#that my parents THREW AWAY THE COUCH TO MAKE ROOM FOR

[xoxo-sarah]

My Wife

Part 2 | part 3

↝a/n: 2,605 w/c... I like this one, guys.

↝pairing: Season 1!Daryl x wife!reader

↝warning: usual walking dead stuff, angst, animal death (mentions blood. No details), reader being sexualized?, creepy men, harassment, the creepy guy getting punched (he deserved it), cursing, protective Daryl, Merle (ew), crying, moody and soft Daryl, sassy Daryl (it's season one, what do you expect?), slightly proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 10.2.24

Daryl Dixon masterlist

Before the apocalypse, you'd say your life wasn't bad. You had a decent job that paid well. A husband, a dog, and a house you owned all on your own, without any help from your parents.

You had met Daryl fresh out of college. He was staying with Merle at the time. In a rush to get away from your parents, you found a rent-to-own house on the outskirts of Atlanta. It wasn't extravagant, only having 2 beds and one bath. It was still a house-your house.

The first time you went to the grocery store to stock up before you started work since the big move, an old man had hit on you. Daryl listened from afar, not wanting to cause any more trouble for you. He knew you hadn't been in these parts of town before, he hadn't seen you before.

After many attempts at shooting the guy down, Daryl had to intervene. The guy had grabbed your arm, and before you knew it, the guy was backing away from you.

“She said she's not interested.”

“My bad, man. Didn't know she was yours.” He raised his hands, grin still on his face. It was a game to him.

“So you only take no for an answer if I 'belong' to someone?” Venom laced your voice, disgust painted into the wrinkles between your eyebrows and frown lines, glaring through the guy. A chuckle rumbled out of his chest, followed by a smoker's cough that told you he had more tar in his lungs than he had sense in his brain.

“Ma'am, will all due respect-”

“I doubt anything respectful comes out of that raunchy mouth of yours.”

His grin dropped, eyes slanting in your direction. “This one sure has a mouth on her,” his attention moved back to Daryl. “She have that mouth in the sack?”

You scoffed, glancing down at the floor, collecting the words you wanted to shoot back at him.

In the time you looked away, Daryl had put the 12-pack of beer down and swung. You snapped your head up at the sound of a fist colliding with a cheek. Daryl glared, spitting at the man as he held his cheek in shock. “Give the lady some respect, prick.”

“Damnit, Dixon!” An elderly man came running down the aisle, a manager tag clinking against the pins on his shirt. Safe to say both men had been kicked out.

After checking out, you caught sight of Daryl hunched over, looking at his bruising knuckles.

“Here's for helping me.”

Daryl's head shot up, eyes flickering to the 12-pack in your outstretched hand. “Ya didn't have to.”

“You didn't have to.” He shrugged, taking the box from you.

the rest was history.

You eventually got together, then, moved in together. He supported you in your job, making jokes about you “bringing home the bacon”. The only downside was his brother.

“Damnit, Merle.”

An intoxicated Merle flopped on your couch, cackling up at Daryl. You watched from behind the couch, arms folded across Daryl's shirt draping over your form. Daryl's own top half was bare, his muscles flexing when he folded his arms in disappointment, glaring down.

“What? Did I interrupt you 'n your housewife duties?”

You scoffed, turning around to walk back to your room, the dog Daryl had gotten you for your birthday following after you. Merle watched your movement, lowly whistling. “I'd be a housewife for that piece, too.”

Daryl grabbed the collar of Merle's shirt, bringing him to eye level. “Don't talk about my wife like that.” He threw him back against the couch, “You're out by the mornin'.”

The world had gone to shit right in the middle of your workday. Everyone was running around, yelling and panicking. You tried making a beeline for your car, getting pushed and pulled every which way. The traffic was the worst you had ever seen, when you had finally made your way onto the road.

When you finally got home, the door was open.

You rushed in, looking in every room. There was no sign of Daryl besides the place being completely trashed, in a rush to leave. He wasn't there. You had no clue where he was, if he was safe, if he knew what was happening.

You cracked the backdoor open, nearly falling to your knees. A body laid on the back porch, blood dried on its way down the person's forehead. A lump of fur and blood was right beside it. A sob racked your body on your way back to your car. Your knuckles were ghostly white as they gripped the steering wheel, as you made your way out of town, away from the life you worked hard to get and worked harder to keep.

You eventually got stuck in even more traffic. Everything only got worse when your car ran out of gas.

You had to hide in the city, which was run with zombies. Luckily for you, you had found a few bodies that hadn't turned yet, stealing anything that could be used as a weapon. You were able to stay safe, hiding in an empty office building. Living off of the vending machines and what was left in the break rooms.

You regularly walked up to the roof, getting fresh air, wondering where Daryl had gone and if he was thinking of you. Sure, a part of you wanted to be mad at him for leaving without you, but you knew he had to have his reasons. Merle had to of made him run away with him when the news first got out.

While you looked over the edge, watching as dead bodies herded together, feasting on whatever had run into the city on your way up here, you saw quick movement to your left. Swirling around, you held your gun up, pointing it at the kid in front of you.

“Woah, Hey! I'm alive- I'm alive! Not going to hurt you.” The poor boy might as well have been shivering in his boots. His hands shook in the air. He was probably the third person you've seen, alive, since you squatted in the top floor. He didn't seem like the guy to kill you just to take your stuff. “Look, there's a guy in the tank down there. I'm just trying to help him.” You thought back to the sounds of pained neighing you heard when you first stepped onto the roof, but you had shrugged it off, figuring you were going insane already. No sleep and being isolated will do that to you. “C'mon, dude.” He was practically begging you to not shoot him in the head.

What would Daryl do in this situation? He wouldn't just trust anyone when it comes to survival. You reluctantly put your gun down, watching as he sighed in relief. You hid the shake in your hands when they fell to your sides, not wanting him to know you didn't want to kill him even if he were dangerous.

“We have to get down there to help him.” The boy leaned over the edge, at the tank and the 'geeks' that surrounded it.

“We?”

He looked back at you, then to the tank. “The extra help would be appreciated.”

Somehow, you followed after him, climbing down fire escapes and counting the amount of bodies in each alleyway. He was quick, but you kept up with him with ease.

He led you down the alleyway, hiding behind the trashcans and gate separating you and a painful death. “You have good aim? I need you to shoot that big guy closest to the tank.” He whispered, fixing the hat on his head.

You glanced at him, watching as he awaited your next move. You whispered back, “it's empty.” You held the gun up in emphasis. You weren't going to tell him that when it was pointed at him. He huffed, throwing his head back. “I only have a knife.”

He shrugged off his backpack, grabbing the empty gun and throwing it in there. It was useless with no bullets, and it only took up a hand, making it harder for you to climb.

“Alright, change of plans.” He grabbed the walkie, bringing it to his mouth before pressing the button. “Hey, you alive in there?”

A frantic voice broke through the static, “Hello? Hello?!”

The next thing you knew, you were running downstairs with the young boy, Glenn, you had figured out, and the guy you nearly died saving, Rick. Glenn led you two to another alleyway, before the door to the building in front of you busted open, 2 people filing out with gear and helmets on, attacking the walkers wondering in front of you.

“Lets go!” Glenn jumped over the bodies on the ground, running through the door, you and Rick following. As soon as you were through the door, you were pushed to the other side of the wall, before Rick was pushed back, a gun aimed at his face. “You son of a bitch! We ought to kill you.” A blonde woman was seething, ready to put a bullet in Rick's head.

“Just chill out, Andrea. Back off.” One of the guys who bashed the walker's head in pulled off the armor, glaring at the blonde.

“Come on, ease up.”

“Ease up? You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole.” The gun was pointed at you next, “And her.” Her finger twitched on the trigger, but you were at a loss of words.

“She helped.” Glenn was ignored.

“Andrea, I said, back the hell off. Or pull the trigger.” The same guy from before stepped forward, closer to Andrea. It was silent for a second, before Andrea dropped her hand, lips quivering with oncoming tears. You took a breath, having the room to do so when a gun isn't pointed at you.

“We're dead,” Andrea sobbed, “All of us.” Her gaze moved back to Rick, “Because of you.”

You wondered after everyone as they walked through the old building, listening as they scolded rick for firing his gun.

“No signal. Maybe the roof.” The man, who was introduced as T-Dog, said, holding the walkie. Before anyone else could reply, a gun shot fired, echoing from above.

“Oh no, Is that Dixon?”

“Dixon?”

Andrea stopped her movement, looking back at you. “Yeah. What, you know 'em?”

Sadly, you were met with a distasteful Merle on the roof. He refused to tell you about Daryl-about how Merle had to drag in out of the house. About how Daryl wanted to pick you up and take you with them. About how Daryl had gone back, against Merle's wishes, and found you nowhere in the house. But you weren't told that, so the nerves in your stomach still fluttered, making you feel like you were going to vomit any minute. The only thing he told you was that Daryl was with the rest of the group by the quarry.

The nerves still fluttered even on your way to the said quarry. The thought of Merle being trapped in the roof was at the back of your mind, the thought of seeing Daryl for the first time in God knows how long, being front and center in your mind. Your leg shook with nerves as you sat in the back of the van, hitting a bump every once in a while, and knocking into one of the other people.

The van pulled up to the quarry, people piling out of the back, running to their families.

You were introduced to a woman named Carol. She was surprised when you told her that you knew Daryl. The short time she had known the man, she couldn't think of him having a soft spot for anyone, but here you were. She told you that he had gone hunting and that he should be back before dawn.

You sat around, getting to know everyone. As soon as Carol's husband raised his voice to her, you had kept an eye on him, instantly feeling protective of the woman. As she silently did for you. She kept an eye on you, making sure you felt comfortable among all of the strangers.

Night fell and there was still no sign of Daryl. You distracted yourself by helping Carol with whatever, or Dale with lookout. You hadn't told anyone much about you and Daryl. Mostly because you couldn't form a coherent sentence with Daryl on your mind. Where was he? Was he okay? Why wasn't he back? The band around your ring finger became a fidget habit. You spun it around any time the thoughts got too much.

The crisp morning air did little to wake you. You might as well have been a walker with how you sluggishly moved around camp, helping with anything, wanted to be helpful and pull your weight.

Carol handed you another pair of soaked pants, to ring the water out and hang it up to dry. While doing so, your eyes caught sight of Rick and Lori. They had been reunited. When was it your turn?

“How did you and Daryl meet?” Glancing back up at Carol, you cleared your throat to speak.

Before you could utter a word, a scream echoed throughout the camp, followed by Carl's screams for his mother.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, a few running toward the screaming, ready for the worst.

You walked behind the group, watching as Rick, Glenn, Dale, Shane, and a few others beat the walker that had made it from the city.

Dale swung down with his axe, cutting the head clean off the walker's body.

“It's the first one we've had up here.” He heaved, “They never come this far up the mountain.”

“Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what.” Another guy, Jim, said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Branches snapped, followed by more footsteps. The guys with the weapons moved toward the sound, weapons ready.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He hadn't seen you yet.

Daryl stepped over branches, slightly taken aback with everyone standing in front of him, ready to strike.

Everyone took a step back, “Oh, Jesus.” Dale's shoulders released the tension.

“Son of a bitch.” Daryl cursed, “That's my deer!” He walked to what was left of the poor animal.

He looked how he did when you first met. Frustration clear on his brow. You had helped him get rid of the constant scrunch of his brow and frown on his lips, and here it was, making its appearance in a dramatic manner.

“Look at it, all gnawed on by this-” He kicked the headless body that laid on the ground, “filthy,” kick “disease-bearing,” kick “motherless,” kick “poxy bastard!”

“Calm down, son. That's not helping.” Dale peeped, infuriating Daryl more.

“What do you know about it, old man?” Daryl walked closer, getting in Dale's face. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to “On Golden Pond”?"

“Daryl.”

Daryl paused, his face dropping. He turned to the voice, his knees nearly collapsing from underneath him.

Before you could say anything else, his crossbow was dropping to the ground, followed by the string of squirrels on his shoulder. He rushed over, his body colliding with yours. His calloused hands pulled your face closer to his.

He didn't care if everyone was watching. Or if the scene made them think differently about his tough-guy thing he had going on. His lips moved against yours.

“I didn't know where you were.” He mumbled against your lips. “I tried looking everywhere-”

“I know, I know. Doesn't matter.”

Part 2

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[rainydayathogwarts]

sev's essay - harry potter

summary: maybe you shouldn't have left your summer homework for the last minute. at least you're not the only one though... wc: 0.6k+ this is also platonic!golden trio, established relationship with harry and reader. part of my wolfstar!daughter au :)

With a loud groan, you sunk into the chair you were sitting on in the middle of your living room, dragging the sheets of parchment underneath the table with you. You should have done the homework sooner. You should have done it sooner and should have probably listened in class when Snape told you where you could find the notes for this chapter. He was going to kill you if you came empty handed. Worse, he would humiliate you if you turned in a rubbish essay.

“You alright, love?” You perked up at the sound of your dad’s voice, briefly forgetting that your parents were sat just a couple of meters away from you, cuddled up on a couch while having a cup of tea. Kicking at the floor underneath you, you pushed yourself back up on the chair, nodding. Remus had sensed your irritation a long time ago, but he didn’t want to comment, didn’t want to make you feel worse.

Sirius shrugged into Remus’s arms, muttering “Probably Snape’s essay.” “It is Snape’s essay! It makes no sense! I- I’m going to ask help from Harry.” As you shoved your feet into your slippers, carrying your essay in one hand and quill and ink in the other, you made your way to the back door, missing Remus’s comment of “He probably didn’t know there was homework!” But Sirius slapped his arm lightly. “Let her. He’ll make her feel better about herself.”

You walked down the couple of meters down the open field to the Potters’ back door, knocking softly on the glass window to alert anyone inside before letting yourself in. James and Lily were in a similar position to your parents, sat on their couch whilst playing a game of chess. “Knight to E5.” Lily muttered, watching triumphantly as her knight knocked James’s horse.

“Hiya sweetheart!” She greeted, turning her attention to you. “Hi! Is Harry here?” And as though you summoned him, Harry came skipping down the stairs, a pencil and parchment in his hand. “I was just coming to find you.” He admitted, raising his parchment up to grab your attention.

“Did you do Sev’s essay?” You asked as a greeting, and Harry threw his head back in defeat. “I’ll give you one chance to guess what I was coming to ask you about.” James laughed from his place on the couch, extending an arm towards you at the hopeless sigh you let out. “Let me take a look, I might be able to help.” You and Harry shot each other a look, but trudged over to his dad either way, holding out the paper with the essay question on it.

Lily peeked over the piece of parchment, furrowing her eyebrows as she read the question. The couple was silent, confused looks over taking their features. You stifled a laugh, watching as James ran a hand through his wild hair, lips moving silently as he read over the question again. “This is N.E.W.T level, right?” Asked Lily for clarification. You and Harry nodded in unison.

“If aunt Lily doesn’t understand, who will?” You pondered in exasperation, but a silent answer floated in the air. You and Harry turned to look at each other in synchrony, and you grimaced at the boy.

“She’s gonna kill us if we come asking her.”

“Not if Ron got to her first.”

Snatching the parchment back from James’s hands, you ran towards the fireplace with Harry, yelling out a “Thanks!” as he tugged you into the fireplace along with him. He released a handful of floo underneath your squeezed bodies, announcing Hermione’s address so that a cage of green smoke surrounded you.

When your feet reconnecting to ground underneath you, you dusted yourself off before stepping into the living room of the Granger household. A laugh immediately escaped you as you spotted Hermione and Ron sitting at her dinner table, stationary scattered on the wooden surface in front of them. Well, at least you and Harry weren’t the only ones who waited until the end of summer to complete your assignments. Hermione barely glanced up before she sighed.

“You too?”

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin

[allisonrw96]

Saw 8x17 and my hand slipped. Obviously there are spoilers here for Don't Drink the Water. Once I sleep and reread it, I'll decide if it should go on AO3 or not and add a link if needed.

Refined and posted to AO3! You can read the rough version below or click the title link to see it as it should be.

Heartbreak Like an Earthquake

The four of them play cards together after the dishes are done. It's a game that Buck only half knows how to play and the other three rib him about it before they play a face up hand so he can learn the rules and how to win. He doesn't win. But he knows how now. For next time.

He never bought a bed for Christopher's room because taking ownership of that part of the house felt different than taking ownership of the rest of it, but he still has the air mattress he hauled from house to house and the duct tape patch he put on the side seems like it's holding strong. Christopher puts himself to bed, reminding Eddie and Buck that he knows where it is still, but he doesn't snark at Eddie when he finds him waiting in the hallway to give him a hug after he brushes his teeth and he goes unprompted to the living room to give Buck one last hug too.

After that it's just Buck and Eddie, sitting at opposite ends of the couch that squeaks under their weight and that they slide on every time they try to lean back.

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?" Buck asks, handing Eddie the mug that Eddie doesn't need to know he stole on Eddie's moving day.

Eddie sips the tea to test it and exhales a too hot breath before answering, "Not really."

"Good," Buck replies.

They share a sidelong glance and then they both laugh, fussing with the strings of their tea bags and trying to get comfortable.

It feels like that's all Buck's been doing for a month now. Trying to get comfortable. Or at least, trying to find a position that doesn't hurt, doesn't take his breath away, doesn't make him want to sit down and never get up again. He doesn't quite manage it now either, but he feels... He's not hiding it. His grief is a beanbag chair that he's nestled into with no intention of getting up any time soon and there's relief in the surrender.

"I'm sorry that I didn't call you that night," Buck says to his mug but not missing the way that Eddie stiffens beside him. "And I'm sorry that I didn't call you any of the days after. Or answer when you did."

"You texted. I know you were busy."

Giving interviews to government officials. Endless interviews and statements that ranged from accusatory to perfunctory and that Buck can't remember at all now. He thinks he cried in at least one. He knows he cried with Hen at her hospital bed and with Maddie outside Chimney's. He knows that Ravi came over with a pizza and that Buck threw it all up later and the days passed, the days passed, the days passed. And then someone told him it was time to get back to work.

"I didn't- I couldn't say it. And I couldn't talk about anything else either. Those first couple days. I couldn't say anything. But I should have tried."

When Eddie answers, his voice is tight. "I should have been there. On the call, at the hospital, here with- I should have been here."

"Why weren't you?"

All their texts. One drunken voicemail that was just Buck's name and then a ragged, wet breath before the call ended. For weeks, Buck expected the next message to include flight details. None of them did. After Athena announced the date, Buck researched the flights himself, sending the cheapest and the fastest options to Eddie, half angry and half afraid that if he didn't do it, Eddie might not.

"I was going to be here for the funeral. Christopher agreed to stay with my parents and they agreed to take him and I packed a bag and waited for the call. As soon as I knew which days everything was happening I was going to head to the airport.

"And I kept waiting. Radio silence from you. Radio silence from Chimney and Ravi. I started thinking you were gonna have the funeral without me. Started thinking I deserved it. It was my fault I wasn't there anyway. By the time I starting getting pissed enough to realize I didn't need an invitation to get on the plane, you sent me the flights."

"You're here now."

For now. Buck thinks but stops himself from saying. It would be mean for the sake of seeing Eddie flinch and once he reaches past all the parts of himself that do mean it, he can get to the core that doesn't. It was never Eddie's fault that he had to leave. And he has every reason to already be gone now. But Buck sent him a list of one way flights and Eddie booked one and he stayed. He still hasn't booked another even though he has his offer and he knows what day he's expected to report. It's a hope that he's so angry to feel because it's going to hurt so much worse when it gets ripped away, but it's one that Buck can't help but cling to.

"For all the good it's done," Eddie says, sipping his tea like he wishes it was something stronger.

"Hey. You being here is doing us good. It's doing me good."

"Getting screamed at by a raging asshole in your own kitchen over who's the most sad is part of your grieving process?"

"No." Turning to face Eddie, Buck takes in the shadow cast over his body, the way the bitterness of his last words is still lingering in his expression. He looks and he remembers other shadows that he had to help Eddie fight back and he waits for Eddie to look over at him. It takes a while.

Slowly, Buck says, "'Getting to be there for my best friend when he finally tells me how he's really feeling after having to watching him walk around for weeks like he didn't just have his heart ripped out' is what's part of the process. I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."

"I don't remember getting to that part."

"Well I had to get through the "Wanting to punch you in the face for spitting in mine" part out of the way first. I was going to try the talking part again this morning, but..."

Eddie winces and Buck finds he doesn't feel as guilty about that as he would have thought.

"But the asshole had to get one more shot in. Buck, I'm-"

"I know you are," Buck says. He doesn't know where Eddie got the money for another plane ticket and he doesn't know how he knew how badly Buck needed to feel something other than the feeling of bobbing in an open ocean beside a sinking ship, trying desperately to reach people who keep floating further and further away. But he supposes that Eddie's always been his anchor and maybe he shouldn't be surprised at all. "I forgive you."

In the dark, Buck can't see Eddie's jaw twitch like he wants to refuse the forgiveness like he usually does, but he knows it's there by the sound of the strong exhale that takes the place of whatever he wants to say and the way he looks back down at the tea.

"Did I really spit on you?" he asks, looking back at Buck with his eyebrows knitted together.

A laugh pops from Buck's mouth like double bubble bursting and he says, "Uh, you shouted like six inches from my face so yeah. I was in the splash zone. I kind of regret encouraging you to drink more water."

"Jesus," Eddie says, rubbing his hand over his face.

Still laughing, Buck plucks his teabag out of his mug and Eddie slides over a coaster to catch it, leaving his own to steep just a little bit longer. It's not everything that there is to say, but Buck can feel a part of himself snapping back into place. They're going to be okay. They're always going to be okay.

A memory bubbles up, one that he's surprised to even remember. He and Eddie had gotten into it on a shift one day. Buck can't even remember what the problem was but he knows he prayed they would catch a fire just so he could turn the hose on Eddie and blow him down the block. It had made Ravi nervous--he was still so green back then--enough that he worked up the courage to ask Bobby if he was going to do anything about it.

"If it interferes with the job, I'll separate them," Bobby promised. "But I won't have to. They'll be back in each other's pockets before we leave tomorrow morning."

"Before dinner," Hen had countered, holding up a ten for Bobby to call or raise, and Buck had been so furious that the stairs rattled under his feet as he stormed off. This wasn't like that. This was serious.

And he still thought maybe it had been. He and Eddie still went out to breakfast the next morning anyway, unspoken apologies passing between them like the keys between their hands as they walked out the door.

It's not a bad memory, but it hurts all the same. Bobby knew all of them so well. Sometimes it seemed like he knew everything. But he can't have seen this coming. He can't have known what his death would do to all of them or he never would have trusted Buck to-

He draws in a shaky breath that gets Eddie's concerned attention immediately. He sets his cup down before he shifts closer to Buck, making sure both of his hands are free when he asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Buck answers, the same way he's been answering for weeks. But this time Eddie doesn't look away from him and Buck lets the second half of the sentence finally escape. "I'm just thinking about Bobby. I can't seem to stop."

"You don't have to stop. I think about him too."

In his eyes, Buck can see the part that Eddie isn't saying. He thinks about him the same way that Buck just did, the same way they all do, but he also thinks about what he would have done if he was there. What he might have said. What Bobby would have said. Worrying and worrying and worrying over the void that will always exist in place of a goodbye. Now that Buck knows, a little, what Eddie's gone through, he can't imagine how he's bearing up under it.

If Buck was the one with an empty place where a memory should be, he thinks it might kill him. They'd given him oxygen that night. A sedative. But having to hear it later, he thinks... Yeah. He might not have made it. It might be worse than the burden he's carrying now: a promise that's too heavy for his shoulders and one that he's closer and closer to dropping every day.

"He told me-" Buck starts and then stops. Is he making this moment about him? Should he be asking Eddie more questions instead? But he is who he is and Buck can feel the words slipping out of his mouth without any hope of stopping them. "I wasn't being a martyr by picking up paper towels and eggs," he says with more of an edge to the words than he intends.

"Buck-" Eddie sighs. "I know you weren't."

"I forgot," he shrugs. "I forgot you said you'd pick up the groceries and so I went and did it because that's what I always do when I have a Thursday off and because if I don't have something to do every second of every day I think I might go out of my mind. I stand in the middle of a room and I don't know how to move or where to go if I did. And I don't want to have to figure out what to do. I don't want to do anything at all. I want to lay down on the floor and stay there and I can't.

"So I did your laundry. And I could tell you were mad about it, but I swear I didn't give a shit about your socks on the table and I wasn't trying to make you feel guilty for making me clean up after you; I just had to do something or I..."

"Hey. Hey. Look at me." Buck hadn't realized he'd stopped, but when he raises his gaze he finds Eddie's warm brown eyes and more worry than he knows what to do with. "I never should have said that. I was mad and I-"

"I know. It's okay."

"No, it's not." Eddie lets out another sharp breath and moves closer still until their knees are touching and his hand slides off the back of the couch and onto Buck's shoulder.

"We've been worried about you. All of us. You think you're hiding how you're feeling but you are shit at it. Everyone can see that you are two steps away from exploding only you won't talk about it. You're too busy making the rest of us talk, giving out grief assessments like you're the department trauma counselor and we're not making it through the stages of grieving fast enough for you.

"So we've all been tiptoeing around you because no one wants to be the one to set you off and, yeah, I got pissed. Because you were the first person I wanted to tell about the gig in El Paso." Eddie gestures between the two of them with his free hand and Buck's face flushes hot with shame. "You and me, we're supposed to be able to talk about things, but since Bobby died, we haven't talked about anything. I know what it's like to be the one stuck in the middle of that room and I know you'd never leave me there alone. So why are you locking us out and pretending that's what we're doing to you?"

He's close again, breathing heavy again, one hand hot on Buck's shoulder and other finger burning where it taps against his chest with the last words of Eddie's sentence. This time instead of the urge to hit back, Buck only wants to crumple.

"I was there with him. When he died. Did someone tell you that?" Eddie nods and Buck says, "He made me leave. But before he did he told me- He said that I would be okay. And he said that the team would need me."

Tears prick at his eyes again and Eddie's grip gets tighter and before he can say something, Buck plows ahead and says, "But he was wrong. I don't know if he- he thought I was stronger or smarter than I am or if he was just lying so I'd have a reason to..." His throat catches and Buck ducks his head to cough, clearing the river of snot that will be unleashed as soon as he actually starts crying.

"I've been trying to be there for everyone, trying to make sure everyone is okay, but no one is and I don't know how to fix it. There was an earthquake and I thought Bobby would give me an answer but he's still just gone and I'm trying to hold everyone together, but they keep moving away or pushing me away and if I-I-I can't-" his voices hitches and Buck's shoulders shake with stuttered breath- "It's the only thing he asked me to do, but he didn't tell me how and I'm letting him down. I'm letting everyone-"

"No, you're not. You're not."

Buck's head his still bowed to his chest when Eddie takes the mug from his hand and then drags him into the fiercest hug he's ever received. It's too tight to be comforting and the angle is wrong and their chins and elbows and hands are all too rough and too sharp. The hug hurts and Buck twists his fingers in Eddie's shirt to keep him from pulling away.

"You're not letting anyone down," he says to the side of Buck's head. "Not Bobby, not any one of us. We all need you. Okay? Christopher needs you. I need you. I'm always going to need you."

Eddie's hands are fists at Buck's back and his knuckles slide over Buck's shoulders, a steady, soothing, grounding pressure that keeps Buck from drifting away as he lets himself cry for the first time since the funeral.

The whole time, he's aware of a gentle murmuring nearby. It never evolves into more reassurances or even any words at all, but the sound is one of safety. It's the kind of noise you'd make at an infant--the kind Buck sang to Jee-Yun when she was too small for words and the world beyond her parents was nothing more than a wide, often-terrifying confusion. Eddie hums like that to him now, rocking him back and forth, and Buck feels the comfort in the part of him that's still too small and terrified for words.

Once he makes it back to himself, Buck sniffs without pulling away and says, "I'm sorry."

"I know. It's okay."

"No, I was supposed to be there for you and I wasn't. I quizzed you, Eddie. Who does that?"

Laughter rumbles against his cheek and Buck sits up again, surprised to find Eddie's eyes wet and ringed with red.

"Did you ever think that maybe when Cap said we were going to need you that he meant the real you? Not superhero you, not expert you, not captain you, but just you?"

Buck doesn't answer. He doesn't think Eddie needs him to.

"You know when I saw your Jeep at the airport I think it was the first time in weeks I felt like I could actually breathe?"

Eddie's smile when he'd seen him had the same effect on Buck. A relief so sweet that it almost ached. When he'd gotten out of the car to help Eddie with the bags he definitely did not need help with, Eddie had pulled him into a hug and Buck had finally felt something other than numb. It was where he'd found the strength to start being the Buck he thought Bobby would want.

"And then after the funeral I saw you slip Athena a bottle of water. Heard you ask Ravi to keep any eye on Tommy. Watched you take the kids outside to give them a break from everything."

"None of that was a big deal," Buck says, squirming. "I was just-"

"Being you?" Eddie replies raising his eyebrows in that softly challenging way that wins Buck to his side every time. "I know. And I bet that's what Bobby was counting on."

Eddie holds Buck's gaze for a beat longer before pulling them slightly apart and reaching for Buck's mug on the table. Buck accepts it, but doesn't drink, curling his hand around the still warm cup and thinking that he never told anyone about the worst parts of his coma. There was a moment then where he thought Bobby's death might kill him too, but it hadn't. And it had been Bobby, even the Bobby who was a hurt, broken stranger, who had helped Buck look inside himself and find what he needed to live.

"Is that enough?"

Buck still isn't sure. But he figures he owes it to Bobby to keep trying until he is.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah, Buck."

"Bobby asked about you all the time. He kept calling Ravi "Eddie" for like the first month that you were gone. It was an accident at first, but after that I think he just wanted to rile Ravi up. He wanted me to convince you those caffeine drinks were going to kill you. He sent me articles." As he speaks, Buck watches Eddie go still, then watches grief fill his eyes even as he manages a wet laugh at Bobby's hatred of energy drinks.

"He tried to tell me it counted as driving under the influence."

"Yeah, I think that was one of the articles," Buck laughs. Licking his lips before speaking again, he says, "He loved you, Eddie. And he was so proud of you. Not- not just for going to get Christopher, but for everything. And I think. If you had been there. He would have wished you weren't. He would have wanted you to be safe. He would have wanted you to keep living.

"There wasn't anything you could have done."

Sitting back, Eddie sniffs back his emotion and wipes harshly at his eyes before turning to Buck and saying, "I know."

"I know you weren't there and I can't imagine what it would be like not knowing, but I promise-"

"I do know," Eddie croaks, his eyes wide and heartbroken and as honest as Buck has seen them since he's been home. "If there was anything that anyone could do, you guys would have done it. And so would he."

This time when they embrace, they fall into it together. Eddie's arms are tight around Buck and Buck's face is buried in the crook of Eddie's neck. Feeling Eddie exhale and his body soften and relax under Buck's touch, Buck feels something in himself unwinding too. And there, just for a moment, it feels like Bobby is in the room with him, looking in from the doorway, and smiling.

[leriexoxo]

Pretty Boy, Asshole

Husband! Leeknow x Reader (arranged marriage au)

Tags: Arranged marriage AU, Strangers to Lovers, Slowburn, Enemies(ish) to Lovers, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Domestic Feels. Jealousy, feelings realization, Minho is an asshole

Word count: 7.8k

Summary: You never even met Lee Minho before your wedding was arranged. Your parents’ companies had been tied together for decades, so it made perfect business sense—merge the heirs, secure the legacy. At first, you both thought it was a joke. But then came the legal documents, the moving trucks, and the cold stares from a man who’d just lost the love of his life. He hated you for it. And you? You wanted to burn the whole marriage down.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d been on the plane for thirteen hours, and somehow, your anger had survived every single mile.

It burned low and hot in your gut, simmering as the taxi pulled up to the towering glass building in the middle of the city. The kind of place with concierge desks and private elevators and probably a robot that sorted your mail. All of it screamed money—his money, their money—not yours. You dragged your luggage through the marble lobby with a scowl stitched into your face and your earbuds shoved in deep, just to drown out the sound of your own thoughts.

The elevator opened on the thirty-fourth floor with a quiet chime. A long hallway stretched out in front of you, lined with pale wood and tasteful lighting. Minimalist. Cold. And then—

The door.

Suite 3401.

Your new “home.”

You punched in the code the assistant had emailed you—because of course there was an assistant—and stepped inside.

And there he was.

Lee Minho.

He didn’t even look at you when you entered. Just sat there on the expensive-looking couch, one ankle crossed over his knee, phone in hand, posture relaxed like he wasn’t currently ruining your life by existing.

You stood in the doorway, suitcase wheels stuck on the lip of the entrance, staring at him like a ghost. The place was massive, all glass walls and open spaces, but the air felt tight, suffocating even, with him in the middle of it.

He didn’t say anything.

You cleared your throat. “Hi.”

A beat passed. Then he looked up. Just once. Just barely.

“You’re late.”

That was it.

Not welcome or did you have a good flight or hey, sorry we’re both being held emotionally hostage by our families right now. No. Just you’re late, like you were a bad intern and he was your condescending CEO.

You stared at him. “Sorry. The whole being-forcibly-uprooted-from-my-life thing kind of threw off my schedule.”

Minho blinked, bored. “Right.”

You wheeled your suitcase past him with more force than necessary, the rubber wheels thunking hard over the lip of the living room rug. The sound echoed too loudly in the silence. You didn’t care. Let him be annoyed. You were annoyed too.

No—furious.

You’d had plans. You had a studio apartment back home, a job you didn’t hate, friends who didn’t make you want to set the room on fire just by breathing near them. You had a life. And now?

Now you had Lee Minho.

Stranger. Fiancé. Asshole.

“I’ll take the room farthest from yours,” you muttered, already dragging your luggage down the hallway.

“No one’s stopping you,” he said.

Of course he wasn’t.

The guest room—no, your room now, apparently—was spotless and cold, like no one had ever breathed inside it. You dropped your bags, sat on the edge of the pristine white bed, and buried your face in your hands.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t even sigh.

You just sat there, skin prickling, spine tense, your body still humming with the quiet, ugly disbelief that this was real. That your life was no longer your own.

All because of a deal your parents made before you were old enough to spell the word contract.

A knock on the door frame.

You didn’t look up.

“There’s food in the fridge,” Minho said. “Don’t touch the top shelf.”

Then he walked away.

And you?

You smiled.

It wasn’t a nice smile.

If he wanted to play like that?

Fine.

Let the games begin.

—

It started with the oat milk.

Well, no. Technically, it started with the marriage contract your parents signed before you were even born, but the oat milk was the spark that lit the fuse.

You opened the fridge that morning, bleary-eyed and cranky, and stared at the single, sad carton sitting on the shelf. It was empty. Not a drop left. You shook it just to be sure, even though you already knew.

That bitch drank your oat milk.

You stood there for a second, hand still gripping the fridge door, mentally running through your options.

1. Scream.

2. Cry.

3. Commit a minor act of violence.

4. Be civil.

You chose none of the above.

Instead, you slammed the door shut and poured yourself a glass of water like a goddamn adult. Then you sat at the island counter and waited.

He appeared ten minutes later, fresh out of the shower, hair still damp, T-shirt hanging loose over his frame like he hadn’t even tried.

He glanced at you, then at the empty carton now placed—strategically—in the middle of the counter between you.

Silence.

“You drank it,” you said finally.

Minho looked at the carton like it was a science project he wasn’t particularly impressed by. “You didn’t label it.”

“It was oat milk.”

“So?”

You blinked slowly. “You think I bought oat milk for you?”

He shrugged. “I thought you bought it for the apartment.”

“The apartment didn’t drink it.”

He smirked, just a little. “Well, technically, I live here, so—”

You stood up, chair scraping back. “Okay. Ground rules.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. You grabbed a notepad from the drawer—because of course this penthouse had notepads—and started writing with aggressive, stabbing motions.

1. Do not eat my food.

2. Do not drink my things.

3. Do not speak to me unless necessary.

4. Do not assume anything is “for the apartment.” It’s not.

5. This is not a home. This is a hostage situation.

You slid the paper across the counter.

Minho didn’t even blink. “You done?”

“Rule six: Don’t be a smug little prick.”

He laughed. Laughed.

Low, amused, like you were a puppy nipping at his ankles. “That’s not very professional, fiancée.”

“Neither is stealing milk.”

He folded the paper neatly, tucked it under his phone, and leaned against the counter. “Alright. My turn.”

Your jaw tensed. “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“Too bad. I’m negotiating.”

He grabbed the pen and flipped the paper over.

1. Don’t slam doors.

2. Don’t use the speaker in the bathroom—I don’t want to hear your playlist at 7 a.m.

3. Don’t cry where I can hear it.

4. Don’t touch my closet.

5. Don’t mess with my routine.

You stared at the list, then at him. “You think I’m crying?”

He shrugged. “Heard something last night.”

“I was unpacking.”

“Right.” Another smirk.

You hated him. You hated him.

But not in the way you could do anything about. Not in a way that fixed anything. He wasn’t cruel, not exactly. Just… cold. Detached. As if he’d already made up his mind that you weren’t worth the effort of pretending.

And honestly?

You weren’t sure he was wrong.

“You’re a dick,” you muttered, turning away.

“You’re in my house,” he shot back.

Your house. The words rang in your ears long after you’d slammed your bedroom door behind you.

Not our house.

Not even the house.

Just his.

And that, somehow, pissed you off more than anything else.

—

You’d decided to make pasta.

It was a petty decision. Loud, messy, sauce-splattered pasta. Not some dainty meal for two. This was war food. Battle carbs. And you made sure to cook it at the worst possible time—right after Minho’s usual post-gym shower, when he liked the kitchen empty and the air quiet.

Too bad.

He walked in right as you started blending the tomato sauce. The noise ripped through the apartment like a chainsaw in a library.

Minho stopped in the doorway.

You didn’t turn around.

“Seriously?”

“Can’t hear you,” you said, raising your voice over the blender. “Domestic goddess things.”

He waited. You could feel it—the weight of his stare, the way his presence filled the room even when he didn’t move.

When you finally switched the blender off, the silence felt personal.

“You used my garlic,” he said flatly.

You turned. “Is garlic suddenly yours now?”

“It’s from my stash.”

“Oh my God, what is this, culinary class wars?”

He moved to the fridge, ignoring you completely, and opened it like he didn’t want to breathe the same air as you. But you saw it—the tightness in his jaw, the twitch of annoyance in his eyebrow. He hated this. Hated you, probably. And that should’ve stung, but—

Honestly?

You hated him too.

He grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the cap, and finally looked at you. Really looked this time. The kind of stare that peeled skin. “How long do you plan on sulking?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“This whole act. Slamming things. Writing rules like we’re in middle school. Throwing tantrums over oat milk. How long do I have to deal with this?”

The rage came hot and immediate, crawling up your throat like fire.

“I didn’t ask to be here,” you snapped.

He leaned against the counter, cool and clean and somehow infuriatingly calm. “Neither did I.”

“No, but you’re acting like I ruined your life. I didn’t do this, Minho. Our parents did. Go be mad at them, not me.”

For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Something raw and real and unguarded. But it was gone before you could read it, buried under that same sharp indifference he wore like armor.

“I had someone,” he said quietly.

You froze.

“I was going to propose,” he added. “Two weeks before I got the call. I had the ring. We had an apartment lined up. She thought I was joking when I told her. She laughed. And then she cried.”

You said nothing. The room felt suddenly smaller.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said, voice low now. “Just like you didn’t. But don’t act like we’re the same.”

And with that, he left.

Not stormed out. Just left, like he always did—quietly, cleanly, like emotion was something he refused to be caught feeling.

You stood there, spoon still in your hand, staring at the door he’d walked through.

And for the first time since you’d arrived, the anger didn’t feel quite so simple anymore.

—

It was past midnight when you came out of your room.

Not because you were hungry. Not even because you needed anything. You just couldn’t sleep. The walls felt too white, too quiet, and the sheets felt like someone else’s skin.

So you padded out barefoot, hair a mess, wrapped in the hoodie you’d “accidentally” stolen from Minho’s side of the laundry basket. (Sue you. It was warm. And it smelled better than your room.)

You didn’t expect to see him.

But there he was—on the couch, passed out, phone still in his hand and a drama paused mid-episode on the screen. A glass of water sat half-full on the coffee table. One sock was halfway off his foot. His hair was a mess. A real, actual mess—not the kind he curated to look effortless. And his mouth was slightly open.

He looked… normal.

No expensive cologne. No pressed shirts or glinting watches. Just a guy in sweatpants, legs tangled up in the blanket he probably tried to pull over himself and failed halfway through.

You stood there, blinking.

This man—this insufferable, rude, arrogant, milk-stealing demon—looked like a person when he slept.

That was the most annoying thing of all.

You grabbed the remote off the floor, turned the volume down on whatever he’d been watching (some crime doc with bad voiceovers), and went to walk away.

But something stopped you.

Maybe it was the frown between his brows, the kind you only got when something hurt. Not pain-pain. More like… emotional bruises. Things he didn’t talk about. Things that lived under his tongue.

Maybe it was the way his hand was curled slightly around his phone, thumb pressing against a message thread he hadn’t opened yet.

You inched closer.

The screen lit up just enough for you to see the name.

“Hannie.”

You froze.

She’d messaged him.

The girl. Her.

The one he’d told you about.

Your chest felt strange. Not jealousy. Not pity. Just… tightness. The kind that came from remembering this was real. That all this wasn’t a drama. That someone really lost someone else. That somewhere out there was a girl waiting on a message that’d never come.

You sighed, then gently reached down to fix the blanket over his chest. Not out of kindness. Not really.

Just because it was cold.

And because even if he hated you—and you definitely hated him—he was still a human being.

You turned back toward your room, hoodie sleeves too long over your hands, and whispered into the dark:

“You look like a person when you sleep.”

He didn’t hear you. Probably.

—

Minho knew something was off the second he opened his eyes.

Not just because his neck was stiff or the TV was still on. It was the blanket.

It had been over him. Neatly. Tucked up under his chin like someone had stopped, looked at him, and—

He sat up slowly, glancing around the dim living room. Nothing. No sign of you. Just the faint smell of tomato sauce lingering from the pasta war the night before and a hoodie hanging crooked off the back of the couch.

His hoodie.

Fucking hell.

You’d touched his blanket. His clothes. You’d touched him, probably. And he’d slept through it like an idiot.

He hated that he didn’t hate it.

By the time you finally emerged from your room the next morning, half-wet hair twisted into a bun and sleep still crusting your eyes, Minho was already standing in the kitchen—freshly showered, coffee in hand, and unreadable behind his black tee and tired stare.

You didn’t look at him.

He didn’t look at you.

But the air was different.

He cleared his throat. “You’re up late.”

“I’m always up late.”

Right. Of course. You two weren’t going to talk about it. The blanket. The hoodie. The fact that, for once, neither of you had gone to bed vibrating with rage.

So you sipped your own coffee and stayed on opposite ends of the kitchen. Separate islands. Cold continents. Two strangers with matching rings they didn’t ask for.

Then your phone buzzed.

You didn’t answer it at first, but the second buzz turned into a full-blown call. You picked it up, eyes narrowing as you glanced at the screen.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Minho arched a brow. “Don’t offer things you don’t mean.”

You glared. “It’s my mother.”

He took a slow sip of coffee. “You’ve said enough.”

You answered on speaker, too tired to pretend today. “Hi, mom.”

“Sweetheart!” her voice was shrill and sugary. “I hope you’re both dressed—we’re expecting you at lunch!”

You blinked. “Lunch?”

“Yes, darling, we’ve arranged a little brunch at the family villa. Just a few friends. And, well… a few investors. It’ll be casual, of course. Just something to show how beautifully our children are adjusting to married life.”

Minho choked on his coffee.

“Married life?” you mouthed at him.

“Lovely,” you lied into the phone. “Can’t wait.”

—

You barely had time to fight over what to wear. Minho had shown up to the front door in a gray button-down and slacks like he was filming an ad for luxury timepieces. Meanwhile, you stood barefoot, mascara wand in hand, in a half-wrapped dress with a look of absolute murder on your face.

“Don’t even start,” you growled.

He smirked. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

“…You look nice.”

You blinked. Looked down. Then up. “You trying to seduce me into not stabbing you in front of your mother?”

“I wouldn’t need to try.”

You threw your brush at his face.

The car ride was quiet.

But not cold.

Tense, yes—but not the same kind of tension as before. Something new. Something that buzzed low in your spine. Like your bodies were talking even when your mouths weren’t.

He kept glancing at your legs. You pretended not to notice.

You picked imaginary lint off your skirt. He pretended not to watch.

The world outside flew by in soft gray blurs, and still—you felt that shift.

The one from last night.

The one you weren’t supposed to think about.

⸻

The villa was a lie.

It looked like a Tuscan postcard and smelled like money. Overgrown vines curled around white stone arches, and the sunlight streamed through polished windows like someone had bottled golden hour.

You hated it immediately.

Minho hated it more.

You could tell because he didn’t hold your hand until someone was looking.

But when he did?

Oh.

That bastard sold it.

He slid his fingers through yours like it was natural. Tugged you closer by the waist when cameras popped out. Whispered things into your ear that made you laugh, even when he was threatening to strangle you under his breath.

“Smile,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’re making me look like a villain.”

“Gee, wonder why,” you said through your fake grin.

But God, he looked so good when he did it. Like a real husband. Like someone who knew your perfume by name.

And worst of all?

You looked good next to him.

There was a photo taken at one point—someone’s assistant caught it. You didn’t even realize. But it got passed around between the wives and board members, passed around with murmurs like:

“Look at how in love they are.”

“She fits him perfectly.”

“They’ll have beautiful children.”

And you saw it, later. On someone’s phone. A candid of you mid-laugh and Minho mid-glance—eyes soft, mouth twitching, hand grazing your waist like it belonged there.

You looked like the picture of a happy marriage.

And for a second, you hated how good it felt to pretend.

—

The real first shift started with dinner.

Just some leftover rice, a pan-fried egg, and the remains of whatever frozen veggies you’d tossed into a pot earlier. You didn’t cook it for him. You just made too much.

But then Minho walked into the kitchen, towel still on his shoulders, hair wet from a shower, and blinked at the plate you’d pushed aside like you weren’t saving it.

“I’m not eating your food,” he said.

You shrugged. “Didn’t ask you to.”

“…But that egg looks good.”

You didn’t answer. Just sat down at the counter and kept chewing.

He stood there awkwardly. Then grabbed a fork. And sat down next to you like it wasn’t a crime.

The silence wasn’t heavy. Not even thick. Just… quiet.

Like both of you had run out of excuses to hate each other loudly.

Then came the next slip.

The couch.

It was late. You were scrolling through nonsense on your phone, half-dozing to a playlist you wouldn’t admit was full of sad lo-fi love songs. You didn’t even notice him sit next to you until his shoulder brushed yours.

You didn’t flinch.

That was the worst part.

You just let it happen.

You told yourself it was fine. The couch was huge. You were tired. It wasn’t a thing. He wasn’t even talking. Neither of you were.

And then, you woke up.

Warm. Comfortable. Safe.

Your cheek was against his chest. His arm was around your shoulder. Your legs were tucked under a blanket you definitely didn’t pull over yourself.

You froze.

He was still asleep. Breathing steady. Mouth parted again, hair fluffing against the pillow like a halo he didn’t deserve.

You moved slowly. Too slowly.

And he blinked awake the second you shifted.

His voice was low. Sleep-rough. “Don’t freak out.”

You already were.

“I didn’t mean to stay,” you whispered.

“I didn’t mean to let you.”

You stared at each other in the dim glow of the TV.

Nothing moved. Nothing breathed.

Then his phone buzzed.

And the bubble burst.

He looked down at the screen. His jaw locked. The softness vanished.

You saw it. You felt it.

Because you recognized the name.

Hannie.

Three words.

“Can we talk?”

Minho didn’t say a thing. Just stood up, grabbed his phone, and walked away.

He didn’t even look back.

—

You didn’t sleep.

You didn’t eat the next day either.

Minho wasn’t in the apartment when you woke up. No note. No text. Not even a plate of passive-aggressive toast crumbs to let you know he’d been there.

The silence was suffocating.

The warmth from last night? Gone.

Your hand kept drifting to your phone, but you had nothing to say. What could you even say? Sorry for sleeping on your chest and pretending you weren’t still in love with someone else?

You sat in the kitchen for hours.

He came home after sundown. Quiet. Unbothered.

You hated him for that.

But what broke you—what really split you in half—was the fact that he looked at you, said nothing, and headed straight to the shower.

Like you weren’t even worth a fight.

—

The front door slammed.

You didn’t even realize you were waiting for it until the sound made you flinch. Made your fingers clench around the glass in your hand.

Minho had come home.

Past midnight. Again.

Third night in a row.

And this time, he didn’t pretend to be quiet. He stomped around the kitchen without a care. Tossed his keys too hard on the counter. Opened the fridge, stared, closed it again. Then turned to find you standing there at the edge of the hallway, arms crossed, eyes tired.

You said nothing.

He said less.

And that was it. That was the moment something snapped.

“Don’t you wanna go back out?” you said, voice sharp. “Or was three nights with your ex enough?”

Minho froze.

Slowly, he turned to face you, and his expression made your skin crawl.

Cold.

Hard.

But this time, mean.

“You spying on me now?” he asked.

“You left your phone on the counter the first night. You think I wouldn’t see her name?”

He scoffed, like you were the one being ridiculous. “It’s none of your business.”

You stepped forward. “Really? That’s funny. Because you made it my business the second you decided to disappear without a word while I stayed here, alone, pretending everything was normal!”

“I never asked you to pretend.”

“No, you just let me.”

Minho’s jaw ticked. His hands were fists. “So what? You want a gold star? For playing house for three days like you actually give a shit?”

Your chest seized. “I did give a shit.”

Silence.

You said it. You couldn’t take it back.

He stared at you. Unblinking. Breathing heavy.

And then he laughed. Soft. Cold. Mocking.

“Oh, that’s rich,” he muttered. “You act like the victim, but let’s not forget—this is your parents’ idea. You’re just as much a part of this mess as I am.”

That hit.

Hard.

But you weren’t done.

You stepped closer. Eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare act like I had a choice in any of this. I left my life behind. My friends. My career. My freedom. For what? So I could be treated like a stranger in my own house?”

“It’s not your house.”

Those four words.

Like knives.

You didn’t even realize you’d thrown the glass cup until it shattered against the floor two feet from his head.

And still—he didn’t flinch.

He smirked.

“That’s more like it,” he said. “There’s the brat my parents warned me about.”

You stepped forward. Your voice dropped.

“You’re such a coward, Minho.”

The smile fell.

“You’d rather run to the past than even try to make this work. You don’t want a wife? Fine. You don’t want to play pretend anymore? Neither do I. But don’t fucking punish me because your little fairytale ended and now you’re stuck with someone who didn’t beg to be here.”

His mouth parted. But he said nothing.

Coward.

He turned.

Started walking away.

And something in you broke.

“You’re so goddamn cold,” you said. “Do you even feel anything anymore, or are you just playing numb until she takes you back?”

He stopped.

Didn’t turn.

Didn’t speak.

Just walked into his room.

And slammed the door.

—

You left that night.

No text. No calls. No dramatic slamming of doors.

Just your phone on the kitchen table, screen facedown like a corpse.

You packed a bag with nothing but essentials—some cash, a few clothes, your favorite perfume. The soft hoodie you slept in when you actually felt safe here. Just a few things to remind you that you were still you.

Then you got in the car and drove off.

Minho never saw you leave.

The hotel was three towns away. Coastal. Quiet.

The concierge didn’t ask questions. Just smiled when you booked the penthouse suite for a week and asked if you wanted a bottle of wine sent up. You said yes. Then requested a second.

The view was stunning.

The ocean glittered like it didn’t know how to be cruel. The room was wrapped in clean linens and silence. There was a rooftop pool. A bar with men who looked like they’d never heard the name Hannie in their lives.

It was freedom.

For three days, you existed like you were never married. Never shoved into a life you didn’t want. You slept with the balcony door open. Drank rosé for breakfast. Let strangers flirt with you in the elevator. Let a bartender ask for your number and smiled when you didn’t give it.

You lived.

And for the first time since this all started—you didn’t cry.

—

Minho, on the other hand?

He unraveled.

The first morning, he found your phone and rolled his eyes. Thought you’d storm back in eventually, full of righteous rage and a tantrum he could ignore.

You didn’t.

By evening, he’d checked every room in the apartment.

By midnight, he’d texted you twelve times even if your phone was turned off on the kitchen counter, he hoped you had your ipad or something with you.

By the next day, he was on the phone with your mother.

“I don’t know where she is.”

“Well, maybe if you treated her like a human being, she wouldn’t feel the need to vanish!”

Then came his father.

“If you screw this up, Lee Minho, so help me God—”

“Dad, she ran off—what do you want me to do?!”

“Get her back. Or don’t expect a damn cent when I die.”

That one stuck. So he stopped sleeping.

Started calling your friends. Your old number. Even checked your socials, which you hadn’t posted on in weeks. He scoured local hotels under fake names. Drove around aimlessly, gripping the wheel like it might help him understand where the hell this all went wrong.

He missed the scent of your hair in the hallway.

The hum of your voice talking to yourself in the kitchen.

The sound of the apartment feeling like someone lived in it.

And he hated himself for noticing.

But what gutted him? Was the dinner plate in the fridge.

The one you left by accident.

The rice and egg and veggies he didn’t eat.

Still there.

Still waiting.

Like you.

—

The door clicked open at 2:17 p.m. on a Wednesday.

No announcement. No warning.

Just the soft creak of hinges as you strolled in like you owned the place—like you didn’t leave it barren and echoing for four days straight.

Minho was in the kitchen.

He froze mid-step, glass in hand, mind blank.

Then he saw you.

Hair soft and glowing. Sunglasses perched on your head. One of those stupid seafoam shopping bags swinging from your fingers. A small, content smile on your lips like you didn’t just drop a goddamn nuke on his life and disappear off the grid.

You didn’t even glance at him.

Just breezed past like summer wind. Like perfume. Like a woman who hadn’t spent a single second wondering how he felt.

Like you hadn’t missed him at all.

He followed you. His jaw tightened. Voice low.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

You stopped. But didn’t turn.

“I went out,” you said, breezy. “Needed some air.”

“For four days?”

You finally looked at him and smiled.

“Oh, you noticed?”

That was it. That was the match.

Minho slammed the glass down—hard. Sharp enough to crack.

“You think this is funny?” he snapped, storming after you as you made your way to the bedroom. “You think disappearing without a word is some kind of fucking joke?”

“I think disappearing was the smartest thing I’ve done since saying I do.”

You tossed your bags onto the bed.

His eyes were on you—scorching. Dark. Possessive. And furious.

“Do you know what I’ve been through looking for you?”

You raised a brow. “Did you try your ex’s place?”

Minho exploded.

“Don’t fucking bring Hannie into this!”

“Why not?” you shot back. “Thought she’d already in our house.”

“She never came here. She only wanted closure—”

“Closure? You couldn’t send a goddamn text, but she gets closure?”

“You ran off!”

“BECAUSE I’M SICK OF THIS, MINHO!”

Silence.

Breathing. Heavy. Yours trembling, his uneven.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides.

“I didn’t sign up for love,” you said, quieter. “But I also didn’t sign up to be humiliated. To be ignored. To be left behind like a mistake.”

Minho looked at you, really looked.

And for the first time in days, his voice dropped to something that almost sounded like regret.

“You were never a mistake.”

You scoffed.

“Funny. You’ve been treating me like one since the day we met.”

Another silence.

And then—

“I looked for you,” he said. “I fucking panicked. I called everyone. I barely slept.”

You stared at him.

And something in your voice cracked, finally.

“Why?” you whispered. “Because your little doll went missing? Or because your inheritance did?”

That hit home.

Minho stepped forward.

Eyes sharp. Wild.

“I looked for you,” he growled, “because the silence was louder than the fights.”

You didn’t blink.

“I left because I needed space.”

He stared at you. Unmoving.

“And now?”

You met his gaze and said nothing.

—

You didn’t say anything else that night.

You’d stood in the middle of that bedroom—his fists clenched, your expression empty—and said absolutely nothing. Not “I forgive you.” Not “I understand.” Just… nothing.

And for Lee Minho, that silence was worse than screaming.

The next morning, he cooked breakfast.

Not well. Not gracefully. But enough that the scent of burnt toast and eggs greeted you when you walked into the kitchen at ten a.m., still in the hoodie you’d brought back from your coastal escape.

You blinked.

He stood at the counter. Jaw tight. Hair messy. A single plate waiting at your spot.

You stared at it.

He didn’t look at you.

“I didn’t poison it,” he muttered.

You sat. Ate half of it. Didn’t say thank you.

He didn’t ask why you only took one bite of the toast.

Later that day, a package arrived.

Shopping. Another one.

You’d clearly picked up the habit while you were gone.

He watched you slice the tape with a box cutter and pull out the sexiest red dress he’d ever seen.

You looked at it like it was an old friend. Then walked off humming.

Minho sat on the couch for three full minutes staring at the now-empty box like it personally offended him.

Then he googled the brand.

It cost more than his last pair of sneakers.

You hadn’t even flinched when the bill hit your card.

That night, you wore the dress.

Not for him. Of course not.

You didn’t even tell him you were going out. Just strutted through the apartment like a model on her way to kill a man with her bare hands. Hair done. Lip gloss gleaming. Legs out. Eyes sharper than any knife he owned.

Minho nearly choked on his water.

You grabbed your purse.

He stood.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t stop walking. “Out.”

“With who?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He gritted his teeth.

“You’re married.”

You glanced over your shoulder.

“So are you.”

The door clicked behind you.

And Minho?

He stood there, fists clenched, heart thudding, and for the first time in his life—

he felt like he was chasing something he’d already lost.

—

You didn’t go far.

A lounge downtown. Some live music. Some harmless flirting.

You didn’t give anyone your number, didn’t accept the free drinks—but you smiled. You laughed. You felt something. Even if it wasn’t joy.

It was freedom.

And when you came home past midnight, heels in your hand and a lazy smirk on your lips, Minho was waiting.

Still dressed. Still awake. Eyes dark.

“What, did he not take you home?”

You blinked, unbothered. “Did you want him to?”

Minho moved so fast you barely saw it coming—slamming his glass down on the table, shattering it instantly.

The sound echoed through the apartment like a gunshot.

You didn’t flinch.

“You want to be angry, Minho?” you said coldly. “Then be angry. But stop pretending you have any right to be.”

His voice dropped. Low. Dangerous.

“You think I don’t care?”

You scoffed.

“I think you care about the idea of me. You care about your control.”

He stepped closer.

“You’re my wife.”

You took a breath.

“And I was yours. Until you treated me like furniture. Until you let your ex back into our home. Until I left, and you didn’t even call—”

“I DID.”

You paused.

That… stopped you.

“I did,” he repeated, quieter. “I called. I looked. I… I panicked. Okay? I couldn’t sleep.”

You stared at him.

“You called because you were worried?”

“No,” he bit out. “I called because I thought I lost you and I didn’t even know when you became something I didn’t want to lose.”

…

Silence.

The air was thick with heat, fury, confusion.

His chest heaved. Your lashes fluttered.

And then—

“Too bad,” you whispered. “You already did.”

You turned.

Walked down the hall.

Closed the door to the bedroom behind you.

Left him with nothing but guilt.

And the sound of his own breathing.

Minho stood in the hallway like he was losing it.

Because he was.

He’d asked. Nicely. Calmly. Even with that aching thing in his chest that he refused to name.

“Dinner with me. Just us.”

You hadn’t even looked up from your phone.

“No thanks.”

Just that. No explanation. No hesitation.

And that might’ve been fine—should’ve been fine—if you hadn’t left the house an hour later in a goddamn silk top, with your lips glossed and your earrings dangling, smiling at your phone like you were excited.

Excited for someone else.

Minho snapped.

He didn’t think. Just grabbed his coat, keys in hand, following the subtle perfume trail you left like it was instinct.

He wasn’t even trying to be sneaky.

He wanted to see.

He needed to see.

And when he found you—sitting at a trendy restaurant downtown, laughing across a table at a guy in a slim black button-up who wasn’t him—he felt something inside him break.

Minho stood outside like a ghost.

Watching.

Your smile looked different here.

Your laugh was real.

Your hand brushed the guy’s wrist when you reached for your wine glass and he laughed too—and Minho? He was already crossing the street.

You saw him before he reached your table.

That same thunderstorm scowl, the same black shirt he wore when he was ready to fight fate itself. You blinked, caught mid-sip, and your date raised an eyebrow.

“Friend of yours?”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered.

But it was too late.

Minho was there.

Next to your table.

Looking between you and the man across from you like he was barely holding himself together.

“Hi,” you said flatly.

He ignored you.

To your date: “She’s married.”

The guy blinked. “She said she was separated.”

“She’s not.” Minho’s voice dropped low. “She’s mine.”

Your jaw dropped. “What the fuck—Minho, you can’t just—”

But he didn’t listen. Didn’t care.

He grabbed your wrist. Not hard, not rough—just firm.

Like he was anchoring himself to you before he drowned.

And then he leaned in—and kissed you.

In front of everyone.

In front of him.

Not a soft kiss. Not a question.

A statement.

Minho kissed you like he was starving. Like he hated you. Like he loved you. Like you were air, and he’d been suffocating.

You pushed him back.

Staring. Shaking.

“What the fuck was that?”

He exhaled hard. “I ended it.”

You blinked.

“My ex. I ended it. For good. She never came to the house. She never stayed. I didn’t want her. I just didn’t know how to let go of something that already left me.”

You stared at him.

“That wasn’t fair to you. None of this was. But if you think I’m gonna sit back and watch you fall for someone else, you’re insane.”

The guy at the table stood awkwardly. “I should probably—”

Minho looked at him once and he quietly slipped out of the table and headed towards the exit.

You bit your lip, eyes blazing.

“You don’t get to be jealous.”

“I am, though.”

“You don’t get to kiss me.”

“I did.”

“And you don’t get to—”

He kissed you again.

This time, slower. Fuller. Like the world was ending and your mouth was his salvation.

When he pulled away, breathless, voice shaking:

“I get to love you. If you’ll let me.”

And for the first time, you didn’t have an answer.

—

The silence in the car was loud.

Unbearably loud.

You stared out the passenger window, heart still racing, brain trying to make sense of anything. You were vaguely aware that Minho had parked a few minutes ago, engine off, but neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

You were still dazed.

Still feeling his lips.

Still tasting him.

You brought your fingers up, brushing against your lower lip in disbelief.

Because what the fuck just happened.

Lee Minho—Mr. Iceman. Mr. I-hate-you-and-this-marriage. Mr. This-isn’t-what-I-wanted—had kissed you. Twice.

In public.

In front of your date.

And worse… You let him.

No. Worse than that— You wanted more.

Minho, on the other hand, sat in the driver’s seat, watching you like he was trying to solve a math problem. Like he couldn’t figure out if he’d just destroyed something or unlocked it. His jaw was tight, his hands still gripping the steering wheel.

Inside his head?

Chaos.

Why did he kiss you?

Why did it feel that good?

And why the fuck did he want to do it again?

He exhaled harshly through his nose, eyes flicking to you. Still staring out the window. Still lost in your thoughts. Still tracing your mouth like it betrayed you.

Something snapped.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, and before you even realized what was happening—

He leaned across the console.

Grabbed the back of your neck.

And kissed you. Again.

But this time, it wasn’t to prove a point.

It wasn’t angry.

It wasn’t performative.

This time, it was heat.

It was raw and hungry and messy.

His lips crushed against yours, mouth parting without hesitation, and your gasp disappeared between his teeth. His hand stayed at your nape, thumb brushing your jaw as he kissed you like he needed it. Like you were the only thing keeping him tethered.

You froze for a second—confused, overwhelmed—

Then you kissed him back.

This time with fire.

Your hands gripped the collar of his coat, yanking him closer across the gearshift. His tongue slid against yours and you moaned before you could stop yourself—and that only made him growl low, deep in his throat, and tilt your head so he could kiss you deeper.

He pulled back just enough to speak, voice ragged.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

You were breathless. “Then why’d you?”

His eyes searched yours. “Because you’re my wife.”

“That didn’t mean anything to you before.”

“It does now.”

That stunned silence settled again—but this time, it pulsed with electricity.

You sat back slowly, lips swollen, heartbeat slamming against your ribs.

“What changed?”

He was quiet for a moment.

Then, quietly, “You left.”

You blinked.

“I woke up and you weren’t there. Left your phone. No note. Nothing. And the house was just… quiet.”

You waited.

“And I didn’t realize how much I hated the quiet.”

Your throat tightened.

Minho leaned his head back against the headrest, staring up at the roof.

“I told myself I didn’t want this. That it wasn’t supposed to be you. But then it was, and I just—” he paused, eyes squeezing shut. “I don’t know how to do this. I’ve been angry for so long, I forgot how to feel anything else.”

Your voice was soft. “So what now?”

He turned his head slowly. Looked at you like he hadn’t stopped thinking about your mouth since the first kiss.

“What do you want?”

You swallowed hard. The air between you was thick with unspoken things. With need. With possibility.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

Because the truth was—

You didn’t know.

You just knew one thing:

Minho was finally looking at you.

And you didn’t want him to stop.

—

The morning light spilled across the room in soft gold.

You blinked awake slowly, disoriented at first. Sheets tangled around your legs, the faint scent of clean linen and cologne still lingering in the air. It was quiet. Peaceful. Too peaceful.

Until it hit you.

Last night.

The car.

The kiss.

Both kisses.

His mouth on yours like he couldn’t breathe without it.

Your fingers instinctively touched your lips again, brushing over them like you could still feel the imprint of him there. And you could. It was annoying how vivid it all was—the way he grabbed your neck, the groan that slipped from his throat, the way he said you’re my wife like that meant something now.

You sat up too fast, the motion tangling your thoughts even more.

There was no note. No coffee waiting. No sound in the hallway. If you hadn’t known better, you’d think last night was a dream. A delusion you conjured up from all the tension snapping in your spine since this marriage started.

You padded out of the bedroom barefoot, oversized tee hitting just below your thighs. You didn’t expect to see him. You were just headed to the bathroom, like a normal person, to brush your damn teeth and try to reassemble your scrambled dignity.

You reached for the door.

Swung it open.

And there he was.

Minho.

In the bathroom.

Shirtless. Toothbrush in mouth.

Eyes going wide like a deer caught in fuckery.

You froze. So did he.

Toothpaste foam halfway down his lip. Water still running. The mirror fogged from his recent shower and his hair slightly damp, sticking to his forehead in soft, tousled strands that were so unfairly hot you actually wanted to scream.

It was like time stuttered for a second.

Your eyes met, and neither of you said a word.

Not about the kiss. Not about last night. Not about how this exact bathroom was where you’d once screamed at each other just weeks ago—and now you were both standing in it like strangers with secrets on your skin.

He stepped aside slowly, giving you space to reach the sink. “Didn’t know you were up,” he said finally, voice rough with sleep and awkwardness.

You cleared your throat. “Didn’t know you were either.”

A pause.

He spit.

You grabbed your own toothbrush, avoiding his reflection in the mirror.

You could feel his eyes on you though. Like heat.

“So…” he started, voice quieter now. “About last night—”

“Nope,” you said quickly, mouth full of mint. “No talking until after brushing.”

It was a lame excuse.

But you were panicking.

He didn’t argue.

The next two minutes were filled with brushing. Swishing. Spitting. Rinsing. You were trying to play it cool, but your heart was going insane because his arm had just brushed yours and oh god, was that a shiver?

He reached for a towel to dry his face. His fingers passed yours again.

“About last night,” he said again, this time firmer. “I don’t regret it.”

You froze mid-rinse.

He glanced at you, towel hanging around his neck.

“But I get it if you do.”

Your gaze finally met his in the mirror.

“I didn’t say that.”

“So you don’t?”

You were quiet for a second.

“I don’t know what I feel.”

His jaw twitched. “Fair.”

You wiped your mouth and turned toward him, crossing your arms over your chest. “But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to pretend we’re suddenly okay now.”

“I wasn’t going to pretend,” he said evenly. “I just—meant it. That’s all.”

A pause.

“And if I kissed you again,” he added, “I’d still mean it.”

Your stomach flipped. “You’re not going to kiss me again.”

“I’m not?”

You looked up at him, heart hammering, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re my husband, Minho. Not my boyfriend. This isn’t dating. This isn’t normal. You don’t get to just kiss me like we didn’t hate each other last week.”

His eyes darkened. “I didn’t hate you.”

You blinked. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He stepped closer. Not close enough to touch—but close enough that you could smell the clean spice of his skin. The kind of proximity that made your breath catch.

“I hated the situation,” he said quietly. “Not you.”

And for the first time… you actually believed him.

You stared up at him, blood rushing in your ears.

And then, before either of you could speak again—his phone rang in the hallway. The sound broke whatever spell was swirling around you. Minho stepped back, exhaling hard through his nose.

“I’ll get that,” he muttered.

And just like that, he was gone.

Leaving you in the bathroom.

Staring at your reflection.

And still tasting his kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: part two is linked at the top of the fic, for my new readers 😏 WELCOME

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie cursed, rubbing his eyes. He had to figure out a way to help his uncle with the hospital bills. Wayne was out of work for now, and the money from Eddie's little business wouldn't cover it all. He had to do something, and the gremlins said that they take shit from Steve's house all the time. . .he doesn't mind. Oh, fuck, he couldn't believe that he was doing this. It was easy to tell himself that he was just a pharmaceutical salesman when he was selling drugs but breaking into someone's house? It was hard to explain that one away. Eddie swallowed his guilt and squared his shoulders. He slid open the back door of Steve’s house and entered the room that looked out at the pool in the backyard. Okay, now, he just had to get past the living room and up the stairs. The living room was dark as Eddie crept by. . .except, there was a flickering glow coming from the TV. Someone was still home. Shit! He was supposed to be on a date!

"Fuck," Eddie cursed softly.

Eddie's eyes adjusted, and then he realized what he was looking at. Steve was leaning back on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, and he was watching. . .the animated Hobbit movie? Eddie nearly choked on his own saliva. Steve was enjoying it too, bobbing his head to the music, a smile on his face. Eddie stared at him for a moment, getting lost in the way he smiled and laughed. . .the way he looked ethereal in the light of the television screen. Eventually, though, Eddie's eyes drifted from Steve to the screen, and he got lost in the story. Before he knew it, Eddie was sitting on the other side of the couch. At some point, Steve offered him popcorn, and he accepted, thanking him as he stuffed the kernels into his mouth. When the movie ended, Steve got up and turned on the lights before sitting back down again. Eddie grinned, he fucking loved that movie.

"Okay, that was pretty good," Steve said.

"You've never seen it before?" Eddie asked.

"Nope! Dustin suggested it. . .he didn't think I'd read the book," Steve rolled his eyes. "He's got to get that ego of his in check."

"It's his tone, right?" Eddie asked.

"Exactly!" Steve exclaimed.

"You've read the book?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, yeah, I figured. . .Dustin agreed to do something for me, so I figured, why not throw him a bone," Steve said. "I loved the book, and I'm trying to get through the Fellowship, but it's just - I guess I'm just slower than most people," Steve said.

"Hey, man, Tolkien isn't for everyone and hell, I love his works but the man can go on about a fucking tree," Eddie said. "You should get points for trying."

They talked about Tolkien for a few minutes and how Steve really liked it, but it was difficult for him. They also talked about Dustin, and they laughed when they realized they were both jealous of each other when the kid looked up to both of them. It was a nice moment, and he couldn't believe he had so much in common with him. . .turns out there's not enough money in the world that could make your parents love you. Finally, Steve cleared his throat and crossed his arms.

"So, are we going to talk about you breaking into my house?" Steve asked.

"Shit," Eddie said, his eyes wide. "Uh - "

He was very flustered, and he didn't know what to say. How could he explain to him that he wanted to steal from him? He could just say it. Steve smirked and moved closer to him. . .so close their thighs were touching. Steve threw an arm over the back of his couch, right behind Eddie, and leaned in even closer. Suddenly, Eddie was very aware of just how close they were. He could feel Steve’s breath on his skin. His heart was being rapidly in his chest. This was just because of his guilt and not because he enjoyed Steve Harrington being pressed up against him. . .right?

"Did you break into my house to watch a movie with me?" Steve asked, his voice low and husky. It did something to Eddie's lower part of his body. "I have to say. . .very flattered."

"I'm not - ," Eddie said, trying to get out that he didn't like men or try to break into their houses to flirt with them. "I'm an asshole!"

"Excuse me?" Steve asked.

"You were supposed to be on a date," Eddie said, his face very red.

"Yeah, well, I think I found something better. . .more like something better found me," Steve smiled, a crooked smile that did something funny and weird to Eddie's heart. Was he dying?

"Look, the kids said that you don't really care about what they take from your house, so I thought I'd partake. . .," Eddie said, trailing off, feeling ashamed

"You came here to steal from me?" Steve asked, incredulous.

Eddie was disappointed when he moved away from him. He missed the contact, and he hated the way Steve was looking at him. He was so. . .disappointed, and Eddie wondered why he even cared because he didn't even know him all that well. Maybe that was the point. For one brief moment, he wanted to know more about Steve Harrington, and all it took was seeing him watch one of his favorite movies. It didn't take much for him to believe in all the things that the kids had told him before. . .in his minds eyes, Steve Harrington had been this almost mythic being. . .too good to be true, but now, here was a real person. He always watched him from afar, Steve had everything: a nice house, money, popularity, and unlike his stupid jock friends, he was decent to the smallfolk of Hawkins High. As much as he tried to deny it, Steve Harrington was a good dude, and Eddie had been the dick who hurt him. He knew that if he had just asked, from what Dustin had said about him, that Steve probably would have given him the shirt off his back but not without complaining loudly about it first.

"I'm sorry. . .I just needed the money. My uncle got into an accident that put him out of work, and my drug business isn't paying the bills. . .I've tried getting hired elsewhere, but have you seen me?! I just thought that since you didn't care - " Eddie rambled.

Just like that, Steve was smiling at him again. . .softly this time and with a lot of affection. He stood up and held out his hand.

"Come along, thief," Steve smirked.

Eddie, immediately and without question, slid his hand into Steve’s. It fit so perfectly. Steve pulled him up off the couch and started leading him up the stairs. He pulled him into a bedroom. . .oh.

"Uh. . .," Eddie started to say.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything to you in here," Steve rolled his eyes. "This is my parents' bedroom."

"Why are we in here?" Eddie asked.

Steve opened a closet door and pulled him inside. Jesus, it was huge. It was a woman's closet filled with clothes, shoes, and jewelry.

"This is my mom's second closet but not her real one. She keeps all of her stuff in her apartment in New York. They own this house, and my parents each have their own apartment. They only keep the house for real estate or some shit, I wasn't really paying attention. One of the reasons why they keep me around is because they'll know I'll take care of it," Steve said.

"Like you're their live in butler?" Eddie asked.

"If you have to put it that way, yes," Steve rolled his eyes.

"Sorry," Eddie winced.

"No, it's true," Steve said. "In this closet, you can sell anything you want to. This is all the stuff my dad's bought my mom over the years every time he's cheated. She hates it. She sends it all back here."

"All of this?!" Eddie asked in surprise. "Has his dick fallen off yet?"

"I think my mom hopes for that," Steve scoffed.

"You seriously don't mind if I sell this stuff?" Eddie asked.

"Not at all, especially if it's for your uncle," Steve said. "Something good should come from this goddamn nightmare of a marriage."

"You came out of this marriage, Steve," Eddie said softly. "Your mom doesn't - ?"

"I'm sure she loved me at some point, but it's hard for her. . .I look too much like my dad," Steve said.

"You know, that's fucked up, right?" Eddie asked and he nodded.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the tears. One slipped out anyway. Eddie cupped his face and wiped the tears way with his thumb. Steve sighed and leaned into his touch for a moment before pulling away.

"I think it's sweet, you know. You must really love your uncle to go to all through this trouble," Steve said, smiling. "I might not have my parents, but I have Robin, Dustin, his mom, Lucas, and his parents. The rest of the party, too. . .I think I'd do anything for them."

"Steal for them?" He asked.

"Definitely," Steve said and paused, his hand on his hip as his eyes began twinkling with mirth. "I think that it's only fair that I steal something from you."

It was fair, Eddie thought. Steve placed his hands on Eddie's vest, running his fingers down the length of the vest. He gripped the collar. . .Eddie narrowed his eyes at him.

"You can't have my vest. I worked hard on it. I literally put my blood, sweat, and tears into it. Do you know how long it takes to sew - !"

Eddie was cut off by Steve pulling him close and smashing his lips to his. Eddie's eyes went wide - HE DOES NOT LIKE MEN, HE DOES NOT LIKE MEN - Okay, so maybe he does like men. Eddie's eyes fluttered closed, and he was about to return the kiss when Steve pulled away.

"You can have whatever you want, take my fucking wallet if you want," Eddie said, dazed.

"I don't want your wallet, Eddie," Steve chuckled. "Just you."

Eddie pushed up against against the doorframe, his hands on his chest. . .looking rather intense. Steve stared at him with wide eyes, unsure of what he was going to do. Eddie's hands went to his throat, and then cupped his face. Steve relaxed and smiled. Eddie noticed there were some green in his brown eyes. . .hazel. Eddie kissed him. Steve's hands went his hips immediately, pulling himself harder against Eddie and deepening the kiss. Eddie's hands went to the back of his neck, moving his lips roughly against Steve’s, gripping his hair. Steve pushed him back against the other frame, his lips moving to Eddie's neck.

"Fuck," Eddie cursed.

It wasn't the first time Eddie cursed tonight, and he felt like it wouldn't be the last. He was pretty sure he liked women. . .particularly cheerleaders in short skirts. . .skirts that showed their ass a little bit. Yeah, he did. The image of Steve Harrington in a cheerleader skirt immediately flooded his mind. . .the hint of his perky ass just peaking out. . .Eddie let out another curse as Steve sucked on his neck, and the image of Steve wearing the uniform was a little bit too much. He pushed Steve off of him. Yeah, Eddie was hard.

"Sorry, did I go too far?" Steve asked.

"No, I went too far," Eddie gasped. "I was picturing you in a cheerleader uniform."

"Why?" Steve asked coyly.

"I was trying to figure out if I still liked women," Eddie said and tried to cool himself off.

"Oh! Oh shit, I didn't know that you didn't know!" Steve exclaimed, his eyes wide with panic.

"How could you have? I didn't tell you and I didn't fucking know. There were signs!" Eddie shrieked and then muttered, "I bet Ronnie knows."

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"Yeah. . .it was a great fucking kiss. I just I'm confused. . .women or men, men or women!" Eddie exclaimed and held up both of his hands. "Put them together. . .yeah. . .okay."

"Eddie, I'm bisexual," Steve said gently.

"You're a woman and a man?" Eddie asked. "That's fucking metal."

"No!" Steve laughed. "That's good to know that you're okay with that, too, though. It's means I'm sexually attracted to more than one gender."

"You know, I was wondering why Jeff was giving me an odd look when I was talking about David Bowie being bisexual. . .why the fuck didn't he correct me?" Eddie asked.

"Because he probably thought it was funny," Steve said.

"Asshole," Eddie said, cursing out Jeff. "I feel like such an idiot."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up, man. We're all figuring things out. I didn't even know there was a name for it until a few months ago," Steve said, taking his hand.

"But you knew," Eddie said. "Unlike me. . ."

"There's a lot of things that people don't about themselves. You get to know yourself, too, when you get to know other people. Don't call my thief an idiot like that again. . .you were just clueless," Steve said.

"What's the difference?" Eddie asked.

"Well, one feels a little bit more like Scooby Doo," Steve said. "And you're trying to solve a mystery."

"Stop getting sexier," he scowled.

"Come on, since you're still figuring it out, let's go downstairs, and we can watch the cartoon Lord of the Rings. I rented that one, too," Steve said and kissed Eddie's hand.

"I said stop it, you goddamn Disney prince," Eddie mumbled, blushing.

"Says the thief who invaded my castle," Steve winked.

"Fuuuucking, stop it," Eddie whined. "Jesus H Christ. . .by the way, your thief?"

"Yeah, no, I decided. . .I'm definitely stealing you," Steve said.

His hands were on his hips in the most bitchiest and sexiest pose ever which Eddie thought was completely unfair. He had no defense against that weapon, and it was safe to say that those hips were weapons of mass destruction because they were completely destroying Eddie and apparently have been slowly over the years. . .he just refused to admit it. 'Imagine him doing that in a cheerleading uniform,' his evil half whispered to him. Eddie shrieked.

"Let's go watch the movie!" Eddie yelled.

He grabbed Steve’s hand and yanked him down the stairs, Steve laughing all the way. They settled in to watching the movie, with Eddie throwing caution to the wind and tossing his legs over Steve’s. Watching it with him did help him relax and enjoy the comfort of someone who wanted Eddie Munson close to them, who didn't fucking draw the pitchforks the minute he broke into his house. No, in fact, Steve Harrington fucking kissed him. This beautiful asshole wanted to get closer to him and apparently not just physically intimate with him. Either Steve really did want Eddie, or he was desperate for anyone's attention, even settling for Eddie. At some point during the movie, Eddie stopped watching it and started watching Steve instead, trying desperately to figure it all out. Steve turned to him, smiling softly, his beautiful haze eyes lighting up at his attention. Yeah, he wanted Eddie "the Freak" Munson.

"Hi," Steve whispered.

"Do you have a death wish?" Eddie blurted out.

"A little bit, why?" Steve frowned.

"No reason," Eddie said and turned back to the movie.

After the movie was over, they talked about in detail for a while with the conversation leading to Steve ranting that all jocks are nerds, that they always have been, and he didn't understand why they went after other fellow nerds. He talked a lot about statistics and math. . .Holy shit, Steve Harrington was good at math. It was the hottest thing he's ever witnessed. It led to Eddie straddling him and kissing the daylights out of him. Eddie had to pull back before he developed another problem, though. He cupped Steve’s face, enjoying the way the other man looked utterly kissed out because of him.

"So, have you figured some things out?" Steve asked softly, rubbing Eddie's back as he continued to straddle his lap.

"I'm like you," Eddie said. "Definitely."

"There's no pressure. . ." Steve said.

"I know there isn't," Eddie laughed. "Bisexual. . .it feels right to me. For me. Just like you do. . .by the way, I'm totally judging you for falling for a man who broke into your goddamn house."

"Says the man who broke into said house and gave himself away by watching a movie with me," Steve laughed.

"Touche," Eddie cackled and pressed his forehead. "If I don't leave now, I might stay forever."

"That would be a shame," Steve said with a grin.

Steve walked Eddie to the door and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. Eddie could still feel the presence of his lips even when he got home. He felt like he was forgetting something, but he couldn't remember what. He didn't remember it until the next day when he found that someone had broken into his van and placed a package with some jewelry and a note.

To My Thief:

Forget something? Well, I hope you aren't so busy thinking about me that you forget to call.

Your prince,

Steve

His number was down below. Eddie smiled and clutched the note to his chest. Yeah, things were looking up for him. 86 was definitely his year.

[vinnyvamppp]

I am humbly asking for more Amazon reader x mark whenever you have the time

your fics are so good I can't even😭🤚🏼🩷

Survival of the Weakest (Me)

Note: Honey, I JUST scraped the bottom of my requests. Another Amazon/Alien reader fic coming up! Honestly, I'm having a bit of writers block having to write smut regularly, so were changing it up a bit.

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Smut, Improper Use of Powers, Plantary Exploration, Changes to The Plot For Convenience, Mark Fighting For His Life, Explicit Language, etc. (Previous Part: She Threw Me-- Then Kissed Me!)

Synopsis: Since your last mishap, you both enjoy some domestic comfort until Cecil returns with a mission—one that only stirs trouble.

Mark Grayson/Invincible x Alien/Amazonian!Reader

Word Count: 2,183

Cecil was generous enough to give you and Mark a short break before your next mission. He called it a “decompression period.” You’re pretty sure it was just so he wouldn’t have to deal with another building collapse before 9 AM. This was a reward more than anything. Having many instances after venturing into domesticated couple territory. Mark refuses to admit he gets cold easily.

You found out the truth when you woke up one night to find him curled up entirely around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, arms locked around your waist like a vice. You blinked groggily. “Are you leeching warmth off me?” Mark, half-asleep, just grumbled. “Shut up. ‘M comfortable.” You smirked in the dark. “Mark Grayson, Earth's greatest hero, is needy?” He groaned into your neck, tightening his grip. “Don’t ruin this.” You laughed softly but didn’t push him away. Honestly? You liked it too. Sparring now became an act of foreplay. Mark liked to act like he hated sparring with you. “This is just you throwing me around for an hour,” he complained one evening as you stretched before your match. You grinned. “You say that like you don’t like it.” Mark scowled, but the faint pink in his ears betrayed him. “I—That’s not the point.” You hummed, stepping closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

“What is the point, then?” Mark swallowed thickly. “I—I dunno. Winning?” You smirked. “Oh, Mark.” Your hand trailed lower, grazing his stomach before you pulled away. “You’re not winning.” The frustrated noise he made was so satisfying. You’re starting to think he loses on purpose now to get a happy ending. The main problem is that you and Mark have vastly different definitions of “decompression.”

Currently, Mark is watching you from across the room, wide-eyed, as you casually lift the entire couch—Mark still sitting on it—to vacuum underneath. “Uh.” He clutches the armrest as the couch hovers midair. “You know most people just… move the furniture, right?” You give him a deadpan look.

“That’s inefficient.”

“You just suplexed the couch.”

“And?”

Mark sighs, running a hand down his face. “You are the earthquake.” Just as you’re about to drop the couch back down (gently… probably), the door slams open.

Enter Debbie Grayson.

You like Debbie. She’s intelligent, perceptive, and has the uncanny ability to make Mark panic with just a well-timed stare. Right now, she’s holding a bag of groceries and blinking at the scene before her—her son, sitting stiffly on a levitating couch, his superpowered girlfriend holding it with one arm like it's a gym weight.

“…Am I interrupting something?” she asks, entirely too amused.

“Nope,” Mark says quickly, before you can make it worse. You lower the couch carefully and cross your arms. “Mark was just questioning my methods.” Debbie gives Mark a knowing look. “Oh, honey. That’s your first mistake.” Mark groans, leaning back into the couch. “Oh my god, not you too.” Debbie just pats his shoulder and winks at you. “Good. Keep him on his toes.”

You definitely like Debbie. Especially since her husband was Omni-Man, just who would be a better parent for your boyfriend? After a week of domestic madness (which included Mark trying to teach you to cook—never again), Cecil calls you both in for a mission. “This one should be relatively simple,” he starts. Mark and you exchange a look. Last time Cecil said that, Mark almost got vaporized. Cecil sighs, clearly reading your expressions. “I mean it this time. It’s a diplomatic mission. You’re going to a planet called K’thara—highly advanced, warrior-based society, kind of like Themyscira, but, y’know, planet-sized.”

Mark raises an eyebrow. “And they need us, because?”

“They just entered an alliance with Earth,” Cecil explains. “They want to meet some of our champions—specifically ones that align with their, uh, values.” Mark blinks. “Values?” You exhale sharply, already seeing where this is going. “They believe in strength. Only strength.” Cecil nods. “Exactly. Which is why I’m sending you two.” You glance at Mark. Mark glances at you.

Oh. This is going to be hilarious. The K’tharans are… intense. The planet itself is stunning—mountains that stretch into violet skies, rivers that glow under twin moons. The people? They look like they were sculpted from stone, every single one of them built like a walking, talking weapon. And they love you. Mark? Not so much.

You’ve been here for three hours, and they’ve already tried to challenge Mark to seven fights. “You sure this is a diplomatic mission?” he mutters, dodging yet another warrior trying to throw him into an arena. You smirk. “They respect you. They just want to see how much.” Mark groans. “I feel so respected.” It’s all going relatively smoothly—until the feast.

One of the high-ranking warriors, a woman with armor made of what looks like dragon scales, leans in and studies you. “You are mated?” she asks. Mark nearly chokes on his drink. You answer for him. “Yes.” The warrior nods approvingly. “And you have claimed his seed?” Mark definitely chokes. “I—what?” The warrior frowns. “You have not bred yet?” Cecil is going to kill you both.

Mark is mid-coughing fit, so you decide to poke the bear. You hum thoughtfully, glancing at Mark with slow amusement. “It’s a work in progress.” Mark whips his head toward you, eyes wide with betrayal. “Wha—what?!” His innocent demeanor is a distinct contrast from in the bedroom, its nearly humorous. The warrior nods sagely. “Ah. You are waiting for a battle first.” You smirk. “Something like that.” Mark drags a hand down his face, looking like he wants to melt into the floor. “Oh my god.” You lean closer, voice dropping so only he can hear. “Perhaps we should have a match of our own when we return. K’tharan rules, of course.” Mark blinks rapidly. “Are those… the rules where the winner gets to claim the loser?” You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “Maybe.” Mark swallows hard. “…I don’t know if I should be excited or terrified.” You just grin. “Both.”

After being thoroughly embarrassed at dinner, Mark somehow agrees to a fight with a K’tharan warrior. Ten minutes later, you’re standing over Mark’s sprawled-out body in the middle of the arena. He’s still breathing. Barely catching the wind that was knocked out of him.

The K’tharans are impressed—he lasted longer than most outsiders. But when he groans, tilting his head up at you with dazed, half-conscious eyes, he just mumbles: “…This was a bad idea.” You crouch down, smirking. “Told you.” He grins weakly. “I still think you like seeing me like this.” You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “Maybe a little.” Mark sighs, letting his head fall back.  “Yeah. Thought so.”

At least this time, he’s the one who got thrown through a wall. Not to mention, seeing him battered and bruised was a new type of eye candy.

Cecil watches as you and Mark stand in front of him, Mark still nursing a bruised rib. After a long pause, he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Okay. What happened?” Mark shifts awkwardly. “Uh… Culture shock?”

Cecil gives you both the flattest stare imaginable.

“You destroyed another alien embassy.” You shrug. “To be fair, it was Mark’s fault this time.” Mark scoffs. “My fault? You encouraged it!” Cecil groans. “I can’t do this. I cannot do this.” He waves you both off. “Just—just go. I don’t even want to look at you right now.”

Mark brightens. “So no punishment?”

“Oh, no. You’re grounded. Both of you.” You blink. “You can ground a superhero?” Cecil glares. “You wanna find out?” You exchange a look with Mark. Then, wisely, you both decide to make yourselves very scarce. Another successful mission. Kind of. You stretch languidly, feeling the pleasant ache settle into your muscles as you lie sprawled across Mark’s chest. His arm is draped lazily over your waist, his breath still slightly uneven. The training mat beneath you is ruined, scuffed with deep imprints from where your little “match” had gotten… out of hand.

Mark exhales a very satisfied sigh, grinning up at the ceiling. “Okay. Yeah. That was definitely worth getting my ass kicked for.” You smirk, tracing idle patterns along his bare chest. “You lasted longer than I expected.” Mark turns his head, raising an eyebrow. “I dunno if that’s a compliment or an insult.” You hum, pretending to think about it. “Both.” He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “God, you love making me suffer.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, Mark.” You lean down, lips brushing against his ear. “I haven’t even started yet.” His breath hitches. You grin, satisfied, rolling off him and stretching again. His eyes were just barely tearing away as he watched the fat of your breasts rise. Mark just lays there for a moment, staring at the ceiling like he’s having some sort of existential crisis.

Then—

BZZT!

Mark groans, fumbling for his communicator. He flips it open, already dreading whatever’s coming. “Yeah?” Cecil’s very unimpressed voice crackles through the speaker.

“No, Mark.” A heavy sigh. “You two are officially grounded.” Mark blinks. “Wait—what? Again?!” You raise an eyebrow, watching in amusement as he struggles to sit up. Cecil continues. “Do you have any idea how expensive that facility is? And yet, somehow, somehow, you and your girlfriend—again—managed to destroy it without even being on a mission.” Mark winces. “Okay, first of all—”

“Nope! Not listening.” Cecil cuts him off. “You’re both banned from the training facility indefinitely. Do you even know how long it took to fix it the last time?” Mark glances around at the deep cracks in the mat, the wall dented from where his back definitely hit it too hard. “Uh…” Cecil sighs so hard it sounds like he aged another decade. “You both have two weeks of mandatory non-super work.”

Mark’s jaw drops. “Non-super—wait, what does that even mean?” Cecil’s voice is flat. “Paperwork.” You blink. “You can’t be serious.” “Oh, I am.” Cecil practically radiates smug satisfaction. “You break my facility? You file every single report from the past two months. Welcome to hell, kids.” Mark stares at his communicator, horrified. “Cecil, please—”

Cecil hangs up.

Silence.

Mark flops back onto the mat, covering his face. “Oh my god. We’re actually grounded.” You exhale, lying back beside him. “…This is your fault.” He gapes at you. “My fault?! You were literally on top of me!” You smirk. “Exactly.” Mark groans dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes. “This is my villain origin story.” You just laugh, rolling onto your side and nudging him. “Come on, Grayson. What’s a little suffering compared to the privilege of losing to me?”

Mark grumbles something under his breath about never winning anything, but you can see the small smile tugging at his lips.

Two weeks of hell or not… it was totally worth it.

The next morning, Mark is dead. Not literally. But if someone were to find his limp, exhausted body sprawled across his bed, they would absolutely assume you killed him. His limbs don’t work. His soul doesn’t work. His entire existence is currently being held together by sheer willpower and the soft, warm sheets that he physically cannot move from. He groans, barely managing to tilt his head toward you. “You… ruined me.”

You stretch beside him, completely unbothered, looking very pleased with yourself. “I warned you, Grayson.” Mark grunts, throwing an arm over his face like a man who has seen things. “I thought you were being dramatic.” You smirk. “And now?” Mark just makes a wheeze of a sound, which you’re pretty sure is all he’s capable of at the moment.

You roll onto your side, tracing a slow, teasing hand down his bare chest, watching him shiver despite his clear exhaustion. “I don’t know… You did hold your own for a while.” Mark cracks one eye open, looking at you like you just suggested he fight Battle Beast again. “A while? A while?! I blacked out at least twice.” You hum thoughtfully. “Then maybe I should’ve gone easier on you.” His hand barely twitches before his strength returns, gripping your wrist. “No.” He exhales, staring at the ceiling in exhausted surrender. “Never. Ever. Hold back on me.”

Your smirk softens, something warm settling in your chest. For all of his complaining, for all of his wheezing, Mark likes this. He likes you. Not just the softness, not just the intimacy—he likes the challenge. He likes that you don’t treat him like glass, that you don’t make him feel like he has to be gentle all the time.

And he stares at you as if you’re a goddess, features carved by the hands of the universe. His muse, even. Long, dark curls cascade down your back like a waterfall, your eyes deep and enigmatic, and the streaming sunlight dusts freckles that dust her flesh that shimmer like starlight.

You hum, pressing a slow, lazy kiss against his jaw. “You’re a glutton for punishment, Grayson.” Mark groans again. “Yeah, well. I also might not be able to walk for, like, a week.” You grin. “Good thing we’re grounded.” You wouldnt admit it, but your lower back nearly had you bed ridden, he surely doubled his efforts and then some.

Then—

BZZT!

Mark lets out a noise that is almost a sob, reaching for his communicator without lifting his head. “No. Not today. I can’t. I’m dead.” Cecil’s voice crackles through the speaker. “I don’t care what excuse you’re about to give me, Mark. You and your girlfriend have twice the paperwork now. Get up.”

Mark actually groans. You stretch luxuriously, completely ignoring the way he’s suffering beside you. “Guess you have to get up, Grayson.” He flops onto his stomach, groaning dramatically into the mattress. You laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.” Mark doesn’t move. You raise an eyebrow. “Mark.”

“Mmmpf.” He replies, so you poke his side. Nothing. You smirk, leaning down to his ear. “Fine. If you’re too sore, I guess that means I win again.” Mark’s eyes snap open. “Oh hell no.” He groans loudly, rolling onto his side like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done, before staggering up to his feet. He wobbles and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. Mark glares at you. “Say nothing.” You do as asked but the smug look on your face says it all. He is never living this down.

BONUS: Later, at GDA Headquarters…

Cecil watches as Mark and you slump into your seats, Mark looking especially wrecked.

After a long, scrutinizing pause, Cecil pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

“…You know what? No. I don’t wanna know.”

Mark just groans, dropping his head onto the desk.

And you? Your arms crossed over your chest, as you silently grimace.

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

[tokkiwrites]

"Summer nights like this had a way of unfolding secrets. The kind of nights when the air hung heavy with pine and smoke, the moon glinting like a shy voyeur against the rippling surface of the lake. This wasn’t your first time at the Washington family cabin, but it was the first time that everything felt different. No parents. No rules. And, worst of all, no escape from the fact that Josh Washington was here, and he wasn’t yours."

summary: Your best friend invites you to their annual summer trip to the family cabin in the mountains—something you've done before. But this year is different: no parents. After years of secretly harboring feelings for your best friend’s brother, Josh, you decide this is the perfect chance to finally confess.

tags: best friend's brother!joshua washington x f!reader, childhood crush, both josh and reader like each other but act oblivious (josh more than reader), reader is low key obsessed with josh, minor age gap, alternative universe where Hannah and Beth are still alive, some angst, p in v (protected), virginity loss (reader), kind of fluff, josh talks you through it (yummy!!), fingering (f receiving), idiots in love 🫶🏻

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ tokkis note 𑁯 ✿ hey... how yall doing... the rami malek fever is so real i had to write something. so i did. 6,45k words to be more exact, teehee! i dont quite know what this is, but i had fun writing it, like it got me giggling and shit so yeah 💀 if you see any typos close your eyes, forget you saw anything. enjoy!

7th grade. That was when you stopped thinking of Josh Washington as just Hannah’s annoying older brother. Between the way he stayed behind after soccer practice to teach you how to kick a penalty and the smirk he threw over his shoulder, like he knew you were watching him. The first time when you actually considered Josh not being a jerk like other boys. In 9th grade, he became the hottest guy you had ever met. or maybe you just got so used to his face that you didn't want to look at other boys. Fast forward to now, you're starting college in one month, and things have changed in a way. maybe for the worstㅡ because he's all you can think about.

“You’re staring again.” Hannah’s voice snaps you out of your daze. She’s grinning, nudging your ribs as the two of you sit on the couch in the cabin. “You’re so obvious.” You blink and turn toward her, cheeks heating. “I—I wasn’t staring!”

“Oh, you were,” she teases, popping a chip into her mouth. “What is it this time? The hair? The jawline? Or did you finally notice his arms? I mean, have you seen him chop firewood? That’s peak Josh.”

“Hannah!” You hiss, smacking her arm. She only laughs, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. But she’s not wrong. Somewhere between your senior year of high school and now, Josh had gone from the boy who made stupid puns to the man who could take your breath away just by walking into a room. Unfortunately, it seems like he doesn’t notice.

“Still no move, huh?” Hannah says, lowering her voice. “You’re not seriously going to spend another summer in silent agony, are you?” You sigh. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Josh, remember me? The girl who used to wear braces and cried when I lost my retainer? Cool. Wanna make out?’” Hannah snorts so loudly that Beth, sitting nearby with her book, looks over with a frown. “What are you two laughing about now?”

“Nothing,” you and Hannah say in unison, though she’s still stifling giggles. Beth looks at you both, arching a brow. “Sure,” she says, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. She returns to her book, leaving you free to squirm under Hannah’s knowing gaze.

Josh doesn’t stick around to witness your humiliation. He’s already disappeared into the kitchen, and the sound of the fridge opening and the clinking of bottles is the only thing tethering you to the moment. “Do something this trip,” Hannah murmurs, leaning close so Beth doesn’t overhear. “Seriously. You’ve been mooning over him since forever. And now—” she waves a hand at the open windows, the twilight stretching wide like a stage—“this is your moment.”

“Hannah, it’s not like that,” you say, but even you don’t believe it. Not when your heart skips every time Josh is within ten feet of you. “It’s exactly like that,” she shoots back, voice low but insistent. “He likes you, too, you know.” You look at her sharply. “What?”

“Oh, don’t give me that face,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s just... Josh. Oblivious as hell.”

You’re about to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, that there’s no way Joshua Washington— carefree, clever, confident Josh, could ever see you like that. But before you can, his voice carries from the kitchen. “You two plotting something?” Your breath hitches, and Hannah, ever the instigator, grins. “Maybe,” she calls back. Josh reappears, beer in hand, and leans against the doorway. His green eyes flick between the two of you, and for a moment, you swear they linger on you. “Well, don’t blow up the cabin,” he says with a crooked smile before heading out onto the porch.

That night, the cabin settled into quiet. Beth retires early, Hannah tucked away in the room you’re sharing, and yet you can’t sleep. Your thoughts swirl—images of Josh’s hands, the way his eyes looked into yours, his voice, smooth and teasing, the way his smile felt like a hook tugging you somewhere you shouldn’t want to go.

The room feels suffocating, the summer heat pressing against your skin. You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, grabbing a towel and slipping into your swimsuit. The lake isn’t far. You’ve been there a hundred times before, but tonight, it feels like it’s waiting just for you. The water is cold when you first step in, but it’s a welcome relief, a shock that clears your head. You wade in deeper, letting the towel drop onto the shore, and soon, the swimsuit feels like too much. You hesitate, glancing back toward the cabin, but it’s silent and still. “Just you and the lake,” you whisper to yourself. The swimsuit peels away, and the water envelops you like a second skin. You float, staring up at the sky, letting the cool liquid carry the weight of your thoughts.

But then a voice shatters the stillness.

“Didn’t take you for a midnight swimmer.”

You jolt, water sloshing as you whirl toward the shore. Josh is standing there, hands in his pockets, his head cocked in that infuriatingly casual way he always manages. “Josh!” You shriek, sinking deeper into the water. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, stepping closer to the water’s edge. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Something like that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning even as the water cools your skin. His eyes sweep over the lake, lingering just long enough to make your heart race. “You always were full of surprises,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you joining?” you ask before you can think better of it. The question hangs in the air, bold and daring, and for a moment, you think you’ve scared him off. But then he grins.

“Alright.”

You watch, half in awe, as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint trail of scars along his ribs. He doesn’t stop there, shucking off his jeans until he’s left in his boxers.

The water ripples as he drops in, and suddenly, he’s closer than you expected, the space between you charged with something you can’t quite name. “This is nice,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. You nod, the words caught in your throat. “Do you ever feel like...” He trails off, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Like there’s something just out of reach? Like you want to grab it, but you’re scared of what happens if you do?”

Your heart thuds. “All the time.” His gaze shifts to you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something—something that will change everything. Instead, he leans back, letting himself float. “Good thing we’ve got the whole summer,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. But one thing is clear: you’ll spend every moment of this summer trying to pull him closer.

The next morning, the cabin feels alive with the quiet rustle of summer. Birds trill in the trees, and sunlight pours through the open windows, a golden invitation to start the day. Hannah is already on the deck with a cup of coffee, scrolling on her phone when you step out. “You’re up early,” she says, not looking up. You shrug, trying to hide how restless you’d been all night after what happened at the lake. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She raises a brow but doesn’t press. “Josh is down at the dock,” she says, nodding toward the lake. “Probably sulking. You know how he gets.”

You hesitate. “Why’s he sulking?”

She snorts. “Because the rest of the group isn’t getting here until tomorrow. You’d think one day without his entourage wouldn’t kill him.” You glance toward the lake. the memory of last night. Josh’s quiet words, the way the moonlight danced in his eyes, it's still fresh in your mind. “You should go,” Hannah says, smirking now. “Cheer him up. Or stare at him some more. Whatever works.”

“Hannah!” But she’s already gone, slipping back into the cabin and leaving you with no choice but to head toward the dock.

Josh is sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, his feet dangling in the water. The air smells like cedar and the faint tang of sunscreen. for a moment, you almost turn back. But then he glances over his shoulder and sees you. “Morning,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Hey,” you say, stepping onto the dock and sitting a few feet away. For a while, neither of you speak. The lake stretches out before you, endless and still, and it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you.

“Big day ahead of us,” Josh says eventually, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Yeah,” you reply, matching his smile. “So many exciting activities. Staring at trees. Staring at water. Staring at each other.” He laughs, and the sound is warm and unexpected. “Careful. I might think you’re obsessed with me.” Your stomach flips, but you keep your voice light. “Who says I’m not?”

Josh looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said too much. But instead of teasing, his expression softens. “I don’t get you sometimes,” he says quietly.

“What do you mean?” He shrugs, kicking at the water. “You’re just...different. Not like everyone else.” oh boy. “Good different or bad different?” you ask, your heart in your throat. Josh doesn’t answer right away. His gaze shifts to the endless forest, and when he finally speaks, his voice pangs through you.

“Good,” he says. "Definitely good.”

The rest of the day is a blur of lazy activities—helping Beth organize the kitchen, listening to Hannah’s playlist on the deck, and avoiding Josh just enough to keep your heart from imploding. By sunset, the air is thick with the anticipation of the group’s arrival tomorrow. Hannah flops onto the couch beside you, phone in hand. “Sam says they’re leaving first thing in the morning,” she says. “So, enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

“Quiet?” Beth calls from the kitchen, laughing. “Have you met us?” Hannah rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Tomorrow it’s going to be chaos. Jess and Emily bickering, Chris and Ashley pretending they’re not totally in love, Matt trying to keep the peace...and then there’s Josh.”

“What about Josh?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Hannah gives you a look. “You tell me.”

That night, you find yourself back at the lake, drawn by the same restless energy that kept you up the night before. You don’t plan on skinny dipping again—it feels too risky with everyone around—but the water calls to you anyway, soothing and eternal.

And maybe, just maybe, Josh feels the same right now.

You’re sitting on the shore, toes dipping into the cool water when you hear footsteps behind you. “Couldn’t sleep again?” You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. “I could say the same to you,” you reply, glancing back. Josh sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, and the warmth of him is enough to set your skin buzzing. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he says after a while.

“What is?”

“Being back here. Without... you know. Adults. Rules.” You nod, the weight of his words settling over you. “Feels different.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Makes you think about stuff.”

“Like what?” you ask, heart pounding.

Josh doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he picks up a stone and skips it across the water. One, two, three perfect skips before it sinks. “Like what happens next,” he says finally. “For all of us. Feels like everything’s about to change.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So, instead, you reach for your own stone, throwing it as hard as you can. It skips once before plunking into the water. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and figure it out,” you say, keeping your voice light.

Josh looks at you, his eyes shadowed and searching, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something. what you want to hear, maybe. something important. But instead, he smiles, that same lopsided grin that’s been haunting your dreams for years. “Good,” he says.

“I’d miss you otherwise.”

The cabin feels too small the moment the others arrive. It’s a blur of bodies, laughter, and chaos as the others spill into the space, dragging in bags, cooler boxes, and enough energy to wake the dead. It’s not that you mind them—you’ve known most of Josh’s friends for years, but something about the way the cabin hums now feels different. The tight, intimate bubble you’d shared with Josh, Hannah, and Beth is gone, replaced by noise and the easy rhythm of their group. You feel...adrift, to say the least. And watching Josh slip seamlessly back into his role as the charismatic center of attention only makes it worse.

By the time night falls, the cabin is alive with music, the sharp pop of bottle caps, and the low buzz of conversation. You find yourself perched in a corner of the living room, a half-empty drink in hand, watching the others like a ghost at your own party.

Josh is at the center of it all, as always. He’s standing near the couch, laughing at something Sam said, and the sound is enough to send your stomach twisting into knots. Sam, of course, is radiant—effortlessly pretty in her cropped sweatshirt, her hair catching the light like spun gold. She’s animated, gesturing with her hands, and every time Josh leans closer to hear her, you feel like the room tilts off its axis. “Hey,” Hannah says, sliding in next to you with a knowing look. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie, taking a sip of your drink. Hannah snorts. “Subtle.” You glance at her, frowning. “What?”

“You know what,” she says, tilting her head toward Josh and Sam. “Seriously, if you’re going to keep looking at him like that, you might as well do something about it.”

“I’m not looking at him,” you protest weakly. Hannah rolls her eyes. “Sure. And I’m not your best friend.” She pauses, watching you for a moment before her expression softens. “Look, you’re not exactly subtle when it comes to Josh. But for what it’s worth? I think he’s just as clueless about how he feels as you are.” Her words settle into your chest, a mix of hope and frustration, but before you can respond, Jess calls out from the other side of the room.

“Hey! Who’s up for Spin the Bottle?” You couldn’t escape it, let's be honest.

You don’t know how it happens, but somehow, you end up in the circle. Maybe it’s the drinking, or maybe it’s Hannah giving you a pointed nudge as everyone sits on the floor, but before you know it, you’re sandwiched between her and Ashley, your pulse pounding in your ears. Josh is directly across from you, his green eyes bright in the firelight. Sam is to his left, Jess to his right, and the knot in your stomach tightens. “Okay, ground rules,” Jess says, grinning wickedly. “No chickening out. You spin, you kiss. Period.”

There’s a chorus of laughter and a few groans, but no one protests. Chris goes first, spinning the bottle with dramatic flair. It lands on Ashley, who blushes furiously but leans in to kiss him. The group erupts in cheers and wolf whistles, and you can’t help but smile despite yourself.

One by one, the bottle makes its rounds. Jess and Emily kiss, Matt kisses Ashley despite him protesting, and eventually, it’s Josh’s turn. He spins the bottle with a lazy flick of his wrist, the glass neck twirling endlessly before it slows, stops, and lands on Sam.

Your stomach drops.

“Oh, come on,” Jess says, clapping her hands. “This is gonna be good.” Josh raises an eyebrow, glancing at Sam. She shrugs, smiling, and leans forward.

You can’t look away.

Their lips meet in a brief, playful kiss—nothing dramatic, nothing earth-shattering. but it’s enough. Enough to make your chest ache, your fingers tighten around the drink in your hand. When they pull apart, everyone cheers again, and Josh laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your turn,” he says, handing the bottle to Sam. But you don’t care. You’re too busy swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your vision blurs at the edges.

Later, when the game ends and the group begins to disperse, you slip outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the suffocating cabin. The lake stretches out before you, dark and endless, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe.

“You okay?” The voice startles you, and you turn to see Josh standing there, hands in his pockets. “I’m fine,” you say quickly, brushing at your eyes. He frowns, stepping closer. “You sure? You looked kind of...I don’t know, off.” You force a laugh, crossing your arms. “I’m fine, Josh. Really.” For a moment, he just looks at you, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says softly. The words hit harder than they should, and before you can stop yourself, you snap. “What do you want me to say, Josh? That I didn’t love watching you kiss Sam? That it didn’t suck seeing you two all cozy earlier?” His eyes widen, caught off guard, and for a second, you regret everything. But then his expression shifts—something softer, something almost...guilty.

“I didn’t...” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to...” You shake your head, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “Forget it. It’s not your fault.” Josh hesitates, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at him, your heart aching at the look in his eyes—conflicted, searching. “I know,” you say quietly. “It’s fine. Really.” But it’s not fine. And as you turn back toward the cabin, leaving Josh standing by the lake, you can’t help but wonder if this summer is going to break you before it’s over.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the cabin in hues of orange and gold. The group was scattered—Jess and Emily were bickering over sunscreen, Chris and Ashley were curled up on the deck talking in low tones, and Sam was by the lake with Hannah, skipping stones. It was all too perfect, too idyllic, except for the hollow ache in your chest.

Josh had been avoiding you all day.

It wasn’t like he was being obvious about it—Josh had a knack for slipping into conversations, filling the room with his sharp wit and charm like nothing was wrong. But you felt it. In the way his eyes would dart past you when you entered a room, the way his laugh seemed just a little louder when you weren’t around.

And maybe you were just as bad, lurking in the corners, pretending not to notice how often he touched Sam’s arm when they talked.

Written across your heart was all of your will to make him see—make him realize there was no in-between. There was either you and him, or the hollow echo of “I’m so sorry for your loss.” And wasn’t that what it felt like already? Like mourning something that never got the chance to live?

But it was his fault, wasn’t it?

For making you want him so much that your heart bled angel tears. For teaching your lips to sing sweet once-upon-a-times about a boy who was all sharp edges and hidden softness, who didn’t realize how much space he took up in your world.

By late afternoon, you found yourself back at the lake. It had become your refuge, the only place where you could breathe without the weight of Josh’s absence pressing against your ribs. Your toes skimmed the water’s edge, the cool ripples kissing your skin. You weren’t thinking about anything in particular—just the endless horizon, the way the light danced on the surface of the lake. But then a voice broke through your thoughts.

“You hiding out here now?” You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. Again.

“Maybe I am,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. Josh sighed, stepping closer. You could feel the heat of him at your back, the way his presence wrapped around you even when you didn’t want it to. “Look,” he said finally, his voice softer. “About the other night...” You turned to face him, cutting him off. “It’s fine, Josh. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes—those endless green eyes—searched yours, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “No, you don’t,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been, right?”

Josh flinched, like the word “friends” was a physical blow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly. For a moment, you believed. But then you shook your head, stepping away. “You didn’t, Josh,” you said. “I’m fine.”

That night, the group decided to make a bonfire by the lake. The air was thick with laughter, the sharp scent of burning wood mingling with the sweetness of roasted marshmallows.

You sat with Hannah and Beth, listening as Chris tried to tell a ghost story that kept getting interrupted by Jess’s sarcastic commentary. Josh was across the fire, sitting next to Sam. He wasn’t touching her, wasn’t even looking at her, but it didn’t matter.

Your hair cascaded like Niagara under the firelight, your lips so soft—even if he had never felt them under his. Josh couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes glowed like an eternity, and your voice—when you laughed at something - it was the only antidote he’d ever had for all those sleepless nights.

He didn’t know how to fix this.

Didn’t know how to reach across the chasm that had opened between you since that stupid game of Spin the Bottle. And maybe it was selfish—maybe it was cruel—but he wanted you to look at him the way you used to. Like he was something worth believing in.

The fire burned low as the group began to drift off, one by one. Eventually, it was just you and Josh, the silence between you heavy and unspoken. “Shouldn’t you be with Sam?” you asked, your tone biting. Josh frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, standing. “I’m going to bed.” But before you could leave, his hand shot out, catching your wrist. “Wait,” he said, his voice urgent. You froze, refusing to look at him. “Can we just—” He hesitated, his grip loosening. “Can we talk?” You pulled away, your chest tightening. “Not tonight, Josh.” He didn’t stop you this time, and as you walked back to the cabin, you felt the weight of his gaze on your back.

Neither of you slept that night.

The stars were muted behind a veil of clouds, the air heavy with the promise of rain. The cabin was quieter now. Days of forced smiles and lingering silences had worn you thin, and tonight, you found yourself outside again, pacing the gravel path that led to the lake.

You didn’t mean to cry.

It started as an ache in your chest, spreading to your throat until the tears came unbidden, hot, and relentless. You wiped at them furiously, hating the way they betrayed you, but the anger only made it worse.

How could he be so blind?

You heard footsteps behind you, familiar and deliberate. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Josh. “Go away,” you said, your voice raw.

He didn’t.

“Hey,” he said softly, his tone careful, like he was afraid you’d shatter if he spoke too loud. “What’s wrong?” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the stillness. “You really have to ask?” Josh shifted, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if this is about—”

“It’s not about Sam!” you snapped, whirling to face him. “It’s about you, Josh. It’s always about you.” His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his green eyes. “What are you talking about?” You threw your hands up, frustration spilling over. “Do you know what it’s like? To feel like you’re screaming into the void, hoping, praying, that someone will hear you? To love someone so much that it hurts, only for them to act like you don’t even exist?” Josh’s expression shifted, the confusion replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“I—”

“You don’t get it,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “You never have. And maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I should’ve said something years ago, but I didn’t, and now... now I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m suffocating.” The tears came harder now, and you didn’t bother to stop them. Josh took a step closer, his jaw tight, but he didn’t speak. “Say something,” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Anything.”

He didn’t.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until you shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Of course,” you said, turning away. “Why did I even expect—” But before you could take another step, his hand caught your arm, spinning you back toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft.

It was desperate, messy, like he was trying to say all the words he couldn’t find through the press of his lips. His hands cradled your face, grounding you even as the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. For a moment, you froze, too stunned to move. But then your hands found his shirt, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m sorry I made you feel like this.” Your chest ached, the anger draining from your body as quickly as it had come. “Josh,” you started, but he cut you off, his green eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know I don’t. But you’re all I think about. You always have been.” The words broke something in you, and the tears came again, but this time, they weren’t born of anger or frustration. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Because I’m a coward,” he admitted, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Because I’m an idiot who didn’t realize what he had until he almost lost it.” You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his hands still framing your face. “I can’t.” You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you did the only thing you could: you kissed him.

This time, it was softer, slower, filled with all the things you couldn’t put into words. And when you pulled back, his lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. “Does this mean you’ll stop avoiding me?” you asked, your voice shaking with a mix of laughter and tears. Josh chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You'll start wishing I would."

The first low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as you and Josh lingered, the sound so faint at first that you barely noticed it. But then it came again, louder this time, accompanied by a flash of light on the horizon, pulling you both from your kiss. You glanced up at the clouds gathering above, your chest tightening. Josh followed your gaze, a grin tugging at his lips. “You afraid of a little rain?” Before you could respond, the heavens opened up. The rain came in a sudden, torrential downpour, drenching you both in seconds. You yelped, the cold droplets soaking through your clothes as Josh let out a startled laugh. “Come on!” he shouted over the sound of the rain, grabbing your hand.

He led you up the path, past the cabin and deeper into the woods where a small gazebo stood, tucked beneath a canopy of trees. The structure was simple but charming, with its whitewashed beams and ivy creeping up the sides. Inside was a weathered but cozy couch, draped with soft blankets that someone—Hannah, probably—had left there.

You stumbled under the shelter just as another crack of thunder split the sky. The sound was deafening, but you couldn’t help laughing as you leaned against one of the beams, rainwater dripping from your hair and clothes. Josh stood across from you, his hands on his hips, his shirt clinging to his chest in a way that made your heart race all over again. His hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to his forehead, and yet he looked unfairly good—smiling at you like this was the best night of his life.

“Well,” he said, shaking water from his hair, “so much for staying dry.” You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You think?” He stepped closer, his grin softening into something warmer. “Here.” He reached for one of the blankets on the couch, shaking it out before draping it over your shoulders. His fingers brushed your arms as he adjusted it, and you shivered, though it wasn’t from the rain. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

Josh sat beside you on the couch, his arm resting along the back as he leaned into the cushions. The rain pattered against the roof of the gazebo, a rhythmic hum that filled the silence between you. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice low, “I kind of like this.” You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Getting caught in a thunderstorm?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “Being here. With you.” You looked away, focusing on the rain streaking down the gazebo’s wooden beams. “Josh...” “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. You felt his hand brush against yours, tentative, like he was testing the waters. “Look at me.” You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. The rain softened the world around you, muting everything except the warmth in his gaze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was just the two of you, sitting close on that old couch, the rain falling like a curtain around the gazebo. You could feel it, that familiar warmth creeping up within you, curling in your stomach every time Josh was near. Your heart thuds as his rough palm drags itself up your exposed thigh. Before you could stop yourself, the words rushed out of your mouth. “I’m a virgin!” Your face flushed a deep crimson as soon as the words left your lips, and you immediately covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

Josh froze for a beat, his hand still resting on your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t dare look up. And then, to your surprise, you heard him laugh softly, the sound low and warm. “Wait... really?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement but also something softer, something affectionate.

You peeked up at him, still hiding half of your face behind your hands, the flush on your cheeks deepening. “Yeah, really,” you mumbled, not sure whether you were embarrassed or relieved to finally say it out loud. Josh’s grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned a little closer. “I gotta admit, that’s a little... surprising.” He paused, his tone teasing but gentle. “But, hey, no rushing." Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of him being your first. You nodded, your eyes searching his face, still unsure whether to be embarrassed or... maybe a little proud?

His hand gently moved from your thigh to rest on your knee, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, reassuring circles. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said quietly, his voice soft. “I'm not trying anything unless you want to.” You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and found only kindness there— no teasing, no judgment, just understanding. And somehow, that made everything feel a little easier. "I do want to... you know.." The words won't come out. “Still,” you muttered, “it’s... kind of awkward, don’t you think?” Josh chuckled, that warm smile never leaving his face. “Don't think so” he said, his voice low and serious now, “if you’re gonna share something like that with anyone, I’m glad it could be me."

You nod, scooting closer to him, palms now flush on his chest. his eyes scan your every inch, and you try to look away, but he captures your lips into another kiss. his lips trail down to your neck with a low "can I?" And you hum, trying your best to stay quiet as you get used to the feeling.

in no time, you're under him, both entangled, half naked and out of breath. he finally pulls off your panties, tossing them to the floor as he spreads your cunt wide open with two of his fingers, and god, you looked so erotic, all shying away as he loomed over, fingers playing with your pussy. "You ever touched yourself like this before?" You nod, bottom lip captive between your teeth. "J-just a little..." Oh, god. "You're so beautiful, fuckㅡ" And he's already losing his mind. Nights of fantasizing couldn’t have prepared him for this.

placing his palm behind your knee, he lifts up your legs, laying light pecks onto the plush of your thighs, thumb now tracing down to your puffy clit. Josh starts slowly, swirling his finger and still kissing your soft flesh. "Thank you for letting me do this." tracing the entrace with his index, he pushes his finger slow and deep inside, and you arch against him. this was it. he was where all of his dreams led him to. you looked like something straight out of a 80's porno. cunningly, josh moved his finger, and before you knew it he added another one. you squeezed perfectly around his digits, the sounds you and your pussy made driving him to the brink. "You hear that?" he asks, curling up his fingers, the wet sounds amplifying. "don't think I've ever had a pussy this wet before..." you whimper ans wrigle under his hold. "Josh.."

"What? It's the truth." he chuckles, speed picking up, his other hand now flush to your lower belly. "Want you to come. Can you do that for me?" he looks up, doe eyes searching for yours, and you can already feel your body convulsing. it didn't take long for you to finally give in and gift him what he asked for, coming just from his fingers. the way you thighs squeezed together, trapping his hand between them, soft pleads dripping from your lips like honeyㅡ he was done for. you were embarrassed, to say the least, hiding your face into his shirt he had taken off long ago. "Stop that, heyㅡ look at me, baby." Baby. did you just come again? "You did great. so good." he leans in over you, pressing a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose. "Do you wanna keep going?" and you say the most eager 'yes' known to man. "i got you." he smiles, eyes tracing every curve of your body. he takes off his pants along with hus briefs, letting his shaft spring free, small pearls of precum already gathered at the tip.

your eyes opened. what the fuck? is that normal? you knew your first would hurt, but seeing what Josh had going on for him you knew it would be the most painful experience for you yet. "Don't worry. I'll go slow." he stumbles a bit back, grabbing a hold of his trousers, palming his pockets before he mutters a soft 'there we go.' and takes out a shiny wrapperㅡ a condom. the opens it and carefully takes it out, lining it with the tip of his aching cock. "If you ever wanna stopㅡ" he starts, whilst rolling the condom down his length. "Tell me. Yeah?" you nod.

taking his length into his fist, Josh pumps it a few times before he aligns it with your entrance that trickled with juices. he lets it slip in, and your eyes close as tears threaten to fall. you claw at his back, but Josh kisses you sweetly as he slides in some more, your walls wrapping perfectly around himㅡ just like it was meant to be. "It's okay, you're okay, baby."

after going in the last couple of inches, he starts to move, gently holding down onto your waist as he lets you adjust. "Doing so good for me."

just a few strokes after, he feels you wrapping your legs around his hips, urging him deeper. "Please.." You plead, the sweetest sounds escaping your plump and swollen lips, and he swears he could come just by that. "Fuck, yeah, okayㅡ" he groans, with the way your teary eyes stared up at him. He starts to move his hips, harder, deeper, each sound you made an encouragement for him to keep going. His palms make their way under your back, pulling you up, almost to sit on his lap. He fucks up into you, your arms lazily draped over his flexed shoulders whilst his lips kiss soft blooms onto your chest. you clench around him. "J-Josh..." he shakes his head, laughing as his fingers dig deep into your flesh where you know bruises will appear later. "Don'tㅡ ha, I'm gonna come if you keep doing that." whines slip past your lips as his speed picks up. "Shit, shitㅡ" he pulls you closer, lips now stuck to your neck like a locket. "Y-you gonna come?" he prys. "Mhm.." you squeal as your eyes roll back. "Go ahead, for me." that's all it took. you come once again, nimbly wrapping around josh like a vine, walls squeezing him so tight. your mind goes blank, only soft moans gripping your throat as Josh pumps into you, finally releasing inside of the condom with a few thrusts.

you both breathe heavily, hearts beating in a sing-song, as you come down from your high. realization sets in as you meet each other's gaze. it was real. it really just happened.

"You okay?" he leans in, pressing a lazy kiss onto your lips. "Yeah... How okay can one be after having sex for the first time..?" and he laughs, playing with the strands of your hair. "Thank god for the rain covering the sound. You were super loud just thenㅡ"

"Josh!"

[bunny-1111]

Blow out your candles - Theo Nott x reader

Description: you hate your birthday, your boyfriend Theodore tries to make it the best day for you, but only makes it worse, until...

Word Count: 1.1k

Fluff/Angst

Likes, comments + reblogs appreciated my loves xx

...

"One more sleep" Theo jestered, throwing an arm around you in the busy hallways of the Hogwarts morning traffic.

"Don't remind me" you muttered, wanting to hide in his chest

"Wait till you see what I got you" he teased, a smirk growing as he watched you

"Hey! I told you nothing, not fair!" you whined

"I can't wait, you're gonna love it, and you're gonna love your birthday baby" a cheshire grin painting his face

"I can wait" you say rolling your eyes, before the conversation could continue he pecked a kiss on your lips, before running off to class.

Now stuck walking by yourself, alone with your thoughts, you were becoming overwhelmed, since you were a child you despised your birthday.

With your parents always away, you spent most of your milestones alone, from as young as four years old, it was your Grandmother that would keep you celebrated, taking the morning to gather and make flower crowns, then spend the rest of the day wearing them. When she died, so did your birthday as far as you were concerned.

As time passed, you grew in age and in contentment. You now preferred your birthday to just pass as any other would, that's how it was supposed to be this year as well, until Pansy opened her stupid mouth a month ago, reminding everyone you would be eighteen soon.

Theodore reminded you everyday since then, he was basically a human countdown for your least favourite day of the year.

Now less than twenty-four hours away, you couldn't bare the thought.

Now, the night before the dreaded day, you hoped, by some miracle, Theodore would fall, hit his head, and forget.

That did not happen, the sun blared into your eyes as your boyfriend ripped open your blinds early birthday morning

"Wake up birthday girl!" he practically yelled

"No" you groaned sinking into your pillows, you hands throwing your blanket over you head, make this go away you thought

Theodore tore your blankets off you, and jumped onto you and began blabbering about the plans of the day, he was so happy your birthday fell on a Saturday, you hated it, if you had class you could avoid all of this.

He moved you to sit upright, and continued talking about a day full of surprises

"I hate surprises" you complain

"Well you love me, so you'll like these ones" he returned, gently caressing your face with his warm hands

"Why can't we just sleep the day away in my bed, that's what I want" you said

"Tough luck, sweetheart, let's go" he smiled prompting you up

In the great hall, your friends waited for you, smiles one their faces, waiting to welcome you. Theodore insisted they go around and give you their presents one by one, followed by stating all the things they love about you.

It was embarrassing to say the least, you felt so out of body.

As the hours passed, Theodore did not talk about anything else, reminded everyone, it was getting progressively unbearable. It never ended, he had something or someone waiting for you everywhere you turned.

You knew how much he cared, how hard he was trying, you loved him, and hated yourself for being so displeased at his actions.

By nighttime, you were counting down the hours till the days end, you entered the common room, a chalkboard centring the space, a big 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' written for everyone to see.

You and your friends sat on the couch, when Theo entered, cake in hand, candles lit, your friends began to sing and clap. One final protest.

No, no, no.

You told him so clearly, no cake, and absolutely no singing. Spare me some fucking dignity you wanted to scream

He just didn't listen, placing the cake close to you, waiting for you to blow out your candles.

You threw your head back, tears stinging your eyes, breath, you reminded yourself. When breathing wasn't working you choose to get up and storm to your dorm, hot, frustrated tears flooding your face.

You ran into bed, and continued crying, perfect, you thought, this is what you wanted, right? To push Theo away, to be alone, to feel like shit, to act like shit, congratulations, you're officially a year older and officially a shitty person.

When time passed, there was only 15 minutes left, a knock on your door.

"Please don't come in" you begged

He of course didn't listen, twisting the doorknob, opening and closing the door behind himself.

Theo carefully approached you

"I'm sorry" he almost whispered rubbing your back, meeting each others sad eyes.

"No, I'm sorry" you sigh

"Can I give you your present?" he asked so politely

you nodded, inhaling a sniffle.

"Close your eyes" he requested, you did

You could hear him reached into his pocket, and place something on your head, reaching up to feel what it was, your heart dropped, immediately opening your eyes, head clocking to your mirror, to be met with a flower crown decorating your hair.

You gasped, turned to him and threw yourself into a hug, he held you tight as you cried "How did you know" you enquired

"I wrote your mother" he shrugged, attempting a smile

"One more thing" he continued, handing you a letter

"What's this?" you questioned

"Trust me, darling, just read it" He said, kissing your forehead.

Birthday Girl. Read the front, opening the parchment you almost choked when you recognised the handwriting, it was from your grandmother.

Hi sweet girl,

I will be long gone by the time you read this, but did you really think I wouldn't be there in some way on your 18th birthday.

I love you endlessly, I am picking flowers for you above, stay gentle, regardless of what this world throws at you, and remember the times in the fields, crafting our crowns, baking your cake, laughing, smiling, don't lose any petals without me!

The things I would do to spend just one more birthday with you, child.

Think of me always, as I do, you.

Love you, my flower girl.

-Grammy

You almost dropped it in shock, eyes rescanning, rereading a hundred times

"i- How" you stuttered out

"You mother saved it, she wasn't going to send it, so I went and got it for you myself" he admitted

"You did this for me" You cried

"I love you" he hushed

"I love you so much" you returned, pulling him into your bed.

Before you both drifted to sleep, you faced him, "Best birthday ever" you whispered, kissing you, he grinned

"I'm so sorry teddy" you repeat

"Enough of that, alright, I know it's hard" he sympathised

"You've changed everything for me, I think I love my birthday again, thank you my darling boy" you cry happy tears

He held you tighter.

As you sleep your birthday off, the smile on your face doesn't leave you.

requests are open <3

[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY FIFTH; side b — nothing can change this love - sam cooke | divorced dad!e. munson x reader

w; flangst(?) mostly angst who am i kidding, divorced parents core ��� except they get along, both are still in love!!!! an; when i saw this picture, i knew i had to use it plus add a scene about how eddie was holding r like that </3 actually enjoyed this one:,)

mixtape here!

“Baby, be careful!” You call out to the running girl with pigtails. She easily hops over the building her brother had left spread out on the floor while he uses the bathroom. 

She opens the door, squeaking when she sees Eddie — a daddy’s girl, for sure. Eddie chuckles and picks her up from the porch. “You gotta listen to mommy, Parker. And it’s cold out, where’s your shoes?” 

You glance at Eddie when he steps in, but look away quickly. He shuts the door behind himself, pulling the beanie from his head. He glances at you. “You look nice.” 

It’s just something you threw on for dinner, and a quick makeup look so Parker and Colin weren’t in the living room by themselves too long. “Thanks. You do too.” You nod. 

He gives a tight smile, before looking at Parker. “And look at you! Are you ready to go out for dinner?” 

“Yes!” She claps. Eddie chuckles softly. 

“Did you and your brother pick a restaurant yet?” 

She grins and swings her feet. “Enzo’s,” Eddie groans playfully. “Daddy! It’s yummy! And they have noodles!” Her tiny hands press against his cold cheeks. 

“Okay…Okay, but next time mommy gets to pick. You both have picked that out four times in a row.”

Both Eddie and yourself had agreed to do dinners together on weekends and holidays — even including valentine’s day. Eddie was hesitant, but you were insistent on the kids knowing that you both could still get along, even under the circumstances. 

He eventually agreed. 

He knew it would be hard to go through a dinner with his family, as if it were like old times, because…well, he still loves you deeply. 

Colin finally hops off the last step and begins picking up his toys. You smile and kneel down to help. “Thanks for picking up, love.” 

Colin smiles and nods, sliding the box back into its place. “Alright, shoes! Where are they?” Eddie begins to turn animatedly, making Parker laugh and quickly hold onto the leather jacket he was wearing. 

“There!” She points quickly. Eddie lets out a playful breath. 

“Thank goodness.” He steps over and grabs her little hi-top converse before walking towards the couch and plopping down. 

“I’m going to go touch up a bit and slip my shoes on.” 

Eddie looks over at you quickly, nodding as he gives you a small smile. “Yeah. That’s fine.” 

You nod and walk towards the steps. Eddie looks back at Parker’s shoe, a frown now pulling at his lips. “You okay, daddy?”

Eddie quickly peeks up at the girl. He stares at her for a moment. She’d gotten his hair — wild curls, a deep brown, but her face was yours. He smiles softly, pushing a strand of hair from her long lashes nodding. 

“I’m okay, baby,” He then looks over at Colin once he finishes and pulls him close, giving him a hug. “How was school? You give Kacey that—”

“Shhh!” Colin quickly shushes Eddie. Eddie’s eyes widened slightly. “Mama doesn’t know.” He whispers. 

“Oh, right,” Eddie winces as he nods. “Sorry, bud. But, how was school?” He lifts his brows. Did you give that Valentine's card to Kacey? It’s a silent question that Colin picks up on quickly. 

Colin grins then. “Good.” He nods. I did. She looooved it. 

Eddie snorts a bit, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, standing. “Alright. You wanna get in the car? That way we can leave when mom gets finished?” 

They both agree and quickly walk towards the coatrack. Eddie stands from the couch. “We’ll be outside warming up the car!” He calls out. 

“Alright! I’ll be finished in a second!” 

Leaving it at that, Eddie and the kids head to the car. He’s quick to turn on the heat before buckling in both of them, slipping into the car. 

You finally slip into the passenger seat, quickly buckling up. “Sorry.” 

Eddie looks at you, the words he wants to say escaping him for a moment when he does. You look too beautiful — and it literally takes away his breath. He gulps quietly, blinking. You let out a small sigh, glancing back at Parker and Colin before looking over at Eddie. “You okay?” 

He stares for a moment long before shaking his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.” 

You frown, watching as he backs out of the driveway quickly. 

—

“Thanks for helping me carry them in.” You hang up the kids coats that Eddie brings down the stairs. 

He nods, watching as you slip off your heels, kicking them over to the coffee table as he slips his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Of course.”

You step into the kitchen. “You want a drink?” You grab a wine glass, holding it up and shaking it. 

It’s a bad idea, but he nods and slips off his jacket. You grab an extra one and the wine, walking back into the living room. 

“Oh, drinking in the living room, huh?” He walks over and sits by you with a small smirk. You roll your eyes and hand him a glass. 

“It’s a holiday.” 

You just really didn’t feel like sitting at a table again. Eddie snorts and allows his arm to lay across the back of the couch, taking a sip. You're silent for a moment, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Would you…want to dance?” He asks quietly. 

You look over at him. “You hate dancing.” 

He winces a bit at all the times you’d asked him to dance with you, yet, he’d always find excuses — finally landing on I hate dancing, you know that as a ‘reason’. 

Now he wants to dance with you — even if it’s only this once. 

“It’s a holiday.” He places the cup down, walking towards the radio that you had set up next to a chair. He flips through a couple of channels, pausing as Sam Cooke’s ‘Nothing Can Change This Love’ starts to play. He gulps a bit, eyes glancing back at you. 

You stare at the radio as it begins to play — your wedding playing in the forefront of your mind, the same melody playing out. 

You finally look up at Eddie when his hand is outstretched for yours. Sitting the wine down, you slip your hand into his as he pulls you from the couch, walking towards the dim part of the room. 

“We don’t—”

“Be quiet.” He mutters. You nod, allowing yourself to slide your hands up his biceps. He’d been working out a tiny bit — you could tell. He’d cut his hair after the second month of the divorce. You felt a twinge of sadness when he showed up to pick up the kids that day. 

His hands pull you close, resting on your sides as they slowly wrap around — his left hand sliding up between your shoulder blades. 

One hand lingers on his bicep while the other has a mind of its own, sliding upwards as it rests on the back of his neck. You sway with him, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his cheek. 

He tilts his head a bit, gripping you softly. Your nose nudges the underside of his jaw, eyes slipping closed as your heart feels as if it’s breaking in your chest. 

Your chin quivers, body moving closer as you wrap both arms around his neck now, a hand resting in his curls. His brows pinch together, tightening his grip on you, this time not releasing. He doesn’t know if you feel uncomfortable, but he won’t pull away until you ask him too. 

He’s holding you as if you’d slip away. He doesn’t want to lose you a second time. 

His nose presses against your temple when his lips brush over your cheekbone. “Do you want me to—”

Your own grip tightens and he feels a tear drop onto his neck. “No. No, please don’t let me go,” You whisper, your voice cracking as you speak. “Please.” The hand on the back of his head even tightens slightly. 

You’d both stop moving, now only swaying in place. Eddie nods, trying to bring you closer if he could — he wanted to melt into you. But he couldn’t, so this would have to suffice. Your chest heaves against his with panicked breaths. 

“It’s okay…Breathe…breathe for me, sweetheart. I’m not letting you go,” He presses his lips to your cheek softly. “I’m not. It’s okay. I’m here.” He whispers. 

You nod your head a bit jerkily against his shoulder, your hand gripping at his shirt, wrinkling the material. Eddie didn’t care — if it was something to ground yourself, to make sure you know he’s still there with you, that he’s not letting go, he’d let you do whatever. 

He pushes away the hair that covers your face without pulling his face away from yours, holding the back of your neck. 

“I’m here. I’m not letting you go.” He whispers. 

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sstar-ggirl — @love-quinn

𓍯 ִֶ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[81pastrys]

hi coulsd you write something for dad lando where lila has a boyfriend, maybe other driver's son, and he doesn't know about it but her mom does. so one day lando and reader come back from a date night and they find lila with her boyfriend on the couch making out or something. this turns lando really protecive mode but reader reassures him and makes him apologize to lila for overreacting. thanks you hope you like it

When Worlds Collide

Summary— Lila and Carlo keep their relationship a secret from their dads until one night they’re interrupted

Warnings— teens making out ; Lando curses once ; protective dad Lando

A/N— I like this 🤭🤭

Dad Fic List

Lila had told her mum almost immediately when Carlo asked her out and she said yes. She was so excited to have a boyfriend. They were young, sure, but they really liked each other. Her only stipulation was no telling their dads.

Lando and Carlos were ever the clueless at races when they saw their kids getting along. Thinking they were like siblings.

After a triple header Lando told his wife there was a dinner and he wanted her to go. Carlos offered for Carlo to stay with Lila so she wasn’t alone. Lando loved the idea. They’re like siblings! The two 15 year olds were ecstatic their idea worked.

It started out innocent, putting on a movie and cuddling under the blankets. They ate snacks and giggled together at the movie. Towards the end of the movie they ended up kissing. It quickly escalated and Lila was on his lap asks they made out in the comfort of her home.

What they did not notice, was the door unlocking and her parents walking in on them. They stopped when they heard Lando. “What the actual fuck?” He threw his keys and lunged towards them. Lila jumped up and looked guilty.

“Babe, stop.” His wife said. “They’re teenagers, leave it alone.” Why was she so calm Lando thought. Lila sighed in relief her mum got him to stop halfway to the living room.

He sighed angrily that Carlos’s son was slobbering on his daughter, his little girl, his sweetheart. He called Carlos and dropped the bomb on him too. “Mate your son was just eating my daughter’s face.” Lando said staring at the two, now sitting at the island awkwardly as he talked.

“Dios Mio Carlo.” (My god) Carlos sighed in Spanish. “I’m on my way.” Carlos was around 10 minutes away.

“Lando, they’re kids.” His wife was rubbing his back as he looked defeated at what he not only witnessed, but found out. “Did you think she’d stay single her whole life?”

“No, but I hoped she’d tell me before I found them snogging on the couch!” He said waving a hand at her. “How long has this gone on?”

“2 months next week.” Lila spoke up hesitantly. Carlo has yet to say a word. He looked up to his dad and Lando, to disappoint them would be the last thing he wanted.

Carlos came in and saw them. They all looked to him and he went behind his son. “Did you know?” Lando asked. Carlos shook his head with a simple no. He didn’t look too phased by the situation.

“You’re the only one worked up Lando.” His wife noted. “What if we talk about this in private?” He nodded and they went to their bedroom.

“Did you know?” He asked. She nodded her head. He put a hand on his forehead and paced. “This absurd.” He said. “You approved of our little girl dating him?”

“It’s not some random boy Lando, it’s Carlo.” She reminded. Lando absolutely loved Carlo. Always thought he was a great kid, but dating his little girl?!

“I know, I haven’t decided if that’s good or not.” He shrugged. She got him to calm down and they go back to the other three. Once they figured everything out, Carlos left with his son.

“What else did we talk about lan?” His wife perked up. He looked to her and back to Lila. He sighed.

“I overreacted sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He said. He pulled her into a hug. “If he breaks your heart I’m breaking his wrist so he can’t race.” He mumbled. “Who said that?” He laughed. “But seriously, as long as you’re happy Lila, so am I.”

This adds some fuel to my fire of ideas, anyway

@il0vereadingstuff @kallanfiona

[weedforjj]

note the more i read this, the more insecure i get about my writing style. i’d really appreciate it if you guys could send me some tips & feedback!

☆ . . . you had a tough night out, drinking a bit too much but jj maybank is right there by your side, taking good care of you content warnings emetophobia, fingering, praising…

saying you’re drunk would be an understatement. you were wasted, completely gone and you could barely talk as jj carefully guided you up the stairs of your front porch.

luckily your parents are out of town for the weekend so nobody could hear the way you are bumping against a plant or the umbrella holder as soon as jj loosens his grip on you to close the front door.

“think i’m gonna puke,” you inform the blond and his head snaps up to wrap his strong arms back around you, “i gotcha.”

he carefully maneuvers you through the dark hallway into the bathroom and sits you down in front of the toilet. as soon as you lean forward and start to get the alcohol out of your system, his left hand reaches up to grab your hair and quickly pulls it into a makeshift ponytail. his right hand rests on your back, soothingly stroking up and down, “s’okay, y/n. just get it out.”

after moments of him comforting you, because your body refused to stop shaking, you finally calm down. he flushes the toilet and leans back against the wall, keeping his hand on your back, “feel better now?”

nodding you slowly get up, supporting yourself on the toilet, “i need a shower,” you mumble, stumbling towards the shower. “careful,” jj rushes to stand up, ready to catch you in case you trip and fall.

as soon as you reach your destination you start to pull off your shirt. the eyes of your blonde best friend widen and he quickly turns away, clearing his throat, “i’ll wait in the living room.”

but right when he closes the door, ready to get some rest on the couch after such an adventurous evening, he hears you call out his name.

it’s almost 1am so you can’t really blame the little exhausted sigh that escapes his lips. he’s been running after you all evening just to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. stopping you to drink more beer, fixing your clothes and protecting you from weirdos that kept looking at you for a little too long.

he turns around to open the bathroom door again, peeking inside just a bit, he answers, “yeah?”

“i’m stuck,” your voice rings from underneath your shirt that’s wrapped around your head. huffing out a little laugh and shaking his head at your helpless situation, he steps back inside the messy bathroom.

jj quickly helps you out of your shirt and turns you around to cup the cheeks of your tired face with his big hands. “my knight in shining armor,” you slur, barely managing to keep your eyes open.

he pushes a strand of hair out of your face, “hmm… think you can tame the shower yourself?” he asks, making you giggle before slowly shaking your head no, “can you help me?”

and in a matter of seconds he helped you out of your clothes and into the shower, keeping his eyes off your private parts like a real gentleman. he strips himself down to his boxers, stepping inside the shower too.

he starts rubbing the pink bottle of wild cherry blossom shampoo onto your back, careful not to touch anything inappropriate.

after what feels like an eternity of him rubbing your back, and it seriously started to feel like he’s trying to rub your skin off, you speak up, “you do know my front needs to be shampooed, too, right?” you ask, looking down to your exposed flesh.

“i know.”

“then why do you keep rubbing my back?”

“because your front is not for me to touch.” he states simply, shrugging his shoulders.

damn, maybank.

you’ve always had a thing for him, but you were too afraid it’d ruin your friendship if you’d tell him. so, instead, you just started silently melting at everything nice and respectful he threw at you.

but right now you’re drunk. wasted. so, maybe...

you spin around, his eyes glancing down towards your tits for just a millisecond before settling on your eyes again, “what–”

“can’t do it myself, j. need your help,” you plea, pushing your bottom lip out to a slight pout that you know he can’t resist.

you see him swallowing a lump in his throat before catching his bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on it.

“please?” you gently grab his hands, guiding them up to your tits. He palms your warm flesh almost immediately, which sends a comforting warmth shooting through your body – straight to your core.

“god, you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” he croaks out and can’t resist the temptation to give your tits a little squeeze.

his words make you lower your head, catching a glimpse of the bulge beneath his boxers, but he quickly draws your gaze back to him with his fingers on your chin, “y/n.”

you apologize and keep your eyes locked on his as he starts to shampoo the front of your body, trying to not pay any attention to the fact that your nipples are standing fully erect under his touch.

when he rubs his hands back over your chest he accidentally grazes your nipple with your thumb, eliciting a quiet moan from you. now he’s the one to apologize, “sorry, didn’t mean to–”

“it’s okay.” you interrupt him, giving him a little innocent smile.

“no, it’s— it’s not. i shouldn’t be doing this, i— god, i should go, i—” he panics, looking around frantically. when he was about to step out of the shower you grab his wrist, “don’t go, please.”

his blue eyes dart around your face, he can’t take it anymore. all these years of friendship, all these years of torture. of desire to touch and take care of you in other ways. it was too much, he needed to finally——

kiss you.

his lips crush against yours, pushing you back against the cold and wet tiles. his tongue props into your mouth, tangling with yours.

you kiss him back, feeling almost like a weight is being lifted from your shoulders as your lips finally connect. you don’t hesitate to slide your hands up his tanned abs and into his wet blond hair.

your breaths grow heavier as you continue to kiss each other as if there’s no tomorrow. when you suddenly feel his fingertips slide between your legs you pull away, gasping for air.

“shhh, don’t worry. i’m gonna take care of you, alright? just relax, princess. just relax,” he soothes you, lowering his lips down to your neck where he starts to plant soft kisses along your sensitive skin.

never in a million years could you have imagined this day would come. your best friend, the guy you’ve been crushing on for so long now, jj motherfuckin' maybank being all over you, kissing and exploring your body.

but it did. it came. you are experiencing it right now. you’re feeling every bit of his skin against yours. every suck and kiss on your neck. and most importantly: his fingers between your thighs.

he’s sliding his fingertips along your slit, parting your labia to hear your soft hums, “mmm, jj… please, i need you.”

and he couldn’t wait anymore, either. he already waited too long and now he finally has the chance to show you exactly what it would mean to be fully his. mind, body and soul.

jj raises his head back up to look into your eyes and presses his forehead against yours, a smirk playing on his lips. torture takes it’s end and he pushes two fingers inside you, enjoying the way your mouth falls agape, releasing a satisfied moan.

“there you go,” he grins and starts thrusting his fingers rhythmically in and out of your tight little pussy. “that’s what you wanted, right? me fingering you like this?” he asks huskily, licking his lips.

you nod quickly, eyes shut tightly as he continues to penetrate your needy cunt, “yeahhh, that’s what i thought. goood fuckin' girl.”

you grind your clit against his palm, heavy breaths and soft ‘ah, ah, ah’s leaving your throat. you feel his own arousal press against your thigh but he doesn’t seem to care. he’s to focused on taking care of you.

a genuine smile spreads across his face when he looks down at the way his fingers disappear and reappear between your legs. he’s finally able to make his dreams reality and it drives him fucking crazy.

his cock throbs against your thigh, and as much as he wanted to fuck you against these white tiles with them cute little flowers on it, he can’t. at least not yet.

“so fucking sexy,” he groans, his free hand cupping your tit to twist and knead your nipple between his thumb and index finger – earning another moan from you.

his steady thrusts inside you and the way he stimulates your nipples one at a time, makes your stomach tighten and your walls clench around his digits. “j, ‘m gonna cum…” you warn him with ragged breaths.

“cum for me, y/n,” he encourages you and it’s everything you need to let go and coat his hand in your sticky cum.

he places a loving kiss on your temple before you press your head against his shoulder. “such a good girl for me, hm? cumming all over my hand…” he hums into your hair and pulls his fingers out of you slowly.

he gives your pussy a few gentle pets before withdrawing his hand completely. smiling up at you as you open your eyes to look at him, he asks, “feel good?”

jj raises his clean hand to brush the messy strands of hair from your forehead and you reciprocate the smile, “never felt better.”

cleaning his other hand from your cum under the stream of water, he cups your cheeks once again, “guess i really am your knight in shining armor, hm?”

[rikiislvr]

unavailable - nishimura riki

pairing: afab!reader x nishimura riki

summary: fresh out a relationship with a heavy heart, niki seeks comfort in his best friend, not knowing you were falling for him

warnings: cussing

you had just finished showering, drying your hair off, you glance back at your phone, nope. no messages.

niki, your best friend since childhood, was on a date with his girlfriend, he was freaking out and telling you all the details until he suddenly just stopped, so you wondered what they were doing now.

you adored them together. whenever you saw them in the hallway giggling together or holding hands, you couldn’t help but feel so happy for your best friend that he found someone who makes him happy.

you check the time, 12 at midnight, you let out a long yawn and shut the lights, climbing in your bed and putting your phone aside.

before you could finally get the long awaited sleep you’ve been craving all day, your phone rang, you groan,

you grab your phone and answer it,

“hello?” you heard him, his voice shaky,

“niki? what’s up? how’d it goooo~” you say teasingly, but your smile quickly faded when you heard sniffs, was.. he crying?

“ki?” you say again,

“i’m.. outside.” he says, you quickly got up and ran down, quietly not to wake your parents.

you open the door softly, looking up, niki had his head down, tears streaming down his face and flowers that were drooped over in his hands. you couldn’t help but frown at his state.

“ki.” you walked up and pull him in a hug, which is took as a opportunity to cry in your shoulder, “cmon, my parents will wake up.” you pull away and step aside,

he steps in slowly and you close the door, going up to your room, he followed.

you close your bedroom door once you two were in, he sighed and threw the flowers in your trash bin, and sat on the edge of your bed.

you cross your arms, “what happened ki?” you say softly, “she uh..” he cleared his throat, “she ended things off..”

you felt your heart shatter, you knew how much he loved her. “my goodness.. why?” you sat beside him,

“i’m not what she was looking for anymore..” he shrugged, you furrowed your eyebrows.

not what she was looking for anymore? they’ve been dating for 5 months and she’s just now realizing it?

“that’s such bullshit. i’m sorry.” you sigh and rub his arm,

before you could open your mouth to say anything else, niki quickly lounged in your arms, sobbing softly into your shoulder, your heart broke.

you’ve seen and heard him cry before growing up but.. never like this. and it was killing you inside, because you only ever rooted for his happiness.

you rub his back, closing your eyes listening to his sobs, it was killing you but you knew he had to let it out somehow.

you decided to let him get more comfortable. “ki. cmon let’s get your in a more comfy state.” you tap his arm, he sniffed and pulled back, his face red with tears streaming down.

you frown and grabbed his hand and pulled him to your bathroom, you tuned in the light and looked up at him.

“i’m not gonna let you drive home like this.” you say, he didn’t reply, you grab a wet washcloth and wipe his face,

pushing back his hair to reveal his puffy red eyes, “i’m so sorry ki.” you sigh, he just blinked, you removed his jacket and pulled him back to your room.

“i’ll let you sleep in my bed, i’ll take the couch okay?” you tell him, on niki’s end, he wanted to protest, and he did.

“why?” he says low, “we’ve always slept together as kids.”

you chuckled, “i wasn’t sure if you wanted to be alone or not.” you shrug, he shook his head, “no.. not really. i can’t be alone with my thoughts right now.” he cleared his throat, you smiled softly and nod.

laying down, you lift your blanket for him to lay beside you, he slowly made his way over, laying down. you weren’t sure if you should comfort him or give him space.

you laid on your back, slowly blinking off, you were on the peak of sleep until you felt pressure on your arm, you look over, seeing niki laid his head there, sniffing softly.

you frowned, and wrapped your arm around him, pulling him to lay against you, “you’re gonna be okay, alright? we’ll get through this together.” you reassure him, he nodded and closed his eyes softly.

you waited for a bit, and until you heard his breathing slow a bit, you knew he was sleep, you smiled to yourself.

you were just glad you could be here for him when he needed a shoulder to cry on, it made you feel special. and with that, you closed your eyes next, falling asleep shortly after.

a/n: debating if i should continue this or not, i lowkey want tooooo 😙

tl: @certified-ni-ki-lover @noblub-4ulolz @yourmyst4r @vixialuvs @ni-ki-ismyluv @judeduartewannabe @soobs-things @en-chantedtomeetyou @definitelynotherr @heyniki @wntersm @geniejunn @pkjay @baevsxii @k1ttylvr @geniejunn @pkjay @chaevibes @jiyeons-closet

[mingisprincxss]

Crazy ex best friend

Summary: you and your ex best friend are still having issues even after high school, both you and her having a crush on mingi but she takes things to the extreme 

NOTE: this is my first fanfic in years I'm sorry if it's sucky😩

Word count:4,815

Warnings: MDNI!! 18+ talk of friendship fallout, toxic friendship, smut(later on) mentions of forcing themselves sexually on someone

You and Evangeline were inseparable when you were younger. You did everything together like best friends would until one day starting your freshman year of high school everything changed. She became boy crazy, she would ditch you to hook up with practically any guy that breathed in her direction, It made you...well extremely uncomfortable. Because one day your sweet innocent best friend who was grossed out by boys and by sex itself turned around and became a sex demon. It was probably the biggest whiplash of your life and all throughout high school she just got worse and worse typical putting you in danger or straight up embarrassing you for male attention and at one point senior year, enough was enough. 

Both you and her had a major falling out right before graduation in front of your entire class although little did you two know, it was a slow burn from the beginning. Most people in your class took pity on you because you guys were attached at the hip and for Evangeline to randomly switch up on you one day threw everybody even both of your parents for a loop.

But that was 7 years ago. 

You're in your 20s now just really doing your own thing. You stayed in touch with a select few of people from high school. San, Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and Yeosang who actually is your best male friend practically a brother to you and surprisingly these few guys Evangeline's effect didn't interest them. 

"Theres definitely some kind of succubus effect that she has on these men" Yeosang says standing next to you in the kitchen as you peer over his shoulder and see him tapping through Evangeline's story of her suggestively flexing yet another poor man she's using. You scoff and shake your head in disbelief "you know I really was hoping that she would outgrow this childish behavior at some point." You said going back to putting together little treats for the boys.

"Y/n I'm hungryyyy" San whined wandering into the kitchen only to see you completely distracted engrossed into Yeosang's phone both with a disgusted look on your faces.  

"What-" San was interrupted by an annoyed Seonghwa entering the kitchen and snatching Yeosangs phone and placing it face down on the counter

"Can we worry about something else right now like you making us food like you promised?" Seonghwa said with annoyance as San nodded vigorously 

"Okay okay sorry Yeosang wouldn't get out of my way when i needed something." You said now smacking him away

"OH YEAH SURE BLAAAME ME!" He sarcastically yelled throwing his hands up in the air and going into your living room with the other two boys.

"When is Hongjoong coming again?" san asked sitting back on the couch with a huff

"Soon hopefully he's bringing someone." Seonghwa said in a lower voice 

"A GIRLFRI-" "SSSSHH" San yelled while Seonghwa hushed him

"Who's bringing a girlfriend?" You asked entering the room with food only to almost be mauled by San acting like a cat that hasn't eaten in its life.

"Jesus Christ San relax" Yeosang said with a worried annoyed look on his face 

Then suddenly theres a knock on your door. 

"Oh! thats honfjoof" Seonghwa said quickly running to get the door with a brownie in his mouth

"I..could've..got..that??" You said confused 

The next thing you knew Seonghwa comes back in the room with Hongjoong, and someone who you haven't seen since high school. Mingi. The boy who you had the biggest crush on but kept it to yourself because of course, Evangeline did too i mean look at him anyone would.

"y/n?? Y/N" Yeosang waved his hand in front of you as you snapped out of your daze

"Huh? What?" You said stupidly as San mocked you while the guys stared at you

"I said, you remember Mingi right Y/N" Hongjoong repeated 

"Of course she does, did you not see her basically drooling at him just now?" San teased earning a smack in the face by a pillow from your couch

Mingi chuckled "it's nice to see you again y/n after how long?" He said looking in your direction basically piercing your soul with his  brown eyes

"7 years?" You awkwardly say 

"Way to basically ghost everyone." San said looking at you 

Before you could say anything Yeosang cut in a little harsh "Yeah, it's not like her ex best friend was basically ruining her life or anything making her have to go MIA to protect her sanity" 

The room went completely silent as Mingi looked around confused 

"Wait, you and Evangeline aren't friends anymore? Since when?" He asked

"I mean if you paid attention it was a slow burn from the start of high school but it happened at graduation senior year when you moved an hour away." Seonghwa said earning a nod from the other guys

"Oh, I'm so sorry.." Mingi said awkwardly fiddling with his phone in his hands and man were you trying really hard to not stare at his long slender fingers around his phone

San quickly noticed and was about to say something until

You took a deep breath "I mean, it's whatever now. She's still whoring around and it's not my problem anymore." You said not really making eye contact with anyone now

"Well don't invalidate how you feel" Hongjoong said 

"Hopefully she doesn't get her hands on Mingi" San mumbled earning a smack to the arm by Seonghwa 

All the boys knew you had a crush on Mingi, well, thanks to San being nosey. You were gonna ask him to be your date to prom until his parents got new jobs in a different city and he had to move suddenly in the beginning of senior year.

Mingi furrowed his eyebrows at San not really fully hearing what he said

"On that note, I think it's time to leave." Yeosang said the boys gathered their stuff and said their goodbyes but Mingi wasn't around suddenly 

You were talking to Yeosang prolonging your goodbye until you heard footsteps behind you which prompted you to turn around quickly confused because you thought everybody left to see the tall man awkwardly standing in your kitchen.

"I had to take a phone call and wandered into your bathroom" he said softly you never really kept in touch with him and you forgot how smooth and buttery his voice sounded. 

"N-no it's okay, I thought you silently left" you said nervously as he got closer to you, you can smell his cologne and it definitely smelled like the expensive type

You heard your screen door close and both of you looked to see Yeosang awkwardly inching away not trying to listen 

You looked back at him to catch him staring at you.  "Are you gonna let me leave? Or am I stuck here as punishment for being in your bathroom?" He smirked making you realize you were blocking the doorway 

"O-oh I'm sorry I was talking to Yeosang" you said awkwardly moving away from the door.  

As he approached the door to leave he took a breath and turned to you as if he was anxious to say something "hey y/n?" He asked earning a confused look on your face

"Yes?" You cautiously answered

"We never...got the chance to hangout one on one.." he said suddenly standing a little closer to you

You backed up nervously as he lifted his hand to fix a strand in your hair as you just looked at him like a deer in headlights 

"I would like to see you a little more" he said gently tapping your nose leaving you completely red in the face

"U-um s-sure" you stuttered completely shocked you didn't really think that Mingi would ever look in your direction let alone asked to hang out one on one.

Yeosang popped his head in abruptly "Am I taking you home Ming its getting a little chilly-" earning a jump from the both of you 

"Yeah I'm coming" he said following him out the door without looking back at you

You stood there completely frozen not knowing what just happened. 

____________________________________

Of course your ex best friend catches wind of Mingi being back and trying everything in her power to basically get the chance to throw herself at him. 

But unfortunately for her, you and Mingi hung out and he got you to open up about what happened between you and her. His phone kept buzzing of notifications all from her trying a little too hard to get his attention. 

You both grew close within the past few months and it shocked everyone including you.

Until one night, a mutual friend of you and your ex best friend was throwing a little get together. You refused to go even after all the boys even your girl friends begged you to come and insist on not worrying about Evangeline. But you were stubborn and started to give everyone including Mingi an attitude which upset him but also he understood because its her. You pull Yeosang aside "please tell me if anything happens between her and mingi" you whispered to him as he nodded

"Was going to do that anyways." He said patting you on the head

The guys were slowly heading out when San turned around confused not seeing Mingi following them and he quickly went back inside to see him in your living room your back was turned doing something when you heard San say "You're not coming?" 

You stopped in your tracks not even knowing Mingi was still in your house..sneaky bastard

"I am in a bit, I just wanted to hang here. You know how parties make me feel." He said quietly as you turned the corner 

"AAHHH RIIIGHT YOU SLY DOG YOU" San said all excited getting a confused look from both you and Mingi 

"Well you two have fuunn!!" He sang as Seonghwa yanked him out the door you sighed in embarrassment putting your head in your hand

"He's been acting weird lately" Mingi laughed 

"He's always been weird, it's like watching a kid have a constant sugar rush with him" you groaned earning a laugh from Mingi also making you laugh as well

"so are you really not going?" You asked stepping closer to him as he's staring at your tv.

"Its not that.." he trailed off as you raised an eyebrow 

"I just need to mentally prepare sometimes" he said kinda embarrassed 

He got up off of your couch and made his way over to you  causing you to get a little nervous because even though you guys have gotten close lately, you still have feelings for him. 

"There's something i wanna tell-" he was interrupted by his phone buzzing and a name you didn't recognize 

"Hello?" "Heeyyy man are you coming or are you getting laid right now" a drunken voice answered over the phone which you heard cause even though he doesn't have speaker on it was pretty loud 

Mingi sighed "yeah i'll be there soon, but I'm not drinking and driving so don't force me like last time" he said sternly then hanging up to look back at you. Your eyes had a sparkle to them looking up at Mingi. He pulled you in for a hug 

"You okay? I can feel your heart beating out of your chest like a little bunny getting caught or something" he said pulling away a little concerned

All you did was nod nervously 

"Would you be okay if I spent the night? I'm only planning on staying there an hour or so and I don't feel like driving back to my place" he flirtatiously asked earning you a stunned look

"You-you want to stay here?" You nervously asked flustered 

"If thats okay with you." He said as he was grabbing his stuff to leave

"Yeah it is" you sighed happily not making eye contact as he left

You had to quickly grab your kitchen counter  because he almost fainted at that interaction. 

____________________________________

Two hours passed since Mingi left and you finished tidying up the apartment after you panicked cleaned everything and changed your bedsheets, ran out to the nearest convenience store to grab stuff.  

You started to get a little nervous waiting for a text from Mingi saying he was coming back until your phone lit up and buzzed but when you looked at it your heart sank. It was Yeosang and after the conversation that you both had this could only mean one thing.

You picked up nervously and before you could even say anything Yeosang cut you off. 

"Evangeline's practically throwing herself on him. It's actually quite disturbing. I feel like she had a feeling that mingi was coming and dressed-" you cut him off abruptly and emotionally with a huge knot in your chest

"What is he doing?" You hesitantly asked not wanting to hear the answer 

"There's honestly too many people here from high school that keep pulling me aside and asking me how's life? And all that bullshit." He sighed

There was a brief silence before you said;

"He wanted to spend the night..."

"Well I'll go look for him and see, my phone's gonna die soon I'll text you." And he hung up

You immediately sobbed because even if you don't know for sure you kind of feel a little betrayed by Mingi after opening up to him about your ex best friend and how she treated you. 

______________________________________

Yeosang came back inside to the party and grabbed Seonghwa who was being unsocial in the corner and brought him into a more quieter room "have you seen Mingi?" he asked concerned earning a shrug from Seonghwa "last i saw he was being dragged somewhere by Evangeline. If anything happens I'm not gonna speak to him for a while." He said angrily as Yeosang sighed agitated

"Well you're gonna have to help me find him because apparently he's supposed to spend the night with y/n." He blurted out

"What really?!" Seonghwa asked shocked moving to another part of the room scratching his head 

They stood there trying to figure out what to do until they heard a female moan coming from down the hallway. 

The two boys shot each other a look before they scrambled out of the room and down the hallway. 

The noises got louder as they approached 

"I'm going to fucking kill him." Yeosang angrily whispered to Seonghwa as they peered through the half open door

"Oh Mingiii you don't even know how long I waited for this to happen." Evangeline slurred on top of him on a bed his pants halfway down his legs as she was drunkingly grinding on him

"Please... for the hundredth time..get.off. of me." He struggled underneath her trying to get away from the situation 

All he wanted to do was say hi and bye to everybody and then go back to your place and cuddle with you watching movies but instead somehow he got lured into a bedroom and ended up with basically being violated 

"Oh my god what the fuck are we gonna do?!" Seonghwa asked frantically as Yeosang was trying to text you what was going on but then the light on his face went black "Fuck my phone died" he whispered

You stared at the text message Yeosang sent saying "She's on top of him we heard moaning"

"Are you fucking shitting me?" You whispered tears streaming down your face and hitting your phone reading the message over and over 

You can't say that you didn't blame him. She always ended up getting all the guys. Even all the guys that you liked which is why you stopped bothering to date in high school, let alone really interact with any man. She always made sure to make you feel ugly.

"We gotta stop this now" Seonghwa whispered as both him and Yeosang swung the door open letting it smashed into the wall startling Evangeline and Mingi. 

Mingi took this opportunity to basically throw her off of him and immediately pulled his pants up looking at his two friends who looked like that they were gonna murder him. 

"It's not what it looks like.." he tried to beg his friends to understand the situation 

"I already told y/n." Yeosang angrily said causing Mingi to anxiously run his hand through his hair

"Well let's not jump to conclusions they weren't fucking he was struggling under her." Seonghwa said as Yeosang crossed his arms with a huff 

"She and a few other people were pressuring me to fuck her, and as soon as I wanted to leave to go back to y/n's I got thrown into this room with her." Mingi said angrily making his way out when all of a sudden Evangeline basically shoved the two boys drunkingly out of the way and stumbling over to Mingi as Seonghwa caught Yeosang

"I'll fuck you before SHE does and i'll fuck you so good you wont even remember her name" she said trying to pull him back to the bed

"STOP GET OFF OF ME YOU BITCH" Mingi yelled pushing her off and racing out the room as Seonghwa and Yeosang trapped her in the room and grabbed San, and Hongjoong then ran after him leaving the party behind. _____________________________________

Mingi was the first to reach your house practically speeding in his car surprisingly not getting caught by the cops and pulled over. 

He went to your door knocking anxiously and when you answered his heart practically stopped because of your state

You looked up at him not really angry just swollen eyes and the look of betrayal on your face thinking that he was coming over to change his mind and basically tell you that he's brainwashed and fucked out by your ex best friend and that you lied. At least that's what you were expecting until you saw a second pair of headlights in your driveway almost rear ending Mingi's car as the second car gets into park and Seonghwa and Yeosang practically fell out of the car and ran up to you

"Y/n...oh my god" Yeosang said pushing mingi aside pushing you back entering your house hugging you. "My phone died are you okay?" he asked lifting your face to look at him and you kind of just stared blankly

The rest of them came in even Mingi. these guys were your friends for years and they've never seen you in this state before.

San got the memo and was about to physically go after Mingi only to be stopped by Seonghwa blurting out "She was...basically forcing herself on him.." he said quietly but loud enough for everyone to hear.

You blinked confused thinking that this is gonna turn into a huge brawl between the guys protecting you but instead this. 

"What?" You said barely audible as the guys turned to you except for Mingi who was looking down 

"We saw it.." Yeosang said rubbing your arms 

All you did was look at Mingi who didn't break eye contact with the floor. You wiped your tear stained eyes took a deep breath and opened your mouth but before you could even say anything Mingi interrupted 

"I'm sorry I let her touch me." he said quietly still not making eye contact with anyone 

"Dude, it's not your fault. Evangeline is literally fucking crazy." San said pretending he wasn't just about to punch him for his friend 

"I think this is a conversation that y/n and Mingi need to have alone" Yeosang said as the rest of them quietly shuffled out the door 

"Im gonna charge my phone when I get home, text me if you need anything." Yeosang said closing the door behind him leaving the house in complete uncomfortable silence. 

After a bit you cautiously walked over to Mingi who refused to make eye contact with you like a puppy doing something bad and scared it's going to be yelled at

"Mingi..." you said tearful as he looked  at you face red like he's been fighting back tears this whole entire time

"Are you okay?" You asked getting closer to him as he starts to tremble "I'm not gonna hurt you.. I just want to know what happened.." you added

He opened his mouth and blinked as tears rolled down his face as he struggled to find words

It kind of felt weird because you never really see men be emotional not even your guy friends until now.

"I didn't... I wasn't.." was all he could say

You took his hand and lead him to your bathroom and sat him on the closed toilet and cleaned his teary face you held the underneath of his jaw wiping his face with a washcloth he took it out of your hand before you could place it on the counter and reciprocated what you did to him to you. 

After you both stood/sat in silence as he slowly rested his head on your stomach 

"I cant believe she did that to you." You said breaking the silence just staring and shaking your head

"I didn't like it." He said quietly lifting his head to look at you

"Well I would hope so or we would not be here right now." you said trying to be funny looking at him to see him still upset 

"Sorry." You added and there was more silence

"Can I..still stay?" Mingi quietly asked earning a nod as you looked at the time 

You both migrated to the couch after he went into his car to grab some extra clothes that he had and put them on, both agreeing that you're still wide awake from the adrenaline of everything and figured a movie might help wind you both down but there was still tension. 

Both of you sat a bit away from each other trying to watch the movie. 

Suddenly you shivered and mingi looked over at you 

"Sorry. Sometimes I get randomly cold I'll get up and get a blanket." You said starting to get up only to be yanked back down by Mingi into his lap you both stared at each other before he leaned into you your lips brushing against each others before your phone started buzzing like crazy starting the both of you.

You glanced over on the coffee table to see who it was and rolled your eyes.

"Its San he can wait" you said leaning into Mingi again finally connecting your lips to his as you wrapped your arms around him and him doing the same deepening the kiss.  You both pulled away after a bit out of breath when suddenly something came to mind that you completely forgot about. 

"what was it that you wanted to say to me before you got interrupted earlier before the party?" You asked 

"I wanted to tell you that I like you a lot more than just friends and that you didn't have to worry about me slipping away with your ex best friend." He said without skipping a beat 

"I'll be honest I thought you did with how Yeosang was texting me and then his phone died at a bad time." You kinda laughed  

He ran his fingers through your hair looking at you with sparkly eyes before kissing you again. You pulled away quickly as he gave you a confused look and suddenly said

"Well i guess since were confessing and before San fucking blurts it out I have something to tell you." You said as his eyebrows furrowed waiting to hear

"I've actually liked you since the first day of high school.." you said kind of embarrassed

"And you're telling me this now?! Was I that oblivious?!" He said worried 

"No no, I never really told anybody until recently actually because Evangeline had a crush on you too, and she probably would have done everything to get you to like her instead of me so I kind of just kept it to myself." You shrugged as he pulled you closer to him. 

"Well thats never happening, and when we go public with our relationship, i'll get a restraining order against her if i have to. He said making you giggle.

You both sat in silence watching the movie you still on his lap as he slowly lifted your shirt and started slowly rubbing your back you couldn't keep focus on the movie anymore you were thinking about how badly you craved Mingi and this might be your opportunity before your ex best friend tries to strike again

You quickly grabbed the remote stopped and turned off the tv and pulled Mingi into your room the both of you making out and shedding clothes as he pushed you gently onto your back on the mattress he started kissing all over your body until he got to your boobs where he took one in his mouth and massaged and pinching the other earning a moan from you as you played with his hair 

As he got lower you started to shudder earning a smirk from Mingi as he stopped at your pussy that was absolutely soaked by now "You want me so bad huh?" He said touching your clit and slipping a finger in earning a moan from you which gave him the okay to start eating you out 

"M-mingi.. I want you to fuck me please.." you begged making him smirk

"But I want you to cum on my fingers first" he said still lapping on your pussy as your body started to shake from your creeping orgasm. 

You never thought this would ever happen, one of the prettiest boys you went to high school with and now in your friend group wants you to be his girlfriend. 

You came just by his fingers alone and you feared (in a good way obviously) what his dick might do to you. 

"my pretty girl all fucked out by just my fingers" He sat up stroking himself with his other hand  "I want to feel your mouth on this dick before your pussy" he added

You froze. You have no experience with sex like your best friend did. 

Is that going to turn him off?

Is he going to wish it was her instead?

"Y/n?" He said gently snapping you out of your overthinking 

You inhaled and decided to tell him 

"I... don't have much experience.." you said almost barely audible looking away hoping things wouldn't stop there

"That's okay, I can guide you" Mingi said as he laid beside you while you went in between his legs shyly. 

You opened your mouth and started to lick his tip looking up at him making sure that you were doing the right thing 

"Oh god don't look at me like that I might cum all over your face " he moaned rolling his eyes back 

You started licking his shaft and stroking him as he tried his best to guide you through it while also enjoying it. 

"Okay okay" he stopped you before cumming catching his breath before taking over again flipping you both over while kissing while he's on top of you.

"Are you okay with no condom?" He asked earning a nod from you

He made sure you were wet enough before slowly entering inch by inch you gasped trying to adjust but thankfully he was taking his time with you, you gave him the okay to start. 

His pace was slow making sure you weren't uncomfortable or hurting he gripped your hips and slightly picked up the pace 

"Oh my god" was all that came out of your mouth as your eyes rolled back and you gripped your bedsheets

Mingi kissed you basically drilling you with his dick as your moans got louder and the sound of his dick getting wetter

"Look at us baby" he said as you both looked down at the mess you created on each other and you both laughed 

"You feel so good like this" you said throwing your head back onto your pillow as he kept going

"I feel so close to you cum with me now princess" Mingi said leaning in to kiss you as you both came together you unraveling all over his dick as he shot his cum inside you. 

Both of you catching your breath you look at him in a daze as he smiles kissing you.

"You did amazing babydoll" he said pulling out of you and quickly getting the washcloths from earlier rinsing it in warm water and giving it to you to clean yourself

Afterwards, you both went back to your bed to lay down he peppered kisses all over you. He stopped to stare at you and said 

"I love you. y/n I will do everything to protect you I promise." He said before kissing you again.

lmk how you like it!!

[natalievoncatte]

2. Courage

Her breath came in fits and starts as Kara knelt on the floor of her apartment. She told herself it wasn’t real, that it wasn’t permanent, that Mxyzptlk was creating illusions, but it felt real. It felt more real than the wood beneath her palms. She still gasped as if cold hard fingers closed around her throat and another woman’s broken heart bathed her in a murdering light. She was sure that if she looked over at the stand up mirror she’d see sickly green lines slicing through her skin, but when she looked that was nothing.

“Well,” said Mxyzptlk, “that was a close scrape, then. Shall we have another go? Perhaps a bit more carefully worded this time.”

Kara looked up, red sun fury boiling in her eyes.

“Get out.”

“Kara, perhaps it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Get out,” Kara snarled, her voice chasing dust from the ceiling thin streamers. “Your gifts are poison. And stay away from Lena, do you hear me?”

He threw up his hands. “Fine then, fine then, I’ll go, but if you ever need me… I still owe you a favor.”

“Out!” Kara raged.

After he vanished, Alex stumbled back into the room, looking at Kara with shock and alarm. She glanced at J’onn, who formed a fight frown and said, “Kara, when you’re ready, if you want to talk, we can talk.”

Kara nodded with a dismissive wave. The door closed a moment later and Kara glanced over to see Alex still standing there.

“Sis?” she asked, her voice small.

Kara swallowed.

“What did he do?”

“He cheated,” Kara snapped. “He twisted things. He said he would help me fix things with Lena but made sure it wouldn’t work. He… it was hell, Alex, he showed me hell. Everyone kept dying. You, my friends, her. Every choice I made set off some… some dick genie bullshit that made all my wishes go wrong. The last one almost got me killed. For real. I was so stupid.”

“What did you ask for?”

“I asked him to make so we never met so she could be happy without me, and instead she died in the helicopter attack and her mother brought her back as Metallo to kill me.”

Alex blinked. “Jesus,” she whispered.

Kara began to shake, hugging herself. As the righteous fury faded, the towering grief swept in to take its place, a freezing wind following the setting of a tyrant sun. She crumpled, falling back into the couch.

Alex was there in an instant, wrapping Kara in a protective hug as she began to sob.

“What did he want to show me? That it wasn’t going to ever work? That we were just doomed from the start?”

Alex tensed, sucking in a sharp breath.

“He came to you and said he’d fix your friendship?”

“No, he said he’s grant me one gift, and that’s what I asked for.”

Alex went slack for a brief moment. When Kara turned to look at her, there was an expression of absolute shock on her face.

“You… you didn’t ask for your parents. Or to save Krypton. You asked for Lena.”

“Yeah,” Kara sniffed, “why?”

Alex looked thunderstruck. Kara had seen this expression before, when her sister had grasped something difficult or complex. It was the look of an epiphany, a realization.

“I don’t think he was trying to tell you there was never a chance,” Alex said, softly. “Maybe he wasn’t trying to tell you anything at all. Maybe the only thing that matters is what you took from it.”

“All it took from it is that it’s over,” Kara whimpered. “It’s all over. I never had a chance.”

Alex rubbed her back for a while. She seemed conflicted, opening her mouth to speak several times before closing it again.

“Why Lena? Why does she matter so much to you?”

Kara choked back and swallowed, hard. “She was my best friend before I ruined us. She made me feel like a whole person, and she loved me, she loved Kara in a way that nobody ever has. I felt this peace with her, and she made me so happy and contented when I was with her protected her. I just want another five minutes of that feeling.”

Alex was quiet again.

“You could have had Krypton back, or your parents, or… or Jeremiah… and you picked Lena.”

Kara heard the way her voice hitched and tensed, a cold knife running down her spine.

“Alex I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I was so stupid…”

“No,” Alex smoothed her hair, “no, kiddo. Shhh, it’s okay. I understand.”

There was an unspoken even if you don’t.

“What are you trying to say?”

Alex swallowed hard, tensing.

“I think you need to hear this, Kara, and you might have to hear it from me. Buying CatCo was not a friendly gesture. One does not drop almost a billion dollars to chitchat and gossip with a buddy. Filling your office with flowers was not a simple thank you, and Lena did not take learning about your identity the way a close friend would. At all.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I think you do, you just don’t want to see it because of what it means.”

“What?”

“Kara,” said Alex, “one does not burn their one wish on another person’s happiness unless they deeply care about that person. I don’t think I would have made a wish like that for Maggie.”

Kara’s head snapped up, almost dangerously fast. She stared straight ahead, past Alex, an electric fusion of terror and elation smashing together inside her like water on rocks. How could she be so blind?

“You think I’m in love with Lena.”

Alex nodded.

“Don’t think…”

“Office full of flowers,” said Alex.

Kara bolted to her feet, gently disentangling from her sister, and headed for the door.

“Kara?!” Alex demanded. “Please don’t do something you’ll regret.”

Kara paused at the door.

“I already did.”

When she touched down on the balcony, Lena was at her table in her kitchen, staring at a glass of scotch. The change in her heart rate and slight shift in her posture told Kara that she knew she was there.

Kara waited.

Lena rose, swallowed the last of her drink in a dramatic flourish, and stalked to the door. She swept it open and stood on the threshold, leaning against the frame to bar Kara’s way.

“Make it quick, I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara began.

“Not this again,” Lena sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Listen to me, God damn it,” Kara snapped.

Lena’s eyes widened at the profanity, and she didn’t move. She didn’t let Kara in.

She didn’t close the door, either.

“I’m listening.”

Kara swept her hands through her hair. She didn’t know where to start, so she just blurted it out.

“A fifth dimensional imp just gave me a chance to change history any way I wanted. Any way I wanted.”

“And this was the best that you could do?” Lena said, arching her eyebrow. She seemed so sharp and yet so lost and tired, the freighted eyes of a lonely girl hiding within her austere, cold beauty.

Eyes that Kara saw as a mirror of her own.

“All of the things I tried turned into monkey’s paw bullshit,” said Kara. “It was never going to work because getting a do-over was the coward’s way out. I can’t fix this unless I admit what I’ve done.”

“Oh, here we go,” said Lena. “Not the ‘I was only trying to protect you’, speech again.”

“You killed your brother for me and I was too cowardly to tell you my real name,” said Kara.

Lena’s face fell.

“I was too cowardly to tell you the truth. I was too scared that I might lose you. That wasn’t the worst part. I didn’t give you the faith that you put in me. I told myself over and over that you were the most important person in my life, and you know what? You are. I had a chance at anything, and I didn’t pick my birth family or my foster father or my culture or my entire planet. I picked you.”

Lena stared at her, visibly stunned.

“You matter more to me than anyone. If it was you or the chemicals I would have saved you and fuck the reservoir. If it was you or the city it would be you. If it was anyone or anything it would be you. Always you. But I didn’t treat you like that. I treated you like a threat, like spending to be scared of, and I took from you without giving, and I’m sorry.”

Standing up, Lena hugged herself, gaze locked with Kara’s.

“What do you want?”

“I want to fix it.”

“How?”

“We can fix it, together. I know you want to. You have a good heart, full of kindness. I just want to hold it in my palms and shelter and protect it and care for you always. I want it more than I want air to breath. If you want to fix and I want to fix it we can find a way. Not right now, not in five minutes, maybe not for years, but I will do anything to bring you back, and I don’t care what you do, I will never treat you like a villain.”

Lena licked her lips and looked away. Hot tears glittered on her cheeks as she pressed her eyelids shut and Kara ached with the pain of her revelation.

“If you don’t want to fix things with me, it’s okay. Just don’t do what you’re planning to do. Don’t hurt anyone, even with good intentions. Don’t let yourself become something you’re not because I didn’t have the courage to help you be all that you are.”

“Get off my balcony,” Lena choked out. “Go. Now, get away!”

Kara stumbled back as if struck, the force of those words crashing into her chest like a hammer, and she didn’t breath as she took off, careful to ascend slowly until she gained enough height.

Then she went hypersonic, her speed dragging out her shriek of rage and anguish behind her, Kara outrunning it even as she couldn’t outrun the fury and grief choking her chest. She flew and flew, past the clouds, flew as the air thinned, blasted into the very embrace of space until the air was gone and no one would ever hear her scream again.

She could hold her breath, she thought. Hold it for hours until she passed out and by the time her orbit decayed she’d be gone and her empty shell could tumble somewhere into the ocean and be forgotten.

A tiny voice whispered, you must live, Kara, so that we are not forgotten.

Kara let herself fall. She tumbled through the air, burning a crimson wake as she made reentry, slowing somewhere over the Pacific.

There was no hurry to get home. When she descended from her roof and walked down the stairs to her loft, she stumbled. There was not one heartbeat in her home, but two.

In a daze, she stumbled through the door and froze. Lena was sitting across from Alex, and for a wonder, Alex wasn’t trying to arrest or shoot her. They both had a beer in front of them and looked to be in mid conversation when Kara walked in.

On the table between them was Myriad. It looked so small, so inconsequential, this ultimate weapon built by her people to enslave their subjects.

Alex rose swiftly. “I’m going to get going. You two clearly have a lot to discuss.” She turned to Lena. “Hurt my sister like that again and next time I’ll fire the orbital fusion cannon at you.”

Lena glared, but said nothing.

Kara slowly pulled out a chair and sat down. Tentatively , she reached across and placed her hand on it, to pull it in. She froze as Lena’s hand settled on hers, fingers curling around Kara’s wrist.

“I’m sorry, too,” Lena offered, in a harsh whisper. “I’m sorry, Kara. I want to try, too.”

For the first time that night, Kara smiled.

It was not an easy or quick thing. A monument is not built in a day and things that last a lifetime are not easily forged. It took months, then years, for the trust to be rebuilt, its foundations made of bricks like lunches and sister night invitations, quiet shared meals and tentative questions that had already been answered, but in the end a wall rose, taller and stronger than ever before. Not a barrier that stood between them but a fortress that encircled and endured, made of stolen kisses and frantic nights and a pair of matching bracelets.

[daisymbin]

- [ ] What about a Dino x reader in reference to when Dino says “they [his hyungs] take away his hope? The hyungs somehow managed to convince Dino that reader broke up with him as a prank. Maybe by removing every trace of her in his room and when he tries to contact her it won’t go through? But have it end on a happy ending, maybe where reader comes back to the dorm to find Dino crying like a baby and reassures him this is a prank

oops, all love! - lee chan

warnings: none! just the boys pranking our baby dino!

pairings: lee chan x reader

genre: not so silly pranks

wc: 1.2k

a/n: thank you for this req! I genuinely enjoyed writing this, such an interesting idea, I didn't think of it haha, hope you enjoyed it! 🥰

check out my masterlist! // chan's m.list

“chan-ah, what did you do this time?” jeonghan's faux worried voice rang in chan's ears from behind. vernon side eyes jeonghan because even he thinks this is, in his words, “going too far, you know how obsessed chan is with her, he's going to freak out.” jeonghan can only secretly smirk behind chan's back as he tries to stifle his bubbling laugh, he can only imagine chan’s face right now.

“hyung…I didn't do anything…was the dinner I made last night not to her liking? did I forget to clean the house? but the house is spotless-”

“yeah, spotless like how there's not a trace of her in here.” this time, jeonghan couldn't hide his laugh, which only cause chan to whip his head around in anger.

“seriously? you're choosing to laugh now?”

vernon lightly tugs at the back of jeonghan's shirt, hoping this would somehow hint at jeonghan to reel it back and ease on the teasing. it was a prank afterall, not that chan is aware of course. jeonghan cleared his throat, trying to keep his composure calm, “how about you try calling her? it's better to talk it out with her than to assume the worst. maybe she went on a sudden trip to her parent's or something.”

“where's my phone?” chan asked hurriedly in a panicked voice. he could only hope you'd pick up as soon as the phone rang. “I think you left it with soonyoung earlier. he's in the living room.” jeonghan said calmly, he watched as chan left the bedroom in hurried steps before he turned his head to vernon, laughing, “this prank is going so much better than expected, I think we underestimated his love for her.”

“why is it not going through?” chan whisper-shouted as the panic started to bubble tenfold now. he tried again, dialing your number, but all he got was the same frustrating sound. the line was dead. he could feel his heart racing, anxiety coursing through his blood like ice water.

“hyung!” he called out, his eyes glassy with tears threatening to spill, his face pale yet red. “i can't get through! it's..it's not working, why is it not working?!”

unbeknownst to chan, soonyoung had changed your contact number to his own number & then proceeded to block chan, making sure none of his texts or calls went through.

joshua who was loving how this prank was unfolding way too much added, “or maybe she finally broke up with you?” he knew how hard this would hit chan, the boys has been telling chan jokingly, teasingly, lovingly, how you're way too good for him, that they cant understand why you would pick him out of all people.

“shut up!” chan shot back, panic turning into frustration. he could feel his heart drop. “you guys can’t seriously be doing this! not to me! why would you even say that!”

“you’ll never know unless you ask her,” jeonghan replied, still teasing, somehow trying to rile him up even more.

“how am i supposed to do that if i can’t even call her?!” chan threw his phone onto the couch, his emotions bubbling to the surface, the tears finally freefalling.

“calm down,” vernon chimed in. “just wait for her to come home. maybe she went out or something.” what a party-pooper joshua thought.

but as the minutes passed, chan’s anxiety only grew. he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

finally, 45 minutes into the ordeal, the door swung open, and you stepped into the apartment, your arms full of grocery bags. but the sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks: chan was sitting on the floor, surrounded by his hyungs, who were pretending to comfort him, but their faces betrayed their amusement which only added to your confusion.

“chan?” you called out, dropping the grocery bags as you rushed towards him.

he looked up, his eyes red and puffy from crying, his face etched with despair. “oh god….i thought you left me! i thought… i thought….!” he sputtered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“what’s going on?” you demanded, your heart racing as you glanced at the boys, who were trying their hardest to stifle their laughter.

“please dont leave me..just tell me what i did wrong and i'll change!” chan cried, looking genuinely heartbroken. “whatever i did wrong or said wrong, if i hurt you….i didn’t mean it! please don’t leave me! i’ll do better! i promise!”

your heart sank at the sight of him so broken, confusion flooding your mind. “what are you talking about? i just got home! i didn’t break up with you!”

the boys exchanged glances, their grins barely concealed as they continued to pretend to console chan.

“chan, please don’t cry! it’s okay!” seungkwan chimed in, putting a hand on his shoulder, but it only made chan wail louder, he seemingly did not hear your words as he continued, “i’m begging you! don’t leave me!” he cried, his voice cracking as he fell to his knees, hands clutching both your ankles as he desperately looks up at you. “i’m so sorry! i’ll fix everything! just give me another chance!”

“chan, what are you talking about?!” you repeated, kneeling down to face him, your heart breaking at his display of emotion. your hands come up to cup his face tenderly as your thumbs work to wipe his tears away. his blur vision turning clearer.

just then, soonyoung could no longer hold back his laughter and burst out, “we’re just messing with you! she didn’t break up with you!”

the room erupted into laughter as chan suddenly halts his crying as he muttered “wait… what?” he looks at you bewildered, but you were already looking at the boys and then back at chan, who was still on his knees, now wearing a confused and shock expression, though the relief on his face was clear.

“we thought it would be funny to see how far you’d freak out!” jeonghan added, unable to contain his amusement, “we really did underestimate your love for her.”

chan blinked at you, then at the boys, his face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “so… this was all a prank?” he said slowly, still trying to process what just happened as he hands still stayed wrapped around your ankles firmly.

you couldn’t help but laugh even though your heart swelled at how much chan cared for having you in his life, finally seeing the humor in the situation. “chan-ah, i’m not going anywhere. stop crying, hm?” you said, your lips find his forehead as you continued wiping his tears away. seeing his crying slowly coming to an end, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, chan finally let out a shaky laugh, relief flooding his features. “you guys are the worst, truly taking my hope away from me…” he muttered, shaking his head as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“maybe next time, don’t take it so seriously,” vernon teased, and you rolled your eyes at the boys, knowing this wouldn’t be the last of their antics.

[sturnsblogs]

MITTENS

Nerd!Chris X Mean!Girl!Reader

—

Chris was a HUGE cat lover—every time he saw a cat he flipped out. And well… guess who had a cat? You.

Today you were packing for a three-day weekend to go visit your parents. Of course, Chris was coming too. Your parents really liked him, although they hadn’t seen him since like 2023, back when you and Chris were still in high school. He was going to see them—and your cat—again. He was way too excited. Like bouncing-on-the-bed excited.

“Mittens is gonna remember me,” he said confidently, tossing a pair of socks into his bag like he was packing for the Emmys. “She’s literally gonna sprint to me the second we walk in.”

You snorted from across the room, holding up your travel bag. “Chris, she’s a cat. She’s gonna hiss and hide under the couch.”

“She loved me.”

“She tolerated you.”

Chris spun around dramatically. “You just don’t get us.”

You rolled your eyes, zipping up the last of your toiletries. “Do you have your toothbrush?”

He blinked. “…You didn’t pack one for me?”

“Christopher.”

“What?! I thought you were packing for both of us!”

“Why would I—? You’re a grown man!”

“I got distracted!”

“By what?!”

He grinned, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “The thought of Mittens’ little pink toe beans.”

You covered your face with your hands. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“Okay, but you love it.”

“No, I tolerate it. Like Mittens.”

“Wow. Okay. Betrayal from both my girls.”

You tried to hide your smile as you tossed a spare toothbrush in his direction. “You’re lucky I did pack an extra.”

Chris caught it with a triumphant grin. “See? That’s why we work. You handle the essentials, I bring the vibes.”

“And the chaos.”

He leaned back on the bed and sighed dramatically. “This is gonna be the best weekend ever.”

“You say that now… wait until my dad makes you help him clean the grill.”

Chris sat up instantly, wide-eyed. “I’m suddenly remembering a dentist appointment.”

You smirked. “Too late. Mittens is waiting.”

He groaned, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “I hope she remembers my face. I hope she still loves me.”

“She’s a cat, Chris.”

He held a hand to his chest. “She’s my soulmate.”

You rolled your eyes. “Good. Then you can share a bed with her.”

“Perfect. As long as you’re on the other side.”

You threw a hoodie at his face. “Pack. Now.”

The car ride was only supposed to be a little over two hours, but you were already questioning your life choices twenty minutes in.

Chris hadn’t shut up about Mittens once.

“I just know she’s gonna hear the door and come sprinting down the hallway,” he said, practically bouncing in his seat, turned halfway toward you. “Like she’s gonna skid across the hardwood floor and everything. Like paws slipping and sliding type of running.”

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “She’s probably gonna hiss and run away.”

Chris gasped like you slapped him. “You take that back.”

“I’m serious,” you said, adjusting your grip on the steering wheel. “She’s dramatic. Like someone else I know.”

Chris leaned closer. “No. She loves me. I’m like… her favorite uncle. She probably thinks about me every day.”

You let out a loud sigh, already feeling a headache coming on. “Chris, she doesn’t even think about me every day and I’m her owner.”

“But we had a bond,” he whined, like a little kid. “I scratched her behind the ears exactly how she likes it. I even gave her that little fish toy! You think she forgot?”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you leaned forward and cranked the volume of the music all the way up, drowning him out instantly.

Chris gave you a betrayed look, mouthing dramatically: RUDE! before crossing his arms and dramatically sulking in the passenger seat.

He even tilted his head against the window like he was in a sad music video.

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

After a second, you reached over and patted his knee without looking.

Still, you heard him mutter under the music: “Mittens would never treat me like this…”

You rolled your eyes and turned the music up even louder.

You finally pulled into the driveway, the tires crunching over the gravel as you threw the car into park. Chris practically ripped his seatbelt off, vibrating with excitement. You barely had time to open your door before he was already halfway up the front porch steps, backpack slung lazily over his shoulder.

“Chris!” you called, grabbing your own bag and slamming the car door. “Could you at least pretend you’re excited to see my parents first and not just the cat?”

He grinned over his shoulder. “I’m multitasking, babe!”

The front door swung open before either of you could even knock, and there stood your mom, arms spread wide and already tearing up.

“Oh my gosh,” she gushed, pulling you into a huge hug immediately. “You’ve gotten so big, sweetheart. Let me look at you!” She held you out at arm’s length and beamed. “Prettier every time I see you.”

You laughed a little, cheeks burning, but before you could say anything, your younger siblings barreled through the door, squealing.

“CHRIS!” your little brother shouted, practically launching himself at Chris.

Chris stumbled back a step with a big laugh, catching him easily and ruffling his hair. “What’s up, dude!”

Your younger sister wasn’t far behind, clinging onto Chris’s arm like he was some superhero. “I missed you so much!” she whined.

Chris bent down to hug both of them at once, his face lighting up in a way that made your chest ache a little. You forgot how much your family adored him — it wasn’t just you who missed him when he left for college.

Your dad came into view next, shaking Chris’s hand and clapping him on the back warmly. “Glad you could make it, son. House hasn’t been the same without you eating all our snacks.”

Chris grinned sheepishly. “Gotta keep the tradition alive, Mr. Y/L/N.”

You just stood there watching, warmth blooming deep in your chest.

And from somewhere in the house, a loud meow echoed down the hall.

Chris’s eyes lit up immediately. “MITTENS!” he gasped, shoving your backpack into your arms and sprinting inside.

You groaned loudly, following behind him with a muttered, “traitor.”

You trudged upstairs behind Chris, still lugging both of your backpacks since he had totally abandoned you in favor of your cat.

When you made it into your old bedroom, you found him already sprawled out on your bed, Mittens cradled lovingly against his chest like a literal baby. He was scratching under her chin, whispering sweet little nothings to her like she was the love of his life.

“Look at you, pretty girl,” he cooed softly, rubbing behind her ears. Mittens purred so loudly you could hear it from the doorway. “I missed you so much, didn’t I?”

You stood there for a second, arms crossed, just watching.

And waiting.

And… waiting.

Chris didn’t even notice you. His entire world was currently a fluffy gray ball of fur.

You cleared your throat loudly.

Nothing.

You dropped your backpack onto the floor dramatically.

Still nothing.

He was now pressing tiny kisses to the top of Mittens’ head, whispering, “You’re the cutest thing in the whole world. I love you so much, Mitty.”

Your eye twitched.

“Hey, Chris,” you said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Remember me? Your girlfriend?”

He blinked up at you, completely oblivious. “Huh? Oh—yeah, babe, I know. I love you too,” he said distractedly, before going right back to baby-talking your cat.

You stood there fuming.

You crossed your arms tighter.

You tapped your foot against the floor.

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

Finally, you snapped. “You know what? Maybe Mittens should pack your lunches and kiss you goodnight too!” you huffed, flopping dramatically onto the other side of the bed, turning away from him.

Chris’s head shot up at the sudden poutiness in your voice. He looked between you and Mittens, suddenly realizing how much he’d been ignoring you.

He bit his lip to hide a smile. “Are you… jealous of Mittens right now?” he asked, trying not to laugh.

You didn’t answer, only huffed and scooted further away.

Chris gently placed Mittens on a little blanket at the foot of the bed and immediately crawled over to you, pressing himself against your back. “Baby,” he whined, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “You’re my favorite girl, you know that.”

You stayed silent, pretending to be mad even as your heart fluttered.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the whole wide world,” he mumbled against your skin, kissing just behind your ear. “I love you so much more than I love Mittens. I swear.”

“You didn’t look like it,” you muttered under your breath.

Chris chuckled and hugged you even tighter. “Mittens doesn’t kiss me like you do,” he whispered teasingly. “Mittens doesn’t smell like strawberries either.” He kissed along your jawline softly, trying to coax a smile out of you.

You finally turned around to face him, still pouting a little.

“Forgive me?” he asked sweetly, nudging his nose against yours. “I’ll let you have the first cuddle spot tonight.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically but smiled despite yourself. “Fine. But if you even look at Mittens before you look at me again, we’re breaking up.”

Chris laughed and leaned in to kiss you softly. “Deal, princess.”

—

A/N- FINALLY I THOUGHT OF SOMETHING FOR THEM.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss @ilovemenwithlonghairr @whore4-chrissturniolo