fault, never far from a carton himself, though he knows better now than to smoke in her house, one too many swats upside the head. But he’s usually got a cigarette between his teeth when he and Joel drive together to work, so she doesn’t have to look far to figure out where Joel has picked it up again. 

It isn’t exactly that she minds him smoking. Hell, everyone did it in the eighties, and she even picked it up for a while back in the mid-nineties in the whole artsy-fartsy writing scene. What’s bothering her is that he’s making such a big deal of hiding it from her. Sure, keep it away from the girls, but why all the bullshit with her?

But she’s been waiting for him to bring it to her, something about healthy relationships and building trust and all that good stuff that she heard on some radio show, listened to while she was supposed to be doing edits for her newest project. She hasn’t snooped, she hasn’t pried, even as whatever this is continues to grate on her nerves. Supposed calls being taken, and Joel spending a bit too much time with his hand in his sock drawer.

Here’s the thing, Cherry isn’t very good at waiting. A moment of weakness, what she should be doing is going over the new round of edits she was just sent. What she finds herself doing instead is wandering upstairs into their bedroom. Everyone else out of the house, the girls at school and Joel at work for another half hour, so it’s perfectly quiet when she opens up his sock drawer and starts rifling through it.

She would have preferred to find a carton of cigarettes. Definitely not a necklace, nor a bracelet, and she’s pretty sure it’s not earrings either. No, the black velvet box is the wrong shape for any of those pieces of jewelry. She doesn’t open the box though, doesn’t really have time to when she suddenly hears the garage door opening, followed by what could only be the sound of Joel’s boots shuffling around in the kitchen. 

“Cher?” She moves before she can think, something nervous swirling up in her stomach, that damn velvet box still clutched in her hand as she makes her way downstairs. Joel stops himself mid sentence, something about needing to go to the grocery that gets cut off when he catches her pinched expression. 

“What happened? What’s the matter?” Anger feels good at least, so she scoffs, setting the ring box down on the kitchen counter between them. Joel’s face goes perfectly slack.

“You tell me. What the hell is this?” 

“That’s– you– what’re you doing snooping like that? Jesus christ.” Good, she thinks, let him get angry too. It’ll give her something to bite back at, glaring at each other from across the counter, Joel running a frustrated palm down his face.

“Snooping? Oh please, it was kinda hard not to notice your newfound obsession with the back of your fucking sock drawer. I’m telling you right now, Joel Miller, if this is what I think it is, you’ll return it if you know what’s good for you.” 

“Oh come on, Cher, just–”

“No.”

“Let’s just–”

“No, Joel. We’ve talked about this. You know that isn’t something I want.” She sees the sharp wince in his expression, but it’s not enough for her to back down, not when it comes to this. They have talked about this. A few times now. And normally, Joel is on her side, neither of them caring much about a ceremony or the titles that would come with it. Hell would have to freeze over before she took someone else’s name, not when she has built so much out of and on her own. 

“I just– it’s paperwork. That’s all it is, and a ring. You and I don’t need that, baby. It’s, we’re past that.” She knows what she’s doing with that soft baby she slips into her words, and for a beat, it seems to melt Joel just the way she wants it to, his eyes rounding a little, grimace softening around the edges. But then he huffs, a harsh drag of his fingers through his hair as he shakes his head at her.

“What about what I want, huh? Is it such a goddamn crime for me to want this? To want something a little more– a little more official? Fuck, Cherry, this isn’t– this is not how I wanted this to go.” Damn him, damn him for the way his words crack, tired and utterly disappointed at the end, a long sigh that slumps his shoulders. Damn him, she can never stay mad at him. Damn him, because she would like to give him whatever he wants, but this is not that easy. Silence falls between them, Joel resting both his palms on the counter, his head hanging down between his shoulders. Careful and quiet, she rounds the counter, one palm to his shoulder, and one covering his hand. 

“You deserve to have what you want, you do. But marriage is not– it’s not something– what we have is good, and I don’t want this– this thing to change it.” The truth of it. To her, marriage is cage. Marriage is silent houses, scraping forks at dinner. Marriage is violence. And she thinks that Joel understands that, his palm shuffling to rest over hers, thumb stroking along the side of her hand. 

“I don’t want it to be like that, Cher. Like you said, s’just paperwork. We can make it whatever we want it to be. Hell, we can just chalk it up to the tax breaks if we want.” It’s enough to coax a laugh up from her chest, her smile slipping to the side as she rests her cheek against his bicep, anger long forgotten for whatever this is. Something sweet, at least.

“Can I ask why it’s so important to you? Because if it’s just Deedee breathing down your neck I can handle–”  He cuts her off with a laugh of his own, a small shuffle for him to lean back against the counter, her stepping between his legs and letting her hands settle along his waist, dipping her head down when his chin drops in something a bit bashful.

“No, it’s not her, though she probably wouldn’t be upset at the prospect. But it is something I want, and– it’s stupid really.” She coaxes him with a quiet no, tell me, baby, squeezing at the soft part of his waist, making him huff again, and maybe flush a little. She loves getting him like this, a little mushy gushy where he’s usually such a hardass. God forbid Joel Miller have feelings, and God forbid he get embarrassed by having said feelings.

“Certainty, you know? That’s what marriage means to me. My folks– they’ve been married for fifty-something years now. And it’s a very real thing to them, that commitment. I just– I’d like that– with you.” And damn him again, for looking at her like that, brow all pinched up, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth when he finishes talking. She gets it now. Where she sees capture, captive, Joel sees comfort, reassurance that yes, this is real. Yes, staying. Got the ring and the paperwork to prove it. Maybe it could be that for her too. Maybe he could show her how.

Her answer doesn’t come in words, not at first, easy to lean forward and press her lips to his, once, twice, feeling the small curl of his smile the second time, hers matching his, fitting with his.

“So, you said something about tax breaks?” Enough to smooth out the scrunch of uncertainty in his expression, that smile threatening at the corners of his mouth while her palms smooth and shift to splay over his chest. 

“That a yes?” 

“Show me the ring, Miller.” He doesn’t turn around, just fumbles blindly behind himself until he snatches up the box. Of course, it’s perfect. A little unconventional, simple silver band with an opal set in it. Yes feels a little easier just looking at it. 

“I’m not wearing white, for the record.” 

“I’d expect nothing less, Cher.” Before he can lean in for another kiss, she remembers that initial curl of anger, pressing against his chest to hold him at bay.

“Wait, so you’re not smoking again?”

“What? Why the hell would you think that?” 

“I mean, that’s what I assumed was going on with the sock drawer and all the evening calls you were taking on the porch.” While she’s dead serious, Joel just seems entirely amused by the whole thing, letting out a laugh and squeezing at her hips even as she huffs at him.

“That’s not– those were phone calls, with Tommy. I was– well, I was planning something for you.” Damn him, Joel Miller was planning a proposal, and now she looks like a total jackass for ruining it.

“Oh, oh. What were you planning?” 

“If you weren’t so goddamned nosy maybe you would’ve gotten to find out, Cherry baby.” 

“Hey, watch it. The ring isn’t on my finger yet.” Of course Joel takes that as a challenge, one she doesn’t really care to fight against, letting him pull her closer into his chest while he fumbles with her left hand, a small, petulant grumble when it takes him a few tries to slide the ring onto her finger. When he does succeed, she indulges him with a waggle of her fingers, watching the gem glint, all light and color. 

“What do you think?” 

“You did good, Miller.”

“The girls helped pick it out.”

“You’re telling me Sarah and Ellie both knew about this? And that Ellie voluntarily looked at jewelry?” Clearly pleased with himself, he hums a yes, so smug she would smack him if it wasn’t a sweet thought. Her girl helping him pick something out for her mom. 

“Just to clarify, this does count as a yes, right?” 

“I suppose so.” She says it with a sigh, playing at resignation that he jostles out of her, another kiss that’s more answer than anything else.

…

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, putting on my suit jacket.”

“If you think you’re wearing jeans to the goddamn ceremony you’re sorely mistaken.”

“It’s Texas, Joel. You can wear jeans to a wedding.”

“Not to mine you can’t. Does Maria know about your little outfit? Because I reckon she’s not gonna be too pleased with it either.” Tommy’s face falls at that, hands pausing in his adjustment of his cufflinks.

“Shit, you think I got time to run back to my place?” 

“You’ll have to meet us there, but I ain’t letting you in the chapel like that either.” Tommy is already shuffling down the hall, though Joel chooses to ignore what he thinks is a grumbled fucking diva that comes from his brother’s mouth. More important things to be thinking about anyways, like the faint sound of Cherry and the girls getting ready down the hall. 

Sarah and Ellie had been adamant about this separation, starting last night when they stepped in front of the couch where he and Cherry were sitting. Their girls, with all the solemnity of CIA agents, informing them that the next time Joel would see his woman would be at the altar, no time for him to protest when they were already all but dragging her away from him. Sure, she was just down the hall in the guestroom, but he wasn’t about to rail against their girls’ orders, unsure whose wrath he was more afraid of, Sarah’s or Ellie’s, or the combined, nuclear explosion of the two. 

His eyes flick over to the clock on the nightstand, a muttered curse when he realizes they should have left five minutes ago. The plan, him and Sarah, his best maid of honor as she had named herself, in the truck, and Cherry and Ellie, her best maid of honor as dubbed by Sarah, in the minivan. No seeing each other until the altar, right. 

“Sarah, you ready to go? We’re already–” He doesn’t get the rest out, stumbling back in the hall when someone clamps their palms over his eyes. 

“Don’t look, old man, Jesus. We were just leaving.” He huffs at Ellie’s snappy command, a light tug to her wrists, though her hands don’t budge, clammy over the tops of his cheeks where they’re covering his eyes.

“Kid, my eyes are closed. Lay off, huh?” Albeit reluctantly, Ellie takes her hands away, a seemingly satisfied hum when she sees that his eyes are in fact closed. 

“I’ll give you the all clear when we’re down the stairs, alright? But until then, keep ‘em shut.” Lord help him.

“Uh-huh, whatever you say, boss.” Not sure what else to do, he rests his hands on his hips, eyes still scrunched shut as he hears what he thinks is the sound of Ellie and Sarah both bounding down the steps, but his whole spine shivers  when he feels a hand slip along his jaw, nails lightly scratching at his scruff.

“Look at you, baby. Always clean up so nice.” He could open his eyes, but now it feels like a game with the way her words graze right over his mouth, and he’s not about to lose. 

“How come you get to look?” A bright peel of laughter, her other palm slipping up along his chest. He can picture that grin of hers in his mind.

“Because I’m the bride, Joel. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” He has to laugh, his hands reaching blindly, slipping against silk that makes a hum settle in his chest. His eyes threaten to open on impulse to see, though he manages to keep them scrunched shut. 

“You still wanna do this, right? It’s– this is still good?” He knows it’s a stupid question, a small part of him still worried that somehow, there will be a catch to all of this. But Cherry doesn’t even indulge his ask with words, a pfft in the back of her throat before she leans in a little closer, guiding his lips to hers in a sweet, simple kiss. 

“I’ll see you at the altar, handsome.” 

…

“Dad, don’t cry. We haven’t even gotten to the church yet.” He sniffs hard, knuckles swiping under his nose as his other hand holds the passenger side door open for Sarah. 

“I’m not– not crying. You look very beautiful, honey.” An eye roll and a scoff, but he’ll take it, because she really does look lovely in the light purple dress Cherry helped her pick out, a sweet sight, with baby’s breath threaded through her hair.

His heart starts to kick up when they get to the church. It’s a small thing, simple, white clapboard and a single steeple. He knew that Deedee would have thrown a fit if they didn’t get married in a place of worship, not that he or Cherry had stepped foot in a church anytime in their recent adult lives. Still, they were happy to make that compromise, even though the priest had a small aneurysm when they told him that Cherry wouldn’t be taking Joel’s last name, no need for the Mr. and Mrs. Miller congratulations. Doing things their own way, just like they always have. 

Only the first two rows are filled across each aisle. His parents, Tommy and Maria, a handful of other friends and family. Will is here too, with his girlfriend who Cherry seems sure will soon be more than his girlfriend. Joel’s family has become hers in many ways, filling in the gaps, something he’s been happy to be able to offer to her, and to Will whenever he visits. 

He stands at the altar, waiting, Sarah right next to him, his hand on her shoulder, something to steady whatever this jittery feeling is. 

And there’s no fanfare to it, just a sudden wave of silence when she and Ellie appear at the end of the aisle, heads turning over shoulders to see. Ellie looks sharp in her suit, pleased with herself, clear in the set back of her shoulders and the tilt of her chin as she walks her mom down the aisle. And Cherry, well. 

He can already hear her snark. We’re way past white, Miller. Like sage, he thinks, soft green silk, a simple slip, her shoulders bare to reveal the dark curl of her tattoo. Her bouquet, made mostly of chrysanthemums, a broken laugh rattling in his chest at the sight. And she’s looking at him, the smallest curl of a smile, maybe a little nervous when her eyes dart to their modest audience, but then right back on him, still certain. 

“I like the suit, kid.”

“Thanks, old man.” He’s only a little surprised when Ellie offers him a quick hug, already ducking over to the side so it’s just him and Cherry, and the priest, of course.

And the rest is blissfully easy.

…

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

“Don’t slouch.” Her mother’s hand is a quick curl of ice at the back of her neck, just enough pressure to send her spine back into straightness from her slow slump in the pew. Honestly, she’s not sure why her family insisted on going to this wedding, it’s not like they’re that close with Lisa-Anne’s family, especially not her older sister who is the one getting married. Appearances, she reasons, always appearances with her mother and father. See and be seen. 

Right now, after a nearly two-hour long ceremony, she has no interest in what her mother and father want, a little more focused on how her tights are cutting into her waist, sweat starting to drip down her spine beneath the stiff fabric of her dress. Mercifully though, this whole wedding thing seems to be wrapping itself up, man and wife walking down the aisle to a polite chorus of clapping. Meanwhile, she’s trying to figure out how she can escape early from the party afterward, trailing a bit glumly behind Will and their parents as everyone files out of the church. 

“Hey, Cherry.” Just above a whisper, it still stops her in her tracks, stepping out of the throng of people to look around for where that sound came from. She scoffs when she sees who it is.

“What do you want, Joel?” He looks like a cartoon character running from the law, peeking out from behind the side of the church, wild grin and a jerk of his chin that she knows means come over here. She glances back to her family, making their way along with everyone else to the tent set up for the reception, and suddenly, whatever Joel’s offer may be is seeming much more appealing, already slinking off to the side and toward him. When she gets within arm’s length, he surprises her with a reach and tug to her forearm, pulling her along and behind the church, finding Tommy already partaking in what she supposes Joel wanted to rope her into.

“Hey, dipshit, I didn’t tell you to light up yet, did I? Have some manners, goddamn.” Tommy smiles sheepish, a thin seep of smoke coming out around the edges of his smile as Joel plucks the blunt from his fingers. He must be exceptionally bored, she thinks, to have wrangled her into this, considering that they haven’t spoken to each other much for the majority of sophomore year. 

“I would say ladies’ first, but seeing as someone started without us, I’ll just give you the next hit, Cher.” She knows he’s serious, holding the smoldering blunt out to her pinched between thumb and forefinger, but she still scoffs. 

“I can’t do that, Joel. If my mom smelled that on me she’d– well, I can’t do that.” He squints, shrugs. And she hates how beautiful he looks when he takes a languid hit, the top buttons of his rumpled dress shirt undone to display how the long line of his neck trembles with the inhale, the puff of his chest, and then that smooth slump when he lets the smoke out. 

“Suit yourself. Tom, Maureen said she’d dance with you–” Tommy’s eyes light up, an exclamation already hanging from his parted lips, though Joel cuts him off with a prim finger pointed in the air.

“If you catch her early. So, you know, best get on with it.” Tommy nods hard, gulps a thank you to Joel, and is off like lightning around the side of the church and toward the reception. She raises her brow at Joel. Another shrug, smug.

“He asked me to talk to Maureen for him.”

“You didn’t talk to Maureen, did you?” 

“Nope, he’ll figure that out for himself though. You sure you don’t want some of this?” He takes another hit, hissing out smoke as if to punctuate his question. 

“No, and if that’s all you called me over here for then I think I’d rather be over at the–” 

“Oh, c’mon, Cher. We can just talk, huh? It’s better than all that bullshit anyways. Look–” With that, he flicks the half-smoked blunt into the grass, stamping it out with the sole of his shoe.

“See? All gone, now we can be civil and proper just like your mama wants us to be.” His smile spreads, and she can’t help her own, finally sighing and leaning back against the side of the church, turning her head on her shoulder to look at him.

“What’d you think of the service?” He snorts, kicking the toe of his shoe into the grass, his gelled hair – Deedee’s work, no doubt – flopping and falling into his eyes. 

“Thought it was long. And I thought the groom looked about ready to hoof it.” It feels good to laugh after sitting still for so long, a quick flutter of it in her chest.

“He was sweating so much. And the way he messed up his vows?” Ever the entertainer Joel immediately goes into character, his grin dissolving, brow pinching down and mouth pulling into an over the top frown as he wrings his hands in front of him, the perfect pantomime of fret.

“In, uh, in health– no, in sickness and in health until, uh– what was it again? Oh, death– until death do us part. A–fucking–men.” He concludes with a slap to his thigh and a big bark of laughter, his head tilting to the side as he grins at her own guffaw.

“You make fun now, but just wait until you’re up there at the altar one day. I’d pay money to see that trainwreck.” 

“Not very nice, Cherry. And also, bold of you to assume I’m even gonna get married.” 

“Oh please, Joel. At the very least, I’m sure Deedee will eventually stick you with some nice girl from the Kiwanis Club.” His whole face scrunches up at that, an indignant sound crawling up the back of his throat as he shakes his head at her.

“Nah, nope, no, ma’am. Reckon I’m not really the marrying type.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even have your driver’s license yet.”

“Uh, yes I do. I got it last week.” He’s already fumbling in his back pocket, movements a little fuzzed around the edges from his couple of hits as he procures his wallet and waves his fresh license in her face.

“Nice mugshot.” He tuts, tucking his wallet away.

“Always so mean. I bet you’ll be a sight at the altar one day, Cher. Gotta be careful not to shred your pretty white dress up with all that bite.” The word bite comes out with a flashy flare of his canines, a dramatic snap of his jaw that makes her snort.

“I won’t have to worry about that, thank you very much.”

“Oh no?”

“No, I’m never getting married.” She regrets it the instant she says it, even though she means it, already bracing for Joel’s mimicry.

“How can you say that? You don’t even have your driver’s license yet.” High and nasally, though he cuts himself off with an oof when she shoves him in the shoulder.

“I got mine two months ago, so there.” He sighs, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he mirrors her stance, leaning back against the church with his shoulder brushing against hers.

“You really ain’t gonna get married, Cher?”

“Not if I can help it, you?” It must be the weed, she thinks, making his face fall and his eyes droop.

“Nah, it’d, uh, have to be someone real special to change my mind.”

…

“You think they’d notice if we sneaked off for a while?” She tries to keep her grin schooled, a hard task with Joel’s hands wandering down her hips, laying a squeeze to the swell of her thighs before skating back up, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her back flush with his chest. 

“Hmm, the cake’s been cut, et cetera, et cetera. I think we could get away with it.” Joel hums, swaying her a little where they’re standing on their back porch, surveying their small but mighty reception. Ellie is dancing a clumsy waltz with Deedee, a few other family members around on the makeshift dance floor, everyone else talking in a haze of booze and sugar, slumped in their folding seats, napkins and plates stacked on the tables in front of them. And her and Joel are already slinking inside and up the steps. Giggling, entirely absurd, they don’t even make it to the bedroom, tangling and traipsing over each other into the bathroom, Joel kicking the door shut behind them as he crowds her up against the sink.

“Looked so beautiful today, I already tell you that?” Words humid and hotly murmured into her sternum, her laugh turns into a gasp when he noses up the column of her throat, teeth grazing that spot he so likes to grin into.

“You may have mentioned it. Not as pretty as you though, baby. All proper for me– oh, right there– waiting for me in your suit and tie.” Said suit and tie has long been shucked down to just his button-up and slacks, now untucked and rumpled, going lopsided with the way she fumbles down the first few buttons of his shirt. She can practically feel the heat flushing up his neck from her words, though Joel hides any bashfulness with a petulant smack to the side of her ass, quick to smooth when she jolts in his hold.

“Don’t tease, Cher, gotta be quick, huh? You gonna turn around for me and show me this pretty dress from the back?” The realization of just what that means settles in her mind, slanting her grin to the side as she shoves him back with a palm in the middle of his chest, for once, doing exactly as he asks and turning around to rest her palms on the counter. For posterity’s sake, she makes a show of it, arching her spine and spreading her stance a little wider, a little sway in her hips. She can’t help her snicker when Joel finally slides the satiny skirt of her dress up over her hips, his movements stuttering still as a quiet curse slips from his mouth.

“How— how long have you been like this?” She turns her gaze over her shoulder, maybe enjoying this too much in the slow bat of her lashes. Joel looks stricken, jaw slack and eyes wide.

“All day, baby, why do you ask?” 

“You’re telling me you walked down the aisle– in a house of God– like this?” She shrugs, leaning back into Joel’s palm that’s been idly palming her ass, her very bare ass. 

“Don’t tell Deedee.” His laugh comes out on a splutter, clearly unsure if he even should laugh in the first place, though she can’t help her own snort of amusement, soon the both of them dissolving into it, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkling up.

“You are trying to give me a fucking heart attack, goddamn.”

“Think of the lines, Joel, it would have ruined my outfit.” He just shakes his head, leaning over her to find a slanted kiss. And then the realization that yes, they still need to be quick about this, wedding guests downstairs and all that. A little bit of fumbling, and a preening sigh in the back of her throat when he drags the hot weight of his cock through the seam of her cunt.

“Who’s the freak now, huh, Cher?” She tries to laugh, but it’s more of a whine when his hips finally settle against the plush of her ass, so deep that she can’t help but lift up onto her toes, Joel holding her steady with a palm clutching at her breast.

“You’re the one that married the freak.”

“Damn right I did.” 

Not romantic at all. Quick, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin with the way she bounces back to meet his thrusts. And no, not so young anymore, so it isn’t long before they’re both biting back moans, a small hit to hold them over before the guests leave. They slump down against each other in the aftermath, hazy smiles and breaths that try at laughs, Joel pressing his lips to the top of her shoulder, the side of her neck, her temple. 

“Love you, freak.” 

“You were the freak first, Miller.”

“I believe the correct response is love you too, actually.” Still framing her against the counter, his hand comes to rest over top of hers, fiddling a bit with the ring on her finger.

“Yeah, that too.” He scoffs rubbing his scruff against her cheek with the way he shakes his head at her. It’s annoying how quickly she folds for him, turning around in his hold, a shaky two-step to finally look at him. 

“You know I do, baby. I wouldn’t do this with anyone else.” She punctuates her words with a kiss, small and simple, feeling his hum beneath her palm on his chest. 

“Me too, Cherry. Only ever imagined it with you.” 

...........................................

taglist: taglist: @spookyxsam @libbylou223 @angel-in-beskar @starstruckunknown-princess @casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @suzmagine @everything-isfucked @lanabobana @kittenlittle24 @sarap-77 @officerrrfriendly @val-srz @bitchwitch1981 @redwoodsanddaffodils @themothersmercy @romanarose @lost-inhawkins @youcancallmeelle @hollywoodcaligirl @harryleatherfit @fifia-writes @brighttears @lokanda @hardlystrictlystarwars @sarahxxo3 @harriedandharassed @anoverwhelmingdin

[cafemilk-tea]

Illness

❒ pairing - evelyn x grandmother ft dino

❒ word count - 3.0K

❒ synopsis - evelyn’s grandmother calls her with unfortunate news

❒ time - late 2013

🏷️ taglist - @justmochi @ateezjuliet @itzy-eve @cosmicwintr @billboard-singer @kimhyejin3108 @cixrosie @enhacolor @allthings-fandoms @mingis-wrld @kmgfeels @peachyaeger @aysxldea @choihaneul @angie-x3 @alixnsuperstxr

⚠️ - mentions of cancer, evie getting a bruise on her arm from a staff member & food restrictions; angst

Italics = spoken in English

(a/n: tears in my eyes thinking of bby evie & bby dino swinging on swings together T_T)

School was let out early for Evelyn and Chan and they had found themselves at the little playground by the school on the swings waiting for a few of his older members to come pick them up and walk them to the company. Evelyn kicked her feet back and forth, humming the words to her evaluation song as she watched random cars drive far off in the distance. Chan giggling to himself pulled her back into reality as she glanced over at him curiously.

“What’s funny?”

“You’ve just been humming that all day long,” Chan covered his mouth with his hands laughing. Evelyn internally cringed with knowing how many people’s hands have been on these swing set chains and now here he was pressing those germs all over his face.

“I’ve got solo evaluations coming up and I’ve been slacking off too much I think,” Evelyn pouted her lips at her words. She was given SNSD’s ‘Genie’ to sing and it’s been a challenge for her, even more so since she’s doing Taeyeon’s part in the post-chorus towards the end of the song.

Chan clicked his tongue as he disagreed with her, pushing himself backwards and letting go to swing back and forth, “Nuh-uh, I’ve heard you sing especially that one part in the song and you sound really good!”

A smile crept its way onto her face as her cheeks heated up slightly at his encouragement, “Thanks Channie.”

The two swang in silence, enjoying small talks between the two of them and people watching. Evelyn always found it fascinating to just sit and watch people in their everyday life and how everyone is so different from one another.

“How’s practice going for you,” Evelyn pushes herself on the swing set, gripping the metal chains tightly between her fingers as she swung herself back and forth deciding to change the subject.

“Awful,” Chan pouted his lips out into a hard frown as he stared at the dirt underneath his feet and slowed down his swinging, “Not awful as in bad but more like it’s just so hard sometimes. I like doing it, I really do, but we got in trouble with one of the staff again and it wasn’t even our fault.”

Evelyn frowned in sympathy at his words, knowing exactly what he was going through. Earlier in the week, one of the staff had grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out into the hallway to berate her by saying she wasn’t keeping up with the other trainees and was too busy slacking off again. The slight bruising on her arm from how hard his hand had gripped her is still a clear and visible mark.

“And Soonyoung-hyung can be mean sometimes too. He keeps making us do the same routine over and over again all because Seungkwan-hyung keeps messing up this one step,” He shuffled his foot in the dirt below, scuffing up the bottom of his already worn shoes from practice.

“Channie-,” Evelyn slowed her swing down to barely moving at all, using her foot to twist her seat from side to side. Being a trainee was hard in general. It made her question why she even wanted to do it sometimes.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to make you upset-.” She started but was cut off by his outburst.

“He doesn’t care!” He huffed kicking the dirt making dust particles fly into the air. Evelyn couldn’t blame him for getting angry over it. She’s been there once or twice since becoming a trainee. His face turned sour as the frown sank deeper into his face, “Anytime I ask if we can learn something else, he gets mad and storms away and slams the door behind him yelling things like ‘If we get a low score, it’ll be your fault’.”

Evelyn stayed quiet and let him have time to get what he wanted off of his chest. She knows that he can’t blow up like this with his members since they’re all older, and that’s why the two of them are so close with being the only two youngest in the company.

After a moment of silence passed between the two of them, Chan let out a deep breath as he turned towards Evelyn in his seat.

“Eunji, I’m sorry I got angry-,” She looked over at him as he sucked on the inside of his cheek, “It’s just hard and it’s hard to talk to the hyungs about it when they’re all on the same page about most things.”

“It’s okay Channie,” Evelyn looked down at her shoes with a smile, nodding in agreement, “That’s why we have each other! We have to stick together through this right? It’s the only way we can make it through.”

“You’re right!”

“Soonyoung-Oppa is trying his hardest, you all are,” She tried to reason, wanting to keep the topic open to talk Chan through what she was also thinking, “He wants you guys to be so successful one day and I know you guys work really hard and I’m rooting for you to have a great debut in the future.”

Evelyn’s words made a big grin break across Chan’s face, his anger from before seemingly vanished at the mention of his group, “You’re gonna debut so big too! How cool is it that our groups are gonna debut? We’ll have to collab on a stage in the future!”

“That’ll be so much fun!” Evelyn gushed as they went back to swinging, waiting on Chan’s older members to arrive.

“Ugh I’m starving,” Chan drops his head down as his stomach rumbles with hunger, using his feet to push himself backwards on the swing again before letting himself swing forward, “Where are the hyungs anyway? This is so annoying, they said they’d be here by now.”

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon.” Evelyn tried to sound hopeful even though she was growing quite hungry as well. On the occasion, Chan’s older members would secretly buy the two of them a snack and they ate it on the way to the company, making sure to take the long way back so they had time to finish the food.

Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek as an idea popped into her head, quickly standing up from her seat and crouching down by her backpack. Chan watched curiously as she unzipped the main pocket and dug around for a few moments before grinning back at him. She raised her arm high in the sky and he followed her movements, jumping off of the swing when he noticed the money in her hand.

“Where did you even get that?” His eyes grew in size as she brought her hand down so the two of them could inspect the money closely. It was only a few dollars worth but it was more than she thought she had.

“Minji-Unnie gave me some money for-,” She used her fingers to air quote, mimicking Minji’s lower voice, “-For emergencies only.”

“I consider this a dire emergency.”

“Remember the last time though, the company found out we were eating and scolded us to no end.” Evelyn frowned at the memory. She never liked being in trouble and ever since moving to Korea, it felt like that’s all she seemed to do.

“If we eat it here we should be fine,” Chan tried to reason with her, his stomach rumbling in hunger again and Evelyn’s right after, almost like they were talking to each other. She hesitated at first but nodded her head in agreement. Chan looked behind them, pointing down the street at the convenience store on the corner.

“I can grab us a ramen and we can share it so it won’t be too much food, any requests?”

“Mmm, make it a surprise,” She grinned as she handed the money over to the antsy boy, a laugh falling from her lips as she watched him speed walk down the road to the convenience store.

Walking back to her seat on the swing set, she rocked back and forth on her heels again, going back to her people and car watching. The sound of her phone ringing broke her out of her trance, reaching over and grabbing her phone. The brightness in her eyes matched the excitement in her voice when she saw who was calling her.

“Hiya Gram,” She pressed the phone to her ear, holding onto the swing by its metal chains with her other hand.

“Hello my Sweet Pea.”

She could honestly cry after hearing her Grandmother’s voice after she hadn’t in such a long time. As trainees, they weren’t given many opportunities to speak to their loved ones and if they were, they were always heavily monitored by the staff. The female trainees were allowed back their phones for having such good evaluations last month so of course she was elated that her grandmother had decided to call now.

“Are you having lunch now? Don’t tell me you snuck out of class to talk to me young lady,” Her motherly tone caused Evelyn to bust out into a fit of giggles picturing the look of concern on her face. Evelyn shook her head even though she knew she couldn’t see it.

“Of course not! School ended early today and Channie and I went to the little playground next door. You remember Lee Chan right? One of the male trainees from my company that’s my age?” Evelyn twisted her head to look down the road to see if Chan was coming back, settling back on the swing when she saw no sight of him.

“I do remember you telling me about him, he’s a little cutie,” Her grandmother hummed on the other side of the line. Evelyn could hear the faintness of water running and knew that she was outside watering her flowers in the back garden. “How has your training been going? Are they treating you well?”

“Good actually! We’ve got our evaluations next week and I’ve been practicing on a song for that and we’ve also been doing a lot of stuff with the group!” Evelyn’s face lit up at mentioning her group. She loves those girls and even though she was the youngest of them, she would do anything and everything for them. She glanced down at her arm and decided to omit the part about the staff grabbing her, knowing that her grandmother would’ve been on the first flight out to Korea to come give them hell.

“I’m glad to hear it,” She could hear her grandmother smile into the phone, the sound of the hose shutting off in the background indicating she was down watering her flowers, “I can’t wait to meet the girls, they sound like such lovely people. Are you excited to be a group?”

“Well, we’re not technically a group yet. New trainees can be added at any time but-,” The memory of the girls meeting for the first time and everyone acting like they had known each other for years and how welcoming everyone was instantly flooded her mind, “Yeah, I am super excited!”

“I was worried about sending you out there by yourself but it seems to me like you’re in good hands,” Her grandmother makes a pause, taking in a deep breath as she gathers up her thoughts, “Sweet Pea, I’ve got to talk to you about something, something really important.”

“Hmm?” Evelyn frowned slightly at the sudden change of her tone. She was always such a cheerful and positive lady that whenever her voice shifted into this more serious side, she knew something had to be up.

“I know you were too young to remember this but a long time ago during one of my doctor appointments, they had found little masses on one of my lungs and I had went through some treatments to have them removed,” She paused to let Evelyn understand what she was saying, “Well, I just came back from an appointment yesterday and I’m going to go ahead and tell you that it was not the best of news.”

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Evelyn’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion, resting her head against the metal chain of the swing trying to process what was being said to her. She dragged her foot back and forth through the dirt waiting on a response back. Her poor white school shoes now the faintest shade of beige.

“Sweet Pea, there’s no easier way to tell you this-,” She hesitated on the other side of the phone, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, “The doctors have discovered a form of cancer growing in my right lung. It’s small but it was big enough that they were able to detect it.”

Tears welled up in Evelyn’s eyes as she bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering, “D-Do I need to fly home? I-I think if I ask the company they’ll let me-.”

“Don’t you even think about it,” Her grandmother’s voice was soft yet firm, stopping Evelyn from speaking, “You stay there, I’ll be okay here Sweet Pea. The doctor is confident that we can keep it under control with treatment to ensure that I can keep on going like I always have been, okay?”

A single tear traveled down her cheek slowly as she sat in silence, the words from her grandmother sinking in one by one. Her grandmother has….cancer? Why now, why here, why at all? It felt like she was being hit with a thousand bricks all at once with this news.

“B-But you’ll be alone.”

“Sweet Pea, I’ve got plenty of support here,” Her grandmother reasoned with her. Her support system consisted only of her best friend, who Evelyn had grown to call Auntie June, living a few doors down from their house. Evelyn pulled the phone away briefly so she could choke back on a struggling to escape cry, not wanting to worry her grandmother anymore that she probably was. She always hated whenever Evelyn was upset at any point in time no matter what the situation was.

“It’s getting late out here Sweet Pea. It’s the weekend tomorrow right and then you’re off for a few days, I’ll give you a call then okay?” Evelyn could tell that her grandmother was getting tired from the yawning that she was struggling to hold onto, “I love you so much Sweet Pea, to the moon and back again.”

Evelyn hesitated, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth as she nodded even though she knows that she wouldn’t be able to see it, “I love you too, to the moon and back again.” She managed to sniffle before her finger clicked the line dead and that’s when she dropped her head, clutching her phone to her chest.

“Eunji, guess who I ran into coming out of the store-,” Chan’s laugh echoed around the stone wall but was cut short when he saw the state of Evelyn. She couldn’t bring herself to look up from where she was staring blankly at the ground when the cluster of boys rushed closer to the swing set. A figure was quick to crouch down in front of her and he hesitated before grabbing her hand in his much larger one.

“Eunji-ah, what’s wrong?” Seungcheol rubbed his thumb gently across the rough skin of her knuckles. She kept her gaze down at the dirt as a shallow breath got caught in her throat, another set of droplets fell from her eyes and splashed down onto the skirt of her uniform.

Seungcheol looked back at where Chan and Jun were off to the side with a slight frown, Chan clutched the grocery bag in his hands, moving his shoulders up into a shrug as the unsettling feeling started to set in. She was all happy and smiley before he had left and now it’s the complete opposite. Jun had moved forward until he was just behind Evelyn, a small touch to her back to let her know that he was there. He didn’t know her to the same lengths that Seungcheol or Chan did, but he cared for her just as much as he did his own members.

A moment of silence passed between the small group, the only sounds being made were those of passing by cars on the road or the subtle sniffles Evelyn was letting out trying her best not to break down. The three boys looked around at each other, Seungcheol looking down at his watch seeing that it was inching closer and closer towards practice time. He went against his brain telling them to start heading towards the company, deciding that this was way more important and he would take the heat later for all of them being late. It wasn’t until a quiet voice broke them out of the silence, bringing their attention back onto Evelyn.

“I wanna go home.”

Seungcheol readjusted the pressure on his knees from crouching, gripping her shaking hand a little tighter, “Eunji-ah? I can take you back to the dorm if-”

But she shook her head quickly, cutting Seungcheol off from speaking any further. Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek as she couldn’t hide the whimper in her voice any longer. The tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she looked up at him for the first time since he had arrived in front of her, watery brown eyes meeting his worried ones.

“I wanna go home Oppa,” Evelyn choked out a sob before falling off the swing and into Seungcheol’s arms, knocking him backwards onto the dirt. She wrapped her hands tightly around his torso before burying her face into the crease of his neck, tears soaking through his shirt. Seungcheol held onto her tight, sharing a look with his members full of concern and worry for what’s happened to her.

[danielfuckingricciardo]

Please Don’t Jump (It’s Christmas) - Charles Leclerc x Reader

Pairing - Charles Leclerc x Reader

Word Count - 1.8k

Content Warning - Mentions of suicide, swearing

Synopsis - You send Charles a text, and Charles thinks you’re about to do something very bad and he realises he doesn’t think he could ever live without you. Meanwhile, you are off doing something else, completely unaware of Charles’ worries.

Author’s Note - This is inspired by the song Please Don’t Jump (It’s Christmas) by Dallon Weekes. It’s a really good song and I wanted to write a suitably depressing fic to go along with it but I thought, no, I won’t, I’ll write something wholesome and cute instead. So while this is kinda sad at the start, I promise you it has a happy ending. Enjoy!

“Fuck, (y/n), answer your fucking phone!” Charles grumbles into his phone, before hanging up and throwing it onto the bed in frustration.

“No answer?” Arthur says from his position resting against the door frame.

“Does it look like she answered?” Charles yells. He feels the tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he shouts at brother. He’s not angry with Arthur, not really. He’s just scared, scared you were about to do something stupid.

It was just a text. A few words on a screen, but they terrified him to his very core.

‘I’m doing it. I’m sorry Charles. I love you ♥︎.’

Those words, the words you had typed and sent before going to do god knows what. Throw yourself into traffic? Jump off of a building? Charles’ mind was racing as he couldn’t help but imagine all the horrible ways you might have… No, he couldn’t even think that word. He didn’t want to think that you would, that you could. It’s selfish, but he can’t help but think what he’d do without you. You were his best friend, his world, and though he’d never said it out loud, he loved you. Fuck, he loved you so much it hurt, and he was terrified he wouldn’t ever get to see you again. The way that you laugh at his stupid jokes, the way you smile so warmly, the way you squeeze him just a little too tight when he hugs you. He would have cherished each of these stupid things more if he knew that any time could have been the last.

“Where would she go? People tend to go somewhere they feel safe when they…” Arthur says, and Charles’ eyes go wide.

“I know. Wait here, she might come back. If she does, tell her I’m out looking for her, and then text me immediately, yes?” Charles says, and Arthur nods.

Charles grabs his discarded phone from the bed and races out of the door, skipping the elevator, it takes too much time, instead opting to sprint down the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him.

If you’re anywhere, anywhere at all, it’s on the roof of your old building, the place you grew up, the place you both used to camp out under the stars when you were kids. You’d lay together on your mother’s sleeping bag, filled with marshmallows and your mum’s hot chocolate, and try and pick out all of the constellations in the sky. Charles remembered those nights so fondly. Even then, he thinks he was in love. He might not have realised it at the time, but he was. He’d loved you for as long as he could remember, and he knew he couldn’t bare to be without you.

The doorman doesn’t stop him as he makes for the elevator. Everyone in this damn country knows who he is, he could probably break into a jewellery store in the middle of the day, empty the cabinets, and they’d probably thank him for it. He thought about the stairs, but going up is a lot harder than going down, and he had been slacking on the cardio the past few days due to the festive season.

Charles bursts through the doors and up onto the roof, looking around to see it empty. You weren’t there. A sob escapes his lips as he looks around, hoping you were going to magically appear, and he could hold you, kiss you, tell you it was all going to be okay. But you didn’t appear, Charles was alone on the rooftop, and you weren’t there.

Charles’ phone starts to buzz in his pocket, and he fumbles to grab it, his hands shaking.

He is greeted by your smiling face on the screen, and he exhales a shaky chuckle. You’re still here. You’re alive.

“Fuck, (y/n), where are you? Are you okay?” Charles says, his voice barely there as a single tear drips down his cheek.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It was okay actually, not as painful as I would have expected.” You say, and Charles furrows his brows in confusion.

“A-are you calling me from the afterlife?” He whispers, his eyes wide.

“The afterlife? What the fuck are you talking about? I just got out of the piercing place.” You say, and Charles slaps himself in the forehead at his own stupidity, chuckling slightly in relief.

“The piercing place, fuck, I thought you were gonna…I…” Charles says, unable to form a coherent thought, just so happy you weren’t about to do what he thought you were going to do.

“What? I told you the other day, I wanted to go and get my tongue pierced, but you said it was a stupid idea and would almost definitely get all gross and infected.” You say. “Wait, lemme switch to video, I’ll show you. It’s not gross, I promise.”

The phone vibrates against Charles’ ear and he presses the button, and your face shows up on screen once again, this time you were sticking out your tongue, your eyebrows raised. Your expression changes as you see Charles’ flushed face, and the background that was almost definitely not his flat.

“Are you okay? Where the hell are you? That looks like the roof of my parents’ building.” You say, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“It is, I.. uh… I’m stupid, I thought that text… I thought you were gonna…” Charles attempts to say, but he can’t quite finish the sentence because he still can’t bring himself to say those words.

“You thought I was going to what? Kill myself?” You say, a confused look on your face.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I did.” Charles says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Charles, I might make a lot of jokes about it, but I would never do it. Especially not on Christmas Eve. Besides, I’m in therapy, I’ve got my pills, and I’ve got you. So I’m happy.” You say, offering him a sweet smile.

“I make you happy?” He asks.

“Of course you do. I love you.” You say, sticking out your tongue at him once again, revealing the small silver piercing in the centre of your tongue.

“But do you mean it? Because tonight I had a lot of feelings, and time to think, and I love you too. But like, I love you love you. I think I always have. I genuinely don’t know what I would do if you weren’t in my life.” Charles says, and you stop in your tracks.

“Wait there, I’m not far away.” You say, before hanging up the phone.

You pick up your pace as you walk down the streets, your heels clicking against the concrete pavements. There was no way you were saying what you wanted to say over the phone. No way.

After your brisk walk, a trip in the elevator, and the few steps up to the roof, you spot Charles sat on the edge of the roof, looking out at the city.

Your heels clicking alert him to your presence and he turns to you, spotting that your arms were full with the sleeping bag and a jug of hot chocolate.

“I called in downstairs, and she’d just made a pot. She hates the tongue piercing by the way, I don’t think anyone likes it but me.” You say, holding the sleeping bag out to Charles.

He takes it and lays it out in your usual spot, not saying a word.

“I didn’t want to say it over the phone. It felt artificial, you know. This feels better.” You say, taking a seat on the floor and pouring yourself a mug of the creamy hot chocolate.

Charles sits next to you and takes the other mug, taking a sip of the beverage which warms him up in the cold winter air. In his rush to find you, he didn’t even stop to grab a jacket, and so his arms were bare in the mild Monaco winter.

“You cold? Here, get under my scarf.” You say, wrapping your scarf around both your own and Charles’ shoulders, forcing him to pull closer to you.

“I’m sorry, If I freaked you out, or scared you with what I said. If you don’t feel the same, that’s fine too, I just-“

You cut Charles off mid-sentence as you press as soft kiss to his lips.

“Every time I say it, I mean it Charles. I love you. So much.” You say, smiling sweetly at him.

“Really? You’ve always meant it?” He questions.

“Always. Ever since we were kids and I’d sit here and make up constellations to try and impress you.” You laugh, taking another sip of your warm drink.

“You made those up?” Charles asks, and you chuckle.

“Yep, I know fuck all about astronomy. But you thought stars were cool and I wanted to impress you.” You say.

“Hmm, well you were very good at making stuff up about stars. I believed every word.” Charles says, and you rest your head gently on his shoulder.

“Ten minutes ago you believed I was going to jump off the roof.” You say, and Charles chuckles, shaking his head at his previous actions.

“Yeah, yeah, I am stupid, we don’t need to get into that one again.” He says.

“But you were willing to run around the city, arms bare, trying to find me and stop me. You have such a beautiful soul. That’s why I love you, Charles Leclerc.” You say, and Charles presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

You sit up, turning to face Charles as you press your lips to his for a real kiss. You wrap your hands, which are still warm from holding the hot chocolate, around his neck to pull him closer as he deepens the kiss. Charles wraps his arms around your waist as he pulls you closer, but you’re interrupted as you wince and pull back.

“Are you okay?” Charles asks, his eyes wide with concern.

“Yeah, yeah, just no french kissing until this thing heals.” You say, sticking your tongue out to point at the silver ball.

“Noted.” Charles says, before gently pressing his lips to yours once again, only to quickly pull away.

“You okay? Does the piercing gross you out?” You ask, fiddling with the ball between your teeth.

“No, it’s not that, I actually kinda like it, actually. No, I left Arthur in my flat, he’s probably still terrified.” Charles says as he pulls out his phone to begin texting his brother.

“I have an idea.” You say, taking Charles’ phone out of his hand and opening the camera.

You snap a quick photo of you kissing Charles on the cheek, a shocked expression on his face.

You type a quick response and hit send, passing the phone back to Charles.

‘Not killing myself, got my tongue pierced. Your brother is cute, likes the taste of metal apparently.’

Charles reads the text and chuckles, shaking the head at your crude reference before wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You stay there on the roof together until it’s well past midnight. Christmas Day. Just staring at all the stars and constellations you once pretended to know to impress a boy you like. Who would have thought that, ten years later, you’d still be sat together under the stars, but this time, you both knew how much you loved one another.

[leth-writes]

Could you do Cassandra Cain headcanons with a gn reader who is the child of deathstroke and was raised by birth to become his apprentice and successor? (Reader inherited all of deathstroke’s enhancements)

Sure, I’d love to! Thank you so much for the request!

After what happened to Joey, and after Dick almost ‘corrupted’ Rose, Slade knew he’d never make the same mistake again. When you were born, a product of some affair he had, he knew he wouldn’t let anyone turn you from his side. He raised you, completely isolated, from everyone else. You weren’t allowed to talk to your siblings; hell, you didn’t even know you had siblings. 

Training began the moment you started showing powers. At the age of 3, you found your way into Slade’s supplies and cut yourself quite badly; while he was preoccupied with flashbacks to Joey’s injury, you had already completely healed. 

From that moment on, you wouldn’t know a normal childhood. Training began as early as possible, your strengthened intelligence and stamina meaning you could get away with less sleep, and lasted late into the night. Slade needed an apprentice to take on more complicated jobs, especially as the supervillains of the world got more creative.

You were never allowed to rest. Any time you slacked off, you risked losing a limb or getting stabbed, so you learned to always be ready to attack. 

He took you on your first job at only 10, forcing you to kill the target by holding the knife to his chest and forcing your hands down.

Something died in you that day, a little glimmer of hope died out.

Your reflexes kept you safe from that moment on as you went on autopilot. You were almost robotic; moving through your training with the grace of the acrobatic training Slade forced on you. Yet, there was no spark that defined your personality as a child.

You met Cassandra on the job, trying to kill a target in Gotham. It was the first time Slade had felt you were ready to go into Gotham by yourself, knowing you can hold your own against any of the bats.

The fight is long and brutal, but Cass ultimately wins. She pins you down and you close your eyes, ready for the pain to finally end… until it doesn’t. She stands up and she holds out her hand and that spark reignites.

Cass can tell, the second she sees you, that the two of you have a lot in common. She can tell by your body language alone that you don’t seem to feel… human. She can see the corded strength running through your body, but she can also see the pulsing emptiness eating away at you. Any longer and you would be swallowed whole, an empty vessel for Slade to shape to his will.

Cass has to teach you to care about life and about yourself again.

Growing up as you did, especially with a healing factor, made you not truly care about your body. You treated stab wounds with the seriousness of a papercut. Cass knows that this will only lead to further pain, so she works with you to appreciate your body. Yoga, meditation, therapy, exercise, and especially dance.

She uses dance to communicate her feelings normally, especially as someone who struggles to speak. She teaches you the language of dance so the two of you can communicate in your own way.

She gets you on a level the others can’t really get. It’s instinctual, the way she’s able to pick up on the subtle cues. Slade might’ve trained you out of expressing emotion, but he couldn’t completely remove the humanity. In return, you’re able to pick up on the emotions and feelings Cass is trying to express easier and more intuitively than anyone else.

After so many years of intensive training, you feel empty when you aren’t doing anything. Cass works to fill your days with gentle hobbies, like caring for the plants and animals of the manor, trying to reconnect you with the world and help you feel less unmoored. 

When you’re able to communicate effectively, expressing how you feel and how hurt you were by Slade’s actions, she’s so happy she gets you ice cream to celebrate.

Slade, of course, eventually notices his protege hasn’t returned. The concern isn’t fatherly, it’s purely business to him. He threatens to come force you back to his side, until Cass threatens him. The pure anger that radiated from her when he showed up on the manor’s doorstep was so strong Slade had no choice but to retreat. 

If the two of you pursue a romantic bond, she tries to really take her time and make sure you’re truly consenting. Being so isolated has led to you constantly denying your autonomy, and she takes great strides to convince you to express your thoughts and opinions. 

Cass isn’t the touchiest person, but her body language is so graceful and intuitive you don’t even notice. Besides, you’re still getting used to having boundaries, so you greatly enjoy being the only one in control of your body.

She prefers quiet dates at the manor; the press can be incredibly overwhelming, especially as she doesn’t speak much and you’re a reformed assassin. She’s half convinced you’d attack someone if you heard the insults that were spit her way.

Loves having long afternoons in the dance studio Bruce built, often devolving into watching her old dance competitions as she tries to teach you the moves. 

[ladykailitha]

All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 15

Hello! We finally get to Kenny’s plan and the last puzzle of the past drops into place. I’m not sure how much more of this story there is. I don’t want to rush the ending but it feels pretty close to me. If you have any ideas of what you would like to see before I get to the ending and the epilogue, put it in the comments or tags. I might not include all of them, but if I see something I like I’ll let you know.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

***

What Kenny’s plan was, no one knew and when they would ask, he would just smile at them.

But they really didn’t have time to dwell on whatever he was planning because Junior Prom was upon them and the four of them decided to go as group. Both Mandy and Edie were lesbians but they both knew if they showed up with other girls or even with each other, they would be turned away from the door. So Harri and Kenny were playing their beards so that they could go and have a little fun for a night.

Steve and Miri, Jeff’s wife, took the girls out shopping while while Eddie and Jeff took the boys out to get their tuxes.

Edie and Mandy tried on several dresses, with Edie deciding on long grey, almost Grecian style dress. But Mandy was at a loss before the seamstress came up with an idea.

She got together a few things and then shoved Mandy into the dressing room.

When Mandy walked out, Steve and Edie whistled and clapped. Mira looked her over with a raised eyebrow

“Damn, girl,” Edie said, “give us a twirl.”

Mandy spun slowly in place. She was wearing a long black shirt with the slits up the side that stop in the middle of her thigh. She had on a white tuxedo shirt and black suit jacket.

“If we nip the waist a little,” the seamstress was saying, “and give it a little bit more of an hour glass, it would be perfect.”

Mira stood up and walked over to her daughter. “Do you like it?”

Mandy chewed on her lip. “You don’t?”

Mira grabbed her by the shoulders. “That wasn’t the question, honey. It doesn’t matter what I or anyone else thinks, and that includes your dad. It passes that stupid fucking dress code list they gave us. Do. You. Like. It?”

Mandy nodded.

Mira turned to the seamstress. “How long will the alterations take?”

The seamstress cocked her and said, “Three days?”

Mira nodded. “Then we’ll buy the whole lot. Go pick out shoes and accessories, sweetie.”

Mandy jumped up and down excitedly. Edie grabbed her hand and they ran into the depths of the store to try on everything they could ever want to go with their dresses for prom.

“Ma’am?” the seamstress said. “Do you have the list with you? Of things that they have to adhere to?”

Mira shook her head.

“I do!” Steve said pulling it out of his pocket. “I brought it with me because I already tangled with the principal once this year, I figured two would be pushing it.”

He handed it to her.

The seamstress poured over the list very carefully. She grinned and turned to Mira.

“You want to make your daughter love you forever and still color inside the lines?”

Mira tilted her head. “I’m listening.”

After she told them her idea, Steve burst out laughing. “She’ll love it.”

Mira nodded. “Hell, yeah.”

*

The night of prom came along and everyone looked fucking fantastic. Kenny was in a traditional tux, while Harri paired his suit pants and black button up shirt with a leather jacket. The top three buttons were undone and he wore chains on his neck.

Edie paired her grey gown with a tarnished silver shrug jacket and matching kitten heels. She looked stunning, but the star of the night was Mandy. She wore black high heels with chunky crystal buckles on them which matched the rest of her jewelry. But what really set the outfit off was the tuxedo pants that she wore instead of the skirt.

The teacher at the door scoured the list for any sign that girls couldn’t wear slacks. But there wasn’t any and the teacher was forced to let them in. She scowled at them all for toeing the line without crossing it.

Edie and Harri stopped short when they saw who two of the parent chaperons were.

Standing on opposite sides of the gym trying to pretend the other wasn’t there were Steve and Eddie.

All three of Kenny’s friends turned to him in shock.

“How the hell did you managed that?”  Mandy asked, her eyes wide.

Kenny chuckled. “My mom is president of the PTA and on the dance committee. She is two things.” He held up two fingers. “Charming and persistent. My dad uses her to get the stingiest people to open their wallets for his pet charities all the time. I just merely suggested that your dads would be the perfect people for the job and let her do the work.”

Harri and Edie exchanged a glance.

“Huh,” Harri said. “Could work. Especially if you make them stop ignoring each other.”

Kenny looked over at them standing there awkwardly. “That might be the hardest part, yes.”

Harri ran his tongue over the top row of his teeth as a plan formed in his head. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

He marched up to his dad. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to a chaperon?”

Eddie winced. “I was hoping to get out of it, if I’m honest.” He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“It’s mortifying!” Harri insisted. “I’m going to be the talk of the school on Monday on how my lame ass dad was standing there awkwardly all night while Edie’s dad gets to be the cool chaperon!”

Eddie’s head reared back. “Hey! I can be cool too.”

Harri crossed his arms and leaned back on his foot. “We both know that you have been cool a single day in your life. The closest you get to cool is by proxy. Being in a rock band and working with cool people on their albums.”

“You little punk!” Eddie teased back, ruffling his son’s hair. “I’ll show you who’s cool.”

Harri scoffed. “Mr Harrington looks cooler than you and he’s just standing there.”

Eddie looked over at Steve who was wearing a classic tux. He had his hands shoved in his pockets as his eyes wandered over the throng of bouncing teenagers.

“After all according to Uncle Jeff,” Harri said, driving the point home, “he was prom king, super popular, and was actually called King Steve...you can’t get much cooler than that.”

Eddie scowled. “And did Uncle Jeff mention he was a bully, too?”

Harri half shrugged. “Kept the real bullies from doing real damage is what I heard.”

Eddie frowned. Okay, yeah. Fine.

“I can be cool.”

Harri lifted his chin. “Prove it.”

Eddie brushed past him and marched over to wear to Steve was standing.

Harri’s friends came up to him.

“What was that about?” Mandy asked.

“Yeah,” Kenny said. “Whatever you said seemed to light a fire under his ass.”

Harri just grinned. “One thing my dad can’t stand is being called uncool. So I may have poked the bear a bit.”  

Steve laughed and they all turned to see Eddie and him laughing at something Eddie had said.

“Congrats!” Edie said. “It worked.”

“Which means it’s party time!” Kenny said rubbing his hands together.

The other three cheered and got down to enjoying themselves.

*

Steve was going to get a migraine. Why did he agree to this? He had already caught three idiots trying to smuggle beer into the dance. This offended him greatly as he had managed to sneak in booze at all three dances he went to without being caught.

He just made sure that when he told the kid that, that he was out of hearing range of another chaperon or a student that might tattle. It was always the quiet ones you had look out for. They could be snitches or didn’t care and you were never sure which one you were going to get.

Eddie came up into him early in the dance and they had fun playing spot the idiot. Trying to figure out which ones had booze, which ones had weed, and which ones were out to do real harm.

Eddie actually managed to catch one kid with drugs. Actual drugs. They managed to confiscate it without alerting the principal or one of the other chaperons but that was a trip and half. One they weren’t going to tell their kids.

This was only one of the ‘highlights’ of the evening. The main one came when Edie saw Steve with a small plate of the little h'orderves and said something about it.

“I really hope that’s not all you’ve eaten today,” she said glaring at the plate.

Eddie who was nearby, frowned.

Steve scowled at her. “You had dinner with me earlier. You know it’s not.”

“But that was just a little meal to tide me over until I went out to eat with my friends,” Edie protested.

“And I ate more of it then you did,” Steve countered. “I’m fine, honey. Please just leave this alone. Go have fun with your friends. Don’t make tonight about this. Please.”

“I just don’t want you to faint again!” Edie hissed.

Steve turned and saw Eddie standing there. He turned to back her and said, “I’m done talking about this.”

He threw his food in the trash and stormed out the double doors. The banged shut behind him.

Edie gulped. Eddie raised an eyebrow at her and her shoulders slumped.

“I fucked up.”

“It certainly sounds that way,” Eddie said. “There is obviously something going on there, and you’re going to worry. But you have to understand, you’re his daughter. Not his wife or his mother or even his friend. You pushing him like this only making things worse.”

She folded her arms across her waist and looked away. “You sound like my therapist.”

Eddie scoffed. “Then maybe you should have been listening. Go back to your friends, Edie. Have fun. Stop being your dad’s keeper for a single night. Leave it to me.”

Edie nodded. “Tell him I’m sorry, will you?”

Eddie smiled. “Sure thing.”

He went to go tell another chaperon that he was going out for a smoke and followed Steve out the double doors.

*

Steve was pissed. He had told her over and over again not say anything in front of other people. And yet, she still did it all the time. This was the last straw. There was no way that Eddie didn’t hear her.

Who was pretty much the last person Steve wanted to know. But it was out of the bag now. The question was to tell him why.

A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see the worried expression on Eddie’s face. Of course he was going to tell him. He deserved to know. He just wished it had been on his schedule.

Eddie sat down next to him on the ground and bumped him gently with his shoulder.

He pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Steve, who took it gratefully. Eddie lit both their cigarettes and they smoked in silence for a moment.

“I was going to tell you,” Steve murmured. “About the time I collapsed. Fainted. Whatever. Just...”

“Not in a crowded gymnasium filled with horny teenagers?” Eddie asked.

Steve huffed out a chuckle. “Yeah.”

Eddie looked at him a moment before it clicked. He rolled his head back and licked his lips. “Fuck. It was just before Jay’s funeral, wasn’t it?”

Steve hung his head in shame. “I was at the airport on my way to England when I collapsed in the fucking boarding area.”

Eddie’s head snapped in Steve’s direction. “What?!”

“Edie doesn’t know about that part,” he admitted quietly. “Dustin told her that we were at the house when I fainted. I still don’t know how Dustin kept it out of the press. I suspect Nancy was involved.”

Eddie sighed. “What happened, Stevie?”

Steve let out a sob. “After Andy, I just got so depressed. So...broken. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep. I understand a lot people with depression actually sleep more. But not me. No, the Upside Down fucked that up too. Edie had just started school and Jeff had to take her.”

“Did he know why?” Eddie asked, gently. He wouldn’t be mad at Jeff if he knew about what happened and he didn’t. Look, he was fucked up, but he wasn’t that fucked up, you know? It was very personal for Steve and if Jeff and Dustin were the only people who knew, then Eddie was grateful damn it.

Steve shook his head. “Not until after the funeral.”

Eddie closed his eyes and opened them slowly. “I’m guessing he took Edie in while you were in the hospital?”

Steve nodded. “Dustin and Suzie couldn’t take her because he had to run the company. After the hospital I was put into on of those fancy rehab centers. Not for drugs or alcohol–”

“For your eating,” Eddie said getting it instantly.

Steve lifted his head as he tried to choke back tears. “Apparently the sports and my parents and the whole fucking Upside Down gave me a really unhealthy relationship with eating.”

Eddie flicked his cigarette out on the pavement and wrapped his arm around him. “I’m sorry you went through all that, sweetheart.”

Steve just started sobbing into his arm, unable to stop once the tears began.

“I’ve got you, Stevie,” Eddie murmured. “I’ve got you.” He kissed the top of Steve’s head fiercely. “I’m here now. It’s not okay and maybe it never will be, but I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

After awhile, Steve’s sobs slackened and he just finally relaxed.

“I didn’t tell you,” he murmured, “because I was afraid that if you knew, you’d pity me. I didn’t want to guilt you into being with me.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “You still...”

Steve nodded. “But not yet. I can’t–I just...not yet.”

Eddie hugged him tighter. “Oh sweetheart, I waited twenty years thinking you didn’t return my feelings, I think I can wait at least that knowing that you do.”

Steve took the ring off his hand and slipped it back on Eddie’s right hand, where it belonged. “This is my promise to you. I do want to be with you. Just...I need more time.”

Eddie looked at the ring on his finger and smiled up at Steve. “We’ll still be friends, right?”

Steve let out a watery laugh. “Oh yeah! You’ve got me for life, Munson. You’ll find I’m like a cockroach that way. You’ll never be rid of me now.”

Eddie grinned. “Yeah, okay. I think I can work with that.”

Steve lurched to his feet. “We should probably get back in there before someone decides to burn the school down.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, there is probably a version of me in there and I shouldn’t leave them alone for very long.”

Steve laughed too. “Yeah, but it’s the prom king you should look out for.”

Eddie put his arm around Steve’s shoulder and led them back into the gym. “Yeah, why’s that?”

“Because I’m pretty sure I saw him spike the teachers’ table’s punch.”

Eddie blinked. “You mean the punch that was already eighty percent alcohol?”

Steve hummed in response.

“Dead god,” Eddie said wide-eyed. “Those poor teachers are going to have the worst hangovers tomorrow.”

“Not you?” Steve asked, leaning into the warmth that was Eddie Munson.

“Nah, babe,” he said, pulling out a hip flask. “Rule number one of any high school dance is never trust the punch.”

Steve laughed as they walked back through the double doors and back to the dance.

***

Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @trashpocket @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @mightbeasleep @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @trashpocket @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @steddie-as-they-go @lillemilly @callas-shitshow @bisexualdisastersworld @renaissan-vvitch @immortal-iratze @bookbinderbitch @cardigangoth @lilacrobin @nightmareglitter @nerdsconquerall @stxrcrossed186 

[tojisbbygworl]

Just For The Night - Hobie Brown x Black!Punk!Reader epilogue

Summary: Two anarchists thought one night was all they had. Only one of them accepted it.

Characters: Mentioned-Miguel, Gwen

Featured-Hobie, Miles

Words: 4,090

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Angst, Bittersweet, Hurt/Comfort, Hobie needs a hug, Sexually Explicit Thoughts, Mentions of Sex, Yandere if you squint, Doesn’t follow ATSV events, Miles/Gwen 17+, Hobie and You 21+Yearning, The authors barely disguised obsession with Older Brother Hobie/Younger Brother Miles head cannon, Slight OOC

author’s note: the moment y’all have been waiting for, the angsty epilogue and the FINAL part to JFTN. This lil series was very fun to imagine and I’m gonna miss these two, Ik y’all will too.

Okay have fun hope y’all cry!

Part 1 Part 2

AO3 Version

My AO3

Masterlist

"Come on...come on..." Hobie's tongue rested on his upper lip as he concentrated on finishing his latest project...his own interdimensional watch.

It was easy, really. There's so much tech laying around HQ that Miguel won't notice a couple gadgets missing from his arsenal. Hobie was a master of pick-pocketing and Miguel should know better. In fact, he should have expected this, what with being the leader of an elite group of superpowered geniuses. He bets he's not even the only one who's made their own and everyone else is just keeping it under wraps. Or at least, that what he tried to tell Miles.

"Don't listen to that arse," he had whispered to him upon leaving Miguel's 'lair', as everyone liked to put it. It was the day after their little get together and Hobie's...ahem...escapades. As he had expected, they were caught. It's really all Hobie's fault for staying with Y/N so long, but Miles definitely placed all the blame on himself. Miguel was his usual annoyed and angry self, but since it was directed at them, and Miles was such a people pleaser, he scared him good. Miles looked like a ghost leaving that room with Hobie. "He'll forget about it in a week, trust."

Unfortunately, his words went unheard as Miles continued to stare at the ground while they walked. Hobie pat him on the back. "Oi, cut yourself some slack. So you got in trouble for the first time, there's many more to come what with a boss man like that."

"Y-Yeah..." the kid managed to squeak out. Hobie frowned feeling regretful. It hurt seeing him so dejected. Needless to say, Hobie would not be asking Miles to dimension-hop any time soon, not that he would even want to.

Gwen gave Hobie an earful too; Miles was so afraid of being caught again that he only wanted to meet at HQ, much to her displeasure. "You better fix this," she said, finger waving angrily in his face.

So, here he was, many months later with his 3rd prototype, hoping and praying that it would work. He already ran the idea across Miles who swiftly rejected it. He was shocked at how many things Hobie had to steal to work on it, and his conscious would never allow for that. That's fine, Hobie can do all the stealing for him.

"Why are you doing this anyway?" Miles asked him on his 2nd prototype.

"Why not?" He obnoxiously responded. Miles huffed and rolled his eyes. “Maybe I want to see my bro again without Miguel hounding him for it.” He suggested. “Gonna make you your own when I’m done with this one.”

Miles held his hands up and shook his head. “Woah, nuh-uh. No sir. I don’t want nothing to do with that.”

Hobie shrugged. “Fine, then. I’ll make it for Gwendy instead.”

He seemed fine with that, and Hobie knew that at some point he would warm up to the idea of having his own watch. Until then, he didn’t mind traveling over to Earth-1610 whenever he could.

Hobie had to be completely honest with himself. Them getting caught and Miles’s paranoia was the the original reason he began this project, but it wasn’t the only reason. There was someone else he was trying to see on Earth-1610.

Since that day, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Often times he was caught daydreaming by his friends and colleagues alike. Hobie was never someone who had their head the clouds, it was very jarring to see. During these moments he was remembering her sweet voice, her amazing personality and even better music taste.

He had so much respect for her and what she’d been through. He wished he could just give her a hug. Pick her up and take her to where she’ll be safe. With him. For as long as possible.

He also remembered how mesmerized he was seeing her face for the first time. And her body. Her tits constrained by her fishnets with her nipples pressing against the string. How sweet she tasted while she gushed into his mouth, how good it felt when she squeezed herself around him, and wishing he could have came inside her instead of a condom. He’s become the owner to many injuries during missions and countless teasing from his band mates.

All the more reason to finish this watch as quickly as possible. Clearly, his brain was telling him that he needed to see her again. He needs to hear her voice, feel her touch, lick her clit, make her scream his name.

Okay, he was getting a bit carried away, but the point was, as time went on, the ache in his chest grew, and found himself missing her more and more. He’s been spending all of his free time on this hunk of junk, he needed to finish this for his own sanit-

There was a small beeping sound. Then, light.

“Oh, shit!” He exclaimed as it turned on. So as to not fuck it up, he placed it down gently onto his desk and backed away from it. When he tried to turn on the 1st one, it sparked then died. And the second turned on completely only to blow up in his face soon after.

He took in a deep breath, “Okay.” Grabbing the device with his sweaty hands, he pressed a few buttons. 1-6-1-0.

He stepped back and watched the portal open. He gave himself some time to calm down after jumping around and pumping his fists in the air, took another deep breath, and walked in…

…only to end up inside of his own bedroom.

“Ugh,” he threw his head back and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. So he created a watch that could make portals, just not inter dimensional ones. That’s okay. It’s a start. Next time, he’ll get it.

~

Okay, so he didn’t get it next time. This time, it goes to the wrong universe. It’s always nice seeing Spider-Sun anyway. It’s cool. It’s whatever. Next time.

~

So he didn’t get it right again, what’s the big deal? So what if this one only goes to one universe even though his last watch could do multiple? Next time for sure.

~

It caught on fire.

~

It melted.

~

This one just fell apart.

~

By the 15th attempt, Hobie was burned out. At this point, he was just doing it out of boredom. He was close to calling it quits, but something was telling him not to give up. The next one, for sure.

“Pfft, yeah right.” he scoffed to himself after turning on the 16th and final prototype. If this one didn’t work, then that was it. Gwen would just have to deal.

He stared at the forming portal in complete disinterest. At least it turned on this time, but he had the strongest feeling that this one was defective. Why wouldn’t it be? All the other ones were.

Hobie sighed and walked through it, ready to end up in the middle of a jungle in some other dimension. “Just one last time…”

~

Y/N’s not sure what she’s still doing awake. It was extremely late and she had accepted an early booking tomorrow. She should be asleep, it’s never good to tattoo when you’re sleepy. However, her body just refused to relax.

She was bored as all hell scrolling through Instagram and Twitter on her phone. There was nothing else better to do. She already smoked, ate, and gotten ready for bed. From her laptop the theme song to Pretty Little Liars echoed through the room.

Almost every night was this way, relaxing in the comfort of her own home, a show playing on her computer or music through her speaker, eating pasta, a joint in her hand. And as calming as it was, as much as she needed this serenity in her life, she wished there was more.

She’s not entirely sure what she means by ‘more’. She goes out with friends a lot, but after an hour or two, her head starts to hurt from the weed and alcohol and all she wishes is to be in her soft comfy bed. No, she definitely didn’t mean partying or nightlife. She had the smallest inkling that there was something out there. Something bigger than her. She wanted it so badly, but she doesn’t even know what ‘it’ is.

The last time she felt any sort of rush or excitement was months ago, the night of the concert. Whew. That man, Hobie, was the finest looking thing she had seen for a while. She doesn’t know what got into her that night, telling him all her business like that. Was she insane?

Was he? He did tell her he had killed a cop, and he proudly wears his achievement. As he should. She really really liked that about him. His boldness. And he wasn’t just that, he was also kind and respectful, even though she would have let him do whatever he wanted to her without having to ask.

He wasn’t afraid to let her know that he wanted her, badly. And that was probably the most attractive thing about him.

She woke up that morning feeling stupid when the cold bed made her heart pang and eyes water. Why was she even sad? This is what they agreed on. He finished the roach with her, took down her hair, fell asleep sucking on her tit, then left at some point during the night. No problems, no complaints. Maybe that’s what made her so sad.

She wished he stayed until she woke up, or at the very least, shook her awake when he was getting ready to leave. But, it’s on her for having a crush on him.

It got better as time went on. She still missed him dearly, but she began to accept that he was just one of those people you meet once and then never see again, but that you’ll never forget. She does know that if it was possible, she would be open to seeing him again, but it wasn’t.

Hobie wasn’t the only guy who had been plaguing her mind for the past few months. Recently, she found herself becoming more intrigued with Spider-Man. He was an enigma, no one really knew much about him or where he came from after Peter Parker’s death. She heard he was Puerto Rican, which she thought was pretty cool.

What intrigued her was sometimes Spider-Man wasn’t around. It happened around a year ago, now. He used to be everywhere. At every problem in Brooklyn from petty crime to another monster of the week. At some point last year, some crazy scientist at Alchemax had turned himself into a lizard and almost turned everyone else in the city into one too until he came flying in at the last moment. After that, it’s been extremely close calls. Y/N’s friend, Kailani, witnessed the whole thing from where the both of them were supposed to meet up. She said Spider-Man came in through a portal in the sky. Weird.

Things always turned out right in the end. Somehow, someway, he would show up eventually. But Y/N wondered, what could be keeping him so occupied?

The water from the shower turned off and she heard the curtains draw. After 15 minutes of rumbling in the bathroom, the door opened. She put her phone down to acknowledge the presence in her bed room. “Still awake, ma?”

She nodded although knowing he was about to join her made her eyes a bit heavy. Mattias turned off the light and hopped in bed. With his head on her chest, she felt warm and comfy as he completely engulfed her body. He was shirtless and had his arm around her waist. That along with the insulation from the blanket almost made her knock out.

Mattias put her phone on the nightstand. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” she said jokingly.

“You always looking at that thing,” he answered. “Time to give me attention.”

“Well that’s too damn bad ‘cause I’m about to go to sleep.”

He smacked his teeth. “So you can be awake all this time but as soon as I want to get in bed with you, you want to sleep?” She didn’t answer, giving him a fake snore as a response. “Ight, then.”

He starts to roll over in the bed until she grasps his torso. He laughs and adjusts the both of them so that her head was laying on his chest instead. “You still want to go to sleep, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” she says, her brain already shutting down.

“Go to sleep then, pretty girl.”

Ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of her head to check her blinds, she drifted off into a deep and comforting sleep, her last thoughts being Hobie, Spider-Man, and the unknown. She could feel in her heart that there was more to the world than it seemed (apparently scientists are theorizing the existence of alternate dimensions) and she desperately wanted to know more about it. Maybe even see it for herself. But, right now she was just a girl (wanted felon but whatever) who lived in a small apartment in Brooklyn, working at a tattoo and piercing shop and occasionally getting involved with dudes from Queens like the one laying in her bed currently. He probably wouldn’t be there next week and the week after there’ll be a different one. And she was okay with that…

…Hobie was far from okay.

When he stepped through the portal he walked to the edge of the building’s rooftop. When he looked at the gigantic Koka-Kola billboard he knew he was in the right place. “Finally,” he yelled. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, an overwhelming sense of pride filling him.

On another billboard, the time was 1:01 am. “Shit,” he said to himself pulling his mask over his face. He immediately got to swinging towards where he remembered she lived. “I hope she’s up.” And even if she wasn’t , he would come see her another day.

When he turned on the corner of her apartment building, he let out a silent “yes”. He could see her room light was on through her window. But, before he could reach it, he paused and took a second to think.

How was he going to greet her again? It was 1 in the morning, and she hadn’t seen him for a while. She thought she would never see him again. How would she feel about him knocking on her door right now? How would that make him look?

Hmm…maybe he didn’t think this through all the way. He should go then come back at a better time…but, what time would be better? He doesn’t know her schedule and he won’t know what time it is. Shit…what should he do?

Okay, maybe he won’t talk to her tonight. He has to come up with a better plan. But, at the very least, he just has to see her.

His heart grows frantic as he swings to her rooftop. He jumped side to side for a minute and took some deep breaths to psych himself up. Then, he climbed off the roof and down to her window. To anyone else, this would have been creepy and an insane invasion of privacy, but Hobie couldn’t find it in him to care. He ignored everything in him telling him this was a bad idea.

He should have listened.

When he first laid his eyes on her again, he felt the butterflies he felt that night, but tenfold. She was just on her phone, obviously bored. He wanted to kiss her and watch her poker face turn into a cute smile. She looked adorable with her little bonnet and oversized t-shirt. He was so busy admiring her that he failed to notice the man walking in until she acknowledged him first.

Watching some guy waltz into her room like he lived there, pants hanging low and his shirt missing almost made him fall. All he could do was stare as that same guy plopped onto her and her bored look became happy. Hobie watched the two of them fall asleep in each other’s arms then crawled back to the roof and sat on the ledge.

His mask made him expressionless, But underneath it, he was hurt. He looked at his hands in defeat. He tried to be numb, but then he continued to think about what had just happened. He was desperate to see her again, to talk to her, to hold her, to kiss all her problems away. Now that he had his new watch, he could have had something with her. But he couldn’t think that anymore.

His chest twisted and curdled in anxiety and dejection. He had to admit it, he was heartbroken. He knew the two of them had a connection that night. He knew she felt it. The second round was just as good if not better than the first. She rode him in her bed slowly and sensually. His voice cracked so much that night, she had him absolutely gone. ‘I wish I could stay inside you’. Why would she tell him she wanted the same? Was it just sex?

He’s being ridiculous. He knows what happened: she moved on.

He didn’t want her to. He really didn’t want her to. He should have told her that he would see her again. He should have…done something.

Hobie lifted his legs and turned around to sit down on the roof. With his legs angled and knees in the air, he pulled off his mask to reveal his anguished face.

Hobie looked into the night sky. He was way too hung up on this girl. Look at him, sitting on her roof fighting tears because she has someone who isn’t him. Serves him right for getting a crush.

Man, maybe Miguel has a point about universe-hopping.

bonus

Tap Tap Tap

Groggy as all hell, Miles blinked slowly as the sound on the window woke him up. He looked in annoyance quickly shifting to happiness then worry once he realized who it was. “Hobie?” He checked the time on his phone that was charging next to him. “After 1:15 in the morning, bro?”

Miles stood up and cracked his back. Hobie moved to the side as the window opened and took off his mask. “‘Ight man, what’s up? Anomaly? Miguel?” He sounded dead tired, but once he saw his downtrodden expression, his nerves were on 10. “You okay?”

It wasn’t the first time they sat atop the dormitory’s roof, but it felt different now. The mood was serene but heavy. Hobie hadn’t really said a word, just messing with something in his lap. He had started climbing and Miles followed.

Hobie was sitting up with his legs crossed whereas Miles laid on his back a bit of a distance away. His hands behind his neck, he stared at the star speckled dark blue sky. Every once in a while he stole a look at Hobie’s back. It was beginning to scare him just how quiet he was. He seemed out of it, he’s never seen him like this before.

But, he wouldn’t push him if he wasn’t ready. Maybe he just needed to be with someone right now.

Still, he wanted him to say something. “So,” he started, Hobie turning his head only slightly to indicate that he had heard him. “You finished that watch then?”

He smirked and huffed. “Yeah, I did.”

The small joy Miles felt from getting him to talk was fleeting. Hobie tensed up again and went back to fiddling with said device. He couldn’t believe how excited he was to finish this thing…to see her.

He sighed and laid on his back as well. Miles held his breath waiting for him to say something. “Miles…I’m sorry.”

The boy furrowed his brows. “What for?”

“I don’t think I ever properly apologized for getting us into trouble like that.” A distant star passed through the sky. “I know how much this job means to you. I was being reckless.”

Miles smacks his teeth and smiles. “Man, don’t even worry about it.” He closes his eyes. It was nice to hear that apology, even though he would never dream of holding what happened over his head. “I know what you was doin.”

They laughed together. Then, Hobie’s small smile faded and it got quiet once more. “I went to see her again.”

“I thought so.”

“She found someone.”

Miles hisses and rests on his elbows to look at him. “Damn,” He sits up fully. “I’m sorry, bro. That must suck.”

Hobie sighs. “Yeah. Lil’ bit.”

“Hey, don’t feel too bad. I bet she missed you just as much as you missed her.” He comforts. Hobie thinks about what he said for a minute. He hopes he was right. He hopes she wanted him to come back to her, but accepted that he wasn’t.

“That’s a nice thought,” he answers. ‘Missed ’ was an understatement.

From the way he grew quiet again, Miles could tell that Hobie’s heart was very heavy. He didn’t really know what to say. Miles wasn’t exactly an expert in relationships, or women in general; he was still trying to figure out his. But, he knows that if he ever found out Gwen was seeing someone else, he would need a big fat hug. So that’s what he did.

He got right next to Hobie and squeezed his shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. Hobie nodded and looked into the sky.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know…”

“…Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Will you at least watch over her for me? Make sure your dad doesn’t get his hands on her, yeah?”

Miles laughed. Of course the only girl he’s ever seen Hobie get choked up over is wanted by the police. To which extent, he didn’t know. And he really didn’t want to find out. “Yeah, I got you.”

bonus bonus

“You’re fucking lying.”

“I’m telling you, girl. Cameron said he saw Spider-Man outside your window.”

“What was Cameron doing outside at 1 in the morning?”

“Who cares what he was doing? Spider-Man is keeping tabs on you. Maybe you’ve been targeted by an evil scientist. Or some shit.”

“Stop playing.”

“Spider-Man might be following you around. Tell him I said hiiiiii~.”

“Bye, girl.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N hung up her phone. Tati had frantically texted her in the middle of a piercing walk-in saying it was an ‘urgent matter’. Thankfully, her client was cool enough to let her answer while she continued.

“What was that all about?” The boy asked her. He was a nice kid, and very nervous for his first piercing. The whole situation was a bit strange. He walked in with a friend and a guy that looks absolutely nothing like the either of them who couldn’t shut up about how he met Spider-Man the other day. Then he signed the written consent form and dipped.

“My home girl calling me about some crazy shit,” she answered, almost done preparing her station. “She thinks Spider-Man is spying on me.”

The boy cackles really hard and wipes his eye. She didn’t think it was that funny, but whatever floats his boat. “What?” He wheezed. “That’s insanity.”

“I know, right?” She took the alcohol wipe and cleaned his cartilage. He started shaking a little, and she could see how small his pupils were. He was also…really sweaty. Teenage boys.

“You okay?” She asked. “You didn’t eat, right?” He shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he said nervously. He was a bad liar. “Just…excited.” A really bad liar.

“Just relax, okay? I’ll take care of you.” She clamps his ear and he yelps. The both of them stare at each other. “This yo last chance.”

He takes a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay then.” She grabbed the needle and prepared to puncture it through his ear. He was trying so hard to be brave but man this kid was afraid. She laughed a bit. “I promise it’s not that bad…what’s your name again?”

“Oh, it’s Mi-AHH!” It was over just as quickly as it started. She was right. It wasn’t as bad. Now he just had to worry about what he would tell his parents when they saw him with it. “…miles…”

“Okay, Miles. We’re all good.”

ending a/n: okay now that’s it! Y’all ain’t getting nothing else from this lil series so don’t ask!

Fr tho guys, this was rly nice to write. Hobie is a lil OOC to me here but I can’t help but write men being absolutely obsessed with their girl it’s my favorite flavor.

Also thank you for choosing the epilogue for those of you who did bcs not only do I not have any business starting a whole new story while I’m literally in the middle of two, I really was gonna break yalls hearts with the story. Y’all would have been MAD AT ME! Shit, I would have been mad at myself.

Anyway, pls check out my other ATSV fics and Toji if you’re into him. Finish this off by saying please go see Rico Nasty live before you die, stay super freaky, have great vagina, I luv yaaaaa🩵

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