#that said will is still not allowed to ride his bike at night

[heavencasteel420]

Honestly the implications for the Byers family dynamics if Jonathan gets taken to the UD instead of Will are staggering.

[saintobio]

blank canvas. (2)

after offering a painful ultimatum to finally be enough for him, things ultimately get worse as he decides between keeping you or losing you as the only resolution.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. strong language, defloration (kinda), explicit smut, undertones of manipulation and gaslighting, toxic relationship, undertones of cheating

notes. 11.2k wc! thanks for the love on bc1, i didn't expect it to gain traction at all but tyty. last part will come soon, but that will be the final chapter to this mini-series.

part 1 | part 3

The ride back home was uncomfortable. 

It wasn’t because you had promised to give yourself to him that night, but rather because his uncharacteristic silence was not what you had expected after delivering your ultimatum. You already proposed a wonderful solution to his needs, so why was he acting like you were the one being ridiculous? This was why you hated it whenever Sukuna chose silence over open communication, as it left you a hard time guessing about what was running through his mind. His expression didn’t offer any clues either, because he did pretty well at concealing his emotions behind a facade of indifference.

When you said you would do it with him, you meant it. But what did he think of it? 

The sharp wind cut through your skin, the roar of his motorbike deafening your ears as your boyfriend accelerated his vehicle upon entering the tunnel. The vibrant yellow lights offered a cinematic view, tempting you to imagine yourself embracing the wind with open arms, though you knew better than to do so. Instead, you held onto him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning forward as he sped through the empty lane.

It was nearing midnight, and the sparse traffic allowed Sukuna to indulge in one of his habits: riding his bike in the late hours of the night through this particular tunnel and onto the highway. You knew this ritual helped him clear his mind since it offered a rush of danger that sharpened his focus on the road. His choice to take this route tonight also only confirmed to you that he was grappling with internal thoughts. The last time he rode this fast was when your parents made you choose between them and him, slapping it in his face that he was and would never be welcomed in your family. 

To be honest, it frightened you. The speed at which he was riding was dangerous for both of you. Moreover, his bike was a YZF-R1, although street-legal, it was still a high-performance sport bike more suited for the track. It required agile and precise handling with its 1000cc engine. Yet, no other vehicle seemed more fitting for Sukuna than this. 

Whatever was on his mind, he didn’t care to let you know. You two didn’t really speak throughout the ride while you clung to him like a backpack, praying in your head that you two wouldn’t get into an accident. Thankfully enough, he did safely take you home as you arrived at your shared apartment at exactly midnight. 

“Please don’t ride like that again,” you muttered as he helped you out of his motorbike. “You could’ve gotten us killed.” 

His fingers then reached to unclasp your helmet, pulling it up to reveal your face. “Well, we’re still alive.” 

You looked at his face despite his best effort to avoid yours, standing centimeters apart while he switched off the engine. He didn’t return your gaze as though he was drowned by guilt. Should you speak at this? Or should you let him do it first? 

“Baby.” After a minute or so, it was your boyfriend who sighed and finally gave in, pulling you close and resting his forehead against yours. He kept his eyes closed even when he was cupping your cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.” 

Yes, you certainly shouldn’t. You didn’t have to do things unwillingly, but that wouldn’t change the fact that this on-going issue was putting a strain on your relationship and this would be your last shot at trying to salvage it. And you couldn’t have him looking for sensual gratification from anyone else other than you, so what other option did you have, really? 

“I want to do it.” 

“Not if you’re forcing yourself like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I’m forcing myself?”

“Your face tells me you are,” replied he, staring at your face in defeat. “So, let’s not—”

“What, and let this issue haunt us over and over?” You smiled bitterly, shaking your head adamantly. “This has to be done. I need to experience it so I’ll finally understand.”

Understand what? His face almost spelled out those words, but he chose not to say anything of the sort and instead leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Alright. I’ll make it memorable.” 

— —

Easier said than done, of course. You kept overthinking about whether your performance would be satisfactory to him given that you didn’t have enough experience to learn anything at all, aside from the make out sessions that you did once in a blue moon. Around thirty minutes of your time was spent hyperanalyzing your situation in the shower, while the other half of it was spent doing a little more than your nightly routines. Since Sukuna liked powdery scents, you placed a good effort in applying lavender-scented oil and perfume on every inch of your body. You also shaved any unwanted hair, especially on all the intimate places you knew he would be seeing. And by the time you were done, you stepped out of the bathroom blooming like a fresh flower, wrapped in nothing but a thin towel that hugged your womanly figure. 

It didn’t feel right at all. It didn’t feel good knowing that you were preparing yourself like that, when these things should only happen on the first night after your wedding. It didn’t feel great that you were going to lose your virginity to a man who had not even proposed to you. This wasn’t even your honeymoon, but you had to pretend like it was. 

Did Sukuna feel the same? 

He wasn’t lying in bed when you walked out of the bathroom. Instead, he had just returned from outside—shirtless, wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, and holding a box of condoms and a tube of lube in his hand. It was clear he had made a quick visit to the convenience store nearby and got the essentials for your first night.

Immediately, he eyed your towel-wrapped body with restrained lust, clearing his throat as he walked towards the nightstand. “You look nice.” 

Really? Did he really have to make this more awkward than it already was? 

“Thank you,” was all you could softly reply. It was funny how he pretended to be busy placing the box and tube above the bedside table instead of lunging at you like a desperate man. But because you wanted to get this over with, you were the one who approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist, and touching the firmness of his abs. For someone who had zero experience, you were definitely trying hard enough and that should please him. “You have to help me out here, my love. Guide me.” 

When Sukuna turned around, your heart started racing. Of excitement? Maybe. Of anxiety? Perhaps. He made it better though when he finally caved in and looked straight into your eyes, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before lifting your chin with his hand. “You smell extra nice, too,” he added, leaning close enough that you could feel his warm breath fanning your face. 

You were feeling it now. The equal lust. The carnal desire. The feeling of his sweet kisses, which he made true as soon as he crashed his lips onto yours. His kisses usually ranged from tender to rough, but this time, it was an altogether different type of kiss. It was passionate and demonstrative, as if showing you exactly what he had been wanting to do to you the first time you got together. This must be the result of being celibate in over a year. He was clearly a man deprived of sexual pleasure, and you were responsible for it. You actually turned him into a monk. 

Now, he wasn’t holding anything back anymore. With his hand on your nape, he deepened the kiss to the point where you could feel his tongue exploring your mouth. You followed whatever he was doing like a good girl, like a very good girl, as he completely devoured your mouth with his. It didn’t take long for him to advance his kisses in other places too, being your jawline his next target, and then your neck as he feathered kisses around the soft flesh, leaving marks that would need a few days to be concealed. 

Because his arms were tight around your waist, yours were locked around his neck. Where else should you be putting them? What does the girl usually do in this situation? You tried not to think much of it and listened to your own body while your boyfriend was sucking the skin around your collarbone. At first, your hand traced his toned chest, then it moved southwards to feel his abs, and further down to his…

“Y-You’re hard.” Your eyes widened as you felt his growing erection behind the fabric of his sweatpants. It wasn’t your first time seeing his boner, but it was the first time you touched it with your own hand. It was the first time you had your palm stroking his length, swallowing hard as you realized just how hard and thick he was. 

“It wants to be inside you,” he whispered through your mouth, kissing you back again, “so bad, baby.” 

Gosh. Your knees felt weak and you two hadn’t even really started yet. How much more when he starts putting that thing of his inside you? You were breathing hard, trying to catch air as your boyfriend continued to lap his tongue with yours, guiding your hand to continue fondling his wood while it grew bigger the more stimulated it got. By letting you touch his hardened crotch together with his own, you realized that you had just unlocked a newfound fetish of yours. “D-Do you… do you think about doing it with me often?”

He bit your lower lip before pulling away, animalistic eyes sending you into an orbit of pleasure. “Do you mean if I touch myself to the thought of you a lot?” he teased, chuckling darkly at the obvious heat on your cheeks. You couldn’t help but feel excited at how vulgar he could be with his words. “I do jack off a lot, angel. And it’s always you in my mind.” 

You didn’t even have the time to melt from his words, because before you knew it, he was already peeling the towel off your body to reveal your completely naked figure. Obviously, your first reaction was to get shy—with your heated cheeks, your inability to look him in the eyes, your little efforts in covering your breasts and crotch, but he made sure to pull your hands away while keeping his eyes on you. “…Don’t stare.” 

Sukuna, however, didn’t listen. His dark eyes scanned every curve of your body, particularly around your chest area before he sighed and threw his head back. “Fuck,” he cussed under his breath. “You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe no other punk has seen you like this.” 

Your confidence grew little by little because of his praises. “But isn’t that a good thing?” 

“For sure.” He almost laughed at his own words, more so in disbelief, before he reached out to touch your bosom. “No one can touch you like this, either, baby.” 

“That’s—”

“Hmm?” Your boyfriend smirked at your reaction. While his other hand went to squeeze your breast, the other traveled to your bum, squeezing the cheek with equal fervor. “Can I have a taste of you, baby?”

He fondled your breasts with both hands now, massaging the rounded mass like they were his property. You had to admit to yourself that the feeling of being touched actually transcended your expectations. Or maybe it was only because of how erotic it was, but you couldn’t deny how turned on you were as his veiny, manly hands cupped your bosom. 

And as soon as you nodded and permitted him to ‘taste’ you, he took no time in gently pushing you down the mattress, allowing you to lay at a comfortable position under him and his wanton stare. Taste you? He was more like eating you, when he pinned you against the mattress and sucked the skin on your chest. At first, his tongue rolled along your cleavage, inching closer and closer to your right breast while he had his hand squeezing the left. Your body naturally gravitated towards him as you arched your back so he could have better access to your chest. Not only your chest, but also your crotch as he started grinding his clothed manhood in between your folds. 

“Mm…”

Sukuna’s mouth was on your breast now, suckling on your flesh and playing his tongue around your nipple. You couldn’t tell if it was pleasurable or painful because his tongue felt ticklish on your skin, but the suction definitely was an entirely different feeling. Both weren’t bad, anyway. They were just new to you. But even if they were foreign, you were curious and all the more interested, studying every little thing he was doing with your body and trying to make mental notes out of it. 

Maybe you should have watched porn. That way, you could have been more aware of the step-by-step process of having sex. Who knew there were steps to follow at all? You didn’t think that foreplay could draw this much delay in your session because all you thought was that he was going to insert his cock straight inside you as soon as he saw you naked. 

With all the touching, fondling, and kissing… what were you supposed to do? He was doing all the work here. 

“Baby,” you spoke softly, staring at the ceiling, “C-Can I… touch you?” 

Instead of pulling away, his mouth latched onto your left boob, giving it the same attention before moving south. “Not yet.” 

When he said that, you didn’t expect his hand to land on your crotch. Your heart was thumping at an irregular rhythm as you felt his fingers moving in circles around your bud, playing with your clit before spreading your folds apart. “Nghh—!” you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, eyes widening at the sound of your voice, but your boyfriend shushed you by placing a peck on your lips before spreading your legs into a V. 

“You’re so wet,” he said, pointing out the obvious as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading your labia to reveal your entrance. Something about the situation made you increasingly self-conscious, but his undeniably hungry gaze kept you from covering your most sensitive area. It seemed like he was enjoying the sight of your pussy, especially with how wet and ‘untouched’ it was. “Your pussy’s so pretty, baby,” he mumbled, lowering his face closer to the area, “Can’t wait to put my dick inside it.” 

You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue in between your folds. No, you couldn’t even think straight after he started teasing your vagina, alternating between flicking his tongue around your bud to french kissing your entrance. His tongue was so deep in your cavern that you were raising your hips involuntarily, going insane from the pleasure it sent your body. Your hands even gripped the sheets and your back arched into a C as you held back from moaning like a wild animal. At some point, the slurping sounds and the feeling of his mouth kissing your vagina had your legs shaking. 

Though, you could ask yourself: what turned you on the most? Was it him actually eating your pussy or just the idea of him doing it? 

And just when you thought he was done, he replaced his mouth by inserting a finger inside your cunt, garnering a much louder whimper out of you. “B-Baby!”

“Does it hurt?” he asked, eyes locked with yours as he slowly moved his middle finger in and out. “It’s so tight.” 

“It hurts…” You nodded, feeling his finger moving in circles inside your cunt as though he was trying to get a feel of your walls, measuring the tightness and such. 

He kissed you for a good minute. “Relax, angel. Don’t clench too much.” 

Clench? You didn’t even know you were doing such a thing. “How to…?” 

“Just relax.” Sukuna placed a hand on your abdomen, pressing it down while he was inserting yet another finger inside of you. “This’ll help you prepare so it won’t hurt as much later.” 

Now, you were goddamn nervous. What did he mean it wouldn’t hurt as much? Because you were overthinking the pain of having him his actual cock inside of you. If you couldn’t even bear having his two fingers inside you, how much more with his clearly thick shaft? It was ridiculous to feel both anxious and yet aroused at the same time. Anxious, because you knew he could rip you open. Aroused, because his fingers were currently doing a great job at hitting your most sensitive spot. Whatever it was that he was reaching, it was certainly sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body. 

His fingers continued to move. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Around. When he pulled his digits out, he sucked the juices on them, tasting every drip of your essence from his fingers. “Sweet.”

Were you? You started to get curious at how he tasted, too. Sweet? Salty? Bitter? You seemed to be moving on autopilot when you pulled yourself up and sat in bed on your knees. “Your turn?” 

You asked the question as if you knew what you were doing, which was why Sukuna found it adorable and humorous at the same time. He did help you pull down the sweatpants that had been covering his erection for what felt like eternity, only to reveal a monstrous size that sprung out of the garment. 

Holy fuck was all you could say. 

He stood at the edge of the bed, a devilish smirk displayed on his saintly face as he saw the length of his cock compared to your face. You obviously hadn’t seen many cocks in your lifetime to be able to compare his size, but in your eyes, he was definitely big. He was girthy. He was lengthy. He was veiny. Meaty. 

“Wanna suck it for me, baby?” he encouraged, pumping his shaft while looking at you. Fuck. “Open your mouth.” 

You did as told, wrapping a hand at the base of his length while placing his tip on your mouth. You pressed your tongue flat on the surface of his tip, rolling your tongue around the head as if it were a lollipop. Was that what you were supposed to do?

“Eyes on me.” His voice deepened an octave. And it was also raspier. 

Why did he want you to look up at him? It was already embarrassing. 

“I said, eyes on me, angel.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to lock eyes with his darkened ones. Damn. No wonder girls were desperate to see him in his shop every single day. This was probably what they had been daydreaming about. “Suck my cock.” 

In your head, you became a slut. In reality, you were still a shy, inexperienced virgin who didn’t know what to do. You relied on his instructions and looked at his expressions to know if you were doing a good job and to see what he liked and didn’t like. He definitely liked it when you sucked the head, liked it even more when you started to let him go deeper in your mouth, and surely liked it a hell lot better when you gagged after his cock hit the back of your throat. But in spite of the string of saliva that left your mouth after gagging from his cock, his arousal only grew harder, this time holding your hair in his fist as he began thrusting his hip forward. You were bobbing your head at a rhythm that satisfied him, feeling the stretch on your scalp as he tightened his grip on your hair. 

“Tighten your mouth around it,” he instructed, fucking your mouth senselessly like hitting your throat was driving him nuts. Your eyes were already filling up with tears because of your urge to gag again, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to stop now while he was just starting to pleasure himself. 

This was the first time in your life to give someone a blowjob, and you weren’t sure what to make of that experience. It personally didn’t give you pleasure, but you liked hearing his desperate moans. You liked hearing him curse and get vulgar with his words. You liked seeing him get rough. His taste, on the other hand, was somewhat a different experience. Since you were only sucking his flesh, it was a tad bit salty at first contact but didn’t taste anything much after tongue got used to the skin around his shaft. Perhaps his cum would have a stronger flavor, though it looked like he had no plans in releasing his load into your mouth as he pulled his member out. 

“Fuck it,” he grunted, gently pushing you back and spreading your legs wide open again, “I wanna feel your pussy so bad. Can I fuck you raw, babe?” 

All those condoms, and he wanted to have you raw? 

“But… I don’t wanna get pregnant.” 

His face was full of assurance, shaking his head and denying any chance of knocking you up. “You won’t be. I’ll pull out, I just… I have to feel you raw the first time. I have to.” 

“Okay…” 

You were nervous as hell. You had butterflies in your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat you couldn’t silence. You had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was here, the reality of it was too overwhelming. Your mind yet again raced with a whirlwind of doubts and insecurities, and every nerve on your body seemed to be on high alert while you watched him getting occupied with rubbing his entire length with lube, ensuring a smooth entrance inside you. 

He was nervous too, right? You couldn’t be the only one. You couldn’t be. 

You just wanted everything to be perfect. To show him how much you cared. To feel that you were enough. But the thought was paralyzing. Tonight was more than just physical intimacy; it was a step forward in your relationship, a moment of connection you wanted so badly to cherish. This first intimate encounter should be filled with love, respect, and mutual understanding. 

But what if after this, he’d come to realize that you weren’t the one? What if he’d get disappointed and tell you that you weren’t worth it? What if he’d leave you for someone else who could pleasure him better? What if, after you had given yourself to him, no one else would ever appreciate you anymore? 

You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the intimacy of your connection. You wanted to explore this uncharted territory with him, to dive headfirst into the unknown and discover what lay on the other side. But were you really ready for this? Did you truly want this? Would it be everything you had imagined, or would you regret losing your virginity to him?

The fear of inadequacy gnawed at your confidence as Sukuna positioned himself back in between you, his tip rubbing at your slit a couple times before he finally sunk it into your entrance. 

“Haaa—!” 

“Shh. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“N-No, I—!”

It felt like your walls were being stretched so painfully, like your flesh was being torn open in the most agonizing way. This was not the kind of pain you pictured out when he put his member inside. Sukuna even tried to grab hold of your hips to keep you steady, but you were withdrawing your hips back, wanting nothing but for him to remove his cock. 

“It hurts… It hurts… please, stop. Please!” 

“Baby, I’m trying to be gentle—”

“I SAID STOP!” 

Both of your eyes widened at the same time, and that was the only time you two were ever in sync. He was clearly shocked by your outburst, while you yourself were surprised at how you raised your voice at him. Neither of you expected that situation. As a result, he did pull away and completely withdrew himself from you. 

Frustration was evident on his visage and he couldn’t even hide it anymore. “Fuck this,” he spat in exasperation, taking a deep breath as he reached to slip his sweatpants back on. “I knew it.” 

“No, I…” You swallowed. “It just… You kinda forced it, I wasn’t ready.” 

“I forced it, really? I forced you?” His laugh was out of complete disbelief. “I never forced you into anything, angel. I’ve asked you since the beginning if this is really what you want.” He took a pause, a very uncomfortable one, before he went on murmuring, “It was just my tip and you’re overreacting like this. I’m not even halfway in.”

His agitation had finally awakened you to your senses, realizing that you did end up doing what you were scared of doing. You ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your bubble of negative thoughts that you had once again failed to fulfill what you were supposed to do. No wonder he was aggravated, now sitting away from you and wearing his clothes as if telling you that he was done. Done being blue balled by his own girlfriend. Done expecting something he was never really bound to have. 

You reached out to touch his arm. “Baby, I’m sorry… I just got scared, but we can still—”

“Still do it?” he continued your sentence by ironically cutting you off, “No, the fuck, I won’t. I’m not in the mood anymore.” 

His reaction brought tears to your eyes, because the way he was acting stung your fragile heart. You didn’t mean to ruin anything. More importantly, you didn’t wish for everything to just turn out like this. “I-I’m sorry. Let me try again, please.” 

The weakness of your voice seemed to have softened him, becoming calmer and more composed after a few minutes of contemplation, but he still held his ground when he massaged his temple and sighed. “Let’s just not push it, Y/N.” He looked at your eyes, with hurt and rejection reflecting on them. “Even if you say you wanna do it, you think I can’t see it in your face that you’re not really into it? You’re never ready for me and maybe it’s my fault, maybe there’s something about me that you’re so scared of. Maybe it’s because you don’t feel secure with me, maybe you wanna save yourself for someone better, someone who can give you a brighter future—”

“That’s not true!” You shook your head desperately, your eyes blurring from the pool of tears while you clung to his arm. Where was all this coming from? It sounded like he had been harboring those feelings for so long. “That’s not true. What are you even saying?” 

“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m just…” Trying to give a reason why you won’t give it to me. That must be what he had wanted to say. “Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into this bullshit anymore. I don’t wanna make it look like I’m begging for your affection like this. Intimacy should happen normally for couples, and if we can’t have that, then we can’t. That’s it.” 

Why did he sound like he was giving up? 

You tried to keep your emotions at bay while listening to him battling with his internal thoughts. “I understand I disappointed you tonight, but…”

He was adamant at shaking his head, distancing himself from you by getting up from the bed. “No, you got nothin’ to apologize for. It’s your body and your choice. I’d never force you into anything.” 

Then… then…

“I just think it’s not the perfect time,” he continued, shooting you a glance before looking away. Each step he took added another crack on your fragile heart. “From now on, I’m never gonna initiate anything intimate nor will I expect anything from you, aight? I’m over it.”

Alone in your vulnerability, you could feel the cold air hugging your naked body as you watched him walk towards the door, leaving you in the dark both literally and figuratively. “Where a-are you going? Come on… Please.” 

He no longer cared to turn around. He no longer bothered to comfort you as he walked away, muttering, “Just gonna go for a ride. Don’t wait on me.” 

— —

Nearly three weeks had passed since that night and you would be lying if you said everything was okay. 

No, everything was not okay. You could feel the distance growing each day even when you two still did everything together. Your normal routines didn’t feel normal anymore because he was acting too detached ever since he told you that he wouldn’t initiate anything intimate ever again. And to be honest? It hurt. A whole fucking lot. Hearing your partner say that they would never wish to do anything intimate with you was probably the worst way to experience heartbreak. Because he was truthful with it, and he showed it very openly. 

Now, he’d lock the door whenever he would take showers. He’d spent most of his time outside riding his bike until midnight. He stopped texting you sweet messages while on tattoo shop duty. He seldomly joined you to eat breakfast and dinner together. His back would face you whenever you two slept in bed. His eyes avoided you even when you walked around in underwear. His hand wouldn’t touch you even when you were centimeters close to him. There were no kisses exchanged either, unless obliged to do so when leaving the house. No hugs. No hair-stroking, hand-holding sweetness ever shared. You were simply cohabiting in your shared apartment like strangers who had barely even said I love you’s. 

“Man, that’s rough,” remarked Suguru Getou, your cousin and the barista, as he tidied up the counter behind the elevated bar. Having just served his friend an Americano, he listened intently as you vented about your situation with Sukuna. “I’ll be honest with you, Y/N. It’s not looking good for you.”

You knew that. You just refused to acknowledge it. “I mean, all couples fight.” 

Suguru shook his head, however. “You two aren’t even fighting. Dude just gave up and started detaching himself from you. If that’s not a sign already, then I don’t know what is.” 

“What sign?” you asked, hiding the obvious worry in your voice. You need not be dense about his words, but you wanted to have some kind of hope to grasp on. 

“Sign that he’s falling out of love?” he continued. 

And somehow, his white-haired friend thought it would be okay to chime in. “More like a sign that the tool's not interested anymore and is about to dump her.”

Your face felt hot and in the most terrible way. “Sorry, what was your name again?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You hadn’t expected the guy to suddenly chime in, considering he had been quietly typing on his laptop just moments before. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, so don’t go listening to somebody else’s business when you’re not part of the conversation.”

“Jeez,” said the albino guy, grinning at your cousin as if amused by your barrage of a response. “She’s a yapper, too. I thought she was supposed to be this sweet and innocent type, Suguru?”

“Not always.” Suguru chuckled at his friend before turning to you, apologetic eyes now attempting to soothe your nerves. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Satoru just likes to tease people. Don’t mind him.”  

You kept a straight face. “Well, then maybe tell your friend to keep his nose out of conversations he’s not invited to.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Satoru gave you a playful salute before extending his hand towards you. “Look, I didn’t mean to overhear, but I actually sympathize with you. If it were me, I’d never do that to you, baby.”

Oh, God. You were so bad at this. Was he flirting with you or was he simply playful like this? 

Nevertheless, you rolled your eyes and ignored the hand he offered, essentially brushing off his advances. “I don’t need sympathy. All I’m here for is to talk to my cousin to try and have his advice on the matter,” you emphasized pointedly, making it clear to Satoru that he was the last person you wanted advice from. “I don’t need a stranger listening to my personal life.” 

“Doesn’t hurt to receive advice from another guy,” countered Satoru, shrugging. “Right, Suguru? I mean, we’re both guys. We can give you some insight into how men think.” 

You felt the urge to bury your face in your hands. It was clearly a mistake going there and putting yourself in that situation, and now having two guys aware of your sex life with your boyfriend. That alone was so wrong on many levels. But could it be helped? Suguru was your closest cousin, the only one who didn’t turn his back on you after you left your parents’ home. He was working at a cafe three blocks away from your flower shop and you happened to be delivering a batch of fresh floral decorations for their cafe. You obviously found it a good opportunity to open up to him about your struggling relationship and hoped he could offer some male perspective on Sukuna’s behavior. You just hadn’t anticipated his friend eavesdropping on the conversation the entire time.

Well, that should have been expected anyway, since only the three of you were in that cafe on a lazy Wednesday afternoon. 

“I don’t kiss and tell, by the way.” Satoru was beaming as he gave you that assurance and you couldn’t help but admit that the man had some charm in him. He was attractive, no doubt about it. He was also tall, toned, and seemingly well off based on the way he dressed. He had a casual yet preppy style, something you would normally see from guys who went to private school. 

“Do you work?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. “You don’t seem like the type.” 

“Oh, now she’s interested.” Satoru seemed to have found your sudden interest in him humorous. “I’m finishing my MBA, miss. Thank you for asking.”

“He’s a privileged rich kid with generational wealth and a family business,” Suguru remarked, playfully gesturing a cutting motion across his neck. “Definitely not your type, huh, Y/N?”

“Why, what’s her type?” The white-haired man looked intrigued, pulling his stool closer. He had that stupid grin on his face as though the topic just sparked his curiosity. “What’s her boyfriend like?”

Suguru, who wanted to play along, jokingly hummed in deep thought. “He’s got tattoos, likes to tattoo other people, is a college dropout, rides a big bike, smokes and drinks, listens to heavy metal, was probably a delinquent and a juvie alumni—”

“Excuse you, he’s never been in a juvenile detention center,” you defended your man, feeling like your cousin’s categorization of Sukuna was becoming a little too derogatory and you had to correct him for that, “and he’s a good man. He’s sweet and caring, he’s passionate, and he loves me sincerely.” 

“Sincerely, not?” Satoru quipped, earning your glare in return. He immediately raised his hands in surrender. “I'm just joking. If you believe he’s all that, that’s your choice. I don’t judge booktok girls who romanticize typical bad boys.”

You rolled your eyes at his audacity. Each word that left his mouth seemed to stoke the flames of your irritation. “You’re so offensive, I’ll have you know that.” 

The white-haired guy smugly took a sip from his coffee. “At least I don’t make girls feel guilty for not having sex with me.” 

“Oooh.” Suguru was clearly enjoying the show, unaware that you were one step closer from smacking his friend across the face. “Touché. He kinda has a point, Y/N.” 

“Be serious,” you warned. 

To which he agreed to. “Okay, I am being serious now,” he said, abandoning his playful stance to lean in on a more solemn posture against the counter, “If you think Sukuna makes you feel guilty for not doing it with him, then shouldn’t that speak for the kind of relationship you two have? He wants something you can’t give. His reaction tells you everything you need to know about him.” 

You tried to absorb his words with a better understanding and without any bias. “Isn’t his reaction normal? He’s a man, too. I understand his needs and I made him feel somewhat rejected.”

“It’s all about respect, Y/N,” answered Suguru, “If he’s a decent man, he wouldn’t make you feel that way. No mixed signals, no guilt tripping, no nothing. If you can’t do it, then don’t.” 

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t feel the same if your girlfriend keeps rejecting sex with you?” 

Suguru smirked. “I never said I’m a decent man, either. All I’m saying is if what you want isn’t exactly aligned to what he wants, then maybe it’s best you break it off with him because this shit won’t get you anywhere, Y/N. Trust me. He’s gonna dump you before you know it. I mean, it’s one thing to pretend he’s all fine with it, and it’s another to distance himself from you like he’s silently protesting.” 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Satoru joined in once again. “It’s impossible for a guy like that to be in a relationship for so long and not have any pussy. We think of sex 24/7, some of us are just better at restraining ourselves than others. He’s putting up with it now, but it’s only a matter of time he gets sick and tired of waiting. You do realize he can get any girl he wants, anytime he wants, right?” 

Although you were still uncomfortable at Satoru casually chiming in on the conversation, it was true when they said they could give you the exact male perspective you needed to hear. This allowed you to go deeper into Sukuna’s psyche and understand why he was acting that way. You just didn’t know how to save the connection you have with your boyfriend when both your cousin and his friend were describing all the red flags on Sukuna’s behavior. 

“I don’t know,” you spoke in a tone of defeat. “I kinda understand where he’s coming from, so I can’t just leave him for it. I love him.”

Satoru looked at your cousin like you couldn’t be saved. “She’s in too deep.” 

“Yeah, gaslighted as fuck.” Suguru was shaking his head in disappointment. 

The taller man chuckled and brought up a ridiculous offer to lighten the situation up. “Honestly, Y/N. I know we just met and all, but if you ever need someone to teach you how to do good in bed, just hit me up. He’ll never know.” 

“Shut up,” you shot back at Satoru, eyes rolling at his remark. 

“You’re out here feeling bad for that guy when he could be fucking his clients at the tattoo shop.”

You argued. “No, he’s not—”

“Are you sure he isn’t?” 

It wasn’t Suguru nor Satoru who posed that question; it was Yuki Tsukumo, the café’s manager and Suguru's respected senior. She was in a relationship with one of your boyfriend’s stepbrothers, Choso, and was also a fellow biker, which allowed her to cross paths with Sukuna in their community. Despite this connection, she was never particularly close to him. In fact, Yuki didn’t personally get along with Sukuna and she was very vocal about it. She was, however, a regular client of yours and ordered floral arrangements from your shop on a weekly basis.

It had been awhile since you last saw her, and didn’t expect that the first greeting you would give her was a question. “Yuki, what do you mean?” 

Great. Now, three people know about your relationship quagmires. 

She was placing her helmet at the counter and sitting on a stool before answering you, “I really think you should talk to him about it, Y/N.” 

No, no. Why did you suddenly feel a pang of anxiety out of nowhere? Something about the sympathy in Yuki’s eyes felt unsettling, and it sent a wave of fear through you. She definitely knew something. What was Sukuna doing behind your back?

“Can you please just tell me?” 

Her gaze studied your face intently, as if deliberating on the right thing to do. “Well... I spotted him riding with a girl the other night. Initially, I thought it might be you, but last night, I saw them together again. I recognized her... because it was his ex. I think he’s been giving her rides home lately.” 

Amidst the quiet of the room, your heart felt like it was breaking in two. The sudden revelation sent you into an abyss of pain.

“You might wanna visit his tattoo shop later.” Yuki encouraged me with a comforting smile. “It may be best to confront him about it.”

— —

Sukuna wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. It wasn’t like he was purposely avoiding you, but he just didn’t feel comfortable acting like everything was fine and dandy. Because if he was damn honest, the sexual frustration was fucking with his head. So much so to the point where he started questioning himself if he should still put up with a relationship like this. 

First of all, there were pros and cons involved. He had to consider that it was a special connection filled with special memories, too. 

If he was talking about the pros, he knew he would have a loving lifetime partner with you. You were beautiful, kind, and pure. You inspired him and motivated him to be better. You were unmaterialistic and happy with the littlest things. You gave his dominant side the urge to be a better man, like he was made to protect and provide for you. You became his muse; a blank canvas that was all for him to paint on. A canvas that no one had ever touched. Or, in your world, a white lily that was associated with chastity and virtue. 

But then, there were also cons, and the foremost of it being you were too conservative for your own good. You grew up in a strict environment with uptight parents who wanted to control your life. He could never voice it out, but he really hated that you were square like your parents sometimes. You were too traditional and afraid to explore new experiences, oftentimes policing him for living his life as free as he wanted it to be. The ‘opposites attract’ thing did seem to work in your relationship at first, with your differences being exciting for each other, but as time went by, it became clearer to him that you two were too different to actually be in sync together. 

Hence why your relationship became rigid and suffocating, forcing him to take a breather by distancing himself from you for some time. He did this for your benefit, because he had to clear his head before risking losing you for good. He didn’t want to jeopardize a relationship that he knew meant the world to him. Perhaps this was just a phase, a challenging period following the honeymoon phase, where all your differences seemed to become more pronounced.

But to repeatedly make him look forward to sharing intimacy with you, only for you to back out at the very last minute? Man, was that so frustrating. 

It didn’t help that it was destiny itself that seemed to be stirring the pot. Because while you two were going through a rough time in your relationship, the irony presented itself outside of Sukuna’s tattoo shop late at night just as he was about to close. 

“Ryo?” A tall woman with athletic build, long dark hair, and beautiful doe eyes came into view with a wide smile on her face. 

His ex-girlfriend of three years. 

Sukuna held the door for her albeit the confusion in his eyes. “Yorozu?” 

The only difference he noticed was that she had become a lot sexier, with the curves on her body more womanly than ever. It was obvious that she was active in the gym to achieve such a fit physique. But other than that, her facial features were the same. Her heart eyes still shone bright at the mere sight of him, as if they carried stars and galaxies. 

“I think I came too late,” said Yorozu, smiling in disappointment, “I should probably just return tomorrow.” 

“No, you’re good.” Sukuna insisted on letting her enter his shop, closing the door as soon as she was inside. “What brought you here?” 

She stood confidently in front him, wearing nothing but a blank tank top and some loose white pants. “Funny story ‘cause I actually just moved to this city recently and I just found out you had a shop in this area.” 

Oh? That was interesting, indeed. Sukuna wondered how she even found his shop in that case, while he was leading her to the tattoo chair. “Are you here to get a tattoo or?” 

“Yeah, yeah I am.” She was sprinkling some charm in her grin. He knew her too well. “I think it’s amazing that I’m gonna get it from you again.”

While Yorozu was talking to him, he couldn’t help but ask: was it wrong for him to be in the same vicinity as his ex? Considering how jealous you could get, this was definitely wrong in your eyes. But as he wasn’t doing anything sketchy, he figured there was nothing wrong about what he was doing. Yorozu was technically a client and he couldn’t deny her his services since she was basically a friend of his, too. So, was he breaking any code here? 

“Well, only if you have time now, of course,” she added out of consideration, “It’s kinda late so I can always come back.” 

Sukuna shook his head and headed to get his book of tattoo art samples. “It’s fine. I got clients lined up all day tomorrow, so,” he said, placing the book on her lap, “You wanna check that or do you have a design in mind already?” 

Yorozu’s eyes fell on the tattoos marking Sukuna’s body, her gaze landing on every familiar inch as though she had seen them all the time before. It was true. She had seen more of him, actually. She had done more with his body, too. “I kinda wanna get a sleeve, but I want you to choose the design for me.” 

A tattoo sleeve? Damn. It was something he would never in a million years see from you, but for Yorozu, it was totally normal. She was as obsessed with ink as he was. And although she’s had a couple of tattoos in her body already, which were done by him, it would be her first time to get a full sleeve. 

“I get to choose, really?” Sukuna chuckled lightly. If he were to think of Yorozu’s traits, she was definitely a classic red rose. A seductress, alluring woman was how he saw her and the said flower would be a true-to-life representation of her personality. She was passionate when it came to loving someone, and was completely devoted to him back when they were together. The only reason they broke up was because they were too similar, as if she was his counterpart, and he saw fit to leave a relationship where they both constantly battled for dominance. Yorozu could get too aggressive on loving someone and he didn’t particularly like that. He made her understand why they weren’t working as a couple, and it took her some time, but she eventually accepted his decision. Now, you could say, they were somehow on good terms. “Alright, I’ll do your sleeve, but I’ll keep the design as a surprise.” 

Her eyes sparkled in excitement at the thought. “I’d love that!” 

“Since you want a sleeve, we’re gonna do some stencil application today.” Sukuna didn’t waste any more time in getting ready with his equipment, biting on the glove while wearing the other on his hand. “It’ll take fifteen to twenty hours to complete a sleeve, and each session could last two to six hours depending on your pain tolerance. My schedule’s actually full all day until next week, but you can come around the same time every night so I can finish yours.” 

“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine with that,” she enthused. For some reason, Yorozu was happy with the idea. The idea of coming to visit Sukuna every night in his shop. The idea that they get to be alone. The idea that they would be able to reconnect just like old times. Those were the things that Sukuna assumed was going through her head. 

And as he did start with his ‘client’, it was probably best to admit that the sexual tension was high. The room felt stuffy as the both of them remained there until midnight, with her sitting on the tattoo chair, and him doing her tattoo to her left. His eyes were intently focused on the intricate patterns he was doing on her arm, but also couldn’t avoid seeing the contours of her breasts since she was wearing such a thin tank top. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. He’d seen every part of her body from her neck down to her toes. He’d put her in every position from missionary to doggy. Goddamn, he could even remember how warm she felt around his cock. Didn’t she like it when he came inside her? Or when he made her swallow every drop of his seed? 

Sukuna cleared his throat, shaking his vulgar thoughts away as he continued with Yorozu’s arm. He may not be cheating, but thinking back on those intimate experiences with someone else other than his girlfriend was definitely not morally right either. But what sexual experience could he reminisce about with you? That ridiculously embarrassing night you two had shouldn’t even be counted since he was trying so hard to forget about it. 

He cleared his throat. Again. For the third time. “What, uh, what’ve you been up to?” 

Yorozu, who had no clue about his thoughts, turned her face to look at him happily. “Not much, actually. The bar I worked at closed down, but I got myself a new job in this club as a full time hostess and part-time promoter. You should come by. Drinks on me.” 

By not exactly accepting or refusing, Sukuna decided to just smile it off. “That’s why you moved to this city?” 

“Yeah, I mean… obviously, the rent here is higher, but it’s closer to my job. I get paid decently, too.” 

“That’s nice.” He was just trying to make small talk at this point. “Do you know your way ‘round here? How are you gonna get home?” 

She considered her options. “Probably a bus or something?” 

Sukuna paused, contemplating the situation. “There's no bus here at midnight,” he remarked, concerned for the girl who would have to navigate her way home alone at such a late hour. She was new to the area and clearly still adjusting to the commuter lifestyle. Unlike her, he had a vehicle that could safely transport her home. There would be no harm in offering, right? “Look, I have a bike and I usually take midnight rides, anyway. I can drop you off on my way home.”

“Really?” Her voice echoed excitement in them. “I’d appreciate it, Ryo. Thanks so much.” 

Life was ironic, truly. He didn’t see this situation coming because he never expected that he would even come across Yorozu ever again. They didn’t have any contact prior, but he still saw her on social media whenever he (on very rare occasions) decided to check his accounts. He never had her blocked, either, which was why you knew about Yorozu after snooping through his phone and reading through some of his old messages with her. Sukuna used to tell you not to worry about her, and that she was just his ex, and that she had nothing on you—which were all true, of course, but it was funny to him now that the woman his girlfriend was most threatened by was back in his life. 

And she was riding at the backseat of his motorbike, her arms latching at nothing else but around his torso. She was seated at the seat reserved for you, wearing the helmet that was bought for you, and holding onto a man that was rightfully yours. It all didn’t feel right. 

But because Yorozu delighted in his habit of speeding on the highway, he had somehow forgotten about the guilt that was forming in his heart. 

**

“You still have your ex’s Instagram?” Your questioning eyes met his defensive ones as he joined you in the living room, finding his space on the couch next to you. “I read your dms. Why haven’t you blocked her?” 

Sukuna’s breath remained steady. “Only toxic people do that shit.” 

“But I’m not comfortable with it!” you nagged, letting him snatch his phone from your grasp. 

“Do you see me talking to her still?” he asked, trying to be as patient as he could be, “Baby, I don’t even talk to her. I don’t think she’s active there, either.” 

You crossed your arms. “Then, block her?” 

“You’re being ridiculous.” 

“I’m being fair. You shouldn’t be keeping tabs with an ex.” 

“What are you—” Sukuna decided to cut his own sentence after realizing that the argument was plain stupid. “You know what, I’ll just delete my insta.” 

**

“How many times do you two do it?” you asked out of nowhere, sitting at the waiting area while he was closing his shop. “Your ex. How often do you have sex with her?” 

What kind of trap were you setting now? If he told you an honest answer, you would get mad. If he lied or even sugar coated it, you would also get mad. 

“Does it matter? Why do you keep asking questions about her and then get upset with me?” Sukuna’s frustration resonated in his sigh as he tidied the space where he tattooed his client a few minutes ago. “She’s an ex for a reason, so get over it.”

He was starting to get annoyed by your never-ending questions about his past experiences, but he knew you were simply coming from a place of no experience. You probably wanted to know what he liked in bed, what pleased him the most, what kept him from wanting more. Was that too much? No. Were you overdoing this entire thing? A little bit. 

“Why are you defensive?” you asked softly, still sitting on the couch as you watched him avoid your eyes. “You make me feel so insecure every time.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned around. “I don’t know, baby. If you’re feeling insecure, then do something about it.” 

**

“Thanks so much for the ride, Ryo.” 

Yorozu stood by her door, returning the helmet back to him while she kept her eyes locked on his. Her gaze was inviting, tempting him to give in and submit to his carnal desires. Any man would read her intentions the same way; Yorozu stared at him like that because she wanted to invite him to her place. She wanted him to spend the night and do unforgivable things. To remember the passionate exchange they once shared. 

But Sukuna wasn’t like that. No, he wasn’t a cheater. “I, uh, gotta get going.” 

“Oh…” Disappointment clouded Yorozu’s face. “Okay, then.” 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“...Alright.” 

“Okay.” 

“Wait!” Yorozu pulled his arm just as he was heading back to his motorbike. The sudden closeness in their proximity made his heart race fast. He knew what was coming. “I missed you, Ryo.” 

He knew what she was about to do next. 

And holy fuck did he guess right, as he was taken aback when Yorozu suddenly leaned in to press her lips onto his. Her soft, cherry lips moved desperately to taste his sweet kisses. 

But he didn’t return it. Instead, he immediately pushed her away. “Yorozu,” he spoke softly, “I have a girlfriend.” 

“You do?” She didn’t need to hide it. He could see the heartbreak on her face. 

“Yeah,” Sukuna confirmed, maintaining a more appropriate distance now. “We’ve been together for some time, and I live with her.”

Yorozu tried to maintain her facade of indifference, making it appear as though she was unfazed by his revelation. “That’s... That’s cool,” she said, “I’m sorry for, uh, the kiss.”

Sukuna nodded, “It’s fine. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“You’re alright,” she reassured him, “It's totally my fault. I hope she won’t be upset with you or something.”

Sukuna had no plans to tell you, knowing well the additional turmoil it would bring to your already strained relationship. However, he realized the importance of clarity in his intentions and the need to set boundaries. “We’re just friends. We’ll keep things civil. I’ll finish your tattoo in a couple more sessions, and then we’re done. Sounds fair?”

Yorozu nodded her head with a reluctant smile. “Fair enough.” 

— —

5 more days. Her sleeve required five more sessions, and days went by too fast for him to count. He had busied himself with his clients, while you had busied yourself with yours. He couldn’t even spend time with you because his shop took a chunk of his time from him, and even at home, things had become too awkward ever since your unspoken night. 

So, in some ways, Yorozu became his routine. She visited his shop for the past four nights and he had taken her home afterwards. She was in absolute love with her rose sleeve and they weren’t even complete yet. He still owed her one last session and told himself that it should also be the last time she should be around him. It wasn’t right and he didn’t want to create another source of argument with you. 

And in truth, he certainly felt a little guilty for spending more time with his ex than his own girlfriend. But did he purposely do it? No, it was fate that brought her to his door about a week ago. 

In spite of his stubbornness to admit his wrongdoing, he still ended up stopping by the flower market to get you a nice bouquet of white lilies. He knew you could make a prettier bouquet than that, but he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to surprise you with flowers that didn’t exactly come from you. Besides, he had some making up to do. 

Later that night, when he returned to your shared home, he found you sitting at the couch seemingly waiting for him to come home. The lights were dimmed and the television was turned off. For some reason, you were wearing outside clothes and had a somber expression on your face, too. That alone caused the loud thumping of his heart. 

“Hey,” he greeted, nonetheless, sitting next to you on the couch and kissing your cheek. “Everything okay, baby?” 

Your eyes carried sadness in them as you looked at him and searched for answers you couldn’t find. “Where were you?” 

Sukuna handed the bouquet over. “Got you flowers.” 

You didn’t accept them. Instead, every second seemed to torture you. “Where were you before that?” 

“In the shop…?” He didn’t know where to start, but he was definitely scared. “Why? Sorry I’ve been busy lately. I’ll make it up to you, angel.” 

“You close your shop at nine,” you pointed out, voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Why do you always come home at two in the morning?” 

Fuck. Fuck! What should he say? Should he make an excuse for it? Should he say he’d been checking on Yuuji after his shifts? Should he say he’d been riding to other cities to clear his mind? He didn’t fucking know what to say, especially not when you were clearly on the verge of bursting out. 

“Answer me!” you cried, finally releasing the bottle out in the open. The tears that welled in your eyes now streamed ceaselessly down your face. “You’re an asshole. I-I hate you! I fucking… you think I don’t know? You think I’m too stupid to know?!”

Sukuna calmly received the fists you had swung on his chest as he tried to grab ahold of your arms. “Baby, I’ll explain everything.” 

“No, damn y-you!” The tremor in your voice squeezed his heart in the most painful way because he hated seeing you breaking down in front of him and over him. This wasn’t the first time he had made you cry, but this was the first time he had seen you actually sob like this. “I-I gave myself to you! I left my p-parents for you! And this is what you do to me? You’re cheating on me with your ex?!” 

He was desperate to hold you, hug you, cage you in his arms. He wanted to take your pain away. Wipe your tears away. However, you didn’t allow him to touch even a strand on your hair as you kept on pushing him off. Sukuna felt like he was going to lose his mind. “Baby, listen to me please. It’s really not what you think—”

“I don’t care!” you spat, moving away to wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t fucking care! You sleeping with her or not doesn’t change a thing. Don’t you get it? I’ll never be enough for you!” Despite your loud voice, the cracks in her facade only revealed your longing for validation and acceptance, etching into every tear-stained moment you two had shared over the course of your relationship. He watched you, paralyzed by the sight of you breaking down, as you grabbed a luggage you had been hiding behind the couch as if you were ready to leave. “I’ll never be the person you want me to be and staying with you will always remind me of it!” 

“No, no, no… Let’s talk.” Sukuna had to suppress his own tears while he tried to reach out for you. “Baby, please. I don’t feel anything for her, or anyone. It’s just you. You are enough for me, baby. I’m sorry, please.” 

You, on the other hand, were adamant at your decision. “I can’t stand what you’re doing to me anymore. I don’t like how you make me feel about myself. I hate how you make me question my own choices!” Tears continued to flow, and your voice wavered, transitioning from anger to a more subdued, pained tone. “I hate… I hate that I love you so much, that I lost all my backbone just to make you happy.” 

“You don’t need to.” He was feeling more and more miserable now, his heart sore from all the emotions he had seen from you. “Y/N, you don’t need to. I’m sorry, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”  

…

…

…

“It’s over, Sukuna,” were the last words he could recall hearing before passing out drunk in his bed that afternoon. “We’re done.”

— —

It was your first heartbreak. Your first actual relationship. Your first everything. Surely, people shouldn’t expect you to move on easily, especially not when the subject of your heartache worked across the street from you. 

You were a mess. You had cried enough tears after you moved out of his apartment that night, screamed your heart out as you suffered from the pain of loneliness once more. You couldn’t even bear the thought of returning to your parents and hearing them say they told you so, because loving Sukuna was a choice you thought was good for you. 

In the end, he was just a poison without any antidote. A toxin without remedy. The most effective solution was to sever all ties to prevent further contamination.

But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen him in his shop ever since that night, either. The tattoo parlor remained closed for more than two weeks without any notice. While a small part of you worried for him, a bigger part of you cared for yourself. He no longer held any importance to your life, and you should let it remain that way. 

What you should focus on, instead, was living your life without any trace of him. A life of independence, away from the toxicity of a manipulative man who constantly made you doubt yourself and what you offered. As they say, you have to learn to love yourself first before you can fully learn to love others. 

And in your journey of knowing the truth of that saying, a certain white-haired man entered your floral shop on a somber Friday afternoon just as you were arranging preordered bouquets for multiple customers to pick up. 

“Hey,” you greeted the man, surprised at his sudden appearance at your shop. 

Satoru grinned as he approached you closer. “I’m here to pick up two bouquets.”

“Oh, it was your order?” Your eyes widened. Silly you. Of course, Suguru would order on his friend’s behalf. He wouldn’t even get his girlfriend some flowers, let alone his mother. So this being Satoru’s order made much more sense. “Okay, you got a bouquet of blush peonies and another bouquet of pink tulips, am I correct?”

He smiled handsomely, displaying his set of perfect white teeth while listening to you talk. “Correct.” 

“For your mom?” you asked before you made your way to pick up the bouquets, handing them to him carefully. 

His response came with a soft, affirmative hum. “Mhm. One for her,” he said, taking only the bouquet of tulips, “The other is for you.” 

Oh, no, no, definitely no. You had seen this before and it didn’t go well. 

“That’s lovely, but…” You offered a smile. “I’m not taking those peonies.” 

Satoru acted innocent, his vibrant blue eyes coruscating under the ambient lights. “But it’s mother’s day.” 

You playfully shook your head. “I’m not even a mother.”

“Yes, you are,” he went on teasing, “the mother of my future kids. I like to think in advance, you know.” 

Honestly? This man started off with a bad impression on you, but he wasn’t actually so bad. He was an easygoing, happy-go-lucky person who carried positive energy around him. That, and he was decent, too. He was the type of guy your parents would have surely approved of. He was a degree holder like you, even pursuing graduate studies to run a business that was already generating an income that you could only imagine of getting. He was set for life with no uncertainty with what he wanted for his future. 

“Satoru?”

He met your gaze. “Yeah?”

“About your offer last time,” you recalled, recalling his earlier jest about teaching you some things in bed, “I think I'd like to take you up on that.”

[nerdy-novelist017]

A Date (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Pt 3)

Thank you so much for all your kind words, likes and reblogs on my last two posts! You guys are keeping me so entertained with the comments!

Ugh I rewrote this like 3 times :( I just couldn't get it right and I'm still not sure how I feel about it OH WELL

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 2.2K

Summary- You were sure you'd never see Benny Cross again. . . you were wrong.

******

“Benny’s been asking for ya.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you nearly dropped the receiver into the bowl of cake batter. Kathy’s statement came out of left field, the two of you having been discussing the latest news on the block – what kind of lipstick Sheryl Dickie uses that somehow always lasts an entire night of bar hopping. “What?”

“Yeah, says he’s real desperate to ask you somethin’,” Kathy’s tone was flippant, but you’ve known her long enough to hear the excitement she’s hiding in her voice.

“What could he possibly have to talk to me about?” You asked as you set the whisk down and moved around the kitchen counter to peak down the hallway towards the living room where you knew your father sat in his large recliner, watching a rerun of Bonanza. 

“I dunno, maybe you should come to another meetin’ so you can find out.”

“No, I’m not going to anymore of those.” you declared firmly, yanking the cord so that the phone was up to your other ear. “I don’t know how you can stand being around those guys.”

Kathy laughed, the static spiking. “C’mon, they’re fun, and you know it. Did you tell your parents how you got to ride on the back of a Vandal’s bike, and not just any Vandal!”

“No!” you squeaked. “And they’re never going to know. It was a one-time thing.”

“It doesn’t have to be. They’re having another meetin’ tonight. I’m sure Benny could pick you up–”

“Well, I can’t tonight,” you cut her off. “I have plans.”

“What plans?”

“My date.”

“Date?” Kathy asked, voice lowering dubiously. “With who?”

“Pete,” you said quietly. 

“Who?” she asked again.

You sighed. “Pete? The guy from Mama’s church?” 

Pete was introduced to you last week by your mother who was introduced to him by his mother. It was a train of people who wanted to matchmake, to see young love blossom before their eyes, even if it was forced. Pete was nice enough and he had kind eyes that sat behind wide-rimmed glasses. You’d been on one other date with him. He was an engineering student in his first year and he talked a lot about his school. He liked school. And he liked to golf nearly every weekend (his family belonged to the country club on the upper side of town). And mostly – he talked a lot about himself. He seemed to really like himself too.

“Oh, okay.” Kathy sounded unimpressed.

“My family really likes him. My dad likes him.”

“Yeah?” 

At her unenthusiastic response, you added quickly, “And I’m excited!”

“Is that why you’re stress-baking?” Kathy inquired as if she could sense it.

You glance down at the bowl of cake batter. No, it wasn’t, actually. You weren’t nervous to go on your second date with Pete; he didn’t make her nervous, didn’t fill your belly with those pesky butterflies. Pete was . . . just Pete. No, you were stress-baking because of a certain blonde Bikerider whose ocean blue eyes wouldn’t leave your thoughts all night. You were up, tossing and turning, replaying every moment with him like a broken record. It was one ride, the logical side of your mind had to say, and you’ll never see him again. You allowed yourself the rest of the night to think about him, and then you wouldn’t set aside any more time. 

In theory, it was a nice strategy. But when you woke up today, your thoughts were absolutely clouded with him and his incredibly direct eye-contact and his deeply rich voice and his hand touching your thigh and his lips encasing the cigarette—

You were doing it again! It had been one ride! One ride and a few hours. One ride where your arms wrapped so tightly to his solid form. One ride where he showed you places you’d never seen before, from a point of view you’d never been before. One ride where you felt as though you were seeing the world in a whole new light. One ride that you couldn’t get out of your head.

“Yes, because of Pete,” you replied evenly. “And I’m going to have a good time with him tonight.”

There’s a smile in her voice when she says, “Okay, sure. Say, what restaurant did ya say he was takin’ you?”

********

Thanking the driver, you stepped out of the cab, your heels connecting softly with the concrete of the sidewalk. Taking a moment to smooth any wrinkles on your pink dress, your gaze fluttered across the street to the restaurant Pete told you to meet him at. 

Ricardo’s was one of the most expensive restaurants in town, somewhere you never found yourself frequenting, but Pete absolutely gushed about their food. Coming from old money, Pete had no hesitation picking here for your second date. Pete’s family was well off, that’s what your mother liked to point out. He was a good boy with good money. He would provide for you, buy you a nice house with a picket fence in the front yard. A safe bet for the same routine life that nearly all the women of your family had spanning back several generations.

You made your way across the street, eyes taking in the lineup of expensive cars parked out front: Mercedes, Rolls Royce, Cadillac . . . Harley-Davidson motorcycle. You did a double-take at the shiny metal glinting underneath the streetlamp, eyes traveling upwards to the figure leaning casually against it. He was looking at the restaurant, head turned to give a generous view of his profile, and he hadn’t noticed you yet. For a split second, you considered taking advantage of that and booking it into the front door before he had a chance to stop you. But some deeply intrinsic part of you yearned to memorize every detail of him and you simply couldn’t look away. As a moth drawn to flame, you were drawn to him, to the golden streaks of his hair, down to the strong slope of his nose, the curve where his top lip sat so perfectly against the bottom – even with the cigarette tucked between. He wore long sleeves under his club jacket and the same distressed jeans from your last encounter. Half shrouded in the darkness of night, with the orange glow of the streetlight nearest to him, he looked like a beacon of mystery. Abandoning your previous course, you turned and approached him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked once you were close enough for him to hear you. 

Benny turned and a smile broke out over his features, eyes sweeping down your figure. “Do you dress like that all the time or only when you’re gonna see me?” He asked, nodding to your dress and heels. 

You stopped about 6 feet away from him (a reasonable distance), hopping up onto the sidewalk. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“What a chance encounter,” he proclaimed with a secretive wink that sent your stomach on a roller coaster ride. 

“Chance encounter, or Kathy’s loose lips?” you quipped and he rubbed a hand over his mouth to keep from smiling, fingers grazing through the blonde, recently-trimmed facial hair.  

“Why are you here?” You asked again, this time a touch quieter.  

“Well, I have a coupon,” he replied simply.

You couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips, your brows raising incredulously. “A coupon? To Ricardo’s?”

“Mm-hm,” he nodded, straight-faced.

You rolled your eyes at his antics. He had a coupon, your ass. A well-dressed elderly couple walked past you both on the sidewalk, each shooting a look of disapproval toward the dirty young man leaning against his death machine. Benny seemed not to notice them, his gaze still on you. 

“Why are you here?” he questioned.

“I–I have a date,” you replied and desperately tried to ignore the heat rising to your face at the admission. “But something tells me you already know that.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, looking down to the ground for all of five seconds before his gaze flashed back up to you. “Wanna go for a ride, Little Bunny?”

“What? No.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why not?”

“Well, I just told you I'm here for a date,” you replied with a tilt of your head. 

Benny shrugged. “So?”

You shook your head but he continued, “Why are you wastin’ your time with dates when we’re gonna be married anyway?”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. The nerve on this guy! Part of you was surprised that he still had it in his head of marrying you. You thought maybe he had a few too many beers last night or was just smooth-talking you so that you’d let him sleep with you. But here he was, showing up on the sidewalk, giving you those puppy eyes. You’d already denied him once. Could he not take a hint?

“I don’t recall you ever asking.” you pointed out, feeling emboldened by his casual attitude. 

He perked up at that, tossing the remainder of his cigarette to the ground. “You want me to ask?”

You fought to remain neutral-faced at his playfulness. “No, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . . I have a date.” One that you were excited about before you caught sight of Benny and your train of thoughts completely derailed.

Benny held his hands up in a conciliatory way and you turned on your heel, leaving him out on the streets as you made your way inside.

******

The clock on the far wall seemed to be mocking you, minutes ticking by mercilessly. You resisted looking at it, instead planting your chin in the palm of your hand as you watched the door, waiting for Pete’s familiar face to appear. It had been over an hour. He was over an hour late for your date. 

Each time the waitress returned to fill your glass of water, you told yourself a new lie. He was just stuck at work, he’ll be here soon. He was running behind getting ready, he’ll be here soon. There must have been an emergency, he’ll be here soon. He wouldn’t stand you up, he’ll be here soon. 

But as the seconds passed, you sunk further and further into your seat, humiliation forming a ball in your stomach. Surely, he had gotten his days mixed up? He really seemed to enjoy your first date, so why was he nowhere to be seen. Every time someone walked through the front door, the little bell chiming above, you glanced up, certain it would be him. But it never was. At first, you were angry. How could he have the audacity to leave you hanging without so much as calling you before he left if he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it. Then a bitter thought came to mind: what if he stood you up because he didn’t want to go out with you again. What if you weren't good enough for him. You had spent your whole life on the never ending hamster wheel of trying to be good enough for everyone else. Was your hard work even noticed?

Recognizing the sting of unshed tears, you looked down at the napkin folded neatly in your lap, blinking rapidly in an attempt to get control of yourself. The bell chimed over the front door, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look over at it, not wanting to feel the crushing disappointment of another wealthy customer walking inside and not your date. 

Then a flash of dark clothing popped across from you and you looked up just as Benny Cross slid into the empty seat. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. He leaned forward, elbows of his leather jacket propped over the tablecloth.

“Pete not show?” he asked, expression solemn. 

Your ears burned and you shook your head. Too preoccupied by your embarrassment, it didn’t even occur to you that you had never told him Pete’s name. 

He frowned and he genuinely appeared upset. Unable to maintain his direct gaze, you glanced away and caught the eyes of everyone else in the restaurant staring wide-eyed at the two of you. You realized that it was Benny who they were gawking at. And you didn’t seem to notice until now that he looked totally out of place with his worn clothes and dirty hands. As if sensing their not-so-subtle staring, Benny turned and looked about the room.

“What’s with all the stiff shirts in here?” he asked, sending you a conspiratorial glance. “I think they might be intimidated by you.”

“Me?” You furrowed your brow. It definitely wasn’t you they were looking at. In fact, the only person who was staring at you was Benny. 

“Yeah, I bet they’ve never seen anyone as pretty as you. Most people haven’t and they don't know how to act when they do.” He grinned and you had to look down at your lap as heat rose to your face.  

“I guess Pete wouldn’t agree,” you muttered quietly, feeling the anger in your heart fizzle out to meer disappointment. 

“Fuck Pete,” Benny said passionately, causing an elderly woman behind you to gasp and you giggled, shocked at his language. Benny was bad, he was trouble . . . but he was also fun, and you couldn’t hide your eagerness as he leaned his arms across the table, moving closer to address you privately. 

“You wanna get out of here, Bunny?” His question sent a gust of anticipation through your veins. 

“Yeah,” you admitted, smiling shyly. 

He stood quickly and you followed in suit. Then he did something that caused a wave of butterflies to roll through your stomach; he reached out and clasped his hand with you, interlocking fingers tightly. You grinned, excitement making you feel light and airy as he pulled you through the restaurant, past all the staring faces and harsh whispers and out the door into the night which felt alive with a whole new feeling of possibilities. 

*Tag List*

@imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe  @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan

[smileysuh]

ride night TEASER

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “You always told me you had a thing for older men. Said I wasn’t your usual type- not daddy enough for you, well, here you go, baby. Let daddy hear you moan for my cock.” You seriously can’t believe this is happening. All you can do is try to relax while Hyuck fucks you stupid in some dive bar bathroom stall, your core still throbbing and desperate after six orgasms from a vibrator while on his bike. The fingers on your oversensitive bud are unrelenting, just like your boyfriend, and at this point, you can’t even bring yourself to care that his ride night dad is listening in, only a few feet away. 

tw/cw. Exhibitionism, riding a Harley with a vibrator inside of you, multiple orgasms, fucking in a bar bathroom while someone (John) listens in, overstimulation, unprotected sex, vibrator as a ball gag, voyeurism, dirty talk, praise, choking, brief pussy eating, Hyuck has tattoos, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 4.9k

🍭 aus. Established relationship au, motorcycle au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. The I love Harleys saga continues but this time with NCT

You close your eyes, giving in to the onslaught of sensations. 

The air ripping at your tight riding jacket, gravel buffering your knees ever so often, music ringing through your helmet, the powerful vibrator in your pussy, and the even more powerful machine that Hyuck maneuvers like a God-

If you focus too hard, if you allow yourself to enjoy all of this, you might just cum, and part of you wants to resist that, so you open your eyes, looking over at John on the bike next to you.

Hyuck might be the notorious dare devil, but John’s not all that angelic either. The man is standing straight up on his foot pegs, his butt raised completely off his seat. The wind is tearing at his leather jacket, and you can’t even imagine the pressure of the air he’s cutting through, battering at his body-

Even so, he looks as free as you’ve ever seen a man look.

Your pussy pulses pathetically around the toy and you grip Hyuck’s hips, legs shaking around his own.

His hand lands on your thigh, squeezing, as if to say ‘cum for me,’ and your body can’t help itself this time. You release all the pressure, your muscles going slack for a moment of peace before contracting from the power of your orgasm.

Your core throbs desperately around the vibrator, your eyes closing to enjoy the sensation.

Hyuck takes his hand away from your thigh, revving the engine and kicking into an even higher gear. The bike purs below you, as if she - like her master - is amped up from the energy of your release.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 3.9k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr Friday June 14th, 2024

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[darylbae]

hiii! could you write something fluff with daryl and a Latina reader? they are in a established relationship and she always rumble things or talk to herself in her language and daryl really wanna know more about what she saying and also wanna know more her culture but is really shy to ask plss🥺💕

spanish for dummies — daryl dixon 🩰

in which daryl wants to learn more of your language, but he is far too shy to admit it

note: i made it a lil drabble because i don't know a lot of spanish, if i got anything wrong please correct me!

You and Daryl had made it exclusive very recently, so it was all very new to you. But the two of you were so infatuated with one another, that it made everyone sick. He'd always have an arm around you, or coming to find you at random points in the day. People would even see you whispering to each other and laughing. It was all very sweet. You'd been at Hilltop for a few days, helping Maggie with running things day to day, and beginning to build a few things. Of course, Daryl had accompanied you from Alexandria to Hilltop, and promised to stay with you.

“Y/N!” One of the Hilltop residents called out, and you’d turned to spot them waving you over. You had quickly separated from Daryl, who had his arm around your waist as you spoke about potentially making shields. Although he had followed you over.

You’d run over to see the new water system installed. You’d selected a group of people to start making an easier way to get water into the community, and to see the large basins of water finally come to life, you were amazed.

“Es asombrosa,” you whispered, mainly to yourself in bewilderment that the plan you’d made together worked. Things were really starting to come together now, and you couldn’t be happier. “Well done, guys.”

As you’d started to walk off, Daryl had caught up to you and smoothed his hand over his jaw. You’d come to notice it was a nervous tick of his. “What does that mean?”

“What does what mean?”

“Whatever you just said.”

“Oh, es asombrosa? It means it’s amazing. It’s a good thing.” You smiled, only now realising you’d have to translate some things that were natural to you.

Daryl just nodded, still curious about all your little phrases you’d come out with daily. You don’t really notice yourself doing it, but Daryl does.

Staying at Hilltop, you’d made some progress, you’d spent the whole of today tending to the crop just outside the walls. Whilst a small group had gone out on a run, Daryl included.

It wasn’t until you heard the roar of a motorcycle that you’d looked up to see your gorgeous man riding in, slowing as he approached the road next to you. His tough, brooding exterior shortly disappeared with a sweet smile, and you couldn’t help but throw your arms around his neck.

“Te extraño,” you sighed into his ear, breathing in the smell of his musk. You quickly translated for him, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart. Now let me take you home.” He cooed, taking your hand and helping you onto the back of his bike. To ride the extra few meters back into the gates.

That night, you and Daryl had settled into one of the rooms Maggie had allowed you to stay in whilst you were here. You’d crawled into bed long before Daryl did, as he was sitting through his backpack secretly.

“What you hiding in there?” You questioned, putting your book down and folding your arms. It was a playful prod but you weren’t expecting him to be so secretive.

“Nothin’.”

You huffed. “Come on, Dar. No secrets.”

“Just somethin’ I found today.” He admitted, throwing his backpack next to the bed.

“Ooh. Is it condoms?”

“No.”

“A stuffed animal?”

“Absolutely not.”

“A Halloween costume?”

“What? No.”

“Come on! Tell me!”

Daryl sat down next to you, an arm around you as you settled on his chest. “Fine”.

He reached into the backpack and pulled out a small book, and turned the title page towards you. Spanish for Dummies.

“Stop! Really? I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” You squealed, pressing kisses all over his cheek and jaw.

“Just wanna understand ya more.” Daryl reasoned, brushing hair from your face, “so ya don’t have to translate everythin’.”

[dietmountaindewb8by]

Chapter Two

Into the Abyss

warnings: five and herb being really weird, five being deluxe (in this case, it is not the solulu), yeah five is actually insane

Tags: @lv9su ; @groovydazephantom

His fingers shook when he first received the tape from the stuttering Herb.

“Take care of it,” he said, wincing when Five raised a brow. “More often than not we like a good rewatch.”

“Believe me,” Five sighed, holding it to his chest. “I’ll take good care of her.”

“The tape, sir?”

Five coughed. “Yes, the tape.”

Herb turned toward the door, listening as Five sat down before he turned around one more time, staring at the helpless fool who would undoubtedly fall into a pit of despair just as some of the others had–-those who had known Five’s wife, one whom was not held dearly enough, one who was cast to the side, one whom they all pitied at some point or another.

“Just–” Herb looked to the floor “--be careful, will you? Some of this is tough to watch.”

Five laughed. “How hard can it be?”

Herb pursed his lips, but nodded, laughing nervously as he walked out the door. “Have a good one, Mr. Hargreeves.”

“Yeah,” Five said, sliding the tape into the switchboard, “you too, Herb.”

~*~

The first thing he saw was a child erupt from a blue portal–one that was unmistakably his. You were a cute kid, he noted, your age being about six.

But whatever admiration he held for your chubby cheeks and wide eyes was halted by the pool of blood forming a halo around your head, a rock beside you.

He watched first as you were dragged off of the ground and taken to the hospital. He watched with baited breath as the doctors stitched you up and put you into surgery, he watched as you woke up and bit his tongue as you howled with pain so then he could share in it with you, show you that–in his own way–he was still there, that he loved you, that you were loved, that he wanted you to be home with him so he could hold you in his arms instead of watching a child version of you go through something so terrible.

Something that was very clearly his own damn fault, but he elected to ignore that.

And suddenly, a light poked through the tunnel. Two kind people–people that would take care of you for him–poured through the door of the orphanage you were held in, beaten and bruised.

And they did. He held his tongue and watched with adoring eyes as you got yourself into loads of trouble—his little angel always was a troublemaker. He watched you climb trees and scrape your palms while riding a bike. He watched as you slipped away into the night to take walks and try to allow the sea to swallow you whole.

You always were quite charming.

To his disappointment , however, there was one catch. A boy. A disgusting little boy. Tall with golden curls that framed his face and dimples that carved into his cheeks. He noted that you quite enjoyed making him smile.

You would curl into him—Peter, his name was. You would curl into Peter. Not him. Never him.

A mixture of emotions overcame him at that moment. When Peter tucked you into his side and pressed his lips to the top of your head, cold rage flowed through his veins. When he had the gall to hold your hand and guide you through your everyday life—to pull you into some stupid adventures that all children go on—Five could have sworn he’d never felt more murderous than in that moment.

And then it happened.

He thought he’d never be thankful for your parents dying. But he was. By God, he was. It meant that you were swept away from that boy, away from the threat. It would be far better to have no threats to him, to be able to woo you in the proper way.

Five imagined you both. As soon as he calculated his equations correctly, he’d rush to you. He wouldn’t want to scare you, though—of course he’d never wish to scare you, never again. He would “bump into you” one day when you were out and about.

You would be in a sundress—a yellow one. You had always looked absolutely darling in yellow. Or pink. You were a doll in pink.

It didn’t matter what you wore to Five. All that mattered was that from that day he would court you as he should’ve done the first time around. He would go to your house and meet your parents with two bouquets—one for you and one for your mother. He would talk to your father about sports and politics while you were reading one of those romance novels you so adored.

And he would gain your father’s enthusiastic blessing to take you, his darling little princess, on a date. He would take you to an Italian restaurant. One that would impress you, but nothing too fancy. He would never want to make you shy. He would pull out his card first and pay for both of your meals. He would order you a slice of cake to take home afterward before taking you to a nearby creamery and getting you your favorite flavor of ice cream.

And then he’d ask you what you were reading earlier. You would tell him about it and he would listen with the arter of a devotee on a Goddess’ altar—because that is nothing less than what you are—and then he would gently sweep a stray hair behind your ear before pulling you in and pressing a sweet kiss upon your lips.

He’d drive you home. He’d play Elvis—only his sweet songs—and place his hand over yours oh-so-lightly. And then before you left his car, he’d peck your cheek and tell you that he was picking you up the very next day. And the day after that. And the day after that.

And that would be how life was for you. He would take care of everything, he knew. He already was. He was so close yet so far to having you. He was trying a million ways to get to you—a million failed attempts to have you in his arms again. 

But none of those attempts would be worth it if you had fallen into the arms of another man. No matter how innocent it seemed.

A man was a man. A boy was a boy. And you would not be going near either of them if he could help it.

He watched as you were carted away by the proper authorities and he sighed. 

If only he’d held you as tightly as he wanted to in that moment when he had the chance.

[strangersteddierthings]

Shovel Talk(s) Final Part

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Steve starts with Dustin. Not for any particular reason. Dustin is just the first person he ends up seeing after an entire weekend spent at Eddie's house. They'd redone their date in Indy on Saturday, getting back into Hawkins late, so Steve stayed the night. He had a morning shift at Family Video but it was Robin's day off so he didn't see her.

Dustin called at 11:00am on Monday to ask for Steve's assistance with his bike's flat tire. He needs a ride to Melvald's for a new tire tube and pump, and since Steve's shift doesn't start until 2:00pm he agrees.

Steve picks him up and listens to him ramble about his weekend and how he the tube got a hole in it. He stays in the car while Dustin runs inside to make his purchases, and then they're back at Dustin's house. Dustin knows how to change out the tube on his bike; he's been raised by a single mother for longer than Steve's known him so he's pretty self-sufficient, but Steve still offers to do it and Dustin lets him.

It's little moments like these that really let Steve feel like Dustin's brother. Which is what makes it easier for Steve to say, as he is peeling the tube from inside the tire out, "hey, do you remember a week or so ago, when you said we were happy for Eddie and me?"

"Yeah," Dustin says as he's ripping open the package the new tube is in.

"You also told me to not hurt him. I- why'd you say that?" Steve halts his progress on peeling the tube out to look up at Dustin.

He watches as Dustin turns sheepish, "I. Well, mostly I said it so that when I talk to Eddie, I might feel less bad about threatening him."

"What? Why did you threaten him?"

Dustin finishes freeing the new tube from its prison before finally looking back at Steve, "I haven't yet. Mike was talking about how Nancy gave you a shovel talk a while ago, as Eddie's 'best friend'," he makes air quotes around the words, "and I'm your best friend, so I have to give Eddie one. But Eddie's also my friend, so I had to say something to you, too."

"That's so-" Steve cuts off, because he was going to say that's so childish but Dustin should be allowed to be childish just a little longer. Part of his childhood was stolen by monsters and Steve can give him a little bit back, "that's a nice thought but please don't shovel talk Eddie. Besides, Erica beat you to it."

"Shit!"

"Language."

"Well, since Erica did it there's really no point in me doing it. She's terrifying when she wants to be."

Steve laughs because Erica can be terrifying. "Give me the tube, or do you want to finish this?"

"No, continue," Dustin thrusts the tube at Steve, who takes it with a grin and gets back to work.

Robin and he are closing on a Wednesday night, so it's been slow all day, and while Steve wants to talk to Robin, he doesn't want to be interrupted. So, they go about their shift like normal and it's only once he's locked the door and flipped the open sign to closed that he seeks out Robin in the back room, where she's counting down the till.

"Can you pause after that? I need to talk," Steve says and feels his stomach churn. He's never.... he and Robin have never had a fight, never really had any issues that required a talk. Not about anything between them anyway. Robin's always just understood him, in the same way he's understood Robin. They've never been the source of each other's pains until now.

"Yeah, of course," Robin finished the coins, marking down the amounts on a piece of paper before shifting to give Steve her full attention. "Are you ready to talk about it?"

"It?"

"Whatever's hurting you," she says. "I don't know what it is, but I knew you'd come to me when you were ready."

"It's been heard to try and talk about," Steve confesses, "because it's never. It was never you that I've been- I still don't know what to say but I know I don't want to be..." he trails off, waving his hands as he grapples for the words he wants.

"Oh," Robin whispers, standing from the desk to approach. "I hurt you. Tell me what I did, so I can properly apologize."

"When you told me to be careful with Eddie," Steve says, "after I told you about our first date. I don't understand why you'd say that me."

Robin looks pained and swallows before she says, "I'm so sorry, Steve. I shouldn't have said that. And I don't- I don't even have a good reason why I did. I know you'd never hurt Eddie. I know you and what I said wasn't even about you. Not the real you, anyway."

"So, why'd you say it, then?"

Robin frowns and looks away from him, shuffling her feet before she says to a point at the wall, "I was friends, or friendly, with a lot of the girls you were with in high school. A lot of one and done dates that I had to hear about, while they cried in the bathroom or on their bedroom floors, wondering what they'd done wrong, why you didn't stay or-" Steve winces as the reminder of who he'd been in high school comes easily out of Robin, but not for the usual reason he winces. It's not because Robin's reminding him he used to be a douche; she's reminding him of all the people he hurt and never cared that he'd done it. He never apologized, and now it's far too late even if all those girls deserve to hear it.

Robin is still speaking, "or whatever. But that doesn't matter now. You aren't that guy anymore; haven't been the entire time I've actually known you and it wasn't fair for me to say what I said. I just- you took Eddie out, and the part of me that spent years of high school consoling friends who felt used by you just spoke. I-I need to work on filtering the words that come out of my mouth, because if I'd waited like, four more seconds to process your words and settle in the fact you went on a date we both thought you'd never be brave enough to ask for, then I never would have said it. I'm so sorry, Steve. I know you and I should have known better."

Steve swallows thickly, because it hurt to hear but he also knows she's sorry and that's enough. He steps forward and sweeps her into a hug, crushing her against him. She squeezes back just as hard.

Steve has never felt really hurt about Wayne's shovel talk. It was the first, and the only one he'd say he deserved. Not because Steve deserved to have a shovel talk given to him, but because Wayne should get to have the honor of giving one. Eddie's never had a boyfriend before, and Wayne had spent so long worried about how this town would treat Eddie if they knew he was gay.

So, when Steve sees Wayne again, he just smiles at the man, and gets a genuine smile back. He and Wayne are ok.

He and Jeff apologize to each other next time they cross paths on a Hellfire night. Steve apologizes for being snappy and rude. Jeff apologizes for automatically assuming the worst of Steve. They agree to a truce and a start over.

Steve's convinced he can win over Eddie's friends eventually.

Steve can't talk to Nancy. There's too much left unsaid between them for him to feel comfortable with telling her she hurt him. But it's okay. He and Nancy aren't close friends, and she's leaving for Boston in a few weeks for college. He's sure that the distance, and not seeing her weekly for Lunch Date Day, will help.

So, he's a bit surprised to answer the knocking on his front door to see Nancy. It's an exact recreation of the day she shovel talked him and immediately Steve tenses.

"Uh, hi," he says.

Nancy takes a deep breath and says, "I'm sorry. I thought I was being funny when I gave you that shovel talk, but I- someone made it clear to me that we aren't friends enough to be able to make jokes like that. That's my fault, too. For everything I've done and never apologized for. So, I want to say that I'm sorry."

Steve's a little stumped, a bit perplexed even, so he speaks on autopilot, "It's fine, Nance. We're good."

Nancy squares her jaw and narrows her eyes and says, "no."

"No?"

"No. Don't forgive me. Not yet. Make me earn it."

Steve don't respond right away. He wants to just forgive Nancy, but when he thinks about it, he just wants to do that so Nancy will quit looking so defensive. He's not sure he does forgive her. "You're right. I- we'll work on that, then. Being friends one day."

"Good. Good," Nancy nods. "I'll see you are Lunch Date day, yeah? Or... or would you like me to stop coming?"

He shakes his head. "No, please keep coming. There's, what, three more before you're off to college? We can work towards friends in that time, yeah?"

"Yeah," Nancy gives him a small smile, "see you then, Steve."

"See you," Steve replies and shuts the door as she heads down the walkway back towards her car.

He wants to know if Eddie or Robin gave her the dressing down that brought her here to say sorry.

(It wasn't Robin or Eddie. It was Mike, learning what Nancy had done and telling her it wasn't her place to do that.)

There is one final shovel talk for the remainder of their relationship.

It's the final day in Steve's room at his parents house. He's moving in with Eddie and Wayne, at least until the kid's all graduate. Then he and Eddie might go off somewhere on their own.

He's finished packing up his things from the bathroom, and looks up in the mirror. He sees himself, and almost doesn't recognize the reflection staring back. He looks happy. Actually, really happy.

Eddie appears behind him in the mirror, leaning himself against the doorjam, smiling softly at Steve through the mirror.

"All done, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, babe," Steve says. "Just one more thing."

"Oh?"

Steve slides his eyes away from Eddie in the mirror, back to himself. He lifts a finger and points one accusingly finger at himself and says, "if you fuck this up, Harrington, I'll kick your ass myself."

Eddie's full belly laughter rings loudly in the bathroom and Steve just smiles.

[kayewrite]

Falling in a wrong way

(blue sticky note ending #2)

skz lee minho x reader x ot8!! lee know x reader!!! word count: 3k

Blue note alternative ending 2 wherein; you choose minho and it felt wrong

an: i dont know if im still doing it right! i dont wanna hurt other memebers . chz TT an2: im having class starting tom and idk if i can update everyday. but ill do what i can

part 1 and part 2 first

As you walked out of that party, tears blurred your vision. The taxi ride home felt like an eternity, each second filled with the weight of the choice you knew you had to make. Choosing to follow your heart felt like a betrayal—either to yourself or to the friendships you held dear. The tears flowed freely, a silent acknowledgment of the impossible situation you found yourself in.

When the taxi finally pulled up to your apartment building, you stumbled out, barely holding yourself together. You made your way to the elevator, desperate to escape into the solitude of your room. But just as you were about to step inside, a voice called your name, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned around slowly, your heart pounding. There, standing a few feet away, was Minho, his motorcycle helmet in hand. His breaths were labored, as if he had sprinted to catch up to you. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with worry, regret, and something else—something deeper that made your heart ache even more.

Seeing him there, so close yet so far, brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. You couldn't hold them back as he took a hesitant step toward you. The concern etched on his face, the way he looked at you like he was seeing through all your pain, made you crumble.

Without another word, Minho closed the distance between you. He grabbed your wrist gently and pulled you into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around you as if he could shield you from all the hurt in the world. "I'm sorry," he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion.

You clung to him, your face buried in his shoulder, your tears soaking into his shirt. "I'm sorry too," you choked out, the words barely audible. "Sorry because I loved you." The confession hung in the air between you, raw and unfiltered.

Minho pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. "Why are you sorry for that?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Because… because I'm afraid," you admitted, your voice breaking. The pain of those words was almost unbearable, and you could see it reflected in his eyes.

For a moment, Minho said nothing. He just stared at you, his expression a mix of sorrow and determination. Then, without warning, he took your hand in his, his grip firm but reassuring. "Then let's run away," he said, his voice steady now.

Before you could respond, he was already pulling you towards his motorcycle. He put a helmet to you, still reeling from everything that had happened. You didn't protest, didn't question where you were going or what you were doing. You just followed his lead, trusting him implicitly.

As you climbed onto the back of his bike and wrapped your arms around his waist, the world around you seemed to fade away. The roar of the engine filled the silence between you, and you pressed your face against his back, feeling the warmth of his body through the leather jacket. The wind whipped past you as Minho drove, and for the first time that night, you felt a sense of peace.

You didn't know where he was taking you, and it didn't matter. As long as you were with him, you felt safe. You let go of everything—the party, the confusion, the fear—and allowed yourself to simply be in the moment, with Minho.

You loved Minho. From the playful banter that always made you smile, to the way he showed his care in subtle, thoughtful ways. You appreciated everything about him, even the teasing that others might have mistaken for indifference. It was in those moments that you saw the depth of his feelings. The teasing was just his way of showing love, and you understood that. He loved you in his own way, just as you loved him. But the friendship you both valued so much had always held you back.

Tonight, though, all those barriers seemed to dissolve. It was just the two of you, riding through the night with the moonlight as your only witness. You held onto him tightly, savoring the feeling of his presence, knowing that this moment was yours and his alone. For once, you let yourself not care about anything else—just you and Minho, under the stars, running away from the world together.

Minho brings you somewhere—a place only the two of you know. It's a small, cozy house nestled right in front of the beach, a secret hideaway that has always been your sanctuary. The moment you step inside, you’re overwhelmed by the familiarity of it all. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the faint scent of the ocean air.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. You hold him as if letting go would mean losing everything. He hugs you back just as fiercely, his hand gently caressing your hair. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers into your ear, his voice soft and reassuring.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. “We’re here now,” he says, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “Together.” You nod, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, the fear and doubt momentarily forgotten.

Minho then leads you to the couch, where you both sink into its plush cushions. For a moment, the world outside disappears, and it’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if to seal a promise. You close your eyes, savoring the feeling of his love, pure and unspoken, but deeply understood.

-

The next morning, you wake up to the soft light filtering through the curtains. You stretch lazily, realizing that you're wearing one of Minho’s oversized shirts, the fabric smelling faintly of him. It’s a comforting scent, one that makes you smile as you sit up and take in the surroundings.

The sound of clattering pots and pans draws your attention, and you find Minho in the kitchen, cooking something with his usual focused expression. The sight makes your heart swell with affection. Unable to resist, you quietly tiptoe over to him and wrap your arms around his waist from behind.

He glances back at you with a smile, his eyes warm and tender. “Good morning,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Sit down, I’m almost done.”

You do as he says, settling at the small table. Just as you’re about to get comfortable, a familiar white cat leaps onto your lap, purring contentedly. It’s the cat you both adopted from the animal shelter—a sweet, fluffy companion he named after yourself. You smile, petting the cat, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

A moment later, Minho places a dish in front of you, and the aroma makes your mouth water. He’s always been an excellent cook, and today is no exception. He hands you a glass of milk, the small, thoughtful gesture making you grin.

You take a bite, the flavors rich and comforting, and you can’t help but smile up at him. He’s watching you intently, waiting for your reaction. “It’s delicious,” you say, your words filled with genuine appreciation.

Minho chuckles, clearly pleased. You scoop up another spoonful of food and, on a whim, offer it to him. He raises an eyebrow but leans in to take the bite, and you both end up laughing at the simple, playful gesture. The laughter fills the room, light and carefree, making the moment feel almost surreal. For the first time, you allow yourself to be completely true to your feelings, to enjoy this fleeting happiness without worrying about the future.

Later, you both find yourselves outside, lounging in a big hammock that sways gently in the breeze. The ocean stretches out before you, a vast expanse of blue that seems to go on forever. You’re sitting between Minho’s legs, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. The warmth of his body against yours, the sound of the waves, the scent of the salty air—it all feels so right.

Minho tightens his hold on you, his chin resting on your shoulder and he whispered ,“I’m willing to risk everything for you,” he says quietly, the sincerity in his voice making your heart ache.

You shake your head, turning slightly to look at him. Eyes started to well up.

“Minho ---That’s not what I want,” you called him. "It’s okay if I’ll step away, as long as you stay the same. You’ve been with them for so long—you’re like family. I don’t want to be the reason to end it.”

Minho’s eyes darken with determination. “Whatever happens, I’ll choose you,” he says firmly.

His words are like a knife to your heart, and you can’t stop the tears from welling up. “But you’ve spent eight years with them,” you say, your voice cracking. “You have dreams together, and I’m just going to break it?”

You feel like you’ve fallen in love in the wrong way, at the wrong time. The guilt and fear threaten to overwhelm you, and the tears spill over, streaming down your cheeks. Minho gently wipes them away, his touch soothing.

“Everything will be okay,” he whispers, his voice full of conviction. “I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

You want to believe him, to trust in the strength of your love. So you close your eyes, leaning into him, and for now, you let yourself be comforted by his presence, holding onto the hope that somehow, everything will be okay.

-

The weekend with Minho flies by too quickly. You wish you could stop time, hold on to these moments a little longer, but you know that’s not possible.

With a heavy heart, you make your way to Chan’s studio. He’s always been the one you could talk to about anything, a steady presence who feels like a big brother because of how mature and understanding he is. As you approach the door, you manage a small smile and gently knock.

“Can I come in?” you ask, your voice soft.

Chan looks up from his work, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Of course,” he says, nodding towards the chair beside him. You hand him a cup of his favorite coffee as you sit down, and he takes it gratefully. “Thanks,” he murmurs, taking a sip.

He studies you for a moment, concern flickering in his eyes. “How are you?” he asks, his tone gentle.

You take a deep breath, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chan’s expression softens even more. “It’s okay,” he says reassuringly. “Everything will fall back into place, eventually.”

His words are meant to comfort, but the uncertainty in your heart remains, and Chan knows it.

Chan always know you. He knows what words you need.

“As your friend, and as someone who cares about you a lot, seeing you happy, following your dreams and wants, that’s what would make me happiest too.” The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard. "So choose what's your heart saying." He’s always been honest with you, but this feels different—more personal.

He tries to lighten the mood with a joke, his smile returning. “Besides, feelings fade eventually. Who knows? Maybe feelings will just disappear in a day.”

You chuckle softly at his attempt to make you laugh, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple. You know it all too well. After the laughter fades, you look at him, your expression turning serious.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, the weight of your decision pressing down on you.

Chan’s smiles, understanding shining in his eyes. “You don't need to be sorry of the things that wasn't your fault,” he replies softly. “And no matter what happens just know that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Chan’s presence, steady and reliable, gives you comfort. You smiled at him and he smiled then ruffled your hair.

-

You helped Felix move out of his old apartment, a task made necessary by the noisy neighbor who had been causing him endless frustration.

You were relieved that Felix never brought up the awkwardness between you two, which meant you could focus on the task at hand without dwelling on the unspoken tension.

As you both worked, Felix’s usual teasing and jokes brought some normalcy back into the day. You laughed at his comments, the sound of your laughter mingling with the clatter of packing boxes.

Suddenly, a knock at the door broke the rhythm of your work. You both paused, and Felix’s neighbor appeared, his face a mix of annoyance and frustration.

“Hey, can you keep it down?” the neighbor said sharply. “You’re disturbing other people.”

The words struck a nerve. You could feel your anger rising, and before you could think twice, you shot back, “Look at what you’ve done to my friend! He’s moving out because of you. Maybe you should be more considerate yourself!”

Felix’s hand landed gently on your shoulder, a subtle reminder to keep calm. He stepped in front of you, his tone even but firm. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll handle this. Thanks for letting us know.”

The neighbor’s expression shifted to one of guilt. He muttered a half-hearted apology and quickly retreated. As soon as he was out of sight, Felix couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Well, that was interesting,” he said, still chuckling. “I talked to him about this before, but I can’t believe he’d actually come here to complain.”

You joined in the laughter, the tension of the moment easing away. “I’m just glad he’s gone,” you said. “Moving day is stressful enough without dealing with that.”

You continue your work and when the packing was done, you were ready to bring it downstairs to the unit beside you. When he stopped you with his words,

“I’ll be moving a bit farther away." he flashed a soft sad smile, "Hyunjin’s roommate moved out, so I’m going to crash at his place.”

Your heart sank a little and got surprised at the news that was different from what you had expected. But before you could express your disappointment, Felix patted your head affectionately. “Don’t worry, it’s not because of you,” he said reassuringly. “It’s just a better fit for now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

You weren’t entirely convinced, but Felix’s warm smile and reassuring words helped to ease your worries.

Felix’s grin widened. “Everything’s fine,” he repeated, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Thanks for helping me today. It means a lot.”

You smiled back, feeling a mix of relief and lingering sadness. As you watched him finish packing up the last of his things, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of finality, but also an appreciation for the way Felix had managed to make the best of a difficult situation.

-

The sun was setting, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over everything. You were sitting alone, and the serene moment was interrupted by a familiar voice calling your name. 

You turned to see Minho standing a few feet away, a playful glint in his eyes. He walked over and sat down beside you, his arm slipping around your shoulders, then patted the cat that was purring and resting comfortably in your lap.

Minho's eyes twinkled, and then he laughed, "I was actually calling our cat." 

You rolled your eyes playfully, a smile tugging at your lips. "Why did you name it after me?" you asked, feigning exasperation.

Minho chuckled, his laughter warm and infectious. He pulled you closer, his touch reassuring and tender.

You leaned into him, enjoying the comfort of his presence. The cat, sensing the affection, rubbed against your legs, purring contentedly. You looked at Minho, seeing the joy in his eyes, and then shifted your gaze back to the horizon.

The sky was now a canvas of vibrant colors, the sun dipping lower and lower until it was just a sliver above the water. The scene was breathtakingly beautiful, and it felt like the perfect backdrop to your moment together. You both fell into a comfortable silence, simply savoring the tranquility of the evening.

Minho's fingers lightly traced patterns on your arm, and you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The earlier worries and complications seemed distant now, replaced by the simplicity of this shared moment.

You turned your head slightly to look up at Minho, who was gazing at the sunset with a soft smile. There was a sense of peace in his expression, and you felt a similar calm settle within you. The world seemed to slow down as you both took in the beauty around you.

The sun continued its descent, casting long shadows and bathing the beach in a golden glow. It was a perfect ending to a challenging day, a reminder that amidst the chaos and confusion, there were moments of pure, simple happiness to be cherished.

You took a deep breath, feeling grateful for this serene moment with Minho, and the two of you shared a contented smile, knowing that no matter what lay ahead, this was a moment you would always remember.

----

an: might continue the next one if this will get 80 likes TT

[blushweddinggowns]

Part 2 to this!

Now that Max and Dustin were vaguely aware of what was going on, they weren’t going to stop until they knew everything. It took about ten seconds from leaving Steve’s driveway for them to start asking questions. 

“Robin…” Max started, “What is he not telling us?”

“That Eddie’s a dick,” she grumbled, “But we’re not allowed to talk about it.”

Dustin crossed his arms against his chest, huffing, “No he’s not! Steve’s right, it’s not his fault he isn’t interested.” 

“If that was the case than ya, sure Steve would be right but it’s not. He’s totally leading him on."

Dustin frowned. That didn’t sound like the Eddie he knew, “How so?”

“Well let’s see,” she lifted a hand, counting it out on her fingers, “There’s the fact he calls Steve shit like ‘pretty’ and ‘sweetheart’ when he thinks no one can hear him. He actively stops Steve from dating anyone else and has scared like five girls away from the store entirely. Not to mention they sleep together almost every night. He just loves torturing him in general! He gets off on the power he has over him, I swear.”

That…did not sound good.

“Well…maybe he likes him back?” Dustin said weakly, praying that there was some kind of misunderstanding and that one of his best friends wasn't being a massive asshole to his surrogate dad.

She shook her head, “I used to think that too until like a week ago. Do you wanna know what he told Nancy when she asked about it? I quote, ‘ Me and Steve? Seriously Nance? I’d rather die. ’” Robin said flatly, resentment heavy in her voice, “And Steve fucking heard him say that and hasn’t done shit about it!”

Max had been staring out the window, trying to rationalize why anyone would do things like that if they weren’t interested, when she froze, “He said that? About Steve? Our Steve?”

“He sure did. And that's why I'm saying it all needs to stop. He needs to fuck off now."

Dustin opened his mouth, so used to jumping to Eddie’s defense before snapping it back shut. He didn’t know what to say. If it was all true then he was going to kill Eddie for fucking with Steve’s feelings, for no good reason. But on the other hand, this was Robin they were dealing with, and her threshold for Steve-related violence was a lot lower than a normal person’s would be. 

She pulled into the trailer park with a sigh, “I’m sorry I put all that out there, it’s just…I needed to get that out. And you guys have almost gotten me killed on more than one occasion so…now we’re even I guess. But don’t tell him I told you! Eddie can do no wrong in his eyes, for some reason.”

They both nodded, Dustin hopping out with Max. He’d bike home later because they needed to talk about this, without Robin there. They thanked her for the ride, standing there in awkward silence as they watched her go. 

“Do you think he’d really do something like that?” Dustin asked as she led him inside, “It’s not that I don’t trust her, but she’s definitely biased.”

Max shrugged, looking just as conflicted as Dustin felt, “I don’t think so? But we should still be on the lookout. If it is true, we’re gonna have to do something.”

Dustin nodded, automatically on board for any hypothetical helping of Steve. They talked for a while longer, another hair-brained scheme forming. They would watch, see if Eddie really was leading Steve on, and if it was true, they’d intervene. The how was yet to be determined, but they would. 

No one was going to hurt their babysitter and get away with it. Not on their watch. 

They spent the next week spying on the two of them, which was kinda easy considering how often they were always together. And things were not looking good.

Now that they knew how Steve felt, they couldn’t help but be mad. Ya, ya, Steve said not to be, but it was bullshit! Because now that Max was paying attention, there was no way Eddie didn’t know how he felt about him. Not with how much time they spent together. And poor Steve was so obvious. 

Robin had been right, he did things just to get a rise out of Steve, like whispering in his ear to see him blush, or calling him one of those dumb pet names, his voice all low and unsubtle. He would even hold his freaking hand! And he always looked so smug about it. Eddie would do one of his stupid antics and leave a stumbling, blushing Steve in his wake, a self-satisfied smirk on his dumb face, like getting Steve all excited and dopey was just so entertaining. 

They were so annoyed that they bonded over it, sharing twin looks of aggravation every time they saw Eddie hang all over him, which was always, with Steve blushing and giggling all the while. 

And they didn’t know what to do about it. Steve had made it very clear that he didn’t want anyone being mean to Eddie over something “stupid”, and he would actually get mad at them if he noticed them acting out against the bullshit. They would have just avoided him entirely if they could, but avoiding Eddie meant avoiding Steve, and that was something neither was willing to compromise on.

So they settled for being cordial whenever Steve was around, and then passive-aggressive when he wasn’t, if just for their own sanity, as they debated what to do about it. 

And Eddie was not a fan of the new behavior. He didn’t know what the issue was with his two favorite little twerps, but they were pissed, and solely at him for the past week. Which, he did not need right now. He was still trying to figure out why Robin suddenly hated him, let alone Steve’s adopted children. 

He racked his brain for anything he could have done, but he always came up empty. If it had been Mike, then sure, he’d have something to go on, making obvious moves to steal his sister’s maybe-boyfriend were fair grounds to be mad about, but he was totally fine. Mike, Lucas, and Will weren’t in on whatever the other two were up to, thank god. He was barely handling dealing with two angry teenagers, let alone five.

Luckily for him, they at least tried to pretend like nothing was wrong when Steve was around. Eddie may not be a genius, but he was pretty sure that having the three closest people to his potential boyfriend hate him, was not a good look. 

Steve was the only one acting the same, thank god. If the three stooges had an issue with him, then that was fine, as long as it didn’t interrupt the long and arduous courting process he had started and planned on finishing. Sooner rather than later. 

He sighed, lazily watching Steve get ready for work from his bed. Though it really was on the edge of just becoming their bed from how often Eddie stayed over. He was already in a hurry, mumbling about how he promised to pick up the two twerps from school today, almost guaranteeing his own lateness.

“You don’t have to always pick them up, you know,” Eddie whined, more than a little annoyed that his afternoon cuddle time was being interrupted.

“But I promised. And you know how they are with that kind of thing.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, Steve was too nice for his own good. He stood up, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist from behind, still pouting, “But wouldn’t you rather spend those last twenty minutes in bed?”

“ Obviously. But Keith’s going to kill me if I’m late again.”

Eddie rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder, completely in love with the way the small touch made him blush. How he’d managed not to kiss him yet was a masterclass in self-restraint, “Baby, you’re going to be late anyway if you go. How about I get them?”

“Really?”

“Sure. Then you’ll only have to worry your pretty little head over getting to work.” 

Steve smiled as he thanked him, in that soft way that felt like it was just for Eddie, and it never failed to make his heart do a flip in his chest. 

Plus, Eddie could use the time to interrogate the two little shits and figure out what the hell the problem was. He pulled into the school parking lot, honking at the duo as they waited near the front steps. He rolled his eyes when they tried to ignore him, pretending like they were in some kind of deep conversation.

He leaned out the window, yelling over, “Get in, I’m taking you two home today. Steve called in a favor.” 

They looked at each other, all conspiratorial before they made their way to the van, both sitting down with a huff, avoiding the passenger side. He didn’t know when the two of them got so close, but he wasn’t a fan if this was the result of it. 

They were silent, they didn’t even talk to each other, just stared out the window with their arms crossed. 

“So…,” Eddie tried, “Excited for the campaign this weekend?”

Silence. Eddie glanced in his rearview, both of them still staring out the window, acting like he wasn’t even there. 

“Dustin?”

Silence.

“I know you can hear me man, come on!”

Dustin finally turned away from the window, shrugging, "I can’t make it. Have Erica fill in for me or something…" 

Eddie could feel his eye start twitching. 

Pretending that he didn’t exist? Whatever. 

Purposefully slamming the door for any room that they were in together? Okay sure. 

But missing DnD? Not uh, Eddie was going to get to the bottom of this now. He pulled off to the side of the road, turning to frown at them from the driver’s seat, “Okay, that’s enough! What the hell is wrong with you two?”

Max whipped her head around, glaring at him, and Jesus that kid had a hell of a glare, “What’s wrong with us? What’s wrong with you?”

Eddie raised a brow, drumming his fingers against his thigh as he stared at them, “What does that even mean?”

“We know okay?” Dustin hissed out, looking anywhere but Eddie’s face, “We know what you’re doing and we don’t like it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Max scoffed, “We’re talking about how you’re a dick! And Steve deserves better than that!” 

Dustin nodded along, trying to glare at Eddie the way Max was, but he was starting to tear up instead. Like a complete overprotective loser. He wondered if this was how Steve felt when he worried about them. If it was, he was going to start complaining about his coddling a lot less. 

It just wasn’t fair. Nancy, Robin, and now Eddie? When will the torment of watching Steve Harrington's failed love life stop? Why did someone who was nothing but good have to keep dealing with this crap?

Dustin wiped at his face, angry tears still falling, “You know that he likes you and you just mess with him! I don’t know if this is revenge for what he was like in high school but it’s fucked up!” 

Eddie stared at them, slack-jawed as they both started to dress him down. 

Max was digging around her backpack, handing Dustin a pack of tissues while she was giving Eddie the evil eye, "You couldn't have had a bit more tack for the guy that saved your life? I don’t know, maybe ‘He’s not my type,’ instead of “I’d rather die?’ " 

She grabbed a few of them for herself, dangerously close to joining Dustin in the rage crying. She just…wanted Steve to be happy. Was that really so much to ask?

Eddie’s brain was still going a mile a minute, desperately trying to just catch up to what the hell they were talking about, but that brought everything to a halt. He remembered that, a throwaway comment to get Nancy off his back, considering he was in the middle of actively trying to date her ex (?) boyfriend. 

Eddie wasn’t stupid, he knew that Steve felt something for him, there was no other reason why he would let him do the things he did if he didn’t, but he never forgot just how infatuated he had been with Nancy. He remembered him trailing after her in the Upside Down, like some kind of love-sick puppy. Like recognizes like, Steve had looked at Nancy the way Eddie looked at Steve. He was going to let Steve go after that, acknowledge that it was just a simple crush that would never be reciprocated, and wait for the inevitable of them getting back together.

But then, he went and almost died, with Steve deciding to save his life. His little crush morphed into full-blown love, embarrassingly quickly during his recovery. Steve was just always there for him, and in a matter of days they became instant best friends, both obsessed with spending as much time as possible with each other. 

They talked about anything and everything under the sun, all but one thing. 

Nancy. 

He never asked Steve about her, because he honestly never wanted to know. He had been too chicken shit to just ask, terrified that Steve would start confessing his undying love for her the moment he opened the door. And technically if he didn't know for sure, he could feel a whole lot less like shit for being all over someone else's hypothetical boyfriend. 

He avoided her most of the time, out of pure jealousy for how she got along with Steve, and guilt from the fact he was knowingly trying to, maybe, steal him away from her. But once she moved to Boston, Eddie had been so sure it was his chance. The way Steve would look at him sometimes, the way he would touch him, Eddie knew he wasn’t alone in his feelings, even if Steve needed some extra time to get to where he was, he was more than willing to be patient. 

So when Nancy had cornered him during one of her visits, asking him way too specific questions about Steve, he strategically lied, thinking that it would stop any upcoming jealousy or suspicions on her end, and most importantly, stop her from impeding on his ever-increasing Steve Alone Time. 

But now, his genius plan of gently coaxing Steve into a bisexual awakening and subtly stealing him from his maybe girlfriend was the most moronic thing he'd ever thought of.

He finally found his voice, cutting right through the noise of two kids yelling at him, "Steve heard that?!"

“Yeah, he heard it!” Max hissed, “Playtime is over, you need to leave him alone.”

Oh no. Oh no, no no.

"I'm going to puke, I am actually going to puke,” Eddie turned in his seat, putting his head in his hands, suddenly feeling very, very, ill. The love of his goddamn life heard him say he would rather die than be with him? 

Max and Dustin glanced at each other, confused at his reaction. They weren’t sure what they were expecting him to say, maybe a denial, or a warning to stay out of his business, but not this. Max leaned forward in her seat, frowning as she watched Eddie rub at his temples, looking like he had just heard the worst news imaginable. 

“So now you suddenly care?” She asked, lips pursed as Eddie whipped around to stare at her.

“Of course I fucking care! I love Steve! I-he was never supposed to hear that!” Eddie was dangerously close to hyperventilating at the full realization that Steve was probably still under the impression that Eddie didn’t want him. 

Dustin latched on to that, already hopeful that he had been right after all, and one of his best friends wasn’t a complete ass, "Then why the hell would you say that?" 

He told them everything in a jumbled mess of word vomit, embarrassed and intensely mad at himself for being such an idiot. 

And Dustin and Max seemed to agree. 

Max still had her arms crossed, but she wasn’t giving him the death stare anymore. She glanced at Dustin,  “He’s either lying or he’s the dumbest man on the planet.”

Dustin shrugged, “Well he was a super, super senior, so…”

They stared at each other, having some kind of telepathic conversation before Max turned back to him, “If you are telling the truth then you have to tell Steve.”

“Like now, ” Dustin added.

Max nodded, “In front of us.”

“Or else we will never forgive you for making him cry.”

That was another punch to the gut for Eddie, “He cried ?”

They told him the whole, horrible story, and Eddie was struck with the sudden urge to punch himself in the face. He was already starting the van back up when Max insisted they go to him immediately, u-turning to go straight to the Family Video. He was desperate to fix this stupid shit, and fix it now.  

He parked haphazardly, speed-walking into the empty store with two growingly excited teenagers in tow. 

Robin was reading a magazine at the front counter, eyes narrowing at the sight of Eddie waltzing in, “What do you want?”

“I need to talk to Steve.”

Robin rolled her eyes, “Steve’s busy, you can be a dick to him on his off hours.” 

Eddie almost flinched at her tone, still not used to how cold the usually goofy Robin could be. Which, okay, fair, considering just how bad he looked in her eyes, but he was not leaving until he talked to Steve.

Robin raised a brow when she saw Dustin and Max come in behind him. Max was flipping the closed side over as they entered, ignoring Robin’s protests, and Dustin locked it behind him, just as Steve wandered onto the floor, a stack of tapes in hand. 

“What are you guys doing here?” he asked as he set the stack down on the counter, “And why did you lock the door?”

“Eddie needs to talk to you!” Dustin nearly shouted , hopping from foot to foot with obvious impatience. 

Now that Steve was in front of him, all of Eddie’s nervous energy was reaching a peak. He fiddled with his rings, heart pounding, “D-do you have a minute?”

Steve cocked his head, obviously confused, “I always have time for you,” Steve glanced around the room of wide-eyed spectators, “We can step outside if you want-”

“Nope,” Max shook her head, “In front of us.”

While Eddie was technically grateful the kids told him what was going on, he really wished he wasn’t about to risk getting rejected in front of spectators. He took a deep breath, deciding just to rip the band-aid off in one go, “I’m in love with you.”

Steve just stared at him, jaw slack as Eddie nervously prattled on, “I’m in love with you, and I’ve been in love with you for months. But I’m an idiot, an idiot who loves you, and would certainly not rather die than be with the man of my dreams.” 

Steve was still just staring at him, which, honestly, was probably the appropriate response for an impromptu love confession from his best friend. He didn’t know what to make of that face. He should have asked the kids if they were sure Steve felt the same way, how hard would it have been to ask if they were fucking sure?

At least Robin looked seemingly impressed.

The silence just made him keep going, even if his mind was desperately trying to tell him to shut the hell up, “A-and I thought you thought you were straight, or straightish, and I thought Nancy was after you, and -"

And then Steve was kissing him. He just…waltzed right up and grabbed Eddie’s shirt, pulling him down to crash their lips together. 

Eddie stalled for half a second, in complete disbelief that it was happening, Steve Harrington was kissing him. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him in closer to make the kiss deeper, already fully aware that this was a feeling he would be addicted to for the rest of his life. 

He could vaguely hear Robin squealing in the background, and Max and Dustin gagging, but he was too focused on the sweet taste of Steve’s lips to care. 

He tried to chase his mouth when Steve pulled away, giving him the pretty kind of laugh that made Eddie’s legs feel weak, “We’re both idiots,” Steve smiled, pressing chaste kisses to Eddie’s face between words, “Two idiots in love,”

Eddie blinked, heart still going a mile a minute, “You love me?”

Steve didn’t even tease him for it, kissing his nose like the adorable bastard he was, “Head over heels-”

Eddie was already kissing him again before he could finish, swallowing down his laughs with a happy sigh. 

Dustin and Max watched as their favorite adults made out in the middle of the video store, both kinda grossed out and insanely pleased that they were the reason it was happening in the first place. They looked at each other, grinning from ear to ear, both firmly deciding that meddling in Steve’s life had definitely been worth it. 

[ladykailitha]

Do You Know What Shovels Dig? Graves Part 6

And this is it. The last part of a short little idea that kept me up all night that turned into this beautiful story that is one of my favorite stories I’ve written.

WIP Wednesday allowed me to finish this up for you before I went to bed. I got a job that I will be starting on Monday which will slow my writing down some, but I will still try to keep up on the stories I have. I love writing these stories for you guys and wish I could make it my job. But alas, capitalism.

Also this is for all the people that wished to see what the Corroded Coffin boys would say and for all the people that wanted to have Erica actually apologize. I was like “if you guys can get her to apologize, great, because I couldn’t!” But then I realized that there was someone who could get her to apologize. Robin. So here you go.

Thanks to that anon for the barbecue idea. That’s here too.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

*

After Max, Lucas, and Erica had gone, Steve sat with Eddie, El, and the Byers boys.

“I think all in all,” Eddie began, “those were some pretty good apologies.”

The other three nodded.

Steve sighed. “It doesn’t change the fact that it took an actual honest to god intervention to get them realize they were wrong.”

“No it doesn’t,” El said. “Which is why I told them that they’ve been grounded from Steve for two weeks.”

“Uh...” Eddie said, “what now?”

“It means,” Will explained. “That if they want to hang out with him they have to do on his terms, not theirs. No begging for rides, no stopping by for food and then bailing, and just no taking advantage of Steve.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks, guys. I mean it. It was nice knowing that there were people that weren’t going to threaten me and took this whole seriously.” He gave Jonathan’s knee a squeeze. “I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t stopped by. But I’m really glad you did.”

Jonathan squeezed his shoulder in response. “Me, too. I hope they learned their lesson.”

“That is the hope,” Will said.

Steve scratched his cheek. “Why don’t we have barbecue at your guys’s place after the two weeks and see how they fair?”

Will brightened. “I like that idea. That way if they are still having problems we can talk to them about it.”

“Do you think your mom will go for it?” Eddie asked.

Jonathan grinned. “Hell yeah, she would. She’s been wanting to show off her new house to everyone for awhile now.”

El grinned too. “We have a plan, then!”

*

Steve was pleased to see that the Party actually started to make actual changes in how they treated him.

Lucas invited him out to play basketball at the rec center and biked himself there. Steve offered him a ride home after, which he happily took as they were both sweating afterwards.

Dustin made sure that Steve knew he was joking when he was making comments. And Steve made sure to snark right back unless it really bothered him and then they would talk about it.

Robin and he had a longer talk about the gay vs bisexual thing. She admitted that she had been wrong to assume that because Steve was bisexual that it would be Eddie getting his heartbroken and not Steve. She had some ingrained biases that she had to get over and was really sorry she didn’t have his back when he needed her to.

There were a lot of little changes but the final major change came a couple days after the intervention when Jeff, Gareth, and Brian all walked into Family Video together to properly apologize to Steve.

“Hey, Buckley,” Jeff said, “can you give us some space?”

Robin straightened her spine and wiggled her shoulders. “Steve has had apology monitors to ensure that it’s an actual apology, and as Eddie or Will or Jonathan aren’t here, it’s going to have to be me.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Apparently there are certain people who think I’m too nice,” he explained to the other boys, “and let people get away things that I shouldn’t so they took it upon themselves to be my guard dogs to make sure it’s an actual apology.”

“Have they met you?” Gareth asked, incredulous. “You’re the original bitch.”

Steve laughed again. “Who let Tommy and Carol walk all over me. I tend to roll over for friends.”

They blinked and then nodded.

“Yeah, okay,” Brian said. “That tracks.”

Steve just smiled. “So how can I help you fine gentleman today? May I interest you our latest releases?”

That got a couple chuckles out of them.

“No, man,” Jeff said, “we’re here to talk about the whole shovel talk shit.”

Steve leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “You do know I don’t fault you guys for that, right? You guys are Eddie’s best friends. I didn’t really fault Wayne, either. But the execution of that one...” he winced when Robin gasped. “Poor choice of words, sorry.”

“What he do?” Jeff asked.

“Borrowed Chief Hopper’s shotgun and cleaned while we talked,” Steve said with a grimace.

“That ain’t right...” Brian said, shaking his head.

Gareth looked at Jeff and then back to Steve. “Yeah, but here’s the thing about our shovel talk...”

“It wasn’t necessary,” Jeff finished for him. “We’ve had time to get to know you before you and Eddie started dating. We knew that you two would do anything for each other even without being a couple.”

Brian nodded. “It’s just...something we thought best friends did. The whole ‘break his heart, we’ll break your knees’ kind of thing.”

Robin looked down at her feet and cleared her throat.

Jeff sighed dramatically. “Please tell me she wasn’t one of the ones that gave you the shovel talk. Because that’s messed up, man.”

Steve looked over at her and then back up to Jeff. “Yeah, she knows.”

“By the way,” Gareth said, waving his hands, “Eddie doesn’t know we’re here. So I don’t want thinking this is a forced apology or anything.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Brian cleared his throat. “I mean he did threaten to kill off our characters if we were mean to you, but he didn’t tell us to apologize or anything.”

Steve laughed. “That sounds more like the Eddie we all know and love.”

“But we would have come anyway,” Jeff said. “Because our shovel talk added to a heaping pile of bullshit that you didn’t need. And definitely didn’t deserve.”

“So this is us saying we’re sorry that everyone you knew decided that you were going to break Eddie’s heart,” Gareth said. “And that we made you feel like you weren’t worthy of dating Eddie. Because you are, man. Like seriously the only guy Eddie’s brought around that we actually want to be friends with.”

“Hell yeah,” Brian said. “You’re so cool and you love to take care everyone. We’d want you to stick around because we like you, too.”

Steve’s eyes blurred and he cleared his throat. “Thanks, guys. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

They all came up and gave Steve a hug, blocking him from outside viewers so he could cry. Once they were sure he was going to be okay, they let him go.

They said their goodbyes and walked out, leaving behind a stunned Robin and grateful Steve.

*

Just before the barbecue started Robin brought over Erica to Steve by holding her ear.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Erica was yelling as she was half dragged over to him.

Robin sat her down and said, “I learned that this little hobgoblin didn’t properly apologize for her shovel talk. And Eddie let her get away with it.”

“God, what’s your problem?” Erica huffed up at Robin. “They understood. Why can’t you?”

Robin grinned. “Green ooze, little girl. Green ooze.”

Erica’s jaw snapped shut. If Sherlock Holmes had his phrase for humbling him when he got too proud, this was Erica’s. She was going to drink it before it turned out to be acid. Like literal acid.

She turned to Steve. “Shovel talks aren’t right and no one should be giving anyone shovel talks because it’s a pointless exercise in latent hostility. So I’m sorry I contributed to an archaic practice used by bullies and abusers. I won’t do it ever again.”

Erica looked up at Robin, who gave her the thumbs up. Erica hopped up and ran off to play.

Steve blinked up at Robin in shock. “Like how the hell did you manage that?”

Robin just batted her eyelashes and said nothing, walking away with a whistle on her lips and a swagger in her step.

Eddie came up to him in shock. “Did I just witness an actual apology from Lady Applejack?”

Steve nodded mutely.

“I think I’m more afraid of Robin, now,” Eddie muttered and Steve could only agree.

*

Eddie was starting to see a trend. One that made him laugh the third time it happened.

The first, though? Claudia Henderson.

“Eddie!” she greeted warmly. “I haven’t seen you around much. How have you been?”

Eddie smiled at her. Even before the Upside Down, Claudia was one Eddie’s favorite people. She was bright and happy and loved her wacky son with all her heart. Something that Eddie could absolutely get behind. “I’ve just been busy. But name the date, and I’ll be there.”

She smiled back. “That’s sweet, dear. You know you have an open invitation. But why don’t you and your uncle come over for Sunday dinner. Steve has already said yes for himself.”

“Sounds great, Mrs Henderson,” Eddie agreed.

“How are you and Steve?” she asked gently. “Dusty was telling me that Steve hadn’t been doing well lately.”

“We’re good,” Eddie said bobbing his head. “Things got a little rough a couple weeks back, but we’re on firmer ground now.”

She patted his cheek. “You really need to be taking better care of that boy. He looks tough on the outside, but he needs someone who can take care of him, yeah?”

Eddie smiled. “Of course. Taking extra good care of our Stevie is my number one priority.”

She nodded and went to go make sure Dusty was eating enough.

The next one was Karen Wheeler of all people. Ted was suspiciously but expectedly absent. She came up to Eddie and introduced herself.

“You must be Eddie!” she said with smile that reminded him of that Dustin Hoffman film.

“Oh hello,” he replied a little confused.

“Nancy has told me all about you,” Karen said with that same smile. “She’s always going on about how Steve finally found the person he was meant to be with and what a great person you are.”

Eddie smiled back. “Nancy’s a great girl.”

She sighed a little, her smile turning into something a little more genuine. “I miss having Steve over. Jonathan is great boy for my Nance, but Steve sparkled where Jonathan only shines.”

“I won’t argue with you on that one,” Eddie said. “But then Jonathan isn’t my type.”

She swatted at him playfully. “All I’m trying to say if that Steve is a good boy and deserves only the best. So you’ll take good care of him, won’t you?” It was sweet and sincere, but a hint of steel. And suddenly Eddie knew where Nancy got her backbone of steel from.

“Always,” Eddie promised, hand over heart.

“See that you do,” Karen said and wandered off to compare brownie recipes with Joyce.

The third was a squirrelly looking balding guy with thick glasses and far too knowing stare. He had come with Chief Hopper and had spent most of the night watching Eddie. He had asked Nancy who he was and she said his name was Murray Bauman and he was a conspiracy theorist. Which really didn’t clear anything up for him, but this rag-tag group of rebels and fighters were all a little weird.

He wandered over to Eddie and looked him up and down. He said in a clear voice, “I have seen things you wouldn’t believe, I’ve done things that would make your hair curl on end,” he stopped for a moment, “make it curlier and I know where the bodies are hidden. If you hurt Steve, you’ll be the next one.”

“Murray!” Hopper yelled. “What the hell was that? Why would you say that?”

Murray blinked at Hopper and then tilted his head. “Because we love Steve?” He says long and slow like he’s talking to a stupid person.

Eddie burst out laughing.

“No, no,” he said between giggles. “It’s fine Hopper. It’s all fine!”

Murray looked him over again and then nodded. “Yes, you’ll do.” And then he wandered off back into the house as if he had done what he had come to do.

A few minutes later Steve came up and sat next to Eddie. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know what that was.”

Eddie giggled and bumped their shoulders together. “It’s fine, sweetheart. It’s actually kinda adorable.”

Steve frowned. “What is?”

“That it’s the moms plus Murray here,” Eddie said jerking his chin in the direction Murray had wandered off to, “that are the most protective of you. Both Mrs Wheeler and Henderson have told me under no certain terms am I allowed to hurt you and that I’m supposed to take care of you.”

Steve blinked and searched the crowd for Claudia first. She spotted him looking at her and she waved at him. Steve smiled and waved back. Then he searched for Karen. She didn’t look at him directly, but merely winked and went back to talking to Wayne about something he couldn’t quite hear.

“Oh.”

“But don’t you worry, darlin’,” Eddie purred. “I’m gonna take very good care of you.”

Steve kissed him, slow and deep. “And I will always take care of you, Eds.”

“Perfect.”

It really was.

*** 

Tag List: @justforthedead89 @zerokrox-blog @ihavekidneys @didntwant2come @thelittleclare @liorereshkigal @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @telidina @stevesbipanic @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @jonesn4coffee  @resident-gay-bitch @obliosworld @croatoan-like-its-hot @evix-syne666 @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @bookworm0690 @mysticcrownshipper @i-must-potato  @pnk-lemonades 

[alasijia]

SO THIS IS LOVE?

ft. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, otoya eita

summary : little ways in which the bllk boys show their love for you.

note - i wrote isagi to chigiri's part like half asleep last night sorry guys 🤕

masterlist

ISAGI YOICHI allows himself to find comfort in your presence. He's always overthinking things, over analyzing every single thing, but with you, he feels that he can be himself. He could sleep peacefully, without having to worry about anything. He feels that with you around, he doesn't have to care about anything else.

BACHIRA MEGURU talks about you to everyone, and anything. He shows you off like you're the greatest thing that's happened to him, with pride. It's as if his purpose in life was all about meeting you. You don't mind though, it's entertaining watching him show you off to his teammates, who roll their eyes and groan in response.

CHIGIRI HYOMA would include you in his routines. Chigiri is an organized man. He knows what he wants to do during his days, and follows through with it. He likes having a set schedule, and he loves having you next to him even more.

MIKAGE REO doesn't just spoil you with money. He knows you love him for more than just his money. Of course, he'd still give you gifts. Who do you think he is? Only, they're handmade little gifts that he takes time out of his day to make. He would never admit it, but he would spend hours learning to make you a flower bouquet, or handmade chocolates.

NAGI SEISHIRO doesn't think you're a hassle. He doesn't like thinking, moving, or doing anything more than the bare minimum. Heck, he doesn't even want to reach the bare minimum sometimes. But for you, he would think about every question you ask him thoroughly, let you cuddle him even while he's playing games, he'd even ride that bike of his to your house if you just said you missed him.

OTOYA EITA cheats on you. (sorry i had to 🙏)

[five-rivers]

Pretty in Pink (and Other Colors)

For @jadenoryuu!

.

A ghost watched Amity Park.  Specifically, he watched a group of five teenagers walk down a street.  He watched not from up close, not from down the street, or from one of the buildings lining it, but from far, far away, through a ghost-powered device that could see through both space and time, and which could even allow a properly-prepared traveler to pass through it to the place and time it showed.  

In his right hand, the ghost carried a staff.  In his left, he held a wrinkled and creased hundred dollar bill.  He drummed his fingers on the haft of his staff, but was otherwise still.  Watching.  Waiting.  

Then, when the teenagers had reached a position remarkable only to the ghost, he reached out and dropped the bill.  It fell through the time screen and drifted gently to the ground in front of the teenagers.  

The tallest teen, a blonde, noticed it and stooped to pick it up, grinning at his companions all the while.  In the ghost’s lair, other time screens turned to static, flickered, and then turned back on, showing very different scenes.  

The ghost smiled.  “Perhaps this is not the way it was meant to be,” he said, tilting his head to look at the other screens, “but it will be amusing, nonetheless.”

.

“... was bright pink.  And that's why my allowance was cut off, so I can't bring my usual to the party,” explained Dash.  His usual was beer, obtained through an acquaintance who didn’t care much about the legalities involved.  And who, admittedly, thought Dash was two years older than he actually was.  

“Lame,” said Valerie. 

“Extremely lame,” agreed Star.

“Next level is actively pathetic, Dash, and you don’t want to go there,” said Paulina.  “Don’t promise what you can’t deliver.” 

“Well, I should have been able to deliver, it’s not my fault.”  He kicked at the sidewalk, then paused, spotting something on the ground.  “Oh, nice!”  He picked a bill up off the ground and waved it over his head.  “The party is back on!”

“The party was never off,” said Valerie, rolling her eyes.  “Just the drinking part, which I can’t do, anyway.”

“Aw,” said Paulina, jostling Valerie playfully.  “Why not?  Did you become Mormon or something?  Ultra-orthodox super-protestant Christian something or other?”

“Ew, no,” said Valerie.  “But my dad wants me home at a ‘reasonable time,’ he will be sitting up waiting for me, and he has a breathalyzer.”

“Why does he even have one of those?” asked Kwan.  “I mean, I know the school has one for prom and stuff.”

“He used it for work, back when he was just building up the company.  There was an incident where some of his guys showed up drunk for work.  That just makes it grosser, though.  It’s used.”

“Bleh,” said Star and Paulina simultaneously, before breaking out into giggles.

“Bet it’s still, like, full of spit.  Old guy spit,” said Paulina.  

“Ewww,” said Star.  “That’s so gross.”

“Laugh all you want, but I’ll be the only one who can ride my bike in a straight line by the end of the night.”

“Hey, I can just walk home,” said Dash.  

“Sleepover time,” sang Paulina, throwing an arm around Star’s shoulders.  

“Yeah!  We can have a guys sleepover, too, right, Kwan?”

“Uhhh,” said Kwan.  “I’ve actually gotta go home, too.”

“What,” said Dash, “now?”

“No, like, I mean, I have to go home early.  Mom wants me to take school seriously now that I’m in high school, which means, uh, sleep schedules.  You know.”

“Oh, bummer,” said Dash.  “Hope she lightens up.  It’s not like we’re seniors.”

“Yeah, man, me too.”

They continued down the street for a while longer, until Dash and Kwan split off to meet up with Dash’s ‘buddy’ and the girls went shopping for somewhat less illegal things, like makeup.  

They met up again at Paulina’s house.  Of course, they weren’t the only ones coming to the party.  All the cool kids were.  But, even as freshmen, Paulina, Dash, Valerie, Star, and Kwan were the coolest of the cool.  

And, as such, they were there the longest, long after other guests had left, and got the best perks.  Like Dash’s haul.  And the no-holds-barred truth or dare game.  

Dash climbed out of the pool and clambered over to where his friends were lounging. “See?  I told you wusses that I could make it in from the roof.”  He sat back down and spun the bottle sitting on its side between them.  

The bottle spun and spun, and eventually stopped pointing at Paulina.  “Ooh,” said Paulina.  “My turn, my turn.  So, Valerie, truth or dare?”

“Mhm,” said Valerie, looking at her watch.  “Make it dare and make it quick.  I’ve got to go, soon.”

“Okay, so.”  Paulina squared her shoulders and leaned towards Valerie.  “I dare you to… take a shot.”

“Uh, no,” said Valerie.  She stood up.  And with that, it’s time for me to go.”

“Nooo, Val, that’s so lame!” said Star.  “So super lame.”

“Very lame, Val.  You can’t break the sacred bond of truth and dare.” 

“The sacred bond was broken as soon as you asked me to do something that would get me grounded literally forever.  So.  Hey, Kwan.  Kwan.”  She nudged Kwan with her foot.

“Let a guy sleep,” said Dash.  

“He said he wanted to go early.”

“If he tried to bike home now, he’d crash,” said Star.  “Like, look at him.  Dead to the world.  Totally out of it.”

“He can stay, my dad isn’t back until the day after tomorrow.  What he doesn’t know, he won’t care about.  Probably safer that way.”

“Guess you can explain that to Kean when he gets grounded forever,” said Valerie.  “Later guys.  Call me if you need help with clean-up.  I know the name of a service that works fast.”  She took one last look around the back yard, and walked out.  

“Later, girl!” called Paulina.  “So, Star, truth or dare?”

“Hey, wait, you already went,” said Dash.  

“And the one I picked bailed.  I deserve another shot.”

“Let’s just spin the bottle again,” said Star.  “It’ll probably just land on you again anyway, right?  There’s three of us, so that’s, like, three halves.  Two thirds?  Ugh, geez, I can’t do math while I’m duck.  Drunk.  God.  Just spin it, Pauli.”

“Whatever,” said Paulina.  Pouting, she spun the bottle.  It went around and around and around… And landed on her again.  “Okay, so, Star.  Truth or dare?”

“Ughh,” said Star.  “Truth, I guess.”

“You’ve done truth every time,” complained Dash.  “Pick something new.  Pick dare.”

“No,” said Star.

“Dare, dare, dare, dare, dare,” chanted Paulina.

“You’re awful.  I don’t know why I’m friend of you.  With you.  Whatever.  God.  Fine.  Dare.”

“Okay, so… I dare you to… lick Kwan.”

“Oh, gross.  Oh my God.  You’re disgusting.”

“Do it!”

“It’s not like your tongue’s never been on him.”

“Ewwww.  Don’t say that.  You’re such a weirdo.”  Still, she got up on her knees and crawled over to Kwan.  “Such a weirdo.  Weirdest weirdo.  How do you even think of this?”  She leaned down and just barely touched her tongue to his forehead.  “Ew, ew, ew, totally gross.  He’s all sweaty.  Stop laughing, you weirdos.”

“Hey, hey,” said Dash.  “I obj- obje– I don’t like that.  Don’t say we’re the weirdest weirdos.  There’s like.  So many weirdos out there.”

“Yeah, name one,” said Star.  “Just one weirder weirdo than you, weirdo.  Weirdo.  That’s such a weird word.”

“Fine.  Fenderbender.”

“Who?” asked Star, squinting.

“Fenderbender.  Fentanyl.  Fentonail.  Fentina.  Fentodor.  Fentertainment.”

“Wait, Fenton?  Way to go for the low hanging fruit.”

“You calli-calling me a fruit?”

“You did say just one, Starlight,” said Paulina.  “He is weird.  His whole family is weird.  And he looks at me funny.”

“He looks at you like he has a crush on you, Pauli.  Like, every boy looks at you like that.”

“Yeah, but he’s super creepy about it.  He’s all scrawny and greasy, and he’s always got, like, green slime on him, and his shouty parents and his annoying sister.  What’s their deal anyway?”

“Ghosts,” said Dash.  “They’re like, freaking ghosts.  Ghost hunters.”

“Well, yeah, but beyond that, even.  Ghosts could be cool.  Those programs make cash, y’know?  But they’re, like, super crazy, and they have a super weird basement or whatever.  Spin already, Star.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it, Pauli.”  She spun the bottle around.  “Ooh, Dash, you go.”

“Okay, okay.  So, weirdos.  Pauli.  Whatcha gonna pick?”

Paulina took another swig of beer.  “Dare,” she said.  

“Dare.  I’ve got a great one.  I dare you.  Paulina Sanchez.  To break into the Fenton’s house.”

“Oh my God, Dash.  For real.  You can’t ask Pauli to do something illegal.”

“Well, you could always wimp out like freaking– Like Val.  You gonna wimp, Pauli?”

Paulina glared at him.  “Who do you think I am?  I’m not going to fall for some peer– peer pressure, like, you know, the after school special.  You think I’m going to fall for that?”

“So, you’re gonna wimp?”

Star giggled.  “I gotta say, I’m curious.”

“Stop saying that.  You’re such losers.”  She took another drink.  “Okay, okay, I’ll do it.”

Dash cheered raucously.

“I’ll do it,” said Paulina.  “But you’ve– you’ve got to come with me.  Like, to witness.”

“But we’ve– we’ve gotta get there first,” said Star.  “It’s, like, hours away.”

“It’s thirty minutes tops,” said Paulina.  “And we can get a cab.”

“Not if we’re breaking in.  That’s like, criminal one-oh-one, Pauli.  No witnesses.”

Fine,” said Paulina.  “We walk.  Whatever.  The freaking- The things I do for you.  Wow.  Incredible.”  She got to her feet.  “Okay.  Onward!  To the weird ghost hunter basement raid.”

The three teens made their stumbling way out of the house and down the street.  

“Are you sure this is the way?” asked Star, squinting at one of the signs. 

“Absolutely,” said Dash.  “Followed Fenfreak enough.”

“This is way more than half an hour,” said Star.  “This is boring.”

“But it’ll be so exciting at the end,” said Paulina.  “Like, we’ll be spies.”

“This street,” said Dash.  “Totally.  This street.”

“Oh, wow,” said Paulina, after they turned the corner.  “Don’t know how we missed that.  Jesus.”

“Is that a freaking spaceship?” asked Star.  “Or, no.  Hell.  It’s a- a–  What do you call it?  Broadcast tower.  Freaking hell.”

“Yeah, wow,” said Paulina.  

“Hey, who wants to be the whack jobs don’t lock their front door?” asked Dash.  He ran up to the door, yanked on the handle, and… it opened.  

“Wild,” said Star, slinking closer.  “I’d’ve thought there was, like, a trap or something.”

Paulina stayed on the sidewalk.  Now that they were here, it all seemed…  Bigger.  Scarier.  They were breaking into someone’s house.  They could get into serious trouble for this.  

But Dash was already going in.  Paulina steeled herself and followed.  Star clung to her side.  

The Fentons’ house felt… small.  Dark.  Dirty.  And there were weird sounds everywhere.  Like, snoring and boards squeaking, and was that awful drone their fridge?  She halfway felt as if every move she made would set off something.  

“Hey,” whispered Dash, loudly.  “I think I found the basement!”

He had.  There was a creepy metal door in the kitchen, and when they opened it, it led to stairs, going down to a faintly green darkness.

“Do we really need to go down there?” asked Star.  

“Well, yeah, duh,” said Dash.  “Duh.”

“You didn’t need to say it twice, Dash.  That’s lame.”  Paulina stalked downstairs with as much dignity as she could muster.  She was maybe a bit tipsy.  Then almost had a heart attack when Dash turned on the light.  “What the hell, Dash?”

“They’re not down here, they’re not going to see.”

“Whatever,” said Paulina, flipping her hair.  She looked around.  “Wow, they went super mad scientist down here.”  There were steel lab tables and bubbling vials.  There were computers and wires.  There were hot plates and bits of disassembled household appliances.  There were things Paulina couldn’t even begin to identify. 

And it was all incredibly gross.  And messy.  There was goo.  

“Y’know,” said Star, “some of this stuff is actually, like, high-end.  Like, serious money.  Do you think Fenton’s actually rich?”

“Not a chance,” said Paulina.  “Even if he were, it wouldn’t matter.  He’d still suck.  Him and his catty little nerd friends.”

“Hey, where d’you think this tunnel goes?” asked Dash.  “Like, are these freaks holding– Not holding.  Drilling?  Drilling to China?  Freaks.”  He laughed to himself.  “Freaking freaks.”

“Wow, you are plastered if you think that’s funny,” said Star.  

“Whatever, shut up.  Hey, Pauli!  Dare you to go down here’n’ see what’s on the other end!”

Paulina walked over to look down the dark and foreboding tunnel.  It was full of electrical wire and metal hoops.  “Maybe they’re skimming off the grid or something,” she said.  “Or trading drugs.  That’d be a break in the cliches.  A Mexican finding the nice, eccentric white nuclear family is dealing drugs.”  She looked over at Dash.  “After this, we go.  Quietly.”

“Yeah, yeah, just go on in, for this win.  You’ve got to do more than us, yeah?  You’re the one who got the dare.”

“Whatever, Dash.”  She walked up to the threshold and looked around in distaste.  “God, they’re so freaking weird.”  She stepped over and started walking back, picking her way through the tangled wires.  

She shouldn’t have worn heels, but she’d wanted to look cute.  Maybe that shouldn’t have been her first priority when sneaking into someone’s house, but, like, what else was she supposed to do?  She was just naturally cute.  Like, for real.

Whatever.

She slipped.  

And the world came apart. 

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Note: let the games begin. can't wait for the "I could fix him" comments. anyway, direct follow up to part 6! other parts are here.

Warnings: angst. toxic relationship, manipulation, gaslighting, possessive behaviour, suggestive. mention of blood,murder and drugs.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Sihtric came back home to you, covered in blood, and he expected you to believe every lie he told you.

wordcount: 3,8k

Masterlist

'I think you had a little too much wine there.'

'I did not kill anyone,' Sihtric lied when you asked what had happened.

You leaned against your bathroom wall and watched your mechanic dry his hands, after he had been washing the blood off his skin for minutes, leaving your sink splattered with red droplets. You didn't want to let Sihtric in your house at first, but he had simply pushed past you. And when you started to question him, he became hostile.

'Where… where does all this blood come from, Sihtric?' 

You felt sick to your stomach upon the sight of your sink.

'I only fought, okay? I only punched someone in the face,' Sihtric lied again, 'stop asking about what happened,' he said sternly and threw the towel in your dirty sink. 

'But you… you can't expect me to-'

Sihtric walked over to you and took your face in his hands. He stared down at you with his big, piercing, wild eyes as he trapped you against the wall.

'Stop asking,' Sihtric said, 'you will stop questioning my story, you hear me?' he breathed hard as his eyes darted over your face, 'you will forget whatever you saw today. You won't mention it to anyone, ever. Yeah?'

'Y-yeah,' you said, averting your eyes.

'No,' Sihtric hissed, 'look at me!' he commanded, and you looked back up into his mismatched eyes. 'I did it to protect you,' he said, and his expression softened as he lightly caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, 'I did it because I love you, you understand that?'

You simply nodded and held your breath.

'You love me?' he asked as his hands trailed down to your waist, 'tell me you love me.'

'I- I love you,' you whispered.

You cursed yourself for still enjoying his touch, after everything, and you allowed him to lean his forehead against yours.

'Again,' Sihtric smiled darkly, 'tell me you love me, little lady,' he licked his lips, 'tell me you're mine.'

'I love you.'

'Tell me you're mine,' he breathed.

'I'm… yours.'

'Good,' Sihtric sighed.

You slept in Sihtric's arms that night. And for the first time since you got together, he almost felt like a stranger. The way he had acted, the way he had spoken to you, you had never seen this controlling and possessive side of him before. Except, maybe in the hospital.

You laid awake that night, remembering how Sihtric had demanded to see you in the hospital, after his crash, and how he had hurt you with his bruising grip. He hadn't done that again after that day, but his behaviour seemed to slowly turn towards that same direction; he was holding you in a firm grip, figurally this time. 

And despite everything, you were still head over heels in love with him, and you hoped it had just been a really strange day.

Eventually you fell asleep, thinking that tomorrow might be better.

Sihtric woke up before you, as he had to go to work. He was starting to make more hours this week, slowly building up his previous work life again. He had kissed you goodbye and you vaguely remembered hearing his motorcycle engine rev before he rode off into the sunrise. 

When you woke up, you found a handwritten note on the pillow next to you;

Come see me at work, I'm working alone after 3. I'll take you back home. 

I love you, darling x

You felt your cheeks burn up at the note, and you made sure to do your daily errands as fast as possible.

You quickly packed a small backpack, with some clothes more suitable for a bike ride than the dress you had on, but you wanted to look nice for Sihtric when he'd see you, so you would change over there. And then you finally took a bus to the repair shop. 

You hopped off the bus in your floral summer dress and made haste to your mechanic, who you found shirtless, smudged with oil and grease as he leaned in a car, working on an engine once again. Sihtric looked up when he heard someone walk in, and he gave you a cocky smile as he leaned his elbows on the car.

'What's a pretty lady like you doing in a place like this?' he flirted, and it made your face heat up straight away, as per usual.

'Hmm… my car broke down, sir,' you grinned, playing along.

'I see,' Sihtric nodded with a sly smile and closed the hood of the car, 'and how can I help you, lady?' he asked while he wiped his greasy hands on a towel, which he then threw over his shoulder.

'I'm not sure,' you twirled your hair as you walked up to him, 'is it true you guys offer a ride home?'

Sihtric bit down on his lip, circling his filthy arm around your waist and he pulled you against his sweaty, greasy body. He hummed softly as he looked down at you with a cheeky smile.

'Perhaps,' Sihtric taunted, 'but I don't have a car. However,' he licked his lips and slid his hand down to your buttocks, 'you could spread those beautiful legs for me right now, and I'll promise I'll give you a good ride,' he winked and squeezed your ass.

You giggled and slapped his chest.

'Sihtric! You heathen,' you laughed, completely flushed, 'don't be like that, you're at work.'

'And?' he frowned, 'there's no one here. And you're teasing me with that dress, lady.'

'Maybe, but… you're not serious, are you?'

'I am serious, lady,' Sihtric said, settling his other hand on your hip, 'did you forget what I told you?' he smiled and leaned in, softly nuzzling your nose before he pecked your lips.

'Hm?' you hummed, smiling, 'told me what?'

'I told you,' Sihtric said, pulling away from you while holding your hands, 'that I'm taking what's mine,' he growled and spun you around, bending you over the hood of the car, 'whenever I fucking want.'

'Sihtric,' you breathed, your head was spinning as his big, rough hands grabbed your hips.

And god, how horny you were right now, it was a sin. But the fear of someone walking in on you two held you back. But Sihtric clearly didn't care about that, as he pushed up your skirt and unclasped his belt.

'Sihtric, no,' you giggled.

You pushed yourself back up and turned around.

'But I want you,' he said, 'now.'

'Yes, and I want you too,' you breathed, 'but anyone can just walk in on us.'

Sihtric sighed and clicked his tongue, then he took your chin.

'And?'

'Can't you… get fired for that?' you frowned.

'I own half of this shop, lady,' Sihtric said sternly, and he pushed your skirt up again, 'I can do whatever the fuck I want,' he smiled darkly and unzipped his dirty cargo pants, 'and right now,' he seated you up on the car, 'all I want to do,' he pulled down your panties, 'is fuck my girl.'

Sihtric captured your lips in a heated kiss, and you surrendered yourself completely in his strong, greasy arms, and let him have his way with you. And god, he felt good. The way he filled you up completely, and how you heard his low, heavy grunts in your ear as he pulled your hair. Sihtric knew exactly how to fuck you hard, and still make you feel loved entirely. 

And luckily, no one walked in.

After the sudden hot, rough, and rather quick sex, you got dressed in your jeans and t-shirt, while Sihtric closed up the workplace and cleaned himself up. He put on his leather jacket and looked up over his shades as you approached him, and he smiled. Sihtric circled his arm around your waist and pulled you in for a soft kiss.

'You good, love?' he asked sweetly, 'did you like that, baby?'

'Yeah,' you smiled, feeling a little tired, and wrapped your arms around his neck.

'Good,' Sihtric whispered and pecked your lips.

'Did you like it?' you suddenly wondered.

Sihtric chuckled lightly and whispered, 'I loved it, lady,' before he gave you a tender kiss, 'and I love you.'

'I love you too,' you smiled shyly.

You hated yourself for how he could make you so easily aroused and shy all the same within the blink of an eye. 

Sihtric took your hand and walked you out of the garage. He got on his bike, and as he was about to push his motorcycle off the standard, he changed his mind. He looked at you, smiled, and turned around in the seat of his bike, then took your hand and pulled you closer.

'Come,' Sihtric said sweetly.

You got on his bike, seated in your regular spot, except this time you faced Sihtric, instead of looking at his back, and he wrapped your legs around his waist as you sat pressed up against him. His hand rested on your waist and one cupped your cheek, smiling softly as he looked at you, biting down on his lip. Your eyes darted over his black shades, not being able to see his eyes through them, so you took them off. You smiled at each other and you snuck your hands under his leather jacket, holding onto his waist as he leaned slightly back on his bike.

'How lucky I am,' Sihtric said with a smug face, and he pulled you in for a few soft kisses.

'And me,' you whispered, completely head over heels.

Sihtric hummed softly when he kissed you again, and you had a heated, yet gentle make out session on his motorcycle. Something you could cross off your bucket list, you later thought.

'You're my girl,' Sihtric whispered against your lips as he held you close.

'Only yours,' you smiled and kissed his lips again. 

You felt Sihtric softly bite your lip, and he tugged it lightly with his teeth, making you chuckle.

'Tell me you love me,' he breathed.

'I love you,' you whispered.

Sihtric hummed. 'How much, baby?'

'So fucking much,' you managed to say in between his open mouthed kisses, 'I'll do anything for you,' you nearly moaned as you tugged his jacket.

'Anything, love?' he chuckled softly.

'Anything, Sihtric.'

And Sihtric smiled against your lips, knowing he had you completely wrapped around his finger. And he would be the first to admit; you had him wrapped around your finger all the same. But you weren't aware of how smitten he was, or how to use it for your own benefit at times. Whereas Sihtric was cunning enough to realise how to use you, if he had to, or when he simply wanted to.

'Alright,' Sihtric smiled and gave you one last, soft kiss, 'let's go. I'm taking you out for dinner.'

You felt a little out of place as you sat in some fancy, high class restaurant. The food was delicious, the atmosphere was pleasant, but this was way above your budget. You figured not to question Sihtric, and you just enjoyed watching him devour a steak. He fucks like a beast and eats like a beast, you thought, and you fought a grin tugging at your lips.

Sihtric was sweet to you again today, like how he had been with you when you first met, until the more recent events. He joked around and made you laugh, and after you both had finished your dinner, he moved to sit next to you. Sihtric wrapped his arm around your neck and gave you soft, sloppy kisses, for everyone to see, to which some elderly couples gave you two a disapproving look. But Sihtric didn't care, it only amused him. You were his, and he had no shame showing his love for you in public. You, on the other hand, were a little uncomfortable with displaying your affection in public, you had never really done so in your previous relationships, but as Sihtric took the lead, you simply followed.

When Sihtric paid for everything, you couldn't help noticing that the name on the credit card he used didn't match his own. It didn't even come close to his own name, actually. You didn't say anything about it and politely thanked the waiter before he left your table. Sihtric said he needed the toilet before heading out and pecked your lips, brushing his fingers sweetly over your cheek before he got up. You smiled at him, and when he walked off, your eyes landed on his leather jacket next to you, in which he had just tucked his wallet. You fought the urge for a moment, but your curiosity won. You innocently looked over your shoulder, and when all seemed clear, you reached for his wallet. You found the credit card he used and frowned at the name again, it didn't make any sense. And when you shoved the card back, you suddenly saw his wallet held five more credit cards, all with different names, none of them matching Sihtric's own name.

You thought about your recent discovery as you had your arms wrapped around your biker boyfriend when he brought you home. You tried to come up with rational reasons as to why he would have those cards, but you had to stop fooling yourself. The only reason he would have them was if he's either a fraud and took out money using fake names, or he had stolen all of those credit cards without the victims realising it yet. And neither of those reasons appealed to you. 

Back home you tried to bite your tongue again, but it was just impossible.

'You had a good evening?' Sihtric asked when he held you in his arms, while watching tv on your couch.

'Yeah,' you smiled, 'thank you.' You kissed his cheek.

'You're welcome, baby,' Sihtric hummed, 'one more?'

You fought a smile and gave him another kiss.

'But,' you began, 'I, eh,' you cleared your throat, 'I couldn't help notice the, eh, credit card you used. The name on it was not yours, was it?'

Sihtric frowned, 'what do you mean, love?'

You stared into his eyes, trying to find anything in there that would give you a hint of what goes on inside his head, but there was nothing.

'T-the name on your card,' you stammered, 'it… it wasn't yours.'

'Yes it was,' Sihtric chuckled lightly.

'No, it wasn't.'

'Don't be so silly, baby,' he scoffed, 'I don't know what you're talking about. You must be mistaken.'

Sihtric took your chin and gave you a soft kiss.

'But… okay, then show me the card?'

'What?' he asked.

'Show me the credit card,' you said.

'Why would I do that?' Sihtric asked, offended, losing the sweet demeanour in his voice and posture, 'I already told you, you're mistaken.'

'But I saw… I'm not-'

'You don't believe me, lady?'

'I know what I saw, Sihtric,' you scoffed.

'So you're calling me a liar?' Sihtric gave you a sudden threatening stare.

'N…no,' you said and looked away from him, but he took your chin again and forced your eyes back up to his.

'Then what are you saying here? Hm?' he asked and moved his hands up in your hair, 'what are you accusing me of?'

Sihtric stared at you as he bit down on his lip, and for some reason you felt lightheaded.

'N-nothing,' you said quietly, 'I'm sorry.'

'Mhm,' Sihtric hummed and kissed your lips, 'I think you had a little too much wine there.'

'Yeah… m-maybe,' you agreed, pulling him in for another kiss.

Sihtric quickly learned that whenever you questioned things, he could easily make you forgive and forget by just making out with you, or even better; having sex. And you didn't even realise it.

A few weeks later you met up with your friend, Thyra, who wanted to know all about that good looking guy you had been sharing pictures of on your social media.

'So, what does this Sihtric do?' Thyra asked and sipped her drink.

'He's a mechanic,' you said with your mouth full of food.

'Oh,' Thyra smiled and gave you a cheeky grin, 'I see. Tell me more.'

'Well,' you giggled, 'oh,' you said as your phone buzzed, 'speaking of… hold on,' you opened Sihtric's texts.

Sihtric: where are you?

Sihtric: baby?

Sihtric: hello???

Sihtric: answer me!

You: calm down love

You: I'm over at Sam's Bar

Sihtric: why? how?

Sihtric: with who?

You: I'm with my friend

You: Thyra. and I took a bus x

Sihtric: are you drinking baby? x

You: no?

Sihtric: I'll pick you up

'What…' you sighed, 'sorry, hold on,' you smiled at Thyra.

You: honey what do you mean

You: I just got here?

Sihtric: I'm picking you up baby

You: no, why? I don't want to go home yet

Sihtric: this is not a matter of discussion

Sihtric: I'm coming over

You: okay but at least stay for a drink?

Sihtric: maybe love x

You shook your head lightly.

'Is he already giving you trouble?' Thyra laughed.

'I don't know, but he's coming over,' you chuckled, 'he's… quite something.'

'How so?'

'Well,' you hesitated, 'I recently found out he's a member of the Ragnarsons.'

Thyra stared at you.

'What?' she scoffed, 'the biker gang?' 

You nodded and quickly took a sip of your drink.

'An outlaw? Girl,' Thyra frowned, 'what are you doing with a guy like that?'

'I.. he's… I love him,' you said shyly.

'I… don't even know what to say. How- like, how far in it is he?'

You looked away from your friend.

'Hey,' Thyra said firmly, 'spill it.'

'Fuck,' you groaned, 'do you remember that warehouse fire a while ago?'

'Yeah,' Thyra said, her face growing concerned.

'He… he did that,' you said softly.

Thyra stared at you again. 'You've got to be joking.'

'Don't tell anyone, okay? I'm not even supposed to talk about this.'

'What does that mean?'

'Sihtric, he told me to not… you know, discuss his business with others.'

'And is that the only thing he tells you to do?' she asked, cautiously.

'Well, I guess,' you shrugged, 'he's quite persistent, but I haven't done anything I didn't want to.'

'What does that- what did you do?'

'Well,' you felt your face heat up, 'we kinda… well, not kinda, we had sex while he was at work. That was a first for me.' 

'What?' Thyra suddenly laughed, 'at his work? The garage?'

'Yeah,' you grinned, 'the shop was still open.'

'Are you… you're telling me you had sex in public?'

'Yeah, but, no one saw us!' you said quickly, 'and… he's like… he fucks like really good,' you blurted out and laughed.

Thyra sat back, shocked, and she shook her head disapprovingly.

'What are you doing, honey?' she asked softly and took your hand, 'sex in public? Dating a guy who committed arson, and probably a whole bunch of other crimes…'

'I don't know about much else. I only know he has a bunch of credit cards that don't have his name on it. And he deals drugs?'

'What?!' Thyra yelled.

'Shh!' you hushed her fast.

'Please tell me you went to the cops?' she hissed.

'What? no!' you scoffed, 'I'm not turning in my boyfriend! I asked him about it, and he told me not to worry about it, okay? And he took me to this fancy place after we had sex at his work, so, you know, he treats me well.'

'Gods,' Thyra whispered, 'this isn't you,' she said, 'since when are you okay with all this?'

'I'm not, I mean…' you sighed and buried your face in your hands, 'I don't know, okay. I just- I only know that I love him.'

'Love him?' Thyra scoffed, 'sure. You love his cock it seems.'

'What the fuck is that supposed to mean?' you snarled.

'Oh, come on, since when are you so naive?' Thyra asked, 'this guy clearly manipulates you. You confront him about things, he fucks you, and you simply forget about it.'

'That's not true,' you said, hurt.

'That's what it looks like,' Thyra said, 'look, I am not telling you what to do with your life. But please, be careful. These biker guys,' she shook her head, 'they are no good. None of them.'

'But he said he wants out, you know, of the club.'

'And you believe him?'

'Well, yeah.'

'Did he tell you that before or after he fucked you?'

'Both,' you admitted after a moment of silence.

'What else are you not telling me,' Thyra asked, 'I can tell you're hiding something. I promise I won't rat him out, but you have to share whatever it is. Or it will eat you up, I know you. Is he asking you to do things for that club?'

'No!' you said, 'he tries to keep me away from everything.'

'Then what is it?'

Reluctantly you told her about the day you had that encounter with the fellow biker, who handed Sihtric drugs in your presence, and how Sihtric came back home to you, covered in blood.

'He said he only fought.'

'Is he…' Thyra's eyes grew wide, 'is he the guy who killed his half brother?'

'What?' you said, bewildered, 'no!' 

'Are you sure? Because I read about that in the news, I think it was a day after you said that stuff happened.'

'No!' you defended your boyfriend, 'he would… he'd never do that,' doubt settled in your bones as you continued, 'I, he never… he never said he had a brother in the first place.'

'Well, if he killed him, I suppose he wasn't very fond of him, makes sense he wouldn't mention him' Thyra remarked, 'I don't remember his name, I only remember they wrote that the guy had an eyepatch,' she said.

Your stomach turned at her words, remembering the biker at the traffic light. You had no idea he was apparently dead. But surely, Sihtric wouldn't have done that? He told you he only got into a fight that night. Maybe something had happened after Sihtric already left?

'Tell me,' Thyra said, 'how much do you really know about this guy?'

'Enough,' you lied, 'and I know that I love him,' you said, truthfully.

And just as you said those words, you heard Sihtric's motorcycle approach, and you glanced over your shoulder. You and Thyra watched him park his bike and he took off his helmet. He hung his helmet on the handlebar and put on his shades. And as Sihtric walked up to you, he took off his leather jacket, showing off his muscular arms as he wore a dark grey sleeveless shirt.

'Oh, girl,' Thyra sighed as she saw Sihtric approach, 'you are simply kept cock drunk by that guy.'

You didn't even hear her as you looked at Sihtric, who gave you his sexy half smile as he walked up to your table and he lowered his shades for you. He took your chin and leaned in.

'Hey, baby,' Sihtric purred with a wink, and gave you a quick open mouthed kiss.

'Hey, handsome,' you giggled as you looked up at him, completely smitten.

And Thyra immediately saw the way Sihtric had you wrapped around his finger when he sat down next to you, putting his arm around your neck, keeping you locked against his side, in a possessive manner.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @n4tforlife

[daechwitatamic]

2. Retrograde || KSJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: Amalthea (Masterpost) - Part 2: Retrograde

Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta Pairing: Seokjin x female reader Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo

Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Warnings: language, underage drinking, a broken bone, angst, kissing, implied protected s*x/ kind of the immediate aftermath to it, TIME JUMPS WC: 9.5k

Part 2: Retrograde

Retrograde: (noun) when celestial objects appear to travel backwards

You broke your wrist when you were ten. 

You were riding your bike around the dead end. Minji and Jungkook were away at a cousin’s house. Seokjin was down the street, on his skateboard, trying the same kickflip over and over again. Sometimes he made it. Sometimes he didn’t. You weren’t riding together. 

You don’t remember hitting the curb. You don’t remember what had distracted you. You don’t even remember flipping forward over the handlebars. Just the sickening burn that began at your wrist and pulsed in sluices up towards your elbow. 

Seokjin had run to your house to get your dad, the forgotten skateboard drifting by itself towards the run-off drain, where the wheels snagged and it stilled.

Your dad had picked you up and carried you, sobbing, into the backseat of his sedan, buckling you in. Then he’d turned and looked at Seokjin, who was standing, stone-faced, behind him. 

“Your dad’s not home,” he’d said, not a question. “I don’t want to leave you home alone - you can ride to the hospital with us. I’ll call your house when we get there and leave a message to explain.”

No one had cell phones yet, back then.

Every bump of the car jostled you and made you cry harder, holding your injury close to your chest. You weren’t even embarrassed to cry in front of Jin - it hurt so bad it eclipsed any other emotion.

And then Jin had reached out and held your uninjured hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“Hey,” he’d said, and then put on a heavy accent. “What be a pirate’s fav’rite letter?”

You’d thought about it. “Arrrr,” you guessed, proud to have figured it out.

Seokjin had grinned at you across the backseat. “You’d think it’d be ‘R’,” he cried, amped to get to deliver the punchline as intended, “but his true love be the ‘C’.”

“Good god,” your dad groaned from the front seat. But despite the unrelenting burning in your arm, you’d smiled.

–

The summer you were twelve, you’d played hide and seek outside at night. The idea came on out of nowhere. Jungkook - eleven, that year - had a few friends sleep over one night, loud boys named Taehyung and Jimin, and someone had suggested it. You remember thinking your parents wouldn’t allow it, but Mr. Kim had said it was okay as long as you stayed out of yards if you didn’t know the family that lived there, didn’t leave the dead end, and came back inside by ten o’clock.

The neighborhood felt different at night; it felt different to be set loose like this - free to run and shout and hide as the day’s sticky humidity faded into something comfortable. 

You’d split up, everybody running in separate directions, dark figures darting under streetlights and plunging into the shadows. You stuck close to the houses, trying to stay out of open spaces. You left your own yard, creeping two houses down, curling up in a ball next to someone’s shed.

I am a rock, you thought, hugging your knees as tightly as possible, making yourself as tiny as you could. I am just a rock. The dirt beneath you, gritty, dug into your knees and shins. In the distance, you could hear both trucks on the highway and the chorus of frogs in the streams behind the neighborhood. Sweat trickled between your shoulder blades.

I’m just a rock.

You heard someone’s footsteps approach you, in the dark, and then pause. You held as still as possible, trying to barely even breathe. Don’t see me, you thought. I am just a rock. 

The moment stretched, tense, and whoever thought you might be a rock decided to move on, their footsteps carrying on down the sloping yard. You released a breath, unfolding a little, looking around. Seeing no one, you stood, brushing dirt and pebbles from your legs. 

Seokjin appeared out of nowhere from the other side of the shed, and you’d stepped backwards instinctively, pressing your back against the grainy wood of the shed, holding your breath for the second time in minutes. 

He spotted you, clearly - he froze, feet away from you, looking at you through the darkness. You didn’t move a muscle, hardly dared to breathe. It was so dark that you couldn’t make out the features on his face. He was all shadow. But somehow you knew - knew - that his eyes were on yours. 

“You don’t see me,” you’d whispered to him. “I am just a rock.”

You’d heard him laugh, low, the surprised sound leaving his lips without permission. 

He should have tagged you out. But after a moment, he’d carried on, leaving you to hide again in peace. “Goodbye, rock,” he’d said, barely louder than a whisper. 

—

You were fifteen the first time you got drunk - really drunk - in Minji’s basement. You shouldn’t have - none of you should have been drinking in the first place, being underage. But Mr. Kim had gotten called into work and… it just sort of happened. 

Seokjin had a friend over and they’d holed up in the basement with a handle of vodka the friend had hidden in his duffle bag. You and Minji and Jungkook had been on them like buzzards, trying to get in on the fun. 

“Absolutely not,” Seokjin had told Jungkook, more serious than you’d ever seen him. “You’re only fourteen. You can hang out with us if you can keep your mouth shut, but you don’t get any.”

“Hyung -”

“No,” Seokjin had stayed firm, and Jungkook had caved. 

“You two,” Seokjin had said, turning his gaze to Minji, who looked back at him innocently, like she was ready to follow every rule and would never put a toe out of line, “can have a little.”

Three hours later, you made it up the stairs to the kitchen barely alive, using your hands to help you balance on the steps. You’d gone up for water, but as you stood over the kitchen sink you were distracted by your reflection in the window. And then, the backyard beyond your reflection.

Somehow, you made it outside, tripping down the wooden steps to the grassy yard, spinning and landing heavily on your back. The night sky swirled above you, the stars laughing at what an idiot you were. The grass beneath you tickled, but you gripped it in your hands, desperate to make the spinning stop. 

Somehow, Jin appeared next to you in the grass, a few feet to your left. “How’s the yard?” he asked.

“Spinning,” you told him thickly. 

He reached out a hand and patted your arm twice. “It’ll stop.”

You stayed there in silence, watching the stars, clutching the earth beneath you, hoping you wouldn’t get flung off the ride. 

“Sometimes,” you heard yourself say, your voice seeming to come from the constellations themselves, the moons too far away to see, “I feel like everyone looks right through me.”

You felt Seokjin’s eyes on you, but he didn’t say anything. 

You nodded, licked your dry lips. “Yeah,” you said, like he’d asked you something, like you’re agreeing with something he’d added on. “Like maybe I’ll be see-through forever.”

– 

You almost got a boyfriend when you were sixteen. There was a guy from school - you’d talk on the phone late at night, sit together at lunch, share answers to homework assignments before the first bell rang. 

On a particularly rainy Saturday, he’d taken you on a date to the nearest shopping mall. It had been okay - you’d had pretzels, wandered through a few department stores. 

It had been okay - until you ran into a bigger group of kids from school. You’d joined them for a while; they were his friends, and he jumped in their conversations easily, someone who belonged. You, the see-through one, smiled and listened. Always on the outskirts.

And then he’d said, “Hey, we’re going to go back to J’s dad’s house. You’ll be okay?”

It had taken you longer than you were proud of to realize he was leaving with them, leaving you alone. It had taken longer than you were proud of to feel pissed, to realize you should have done anything except smile and nod. 

He’d been your ride there.

Your parents had been working. You’d called Jin - your emergency adult. 

“Y/N?” he’d sounded confused. You’d never called him before. 

“Are you busy?” you’d asked him, the shame crawling over you, burrowing under your skin and making you want to rip it off. “I need a ride. I’m stuck.”

“What?” His voice was sharp. You could hear background noise stop, like he’d hit mute on what he was watching or paused the game he was playing. “Where are you? What happened?”

You lowered your voice, giving him the shortest version of the story possible. You were met with silence, stretching so long that you pulled the phone away from your ear to check your service, to see if you’d dropped the call. “Jin?”

“I’ll be there,” he’d said, something tight in his voice. “Wait for me by the food court.”

“Okay,” you’d whispered, and hung up.

Outside, it rained in sheets. You stood and watched the waves of rain move left to right across the parking lot. People jogged in from their cars, hoods on or umbrellas aloft. When Jin’s car pulled up to the curb, you ran through the rain, trying to shield your hair with your hands. It didn’t work at all. By the time you slid into the passenger seat, you looked half-drowned. 

“Thanks for coming,” you’d said, eyes on your shoes as Seokjin put the car back in drive and pulled slowly back into traffic.

“It’s fine,” he’d said, still terse. It was unlike him. He was so rarely serious, so rarely not making bad puns, so rarely not laughing like a windshield wiper. It made these moments feel… heavy, somehow.

He drove in silence for a little. You stewed in the passenger seat, sifting through embarrassment and anger and also - somehow - happiness to be here now, with Jin, even if it was at the cost of every cent of your dignity. 

Then, he seemed to notice the shopping bag on the floor of the car, tucked between your sneakers. 

“What’d you get?” he asked, voice light again.

“Shirt,” you told him, reaching down to pull the top from the bag and hold it up. “Cute, right?”

“Snazzy,” he agreed. “I think I should get one. You think they have my size?”

You laughed despite yourself. “You’re so lame,” you told him. “Besides, this totally isn’t your color.”

“Please!” he blustered. “I can look handsome in anything. I’d look amazing in that.”

You were really laughing by then. Minji used to get so annoyed that he made you laugh when he got like this - you were encouraging him, she said - but you genuinely found him so funny that you couldn’t help yourself. You always had. 

“Sure, okay,” you told him, stuffing the shirt back into the bag. “You keep telling yourself that.” 

As you neared your neighborhood, though, your mood sank again.

“Jin?” you asked, looking over at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, his eyes on the road.

“Could you maybe… not tell Minji? About today?”

He didn’t answer for a while, not until he came to a red light and could turn and look at you completely. “Why?” he asked. 

You could feel it as your face reddened as you had to put words to your embarrassment again. “She… was right about this guy. I should have listened to her. I just… I’m not ready to hear I told you so.”

Seokjin stopped in front of your parents’ house so you wouldn’t have to run across the street in the rain.

“I never saw you,” he promised you solemnly. “But Y/N? You shouldn’t let people treat you like this. That guy’s an ass.”

You gave him a tiny smile before extracting yourself from your seatbelt. “Thanks,” you’d said, and then darted through the rain like it would melt you.

–

Jin left for college at the end of the following summer, weeks before you turned seventeen. You watched through a gap in your living room curtains, curled up on the couch in your pajamas, as Mr. Kim and Jungkook helped load Jin’s boxes and bags into Mr. Kim’s car. 

It felt unfair, that he got to leave, that he got to turn right out of the dead end and have a life - and you were still trapped here. 

When Minji came out of the house, giving her older brother a reluctant hug, you rose, feet taking you unbidden on a course in their direction. 

Minji had grinned at you. “I’m glad you’re here, you can help me move my shit into his room.”

“Yah!” Seokjin had protested, pushing her shoulder lightly. “No one said you could have my room!”

Minji stuck her tongue out at him. “You won’t be here to stop me!” She started back into the house, then turned over her shoulder and called to you, “Come on, the bed will take forever to move!”

She disappeared into the house, leaving you and Seokjin alone next to Mr. Kim’s sedan, which was packed to the brim.

You didn’t look at each other; Seokjin leaned against the car with his arms crossed, eyes on the ground. You faced the car, and him, the house on the other side. You watched the reflection of his profile in the car’s window. 

What could you even say to him? What words could you pull out of your soul that weren’t a total cliche, or completely inappropriate, or both? 

Don’t have too much fun. 

Don’t forget me.

Please, don’t go away and fall in love without me.

I really don’t want you to go.

In the end, you told him, “See you at Christmas?” and he’d nodded silently, and you’d said, “Okay, then. Good luck with everything.”

Then you’d slinked into his house to help his little sister commandeer his bedroom. 

–

That’s only part of the story, though. If you’re flipping through moments you’d shared with Jin… there was one you skipped. You avoid it, give it a wide berth, like if you step too close you might knock it from its pedestal. Like you might get sticky fingerprints all over its protective glass just from looking, somehow. 

Mr. Kim had thrown Jin a graduation party in June, two months before he left for college. It had been wholesome while the sun was up - the Kim men had taken turns at the grill, little cousins had run barefoot through the yard, a table had been laden with gifts and cards, blue balloons had been tied to the porch railings. 

At night, though, it seemed like both children and adults disappeared, leaving only you in-betweens. Blind eyes had been turned to the cases of beer stashed beneath the sodas in the buckets of ice. Cars full of kids parked up and down the dead end street, unloading loudly and entering the even louder house. 

You’d stayed close to Minji, hadn’t even had that much to drink. But the house had been packed with people, too loud, too hot, and you’d found yourself slipping out the kitchen door sometime around one in the morning.

The lights from the house cast squares onto the driveway. Past them, a figure sat on the ground at the end of the driveway, long legs stretched out in front of him.

You’d made your way over slowly, warily. Not sure if you were wanted, not sure if you were intruding. 

He’d turned to see who it was when you approached. You think you probably imagined the way he’d softened when he saw it was only you. 

“You good?” you’d asked. 

“‘Course,” he said - which should have been a clue that he might not be. A one word answer? From Kim Seokjin?

You paused next to him, still a bit unsure. “You sure? You’re… sitting on the ground alone, outside your own party.”

Jin huffed out a laugh at this. “I just needed some air. Some space.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling instantly like you were ruining the space he’d been craving. 

“You can stay,” he’d said quickly, reading your response correctly. “I mean… I don’t mind if you’re here.”

Relief flooded you. You’d leaned against the side of the car parked there - not Mr. Kim’s sedan, you didn’t know whose car it was - and eyed him thoughtfully. 

“Are you scared?” you asked. Something about the question felt right, felt like you were zeroing in on the problem. 

Seokjin laughed again, a little sarcastic. “Me? Never.”

You smiled at his back, seeing right through his bravado. “About what? What’s the biggest thing?” 

He’d shaken his head, pushed himself to his feet, brushed gravel from his hands, then his ass. He’d turned slowly, walked back towards the house, paused just a foot from you. 

It was always you and Seokjin, in the dark. 

You were always more honest with each other in the dark. Inside, he’d be all dad jokes and video games, kitchen skills and skateboard tricks. 

You needed some shadows to get any idea what he was thinking. It had always been that way. 

“I dunno,” he’d said, hands in his pockets. “Classes. Dorms. Not having my dad around. Not being here to watch out for Jungkook.”

“That’s more than one thing,” you’d pointed out. 

He’d nodded seriously, but his lips twisted in irony, like he was thinking a very clever joke and holding it in. 

“Okay then,” he said. “Let’s go with: losing my place, here. Coming back and finding out that everyone just… moved on without me.”

He’d brushed past you then, reaching out to touch your elbow lightly on his way by.

It’s been over a decade since that night, and you still don’t know if he meant his family, or you. 

You’re mad at yourself the second you’re back in your car. You’d gone there uninvited, you’d cooked for him. Obviously it meant something - neither of you were stupid enough to think it didn’t. So why had you run the second he’d tried to talk to you?

You berate yourself the whole way home. And you’re not the only one who’s pissed. Jin texts you before you’re even out of the neighborhood, though you don’t see it until you park at your complex, grabbing your phone from the cup holder where you’d tossed it. 

[11:28 AM] Jin 😎: im confusing YOU? [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: im not the one who came to cook you breakfast and then bolted the second it got serious [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: THAT’S confusing

Defensiveness rises up in you like a wave. Where does he get off lecturing you after the shit he pulled two years ago? Hands shaking, you fire back, “no, you bolted BEFORE breakfast. the second you got your jeans zipped, if i remember correctly.”

You throw your phone onto the passenger seat like it’s burned your hands, closing your eyes and pressing your head back into the headrest, breathing out slowly through your mouth to calm your racing heart. Fuck, those had been fighting words, for sure. But you’re pretty convinced he deserves it. 

When you get brave enough to pick it up again, he hasn’t answered. You’re not sure if you’re relieved, or more worried. With a sigh, you collect your things and head inside. 

“Roomieeeeee!”

You’d barely unpacked since returning from Christmas break your freshman year of college, your suitcase open on your dorm bed, a small pile of dirty clothes on the floor next to you. You’d been about to move it all to the hamper, it just hadn’t happened yet. Your college roommate, Sheyla, had just burst through the door, crowing happily when she saw you. 

You got along well with Sheyla - you’d probably stay friends after college. But no one could take Minji’s place. When you and Minji decided to go to the same college, you’d agreed to live separately, to preserve your friendship. You both knew you needed breaks from each other to maintain the love. 

“Hey!” you called back, flapping a hoodie out of the ball you’d scrunched it in and smelling the pits. Into the dirty pile it went. “How was your Christmas?”

Sheyla tossed her bag on the ground and flopped backwards onto her bed, fingers reaching to turn on the fairy lights you’d strung up together. 

“Honestly? Boring. No one lives home by me, it was old people central the whole time. How about you?” She looks at you, suddenly sharp-eyed. “Did you see that guy? Your neighbor?” 

You glanced at the door in alarm, as if Minji could have possibly materialized there, just in time to overhear.

Sheyla clocked this and laughed. “She can’t hear us! I told you your secret was safe! So, did you?”

It had been your first holiday break going home, your freshman year of college. You’d seen Jin sparingly over the last two years - two winter breaks, two summer breaks, and the odd weekend here or there if he had things going on. 

You hadn’t had a conversation in that whole time; you’d been to the house to see Minji, but you hadn’t crossed paths. You texted each other on your birthdays, maybe once or twice if something interesting happened. 

It had been weird, feeling things shift, noticing him slowly become someone who used to be in your life. 

“Yeah, his family came to my parents’ Christmas Eve party,” you admitted. “But we really didn’t talk. He didn’t even come sit in the same room as me and Minji.”

It was true; you’d stayed in the kitchen for most of the party, wanting to avoid all your parents’ work friends, who were going to ask you about how college was going, and did you like your classes, and had you made new friends, and did you have a boyfriend yet and - you were just too tired for it. 

You and Minji had sat on the kitchen counter, crossed ankles dangling, sipping at beers and watching people pass by the doorways - one out to the living room, one out to the dining room. 

Seokjin hadn’t come into the kitchen once - but you knew he was out there, because you could hear his wild laugh, his high-pitched complaining as he scolded Jungkook for something he’d probably started in the first place, his voice bouncing over the low tones of the others. 

Jungkook had slunk into the kitchen near the end of the party. “Jinnie wants a beer,” he’d told Minji, reaching out a hand, somehow knowing you two had a six-pack behind you. 

“Why can’t he come get it?” she demanded as she reached back, fingers closing around a glass neck.

Jungkook shrugged. “He told me to get him one.”

Minji narrowed her eyes at him, the way she does when she’s assessing, deciding something. Then she handed him a second bottle. “That didn’t come from me,” she told him, and he gave her a salute before grabbing the beers and scooting back out.

“Are you and Jin fighting?” you asked, leaning back against the wooden cabinets behind you. 

“Not unless he’s fighting without telling me,” she laughed. “If that’s the case, I’ll hear about it later, I’m sure.”

It had bugged you, that he seemed to be avoiding you. Then you’d glanced out into the living room, and there he was, the beer in hand. 

He was standing facing Jungkook, but his eyes weren’t on his younger brother. They were on you - and Minji - but they seemed… far away. Wistful, somehow. Then, he’d noticed you looking and he’d pulled his gaze back to Jungkook fast. But the redness took over his ears and crept down his neck almost instantly. 

You still weren’t sure what that was about. The most hopeful, foolish, idiotic part of you hoped it had a guess.

“Well,” Sheyla had said with a sigh. “There’s always next time.”

You’d slept over at Minji’s that night, the two of you cramming into her double bed now that you were too old for sleeping bags on the floor. In the morning, you’d rummaged in the kitchen for something to drink - something with bubbles, preferably, but water might have to do - when Seokjin had shuffled in behind you.

You’d turned, surprised, a cold can of seltzer in your hand. “Oh,” you’d said, suddenly very aware that you were still in pajamas, hadn’t bothered with a bra. You crossed your arms, hoping for nonchalance, and tried not to eye the grey sweatpants Jin sported. “I didn’t think anyone else was up. Morning.”

He’d stretched, the movement exposing a strip of belly between the sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. “Morning,” he’d answered, voice gravely from sleep. 

You’d watched as he started the kettle. He kept his back to you, turning over his shoulder to see if you were still there after a minute. You wanted to ask him - well, lots of things. How was college, how was he, why was he avoiding you, why was he being so fucking weird?

His back, wide and solid, said don’t. So you’d taken your seltzer and retreated back to Minji’s bedroom, wondering if you imagined the feeling of his gaze burning on you as you fled.

–

You were twenty when Seokjin graduated from college. You were home, too, most of your school stuff yet unpacked the morning they took his graduation pictures in the front yard. Jungkook looked barely awake, rubbing his eyes sleepily as Minji fussed over trying to get his hair to lay flat. Seokjin stood in the center of the yard in his cap and gown, and you could hear him in your head complaining that they were taking too long and could they please just hurry up and take the picture. You smiled over your cup of coffee and then removed yourself from the window before you could get caught watching. 

He’d had a graduation party that night. You really considered not going; it had been four years since Seokjin had left for college, two since you and Minji had, and in those four years you’d barely interacted - just the niceties when your paths had to cross, when your orbits swung you too close together again. It seemed pointless to show up when you wouldn’t even talk, when the days of stealing quiet moments away from everyone else were long gone. It seemed pointless to go, just to spend the night cataloging all the ways things had changed in four years, getting your feelings hurt for no reason at all.

Jin had said he was afraid of everyone moving on, but he’d nudged you on your way - so, really, you ought to just go.

Minji hadn’t understood. How could you explain it? “I don’t think he really wants me there,” you’d tried, sticking to the most basic truths. “Jin and I don’t really talk these days.”

“Since when did you and Jin talk in the first place?” she’d demanded, half right. “You’re there as my friend. Now come on, get changed!”

The sun was setting when you finally let yourself out the front door, calling goodbye to your parents, and making your way across the street. It was log-jammed with cars - a rare sight - and people milled through the front and side yards, red cups and plates of food in hand. It felt a bit like deja vu - you’d done this for all three Kim siblings for high school (though you and Minji had a joint celebration) and now you’d go through the cycle again as you four finished college in waves. 

Despite Minji’s needling, you’d felt a little off-kilter, a little out of place. The feeling had sent you into the backyard to look for the drinks before you even found Minji.

As always at their summer parties, there was a keg tucked under the deck - you had to know they put it there, or else ask someone. You’d never find it on your own as a first-timer. You threw your shoulders back to cast off the squiggly feeling in your stomach and made your way down, grabbing a plastic cup and feeling around for the spigot. 

You heard a familiar sound across the yard - Jungkook’s voice, whining that he was out of beer.

“Hyung will do it,” Seokjin said, and before you knew it he was sidling around a group of moms with their toddlers to reach the keg - and you.

He stopped when he saw you, then ducked his head and came closer, Jungkook’s empty cup in hand. His ears were tinged pink and you weren’t sure if it was from standing in the sun or… something else.

“Hey,” you’d said, taking your thumb off the spigot and watching the foam on your beer slowly fizz away. “Congrats on graduating.”

“Thanks, I guess,” he’d said, sending you a sideways grin as he pulled the spigot from your hand and started filling Jungkook’s cup. 

“You guess?” you squinted at him. That grin was disarming, devious. 

He shrugged. “I don’t feel like I really did anything that special. Showed up for class, turned in my homework.”

“You’re right,” you deadpanned. “I rescind my congratulations, effective immediately.”

His grin widened as he laughed, pleased that you were playing along. His gaze lingered on you before he checked on his beer again, making you warmer than you’d been walking through the almost-setting summer sun.

Things felt… charged, suddenly. Energized. You were used to Jin feeling comforting, like when you were kids. You were used to Jin feeling like an emotional black hole, everything inside you gravitating towards his center, as you did as a teenager. But this… this was new. 

“Are you done at school?” he’d asked, shifting slightly closer. He released the spigot, letting the foam on his beer start to settle and you picked it up again, filling the top of your own where it had settled and left empty space.

“One more final, but it’s online,” you’d said.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Jin watch you. You wondered what would happen if you said it - told him how you felt, or told him you’d felt like he didn’t want to be near you the last few times you’d seen each other, or told him how badly you wanted your hands on him.

“What’s taking so long?” Jungkook shouted from across the yard, starting to make his way over. When he saw you at the keg, his steps slowed, understanding crossing his face.

“I had to share,” Jin explained, waving a hand at you. You handed him back the spigot, finished. 

“Minji’s inside?” you asked them both, stepping out of the shadows and back into the sunlit yard. 

“I think so,” Jungkook said, and you’d given them both a quick wave and headed in. You didn’t miss the way Jungkook nudged at Seokjin’s ribs, causing him to spill the top-third of his beer.

Long after sunset, after the food had been cleaned up, after the families with little kids had said goodbye and headed home, you found yourself wandering through the backyard again. Minji had gotten a phone call from the guy she was dating and went into her room to talk - you could have sat in there with her, she wouldn’t have minded, but it kind of gave you the ick to listen to her being so sickly sweet and moonstruck. 

Instead, you combed the house for a familiar face. Jungkook had a whole group of friends over, and they were playing a drinking game in the basement. Your parents, who had joined the party in time for the food, had told Mr. Kim goodnight and headed across the street, telling you to text them if you decided to stay the night with Minji. Most of Jin’s college friends who had come from out of town had filtered out. 

You finally found Jin, nearly at midnight. He was in his room in the dark, lit up by only his phone screen. His door was mostly closed, and you hesitated in the hall, deciding to leave him alone and go back to bugging Minji in her room.

You hadn’t even turned around to retrace your steps when he called your name. Heart thumping, you’d pushed his door open a little further, hovering in the doorway. He was laying on his bed, on top of the covers, his phone screen casting his face in blue.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, turning his head sideways to look at you.

“Minji’s on the phone with the boyfriend,” you explained. “I needed to escape.”

Jin laughed, a little sputtering. 

“What are you doing?” you’d asked, taking one tentative step over the threshold. You’d been in Jin’s room very rarely in your years growing up here. It seemed like new turf. 

He told you the name of the webtoon he was reading, flashing the screen at you so you could see.

You had nodded, silent, stuck in the middle of his room. You didn’t want to leave, didn’t know how to leave. 

“Can I… read with you?” you asked, tentatively. You didn’t think, didn’t plan, didn’t map out how this would work or look; you just wanted to stay with him, just wanted to get closer.

Seokjin surprised you; he immediately shifted over on his bed, closer to the wall, making space for you.

You had to tell yourself to move, had to beg yourself to move before you stood still so long you made it weird. You’d never been in or on Jin’s bed, and you’d never laid that close before - certainly not since you and Minji were little kids, all laying on the floor together to watch a movie. Never in context like this. 

You lay next to him gingerly, afraid to break the spell, afraid the moment would burst like a bubble on a child’s sticky, eager fingertip. You felt exactly that way: like you wanted it so much, but you knew if you touched it, it would be gone. 

Your head rested next to his, close enough that you could hear his even breathing, but your bodies stayed a good foot apart. 

Still, even with the space between you, you could feel his warmth. His bed smelled like him - something deep and smokey. It could have felt thrilling - it could have felt forbidden. Instead, inexplicably, it felt comforting, peaceful. Like home.

And eventually, as you stayed there, you settled in. Your breathing slowed, your pulse calmed, and you actually got caught up in the comic on the screen. Jin held his phone above you both, waiting patiently until you murmured, “Okay,” before scrolling each time. 

You don’t remember falling asleep. What you remember is waking up slowly, immediately unsure where you were. The early morning light was unfamiliar, grey. You stretched, feet reaching for the end of the bed, and then went stock still as you felt someone shift beside you. 

Oh god. Had you hooked up with someone? Uncommon, but not impossible. 

You took a steadying deep breath, bracing yourself to face your potential mistakes, and cracked one eye open. 

Seokjin breathed through his mouth, eyelids fluttering in sleep, just next to your face. You had a split second of absolute alarm, your brain making the equivalent of !!!!, before it came back to you. 

You’d fallen asleep reading on his phone. Nothing had happened. But his arm was over your side, fingers resting lightly on your stomach. 

You stayed as still as you could, trying to make your brain stop making sounds like a broken motor, hoping Jin wouldn’t wake before you were ready to function like a human. You considered, for a moment, leaning into the situation - rolling into the cuddle, closing your eyes and sinking back down into fuzzy darkness, your face buried in his shirt. 

You closed your tired eyes, ready to do just that when your brain suddenly began operating again and your eyes flew open, one hand slapping the mattress in panic.

Minji. If you were in Seokjin’s bed, that meant you were in the Kims’ house, which meant Minji was on the other side of the wall - could catch you, had possibly already caught you. 

Heart pounding practically in your throat, you slipped slowly out from under Seokjin’s arm. He had stirred, rolling a little, tucking that arm closer to his chest now that it had nothing to hold. He didn’t wake. You breathed a sigh of relief and started hunting around for your phone. You found it on the ground - it must have fallen off the bed in the middle of the night. 

When you checked it, your question was answered -

[1:52 AM] Minji: did you go home??? [2:07 AM] Minji: you could have said goodbye!!! 😠

You press your phone to your chest out of sheer relief. She hadn’t found you, hadn’t peeked into his room on her way through the house last night, hadn’t spotted you two spooning of all things. 

“Christ,” you’d muttered, frustrated with yourself for the close call, for falling asleep, for being so stupid over Seokjin even now when you were grown and had separate lives. 

You had slinked out of his room on tiptoe, had scooted through the house as quickly and silently as you could, scarcely breathing until you were safely behind the walls of your own house across the street. 

You and Jin never talked about it. A precedent, really.

–

The path of your orbit swung you out again - back to college, away from home, back into your world of classes and dorm life. The pieces of your adult life started to click into place as your senior year spun by - grad programs, internships, hints at a life in a different universe than the one you’ve known. 

You and Minji graduated, returned for the summer. 

There was a night you’d laid across from Minji on the swinging bench in their backyard, her feet in your lap. You two swang gently, eyes on the constellations above you, listening to music play from Minji’s bluetooth speaker. 

“Next year’s gonna be weird,” you said, because it was all you could think about, then. You’d gone to college together, but you wouldn’t be together for grad school. 

“We’ll be fine,” Minji had murmured, eyes closing. 

You’d nudged her with your foot. “Don’t go to sleep. I’m trying to talk to you. I’m nervous.”

She had opened one eye, nudged you right back. “We’ll be fine,” she repeated, more firmly. “It’s not like we’re going to live on campuses in different states. I’ll be right here. You won’t be far, either.”

You lapsed into silence again. The swing tilted you back and forth, lulling you half to sleep.

“I broke up with that guy,” you muttered, half hoping she wouldn’t hear you. Instead, she sat straight up, almost overbalancing the swing and dumping you both on the ground. 

“You what?” she asked. “Why?”

“I just wasn’t feeling it,” you explained. You were twenty-one that summer, starting to look at apartments you’d be able to afford while working part-time around grad classes. “Honestly, I was just bored.”

“You always say that,” she accused flatly. “I’ve never understood this about you. Everybody bores you. No one… sticks.” Her voice softens and she adds, “I worry about you.” 

You laughed, once, and struggled to sit up. “I’m fine, Minji. None of them were… right. Someone will be.”

“But how will you know?” she pressed. “If you don’t give anyone a chance, how will you know when it’s right?”

Your chest clenched. Because I know what it feels like when it is, you thought, but you couldn’t say that. 

“I just will,” you’d muttered, not an answer. You’d gotten up from the swing, heading for the house. “I need some water.”

As soon as you open the kitchen door, Jin jumped a mile. He’d been standing at the kitchen sink… next to the open window.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Were you listening?” you demanded. 

Jin had flushed pink before you even spoke, telling on himself. “No,” he said hotly. “I was just here, and the window happened to be open, and -”

“And you eavesdropped,” you finished. 

He faced you, lips pursed thoughtfully. “How come no one sticks?” he asked. 

You honestly thought you heard him wrong. “What?” you’d uttered, sure he’d repeat himself and say something else entirely. 

“Why,” he said again, more slowly, “haven’t any of the guys you’ve dated lasted?”

There was a roaring in your ears as you stared back at him.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” you countered, your voice suddenly a whisper. “Jin, what do I say to that?”

He stepped closer, looking down at you, suddenly dangerously close to being in your space. He murmured your name, reached for your hand. His thumb stroked the back of your hand once, his eyes on yours imploringly.

What were you supposed to say - “because none of them were you”? 

The kitchen door opened with a slam and you leapt apart, Seokjin dropping your hand and wheeling around to face the kitchen sink again. With shaking hands you reached for a cabinet that held cups and glasses, rummaging like you were trying to find a good one.

“Get me one of those, please,” Minji asked, poking you in the side as she passed you, before plopping into a kitchen chair.

“Sure,” you’d said, praying that your voice wouldn’t give you away. Seokjin slipped away, down the hall, into the shadows.

–

“What do you think of the wine?”

You were in spanx, a black velvet dress Minji had bullied you into buying, heels that made your ankles swell, and a lipstick called Pretty Petunia. 

The wine was too sweet for your liking.

But for the sake of your date, who’d made you reservations at a fancy Italian place, you’d smiled and demurred, “Not bad. What do you think?”

You barely heard his answer. It was your third date, and you’d been more bored at each one. He hadn’t made you laugh even once.

As the candle flame between you flickered and danced, you downed two more glasses of the too-sweet wine and did serious damage to the bread basket. When your date asked you if you wanted to go back to his place for a nightcap, you lied and said you had an assignment due by midnight for grad school and needed to get home. 

When he dropped you back at your parents’, you showered and got into sweatpants. You climbed on your bed and pushed your curtain aside just a few inches, leaning your arms on the windowsill and laying your head on them. Your phone buzzed by your leg - the date. 

You didn’t answer.

You kept your eyes on the window, on the Kims’ house. 

Seokjin had moved out earlier that day - really moved out, taking everything with him to an apartment a plane ride away. 

You hadn’t told him goodbye, hadn’t snuck out to the moving van for one last moment. He hadn’t texted you, hadn’t looked up towards your window.

He’d just left, and you’d sat here and watched him go.

You rotated in place, wobbling as Seokjin slipped further from your life. You adjusted to the procession. Life hurtled on.

–

The first time you brought a boyfriend home, you were twenty-four. Three years had passed since Seokjin moved away, two since you moved out of your parents and into your “swanky” apartment, one since Minji had moved to her own place not too far from you. 

You didn’t have any expectations for your parents’ Christmas Eve party - the three Kim kids were around some Christmases, but not all. You hadn’t seen all three of them on the same day since before Seokjin had moved out. You knew Minji was coming - you’d texted. The boys? Who knew. 

You were excited to see Minji for the first time in a while. You were nervous to bring your boyfriend around your extended family. You were trying desperately to keep Seokjin from even crossing your mind. You weren’t excited to see him. You weren’t nervous to see him. You tried to keep the Seokjin part of your brain perfectly blank as you led your boyfriend, Daniel, up the front walk of your parents’ house, careful to point out the ever-present icy patch near the front door. 

Your parents greeted Daniel warmly. You’d been dating about two months, and he’d met them not that long ago. He was a nice guy, at the end of the day. 

“Come on,” you murmured to him, after you’d hung up your coats and taken off your shoes. “I have to introduce you to my aunts. I’m sorry in advance?”

He’d look at you wide-eyed, nervous. “Why are you sorry?”

“They’re just… loud,” you’d said, already steeling yourself for the squeals and hullabaloo. 

Daniel held up surprisingly well, smiling genuinely and repeating everyone’s name back to them to make sure he remembered it. He was a nice guy.

Christmas Eve dinner went smoothly. You sat near Minji, the two of you catching up in quiet voices as the loud conversation flowed around you. Daniel, bless him, kept up with the larger conversation, taking a more active role with your family than you were. 

After the meal, people floated around the house in groups. Someone put on a Christmas movie in the living room, you helped your mom put desserts out in the dining room. 

You were standing in the living room, leaning against Daniel a little, chatting with Minji and watching the Christmas movie over her shoulder when the front door opened, shooting a blast of winter air through the room. That’s what made you look up - the chill.

Seokjin came through the door with his eyes down, working his feet out of his boots before the door was even shut behind him.

“Jinnie!” Minji cried. 

A few things happened in quick succession. Your chest clenched, your stomach dropped. 

Seokjin’s gaze followed his sister’s voice, then found you. You watched it on his face as he processed - seeing you, recognition and affection flickering to life, then confusion as he took in the stranger behind you, and then his face went absolutely unreadable.

Daniel wrapped his arm around you, hard, pulling you against him wordlessly. He’d never been so assertive the whole time you’d known him.

Later, he’d asked you, “Is there history with you and Minji’s brother? It seemed, when he showed up…”

Weeks later, when he ended things, bitterness caused him to spit, “Call Minji’s brother and cry about it.”

So much for a “nice guy”.

You’d wished you could call Minji’s brother to cry about it. He would have made you smile again. 

–

Jin’s shoulders were under your fingers, his ragged breath in your ear, his lips on your jaw. Nothing existed but him. Everything you’d spent almost your entire life hoping for was right here, within grasp - he’d called you beautiful, he’d pressed his lips to yours like he’d die if he didn’t, he kept you safe in the space between your arms if only for a few moments. 

Then, he’d stepped away carefully, holding you up a bit until you were steady on your feet again. You adjusted your skirt as he zipped his jeans and stepped away towards the trash bins - to deal with the condom, you realized. Then he was back, close enough that you could see him in the dark again.

You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t know how to ask if this was what you hoped it was - if he wanted you, really wanted you, wanted to be with you. You didn’t want to look stupid - stupider - if this was just sex, nothing else. 

“You probably shouldn’t come in right after me,” Seokjin said. Was there something glum in his voice, or were you paranoid? “Minji will sniff that out so fast.”

“Yeah,” you said. Your voice sounded warped to your own ears. “Got it.��

Got it. This didn’t mean a thing. 

You stayed there, pressed close to the house, hiding in the shadows long enough for your pulse to calm, long enough to start to shiver. You hadn’t gone back inside at all - instead, you’d crossed the street and entered your parents’ house, falling asleep in your childhood bed. 

It was fitting. You’d cried yourself to sleep as a child and teenager plenty of times in that bed. Might as well do it again.

In the morning, New Year’s Day, you’d texted Minji, “what’s up at your house?”

She’d answered, “dad just took jinnie to catch his plane. why? whats up?”

You’d played it off, said something like “just wondered if you were as hungover as i am”. You laid on your childhood bed and stared at the ceiling, tracing the bumps and cracks you knew by heart. You reminded yourself that you hadn’t asked Jin for anything, hadn’t told him anything. You had no right to be upset with him.

The only move was forward. So, that’s what you would do. You’d move on, and so would he.

Which doesn’t explain why now, two years later, you’re furious again.

You avoid the neighborhood, try to slip back into your old habits and old routine. 

Your mother, of course, calls you out. 

“Haven’t seen you in a bit,” she says to you on the phone, a few days after you’d made Jin hangover soup. She keeps her voice so innocent, but you hear the unsaid - you were here so much and then you stopped. 

“Want to go out for dinner?” you suggest. “I’ll treat you and Dad to somewhere good?”

“I already started cooking for later,” she says. She sounds sorry, but you’re beyond sure it’s all a trap. She proves you right by adding, “You could come here for dinner, though. I made your favorite.”

Of course you did, you tricky devil, you think darkly. 

“Okay,” you say, long-suffering. “I’ll come for dinner.”

“We’ll see you at seven,” your mom says, and hangs up. 

You feel entirely like you’ve been hoodwinked. You’re just not sure how yet. 

When you arrive for dinner, you walk in warily, half expecting an unpleasant surprise of some sort. But you find just your parents, delicious food, and a quiet house. 

You eye your mother suspiciously through the whole meal, but nothing out of the ordinary happens. You help your dad wash the dishes when you’re all done, spend a little time sitting around chatting. Eventually, you eye the clock and tell them you should get home. You give them quick hugs at the door and step out into the night, pulling the door shut behind you.

Across the street, the Kims’ house is all lit up. Minji’s car is parked in the street, not far from your own, which means she’s there too. You wonder how many more days Seokjin will be in town, before he fucks off back to his own city again. He’d said he’d stay for a few weeks, and you’re already nearing the halfway point. 

You were stupid to even talk to him again. You were stupid to go to their house, knowing he was there. You were stupid to let him flirt with you at the bar, to nearly let him kiss you. You were stupid to show up, uninvited, and fucking cook for him like a goddamn girlfriend. You shouldn’t have done any of it. You should have stayed away. 

You’re all worked up, thinking this, as you stalk through your parents’ front yard, pushing the button to unlock your car. You open the driver’s side door, still fuming, furious at yourself. 

The door is jerked out of your hand as someone slams it shut.

Seokjin faces you darkly, one hand still on your car.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you scold him. “Seokjin, what the fuck.”

“We have a conversation to finish,” he says, ignoring this. 

You close your eyes, lean sideways onto your car. You don’t have the energy for this. “I have nothing to say,” you tell him, opening your eyes again to look up at him. “I’m sorry I threw a cheap shot at you. All that… it doesn’t matter now.”

“It doesn’t matter?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

You shake your head. “It was so long ago, and it didn’t mean anything… I shouldn’t have even brought it up again.”

His brows furrow. He murmurs your name, the same way he had in the back hallway at the bar. “I don’t think you mean that,” he says gently, and it makes you even angrier, angry that you have to stand here and feel foolish while he gets to pity you.

“Which part?” you snap. “It was two years ago, we haven’t talked in those two years, and bringing it up has been completely fucking pointless, so where’s the lie?” 

He grimaces, shaking his head a little. “I wondered for months if I’d hurt you… if you were upset. I was really hoping you weren’t. But, clearly…”

“Fuck you,” you tell him, a derisive laugh edging its way into your tone. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and feel bad about it two years later. I’m over it - I’ve been over it. I just never got to tell you to your face that you were an asshole, and now I can.”

“I was in a bad place that night,” he says, trying to explain. “I only -”

“I don’t want your explanation,” you snap, cutting him off. “Believe it or not, Seokjin, I’m not, like, dying to hear the list of reasons why you were out of your head enough to make a mistake like me, that night.”

He literally steps away, eyes wide, his hand falling from your car and slapping the side of his leg as it lands. “Mistake?” he echoes, horrified. “Is that what you think?”

This trips you, knocks you completely off the furious track you’d been barreling down. “What?” you say, unconsciously trying to buy yourself time to process, to formulate a response. 

He steps back toward you, closing the space between you. One of his hands comes up and rests on your cheek. For some reason, you let it, staying still and allowing it. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “It didn’t mean nothing. It wasn’t a mistake, and I should never have let you think differently.”

And then he’s kissing you, slow and gentle, nothing like the fiery kiss you’d shared two years ago. His thumb strokes your cheek so gently it almost tickles. You open for him, letting him take you deeper, tilting your head back to give him more room as he shifts to press you against your car. Your mouth moves against his, his tongue teasing at your bottom lip. Then he’s sucking lightly at it as you sigh against his lips. Your hands are clutching his jacket, your hips pushing against his like they’re asking for trouble. 

And then you’re opening both hands and pushing him away, scrambling to get your car door open again. He looks at you, bewildered, your name a question falling from his lips.

“I can’t do this again,” you tell him brokenly, as honest as you can be. “I can’t do it again. I think it’ll kill me if I do.”

You drop heavily into the driver’s seat, tug the door shut, and pull away. You buckle up as you drive away, Seokjin getting smaller and smaller in your side mirror, standing in the middle of the street in the dark, watching you go. 

You drive five more blocks and then pull over, pressing your hands to your face as you gasp for air through shuddering, stomach-clenching sobs.

Seokjin was seventeen the first time you got drunk at his house, really drunk.

He felt responsible, since it had been his own fault - it was his friend Yoongi who’d come over with a handle of vodka. He’d been the one to tell you and Minji you could have a little. So when he watched you use hands and feet to climb the stairs and head up towards his kitchen, he’d followed, to make sure you didn’t fall down and get hurt.

He knew you’d gone outside because you’d left the kitchen door wide open. He’d followed, silently, closing the kitchen door behind himself. You were laying on your back in the yard, hands clutching fistfuls of grass, eyes on the sky above. 

He’d laid next to you, a few feet away, asked you how the yard was. 

“Spinning,” you’d told him, the word so badly slurred he almost couldn’t tell what you’d said.

And then you’d flopped your head towards him, those eyes swimming with something he thought he could understand, and you’d said, “Sometimes I feel like everyone looks right through me. Like maybe I’ll be see-through forever.”

Seokjin had reached across the grass, taking your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. He’d given your hand one squeeze, and you’d closed your eyes, turning your face back up towards the stars. 

“I can see you,” he’d assured you. He didn’t know if you’d remember in the morning or not. But it had felt important to make sure you knew. 

He could see you. 

He had always been able to see you.

<- Prev || Next ->

ehehehehe i hope you liked this update!!! a little peek backwards :) thank you for reading and i hope you continue to enjoy!!!!!

i'm taking a week off of posting because I am traveling for a Family Event (send help) so part 3 will post on Friday, June 16th. thank you for understanding!

[ironmandeficiency]

modern lotr character headcanons

characters included: aragorn, boromir, gimli, legolas, pippin, merry, frodo, sam, arwen, eomer, eowyn

word count: 745

summary: random thoughts abt lotr characters if they lived in modern times

a/n: this is literally just silly shit, enjoy

boromir listens to old country (conway twitty, george jones, loretta lynn, etc.) and does not tolerate anyone insulting the opry legends

he also listens to divorced dad rock (hinder, nickelback, theory of a dead man, etc.) which gimli will sometimes jam to as well

gimli lovingly maintains an old-as-dirt bench seat ford truck despite there almost constantly being something wrong with it. ignores legolas’s badgering about him getting something more reliable

obviously legolas drives a hybrid and he almost acts as if this fact makes him better than gimli (not in a dickish way, though)

horse girl aragorn.

frodo is the epitome of shy emo boy with the black skinny jeans & death cab for cutie playing in his air pods

merry is the golden retriever in the “golden retriever in love with the black cat” trope 

aragorn and arwen host game nights and various other parties for their friends, but neither of them can cook so they just order delivery (or sam hijacks their kitchen for the hours before)

pippin has a large follower base on social media bc of his drinking songs and other inebriated antics that are usually recorded by whoever happens to be with him that night. usually it’s eowyn & merry, and the three of them will shake some major ass to megan thee stallion

sam goes to open mic nights at local coffee shops to people watch. he will never perform himself, but it’s nice to watch people he knows do their thing

eomer accidentally goes viral on tiktok when eowyn records him doing some dumb shit. never lives it down

the amount of joy gimli gets from going to rage rooms is almost alarming

arwen has a very thorough skin care regimen that she introduces to aragorn, and it becomes a sweet nightly routine for the two of them

eowyn & eomer don’t allow anyone to talk shit about or annoy the other bc that’s their job fuck you very much

frodo has a shitty immune system but sam’s homemade soups seem to always heal from the soul outward

sam is the little spoon favored by the resident neurodivergent

frodo is the resident neurodivergent

yes they’re dating

arwen is always the dd

when it comes to birthdays, don’t ask boromir to remember anyone but faramir’s. hell, he forgets his own birthday sometimes

legolas is the best at remembering the birthdays of his friends but forgets his own

they have to remind each other of their own birthdays when that time of year comes around

merry is always the favorite audience member at a drag show

arwen & eowyn never dress like they’re going to the same place when they hang out

gimli says southern grandpa idioms unironically — “as useless as a screen door on a submarine”, “higher than eagle titties”, “busier than a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest”, you get the idea. merry keeps a running tab of said quotes

boromir is the “we’re not getting a dog” dad. said dog ends up being his best friend & the sole inheritor in his will, fuck them kids

aragorn & gimli have their own moonshine still they think is perfectly hidden from everyone

that does not include merry & pippin, who are booze bloodhounds and immediately knew where to find it but swore to secrecy as long as they got more than everyone else

frodo sips fruity little drinks because he can’t shoot whiskey

sam can drink in the way only a divorced middle-age man can despite not being a divorced middle-aged man

eowyn cannot drive for shit & the several dents on her car prove it. the only reason her insurance hasn’t gone up astronomically is because she just. doesn’t report any of it

said car has a fuck ton of bumper stickers with all sorts of silly things

gimli can’t ride a bike AT ALL but has a motorcycle, make it make sense

he goes on bike rides with eomer when they have the time & the weather is nice

merry & pippin are two halves of a whole idiot at every given moment

eomer LOVES 90s and 00s country music but is kinda picky about newer country (he is a massive fan of cody johnson but will throw you through a wall if you talk about morgan wallen in his presence)

arwen dances in the rain & literally never gets sick from it. merry is insanely jealous of this fact

frodo’s favorite video game is animal crossing: new horizons & has very sound opinions on what villagers are the best (fuck you, rodney)

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 2/?

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version).

PROLOGUE (He remembers) HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights) Updating irregularly. This is a SLOW BURN

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

2001

                He walks across the stage at his graduation and he feels buoyed up as he hears the cheers, can hear Mav absolutely losing it, egged on by the high pitched squeals of Tamsin and Petra and when he’s engulfed in the warm embrace of his family he does his best to ignore the fact that he might not get this when he graduates from the USNA. And he will graduate, that’s not in question in his mind. But whether he will allow both Mav and Ice to attend, whether they will even be in the country. It’s all unknown with it being so far away.

                That said they’ve decided that Sarah and the girls will drop him off at USNA, they’re still his family and no-one will look sideways at them being there. He knows Mav could technically drop him off, that no one going into Plebe summer would know who he was, at least not yet. But he doesn’t want there to be talk about him having connections, even if it’s true multiple times over. If he’s going to make friends he wants them to be people who genuinely like him, rather than the potential benefits of being his friend. Not that he thinks there are any. Not yet.

                Ice and Mav have been riding him hard the last few months, training with him and running, swimming, weights and he hadn’t wanted to let guys over twenty years his senior put him to shame. But they had the first couple of weeks, their endurance just out-stripping him. Not anymore though, he’s improved remarkably, the routine becoming almost comfortable and Ice had begun slapping him on the back and telling him that he maybe might have a chance of enjoying Plebe Summer rather than wishing for a swift and painless death on a daily basis.

                The most exciting thing he gets is an almost new Audi, which Ice then promptly tells him he can’t take to USNA anyway. But its highly safety rated and he gives Mav a raised eyebrow at that, because Mav still rides his bike around with no helmet and probably always will. But he’s going to insist Bradley drive a car that is rated for maximum safety for front and passenger side crashes. Apparently, he trusts Bradley, but not everyone else on the road. Bradley doesn’t point out that Mav himself is one of the other people on the road.

                They say goodbye at the airport, none of them in uniform yet with the fact that they’re going a couple of days early. Tamsin and Petra are just as excited about the flight as Bradley, although they’re running circles around them and he occasionally reaches out to throw one or the other up into the air, their delighted giggles making him grin. He wants to start this journey already, wants to make Mav and Ice proud. But he’s going to miss seeing Tamsin and Petra grow up and if he’s going to have regrets about anything, it’s that.

                “We would like a short phone call every Saturday. Doesn’t need to be longer than a couple of minutes, but we do want to talk to you. Obviously only works when I’m in the country.”

                “Of course. And I’ll write letters as well. When I have time,” Bradley offers, because Ice has reiterated over and over how exhausting the first year is. “Can I call you as well?” Bradley asks, turning to Sarah, and his anxiousness must show on his face.

                “Oh honey, of course you can. We’d all love to talk to you. You won’t get a word in edgeways if it’s one of these two hellions you wanted to talk to though…”

                “That’s okay, I might not be much of a conversationalist anyway…”

                The call for their flight comes and he hugs Mav and Ice tightly, throat tight with emotion as he realizes it’s going to be months before he sees them again.

                “I’m proud of you. Keep your nose clean okay?” Ice says.

                “Of course. Always.”

                “Don’t forget to have fun,” Mav says.

                “Not too much fun,” Ice instantly adds and Mav is rolling his eyes, throws him a wink and god he’s going to miss them so much.

                The flight is exhausting, keeping Petra and Tamsin entertained a fulltime task and he’s glad the flight isn’t any longer. They got a couple of rooms booked at a Motel and he falls into his bed, determined to enjoy a solid night’s sleep. Over the next couple of days they do some touristy things, although the number of playgrounds and parks they visit is probably higher, what with Tamsin and Petra getting bored quickly with anything that requires even a small modicum of reading. It’s fine though, he’ll have liberty leave and can come to the museums and stuff if he wants to.

                When they drop him off for his first day, his bags all packed and dressed in his uniform Tamsin has made the connection that he’s not coming home with them and is inconsolable, tears streaming down her face and he finds it heartbreaking that she’s so upset to say goodbye to him. He promises to draw her some pictures and post them, that they’ll talk on the phone and he has to trust Sarah when she says she’ll be fine. He waves good bye and goes to start the rest of his life.

…             …             …

                As the days fly past he’s so glad he was forced into the training regime that Ice and Mav planned out, because while he’s still pushed past his personal limits his recovery time is much shorter, he knows how much food he needs to eat and how to deal with the yelling and sleep depravation exercises. God, Ice really didn’t exaggerate when he said it was going to be hard. He knows the orders inside out, when asked about his family he doesn’t hesitate to say his father was a naval aviator, a RIO who died in a training exercise in 1986. It does generally stop follow-up questions, but he suspects that some of the teachers know who he is, know that Maverick is listed as his emergency contact. He doesn’t ever bring it up.

                He writes more letters than he thought he would, the phones difficult to use except for the brief few minutes he makes a concerted effort every Saturday. However the time he doesn’t have to use memorizing orders coming in handy and he draws pictures for Tamsin and Petra and writes letters, addressing them to where Mav is deployed. Bradley doesn’t make close friends, he does make friends though, lots and lots of friends. Remembers their birthdays, makes little notes of things they tell him, asks follow up questions about their families and helps them out where and when he can.

                He doesn’t share much information about himself though, keeps it close to his chest. It’s maybe a little paranoid but it’s not just him on the line, but Mav and Ice. When pressed he mentions his step-father Pete, how he married his mom after his dad died. When he mentions his mom dying is usually when people either start to look like they seriously regret asking, or they look like they pity him and he doesn’t know which he dislikes the most. He is asked about the photo he keeps by his bed, of Tamsin and Petra and he simply explains that they’re his step-siblings. It all makes sense in his head, knows he can keep all of that straight in his head as none of it is a lie. He knows people are probably making assumption about Pete marrying Sarah, but he’s never said anything about that.

                The seven weeks of Plebe Summer come to an end and then he’s preparing for his plebe year, picking the academic classes which he will undertake alongside the physical activities required at the Academy. He’s flying home for a short break of one week, Maverick is on deployment, so he expects Ice or Sarah at the airport to pick him up. The fact that they’re all there makes his hurt from smiling so much and he goes home with Ice, squishes himself into the backseat because Tamsin won’t let go of his hand.

                He goes back to USNA feeling revitalized after spending time with them, and of course there’s one upper classman who seems to have it out for him, and Bradley is careful to remain respectful, but he also won’t let himself be a doormat. He knows his own worth, even if this one guy is constantly trying to find fault with him and snipe him. He does his best to ignore it, knows that a little of this is part and parcel of the entire experience, but it doesn’t mean he likes it.

                Then September 11th happens and his immediate thought goes to Mav, somewhere on deployment somewhere near the Middle East, and he feels awful, immediately thinking of his own family before the hundreds or thousands of innocent people who are now dead. They’re given very little information, however he does receive an envelope with the mail two days later, no stamp or postmark and it’s simply They’re both alive and well. Uncle Sli. He breathes out and the tension in his shoulders lessens immediately. Slider isn’t someone he sees a lot of, but he’d recognize him and is so grateful for the message.

                He’s not stupid, knows that they’re all now in the military, that there are plenty of risks day-to-day associated with that. However looking at the potential start of World War Three is different when he knows Mav is one of the best fighter pilots that the Navy currently has. He’s just going to have to learn to compartmentalize now and ignore his feelings, the worry about where he is and when he will next see him. Plebe Year continues, and there is a shift in the intensity of some of the people, knowing that active combat suddenly feels much closer to home.

                He chooses to stay on campus through the holiday break, along with a handful of others. He’s thankful all his family are alive and well, but going home to houses devoid of both Maverick and Ice makes him want to stay where he is, because he’s used to not seeing them around here. Word has gotten around that both his parents are dead, so no one asks him awkward questions about why he’s not going home. He’s the only Plebe who has stayed.

                His New Year’s Eve is vastly different than the previous year, when he’d been celebrating with his high school friends, or even the year before sitting on the sofa with Ice as they watched the ball drop. This year he lies in his dorm bed and listens to the fireworks outside, rolls over and simply tries to sleep. He’d had liberty leave, but he’s underage, clearly military and the risks far outweigh any rewards from doing something, anything, for New Year’s Eve. So staying in and sleeping it is. This is only one year of the many ahead of him.

…             …             …

                Spring semester starts up and it’s routine. The academic classes along with the exercises and naval classes. He continues writing letters, making Saturday afternoon phone calls and hangs out with the other Plebes, some of them he’d even class as friends, and damned Ice, he was right about him making friends despite trying to be stand offish and taciturn about his background. They don’t seem to care that he doesn’t talk about his family much, which he guesses is nice, and when a couple of them invite him to their place for summer he mention going home to his step-father and he gets a couple of raised eyebrows.

                “I love my step-father. And my step-siblings. I’ll spend the few weeks of summer with them.”

                “But you didn’t go at Christmas.”

                “Pete was out of the country for work and Sarah is Jewish, so I just, stayed here,” Bradley offers and once again he ignores the slightly pitying looks from the others in the wider circle who are listening in, but the two different Plebes that had invited him to their homes for summer nod with more understanding and he wonders if he’s now going to get invites for every time they have liberty leave or parent-weekends, or fuck, even their next Christmas break.

                So his first year comes to an end and he finishes in the top two-percent of the class. He watches the Firsts graduate and knows that’s going to be him in another three years. Then Uncle Slider is there, along with Wolfman and Hollywood and he knows it’s a compromise of sorts, Ice and Maverick staying away. How he’s going to explain these three talking to him he had no idea, but finds he doesn’t need to.

                “They flew with your old man huh?”

                “What?”

                “Those guys that were talking to you, they all looked proud of you, but also a little sad.”

                “Yeah. Yeah they flew with my dad. They were in the same Top Gun class as him. And I guess they wish my dad was here to see me…” Bradley says, realizing the truth of it, because not only is his dad not able to be here, but neither Maverick or Ice are here either. None of the men he considers father figures, and he knows that Slider at least knows about Ice and Mav’s relationship.

                They had seemed a little melancholic when they’d been talking to him, unlike Ice and Mav who have probably worked through the fact that his parents will miss all his milestones the people who see him less often probably focus on it a lot more. He’s grateful suddenly that Mav doesn’t seem to dwell on it, is gleefully proud of him from a distance and Bradley is left in no doubt of that fact. The same for Ice. God he’s looking forward to seeing them both in person though, doesn’t want to go an entire year again without seeing them, but also knows it’s been a good test, for future deployments when he has to be even further away from them all.

…             …             …

                “God I want to be there so badly…”

                “We’ll be there for his final year graduation, even if it’s purely formal. He’s not alone…”

                “I know, I know, it just… I’ve missed him so much. Coming home and him not being here. God Ice, it’s like I’m missing a piece of myself.”

                “He was going to grow up and move out eventually…”

                “I know. God. I know. I just feel like it’s gone by so fast. I still remember him being this little toddler who could barely walk…”

                “If you couldn’t remember it I’d be worried about you.”

                “Shut up, you know what I mean. It’s the fact that this toddler is now on the other side of the country attending boat school and I can’t even visit him…”

                “We’ll make it work better next year, figure out some visits, because I don’t think Sarah and the girls have coped overly well either. I do think it was probably for the best though, think he will feel incredibly settled going forward. He’s done very well, he’s got people watching him already, and not all of them know about his connections or background.”

                “He’s impressive all on his own, he doesn’t fucking need any connections!”

                “Mav, you’re preaching to the converted. He’s gotten through his first year and I’m hoping he’ll let us visit a little incognito for next year’s parent weekend. I could visit formally, although I’d prefer not to.”

                “Well, at least we get him home for a few weeks this summer.”

                Tom hums, because he’s pulled a few strings to ensure that they all have leave overlapping for the weeks Bradley is back home, and he may have used his eldest daughter’s last summer before she starts school as an excuse and he has no shame in admitting it.

…             …             …

                It’s absolute chaos, Petra’s fourth birthday and his welcome home party all squished into a terrifying combination of a bouncy castle and a group of kids from Petra’s daycare, along with a mom of one of the other kids doing face-painting, which has resulted in him with a rainbow on one cheek and a butterfly on the other. The birthday party is meant to finish around three, early enough that the kids who need naps can still have them.

                Petra is not one of them, looking wide awake, apparently impossible to keep shoes on or her long dark hair braided, or even tied back. She’s swinging on the backyard playset, yelling for higher and faster with excited giggles and… She could be Mav’s kid. As much as Tamsin is the spitting image of Ice, Petra looks like Maverick. He looks to Sarah, her hair is brown, eyes also brown, so it’s not impossible that Petra just looks like her more than Ice but…

                “Papa! Higher!”

                Holy shit.

                “She calls Mav papa?” Bradley mutters under his breath, because that’s a new development no-one bothered to mention to him. Mav is already there, pushing her and laughing with her and god, why didn’t they say anything? Maybe he has it wrong? Does he need to know? He wants to know, but he doesn’t need to know.

                “Did you just realize?”

                Ice has stepped beside him, is nursing a beer and is also watching Petra and Maverick.

                “Hmm? Realize what?” Bradley asks, wondering if playing dumb is going to even work right now. Looks from his kid-sisters-slash-cousins back to Ice, and now that he’s looking properly it’s even more obvious that Tamsin is very clearly his daughter through and through just as much as Petra isn’t.

                “Did you just realize that Petra is the spitting image of Maverick.”

                “I… I’m not imagining it?”

                “Nope. They’re even named after each of us. Your Aunt Sarah is a very generous woman, and obviously it’s my name on the birth certificates. But we all know the truth. And now you do too.”

                “Holy shit… Tamsin and Petra. That’s really obvious when you know.”

                “Hiding in plain sight…” Ice says quietly, taking another sip of his beer.

                “Yeah…” Bradley says on an exhale and wonders how old Tamsin and Petra will be when they figure it out.

CHAPTER THREE - 2002