#slowly getting more chapters here i promise | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

handful0fteeth · 3 months

Text

i was made for lovin' you, baby

chapter 2 of my Funny How Love Is series. read chapter 1 here summary: following the success of your first date, you and Steve catch a movie together. or, at least, that's the plan - before Steve discovers you've shown up to the date with no panties.

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, minors DNI, (light) exhibitionism, dirty talk (a lot of it), steve harrington has a big ole monsterc*ck, tooth rotting fluff, multiple orgasms

words: 16.3k

Miraculously, you survive.

Not without a thorough verbal lashing, but that was to be expected. The moment you walk through your front door, you’re bombarded with questions, and your outfit is fussed with – you don’t think you’ve ever experienced more blind panic in your life than when you have to snatch your skirt out of your mother’s prying hands before you accidentally flash her.

She yells. A lot. You endure it only because the fearful tremor of her voice makes your stomach churn with guilt. You're silent when she demands to know what was so goddamned important you couldn’t bother to pick up a phone to call home, because you can’t very well tell her the actual reason, that you were pretty preoccupied with your longtime crush sucking your soul out of your pussy and so time just sort of…slipped away.

After forty-five minutes, your mother finally quiets and slumps into her recliner, exhausted. You are sent upstairs with a, “If you ever scare me like that again, I will chain you to the foundation of this house. Do you understand me?” You promise you’ll never be out this late without a courtesy call back home explaining your absence, and she waves you away, satisfied for the moment.

You jump in the shower, not because you’re eager to wash Steve’s lingering scent off your skin, but because you’re uncomfortably sticky from the slick smeared between your thighs and the sweat cooling beneath your clothes. Your body is pleasantly warm, even without the water cascading over it, and remnants of that dreamlike serenity you experienced while straddling Steve’s lap swirls around your brain like mist. It enables your thoughts to wander as you scrub shampoo into your scalp.

You imagine Steve in here with you, hair slicked out of his face and soap lingering on his skin, bending down to kiss you while his hands roam the expanse of your body. You didn’t see him naked tonight, but God, you want to. It’s so easy to picture droplets of water clinging to the thatch of dark hair between his hips, and easier still to envision yourself following the thin trail above it with your tongue as you sink to your knees.

After a while, you aren’t even focused on getting clean anymore. You’re just tilted against the slippery tile wall, hands dancing idly over your wet skin as you lose yourself in your fantasies. You forget the amount of attention your pussy’s been shown tonight until you absently reach down to massage your clit, and the ache that bounces up into your stomach makes you hiss through your clenched teeth. Okay, you think, twisting the faucet off and peeling back the shower curtain. Definitely no more of that tonight.

Exhaustion hits the moment you cross the threshold into your bedroom. You toss your towel over the back of a chair and dive beneath your covers, resolving to call Kelsey in the morning and rub in her face just how proficient Steve Harrington is at eating pussy.

It seems like you’ve just shut your eyes when your mother’s voice rouses you from slumber. You can barely make out the vague syllables of your name as you pry one open and holler back, “Yeah?”

“You have a phone call!”

“Tell Kelsey I’ll be there in a second!” You sit up slowly, scrubbing your eyes and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. There’s no helping the low groan that slips past your lips as you stand. You’re sore – your thighs burn with every step you take to grab a robe off the back of your door, and your jaw clicks as you loose a yawn.

“It’s not Kelsey!” Mom shouts. “It’s that Harrington boy you went out with last night!”

That was fast. Delicious memories from the night before flood your brain, and your cheeks burn as you knot the belt on your robe and burst into the hallway. You descend the steps two at a time, and in your haste, you nearly tackle your mother as you rip the phone from her.

“Ow, Jesus! Bent my goddamn fingers back, Y/N!” she snaps, shaking out her hand and retreating to the living room with a sour look on her face.

You mouth a silent apology at her back before inhaling deeply through your nose and rolling your shoulders. There isn’t time to practice your best “nonchalant” voice, so you hope for the best as you bring the phone’s receiver to your lips.

“Hello?” Your voice cracks. Of course it does.

Steve doesn’t seem to notice, thank God. “Good morning, beautiful. How’d you sleep?”

You tangle your fingers within the curls of the phone cord and lean against the wall, butterflies fluttering their wings against the inside of your ribcage. That smooth, carefree confidence drips from his voice like honey, and you can’t even see him, but you know he’s smiling, so the corners of your mouth twitch upward in return.

“Wonderfully. You?”

“Like a baby. I was just about to head off to work, but I wanted to call to check in about last night, make sure you were…yanno, still okay with everything.”

“I’m still very, very okay, Steve,” you promise. You scan the kitchen and poke your head around the wall to peer into the living room, ensuring your mother isn’t secretly eavesdropping. She’s taking sips of coffee between glances at her magazine and the morning news, but you still lower your voice and turn your face tighter toward the phone when you respond.

“I think the evidence of how okay I am is staining your backseat.”

Steve chuckles, and you bite your bottom lip as your face flushes.

“Good point,” he says. “I also was wondering if, maybe, possibly…you were free again tonight?”

You’re sure you'd spit your heart onto the floor if it bounced harder into your throat. Is he asking you out again? Two days in a row? You knot the phone cord so tightly around your fist that the flesh starts to go white.

“Oh, yeah, absolutely, I’m free,” you say, forcing yourself to sound normal and not like an overexcited middle schooler. “Did you, uh, have something in mind?”

“Well, I get off work early tonight, so if you’re interested…I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. You catch your mother giving you an odd look over the lip of her mug before you turn your back to her. “Y-Yeah, absolutely, I’d love to catch a movie.”

“Sweet. I’ll be done at five. I can pick you up after?”

“I’ll just meet you,” you counter, “Family Video’s not that far from my house.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

It’s not that you don’t want Steve to pick you up – it’s moreso that you know your mother will want to talk to him, and you aren’t ready to subject him to her well-intentioned interrogations just yet, not when she’s likely still a little hot about your late arrival last night.

“Alright, you’ll meet me at five, then,” Steve concedes.

“Sounds like a plan. Mind telling me what we’re seeing?”

“Back to the Future.”

You furrow your brow a bit. You thought everyone in Hawkins had seen that movie by now since it came out three months ago, and had assumed it’d already trickled out of the theaters in favor of being burned onto DVDs.

“I didn’t peg you as a sci-fi nerd,” you admonish playfully, and Steve huffs in amusement.

“I tried to watch it when it first came out but, uh…well, I had stuff going on that night, and then Starcourt burnt down….” He trails off, but you nod and suck your teeth in acknowledgment.

You remember the news about the mall burning down the morning after it happened – the police surmised a couple of dumb kids snuck into the building after it had closed and decided it would be a good idea to set off fireworks on the Fourth. Your mother shook her head at the newspaper that day, steaming mug abandoned on the table in front of her and hand pressed mournfully to her mouth. You’d snuck a peek over her shoulder, and Detective Jim Hopper had stared reproachfully back at you, beneath a headline announcing his untimely demise as a hero. His and Heather Holloway’s names were the only ones you’d really recognized in the expansive list of casualties, and you weren’t even close to Heather. You’d had one meaningless conversation with her during one of her shifts at the pool because Kelsey mentioned a band she was traveling to see, and Heather overheard and announced her plans to go to that very same concert – one in Indianapolis, in August. Needless to say, Kelsey was the only one who made that trip.

The second-only movie theater in Hawkins burned with Starcourt, and now all that’s left is The Hawk downtown, in all its crumbling, dusty glory.

“Yeah, I guess scooping ice cream waits for no man, huh?” you ask slyly. You’d never gone to Scoops Ahoy when it existed, mainly because you didn’t trust yourself to not sound like a stuttering idiot if you tried to order from Steve, but you’d never deny yourself the indulgent glances you’d steal from across the food court at him. He was the only man you’d ever seen make sailor shorts and a dixie-cup hat look sexy.

“Hey, I was doin’ much more than scooping ice cream.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Just, yanno…helping some friends with some…stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Stuff.”

You snort.

“Important stuff,” he adds, and you nod.

“Is there any other kind?”

“None that I know of. See you in a few hours?”

“Definitely,” you say.

“Awesome. I gotta go, I have to pick up my friend so we can carpool. I’ll see you later, baby.”

The line clicks dead, and you’re left standing against the wall, wrapped up in the phone cord and blushing bright scarlet as the dial tone groans at you.

Baby.

If Steve never uses your real name again and exclusively calls you “baby” forever, you’ll die a happy woman. You spin around to disentangle yourself and slam the receiver back down on the hook, clasping the front of your robe shut as you hurry back up the stairs.

“I’m going out again tonight!” you call over your shoulder. “With Steve!”

“And what will happen if you’re out past curfew again without calling home?” your mother yells back. You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, chain me to the foundation, I heard you!”

“Just checking! Oh, and Y/N?”

You pause in your bedroom doorway, robe already halfway shucked off. “Yes?”

“When do I get to meet this Harrington boy?”

“Oh, uh, you know…!” You shut your door quickly.

~~~

You have too many clothes.

You come to this conclusion as you’re standing naked in front of your closet, half of its contents belched out into a pile on the floor, hair and makeup already over an hour old. You’ve never thought so hard about what to put on your body in your entire life. The cold air dribbling through your cracked window suggests that you wear pants. But you hate all the clean options in your drawers, so maybe a skirt with some leggings? But then what do you wear on top – something dressy, casual, or a little bit of both?

You blow out a harsh puff of air and flop unceremoniously to the floor, landing on your ass with a thud. Maybe you’ll just go naked. That’ll go off without a hitch, right?

Ultimately, you build your outfit around a plaid skirt you haven’t worn since the previous year's winter. It’s snug on your hips, almost too snug, and as you bend to slip some plain white Keds on, you feel the waistline dig into the soft skin of your belly. The feeling isn’t unbearable, and the skirt makes your ass look stellar, so you decide it’ll be worth the discomfort and the slight waddle you must walk with. Only after you’ve shrugged a denim jacket over a well-loved Heart t-shirt and have your hand on the doorknob to leave do you consider something: your panties.

They’re cute and simple, and you’re sure Steve would praise your choice of undergarment even if they were beige granny panties, but…wouldn’t he be far more surprised if he hiked your skirt up and found no panties at all? You bite your lip.

Well…if last night is anything to go by, he’d just steal these panties, too, right? And then you’d be down two pairs, and you aren’t made of money. You can’t just replace the pairs he tucks away as memorabilia continuously, can you? It’s a smarter, more fiscally responsible decision to go commando, you reason.

Stomach flipping and cheeks burning red hot, you shimmy your underwear down your legs and kick them toward the hamper in the corner of the room.

~~~

You can’t pry your thoughts away from the breeze tickling between your thighs the entire walk to Family Video.

You’d intended to drive the family car here, but your mother was already clutching the keys and shrugging her jacket on as you plodded down the stairs, citing that she’d had plans to meet some girlfriends for a drink, so you’d have to figure out different transportation. You were only sort of pouty about it, but mostly very brave – if you consider loudly complaining at your mother’s back that she must hate you and want you to get kidnapped as she scurried out the front door as “brave,” that is. Luckily, Family Video is a relatively brief walk if you navigate the forest behind your neighborhood as opposed to trying to follow the main road through town.

Before last night, you had never even considered going anywhere without panties – it seemed like a thing women only did in pornos. But now, here you are, out and about in the middle of the woods, pussy completely exposed beneath a skirt that’s barely long enough to cover the swell of your ass. It’s…oddly invigorating. And far more arousing than you would’ve imagined.

The autumnal chill of October seeps through your jacket, sending chills up and down your bare legs, and you wrap the sides tighter around your waist to preserve what little warmth you still have. A few older couples, folks out for an evening walk, you gather, eye you up and down in confusion – or pity – as you shiver past them, and you can’t help but be a little envious of their thick woolen coats and long knitted pants. But the thought of Steve realizing you’ve shown up for your date without panties, and his eyes darkening with arousal as he hitches your legs up to your chest, hot breath ghosting over your exposed flesh as he gazes at you in the way that makes you feel like the single most desirable thing on the planet…

It’s more than worth being a little chilly.

The dark green exterior of the Family Video is almost entirely blocked by a swarm of patrons when you reach the parking lot. You should’ve expected this, seeing as the weekend has just begun, but the sight makes you swallow hard and self-consciously smooth a hand over the front of your skirt. A majority of the clientele for the evening seems to be rowdy teenage boys who raucously mill about the parking lot, some smoking cigarettes, others performing tricks on their skateboards. Shit.

You take a deep, steadying breath and lift your chin as you cut through the drifting crowds filtering in and out of the store. You tuck your hands behind your back as you walk, trying to appear casual as you slide them down over your butt and pin the fabric of your skirt in place. A giggling teenage girl blows a pink bubble with her gum as she holds the door open for you, and you flash her a thankful smile.

The air in the store is warm and a little stuffy, the smell of dust, candy, and stale popcorn hanging like fog between the doorway and the checkout counter. People amble around, most chattering with friends as they bemusedly pick up DVDs and scan the front and back covers for something that piques their interest. An unsupervised little girl shrieks as she darts past you, clenching The Care Bears Movie against her chest as she begs her mom to buy it.

A lithe, busy-looking girl paces behind the counter, wearing a green vest with Family Video emblazoned in bright orange lettering on the lapel. Her hair is a dirty, warm blonde and curls softly just beneath her chin, and her angular features are pinched together in apparent dismay as she worries a chipped blue thumbnail between her teeth. You progress toward her slowly, tapping on the counter’s surface to gain her attention. Despite what you thought was a markedly careful and delicate approach, the girl almost flings herself over the counter’s edge, gasping and exclaiming in surprise.

“Sorry! Sorry, um, hi, I’m Y/N, I’m supposed to be meeting Steve here?” you say hurriedly, and the girl blinks her round blue eyes at you. Silence falls gracelessly between the two of you, and you’re sure it only lasts a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity lapses in the seconds the girl’s unblinking gaze is fixed on your face.

It’s…a little unnerving, you’ll admit.

She squints, like she’s trying to glean more information from the nervous smile you’ve pasted on your lips, then snaps her fingers and points in your direction as a sudden realization dawns on her.

“I sat on your underwear!” she announces, loud enough for a father and young child to turn their heads and stare at you both in confusion. If you weren’t trying to conceal your ass from what feels like the entirety of Hawkins right now, you’d bury your face in your hands. The girl, to her credit, instantly realizes her mistake (and her volume) and claps a hand over her mouth.

“I am so sorry,” she says, voice muffled from behind her multi-ringed fingers. “That was…I meant…”

She sticks a hand out before her, offering you an apologetic smile along with the handshake. “I’m Robin. Steve’s told me a lot about you.”

Ohhhh. Robin. She was a key character in many of the stories Steve told you last night, and from the way he described her, her frenetic energy suddenly makes a lot more sense. You return her smile and shake her hand, but Robin doesn’t let go immediately. Instead, she grips you tight while waving your interlocked arms up and down repeatedly as she talks, almost like she’s unaware she’s doing it.

“I wasn’t, like, seeking out your underwear or anything, by the way. I just, like – well, Steve and I drove to work together this morning, and when I sat down, I felt something weird bunched up under me, and I was like, ‘Huh, wonder what that is,’ so I pulled it out and lo and behold,” she mouths the word “panties” silently, laughing a bit awkwardly around it, “and I was like ‘Woah! What the hell!’ and then Steve told me to put them down, and I was like, ‘Whose are these?’ and then he told me about your date and….” She trails off and lets go of your hand once she recognizes she’s been flapping it for about thirty seconds.

“Sorry. I…talk a lot,” she says sheepishly, but you just laugh and shake your head.

“It’s alright. It’s nice to meet you, too, by the way.”

She grins so wide you worry it’ll split her slim face right down the middle. “So, Steve told me you guys have a second date tonight?” she asks.

You nod. “Yep! We’re gonna go see Back to the Future.”

“Ohh, I remember that movie! Michael J. Fox wants to, like, bang his mom, right?”

You giggle and shrug. “Something like that, yeah. Do you know where Steve is, by the way?”

Robin nods and slides out from behind the counter. “Yep, I’ll go grab him. Be right back!”

She flits off, disappearing behind rows of DVDs and throngs of idle customers. You turn, keeping your back pointed at the counter for safety, and lean against it. Oddly, you feel compelled to greet people when they walk in since you’re standing right at the front; you get a few curious looks thrown your way as you wave and welcome people inside the store, clearly not in uniform and rather done up for a supposed Family Video employee.

A minute passes, and while you don’t see Steve emerge with Robin, you certainly hear him.

A display of chocolate bars flies off the counter behind you, clattering to the floor with a loud, metallic clang that makes everyone stop what they’re doing and look. Candy spills across the floor, and Steve stoops to the ground to collect the fallen sweets and discarded metal rack, mumbling apologies at startled customers all the while. He cradles the chocolate in his arms and lets the rack dangle off one crooked finger as he straightens and smiles at you.

“Smooth move, dingus,” Robin teases, patting Steve’s shoulder and resuming her post behind the counter. He shoots her a look and swings the display rack back on the counter. He sloppily dumps the bars next to it before wiping his palms on his jeans and stepping closer to you.

He’s sporting the same Family Video vest as Robin, a slightly baggy yellow sweatshirt, and blue jeans. The yellow makes the greenish flecks in his eyes pop, and the moles along his cheeks stand out even brighter. Once again, Steve Harrington is the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen, and he doesn’t even have to try.

“You look gorgeous,” he murmurs. A hand slides around your waist and rests on the small of your back, pressing you close enough that he can stamp a chaste kiss on your cheek. His lips are warm against your chilled skin, and after a moment, he pulls back with a concerned look.

“Jesus, you’re freezing. Did you walk here?”

“Oh, yeah, uh. Mom had to take the car to a thing, so….” You shrug, trying to appear apathetic, but a shiver slithers up your spine as the front door swings open and a gust of frigid air nips at your heels. Steve hugs you closer, fingers squeezing and sliding up your hip and waist to warm you up.

“Next time, just call me. I’ll gladly pick you up so you don’t have to freeze your cute little ass off,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear. Before you can reply – not that you had anything remotely intelligent to say anyway – he turns both of your bodies so they’re angled at Robin.

“You two have been introduced, right?”

“Yep. I told her all of your embarrassing secrets before I went and got you,” Robin says flatly, shuffling candy bars in her hands like playing cards and slotting them into their original spaces on the display.

“Awesome, that means I’ll have plenty of time to tell her all of yours in the car,” Steve retorts. Robin rolls her eyes and holds a chocolate bar above her head threateningly.

“I am not afraid to use this.”

“You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.”

Steve yanks you to the right as the bar soars past your head, pinwheeling onto the floor and almost knocking against the ankles of two teenage girls by the front door. They both look up sourly, lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed in displeasure, and Robin squeaks out an apology before they strut away.

“Good one,” Steve taunts, slipping his work vest off and dropping it on the counter behind him in a heap. Robin swipes it away with narrowed eyes, chastising Steve about not being his mother as she folds the fabric into a neat, green square. He slings an arm over your shoulder and starts to guide you out of the store, calling out to Robin over his shoulder.

“Don’t forget to lock the front door when you leave!”

“One time, Steve. It was one time!”

~~~

The drive to the theater is a pleasant blur of conversation.

The smell of Steve’s cologne envelops you the second the passenger-side door shuts, woody and sweet and perfectly him. As you toss your purse into the backseat, you find yourself staring intently at the upholstery. It doesn’t appear that your previous escapades have actually maimed the leather.

At one point, as Steve talks about a particularly belligerent customer he had to deal with earlier in the day, he reaches over and rests his hand on your thigh. It’s not an insinuation or expectation – he hardly even applies pressure, just idly rubs his pinky back and forth over your skin while he continues his story. His ministrations do slightly disturb the hem of your skirt, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

You entertain the idea of just guiding his fingers between your legs, allowing him to feel you entirely, letting him play with your cunt while he drives, but just as you’ve built up the necessary courage, the car is pulling into the parking lot behind The Hawk.

He squeezes your leg before hopping out of the car, and you’ve barely gathered your purse strings in your fist before he swings your door open for you and extends a hand down to help you out.

“Madame,” he says, bowing his head slightly. You giggle and take his hand.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, and as you step onto the cracked asphalt below, Steve shuts the door and crowds you up against the side of his car.

His lips are instantly on yours, warm, soft, and hungry, and you can’t help but sigh against his mouth. You didn’t know how addictive kissing Steve Harrington would be until you went without it; now that you’re here, you’re tempted to forego the movie entirely so you don’t have to stop making out with him. He nudges his knee between your legs, and you tense up involuntarily, inhaling sharply through your nose. You feel him start to pull away, having noticed your apparent hesitance, but you remedy that quickly by bringing a hand up to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck and locking your right ankle around his calf. You lick at his lips, and he parts them readily, excitedly. He tastes minty, something you weren’t expecting but aren’t displeased with.

“You smell good,” Steve mumbles, kissing a trail down your neck and tugging the collar of your shirt to one side so he can better access the skin beneath. He hums approvingly before latching onto a pre-existing hickey, suckling and nipping at his handiwork.

“If you do that, they’re never gonna go away,” you breathe. He chuckles.

“Good. They look so pretty on you.” His hands glide down your waist and settle on your hips, kneading circles into your flesh and pulling you flush against his body. You notice how comfortably you fit together, like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place for the first time. When he straightens, you find yourself tilting your head to meet his eyes.

“You have the softest mouth,” he says quietly, raising his hand and ghosting it along your jaw. His curled pointer finger settles beneath your chin, and his thumb presses into the center of your lower lip. “I could kiss you all day.”

“We’d miss the movie,” you warn, words slurred slightly by the presence of his thumb. You have to admit, though, that spending an entire day holed up with Steve, doing nothing but making out and allowing his hands to roam wherever they pleased on your body sounds like heaven on earth. He smiles at you, that perfect crooked smile, and gives you one last peck on the lips before stepping back.

“Better get a move on, then,” he says, sweeping his arm out and moving to the side. Cold air rushes to fill the space his body occupied a moment ago, and you shiver. You smooth the front of your skirt with one hand and slot the other inside his, keeping in step as you both navigate the alleyway next to the theater.

Empty cardboard boxes loom above your head, stacked haphazardly and tilted into the walkway. Puddles of opaque liquid splash beneath your shoes as you walk through them. A rumor Kelsey whispered to you ages ago floats to the forefront of your mind.

“Hey…didn’t Jonathan Byers kick your ass back here a few years ago?” you ask. The corner of Steve’s mouth twitches. Then, he smacks his lips and walks ahead, tugging on your arm and dragging you through the alley.

“So, what size popcorn did you want? I was thinking we’d get a large to share!”

~~~

Your sneakers stick noisily to the floor as you and Steve slither through the narrow rows of the mostly empty theater. You’re clutching the large Coke you’re going to share and the box of Sour Patch Kids Steve insisted upon while he’s balancing the unnecessarily massive bucket of popcorn on the tips of his fingers. You eye it cautiously, ready to leap to catch it if it pitches forward.

The seats you’ve picked in the top middle row, away from what little crowd is scattered about the theater, creak as you sit down, and the decrepit padding sags under your weight. You’ve missed the previews but are just in time to watch Marty McFly hitching a ride on the back of a truck to get to school. You pass Steve his candy and take a sip of your drink as he settles in and sticks the popcorn bucket between his knees.

“So, what’s happening?” Steve whispers, leaning down to your ear.

“Hardly anything yet. He’s on his way to school from Doc Brown’s house.”

“He who? And who’s Doc Brown?”

“He is Michael J. Fox,” you murmur, pointing at Marty as Principal Strickland berates him. “Doc Brown is Christopher Lloyd, the crazy scientist.”

“Ohh. Wait, isn’t he the One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest guy?”

You lean back in your seat enough to give Steve an incredulous look.

“You’ve seen One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?”

He shrugs, ripping the cardboard lip of the Sour Patch box open and spilling a few multi-colored gummies into his palm. “Robin and I have movie nights every Sunday. She chooses artsy shit on her turns. My last pick was Gremlins. You should come this weekend, but I can’t promise she’ll give up her turn for you. She’s suuuuper anal about that stuff.”

You smile and relax into his side. “As long as she’s cool with me bringing hot chips, she can pick whatever she wants.” This date isn’t over yet, and he’s already talking about seeing you again. If it weren’t the least cool thing you could do right now, you’d squeal over it.

Steve silently holds a blue Sour Patch beneath your nose as an offer, pinched between thumb and forefinger. You take it, gently pulling with your front teeth, and before he can retract his hand, you surge forward. Your tongue laps at the sticky sugar left over on the pads of his fingers, and in the flickering light of the film, you catch Steve staring at you, surprised.

He bites the inside of his cheek when you draw his thumb inside your mouth and give a tentative suck. His gaze darkens as you blink up at him through your eyelashes, feigning innocence. As you start to pull away, he presses a finger beneath your chin and hooks his thumb downward against the backs of your bottom teeth, locking you in place. He leans toward you, mouth so close to your cheek that you feel the rumble of his voice across your heating skin.

“Do you really think it’s smart to tease me like that in public, baby?”

It is by the grace of God you don’t moan in the middle of the theater.

You shift in your seat, trying to discreetly cross one leg over the other to squeeze your thighs together. His tone, the unrelenting grip on your jaw, and the change in his body language make you want to challenge him. You want to nod in agreement, to meet his gaze defiantly, do something that’ll make his eyes flash. But someone a few rows down from you loudly clears their throat, and Steve’s eyes dart toward the noise.

You bite back the disappointed whine that builds in your throat as Steve slowly pulls his thumb from your mouth, eyeing the thin string of glittering saliva that keeps it briefly connected to your bottom lip before snapping. A beat passes where you both stare at each other, your lips barely parted, ready to welcome anything Steve deigns to slide past them again, but he rests that hand in his lap instead.

“Watch the movie,” he murmurs, smirking at your open-mouthed and dazed expression.

Yeah, like that’s possible.

You swallow hard, uncrossing your legs and squirming. He hasn’t even done anything, not really, but your pussy is throbbing right now, and you’re genuinely concerned you’re going to start leaking all over the cushion below your ass. The potential embarrassment of standing up and discovering the shiny wet spot, a definitive indication of your arousal, thrills as much as it fills you with dread.

Steve seems to get absorbed into the movie rather quickly, mindlessly alternating between popping gummies and kernels of popcorn in his mouth, but your brain is buzzing, making it impossible to focus. When Steve places the popcorn bucket in the empty seat next to him, you can’t help yourself – you glance down at his empty lap, staring at his dick through his jeans like a fucking pervert. You gnaw the edges of your fingers, which doesn’t come close to sating the desire to have anything of Steve’s back inside your mouth..

The 1950s version of Marty’s father has just knocked Biff Tannen unconscious when Steve leans over the armrest between you again, and his voice is light with amusement when he asks, “What’s got you squirming so much?”

You breathe out sharply through your nose.

“I thought you wanted us to watch the movie,” you snark. Steve’s smile widens.

“I told you to watch the movie,” he corrects. His elbow nudges into your side slightly as he bends toward you. “But it seems like you’re havin’ a hard time with that. I’m just curious as to why.”

“You know why.”

“Mmm, no, I don’t.” Smug motherfucker.

Your hands rest on your thighs, clenching and unclenching as you contemplate your next move. He watches you intently, eyes roaming from your undoubtedly flushed face to where your hands are fidgeting in your lap.

You won’t tell him why you can’t sit still – you’ll show him.

Wordlessly, you slide your fingers down the sleeve of his sweatshirt until you’re grasping his hand and guiding it toward your skirt. His fingers are cold as they brush against the soft, warm flesh of your inner thighs, and you grin as a gasp flutters past his lips.

“Fuck,” he growls. He pulls his hand back, and before you can whine at the loss, he adjusts himself in his seat so he’s angled toward you and reaches between your legs with his other hand, the one that offers better leverage. You duck your face into the crook of his neck as his two fingers slide up the length of your slit, collecting the slick that’s puddled near your hole and smearing it up your lips. You can’t part your legs any further, or you’ll rip your skirt right up the seam, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. You whimper softly as Steve crowds you up against the back of your seat.

“I can’t believe you went out with no panties on,” he breathes raggedly. That same fervent, desperate arousal he displayed last night while nose-deep in your pussy bleeds into his voice, making it husky as it washes over your ear, and you shiver.

Steve dips the tips of his fingers inside you, a groan stifled against the back of his teeth, and you suck in a breath. Is he really going to finger you here, in the theater? You’re not exactly sure what you were expecting, but knowing that anyone could turn around and see you both right now makes you simultaneously nervous and stupidly horny.

“God, you’re already so wet,” Steve rasps, fingers nudging deeper inside of you. “Have you been thinking about this the whole movie? Teasing me ‘til I played with your pussy?”

“M-Maybe,” you whimper. “I didn’t…have a concrete plan…oh, fuck–”

Steve claps his free hand over your mouth before you can loose the moan bubbling up your throat, snickering as his two fingers slide inside you. They curl as he drags them almost entirely out of your hole, leaving only the tips inside before slowly stuffing you full again. He keeps this devastatingly slow pace, fucking his fingers in so deep you ache, only to leave you mostly empty, again and again. You pant and whine against his palm, hips bucking off the seat to try and make him go faster, God, you need him to fuck you properly, but he won’t be swayed.

“You should see yourself right now,” he says against your ear. His fingers still inside you, the tips rubbing against your g-spot so that despite the people around you, you’re confident you’ll scream in frustration if he doesn’t start fucking you the way you want, the way you need. “Your cunt is drooling all over the seat, baby.”

He removes his hand from between your thighs, smirking at how you fuss and strain in an attempt to coax him back inside you. He frees your mouth, but only briefly, as his slick-soaked digits push past your lips the second you open them to protest. They don’t stop, either, sliding across your tongue and toward the back of your throat. He presses down, nearly activating your gag reflex.

Steve watches hungrily as you hollow your cheeks and suck on his fingers, swirling your tongue over and between them to clean what remains of your slick off. The subtle way he shifts his weight catches your attention, and your gaze drifts down to his lap again.

He’s hard, you can tell, even with the inconsistent light the movie affords you.

Embarrassingly, your mouth floods with saliva at the thought of kneeling on the sticky theater floor and swallowing Steve Harrington’s cock while the people around you innocently watch Back to the Future.

“Please,” you mewl once Steve pulls his fingers from your mouth. He hums inquisitively, tracing your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

You straighten and push yourself into Steve’s space, crushing your mouths together as you reach into his lap and stroke the bulge in his jeans. A shudder ripples through his body as your fingers squeeze and rub insistently, and it only spurs you on. You deftly unhook the button on his pants and drag the zipper down as Steve explores your mouth with his tongue, hands curling around your jaw and holding you in place.

“You gonna stroke my cock in front of all these people, baby?” Steve chides playfully, nipping your bottom lip.

“If you’ll let me.”

He seems a bit taken aback by your answer, enough to where his mouth hovers above yours, and his dark eyes blink open. Steve examines your face, almost as if he’s trying to discern if you’re serious or just so mind-bogglingly horny that you’ll agree to anything.

You sink your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and grasp his cock, too eager to let the cogs finish turning in his head. His flesh is burning hot to the touch, and as you swipe your thumb over the swollen, thick head, you smear a pearl of precum down his shaft.

The sound he makes once he captures your lips in a kiss again is sinful.

If it weren’t for the armrest, you’re sure he’d be pulling you into his lap right about now. Steve’s breath comes in shallow bursts as you stroke him, slow and deliberate, mimicking the pace at which he fingered you. He reaches for you, wrenching your shirt from where it’s tucked into your skirt and sliding a hand up your stomach. When he cups that hand around your breast, you gasp, and he swallows the sound greedily before pushing your bra down and out of the way.

Two things happen just as Steve brings his other hand down between your legs again: lightning crashes into the clocktower on the screen, and someone unleashes a sustained, phlegmy round of coughing.

Steve jerks back from you, panting, pink high on his cheeks and his hair dangling in his face. He looks around, tongue darting out to wet his red, swollen lips. After a moment, he laughs and leans back, closing a hand over the one you still have jammed down his pants.

“Why’d you stop?” you ask.

“'Cause if I don’t, I’m gonna fuck your brains out in front of all these people,” he admits, eyes shining mischievously.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you purr, squeezing the base of his cock. He twitches but gently wraps his fingers around your wrist, guiding it out of his underwear.

“You say that until Chief Powell locks us both up for public indecency,” he laughs. “Do you wanna come back to my place, baby? It’s a lot more comfortable and…private.”

You start nodding before he’s even got the whole sentence out. He smiles, popping a quick kiss on the tip of your nose before reclining in his seat to tuck his dick away and do his pants back up. You have to do a bit of awkward twisting and shuffling to get your bra back into place without accidentally flashing the whole room, and Steve grabs your hand before carefully leading you down the steps and toward the theater door.

“So, uh, just in case I don’t get to see it ‘til it comes out on DVD,” he whispers over his shoulder, “how’s the movie end?”

“Uh, Marty hooks his mom and dad back up, and they all end up better off in the future. His dad’s some hotshot author and makes Biff chauffeur him everywhere.”

“Good for George!”

“Oh, and Doc lives.”

Steve stops cold, holding the door halfway open before turning to face you with a puzzled expression.

“Wait, what, how’d he-”

“Steve, do you wanna stand here talking about it, or do you wanna go have sex?” you ask, patting his chest and urging him out the door.

“Right, right, sorry, just – tell me later!”

~~~

Steve’s mouth finds yours the moment his front door shuts behind the both of you.

His hand slides behind your head, partially to tangle in your hair and keep you where he wants, but also so you don’t smack it against the wall as he pins you there. A few picture frames dotted along the entryway rattle from the force, and the sound stirs a thought.

“Wait, Steve, your parents…” Your protest is weak and breathless, swallowed by a gasp as Steve kisses a trail down your neck and laves his tongue over a healing hickey.

“Not home,” he breathes.

“Are you sure?”

“They never are,” he murmurs into your skin.

Paranoia still flickers dimly in the back of your mind, so you crack your eyes open to look around. The oak floors beneath you gleam as if freshly polished, and the cream walls you’re pressed against are stippled with a few small pieces of geometric art. There’s a side table just beyond Steve’s back, shiny and black and dimly illuminated by a single lamp, and while you don’t spot the glint of anyone’s keys on it right away, you still aren’t convinced that means no one’s home. Stairs are crushed against the furthest wall, thick ivory fabric carpeting each step, flowing upstairs into a rectangle of darkness on the top landing.

Steve sinks his teeth into the flesh above your pulse point, ripping your attention away from the decor. You moan louder than you intended and tip your head further to the side to give him better access.

“Such a little fuckin’ tease,” Steve growls against your throat. His fingers clench, tugging your hair by the root. The pain stings sweetly across your scalp, and you suck in a breath. “You have no fucking idea how much self-control it took to not bend you over in that theater, Y/N, Jesus Christ.”

You whimper, snaking your hands up under the back of his sweatshirt. He radiates heat, and the sensation of his smooth, unblemished skin beneath your fingers makes you want to scratch grooves into it. You won’t, not yet – you don’t have a read quite yet on how much pain Steve likes intermingled with his pleasure, if any.

His free hand glides down your thigh before hitching itself behind your knee, and you gasp as Steve hikes your leg up and over his hip, leaving you suddenly exposed. Steve’s warm, solid body swiftly replaces the cool air that tickles between your thighs as he presses himself flush against you, his bulge straining against your bare pussy in a way that makes you shiver.

“God, I could fuck you right here,” he breathes, and you’re grateful for his iron grip because, without it, your buckling knees would’ve sent you straight to the floor. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, baby. Y’know how bad I wanted to drag you back inside my car last night? Keep you all to myself?”

“Fuck, Steve,” you whine, voice muffled against his soft, sweet-smelling hair. Arousal sinks itself between your hips like lead, hot and insistent, and you grind against Steve’s denim-clad cock desperately. You’ll let him fuck you anywhere he likes – against the wall, on the floor, bent over the railing of the stairs. A perverse thrill rushes through you at the thought, and you’re about to open your mouth to beg Steve for just that when he releases his grip on your hair and leg.

By the time you realize what’s happening, Steve’s knees have already hit the dark blue rug below you, and his fingers are squeezing your skirt over your hips. He tilts your lower half away from the wall, toward his face, by grabbing a greedy handful of your ass and pulling; you stumble a little and have to tangle both hands in his hair to keep from falling over his shoulder. He peppers kisses along your inner thigh, turning his face into the soft, malleable flesh, and you see the flash of his teeth before you feel them, nipping the juncture where your pelvis and leg meet.

“Let’s see if I still remember our lesson,” he murmurs, a sound that vibrates up into your core and shakes a moan from your lips. His voice, though faint between your legs, is dark and strained, as if he’s barely holding himself back from ravaging you right where you stand. You don’t know how to verbalize quite yet that you want, more than anything, for Steve to just fucking take you already. You worry the wicked thoughts swirling around in your head right now, tapping their claws against your skull and whispering encouragement to you, will freak him out if you dump all of them on him at once.

Steve’s tongue flattens against your cunt, and the noise he makes as he licks up to your clit makes you shudder. He crushes you closer to him, so close you can feel the tip of his nose bumping between your folds as he gets right to work eating your pussy with the fervor of a starving man.

“Still so fucking wet,” he mumbles. He pulls away, just far enough to spread you open with two fingers, and teases the tips around the rim of your hole. You whimper, hips bucking involuntarily, your grip tightening in Steve’s hair to keep yourself steady. His dark eyes flicker to your face; his swollen pupils eclipse the color in his irises, leaving them almost black in the dim light of the entryway.

“You want my fingers, baby?” he asks. You nod, breathless.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He traces around your twitching entrance, gaze unwaveringly intense. You swallow hard and swear you see the corner of his mouth tic amusedly when he catches how your throat bobs with the effort.

“Yes, please, Steve,” you offer, and he sucks his teeth in admonishment.

“C’mon, pretty girl, I thought you learned how to beg for me properly last night,” he chastises, and your stomach flips. The high, squeaky sound that ekes out of your mouth is wholly unintentional, but how the fuck are you supposed to be quiet when he’s talking like that, looking at you like that, touching you like that?

“P-Please, please, Steve, I need your fingers inside me, please,” you mewl, and Steve makes a satisfied noise low in his throat. He places an approving kiss right above your clit, and if the thought of falling directly on top of him wasn’t mortifying, you’re sure you’d collapse.

“Do you wanna take my cock tonight baby?” he asks. He pushes his two fingers inside you just as your mouth drops open to answer, and you suck in a breath sharply as they curl and brush over that spot inside you.

“God, fuck, yes, I do, please. I want your cock,” you babble.

“Are you sure? You’re not too sore?” It’s a sincere question. Truthfully, you are still sore – not terribly, not the way you were in the shower last night, but the ache pulsing in your muscles as Steve slowly, so fucking slowly, draws his fingers in and out of your pussy, is inescapable. Admittedly, though, it doesn’t discourage your arousal even one bit – you want him to fuck you until you can’t walk, to have that dull pain twinge throughout your body for days as a reminder.

And considering how big he is, you don’t think that’ll be hard to accomplish.

“No, I’m okay, not too sore,” you assure him.

“Yeah? You’ll let me know if it hurts too much, won’t you, pretty girl?”

You nod, breath hitching as the pads of his fingers rub gentle circles over your g-spot. “I can take it, Steve.”

He smiles, sweet and innocent, his sunshine yellow sweatshirt rumpled and perfect hair ruffled across his forehead. He kisses your thigh again and pulls his fingers almost all the way out.

“You’ll need to take more than two fingers if you wanna fit my cock inside you,” he says simply, and plunges three fingers inside you up to the knuckle while latching his mouth over your clit.

The only reason you don’t scream is because all the oxygen has been sucked from your lungs.

Steve drives his fingers home again and again, spreading them apart inside you while his tongue swirls over your throbbing clit. Your fingers claw at the smooth wall behind you, desperate for anything that might aid you in remaining upright, and when you can’t find it and the tremoring in your thighs threatens to overtake you, you thrust your hands into Steve’s hair, pushing it away from his face. It gives you an unencumbered view of his dark, thick eyelashes fluttering over his cheekbones as he focuses on your slit and the faint flush hueing his tanned skin.

When your head falls back against the wall, and you moan, high and desperate, you unthinkingly ball your hands into fists. The strands of Steve’s hair go taut in your grip, and just as you’re about to whisper an apology, he groans into you.

“Harder,” he says, breathless, a gleaming string of saliva tenuously connecting his bottom lip to your cunt.

“Wha…” You’re borderline delirious from pleasure, which makes forming an intelligible sentence very difficult. Sensing this, Steve lifts the hand not buried knuckles deep inside you and rests it over yours, squeezing gently.

“Pull harder, baby.”

You swallow hard. His eyes are wide open now, staring directly at your face, bright and blazing. When you oblige him, clench your fingers and tug at the root of Steve’s hair with both hands, hard enough to make his head tip back, his lids flicker, and a smirk sprawls across his reddened lips. The gasp that passes through them clenches your stomach, and his approval inspires you to pull his head back further.

“Fuck,” he growls.

“That feel nice?” you ask, and Steve nods as best he can. He looks fucking divine like this; slick lips parted to allow shallow breaths, gazing up at you like you’re the only person in the universe who matters. You wonder if he’ll ever let you take the reins, if he’d let you pluck him apart, piece by piece, just as he’s done to you, only to paste him back together at your leisure.

The thought makes you shiver, and you gush a bit around his fingers.

He’s broken free of your grasp just as quickly as he invited it, however, and when he dives back into your cunt, he’s abandoned all pretense. He laps at your clit with long, flat strokes of his tongue and purposefully thrusts his three fingers against your g-spot, curling them tight and pumping so fast you can see the veins twitching in his bicep. Your pussy makes wet, obscene sounds as he fucks into it, and the embarrassment that tinges the edge of your arousal at that fact brings you closer to orgasm than you were expecting.

“S-Steve, Steve, God, fuck, I’m gonna cum, please, I wanna cum,” you blurt out, and he hums affirmatively. Without warning, you feel the tip of his pinky finger nudging against your hole.

“Cum for me,” he says – rather, he demands it of you. “Cum on my fingers if you wanna earn my cock, baby.”

Earn it. That thought, and the sweet, burning stretch of his four fingers inside your spasming pussy send you tumbling over the edge. You scream so loud you worry any neighbor Steve has will think he’s trying to kill you. In all fairness, he may be – you cum so hard that once your scream fizzles out, it’s impossible to draw in an adequate breath, so you’re just left paralyzed, choking on your own tongue, trembling on Steve’s deft fingers and mouth.

He milks it for as long as he can, chuckling against your folds when you finally gather the wherewithal to whine and push weakly at his forehead after your pleasure ripens into pain. When he pulls his fingers out, all four shimmer with slick, and it takes you a beat to realize your thighs are warm and wet from your orgasm, all the way down to your knees. The small puddle of your own cum that’s collected between your shoes glistens mockingly up at you.

“Okay…you have to at least let me clean that up,” you pant, jutting your chin toward your mess. Steve laughs and sucks a kiss into one of the few unblemished areas of your inner thigh you have left.

“It’ll dry, don’t worry about it. You can clean this for me, though.”

Steve reaches up and presses all four fingers into your mouth. You moan, a wholly compulsory sound, but obediently twirl your tongue over the digits, doing precisely as he asked and cleaning your cum from his skin. As you do, Steve murmurs praise into your flesh between featherlight kisses, trailing them across both thighs and either side of your hips as he raises himself higher on his knees.

“Good girl,” he purrs, retrieving his fingers from your mouth. You’re about to thank him when he presses you flush against the wall again. You find yourself upside down before you can ask what he’s doing.

Steve has hoisted you up and over his shoulder, not unlike a literal sack of potatoes, and you’re now completely inverted, blood rushing to your head but enjoying an eyeful of Steve’s ass in his jeans. The fabric of your skirt is still bunched up around your hips, leaving your bare ass fully exposed, and you reflexively reach back to cover it as Steve darts up the staircase. Your body bounces on the rounded edge of his shoulder, which digs a bit unpleasantly into the soft pouch of your stomach, but you find yourself giggling uncontrollably all the same. His strength impresses and arouses you all over again.

“Sorry, baby, I just don’t fully trust you to walk all the way to my room on those shaky legs,” Steve says, mirth belying his apology. You’d like to argue, but he isn’t wrong. Even as they dangle uselessly across Steve’s torso, your thighs tremble. At this rate, you would’ve been lucky if they cooperated enough to let you crawl after Steve to his bedroom.

Although…

Before you can entertain that thought, you’re flying through the air. The springs of Steve’s bed shriek as you land atop it in a heap, making you wonder if they always squeak like that.

“Sorry about the mess,” Steve says, arms crossed over his torso and hands gripping the hem of his sweatshirt. You look around – aside from a few crumpled pieces of paper on a desk and a moderate pile of rumpled clothes in one corner, the room is spotless. The walls and curtains are matching shades of plaid, and more oak furniture crowds the corners. You take a deep breath, expecting Steve’s cologne to waft sweetly up your nose, but instead, you inhale the scent of dust. There isn’t much here to denote that the room belongs to a college-aged man, let alone that he spends any meaningful amount of time in it. It looks more like a well-used guest room, aside from the forest green sleeve of Steve’s varsity jacket peeking out from the cracked closet door and a singular framed picture on his desk. The features of the two figures are bathed in shadow, but you can tell by the exaggerated swoop of hair on the taller one that it’s Steve with…someone.

It makes you sad, Steve’s room.

You sit on your knees and shuffle toward him as he peels off his shirt, laying your hands over his to stop him.

“Let me,” you whisper.

He pauses, a sliver of smooth skin visible through the gap he’s made in his clothes, and you catch a glimpse of his happy trail just above his belt buckle. One hand drifts downward, and your fingers press tentatively into that thatch of hair. Steve’s stomach is a hard wall of muscle protected by soft flesh that pudges out around your fingertips slightly, and the way he tenses beneath your touch doesn’t escape your notice. His eyes glitter in the room's dim light, flickering over your face, searching.

“Please?” you add, and he smiles.

He drops both arms to his sides, allowing you to slide your palms along his waist and lift the sweatshirt from his body. Dark, coarse hair swirls across his chest, dipping between his pectorals in a thin line before reappearing above the waistband of his jeans; beneath the sparse edges of his body hair, you’re able to pick out dozens of freckles and beauty marks dappled along the lean, tan expanse of his torso. The sleeves of his sweatshirt flip inside out and cling to his wrists as you tug the last of it off, and you both giggle when the neckline snags on the tip of his nose before snapping over his forehead.

You sit back on your haunches, hands hovering above his body, unsure of where to settle first. He’s so fucking pretty, you want to touch everywhere at once, from the broad line of his shoulders to the divots along his pelvis.

You don’t have long to think about it. Steve slips both hands behind your knees and pulls; your back hits the bed in a squeal of springs and a whoosh of air, and as your thighs spread instinctively, the riiiiip of your skirt splitting clean up the seams catches his attention.

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” Steve chuckles, pinching a jagged flap of fabric between his fingers. It’s unsalvageable, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You squeeze what remains of the waistband down your hips and drop the scraps off the edge of his bed, giggling.

“You’re gonna owe me a whole new wardrobe at this rate,” you say, and Steve presses an apologetic kiss to the bridge of your nose.

“I’ll get you the best a Family Video salary can buy,” he promises. Then, two fingers are buried inside of you to the knuckles, and any witty retort you had loaded up for him dissipates on the breath that hisses out through your teeth.

“Fucking – oh, my God,” you groan, stretching out the last word as Steve plunges his fingers in and out of your cunt. He tilts his hand slightly so that he’s brushing up against your g-spot every time, and you would be embarrassed about the pathetic little whimpers tumbling from your lips if you had the wherewithal for shame at this juncture. Your back arches, driving your head into the pillow, but Steve’s free hand tangles itself in your hair and forces you into a semi-sitting position.

“I want you to watch, baby,” he murmurs. “Watch how you take me.”

“Please, Steve, more, please, I can take it,” you pant, eyelashes fluttering as you watch Steve’s glistening fingers vanish and reappear rhythmically. He laughs against the shell of your ear before kissing your temple.

“I know you can take more of my fingers, pretty girl. I watched you do that,” he coos, voice rife with singsongy condescension. “Unless that’s not what you mean.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you whine, and you don’t think you’ve ever sounded so petulant in your entire life. Steve’s fingers still, and he makes a quizzical Hm? sound high in his throat before deliberately dragging tight, fast circles around your g-spot. The veins in his forearm pulse and bulge with the effort, and he’s gone and sucked all the air out of your lungs, so you can’t even answer him when he says, “Then use your words and tell me what you need.”

For a few seconds, your brain goes blank. Pleasure thrums through every nerve in your body until your skin is prickling with heat, gooseflesh rising on your thighs despite the sweat beading at your hairline, and the realization that you’re already close again cracks through your skull like lightning. You grab Steve’s wrist, though you’re torn on if you want to push him away or pull him in deeper. It’s too much, it’s far too much and yet it’s not nearly enough at the same time because it’s not his cock, and you need his cock, so finally, you draw in a shallow breath, swallow what little saliva remains in your mouth, and you tell him.

“I need your cock, please, Steve. I need your fucking cock so badly, please just give it to me.”

“That’s my girl.”

Steve crawls between your legs, aptly slipping his belt out of his jeans and whipping it to the other end of the room. As he strips his pants off – you bite back a laugh, watching him struggle to rip his foot out of one of the legs – you sit forward slightly and peel off your Heart T-shirt. Fresh air cools your flushed skin while you reach behind yourself, awkwardly attempting to unclasp your bra and still look sexy, a feat you don’t think has ever been accomplished.

“I got it,” Steve says, and as he presses himself against you, head hanging over your shoulder and fingers adeptly unhooking the tiny metal hoops, something hot and hard rubs between your legs. You look down and realize he’s already stripped himself of his briefs, and once your bra falls away, discarded alongside your shirt, you see the flushed length of his cock bobbing slightly between his hips.

Your mouth fills with saliva. It’s like you can still taste him, heady and salty and perfect, on the back of your tongue, and for a moment, you want to beg him to fill your throat over and over again.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Steve murmurs, lips trailing down the side of your neck, then your collarbone, before both hands rise to cup your now bare tits, and his mouth glides along your heated flesh. When he closes it around a nipple and laves his tongue around it in slow circles, you arch your back, moaning with abandon; Steve inches closer, the head of his cock nudging more insistently against your cunt. He repeats his ministrations on the other nipple, hands kneading and squeezing the pliant skin of your chest gently until you’re whining and bucking against him.

“You ready, baby?” he purrs. He lifts his eyes to yours, pupils blown so wide and black within his dark irises that it’s like staring into twin pools of ink. You open your mouth to respond just as Steve grips himself by the base of his cock and grinds the shaft against your soaked slit, up and down, up and down, grazing your clit with every stroke. If you weren’t so smitten by him, you’d fucking kill him.

Growling, you plunge both hands into his hair, tugging hard at the locks by his temples as you did before, and Steve’s shocked gasp skitters across your face.

“Fuck me before I lose my goddamned mind,” you pant, voice much less authoritative than you’d like it to be. You compensate by jerking Steve’s head back, punctuating your demand, and he laughs.

“If you insist.”

Both of your wrists are swept up in one of his hands and pinned above your head so fast you don’t have time to react. The head of his cock presses against your hole, thick and hot. Despite his thorough prep work, you can tell this will still be quite the stretch. You hitch your legs up over his hips as he prods further, keening and squirming as your pussy struggles to accommodate the sheer girth of him – it fucking burns, but the pain doesn’t discourage you in the slightest. Still, you can’t help the pitiful mewls that fall from your lips, nor the way your body thrashes against Steve’s iron grip.

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, voice rough with arousal. “You can take it. I know you can. Just relax. Does it hurt?”

“K-Kinda.”

“Do you need me to stop?”

“Fuck no, please don’t stop,” you plead, and Steve huffs out a laugh.

When the head finally pops inside you, you reflexively bear down on it and release a broken moan through gritted teeth, and Steve’s low groan reverberates through your body. “So fucking tight, fuck baby,” he moans, and just as your lips part to beg him to keep going, he thrusts in another inch. Steve pushes inside of you slowly and steadily, sucking air through his teeth and screwing his eyes shut so tight you wonder if he’s consciously keeping himself from cumming already.

Then – he pulls out.

Fuck it. You’re gonna kill him and kill him slowly.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he wheezes, scrambling off the bed and leaving you with a spasming, achingly empty hole and questions on your tongue. The low lighting doesn’t afford you much clarity on what Steve is doing. Under normal circumstances, you’d probably find the way he’s frenziedly flitting about the room, naked as the day he was born, funny, but you are legs akimbo on his bed, alone, with nary an explanation as to why he pulled his dick out of you in the first place.

It dawns on you when he finds what he’s looking for and kneels on the bed again, and the slim plastic wrapper in his hand gleams in the lamplight.

Duh.

“I completely forgot,” he says, smiling bashfully as he frees the condom from its wrapper and rolls it down over his flushed cock. You can’t help it – you’re disappointed he’s not gonna be fucking you raw tonight. You understand why he can’t, why you can’t let him, of course, and if you’d had your wits about you, you’d have reminded him about it yourself. But still.

Steve kisses your forehead as he lines himself up with your cunt again, and this time, he doesn’t make you beg at all – he thrusts almost half his length inside of you in one go, and you forget all about the condom for the moment.

“Fuck, fuck, yes, Steve!” You twist his sheets up into your fists, shocked you don’t tear a hole clean through the fabric, and your mouth hangs open as Steve bullies his cock deeper inside you. Pleasure rumbles through him, something you feel rather than hear at first because he leans over you, one hand supporting the small of your back, lifting you partially off the bed, and presses your bodies together. He plants wet kisses along the side of your neck and down your chest, breath washing over your skin as he pants raggedly.

“You have no idea how hard it was to not just fuck you raw, baby,” he murmurs. A shiver ripples down your back and you moan, the sound swinging high and cracking in your throat because that is maybe the hottest thing he could have said in this moment.

“I would’ve let you,” you admit, the words slipping from your mouth without much thought given to them, and perhaps you’d be embarrassed at your stark honesty, or how desperate you sound if Steve didn’t groan so deliciously in your ear afterward and start snapping his hips forward faster.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, breathless. With every thrust, he buries himself just a bit deeper inside you, and the ever-increasing fullness makes it hard to think, let alone maintain any sort of filter on your words. It still burns just that little bit, enough to remind you that you’ve never had anything – or anyone – this big inside of you before, and it just makes this sweeter.

“God, yes, absolutely,” you huff, because it’s true – you’d never admit it to him, would never tell a single soul or even pen it in the margins of your diary, but you have spent more than one sleepless night in your life with your hand jammed down the front of your underwear, fantasizing about Steve Harrington filling your pussy with load after load until his cum dribbled steadily out of your thoroughly used hole. You’d always flush with embarrassment afterward, when the warm glow of your orgasm had faded and you had to deal with your soaked sheets before they went cold under your ass, mostly because, at that point, you’d hardly said five words to the guy.

Steve adjusts his grip, hands sliding from your back to behind both knees before he pushes them toward your chest. When he bucks against you next, it’s all you can do not to scream. He can get so fucking deep at this angle, with your hips tilted up and Steve looming over you, and you’re positively flabbergasted when you look down between your bodies and realize he hasn’t even pushed his entire length inside of you yet. You’re brimming with him, entirely full, you don’t think you could take another inch, but still you whine and look up at him through your lashes.

“Deeper,” you plead, weakly gripping his elbows for purchase. “P-Please, deeper…more…”

He chuckles, a low sound that rolls like thunder through your body and makes gooseflesh prickle across your skin, and when he pushes a sweat-damp clump of hair from his eyes, you realize just how bright they are. The way they flash at you, coupled with the sheen of sweat glistening off his pinked cheeks and the parting of his red, swollen lips to allow passage for his heaving breaths makes you wish you had a camera. You’d live in this moment forever if you could, Steve pounding you into the mattress and gazing at you like this, like you’re the only thing in the world he cares about.

“You’re fuckin’ twitching around me, baby, are you gonna cum already?” he asks, and the question drops you back into your body at once, though you weren’t aware you’d been floating out of it in the first place. He’s right – without having even acknowledged your clit the entire time Steve’s had his cock inside of you, you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm, your cunt fluttering sporadically around his length. You open your mouth to reply, but no sound beyond gasping breath comes out, and this is apparently greatly amusing to Steve.

“Oh, you are, aren’t you? My pretty girl’s gonna cum all over my cock and I’ve barely even started, huh?”

His words are like a crank winding an invisible cord that stretches from your core to your clit, one that has already been pulled so taut that you don’t think it’ll withstand his mouth much longer. You want to cum so fucking badly, but you also don’t want to be finished yet, and before you can verbalize any of that to Steve, he’s bearing down on you and pushing your thighs even further back. You’re not sure how you manage it, because you could’ve sworn you were not this flexible before tonight, but Steve forces your legs almost flush against your shoulders and slots both arms behind your knees, so you can’t close them even if you wanted to; he crowds against you, the full weight of his body now accompanying each thrust as he obliges your earlier request and sinks deeper into your drooling pussy than you thought possible.

Your mind goes blissfully blank. The tether in your belly snaps, and you start cumming so hard on Steve’s cock that you can’t even manage a scream – your mouth opens, a perfectly rounded O as your eyes screw themselves shut, and your back arches off his bed, your orgasm igniting every nerve in your body until you’re little more than a writhing live wire. It’s intense – that’s the only word you have for it, understatement of the century though it may be. You clench so tight around Steve that you’re shocked you don’t force him out of you, and he just keeps fucking you through it.

“That’s it, baby,” he croons, swiping the hair from your face with one hand and holding you in place. “That’s it, good girl, keep cumming for me, fuck, I can feel you soaking my cock–”

“Steve, fuck, fuck, God, don’t stop, please,” you wheeze, your pleasure ebbing just enough for you to draw a small breath and find your voice again. You reach up, fingers shaking before settling in his hair, and tug the locks at the nape of his neck as your body trembles uncontrollably. Though he does moan in that way you’re rapidly becoming addicted to as you pull his hair, he slows his pace to a devastatingly slow grind and releases your legs. They flop uselessly down onto the bed, tingling with pins and needles, and you whimper pitifully as Steve takes this moment to sit up on his heels.

“Steve–”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby, it’s okay,” he assures you, resting both hands on your aching hips and kneading small circles into the soft flesh with his thumbs. “I’m here.”

“Did you…?” You glance down at where your bodies are still joined, and Steve snorts.

“Almost. That’s why I had to stop for a sec. You just feel too fucking good.”

You can’t help the smug grin that creeps across your lips. You’re tempted to rock against him anyway, or perhaps even knock him backward and ride him until he can’t take it anymore, but your leaden limbs forbid you from making any significant strides toward either option. Steve pants above you, hands slowly migrating up the squishy expanse of your stomach, past your breasts, and finally landing on either side of your jaw before he licks his lips and bends toward you. He kisses you, chaste and gentle, a featherlight brush of his mouth against yours, and his thumbs press somewhat insistently at your temples.

“You’re crying,” he informs you, and again, it’s Steve’s observation that brings you back to your body – the sides of your face are wet, and if you turn your head at all, you can feel your damp hair sliding around on the pillow. “Are you okay?”

“Mmhmm…very, very okay,” you purr. “Jus’ felt good, that’s all…”

If your orgasm was like a firework shooting off and exploding inside of you, the afterglow you’re nestled in is like a warm bath, with every inch of you buzzing pleasantly in sluggish pleasure. Steve kisses you again, trailing his lips up past your cheekbone so he can plant them square in the middle of your sweaty forehead. The juxtaposition of this tenderness, the capacity he has to be so gentle with you after he just had you bent in half and seemed hellbent on fucking you through the bed, makes your stomach flutter with the kind of girlish giddiness only Steve can bring out of you.

“Do you want me to keep going?” he asks. His cock throbs inside of you, but when he pulls back far enough to flash you that sweet, lopsided smile of his you know he’d roll off in a heartbeat if you asked him to. But you do not want him to do that, not even slightly, so you find the strength to lift your thighs and wrap them around his hips before you nod, grinning dopily, and say, “Please keep fucking me, Steve.”

His mouth is on yours before you’re finished saying his name. His movements have slowed, from the glide of his tongue past your lips to the roll of his hips, and he greedily swallows the keening whines that bubble up from your throat as his cock drags along your oversensitive walls. Your breath hitches every time he pushes himself as deep as he can go, something he makes a note of with a laugh and a playful nip to your bottom lip.

“You like being full of my cock, huh, beautiful?” he murmurs, ducking his head. He’s seemingly decided you need more hickeys, as evidenced by the way he starts sucking on a patch of flesh just beneath your ear like he’s trying to draw blood from the thumping veins below.

“S-So much, yeah.”

“Yeah? That’s not even all of it, baby.”

“It’s not?” you whine, incredulous, and Steve snickers against your skin, shaking his head.

“No, but I think it’d hurt if I tried to fit it all inside of you,” he says, and there’s something sharp in his voice – something mocking.

“You don’t know that,” you huff, and Steve hums against your throat.

He takes one of your hands in his, guiding it toward where he’s buried inside you, and says, “Feel that? Feel how nice and full you are now?”

You nod. Steve drops your hand. “Now feel how much of me is still left,” he says.

You do, fingers twitching along the length that remains outside of you, and you’re shocked. There must be at least two inches that Steve has yet to stuff you with, or perhaps that he physically can’t stuff you with, and while you want so badly for him to just shove the rest of it inside, you consider he may be right. His thick cockhead pulses where it’s resting inside your pussy, nestled against the very back of you; any deeper, he’d certainly hit your cervix, something you’ve experienced before with other (clumsy, inconsiderate, douchey) partners and would very much so like to never experience again. Still, your pride weathers this slight blow, and you compensate by wrapping your fingers around the bit of Steve’s cock that you can’t accommodate.

“Fuck,” he moans, drawing the word out nice and long as you start to jerk him off. He lifts his head from your throat, mouth curling into a shocked smile as he rocks his hips into your fist and, consequently, your cunt. “That’s…fuck, that’s really hot, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Your voice is breathy, and pleasure sparks anew throughout your core. You have to twist your wrist at a slightly odd angle to get a grip on him with both of your bodies in the way, and your fingers keep slipping in the ample lubrication your pussy supplies, so it’s perhaps the clumsiest handjob you’ve ever given, but Steve doesn’t seem to care. He thrusts into you messily, brows pinched and swollen mouth dropped open as he chases his peak inside you, and your free hand raises to cup the side of his face.

“Cum in me,” you whisper, and the broken sound that tumbles from Steve’s lips spurs you on. You push back against him and bear down on his cock at the same time you squeeze your fist, the rubber rim of the condom skidding beneath your fingers. He slumps forward, pressing his cheek into your palm, hands shooting out to catch himself before he falls headlong into your chest. Sweat beads at his hairline and trickles down the long column of his throat before pooling in the hollow at the base, and the sight is so tempting you sit up and lave your tongue over his salty skin.

“Cum in me,” you say again, “please, Steve. I need it, please, please.”

“God-fucking-dammit,” he growls, his hips stuttering, chest heaving, and not a second later, he’s cumming. You can’t feel his load inside you – a fact that inspires a non-zero amount of disappointment that hasn’t abated since the second he slid the condom on – but watching him cum is enough to make that disappointment vanish. He goes silent for a beat as his peak overwhelms him, but when his cock starts to pulse inside your cunt and within your loose fist, fresh moans rip themselves from his throat, and you are so fucking thankful that Steve Harrington is not afraid to be loud for you. His body tenses and shudders as he pumps into you erratically.

Just as you think he’s finished, and you’ve begun to take your cramping hand back, Steve stops you. He’s panting, gasping for air like he’s just finished a marathon, and his eyes are positively sparkling. He places your hand back on your pussy, and when you don’t move, he nods his head.

“Make yourself cum for me again,” he says simply, and it’s all you can do not to balk at him.

“But you just–”

“Don’t care. You can give me one more, baby.”

Of all the things you’ve done tonight – in the last 48 hours, really – touching yourself in full view of Steve is the thing that makes you blush the deepest. You swallow thickly, fingers hesitating over your admittedly swollen clit, and Steve chuckles. He’s not as hard as he was moments ago, and you can feel him softening the longer he remains inside you, but that doesn’t stop him from jerking his hips forward harder in encouragement.

“C’mon, you’re gonna give me one more,” he insists. “Touch that pretty pussy for me, show me how you do it when you’re all by yourself.”

Well, when he says it like that.

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth and make quick work of your clit, rubbing circles around the throbbing bud as Steve fucks you fast and sloppy. You really didn’t think you had it in you at first, but once again, your body seems to have an endless capacity for orgasms when you’re around Steve – the coil in your belly winds itself quickly this time, burning blood-hot between your hips and readying itself to snap faster than you’ve ever experienced before. A wicked thought crosses your mind then, one that involves Steve testing just how quickly he can make you cum, and how many times he can replicate that speed, and you resolve to bring it up to him at a later date as your pussy spasms and Steve moans above you.

“Fuck yes, I can feel you getting close, that’s it,” he babbles, breathy laughter carrying his reassurance, and with one last well-placed thrust, you’re cumming on his cock again. God help you, there’s a splash, and wet heat soaks between your fingers as Steve fucks you through your orgasm, audibly impressed with how much you cum this time.

“Good fucking girl, I knew you had it in you. Shoulda put a towel down.”

You’d shush him if you had any air in your lungs.

He pulls out and delicately unwinds your trembling thighs from his hips, beaming at you the whole time he peels the condom off his dick and disposes of it in a small wastebasket. When he returns to the bed, he scoops you up and rolls you over, placing himself in the wet spot you’ve created and dragging you on top of him so all you can feel is his solid warmth. He peppers kisses along your dampened hairline and gently strokes both hands up and down the length of your spine, pausing above the swell of your ass to knead his fingers into your heated flesh a few times. Your hearts are pounding, and for a moment, you swear they beat in sync. You tell yourself it must be the post-orgasm endorphin drop making the world a little rosier than it truly is.

“I’m so proud of you, pretty girl,” Steve murmurs, pressing his lips to your forehead and tilting your face toward his. His cheeks still have an adorable flush to them, and his hair is slicked away from his face with sweat. You note the twin moles stamped on the left side of his face, right on the apple of his cheek, and surge forward on your elbow to capture them in a kiss.

“You feel okay?” he asks. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shake your head. “Not at all. I kinda wanted you to, but–”

“Oh?”

Motherfuck. You and your big mouth.

“Uh…” Steve stares at you, eyes bright and curious, and the corner of his mouth flirts with a grin. He looks…intrigued? You don’t know why that’s so shocking, considering you’ve yanked on his hair like they were a horse’s reins multiple times tonight and he nearly melted in your hands, but you blush all the same under his gaze and chew your bottom lip.

“We can definitely talk about that,” he says, and his voice is surprisingly soft given the mischievous look on his handsome face.

“Really?”

“Well, I mean, kinda depends on what you mean by “hurt” you,” he adds, raising two fingers to twitch around the word “hurt.” “D’you mean, like, get a lil’ rough with you, or…like, stick you with a cattle prod?”

“Cattle prod,” you deadpan, and in the beat of silence that follows, genuine fear flashes across Steve’s face. You snort, smacking him lightly in the center of his chest, and his abdominal muscles relax noticeably beneath you.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t thoroughly enjoy everything that you just did, by the way,” you clarify, flattening your palm between his pecs and idly mussing his chest hair. “‘Cause I did. I just…like it a little rougher, sometimes, too.”

“I can do rougher,” Steve asserts, pinching a lock of your hair between thumb and forefinger and delicately tucking it behind your ear. Your belly flutters at the prospect, and though you already have suggestions bubbling up your throat, your tongue feels too thick in your mouth to adequately communicate any of them. In fact, the more Steve caresses your body, the heavier you feel, and it’s only after his face begins to blur that you realize that your eyelids are drooping.

“Tired?” he laughs as you blink a few times.

“Mmm,” you mumble, noncommittal, even as your head comes down to nuzzle into his neck and your thoughts go fuzzy at the edges. “Can’t sleep…curfew…”

“I’ll wake you up,” he promises. “Just nap, baby, it’s okay. I got you.”

You grumble again, a piss-poor argument that Steve does not heed. Instead, he drags his fingers through the hair on the side of your head, careful not to snag on any tangles, his touch so light it makes you shiver. It is impossible to ignore the pull of unconsciousness when someone is playing with your hair, that’s just an objective fact, and so you sigh, limbs loosening and body going slack on top of Steve’s as he lulls you deeper into darkness.

~~~

Turns out, Steve’s sweatpants fit you.

Well, maybe “fit” is being generous – you had to knot the drawstrings as tight as they would go to keep the waistband above your hips, and it still slings well below the curve of your pelvis if you don’t bunch the front up in your fist and manually hold it up. They’re also comically long, and you’ve had to cuff the legs three times over just to make sure you don’t trip over the fabric that otherwise puddles around your feet.

The heater purrs as it drools warmth into the interior of Steve’s car, a welcome reprieve from the freezing October air that presses against the windows. They’re fogged, and you absently draw little doodles on the misty glass with one finger. Queen’s second self-titled album plays faintly, a throbbing bassline and Freddie Mercury’s crooning vocals filling the narrow space between you and Steve.

“I didn’t peg you as a Queen guy,” you say, gesturing in the direction of his cassette deck, your hand interlocked with his and beside the gear shift. He scoffs.

“You kidding? I love Queen,” he says emphatically and takes his hand off the steering wheel for a moment to spin the volume dial. As he does, the song changes, bleeding seamlessly into the next one; Freddie’s voice reaches its peak just as a few bright notes are plunked on a piano, and a beat is thudded out on the drums. Steve sings along, loudly, and though you can tell he’s not being serious about it, his voice is smooth and clear. You’re so enamored by the sight of him that the lyrics don’t register right away, not until he leans into your space, eyes pinned fastidiously to the darkened road ahead, and sings at you.

“Funny how love is everywhere, just look and see.”

They’re just words, not even Steve’s words, but your cheeks color nonetheless.

“Funny how love is anywhere you’re bound to be.” His gaze flickers from the road for a moment, one singular moment, and he looks right at you. Your belly flips, and the heat in your face burns all the way down your neck. If it were anyone else, literally any other human being on the planet, you’d be tucking and rolling out of the car the moment they started serenading you, even as a joke – but this is Steve, and he’s smiling so wide, and he’s fucking harmonizing with Freddie Mercury, and he shakes your intertwined hands to the beat as he does it, so you’re content to sit here and let him give you a rendition of the entire rest of the album if he wants to.

You definitely don’t get hung up on the fact that he looked you in the eye while he sang about love. Nope. Not at all.

The song peters out just as Steve pulls up to your house, and he checks his watch as he puts the car in park, nodding at the glowing numbers proudly.

“Back, and with five minutes to spare this time,” he announces.

“I’ll have to tip you for the excellent service,” you tease.

“I accept cash, credit, or a kiss on the lips,” Steve shoots back, already dragging you toward him and leaning his body over the gear shift. You giggle, and he swallows the sound, pressing his warm mouth against yours so tenderly you’d hardly believe the filth it’s capable of if you weren’t a firsthand witness.

He helps you shrug your jacket on before you step out of the car, and the chill of the night gusts against you so intently you can’t help but shudder. You stoop down as he rolls the passenger side window down for you, just as you had the night before.

“You comin’ to movie night on Sunday?” he asks.

“Wouldn’t miss it. D’you think Robin will let me pick if it’s my first time? And I ask her so nicely?”

“I think you’d have a better shot at winning the lottery and getting struck by lightning on the same day,” Steve estimates, “but I can check. Who knows, maybe she’ll be feeling generous.”

“Tell her I’ll bring extra hot chips if she is.”

Steve laughs, and both hands come up to cup the sides of your face. He kisses you again, and this time it’s slower, languid, a purposeful prolonging of your departure. You gladly accept it, and again, there’s a pang in your stomach, a desperate want to hop back in the car with him and not let the night end. When he pulls away from you, playfully nipping your bottom lip, Steve murmurs something against your lips that makes you feel like Earth has stopped spinning.

“D’you wanna be my girlfriend, Y/N?”

The innocence, the painful earnestness of the question strikes you, makes the breath catch in your throat, and Steve’s eyes glitter with starlight as he looks up at you. “It’s probably kinda silly, considering…well, considering, but, I mean, I wanted to…yanno, ask, formally…I know it’s only been two dates, but, I just, I really like you, and I wanna keep doing this, seeing you, and I wanna be the only one seeing you –”

“Like there could be anyone else,” you breathe, and this time it’s your own words that shock you. You could see the whirlwind beginning in his head, the anxious avalanche of words to defend himself from potential humiliation, so you just blurted that out because, well, duh, of course there isn’t anyone else you’d want to be with. You knew that from the second he picked you up with flowers in his hand last night.

He perks visibly. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course, it’s a yes.”

You hear the door whoosh open, slam shut, and gravel crunching underfoot before you register that Steve has gotten out of the car and is rounding on you. When he grabs you, one hand supporting the small of your back, the other plunging into your hair, and dips you backward to plant a kiss on your mouth, you try your damndest not to focus on the fact that not only is he not wearing shoes, but his socks are mismatched – one white tube sock, one black with green swirls. You mostly succeed, and you think the giggle that tickles against his lips passes as one of shock.

As he tips you upright, something out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. A light is flickering from your house, and as you squint against it, you realize it’s not the flicker of an old bulb fizzling out. It’s measured, a steady pattern, and the reason for this is quickly made apparent as the dark shape of your mother floats in front of the curtains. She’s flicking the porch light on and off, signaling for you to hurry it up, and you’re torn on whether you wanna die right on the spot, or march up the driveway and throttle her.

“That’s my cue,” you sigh, but when you turn to look at Steve, there’s something odd about his expression. He’s fixated on the light, which casts scattered shadows across the angles of his face, and his eyes are sort of…glazed. There’s a faraway look to them, as though he’s gone somewhere in his head that you can’t reach.

“Steve?” You thump his chest once, not too hard, and he inhales sharply through his nose. He blinks a few times before shaking his head, like he’s physically shucking whatever unpleasantness was burdening him off, and just like that, he’s himself again.

“I’ll pick you up Sunday afternoon,” he says, kissing you one last time on the forehead before allowing you to step out of his embrace. You want to ask what that was, where he went just now, why his eyes keep flitting almost nervously between you and your porch light – perhaps the threat of your mother scares him that much? – but you don’t have time. You both part from each other slowly, him walking backward toward his car, you retreating up your driveway.

“I’ll pick something good!” you holler, and Steve nods.

“See you then, baby.”

You’re backing up against the front steps of your house as Steve disappears into his front seat, and the sound of your front door opening is muted by the revv of his engine.

“Right on time,” your mother says from behind you, shadow obstructing the yellowy light that spills onto the porch. You look over your shoulder at her, eyes narrowed.

“You know, I’m legally an adult,” you point out, “I shouldn’t have a curfew.”

“He’s got a nice car,” Mom says, craning her neck to look around you and tucking the fuzzy blue halves of her robe tighter against her body. “Does he drive like a maniac?”

“Yes, he’s like Dale Earnhardt but worse,” you snark, eyes glued to the glittering shell of Steve’s BMW as it curves down the street and into the yawning mouth of the night.

He does have a nice car…your boyfriend has a nice car. The word is like helium, lifting you off the ground and floating you inside the house.

“Wait…weren’t you wearing a skirt when you left?” Mom asks as you glide past her. “Where did you get those sweats from?”

Oops.

taglist: @celestialwaavelength , @bornslippys , @silky-luxe , @pettydonuts , @littlered000 . interact with this post if you'd like to be added to my taglist!

#steve harrington #steve harrington / reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #stranger things #stranger things smut #f!reader #stranger things fic #my writing #steve harrington fluff #fluff #fluff and smut #fluff and romance #fem!reader #funny how love is series

845 notes · View notes

nanpecan · 12 days

Text

₊✩‧₊˚once more to see you˚₊✩‧₊ pt 2

{nanami x f!reader}

pt 1. here pt 3. here pt 4. here

˚₊✩‧₊summary: You're a manager at Jujutsu Kaisen and things got a little steamy with Nanami in the car after a mission. Now you're left wondering what's going to happen between you.

˚₊✩‧₊tags: nanami x fem!reader, slight angst, explicit smut (mdni) !!

˚₊✩‧₊ word count: 8.6k (I GOT CARRIED AWAY WRITING THIS OKAY)

˚₊✩‧₊author's note: i didn't expect to get so many of ya'll asking for a part 2 but thank you for the kind messages! this one is a bit longer and has mostly backstory stuff and angst in a stupid will they won't they sort of way. idk i think i was in a mood writing this. but i promise there is a little bit of something at the end *wink wink*

˚₊✩‧₊if chapter one was this Mitski song, chapter two is this one, iykyk

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You woke up with a start as the sound of a car door closing rang in your ears. You slowly opened your eyes and looked around confused. You sat up quickly, forgetting where you were for a minute. You groaned as you felt a sore sensation in your lower abdomen and you looked down. You noticed a tan suit jacket draped across your body as a makeshift blanket, covering your exposed chest and stomach. Your underwear was on, and you realized that the white fabric you were sitting on was the shirt you had been wearing.

You felt your face go hot as you started to think back over what had happened. You had slept with him. Your hands covered your cheeks as you felt them go red. You had really slept with him. Memories flashed in your mind, his body on yours, his hands on your body, the ungodly noises he let out- the ones you had let out.

You took a deep breath trying to control the blood rushing to your face and looked out the car window. You noticed Nanami had driven somewhere, but why? It was a pharmacy. One of the special pharmacies that partnered with the school to bypass prescriptions.

A man walked in front of the car and you jumped to cover yourself. He looked in, but he seemed to look past you. There was a small barrier. You sighed in relief. Thank god Nanami was a forward thinker.

You suddenly saw the pharmacy door swing open and Nanami walk out with a small white bag. His hair was down but pushed back, his glasses back on and his blue shirt untucked, probably to cover the stain you had left on his pants. You were a bit taken aback, he looked tastefully disheveled…handsome. He went up to the car and sat into the driver's seat. He looked back at you. “Ah, you’re awake.”

You nodded. “Where are we?”

“I stopped by to get you a couple of things. My apologies if I closed the car door too hard.” He reached over to the passenger's seat and grabbed a brown paper bag. He passed it over and you, a little confused, pulled out a T-shirt that said “I ❤️ Tokyo”.

“I apologize for tearing your blouse. If you send me your measurements I can get you a new one, for now-“ you started to put the shirt on and he went silent as he watched you. You pulled your head through the top and blushed as you noticed his gaze.

“Thank you.” He nodded and passed you a water bottle.

“I also got you some pain relief from the pharmacy, I’m afraid I might have been too rough on you.” He grimaced. “I shouldn’t have let myself get so carried away, I apologize.”

“No, no,” you waved your hands and gave him two thumbs up. “It was fine.” You dropped your hands, embarrassed for a moment, you had picked up the habit of doing that from Akari. That reminded you. “Have…you seen my phone?”

“Yes, Akari had been trying to reach you. I answered and let her know you were okay, just…feeling under the weather.” He passed you your phone and you unlocked it to check the 6 missed messages and 3 missed calls from Akari.

-SEX WHAT??

You frowned as you realized you had accidentally sent the unfinished text.

-hello?

Ten minutes later

-hey can you answer me I’m starting to get worried -Y/N I’m serious, please answer my calls -I’m going to call Nanami if you don’t pick up this next call

Two minutes later

-call me as back as soon as you can please

You frowned, what were you gonna tell her?

“I told her you were suddenly sick, so we stopped somewhere to rest.”

“Thank you.” You couldn’t figure out his tone. He was helping you out, but also covering for himself. Was he doing it out of respect, or…

“I also bought this for you.” He seemed nervous as he reached into the white bag. You looked at what he handed you. You stifled a laugh. It was an emergency contraceptive. “I’m not sure what you might already do, but just in case.” He stared at the box. “I hope this doesn’t offend you. I just figured, you’re young and wouldn’t want…well a surprise, if you will.” He looked back up at you. “Unless you do, I’m not trying to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, it’s just in case… I thought I’d give you the choice, please don’t be influenced by what I’m saying… I’m sorry, I-“

You laughed at him and he shut up. “Don’t worry. You’re right, I don’t want a baby right now. I appreciate it.” You stared at the box. “You’re really charming when you’re flustered.” You looked up at him, but he had no reaction. He just nodded once. You looked back down, sort of disappointed.

You both began to speak at the same time and stopped. “Go ahead.” He said.

“Sorry, I was just going to say that I should drive you back. I can go ahead and drop you off at your place. I just need to drop off the vehicle and no one will question if I come back alone as long as you’ve already checked back in.”

He stared at your shirt. “I should have bought you a better shirt.”

You smiled and shook your head. “I have a lot of shirts like this, it’s perfect.” You quickly reached for your pants and struggled a little to put them back on. Nanami just watched. You finally pulled them up and tucked your shirt in a little. You looked back up at him, you caught yourself giving him a thumbs up and stopped. “It’s past 6 so Akari will be the only one to see me since everyone else will have gone home for the day. She won’t even think twice.” His brows moved like he was thinking of something. “Oh, thank you by the way..for cleaning me up.” You handed him back his suit jacket. You picked up his tie and his suspenders and put them in the brown bag. You attempted to pick up his blunt sword but hesitated to touch it. “The building was destroyed…what happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Nanami shrugged slightly. “It was only a Grade 2 curse. She could speak some, but she was sometimes incoherent.” He sighed, “It was a very tragic situation she was born from. So I figured I’d destroy the place.”

“He might not pay you.”

Nanami shook his head. “Mei Mei set up the mission, she’ll get her money no matter what.” He sighed. “Either way I don’t care.”

That’s right, Nanami was infamous for not caring about the outcome of missions. At least nothing past the defeat of the curse. He didn’t really care for the politics of defeating one curse but letting another go, or the idea of the clans deciding the codes sorcerers should follow.

“It’s late…” He said, breaking the silence.

“I should drive you back.” You started to move and winced a little.

“I’ll drive to my place and then you can take the car back, rest some more.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, but he just turned back to turn on the car.

You sat in silence all the way back, thinking. You looked at your phone and shot Akari a text.

-feeling better, I’m so sorry. dropping off nanami and then heading to the school.

You closed your eyes and sighed. You had just fucked the man you’d been dreaming about for months and now you were…unsatisfied? No, you had a great time. You snuck a glance at him through the rear view mirror. Did he not have a good time? He was being cold again. No, you were reading too much into it. The curse had influenced him to do it, it could have happened with anyone. Your stomach dropped at the realization.

It could have happened to anyone.

Akari was originally supposed to go, if she hadn’t offered you the chance this would be her. Would he have been more talkative with her? People seemed to trust her more, maybe he would be more open. Also, he had said that Mei Mei had set up the mission. Why was he the one that went instead? Had he volunteered? He’d been briefed about the mission so he knew what he’d be facing. He probably thought he wouldn’t be affected. You thought he wouldn’t be affected. But what if…you stopped yourself. You were reading way too much into it. There was no way to know if Nanami had volunteered just to sleep with Akari, but he had gotten you instead.

You forced yourself to stop thinking about it. You were hurting your own feelings over something you had no proof of. But the fact of the matter was, it could have been anyone driving him. You weren’t special to him. If anything, you gave in easily. A feeling of regret began to wash over you. He probably thought you were so stupid and easy. No, you told yourself, he isn’t like that. But there was no way to really know. The car slowed down as he pulled in front of a tall building.

“Would you like to come in?” Nanami asked.

“No, it’s getting late, you should get home and rest too. Today was…interesting.” You said with a smile. You couldn’t see his face as he was staring straight forward. His hands gripped the steering wheel hard, his knuckles turning white, before he let go and nodded. You looked away frustrated. What did that mean?

You both got out of the car and lingered outside. “Oh, your sword.” He opened the door and grabbed it easily off the car floor. You watched as his hands wrapped around the hilt and the veins in his arms popped. “Thank you for everything. I appreciate you covering for me with Akari, and thank you for thinking of my health.” You just looked at him, you couldn’t think of the best way to say goodbye.

“Thank you, for helping me with my…urges.”

You smiled. “It could have been anyone.” You muttered. You saw his brows furrow but before he could say anything else you bowed politely and got in the car.

You watched him stare at you from the mirror as you drove away. His hair unkempt, suit jacket draped over his arm holding the sword, and the brown paper bag in the other.

“Y/N!” Akari ran up to you and hugged you. “You had me worried to death. Are you feeling better? What happened?”

“I need to hurry before the buses stop running. I’ll just tell you later.”

Akari rolled her eyes. “I’ll give you a ride. Just tell me, are you okay?”

You nodded. “The mission was easy enough, I’m just embarrassed.”

“What got you sick? Was it the curse? I wouldn’t have sent you if I had known what it was, I’m so sorry.”

“You know?”

She nodded. “I looked up the report. A grade 2 sex curse. I'm so sorry.”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry it wasn’t the curse. I ate at the corner shop outside of my apartment cause I was running late, it was my own doing,” you lied.

“Y/N I told you not to eat there anymore, I got so sick last time I was there.” You nodded apologetic. “Then you were, like, actually sick, in front of Nanami. Oh my god, no wonder you’re embarrassed.”

“What did he say to you exactly?”

She smiled. “He picked up your phone on the last call before I was going to try him. And he assured me you were safe, just not feeling well.” She started laughing. “I asked him to send me evidence, because you can’t trust voices over the phone nowadays, you know, and he sent me this.” She pulled out her phone and showed you a selfie he took. Deadpanned as always. “Not an inch of emotion in his face. I’ve never seen him so ruffled up. His hair looks super messy, did the curse put up a fight?” You clenched your jaw as you felt your cheeks start to burn up, but tried to play it off.

“He said she could speak. And he demolished the place. The building owner was a perv so he decided to just tear the place apart.” You said quickly.

“He must’ve let all his frustrations out, damn.” She looked back up at you. “You look exhausted. Let me drive you home.”

You shook your head. “I can take the bus, I don’t want to bother you.” Akari could tell something was upsetting you and just nodded.

“Okay, but let me know when you get home.”

“Of course.”

The bus ride was long, but usually you liked the way it gave you time to detach from your work. Today however, you were frustrated that it gave you more time to overthink everything. You closed your eyes and forced yourself to focus on something other than Nanami.

What were you going to have for breakfast tomorrow? It was your day off. You could go to the bookstore you liked. Or get up early to go to the bakery across town. You were always too late to get your favorite sandwich for lunch, it sold out quickly, but you could tomorrow.

You got off the bus and went inside your building up to your apartment, you walked quickly past the napping security guard who liked to hit on you sometimes. You sighed as you read the sign taped to the elevator. Out of business. You walked up seven flights of stairs quickly and rushed into your apartment. You put down your backpack and went straight into the shower.

You plopped down on your couch with a sigh and grabbed your phone off of the coffee table. You opened up the message Akari had sent and you were met by the selfie Nanami had taken.

-thought you’d like this, personally I don’t get it, but I support you. rest up, hope you’re feeling better.

You smiled.

-thank you, ari. -let me know if nanami leaves any feedback for me

You stared at the message and decided to delete it.

-appreciate you as always.

You exited out of your messages and went to check your bank account. You were slightly surprised. It was more than you had thought. Only by a couple hundred but it was enough.

You opened up your messages again and tapped on your mother’s name.

-I had a bit left over this week, I’ll send it to you now. Hope you’re doing well.

You proceeded to send her money. You thought about calling but you doubt she would answer.

Your situation was a bit difficult. Growing up it had just been you, your sister, and your mother. Your sister was seven years younger than you, and you had always been close, although that hadn’t been the case for quite some time now.

When you were eight your mother had woken you up in the middle of the night, with your baby sister and a small duffel bag in tow. The three of you had run away from the tiny smoky apartment your father had stuffed your family in. After that you had never lived in an apartment or house for more than a year at a time, your mother was constantly changing jobs, Taking up new hobbies, falling for pyramid schemes, or falling prey to loan sharks. It had always been something or the other. She was usually gone for hours on end, struggling to make ends meet, leaving you and your sister alone for much of your childhood. You grew up quickly and had basically raised her. You took on the extra responsibility young, but you never resented your mother for it. She was also doing her best.

As you had gotten older you began to realize you weren’t a typical kid. You often saw things others didn’t, or sensed some sort of presence when nothing was there. The other kids thought you were creepy and left you alone. Everything escalated when you were 16.

At that point in your life your mom had found some solid footing while working at a small church next to an apartment you’d moved into. She finally seemed happy, she had found herself “reborn” under the light of a savior and the longer you lived with her the more you saw her change. You had never really talked to her about the things you saw, the creatures on peoples shoulders as they walked by or the pair of eyes you felt on you coming from dark corners. But one day after coming home you sensed a strange energy from inside the apartment and once you entered you were met with the scene of your mother praying over a young woman, with a man you recognized as the pastor. You looked above them and noticed a large grotesque creature hanging off of the ceiling swinging himself on his gangly arms.

You stared at it, mouth agape. You had seen all types of creatures, but never one this big. Its bulbous eyes suddenly met yours and its head rotated in curiosity. A wicked forked tongue flickered out of its mouth at you and you screamed. The thing lunged at you and you somehow managed to dodge it as it swung towards you. You began to throw objects at it.

“Y/N! What's going on?” Your mother screeched. The creature grumbled as the objects clattered against it, but it still made its way to you. Running out of objects to throw, you reached under the couch and pulled out a baseball bat. It jumped at you again and you swung the bat down hard onto the top of its head. There was an ugly crack and the thing dropped in front of you. Purple goo oozed out of its head wound and spilled onto the floor.

“What happened? What are you doing!” Your mother stared at you in horror and the priest began to chant something.

“You don’t see it?” You asked in shock. “You don’t see this thing?” You were panicking.

“What are you talking about, what thing?”

“This!” You swung your bat down again on the creature, also wanting to make sure it stayed down. You hit it one last time and it suddenly blew up, exploding all over the apartment.

No one could see anything. The pastor hurried out of the apartment with the young woman, your mother stared at you in horror before following them out.

Your mother didn’t come back to the apartment for two days. Nor did your sister.

The pastor called to let you know they were staying at the church. You had an uncomfortable conversation, where he heavily implied your mother wouldn’t be coming back as long as you were still there.

So you left.

You hadn’t seen your mother again since that day. It had been 8 years. You still tried to keep in contact with her, although it was mainly one sided. You would send updates on how you were doing, wish her well on holidays, birthdays and the like, but she would never respond. The only time she answered was when you had texted her about getting a job and being able to send her money. She almost immediately sent you her bank information. Your younger sister had social media that you followed to keep up with them. They had stayed in that apartment without you. It was the longest you’d seen your mother stay in one place. She was happy, and you didn’t want to take that from her.

Besides, it had all worked out in the end. Thanks to a bit of an incident, you had found yourself under the care of an older lady running a small bakery for around six months after you’d left. That was until you had been approached by someone and been initiated into Jujutsu Tech.

There were only two other students in your year at the school and they had been rather cold to you. Having come in late, and not knowing anything about the sorcery world prior to the curse in your apartment, you were significantly lacking in almost all areas concerning sorcery.

What you did have was stamina, you were an endless supply of energy and didn’t seem to tire as easily. That, if anything, helped you survive the training, the games, the curses, all of it.

You decided to become an assistant during your fourth year. One of the other students, Yuri, planned to join the Zenin clan's personal army, while the other planned on mentoring under a professor at the Kyoto school to increase his ranking after graduation. You on the other hand were not so confident in your abilities.

You had made great strides in progress after having started from scratch, but you never developed a specialty. You had discovered that you were able to use a small amount of RCT, after an incident where Yuri had smashed your face with a staff during what was supposed to be a friendly practice. While you covered your face in pain and tried not to panic as blood gushed from your top lip, you felt the tear and without thinking put your hands up to push the pieces of your lip back together. By the time you went to the medic they said there was not much they could do as you had already healed it. However, with your inexperience you had healed it to a scarred state. They had explained that the small boost of adrenaline from your injury had allowed you to concentrate enough to heal. However the overall consensus from the higher up was that they were not interested in training you any further on it, or rather you weren’t worth training.

So here you were, having worked as a manager for the past 5 years, and still only having very little cursed energy. The two years prior were spent training under different managers until you could be trusted on your own. Akari had trained with you but at a faster rate. After all, you were sort of an outsider.

Your phone pinged as you received a message, snapping you out from the memory.

-he just asked me for your number and I gave it to him, let me know if he says anything crazy or inappropriate. He may be higher on the power scale, but remember my roots.

You stared in shock at Akari’s message. He had your number…why would he want it? You put your phone down. If he texted you, you didn’t want to see it. You curled up on your couch and bit at your nails. What had you gotten yourself into. You should have refused his advances. He wasn’t in his right mind. You cursed at yourself again, you should have thought about the consequences, the aftermath. It was going to be so awkward. You sighed and stared up at the ceiling.

Take a breath, you told yourself. You hardly ever saw him. Today had been the first time in the two years since Nanami had been back in the sorcerer world, that you had actually been in close proximity to each other. Alone anyway. You had seen him in meetings, briefly, that’s how this stupid crush had started. You didn’t really have to interact with him and you were fine acting like nothing had happened, sure you’d be a little sad, but that’s probably what he would want too. You bit your nails nervously. What would you do if he did want to see you?

You shook your head. There was no use in wishful thinking. He hadn’t given you any signs that he was interested after all. Sure, he had invited you into his place but you felt like it was just a formality. He had just rocked your shit after all. You thought back to the way he gripped the steering wheel and the glimpse of confusion when you had said it could have been anyone. What was that? Frustration? Over what?

You sat up as you remembered the pharmacy bag. You walked over to your small kitchen and grabbed a glass of water.

Sitting back down on the couch you glanced at your phone nervously. You didn’t want to flip it over. You sighed and reached for it. It was late, if you didn’t answer it wouldn’t be that strange and at least you’d be able to think of a response if he had said anything.

You checked your screen. Nothing. Somehow that hurt you a little. You tossed your phone again and laid down on the couch, closing your eyes. Whatever. You couldn’t do anything about it. Whatever happened had happened, and whatever was to come would be a problem for the future, no use worrying about it now. You slowly felt sleep take over and you dozed off.

You awoke to the sound of your phone buzzing, and after looking around blindly and half asleep you found it. You pushed a button and held it up to your ear. “Hello?” Nothing. “Hello?” You looked at the screen and rolled your eyes. It was just your alarm. You groaned and let your phone clatter to the ground.

That’s right, you had planned to get up early to go to the bakery across the city. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You got up sorely and yawned. You picked up your phone again and hesitantly checked your messages. Nothing. You didn’t know if that was better or worse.

After stretching and getting ready for the day you headed to the bus stop to go across town. You were going to relax completely today. You weren’t going to think about what happened. You weren’t going to think about him. You weren’t going to think about the meeting tomorrow. Your smile dropped. You had a meeting tomorrow morning with all the staff. Usually you wouldn’t have to worry since the higher grade sorcerers rarely showed up to the weekly meetings; however, they had announced this meeting would be mandatory, there had been some incidents related to the investigation of a child's death. Nanami would most likely be there. You scrunched your face. No use stressing about it now. You didn’t know how he would react and again, it was no use worrying about it.

After getting off on your stop you headed over to the bakery. You had gotten there right before the lunch rush. You went inside and were greeted by the girl that worked there. You smiled back and picked up a sandwich. You thought about grabbing two, one now and one for tomorrow's lunch. You smiled and looked around for a different kind of sandwich. You grabbed a bottle of water and went up to the cash register.

“Oh these are two of my favorite sandwiches.” The girl said.

You smiled warmly at her. “I don’t know which one I want to eat first, I’m saving one for my lunch tomorrow.”

“Hmmm, tough decisions.” You nodded in agreement.

You heard the doorbell ring behind you as someone came in. “Hello, welcome-“ she stopped and stared for a bit before putting on a huge smile. “Oh hello Mr. Nanami! It’s great to see you today.”

You felt your face start to burn up and you froze. You stared down at the sandwiches. You could sense it was him. You took a deep breath. Relax, you told yourself. You turned around and immediately met his eyes. You smiled at him and bowed your head. He smiled back slightly and walked up to you.

“Good morning, Keiko.” Nanami said to the girl, there was no emotion in his voice. “Good morning y/n, how are you doing today?”

You stared at him for a bit before answering. “I’m doing good. How are you?” You felt like you were being a bit cold but you didn’t know what else to say. Your brain was not working.

He nodded and looked down at your purchase. He added a sandwich and silently pulled out his wallet, and passed his card to Keiko. You stared at his hand and felt your cheeks blush again.

“Thank you.” You said quietly. He grabbed the bag, thanking Keiko and walked over to a small table. You followed and sat down across from him. He pulled his sandwich out and handed you the bag. He pulled the newspaper he had tucked under his arm out and laid it on the table.

“Thank you for buying my lunch.” You repeated. He nodded. He was so awkward. Or were you the awkward one? You didn’t know what his intentions were and you were getting frustrated. “Did you want to talk about yesterday?”

His face suddenly had a slight blush although he didn’t move. “Only if you would like to.”

“I-“ you didn’t know what to say. You were silent. You felt him watching you behind his glasses. You gripped the bag and took a deep breath. You’d already fucked the man, why were you nervous? You looked back up at him with new resolve. “I have some questions.”

He nodded in approval. “I do as well.” You were surprised, what could he possibly be curious about?

“You go first.” You said.

Keiko was suddenly coming towards the table with a coffee in hand. She set it infront of Nanami. “Sorry to interrupt.” She said before stepping back to the counter.

Nanami took the cup and blew on it. You watched anxiously, your frustration slowly building up. After a sip he put the cup down. “You can use RCT, why are you working as an auxiliary manager?” You were a bit taken aback. That’s what he wanted to ask you? He put a finger up to his shirt collar and slowly pulled down to show you his neck. You remembered now the injury he had sustained by the curse yesterday.

“When did I..” you murmured to yourself. You had forgotten that you had intended to patch him up. You had passed out instead. “I can only use a small amount. It’s nothing really.”

“You’re wasting your potential,” he said sternly. “You could be helping people.”

“I would hardly say that. Like I said, I barely have any cursed energy. I don’t know how I do it until the injury is in front of me. Besides, no one would teach me how to use it.” Nanami took another sip of his coffee. “Is that the only thing you wanted to ask me?” You said annoyed. Nanami hesitated to put the cup down.

“Are you angry at me?” He caught you off guard again.

You frowned. “No, I don’t think I am.” You thought about how to express your feelings. “I think, I think I’m more frustrated with you.” He gave you an inquisitive look. “I don’t know how you feel about what we did. Regret? Indifference? I know you’re not the type to really show your hand, but I’m not that way. I need to know because I don’t want to give off the wrong impression.”

“And what is that?”

You sighed. “I’m just going to be honest with you. We’re adults aren’t we?” You looked up at him. “I have feelings for you.” You blushed but didn’t dare look away. “I’m confused by what you- what we did. I know you were under some sort of influence and I can’t help but feel guilty about everything. The more I think about it the more it eats me up, I don’t think the lines of consent were crystal clear…but I don’t know how you feel about it. I’ll apologize profusely if I have to. Unless you feel differently… Basically..I want to understand your feelings before I can let myself feel anything else.” He didn’t react. “Okay?” You felt your face burn up, but you were proud that you were able to say all that to him. Wait, did any of that even make sense? You thought to yourself.

He was silent as he finished his coffee. Your stomach grew more and more tense as you waited for his response.

“I apologize for any miscommunication.” He said finally. “I’m afraid I’m not the best at expressing myself either. I’m not sure what to make of what happened yesterday. I will relieve some of your worries and tell you I hold nothing against you. In fact I’m grateful you were able to help me.” He looked down at the empty cup. “But to be honest I don’t know where to go from here either. I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship… I don’t believe romantic attachments are smart given our line of work, I don’t take these things lightly.” You scoffed. You couldn’t help it. “That being said,” he continued. “I would like to know where you want to go from here. As you said we’re both adults, I think it would be in our best interest to hear what each other would like.”

You just stared at him. “What is it that you want then?” He was swinging the next step back at you but you didn’t want that. You wanted to hear it from him first.

“As I said I’m not interested in-“

“Then we’ll pretend like nothing happened.” You said sharply. You didn’t want to hear it again. It was like you thought. He didn’t want you. It was never about you. He did like Akari, you had been a mistake. He stared at you silently. You took a deep breath. You looked up at him and smiled. “Okay.” You sighed. “Glad we got through that. I’m fine with doing that. I will say I’m a little embarrassed, but now I can work on getting over it.” You looked at the bag with your two sandwiches. You quickly picked it up. “Thank you for lunch today. We’ll call it even. Don’t worry about my shirt, otherwise I’d start to think about the dry cleaning bill for your suit.” You got up from your seat hastily.

You bowed and started to walk away. He grabbed the bag to stop you. “You are angry with me.”

You looked back at him and couldn’t hide your frown. “I’m hurt.” You mumbled. His brows furrowed. “I don’t think I was ready to talk to you. I apologize for how I’ve been acting. I still need time to process everything.” You turned away from him. “I…I’ll see you tomorrow.” As you walked away you noticed Keiko bringing another coffee towards the table. You smiled at her as you exited. You hurried towards the bus stop and stopped. The next bus would be there in 25 minutes. He would see you standing there. You groaned and walked past your stop. You pulled out your phone and called Akari.

She picked up almost immediately. “Hey, Y/N how are you today?”

“I need a drink.”

“It’s 11 am, girl.”

“I’ll be pregaming until you’re off. 8 work for you, at our usual spot?”

“We have a meeting tomorrow morning.”

“Since when has that ever stopped you?”

“It’s stopped you before. What’s wrong?”

You sighed. “Get me drunk enough and I’ll tell you.”

Akari sighed sarcastically. “If you insist.”

“Cheers!” You clinked your mug with Akari’s and Ijichi who had also decided to join you. You were already five drinks ahead of them and were feeling great. Good enough that you were trying to convince Akari to join you in performing karaoke next.

“Ijichi, you go up there with me then.”

He shook his head. “I won’t be any good.”

“Y/N why don’t you just go on by yourself, put on a good show.”

“You know what, I totally should.” You said smiling from ear to ear. You stood up and clapped wildly for the people who were currently performing. Some others joined you and cheered them on. You loved this place. Akari and you had stumbled into it one night and the warm ambience and amazing food had made you regulars.

You made your way to the stage and took the mic. You waved confidently as people cheered you on. You motioned to the DJ to play the next song. You laughed and clapped when you saw it was one of your favorites.

Cue “Dress Down” by Kaoru Makimoto

You were smiling, dancing, having the time of your life, almost getting to the last chorus of the song when you noticed more people coming towards your table. You waved cheerfully as you noticed Shoko, Ijichi must’ve invited her. You moved around the stage and your heart stopped. Nanami was also sitting down. You looked at him and your eyes met. He paused before sitting down all the way. You stopped singing for a bit.

He sat and turned his head away, you turned away as well. You sucked your teeth and kept singing. You were having a good time. You smiled again thinking about how ironic it was that you had run into him twice on the day you didn’t want to see him.

You finished the song and bowed dramatically as people cheered and clapped. You handed the mic off to a girl dragging her boyfriend on stage and gave them a thumbs up.

“You’re quite energetic,” Shoko said to you as you sat down next to Akari.

“She’s 7 beers in, I’d be surprised if she wasn’t.” Akari said.

“Rough day?”

You smiled at Shoko and scrunched your face. “Rough life.”

“Cheers to that.” She raised her mug and everyone around raised theirs as well.

“Cheers!” You gulped down your drink and let your eyes go to Nanami who was silent. You smirked. “Who’s doing karaoke next? I can’t be the only one who does it tonight.”

“Ijichi san, you should go up there.” Shoko said after downing her entire beer.

Ijichi blushed, “Ah, I don’t think I’ll be any fun to watch.” You smiled and snuck a glance at Akari. It was so obvious he had a crush on her.

“Come on Ijichi, as long as you have fun it doesn’t matter.” You said playfully shoving him. “Or do a group performance.” You looked up at Nanami. “You and Nanami, now that I would love to see.” You laughed and Shoko smiled amused.

“Have you really had 7 drinks already?” Nanami asked.

You squinted your eyes at him and smiled. “Is that a challenge?” You chugged down the beer in front of you. “Ah, how refreshing. 8 now!”

“She’s very good at handling her drinks.” Akari said. “Well, beer anyways.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at her. “That was one time!” You laughed and waved down the waitress. “Let’s get another round. Is anyone else starving?”

The night went on and you and Shoko chatted up realizing you had a lot in common. You ended up doing two more karaoke songs. One with Akari and thanks to Shoko, you managed to convince Ijichi to go up with you. You and him performed like your life depended on it. And the crowd ate it up. You were smiling from ear to ear again. You weren’t gonna let Nanami make you upset in your own space. In fact, why were you even upset? Was it so bad that he wanted to pretend like nothing happened? If anything it made things easier. You weren’t exactly in any position to date, especially not someone higher up. You smiled and waved at Akari from the stage. She smiled and waved back and you noticed Nanami talking to her. Your smile faltered but you just took another drink before looking at Ijichi and singing again.

Good for them. You would do anything for Akari, so stepping aside for her to be with him wouldn’t be a problem. You only had a crush.

You finished up the song and headed back to the table. “-you’re making it obvious.” You caught the tail end of Shoko and Nanami’s conversation.

“Where did Akari go?” You asked.

“Bathroom.” Shoko said. “You should quit your day job and become an entertainer Y/N, the crowd loves you.”

You smiled. “The old timers here love me, I don’t think it would translate well outside.” You laughed. “Besides, they loved Ijichi too! If I do quit you have to join me in my new career.”

“We’d miss him terribly.” Shoko said. Ijichi blushed again and you laughed.

“Very true, cheers!” You raised your glass. You weren’t sure how many drinks you had downed at this point. “To Ijichi and everything he has to put up with.”

“Cheers!”

Akari came back to the table and plopped down next to you. “We should wrap up soon. We have a meeting in the morning.” You pouted. She gave you a look. “It’s almost 2 am.”

“Oh!” You said surprised. “You all let me drag you out for so long?” You stood up and bowed dramatically. “Thank you for indulging my night out.”

Shoko smiled. “Anytime, you’re a star.” She winked at you playfully.

“Shoko, marry me please.” you said clasping your hands together jokingly.

She laughed and finished her drink. “I’d have to get in line.” Nanami shot her a look and you laughed. “You should come out with us more. Ijichi, Nanami, Utahime, and I go out for drinks every other week or so.” She looked at Akari. “You too dear. The sane sorcerers have to stick together.”

Nanami excused himself to use the restroom. Shoko smirked once he was gone. “He’s going to try to pay the bill but I already got it.”

You looked at her shocked. You grabbed her hands. “Shoko, please marry me.” She laughed again.

“Where have you been all my life?” she said smiling.

“Want me to drive you home?” Akari asked you.

You nodded and slapped your hands together again this time bowing down to her. “Yes please.”

“Of course!” She said proudly.

“Let me run to the bathroom real quick.”

You excused yourself and headed towards the bathrooms in the back. You smiled as you passed people, you hated to admit it but you were a bit buzzed. You were a little extra friendly when you were like this. You laughed to yourself. It was fine as long as you didn’t run into- you saw him coming out of the bathroom and walking towards you. The hallway to the bathrooms was rather narrow. There was enough space for two people to stand side by side but not much. He looked straight ahead as if he wasn’t even going to acknowledge you. Oh well, you thought. You continued on merrily.

As you passed him you felt his hand brush past yours and felt him slightly tug on your sleeve. It was quick but you felt your heart flutter and you stopped.

“Nanami.” You said as you turned to look at him. He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Why did you do that?” He was silent, still not turning. You walked back towards him standing inches away. You quickly looked past him, ensuring no one was approaching. You grabbed his sleeve. “Is anyone coming?”

“No.” He said.

You sighed and dragged him into the bathroom.

You quickly locked the door behind you. The amount of times you had accidentally walked into a couple being intimate was astounding. He stood a couple of feet away from you and stared. You turned back to him and smiled. “I know what this looks like, but I just want to talk. Really.” You put your arms up to wave your hands. “I’m a little tipsy but if anything I have the words to say what I finally want to say. Let’s talk.” He stepped closer to you, closing the gap in an instant. “Oh fuck.” You said taken aback, he had pinned your back against the door.

“I don’t want to talk.” He said gruffly. Moving his lips closer to your ear.

“Obviously. I don’t think you said a single thing to me out there. Are you-“

“Are you really okay with forgetting what we did? It didn’t bother you? It didn’t leave an impression?”

“Now you have questions.” You couldn’t take him seriously. The alcohol was not helping. You looked up at him and smiled coyly. “You want the truth?” He just stared at you. You leaned your head closer to him and pressed your cheek to his so you could whisper in his ear. “You took my virginity.” You kissed his cheek as you pulled your face back. You looked at him and his face was red. You giggled and put your hands up to cup his face. “I couldn’t forget you if I tried.” He slowly moved his face closer and you leaned in to kiss him.

You both suddenly and passionately kissed each other, Nanami wrapping his hands around your body to pull you closer. He was almost as desperate as he had been in the car; tugging on your lips and rolling his tongue into yours. You winced as his glasses poked into your face and he quickly took them off. You stopped for a bit and smiled at him. “You’re beautiful.” You said giggling.

He furrowed his brows and moved forward to kiss you again. He pinned you back against the wall again and you hoisted yourself up by his shoulders to wrap your legs around his waist. He steadily rocked into you and you moaned as his bulge hit your sensitive clit. You grinded desperately back on him. You shuddered as you were already coming close and you moaned into his mouth. “Nanami, wait.” You removed your arms from his shoulders and lowered yourself. You slid down onto your knees and worked on his belt. You giggled to yourself, you were feeling bold. You hungrily pulled out his cock and smiled as he tensed. You wrapped your hand around him and he let out a breath. You licked a long stripe and smiled as you watched him grow red. You took the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue over the top, but he suddenly moved your face back.

“If we do that, I won’t be able to control myself.” You laughed and frowned, feigning upset. “I don’t want to ruin your pretty face tonight.” He pulled his pants further down and lifted you up to stand. “Your cunt on the other hand…”

You smiled. “You’re good.” You quickly pulled down your safety shorts and underwear as he pulled you up by your waist, allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders for stability. Using his knee he pushed your legs open and moved a hand down to steady you before teasing your folds by rubbing up on them. “Hurry, they’re going to notice we’re-“ he entered you and you gasped. You were still a bit sore from yesterday, but once again he was hitting that spot that sent tingles into your stomach. “Fuck!”

He smiled and started rocking his hips into you. Kissing you and muttering words of praises. You felt your climax rapidly approaching and you couldn’t help but moan and buckle your hips wildly against him. You felt him speed up and you were suddenly in total bliss. You felt the heat quickly build up inside you before it flooded your entire body. You climaxed and felt yourself clamp down on him. “Fuck.” He said as he slammed his hips into you deeper and deeper before settling there with a final jut and coming deep inside of you. His grunts as he came made you smile and you peppered kisses on his face. He put a hand up under your chin and guided you to kiss his lips. You pulled back and smiled at him happily.

There was suddenly a knock on the door and your head snapped towards it, startled. “Y/N you in there?” It was Akari. “Are you okay? Is your stomach upset again?”

You felt Nanami slide out and he quickly grabbed some toilet paper to collect what oozed out of you. “Yeah, it’s me. Sorry. I guess it wasn’t the best idea to go out drinking after I fucked up my stomach yesterday.” Thank you, you mouthed to Nanami who had wiped you clean and was now wiping himself. “Did everyone else leave?”

“Nanami still isn’t back. Shoko said he might have gone out for a smoke, I didn’t know he smoked honestly.” You looked back at Nanami and he shook his head. I don’t. He seemed to say.

“Okay, just give me like 3 minutes and I’ll be out there, I’m sorry.”

“You’re good!” Nanami looked at you with pleading eyes.

“Come home with me,” he whispered. You blushed and considered it.

“I..I can call a taxi if you want to go ahead and go home, I honestly might be longer.”

You heard Akari laugh from the other side of the door. “It’s no problem, god knows you’ve seen me worse. Actually do you want to just spend the night at my place and we can head to work together? I do live closer so you’ll get to sleep in a bit more.”

Nanami shook his head and you frowned at him. “That sounds good.” He looked upset. You smiled slightly. He was way more expressive without his glasses. “Tell the others I’ll be right out. They can go without me.”

“Okay, I’ll tell them there was a line. Your secret is safe with me.”

“You know I love you right.” You said to Akari. You heard her laugh again.

“Shoko was right earlier, she has to get in line, I’m gonna marry you first.” You heard her walk away.

“Why won’t you come with me?” Nanami asked seriously.

Your smile dropped as you thought about it. You shrugged. “I don’t know you. I don’t think it would be appropriate.”

“Really?” He said in an annoyed tone, as he zipped up his pants and handed you your underwear. You rolled your eyes and smiled at him. You reached up to take your panties when he playfully raised them higher. “Let me help you with that.” he lowered his arm and lowered himself down, opening the band to let you slip your legs into them. He slowly slid them up your legs, letting his fingers trace your skin. He stood back upright and hovered his face in front of yours smiling mischievously. You blushed and slipped on the rest of your bottoms.

You sighed as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and he gently placed his hands on your waist. “You said it yourself, you’re not interested in pursuing a relationship with me.”

“I-“

You shook your head and cut him off. “Why would you take me home other than to just fuck me again? I have a bit more self respect than that. Besides, I told you I had feelings for you. I don’t want to give myself hope.” You looked down, feeling a bit somber. “I don’t know why we keep running into each other like this, but I know I don’t have your heart even in the slightest. I know I’m not who you were hoping for.” He looked at you confused. He opened his mouth to speak but you kissed him to shut him up. “You need to start carrying around condoms, you’re going to get someone pregnant like this. Wait two minutes before you walk out.” You quickly slipped out of his embrace and opened the door.

“Y/N, wait.”

You closed the door behind you and looked at the person waiting to go in. “I’d wait for the other bathroom to open up, give this one time to air out. I’m sorry.” You said and walked away. As you walked you noticed how sore your lower abdomen was. The alcohol was wearing off and what you had just done was slowly sinking in.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

˚₊✩‧₊nana here: i'm sorry for ending this with another cliffhanger but i didn't want to make this any longer than it already is and i also didn't want to give y'all a chapter without a little spice. i'm still trying to figure out the direction of part 3... theres a lot of things that i introduced here that might just not go anywhere oops. i have a whole project in my head but it might be something for ao3 isntead idk. i'll be sure to wrap this up neatly tho. anyway thank yall for reading and remember that if you saw a typo, no you didn't. shout out again to cath for reading my god awful writing and editing it haha

pt 1. pt 3. pt 4.

544 notes · View notes

splatoonpolls · 12 days

Text

a really long analysis about fanon Marina and the flanderization by fandom she has gotten

fanon marina (the version created by the fans) mainly focuses on two things, her being autistic coded and her being basically confirmed to be a lesbian. And I do think this has to do with her being VERY much like a typical splatoon fan in many people’s eyes. Her being a nerdy queer neurodivergent person. This is also why other parts, especially her relationship with her being an octoling gets often locked away. Subconsciously at least

if Marina was a book, several chapters would focus on her identity as a dome octoling. Her being autistic would probably pop up here and there, but it wouldn’t be a whole chapter. But her very much gay relationship with Pearl would definitely have a few chapters. But with people focusing on those few lines and chapters rather than the whole book. People would slowly ignore the other chapters, get shocked like Adam Sandler learning Pac-Man was the bad guy in the hit movie pixels.

the splatoon fandom’s western side is mainly white Americans and Europeans. Which is one reason why the fanon Marina doesn’t focus on her identity as an octoling, but also on how many details are not really told to the player. Marina barely shows her ears, which can both be read as her having sensory issues (which is a super valid headcanon(, but also her not feeling super comfortable with her body. With her ears being a reminder of her “you are with people who still think you are only going to steal stuff”. Her tentacles may be weird, she may lack the eyeliner an inkling has. But those things can simply be a stylistic choice. Her ears can’t be one. They are too different. I also know the DLCS focuses more on her identity as a dome octoling. However many can understand how her arc as a whole can be paralleled to the real life experiences of people belonging to marginalized ethnic communities. I also want to point, while writing this. I realized (which many people probably already did). Dome octolings you see outside of the domes (splatoon 2 octolings, Marina, Acht, Paul), are all refugees. They are all characters who grew up in a society that had been shunned for decades, even centuries. That society ended up being oppressive both due to external and internal issues. They know the society they’re living in is no longer a good place to live in. So they escape. Hoping to find a place that will take them on. For agent 8, Marina, and Paul. They found a safe place. Acht wasn’t super lucky however. They were told they could find a “promised land” only to be left in even more ruin before. So not only does Marina’s character arc focus on her being a part of an ethnic minority, but a refugee at that. so why does fanon marina usually avoid that part of her? Well as a mentioned before. Marina has three things that makes her very relatable. While the more backstory focused things are less relatable to a way smaller margin of the splatoon fandom. A way smaller part of the fandom are poc in a very white country. And a very small percentage are refugees.

if we removed Marina’s backstory. We would still be left with the fanon version. A nerdy autistic lesbian who deeply loves Pearl. I love how Nintendo got a game that also isn’t afraid to show a society that cares about queer people if not is queer centric itself. Which is probably why many people cling to that part of Marina. But if we removed that part. What would we be left with? Well, we would have an octoling refugee who is a trained soldier and can create weapons of destructions (and she would still be in love with Pearl, it is an important part of her backstory). im not saying the splatoon fandom’s openness to lgbtq and neurodivergent people is a bad thing just because they boil down one of the most plot heavy characters down to those things. It is actually a really great thing to have a fandom that is open to these marginalized groups.

i just want to say, due to this love for Marina being a character you can relate to. It feels like certain parts of Marina’s character (which can also be very relatable to some) is being drifted away to the more lore centric side of the fandom. Which will lead to a sort of fandom flandarization which is very unintentional and just done due to a love of Marina as a character.

If you’ve read this an disagreed, that is fine. Character writing is a very subjective thing

#Long post #fandom analysis #marina Ida #no beta we die like moray towers #splatoon #splatoon 3 #splatoon 2 #racism #fandom racism

544 notes · View notes

golden-cherry · 2 months

Text

deal - cl16 (36/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Lets get drunk part two - with new opportunities.

Warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: hah. you thought you'd seen the last of me. feedback is appreciated!

"Okay," says Charles and sits back down next to you on the sun bed. He sets the basket down between you, with the necks of various bottles sticking out of it. "Are you more of a vodka girl or a tequila girl?" He pulls out two bottles and holds them out to you.

You examine the bottles before raising your hands. "Neither, to be honest." You carefully pull the basket towards you and take a look inside. Your hands turn the containers slowly so you can read the labels better, and when a bottle catches your eye, you grin at your roommate. "Here."

Charles takes the bottle you hold out to him. "Peach?" He looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "Quite summery."

You shrug your shoulders. "You promised to take me with you next summer so I could go swimming in the sea. I just want to prepare myself properly."

A smile spreads across his face. "Touché. All right." He reaches into the basket and fishes out two small shot glasses. He places them at the head of the sun bed to fill them with the peach liqueur. "You'll love it here during the summer. The sun is blazing, the sea is cold and the days are long." He carefully slides a glass over to you so that the contents don't spill over the rim. "It's like paradise."

You nod gratefully at him. "So now you definitely don't have a choice."

He looks at you, confused. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," you sit up straight and pick up the shot glass. "You talked me up about the boat and summer at sea so much that you definitely have to bring me here next year." You grin at him. "So you have no choice but to take me with you."

"Oh no." He rolls his eyes in mock annoyance and reaches for his glass as well. "So I guess I can't get rid of you at all, huh?"

You shake your head excessively. "No fucking way. You definitely won't get me off this boat in the summer. And the deal about us sharing the apartment is on anyway." You tilt your head. "Even if you really tried, you wouldn't get rid of me that easily." You hold out your arm so he can clink glasses with you.

He looks you in the eye. There's a sparkle in his green ones as he knocks his glass against yours. "Thank God."

The peach liqueur tastes indescribably good and the longer you lie on the sun bed looking at the glowing Monaco in front of you, the more you drink of it. The stars above you twinkle and although it's getting colder, you're nice and warm. Whether it's the alcohol or Charles' laughter, you don't know.

"You've met Arthur yourself," he says as you have to press your face into the pillow to stop your laughter echoing across the ocean. "I swear, his April Fool's jokes are the worst! And you never see them coming!"

You giggle into your pillow. "Tell me you didn't fall for it." Hesitantly, you peek over the hem of the pillow to see Charles' blushing face. You quickly push it back into your face and laugh. "Oh, Charles!"

Your roommate grabs his own pillow and hits yours with it. "Don't laugh at me! You'll be affected soon enough! And then I'm not going to be the one to rescue you."

As you slowly calm down and wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes, you put the pillow back behind your head and look at him. "Trust me - by then Arthur will like me enough that we'll form an alliance. Then he certainly won't play any tricks on me."

Charles looks at you, dumbfounded. "Excuse me? I thought you and I were friends! You're supposed to stand on my side!" With a shake of his head, he reaches for the peach liqueur and refills your glasses.

You grin at him. "I don't form alliances with people who fall for stupid pranks like that."

He pushes your glass over to you. "All traitors." He shakes his head again. "I thought at least I had you on my side."

You raise your glass to your lips. "I'm always on your side, Charles. You're my best friend," you assure him, although the sentence leaves a nasty taste in your mouth. You wash it down with the liqueur. "But I'm not going to let Arthur take the piss just to make you feel better."

"You're a great best friend," he says and pours the liqueur into his mouth. "Just you wait and see. I won't save you if my brother does decide to play an April Fool's joke on you."

"You wouldn't dare," you reply with a grin. "Your mom would give you hell if she knew you were abandoning me." You grab the liqueur and fill your glasses again. "After all, she likes me better than you."

Charles watches you fill his glass to the brim. He presses his tongue into your cheek before licking his teeth. "I wish you were wrong." He holds out his arm for you to clink glasses with him. "Here's to my family liking you better than me."

You try to suppress your grin. "Don't worry, Charlie. I like you all the more for it," the alcohol speaks out of you and when you hear what you're saying, the blood rushes to your face. You quickly clink your glass against his and drink the liqueur so you don't have to look at the Monegasque in front of you.

As he puts his empty glass down, he grins at you. "'Charlie'? You're really going to give me a nickname?"

You roll your eyes and run your fingers through your hair so he doesn't notice your nervousness. "Don't worry," you try to play it down. Thank goodness he can't hear your rapid heartbeat. "I only use it when it's just us."

When you look at Charles again, he smiles at you softly. "I like the name," he assures you. "And if it stays your little secret and mine, I like it even more. It belongs only to you. Only you can call me that."

You smile at him before leaning back into your pillow and looking up at the stars. The night is clear, there isn't a single cloud in the night sky and the sea breeze on your face cools your alcohol-warmed skin pleasantly. You feel Charles lie down as well.

"Do you want to spend the night at my mother's tomorrow?" he asks quietly. When you turn your head in his direction, he's already looking at you. "I usually spend the night there. Maman always gets delicious wine and when we all get together, the evening gets pretty long." When you raise an eyebrow with a smile, he continues. "And there are plenty of rooms in the house. You're welcome to choose one of them. I'd hate to go back home for Christmas," he adds. "Especially because my mom would be alone and -"

"Charlie," you interrupt him. "We can spend the night at your mom's. There's nothing wrong with that." You wink at him. "Besides, I want to have a drink with Arthur and then I definitely can't go home."

He exhales with relief. "Very good." He turns his head forward and looks up at the stars too. "It's going to be a nice evening. My maman cooks delicious food and then we always play something. It's usually Uno or charades. You've heard how Monopoly turns out for us."

You have to giggle. "I would really like to play Monopoly with you," you admit quietly. "And I would never steal money from the bank either."

Charles exhales. "I'll take your word for that. But Arthur is more cunning than you think. He would steal money from the bank and make it look like it was you. You definitely don't want to play Monopoly with him."

You shrug your shoulders. "Then again, maybe I'm smarter than you give me credit for." You look up at the night sky again. "Maybe I can outsmart Arthur and win."

Your roommate laughs out loud. "Then you'd have to get past me first. And I'm certainly not going to let you win just like that. Not after you said you'd team up with my brother and not stand by me when he pulls his April Fool's pranks."

Offended, you reach behind your head for your pillow to smash it into his face, but Charles is quicker and snatches the pillow out of your hand before you can hit him with it. "You suck, Charlie."

"You love me. Just admit it," he grins and hesitantly gives you your pillow back, risking being exposed to your attack again.

But you merely wrap your arms around the pillow and hug it to your chest. Even through the feathers inside, you can feel how fast your heart is beating.

"Of course," you try to play down the swirling feelings inside you and hope that he doesn't notice the trembling in your voice. Or the truth in your words. "I'll still try to beat you at Monopoly. Or Uno. Or charades." Offended, you lie back on your pillow and cross your arms in front of your chest.

Charles sits up again and refills your shot glasses. He pushes it towards you like a peace offering. "Maybe I'll let you win," he smiles as you look at him. "After all, Christmas is the festival of love and I -" he continues, but is interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.

You look at him in confusion. You'd love to know how he would have finished the sentence. "You have reception out here?" you ask him as he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket.

The Monegasque shakes his head and shows you his phone screen. "I had set an alarm clock."

You raise an eyebrow. "For what?"

He points to the time with his finger. It's midnight and therefore officially Christmas. He looks at you with a grin. "I have a Christmas present for you."

As he gets up from the sun bed and staggers onto the wood of the deck, you look at him indignantly. "No way," you reply, annoyed. "If I can't give you a present, then you can't give me one either."

"Calm down, mon ami," he says, swaying slightly from left to right as he circles you. The alcohol seems to have hit him hard too. "I'll be right back." Without another word, he disappears into the interior of the yacht, leaving you on the sun bed.

Annoyed, you sit up.

The fact that you're not allowed to give him a present has almost ruined your friendship. Just the memory of his words that he wants nothing from you but your friendship sends a cold shiver down your spine. You would love to tell him that you want more from him than friendship, that you desire him, that you want him for yourself - that you love him - but no amount of money in the world would make you reveal your feelings to him. If he actually knew how you felt about him, you would certainly lose the only good thing in your life. And you wouldn't risk that under any circumstances.

You run your fingers nervously through your hair. What could he possibly give you? You've never mentioned anything to him that he could possibly buy. And there's no way he'd change his mind in a day and confess his love for you. You'd have to be incredibly naive to believe that.

It's not his fault that he doesn't feel the same way about you as you do about him. It's not his fault that his words have torn your heart apart. And it's not his fault that he can't take your feelings into consideration if you don't tell him about them.

You take a deep breath and smile at him as he rejoins you. In his hand, he holds a brown envelope, which he hands to you as he drops back onto the sun bed next to you. When you look at him uncertainly, he nods at you. "Merry Christmas, mon ami."

Hesitantly, you open the envelope and pull out several pages of paper, held together at the top left corner by a paper clip. You immediately recognize your name on the first page, with Charles written underneath. The rest is written in French, which is why you look at your roommate even more confused than before. "What's this?"

Irritated, he takes the pages from your hand and lets his eyes wander over the letters for a moment before he hits his forehead a little too hard with the palm of his hand. "Shit. I thought they'd printed it out in English," he says, handing the papers back to you. I'm really sorry."

You raise an eyebrow. "And what's this?" Your eyes wander over the paper, trying to identify any of the words, until you unsuccessfully put the papers down in front of you.

"This, mon ami, is an employment contract," he explains with a smile and leans back a little.

"An employment contract?"

" Mh-hmm." He licks his lips once. "Remember when Joris mentioned that he had a new job?"

You nod. Of course you remember.

After you'd been to the place where Charles had been with his father in the past, you both went to Joris' and had lunch there. Joris had told you that he was starting a new job and when you had been there to burn Annika's things, he had talked about it too.

"Well," Charles says hesitantly. "Joris was my personal photographer. And now that he can no longer work for me and accompany me around the world because of his new job, I thought - well - maybe you'd like to be my new photographer. You - um - you don't have a job at the moment and - well - I thought it would be cool if you and I worked together," he babbles in one breath, blood rushing to his cheeks. "You'd travel with me to the Formula 1 races and take photos there, but of course you'd also spend a lot of time with me in private. Which would be a good fit, as you and I live together anyway and the fans loved the photo you took of me at the lookout point. And the one you just took of me turned out great too."

Your breath is stuck in your lungs.

Charles wants you to work for him? That you photograph him so he can post the pictures on Instagram? That you fly around the world with him?

You'd love to throw your arms around his neck with joy, but you just grin at him. "Are you serious?" When he nods, you squeal with excitement. "You're really serious, Charlie? You really want me to work for you?"

"Of course," he admits openly and smiles at you. "You and I are best friends. Why would I want to work with someone else when I have the perfect and best photographer literally sitting right in front of me? I'd be pretty stupid to ask anyone else."

Carefully and with shaky hands, you put the documents back in the envelope. "I - thank you. I don't even know what to say."

"Just say yes." He leans a little to the side so that he can push your full shot glass over to you. "You'll travel around the world with me, get paid incredibly well and spend a lot of time with me. I'll cover the travel expenses, of course. All you have to do is take good photos of me."

You look at him in amazement. "I'm getting paid and you're still covering the travel costs?"

Your flatmate laughs out loud. "Of course! What do you think? Whether I give you more salary so you can pay for your flights and everything yourself, or whether I pay you everything, it's the same in the end."

Heat shoots into your face. "Then at least let me give you money for the rent. Now that I have a job again."

He shakes his head vehemently. "Absolutely not. The money is yours, you can do anything you want with it."

"Except pay the rent," you reply and get his pillow thrown in your face.

"Exactly. Everything except pay the rent," he assures you. "So, what do you say, mon ami? Do you fancy exploring the world with me?"

You nod with a grin. "Definitely." You raise your shot glass. "Thank you, Charlie. That's the best Christmas present I've ever been given."

A blush creeps into his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Really?"

You nod with a smile. "Definitely. I can't thank you enough for that."

The thought of being permanently close to Charles scares you as much as it makes you happy. As his best friend, you're looking forward to spending every minute with him, traveling the world and discovering the most beautiful places. And getting paid for it too.

As the woman who loves him, you're a little worried about what will happen if he meets someone he falls in love with while you're traveling. You don't want to imagine the pain if he gets into a committed relationship with someone and all you can do is stand on the sidelines and watch him be happy. There's no question that he deserves to be happy - but the thought that the person he's falling in love with isn't you makes you feel sick.

You try to suppress the thought and smile bravely at him. "It's absolutely the best present. Thank you so much, Charlie. No one's ever done anything like this for me before."

There is a loving sparkle in his eyes. "I'd do anything for you." Before he picks up his glass as well, he pulls out his cell phone again and taps on it. "Can I post it like this?" he asks you and holds his phone out to you. His screen shows the picture you just took, with a simple caption.

You shrug your shoulders. "I think so. But do you think it's a good idea to post something when you've had so much alcohol?" you ask him with a grin.

"Oh nonsense," he grins at you and taps his phone one last time before activating the keypad lock and putting it back in his pocket. "I only have good ideas when I'm drunk." He reaches for his shot glass and holds it out to you so you can clink glasses. "I'm glad you said yes. I can hardly wait."

"Me neither," you reply with a smile.

He takes a deep breath before his eyes search yours. He would love to put the glasses aside, pull you onto his lap and kiss you until you can't breathe, until the sun rises, until the world ends. But that's just the alcohol whispering to him, he thinks.

He knocks his glass against yours. "Here's to us."

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55 and others tagged: yourusername charles_leclerc: ma mère approuve

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc cute #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic

558 notes · View notes

oddinarylani · 1 year

Text

'i wish you'd just care about me' arranged marriage skz.

pt 1: chan, lee know, changbin, and hyunjin.

w: blood, violence in changbin's

pt 2 is ⇀ here

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷.↴

it wasn’t the best of circumstances. no. the day you were bathed in white, promised to a man, and walked down the aisle by your father to be given to the hands of your husband was one you spent in mourning, swallowed by grief. “i bet you’re so excited, yeah?” the makeup artist asked, brushing a pearly shade of pinkish red onto your lips. she had a soft genuine smile as she asked, surfacing you into reality from the fogginess in your head. you nod, once, “yes, i am.” you lie in an attempt to make conversation easy. most of the guests that day knew of the arrangement, but other’s hadn’t a clue - which made appearances dire to keep up with. part of you was pleased to move onto a new chapter in your life if it meant moving on from life with your parents. but the other part reminded you that you were going into a new marriage completely blind to the man you’d call your husband. you met him one singular time before changing your last name, the entirety of it was spent with your parents talking to his own - glances you cast in his direction, if only to study the face of the man you hoped to love one day.

his jaw was set coldly, eyes focused on the conversation shared between your parents. he was handsome but just stone. was anything there? you would wonder. is there a man beneath that face? the bone beneath his skin rippled in tender structure, ears pierced, nose rounded, and a heart-like shape to his mouth. while there was no longer hope to hold out for, you scrounged up a bit more in the depths of your chest in desire to love him one day. truly love him. and to be loved in return.

two months into your marriage and you still feel the brick wall dividing you from your husband. it wasn’t exhausting all the time, no. you saw him smile; a few times actually. sometimes you think of it when going to sleep. you hadn’t heard him truly laugh, but you still maintained that same hope from the first time you ever saw him that one day you’d be the reason for him to. your new routine as husband and wife took a minute to settle into; with chan slowly rising to ranks of his family’s company and your own growth in the business of your own. your days were spent at home in your office working from home, a lot of calls into business meetings that you kept your mic muted for, and phone calls to overseas clientele for holiday season.

chan would wake in the morning and rise from your shared bed quick to get ready for work, leaving you to fix coffee and shrug on a robe in the cold of your home (winters weren’t kind in the mornings) when he’d leave, you’d have a cup ready for him, cream and a sugar cube. “thank you, have a good day.” he’d wish, already halfway out the door with a small tired smile on his face. “you’re welcome, you too,” you’d say, scrolling through your phone as the door would shut.

he’d take little notice to your attempts at growing your relationship, and you hadn’t had the time to bring it up to him yet that you wanted to try to have a wonderful marriage. you’d step into the living room wearing a new dress for a banquet for the company, smile a bit wider and brighter than usual - he’d look up from the couch, phone still in hand and would give you a thin lipped smile. “you look nice.” you’d rent a movie, one he’d said he’d wanted to watch soon, and welcome him home with drinks by the couch and he’d brush it off, “ah, sorry. i have a company thing tonight. tomorrow maybe?” of course, he’d forget the next day anyway so it would all be for nothing. when he’d come home extra late and you’d be in bed, buddled in pjs in the comforter with a book and the lamp on next to you, you’d muster your best smile and set your book down. “hey, how was work?” he’d sigh, pulling the tie from his neck. “nothing new really.”

and then you’d beg yourself, beg yourself, to just answer the question of why were you in love with him?

maybe it was for all the times you’d get to see him smile, the chuckles as you’d watch a movie, the thank you’s for cooking, and everything in between. maybe you loved him for the way he stumbled into the kitchen almost late for work, his hair a bit messy and his tie disoriented and you stopped him - “wait,” you put a hand up, walking up to him to fix his tie. it was the closest you’d ever been to him besides the day you’d gotten married, you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “sorry, my hands are cold.” your voice still laced with sleep as you straightened his tie and flattened his hair. “i-it’s okay.” he assured, clearing his throat. “eat some on your way to work, coffee’s on the counter. have a good day, okay?” you push a few pieces of toast wrapped in a napkin into his hands, pointing to his coffee before turning back to the stove. “r-right. thank you, have a good day.”

that was pretty cute. you even for a moment thought there’d be hope for you, as his cheeks flushed pink when you started working on his tie. sitting at your desk in your office you’d smile at the thought before catching yourself and smacking your own cheeks.

but time was catching up with you, and the unbearable ache of loving him was almost too much for your heart to handle. you at least needed to know if he felt the same or if he ever could - but in the following days after your realization, you proved yourself right. there was no way. no way this could work out. a steady stream of emotion was constantly running through you; you couldn’t focus on work, you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat - and you wondered if he even noticed. you were growing increasingly frustrated with chan, and every passing day of limited conversation, barely any eye contact, and virtually no response from chan was wearing you down. one second you were smitten, and the other you were pissed.

and it eventually all came to a halt.

the front door of your house shut loudly, louder than usual. and you had a sneaking suspicion chan hadn’t the best day at work. well. that was a shame - you were still pissed, and to think he had the audacity to come home angry from work when he could barely prove to be a communicative partner was enough to leave your blood boiling. you’d let him have it if given the chance.

“how was work.” it wasn’t so much a question as much as a routine statement. you sat on the couch, shuffling through your movies to find the one he’d been wanting to watch, which upon realization, you didn’t know why you did that when you were pissed at him.

“fine.” he stomps into your shared bedroom, yanking the tie from his throat as he did so. you roll your eyes and keep shuffling with a much heavier hand this time. when he re-emerges from the bedroom, he’s shed his tie but still has on his button-down and suit jacket on, you furrow your brows and sit up from the couch.

“what’s wrong? what happened?” you ask out of the goodness of your heart. he tosses open the fridge, sighing. “nothing. nothing happened.”

“you wanna watch that movie you said you wanted to see?” he runs his hands over his face, closing the fridge door. he looks for a moment as if he’s thinking, his hands on his hips as he swallows. “no. not tonight.” he finishes, beginning to walk out of the kitchen before you stand.

“i really really wish you just cared for me.”

it was quiet, quiet, when you said it. the words left your lips before you could realize that your vision was getting a bit glossy. he freezes in his tracks, whipping his vision towards you at the sound of your voice. there wasn’t venom to your words like you expected there would be, no. just defeat. chan hears it, he hears it in you and all of his frustration, his anger, his annoyance, just melts away. instead, his chest is swallowed with guilt.

“i try,, i try so hard to make this work, chris. i really do.” you wipe your face even though tears haven’t fallen yet, and he thinks it’s to stop them from ever doing so, at least in front of him, and his chest aches. he’s turned to face you now, just six feet away or so, and his brow softens at the sight of you.

“i cook for you and make you coffee every morning and try renting your favorite movie because you said you wanted to watch it and wear pretty things out to work events and when i go out with friends but,, you don’t,,,” you look at him when you speak, he sees that water building in your eyes and takes a step closer to you, almost wanting to reach out but stopping himself before he’s to do so. your head shakes, you sniff one more time.

“because that’s what married people do.” this time he does walk closer, you don’t move, but you don’t look him in the eye either - it seems much to hard to do when you’re on the brink of crying.

“i promised myself,,” you lift a clenched fist to his chest, tapping him once with it, your lips screwing together in frustration though your voice is still soft and tearful. “that as your wife i’d love you one day.” your hand drops from his chest, you wipe your eyes when a single tear spills over your waterline, ducking your head to do so out of his line of sight. “is it too much to ask the same from my husband.”

it’s quiet for a minute, in one way he knows everything to say. every sweet word to soothe over your aching heart, because that’s what he’s suppose to do as your husband, and there’s another part of him that has no clue what to say.

because what kind of husband is he to leave you feeling as empty as this.

“i told myself on our wedding day that,, i never wanted to be the one to make you cry.” his palms come to cup your cheeks, though his large hands end up swallowing some of your jawline and neck as well. your eyes widen a bit at the feeling, “look at me?” he asks, voice quiet. you do so with guidance from his own hands. “i’m sorry. i’m really sorry.” even he has some water building on his waterline, you notice. you frown, feeling his thumbs dry your under eyes.

“i never wanted to make you feel uncared for or unheard. i appreciate everything you do for me. and i’m sorry i’ve made you question if i care for you.” he wipes his thumbs under your eyes once more before his hands lower a bit. “you’re my wife. i care about you so much. and i’ll show you that, i promise.”

you talk for a little longer, but disregard the movie for the night, instead, you settle on curling up beside chris who wraps an arm around you, his cheeks a bit pink as you adjust yourself in his hold. he feels the burn of your own cheeks against his arm. “is this okay?” he asks, his opposite hand settling on your hip. you smile, “of course. i’m your wife, you can touch me. can i touch you?” he hums, scooting closer, giving you the okay to lay your arm across his midsection. you close your eyes for a moment, if only to enjoy the feeling of holding your husband for the first time. the warmth that always seems to naturally radiate off of him, the closeness of his breath, the feeling of being the only woman who gets to see him like this.

“i didn’t know you were so cuddly, mr. bang.” you smile to yourself, his hand stroking soft over your hip. “only when given the chance, mrs. bang.” he replies. “ooh,, too smooth.” you admire.

when silence encircles the both of you, and you feel sleepiness begin to creep up on you, he speaks again, “did you mean it when you said you’d learn to love me one day?” his voice is quiet, so tender - it licks at the wounds of your heart and seals them shut. your heart pounds behind your ribcage and you breathe deep to settle the rage of affection steadily brewing in you. “of course.” you reply, your face beginning to bury in his neck.

“well, that’s a shame.” you furrow your brows, opening your eyes to look up at him. before you can reply he speaks again. “because i love you now.”

𝓵𝓮𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀.↴

“the summer berries on the bushels in the forest are getting ripe now, i brought you some.” you lift your basket, both hands wrapped around it’s weak woven handle, showcasing your proud supply of freshly picked goods. you set the basket down a moment later, your husband batting a quick eye to the basket before he looks back to his spread of books a second later. “mm.” is his only reply.

lee minho was the protector and guide of the largest castle in the northern part of your land. he was a renowned alchemist and practitioner of magic, known for being aid to a handful of people in the village you were raised in, and most notably - a fierce god of night. a vampire.

it was true the stories of bloodlust and killings that tainted centuries of vampire lore; but lee minho set out to do something different. he hadn’t a care of the human experience, which he shared with that of his ancestors, but he had no need to kill them either. animal blood tasted just as delicious as a human’s. and when befriending a human, their loyalty was like no other. so he didn’t kill them, no, he made pacts and promises, and if anything used them more like pawns but they’d die soon before he did.

and then there was you. his wife. promised to his hand by your family - a pact of sorts, one of which you both hadn’t necessarily agreed to if it wasn’t for both of your families stepping in to further push along the marriage. in a quiet candlelight scenery you were married to your now husband, and your seal of a kiss was shared. which, honestly, you didn’t regret. he was very handsome - and kissing handsome men was always a joyous occasion (well, mostly anyway)

he was rageful. not at you, maybe more to existence itself. he was never angry towards you, he never showed it, but you could see deep within the brown wash of his eyes that he was indeed an angry man. he had a hate you’d only seen a few times, and every time you looked a little too hard you felt yourself look away - to anywhere else in the room. afraid of what it meant, afraid of his own distaste.

“you’re wearing the dress.” he notes. his vision still wondering over the pages in his book. your slightly fallen expression gleams a little at his comment. “yes, of course. you bought it for me.” your hands smooth over your torso, he still doesn’t look up. your lips twist at the sight of your husband’s disinterest, but you turn to wash the berries and leave the room.

most of your marriage to minho felt like a huge disinterest on his side. he’d lived many years, this much was true. but in your short time to live, you longed for a husband who loved you; and part of you thought minho was largely incapable of this. he never showed it. he never showed anything for that matter; he was always so far away. life not only was nonexistent to him as a man, but in his very eyes. he showed not a shred of emotion, and even in your good memories with him, he showed very little. part of you blamed it on his years of living, but yet the other part of you reminded you it was all the more reason to care. every day felt like a slow drag, you weren’t really living, not really. survival maybe. but being bound to this castle with a man who rarely payed you mind left an ache worse than death. were you not to his standards? maybe that was it.

you’d shed too many tears over the situation, now every time you cry you try to pull yourself together in the face of your grief. upon talking to your family, a few members reminded you that your voice was powerful, and you should very much share your opinions to him on the matter if your marriage was to work - but that was the thing. a few months in with the man you were to learn to love, and you felt even now it was helpless. it was a sting that brought you to your knees, god how you wanted to just tell him. tell him you loved him - and hear it from his own mouth.

upon your ravage of feelings and your family’s request, you resorted to writing a letter to your husband. you surely wouldn’t have the guts to face this powerful man in person, not like this. so you took to beginning your note in scribbles in the isolated space of your bedroom.

your lips twitch in thought as you think over the contents of your letter, your hand stilling still quipped with a quill. you’re swallowed with silence in the stillness of your bedroom, word after word is brought to the front of your brain. there’s a number of things you could say, but not enough words in the world to describe how you felt.

“lee minho, i’m unhappy.” you speak aloud as you write, taking a moment to look back at your writing, quickly scribbling the line out before starting again.

“dear husband, i have a few things to bring to your attention.” you nod along as you write, happier with this line.

“i believe if we’re to work as husband and wife, we should talk more.”

“i try time and time again to gain your attention, to bring you happiness in a way i know how.”

“but,, it seems to never be enough.”

“if you don’t want me,” you pause, your fingers fumble with the quill in your hand as your palms begin to warm against the hardwood. your lips twitch again.

against all things in your brain reminding you a married couple should speak of their issues and this was a must in your relationship if either of you wish to continue - an overwhelming feeling of pure grief washes over you and your hand as you still to keep from writing.

every bright moment in your relationship flashes before your eyes like matches starting a fire. it’s so overwhelming that your voice dies, and a tight tug at the back of your throat halts you to a shred of reality you hadn’t dwelled on. you sit further back in your chair, eyes glossing over into thought - lost entirely to the contents of your brain. realization has hit you like a truck in the face of your confrontation.

because what about all of the wonderful times you’ve spent together.

what about the dancing of your wedding day, the golden burn of his watchful gaze, the presents, the meals shared, the wishes of good morning or good night? what about all of the times that kept you so closely tethered to him? what about the times that kept you in love with the man who barely spoke to you.

you take a breath - and as quiet as it would be, it’s blaringly loud in the silence of your bedroom.

“i want to love you. i do. and,, i think i do.” clarity has left your quill, and instead, you write from your heart. what you truly feel.

“i hate that you don’t notice when i try to do kind things for you.”

“i want to work in matrimony of us.”

“i know our marriage is against our wishes, but i want to make it work.”

“i just.. i just wish you cared about me.”

a hand sharply grabs your chin, pulling your gaze to meet that of your husband's golden gaze.

“not care?” he asks, his face screwed into a sort of confused expression. “not care?” he asks again as his expression contorts again, further - until his hand is tender.

you’re so sharply pulled from your own head that you’re left with whiplash. he’s heard you? where was he? did you leave the door open? your eyes are blown wide as you face him in the realization he’s heard everything.

your mouth dries as you look at him, his gaze cuts into your very being and you feel utterly frozen. “no-! i didn’t mean it-” “you do though. i’ve made you feel this way.” his gentle grip on your chin leaves you, and he shuffles away, sitting firmly on your bed. his gaze seems lost, as if he couldn’t keep up with the words you’d admitted.

“minho..” “i do care.” he cuts in. you swallow, your brows melding together as you do so. “i don’t… want you to feel this way. and i’m sorry for doing so.”

in the face of confrontation he seems genuinely distressed, not that any part of you doubted it - but it was comforting to hear the words leaving his mouth.

“if we’re to be married, i want you happy. comfortable. i don’t want you to feel bad because of me.” he explains.

“i just,, i want to work this out. i want us to talk more; tell me what makes you happy and what hurts you.” you reassure, holding onto the back of your chair as minho’s head hangs low. “i’m your wife, i want to hear all of that.” a small smile stretches across your mouth; it’s lopsided and a bit sad, but it’s there nonetheless, and the sound of your voice lets minho’s head rise as he meets your gaze once more.

he sees in you the beauty he sees across the room even as you just sit a few feet away from him. it’s overwhelming, suffocating; and part of him hates it a little bit for suffocating his heart in one swift swallow. you’re all encompassing and human - he’s learned self-control few could achieve, and yet even a few months into a marriage he didn’t agree to and he’s smitten. he wants to reach deep inside his chest and pull his heart out by it’s tethers, and apart of him wants to feel your love to the highest degree he could if just to be surrounded in heaven once more.

“were you lying then?” he pauses, hands wrung together. “when you said you loved me?” a small quirk in the corner of his mouth leaves your face and chest hot.

“i wasn’t lying.”

minho’s made home on your bed, lulled to his side as his pretty eyes wash over your face. you aren’t connected, in fact, you’re a little afraid to touch him - regardless of this fact, your wrist lifts to reach nimble fingers to his face, but you pause, your soft fingers retracting into your palm.

“touch me.” he needs. his hand cupping your own to bring to his face tenderly.

your face is flushed with a dusty pink, the feeling of his face beneath your touch lights the nerve endings in your palm alight. your brow quirks in thought, but not for a moment do you part with his sun-washed eyes.

“how did you become a vampire?” you ask quietly, your thumb strokes the soft skin beneath his eye, his hand stroking the back of your own.

“i was born into it. my family comes from a long blood-line of vampires.” you hum in response, taking a moment to study the wash of sun-like gold that overtakes your husband’s eyes. fractals of evening sun beam through the curtains in your bedroom, creating a soft sleepy haze in your room. dust is seen floating in the room in the portions of sun that reach into the room.

“you’re beautiful.” he beats you to it, realizing he too has been looking at you the entire time. you retract your hand nervously, a smile stretching across your face in sweet embarrassment. “thank you.”

“do you want to be one one day? or do you value your life?” he’s half joking, a floppy smirk on his lips as he sighs a laugh. you hum once more, looking to his mouth to see the slight glimpse of fangs visible to you.

“maybe. if it meant i got to spend more time with you, than yes.”

minho’s smirk widens, his eyes washing from your face to the curve of your jaw, to the drop of your neck. his mouth parts, his hand coming to the curve of your ribcage over your waist, his warm hand freezes you in place. he lowers his lips to the column of your neck, a lowly drunken gaze filtering over his face. “that could be arranged.” his breath meets the tender flesh of your neck before he presses your waist closer to your body, his soft lips meeting your neck in a single kiss.

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓫𝓲𝓷.↴

“be careful on the job today.” you crane your neck out of the doorway of the kitchen to look at your husband as he tightens a holster around his thigh. he looks up for a moment, face momentarily stricken with something similar to surprise at your well wishes. he looks down a moment later, checks the clip of his pistol, and then shoves it into the holster. “i will. i’ll be back tonight.” the door closes sharply behind him and you’re left in the silence of your home yet again.

there’s a pool of melted ice on top of your coffee, you take a sip anyway, the palm of your hand now wet from the sweat off the glass. in truth, you were trying. very sternly trying to make your marriage work. but with circumstances of said marriage coupled with the dangerous reality of your lifestyles, it felt like your assumed fate was dwindling before your eyes - a thin bow ready to snap under pressure.

being born into crime wasn’t all good fellas or the godfather all the time - no. it was nasty business, some of which you came to regret but again this was the only life either of you knew, leaving the business would be impossible without a gun to your head. you persevered in the face of guilt anyway, not knowing fully how your husband felt about the situation. the sound of your phone ringing brings you out of your head for a moment, leaving you rolling your eyes at the sight of your mother’s name across the vibrating screen.

“yes?’’ your coffee tastes bitter now, too much water - you pour the contents into the sink as she begins talking.

“hey hun, there’s a job tomorrow that’s opened up. one of the boys got canned, we’ll pay his bail through an anonymous source but we have to wait a few days so the cops don’t catch on. you in?” your fingers tug a coffee filter out of it’s wooden box, stuffing it into the machine as you press a button on your grinder.

“mom,” your hand comes to your eyes, rubbing them tiredly. “i told you i was out of the dirty work. i’m doing that shit anymore. and i’m severely out of practice of doing anything hefty.” you explain, the grinder stops, you pour the grounds into the coffee machine. she sighs on the other end, her voice coming through more heated now - pressure started weighing on your shoulders. she says your name with a deadly tone, it leaves you feeling as though there’s a cold metal rod stiff in your back.

“why don’t you ever look out for this family? you think you can just leave and do the bare minimum when your father and i have slaved over making a good childhood for you?” and then you’d argue back and forth until you felt like ripping your hair out and you’d finally cave and you mom would end the call sharply and once again leave you in the silence of your home that was beginning to feel more like a prison.

when you heard the beep that ended the call, you tossed your phone to the couch and let your mind wander yet again - what else was there to do in your seemingly failing marriage and rocky relationship with your parents? you hadn’t many friends unless they were in the business, and that only counted for a few really close ones. you track around your kitchen with your fingers pushed into your hairline, and your mind wanders back to something she’d said on the phone a few weeks ago.

“we found you your husband, is that not good enough for you?”

you hadn’t even the energy to put up with audacity of that claim. so you ended the call and showered, but it still ate at you greatly - because no. no it wasn’t enough. changbin, as dedicated to the lifestyle as he was, and you respected him for his commitment, was terrible at showing you what he truly felt. most conversations were barely that, mostly exchanges if anything - and the few good times you’ve had together were truly the only thing keeping you around if it wasn’t for the godforsaken hope you managed to hold onto.

you saw the good in him - the good he was capable of, and every time you’d suffocate yourself in thought about being three months in and still not working together as a married couple should, you reminded yourself of this fact. it’s what kept you in, what drew you closer to him. because what could you both be? it’s already bad enough you have feelings for the guy and he clearly didn’t feel the same way.

“fuck,, what am i gonna do.” to clear your head you showered again, tying back your wet hair and slumming around the house until changbin arrived back home when you’d be drifting off to sleep. at least you had an opportunity to clean; and when the house was clean, you felt a bit better. you were correct about changbin returning late - you heard a long sigh as he entered your bedroom, the plop of a duffel bag could be heard. when you look at the time on your phone you see it’s just past three in the morning.

“how’d it go?” you ask tiredly from the bed, the bathroom light flickers on and he raises his head a bit. “oh i’m sorry i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“it’s okay. you okay?”

“yeah. yeah, everything went fine. what’d you do today?” you see the rings of exhaustion circling his eyes as he strips off his shirt and hides the smallest of winces.

you sigh heavily, rubbing your eyes as the sink begins to run. “i talked to my mom on the phone. doing a job tomorrow night. cleaned the house though.”

“what kind of job?” he asks as he starts the shower. you talk a bit louder so he can hear you over the sound of the spray. oh he wasn’t going to like the sound of this - these kinds of jobs were everyone’s least favorite in the business.

“there’s a warehouse on fifth, when you’re leaving the downtown area. apparently some guys are trafficking there. gotta take them out.”

“shit.. be careful. small time guys have been trying to make names of themselves.”

“i know, i will be.”

careful you were, but careful was not enough. those guys holed up in that warehouse with every corner covered, not only that, but with automatic weapons with full mags, dressed in black to blend with the shadows. the job was done, the victims released into promised care and with you aid in the following days, be returned to their families or brought to homes, but not without some wounds of your own. the guys dropped you off at the back of your house, granted it was past midnight but you couldn’t be too careful. your home was secluded - but what the law knew was unbeknownst to the organization in regards to this mission in particular.

you left your weapons in the van with the promise of getting them back the next day. “c-clean the blood off it for me, would you?” you grinned, shuffling from the van with your arm slung over your partner. you lean nearly fully into his weight as he aids you in finding your back door. you bang on the big sliding window before unlocking it, letting changbin know you were home.

“we gotta get the fuck outta here. you be careful yeah? call me tomorrow morning.” the driver calls before peeling away from your home. you nod, using the wall to stumble inside your house as the living room is suddenly flooded with light, and your husband walks out of your bedroom with his phone in hand and his brows furrowed.

“changbin,,” you push the door closed, leaving bloody handprints everywhere you touched.

“fuck- okay, okay, okay- it’s alright. come here.” his outstretched hands come to wrap your arm around his shoulders and stabilize on your waist as he helps you walk to your bathroom.

hot spots of pain blossom on your waist, ribs, and leg. it’s throbbing, all encompassing, and leaves your eyes watering when changbin’s palm presses a little harshly into your side. throughout the house your gasps and groans of pain are heard, changbin is working as diligently and carefully as he can to help you to the bathroom, only imagining how much you must be hurting.

“okay, okay- i’m gonna lay you on the floor okay?” he helps you rest along the floor after he’s put some towels down, and kneels by your side before grabbing the extensive first aid kit you kept in your bathroom. you nod, closing your eyes to focus on breathing, but every breath in hurts, and every exhale throbs your wounds.

“where are you hit?” he asks, you now notice his hands are tainted with your blood in just a few splotches. he rummages through the kit, reaching for the hem of your shirt as he cuts through your gear and clothing. “m-my sides, and,, one in my left leg.”

“alright. it’s gonna be okay - let’s get you sewn up. what happened?” he asks as a way of distracting you from how bad this was about to hurt. he pours some alcohol in his hands before barring your torso to his eyes, now seeing the festering wounds.

“t-they-” you laugh because it’s hurting so bad and your eyes are getting glossy as adrenaline leaves your body. “they had automatics… every one of them was geared the fuck up. and not only that but there must’ve been twenty,, twenty five of them and five of us.”

changbin’s head slowly shakes in disappointment that you were set up that badly for failure, his haw is tight - but he remains focused on the task at hand, cleaning you up. he lifts you up with one arm and helps you shred your arms of your sleeves completely, focusing now on the wound near your ribs. “why’d they send you in with only five people? did they want you to die? fuck.”

“seems like it.” you chuckle, his hand stabilizes before he reaches into your wound with medical pliers to grab the bullet still embedded in you. your grip tightens on the towels beneath you, eyes now swimming with tears as you groan at the feeling of the tug of the pliers.

“i know, i know. you’re doing good though, talk about something. tell me about the job or- your favorite music or something.” his hands dip into a bowl of water, returning to your wound to clean you from blood and put some pressure on the wound.

“the job was shit, but,, the guys are gone. all the victims are safe and i’ll work on paper work to get them home tomorrow.” he hums, nodding. he puts a bit of topical numbing around the wound before grabbing sutures to close the open wound. “as far as music,” you laugh to yourself again, your gaze focused on the ceiling. “you trying to get to know me? didn’t think you cared so much for that.”

his hands pause. then lower. he looks at you with a kind of genuinity you didn’t expect from the man you called your husband. “of course i care. you’re my wife.”

“you’re always so focused on the work, on your job. you’re gone a lot. i can tell you care about the organization i just,, i don’t know. i always hoped you’d care for us too.”

he frowns a bit, his gaze is focused back to his hands as he threads the string more diligently through the needle. he’s paused, he has a focused expression and you can tell when you look at him he’s thinking - part of you hopes you haven’t stumped him, or made him uncomfortable - maybe you did hold out too much hope.

“i do care about us. about you. i always figured since we were arranged to be married that you wouldn’t want much to do with me.” when he returns to working on your wound you wince, eyes closing tight. he apologizes quietly, but it’s over quicker than you expected.

“i want everything to do with you, silly. you’re my husband. i want this to work between us if we’re going to be married.” your eyes are still watery and the throbbing hasn’t subsided - you wonder if part of this is delusion since your filter has seemingly disappeared in the face of pain.

he smiles, softly. “i’m sorry that i’ve made you feel that way, and hey-” his hand reaches for yours, the one that bears the ring he gifted you on the day you were married. your eyes meet his as your head lulls to the side, you grasp onto his hand as if he’d stabilize you - and he does. “i do care about you. genuinely.”

you squeeze his hand, the wash of tears that drowned your eyes from pain spill finally. “i care about you too.”

“don’t cry, silly. i’m almost done, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

after changbin coaches you through treating your wounds, he runs you a quick bath and helps you wash the dirt and sweat from your hair. it felt strange to say you felt an overwhelming trust to him - but maybe that was just the energy he exuded. he helps you to bed, and quickly showers off himself before laying next to you.

his arm wraps around you, and the pain in your side has dulled from the medicine he made you take after closing up your wounds and cleaning them. your head rests on his chest comfortably. “you never answered my question about music.” he says suddenly.

“i’ll play you all my faves tomorrow morning when you cook me breakfast because i got shot.” you grin cheekily against him.

“deal.”

𝓱𝔂𝓾𝓷𝓳𝓲𝓷.↴

“i am to be his wife.” there was no expression in the gaze you cast your parents, hands folded neatly in front of you, ever obedient in the face of nobility. before your eyes, in the face of your youth your life of freedom ever awaiting your embrace is taken from you and shackled. your life is to be given to a man you didn’t know, and when shoved his own in your hands you feel the pulse of forgotten life in your palms. there was more to say other than you didn’t want this, there was more words you could sputter in anger at your parents, other screams and cries for this to not happen, yet you swallow, let your eyes gloss over, and prepare a wedding in the following year to a man you’d meet only once before promising forever to him.

across from you at the altar he stood jaw tight, eyes glassy yet lifeless. when the wedding guests settled and your father handed you off to the prince’s hands, you breathed deep in an attempt to conceal the building tears that sparkled in your eyes. officiant you didn’t know, in the sea of people commending your marriage you knew few faces, and he spoke vows because of remembrance not because of promise. when he lifted the veil from your eyes to look at you, he for a moment faltered and his lips flattened.

you kissed him because you had to. and you slept beside him that night because you had to.

in marriage, you always imagined that life would blossom with a spark of light. as a seal to two people’s testament of their love it would grow into something truly beautiful - it would drink in the sun, bathe in the rain, paint its colors on pages and tell its story on lips through decades. as a young girl, the idea of one day marrying someone that loved you was thrilling to say the least. it was pure; and good. and every notion, every dream, every promise to your life you’d made, was stripped from you in a single evening.

you’d rise from bed when the maids would wake you to dress. you’d be dressed beside your husband, wearing the rings that testified your union, and would watch over the kingdom that would be given to your hands one day.

there was no use in trying, not even from the start.

but you wanted to love him. oh you terribly wanted to love him.

beside him you’d sleep - watching the curvature of his heart shaped lips, the breathing his body exuded - existence. how you were his without him even knowing. only in this state could you see him, really see him. the sprawl of his hair on the pillow before it was to be tied back that morning upon your wake. beautiful he was. when his eyes fluttered open, he wet his lips and you heard him speak - for the first time it felt as though it was to you.

“i’m sorry.”

for the entire rest of the day you spent in a haze in your own head.

two months have gone by, and you were achingly in love with him. but you couldn’t say the same for him; his headspace was unknown. you shared a great castle together, a smaller one just outside the village as your parents lived inside the city walls in the palace, but home felt like a restraint on you. nothing was sacred.

when you spoke, it was matters of business and a shred of the time was talk of personal matters. the only truth you spoke to hyunjin was in the hours before he’d wake when sleep would leave you too early. you tuck your folded hands together under your pillow, your eyes washing over his face as he slept. upon your movement, he turned to his side, his broad shoulders creating lines of his body beneath his sleep shirt. part of you wanted to reach out, to wrap your arms around him and tell him you believed in the both of you, but your thoughts still to silence.

“i wish you cared for me, in the way i care for you.” you mumble quietly.

“but i cannot say it yet. you’re a shadow; yet you’re sorry. i’m so confused in my love for you.”

that’s when he turned over, his eyes open. the maids walk in a second later and your wide eyes glance to them. they pause in their steps, looking between the both of you. had he heard you? surely not. you push yourself onto your elbows as he speaks to the maids, his own hands planted firmly in the mattress.

“i can dress her.”

they quickly excuse themselves after, mumbling as they leave the room hurriedly. the room stills, you’re left in the wake of his words with confusion bubbling through your head and your face suddenly flushed. he stands without another word as they’ve left the room, moving to the closet to fetch your under clothes, corset, and gown for the day.

“hyunjin,” you speak softly.

“i care greatly for you. i do, but-”

you swallow, still sitting on the bed with your legs curled beneath the covers. “you cannot dress me.” you hold a hand to pause him in his movements as he approaches with your day clothes in hand. he swallows, “you’re my wife. i can dress you. if you’d let me.”

hwang hyunjin was one of the most beautiful men you’d ever seen, and this he knew as well - yet the cool confidence he usually carried on his shoulders, in his handshakes, and in his voice, had dissipated. he looked at you with darting eyes that searched your own for the answers he needed, his hands gripped your dress tight.

his hand stretches out to you, offerance of aid. you look to his palm, the gentle length of his fingers, and find his exuding energy welcoming - so you take his hand. it’s warm as your skin washes over his own, his hands were smooth and embracing, and you stand before him with a sharp intake of breath.

“i’ve made you feel this way,” he begins, beginning to untie the laces that hang from the neck of your night dress. there’s a great deal of nerve vibrating through your body at the prospect of him dressing you, but regardless you let him in the wake of his tenderness. and if it meant a moment you could share closer to him - you’d take it.

“you only speak your feelings to me when you think i’m asleep.” at that your breath stills, panic settles in quietly to your bones.

“i-i’m sorry i-” “you have no need to apologize, it’s me. i’ve made you feel this way. and i’m sorry.” when your dress is removed, he kneels at your feet to gather it before letting you step into your under dress. you rest your hand on his shoulder for balance to do so.

“in truth, i can’t tell you why i love you.” he says, his hands working to tie your second layer skirt around your waist, once it’s firm and not uncomfortable, you turn your head to look at him with glossy eyes. “you cannot say such things to me and not mean it. you can’t.”

“i know i haven’t shown it, but it’s true, that i promise you.” with that, he gently guides your arms through the holes of your corset, and begins lacing it, leaving your eyes drowning in tears as your lips tremble.

“you-you haven’t shown it. how am i to know you love me or that i love you when we hardly have a relationship. you’re my husband, i want to love you as one.” you gasp as he pulls the strings to tighten it, his palm laying flat on your back as he tugs once more.

“it’s a promise i make now, to show you i do indeed love you. i want you to tell me when you’re hurting, i want to help, i want to grow with you.” his hands lay along your waist as your corset is tightened. when he rounds you, seeing your eyes fogged over, his heart pangs with guilt.

“i’m sorry, truly. that i have made you feel this way. but please, know my promise is true.” his hands come to gather yours in his grip.

you nod, wiping your face for a moment as you lift your gaze to look at him. “then i’ll tell you. i’ll tell you whatever you want to hear. i want to work to make this kingdom a happy place for our people, we must work together in that regard.”

hyunjin listens, strokes his thumbs across the backs of your hands and you speak for a while longer on your marriage, how you’re both willing to work to make your love make sense, how you wish to be a unit in making the kingdom a place of happiness for your people. he prepares for the day, wearing an outfit the same shade of off-white as your own with his long dark hair tied back into a bun.

he offers his arm to you before you both leave your bedroom, smiling softly. “thank you for talking to me.” he says, opening the door for you. “thank you for listening and talking as well. it feels nice to have this weight lifted.”

“i agree.”

sorry if hyunjin's is written weird i was listening to cornfield chase by hans zimmer and got lost in the sauce.

3K notes · View notes

fvsm4x · 1 month

Text

𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 - 𝟓

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. ex! gojo s. x fem. reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. Your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything, who was your will to live, broke up with you.

𝐜𝐰. angst / happy ending for reader but not gojo / wc. 4.1k / last chapter / kinda rushed

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

But it wouldn‘t hurt to give him a second chance, right.?

But as much as you wanted to believe that a second chance could heal the wounds between you, doubt gnawed at the edges of your resolve. The pain he had caused was not something easily forgotten, and the memories of the betrayal still stung like fresh wounds. You had to consider what giving him another chance would mean—not just for your relationship with him, but for your own self-worth, your own sense of dignity.

"Gojo," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside, "you say you want another chance, but can you honestly tell me why? Is it because you've realized what you lost, or because you're afraid of being alone now that she's gone?"

His eyes widened, as if the question had struck a chord deep within him. He struggled to find the right words, his expression a mix of desperation and confusion. "I... I just know that I don't want to lose you. I made a mistake, I see that now. I was stupid, selfish, but I swear, I’ve changed."

"You’ve changed?" you echoed, the skepticism clear in your tone. "How can I trust that? Last time, you promised me the world, only to break me apart when it suited you. How do I know this time won’t be the same?"

Gojo remained silent for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between his desire to make things right and the reality of the pain he had caused.

"I don’t know how to prove it to you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to try. I want to be the person you deserve, the one who won’t hurt you again."

You let out a soft sigh, the tension in your chest making it hard to breathe. His sincerity tugged at your heart, but the scars he had left made it difficult to simply accept his words at face value. You had to think about what was best for you, not just what he wanted.

"Gojo," you said slowly, choosing your words carefully, "I need to understand something. What would be different this time? How do you expect me to believe that you're not just saying these things because you're hurt and vulnerable right now? That you won't just fall back into old habits the moment things get tough?"

He looked down, his hands trembling slightly as they gripped yours tighter. "I’ve learned from my mistakes," he said, his voice laced with determination. "I know I hurt you, and I regret it more than anything. I took you for granted, and I was wrong. I can’t take back what I did, but I want to show you that I can be better—that I can love you the way you deserve to be loved."

The sincerity in his voice was almost enough to break down your defenses. Almost. But the reality of the situation loomed large in your mind. You had been here before, heard these promises before, only to be left shattered in the end.

"Do you really understand what you're asking of me?" you asked, your voice soft but firm. "You're asking me to put my heart on the line again, to risk everything for the chance that you might actually change this time. But what if you don't? What if I let you back in, only to find myself back in this same place a few months from now?"

Gojo's expression faltered, the weight of your words sinking in. He knew you were right—he was asking for a lot, maybe too much. But still, he refused to give up.

"I can't promise that everything will be perfect," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "But I can promise that I’ll fight for us, that I won’t make the same mistakes again. I’ll prove to you that I’m serious this time. Just... please, give me a chance to show you."

Your heart ached at the sight of him, so vulnerable and desperate for your forgiveness. You wanted to believe him, to believe that he could change, that he could become the man you needed him to be. But the fear of getting hurt again was a powerful force, one that you couldn't simply ignore.

"I don't know if I can do this, Gojo," you said, your voice trembling with the weight of the decision before you. "I don't know if I can put myself through this again, not after everything that's happened."

He looked at you with a mix of hope and despair, as if he knew he was teetering on the edge of losing you forever. "Please," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Just one more chance. Let me show you that I can be better."

You closed your eyes, the tears finally spilling over as the emotions you had been holding back crashed over you like a tidal wave. The love you had for him was still there, buried beneath the pain and betrayal, but it was overshadowed by the fear of being hurt again.

Finally, you opened your eyes and met his gaze, your heart heavy with the weight of your decision. "Gojo, I need time," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't just jump back into this like nothing happened. I need time to think, to figure out what's best for me."

His face fell, but he nodded, understanding that this was as much as you could give him right now. "I’ll wait," he said, his voice filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "I’ll wait as long as it takes."

With that, you slowly pulled your hand away from his, the warmth of his touch lingering even as you stepped back. The distance between you felt like a chasm, one that might never be bridged again. But for now, it was what you needed—to find your own path, to heal in your own time.

As you turned to walk away, leaving him kneeling there in the cold, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had made the right choice. The future was uncertain, the path ahead filled with doubts and unanswered questions. But one thing was clear: you had to choose yourself this time, even if it meant walking away from the man you once loved.

As you walked away, the echoes of your footsteps reverberating through the quiet night, the weight of your decision settled heavily on your shoulders. Each step felt like an eternity, as if the very air around you was thick with the tension of what had just transpired. The distance between you and Gojo grew, but the connection, the history, and the unresolved emotions hung in the air, clinging to you like a shadow.

You couldn’t help but replay his words over and over in your mind. The desperation in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes—were they enough? Could a person truly change, or was it just wishful thinking? The memories of your time together flooded your mind, both the good and the bad, each moment tinged with the bittersweetness of what once was and what might never be again.

But as you walked further, a different voice began to whisper in the back of your mind, a voice that questioned your own choices, your own feelings. You had been hurt, yes, but was there a part of you that still longed for the love you once shared? Was there still a flicker of hope that things could be different this time, that the man you had loved was still in there, waiting to be rediscovered?

You stopped walking, standing there in the dim light of the streetlamp, your breath visible in the cold night air. The silence was deafening, your thoughts swirling like a storm inside your head. You had asked for time, but the truth was, you didn’t know how much time you would need. The wound was still fresh, the trust still shattered, and yet, beneath all that pain, there was a part of you that wanted to believe in second chances.

What if you were being too harsh? What if, in pushing him away, you were closing the door on something that could be beautiful again? The questions gnawed at you, each one more persistent than the last. Could you really walk away from him, from everything you had built together, without giving him the chance to prove himself? Was it fair to judge him solely on his past mistakes, without considering the possibility that he had learned from them?

As you stood there, lost in thought, the memories of the love you once shared began to resurface. The way he used to look at you, the way his laughter would fill the room, the warmth of his embrace on a cold night—it all felt so distant now, yet so painfully close. You remembered the moments of joy, the times when it felt like nothing in the world could come between you. Those memories were precious, and they weren’t so easily erased by the pain he had caused.

But then, there were the darker memories, the ones that cut deep into your soul. The lies, the betrayal, the feeling of being second best—those wounds were still raw, still bleeding, and the thought of reopening them was terrifying. You had worked so hard to rebuild yourself, to find strength in your own company, to remember who you were without him. Letting him back in meant risking all of that, risking everything you had fought so hard to regain.

A small voice inside you, however, urged you to reconsider. People could change, couldn’t they? Life wasn’t black and white, and relationships were messy, complicated. What if Gojo truly had realized the error of his ways? What if he was genuinely remorseful, ready to make amends and to be the partner you needed him to be?

You shook your head, trying to clear the confusion. You had to be sure, had to know that whatever decision you made, it was the right one for you. Turning around, you saw Gojo still kneeling where you had left him, his form barely visible in the distance. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t given up, even though you had walked away.

Was it really fair to expect him to change? Could you risk your heart again on the mere possibility that things might be different this time?

The truth was, you weren’t ready to forgive him. Not yet, and maybe not ever. The wounds were still too fresh, the scars too deep. Giving him another chance felt like inviting more pain into your life, a pain you weren’t sure you could endure again.

You took a deep breath and forced your feet to move, each step taking you further away from the man you once loved. The night was silent, the only sound was the soft crunch of gravel under your shoes as you walked down the empty street. The distance between you and Gojo grew, but so did the clarity in your mind. You deserved more than empty promises and second chances. You deserved someone who wouldn’t make you question your worth, someone who wouldn’t break your heart over and over again.

Gojo remained on his knees long after you had walked away, the chill of the night air seeping into his bones. He stared at the spot where you had stood just moments ago, as if by sheer force of will he could bring you back. But the empty space before him was a harsh reminder that you were gone, that he had lost you once again.

A dull ache settled in his chest, spreading through his entire body as he tried to process what had just happened. He had begged, pleaded, laid his heart bare before you, and yet it hadn’t been enough. You had looked at him with such pain in your eyes, a pain he knew he had caused, and that knowledge cut deeper than any rejection.

He slowly rose to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him as he tried to regain his composure. The night felt colder now, the darkness more oppressive as he realized how truly alone he was. He had gambled everything on the hope that you might still care, that you might still see the man he was trying to become, but the truth was undeniable—you were done with him. And maybe you were right to be.

As he started walking, his mind replayed every word you had said, every look you had given him. Your voice, so full of hurt and doubt, echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of the mistakes he had made. He had taken you for granted, convinced himself that you would always be there, waiting for him to get his act together. But now, standing in the aftermath of his own selfishness, he realized just how badly he had miscalculated.

Gojo’s footsteps were heavy as he walked back to his own place, the streets eerily quiet. For the first time, he felt the full weight of his actions, the depth of the hurt he had caused not only to you but to himself. He had ruined something beautiful, something that might never be repaired, and the regret was almost too much to bear.

He reached his apartment and fumbled with his keys, his hands shaking slightly as he unlocked the door. The silence inside was deafening, the emptiness of the space mirroring the emptiness he felt within. He collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in his hands as the reality of the situation washed over him.

He had wanted so desperately to make things right, to prove to you that he had changed, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. Change wasn’t just about saying the right words or making promises—it was about action, about becoming a better person, and that was something he hadn’t truly grasped until now. He had hurt you, deeply, and no amount of pleading could erase that.

The truth settled heavily on his shoulders: he had lost you, maybe for good this time. And the worst part was, he had no one to blame but himself. He had played with your heart, made you question your worth, and now he was paying the price. The realization that he might never have another chance with you, that you might move on and find someone who would treat you the way you deserved, was almost too painful to bear.

But as he sat there in the darkness, Gojo knew that this was his moment of reckoning. He could no longer hide from the consequences of his actions. If he truly wanted to change, it had to start now—with or without you. He had to learn to be a better person, not just for you, but for himself. And if that meant letting you go, if that meant accepting that you might never forgive him, then so be it.

Weeks had passed since that night, but for Gojo, it felt like a lifetime. The days blurred together, a monotonous cycle of work, training, and sleepless nights. He threw himself into his duties, trying to drown out the memories of you, but nothing seemed to work. Every quiet moment was filled with thoughts of you—your laughter, your smile, the way your eyes had softened when you looked at him, before everything had fallen apart.

He hadn’t tried to contact you since that night. He knew better than to push, to force himself back into your life when you had made it clear that you needed space. Instead, he focused on himself, trying to understand where he had gone wrong, trying to become the man he had promised he would be. But no matter how much he tried to move forward, the emptiness where you used to be haunted him.

One chilly afternoon, Gojo found himself wandering aimlessly through the city streets, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he watched the world go by. It was one of those rare days when he had no obligations, no missions or responsibilities to distract him from his thoughts. The city was bustling with life, people rushing past him with purpose, but he felt disconnected from it all, as if he were watching from a distance.

As he walked, he turned a corner and stopped in his tracks. There you were, just a few steps ahead, standing at the entrance of a cozy little café. For a moment, his heart leapt at the sight of you, his mind racing with the possibility of speaking to you, of seeing how you were doing after all this time. But before he could take a step, he noticed that you weren’t alone.

Standing beside you was a man—tall, with dark hair and a warm smile that reached his eyes. He was holding your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as you both laughed at something he had said. The sound of your laughter, so light and carefree, pierced through Gojo’s chest like a dagger. It was the same laugh he had fallen in love with, the one he had thought he might never hear again.

Gojo’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the two of you. There was an ease between you and the man, a comfort that spoke of familiarity, of something more than just a passing connection. The man leaned in closer, and you responded with a soft smile, one that Gojo knew all too well. It was the kind of smile that came from genuine happiness, from feeling safe and cherished.

He felt his heart constrict, a mix of emotions swirling inside him—regret, jealousy, sadness. But most of all, there was a deep, aching sense of loss. He had known this day might come, that you would eventually move on and find someone who could give you the love and security you deserved. But knowing it and seeing it were two different things, and the reality of it hit him harder than he had expected.

Gojo stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from you. He knew he should leave, walk away before you noticed him, but something kept him there, some part of him that needed to see this, to accept that you were no longer his.

As you and the man turned to enter the café, Gojo’s eyes met yours for the briefest of moments. Time seemed to freeze as recognition flickered in your gaze. There was a flash of surprise, quickly followed by something else—something softer, perhaps understanding or even sympathy. But you didn’t stop, didn’t call out to him. You simply gave him a small, polite nod before turning away,

As the door of the café closed behind you, Gojo hesitated for a moment, debating whether to follow you inside. He knew he should just walk away, let you enjoy your time with the man who clearly made you happy. But something stronger than reason pushed him forward. The unresolved tension between you gnawed at him, a silent torment that demanded closure.

With a deep breath, Gojo pushed open the door to the café, the small bell above it chiming softly as he stepped inside. The warm scent of coffee and baked goods filled the air, and the soft hum of conversation surrounded him. He quickly scanned the room, spotting you at a table near the window, the man still by your side.

You noticed him immediately, your eyes widening slightly in surprise as he approached. The man beside you looked up, clearly sensing the change in your demeanor, but remained silent, his expression polite but questioning.

Gojo stopped a few feet from your table, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he struggled to find the right words. He felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the significance of what he was about to say looming large in his mind.

"Can we talk for a minute?" he asked, his voice low and tentative, trying not to intrude too much on your moment with the other man.

You hesitated, glancing at the man beside you. He gave you a small, understanding nod, standing up to give you space. "I'll be right over there," he said softly, before stepping away to another part of the café.

Once he was out of earshot, you turned your attention back to Gojo, your expression guarded but not unkind. "Gojo, what do you want?" you asked quietly, your tone not accusatory but rather cautious, as if you were bracing yourself for whatever he might say.

He took a deep breath, struggling to meet your eyes. "I just... I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. For the way I treated you, for the way I made you feel. I know I can’t undo the past, but I need you to know that I regret it all, deeply."

You looked at him, your expression softening slightly at his words, but there was still a distance in your gaze, a wall that hadn’t been there before. "Gojo," you began, your voice gentle but firm, "I appreciate you saying that. I really do. But what’s done is done. We can’t go back and change what happened. We both know that."

He nodded, swallowing hard against the lump forming in his throat. "I know," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I just… I wish things could have been different. That I could’ve been better for you."

A small, sad smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Maybe in another life," you said softly, your words like a bittersweet melody that hung in the air between you. "Maybe in another life, we were meant to be. But in this one…"

You trailed off, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The unspoken truth between you was palpable—no matter how much either of you wished it could be different, the damage had been done. The love you once shared was irreparably broken, and no amount of apologies could fix it.

Gojo felt a sharp pain in his chest, the finality of your words cutting through him like a blade. He had known, deep down, that this was how it would end, but hearing it from you made it all the more real.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice barely audible as he looked down at the floor. "I just… I hope you find the happiness you deserve."

You reached out then, gently touching his arm, the gesture both comforting and heartbreaking. "I hope you do too, Gojo," you whispered, your voice filled with a kind of tenderness that he hadn’t heard from you in a long time. "Take care of yourself."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and acceptance. He knew this was goodbye—not just for now, but for the life you might have had together. It was the kind of parting that left an indelible mark on his soul, a reminder of what could have been.

With a heavy heart, Gojo nodded, turning to leave the café. As he walked away, he didn’t look back, knowing that doing so would only make it harder to let go. The door closed behind him, the cool air outside hitting him like a wake-up call. He stood there for a moment, trying to steady his breathing, trying to process the finality of what had just happened.

Inside, you watched him leave, your heart heavy but resolute. There was a part of you that would always care for Gojo, that would always wonder what might have been. But you knew, deep down, that you had made the right choice. Sometimes, love wasn’t enough to bridge the gap that had grown between two people. Sometimes, the kindest thing you could do was let go.

As you turned back to your table, the man who had been with you returned, concern etched on his face. He didn’t ask what had happened—he didn’t need to. He simply took your hand in his, offering silent support as you both sat down together.

Gojo walked down the street, the sun beginning to set, casting long shadows on the pavement. The ache in his chest was still there, but so was a strange sense of peace. You had found your path, and now, he had to find his own. And maybe, just maybe, in another life, things would have been different. But in this one, it was time to move on.

End

taglist: @3zae-zae3 @sexeyess @silkija @dancinhhillary @musicarose @vanevafu @labelt-san @cl16void @feellaaya @animechick555 @nanmiik @ichikanu @cupidszvlvr @pinksaiyans @phoenix666stuff @coffeeluvr96 @alpha-mommy69 @isaacdaholi @xx-rfg-xx @certainduckanchor @ambalikadubeyy-blog @r0ckst4rjk @xxemmarldxx @starrylibras @lady-cryptstone @sparklydhokla @hoeforchoso @sweetlilhoshi @getou0309 @n8mareee @integers @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @skittleabyss @softnorth @maliakealoha @avalordream @dazaisfavgf @thebacksack @darkphoenix3432 @mwtsxri @nothisispatrick300 @andioopsworld @sup-hoes-its-me @yihona-san06 @s3r-en-d1p-ity @mandysfanfics @adanfore @rainydayssmokescreens @luvvmae @aquamarine001 @chilichopsticks @tinyjeo @adoretaylor @girlsvvish @misfits1a

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH THIS STORY\(^ヮ^)/ new gojo series soon<33

418 notes · View notes

leejenowrld · 8 months

Text

ghostin’ (two)

pairing na jaemin x y/n (fem)

word count 17k

genre smut, fluff, angst, situationship vibes, college au

chapter summary you and jaemin grow closer, the sex is really fucking good and everyone finds out. you begin trusting him more than you ever thought you would but amidst the bliss, you wonder: is it too good to be true?

one | two | three | four

chapter warnings jaemin and reader moments, so many jaem and reader moments, jaemin aftercare, hot and mature jaemin, jaemin fingers reader under the table, jaemin obbession with readers thighs, jaemin cockwarming moments, personal talks, jaemin fucks you doggy style against the railings and everyone sees. you ride jaemin in his car, nevertheless inspired lollipop kiss, reader x jeno x haerin sexual moments, girl moments🫶, jeno and reader moments, soft jaemin, soft reader, please they’re literally in love, appearances from other '00 liners, explicit language, swearing, mention of drugs, smoking and alcohol, getting high, ass slapping, dirty talk, big cock jaemin, soft dom jaemin, introverted, chill, emotionally intelligent, laid back, mysterious jaemin, jaemin with a darker side, a very sexy jaemin, black haired jaemin, jaemin who has no flaws

author note this chapter is heavily inspired by the friends episode ‘the one where everyone finds out’ keep that in mind! also a massive thank you to @siordior for her help with smut scenes and just a few scenes in general 🥰 she was a massive help.

1/6 of the campus heartbreaker series, read here

“This isn’t your bed.” Jaemin whispers, his voice a deep, resonant hum that sends vibrations against your skin, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth.

“Um– yeah. It’s Haerin’s. You reply, your consciousness surfacing slowly, pulling you out of the remnants of sleep. As sobriety dawns, fragments of the previous night cascade through your mind, each memory vivid and startling.

The shock of realizing that you, after firmly vowing to allow yourself to heal and to avoid intimacy with another man, had found yourself with Na Jaemin of all people, hits you like a wave. Yet, as you lie there, wrapped in his arms, a sense of comfort envelops you. Despite the surprise and the internal promises you’ve made, being here, in this embrace, just feels inexplicably right.

You remain naked and on top of him, cuddled within the circle of his arms with your head comfortably resting against his chest. Gently, he kisses your forehead. With a smooth motion, he turns the two of you around, his arms enveloping you protectively. He gives you a sweet smile, and there’s something in his eyes, in the way he looks at you, that makes you melt.

He gently removes his cock away from you inside of you. There’s a moment filled with heavy sighs and the soft sound of breathing, a testament to the intensity just shared. Your mouth waters as you see all the juices and all the sticky residue, you’re still so wet and Haerin’s bed sheets are stained. He’s got cum all over him and you’re sure you do too.

“Why do you let me fuck you on Haerin’s bed?” He inquires with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You respond with a casual shrug, “I couldn’t be bothered to take the extra steps. Besides, Haerin and Jeno have pretty much done it in every corner of my room.”

“Same here.” He chuckles. Changing the subject, he adds more thoughtfully, “Anyway, I need to get you cleaned up. I’m sorry I didn’t do it last night, you just fell asleep in seconds and my dick was still inside of you so—”

You nod, cheeks warm with a shy redness, murmuring, “Okay, yeah, thanks.” He steps away, promising to return soon. Alone, you gaze upwards, lost in the patterns above. In this quiet moment, you think about what you’ve just done and how you feel better than you would’ve thought.

You hear the sound of running water, signalling his return. He enters.

The sight of him takes your breath away. He’s naked and you truly can’t deal with the sight. He’s sexy. His cock looks insane and massive, you can’t believe it was inside you for the whole night. His shirtless form reveals a toned chest. The soft light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours of his physique. His strong shoulders and defined abs speak of strength, yet there’s a gentleness in the way he moves. You find yourself captivated, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, feeling a warmth spread through you. The memory of your shared night makes your heart race.

He feels you staring and responds with a playful smirk. “Can you walk?”

You shake your head, your thighs still weak and your pussy still burning. Suddenly, he leans down and scoops you up in his arms, eliciting a surprised yelp from you.

“Let me put clothes on first!” You protest, feeling a bit shy in his embrace.

He chuckles lightly, “But we’re about to have a bath, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, but –”

He cuts you off playfully. “You’re really shy about me seeing you naked when I pounded into your ass the whole night long, spanked you, spit in you and choked you?”

You blush, memories of the passionate night flooding back. As he carries you to the shower, you feel his strong grip on your ass and it is so tight. You could swear that his hand was gripping your ass in your sleep.

Gently, he sets you down in the warm bath, the water soothing against your skin. You look up at him, and for a second, the world pauses. There’s something in the way he looks at you, a tenderness in his eyes that makes your heart flutter. His kindness, so evident in his every action, overwhelms you.

You’re not sure what this emotion is, but it compels you. With a soft whine, you reach up, your hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him towards you. Your fingers find the cool metal of his chain, drawing him even closer. When your lips meet, it’s a fiery, passionate kiss, full of the emotions swirling within you both.

Sensing your desire, he joins you in the bath, the water rippling around you. You move to sit on his lap, facing him. You’re now close enough to see every detail in his face—the soft hue of his skin, a stark contrast against the dark hair that frames his features. His eyes, like pools of enigma, shadowed and deep, hold a glimmer of playfulness. His jawline is sharp, giving him a chiselled look.

There’s a comfort in his embrace, his arms encircling you gently, making you feel cherished and safe. The water laps quietly against you both but you smirk as you feel something prod against your thigh. “Really?” You question, his hardness makes you feel heat.

“Yeah.” He responds nonchalantly. “There’s a hot naked girl sitting on my thighs and you don’t think I’ll be hard?” He questions, his voice a low whisper as you shake your head and jab his chest, your cheeks burning into the pinkiest of shades

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” He offers in a voice soft as the steam around you.

“Please.” You reply, feeling the warmth of anticipation.

His fingers are tender as they brush through your hair, handling each strand with care and a precision that speaks of his attentiveness. You can’t resist teasing, “I bet I’m not the first girl’s hair you’ve washed.”

He just shakes his head, a knowing smirk on his lips, as he continues with his gentle ministrations.

Then, with a delicate touch, he begins to wash your skin, lathering it with scented body wash that fills the air with a fragrant blend. His hands move with purpose, massaging your joints, easing away any tension. Softly wiping away the residue inside your folds and on your thighs. His lips find your neck and cheek, kissing you softly, as sweet whispers escape him, blending with the steam and water.

After the bath, he wraps you in the softness of one of his shirts. The fabric smells of him, a captivating blend of woodsy and citrus notes. Standing there, you both exchange awkward glances, the air charged with the electricity of unspoken words.

The sides of his lips curve up in a smirk as he revels in the silence. “You wanna ride my cock again?” His voice is a low rumble, eyes searching yours for an answer.

“I should get going.” You reply, nearly choking on your words. “And you should too.”

“Thank you for tonight.” You say, a note of sincerity in your words. As he turns to leave, you suddenly grasp his hand, pulling him back. His eyes narrow in confusion just before you roughly push him away.

“Haerin, Hana and Jeno are home.” You whisper urgently, their loud voices echoing up the walls. “They cannot know about this. Do not make a noise.”

“Y/N!” Haerin’s voice cuts through the silence, her fists pounding on the door.

How did she know you were home? You press a finger to your lips, hoping silence will dispel her suspicion. Relief washes over you for the locked door, yet her knocking persists, each thud a hammer to your calm.

“Open up! I know you’re in here.” She insists.

You finally yield, opening the door to Haerin’s wide eyes, Jeno’s unusual silence, and Hana’s evident fatigue. “What the hell are you doing in my room? Did you sleep here all night?” Haerin’s eyebrow arches accusingly.

“I – um – yeah.” You admit, each syllable heavy with a truth you couldn’t cloak. Deception has never been your strong suit, especially not with them.

“Why?” She probes, her suspicion a tangible force that seemed to push the walls of the room closer.

“I missed you guys.”’ You manage to say, the lie smooth but tasting of ash on your tongue.

Hana’s eyes widen, a playful note to her voice as she coos. “Aw, did you masturbate?”

The question catches you off guard, and you nearly cough. “No?” Your answer is more of a question, an ineffectual attempt to deflect.

Her gaze sharpens, the intensity in her eyes almost accusatory. “You sure… you have that afterglow. Wait, holy shit did you fuck —”

Before she can finish, you cut in, a bit too sharply, “I spent the night alone, got myself off, okay?” The words are a barricade, hastily erected to keep their probing eyes from the truth.

“In my bed?” Haerin’s frown deepens, her scepticism a heavy cloak around her shoulders.

“I was drunk…” Your defense is a whisper, dissolving like mist in the growing light.

Jeno’s voice, unexpectedly, cuts through. “It smells like Jaemin in here. Isn’t that his shirt?” His observation is astute, his smirk a silent challenge to your crumbling façade.

Your heart stutters, racing to keep up with the lies. “He gave it to me at the party after I spilled a drink,” you say, hoping the half-truth is convincing.

“Hmm, sure.” Jeno drawls, unconvinced.

“And you have bruises on your legs.” Haerin adds, her gaze slicing through your defenses like a blade.

“I fell in the shower.” You repeat, grateful that your hair covered the hickies he had left on your neck and chest.

They finally leave you alone a moment later. Their departure brings a reprieve, a moment to breathe. Jaemin’s smirk reappears, as if he knows the weight of the secret you both carry. His hands, warm and reassuring, cup your face. “Will I see you again?” He asks, his voice a low murmur filled with promise.

“Yeah.” You whisper, your smile a mix of complicity and hope. His kiss is a seal, passionate and deep—a silent vow that speaks of future encounters as he reluctantly parts from you.

Jaemin's smirk softens into a tender smile as he reaches out, his hands gently cradling your face. The contact is soft, his touch a soothing warmth against your skin, a silent promise of care.

The kiss concludes, leaving a lingering sense of longing as he steps back, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer. There's a silent exchange of emotion, a shared anticipation for what's to come. Then, with a final, soft look, he turns and walks away

SCENE 2

You find yourself at a bar for the night, ‘REPLAY127,’ commonly known as ‘127.’ It was a popular social hotspot for the students of Neo Tech University, who drank away all of their academic stress and relationship worries. It was always a scene with buzzed with chaos and drunk energy.

All of your friends are here and they’re all so loved up. There’s couples and love all around, smooching noises everywhere. Eric and Hana are in their own bubble. His arm around her as he whispers something into her ear, she lights up with a grin that speaks volumes about their feelings. You had thought their relationship was just a fling, but the depth of their connection is undeniable. You mentally remind yourself to check in with Hana later.

Xiaojun is unmistakably the player tonight, especially noticeable as he gets more drunk. Wandering around the bar, he’s openly flirting with girls and anyone willing to engage with him. His approach is direct and confident, marked by a clear intention to find someone’s bed to get in.

Your gaze shifts to Yangyang, Soobin, and Yeonjun, What’s going on with them? They’re all being overly affectionate with each other. Yeonjun was sitting in Soobins lap and making out with him and now he’s leaning over and making out with Yangyang as Soobin (you’re pretty sure) is fingering Yeonjun.

Nearby, Shotaro and Chaewon are holding hands, an unexpected sight. Wonbin, sitting by himself, nurses his drink with a solemn expression. His distant gaze and the tight grip on his glass indicate he’s not in the best of moods.

In one corner, Haerin is engrossed in her assignments, her fingers flying over the laptop keyboard, ignoring everything and everyone around her. Her manager keeps complaining about her to anyone who will listen. (yeah, she works here) According to Taeyong, “she’s lazy, doesn’t turn up on time, doesn’t know what she’s doing, makes a mess of everything” Haerin’s only response is a dismissive gesture in his direction and Jeno just stays by her side, smirking and drinking. He’s just happy to be here.

At least there’s Donghyuck, someone who can join you in the lonely hearts club. In stark contrast to the love around, he’s the loner of your group. He sits by himself, lost in his thoughts, with a joint in hand. He’s silent, a lone figure amidst the bustling energy of the bar.

Well you and Donghyuck aren’t completely alone in the lonely hearts club, there’s a third member, Jaemin.

Captured in the understated glow of the bar’s ambiance, he exudes a quiet magnetism. His hair, tousled to a perfect degree, frames a face that carries an expression of both concentration and alluring detachment. Sharp jawline and high cheekbones give his face a sculptural quality, softened only by the slight pout of his lips. His eyes, pensive and deep-set, seem to hold volumes of untold stories, inviting a second glance to unravel their mysteries. His hotness is not loud but lingering, like a whispered secret.

He’s sitting across from you, wearing that fucking grin, It’s subtle, just a slight upward curve of his lips, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. His eyes hold a mischievous gleam, amused as he’s fingering you under the table.

It started off fairly innocent. His hand ventures under your skirt, a light brush at first. His fingers start to explore, tenderly caressing your thighs, occasionally squeezing gently. The cold metal of his rings creates a delightful contrast against the warmth of your skin, sending tingles up your spine.

You can’t help but smile back at him. The pretty little skirt you chose now feels like a perfect decision, especially seeing the way his eyes lit up when you first joined the table. His gaze was intense, filled with a dark passion that left you wondering about his thoughts, about what he might do to you next, about the unspoken promises lingering in his deep, enigmatic eyes.

Suddenly his fingers glide into your clit. It’s done so subtly, so casually, it’s almost imperceptible. His face remains nonchalant, perfectly composed. He’s fully engaged in the conversation around the table, acting as if he’s not finger fucking you.

Your walls tighten around him and you clench but his expression still remains unchanged, all he does is raise his eyebrow at you. It’s not fast at all, he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he rubs in small circles. His eyes, intense and captivating, hold your gaze. It’s hard to look away; his presence is magnetic, drawing you in despite your attempts to focus elsewhere.

Just when you feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, he abruptly stops, pulling his hand back. His eyes never leave yours, and there’s a hint of mystery in them. In a bold yet quiet gesture, he brings his finger, which are covered in your cum, to his lips and he licks them.

Your back arches slightly and your eyes roll back, you cannot believe how incredibly sexy this is. Caught off guard, a soft and involuntary moan escapes your lips, louder than intended. The noise momentarily attracts the attention of your friends at the table, and you feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, embarrassed but also exhilarated by the boldness of it all.

An immediate silence follows. Your friends' eyes are wide, filled with concern, as they all turn to look at you. All except for Jeno, who sports a proud smile, a reaction you find oddly out of place in the moment and wish you didn’t overlook it.

"Someone fuck my girl right now.” Haerin declares emphatically. Xiaojun volunteers without hesitation, nodding with a confident grin, rubbing his bulge and leaning up from the table, his hand held high.

You let out a laugh and shake your head at Xiaojun, the sound bright and clear against the quiet of the moment. As the laughter fades, you suddenly become aware of Jaemin’s gaze fixed on you, intense and singular. It washes over you like a spotlight, turning your laughter into a shy retreat. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and you instinctively try to hide it, looking down to escape the weight of his stare.

You glance away, seeking solace in the familiar faces around the table, but the heat of his gaze lingers, a silent echo of the connection you're both aware of. With a self-conscious smile, you gather your things, the laughter still hanging in the air as you stand.

“I’m gonna head out.” You announce to your friends, feeling the weight of the evening’s events.

“You’re not even drunk.” Hana whines, her words slurred from the alcohol. She’s visibly wasted, her usual vibrant energy replaced by a drunken lull. “If you go, I go.” She adds, trying to steady her speech.

You pause, contemplating staying a bit longer. Hana’s state makes you hesitant to leave; ensuring she gets home safely is important to you. As you weigh your options, Eric steps in, he shakes his head with a soft, understanding smile. “It’s okay, I’ve got her.” He assures you as he wraps his arms around Hana, pulling her close. He plants a gentle kiss on her forehead, a gesture full of affection and responsibility.

You can’t help but smile at the scene, a sense of relief washing over you. With Eric there, you know Hana is in good hands, her drunkenness safely managed. It’s comforting to see how well he takes care of her, a testament to the depth of their connection. With that assurance, you feel at ease to leave, knowing your friend is safe and cared for.

"I'll drive you.” Xiaojun offers first, flashing a smile in your direction.

"You can't even drive.” Yangyang retorts, casting a doubtful look at him.

Xiaojun scratches his neck, seemingly questioning his own state. How high was he? The conversation, however, takes a swift turn as Jaemin stands up. His gaze locks with yours, intense and unwavering, sending an unexpected shiver through you. "It's fine, I got you.” He says confidently.

The silence that travels around the table is palpable. “I got it.” He claims he meant.

But Xiaojun persists only for Jaemin to shake his head. “Bro, it's fine, keep trying to fuck Yunjin.” He says with a chuckle.

"It's just a 5-minute walk, I can go myself –" You start to protest, but the chorus of objections from your friends drowns you out.

They all yell at you, so many voices rise in unison, effectively cutting off your protests. Jeno bluntly tells you to stop talking, while Xiaojun calls you an idiot for even considering walking alone so late. Donghyuck, who usually maintains a ghostly silence, surprises you by chiming in with a disapproving tut and a sharp remark, moving out of his seat to flick your forehead with his finger. You wince, holding the area with a pout. Your eyes widen in surprise at their unanimous concern. Realizing there's no winning this argument, you accept their decision with a resigned sigh.

You widen your eyes and huff, admitting defeat, you see no point in arguing further. Jaemin is smirking at the sight of you, his gaze briefly dropping to your legs. You notice the way his eyes linger there, he smirks at the cum that drips down your thighs, you’re sighing at his touch.

Resigned to the fact that Jaemin will be escorting you, you gather your belongings, ready to leave the warmth and noise of the bar for the quiet of the night, accompanied by someone who seems to stir a myriad of emotions within you.

As Jaemin’s hand brushes against your back, a shiver runs through you, and your breath hitches in response. His voice, a low and deep whisper close to your ear, is barely audible over the din of the bar. “I’m bringing the car, stay at the front.” He instructed quietly.

You nod subtly, and as you turn to leave, you catch Hana’s eyes briefly peeking up, but she’s too caught up in her own world to give it much thought. A wave of relief washes over you, grateful that your friends, immersed in their own drunken revelries, haven’t noticed the discreet exchanges between you and Jaemin.

Standing near the entrance, you wait, lost in your thoughts about the night and the subtle interactions with Jaemin. Suddenly, you’re brought back to the present as Haerin and Jeno approach. Haerin, with a bright, infectious smile, latches onto your arm in a friendly embrace.

"Me and Jeno are going to that rooftop sushi restaurant." She announces. "Come with us!!!" She urges, her enthusiasm evident.

"No…" You shake your head immediately, already having made up your mind. "I’m going home, Jaemin’s gonna drive me.”

"Just come!!!" The plea comes again, more insistent this time.

You turn to them, opting for honesty. "I don’t like hanging out with you guys. Last time, you both just sat munching on each other while I was there just munching on my sushi.” You explain with a light-hearted tone, trying to convey your point without sounding too harsh. Your words are met with a mix of laughter and mock offense, but they convey your desire for a quiet end to the evening.

"Come on, baby.” Jeno whispers softly, extending his hand to Haerin. They start heading towards the exit, their exit unhindered even as Haerin’s manager, Taeyong, calls out to her. He scolds her, reminding her that her shift isn't over, his tone stern and warning. Taeyong even goes as far as to mention that this could be her last chance before he considers firing her. But Haerin and Jeno don’t seem deterred; they continue on their way, leaving Taeyong's warnings behind.

You wave goodbye to them, a small smile on your face, but then they abruptly stop and turn back towards you. Confusion furrows your brow as you narrow your eyes, trying to figure out what's going on. It takes you a moment, but then it dawns on you why they've stopped.

“Y/N.” Comes the voice, unmistakably his.

The moment you hear it, your heart skips a beat, then seems to stop altogether. It’s a voice that, despite time and distance, still holds power over you, a power that unsettles the very core of your being. Time feels like it grinds to a halt, each second stretching out interminably.

You turn, feeling a wave of anxiety surging through you. His eyes meet yours, and there's an unmistakable cockiness in his gaze, a stark contrast to the sadness that fills your own. He looks at you with an air of overconfidence, as if the past, with all its pain and turmoil he caused, was just a trivial chapter in his life.

As he looks into your eyes, you feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, as if his gaze alone has the power to make you feel small and insignificant. There, with him, are Yeeun, Yeji, and Mia, a sight that leaves you baffled and reeling.

What strikes you most is the casualness with which Mia kisses his neck, right there in front of you, as he maintains eye contact. The sight of hickies marking his skin only adds to the surreal nature of the encounter. "How have you been?" He asks with a smile that, despite everything, still manages to stir the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

Words fail you, your throat dry and constricted. Inside, you're grappling with a whirlwind of emotions - disbelief, hurt, confusion. It's hard to focus, hard to think straight, your breath shallow and your head spinning. The situation feels unreal, almost dreamlike in its absurdity.

"Have you missed me? Do you wanna stay with us tonight? We’re gonna drink and then –" Hyunjin continues, smiling as if oblivious to the impact of his words. Your mouth falls open in shock. How could he be so nonchalant, so insensitive? He's surrounded by three girls and he’s asking you this? You feel sick as you see his arm casually draped around Mia's waist, while Yeji continues to be affectionate with him.

You glance at Yeeun and notice she’s keeping her distance, her expression unreadable. The complexity of the situation, the brazenness of his invitation, and the hurt it evokes in you, all combine to leave you feeling sick to your stomach. It's a moment that starkly highlights the difference between your worlds now - his, seemingly carefree and indulgent; yours, weighed down by the remnants of a past that refuses to fully let go.

Instinctively, you turn around and almost jump when you see Jaemin. He arrived quietly, almost blending into the background, his presence as subtle as a shadow. You wonder how and when he got there. His eyes are only fixed in one direction.

Yeeun and Jaemin are locked in an intense gaze, their eyes communicating a storm of unspoken words and emotions. It's a connection so deep and palpable that it makes you feel like an outsider, intruding on a private moment. The intensity in Jaemin's eyes is still and profound, conveying a depth of shared history and understanding with Yeeun that is foreign to you.

Hyunjin's voice pulls you back, "Baby? Is that a yes? I know you missed it. Remember when we were together, we’d have more sex than everyone, we’d have more threesomes than -'' His words are crude, stirring a mix of anger and hurt within you.

"Don't you fucking dare.” You whisper, barely audible. Your voice is a mix of defiance and vulnerability, and you're not even sure he heard you.

Why do you feel this urge to nod in agreement, to say yes, to gravitate towards him despite the fact you know he’s gonna break your heart again? It’s a stark reminder of the complex, tangled feelings you still harbour for him. This internal struggle is a vivid reflection of how deeply you’ve been affected, how the remnants of what once was still hold a powerful sway over you. It’s frustrating and confusing, this pull towards someone who has caused you so much pain.

In a swift, protective gesture, Jeno steps forward, positioning himself between you and Hyunjin. He reaches out, his touch firm yet reassuring on your arm, as he gently pulls you behind him, ensuring you're out of harm's way. Then, with equal care, he tightens his grip on Haerin's hand, guiding her to stand behind him as well, forming a human shield with his body.

"What the fuck?" Jeno's voice cuts through the tension, his words loud and filled with genuine readiness to confront Hyunjin. "I’m gonna count to 10 and then –" He warns, his tone indicating he's serious and prepared to escalate if needed.

Hyunjin, however, just laughs in response, seemingly unfazed by Jeno's protective stance or his threats. The laughter is dismissive, a clear sign that Jeno's words aren't intimidating him or causing him to reconsider his actions. "Y/N –" Hyunjin calls out again, extending his arms towards you, as if expecting you to come to him willingly.

However before you can even think, Jaemin steps forward and his arm wraps around your back with a surprising gentleness. There's an immediate sense of security that envelops you. Your previously racing heartbeat begins to steady, syncing with the calm assurance emanating from him. When you look into his eyes, there's a depth of trust and understanding reflected back at you, a silent promise that he's there for you.

Your breathing, which had been shallow and uneven, gradually relaxes. The tension that had gripped you slowly ebbs away, replaced by a comforting ease. A soft smile forms on both your faces, a shared moment of relief and connection amidst the chaos. You find yourself naturally leaning into him, drawn by the warmth and safety of his presence. The eye contact between you is intense yet intimate.

But it's unexpected – this protective side of Jaemin, especially towards you. The intensity in his gaze as he stares down Hyunjin is unmistakable, and there's something undeniably compelling about it. It's as if in this moment, he's shedding layers of his usual composure, revealing a fiercer, more protective side that you hadn’t seen before.

"Come on, Y/N, let's go.” Jaemin says, his voice steady and resolute. His eyes lock onto yours, a silent assurance in their depths, as he takes your hand in his. With a gentle but firm grip, he guides you away, deliberately turning both of your backs to Hyunjin, dismissing him without a word.

In this simple action, Jaemin makes a statement – he's not interested in giving Hyunjin any more attention or power in this situation. His focus is solely on you, ensuring your well-being and comfort.

SCENE 3

You shuffle in his lap, finding a comfortable position with your legs on either side. His hands rest gently on your thighs. Your lips meet his in a soft, tender kiss. As the kiss continues, it grows in intensity, each of you responding to the other’s rhythm. Your breathing becomes heavier. Open mouthed kisses which are a mix of tenderness and a growing sense of urgency.

The kiss deepens, a messy exploration of each other's tongues that leaves you panting and wanting more. You can hear the soft click as he locks the car, ensuring your privacy and safety. He then adjusts his seat back slightly, creating more space for you both.

"Just wanna get high and fuck you.” You murmur, the words muffled against his lips. Both of you speak between kisses, your words interspersed with passionate, eager kisses that convey your impatience.

He smirks in response, a playful glint in his eyes. "So desperate for me, baby? Couldn't wait five minutes until we were in the house?" His tone teases, laced with affection. His kisses trailing down to your neck.

The second you sat in the car, you were so incredibly horny. You were pressing soft kisses to his neck and whispering to him about how sexy he was and how much he turned you on. The only appropriate reaction after Jaemin’s display in front of Hyunjin. All he did was chuckle and tell you to be patient.

You obviously weren't patient as now you’re gonna ride his cock in the car.

He’s got a condom now.

Your eyes widen and you pout. “It felt good when we fucked without it.”

He just laughs and shakes his head, putting it over his cock.

“You know I literally don’t get pregnant, me and Hyunjin – well you know, we used to do it without protection all the time.” You ramble and he sighs, smashing his lips against yours, quite literally kissing you to get you to shut up. His hands find their way underneath your skirt and he’s rubbing your thighs in small circles.

With a heavy moan, you sit down on his cock and begin fucking yourself on his cock, you begin a steady rise and fall, his hands tight on your hips which guides you. You’re pressed against his chest, your lip biting and eyes screwing in pleasure as you move up and down his cock, pretty noises spilling from your mouth.

You quite simply fuck yourself dumb on his cock. you ride him at such a rapid and fast pace, it has him in awe. Heavy breathing and moans fill the car, his mouth is wide open as he admires the view above him. your screwing your face in pleasure, the steady rise and fall on his cock, how tight your pussy feels. It's driving him crazy.

"Ahhh, fuck, feels - feels soooo good," you pant in Jaemin's ear, your voice laced with pleasure as he continues to drive you wild with desire.

His cock reaches a spot that makes you whine, his cock driving deeper and deeper inside your walls. “You’re so fucking tight.” He hisses in your ear, teeth gritted and eyes screwing in pleasure

You start getting tired, your body becoming heavy with desire as Jaemin continues his sensual assault. Your legs feel weak, and you begin to lose the strength to hold yourself up. Sensing your fatigue, he continues, he doesn't want to stop. He shifts his position slightly, taking more of your weight, and begins thrusting into you with even more determination.

“Baby, you were so eager to ride my cock, and now you can't even ride it properly?" he teases in a husky voice, his fingers digging into your hips as he continues his relentless pace, his voice dripping with desire.

SCENE 4, STUDYING, COCKWARMING + OPENING UP

You find yourself sitting on his cock, a lot.

Jaemin tends to always be buried in his university assignments and projects, his attention riveted to the screen, seemingly oblivious to the world around him, to you. You, craving his attention, couldn’t help but voice your dissatisfaction, a whine escaping you about his apparent neglect.

“Sit on my lap.” He suggested, without looking up from his work, his voice calm yet firm, a surprising solution to your complaint.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and shyness. It was an unexpected invitation, one that caught you off guard. Yet, he didn’t waver, repeating himself more clearly, his voice taking on an irresistibly attractive and sexy edge, “Come and sit on my lap then. Don’t just sit there being needy, do something about it.”

His words sent a thrill through you, a mix of anticipation and excitement. You found yourself biting your bottom lip, a smile creeping onto your face despite the fluttering in your stomach. With a casual ease, he pushed his chair back further with his feet, creating space, and patted his lap as a clear invitation.

Standing up, you prepared to close the distance between you but as you took a step forward, your breath hitched audibly. Jaemin began to unbuckle his belt and unbutton a few buttons from his shirt. It froze you in your tracks. His eyes, intense and unwavering, never left yours, their depth pulling you in, making you squirm under his gaze. There you stood, momentarily paralyzed by the intensity of the moment, He smirks up at you, knowing and slightly teasing.

His cock is literally out, he’s running his hands up and down the length and he’s smiling at you so prettily, you hold the eye contact and give him a shy smile but when you look down, you see a monster length staring at you so the contrast slaps you in the face like whiplash.

"Sit down then, pretty girl.” He urged softly, almost whispering, his words imbued with an affectionate warmth that made your heart flutter.

You nod slowly, anticipation bubbling within as Jaemin's hands find their way to the delicate skin under your skirt, you let out a small whimper when he grips your hips gently yet securely. He pulls your underwear down slightly and then carefully pulls you closer, situating you on his cock.

You don’t know what this was but you didn’t expect this, to be sitting on him, on his cock, just staying still, there was no movement, just the warmth of being close. Your walls just sucked his cock in and it was such a tight, warm fit.

His focus returned to his studies, but now with hums of concentration and satisfaction. You sitting there on his cock, so prettily, clearly helped him with his work

As you watch Jaemin type away, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration, you're struck by the captivating intensity of his focus. He's the epitome of handsome, with sharp, defined features that are softened by the gentle curve of his lips, concentrated into a line of determination. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, now reflect the deep pools of his thoughts, flickering under long, dark lashes with every word he commits to the screen. The way his hair falls slightly over his forehead, just a bit tousled, adds a boyish charm to his otherwise structured appearance. The ambient light casts shadows that accentuate his strong jawline and the thoughtful crease between his brows, making him look like he’s been carved from marble, yet animated with the warm flush of life.

That’s when it dawns on you; despite the time you've spent together, there’s so much you don’t know about him. The basics, like what he studies, his favourite color, his favourite tv show. Sure, you knew his favourite sex position and kinks but that was completely different. You didn’t know him on a personal level.

He notices your intense gaze, the way your eyes are fixed on his features, not missing a single detail. There's a flicker of something in his eyes, a mixture of amusement and curiosity, as he meets your stare. It's as if he's inviting you to look deeper, beyond the surface, to discover the layers that make up who he truly is.

“You want something, baby?” You feel his voice vibrate against your chest, a low hum that makes you make the smallest movement on his cock but he just groan and shakes his head at you, his hands gripping your thighs and making you stay still.

Your hands play with his earrings, signalling your growing curiosity. "I’m just curious… about you.” You admit, looking for a deeper connection.

He laughs softly, open and encouraging. "Yeah? What do you wanna know?"

“What’s your major?” You start off, realising how crazy this sounds, you spend your days getting your back blown by him but you don’t even know what he studies. He's always engrossed in his university work so you assume he’s a dedicated and top student.

He looks away from his work to focus on you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I’m doing a double major, criminology and fine arts. It’s more photography-based, but it's a lot more complex than just that." His explanation flows effortlessly, a clear indication of his passion. "I've always been fascinated by criminology, the complexity of it, and the deeper understanding it offers. It’s a field where I can communicate the way I want to, I don’t need to talk much, it’s all mostly through visuals. A photo says a thousand words, right?"

His eyes light up with the mention of his work, reflecting a depth you're eager to explore. "This degree teaches me to notice the overlooked details, to create something that might challenge perceptions or bring new insights. I want to make a difference, especially in the criminal justice world."

His passion is palpable, and you find yourself drawn in by his dedication. "Combining criminology with fine arts isn’t common, but that uniqueness is what I think can be my strength." His voice carries a confidence that only adds to his allure.

"There’s a certain beauty in understanding the complexities of crime and human behaviour, and even more so in capturing the emotions and stories behind them through art. I want to find and share that beauty."

You can’t help it. you moan. There's just something so sexy hearing about a man so dedicated to his interests, so complex and multifaceted. Seeing his passions and dedications made you understand him more, or atleast feel like you understand him more.

You realize how perfectly his degree mirrors his personality: mysterious, intellectually deep, and emotionally intelligent. His artistic pursuits show a creative soul that sees the world through a unique lens, combining a sensitivity and appreciation for beauty with a bold, unconventional approach to his studies. This blend of social awareness, empathy, and deep thinking not only makes him fascinating but deeply attractive.

Listening to him, you understand that Jaemin is not just another student; he's someone who truly wants to leave a mark on the world, using his unique perspective and talents. His confidence and individuality shine through, making you admire him all the more.

He’s a captivating blend of social awareness and empathy, driven by a deep concern for societal issues. His studies reflect a profound desire to understand and improve the world, grounding him in compassion and thoughtfulness. As a reflective and insightful thinker, he engages in intellectually stimulating conversations, showcasing his subtle boldness and confidence. Unafraid to deviate from traditional academic paths, Jaemin's unique approach and individuality make him irresistibly appealing.

As you absorb the depth and breadth of Jaemin's ambitions, a spontaneous sound escapes you, a moan of admiration and something more, something deeper. His confusion is immediate, eyebrows arching in a silent question as he pauses, turning to face you fully. His voice, a deep and breathy lull, wraps around you like a warm blanket in the cool air of the room. "Why are you moaning?" He whispers, the words vibrating directly into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You’re – you’re just really hot.” You confess, the words tumbling out in a blend of awe and sincerity. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You lean in to kiss his forehead, a gesture so intimate and tender, Jaemin reacts in a way that sends your heart soaring. His eyes close for a moment, savouring the touch, a soft, content sigh escaping him. When he opens them again, they're alight with a giddy, infectious smile, the kind that makes his whole face glow, the kind that's impossible not to return. His breathing, low and steady, syncs with yours, a harmonious rhythm that seems to pull you even closer together.

“You work hard. Well done.” Your words are an affirmation, a gentle reminder of the faith you have in his efforts and the future they’re building towards. This will become something of a personal mission for you—to always remind him that his dedication will be worth it. You’ve never been so close to someone so motivated, so deeply attuned to their aspirations.

“This is why I'm being so good, just letting you study without distracting you. I've been a good girl and just sat here, on your cock, without moving when all I wanna do is ride your cock. you can feel how wet I am, right?”

He tuts. “I don't call bouncing up and down being a ‘good girl?’”

You moan, smashing his lips against his. Your lips move with an urgency that speaks volumes of pent-up desire. He kisses you back with intensity, punctuated by the soft sounds of mutual moans that vibrate through the connection of mouths. Your hand finds its way into his hair, fingers tangling, pulling gently to bring him even closer, ensuring no space remains. His arms wrap securely around your waist, pulling you against him as you grind onto him, your hips making soft motions as your ass meets his thighs, his cock thrusting deeper and deeper into you.

THE ONE WHERE HE EATS YOU OUT

“Do you want me to eat you out, baby? You want me to take your stress away?” Before you can even answer he dives into you, sweet eyes looking up at you with a soft smile, pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs before pulling you lace panties down.

He dove into your pussy, forcing your legs open, his tongue lapping at your pussy and your folds, sucking and licking all the wetness and juice with one long stripe. You moan out heavily, wrapping your legs around his neck and caging him there, your hands fisted in his hair.

He leaves mouthy and wet kisses on your clit, sucking and sucking on the skin and making you moan over and over. Your orgasm was coming close and you’re about to scream out his name but then you fucking hear the front door open.

Hana drops her bag upon seeing you, her eyes widening in surprise. You realise there's no time to hide the situation. Thankfully, she has no way of knowing it's Jaemin due to the way he's positioned and the sofa's arrangement. In a supportive and enthusiastic manner, Hana puts her thumb up to you and mouths her congratulations, seemingly unaware of the true situation

You find yourself wondering why she still stands there, a grin playing on her lips as she nods enthusiastically. Her eyes are fixed on you with a sense of pride that seems to radiate from her, a pride that's uniquely her own and difficult to put into words.

Jaemin, like the menace that he is, continues eating you out even though he’s aware there’s an audience. He’s lapping at your folds more roughly, biting and spitting on your pussy in hopes to make you scream his name, he’s trying to make you scream his name. His tongue delves deeper and deeper as he thrusts his fingers in and out. Your eyes roll back, his name was this close to slipping from your tongue.

Jaemin smirks at how you try to conceal your sounds. His breath was a whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His voice, barely above a murmur, resonates with a depth that you can hardly hear—you feel it, a tangible vibration against your skin. “If you were gonna end up silent anyway then we should've fucked infront of them.”

Jaemin startles you as he raises his head slightly. You quickly guide his head back down, but then he attempts to rise again, wearing a smirk. His eyes intensify with desire as he gazes up at you, giving you the slyest grin. Despite the slightly perverse and twisted nature of the situation, he finds pleasure in your heightened state of arousal due to his actions. Even though it's kind of sick and twisted he loves seeing you so scared because of his doing

THE ONE WHERE YOU’RE FUCKING ON THE BALCONY

You’re wearing the mini skirt, it’s slutty, it’s sexy.

It’s too slutty to be yours, it’s Haerin’s.

She beamed with a glow when you asked for her help, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and delight. Without hesitation, she dives into her closet and emerges with the boldest piece she owns—a mini skirt that's daring in every sense of the word. It's the kind of outfit that blurs the lines between outrageously sexy and boldly confident.

Your eyes widen at the sight of it. The material is sheer, leaving little to the imagination, a bold statement piece that's as see-through as it is alluring. Slipping it on, you can't help but marvel at the transformation. The skirt clings in all the right places, its risqué charm amplified by its translucency and the way it perfectly hugs your curves. It's a far cry from your usual style, but in this moment, it feels just right.

To match the daring vibe of the skirt, you opt for a top that's equally provocative. The ensemble comes together in a daring display of confidence, each piece complementing the other to create a look that's undeniably hot. Your makeup and hair are styled to perfection, each detail adding to the allure of the outfit.

Thoughts of Jaemin flutter through your mind, sending waves of giddy anticipation coursing through you. You hope he’ll find you pretty. As you give yourself one final look in the mirror, confidence surges within you.

Jeno's arrival to pick up you and Haerin was expected, but Jaemin's presence alongside him was a pleasant surprise that sent a jolt of excitement through you.

The moment Haerin and Jeno greeted each other with a kiss, a sense of awkwardness washed over you. You stood slightly apart, an observer to their easy display of affection, feeling a mix of happiness for them and a silent yearning for a similar connection with Jaemin. Your situation with him was a closely guarded secret, one that you weren't ready to unveil.

As you felt the pull towards Jaemin, something shifted within you. With a newfound boldness, you clasped your hands together and rest them by your side, a gesture of anticipation, and subtly leaned his way. Your head tilted, a silent invitation, as your lips curved into a smile, a confident and alluring display.

As Jaemin's gaze intensely sweeps over you, a wave of heat rushes through your body, so palpable that the two of you almost moan out loud. The tension between you both was electric, you’re so happy Haerin and Jeno are too absorbed in each other to notice.

His eyes, dark and focused, scrutinize every detail with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. You catch him biting his bottom lip, a silent yet unmistakable sign of his approval, as he takes in the sight of you. The outfit you've chosen for the evening accentuates your figure perfectly, hugging you in just the right places to showcase your curves in the most flattering light.

Suddenly, Jeno's attention shifts towards you, breaking the electric tension. With an enthusiastic whistle, he grabs your hand, lifting it above your head to spin you around in a playful showcase. "Look at you.” He smiles, his voice filled with a mix of pride and admiration, the pitch of his whistle echoing his excitement. He's always been your biggest supporter, and tonight is no exception.

Meanwhile, Jaemin remains a silent observer, his expression unreadable yet intensely focused on you. Despite his quiet, his eyes communicate volumes, locked on your form with a clarity that's both thrilling and a little intimidating. His nonchalant demeanor contrasts sharply with the keen interest evident in his gaze.

Jeno drives back to his house which marks the start of an interesting evening.

Jeno's backyard was buzzing with life, lit up by string lights that added a cozy glow to the evening. It was the perfect spot for a barbecue, with everyone gathered around, enjoying the inviting green space. The smell of food on the grill filled the air, hinting at the fun and laughter that was to come.

In one corner, Hana and Eric had cocooned themselves into a couple's chair, their world reduced to the space between them as they shared kisses, seemingly oblivious to the buzz around them. Donghyuck, on the other hand, embraced solitude on the outskirts, content with his crisps, his presence a quiet testament to the diversity of the group's dynamics. Meanwhile, Shotaro and Wonbin, having recently bridged the gap of a misunderstanding, were lost in their own bubble, their laughter and shared glances lighting up the space around them.

Near the grill, stood Jeno and Jaemin, they were cooking all the meat. You watched, perhaps for the first time with true attention, as their interaction unfolded—a symphony of small laughs, shared tasks, and an easy silence that spoke volumes of their bond. The way they moved together, anticipating each other's needs and sharing the workload with an unspoken understanding, was evidence enough of the deep-rooted friendship they shared. The small, almost imperceptible exchanges—a nod here, a chuckle there, the passing of a spatula or a beer without a word — seeing their bond warmed your heart. They did truly love each other.

While Haerin and you engaged in gossip, standing across from Jeno and Jaemin, an attempt to help with the barbecue was dismissed by Jeno, he just told you both to go, citing he didn't want his garden to catch fire.

You’re being slutty on purpose. You boobs were out. You bend down intentionally in front of him, which drew a sigh from him. He tried to brush it off as a reaction to accidentally burning his hand on the grill, which actually did happen, a mishap resulting from his distraction by you rather than the task at hand. Jeno, his fucking nurse, quickly stepped in to care for him, wrapping the wound and even kissing his palm in a comforting gesture. He rolls his eyes and Haerin brings her palm out and expects him to do the same for her even though she wasn’t hurt.

The food is ready, and as everyone gathers around, you can't help but admire Jeno's attentiveness. With a careful diligence, he ensures that everyone is served before even thinking of his own plate. He moves among you, distributing plates and customizing each serving according to personal preferences. When he reaches you, there's a soft pat on your head and a smile that warms you from the inside out, especially when you see he's remembered exactly how you like your burger—with extra cheese and no gherkins. It's these small acts of care that make the moment special.

Jeno then turns his attention to Jaemin, who has been somewhat neglectful of his plate. He silently places a chicken wing directly into his mouth. Haerin, too, receives a tender moment of attention when she chokes on her burger. Jeno is quick to offer her water through a straw, pressing a kiss to her forehead in reassurance. Her embarrassment at the mess she's made is met with his gentle coo and shake of his head, assuring her of her beauty despite the sauce smeared around her mouth. He cleans it up with his thumb, a gesture so intimate and affectionate, followed by a soft kiss that seems to say everything words cannot.

You haven’t been drinking yet you feel high, euphoric. You’re completely sober and that’s the best part of it all. A few months ago you would’ve never thought you’d reach such happiness without being drunk but here you are, with your best friend, smiling until your cheeks ache.

The joy that fills you is genuine, a kind of happiness that’s both new and exhilarating. Despite not having touched a drop of alcohol, you find yourself riding a wave of euphoria, the kind that only true contentment can bring. It’s a realisation that hits you with the force of a revelation—once, the thought of achieving such a state of bliss without the aid of drinks would have seemed impossible. Yet, here you are, basking in the warmth of genuine happiness, sharing moments of laughter and connection with your best friend. The smiles that stretch across your faces, so wide that they make your cheeks ache, are a testament to the pure, unadulterated joy of the moment.

You an i’m d Haerin are dancing sexily, slut drops, touching each other closely, hands on tits, ass, giggling, you were kissing. You’re vaguely aware of the attention you’re attracting, particularly from Jeno and Jaemin.

Jaemin’s expression is hard to read, always enigmatic, giving nothing away. He watches with his usual cool, detached air, adding to his mysterious aura. Jeno’s gaze, on the other hand, is intense, you’re not sure whether he wanted to join in or punish you, leaving you guessing about his thoughts.

He clearly makes up his mind as suddenly, he comes along and the three of you are dancing closely, they’re both so wasted, that’s why the three of you grind on each other, hands touching all places, hot breath fanning over each other’s faces, you’re sure Jeno was slapping both of your asses at one point.

The atmosphere is a bit surreal, and you can't help but wonder how you've found yourself in this situation. Jeno, surprisingly, is dividing his attention between you and Haerin, and it's an unexpected turn of events. He starts by placing his hands on both of your shoulders, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

Slowly, he pivots Haerin around and lets his hands glide down to her hips, making sure you can still feel his touch as he pulls her closer to him. The sensation is electrifying, and you're not sure where this is leading. Then, with a playful assertiveness, he gives her ass a cheeky slap.

Before you know it, Jeno positions himself between both of you, sandwiched between you and Haerin, letting the two of you grind into him. She's right in front of him, arching her neck as he leaves open mouthed kisses, not completely neglecting you though, his fingers move to caress your thighs.

Passions ignite in the room as tongues entwine and hands explore. You sensually slide your hand down Jeno's body, your fingers dancing down to his crotch. The chemistry is palpable, and you can't help but feel your own heart racing.

Haerin and you share a passionate kiss while Jeno moans in pleasure, his eyes locked on the erotic display before him. His hand rubs his bulge through his pants, and the intensity in the room continues to build.

Jeno's desire reaches its peak as he tightly fists your hair, pulling you back roughly to grant him access to Haerin's eager lips. Their mouths collide, exchanging a torrent of saliva and heated kisses. It's a frenzied scene filled with raw desire and longing.

But then, Haerin moves away from Jeno and turns her attention to you, planting sweet pecks on your lips, the two of you giggling and giving each other giddy eyes. The contrast between the intense passion and the soft, affectionate moments is a tantalizing blend of sensations that leaves you breathless.

You and Haerin had playfully shared your desires about making out with each other before, acknowledging each other's attractiveness, you both found each other hot! This moment feels different. It's serious and intense.

Now, you find yourselves on the couch, straddling each other. You’re on top, and your lips meet in a fiery, passionate kiss. The sensation of her tongue, soft lips, and electric chemistry between you leaves you captivated. You can understand why Jeno is so enamored with her.

But suddenly, you're yanked away, and Jeno takes your place. He grabs Haerin's neck harshly, eliciting a loud moan from her,, his kisses were passionate and forceful. Smooching noises fill the room as Jeno dominates the moment, leaning over and caging her against the plush cushions, his legs either side of her and he’s not holding back on being rough.

Haerin senses your hesitation and quickly pulls you onto Jeno's lap while still engaging in a heated make-out session with him. Together, they shower you with affection, covering you in passionate kisses and leaving hickeys on your skin. Jeno, driven by intense desire, unzips his pants, his length ready as he runs it through his hands.

Before Jeno can even do anything with his cock, the room is abruptly pierced by a voice that commands immediate attention. Jaemin, who until now had remained silent, suddenly asserts himself with a firm, "Not on this couch!!" His intervention is swift and decisive, drawing the eyes of everyone present.

Your gaze meets Jaemin, and the intensity you find in his eyes is startling. There's something about the way he looks at you—commanding, and undeniably attractive—that sends a thrill through you. The mixture of authority in his voice and the dark promise in his gaze stirs something deep within you, amplifying your already heightened arousal.

The realisation that Jaemin has been observing this whole time makes you moan. His attention, previously undetected, now feels like a spotlight. His gaze, heavy with an unspoken challenge, leaves you pondering his thoughts and the nature of his interest in the dynamics at play.

You decide to head to the bathroom to freshen up, trying to regain your composure. You smooth out your hair and touch up your makeup, attempting to collect your thoughts. But as you open the bathroom door, you're met with the dark and piercing gaze of Jaemin.

His expression isn't one of happiness. Instead, a certain intensity emanates from his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. The look in his eyes makes your insides throb with desire for him, overpowering any other thoughts. He had been on your mind all night, and now, being in such close proximity to him, your longing for Jaemin becomes undeniable and overwhelming. You only want him. The tension in the bathroom seems to escalate, the steaminess of the situation too palpable to ignore.

Your lips crash together in a searing, insatiable kiss, tongues tangling in a fervent dance. His hands roam your body, gripping and squeezing, while your nails dig into his back, pulling him impossibly closer.

With legs wrapped around his waist, you grind against each other, feeling his arousal hard and insistent against your core. Every touch, every bite, every growl against your lips sends shivers of pleasure down your spine.

Jaemin's mouth trails down your neck, nipping and sucking, marking you as his own, covering the marks that Haerin and Jeno had left on you and. Tutting in your ear, Jaemin's voice drips with desire and dominance. "Gonna act like a slut like that again, baby? Hm? You’ll see what I do to you." His words send shivers down your spine as he presses his body closer, asserting his control.

Your breaths grow heavy, matching the rhythm of your bodies moving against each other. His fingers find their way under your clothes, tracing lines of fire along your skin, making you gasp and moan. He’s spanking your ass as you moan into his mouth, the wetness between your thighs becoming palpable.

Locked in a heated gaze, your eyes reveal the raw hunger within. Bodies pressed together, the friction only intensifies the pulsating need between you. You feel consumed by a wild, untamed passion, surrendering to the magnetic pull of desire.

"Trying to flaunt your sweet pussy to everyone else?" Jaemin's voice oozes dark desire as he speaks close to your ear. He cages your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "Answer me."

You shake your head, your eyes wide, and your lips trembling with a whimper and a pout.

“I don't believe you."

Jaemin's intentions become unmistakably clear as he manhandles you, forcefully guiding you until you're pressed against the balcony railing. You glance around and realise that you're on the balcony overlooking the garden, he positions you exactly how he desires, and you surrender willingly to his commands.

Coming up behind you, he arches your neck and presses passionate kisses upon your skin, leaving a trail of fiery sensation in his wake. His desire is palpable, and the mask he's worn for so long begins to slip away, revealing the raw, passionate intensity beneath

Jaemin makes quick work of removing your clothes, his hand delivering sharp slaps to your ass in rapid succession. The mixture of pleasure and pain sends shivers down your spine.

"You want everyone to see what a fucking slut you are? Now they will.” He whispers in your ear, sending a thrilling jolt through your body. The audaciousness of this encounter only makes it more arousing, and you can't believe how turned on you are right now. Is he really this brazen? Fucking you in a place where you could easily be caught, even though your situationship is a secret?

That’s hot.

Your moan betrays your excitement, your body burning with desire as Jaemin's cock thrusts relentlessly into you. He's pounding you on the balcony, your front pressed against the railings, and he ensures your arms are held above your head without even having to use physical force. You remember his earlier warning: no moving allowed, and you obediently comply like the good girl you are, relishing your role as the willing submissive.

With one of your legs held up by Jaemin, you're pinned against the balcony's railings, your body entirely at his mercy. “Such a whore, acting like this all night in front of everyone.”

Jaemin revels in taking you from behind, the sight of your ass bouncing against his throbbing erection driving him wild. With one hand gripping your hair, he pulls your head back, arching your back sensually. The other hand firmly presses against your lower back, guiding you to meet his every thrust.

He forcefully drags your head forward, fistful of your hair in his grip as he forces you to position there, you hold back a moan as you see everyone in the garden downstairs, your friends are below you. All of them still in the garden and if they look up they'd see you and him fucking, they’ll see his hands that slap your titties and his dick plunging in and out of you.

“Doll, you have to stay quiet, you don't want our friends to know our little secret.” His voice, usually low and commanding, becomes a seductive whisper, sending shivers down your spine. There’s a hint of a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he savors the effect of his words on you.

Yet, despite the need for secrecy, Jaemin's primal desire overcomes any semblance of restraint. He thrusts into you even harder, igniting a fire of arousal that burns hotter with every passing moment. The walls of your body tighten around him as pleasure intensifies, and the possibility of being discovered fuels the urgency of your passionate connection.

You get off on the fact that you could be caught anytime, you and Jaemin love the thrill. As he whispers in your ear, urging you to make more noise, he maintains his firm grip on your throat.

As the intensity between you and Jaemin reaches its peak, he relentlessly continues, thrusting into you with a determination that over-stimulates your senses. Your ass bounces against his cock, creating a rhythm that leaves you utterly spent and breathless. He's fucking you with such intensity that it's as if he's driving you to the brink of euphoria, making you feel high from his touch alone.

With every plunge of his cock, your snug walls grip him tighter, as if unwilling to let go of the pleasure he provides. Jaemin's playful cooing adds an exhilarating layer to the experience, igniting a fiery passion within you. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, accompanied by heavy moans and growls of raw desire, making it abundantly clear that this encounter is driven by an insatiable hunger for each other.

He continues to overstimulate you. He's driving you to the brink, making you feel intoxicated with desire. His cock plunges in and out, your cum dripping down your thighs and making a mess. With a hint of teasing in his voice, he asks. "Can't you take it?"

In the heat of the moment, you're completely absorbed, unaware that your friends below have fallen silent. Little do you know, they're fully aware of what's happening on the balcony, and their cheers of encouragement fill the air. Despite their enthusiasm, they remain oblivious to the identity of the mystery man who's fucking you, failing to connect the dots as you and Jaemin are the only ones missing from the gathering.

As your friends look up, Jaemin drags you inside and to the floor, and before they can see anything, he fucks you there instead. “Shut the fuck up, slut.” Jaemin slaps your ass as you squirt all over him

He holds you close, cooing softly in your ear as you come down from your high. His gentle kisses and tender touch help soothe you. He wipes away the remaining tears and ensures you're comfortable and clean.

Moments later, you make your way down to the garden, a slight flush on your cheeks. You enter with an air of casual composure, trying to act as if nothing out of the ordinary has occurred. Both you and Jaemin make an effort to maintain your cool, not arriving together to avoid any unnecessary attention.

It's quite evident that you've had your back blown out, with the afterglow still lingering on you. As you walk in, the cheers from your friends greet you, and Haerin plants a friendly kiss on your cheek. Hana attempts to lead you three away for some girls' talk, but the guys are being insufferable. Their taunting and teasing know no bounds, with even Shotaro mimicking your moans, and Donghyuck giving you an overly friendly pat on the back.

Among the crowd, two individuals stand out for their unusual behaviour. Jaemin remains nonchalant and seemingly unbothered, standing away from the chaos as if he hadn't just fucked you dumb. You envy him, how is he standing there like nothing intense had happened just mere moments ago? You also can't help but be suspicious of Jeno. He's typically the one to lead the teasing, but instead, he gazes at you with a proud smirk that leaves you questioning his intentions.

The air is thick with curiosity as your friends huddle together, each one throwing out guesses about the mysterious man's identity. Among the murmurs, Shotaro speaks up—sweet, innocent Shotaro. You adore him, yet there's a part of you wishing for his silence in this moment.

"Hey, Jaemin disappeared when we heard Y/N up there.” He remarks, pointing out Jaemin's absence just as your fucking had begun. The room falls into a tense silence, anticipation hanging in the air as everyone seems on the cusp of laughter or teasing, their faces a mix of shock and amusement.

Your eyes dart to Jaemin, panic flickering within you. But Jaemin, ever composed, manages his emotions with a tight control. He never slips. He subtly shakes his head at you, a silent reassurance not to worry. His gaze then shifts to Jeno, exchanging a brief nod—a moment of silent communication that leaves you more baffled than ever.

Jeno, with his impeccable timing, chimes in, "Jaem couldn’t have been the guy; around that time, I sent him out to buy some more potatoes for those chips you guys gobbled up." It's a smooth save. Everyone seems to accept Jeno's explanation without hesitation. And truly, who wouldn't? He has always had a way with words, his ability to weave believable stories making him a convincing, smooth talker.

You let out a sigh of relief, though the knot in your stomach only tightens. You know it's only a matter of time before the truth might come out, and the thought sends waves of anxiety through you. For now, though, Jeno's quick thinking has steered the suspicion away, granting you a temporary reprieve from the spotlight.

THE ONE WHERE EVERYONE FINDS OUT (ONE)

“Is it Xiaojun?”

You shake your head, not paying much attention to the girls who are growing increasingly curious and persistent in their questioning. Instead, your focus remains fixed on your phone screen as you type away. It was Jaemin on the other end, if you weren’t being fucked by him then you were always sexting, you had become obbessed with each other.

“Who is it then?” Haerin’s voice carries a hint of frustration as she cries out, They’re so goddamn nosy. They’re trying to figure out who you’re seeing, clearly growing exasperated with your evasive responses.

They know you’re seeing someone as you’ve been caught several times but luckily they don’t know that it’s Jaemin. You’re intent on maintaining this privacy until you and Jaemin can figure out your situation. Staying discreet with Jaemin seems like the best course of action, avoiding drama and unwanted attention.

It’s your mistake to relish and sigh in their silence and accept it as peace. “Who’s fucking dick is that?????” Hana's voice escalates into a scream and Haerin's eyes nearly bulge out of its eye sockets, you realise that somehow, they've stumbled upon a photo of Jaemin on your phone, although his face wasn’t in it. It was his cock.

Haerin is full on moaning and asking you “how can you handle all that?”

So why is that photo on your phone? You had many photos of his cock on your phone but this particular one had an explanation. The truth is, Jaemin had sent you that photo while he was in a lecture, fully aware of your desires, and he decided to engage in some sexting to tease and please you. The real mistake was indulging in it while sitting on the same sofa as Haerin and Hana.

You let out a yelp in panic, blurting out, "I'm just looking at porn!" in an attempt to deflect their suspicions. However, Haerin and Hana remain skeptical, shaking their heads and exchanging knowing looks.

Hana wears a mischievous smile as she responds, "We will find out." It seems like they're not buying your excuse and are determined to get to the bottom of the situation.

THE ONE WHERE EVERYONE FINDS OUT (TWO)

Hana turns to Jeno, her face a canvas of confusion and suspicion. "Where the hell is Y/N?" she demands, expecting answers.

Jeno shrugs off the question with a casual "I dunno." Yeah he does. He knows that you’re getting your back blown out by Jaemin. He's known this whole time. He’s known since the very first time.

Hana, still in the dark and growing more perplexed by the minute, continues to probe. "She's being really suspicious, don't you think? She never hides anything from us, so why isn't she telling us who she's seeing?" She questions, her voice filled with confusion.

Jeno, attempting to divert the conversation, mumbles, "It's probably a social experiment.” His comment unexpectedly draws laughter from Hana, though she hadn't intended to find humor in the situation.

Just as Hana ponders Jeno's words, her attention is suddenly captured by a sight through the sliding doors that connect the outdoor garden to the kitchen. She waves frantically, trying to get someone's attention, and before she can even begin to question why you are here, in Jeno's house, without any apparent reason, she lets out a loud scream, her hands flying up to cover her face in shock. "Y/N and Jaemin? What are they doing? AHHHH! AHHHHHH!"

“My eyes… my eyes!!!!!” She screams, unable to believe her eyes.

"Jaemin and Y/N? Why is he touching her like that? What the HELL?" Hana exclaims, her voice rising in disbelief and shock.

"I know! I know!" Jeno repeats, trying to calm Hana down, mindful that Haerin is upstairs and oblivious to the unfolding drama.

"You know?" Hana shrieks, her voice piercing the air.

"Yes, I know! And now you know. Obviously, Jaemin and Y/N... but Haerin doesn't, neither does anyone else in the group, so please, you have to stop screaming." Jeno implores, his tone serious. "You need to keep this a secret. He adds, stressing the importance of discretion in this unexpected and delicate situation.

Hana, feeling a sense of urgency, breathes frantically and expresses her needs. “I need to tell Eric.”

Jeno, wanting to keep her calm, suggests. “Just pretend I’m Eric, I literally look like Eric.”

Hana nods in agreement and begins speaking as if she’s addressing Eric. Her confession takes an unexpected turn as she admits. “You do look like Eric, and it freaking creeps me out. Sometimes it makes me wanna make out with you.” Her voice drops to a low whisper, and she realizes too late that she’s voiced her thoughts aloud.

Jeno, raising his eyebrows in surprise, awkwardly coughs in response. Hana quickly regrets her words and mumbles, “Yeah, just forget I said that.” Jeno nods in agreement, and the two of them part ways.

THE ONE WHERE EVERYONE FINDS OUT (THREE, FIN)

Hana and Jeno share a smirk and shake their heads at the noise coming from upstairs. To them, you sound like a bitch in heat, you and Jaemin were so incredibly loud.

There's a moment of silence as Hana and Jeno exchange amused glances, reveling in the audacity of your and Jaemin's fucking. Then, Haerin enters through the front door, dropping a kiss on Jeno's forehead and bringing a bag of food just for herself.

Curious about your whereabouts, Haerin asks, "Where's Y/N?"

Jeno mumbles casually, leaning back in his seat. “You can’t hear her, baby? She’s upstairs, fucking Jaem.”

Hana, with her boba straw poised at her lips, widens her eyes in surprise and nearly chokes on her drink. “I thought it was a secret—”

Jeno, still with that nonchalant demeanour, interrupts her. “I’m sick of it.”

“Sick of them?” Hana questions, genuinely curious.

Jeno clarifies his annoyance, his tone filled with humor, “Sick of losing sleep because of them. Hopefully, now they can just get it on in public instead of when I’m trying to to go bed.”

Hana adds teasingly, “Please, don’t act as if you and Haerin, and Jaem and Y/N don’t have a competition to see who can be the loudest.”

Jeno retorts, a playful glint in his eye, “And you’re forgetting you and Eric? You two are the loudest!”

Hana and Jeno fall silent in their playful bickering when they hear the unmistakable sounds of screaming coming from upstairs. It's not just any scream; it's you and Haerin.

Hana chuckles and remarks, "Seems like Haerin is copying Y/N."

Jeno and Hana share a laugh as they make their way upstairs, curiosity piqued by the unexpected commotion unfolding in your room. The sight that greets them is nothing short of comical. Haerin lets out an audible scream, her disbelief apparent on her face.

You are equally shocked. Why is everyone in your room? You had a heart attack, Jaemin’s dick was plunging in and out of you and then suddenly the door opened with a loud scream. As your friends stare at you and Jaemin, you realize that there's no way to hide or explain the situation. The truth is out, and you can feel the weight of their gazes on you.

As Jeno gives Jaemin a kiss on the head, you finally connect the dots, a realisation dawning upon you. An epiphany hits you like a ton of bricks, and a light bulb goes off in your head. You jab Jaemin's chest, your voice incredulous as you exclaim. Jeno had known all along. It makes so much sense now.

"Jaem!! You told him!!"

Jaemin, taken aback by your accusation, hastily defends himself. "I swear I didn't!"

“I was the one who planted this idea in your heads and you thought I wouldn’t know?” Jeno smirks, an immense pride in him as he looks at the two of you.

(That wasn’t true though, Jaemin had told Jeno early on, just like he tells Jeno everything.)

Haerin's eyes light up, and she moves to the bed to hug you tightly in her arms, placing sloppy kisses on your head and Jaemin's. "So you're dating????" She squeals excitedly, clapping her hands. But suddenly, her enthusiasm dies down, replaced by confusion.

You and Jaemin choke on your words, shaking your heads and immediately denying it. Haerin's mouth widens in disbelief, and she struggles to find the right words. Hana steps in, voicing her confusion. "I don't get it? I thought you guys were — Jeno told me you guys were dating."

Jeno, not wanting to get involved, quickly defends his name. "I said nothing."

Hana and Haerin share a look that fills you with unease; their silence is unsettling. They suddenly leave the room, only to return a few moments later. You groan and palm your head when you see Haerin holding an 'intervention' banner in her hand.

THE INTERVENTION

You find yourself awkwardly seated in the center of the room, suddenly the focal point of everyone's attention. This unsolicited spotlight wasn't something you chose; rather, it's the result of an impromptu intervention masterminded by Hana. She, with a flair for drama, unveils a handmade sign that declares ‘intervention’ in bold, uneven letters. With a mix of persuasion and sheer force of will, she and Haerin manage to get Jaemin and Jeno to hang the sign, although it dangles crookedly above you.

Hana and Haerin stand before you, their arms crossed in an attempt to convey seriousness. You press your lips together, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, feeling a bizarre mix of annoyance and fondness for their concern.

"Do not laugh." Haerin commands, her voice sharp, it immediately makes your lips fall flat.

However, this facade quickly dissolves the moment your gaze locks with Jaemin’s. The curve of his eyes and the subtle smirk tugging at his lips are the triggers that unleash your laughter. The sound of your combined laughter echoes off the walls. Jaemin's expression is a perfect blend of amusement and complicity, his attractiveness magnified in the moment. He looks effortlessly handsome, his casual posture and the slight smirk playing on his lips adding to his allure.

Hana prepares to dive into the heart of the matter, her expression serious yet tinged with concern. She shakes her head and clears her throat, signaling the start of what promises to be an in-depth interrogation. “So, what is this?” She probes, her gaze shifting between you and Jaemin, accompanied with her hand moving back and forth.

“An intervention.” Jaemin responds unusually, he normally wouldn’t say a word but he catches on to your reaction and he realises it’s worth it. The room is filled with the sound of your laughter, and it’s the cutest thing Jaemin has heard in a while. Your laughter lights up the space, your mouth forming a beautiful smile as you giggle. The sweetness of the moment warms Jaemin’s heart, and he can’t help but cherish it. As he watches you, he can’t deny the growing affection he feels for you. He adores you more with each passing moment, silently falling for you in the most unexpected of times.

“We have too many interventions.” You say once your laughter has subsided but Hana and Haerin will not allow you to shift the focus once more.

“I’ll ask again, what are you guys?”

The room feels charged, the anticipation building. When neither of you responds immediately, Hana’s impatience shows with a disapproving tut. Deciding to cut to the chase, she bluntly asks, “Are you guys fucking?” Her directness catches you off guard and you suddenly start choking on your tongue.

Jaemin, ever the embodiment of calm under pressure, answers with his characteristic dry wit. “Obviously, did you not walk in on me pounding into her like 5 minutes ago?” His nonchalance is both infuriating and disarming.

Haerin, picking up where Hana left off, wears a hopeful smile, her eyes alight with curiosity. “So, you’re dating?” She ventures, her optimism palpable. Her eyes light up and she breaks out into a grin, a reaction you quite simply do not understand as she knows you’re not dating.

The question sends you and Jaemin into a fit of awkward chuckles, a symphony of refusals and denials echoing around the room, you’d keep denying it until they believed you. You try to convince, almost too vehemently, that dating isn’t on the cards. “Hold on.” You interject, laughter breaking through the tension. “Just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean we’re dating. Don’t be crazy.”

Your attempt at humour does little to appease Hana and Haerin. They both launch into a series of scolding and telling off, their words a mix of worry. They warn you that you’re being reckless in your actions and that heartache will follow. They plead you to think this through. Meanwhile, Jeno sits quietly to the side, observing the proceedings with a silent chuckle, his laid-back demeanour a stark contrast to the animated energy of Hana and Haerin.

"So, what are you guys? Friends with benefits?" Haerin asks, her hope running out. The question hangs in the air, prompting immediate reactions from both you and Jaemin. You both shake your heads quickly, clearly unsettled by the label. The very thought seems off-putting to you both.

"We were never even friends.” You clarify, laying down the stark reality of your relationship with Jaemin.

He softly added, "More like strangers with benefits.”

You shake your head, quick to counter. "No.” You say to him simply and plainly. You didn’t like the idea of only being of use to him for your body. Friends with benefits wasn’t something you ever wanted to engage in.

The room falls silent at Hana's next question, "So what are you?" Hana's question leaves you speechless, a silence enveloping you as the words hang heavily in the air. What are we? The thought echoes in your mind, a question without an easy answer. As you glance over at Jaemin, searching for any sign of clarity in his expression, you're met with the same uncertainty. The ambiguity of your relationship, undefined and unlabeled, looms large between you. It's confusing. You're both aware of the lack of clear communication between you, yet the good sex keeps bringing you back to each other.

Faced with Hana's probing gaze, you deflect, turning the spotlight back onto her. "What are you and Eric?" you ask, hoping to shift the focus away from the complexity of your situation. The question hangs between you, a momentary distraction from the undefined nature of your relationship with Jaemin.

“He’s my boyfriend.” She reveals nonchalantly, as if the declaration is the most natural thing in the world. You didn’t expect it, you had known that they’d gotten close but you didn’t expect them to actually label their love. This was the first time she had told you.

At her words, the room erupts into excitement. You and Haerin can’t contain your joy, squealing and rushing to embrace her. An unexpected wave of emotion washes over you, and you find yourself fighting back tears. The depth of your reaction surprises even you, but deep down, you understand its source. Hana is not just a friend; she’s your best friend, someone whose happiness means the world to you. Seeing her find joy and fulfilment in a relationship with Eric, someone who has been in love with her since childhood, fills you with an overwhelming sense of relief and contentment.

In the midst of your collective excitement and joy for Hana, the moment becomes even more intimate when she turns to you, her gaze filled with softness and genuine concern. "I just don't want you to get hurt.” She whispers, her voice a tender echo of past conversations. The sincerity in her eyes reflects the depth of your friendship, her worry stemming from the memory of your last heartbreak. That memory isn't just yours; it's shared in the collective heart of your friendship, a reminder of pain endured and the resilience that followed.

Jaemin, who until now has been a quiet observer of the emotional exchange, lets out a light chuckle. It's clear he's ready to leap to his own defence but you're quicker. "Jaem isn't gonna hurt me.” You assert confidently, your voice steady and strong. There's no hesitation, no faltering in your statement—a testament to the unwavering belief you hold in him.

This isn't a mere assertion; it's a declaration of trust, a trust that has been carefully built and nurtured over time. In your heart, you feel the solidity of this trust,

Jaemin's reaction to your words is subtle yet profound. There's a flash of something deeper in his eyes, a mixture of appreciation and a solemn promise. It's as if your words have not only affirmed your trust in him but also reinforced his commitment to honor and cherish that trust.

Jeno, unexpectedly quiet until now, says, "Yeah, he won’t." Jeno's sudden input surprises you, given his silence throughout the intervention. He’s normally active in discussions like these, his quietness up to this point was out of character.

"He’s a good guy.” Jeno reiterates, his voice imbued with a depth of trust and admiration. His words about Jaemin are not just spoken; they're felt, radiating a heartfelt sincerity that envelops the room.

In that instance, you and Jeno share an exchange so profoundly sweet, it transcends words. Smiles bloom on your faces, a silent nod sealing this moment of mutual understanding and respect.

Then, Jeno’s gaze finds yours, carrying a depth of knowledge and insight that puzzles you. It's a look filled with layers you can't quite decipher, leaving you curious about his thoughts and emotions. This moment of uncertainty stirs a mix of confusion and curiosity within you, prompting questions you yearn to ask.

Yet, the moment's simple beauty holds you back, urging you to just live in it, to appreciate the connection you share without overanalyzing. Jeno’s response is a smile, so broad and genuine, it encapsulates the essence of your friendship—a bond that thrives on unspoken understanding and shared moments just like this.

Hana smiled and shook her head. "Fine, but you guys should create rules for whatever kind of 'situationship' this is." You and Jaemin exchanged a look, and you realized that she was right.

"Can we have some privacy?" You asked, but you were immediately met with a chorus of "no's." You rolled your eyes, realizing that your friend group was just too open with each other. The closeness was a bit frightening at times, was it normal that you had seen them all naked on multiple occasions?

As he closes the distance, Jaemin's arm draped gently around your shoulder, he looked into your eyes with a sense of warmth and concern. "Are you okay?" He asked softly, his voice laced with genuine care.

You smiled at him, your fingers tenderly brushing over his eyebrow before cupping his cheek, drawing him into a gentle, heartfelt kiss. It was a quiet moment shared between just the two of you, a silent reassurance of your connection.

"So, what are you thinking?" You inquired, your fingers now finding his hand and intertwining with his. You took a deep breath, your gaze fixed on his, and continued, "I was thinking that communication is the key here. We should always be honest with each other about everything. For example, if you've found someone else, it would be better if you told me the truth so I can handle it better and..."

Before you could finish, Jaemin cut you off, his eyes unwavering as he affirmed, "I'm not going to find anyone else. I don't want anyone else." His words carried a deep sincerity that sent a warm shiver down your spine, reaffirming the bond you shared.

You nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed by your emotions. "Oh.” Was all you managed to say.

Jaemin's eyes held a gentle understanding as you continued, "And I think things like dates and gifts are okay. I mean, not like official dates, but if we want to go out, we don't need to be weird about it. I don't mean it like a date-date, but..."

"I know what you mean.” He said, voice filled with affection.

"Do you want to suggest something?" You asked, your arms wrapping around his neck as you gazed into his eyes.

Jaemin's smile is soft, filled with an unwavering patience and acceptance. "I just want whatever you want. Just tell me what you want, and if it's what you're comfortable with, then I want it too."

You nodded and then brought up another important point. "Um, also, can we continue keeping this private? I just... I don't want the attention, and I don't want Hyunjin to know. He's going to... he's just... I..."

The room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the emotional weight of the moment pressing down on you. As you fight back tears, a sense of vulnerability washes over you, compelling you to look away in embarrassment. Around you, the concern is palpable, your friends frown at the sight of your distress.

Jaemin's response is immediate and tender, his voice a soft balm in the tense atmosphere. "Hey, baby.” He murmurs, his words wrapping around you with a warmth that feels like a gentle embrace. The softness of his kiss is a promise, a silent assurance that you're not alone in this. He moves your face gently in his arms so you’re looking at him and only him.

"Of course we can keep it private.” He says, his commitment to your comfort and peace of mind clear in his tone. In that moment, You find yourself nodding, a smile breaking through the uncertainty as you lean in for another kiss, his soft lips making you ache for more.

You hesitated for a moment before bringing up one more concern. "Last one, if you ever find yourself catching feelings for another girl, then..."

Jaemin didn't let you finish your sentence. He interrupted with a passionate declaration, "I don't want that. Did I not make myself clear when I said that I don't want anyone who's not you? You're the only one I want."

The room fell silent, with even Haerin moaning at his words. You have to acknowledge, deep down, that this feeling is somewhat foreign to you. The sensation of being prioritised, of sharing space with someone who genuinely cherishes and respects your feelings to the extent that Jaemin does, is new and disarming. Reflecting on the past, you realize Hyunjin never offered you this kind of emotional security and consideration. The contrast between then and now is stark, stirring a mix of relief and a poignant sense of what you had long been missing. It's an emotional revelation, understanding for the first time the depth of care you truly deserve and are finally receiving.

A wave of emotions crashed over you, leaving you momentarily breathless. Before you could process his words, he bridged the gap between you, his actions speaking louder than any promise could. His lips met yours with a fervor that conveyed the depth of his sincerity, igniting a spark that quickly turned into a blazing fire.

The kiss was passionate, yet carried a tenderness that enveloped you in warmth and security. His lips moved against yours with a precision that spoke of his deep desire and commitment, each motion reinforcing his declaration. The intensity of the kiss deepened as if each touch, each melding of lips, was a seal over his vow, binding him to you and you alone.

The physical connection was overwhelming, sending ripples of heat through your body. His hands, firm yet gentle, cradled your face, pulling you closer into the kiss, leaving no space for doubts or fears. The world around you faded, leaving only the sensation of being wholly desired and cherished.

You were left with a lingering sense of being deeply connected, not just physically but emotionally. The assurance in Jaemin's kiss, the fervent way his lips claimed yours, left no room for uncertainty. In that moment, you felt a profound reassurance that his heart aligned with his words.

As the intensity of Jaemin's kiss enveloped you, a surge of boldness took over. Your hands found their way to the hem of his shirt. With a shared breath, a silent agreement passed between you, and you began to lift his shirt upwards. Jaemin's response was to pause the kiss momentarily, allowing you just enough space to pull the fabric over his head.

His shirt discarded, you were met with the warmth of his skin, the contours of his muscles under your fingertips, you began tracing the lines and warmth of his back, Jaemin's lips found yours again as you kissed him until you couldn’t breathe. It felt like kissing him was easier than breathing.

THE ONE WITH JAEMIN AND JENO

Jeno’s laughter breaks through, a sound mingled with relief and disbelief. “You can finally stop hiding around with her.” He chuckles, his gaze locking on Jaemin.

Jaemin responds with a breathy, “Thank fuck,.” His relief palpable, a tension he hadn’t realised he was holding released with those words.

Jeno continues, half in jest, half in admonishment. “You weren’t doing a good job at it though, fucking on the balcony above us, really? I had to pull my cover for you guys out of my literal ass. I don’t know how the others bought it.” Despite the humour, there’s an undercurrent of sincerity in his critique, a nod to the lengths he’d go to protect you and him.

Jaemin, feeling a swell of gratitude towards Jeno, turns to him. His shake of the head conveys more than words could—a silent thank you for the cover, for the understanding, for always being there.

Then, Jeno’s tone shifts, the mood turning serious as he changes the direction of the conversation. “Take care of her.” He says, his voice steady, eyes locking onto Jaemin with a depth of concern that’s rare to see.

The sudden seriousness catches Jaemin off guard, but his response is immediate and unwavering. “You know I will.”

Jeno’s next words are heavier, laden with worry. “You know I worry about her.” He confesses, revealing a protective side often hidden beneath his lighthearted exterior.

Jeno’s tone takes on a sombre note, his words heavy with concern and a touch of anger. “Do you know how fucked she got after that dick fucked her over?” He asks, his voice laden with seriousness. “She got high every single night.” He continues, the worry evident in his expression.

Then, he shares something even graver, a fact that underscores the depth of her despair. “She overdosed and ended up in the hospital.” He reveals, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

Jeno’s frown deepens as he recalls the nights filled with your cries, a testament to the pain you endured. The memory of it brings a heavy sigh from him, the kind that echoes with the weight of unspoken words and shared heartaches. “Her room is next to Haerin’s, and I’d just hear her cry every night.” He says, his voice tinged with a sorrow that speaks volumes of the nights spent in worry for you.

Jaemin listens, a storm of emotions playing across his features— he wants to deal with Hyunjin. He feels shock, anger, and an undeniable resolve to protect you. “I’m taking care of her.”

Jaemin understands the heartache of a breakup all too well, having recently navigated the end of his relationship with Yeeun. In the aftermath, he found himself caught in a mess of emotions. He struggled a lot. Time, however, has a way of soothing the sharpest sorrows, and gradually, he felt himself healing, the pieces of his fractured heart beginning to realign. It's in this journey of recovery that he found himself drawn to you, a beacon of hope and a promise of new beginnings.

Or is that what he’s made himself believe?

“She hasn’t gotten high since she’s been with me. I take care of her, I make sure she doesn’t. Jaemin continues, his determination clear. “All I wanna do is make her happy.”

Jeno’s response is a grin, a gesture that reflects his recognition and approval. “Yeah. You are.” He agrees, acknowledging the positive shift he’s witnessed in you. Your friends have noticed the change, seen the light return to your eyes, and watched as your health and spirits lifted. They’ve seen the laughter replace the tears, the strength replace the fragility, all under Jaemin’s tender care.

Jaemin, new to your life, may not have known the depth of your struggles, the lows that once defined your days. Yet, his presence has woven a new narrative, one where happiness fill the spaces that pain once occupied. In the quiet moments, in the soft touches and shared smiles, there’s an intimacy and warmth that envelops you both.

EVERYONE KNOWS NOW

Now, the secret's out—at least among your circle of friends. Shotaro, ever observant, claims he pieced it together during the barbecue, asserting he always knew Jaemin was your mystery man on the balcony. Donghyuck remains unfazed and isolated, lost in thought over his coffee and not making eye contact with anyone, while Yangyang teases you playfully, calling you a "nasty girl." Xiaojun, however, is notably silent, a quiet observer which was odd.

Walking into the campus café, where your friends have gathered, you immediately lock eyes with Jaemin. There's an unspoken conversation in that glance, a connection that speaks volumes, highlighted by your shared smiles. The crowded space leaves no chair for you, but Jaemin easily solves the dilemma, inviting you to sit on his lap with a welcoming gesture. You happily oblige like the good girl you are, you settle into the comfort of his embrace.

The moment you're in his arms, his lips gently press against yours, capturing them in a delicate kiss. His fingers softly caress your thighs under your skirt, coos of affection whispered in your ear. Together, you share smiles, gentle caresses, and tender kisses.

Engrossed in this bubble with Jaemin, you barely register Xiaojun's reaction. His quietness and frown might have caught your attention any other day, but today, the relief of no longer hiding overshadows everything else.

"Did you eat?" Jaemin's voice, low and caring, breaks the spell of your intimate moment. You respond with a shake of your head, and he takes it upon himself to feed you, his actions tender and attentive.

You and Jaemin said your goodbyes to your friends and you’re now walking side by side with him on campus, you find solace in his presence. Words are unnecessary; the silence between you isn't oppressive but rather comforting, a testament to the ease and understanding you share. You're aware of the curious glances directed your way, yet they don't unsettle you. Jaemin seems unfazed as well, his demeanor calm and reassuring.

The thought crosses your mind that you're under scrutiny, possibly judged, yet it doesn't disturb your peace. You recognize that there's nothing wrong in seeking happiness, in reveling in the warmth of Jaemin's hand in yours. However, the shadow of a past fear looms at the edge of your consciousness—the concern about Hyunjin's reaction, a person whose gaze alone might shatter your newfound tranquility.

You had your reasons for keeping your relationship with Jaemin a secret, predominantly due to apprehensions about Hyunjin's influence over your emotions and well-being. The thought of his control over your happiness scares you deeply. But fuck him. You refuse to allow him any power over your current joy.

Hand in hand with Jaemin, each step on the campus grounds feels like a declaration, a step towards what feels right. Despite the past fears and the potential judgement from Hyunjin or anyone else, this moment with Jaemin feels like where you're meant to be—free, unburdened, and genuinely happy.

In a moment that feels suspended in time, you and Jaemin come to a halt amidst the hum of campus life, now rendered inconsequential. The backdrop fades as he gently presses your back against the cool facade of a campus building, his gaze capturing yours with an intensity that's both mysterious and compelling.

Jaemin, with a slow, intentional movement, retrieves a blueberry lollipop from his pocket. The act of unwrapping it, taking a moment to savor its flavor, all the while holding your gaze, adds a layer of anticipation to the already charged atmosphere between you. The tension mounts, every gesture laden with unvoiced promises.

As he closes the distance, the air around you seems to thicken. When your lips finally meet, the kiss is not just an ordinary one—it's a fusion of sensations, the sweetness of the lollipop blending seamlessly with the moment's warmth. This kiss is a discovery, an intimate exploration that goes beyond the physical.

The initial surprise quickly gives way to a mutual passion, your response mirroring his intensity. Your hands find their way into his hair, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss. The flavor of blueberry envelops you, enhancing the experience, making it something entirely unique.

Suddenly, aware of the setting, you gently push him back, a whisper escaping your lips, "Everyone is gonna see us."

His response is a carefree shrug, the words almost a caress in themselves, "When a pretty girl asks me the flavor of my lollipop, should I say no?" His words, teasing yet sincere, dissolve any hesitation, reaffirming the connection between you.

Eager to reclaim the moment, your lips find his once more, reconnecting with an urgency that speaks volumes. This kiss is deeper, fueled by the brief pause, a blend of rebellion and affirmation of your bond. It's a declaration made without words, a shared understanding that what you have is worth the exposure, worth every risk. The sweet taste of the lollipop, now a symbol of your shared secret, lingers as a testament to the complex, beautiful dynamic you share with Jaemin.

The kiss, intense and filled with unspoken emotions, was Jaemin’s way of saying goodbye—a sweet, lingering farewell as he had classes for the rest of the day. You’re left with a smile on your lips, your cheeks burning with a flush that you try to hide by covering them with your hands. Waving goodbye, you watch Jaemin until he disappears from view, the memory of the kiss still vivid in your mind.

But the moment he’s out of sight, a shift occurs. Turning around, you’re confronted with the piercing gaze of Jang Yeeun, her eyes fixed on you with an intensity that feels like a cold shock in contrast to the warmth you just experienced. Her words cut through the air, sharp and accusatory: “So you’re the reason why Jaemin’s been ignoring all of my calls.”

liked it??? send me an ask please <333 please get back at me. give feedback and share your thoughts it would mean the world to me

comment to be added to the tag list for part 2!! (will be a 4 part series)

taglist - @sexygrass @tywritesstuff @666-aiko @leep0ems @kyuuniversee @daegalfangirl @side-effects @kgneptun @thecaffeinatedfangirl @i6renj @hcaeh @buns-inhiding @pinknjm @nominsgirl @liliansun @nominsgirl@ itserylyn1 @carelessshootanonymous @scarredrose25 @kuntyswife @siordior

943 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 5 months

Text

Chasing Cars | teaser (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol consumption, curses

☆word count: 1.1k

☆a/n: teaser time babyyyy!! I hope you guys love it :') thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

The hour is late. Jungkook is tipsy, far more than he thought he’d get tonight, but then again, Taehyung is not in a better state, and Sera, Jimin’s girlfriend, had to force him to go home before they got too drunk.

They’re all supposed to help Taehyung’s little sister move in tomorrow, Jungkook included.

“Man,” Taehyung lets out, and Jungkook looks away from the game of Smash they’re playing - that he’s majestically losing - to focus on Taehyung.

“What?” he lets out.

“Can’t believe Y/n will be here tomorrow,” Taehyung answers.

“Can’t believe you’re forcing me to live with a girl.”

Taehyung chuckles. “Don’t worry, Y/n is chill.”

Jungkook doesn’t doubt she is, considering how well he gets along with Taehyung, and Taehyung’s made it seem that he gets along well with his sister. He imagines Y/n’s just going to be a mini Taehyung, which frankly could be fun to have around.

But he doesn’t know anything about her other than the fact that she is Taehyung’s little sister.

“You know,” Taehyung adds as the game finishes. “I meant to tell you something.”

Jungkook cocks his pierced eyebrow in question. “Yeah?”

“Just wanted to say that if you touch my sister, you’re fucking dead.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing, shaking his head, but Taehyung remains entirely serious. Like he meant what he just said - could he?

“You’re joking right?” Jungkook asks as his laughter fades away.

“No, I’m dead ass,” Taehyung insists. “You breathe in her direction, and you’re dead.”

“Damn.” Jungkook widens his gaze, and then picks up the beer he’s been slowly drinking since Jimin left. “Understood.”

Hell, Jungkook knows that he sleeps around. Taehyung does the same - he can’t help but understand Taehyung when he says to stay away from his sister. And he thinks it’ll be easy. Y/n’s probably just going to be a clueless baby college kid, and though Jungkook doesn’t mind going for younger, he’ll have plenty of new faces to explore once Frosh week starts next week anyways.

So he promises Taehyung he has nothing to worry about, and they play a couple more games before they head to bed.

Jungkook wakes up early the next morning, the sun shining right in his face the most efficient alarm he’s ever used before. He wants to go to the gym before helping Taehyung’s sister, and though he hates being awake so early, he immediately forces himself to get up lest he falls back asleep.

His workout goes well, and he’s pleasantly sore when he heads back home. He’s lucky - he manages to park not too far from the apartment. He’s walking home, gym bag in one hand and his phone in the other, when Taehyung texts him to ask where he is.

Jungkook types ‘Fuck off’, pressing send as his attention is solely on his phone.

Until said phone flies out of his hand as he collides with a girl he didn’t notice, and Jungkook watches in horror as the device falls in a flower bed.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you say, and you immediately dive into the flower bed, retrieving Jungkook’s phone.

You hand it to him, and Jungkook just stares at you, mouth agape. He’s aware he’s staring and that he probably looks stupid, but he’s dumbfounded.

You’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot.

“Don’t worry about it,” he answers quickly when you cock an eyebrow, your cheeks slowly turning red. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“At least it didn’t break,” you say, and you flash him a quick smile.

It does things to his heart that Jungkook barely comprehends - it’s like his heart is going miles a minute, yet it’s soothing, warm, much like the pavement feels in the summer when the sun has just dipped below the horizon.

“Right, yeah,” Jungkook answers, and his cheeks burn.

His cheeks fucking burn, and he wishes he could just disappear, dive below the ground until you can’t see him anymore. You just keep on smiling, eyes never disconnecting from his, and he wonders if you, too, feel like he does.

Shit, he thinks he might even hear bells in the distance.

You glance away, and it’s like he’s falling forward while not moving at all, and all he can do is pathetically clear his throat, as if that’s going to offer any help.

“I see you’ve met Y/n!” Taehyung yells from behind you, and Jungkook freezes.

Jungkook freezes, and then something burns in his lungs, like he’s under the surface struggling for futile oxygen he knows he won’t find.

You are… Taehyung’s sister.

You’re Y/n.

His best friend’s little sister.

The one thing Jungkook can’t have.

It makes him feel cold, his heart suddenly dropping in the Arctic sea amongst the icebergs.

“We literally ran into each other,” you say, looking back towards your brother.

And Jungkook sees it - your hair is the same shade as Taehyung’s, your face has the same shape. The smile though - your smile is different from Taehyung’s, and maybe that’s why he was fooled.

Fooled for a few seconds which felt like an eternity.

You walk away then, heading to the open back door of a car. You grab a box, and Jungkook puts his phone in his pocket, eyeing a bag on the backseat.

“Do you want me to bring this in?” he asks.

Only because he wants you to look at him again. His heart flutters in his chest when you do, and he forces it down with a swallow as you nod once.

“Yes, please!”

Jungkook nods too, and he grabs the bag before following you in. His right foot lands on the first step leading to the apartment when Taehyung stops him with a hand on his arm.

Jungkook frowns slightly, meeting his best friend’s gaze.

“I’m serious, JK,” Taehyung says through gritted teeth. “You fucking touch her, you’re dead.”

And Jungkook knows right then and there that he’s fucked. Entirely, thoroughly, immensely fucked.

Because he already wants you, and he hasn’t even talked to you for more than twenty seconds.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures Taehyung, and he hopes Taehyung can’t hear how fake he sounds.

How is he supposed to resist indulging in you when he already knows you’re all he’s ever wanted?

He really is entirely, thoroughly, immensely fucked.

☆☆☆☆☆

Read chapter one here!

What did we think? Are we excited to read?? Let me know here!

Taglist: (strike-through means dumblr isn't letting me tag you)

@jjkluver7 | @lavender2ari | @srslythis-ismylife | @starlight-1010 | @mggv97

@cookysstuff | @02010802 | @kookieleshgo | @biaswreckersinc | @hera19

@ice | @nightapple | @jungkussyficrecs | @boyfriendtaekook | @montyfbaybee

@babystarcandyjk97 | @goldentea10 | @lovingkoalaface | @parapiop7 | @parking-lotnights

@junecat18 | @blr1004 | @buddybops | @kookssecret | @busandbby_jjk

@superchamchi88 | @goldenjeonkoo | @raraluvz | @lovelye79 | @boyswithjun

@skzthinker | @michellekosmos | @8balljk | @kooklovee | @kingofbodyrolls

@ll4l | @kissyfacekoo | @ggukiepie | @moon-gyi | @apples0-0

@jcrl99 | @iammeandmeisiam | @kookoo-kachoo | @marvelbun | @lalaren

@sugas-baby-girl | @glossminmin03 | @kocoreads | @carriereadsbooks | @aiiselle90210

@FeyOcean | @khuderutu | @stuti2904 | @ziya.exe | @shortnspicier

@wiseboojumtree | @bobagukks | @vrusha01 | @lilyy07 | @younhakim29

@screamertannie | @wisebouquetbarbarian | @pixiekook | @nanjeonlangakook | @jcnggukie

@ggukkieland | @phanniefoo | @jksctrl | @sp1derk0ok | @hyukal0ml

@mysjammy | @lesiacapouille | @shearttttttttt | @hobibbb | @mochifuzz

@kooksbunnnn | @moonchilddna | @libra04 | @vminkookgf | @jayrielle27

@tulips4u | @jinniejax | @chimmisbae | @sumzysworld | @imene_ghd

@gguksflowers | @sadgirlroo | @kissme-ornot | @mar-lo | @kazkookiekazookie

@infiresyg93 | @junggukjeonfreakinwife | @sweet-pinee | @chimchimmarie | @pamzn

#chasing cars teaser #chasing cars #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #btswritersclub #jeon jungkook #chasing cars series

816 notes · View notes

jolapeno · 8 months

Text

1. butterscotch orange

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter one of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.3k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over <redacted>. frankie being a single!dad to a son. coffee date. an: it is finally here! this little thing has rotted me from the inside out and nothing brings me more joy than a romcom. so here we go. buckle in. all hail @secretelephanttattoo for the wondrous idea and support (seriously thank you, i know you know ily, but i don't think I've been this happy writing something in so long). a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who i forced to read this when we had our sleepover, ily.

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics [winks]

IF I CAN DO IT, ANYONE CAN DO IT. ALL YOU NEED—

It rings, echoes through your skull.

Has been doing so the whole ride over—your groan doing nothing to dilute it, even as you kill the engine of your car and are welcomed with silence.

There’s an element of regret you feel thrumming in you since discovering that perky voice, her high-pitched excitement becoming the bane of your existence. Forever replaying in your head. Regardless of whether it is actually playing. It remains on a loop in your mind—all light and sweet—grating on you from the amount you’ve had to watch it, just to get to this stage.

Realistically, you know you shouldn’t hate the voice, because it has been helpful—in that effortlessly playful way that’s kind of begun to fuck you off.

But then, you’re not even sure if any voice would fare much better. Because you just don’t feel like it’s just that easy—so possible, all simple and quick to do.

Because DIY apparently isn't that trouble-free for you. The bandaids on your palm, fingers, and forearm are proof of it.

Yet, somehow you’re outside of a hardware store.

One that Google promises will have all you need and more. Not that you know what that is.

The only thing you do know is that it at least gives you another reason to focus on something other than the mountain of boxes that never end. The ones not unpacked. In the home that’s now only slowly beginning to feel more like yours, and not the people you purchased it from.

Eyes flicking over the front of the store, the clutter of things all left outside—in judging various shades of buckets and plastic garden chairs—before your eyes land on the door to Harold’s Hardware.

There’s no breeze, but the door moves ever so slightly. Sitting, slightly ajar, as though once—a long time ago—it fit in the frame perfectly, but now remained warped and unwilling to even try. Then there’s the glass, all smeared and sitting inside (what you assume) would have been a bright-white frame that’s slightly yellowed and has been adorned in scuffs, swinging in its layered overuse.

But, at least it’s visited, you think. Shoving open the door, a bell sounds in some distant corner, ringing, it almost muffled by the voice from the video continuing to play in the space between your ears—a to-do list, a handful of items required, listing themselves on a never-ending loop, the billionth play through since you’d woken up.

It’s so much bigger inside than you banked on. Jaw-ticking to the side, eyes marvelling at the floor-to-ceiling display and the array of things all living and existing under hanging signs that appear worn and peeling.

With each second, more and more of the charm comes to you.

That there’s a radio, crackling away, a song from decades gone by playing with difficulty, as an array of scents swirl, fighting themselves for your attention. But, two stand out, fresh-cut wood and lemon disinfectant. The latter you assume kills dirt but doesn’t make the floor tiles gleam in the way they once did. Scuff marks adorning well-walked paths. But the former, you gravitate more to, wish for it to fill your nose and remain with you long after your visit.

Adjusting the strap of your bag, you glance about again, almost fidgeting your feet in your shoes, before it dawns on you. Slams into you as you flick your gaze from sign to sign—

You haven’t got a clue about where to start.

Listing the things from memory—suddenly distant and difficult to find amongst the dooming overwhelm—as your feet begin moving of their own accord. Choosing an aisle, selecting it—all eeny-meeny-miny-mo.

Because better that, than standing aimless, lost. Watched on some flickering CCTV in the back where you assume the person who works here is.

Dragging your eyes, scanning them up and down, taking in the varying types of paint brushes, different thicknesses, different intentions. Moving from single purchase to grouped, to multi-packs, and landing finally on rollers before you’re turning, heading down an entirely different aisle.

The next isn’t any less overwhelming.

If anything, it’s more, because it’s at least more of what you needed.

Screws, bolts, fixings.

Your brain assessing, attempting to assemble whether a bolt is what you need, a screw or—

“You need a hand?”

It throws you off, the voice.

Cuts through your processing, through the low replays of the video (the ones only in your head) and the cracking radio which has moved into an advert for migraines.

It’s low, a slight gravel that he rids with a clear of his throat as you look over your shoulder, eyes sweeping over the owner of the voice, eventually turning to face him.

And fuck.

He’s broad, dressed in a deep green t-shirt under a tan apron—name badge scratched over, only leaving the lingering marks of a “here to help” and the fading logo you’d seen outside.

You don’t mean to gawk, but yet you do all the same.

Practically swallowing, attempting to whir your brain into gear as you take in the rest of him. The thick loose curls atop his head, the strong nose and the round-brown eyes. His moustache, the wiry facial hair across his chin he slowly begins to scrape at, as he remains waiting for a response.

“Screws.”

“You… you need screws?”

Nodding, you will your brain to work, to function. But, he’s just so—

Lifting his chin, he runs his thumb up and down the underside of his chin, waiting, waiting, until he smiles. “Do you know the kind?”

Think. Think. Fucking think.

And then you do. Somehow able to unspool some thoughts, find sentences. Beginning to explain, in barely-there pauses and animated hand gestures about your move, and your new lease of life, and this video you found and how you felt inspired by it to the point it had led you to order wood cut to size and tools from the internet, but screws, screws and this and that are all that you’d forgotten.

And, he listens. Sliding a hand over the sleeve of his sun-scorched tee as he does. Just nodding on occasion. Thin lines appear along his forehead at certain parts of the story, but nonetheless listening.

“Show me.”

“Show… you?”

Then he smiles. Soft, it slides up in a slow, almost cautious way, but then it’s at his eyes, touching, brushing itself there and sending sparks up into the darker brown flecks.

Licking his lips, he gestures, “The video.”

You do.

A quick shuffle in your pocket, a slide to unlock your phone and then your fingers are brushing his. They’re warm, his. That you can tell.

Heat radiating from them, slowly blanketing yours as his hand and yours cradle the phone like a newborn in an announcement photo.

From there, your chest tightens, more so when you meet his eyes, finding them watching you as intently as you wish to look at him, and it makes your heart stammer, skip—a full chaos of beats following before he’s holding your phone independently.

That’s when a new crisis calls. A new thought is all set to erode your mind.

Because your phone looks tiny in his hand.

The plastic case is almost dwarfed by him as he tips his chin, watching the video, occasionally tapping at the screen to skip ahead before he nods to himself, you all but busy trying not to choke on your own drool.

“I know what you need.”

“You do?”

A foolish question, all escaping without thought or rationale.

He just smiles, in a way that seems to settle your incoming anxiousness.

“I do.”

And he does.

A tilt of his head, his back turned to you, a brief thought crossing your brain at the sight but you quickly rid, and you’re following. Listening as he explains, as he points out things with his long, thick finger, as you nod, as though nothing lives in the space between both of your ears.

It isn’t until you’re back in your car that it hits you. Do you suddenly wish as your engine ignites and your car roars to life, that you had asked for his number—or better yet, his name.

It’s been days, and you’re still wondering if some part of you’d concocted him, made him up—thrown up an illusion of a man and exaggerated how good he looked.

The more you thought about him, the more insane it got. Even hearing yourself explain it to a friend made you question if you'd been dreaming. That maybe you’d let days mould him, shaping perfection in your consciousness.

It has more weight when you walk past the older man at the till, all white hair in a slick-back style and who tips his head and looks more what you’d expect from the decor of the place.

But a part, one fighting, scrapping for a moment to exist, still believes. Hopes.

Forcing your legs to wander down aisles you don’t need, pausing at each corner, desiring to be proven wrong. Hovering, hoping—half-wondering if it was essential that to make him appear, you had to look lost and hopeless—or whether that had just been a coincidence that first time.

With each up and down, you almost give up. Hope almost gone, erasing itself with each step, all but fading.

But there, in the centre of the paint aisle, speckled in dried flecks, it clinging in varying shades—a kaleidoscope dream on his jeans and worn t-shirt—is him. The man you haven't stopped thinking about.

"It's you."

"It's me," you grin, heat flooding your cheeks, growing up into your neck.

Arm lifting, hand brushing the back of his curls not housed in a cap, as he matches your grin. "New project?"

"Something like that."

His gaze doesn't waver, doesn't lessen, not as his grin slopes into a shy smile, before he wipes his hand on his jeans, offering it out. "Realised... I never... I'm Frankie, by the way."

You hand him your name, dropping an octave as you do—all unmeaning, entirely accidental—fingers sliding past his as you shake his hand.

“I don’t… you’ve not got your apron on.”

Glancing down, you find him grinning when he looks up, “Not my day today. Here on personal business.”

“Oh is…” squinting at the paint can in his hand, “Butterscotch Orange on a hit list or something?”

His lips slide into his cheek, a tooth-filled smirk. “Should be, it’s a right bitc—pain in the ass to sell.”

Rolling your lips, you trace your tongue across your teeth as you grin. “It’s no…” eyes squinting. “Mt Rainier Grey.”

His brow arches. “That your shade of choice?”

“I like it—don’t hate the orange though. So, maybe it’s not the paint, but the seller.”

Something twinkles in his eye, lips still cocked to one side, smirk still ever-present.

And it’s a challenge to drag your eyes to look at the floor, you shift your weight. Trying, and failing, to think of an excuse, to leave before it gets weird—before you become too much and ruin this nondescript thing. But, his throat clearing stops you. It forces your chin up. Barely just able to catch it, the whisper, how it’s almost said to the can in his hand than to you.

“You… doing anything right now?”

Shaking your head slowly, you bite your cheek as you grin. “Just talking to a man holding a paint can.”

Tapping his fingers along the top, lips rolling, “You fancy getting a coffee? With me?”

You have to bite your smile, out of fear you’ll show how practically beaming you are. Mouth opening, but he adds an addition of I don’t usually do this that makes your lips curl into a smirk.

“What? Invite random customers for coffee or accost them with paint you can’t sell?”

Biting his upper lip, he shakes his head, tucking a curl behind his ear as your eyes glance over at them. How they glisten under the yellow-fluorescent light.

Letting your heart dance like leaves in the wind. “I’d love to get coffee with you, Frankie.”

It’s nice, the coffee place.

Not a far walk, a few doors down. The charm of it coaxes you in with sounds of crunching beans and strong scents of varying levels of caffeine sliding over and relaxing your shoulders from your ears.

Because suddenly you’re nervous.

A slight shake to your bones, a twitch of your fingers.

“Let me get this.”

Smiling, you find him watching you, not caring to drag his eyes away when you catch him.

“Because you never do this or because you’re hoping to persuade me to buy your unsellable paint?”

Smirking, he traces his eyes over you, “Both.”

The corner of his mouth slides back into his cheek, a dimple appearing, deepening—one you want to brush over with your thumb the longer he keeps looking at you the way he does.

All dark eyes, beedy, but sparkling.

'Who's next?' breaks the spell. Shatters the magic. It forces you both to blink, to focus on the task at hand. Both orders said, whirring and crunching sounding as you admire the place, glaze over the menu until he’s nudging you.

With your order in hand and tucked away in the corner—the large window letting in light and warmth from the sun on your back—you try not to moan at the taste of your drink once it hits your tongue.

Because it’s good. Brilliant, practically everything.

To the point you have to bite back a thank you, one that you feel would be never-ending, a constant swirl of words landing on the circular table between the two of you. Nothing napkins and good conversation could soak up.

Because good coffee is always great, but knowing where to find it in an unknown place is something else.

Distantly, you hear him say your name, chin dipped, eyes focused, realising—in a flood of embarrassment—he’s been talking to you.

“Sorry?”

“I said, I’ve not seen you in the store before…”

Swallowing, you take a steadying breath.

“You don’t have to…”

But, you do all the same. You pour open small bits of truth, words falling, tumbling half-strung together as your history rolls out in a timeline in front of you both. How you’d bought a new place, that it’s a bit run down, seen better days—a determination to prove friends wrong by doing it yourself.

Foolish, you comment with a shake of your head, I know fuck all about decorating.

And he listens—to the fact you’re alone, not even a pet; he listens even as you talk about your work, all boring, not entirely interesting. The two of you simply lost in one another, surrounded by coffee mug swirls and the sounds of sizzling food, coffee shop noises and mumbling daytime talk as you ask him about work, about his love for orange shades.

And your eyes glance down at his phone, how it’s turned over—his all undivided attention given to you—yet your eyes linger on the phone case. The one with a drawing, likely in pencil, a man in a hat on a hill, a child next to him and a sun with a smile on its face.

“I… I have a kid. Luca—shared custody,” he says, nodding, tongue peeking out between his teeth, hands leaving the table and wiping back on his jeans in slow slides up and down. “He… he made it me.”

It’s the grin that makes your heart swell.

Makes your hand cup your mug a little tighter so you don’t offer it out to him to hold, a thing which feels so natural, no thought required. Except you don’t know his last name—barely know a thing about him.

Yet, your body practically leans forward as you mirror the smile—all soft, as another piece of a missing puzzle sliding into place.

“Does he like drawing?”

Laughing, his palm slides along his jaw. “Loves it.”

“How old?”

“Five—does that… does that bother you?”

“That you’re a dad?” He nods, and you lick your lips, you make sure to hold his gaze. “Not in the slightest.”

You smile, watching him mirror you this time. It rushes out, kissing across every bit of his face—a shyness soon fluttering over him before he clears his throat.

“So, you freelance? You like being your own boss?”

“Not especially, but it does mean I can work at night.”

Nodding, he slides his hand around the white porcelain, hand practically dwarfing the mug. It makes you want to ask him to hold things, to see if IKEA pencils or children’s eating utensils look more ridiculous than your iPhone and a regular coffee mug.

“Prefer the night?”

“I prefer the quiet of it... to think. It’s why… why I began trying to do something in the day, needed to still be busy.”

“Sitting still not an option, Rainier Grey?”

Shrugging, you smile. “Says you Butterscotch and your three tins of unsellable paint in the bed of your truck.”

“You got me there.”

“I just… like to be busy, and with the new house, no partner—commitments, I thought why not try a bit of DIY.”

Nodding, he lifts his mug, and takes a sip—eyes remaining fixed on you as he does, as though it buys him time, lets him think up an opinion, an assessment. It makes your skin warm, but for all the uncomfortable reasons, the panicking ones—parts of you beginning to catastrophise that you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Open up your Instagram.”

You stare, blinking.

“Trust me.”

And you do. With another fumble, another slide of your phone screen open, and you follow his instructions as you type in the spelling he gives you. When you click the page, it’s hard not to grin, to not have your face explode into a smile so large it cuts into your cheeks.

“I don’t like to sit still either,” Frankie adds, as though the thousand photos and videos, the tutorials and follower count don’t say that on their own.

You’ve fallen down a hole—willingly.

It cracked open the moment you’d sat on your couch, drink in hand, blanket half over your body.

The moment you’d begun your scroll, you discovered you couldn’t stop. Starting with the latest and moving back, until you realise you’d rather see the story in the way it happened.

Choosing a moment, almost nine months ago, before you work your way forward to the present.

You were cautious, more careful than needed, to not like anything too late—to not give away how deep into his page you’d gone. Even if you were in awe, a little proud—your cheeks a little warm and lips turned up into your cheek—as you saw in real-time his confidence grow. The way he’d look at the camera, began experimenting with angles, all in all being smoother, more happy.

You suppose that’s why you type a comment under one picture:

Is that butterscotch orange in the flesh? 🟠

Stalking me are you?

Getting some tips from Mr DIY himself.

I know you went back some months, Rainy.

How do you know that?

Because as soon as you commented that’s what I did. You looked nice at the beach.

Now who’s the stalker, Butterscotch.

Me. Clearly. I’m being very upfront about it.

Out of interest, do you tutor at all? Give hands on help to beginner DIYers?

You genuinely asking or flirting?

Big-headed much?

I can help you with something if you need it.

I think I do.

Then I’m yours. Don’t worry, I promise to only snoop in your drawers when left alone.

Think we should get food first, show you what I’m thinking—make sure you’re up to the task.

You asking me on a date?

No. But if you keep showing off tools topless I’ll be tempted to ask you.

Knew you’d gone back further than a month.

FRANKIE’S INSTAGRAM 🌝

NEXT CHAPTER

an: you do not understand how giddy i am about this series. the chapters have flown out of me. i hope you enjoy it half as much as i'm enjoying writing it. see you soon xx

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories

892 notes · View notes

stevie-petey · 4 months

Text

episode five: the flayed

Slowly Steve aims away, the sound trickling against another wall now, and you share a disgusted look with Robin. With a sigh, she squeezes your hand. “If we make it out of here alive, I promise I’ll throw you the best birthday party ever.” “I don’t know, I think Steve peeing five feet away from me will be pretty hard to beat.”

Summary: you have the worst birthday of your life, you almost strangle steve with your bare hands and then later get snot all over him, erica is your savior, dustin is doing his best, robin starts to suspect things, and the russians have opened a gate to the upside down. its all pretty miserable tbh. but hey ! at least steve won a fight !

Rating: general, some swearing

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

Words: 7.2k

Before you swing in: hi loves !! chapter five we get some more insight into bug and her very anxious mind. shes just a stressed out gal. bless her. anyways, bug aside im so so so excited to get to chapter 6. i have so many plans for her <3 but !!! for now pls enjoy chapter 5 and more chaotic steve n bug ;)

Everyone is screaming as you all fall.

You lost your stomach about a hundred feet ago.

Steve clings onto you, his chest sturdy behind you as your arms tighten around the kids. Their screams are deafening; you know that you’re screaming too, but the pounding in your head rings in your ears and drowns out their fear.

“We’re going down!” Steve screeches, arms now even tighter around you as he braces his back against the wall.

“No shit Harrington!” Robin is on the opposite wall.

Your nails dig into Steve’s arms, both from panic and from anger. “I fucking told you!”

As you scream at the teen, Erica and Dustin pry apart from you and run over to the vault’s buttons. They begin to argue, the rush of the room’s falling almost makes it hard to hear what they’re saying, but you know they’re freaking out just like everyone else.

“Push the button!” You hear Erica yell at your brother, and he turns to her with pure melodrama to screech back at her, “What do you think I’m doing?”

Steve pulls you further into his chest as he screams at the kids. “Press something! Just press the button!”

It’s a mess, the room fills with more screaming as everyone argues and pushes against one another in futile attempts to prevent the vault from plummeting even further. Your nails dig further into Steve’s arms and you close your eyes, too numb with fear to do anything else.

Then, suddenly, everything stops.

The room comes to a halt, you’re no longer plummeting to imminent death, and everyone crashes against the wall or ground while a giant box lands on you and Steve.

He takes the brunt of the damage, the box having fallen from behind him, but the impact is enough to send you crashing to the ground with your elbow catching against the side of the shelf the box had come from. Groaning, your knee shoves into Steve’s body, causing him to wheeze in pain. “My groin, you’re on my groin.”

You ignore him and get up, not offering your hand to him, and make sure Dustin and everyone else is okay. Seeing your stoic manner, Steve groans. “A little help here, anyone?”

Again you ignore him and make your way further into the room and stand there, slowly coming to the realization of what’s happened. Your limbs feel heavy, your head is pounding, and you’re locked in an apparent elevator made by Russians after falling hundreds of feet below Starcourt.

“Is everyone okay?” Robin hesitantly asks after Dustin has helped Steve up from the ground.

“Fine,” you rasp out, body still in shock.

Steve’s body is in its own state of shock as he starts to freak out yet again. “Yeah, I’m great, now that I know that Russians can’t design elevators!”

He shoves past Dustin and starts to jab at the buttons once more, but it’s no use. Robin tries to stop him, but Steve continues to press the buttons repeatedly anyways. He’s frantic, his eyes wide an wild with fear, and you stand in the corner as watch as he starts to realize himself just how fucked the five of you are in the current situation.

After days of ignoring the possible danger, it’s now glaring in his face, and Steve becomes even more frantic when he notices that you’re still standing behind everyone, silent.

He’s fucked up.

“It’s an electronic lock.” Robin starts to explain, and you listen silently. “Same as the loading dock door. If we don’t have a keycard, it won’t operate, meaning–”

“We’re stuck in here.” Dustin announces, already having figured it out himself.

The pounding in your head intensifies at your brother’s words as fear claws its way into your throat. You’ve spent the last two days pleading with everyone to listen to you, to be cautious and not go in over your heads about the Russians, and yet here you are: locked in a fucking elevator with Steve looking at you with utter guilt.

You had been right the entire time.

And yet no one bothered to believe you.

As Erica announces to the group that if she isn’t back by uncle Jack’s party tomorrow then her mom will ransack the town to find her and Steve yells at her about how he doesn’t care about the party if you all end up dead in the Russian elevator, a defeated and deranged laugh begins to swell from your chest before it forms into complete hysterics.

The laughs fall from your mouth in a frantic manner, and everyone slowly turns to look at you. Erica doesn’t understand what’s going on, though Steve, Dustin, and Robin share horrified looks; they all know that you’ve officially crossed the line that separates anger from insanity.

“Dead in a Russian elevator, huh?” You manage to bitterly spit out in between bouts of laughter. There are tears in your eyes, though no one is sure if they’re from laughing or anger or despair. “God, Harrington, you really fucked up.”

You’re practically wheezing now from laughing so hard, hunched over as the action takes over your entire body. You had been right, and yet you’re now stuck in an elevator with Lucas’ little sister and your own brother, responsible for their lives even though you’ve never asked to be. Ever.

Steve tugs at his hair, just as overwhelmed as you are. He’s terrified of what he’s dragged you into, and he’s even more terrified that he was the asshole who refused to listen to you. Defensive, he throws his hands up in the air in defeat. “Why would you even listen to me? I mean, I’ve never been right a day in my life!”

“Oh, so this is all my fault?” Your body manages to move towards him, now standing toe to toe as you sneer in his face.

The laughter is now gone.

“You’re the one who let me continue this stupid Russian adventure–”

“I begged you to listen to me, but you refused to!”

Steve lets out his own deranged laugh. “How was I supposed to know we’d end up in a goddamn elevator of death?”

“God, how hard is it for you to admit that I was right?” Your fists shake as they clench against your side, your voice is raw from screaming. “Would it fucking kill you to admit that maybe I’m not just some pathetic people pleaser and that I actually know what I’m talking about–”

“Guys!” Dustin shoves the two of you apart, afraid that you’ll tear Steve’s eyes out any second. He points up, gathering everyone’s attention again, and reveals an opening in the elevator’s ceiling. “What if we climbed out?”

Hope sparks in your chest when you see the opening and you’re the first to shove past Steve and the others and start climbing up the boxes to get to it. Dustin follows, then Steve, and when the three of you climb up and out of the elevator, the small spark of hope in your chest quickly vanishes when you look up and see the hundreds of feet the elevator has fallen.

“What were you saying about climbing?” Steve’s voice echoes off of the walls surrounding the elevator. They’re smooth, pure metal and infrastructure, and you swallow down tears.

There’s no way any of you can possibly climb up them. You’re stuck.

Admittedly, Dustin handles this realization a lot better than you do. He immediately starts to come up with another plan, he has his radio, he can call for help, and as he comes up with new ways to reignite the hope with Steve, you wordlessly descend back down into the elevator. You don’t spare the two boys another glance as you leave, too emotionally exhausted and still shaking from the waves of guilt and anxiety that plague you.

After you’ve silently left, Dustin turns to Steve. He feels just as awful as the teen, they both failed to listen to you, and now they’re left with your stoic anger that leaves them both feeling raw. “We fucked up, man.”

“She needs us right now,” Steve claps his hand against the boy’s back, his words strong but voice frail. “Let’s go.”

They climb back down into the elevator as well and find you, Robin, and Erica all sitting against the walls, silent. You must’ve already told the girls what the three of you found above. There’s nothing you guys can do now besides wait for whatever comes next, even Dustin can recognize that.

Your knees are drawn into your chest, your chin rests against them as you sit alone at one wall, and Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so small before. Sighing, he looks at Dustin, who gives him a nod to wish him luck, before he makes his way over to you and sits down. You don’t react to Steve’s presence besides allowing your head to fall against his shoulder, and it’s enough to calm the relentless remorse he feels within him.

No one speaks for a while.

The hours pass, the room silent as you all realize what the fuck you’ve gotten yourselves into.

–

You’re not sure how much time passes by, the walls within the elevator block out all possible sunlight, but eventually you figure it’s well into the night. After the initial shock had worn off, Dustin, Robin, and Erica had sat closer together and tried distracting themselves with sleep while you sat against the wall with Steve; your head never leaves his shoulder, and neither of you talk.

However, by what you figure is hour five, you desperately need air. You can’t sleep, the walls have started to close in around you once more, so you stand up, side step your sleeping brother, and climb up to the top of the elevator once more.

Steve follows you; he always follows.

He finds you sitting at the edge of the elevator, feet dangling over the ledge with your shoulders drawn in. Slowly he approaches you and sits down next to you, shoulder to shoulder, thigh pressed against thigh. You don’t say anything, and Steve again feels horrible for not listening to you earlier; he knows that for once it has to be him that is strong enough for the two of you.

“Talk to me,” Steve breathes out, pleading. It’s just you and him now, one one else, away from prying eyes. You’re safe with him, you will always be safe with him, but he needs to hear your voice and bring color back to your cheeks. “Please.”

Hearing the desperation in his voice, knowing that Steve has never once meant you any harm, that he’s just as scared and alone as you are, you finally break.

You throw yourself into Steve’s arms and sob. The tears come all at once, there is no build up. The moment you are in his embrace, the moment your ear presses against his chest and you hear his heartbeat, the tears come.

“I hate that I always end up here,” you cry into his chest, all that you’ve swallowed down now comes spiraling out of you. “I’m just–I’m so fucking frustrated. I–I keep doing this to Dustin, he’s always in danger because of me.”

Your voice hitches as your breath stutters. There’s more that you want to say, the guilt that has haunted you since Will biked home that fateful night swells within you, but your tears prevent you from voicing any of it. “I–I’m supposed to keep everyone safe but–God, it’s hard when no one listens to me. No one ever listens to me.”

You were supposed to listen to me.

Though you don’t say it, Steve hears it anyway.

He’s silent through it all, frightened and aching, knowing you keep so much within you. Steve has never seen you cry before, he’s never seen you break like this, and he despises himself for being the reason why.

Another miserable sob escapes you and all Steve can do is pull you in closer, furious at the world for the fact that he cannot fit you into his chest where he can keep you safe behind his ribcage, next to his heart.

You cling onto Steve and allow the last few years you’ve carried on your shoulders to finally crush you. “I just feel so useless–how can I…” you sniffle, try to steady your breathing as the words on your tongue terrify you. “How–how can I love if I can’t–I have to protect everyone.”

Your voice breaks once more and Steve allows you to take all the time you need. He continues to hold you through it, he presses soft kisses to your face, lips wet from your tears, he plays with your hair, he does whatever he can to engrave his apology into your body.

“I’m so stupid,” you pull away now, the tears slowing and embarrassment creeping through. You’re overwhelmed with your debilitating need to protect the ones you love, as if you cannot love someone if you cannot save them, and you know it’s stupid and immature to believe such things. As the exhaustion sinks into your body, you realize with a start what day has creeped upon you while in the elevator.

It’s July third.

With Steve looking down at you with a sinful guilt in his eyes, you wipe your own eyes and laugh pathetically at your realization. “This entire situation is stupid. It’s my seventeenth birthday and I’m stuck in a fucking death elevator.”

Steve’s arms tighten around you and he draws in a quick breath at your words. It’s your birthday. He had thought he couldn’t feel worse about what he dragged you into, but he had been wrong. You should be in your room right now, tucked away from danger, celebrating the first moments of your birthday with Steve crawling through your window with the gift he worked so hard to convince the party to help with.

Instead, you’re crying in Steve’s arms with imminent death looming over you because of him, and he thinks he’s never felt tears as heavy as yours.

“I’m sorry,” he gently lifts your chin with the same finger that has caressed your face a million times. The soft gesture makes you weak, and when your eyes meet Steve’s, he brings his lips down upon your forehead. He lingers, his lips are rough but familiar, and there’s more he wants to say. The words build within him, all the apologies, but he knows they’d fall on deaf ears. You’re exhausted, you’ve revealed more to him tonight than you ever have before, and he knows the vulnerability stabs at you viciously,

Instead, Steve kisses your cheek next, then your other cheek, then the tip of your nose, your chin, your eyebrows, anywhere his lips can reach, and the action causes a small giggle to blossom within you. Hearing the sound he loves so much, Steve smiles. “Happy birthday, angel.”

Your hand comes up to his face, and though a part of you warms at what Steve has said, another part of you aches. Jonathan has always been the first person to wish you a happy birthday, a tradition from when you were kids and snuck into each other’s windows the second the clock struck midnight. Now Jonathan is gone and Nancy is angry and you’re tired of it all. With a bittersweet smile, you cup Steve’s cheek in the palm of your hand. “Thank you, honey.”

The world stills between the two of you for a brief moment, his face in your hand and your heart in his arms. It’s reminiscent of earlier in the breakroom, the uncertainty that drapes over you and Steve while the certainty secures you both to each other.

It isn’t perfect, Steve’s uncertainty has hurt you, but he holds you with a certainty that makes you believe that somehow the two of you will make it out of this alive, together. He nuzzles his face into your palm as if he physically needs to be closer to you, and it settles something that stirs in your chest.

Exhaling, you rest your head in the crook of Steve’s neck and curl into him. He pulls you in closer, as he’s always done, and eventually you fall asleep, exhausted from everything.

Steve isn’t sure how long you sleep in his arms, his muscles ache from holding you, but he accepts the burn as punishment for the hurt he’s caused you. He sits there, staring at the metal walls, and falls asleep himself.

–

You wake up to Dustin trying to contact someone on his radio. His annoyingly loud voice causes you to groan in annoyance, you’re warm, comfortable, and had been dreaming about something that left your chest feeling light.

“Code red, I repeat, code red. Does anyone copy?”

Rolling over, a pair of arms hold you near a sturdy body, and you remember now that you fell asleep in Steve’s arms. Burying your face deeper into his chest, you groan again. “Make him shut up.”

“Good morning to you too, Y/N.” Dustin kicks your sneaker before going back to his radio. “This is a code red, I repeat, a code red. Does anyone copy?”

Steve sighs, sounding just as tired as you feel. “The kid has been at this for the last hour or so. Woke me up, too.”

You hear Dustin’s footsteps as he paces. “We are innocent children and we are trapped under Starcourt Mall. The Red Army has infiltrated Hawkins.”

“‘The Red Army’ is dramatic.” You mumble, still mourning that you’ve been woken up.

Dustin ignores you. “If we are found, they will torture and kill us.”

“How peachy.”

Steve snaps his fingers at your brother, motioning for him to shut up. “Hey, you gotta take it easy on that thing. Gonna drain the battery.”

“That’s what we’re worried about right now?”

“Go back to sleep, Y/N.” Dustin kicks your sneaker again with a scoff. “The mall just opened, so someone could be in range.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “What, you think Petey the Mall Cop is gonna rappel down here and save the day?”

You give a thumbs up to what the teen has just said. “‘Rappel’, good word choice there.”

“Alright, why are you two such cranky pants after getting to spend the night together?” Dustin asks, off put by your snarkiness. He knows you’ve never really been a morning person, but your face is still buried in Steve’s chest and you haven’t looked at Dustin since waking up.

“Shut up, Dustin.” You and Steve say at the same time, both too drained to entertain his usual teasing.

Your brother sighs and changes the subject. “I heard you guys talking all night, did you at least figure out a way out of here?”

You shift in Steve’s arms, now uncomfortable. Neither of you had talked about what to do next, for once you had been selfish and put yourself first, allowing yourself to cry. Sensing the brewing guilt, Steve covers for you both. “No, we’re still exactly nowhere, which is, ya know, probably just a little bit of the reason why we’re feeling just a tad cranky.”

“What he said,” you hide a smile in Steve’s chest, but he feels it anyways.

Then, because he’s Steve and is physically incapable of allowing you a moment of peace, he taps your shoulder. “Hey, uh. Not to ruin this, but can you get up so I can pee?”

“Here?” You and Dustin exclaim in unison, both of you equally disgusted.

“Well where else am I supposed to go?”

“Ugh,” you wrinkle your nose and get up, hating that Steve has a point. However, rather than stay and watch the guy pee, you decide to leave and check up on Erica and Robin. You’ve been up here long enough, anyways. “Keep your body fluids away from me.”

As you climb down, you hear Steve screaming at Dustin to turn away as your brother wishes you a happy birthday.

They’re such idiots sometimes.

“Did I just hear Dustin screech about someone’s birthday?” Robin asks you as you jump down the last box and join her side. She’s in front of the elevator’s panel, inspecting the buttons.

You wince, not liking the reminder of what today is. “It’s… my birthday.”

Robin gasps and grabs at your hand. “Is it actually? Oh my God–” She’s cut off by the sound of liquid splattering against a wall, and with horror the two of you realize that it’s Steve’s piss. Making a face, the girl calls out, “Can you redirect your stream, please?”

“I don’t know, I think Steve peeing five feet away from me will be pretty hard to beat.”

Robin laughs and you feel okay for a moment, enjoying the small respite, before the sound of glass banging against metal catches your attention. Turning around, you find Erica slamming one of the vials of liquid against the bars, and immediately you and Robin run to stop her.

“Hey, be careful!” Robin snatches the cylinder from the girl and tosses it to you for safekeeping. “We don’t even know what that is.”

“Exactly, it could be useful.” Erica argues.

You hold the vial up high so that she can’t reach; you know the Sinclairs, they’re speedy little devils. “Please elaborate.”

“We can survive down here a long time without food,” Erica jumps and tries to grab what you’ve taken, but you only hold the liquid further out of her reach. “But if the human body doesn’t get water, it will die.”

You’re momentarily impressed by the girl’s survival knowledge, but Robin is undeterred. “I hate to break it to you, but this is not water.”

“No, but it’s a liquid, and if it comes down to me drinking that shit or dying of thirst, I drink.”

“You are fascinating,” you breathe out, both terrified and in awe. As you stare at Erica in wonder, Robin seems to hear something and leaves your side to press her ear against the opposite wall. Frowning, you join her. “What is it?”

“Listen.”

You do as you’re told and press your own ear against the wall, and it only takes you a second to hear it too. Mechanical whirling, the same sound that you heard last night before all the walls in the elevator came crashing down and trapped you. “Shit.”

Robin nods grimly. “You get Erica while I warn the boys.”

Within a minute you’ve helped Erica climb the top of the elevator as you all hide up there. No sooner than when you’ve closed the roof’s opening, one side of the metal wall begins to open and the footsteps of men can be heard.

Through the grates, you and Steve hunch over as you watch two men walk into the elevator. They’re big, dressed in a bizarre uniform, and one of them is smoking. They talk about something, their words are terse, and for a moment you worry they’ve figured out that you’re hidden above, but eventually they grab a few boxes and make their way outside.

As the men move back and forth below you, grabbing more and more boxes, you look up at Steve and find him staring at the green liquid you still have in your hands. During the frantic rush to get Erica to safety, you had forgotten to set the chemicals down. His eyes narrow slightly, as if asking you if you’re thinking what he is, and distantly you remember how much force the cylinder seemed to be able to withstand when Erica was slamming it.

If you truly are on the same page as Steve, then it’s a fucking risky plan, but it’s the only chance you have.

You hand the vial to him and nod, silently urging him to be safe. Then, you turn to the others and risk whispering what you and Steve have thought of. He keeps watch, hand on the small of your back to indicate to you when to stop talking, and soon the plan is formed.

The moment the Russian men have left the elevator, Steve quickly jumps down from the roof and slides the chemicals underneath the rapidly closing door. You watch nervously, and when the cylinder miraculously holds up against the metal door, you exhale in relief. Steve waves for you and everyone else to jump down as well. “Let’s go!”

You jump down first and slide Erica’s backpack over to Steve before helping her down. Once she successfully slides under the door, you help Dustin down next. The glass starts to splinter under the pressure, the sound of it creaking fills you with dread, but you push the fear down and help Robin next. “Go, go, go!”

When it’s your turn, you hold your breath and will yourself to slide underneath the door to join the others. As you go under, you see the glass start to splinter even more, and you quickly roll onto your stomach and frantically wave at Steve. “Steve, you need to hurry!”

He scrambles underneath the door and only just manages to narrowly escape as the door comes slamming down. Steve instinctively covers you with his body as the glass from the vial shatters, and when you look up and see the green liquid now sizzling as it burns through the concrete floor, you shudder. “You guys see that too, right?”

“Jesus Christ.” Steve stands up and offers you his hand as he inspects the liquid’s damage.

Erica, Robin, and Dustin step forward now too, and the five of you peer over the liquid as it oozes and bubbles, melting everything it touches. You shudder again, you can’t believe that there were boxes full of it surrounding you earlier.

“You still wanna drink that?” Robin turns Erica, smirking.

“You guys think it’d be like drinking lava?” You ask the group, and everyone shakes their heads at you. Adrenaline is still coursing through you, your head feels woozy from lack of sleep and water, and you think you’re slowly losing your mind.

Meanwhile Dustin turns away from you, and when he sees what surrounds you all, his heart drops. “Holy mother of God.”

Turning around, your heart drops as well. There’s a giant hallway that faces you, blue lights illuminating it, and it stretches deep into the abyss. You realize, now, that the elevator had been only the beginning. As you stare down the endless hallway, its length reminiscent of the tunnels you almost died in last year, it hits you that you’ve truly stumbled upon something horrible.

The Russians have been here a long, long time if they were able to build such a vast and complex underground facility.

And now you’re trapped within it, with nothing but your knives to keep you and everyone else safe.

“Well, hope you guys are in good shape.” Steve’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. He pats Dustin’s shoulder and starts to lead the way. “Looking at you, roast beef.”

Unamused with the insult directed at your brother and still angry at the teen for dragging you into this mess in the first place, you trip Steve. He stumbles and only just barely manages to catch himself, which everyone snickers at and Dustin high fives you.

With a sigh, Steve grabs your hand and beckons for everyone to follow. “Let’s go, guys.”

–

It’s a goddamn long walk.

You’re miserable.

It’s hot, you’re covered in sweat and grime, you're starving, and this is officially the worst birthday ever. Sure, you’ve never really liked your birthday, but holy fuck you didn’t think it’d be this bad.

You’re snappier than usual with everyone, which a part of you feels guilty for. Robin tried making conversation in the beginning, but you only responded with curt, one word answers. It truly isn’t her fault, none of this is anyone’s fault, but the anger that simmers within you threatens to boil over and you’re too tired to control it.

Yet Steve keeps your hand within his and walks by your side, unaffected by your unusual anger. He lets you remain quiet, he doesn’t take offense to your terse responses, and he smiles apologetically at Robin for you because he knows you’d do the same if you were able to; he’s there for you.

Steve knows how much anger resides within you, and he helps you brave it.

You love him endlessly for it.

“You think they built this whole mall so they could transport that green poison?” Steve asks the group as they speculate about why the Russians even built this underground system in the first place.

“I very seriously doubt it’s something as boring as poison.” Dustin responds, and you scoff at him.

“Yeah, because poison is boring.”

He looks at you warily and decides not to risk further exasperation. “What I mean is, it’s gotta be much more valuable, like promethium or something.”

“What the hell is promethium?” Steve looks to you, but you only shake your head. Dustin’s the science whiz, not you.

Instead Robin answers him, though her response about some guy named Victor Stone and a cyborg only confuses both you and Steve more.

“You’re all so nerdy, it makes me physically ill.” Erica cringes with disgust, and her theatrics are hard to resist smiling at.

“No, no.” Steve interjects. “No, don’t lump me in with them. I’m not a nerd, alright?”

“Why so sensitive, Harrington?” Robin asks him, smiling at his offense. “Afraid of losing cool points to a ten year old child?”

“He takes his cool points very seriously, Robin.” You now speak up, a slight smile on your face. You’ll never pass up an opportunity to tease Steve. Nudging him with your shoulder, you laugh softly and glance up at him. “Admit it, you’re a nerd.”

If it were anyone else saying this, Steve would adamantly refuse such a notion, but it’s you and you’re finally smiling at him again, so instead he huffs with amusement. “Yeah, alright. Maybe I am, but I still don’t know jack shit about Prometheus.”

“Promethium,” Dustin corrects. “Prometheus is a Greek mythological figure, but whatever. All I’m saying is, it’s probably being used to make something.”

“Or power something?” In their eerie fashion, Robin and your brother now seem to once again be on the same page.

“Like a nuclear weapon?”

“Totally.”

You rub the temples of your head and sigh, your previously brightened mood quickly dims again. “Cool. Nuclear weapons are cool.”

Robin mumbles a quick sorry to you, she wishes she could change the topic, but there’s a question that’s been on her mind ever since you discovered the Russians. “But if they’re building something, why here? I mean, Hawkins. Seriously, of all places.”

As Robin continues to drone on about how bizarre of a choice Hawkins is, you, Steve, and Dustin all slow down and let her and Erica walk ahead. They don’t notice your guys’ sudden change of pace, and the three of you slowly come together; you know you’re all thinking the same thing.

The question has been on your mind for a while, too.

“You think the Russians know?” Dustin finally asks in a lowered voice.

Steve leans forward, his own voice lowered as well. “About–”

“They could.”

“So it’s all connected?”

While the boys whisper to one another, you feel a shiver run through you. Again you remember the sweat that had been on Billy’s brow and how pale he had been. You remember Will’s fearfulness at Weathertop hill, how he had clutched the back of his neck. You remember Mrs. Waters, Jonathan and Nancy, Mrs. Driscoll.

Something isn’t right, and now there’s Russians in Hawkins with a giant maze of high architectural design.

“It has to be.” You say now. “There’s too much to ignore. “

Dustin frowns at you. “What do you mean? Is there something else?”

“The Upside Down, I think there’s something wrong–”

You’re interrupted by Robin. “I’m sorry, is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

The three of you turn to her, wide eyed and caught, and before you can come up with some excuse to get her off your backs’, Dustin’s radio comes to life as a Russian man’s voice speaks through it.

“Walkie,” you, Steve, and Dustin say at the same time, running towards where it resides in Erica’s backpack.

The Russian continues to drone through the walkie’s speakers as Dustin takes it out and Robin extends its antenna. She brings it close to her ear and listens intently, and after a few seconds she starts to speak the language as well, echoing what the man is saying. “It’s the code,” she finally says.

“Wherever that broadcast is coming from–”

“It’s close.” Robin finishes your brother’s sentence. “And if there’s one thing we know about that signal…”

Dustin’s eyes light up. “It can reach the surface.”

“We’ll be able to call for help,” you breathe out, hopeful yet reluctant. It’s your only way out, but you also have no idea what lies within these walls.

“Let’s go!” Robin quickly stands up, plan already formed in her head, and all you can do is follow.

It doesn’t take long to figure out where the broadcast is coming from. Within a few minutes of walking, the walls begin to narrow and you hear more and more voices up ahead. You can sense that you’re drawing closer to the main area of the underground complex, and the closer you get, the tighter you clutch at your knives.

You and Steve work together on guiding everyone. He scouts for places to hide while you keep an eye out for any danger. Slowly, the six of you dodge and weave in and out from corners, avoiding Russians. In an odd sense, the routine is familiar and comforting; you and Steve have done this a million times before, the two of you know how to keep the other safe.

As Steve peers over a corner with the rest of you hiding behind him, Robin whispers into your ear. “How are the two of you so good at navigating scary dangerous situations?”

Her question is innocent enough, but you can sense that she’s piecing things together bit by bit. You try to keep your face neutral, not give anything away, and shrug at her. “We make a good team, I guess.”

Robin gags at this, which you’re thankful for. At least your response got her mind off of things.

Steve motions for everyone to follow after him once the coast is clear after a few guards have walked past. “Clear, come on, let’s go.”

He moves swiftly as you stay behind and make sure the rest of the group follows. Robin looks nervously at you, feeling vulnerable out in the open. “Okay, that was close.”

“Too close.” Dustin breathes out as he follows her, which you roll your eyes at. You and Steve are doing the best that you can, given the circumstances. If your brother wanted to worry about safety, he should’ve considered it twenty hours ago.

“Relax,” Steve reassures everyone. “Nobody saw…” His voice trails off as he rounds the corner.

Your jaw drops. It’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined.

In front of you is what you can only imagine is the main hub of the complex. There’s Russians everywhere, some dressed in guard uniforms carrying shotguns, some dressed in lab coats, and others look like glorified red astronauts.

You’re hopelessly outnumbered, there’s too many of them.

Steve curses and ducks down, pulling everyone with him as he hides behind a cart against the wall. You try to steady your breathing, you grip the back of Dustin’s shirt tightly in your hand. He looks at you in shock. “Red Dawn.”

“Not now,” you close your eyes and breathe in through your nose and exhale out your mouth. “I’m trying really hard not to lose yesterday’s lunch.”

“I saw it. First floor, northwest.” Erica urgently whispers to Steve.

“Saw what?”

“The comms room.”

You whip your head around to face the girl, making your nausea even worse, and Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You saw the comms room?”

“Correct!” Erica leans closer now, the insistence in her voice unwavering.

Dustin frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” this is the most sincere you’ve ever seen Erica. “The door was open for a second, and I saw a bunch of lights and machines and shit in there.”

“That could be a hundred different things.” Dustin says, skeptical.

However, you believe Erica. She’s incredibly pragmatic, she wouldn’t blindly say something that she didn’t believe in. She’s a Sinclair, their morals define them, and Erica’s rant about capitalism and a free market system yesterday only solidifies your theory that she hides away most of her intelligence. “If Erica thinks she saw the comms room, then I believe her.”

She smiles at you gratefully, and Robin nods her head at the two of you. “If Y/N is on board, then I’ll take those odds.”

Steve stares at you, studies your face and your demeanor, and when he sees the set clench of your jaw and the determination in your eyes, he knows he trusts whatever call you make. He pokes his head out from behind the cart, the five of you mimic him, and even though you’re firm in your stance to follow Erica’s gut, it still strikes terror within you when you see once again how many guards there are.

Sighing tiredly, Steve faces the group. “We’re gonna move fast, we’re gonna stay low. Okay?”

You nod at him. “Good luck.”

Steve smiles at you, nerves now calmed, and starts to guide everyone. He masterfully weaves in and out corners, ducks behind carts when someone walks past, and for a brief moment you’re in awe of him. He’s grown so much since that night at Jonathan’s, when he had run away the second things got too intense, and now he’s the one leading.

When he opens the door to the comms room, you’re almost overwhelmed with how proud you are of Steve. Then, naturally, as soon as everyone is inside, you turn around and come face to face with a very confused Russian guard.

And Steve has locked you in a room with him.

Everyone freezes, unsure what to do.

“Nice, Steve.” You sneer at him.

He looks at you incredulously. “Is now really the time?”

As you mock Steve, the Russian guard starts to reach for the gun at his side. Seeing this, you whip your knives out and display them to the man, the blades glint in the room’s red light. He narrows his eyes at you and tightens his grip on his own weapon, and for a moment you fear that you really will have to use your switchblade.

However, Robin is quick on her feet and puts her hand up to lower your knives. She starts speaking Russian in hopes of calming the guard down, and it seems to work at first, but when the guard starts speaking back to her, Robin’s plan quickly crumbles; it’s painfully obvious that she doesn’t speak the language.

The guard reaches for his gun once more, and before you can use your knives, Steve lets out a loud yell and throws himself at the guy, taking him by surprise.

“Steve!” You find yourself screaming, it’s instinctual.

For a moment all you can do is stand there and watch, stunned. The two men begin to fight, fists hitting skin as they shove one another, and you have just enough awareness to keep your knives raised in case you need to step in and help. You know Steve’s track record, yet as the fight progresses, you become less and less fearful for him. He’s holding his own surprisingly well.

Steve jabs his elbow into the guard’s stomach before grabbing a nearby intercom phone and slams it into the guy’s head. He falls, hard, onto the electric panel and hits the side of his head against it even harder.

The moment he lands on the ground, the Russian guard is out cold.

Panting, Steve stands over him and fixes his hair. You and Dustin exchange surprised looks, both of you ecstatic; Steve won.

“Dude!” Dustin exclaims with glee in his voice. “You won a fight!”

“It’s a miracle,” you breathe out in awe, now at Steve’s side as you check for any injuries. He preens at your attention, his eyes glow, and you can’t help but kiss his check. “Good job, honey.”

“Okay, okay, break it up.” Dustin shoves you away from Steve and then crouches next to the guard’s body, unhooking the keys from his belt loop. You roll your eyes at him while Erica questions what he’s doing. Over his shoulder, he responds, “Getting us our ticket out of here.”

Erica scoffs. “You want to walk all the way back?”

“Well, we can hang out for a little bit, relax, have a picnic maybe.”

“Have a picnic? We came here for the radio.”

The kids start to argue, but you don’t intervene. Instead, you fix Steve’s hair with your fingers and gently grab his face, moving it around to make sure he isn’t hurt. His skin is still smooth, untouched. “No bruises this time.”

He winks. “Gotta keep this face pretty for you, don’t I?”

“Yeah you do,” you pinch his cheek, laughing softly. “It’s your only redeeming quality.”

“Hey now–”

Robin suddenly appears, looking panicked. You quickly let go of Steve’s face and walk towards her, now noticing the staircase that she’s just come from. There’s blue light at the top, there’s an energy to it that makes you uneasy, yet it’s familiar.

“What is it?” You ask her, fearing that you already know.

“There’s something up there.”

You follow her up the stairs, and your heart drops at what you see. Steve sucks in a breath, his hand on your back.

There’s a room at the top of the stairs, similar to the one below, and there are several men sitting at control panels. Before them is a giant machine, its circular panel spins as it shoots a beam of light into what you can only describe as an open wound within the wall. It’s narrow, long in length, as orange light spills from it.

When Steve’s eyes meet yours, you both know.

It’s the gate.

The Russians have found the gate into the Upside Down.

Anger courses through you, and this anger is a familiar one. It’s the same anger you felt the day Will went missing, when El sacrificed her life to save everyone, when the men at Hawkins Lab continuously got away with ruining the lives of everyone you love.

After everything you, the kids, and everyone else went through to close the gate, it enrages you to see these fucking idiots trying to reopen it. You had almost died last year trying to end this bullshit, but now you see it had been for nothing.

The side of your ribcage burns, the scar reignited by your fury, and Steve feels your body tense against his. His eyes meet yours again, and without saying anything, you know he understands.

Nodding, the two of you are in agreement.

You have to stop this.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

⌑ taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @thytorturedpoet @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @rice-elephant @bex22109 @bitchkeery @bex22109 @officerrrfriendly @kazunish @idkitsem @emilieluckwood @ryoujoking @criesinlies @tagakalat @dcnerd98 @sucker-4-angst @kitdjarin1 @onecojg @innazra @areiofhope @spaghetittied @cultish-corner @g8sstuff @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @moonpascal @l0ve-0f-my-life @newyorkangelbaby @aliceespector @chervbs @poppet055 @bookkeeperlove @bellenotthebeast @swiftieblyth @ladyobscurus @moon-flowerrs @estaticheart @dreamingofts18 @lanxsee @thecapricunt1616 @aheadfullofsteverogers @marvel-and-music @angie2274 @thescoopstroopers @xuimhao @rh1nestonecowg1rl @shelby-ren @carinacassiopeiae @eddiemunson-86-baby @ribbetzetoad @harryssideboobz @cherrycherry19 @mamamakaylamorgan23 @slttygeto @alltoomay @hiraethavis @torntaltos @eeniemeenie @latenightreadingpdf @gayandfairycore @aliceespector @l0ca1ax010t1 @whosyourgnomie

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #nya #m's writing #steve and bug are really going through it this chapter #but happy birfday bug !!!

449 notes · View notes