#this is quite short compared to chapter one

[nostalgebraist]

Unsurprisingly, I have also done stuff like this. (Asking LLMs to read and review my fiction, I mean.)

In my most recent and elaborate attempts, I've framed the task as "liveblogging" rather than reading and digesting a whole book at once. I split the book into short batches of chapters and send the batches one by one to the LLM within the same context window, and ask it to make notes/comments/"liveblog entries" after reading each batch. And if we're nearing the end of its context window, I'll ask it to produce a longer notes-to-self document including anything worth capturing from the batches so far that it didn't include in earlier notes, then start a fresh context window and give it all of its earlier notes but not any of the text of earlier chapters, and proceed from there with additional batches of chapter text.

This is the same idea I described in this post (before I had tried it), in the parenthetical beginning with "A fairly obvious [?] idea [...]".

Compared to just putting in a whole book at once, this does make the LLMs noticeably better at following long and complex stories. In this setup I am often pleasantly surprised by the various nuances and connections they're able to pick up on, whereas if I give them either of my last two novels all at once (or in a few large, roughly context-window-sized chunks), they get hopelessly lost – often making very basic comprehension errors like "conflating two different characters," "losing track of the order in which events were narrated," "treating something as unknown because it was initially presented like a mystery, even though it got resolved later in the provided text," etc.

But it still feels like there's something basic that's missing.

I don't know quite what to call it... it's something like "the ability to notice things that 'don't fit', and to react with an appropriate level of surprise and investigative thinking."

This is not quite the same as "picking up on subtleties that some readers wouldn't notice," because they are often quite good at that – as long as they are the kind of subtleties that appear in books all the time, and which perceptive readers point out all the time. Relatedly, they are capable of producing intelligent-sounding and appropriate commentary on themes and writing quality and stuff like that, but only if that commentary... "fits into a familiar stylistic shape," I guess?

Like, given my prompts and my current setup, they can always produce things that sound in the abstract like "the kind of thing that a 'smart and perceptive reviewer' would write." And when the text/topic is conveniently shaped so that "generically smart-and-perceptive-sounding commentary" has a good chance of being correct, then they will often be correct in practice. But if a particular insight requires "reading against the grain" somehow, or "waking up" and realizing something bizarre is happening and saying "wait, wait, what the fuck??" in response, the LLMs will miss that insight every time.

From a human point of view, it feels like they're "not fully awake" in some sense. Or maybe "crashed," in Almost Nowhere's terminology. Like they're doing this often-virtuosic performance, but doing it from "muscle memory" in a rote and unreflective way. Unable to break out of a familiar and comfortable pattern once they've fallen into it, even when it's contextually appropriate to do so.

----

The reaction you report to TNC's ending feels like another instance of this familiar trait.

I'm not saying "they shouldn't have liked the ending, that's objectively a mistake" – but rather that this particular way of diverging from human reader reactions feels familiar to me. If they're already producing smart-perceptive-reviewer-babble that's broadly very positive, then a "sudden swerve" like "...but even though the first 80% was great it took a nosedive at the end" is just not the kind of option that's available to them in the moment.

It's quite possible that the underlying model still (internally) "notices" some of the things that human readers find odd or different or frustrating about the ending. And presumably it also "knows" in some sense that "it's great up until the ending" is actually not that uncommon as a reader response to fiction. So I don't totally know what the underlying causes are, here. In this case, the glaze/sycophancy thing probably plays a role; there's also the fact that saying "it was great except for this one part which sucked" requires making additional choices (which part sucked, and why?) and could end up looking very wrong/strange if done badly, whereas "I loved it!" is at least a safely mediocre take as long as there isn't anything about the text that obviously "requires" objecting-to (like a beyond-the-pale ideological stance or something).

----

Here's another example. My novel The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen does something unusual with the story's position in time. At first it looks like the story is set sometime in the 20th century, probably the 1950s or 60s, but as you continue reading you keep running into these odd details that don't fit that period but do fit some other part of the 20th or 21st century.

There are a ton of these "anachronisms," and they're not very hard to pick up on (if you're a human). Most people who've commented on the book have mentioned this aspect, and as for the ones who didn't, I imagine they noticed it but just didn't feel like mentioning it.

However, although this time period thing is obvious in a certain sense, it has some properties that (I suspect) stack the deck against LLMs "noticing" it in practice. For one thing, it's very uncommon for stories to play with time in this exact way, so you can't get there just by "saying the sort of stuff that smart perceptive readers often say" – you need to actually notice specific things that are true about this particular book even though virtually every other book doesn't have them. Also, this aspect is never explicitly brought up by the text at any point, so you really do have to notice it all by yourself. (It's very noticeable! But if you somehow fail to notice it, the book will not pick up the slack for you.)

Anyway – as you no doubt expect give the above – when I have LLMs read TAoHS, they make plenty of perceptive comments about other aspects of the book, but they never notice and comment on the "anachronisms"!

This is a glaring point of divergence from human reader responses, which almost always mention them.

Sometimes, the LLM will silently pass over the topic of the time period. Other times, it may even praise the consistency of the temporal setting (which in fact is inconsistent on purpose), as in this unfortunate compliment from OpenAI's o3 (spoiler-ish stuff glossed in brackets by me):

Minor note: I appreciate how the book grounds its 1960s setting through specific details - [three specific elements consistent w/ a 60s setting] all feel period-appropriate while serving the larger themes about [accurate brief account of some larger themes].

The best I've seen any LLM do on this front was Claude Opus 4 praising "good worldbuilding about this alternate 1960s" in one liveblog entry, although it didn't elaborate on this, or mention it later as a notably distinctive quality of the book (which, again, is a thing that most human reviewers do).

Thoughts on Chilli, Northen Caves, and When I Win? Personally they're probably my favorite things on the whole list, but I feel like they never got as big a reception as a bunch of the other stuff. :(

The Northern Caves: I really really loved the first 80% of so of this. I grew up with forums and their particulars, the ways in which you'd come to know the personalities, and how the superfans would get into these long, drawn out debates that were steeped in the prior histories of conversations. There's something really magical about how TNC does this, and the "found media" elements work really well. It reminded me of the better parts of House of Leaves, I guess, and was also just hugely nostalgic (since I was in high school during the Forum Years). The philosophical stuff was also great, and the series they were reading felt rich, and nost is a great writer with wonderful prose. And then I just did not enjoy the ending at all. I think that in spite of that, I recommend it highly, and think it's one of the things on the webfic bingo card that's most worth reading.

Chili and the Chocolate Factory: I adored this one from start to finish, and also Dahl was one of the authors whose works I was steeped in growing up and also at the time it was coming out I was rereading a lot of Dahl's books with my son and also there are a few references to me and my discord server within the work. So I'm biased heavily in favor of this one, but I also also think that it's got this crazy energy to it, an insane density of ideas and weird things, and a wonderful sense of humor. Remy would probably hate to hear me say this, but I think he's one of the best writers I know. It's really really rare for me to read something and have so many individual pieces of it stick with me. I do wish that it were easier to get people on board with, because I have no clue how to pitch it to prospective readers.

When I Win: A few things here: I am just not a Pokemon guy. Red and Blue came out in 1998, when I was 12 years old, and everyone at my school was obsessed with it, and I just did not get into it, and had to suffer through a lot of Pokemon conversations I wasn't interested in. It's like the opposite of FOMO, then you wish that everyone would shut up about this thing you're "missing out" on. So whenever I read Pokemon fic, it's an uphill battle to care about the core thing, and I have enough Pokemon knowledge to get by, but sometimes it'll end up feeling like homework if I have to look up references or jokes or just understand things. Another thing is, I think Bavitz and I have very different tastes in character dialogue. I noticed this with Cockatiel x Chameleon too, and I suspect that when I get around to Bavitz's other stuff I'll see it there too. The differences in speech seem really exaggerated to me, blown out of proportion, idiolects heightened, and I think I've gotten in disagreements with people over whether this is actually true or not, but it's definitely how it feels to me. I found Cely in particular to be fairly grating whenever she spoke. This is a personal preference thing, and I don't know how much it generalizes to other people; I'm not sure that I've seen anyone else mention it, but I also haven't read a bunch of reviews.

So with that said, Bavitz is a skilled author who goes into a story with Something to Say, who milks the premise and theme for what it's worth, and brings a literary sense to his works. The fight scenes are really well done, even for someone like me who is not a Pokemon guy. There's a lot that I found interesting about competition and stagnation, the capture of competitive drive. Bavitz likes to think about the end of history a lot, and it shows here. It's thankfully a concept that I find interesting. I enjoyed the core relationship of Cely and Toril, it's a good, interesting dynamic. Without spoiling it, the ending worked well for me. Well worth reading.

[snowthornes]

… Nevermind. Forget surviving — he would rather throw himself out the nearest window than swear himself to this wishy washy hogwash. “Problem?” Blade asked mildly, raising an eyebrow. “No.” Thorne intoned. He sounded dead even to his ears. “Hm.” Blade didn’t say any more. Thorne had a feeling that he knew exactly what was going on.

READ ON AO3 HERE

[ambrosiagourmet]

I want to talk about why I think this is the one of the most important Falin panels:

So, Falin is really nice, right? It's one of the first things we really learn about her. She's kind even to the monsters of the dungeon - choosing to ward the party rather than fight spirits and cause them needless harm.

In the above early flashback in chapter 11, we see Marcille fawning over Falin's kindness, calling her an angel. Namari calls her soft-hearted. We see Falin choose not to fight even when a zombie attacks - instead she resolves the confrontation with a hug. After the flashback, the first thing Senshi says is that Falin "sounds like quite the person," which Marcille strongly affirms.

At this point in the story, all we have seen of Falin are these impressions; she is a healer, an angel, a caretaker with an infinite well of kindness towards everyone she meets - both friend and foe.

And honestly, that remains most of what we have to go by to understand her. The only times we get to see Falin on the page, alive and just herself, are in the opening and closing pages of the story and in the brief period of time after she is resurrected.

Nonetheless, we do have some more details to work with. For one, there is the scene that The Panel is from - a short memory in chapter 75, when Marcille flashes back to while she's dying. In that scene, Falin prepares to teleport them all out, and says that she's sorry "if there is a person at [their] destination." And that's when we get The Panel.

If you teleport someone or something into another person, the person teleported into is likely to be, at minimum, severely injured. They could die.

We can see a lovely little horrifying example of exactly why in one of the Daydream Hour doodles:

So, hmm. That's not... that's not SUPER nice. Certainly not displaying the same "kindness to all, friend and foe included" we saw represented earlier. On a basic level, this adds some nuance to Falin's kindness. We see it break a little, when pushed to the limit. We see her chose to protect the people she loves above all else.

Which makes sense! As Laios says when the Winged Lion accuses him of similarly being motivated more by his friends' safety than everyone else in the dungeon, "...most people, aside from virtuous do-gooders, would feel the same way."

So, we can take The Panel as simply showing a moment of weakness for Falin. A time when she was pushed to her limits, and that "most people" selfish side of her shone through.

However... I think there's a little more going on with Falin than just her being an angel 99% of the time, except just that once. I love The Panel because I think it helps us understand that Falin isn't just motivated by kindness - she also has a desire to avoid seeing people in pain.

Isn't that the same thing?

No, no it very much is not.

Let's look at a short comic from the Falin section of the Adventurer's Bible, because I think it illustrates this point perfectly. The group is complaining about how much Marcille's healing hurts, and comparing it to Falin's, which "doesn't hurt a bit." Marcille retorts with the following:

Now, the punchline of this comic is that, despite Marcille's sentimental assertion that she's "thinking of [them]" by letting her healing magic hurt, they all still prefer to be healed by Falin.

But hey, this wouldn't be the first time that Dungeon Meshi hides a very real character beat or insight in a gag, so let's think about this somewhat seriously.

If Marcille is right (and she knows a fair bit about magic, so we can assume that she has at least somewhat of a point), then what Falin is doing isn't kind. I suppose if someone specifically requested to not feel the pain, it could be kind, but that's not really what happened here. She is the one who felt badly about the others being in pain, and she is the one who decided, without telling them or giving them a choice in the matter, to take away that pain.

Both Marcille and Falin are healing the party, but Marcille is doing it in a way that accomplishes the task in the most straight forward way, without any additional interference. Falin is going out of her way to perform the healing in a way she is more comfortable with. A way that avoids pain.

Going back the The Panel, I don't think its a coincidence that the only time we see Falin (well, non-chimera Falin) willing to do something that could hurt someone is when any potential pain will be far away from her. If she got someone hurt or killed by teleporting the party to the surface? Not only would it be far out of her sight, but she'd be dead before she had to deal with any consequences of that action.

Falin is not a confrontational person. She doesn't push when Marcille won't tell her the truth about the resurrection, and she comforts Laios about her own death - both of those things happening in the only full chapter she is alive and conscious in the whole story.

We also know that she considered accepting Shuro's proposal, despite not having any special feelings towards him, and that Falin never explained to Marcille that she wanted them to share a meal together. When she brought Marcille various foods at the academy, she just accepted Marcille's confused rejection and gave up.

And lastly, we know that she is still in contact with her parents, despite the neglect and abuse she suffered at their hands. Although the way someone chooses to handle contact with abusive or bad family is a complicated topic, which I don't want to overly simplify, I do I think this fact gets at the heart of how she handles conflict.

So many people that Falin loves have hurt her. There are understandable hurts, like Laios leaving the village, or Marcille not understanding the food. And there are bigger, far less justifiable hurts - like her parents neglecting her throughout her childhood, and sending her away to be alone at the magic academy.

It doesn't seem like Falin has ever confronted any of it directly.

And the unhealthy aspects of this kind of avoidance of pain and confrontation is one of the things that the story of Dungeon Meshi is all about. We see Laios grapple with it before he goes to kill Falin, and we see Marcille acknowledge it at the end of the story, when she tells Laios that she has come to terms with Falin's death:

Eating is a part of life. Consuming other living things is a part of life. It isn't really possible to avoid that pain - you can only hide from the truth of it. You have to be selfish everyday. You have to eat - to choose to live. To choose to take up space.

And this is something Falin embraces, too. She comes back to life, after all.

We see her choose to come back to life.

And how does she make that choice? She eats. She consumes, and then she is asked a question by the manifestation of hunger itself:

Do you want to eat more?

There is a double meaning in the Winged Lion's final words on the next page.

When I first read this, I took it as him saying: life is cruel. You will suffer. You will feel more pain.

But perhaps, especially for Falin, this also means: you are choosing a path where you must cause pain. Where you must consume. Where you must take, and must be selfish. Because eating is the special privilege of the living, and it is their burden, too. In order to stay alive, she will need to keep eating.

And she chooses that. Chooses to be selfish. It's why her resurrection scene is so important, and it's why The Panel is so important. Because Falin coming back isn't the ultimate reward for all of the party's hard work.

It's her choice. Just like it was her choice that started everything in the first place. But this time, she doesn't choose to accept causing pain for the sake of Marcille and Laios. She does it for her own sake.

[aliceoseman]

s3 dealt with some more mature themes than s1&2 did, did you struggle with that in any way or did it feel like a natural development for the characters? especially since heartstopper has been praised specifically for being a "wholesome" show basically from the start, did you find it in any way daunting to write (more) sex and alcohol into the show?

(Upon reading this back, I have only talked about sex, not alcohol, very sorry!! Also this gets really off topic but this was the only question I received about sex in the show and I have a lot to say that I just didn't get asked about at all in any promo interviews, so... Here I shall word vomit!!)

Short answer: Yes, I struggled, but not with the writing of the story - just with the general discourse about sex/no sex in Heartstopper, since the beginning of the show.

Long answer:

It wasn't something I struggled with when writing the comic. I always knew that Heartstopper would get to that point - that it would grow up alongside the characters - but the general cultural view of the show as 'wholesome' vs. the criticism of it for being 'puritanical' and 'sexless' has definitely made me feel quite anxious about how these maturer elements would be interpreted by people in the show.

I never saw Heartstopper as 'wholesome' when I started creating the comic. The first chapter of the comic leads to a scene featuring assault, and the story deals heavily with mental health and bullying. The comic has swearing throughout. Whether the story was 'wholesome' was simply not a topic of discourse before the TV show released - I knew it was uplifting and optimistic, of course, but only in the same way that most YA romance stories are. So the public declaration of the Heartstopper show as 'wholesome' - as its defining characteristic and unique selling point - did take me by surprise. I'd had to remove the swearing from the story, but aside from that, I couldn't really understand what was different with the show compared to the comic, and why this was its defining feature. And then of course some of the conversation shifted to the fact that in S1 and S2, there's no sex.

This too confused me. I always felt the sexual attraction between N&C was obvious from the start, and sex itself was introduced into the story at the time I felt was right for the characters, with no real thought as to whether the audience would agree with me. People hardly ever pointed out the lack of sex in the comic - it's very, very normal for YA fiction romances to not feature sex, and in fact, it's actually pretty common for teen movies and shows to not feature sex, certainly when they skew towards younger teens as Heartstopper did in S1 and S2. But for some reason, when the Heartstopper show came around, people really, really noticed the lack of sex, and I was very surprised by that reaction. I wonder if it was because people weren't accustomed to that in queer TV, or if it was because people liked N&C so much as a couple and desperately wanted to see them take that step, or just because people felt it was broadly unrealistic for a teen couple to wait a little while before feeling ready to have sex. Perhaps it was all. But whatever it was, it caused some... outcry!

(I could go into arguments as to whether it is morally correct or generally realistic for N&C to wait before having sex in the story, but ultimately I think people's opinion on that varies heavily depending on their worldview and personal experience, and there's no right answer - people can like it or not like it and that's completely fine, not every tv show is for everyone - but the one thing I would say is that I think it shows young readers/viewers that it's OKAY to not be ready, and how to have that conversation with your partner, and I think that's a really, really good and helpful thing for young people)

Fortunately for those who were distressed by the lack of sex in the show, and for me who was anxious about all of that criticism, I'd been planning for the story to reach that stage pretty soon anyway. It honestly made me relieved that it was going to be introduced, if only to reassure people that I wasn't pretending sex doesn't exist or that I, as an asexual, was spreading some sort of anti-sex agenda (seemed to be a common refrain among those who find it particularly annoying that I'm ace). But mainly - I'd always known this would be a really important step in N&C's journey, and I wanted to do it justice, and I felt I had done so in the comic, but with the TV show came all of those opinions and discourse, so I was much more nervous about it and spent a lot of time during the writing process trying to figure out how people would feel about it. An impossible task, and before S3 released, I had no idea what the reaction would be.

In the end it was pretty anti-climactic - it got hyped up a bit too much in the early promo for S3, and then the general consensus was that the sex in the show was shown with a very light touch, and some people thought that was a good thing and others did not. And people still call the show sexless and puritanical, so it didn't really solve that issue. (I'm just not sure what those people really expected to happen - obviously they are not going to suddenly start fucking on screen in a show that's been previously marketed for the 12-16 age bracket, guys, let's use our brains here) Personally, I'm really proud of how that element of the story turned out. I think the scenes are really beautiful and feel totally right for the tone of the story, and have let the show mature without suddenly becoming an entirely different show.

This has been a long answer but I think what I'm trying to say is this: the 'mature' vs 'wholesome' scale of Heartstopper is something that has never been a topic of discourse for the comic. But it has been front and centre for the show, and certainly is something that has caught me off guard and caused me some anxiety, because I do see the criticism and it does hurt, and at times feels incredibly personal. But at the end of the day, I'm just telling a story, and the things that happen will happen at the time I feel is right for the characters. I just want to tell the story that I've set out to tell, and I intend to keep doing so until it is done.

If we get a S4, and indeed now that I am working on Vol 6, I am thinking much less about how the audience might react to the sex in the story, and am simply just writing/drawing what feels emotionally and dramatically right for the story and characters. And that feels much more creatively freeing!

[billloveshushu]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏, 𝐏𝐫𝐭 𝟏,𝟐━ 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲.

✦━━ ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕔 𝔹𝕒𝕥𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝕩 𝔹𝕒𝕓𝕪𝕆ℂ.

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˚✧˙ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ━━ A baby was rescued by Batman on one of his missions, feeling responsible, Bruce decided to adopt her. But the question is that the baby knew she was in the comic book world, not knowing how to react or why, will she survive in this traumatized family?

✦ ( "" ) Thoughts ( ━ ) Dialogue ✦

English is not my original language, the translation was done by Google Translate, só sorry for any spelling mistakes.

Only two days have passed since that night, the baby is still amazed at how much has changed in such a short time, especially Bruce, she knows he is quite busy with his duties as Batman and playboy Bruce Wayne so it wouldn't be surprising if he doesn't show up at the mansion every day, but somehow now he always finds time to spend with her even though in that time he learns how to take care of a baby, she still laughs when she remembers that day.

Bruce's hands were shaking as he held her, he was so focused that it seemed like he was dealing with a time bomb, and Alfred was by his side teaching him how to hold a baby without hurting him, the baby looked at the man who is the biggest nightmare of all Gotham criminals and started to laugh.

She was laughing and mocking Bruce, but in his vision it was different, he only saw a baby smiling and letting out sweet laughs with her pink cheeks. It seemed like a sun that warmed his insides, illuminating him with each laugh that came out and Bruce without realizing the corner of his lip rose.

From then on, Bruce didn't need much help from Alfred since he learned quickly, so his sense of overprotection began to grow. Every time he held her in his arms, he realized how much more fragile and defenseless she was. She wasn't like his other children. She wasn't trained from the beginning for combat and she wasn't super intelligent. She was just a regular baby. That's why Bruce stayed around the baby, even if it was through the mansion's cameras, and he regularly found himself worried about her, often calling Alfred to ask how she was.

Besides the fact that she is weaker compared to other babies, because in the orphanage where she lived, which was actually a front and a place for human trafficking, the children did not receive the necessary care and most of the time they went hungry, Bruce felt his veins pulsate just thinking about it, there is also the lack of records, he tried in many ways to find information about her birth or parental records but found nothing, so it was obvious, they planned to traffic her.

He regrets not beating up those drug dealers more, which is why Bruce had to resort to DNA testing to at least find out her ethnicity. Barbara applied to help and said it would take at least two days for the results. Meanwhile, Bruce prepared the other arrangements for the baby; this week would be quite long.

Then on the second day something strange happened, that day the baby tried to imagine what her past life was like, was she happy? What was her childhood like? Did she have parents? What was she like as an adult? And most importantly, how did she die...?

These questions had been going around her head all day, so that night, the baby tried so hard to remember more memories that she ended up falling asleep in the process, then she had a disturbing dream. She couldn't feel anything and all she saw was an immense darkness, it wasn't scary but rather sad and melancholic, it was nothing but darkness until in the sky she saw a little red dot, which gradually turned into a drop that fell to the center.

Then everything changed, she realized that it wasn't just a red drop... It was blood. It spread like a virus, the intense color shone in the place, she no longer felt sadness, she felt anger, a deep hatred but she had other feelings, fear... anguish that suffocated her, that trapped her in this red hell.

Like blood...

The baby woke up desperate, she was sobbing and short of breath, but she could still feel... those overwhelming emotions eating away at her flesh, her tears ran down her cheeks, she wanted to scream, get someone's attention, but she couldn't, as if it was registered in her body to suffer alone.

"Someone.. Ah... Please... Help!" he thought as his shortness of breath worsened.

At that moment Bruce was returning from patrol and heading towards his room, until he heard a sob and looked back realizing that the noise was coming from the baby's room, he immediately ran towards the noise, frustrated by the distance from his room, when he arrived and opened the door he was able to hear more clearly, they were small sniffles and a contained sob.

If he wasn't a person trained to hear the slightest noises he wouldn't have even noticed, getting closer he saw a distressed little baby with tears running down his face that was red trying to breathe heavily, Bruce quickly shouted calling Alfred and tried somehow to find what was wrong.

He gently picked up the baby feeling even more distressed, she wasn't crying like a normal baby, who screams and makes a fuss if something is bothering her, she was curled up like a shell letting out only small sobs and her mouth was tightly closed with only her tears coming out.

Bruce checked to see if any part of her body was hurt until he realized that she was holding her breath━ No no, please breathe! ━ he held her little head as he desperately tried to make her breathe.

Amidst so many tears, the baby managed to see Bruce's face blurry, who was desperate, seeing that someone was at his side to help, her breathing began to return slowly, her mouth opened and closed trying to make some sound, she stretched out her arms towards Bruce, touching his face and becoming calmer.

Bruce caressed her little hand and said ━ It's okay, I'm here ━ He wiped her tears and hugged her to his chest, lightly patting her back. Alfred soon appeared, out of breath from having run. With him were the boxes of medicine.

After taking her temperature, Alfred said that she had a fever but that it wasn't serious and that she just needed to take some medicine. Bruce was confused. How could it not be serious?! He saw her losing her breath as if she was in extreme pain. Bruce told this to Alfred, who was extremely worried and recommended that the doctor's appointment be rescheduled for tomorrow. Bruce agreed and looked at the room. It was a decent room but it showed his neglect of her at the beginning. It was far from his main room and he was completely unprepared in case something like what happened today happened.

Bruce turned to Alfred━ She will sleep with me tonight this place is not safe━ Alfred was surprised but did not disagree━ What are you planning sir?

━ I'm going to renovate the room closest to mine, and I'm going to install the security system in it━ the baby they thought was sleeping on Bruce's shoulder looked at him with wide eyes " what!? "

"Wait a minute! I know today was tense, but it's not that bad!!"

She looked at Alfred desperately "You don't agree with this nonsense, do you!?" and breaking her expectations Alfred said━ I completely agree, Sir.

The baby with her puffy cheeks looking like a pufferfish while drinking her liquid medicine thought "It's not fair..." Bruce couldn't help but pinch her cheeks as the baby slapped his hand away in irritation.

The next day it happened exactly as Bruce said, the baby spent the night in his room, she slept peacefully on his chest as if nothing had happened, he on the other hand, couldn't sleep and spent the whole night worried about her, and sometimes he just watches her sleeping perhaps envying her for her peace.

It was only in the morning that Bruce managed to sleep, but he was soon woken up by Alfred opening the curtains. He saw the baby already awake playing with his hand. He kissed her on the forehead and got up. The people Bruce had hired to do the renovations soon appeared. He comforted Alfred by saying that they were trustworthy people.

Suddenly the doorbell rang, Alfred answered it and came back accompanied by a woman in a wheelchair, she was beautiful and wore glasses, her hair was red and she was carrying a purse, she greeted Bruce and looked around as if she were looking for something, then her eyes shone when she found the baby.

" Bárbara Gordon?! " the baby was surprised by the woman who approached, it wasn't every day that she met the esteemed Barbara Gordon, daughter of Commissioner Gordon, the iconic Batgirl herself and one of the most intelligent people in DC, while thinking the baby suddenly felt in the air and realized that she was now in Barbara's lap.

Barbara was smiling beautifully ━ Good morning princess ━ ​​she said and kissed the baby's cute little cheeks who blushed, Barbara already knew her? But she doesn't remember meeting her.

The baby doesn't know, but when Bruce wanted to do the DNA test Barbara decided to come personally to collect the samples, but she was curious about the new child that Bruce adopted, when she found out that it was a baby she thought the decision was irresponsible, taking care of a baby is difficult and more dangerous with the lives of Punishers that they lead, the proof of this is her legs, the memory of the attack was still engraved in her mind.

Thinking that this could happen to a baby irritated her.

And when she arrived at the mansion she planned to leave quickly, that's when she saw her, Alfred showed the sleeping baby in the nursery so it was easier to get the sample, Barbara found her appearance quite rare, especially her red hair, she acted carefully so as not to wake her up and collected a bit of her beard, when she was going to take her hand away the baby grabbed one of her fingers probably thinking it was one of her stuffed animals.

Barbara stopped and watched the baby hugging her hand, her little cheeks around her transferring their warmth to her cold palm, Barbara couldn't help but find this very cute, it somehow eased her fleeting anger, realizing that this adoption can't be that bad.

That day Barbara felt comforted.

Now Barbara noticed that she had smeared the baby's face with her lipstick, she laughed nervously and wiped the baby's face with a tissue until she heard a dry cough behind her, she slowly turned to receive Bruce with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow ━It seems like someone woke up in a bad mood today━ she commented as she looked at Bruce's messy appearance.

He sighed━ Did you come to play with my daughter or hand over the documents I lost ━ he held out his hand waiting for the file, Barbara snorted━ It's here, you bore!━ she said taking the folder out of her bag and handing it over.

━ Isn't he annoying, baby?━ She asked the baby who raised his arms trying to grab the locks of her hair. Barbara laughed when she saw the baby enchanted with her hair. ━ Yes, dear, you're not the only redhead in this house ━ The baby managed to grab one of the locks and smiled, showing her dimples. Barbara felt her heart melt at the sight and couldn't hold back and kissed her little face even more.

Bruce sat in an armchair as he read the files. Through the sample, he discovered that the baby's ethnicity is Latin, her parents were probably immigrants and had the bad luck of falling into the wrong hands. He flipped through the pages and found nothing else of interest ━ Didn't you find anything else? ━ Barbara shook her head. ━ Unfortunately not, it's as if she never existed.

━ Hunn ━ he put his hand on his chin, that was impossible, the batcomputer had access to thousands of pieces of information, both confidential and public, not having even his parents' information was suspicious. While Bruce was thinking, Alfred appeared with a tray containing coffee and a bottle, he left the tray on a table and politely asked for Barbara's baby, who complained a little but let him, and he took her to another room, she looked back at Bruce ━ I heard what happened, Alfred told me, I'm glad she's okay ━ Bruce nodded ━ I'm taking her to the hospital today, I hope it's nothing serious.

━ You haven't given her a name yet, have you?

━...

━Bruce!!

He sighed━ I don't want to give her just any name, I want it to be special, with a meaning, that reminds her of her origins━ he shook the papers in his hand━ This might help, thank you very much Barbara.

She gave a small smile ━ No problem, but what about the others? You know it won't be long before they find out about her, I think even Tim already knows.

Bruce drank the coffee that Alfred left ━ Don't worry, I'll introduce her at the family dinner, until then I ask you not to tell anyone, and about Tim, he won't tell or simply doesn't care ━the family dinner, an occasion that Alfred plans every month, with the purpose of bringing the family together, even if it's a disaster with the frequent fights or an absurd silence that could even hear the flies buzzing.

For the first time Bruce found this meeting useful.

━ Oh yeah, I almost forgot ━ she turned on the TV at the exact moment the newspaper was on, Bruce was about to ask until the girl on television spoke━ Breaking news, apparently historians have discovered more about the greatest mystery in history, the Red Empress.

The newspaper continued talking about this, the red empress, a historical phenomenon that is a mystery to this day, whose existence was only discovered through reports from other countries, is considered a symbol of freedom and hope since it was through her that slavery in her country ended.

To reinforce the title historical mystery, not even her name was discovered and there was even a time when they thought she was a man, and her 'nickname' came through a report from a king who described her as having vibrant red hair, not even this was confirmed with certainty.

━ It's impressive, isn't it? Even after so many years we still know little about her ━ Barbara commented, Bruce never really paid attention to this subject, but he had to admit that it was fascinating.

Then Barbara had to leave, she had to take care of some unfinished business, the baby had a sad look as the woman left, she just wanted to spend more time with Barbara ━ Ó╭╮Ò ━ seeing the baby's eyes shining Bruce kissed her on the head━ No need to cry, you'll see her soon.

Soon the appointment time arrived, Bruce dressed in his usual casual suit and as the baby was wearing a pink jumpsuit and was wrapped like a taco, Bruce didn't want her to get sick again on the way. He took her to see Dr. Leslie Thompkins, even with their misunderstandings and fights in the past Bruce couldn't deny that Leslie is one of the best doctors he has ever known and at least she is a trustworthy person to take care of a baby.

Waiting in a private room at the hospital, the baby looked and recognized the old lady who opened the door, being one of Batman's old allies but for some reason she couldn't remember her name.

━ Good afternoon Dr. Leslie, and good to see you again ━ Bruce greeted her with a handshake, "Oh yes! That's her name! Leslie didn't appear that much in the comics, maybe that's why I forgot her name"

━ I'm glad to see you too Bruce━ she looked at the baby ━ Was that the child you rescued?━ Bruce nodded and she sighed.

━ I saw the news and read about her case, it really was a miracle, but today is not the day of her treatment, what happened? ━ Bruce told about what happened and also reported about the slight fever she had last night, she said she was going to do some tests and see if there was anything wrong.

Leslie took the stethoscope off the baby's back━ There's nothing wrong with her, but maybe I have a theory about it━ she pulled out some papers showing an x-ray of a head━ From what I saw the most concentrated injuries were on the head and maybe because of that some trauma arose.

She pointed to some spots in the photo explaining that some were not yet healed and others needed extensive treatment, the baby saw Bruce's hands close into a fist after Leslie spoke of the injuries, so she placed her little hand on top which Bruce responded by squeezing them making the baby laugh, Bruce gave a small smile to the side forgetting his anger.

Leslie stopped for a moment when she saw this scene. It was rare to see Bruce so emotional. She hadn't seen this side of him since her parents died. She shook her head, pushing her thoughts away, and continued her explanation. In the end, she decided to do some tests with Bruce's permission, and most of them were about locomotion and intellect, like playing with a brick cube and fitting it in the right place, or moving her arms and feathers when the doctor asked her to.

The baby put the last cube in place and Leslie wrote it down in her notebook and she turned to Bruce who was in the background watching━ The test went normally, there were no peculiarities━ Bruce sighed in relief.

"But of course, I had to pretend to be wrong on purpose so they wouldn't suspect me." The baby knows that faking the test is wrong, but if they knew about her having an adult conscience or that she knows that this world is made of comics, there's no knowing what will happen to her if they find out, so it's better not to risk it.

━ Since we didn't find anything wrong, the injuries probably don't affect her now but they could affect her in the future, so stay tuned ━ Leslie said as Bruce picked up the baby from the floor, if there's nothing wrong then what was that? Was it really just a nightmare? But would a nightmare cause such a reaction? Then he asked Leslie ━ Can this leave psychological trauma? Cause some kind of anxiety?

Leslie replied ━ She's very young so she can forget what happened, and that's good, she won't carry that trauma with her for the rest of her life ━ Bruce agreed and caressed the baby's face, looking into her eyes, it really is good news, the last thing he wants to see is this little angel suffer and lose the sparkle in her eyes.

In the end, the doctor prescribed some medicine if this happens again, but asked Bruce to wait a little while to talk━ I'm glad you entrusted her to me, but dare I ask, do you plan on making her-

━ No ━ Bruce interrupted her knowing what she was going to ask ━ I don't plan any of that for her, you don't need to worry about it.

She smiled and caressed the baby's face━ She is special Bruce, she was a warrior for surviving in those circumstances.

Bruce looked at the baby━ I know ━ and kissed her cheek━ She's a little ray of sunshine.

Three days have passed and the renovation of the baby's room is still not finished. Alfred even put a temporary nursery in Bruce's room, worried that the baby would start to depend on him to sleep, and she was shocked. "Alfred! It's not me you should be worried about, it's him!!!" she thought, pointing to Bruce. Not that she was complaining, Bruce's chest was a wonderful pillow but it was very tiring. Every time she slept in the nursery, Bruce woke her up in the middle of the night to sleep with him.

Apparently this is part of one of his overprotective paranoias, with her in his arms he can hear her heartbeat and protect her, this is comforting to him, even Alfred noticed that Bruce was sleeping well lately and he was quite happy about it, he doesn't even remember how much of a lecture he gave Bruce about his terrible sleeping habits talking about how a good night's sleep could be good for your health, but if he knew it was because of the baby he wouldn't be so happy.

The day started with the baby being woken up by Bruce kissing her forehead, she grunted trying to push him away because she was ticklish, he let out a little laugh and hugged her ━ Good morning sweetie ━ and got up to get ready while the baby tried to stay awake.

Alfred came and got the baby ready for breakfast and Bruce had to go to work to resolve some negotiations. In the kitchen, Alfred fed the baby a mixture of milk and medicine, as recommended by the doctor, since the medicine was too bitter for a baby.

Then Alfred took the baby for a walk in the garden, over time this became a pastime between Alfred and the baby, he showed her the flowers in the garden and enjoyed the calm and cozy time together, the baby in Alfred's arms looked at the beauty of the garden until she realized that in the background there was a vegetable garden.

The baby tugged on Alfred's sleeve and pointed to the vegetable garden, wondering what it was. ━ Oh, little miss, this is the vegetable garden your brother and I made together. ━ he said, coming closer and showing some freshly cleaned vegetables.

The baby tilted her head in confusion, "Brother? Which brother?" She approached a plant and realized something, "That's just like Damian. Even though he's an angry guy, he has very calm hobbies." She loved the fact that Damian likes to draw and is an animal lover to the point of becoming a vegan. It's no wonder he's her favorite Robin, even though he's annoying.

━Master Damian liked to water them early in the morning━ Alfred, even smiling, looked sad ━But now he's too busy for that...━ Alfred turned towards the mansion and the baby looked at the vegetable garden behind his shoulder.

Alfred had to do his job so he had to place the baby around several pillows in the living room, soon the baby got bored and moved uncomfortably, she hated being a baby and always being stuck in one place just waiting for someone to come by and ask for help so she could just get up.

She watched her little feet dangling and thought, "What if I try to stand up?" So she tried her best to get into a sitting position, but then she fell flat on her stomach on the couch, panting and sweating. "Wow! Just moving around made me so tired!"

So she gave up and took the opportunity to lie down on the couch, not knowing that someone was watching her through the cameras. Bruce, who was in a minimally boring meeting, took the opportunity to check the baby on the cameras on his cell phone and saw her get up, fall on her stomach on the couch and fall asleep. He had to hold himself back from laughing in the middle of the meeting.

At night, Alfred, after feeding her, gave her a bath and changed her clothes, putting on bunny-shaped pajamas. He had white fur with pink gloves and shoes and a hood with bunny ears and a bow.

This time it wasn't Alfred who bought it, it was Bruce who saw it in a shopping mall window and bought it almost automatically thinking it would look cute on the baby. After taking a photo, Alfred wrapped the baby in a blanket and sat in an armchair with her on his lap to read a story.

Just a second later the baby was already yawning with her eyes watering, Alfred noticed and quickly put her in the nursery, saying goodnight and giving her a kiss on the forehead, then he turned off the light and left Bruce's room.

The baby, as her eyes were about to close, lamented, thinking that she would soon be woken up by a certain person.

The next morning she woke up shocked realizing that she was still in the nursery, no one woke her up in the middle of the night and that meant that Bruce wasn't here, she should have been happy that he didn't disturb her but the opposite happened, in fact she was extremely worried.

Was he so hurt that he couldn't come? Or was he kidnapped by one of his enemies and is being terribly tortured? There were so many possibilities and situations that Batman could be in, that the baby was crying and let out a small cry calling Alfred's attention who came quickly.

In the butler's arms she let out grunts, pointing to the bed clearly asking where Bruce was, Alfred seeing this let out a small laugh and wiped her small tears with his thumb ━ Don't worry little one, I'll take you to Mr. Bruce ━ Alfred took her out of the room and walked through the corridor to the last door where Bruce's office was.

" Hun? He spent the night there, but why?"

Alfred knocked on the door but no one answered, he knocked again but again no answer, then he opened the door finding Bruce with glasses totally focused on a book and with other books around, you could see that he didn't sleep last night with his dark circles and tired look on his face.

Alfred coughed, attracting Bruce's attention, who finally looked up to see the two at the door. He sighed tiredly, taking off his glasses and pinching his eyebrows with a headache. He asked for the baby and Alfred handed it over ━ I never thought choosing a name would be so difficult ━ He caressed the baby's face, who was clearly angry with her eyebrows raised. Bruce looked at Alfred in confusion, asking for answers.

━ The little lady is upset because she couldn't find you this morning ━ Bruce gave a small smile and kissed the baby's cheeks apologizing "That's a lie! I was just worried" but she quickly forgave him now knowing that he did it thinking about her name.

Bruce showed the names to Alfred, most of them were from Latin America so that she would remember her origins but so far nothing pleased him, while they talked about looking for other names, the baby looked at the page of the book that Bruce was holding.

She looked through some names until one caught her attention, "Suyana..." somehow that name seemed familiar to her, as if a voice sounded in her mind, it was a soft voice calling her, she without realizing it placed her hand on the page attracting the attention of Bruce and Alfred.

Bruce held her and looked at the sheet finding the name she was pointing to━ Suyana, meaning hope in the Quechua language of South America ━ he thought the name suited her, hope... something he didn't imagine he would have in his life but now...

Alfred added, ━The meaning fits little miss, don’t you think, Mister Bruce?━ Bruce nodded, ━You’re right, and it’s quite unique like her.

━Did you like your name? Suyana━ the baby smiled happily, she finally had a name, she buried herself in Bruce's arms who hugged her too, she put her ear to his chest listening to his heartbeat, understanding now why Bruce likes that, it was relaxing to know that someone was by her side.

Bruce kissed her on the forehead but the baby pushed him away uncomfortable, he suddenly rubbed his chin realizing the problem ━ I should start cutting my beard.

Continued...

About the tag list, I don't know how to do it, so put in the comments who wants to be tagged in the next chapter. That way it'll be easier for me.🙂

Taglist : @fantasyhopperhea @daddysfangirls-dc @cruzerforce4256 @mallowryblog @ jsprien213 @kore-of-the-underworld @bookwarm0-0 @nxdxsworld​

[friskalicousbiscuits]

Neglected Santa Clarita Diet (Zombie)!Reader x Yan!Batfam

Prologue, Chapter One (Here)

Tw: So much blood, mutilation, brief mentions of vomiting in this chapter, definitely not as much as the last time.

I’d also like to say this Reader is Gender Neutral or at least you can pick your gender. Most of the pronouns are “you”. Have fun reading and tell me if there are any spelling mistakes or things that don’t make sense!

Chapter One:

“Oh my God.” You muttered, looking down at the bloody mess of the burglar’s carcass.

Would you look at that? You just killed a man.

“OH MY GOD?” Jill’s voice rose looking between you and the body

“OH MY GOD!” You rose your voice in return because apparently you were both yelling now?

“YOU JUST ATE SOMEONE.”

“I KNOW.”

“LIKE YOU TORE HIS FUCKING FACE OFF.”

“I KNOW!”

“WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO WITH HIM?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

“[NAME] HE’S STAINING MY WOOD FLOORS.”

“I’M SORRY! I’LL PICK HIM UP!”

“I’LL HELP YOU!”

That’s how the two of you ended up stuffing the man into giant plastic container. It had originally been used by Jill to store old school or art supplies. Now… well, all that stuff was emptied on the ground of her room and you were both trying to brute force the burglar into it. The forcefulness of the two of you caused the already torn apart body to be mutilated further from being pushed into what was comparatively a tiny space compared to the body. In then end, a good chunk of the guy’s head and his entire leg were still sticking out.

Was this a good time to mention that said container didn’t have a lid?

The sight was quite… inefficient to say the least and it ended with you both dragging the dead guy, still in the plastic container, which scratched across Jill’s floors by the way, to the bathroom. You pulled him out and dumped him in her tub.

Your eyes narrowed at the burglar in the tub. You and Jill stood before him until you turned to her with a grave expression. “Get me something… sharp.”

Jill screamed into her hands.

Nearly an hour later, you were both struggling down the street, carrying a the same plastic container from earlier. It was refilled with the burglar and thankfully was only slightly overflowing now instead of having entire limbs sticking out. It sloshed with each step. It was more liquid than human.

Who knew people had so much blood in them?

Remember how the container didn’t have a lid? Neither you nor Jill ended up finding it. The only thing protecting you both from having the man spill all over your shoes, which really would’ve been a pain because the two of you showered before you both left (you went first to get rid most of the blood left in the tub), was a thin of piece of seranwrap. Looking at how the man threatens to topple out of it with each step makes you think you should’ve at least put another layer instead of the single flimsy one.

Right now though, you had more important things to worry about out instead of getting rid of the guy. Like the current conversation between you a Jill. Earlier, after you finished chopping the burglar up, you went to Jill’s freezer to grab more chicken drums to nibble on, but you couldn’t eat them anymore. They tasted gross.

“Jill.” You started before you both grunted as you moved the container again. It was so heavy.

“Mm?” She grunted out as you both moved it again. The two of you were going at a snail’s pace. It was a miracle you’d both gotten it down the stairs but it seemed like that would be your only miracle of the night. You were both moving it in short bursts, picking it up and moving it at about a foot at a time.

“I don’t think I can eat meat anymore.” You quickly glanced at her and then back at the container.

“What?” She stopped trying to move it as you picked up your side and moved it. The container, sloshed dangerously and was now sitting diagonally against the grimy Gotham sidewalk. She didn’t seem to notice as all of her attention was focused on you instead.

“I don’t think I can eat animal meat anymore. I ate some of the chicken and it tasted like baby shit. Then, I didn’t ever get to try the beef before I almost vomited from its smell.”

“My kitchen cannot handle you vomiting.” She muttered.

“I know.” You nodded solemnly. “But all the meat I tried has repulsed me since I had this guy.” You jerked your head at the remains of the burglar.

She stared at you for a solid twenty seconds before she stood straight up, letting go of the container. “Well, we can’t start killing people. As soon as we get rid of this guy, I thought we were gonna go back to normal, and killing people isn’t normal, [Name].” She had a forced grin and her hands were clenched at her sides.

“Well, I know tha—”

“Then as soon as we get home, you’re gonna dig in to the tilapia back at my place!” She bent back down to grab the container again and you both got back to moving it one foot at a time. You did that in silence for about a minute until you spoke up again.

“Jill, what if, once I’ve tasted human flesh, I can’t go back?” You asked as you spied Gotham’s Harbor up ahead. The end was in sight. Thank god. It was a such a good thing Jill and her mom lived near it.

She stared at you for a nearly minute, eyes darting to the side every now and then as you both kept moving the container of the burglar until she let go and rounded it to grab your shoulders.

“Okay. Maybe, just maybe, it’s the freshness of it, not the human-ness. Because that guy was super fresh. Maybe you can only eat an animal if it’s just been killed! Could that be it?”

“What if it’s not?”

“What if it is?”

“What if it’s no—” You were cut off once more, not by your best friend this time, by a car speeding past the both of you and hitting a couple pidgins on the road.

The two of you looked at each other, then at the pidgins, then at each other, then at the pidgins, then at each other before Jill gave you a look that said you might as well go for it.

That’s how you let out the loudest sigh possible. “Please?” You begged. You really did not want to eat the pidgin. It was probably super radioactive from all the shit it ate off the ground and has like fifty million diseases.

“For me.” She said seriously.

You let out another sigh, walking over to it, stopping every now and then to give pitiful glances back at her.

Only Jill could make you take the walk of shame to go eat a flattened and freshly killed pidgin.

So that didn’t work.

You barfed over its body just at the whiff of it. Thankfully, you didn’t have a repeat of last night, but still. Gross. Jill tried to say that maybe it looked disgusting and that was why you didn’t want to eat it, but then you brought up the argument that the guy you ate was pretty disgusting too. Inside and out. That got her to forcibly accept you needed to feed on humans now.

Also, some guy in a red helmet, you were 50 percent sure it was a motorcycle helmet based on the fact he was holding said motorcycle so it wouldn’t tip over, watched you as he stood across the street. So not only did you barf, some guy saw you.

Lovely.

On the bright side, now you were both now at the pier and steadily making your way to the end of one of the wooden docks.

“So, I was thinking, if and only if you can’t eat animal meat anymore, because I’m going to make you try some more later, we have to do this right.” Jill said between grunts as you both moved it.

You both ended up taking a break halfway up the dock so she could talk without being interrupted. “We can’t just kill anybody. We have to kill someone who won’t be missed.”

“Someone without a family.” You chimed in.

“Right. And someone bad who deserves it.”

“Ooh! Yeah, like who?”

“I don’t know… I guess the prototype would be a young, single Hitler.” She crossed her arms and sat down on the dock. You followed her example and now the both of you were leaning against the container as you talked.

That was a pretty stupid idea now that you thought back on it.

“And when we do find someone, we have to be prepared. No more impulse killing, it’s too risky.” She waved her finger around.

“True. The cops suck and are mostly corrupt, but if it gets to someone actually good and they pursue it, we could get busted.” You murmured.

“Exactly. We also have to get tarps, gloves, tools,” Jill spoke, and you could slowly see the despair in her eyes as she thought of how much all of that would cost.

“I’ll pay!” You chirped.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, my dad may be a deadbeat piece of shit, but at least he was willing to throw a black card at me to get me to stop bothering him.” You shrugged as an angry look crossed her face at the thought of an eight year old you, just lost your mom, begging for attention only for him to literally throw some money at you to get you to go away.

“Right… anyways, we also need mops, sponges, bleach to clean up the blood…” She trailed off. “All the blood. So much blood. Blood everywhere.” She looked to the side, resting her cheek on her hand, sounding shellshocked.

“Jill?”

“Yup?”

“You don’t have to go with me.”

She looked back to you, almost offended. “I’m not sending you out to do this alone, [Name]. We’re doing this together.”

“Awe.” A sweet smile crossed your face. She wouldn’t leave you alone. She was the best. “But I’ll do the actual killing, okay? Don’t even worry about that.” You moved your arm to try and elbow her in the side only for said arm to tip over the container behind you.

You both stared at each other with the blankest faces possible as you listened to the burglar spill all over behind the two of you. You then both slowly looked behind to the mess.

““Shit.”” The single word left the both of you simultaneously.

That started the mad scramble of shoveling the remains into the water.

You were both now both walking back to Jill’s apartment. Both of your arms were covered in the guy’s blood. The same could be said for a little bit of your torsos and pants. You felt a little bad to say the least. The clothes you were wearing were Jill’s. The clothes you ate the burglar in had been Jill’s as well after you changed out of your vomit covered ones. You really had a track record for ruining her clothes, huh?

The two of you were walking in pure silence.

You were carrying the container as punishment for spilling the damn thing in the first place, but you’d both washed it out earlier with some definitely chemically altered water from a random person’s hose in the front of their yard so at least it was blood-free now.

“At least you can reuse it?” You offered.

“For what? More bodies?” She spat.

Ouch.

Jill sighed and then started to speak fast and apologetically, one of her hands almost running itself down her face before she caught herself and let it drop back to her side. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but come on, we’re covered in blood right now and I’m trying my best to ignore the smell and the fact we have to start killing people soon.”

That made you frown. Jill shouldn’t have to apologize for something you dragged her into. “I’m sorry too. If only I hadn’t turned into… whatever I am.”

“A zombie?”

“I might as well be. I eat people, can’t bleed, and don’t have a pulse.”

“You don’t have a pulse?” She whispered, sounding like she couldn’t believe there was more to this shit show.

“No?” You placed a hand on your chest. Nothing. Then your neck. Also nothing. “When we were in the bathroom didn’t you say you couldn’t feel one too?

“Well, yes but…” She trailed off and then threw her head back in a groan as the two of you stepped around some random man standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

“What the fuck happened to you two?” The man asked which caused the both of you to stop in your tracks. The two of you looked back.

This guy, this weirdo, was wearing a bright red helmet, which was a little familiar to you. Hey, wasn’t this the guy who saw you vomit over the pidgin earlier?

Both you and Jill shared a look.

“We… almost got mugged.” Jill spoke, which didn’t sound convincing at all, you thought.

“Really?” The man didn’t sound convinced either. “Is that why you’re so bloody?”

You snorted at that. “You should see the other guy.” Those words earned you a sharp elbow to the ribs from Jill and the helmeted guy turning his head to you. It was hard to tell what expression he was making exactly, but you got the distinct vibes it was similar to the weird looks Jill gave you earlier.

“Right… Listen, why don’t I walk you two home?” The man offered, but it honestly sounded more like he was stating it.

“Uh…” You looked to Jill, who looked back at you with an equally perplexed expression. This was the most blatant attempt at a kidnapping you’d ever come across. You could tell she was thinking the same.

“We’re good, creepo.” Jill said, grabbing one of your hands.

“Creepo?” The man sounded like he’d never been called that before and you honestly have no idea how he hasn’t if he’s been approaching strangers the same way he approached you two.

“Yeah. Creepo.” Jill repeated before grabbing a glass bottle that probably had syphilis and throwing it at him. She pulled you along to run away with her so you didn’t get to see if the bottle connected or not.

“Bye, Creepo!” You shouted as you both turned around a corner.

So, you guys know how I said Jill will be our Joel in the last chapter? I think I actually might make her your love interest. It depends. We’ll have to see where the story goes. Also for those you still don’t know what a Joel is, what I mean is that she’s going to be our partner in crime.

Taglist(?): @shinning-stars

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twelve ⭐︎ When the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive?

Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact! angst, jealousy, misunderstandings, mutual pining, mentions of unrequited feelings, mentions of cheating (not on reader), mentions of past stancy, jealous!Steve, slightly mean!Steve (kinda?), smut smut smut, bathroom sex, car sex, fingering, squirting. I like to picture Jacob as Drew Starkey hehe

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve had never handled his jealousy very well, but being jealous over you, brings out a new side in him. He would do anything to keep you, anything.

Word count: 17.4k+

Author's note: I've been waiting for this chapter since forever, jealous men are always my jam, and @hellfire--cult took these ideas to a whole new level, enjoy this filthy chapter. This one is for all my Steve girlies who haven't given up on me after my last story ♡ Roe, I should grant you a thousand wishes at this point, you keep me so hyped for this story. Also this chapter wouldn't have been this good without you, don't even try to fight me

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Nancy’s brows are furrowed in concentration, her pink lips pursed as she looks through the many dresses to find the perfect one, her curly hair is pulled up into a bun, held together by a white scrunchie with pink polka dots, she’s wearing one of the outfits she had gotten on your last shopping trip together, this is only your second time, but it’s fun, you like hanging out with her. 

You drove to Indianapolis since Hawkins doesn’t have all too many clothing stores, especially after the ‘fire’ at the mall, you prefer it here anyways, the big city has much more to offer than the small town. 

“What do you think of this one?” Nancy asks as she shows you the yellow sundress. 

You tilt your head, pressing your lips together as you eye it, not quite liking the way too bright color. You walk around the clothing rack to get to the other side, holding the clothing items that you threw over your forearm a little tighter as you take in the different colors of the dress she’s still holding up. 

“Mmm… No, maybe the blue one, Nancy?” You ask, as you point your finger at the baby blue color, when your eyes widen as you catch sight of the purple one, “or, the purple one! That one would look cute, it matches the color of your eyeshadow!” 

She smiles at you, nodding excitedly. She puts the yellow dress on the rack, and looks through the purple ones to find her size. 

“But you should go for the yellow one if you like it more.” 

She shakes her head, looking back at you, “no, I trust your judgment,” she smiles and picks out the dress, “besides, this color is way cuter.” 

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips, “yeah, it’ll look amazing on you.” 

Her dimples show and her eyes light up a little. 

Nancy has been nothing but kind and sweet to you, and you can’t help but feel guilt and regret growing inside of you for the way you once felt about her. 

You weren’t only jealous of her because she had Steve, you also hated her for having him, and you’d spent your shared classes with her, staring at her and comparing yourself to the girl he loved so dearly – the girl he still loves. You were never rude to her or mean, you never glared at her or threw comments at her the way other girls did, after Steve had humiliated her in front of the whole town, despite your feelings for him, you did feel disappointed for what he had done, even when you didn’t even like her, at that time. 

“You should try this one on!” Nancy pulls you out of your thoughts, a grin on her face as she holds up a black dress – a daring black dress. It’s short and flowy, the straps are thin, it’s  low cut with a dainty bow on the front, the back very exposed. “You could wear this one to Vickie’s party.”

A smile tugs at your lips, you step forward and slowly reach your hands out to take it from her. 

“You will look hot in it,” Nancy wiggles her eyebrows at you, nudging her shoulder against yours as she brushes past you to look for more dresses, “I’m sure I won’t be the only one who thinks that,” she says in a sing-song voice. 

Nancy had been very persistent in trying to get you to go on dates. The last time you went out together, the Barista at your local coffee shop had put his number on your takeaway cup after giving you the order for free. She tried to convince you to give him a call, gushing over how sweet he was to you and how he looked at you, and yeah, he was sweet, he was very good looking too, and maybe you would’ve given him a call if things were still the same they were months before this. Yeah, you would’ve definitely given him a call, but only to forget about the certain someone who woke up in your bed this morning. Whose bed you will go to sleep in tonight. 

As you stare at the dress, all that you can think about is Steve, and how he will react to seeing you in this. 

Will he think that you’re pretty? 

Will you look irresistible to him?

Will he want to tear it off of you? 

After all, he does like your dresses, your sundresses especially, you see the way his eyes darken whenever you step into his house with a new one on your body, like he is ready to rip it to shreds and devour you for the next few hours or so, and he usually does, sometimes he doesn’t even take it off, and only pushes it aside, bunching it around your waist.

This sundress is by far more revealing than any of the other ones you have worn before. Excitement bubbles in your stomach as you think of his reaction to it. 

You are definitely getting it. 

After taking forever to pick out what clothes to keep in the dressing room, you both make your way out of the store with full bags, stuffed with new summer clothes. You stroll around town for a while, looking for new jewelry and shoes to go with the dresses you both bought. 

You never realized just how much you missed having a girl friend to do these things with, until you sit down at a cute café to eat some late lunch. It’s something you always used to do with your childhood best friend, that you always try not to think of, too painful are the memories of Chrissy and how you couldn’t be there for her, how you couldn’t save her. You always wondered if things would have gone differently had you both not drifted apart the way you did when you both went separate ways.

But it’s no use to overthink about it, you won’t ever find out. 

“Funny how we’re shopping for clothes, when a few weeks back we were fighting for our lives against something the whole world doesn’t even know about,” Nancy says as she looks over the menu. 

“Yeah,” you nod with wide eyes, glancing up from your own menu to look at her, you realize that you never asked how she got involved in all of it, in the first place. 

You clear your throat, “I never asked… how did you get involved?” 

She raises her brows at your question, taking a deep breath before she puts down the menu. 

“I–It was when Barb went missing, right after Will… What the police said about her wasn’t right, I knew my Barb, so I looked into it all, and I dragged Jonathan in with me because he was looking for his brother, only to find out that my brother and all of his friends were in it too…” She rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. 

You laugh a little, shaking your head. 

A shiver runs down your spine as you think of how long it had all been going on in the shadows, how long you had been unaware of the Upside Down and the existence of monsters, how children were involved in something they shouldn’t have been. 

“And then, poor Steve… He showed up at Jonathan’s place when we tried to lure in the Demogorgon, he almost ran off… but he came right back to fight him with us.” 

You know all about it, Steve told you how he fought the Demogorgon with Nancy and Jonathan, how he had been dragged into it all by accident, how he helped Dustin find Dart, how he protected the kids and climbed into the tunnel after getting beaten by Billy. 

You know most of what happened, not only from Steve, but also from Robin, but you feel intrigued, you want to know more… from her.

Something flashes in her eyes, a look of guilt, a look of regret. 

You know exactly what she’s thinking about, and you know that you shouldn’t bring this up, but your curiosity gets the best of you. 

“I-I was at Tina’s Halloween party.” 

Nancy winces at that, she doesn’t seem uncomfortable by your words, just… regretful of the memories that night brings her. 

You remember the night just as well as she does. Steve had bumped into you after he rushed out of the bathroom you didn’t even know he was in with Nancy, he glared at you and nudged your shoulder harshly, he rudely told you to move out of his way and murmured some incoherent curse word at you. 

You remember how deflected you felt, all night you had avoided him only to bump into him in his worst moment. 

Everyone knows what happened that night, not in full detail, but it doesn’t take a genius to find out what happened between King Steve and his girlfriend after he had stormed out of the house without her, and she left with Jonathan instead. 

Word traveled around, rumors circulated, but you didn’t listen to them, it wasn’t any of your business, and it wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened anyways. Just as Steve and Nancy’s relationship ended, she showed up to school, holding hands with Jonathan. Clearly, something happened between them long before her relationship with Steve had ended. 

Steve hated you, but your heart broke for him still. 

It was so very obvious how much he loved her, and you can imagine how much it hurt when she cheated on him, and left him and his heart in shambles. 

“I-I will never forgive myself for it. No matter if– he did forgive me. I was horrible to him, no amount of apologies can take away the guilt I will forever feel.”

“W-What happened?” You ask nervously, not wanting to overstep but still feeling the curiosity tugging harshly in your chest. 

She sighs, looking around the bustling street before her eyes move back to yours. 

“I-I always blamed him for what happened to Barb, I should’ve gone home with her that night, but I didn’t, even though I promised I would. I went with him, a-and the Demogorgon got her,” she explains, shaking her head a little as she closes her eyes, “it wasn’t Steve’s fault, not at all, but I-I blamed him and every time I looked at him, I just thought about her and what happened to her and how things would’ve gone differently if I didn’t leave her that night, if I didn’t went with Steve.” 

You dig your nails into your palms, swallowing harshly as you watch her. 

“He was good to me, he was there for me, b-but I couldn’t stand him sometimes, and how he tried to act like everything was normal, when it wasn’t.” 

The feeling of irritation sparks inside of your chest, crawling into your bloodstream. 

“And then, the Halloween party… I just, I was still grieving and I was angry, I let it all out on him, I should’ve handled things differently, I shouldn’t have been so harsh but… I-I called him bullshit,” she confesses to you, scrunching up her nose as she cringes at her own self, “and then I confessed my true feelings for him and our relationship.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, the anger that you are holding back after those leave her mouth. Bullshit. 

How could she do that to him? 

How could she hurt him the way that she did? 

How could she call him that?  

You can tell that it takes a weight off her shoulders, that it’s something she hasn’t talked about since it happened, not to Robin, not even to Jonathan, because after these words leave her mouth, she takes a deep breath, and her body relaxes as she leans back in her seat. 

Her face is edged with shame, but also with relief to finally be able to let it out. 

And you try, you really try to hide your own feelings, the anger, the hurt that you feel for the man that you hold so dearly in your heart. 

You feel thankful for the waiter who interrupts your thoughts, he places the drinks that you ordered on the table, and reaches for his notepad, taking Nancy’s food order first. 

You take a sip of your iced tea and you watch her for a moment, reminding yourself of how long ago it was, how much she changed, how much he changed, how it’s none of your business, how you shouldn’t feel angry at her, even when she’s the one who hurt him, when she’s the one he still wants, despite what she did. 

He would take her back in a heartbeat if she came back to him, and the thought breaks your heart. 

But you can’t help but keep dancing around the topic, so after the waiter takes your order and leaves, you ask her something you’ve been wondering about for weeks now. 

“Do you… regret it? Do you sometimes wish that things between you went differently?” 

She leans her elbows on the table, placing the straw between her lips, she takes a sip of her drink before she leans back again. 

“The only thing I regret is how I led him on, I wish I could go back, and lay it all out on him in a different way… Explain to him why… I didn’t feel that for him, give him a reason instead of making him think that he’s damaged.” 

She cared about him, you can see it in her eyes, you can hear it in her voice. She cared, even if only poorly. 

“I see,” you nod, trying not to sigh. “And… well– when the whole thing with Vecna…” You pause as you feel the weight on your chest crushing you with nervousness. 

She tilts her head at you, “what?” 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, you lick your lips as you look around, watching the people in the busy street across the café for a moment, before you return your gaze to her. 

“Well… It was noticeable you know… and then… you two weren’t exactly quiet in the RV,” you mumble, trying not to sound bitter as the day catches up to you, what Steve had said to Nancy, how he looked at her, how she looked at him – and the rude things he said about you before the white picket fence conversation came up. 

Her eyes widen a little, cheeks blushing a deep red as she looks down sheepishly. 

You don’t know what you had expected, but you certainly didn’t wait for her to blush, it makes your stomach clench uncomfortably. 

“I–I was just hurt because of Jonathan. Feelings are cunning, evil… I was angry, and I think my heart and mind looked for where I could find comfort.” 

Oh, how ugly the feeling in your chest now is, how bitter the taste on your tongue is, how the sweetness of your drink does nothing to make it better, because you know, you know that you wouldn’t be sitting here now if Jonathan didn’t come back, you wouldn’t wake up in Steve’s bed or fall asleep in his arms. 

Because she would be the one.

You knit your brows together as you stare at her, “but Steve–”

“I know but… I think it was just a heat of the moment kind of thing.”

You physically have to restrain yourself from clenching your jaw or rolling your eyes. So, you look away for a moment, staring into a blank space as you try to calm your breathing. 

Heat of the moment. 

You want to scoff and laugh at her words, because telling your ex-girlfriend that you want to have six kids with her is totally, a heat of the moment kind of thing, right. 

You’re very well aware of the jealousy that is boiling inside of you, worsening every passing second, and yet, you can’t help but want to fuel the fire even more, and find out what she would’ve done if she needed more comfort. 

So when you look at her back, you ask, “so… if you were still hurt and Jonathan didn’t come back…?”

You see the way she freezes, the way she hesitates, the way she takes way too long to answer your question. 

“I-I don’t think that I would’ve been with Steve again… Even if my urges and desires told me to… That’s the only thing they were… desires or… attractions. I wouldn’t want to hurt him again and give him the idea that there’d be a chance for a future,” she sighs, shaking her head, “I’m not the one. I’m not the woman for the future of his.” 

You don’t know whether to feel sad for Steve or yourself. 

She is that woman. 

She is the one, the only one that he wants in that way, so why is she denying it? 

The question lingers in your mind and you can’t help but wonder, what would happen if she stopped denying it? If her feelings were more than just desire after all? If she came back to him? 

There is no doubt about what he would do. 

You’d be nothing but a faint memory the moment she’d come back. 

You’d no longer occupy her space in his bed. 

You’d no longer be the one he’d kiss, touch, feel. 

And you, you would step aside without a moment of hesitation, because despite your feelings for him, you would want him to be happy, and you know that he would never get that with you. 

“Besides, I don’t want to be. Steve was my first boyfriend, puppy love,” she chuckles. “It’s different with Jonathan, I want him in my future, a-and I’d honestly take any future with him,” she says, as a soft smile creeps on her face, “I didn’t love Steve but, I love him,” she says truthfully and honestly. 

She isn’t someone you have to worry about. 

She isn’t someone who will take your temporary space, at least not now, not anymore. 

But you still can’t find peace within you after this conversation, you can’t push aside the thoughts of him, of how much he still wants her, of how much he still loves her, of how much he wishes to be with her again, and it upsets you, even when it shouldn’t. 

So, when you come home, you throw your bags on the stairs and make your way into the kitchen, you pick up the telephone and you call him, coming up with some weak excuse as to why you can’t see him tonight. 

You want to see him, but you wouldn’t be able to control your feelings, you wouldn’t be able to hide the pain in your eyes. If Nancy wasn’t with Jonathan, she would be with Steve, and he would choose her, then and now. 

You heard the sigh on the other end, the disappointed ‘okay… bye, Blondie.’ before you hung up the phone abruptly. 

You want him, you want to be with him, you want to feel his touch, his hands on your skin, his lips on yours, and yet, you don’t at the same time, because right now, it would just hurt too much. 

You need to calm your anxious thoughts, or you will give yourself away completely. 

-

Two days. 

It’s been two whole days since Steve had last seen you, and both his mind and his body were going crazy over the lack of you. 

When you had called him on Wednesday evening, he was already waiting for you, giddy and excited for another night with you, but when you announced that you wouldn’t come, he felt deflected, a little crushed even, but he understood, you sounded tired and like you needed your rest, so he didn’t even try to convince you to let him come see you. 

But the next day, there was no trace of you either, you didn’t call, you didn’t visit him at work, you didn’t come over, and when he tried to call you, you didn’t pick up the phone, you also weren’t home, your car wasn’t in your driveway, you were gone. And it made him feel… weird. 

Because where were you? 

You had never done anything like this before, always eager and ready for him, but never this. 

He craved you so terribly, he wanted to see you, he wanted to hear your voice, to feel your touch, to feel your body beneath his. 

He longed for you, and two days away from you, only showed him just how much of a hold you have over him. 

The past two days went by so slowly, it was almost agonizing – just like the terrible music that blasts through Vickie’s house as more and more strangers make their way into her home, filling the empty spaces. 

With his back against the wall, Steve stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, a bored expression on his face as he nods along to Eddie’s rambling about some band he had never even heard the name of, occasionally putting on his meanest face to glare at the people who give Eddie dirty looks. He can’t stand them. 

He takes a sip of his coke, looking around the crowded room in search of you. 

He knows you’re here, but he has yet to see you. 

You came with Eddie, but while the latter instantly came to find him, you apparently left to find Robin, who he hasn’t seen in a while either. 

He has been here for at least two hours now, and he is beginning to grow restless, wanting to just push himself away from the wall and go find you. 

“--And I can’t wait to see them live, man! No more headbanging in my room,” Eddie laughs as he sips on his beer. “Judas Priest is sick! You gotta come with us, I’m sure Gareth won’t mind.” 

“Mmm.” Steve nods, glancing at Eddie with a plastered smile on his face, he feels a bit bad for not listening to him, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, he continues talking.

Steve cranes his neck, looking into the kitchen, then into the hallway, and out into the backyard, trying to catch a glimpse of you, but all he sees are people he doesn’t care about. 

The music is starting to give him a headache, and the smell of liquor and weed is beginning to make him feel hazy. He's not drinking, he’s got other plans that hopefully won’t be canceled tonight but the more time passes, and there is still no trace of you, his hope is beginning to dwindle, because a part of him starts to believe that you are doing this on purpose, not showing yourself to him. 

Are you avoiding him? 

The thought makes his chest ache weirdly, a feeling that he can’t even describe floods through his veins. 

He doesn’t want you to avoid him, he doesn’t want you to stay away from him, he doesn’t want you to get bored of him. 

“I got Robin to listen to my mixtape, you’re next, I’m telling you, you’re gonna be a metalhead in no time,” Eddie chuckles, bumping his shoulder into his, he pulls Steve out of his thoughts. 

“Huh?” Steve furrows his brows at him before a forced laugh falls from his lips, “y-yeah, sure.”

Eddie snorts, knowing that he wasn’t listening to a single word he just said and still agreed. A smirk tugs at his lips, he tilts his head, “so, you’re gonna listen to it?” 

Steve nods, pursing his lips as he scratches the back of his neck. 

“Promise?” Eddie asks, almost cackling.

“Yeah, promise,” Steve shrugs. 

Eddie shakes his head, bringing his beer up to his lips, “you’re gonna regret that,” he murmurs against the glass before he takes a sip. 

Steve hates the music Eddie listens to, he’s hated every song he has shown him so far, but Eddie will take that promise in satisfaction, knowing that Steve never breaks any of his promises. 

Eddie takes a look around the room, recognizing a few people from school, some of whom have already graduated the year before. The guy by the snack table is the one who catches his attention the most, he squints his eyes as he takes a better look at him – tall, dark blond, lean, the gold ring that he always wore on his middle finger, still in place. Jacob Leeney. 

He hasn’t seen him since last year when Jacob was back from college for the weekend, the same weekend you made this guy lucky. 

He wants to make a joke to Steve about it, knowing that he hates the football captain’s guts, when from the corner of his eye, he notices how Steve stands up straighter. 

Every hope that began to dwindle, comes back in a rush when Steve sees you for the first time in two days. 

You walk into the room with a drink in your hand, a smile on your lips that grows brighter when your eyes lock with his. 

His own eyes light up at the sight of you, something in his chest swells with a feeling he grew unfamiliar to. His lips curl into a smile as he stares at your face for the longest time, before he lets his eyes roam your body, the exposed skin that isn’t covered by the pretty dress that you’re wearing, begging for his attention, begging to be marked up by his lips and to be touched by his hands.  

If only he could look into his own reflection to see just how awestruck he looks at the sight of you, how you lit up the whole room for him with your presence. If only he was focused on the beating of his heart or the fluttering in his stomach, the butterflies he thought were long gone, rising back up and filling him with life. 

Your skin is glowing beneath the dim fairy lights, your glossy lips that he craves to feel on his own, looking even more kissable than usual, and he already begins to count down the second until he can actually feel them. 

You start making your way over to him, the platform heels that you’re wearing making you look taller than you are. 

Steve licks his lips, having to fight the urge to just meet you halfway, throw you over his shoulder and get the hell out of here so he can have you all to himself. 

Your eyes are locked with his, a blush creeps up on your face and you grow flustered beneath his stare, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you raise your hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear – good, nothing changed in those two days. 

His excitement grows, the closer you get, he has nearly all forgotten about his friend next to him, about the other people in this room, but the reminder that it’s not just you and him in this room, catches up quickly, when the smile falls from your lips and your eyebrows furrow as a hand on your upper arm stops you, not enough to startle you, but enough to make you turn around in and look away from him. 

Steve’s own smile falls, and he straightens his back even more. 

He no longer sees your face, your expression or your reaction, but he sees him, Jacob Leeney. And the sight of him alone, is enough to turn the fire that you lit up inside of him, into raging flames. – And not because of the rivalry that was once between them, but because of what he had found out about you and the football captain not too long ago. 

Steve can’t hear what he’s saying to you, but the smile, the smirk on Jacob’s face makes his blood boil. The look in his eyes as he stares you down, making him clench his jaw. 

He pulls you into a hug, hand coming to rest between your shoulder blades, but not quite staying there, he moves it lower and lower until it rests dangerously low on your back as he hugs you for longer than necessary. 

“Damn,” Eddie mumbles from beside him, “Leeney’s about to get another best fuck of his life,” he chuckles, repeating the words that the jock had said to him months back. 

And it does little to calm Steve down. 

“I mean, unless they’ve seen each other this week before, I heard that he was back in town… a few days ago,” Eddie shrugs, watching him closely. 

He watches the way you take a step back, putting distance between you and Jacob after you pull away from the hug, but his hand lingers, not on your back anymore, but now on your elbow as he taps his fingers against your skin, talking to you with a look on his face that gives away his intentions. The sparkling in his eyes matches the one of his own, he wants you, he wants you badly. The interaction between you seems so… trusted, intimate. 

And then, Steve registers what Eddie had said to him, just now. 

A few days ago. 

Steve freezes. 

The cold shudder that runs through him, weakening the flames that just ignited. 

Is that why you canceled your plans with him?  

Is he the reason why you haven’t called? 

Did you stand him up for Jacob?

Were you with him? 

Did you let him kiss you? 

Did you let him touch you?

Did you forget all about him? 

He can’t decipher his own emotions at this very moment, too many are running through him, anger, frustrations… and a very ugly emotion that he won’t admit to feeling. 

He takes a deep breath, unable to hide the frown on his face as he watches you. 

Steve knew it, he knew that his own rule would come to haunt him, and he suddenly feels a deep regret for suggesting the inclusivity that allows you to see other people, he doesn’t want you to do that, he doesn’t want you to see other people, he wants to be the only one for you. 

He is watching you, so closely, so intensely, glaring at the touchy man in front of you, like he’s ready to light him up with his own eyes for putting his hands on places only he should be allowed to touch. 

Eddie slaps his shoulder, “I’ll be right back,” he announces before he scurries away from Steve who refuses to tear his eyes off of you.

He continues to watch you like a hawk, eyes not straying away from you and the man before you, and despite the intensity in his gaze, he is blind to your reactions, to the subtle, tiny steps you take to put distance between you and Jacob. All that Steve can see is the burning red that flashes in his eyes every time he touches you.

He sees the way your shoulders shake from laughter, the way you brush your hair back as you tilt your head up to look at him. 

And the more time passes as you stand across the room, spending time with someone who isn’t him, he begins to grow impatient, restless. 

You should be here, with him, by his side. 

And he wants to show you that the only one you need is him. So, without a second of hesitation, he slams his drink on the table, and he lets his feet carry him over to you, no longer wanting to stand there and watch how someone else might steal you away from him, he won’t let it happen. 

He let it happen with Nancy, he probably would’ve let it happen again if he was still with her, if this was her with Jonathan in front of him, he would’ve looked the other way, despite the aching in his chest.  

But you aren’t Nancy, and his feelings, his reactions, his action that he’s about to take, didn’t fully sink in yet. 

Once he is in earshot, Steve hears Jacob’s annoying, flirty voice. 

“You’re the prettiest girl at this party.” 

Your giggle follows, and it makes Steve’s skin crawl – if he wasn’t so driven by jealousy, and blinded by anger, he would’ve heard how fake it sounded.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” 

Jacob chuckles, opening his mouth to speak, to throw some lame pick up line at you, probably. 

But Steve doesn’t let him. Stepping up beside you, he places his hand on your back first, before he slides it down to your waist, gripping it tightly. The feeling of your body beneath his palm, your warmth and the way you melt into his touch after you turn and tilt your head to look at him, makes his stomach flutter pleasantly. 

You step closer to him, relaxing further when he squeezes you with his large hand, though your eyes are wide and your lips are parted as you stare at him. 

Right now, he can’t even find it in himself to care that your friends could see the intimacy between you and him, all he cares about is you and dragging you away so he can finally have you all to himself. 

“Can I talk to you?” He asks, calmly. 

Your wide eyes spark with curiosity as they look into his own, your glossy lips parting further for him as you come up with words, only to be cut off by Jacob.

“Oh hello, Harrington, long time no see!” The jock grins.

Steve clenches his jaw, but still turns to face him, biting back the distaste on his tongue, he nods at him, “yeah, yeah man, I’ll take her for a minute, okay?” He mumbles with squinted eyes and a fake smile on his lips as he points to you. 

Before the blond can even respond, Steve’s hand leaves your waist, and moves over to your wrist. He grabs your much smaller hand and holds it tightly, giving it a squeeze as he pulls you away and begins to walk, basically dragging you out of the room, and you don’t protest, you follow him, without a single word, slamming your drink on the counter on the way out.

You both walk into the crowded hallway, and he pulls you closer to him when you pass by a group of guys who are talking rather loudly. He pushes you towards the stairs, bringing your hand up a little as he gets behind you.

He doesn’t even bother to look out for your friends, they aren’t on his mind right now and he finds himself not caring about who could see you together. He also doesn’t care about one of his many rules that he is about to break when he pushes you into an empty bathroom. 

You switch the light on and let go of his hand when you walk in further. 

Steve turns around to close and lock the door, his fingers linger on the handle as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“What’s wrong, did something happen?” You ask. 

He opens his eyes again and turns around to face you, he raises his hand up, running it through his styled hair, he licks his lips as he lets his eyes roam your body for a second, taking a better look at the dress he hasn’t seen on you before, it must be new. 

The light that shines on you from the ceiling is golden, making your soft skin glow, making it look even more delicate, more desirable. Your chest rises up and down heavily, a worried expression etched in your beautiful features as you stare at him with furrowed brows. Your pouty lips parted. 

Can he blame Jacob for trying to go after you? Not really. 

“Nope, nothing happened,” he mumbles as he makes his way over to you. 

You shake your head a little, frowning, “then why–”

He practically lurches forward, cupping your cheeks, he leans down and presses his lips against yours, the way he wanted to, all night. 

You squeal in surprise, a noise that only fuels his lust even more, prompting him to deepen the kiss roughly. He can taste the sweetness of rum and pepsi on your lips, the strawberry from your gloss, he can taste you, he can smell the intoxicating scent of your perfume, he can feel your arms around his shoulders now as you start moving your lips against his, picking up the pace to match the speed of his own. 

He moans when your fingers get lost in his hair and your nails graze his scalp as you try to pull him closer against you. 

He licks your bottom lip, parting it with his tongue so he can slip it into your mouth. You let him. His palm slides down to your jaw, he holds it there for a moment as his other hand moves down to your hip, gripping it tightly as he presses you against the counter behind you, fingers now playing with the flimsy material of your sundress. 

A needy moan blesses his ears, the delicious sound rushing to his cock, making it stir in his pants that are now getting way too tight around his groin. 

You place your hand on the back of his neck as you place your other on his chest, pressing yourself further against him as you kiss him with whimpers and a neediness that he thought only he was feeling. 

God, he missed you.

But, did you miss him? 

Did your lips touch someone else’s when you weren’t with him, where you were supposed to be? 

The flames that are still raging inside of him, sparking a new kind of anger in him at the thought of it, it prompts him to do something that he has never done before – he bites your bottom lip, making you wince and moan at the pain. 

He pinches your chin between his fingers, pulling away from the kiss to look at you. 

With furrowed brows, you open your eyes to look at him, leaning back in to steal a kiss, but he keeps you in place, ignoring the whine that falls from your lips.

“Jacob Leeney, huh?” He mutters, instantly clenching his jaw after saying that name out loud. “Why did you talk to him, hm?” 

Steve moves his hand under your dress. 

“W-What?” You ask, shakily. “He was just talking to me about college.”

Right. That is the reason why he looked at you like he was ready to tear your dress off and devour you, right then and there. 

“Right,” he mumbles, gritting his teeth in anger. 

You stare at him with a frown on your face, tilting your head a little as you reach your hand up to wrap it around his wrist. And then, realization flashes in your eyes and your lips twitch a little. 

“You plan on fucking him tonight, Blondie?” He sneers, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. 

You raise your eyebrows, pressing your lips together, he watches the way your throat bobs as you swallow. 

The silence between you is nearly deafening, he can feel your breath on his thumb as he still holds your chin, he waits for you to answer his question.

Your eyes crinkle, and your lips curl into a smile before you suddenly burst into giggles, making his irritation feel worse than before. 

Steve’s muscles tense up and he bites the insides of his cheeks, pressing his knee in between your thighs, he holds you tighter. 

“Why are you laughing, huh?” He asks, as he leans closer to you, cupping your jaw again, he tilts your head to the side, making your giggles die down the moment he latches his lips onto your neck. 

You suck in a sharp breath. 

“Mmm, nothing,” you murmur, “w-what if I am? What if I do plan on fucking him?” 

Steve has to hold back to growl, threatening to escape as he presses another rough kiss to your neck, his fingers now digging deeper into your hip. 

“Well, I have a little priority here, don’t you think?” He murmurs against your skin. 

“Wasn’t it you… the one who said no exclusivity, Steve?” 

His breath stopped for a moment, regret gnawing up in his throat like vile. He wants to back out of that rule… but you are not his, so he waters it down. 

“New rule then, Blondie,” he mumbles, not stopping with the kisses on your neck, “we leave with each other when we are at the same place. So, meaning today it’s me.” 

You furrow your eyebrows at his words, questions already lingering in your mind. 

You would always choose Steve. 

There is no one else you would go home with. 

And you can’t help but want him to know, but you don’t get to tell him because just as you open your mouth, Steve starts kissing your neck differently, intensely, roughly. He sucks on your neck, marking you up and blessing your delicate skin with hickeys as though he wants to show everyone that you’re his, that you belong to him. 

And you do, you do belong to him, but he doesn’t know it. 

He doesn’t know that your heart is his, that your mind and body is in his possession. 

He doesn’t know how crazy you go over his touches, how your heart flutters at every slightest touch of his, how weak and vulnerable you feel when he holds you, how no one else could ever come close to make you feel the things that he can make you feel. 

“How many drinks did you have, Blondie?” 

“J-Just half of the drink I left downstairs,” you say, tilting your head to the side to give him more access to your neck. 

“Just that?” He asks, “you’re not drunk, are you?” 

You shake your head quickly, “no, not at all.” 

“Good,” he nods. 

Your eyes flutter shut when you feel his fingers on your ruined panties, he pushes them aside and slips his long fingers through your folds, dipping them inside of you before he pulls them back out to tease your clit, digits now coated with your slick. 

You jerk a little, wrapping your arm around him so you can hold onto him, a needy moan escapes your mouth. 

You could have had this on Wednesday night, you could have had this last night, but you were too busy worrying about something that filled your heart with pain. 

“S-Steve!” 

He gets lost in his feelings, lost in the rage, in the possessiveness and the urge to show you that he should be the only one for you. His teeth graze your neck, his lips suck harshly on your skin as he spreads you open with two fingers. 

You mewl when he starts pumping them inside of you, in and out, deeply and slowly at first. 

“Who are you so wet for, huh?” He asks, pulling away just enough so he can look at the marks he left, appreciating the sight in front of him for a second, before he pulls your face towards him, gripping your chin tighter than before, his thumb now lingering on your bottom lip. “Tell me, Blondie” 

You open your eyes, revealing to him just how dark they are, how much lust lingers in them. 

“You, Stevie! Just you!” You whine needily before you wrap your lips around his thumb, catching him off guard, once again. You swirl your tongue around it, looking into his hazel eyes as you start sucking, you watch the way they widen and darken, the tension in his jaw now leaving as he is only focused on this, on you. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, picking up the pace of his fingers, he drags them out of you and slams them back in, nearly moaning himself when he listens to the squelching noises as he finger-fucks you, “just me?” 

Your jaw drops and you throw your head back, letting go of him to hold onto the edges of the counter, he has got you pressed against at. You nod quickly, “yes, yes! Just you, only you!” You ramble as you squeeze your eyes shut again, enjoying the feeling of his fingers inside of you. 

“Good.” 

Steve can feel how you clench around him, how you’re already so close even though he didn’t even get started yet. He leans in to peck your lips as he curls his fingers inside of you, and he presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing it slowly. 

He feels himself growing harder – the feeling of your tight, wet walls around his fingers being too much, along with the needy moans that keep falling from your pretty lips. 

He stares at you, watching the way your nipples poke through the thin material of your dress – of course, you’re not wearing a bra. You bite your lip, your brows are knit together, and your head falls to the side as you let yourself get lost in the feeling he provides you with. 

Not Jacob, definitely not Jacob. 

The jock could never make you feel this, he is so sure of it, and yet, Steve can’t shake the thoughts of you and him together. 

Would you be this wet for him too? 

Would you moan so prettily for him? 

Would you be so needy for him? 

The anger just won’t leave him, it refuses to, it has him in its tightest grip, urging him to prove something to you. 

His chest heaves up and down heavily, his darkened eyes are nearly black now. 

You’re close, he can feel that you are with the way you’re clenching around him, but he doesn’t let you cum like this tonight, so he pulls his fingers out of you. 

Your eyes shoot open and your lips part as you’re about to protest, pouting at him. He grabs your hips with both of his hands, turning you around abruptly, he bends you over the counter and presses himself against you, and he chuckles darkly when you gasp at his action. 

Steve reaches for the hem of your dress and he flips it over, exposing your ass to him and the lacy thong you’re wearing, he groans at the sight of it, unable to hold back, he rears his hand back before he smacks his large palm against your skin, slapping your ass harshly. 

Steve has never, never treated a girl roughly before, not any of his hookups, not Nancy, but then again, he never had this much fun with any of them. Letting go of his inhibitions, taking what he wants for once, and the fact that you let him, and even love it, makes him go feral.

But as the realization sinks in of what he had done, his eyes widen as fear rushes through him, worried that he had gone too far, but you ease his mind with the filthy whimper that sounds through the room as you press your ass against his dick, rubbing it against him as though you’re asking for more. 

He can’t help but chuckle, the shock and the fear vanishing just as quick as it came. 

“Oh, you like that, Blondie?” He asks as he presses his palm against your ass, this time not slapping it, but grabbing it roughly, making you whine again. “Of course you fucking do,” he murmurs as he lets go, only to smack you once more, making you gasp his name in pleasure. 

“Please!” 

He looks at your reflection in the mirror, needy eyes meeting his. 

“Please what?” He asks as he unbuckles his belt and pops the button of his jeans, he reaches for the condom in his back pocket – mentally thanking his needy self for placing one there before he left his house, in hopes that he would get this. 

“Please, fuck me!” 

He pushes his jeans and boxers down, just enough to free himself, not wasting any more time, he rips apart the foil and throws the empty packet on the ground, making quick work of rolling the condom over his length. With his chin against his chest, he looks down, stroking his dick for good measure, his spit curl falls in front of his eyes, but he doesn’t bother to push it out of the way, he looks up through hooded eyes, glancing at you through the mirror, he almost wants to chuckle at the desperation in your eyes, but it gets stuck in his throat when you push your ass back against his dick, whining. 

His stomach flutters seeing you so desperate for no one but him. 

He grabs your hip with his left hand, pressing himself against you, he teases both you and himself by slipping his shaft through your wet folds, he watches the way you look at him, begging for more with your eyes as you push yourself up a little. 

He presses his palm against your lower back, pushing you down so your chest is flush against the marble counter, he lines up with your entrance and pushes inside of you slowly. Waves of pleasure rush through him in an instant. You scrunch your face up, lips parting as a sigh escapes you.  

You throw your hand back, reaching for his forearm, you grab it tightly as you shut your eyes and drop your head a little, your hair falls in front of your face, hiding all your pretty features.

Steve looks down, watching his cock disappear into your weeping pussy. 

“You take me so well, holy shit,” he murmurs under his breath. And it was the truth, you take him like no other, making you the most addictive.

He sinks into you, deeper and deeper, stretching you out and splitting you open, the tension inside of him grows and his heartbeat increases. He pulls out again, watching the way the condom around him glistens with your slick – how he wishes that he could feel you without it. He slams back in, making you gasp and arch your back in pleasure. He starts thrusting, in and out, deeply and slowly at first, but with an intensity that makes you open your eyes again.

“Steve!” 

“That’s right,” He grunts, reaching his hand forward, he grabs your hair and tilts your head back up, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror as he moves his hips faster, quickening his pace until he’s pounding you. “Look at who’s fucking you right now, Blondie.” 

The loudest moan falls from your lips, and you instantly bring your hand up to cup your mouth, panic flashing in your lust filled eyes. Despite the loud music, you are scared that someone might hear you, and it only prompts him to fuck you harder and rougher against the counter, holding you tighter as heat spreads in his chest – who do you want to hide from? Your friends, or Jacob? 

But while Steve worries about something that isn’t even on your mind, you are so far gone, so lost in the pleasure that you feel because of him, your insides so sensitive already, yet aching for more. You focus on the way he thrusts in and out of you, how heavenly it feels to feel him inside of you, to feel him in your stomach. 

You are so drunk on him that there is not a single thought in your brain, only him. 

No one has ever done this to you, no one has ever made you feel so weak, so submissive, so lost in the heat of the moment, no one has ever taken such control – you wouldn’t have let them, only he can have this. 

Your eyes turn glassy, rolling back as you throw your head back, your weak hand falling from your face again. 

“Yeah, as if that asshole could fuck you like this,” he grunts, letting go of your hair and moving his hand forward to cup your cheeks, “say it. Say no one can fuck you like this, Blondie, because I know it’s true.”

Your walls clench and flutter around him, a cry leaving you as he pulls your ass up a little, slamming in and out of you, hitting the spot that makes tears fall from your eyes, making him even more aroused than before. 

“Only you, Steve!” You sob as a tear spills down your cheek and onto his thumb. 

Your knees buckle and your body begins to tremble, sobs and moans turn into needy whines and whimpers, your flustered face decorated with pretty tears making his muscles tense in his stomach. 

You try to keep quiet as you press your lips together, trying to breathe calmly through your nose despite the pounding in your chest, when he suddenly changes the pace again, pounding you so hard that he knocks you forward, hitting so deep inside of your squelching pussy, that you can’t help but cry out loudly as stars blur your vision. 

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie!” 

Steve nearly busts, eyes widening at the way you chant his name so desperately. His hips stutter a little and he has to suck in a sharp breath, eyes shutting for a moment. He twitches inside of you, and it doesn’t help that you keep clenching. 

The sound of the music, of laughter and voices outside are so far away, the only thing you both hear are your moans and how wet you are as his skin slaps against yours. 

He slows down a little, enough to make you whine again, to make you move back against him, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. 

“F-Fuck,” Steve moans, he opens his eyes again, reaching forward, he grabs your shoulder and pulls you up and against his chest before he lets his hand travel down your stomach, he pushes your dress out of the way, and his fingers find their way to your clit. 

A high pitched moan echoes through the room, your body shakes harder and you grab his forearm tightly as he rubs circles on your sensitive nub. 

He presses his lips to your neck, moaning himself as the tension in his stomach grows bigger and bigger. He kisses your delicate skin, his mouth brushing the dark marks he left. 

You cling to him, nails grazing his skin, you press the side of your face against his, staining his cheek with your tears.

“I know, baby, I know.” 

If only he knew just how such a simple yet special word affects your heart, making it beat faster and harder in your chest, setting all your insides on fire and igniting something in you that throws you into a pit of love and glee. 

Steve had never called you this before, and you could only dream of such sweet nicknames, until now. 

Your eyes roll back again, eyelashes fluttering as you squeeze them shut completely, mouth ajar as filthy noises fall. You’d fall over if it wasn’t for his strong arms holding you up, his fingers moving so fastly on your clit, his dick so deep inside of you, his lips biting gently on your skin, all it takes is another rough thrust and your body begins to shake for a different reason, you fall apart for him, once again. 

You don’t even feel yourself drooling, you no longer feel the tears spilling down your cheeks. 

“Good girl,” he whispers into your ear, kissing the spot behind it before he grabs your chin and tilts your head to the side so he can press his lips against yours, pulling you into a soft kiss as he keeps fucking you, chasing his own high. 

Steve furrows his brows, his muffled moan vibrating against your lips as he gives one last powerful thrust and spills into the condom, secretly wishing that he could spill inside of you and paint your walls white instead. 

His body relaxes after the high it had been on for the past minutes, muscles loosening, but lips still moving gently against yours. 

Both yours and his moans die down after a moment, but you’re still panting, trying to catch your breaths as you pull away from one another. You open your eyes, and look into his, the blackness slowly fading away and you see the pretty hazel color again. His tongue licks his bottom lip, eyes flickering between your own and the marks he left on your neck. 

A lazy smile appears on your face and you feign confidence as you tilt your head to the side and reach your hand up to move the spit curl away from his forehead, the tips of your fingers brushing his skin, he holds you tighter in response. 

“I didn’t think you could get so jealous, Steve,” you whisper, ‘jokingly’ but most of all, painfully to yourself.

You’d hope that he was jealous, that all of this was the result of the burning red emotion, but why would he feel jealous over you? 

Just the presence of Jacob was enough to bruise Steve’s ego. That’s all that it was.

You know he never liked the jock, and the fact that he got his hands on you first, must’ve hit a nerve. But it has nothing to do with you. Steve is not jealous of who you sleep with, he doesn’t care. He is just bruised cause he felt threatened with an ex hook-up you had, afraid of them stealing you for tonight.

Steve huffs at your words, shaking his head at you. He pulls out of you with a hiss, cursing under his breath. 

“Well, did you think I’d let him steal you away from me…?” He asks, clearing his throat as he adds, “tonight?” 

And then he looks down, not wanting to show his face, to show how jealous he really is. 

He doesn’t need you to know that. 

He slips his hand between your thighs again, adjusting your panties and putting them back in place before he fixes your dress, pushing it back down over your ass. 

Your eyes soften at his action, heart fluttering in your chest. 

It’s not the first time he does this, he always takes care of you – he cleans you up, he helps you put a shirt on your body whenever you stay over, whenever you’re too weak to move. He is good to you, gentle and soft, and that is dangerous, because despite the thoughts in your head, the logical part that tells you the truth, his actions keep putting false hope into your heart. 

You grab the counter, and on shaky feet, you step closer and hold onto it tightly, watching as he fixes himself next, throwing the condom and the discarded foil into the trash, he tucks himself back into his pants and steps towards the counter beside you to wash his hands. 

His lips are stained with your lipstick, his hair is messy and his cheeks are flushed – he looks so cute like this. 

You tear your eyes away from him and finally look at your own reflection, your eyes widen and you gasp in shock – not at the mascara that runs down your face, the messy hair or just how puffy your lips are, no, this is not exactly an unusual sight to see, but the marks on your neck are, because they are so much bigger and darker than they usually are. 

You throw your hand up towards your neck and turn to face him, “what the fuck, Steve?” 

He winces, quickly drying his hands before he turns to face you, as well. Eying your hand that is covering the hickeys he left, your big eyes filled with panic. He can’t help but think you look cute like this, with your hair all messy and your lips curled into a pout. 

“H-How am I gonna hide–”

He grabs your face and pulls you into a soft kiss, just a quick peck, one that is enough to cut you off. 

“You think I’m done with you and we’re gonna go back to the party?” He chuckles, caressing your cheek as he pulls away from your puckered lips, “no, we’re leaving, Blondie.” 

You gulp at his words and squeeze your aching thighs together as excitement rises back up in you. 

“So, fix yourself and meet me downstairs,” he murmurs, placing another soft kiss to your lips before he pulls away. “I’ll wait by the front door.” 

He takes another look at your neck, hiding his satisfied smirk by turning around. He unlocks the door and opens it, leaving you alone in the bathroom as he makes his way downstairs to find Eddie or Robin, to announce that he will be driving home a very sick Blondie. 

While a smirk keeps playing on his lips, you are panicking in the bathroom, not knowing how to hide the marks he left, what lie to come up with this time if Eddie sees and asks questions again. 

You do your best to fix your hair, running your fingers through it and wiping away the mascara streaks on your cheeks, and the smudged lipstick, that you only now realize, is still on his lips, he didn’t even bother to wipe it away – what an idiot. 

You step back and take a look at your dress, smoothing it down and moving your hands back to your hair. The marks on your neck are so strong, so very visible, you’re not even sure if foundation and concealer will be able to hide this. A groan falls from your lips. 

You should do the same to him, he surely won’t fix it with makeup. 

You press your palm against your neck, testing out how it will look if you just go out like this. 

“This looks so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes. 

You pray that you won’t run into any of your friends on the way out, all you have to do is make it downstairs and to the front door. You haven’t seen much of Eddie before, and Robin is too busy with Vickie anyways. 

You take a deep breath and then you step out of the bathroom and into the hallway. It’s not as crowded as it is downstairs, but there are still a few people you have to pass, as you awkwardly keep your hand on your neck, pretending to scratch it. 

You feel eyes on you, but you don’t bother to turn around to look at them, not even caring if they heard you and Steve – as long as your friends didn’t hear, you’re good. 

Your legs are shaky, and walking in your platform heels feels like a workout after Steve just railed you into oblivion, your stomach still flutters, yet feeling empty at the lack of him. 

You walk down the stairs, carefully. You hope that your knees won’t buckle. 

The party is still in full swing, some Billy Idol song blaring through the speakers as the living room is still filled with dancing people. Red solo cups are everywhere, empty bottles and cans litter the counters and tables – poor Vickie will regret throwing a party when she wakes up tomorrow morning. 

Your eyes fall on him, the smug look on his face making you huff in annoyance. Steve enjoys seeing you struggle after what he just did to you, he licks his lips as his eyes run up and down your body, they flash with amusement when they fall on your hand, you see the way his shoulders shake, he is chuckling at you as he plays with the car keys in his hand. Smug bastard. 

You roll your eyes at him, and turn away, looking around to see if any of your friends are around, but the only people you see are strangers and a few known faces from school, you sigh in relief, knowing that you won’t have to lie into Eddie’s or Robin’s face. You return your gaze to Steve whose face is suddenly no longer as smug as it was a few seconds ago, his eyes aren’t even on you anymore, but rather on someone behind you as he looks over your shoulder. 

Someone calls your name, someone who is the reason for the rage on Steve’s face that you had already seen before. 

You turn around when your name is being called again, to find Jacob walking towards you. Oh. 

You grow flustered knowing that the fucked out look on your face is so very obvious. You can’t even hide it. 

He catches up to you, and he reaches his hand out to place it on your upper arm, “hi, there you are,” he smiles, towering over you. He is tall, much taller than you, even taller than Steve. 

You greet him back, forcing a smile. 

He furrows his brows as his eyes scan your face, his smile falling a little, a frown appearing instead, “are you okay?” He asks, worriedly. “Do you feel sick?” 

You shake your head and open your mouth to speak when the words get stuck in your throat after his hand leaves your arm and comes to rest on your face instead, surprising you and angering Steve. 

“Do you need me to take you home?” He asks, caressing your cheek. 

You would have moved, but you are frozen in place as you stare at him, completely caught off guard by his action and the look in his eyes. 

“I-I…”

A different hand appears on your lower back, one that your body instantly recognizes, because your skin heats up and your chest blooms with warmth – it’s scary how well your body knows him. 

Steve pulls you into his side, wrapping his arm around you, “I got her, she’s in good hands, Leeney.” 

Sometimes you wish that he knew how you felt about him, how your heart nearly explodes every time he says something only a boyfriend should say – maybe then, he would take pity on you and your heart. 

You melt into his touch, the smell of his cologne is so intoxicating. 

Jacob retracts his hand, he looks between you and Steve, his shoulders slumping a little as he steps back, he looks down at you, nodding, “alright.” 

“Come on,” Steve murmurs, squeezing your waist as he begins to pull you away, wanting you away from the jock and towards the front door. 

“Bye Jacob–”

“Wait,” he rushes forward, and reaches for your hand, placing a folded note into your palm. “Here, I’m not making the same mistake again.” He gives your hand a squeeze and smiles at you, not waiting for your response, he steps away and takes another glance at Steve, before he turns around and leaves. 

You stare at the note in your hand, you don’t have to open it to know what’s written on the paper. 

You fail to notice the absolute rage in Steve’s eyes, how much more intense it is than before, how tense the muscles in his jaw are, how it takes everything in him not to slam you against the wall and kiss you in front of Jacob and everyone else. 

He pulls you out of the house without a single word, he grabs your hand instead as he leads you outside, he shuts the door and the sound of music and the many voices begin to fade away as you both make your way to his car, which he parked on the side of the road. 

Your heels click against the cobblestone, your hands hold tightly onto his, you’re quiet, and so is he, but a storm is raging in his mind, and everything he felt before, now feels so much worse. 

Can he keep you when there’s other people who want you just as much as he does? – And even, in different, much more intimate ways? 

He saw the way Jacob looked at you, he wasn’t only interested in another quick fuck, he wanted more, and it irritates Steve, it makes his stomach churn uncomfortably, it makes his heart clench in his chest – it shouldn’t, there is nothing more between you than this, and yet, he is scared to lose it, the little secret that you both have, he isn’t ready to let it go, he isn’t ready to let you go and watch you fall into someone else arms. 

He wants to keep you, and he will do everything to make it stay that way. 

He knows that there is only one way to show you that he is the only you will ever need. At least, for now.

He opens the passenger door and lets go of your hand so you can get inside, eying the note that is still in your other hand. He closes the door once you’re seated, and he makes his way around his BMW, when he gets inside as well, he notices the now unfolded note in your lap and the number that’s written on it. 

He grits his teeth but bites back his bitter words. 

You won’t call him, he will make sure of that. 

It’s not easy to focus on the drive when his mind is in such a whirlwind and his eyes keep glancing back at the note in your lap, that you folded back together again. 

You aren’t looking at it any longer, your eyes are focused on the road and the passing trees. 

“What do you plan to do with that number, Blondie?” He asks, unable to hold back and hide the jealousy this time. 

You narrow your eyes at him, taking a look at his hands, you see how hard he is gripping the steering wheel when you take in the sight of his knuckles. The veins in his hands nearly popped. You gulp as your eyes move along his arm, muscles that are hidden beneath the black sleeve of his shirt peeking out just a little, his cheeks are red, his jaw clenched. 

He is angry, but a part of you can see through your insecurities. 

It’s not only his ego that was bruised, it’s not only the anger that shines through, there is more, so much more. 

The jealousy that only you ever felt is lingering in his eyes. 

He is jealous. 

Steve is jealous over you. 

And there is really no reason for him to feel that way, but you can’t stop the rush of excitement and happiness that floods through your body. 

If he felt that way before he dragged you into the bathroom, over an innocent conversation, what will he do now that Jacob has made an entirely new move?

Will you get another taste of what he gave you before?

Will he call you baby again?

You’re stepping into a dangerous territory, you know it, but the thrill over it makes heat pool in your stomach. 

“I don’t know, Lego Head,” you shrug, trying to keep a straight face as you look at him, “maybe I’ll keep it… You know, for when you don’t answer your phone.” You lie as you pick the note back up. 

Steve huffs, shaking his head in disbelief. 

He rolls down the window, giving you no time to react, he snatches the note from your hand and wastes no second to throw it out onto the road, letting it get lost in the darkness. 

“Hey!” You gasp as your eyes widen. 

“Whoops, my hand slipped,” he flashes you an innocent smile as he closes the window again. 

“What if I want to call him!?”

Your question makes him grip the wheel even tighter, knuckles turning white. 

“You don’t need him,” he mumbles. 

You sit up straighter, raising your brows at him, “oh really? I don’t? Why’s that?” 

Steve can’t take it any longer, the feelings inside of him boiling over, controlling all his actions now. 

He pulls the car off the main road, and drives into the isolated wooded area that leads to a stream, a hidden part of Lovers Lake that he only ever came to when he needed to clear his head. 

He slams his foot on the brakes and turns off the car, turning off the lights and unbuckling the seatbelt, he turns to you in anger, “because you literally just said no one can fuck you like I can!” 

Your heart begins to race, goosebumps rise on your skin, and you press your palms against the leather seat beneath you. The giddiness inside of you is now so difficult to keep hidden. 

“Ah, so that should make you exclusive,” you smirk, tilting your head to the side, “okay, well, maybe he got better–”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence, you don’t get to taunt him anymore as he turns his back to you and gets out of the car, slamming the door shut and rounding the car to get to you, he rips open the door on your side. 

“You don’t learn, do you?” 

“W-What?” 

“Get out.” He demands, not nicely. 

You frown at him, watching his stance and how angry he looks at you. “What the fuck–”

“Get out,” he repeats, in a much calmer yet angrier voice. 

You shiver at his command, and you take a deep breath as you unfasten your seatbelt, your heels hit the grass as you get out of the car. Steve places his hand on your back and pushes you out of the way so he can close the door before he opens the one to the backseat. He glares into your eyes, “get in.” 

Your frown transforms into a look of complete confusion as you look between his hand and the seat that he points at. 

“You’re making me change seats?”

He steps closer to you, “get the fuck inside, right now.” 

The demanding, aggressive tone in his voice doesn’t make you question him again, you swallow harshly and turn around, you place your hands on the leather seats as you crawl inside, moaning in surprise when he smacks your ass again.

He chuckles darkly behind you, “you really like that huh?” 

You glare at him over your shoulder, earning another slap to your other cheek, making you jerk and whine. 

He chuckles again and follows you inside, closing the door behind him, “noted.” 

The leather beneath you is cold, and you grip it tightly, sucking in a sharp breath, and just as you go to turn around and sit down, Steve’s strong hands grab at your hips, flipping you over and manhandling you underneath his body as he forces you to lie down on your back. He pushes your thighs apart, settling in between them, he presses his palms flat against the seat on both sides of your head. 

A shiver runs down your spine, not from fear, but from excitement, because he probably didn’t want you to realize he was jealous, but he is showing you. He is clearly showing you and you can’t help but feel absolutely happy, accomplished. 

You know that you’re in for something when you look into his eyes – you can’t even find the right words to describe the emotions that are lingering in them, but they make your inside flutter so wildly, you feel the need to clench your thighs together as he looms over you, but you can’t, he doesn’t let you. 

His nose brushes against yours, his hair falls in front of his eyes as he inches closer to you, his breath kissing your skin. 

“Has anyone ever put you in your place, Blondie?” He asks as he drums his finger along your shoulder, hooking it around the strap of your dress. 

“W-What?” You stutter, hating how weak and shaky your voice sounds. 

“I’m taking that as a no.” 

Steve drags the strap down, and he leans down to press his lips against your shoulder, “I wanted to be nice, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, “wanted to take care of you, but fuck, you leave me no choice.” 

You squirm beneath him, digging your nails into the flesh of your legs as you furrow your brows at his words. 

His lips ghost over your collarbone, his hand now pushing your dress down a little, he exposes your chest to him, and he traces the outline of your breast before his fingers pinch your nipple, making you whine again. 

“Time for you to understand–” He murmurs as he plants a kiss to your jaw, “-- that I’m the only one you need.” 

His movements are soft, his touches are gentle but to your surprise, they don’t stay that way, after a few more kisses, he flips the bottom part of your dress over, bunching it around your waist, he hooks his finger around your panties and tears them off of you, throwing them over his back, not caring where they land. His fingers trace your legs, hands finding their way to your heels, he unfastens the straps around your ankles, and takes them off before he returns his attention to where you need him the most. 

He teases you with his fingers, torturing your clit and chuckling darkly at the whines that start filling the space around you. 

Steve had been intense and rough before, but one look into his face shows you that you will get more tonight, so much more. 

He splits you open with his fingers again, sinking them into your soaked hole, he fucks you with them, he taunts you with his words and sucks more marks onto your skin, littering the other side of your neck and your chest with hickeys. He makes you see stars with the way he curls his digits inside of you and rubs your clit. 

To your surprise and confusion, he doesn’t let you cum, he pulls his fingers out and stops touching you when you’re about to fall apart, just like he did before in the bathroom. Nothing like this ever happened before. 

You don’t think anything of it at first, not when he seems desperate to fill you up in a different way. He fumbles with his pants and pushes them down, along with his boxers. He rolls a condom over his length again, one of many he has in the glove compartment because sometimes you two don’t even reach a bed when seeing each other, rushing to do it just as he did earlier, your mouth waters at the sight of his leaking, red tip. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs, grabbing your waist and pulling your weakened body on top of him, you instantly reach for his shoulders, grabbing them tightly as he gives you no time to react before he makes you sink down on his cock – you don’t mind. You are so needy, so wet for him that your juices soak your inner thighs. 

But you need to feel his skin on yours, so you reach for the hem of his shirt, and pull it over his head, he leans forward as you rip it off of him. You throw it on the seat and wrap your arms around his naked shoulders, pressing yourself against his hairy chest.

You are the first to start moving, rolling your hips and riding him slowly, but he isn’t satisfied with that, he wants something else, he wants more. 

Steve makes you bounce on his dick, he holds your hips harshly and uses you as though you’re a fleshlight, filling you to the brim and slamming you up and down on his dick, fucking you rather disrespectfully. 

He makes you fall forward, as your eyes shut at the roughness and the intensity. He is buried so deep inside of you, you’re not sure if you have ever felt this before. Tears blur your vision again that night, moans turn into whimpers and whimpers into cries, the pleasure so strong, so overwhelming. 

You throw your hand against the fogged up window, slamming your palm against it, leaving a handprint there for him. 

No words escape you, not even his name, the only thing you can do is fall limply against his body and hide your face in the crook of his neck as drool starts coming out of your mouth but the moment it touches his skin, Steve grabs the back of your neck and pulls you back to him again, so he can see your face. 

“Does he even get to see you like this?” He grunts, fucking up into you and watching the way you squeeze your crying eyes shut. “Drooling? Crying? I bet I’m the only one you’ve ever been this cock drunk for… aren’t I?” 

You nod your head wildly, panting and gasping as pain and pleasure mix together. He thinks it’s just physical, but there is so much more to it. You knew you would turn into this for him and just him, you’ve always known.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Steve lets go of your neck, making you fall back against him, he decides to tease you more by smacking your ass, causing you to jolt and whimper, filling him with satisfaction. 

He makes your pleasure the more unbearable, causing you to clench around him. 

And just like before, just as you’re so close to reaching your peak, he stops your movements all together, filling you with anger now, making you snap out of the haze he put you into. He stills and grabs you tightly, so you won’t move, he lifts you up and off his cock, biting back a groan. 

“W-What the fuck, Steve?” You cry out, “I-I was so close!” 

His eyes are nearly unrecognizable when he squeezes your cheeks together with one hand, forcing you to look at him. The angry sight in front of you, only makes you clench around him even harder. 

“You’re not cumming until I say so, Blondie.” It was stern, but Steve had a point to make, he needs to make it happen. 

You aren’t even aware of what is going on inside of his troubled mind, you could never even guess, not even when he flips you over and throws you down under him, placing your left leg over his shoulder. 

The position is quite cramping, but you forget about any kind of pain, when he sinks back inside of you and starts pounding into you with a force that makes the stars shine brighter and your heart race faster. 

Steve is not even focused on his pleasure, despite how good you feel around him, all that he can think about is your pleasure. He gives his all, he gives everything to kill any memory of what any of your other hookups did to you, of the pleasure they made you feel, of the pleasure he once made you feel. 

He snaps his hips into yours, fucking you so deeply and roughly, making his dick ache in pleasure. 

He surely never fucked anyone this way before. He never felt this angry before.

He watches you closely, the way your pussy flutters around his dick, the way you grip the leather beneath you, nearly ripping through it with your nails as tears of pleasure stream down your face and you tilt your head to the side with furrowed brows, your tits bouncing as he slams you back and forth on the seats. 

Your moans are so loud that anyone who were to pass by, would freak out and almost faint or call the cops. 

He is not even touching your clit, not even grazing it with his fingers, not giving it any pleasure again… yet. But he feels your fluttering walls, how tight you are getting around him, how high pitched your moans are getting – you are close, so close. 

And so is he, he keeps thrusting in and out of you, not tearing his eyes off of your beautiful face as he chases his own high, roughly and deeply. Your name falls from his lips, and his hips stutter as he finishes into the condom, groaning as your walls grip him tightly. 

Steve pulls out of you reluctantly, stopping your pleasure once again. 

He pulls your leg off his shoulder gently and places it back on the seat, giving it a squeeze.

His chest heaves up and down, he breathes heavily as he stares at you, biting back the chuckle when your eyes shoot open and a bewildered look crosses your face, the tears in your eyes still shining brightly as you raise yourself up on your elbows, frowning angrily at him. 

“You– I’m going to fucking kill you, Steve, it’s not fair!” Your bottom lip trembles, you are clearly very frustrated with him. 

He looks down to hide the amusement on his face, taking the condom off, he ties it up and throws it on the ground, making a mental note to throw it away later on. 

Steve tugs himself back into his boxers and pulls his pants up, not bothering with his belt just yet. 

He shakes his head at you when you squeeze your thighs together, hiding yourself from him. He hooks his hands around your knees, pulling you closer against him before he tears them apart again, exposing your glistening swollen pussy to him. 

He licks his lips as he hooks your leg around his hip, holding it there as brings his other hand back to your center, he bites down on his lip, looking at you with mischief in his eyes as he delivers a slap to your clit. 

“Wha– Steve!” You gasp in surprise and if he weren’t so determined, so centered on you, he would have been surprised by his action too. 

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, using his pointer finger to tease your slit, he spreads your folds apart, and slips his middle finger and ring finger into your sopping pussy, he focuses on your face. 

Your angry features slowly relax again, mouth parting as he starts to move his fingers again, this time he does aim for your orgasm… and more. 

He moves slowly at first, rocking his fingers in and out of you, moaning himself at the noises he draws from your pussy. 

Despite the pleasure that you’re falling back into again, you grow flustered at the noises and raise your hands up to your face, covering it and hiding yourself from him, but your action only earns you another slap to your clit. 

“Uh uh,” Steve shakes his head at you, letting go of your leg, he reaches forward and grabs both of your wrists with one hand, dragging your hands away from your face, “don’t hide from me.”

“But–”

He curls his fingers into your g-spot, tearing a gasp from you. 

“No buts,” he grumbles, as he moves steadily, fingering your pussy roughly now. He angles his hand differently, the end of his palm now brushing against your aching clit every time he thrusts his fingers deeply into you. 

He shuts you up quickly, making every word, every sentence get caught in your throat. 

His left hand fondles your boobs, your waist, your stomach, your hip – he touches you everywhere, leaving every inch of your skin burning with desire. His fingertips dig deeply into your leg as he keeps you spread open, his thigh keeping your other leg from closing, as he abuses your cunt with his fingers that are much longer than your own. 

Your back arches in pleasure, your sensitive core crying for more. 

The feeling inside of you is different, new, but you aren’t surprised by it, he edged you three or four times tonight, tears of frustration fell from your eyes, those tears that are now caused by pleasure and sensitivity. 

Your whimpers are so erotic to him, just like the wetness he can hear as he is knuckles deep inside of you, stretching you open. He can see the goosebumps on your skin and the way your stomach tenses up, the way your breathing stutters. 

You are in bliss, he can see it on your face, there is not a single thought in that pretty head of yours. 

He leans down, pressing into you as he inches closer to your face, pecking your lips, “no one else can make you feel like this… no one.” He whispers against your lips, placing another kiss upon them before he moves to your marked up neck, ghosting over it and inching down to your chest, trailing kisses along the way to your boobs. He wraps his lips around your nipple, looking up at you, he begins to suck, adding more pleasure to your body. 

You belong to him. 

“Steve!” You whimper, throwing your hands into his hair, you let your fingers get lost in it. 

He moans against you, quickening the pace of his fingers, curling them even harder inside of you, making you shudder at the feeling, jolting even when he presses his thumb against your swollen clit. 

You tremble beneath him, the wave of pleasure being so strong that a sob falls from your lips, your fingers curling into his hair roughly, “fuck… baby,” you whine. 

A surprised whimper falls from his own lips, the nickname stopping every thought in his mind, for a second. 

Baby, Baby, Baby… 

No one has ever called him that, no one. The fact that you are the first, somehow makes it better, and he doesn’t even know why. 

The coil inside of you grows bigger and bigger, an unfamiliar feeling bubbles in your lower stomach, making drool form on your tongue and stars blur your vision. Your nerves feel as though they are on fire, your skin prickling as he fucks you roughly. 

“I-I’m so close,” you whimper and scrunch your face up as you move your hips a little, meeting his thrusts. 

He is so lost in you and your moans, he doesn’t even realize that he is biting, tugging on your nipple with his teeth until a new, higher moan escapes you. 

“O-Oh my god,” you whisper shakily as your eyes roll back, “S-Steve! That feels so good!” 

“Yeah?” He murmurs against you, lips returning to your neck, he pecks it a few times as he looks down, watching the way your thighs tremble, the way the muscles in your stomach tense so tightly and your chest rises up and down so much heavier than before, “your thighs are shaking so much… holy shit.” 

The pressure inside of you becomes so overwhelming, it feels a lot, it feels too much. 

“S-Steve,” you tremble, “t-that feels weird.” 

Your voice sounds so small, unsure, yet the moans won’t stop escaping you. 

“No, baby, you’re doing so good,” he whispers as he lets go of your leg, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, he wipes your tears and brushes your hair out of your face, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip, “just trust me… let go for me.” 

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, not even when he starts peppering your face with kisses. 

The pleasure is too much, the pressure makes you panic slightly, but he doesn’t stop, if anything, he fucks you harder and faster with his fingers, keeping them curled inside of you, his palm keeps brushing your overstimulated clit. He is hoping to get what he has been seeking. You haven’t trembled this much before, and he is confident, he is so confident that you won’t forget this, that you won’t forget how he made you feel, that you won’t forget him. 

“C’mon,” he murmurs against your lips, “I know you want to.”

Your bottom lip shakes, the pressure threatening to explode inside of you, every inch of your body now burning and quivering. 

You let go of his hair and throw your hand down to wrap your fingers around his wrist, your eyes open, and you look at him through your blurry vision. 

Your moans and the squelching that gets louder and louder, sounds that are like music to his ears, making his stomach flutter and his dick twitch again – to his own surprise. 

“I-I can’t– too much, Steve!” You whine, nearing an edge you have never touched before, “I’m gonna–”

You never get to finish your sentence, because as Steve plunges his fingers in even deeper, and curls them harder. You can only throw your head back, a mix between a squeal and a whimper falling. 

Steve nearly stops all of his movements when you clench around his fingers like a vice. 

Your hips jerk upwards as liquids shoot out of you, and he gets to where he wanted. 

“H-Holy shit–”

Steve’s eyes widen, a chuckle of amusement and excitement leaving his lips, he stares at you in awe. Surprised at the tent in his pants, he is rock hard again. 

He keeps pounding his fingers in and out of you, not stopping his movements just yet. With a smirk, he leans down to kiss your cheek, cooing at you, “you’re such a good girl for me.” He says possessively. 

Your walls unclench around him, and he thinks it’s all, when you suddenly clench again, tighter than before, another shockwave rushes through your body, and you squirt even more, the leather beneath you becoming even wetter than before. 

Steve’s hand is drenched, up to his elbow, and so is the front of his jeans, his stomach and the window behind him. The evidence of how good he made you feel is all over his seats, filling him with pride. 

A satisfied smirk plays on his lips, he feels like he’s on top of the world, he feels like a fucking king again, knowing that he brought such pleasure to your body. 

He never even thought that this was possible, that this move in porn movies is nothing but a myth, but he had to try, he had to try it with you. It would have shamed him before to admit he had been watching more porn than usual just to do the things he sees with you, but now? He feels like he is the most intelligent person in the world.

Your body falls limp, whines and whimpers still filling the space around you, tears roll down your cheek as you’re trying to catch your breath. 

Steve pats your cheek, caressing it gently as he stares at you fondly, “hey, are you okay?” He whispers, unable to stop himself from pecking your lips. 

You nod weakly, still needing a moment to come down from the high. 

He keeps kissing you, playing with your hair as he caresses your skin, pulling his fingers out of you after a while, making you whine again. 

You open your eyes, struggling to keep them open after the intense orgasm you just had. You look into his eyes, they’re filled with victory. A proud smile playing on his lips. 

You raise your eyebrows when you notice the drops on the window, the wet seats, his soaked hands and the wetness beneath you. 

Heat rushes up to your cheeks, embarrassment rushes through you and you can’t help but gasp as you look around the mess that you made. Tears blur your vision, “o-oh my god!” You say weakly, shakily as you start crying, catching him off guard, “I-I’m so sorry, Steve!” 

You press your palms against the wet seats and push to sit up. 

Steve shakes his head at you, he cups your cheeks and shushes you by kissing your lips again, “fuck, Blondie, don’t cry – holy shit, that was so fucking hot,” he chuckles, “it’s just leather, sweetheart. And honestly, this feels like a fucking victory to me.”

You blink through your tears, looking at him with big and glassy eyes, your heart still pounds in your chest, shame swirling deeply in your chest. 

“Really?” 

He nearly faints at the look in your eyes. 

Who would’ve thought that Steve would ever get to see you like this or that he’d get to be the one to make you come undone so intensely? 

You are so vulnerable, right now. It tugs at his heartstrings, knowing that you struggle with emotions, that you hate showing weakness and tears – yet here you are, even if it’s only out of shame, it shows him that you trust him, even if only a little. 

You’re unaware of the fluttering in his chest that you cause, the warmth around his heart as he stares at you. He traces your cheek before he slips his hands down to your waist. 

You look so fucking cute. 

How can he not adore you when you look at him like this?

He gulps as he is completely aware of the way his heart feels. 

You’re going to be a problem, that’s for sure – but he can’t find it in himself to care, not now. 

He sits back and pulls you along with him, dragging you into his lap, he surprises you by wrapping his arms around your shaking, hot body. He pulls you into him so he can hug you, he cups the back of your head and makes you relax against his chest. He presses a kiss to your forehead, feeling the need to treat you gently, sweetly. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, his actions doing nothing to calm your racing heart.

It takes you a moment, but eventually, you calm down and close your eyes as you bury your face in his bare chest, his hair tickling your cheek a little. Steve runs his finger up and down your spine, making your heart race. 

Your body is aching, your legs are trembling, you nearly squeal when his crotch brushes against your center as you try to move closer to him.

“Wait,” he whispers, he grabs your waist again and changes your position, moving both of your legs over his thighs instead, so you don’t have to straddle him, and then, he pulls you back into his chest again. He brushes his fingers against your upper arm, stroking your skin softly, “is that better?” 

You nod. 

“Good,” he whispers, letting all his emotions guide him as he presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Y-You made me squirt,” you whisper, blushing. 

He chuckles, looking down at you and the way your cheek is pressed against his chest, “yeah Blondie, I made you squirt. I never did that in my life, you never did that in your life, we should put a memory plaque here.” 

Finally, a giggle falls from your lips, and you look up at him, amusement shining in your eyes. 

“I need a shower and sleep for like… three days straight.” 

Steve chuckles, squeezing you tighter, he finds himself liking the feeling of holding you this way, he can’t help but want to pull you closer. 

“I’m happy to provide all that for you,” he smiles down at you. 

Steve likes to see you in his clothes, he likes it when you take showers at his place and make his bathroom smell like your shampoo and your sweet body wash. 

He missed it last night. 

He clears his throat, his smile falling a bit, “why didn’t you uh… call me the past two days?” 

You hesitate, not wanting to show your face to him, you keep your head down. 

“Oh uh… I felt sick, nauseous, probably because of something I ate, maybe it was Eddie’s attempt at the homemade burrito…”

Steve’s mind was plagued with ugly thoughts after seeing you with Jacob, but this is beginning to ease his mind a little. 

“Wait so,” he blinks, sitting up straighter as he continues to look down at you, “you were home?” 

You nod, meeting his eyes, “where else would I be?”

It’s not exactly a lie, but it isn’t the whole truth either. You had an appointment in the morning, one that you had been nervously awaiting for weeks. 

The tension that remained leaves his body completely now, relief rushes through him, making him relax fully. 

“I thought… since Jacob was back–”

Your lips part in surprise as your eyes widen, before a smile appears on your lips. 

“Aw, is Stevie jealous and worried that someone is going to take his place?” You ask him, taunting him a little. 

Yeah, he actually is. 

But he can’t tell you that, can he? 

He pinches your ass with his fingers, a smirk tugging at his lips, “don’t get all bratty now, or I will show you how no one can replace me… again.” 

You’re a little taken aback by all the comments, by his actions today, by the softness of his touch, right now. He didn’t fight you on it. He just told you to not be bratty instead of telling you to stop thinking that way.

Today, he treated you as though you were his. 

He acted out of jealousy and was possessive over you, and in the end, he pulled you into his arms, treating you with such gentleness that it will surely leave a stain in your heart forever. 

This is dangerous, he is dangerous. 

He is giving you a glimpse of something that you will never have. 

He is showing you colors, you can’t ever see with anyone else. 

And maybe, this should be enough to make you run into safety, to protect your heart from the pain it will suffer when it’s all over. 

But in what world, would you ever run from him?

You know how this will end, but it won’t stop you from kissing his lips and letting him into you. 

He can break your heart and shatter your soul for all you care. 

It’s all his anyway. 

-

Eddie looked all over for you, the backyard, the kitchen, even the bathroom and the bedrooms, he was sick with worry as he searched for you. He got distracted when Robin forced him into a game of beer pong, with Argyle and Vickie, and lost sight of you. 

The girl ended up calming him down, when she told him that Steve took you home, you looked sick apparently. But Eddie knows better than that. 

He knows deep in his gut that his suspicions were right, that he wasn’t thinking into it too deeply. 

On his way out of Vickie’s house, he bumps into someone, turning around to apologize, he finds a very drunk Jacob, he raises his hands up, slurring out an apology, but then a confused frown appears on his face when he seems to recognize him. 

“Munson, you’re friends with her, right?” 

“Huh, with who?” Eddie mumbles, tilting his head. 

Jacob says your name and Eddie blinks a few times and slowly nods, “best friends actually, what of it?”

The tall jock smells like beer and weed mixed together as he steps closer, invading his space a little. 

“Well, I mean, is she dating Harrington or something?” Jacob asks, shaking his head. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows, curiosity sparking inside of him. 

“Um…” He could say no, he definitely could, but Jacob seems like a source of information right now, and he decides to use this opportunity to find out more, “what makes you think that?” 

“Well, the fact that this guy cockblocked me two times tonight is the main one. Tried flirting with her and he just pulled her away and even dared to glare at me as if I were the one interrupting his conversation, man." Jacob is slurring, rambling, and he just looks like a guy that lost the opportunity, not someone who would push you into a date or something. 

But Eddie is stunned by the revelation, so he pressed forward.

“Two times?”

“Yeah, the first one he took her somewhere as soon as I started talking to her, and the next he interrupted us so he could leave with her... Say sorry to Harrington for me, she didn't tell me she was dating him,” he mumbles, waving his hand as he rolls his eyes and steps.

Eddie’s gears work, trying to figure out a way to confirm all of this, but for now, the information is enough, his suspicions only growing with certainty. A small honest smile appears on his face and he pats Jacob on the shoulder.

“Thank you Leeney. I'll make sure to let Stevie know.” 

The blond nods and steps away, giving him a weak smile before he walks off, leaving Eddie by himself. 

His dark brown eyes flash with understanding and realization, a laugh of disbelief falling from his lips as he puts all the puzzle pieces together. 

He brings his hand up to his chin and shakes his head when he thinks of the marks on both yours and Steve’s skin. 

A scoff falls from Eddie’s lips. 

“Chandler and Heidi, right.” 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @taintedcigs @joekeerysmoles @ibellcipem @maroon-cardigan @sherrylyn628 @corrodedcorpses @munsonlore @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars

[novemberheart]

{overview} You and your pack navigate through your heat

{warnings} fem reader, poly 141, a/b/o dynamics, MDNI, sexual content, mating & marking, p in v sex, multiple partners, cursing

Chapter 32 <- Chapter 33 -> Chapter 34

You weren't quite sure if you had even been so well cared for in your life. If you had- it felt minuscule compared to this.

Your alpha and betas had set up John's bedroom to accommodate you. They moved your bed into John’s room, pushing your bed with his to make one large one.

You weren't even sure if you needed the pills to spur on your heat. They were doing a good job with that already.

You could tell Kyle was livid. While he was in better physical condition- out of a sling and cast, he still wasn't cleared to lift heavy objects or do anything too strenuous. He settled for stocking the bedroom up with your favorite snacks, and drinks, while also helping you collect items around the house to build your nest with. To him, it felt small, but to you, it meant the world.

The pill looked big even in Kyle’s large hand.

“What if it doesn't work? I'm not good with heats anywa”-

“‘Nough of that, my love,” Kyle cut you off. You were perched on his good knee, his arms holding you as close to him as possible. He brushed some stray hairs away from your face. “Being a bit irregular with your heats means absolutely nothing and I wish we could get that through your pretty head,” Kyle sighed, his lips pressing against your temple in emphasis. John hummed in agreement, emerging from the kitchen with a glass of orange juice. You would need all the nutrients you could get.

“He’s right, sweet girl,” John sighed. He handed you the glass, bending over the couch, his lips pecking yours. “Bloody perfect,” he mumbled. You maintained eye contact when he pulled away, the look in your eyes making him groan. “Save that for Simon.”

“I want you to mark me too,” you whined. He clenched his jaw, his knuckles white against the couch.

“Can’t say no to that, John,” Kyle begged softly, his own brown eyes pleading. “The doctor said it would be alright if you stayed with her,” Kyle reminded. “The smell of you will help. You're both their alphas,” Kyle continued, referencing you and Simon.

“He snapped at me earlier”- John began to remind.

“Because you tried to take her from me,” Simon spoke, causing you to jump. “I don't mind sharing, as long as it’s an equal give and take,” Simon kept his eyes on you as he spoke. You whined softly, shifting on Kyle’s knee. You took a deep breath and grabbed the pill from Kyle’s hand, popping it into your mouth with one fluid motion.

“Are betas invited to this?” Johnny breathed from the doorway.

That would only be fair.

You would think eight hands would be enough. Yet not one of them seemed to dull the fire in your belly.

“How ya’ doing, pet?” Simon hummed. His mouth hadn't left your shoulder, trying to find where his mark would look best on you. He made sure to avoid John’s spot, the alpha grumbling when he even came close to it. You were sprawled out on top of Kyle- a panting and whiny mess.

“I’m hot,” you whined. Johnny's hands were the first to reach you, preferring to yank at your shorts than the tank top you were wearing. Kyle chuckled beneath you, his hands moving gently up your sides, pinching the hem between his fingers.

“This alright, lovie?” he hummed softly. You nodded quickly, sitting up so you were straddling his waist.

“Go slow,” Simon groaned, his hands expanding over every inch of skin Kyle uncovered as he pulled your tank top over your head. “Fuckin’ hell,” he cursed softly. The others had hardly any time to enjoy the sight before Simon was pushing you back against Kyle, hovering over both of you. John stopped Johnny from pressing himself between the two of you, by rolling atop the excited hound.

“Just enjoy the show,” John murmured against his heated cheek. “Yes?”

“Yes, alpha,” Johnny agreed, his eyes already narrowing on you. John rolled onto his side, Johnny's ass pressed firmly against the growing bulge in his pants. You clawed at Kyle’s shirt, the fabric tearing under your nails. You kept the torn shirt in bed, the soft fabric making decent nesting material. His warm skin still felt cold against you, your omega purring softly at the contact.

Simon's hand gripping the waistband of your shorts caught your attention. He paused, waiting for the go-ahead. You wiggled your hips in response, pushing back hoping to catch any sort of friction. He grumbled something low in his throat, pushing you back down against Kyle. He finished what Johnny had started, pulling your shorts down your legs. His hands massaged their way back up your legs, his thumbs digging into the sore flesh. His hand dipped between your legs giving your inner thigh a rough squeeze.

“My mark have to go on ‘er shoulder?” Simon hummed, bending down just enough for his teeth to graze over your bottom.

“Nobody’ll see it there,” Kyle hummed a lazy smirk across his face. His fingers ran up and down your sides, making you erupt in goosebumps.

“Cannae have that,” Johnny mumbled. Johnny's hands had twisted themselves in John's shirt to stop himself from digging into your softness. Simon's fingers brushed over your clothed heat, a small gasp escaping you. You buried your face in Kyle's neck, your thighs twitching around Simon’s hand.

“Soaked through the fabric,” He mumbled, his thumb swirling experimentally. Johnny groaned loudly, John pressing him further into the mattress. Your scent had already switched a flip in the beta's brains, their breathing syncing with yours, the room filling with soft, needy pants. You whined, your hips raising away from Kyle's, your ass high in the air. “That’s it, sweet girl,” Simon muttered. His thumb pressed down, finally giving you the pressure you were chasing. A breathy moan left your lips, Kyle's hips shifting below you at the noise.

Simon pulled his hand away.

“No,” you grumbled, your hand catching his wrist. He pulled away quickly, his hands pushing yours back down towards Kyle.

“Be a good girl,” Simon warned, his hand heading back between your thighs. Simon's finger wrapped around your panties beginning to pull them down your legs. Slow enough to torture you, but fast enough to give you hope. Kyle's hand collided with your bottom made you jolt, your shriek being cut off with a moan. His hands pressed against you, stopping the sting before it had even arrived.

“Couldn’t help it,” Kyle apologized against your ear. “Should see my bloody view,” he grumbled, his teeth catching your ear. His hands flung to your thighs, spreading them apart for Simon. The sudden movement leaves you completely exposed. Johnny ran his fingers over Kyles, his mouth watering at the way you pooled around Kyles fingers due to his strong grip.

A large hand rested on Johnny’s lower stomach, making his breath hitch. His hips instinctively rolled upwards, the tightness in his boxers bordering on painful.

“Doing so good, hound,” John murmured in his ear, his hand finally dipping below his waistband. He made no move to wrap around his cock, instead favoring scratching up Johnny’s thighs.

Simon's thumb slipped between your folds. His thumb running up and down your bundle of nerves slowly, applying more pressure than your body may have been ready for. You gasped out a moan, your hips trying to pull away. You would've succeeded had Kyle not held you in place.

“Too much,” you whined. You bit down on Kyle’s shoulder, growling against his skin.

“So sensitive,” Kyle groaned, against your cheek. He raised his head, biting you back.

“Simon,” you whimpered out. You were torn. One second you were pushing yourself back against his hand, the next moment you were trying to squirm out of Kyle’s grasp. “Kyle,” you added. The beta groaned underneath you, giving your thighs a squeeze.

“What do you want me to do, lovie?” he hummed,

“Make him slow down,” you panted, your eyes nearly in the back of your head.

“Just take what your alpha has to give you, love,” Kyle whispered against your head. Your mouth fell open at his words, the pressure in your lower stomach building at a rapid pace.

“I’m not ready to cum,” you babbled. That made Simon stop. You could feel him before you could see him, his large body draping over you and Kyle.

“Not ready?” he mumbled. His lips pressed against your heated cheek, breathing in your scent deeply. You quickly nodded your head. “How about comin’ around a cock?” he mumbled. His words affected everyone, each of them letting out a groan or a gasp. You could only manage a nod. “Words, sweet girl,” He grumbled.

“Yes, please,” you panted.

“Might know someone who could help you with that,” Simon mumbled, his scruff rubbing against your shoulder as he pulled you up by wrapping a strong arm around your middle. One of his hands rested against your stomach, your thighs shaking around Kyle’s hips. Simon's other grabbed yours, guiding them to the band of Kyle’s sweats. Kyle's breathing picked up, his chest rising and falling quickly. Your hands ran over the dark curly hair on his lower stomach, your fingers curling into the fabric of his pants. Kyle groaned as he was finally set free, the tip of his cock resting against his belly button. Your mouth fell open again. He was intimidatingly long. While he didn't match John or Johnny in girth, no spots inside you would go untouched after him.

“Kyky,” you whined, growing nervous. He shushed you gently, leaning up to hold you against his chest. Hands were on you in an instant, rubbing soothing circles against your soft skin.

“We’ll go as slow as you need to, princess,” Kyle murmured, brushing your hair away from your heated cheeks. “If you still want to,” he added, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. You nodded your head. You did want to continue, you just didn't want to make a fool out of yourself.

“Slow?” you mumbled back.

“Slow,” he affirmed. You rested your head against his shoulder, your eyes meeting Johnny’s. He leaned forward, his lips capturing yours. Kyle whined when Simon wrapped a large hand around his cock, tapping his tip against your soaked folds making you gasp. Johnny let go of you, settling back against John, both men watching you for any signs of discomfort- or pleasure. Kyle's hands remained on you, keeping you grounded and soothed. Simon guided him to your entrance, precum already staining your pretty folds. He pushed in gently, both of you gasping as he pushed past your tight seal.

“Fuck,” Kyle grumbled, his lips pressing against yours to distract him from the warmth enveloping his tip. You moaned against him, your hips pushing themselves down. You don't know what you were worried about. Every inch was pure bliss as he rolled his hips against yours, slowly splitting you open. You pulled away, sitting up suddenly. The new angle giving everyone a perfect view of his throbbing cock losing itself inside you. You whined, your claws scratching against his hips, trying not to break skin. Your eyes trained between your thighs, Simon's hands holding your hips steady. You were nearly there, just a few more inches. “Fuckin’ perfect,” Kyle growled, his thumb running over your clit, using the same movement Simon had. You tightened even more around him, the action making him stop. “Open up for me baby,” he purred, taking all the power away from you as he rested his hands on your side, pushing you down further on his cock.

You were praised when you finally sunk down, your cunt nestled against his sparse curly hair.

“So deep,” you whined, your knees already beginning to give up.

“So deep,” Kyle repeated. If he wasn't so enamored with the sight before him, his eyes would be in the back of his skull. You fit him like a fucking glove, every inch and vein finding the perfect home in your suffocating heat. He couldn't stop himself anymore. He sat up, strong arms wrapping around your middle, using the leverage to pull you down against his chest, his hips rolling out of you in one fluid motion. You didn't have time to dwell on the suddenly empty feeling, because he rolled back into you making your vision go spotty. You cursed, your nails digging into his arms causing the skin to break. Neither one of you could care. You joined his rhythm quickly, the two of you panting and whining like animals. Your hands pressed against his chest, pushing his back down against the mattress, fucking yourself on his cock.

The room was silent besides the two of you, everyone too enraptured to even move.

“Just like that, lovie,” Kyled encouraged, using his hips to guide you when you lost your rhythm. You were begging now. Physically and verbally.

“Please, Ky,” you nearly sobbed. “I need”-

You cut yourself off with a moan, not able to focus on anything other than the drag of his cock against your walls. Your lower half had given out, your forehead resting against his shoulder. He didn't seem to mind though, his hips picking up right where you left off- better actually. Simon's hand rested on your stomach, slowly traveling lower like he was trying to please you without interrupting. His middle finger rolling over your clit was the final nail in your coffin.

You came hard- all of your senses shutting off. Pleasure coursing through your veins with such relentlessness you couldn't do anything but sob out.

“No, no, no,” Kyle growled as your hips tried to escape his grasp, he held you down, his own hips leaving the bed with how deep he buried himself inside you. The only thing you could feel was sudden warmth unloading itself inside you. It wasn't a knot, but it was enough to satiate the clawing urge inside you, your cunt absorbing as much as it could from him. He flopped against the bed, holding you close. He had never felt so lifeless yet alive at the same time. His own body quivered at the intense high.

You couldn't feel anything except Kyle. You couldn't quite tell where you ended and he started. Every twitch, groan, and mumble felt like it could be yours. You could feel lips against you. A pair on the back of your arms, a pair on your shoulder, and a pair on your forehead. You could instantly recognize John’s hand on your lower back, your omega purring happily deep within the chamber of your chest. His hand rested against your cheek, his thumb running under your wet eyes.

“You both did so good,” he murmured, making both of you preen. They were shocked actually, that Kyle was able to perform as well as he had, given the condition he was in just a couple of weeks ago. Simon rested against the two of you, half on his side, half draped over you.

A lazy smile etched your face when Johnny began to kiss against your jaw.

“Mac,” you mumbled. Your leg extended forward, wanting to be near him. Instead, your leg skimmed against a wet spot in his boxers. He grumbled quietly, a hazy look in his eyes. You peered down, coming in contact with the mess he had made in his boxers. Wasn't his fault John was stroking him in time with Kyle’s thrusts. You whined at the loss, pulling at his boxers, thick, white ropes staining his skin and the red fabric.

“Why’re you whining?” he questioned, teeth nipping just below your ear.

“Could’ve come in me,” you whined, looking at him through your wet lashes. He groaned, his forehead bumping against yours.

“You were a bit full at the moment, peaches,” he reminded, his lips quirking. Kyle’s chest rumbled with a chuckle. “I can give ya’ more if you stop pouting,” Johnny soothed, his hand flattening over your back. “As long as it’s alright with the alphas,” Johnny smirked, rubbing his cheek against yours, coming face to face with Simon.

Simon's eyes scanned over to John like it was a decision that needed discussing.

“She needs all the prep she can get for you,” John hummed. Simon grinned like a shark. You were too high for the words to even register.

“Have at it, pup,” Simon sighed. Johnny breathed in relief, grabbing you by your thighs and maneuvering you to spot he had previously occupied. He rested over you, peeling off his shirt, which you quickly stole out of his hands, rubbing your cheek against. He smiled down at you, kicking his boxers to the floor. He pressed your knees together, kissing each of them before hooking your legs onto his arms. You giggled, the stretch actually feeling quite nice on your achy legs.

He ran the head of his cock through your folds, Kyle's spend already beginning to seep out of you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he began to bully himself inside of you.

“Steamin’ hell, you even open her up Garrick?” Johnny groaned through gritted teeth. You accepted him greedily, your walls clamping around him like a vice. Kyle was too blissed out to be mad, Simon speaking for him when his hand collided with Johnny’s ass. His hips stuttered, a not-so-surprising groan escaping his lips. If he wasn't spreading you out in all the right places you would've laughed. “Fuckin’”- Johnny cut himself off, his mouth attaching to your neck and chest, leaving teeth marks and slobber in his path. “Mine,” he growled against your ear, your head being pushed into the soft pillows. His hips were harsh, the force of it making the headboard collide with the wall. Simon's hand rested on Johnny’s neck, pulling the eager mouth away from you.

It was then he saw it. The perfect spot for his mark. It was across from where John wanted to put his. High enough on your neck where it could be seen with almost any shirt and had just enough room so the mark could be seen from behind and front. His mouth watered at the sight. Must've been why John picked a similar place.

“Don’t stop,” Simon growled against Johnny’s temple. Simon leaned over his teeth nipping at the skin. You had an immediate reaction judging by the way Johnny groaned.

“Alpha,” you gasped, your hands not being able to decide between gripping onto him or Johnny. You settled for both, throwing your head as far back as you could to allow him the space he needed.

He ran his tongue over the sensitive spot, taking a deep breath.

His fangs sunk into the skin with ease.

Hi friends! Hope you enjoyed! SIMON FINALLY DID IT! See you 🫵 in four days for chapter 34! 🧡

[januaryembrs]

YOU'RE ALL I EVER WANTED | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [bonus chapter]

Description: The one where you realise you like Spencer.

Length: 6.2k

Warnings: mention of when Penelope got shot, but other than that not much. Mentions of sex + body count though there is NO judgement OR SHAMING. Bugsy could be Bisexual/attracted to women if you choose to read it that way, but you don't have to!

authors note: this little bonus chapter is set the week before Emily 'dies' so right before the final second of Chapter Two. Or you can just read this if you'd like to see two morons dancing around their love for one another. Since I’m uploading today, I realised you needed to read part of this for the next big chapter so that is going to take an extra day or so but it is coming! I hope this satiates the bugspence cravings!!

‘You’re the one, you’re all I ever wanted,

I think I’ll regret this,’

It was warm considering it was one of the last days of Winter, one of the warmest Virginia had in years.

Caseload had been ramped up with the amount of children out on the streets with their friends where any nefarious hands could simply snatch them, or young adults got drunk, or worse, in preparation for Spring Break, their inhibitions lowered to zero making them prime prey. And yet, on a random Saturday at the end of February, the sun peeked out from the dishwater grey clouds, the wind died down, and their phones stayed quiet with the promise of a real day off. 

And how better to spend a day away from their office than to meet their co-workers in the park for a game of soccer. 

“Morgan, quit marking me,” Bugsy yelled, dribbling the ball down the small field they’d commandeered as a pitch, four water bottles stood upright on either end as goal points. But Derek’s laugh was menacing, and she heard his footsteps pounding behind her, advancing on her as if they were kids in a playground, and before long he had swooped in front of her, despite her hand waving out in his direction to shove him away.

Emily was about to call her out for contact, not that she expected her little sister to give a shit, but Derek was too fast for even her where she sat on the side lines with Penelope. The ball went careering away from her, Morgan’s quick feet keeping it under much better control than she’d been able to, even with her hot on his heels, and before long he was shooting to where Aaron stood as goalie, just about rolling it past Hotch’s muscled legs into their goal. 

Derek whooped, Will jogged over from the other end of the pitch to fist bump his team mate as the younger woman huffed, her college jumper and shorts clinging to her sweaty body. 

“Sucks to suck, baby Prentiss,” Morgan jeered, shoving her shoulder lightheartedly when she glared at him, “Guess you owe me that drink, which I will be redeeming at the next convenience-” 

“It’s easy to win when you’re two hundred pounds of muscle and your opponent is a girl who hasn’t done sport since high school,” She snapped, her expression grumpy as she fingered the hem of her fleecy top. Derek chuckled, Will returning to sit with JJ as Henry climbed over her legs wanting to play with her long strands of honey blonde hair. He shoulder bumped the girl, hoping to perk up her mood, but she shoved him back as hard as she could, not that it did much since she’d said herself she was sort of out of shape compared to his rock hard abs. 

“Oh, come on now, Bug, don’t be like that,” He said, unphased when she damn near threw her whole body against his, trying to even knock him in the slightest off his feet, her face screwed up in annoyance. “Bugsy.” Derek tried again, only for her to ignore him and try even harder. He didn’t so much as flinch, “Bugsy, you’re being unreasonable,”

She huffed, drawing away from him and glancing at him with a scathing glare. “Okay, terminator, you won this time but I swear one day I’m going to make you pay for taking advantage of such a fragile little woman like me,” 

Emily scoffed, handing her sister a water bottle, “Didn’t you take down an unsub alone yesterday? I mean you didn’t even have cuffs until Spencer showed up-”

“Oh, whose side are you on?” Bugsy snarled, downing a gulp of water and walking back over to where Spencer and JJ were relaxing on a picnic blanket, the former laying on his back with a book spread open using only one of his spindle-like hands. 

“Good game?” He mused, trying to hide his smirk when she groaned in response, throwing herself down on the grass beside him. She wrestled her sweater over her head which left her in a band tee, her chest still rising with panting breaths as she lay down to his right, glaring at the clear sky. 

“Remind me to never play him in sport ever again. The man is a Spartan Warrior,” She huffed, barely glimpsing to where JJ chuckled at her defeated expression. 

“Did you know that the Spartans were actually banned from the Olympics for some time for violating the peace treaty between Sparta and Athens? But one of their athletes entered a chariot race pretending to represent Thebes, a city above Athens in Boeotia, and only when he won did he announce his true identity,” Spencer asked, his nose still buried in his book like he was reciting the very same information off the page. Bugsy’s lips quirked in interest. 

“That’s pretty cool,” She murmured, head flicking over to him where he glanced back at her, finally ripping his attention away from his novel. She blinked at him, his ‘boy band’ hair as so affectionately named by their unit chief, swooping over his forehead with a few soft, chocolate curls that she moved to fix almost immediately. 

She missed the way his eyes rounded in puppy love as she did so, a camouflaged smile twitching at his lips, an onset reaction of the butterflies that swarmed his chest. 

“I like your hair like this,” She said, even though she’d told him a dozen times already his new hair was dashing, as she’d put it, “It makes your eyes look really pretty,” 

He cleared his throat, his cheeks heating up because he couldn’t handle his reactions when she was so forward, “Really? I always thought they were the colour of dirt,” 

Her mouth dropped open, and she shuffled up onto her elbows so they were similar heights, “Spencer Reid, you take that back right now,” 

“Wow, the government name. I must be in trouble,” He mused, gaze falling to the grass beneath them, dropping his book into his lap even though he felt her annoyance poking holes in his skull.

“They are not the colour of dirt, I’ve never heard something so ridiculous,” She scoffed, nudging him with the back of her hand in a soft chide and he snickered, looking back up to where she was staring him straight in the muddy hues of his very plain hazel eyes. “They’re like, they’re like-” She tried to come up with an answer, squinting in the soft sunlight that turned the brown shades into liquid honey running off a spoon, her face  leaning towards his to catch a closer look at the exact pigment of them, “They’re like looking up at a forest on a Summer’s morning, you know? Like when you can see every single one of the leaves because of the light,” 

He nodded wordlessly, because no one had ever said something quite so poetic about any part of him before. He fought the urge to look away, wasn’t sure he could even if he tried because for a second they were both in a trance, dissecting the other’s gaze like they were imprinting their colour palettes to memory. 

“Buggy!” Her head whipped away from him as the blonde headed child came running over to her as fast as his chubby little legs would carry him. He launched himself at her stomach, and her hands quickly caught him before he could wind her, his cheeks rosy behind his bumble bee pacifier. She giggled as he slid down her side, his knees staining with grass as he reached muddy hands out for her face. 

“Woah, not so fast mister. Who knows where these grubby little paws have been,” She teased, and he laughed behind the plastic sucker, his bluebell eyes a near match of JJ’s blinking over at her. 

Spencer watched her and his godson with besotted eyes, imagining for a split second what she might be like as a mother, if she ever chose to be. He knew she would be soft and yet not lose one drop of the Bugsy playfulness he cherished, just instead parting everything that made her extraordinary onto a mini her. 

He saw it, like a flicker of a dream, like deja vu, a girl with her hair, her skin, her smile; the one that was impish and guilty like she had a secret, giggling behind a ladybug dummy the way Henry was doing when she forced his dirty hands together to clap; “Clap your hands if you smell like fairy farts- Henry!” 

The child laughed harder, so hard his pacifier dropped out his mouth with a little dribble, his milk teeth pearly with and tiny in the sun. His chest seized with giggles, his face turning pink as he panted to catch his breath, “You’re so silly, Buggy,”  

JJ swooped in to grab his dummy, giving his hands a quick once over with a baby wipe and packing the sucker back into his bag. Henry’s gaze quickly slid up his mother’s arm to where she lingered over his pack, and he was eager to make himself comfortable leaning against Bugsy’s stomach, legs stretching out onto the blankets, his shoes brushing against Spencer’s trouser leg. 

“Juice, mama!” He shouted, his little voice sweet knowing just how to wrap everyone around his pinky finger, “Juice and Bi’kits!”

“What do we say, Henry?” Will reminded gently, holding the Ben 10 satchel open while his partner rooted around the bottom of it with a loving smile. 

“Please, juice and bi’kits,” The boy replied politely, his feet knocking together out of excitement when JJ produced two red pouches and animal shaped cookies. Stepping over where Spence lay sprawled out, watching Bugsy idly stroking over the back of his godson’s white blonde curls, JJ handed the two of them a drink and snack each, Bugsy’s eyes flying up to the woman in interest. 

“For me?” She asked dumbly, wondering if she was to give the second helping to the boy once he’d finished his first or if it really was hers.

JJ shrugged, moving back over to sit beside Will where he wrapped a lazy arm around her waist, squeezing her gently, “I always pack extra for the other kids,” 

Bug’s face flattened into something unamused as Henry handed Spencer his juice pouch for him to push the straw in, “I’m twenty six, I’m not a kid,” She grouched, ripping open the packet of biscuits and shoving a lion in her mouth, “God, whoever invented these animal shaped pals is genius. Like, why does everything taste so much better when it looks like a monkey smiling up at me?” 

The three of them chuckled at her, Emily and Penelope starting up a new game of soccer with Hotch and Derek, David reffing from the sideline. Penelope was ofcourse with Morgan, looking a little pale where she stood in goal, as Emily ran at her in full force with the ball skipping between her feet.

Spence handed the drink back to the boy, picking his book back up as the two of them crunched on their goodies happily. 

“Story time, Uncle Spencer,” Henry demanded, pointing to the copy of War and Peace in between bites of a zebra cookie. 

And instead of telling his godson that he would almost certainly hate the complex, adult writing of Leo Tolstoy, Spencer smiled down at him, feeling Bugsy’s eyes roving over his face.

“Yeah, storytime, Uncle Spencer,” She jeered, her elbow getting dirty where it dug into the grass as she rolled onto her side to watch him properly, “Never too early to teach the kids about French invasions,” 

Flicking her a smirk, he cleared his throat theatrically, and pretended to read from his book, “Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White,” 

“That’s a real magic book you got there, Spence,” The woman snickered, and he smiled into the pages, not daring himself to look at the devilish look she had on her face. 

“Chapter One; Before Breakfast,” Spencer ‘read’ clearly, his memory still clear as a bell when his mother had read it to him when he was five, “‘Where’s papa going with that axe?’ said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast,” 

Bugsy felt Henry’s head slump against her hip, the boy slurping on his juice pouch happily as she punctured a hole in her own carton to take a sip, the two of them listening intently to Spencer recounting the children’s book to a scary degree of accuracy. 

His slender arms looked good with his sleeves rolled to his elbow, she thought offhandedly, his right elbow taking the brunt of his weight as he leaned on it, the other flicking through the Tolstoy novel as if it were the real thing, his long fingers splayed out on the back of the book to keep it open. His eyes kept darting up over the top of the page to see if they were both still listening, which they were, though Bugsy suspected Henry was starting to get tired as his head felt heavy against her skin. 

Propping her head on her hand, her eyes scanned over the profile of his face. She’d always known he was attractive, ever since she opened her dorm room door at John Hopkins and saw him and Morgan waiting for her. Her stomach twisted thinking about how long ago that seemed, that she couldn’t remember quite what her world had centred around when it had just been her at college; her mother and father were distant as ever, her sister was a stranger that had all but raised her, boys were just a passing face if she ever let them through her door. She’d had her books and maybe two friends, acquaintances would probably be the better term, and her coffee. And that seemed to have been enough, or at least it was enough that she couldn’t outright complain about how lonely she felt.  

And then she met Spencer. And that feeling had disapparated entirely.

Her heart swelled when she looked at him, recounting the beginning of chapter two by now, his forest hues glancing up at Henry’s sleepy, round eyes that watched him in interest. She thought for a moment that whoever his kid was going to be was going to be the luckiest boy in the world. She let herself imagine a boy Henry’s age already devouring books twice his reading age, one with wild, almond curls he’d let grow around his neck like JJ did with Henry’s. She imagined how he would sit him on his lap and let him read the books for himself, so that if he got stuck his dad would be right there to help him behind a proud smile. Spencer; a father. She realised how out of field the thought was before she shook it out of her head, though it had planted itself right in her hypothalamus the second she’d seen the vision of it. 

A small smile twitched at her lips, a warmth in the pit of her stomach flickering as she sipped the juice, giggling when Spencer changed his tone slightly so Henry knew someone new was speaking, seemingly enjoying the book almost as much as his audience was. His eyes snapped to her when he heard her, a devious little smile creeping up his lips like they shared the same thought. She wished she could do this every day, lay on picnic blankets and listen to him read, his voice was heavenly, and she thought she might never get tired of hearing him tell her things. 

Every part of her was consumed when she thought of him like this. It had happened once or twice, like when she’d driven him home from the doctors after they’d cleared his MRI’s, when she’d held his head in her lap on his couch and stroked his scalp, a cold compress over his eyes because his head writhed with a pain he couldn’t squash out. When she’d heard his soft snores as he finally dropped off to sleep and she allowed herself to look at his resting face, perhaps even more angelic than usual, a small indent right between his brows where his expression had been scrunched in discomfort for weeks, one she smoothed over with the soft pad of her thumb. She’d felt something then, like her whole body was full to the brim of him, her chest spasming with a feeling like she was coming down with a cold but one that made her feel good, but she’d brushed it off as seeing him vulnerable and soft compared to the quick as a whip FBI agent she was used to these days. She’d do just about anything for him, anything to make him feel better, anything to just make him happy.

Or when they’d eat breakfast together at his desk, her chair rolled up beside his as they sat together, taking it in turns to do crossword puzzles together because they realised they got competitive when they were allowed to answer all of them at the same time, and Bugsy did not like losing. There had been one morning when they’d descended into madness because they were both trying to write the answers as fast as possible, their hands smashing together over the boxes, her hand shoving his lithe body away as he had called her a cheater through red cheeked laughter. Rossi had confiscated the paper when things had gotten too physical and she’d pulled the lever beneath his chair, lowering his seat quick enough he nearly slipped right out. His coffee spilled all over his desk as his arm flew out to grab his desk, and the sight alone made her laugh so hard she almost peed. He’d pretended to be annoyed at her for all of two minutes as they cleaned up the mess together, but he too had found himself laughing hard enough he was almost in tears because she could barely get two words out without creasing over and holding her stomach in aching barks of noise, the two of them leaning against one another for support. She thought then, if she had breakfast with him every day, whether it be with quizzes or coffee or even a plain bowl of oatmeal, she’d wake up every day happy. 

And she thought it then, her heart swelling fat enough to burst as he looked up at her over the top of the leather binding again. Even in the split second he did so her skin had turned to gooseflesh, like he’d grabbed her at her soul and squeezed her whole being affectionately. And it was like she remembered every time he’d made her feel like that, times she thought of it as the fact a girl who received little to no attention growing up was of course going to revel under the gaze of an attractive man with a heart sweeter than cotton candy, it was just psychology. One big Freudian-slip of nonsense. At least that was what she shoved it off as. 

But looking at him, his hands big enough to grab her face whole, his body long and lithe as he spread out on the blanket, his hair falling so delicately, his tone soft and pandering to the little boy who was dropping off to sleep against her stomach. His whole essence was so Spencer it made her feel at home, like this was what she was created to do, feeling so fulfilled sat with him sipping on a juice pouch as he read to her she could die tomorrow and feel accomplished for only twenty six years. 

She knew in her gut that wasn’t what friends felt for each other; the thought creeping up her spine and over her shoulder like a virus that seized her brain as its own, her expression unwavering as she watched him with adoring eyes. 

She knew it was wrong, but with him she felt worth something. She felt complete. Like she had everything she ever needed, everything she’d ever wanted on the nights loneliness had snuck in and she’d felt like no one would ever understand how the muddied water of her mind worked. 

But he did. He always had. 

And it was like she heard a screech in a track record as it came to a stop, her head working overtime with the thought of it. 

She bit her lip in guilt, as he continued reading, hoping she wouldn’t ever ruin whatever it was that she’d felt, because she might not ever be able to forgive herself if she did. 

–

“It’s over one and below a hundred, and that’s all you’re getting,” Bugsy said with a teasing smile, her fingers resting on the rim of a very sweet Cosmo, as Penelope and Derek sat opposite them, Spencer to her right with a beer on one of the few times she’d ever seen him drink. But it had been a good day, and what would be the harm in topping off the day with a cold beverage, “Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway, it’s not like they meant much,” 

“We know it doesn’t matter, baby Prentiss, we’re just being nosey,” Derek chimed, his fingers wrapped around his own bottle of beer, courtesy of Bugsy which she had paid for with a grumble, a tipsy glint in his dark eyes. 

It was just the four of them this evening. Will and JJ had taken a sleeping Henry home so they could spend some rare time together seeing as their son was entirely knocked out. Hotch had taken Emily home after David had given her a red card for trying to tackle both Aaron and Derek multiple times during their game, because apparently competitiveness ran in the family. He had tried to gently remind her Aaron was also on her team, but had received a glare that would make any agent cower, and Hotch had suggested maybe it would be best if they got her home rather than fill her with alcohol. 

Rossi had excused himself home after hearing the colourful things the oldest Prentiss woman called him in Italian, likely contemplating if she meant any of the threats she was making. 

“Any guy would be lucky to make it to your magic number, honey bee,” Penelope added, her pastel painted lipstick making a cute rim on the straw to her own Margarita, “Or girl! Any girl would be too,”

Bugsy shied away at that, blanking for perhaps the first time because the whole topic of her romantic endeavours was suddenly embarrassing when Spencer was sat right beside her. She had spoken to them before about her college days, and had never once made an effort to hide the fact she knew she had a charm about her that meant she usually could take someone home if she wanted them. 

So why was it suddenly so difficult to admit in front of Spencer? She knew why, she knew why every single one of them suddenly felt miniscule in the grand scheme of things because they hadn’t meant much to her, not when he was sitting boring holes into the side of her head with an unusually tight expression. 

“What does it matter if there were girls, none of them really meant much,” She brushed them off, her face heating up when she finally looked at Spencer, his long fingers picking at the label on his beer with a tight lipped smile.

“We’re just teasing, Bug, there’s nothing wrong with any number you could give us. Besides, I guarantee mine is higher than yours,” Derek reassured, squeezing her wrist gently, his eyes sliding to where Spencer seemed to be trying to avoid all eye contact like he wanted the seat to swallow him whole, “Same with you, Kid, there’s no judgement at this table, we’re all human,” 

“I bet you were a real ladies man by that third doctorate,” Bugsy teased, nudging his shoulder with her own because she hated when he went quiet. 

He looked at her like he was expecting her to be cruel, except she didn’t look it, not one bit, instead she seemed a little skittish, no doubt from having the spotlight on her. “What makes you say that?” 

She bristled, “I mean, come on, Spence, you’re very good looking, you’re the smartest person I know, you’re funny and there’s like not a single bad bone in your entire body,” She said, becoming increasingly aware of the weight of her words the more she spoke. But it was like the cocktail had loosened her lips, had made it seem entirely normal to essentially tell him how lucky a girl would be to date him, how she had thought about all the reasons she would find him a worthy sexual partner. She watched him blush, granting her a flustered smile, and she looked to Penelope desperately for help, “Pen, would you tell him?”

“She has a point, Reid. You are the full package,” Penelope conceded, her smile illuminating the whole bar as she reached over to hold both their hands in hers, “It’s a shame you’re both strongly planted in the friend zone otherwise the four of us could have really been something beautiful,” 

They all chuckled, Bugsy shaking her head and leaning against Spencer’s side when he seemed to ease up, just to remind him she had meant no harm by what she said. In fact, she’d meant entirely the opposite.  

She felt his hand lean under the table to squeeze her knee, because he knew what she was thinking, and she felt herself relax at the feel of his touch. 

“Alright, here’s a question; winner gets a free shot on the next round. What was your worst date?” Morgan poked, noticing how the two youngest agents seemed to scooch towards one another almost as if they hadn’t realised, as if they were working off their own orbit, until they were pressed right up against one another, their elbows brushing against one another, “Doesn’t have to be sexual, could just be bad table manners,” 

“I haven’t really been on a date before,” Spencer tried to weasel his way out of the question, Bugsy’s head whipping to him in surprise, “There was that one time I met that girl Austin for coffee, but that was pretty great,”

She bit her cheek in annoyance. She’d forgotten about Austin, the bartender that she’d told Spencer to go after, because she was so sure that a good looking doctor like him deserved someone kind and attractive like Austin had been. She remembered how she’d seen her ocean blue eyes roving over her friend, how at the time it hadn’t meant much to her, because she couldn’t really blame her for thinking he was hot, how now it stirred something in her tummy that she feared felt like jealousy. 

She dared herself to stop the bombarding thoughts of what ‘pretty great’ entailed exactly, and busied her face by looking to Morgan for his turn. 

“My man,” Derek said with a wicked grin on his face, watching Spencer cower away from the attention though there was something guiltily proud in the smirk that grew on his face that said Spencer was somewhat pleased with his answer. In the scheme of things, he’d gotten lucky, pun intended. The only woman to ever say yes to a date with him had been sweet, even if he’d quickly made it clear he wasn’t looking for anything more with her, and even then she’d been understanding. 

“Your turn, Morgan,” Bugsy reminded, trying to be as cool as possible despite the fact her stomach felt flipped upside down at the sound of a woman she hadn’t thought about in two whole years. She didn’t know what had gotten her so territorial in a matter of seconds, but she hated every moment of it. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know ladies, that someone has in fact put Derek Morgan in his place before,” Derek said, with a clap of his hands, and Bugsy and Penelope shared an amused eye roll. 

“Who knows how big your ego might be if this goddess among women hadn’t acted when she did,” Bugsy drawled, Penelope giggling into her lime wedge as Derek laid a hand on his chest in faux hurt. 

“I’m telling you, I’m a changed man. I tasted my own medicine, Sugar, and it was bitter,” He said melodramatically, and even Spencer shook his head with a laugh, because Derek was a diva when he’d had a few to drink. “We go out to a lovely restaurant, I pay ofcourse, being the gentleman I am, and then we decide to go for some drinks after to round the evening off,”

“Any girl's dream come true,” Penelope jumped in, giggling when Derek wrapped an arm around her shoulder, like they were on a date themselves. 

“That was exactly my thoughts, babygirl.” Derek flirted, taking a swig of his beer, “Anyway, I maybe have a little too much of the good stuff, nothing particularly worrying. We’re laughing, we’re vibing, and then we go back to my place,” 

“Here we go, the real good stuff,” Bugsy chimed in, nudging Spencer with her elbow as the two of them snickered like tweedle dum and tweedle dee. “Fifty Shades of Morgan,”

“Pipe down, lover girl,”  Derek barked through laughter, Penelope barely making it through a sip of her own drink without smiling, “So as I was saying, I’m feeling a little worse for wear, she’s a little drunk too, so we move past it, and then we get to my room,”

“Bow chick a wow wow,” Bugsy sang teasingly, to which Spencer chuckled and taking a sip of his own drink. 

“Well, you would think, honey bee, since I am known to the women for my experiences in bed, some may call electric,” Derek slurred, holding her hand gently over the table to which she laughed even harder. 

“Huh, I must have missed that email,” She teased back, taking a long final sip of the dregs of her drink. 

“You wound me,” He replied, shaking his head, and turning to look at Penelope seriously, like he was sat in a confession booth, “So anyway, we’re in my room, about to get jiggy with it, only when I take my boxers off I find my soldier is sort of-” He paused, swallowing and looking at Spencer’s red face where he was trying desperately not to break, “You know. Unable to stand to attention,” 

Bugsy spat her drink across the table, the action alone making Penelope laugh so hard tears sprang to her eyes, the younger girl coughing as she choked on her drink, and Spencer patted her on the back until she reclaimed some composure. 

“Oh, god,” She gasped, her hand thumping her chest as she tried desperately to get a hold of herself in between the loud cries of glee and winding herself, “Derek-”

“Hey, laugh it up, Bug, it worked out alright in the end. Our second date really was electric,” He replied with a smug smile, as the girl finally caught a breath, her lash line watering with tears as she grabbed for some napkins on the table to clear up her mess. 

“If you say so,” She said, her voice croaking as Spencer offered her a sip of his drink to wash her throat out. She took a small mouthful of beer, handing the bottle back to him with a grateful smile, and she tried no to think about the fact that germ wise, they had essentially just kissed. 

“Your turn,” Spencer said, something amused in his eyes as she looked at him somewhat betrayed, “What’s been your worst date?” 

She sighed, wiping beneath her eyes with her sleeve, “If you must know, and because I really do want that shot,”  She started, clearing her throat one final time, “I was seeing this guy in New York over Spring break, Sean something,” 

“Sean something?” Derek asked, “You didn’t know his last name?” 

She shrugged, fighting the urge to crawl into a small ball of embarrassment because surely what Morgan said had set the bar for judgement high, “We didn’t exactly do much talking when we saw each other,” 

Spencer hid his frustration in a fake smile, though one look at his furrowed brow would have given him away instantly. Luckily, they had their eyes on her long enough they didn’t catch a glimpse of his expression. It wasn’t that he would ever think less of her for being with someone else, who wouldn’t want her, but hearing about it made his inside boil with jealousy he didn’t even know he would have ever felt. 

“Anyway. I felt like a change of scenery and my mother was bothering me for a lunch date since she was in New York for the month, so I took him and two of his friends out to Italy for a long weekend,” She went on, ripping up a napkin for something to do while she spoke, and she felt Penelope staring at her agog. 

“You took a casual fling to Italy for a change of scenery?” The bubbly woman asked, her mouth dropped in shock, “Can I sleep with you?” 

Derek laughed, and Spencer went bright red when he jumped to ask the same question though he knew it was entirely coarse. Maybe it was the beer loosening his tongue, or maybe it was the fact he wondered what the two of them sitting in a sunny vineyard like a rich old couple would look like, he wasn’t sure. 

“Play your cards right, Princess,” Bugsy teased, clearing her throat to continue, “Anyway. We’re there for two days and the final evening Sean and I get into a bit of a disagreement over something dumb; I think him and his friends were being too loud and we were getting complaints. Anyway, we kiss and make up for the evening, we go out to a club. We go back to the hotel, get jiggy with it as you put it, and when I woke up the next day, the bastard had taken the bag with all our boarding passes and came back to America with his friends without even waking me up.”

Their mouths fell open, Spencer’s brows shooting into his hairline in worry, “That sounds awful, Bug,”

She shrugged again, messing with the pile of ripped up paper she’d created, “It’s nothing. I spoke the language so I got by okay, and luckily I kept all my cash in my purse so I hitched a ride to the airport and got on the next plane, except the only available one landed me in California so I had to wait for a transfer over to Baltimore. By the time I got back, his roommate said he was with some other girl,”

“What an asshole,” Derek said, shaking his head as he said so, but Bugsy raised her shoulders again. 

“I really know how to pick them,” She said, swirling her lime piece around the bottom of her glass, “Anyway, the hotel staff felt bad for me and gave me a free bottle of Pinot Noir on them so it didn’t work out all bad,” 

Sensing it was somewhat of a sticky subject, Penelope jumped in with her usual wit, “As much as I would love to give you the shot, buttercup, this gal took a bullet on her last bad date so I will be collecting that prize if it’s all the same to you,” She said, her bubbly attitude quickly throwing metaphorical glitter over the subject, collecting Bugsy's empty glass and her own together as her and Morgan moved to shuffle out of the table for another round. 

Bugsy’s eyes widened, “What?” She stopped, and she looked at Spencer to see if they were playing some sort of joke on her only to see him unsurprised, “What!?” 

“I’ll tell you about it some other time, sweet cheeks. Right now I have a tequila, salt and lime with my name written all over it,” Penelope chirped, waltzing up to the bar with her muscle two paces behind her as he drew out his wallet to put down for the next round of drinks. 

“Well, I suddenly feel like an asshole for complaining about being left in a nice hotel alone,” Bugsy said, her head resting on her hand as she looked over at Spencer who ran his finger over the emerald green bottle. 

He snorted, “Tell me about it, I said that my last date went wonderfully,” 

They met eyes in the dark lowlights of the bar and shared an amused grin, like they knew it was cynical for them to laugh except they really did feel like morons for complaining about how bad they had it when Penelope had all but joked about her situation. 

“I am sorry that happened to you, though,” Spencer said, his hand creeping over the leather seat to where hers sat on her thigh, “That must have been really scary. Why didn’t you call Emily?” 

Bugsy’s face tensed, “We weren’t really speaking then, and I knew if I told her or my mother I’d get the same lecture about being irresponsible and careless. I think I thought I’d rather do it alone,” 

Spencer pouted, braving enough to move his hand up to take hers in his own. Maybe it was the second bottle of low percent beer, or maybe it was because she’d flickered with something genuinely saddened when she’d said it, and Spencer thought that in every  instance of her story she’d had little to no one to turn to for help.

She had been alone, and the thought of it crushed him. 

He grabbed her hand, her head snapping to him and praying she didn’t find pity there because she hated that. Except she just saw him, those mossy eyes looking rounder and more lovely than ever when she regarded him. 

“You don’t have to feel alone ever again, you know that right?” He asked earnestly, giving her fingers a little squeeze, and she felt her tummy do that stupid turn all over again. It was like she had an upset stomach except that was a complete antonym of what it was, like her stomach was so unbelievably overjoyed that she could barely even hold it together without wanting to ask him what it was he had done to suddenly turn her into some sort of feral creature for every little movement he made. 

Except there wasn’t just one thing, it was everything about him. Everything. 

She smiled at him, more bashful than she had ever felt for him, and against her own instincts she slipped her fingers in between his own so they had their every digit laced together, and it was suddenly so much bigger than two friends chatting in a bar. 

She knew it then, felt it realer than ever, like a stop sign slapping her clean across the face and shattering every bone in her skull. 

She just hoped she wouldn’t regret it. 

-

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3

@rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @theoraekenslover r @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred @yondiii @cultish-corner @lllucere @escapismurmom @stillhere197 @hiireadstuff @amortencjja @queermaxwooo @telengraph @ivyflowers13 @estrela-rogers @greenvita @busy-buzzing @kitty-kei @universallyblizzardlove @suckstobrlaurie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @splatteredpurplepaint @pieceuvmind

[gayestsimp]

Decaying Life: Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Word count: 1.9k (kinda short, yeah… sorry, just been occupied again ): )

Tag list: @randomlyappearingartist @ryuushou @rowannin @s0ggyrats @maybeethan69 @0-candlecove-0

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Quickly, time would pass on- three years passing away quickly, leaving the eighteen year old to be twenty one. (Name) had become a vigilante with his older brother, the twenty one year old and twenty three year old still living in Jason’s apartment. (Name) had started to make a name for himself, his brother’s combat skills having being passed onto him, using them in the first place to take down enemies, and with that passing of time, the male finally had a better understanding of his powers, and felt… better with using them, often destroying weapons, chains and ropes- and the people… at first they were scared, but once they were saved… they were so thankful- the powers quickly freeing and saving them, but in the end they do have some fear for his abilities… but where still grateful, but since his training had started, (Name) found himself a new name as his brother’s sidekick- Putrefy. The rest of the family only knew of (Name)’s vigilante persona, and although they nonstop harassed Jason to reveal this Putrefy’s identity- but he never did, and the family couldn’t do much- nor did they really want to either- as they’ve all grown to like the vigilante- well more like admire, as they can only watch him from a distance, with the meta human quickly running and hiding from them, not allowing them to interact with him.

Dick thought they were quite impressive, he admired their ability to destroy what they touch, and how careful they were, using fingerless clothes that covered their index and middle fingers only, taking them off when needed. He wanted to know if they could do any acrobats and how flexible they were, along with any tricks they may have or know if so- making the male interested in them. It was fun to have a chase with them as well, but (Name) always seemed annoyed, hating every moment.

Tim figured quickly he and Putrefy were a similar age- the same age truly- and could not only hear the male talking bf about games to Jason- who didn’t actually know the most about them compared to Tim, why talk to the brute of the family when you have someone the same age as you and was an expert on games and just about anything on a computer… Tim would end up finding ways to join Online games with (Name)- who would quickly disconnect- and in person he’d often bring up games that (Name) has been interested in lately… without (Name) ever telling him… weird.

Than there was Damian, he quite enjoyed (Name)’s skills, they were a decent fighter- but he thought they could do better- Jason’s teachings not being up to Damian’s own standards, he would be much better at helping this new hero than his supposed brother truly- and their powers could be quite good to have in case of an emergency, able to quickly escape or destroy something, often Damian would try and spar with (Name), which often resulted in some kind of draw or (Name) making his own escape.

Than there was Batman himself. The man was a mystery, hard to read and hard to tell what he was thinking about- but it was clear he had some kind of liking to Putrefy, considering there was no threat towards the vigilante about being a meta in Gotham. In truth, the Batman had a soft spot for this vigilante… though he wasn’t entirely sure- it was… more like a strange feeling, that having this person around completed something that he never knew he needed.

But for (Name) and Jason?- it was tiring… On Jason’s end, they would never stop interrogated him for Putrefy identity, to invite them over for a family dinner, the only one to know of the vigilante’s identity was Alfred, through a call shared between the three- it was strange not to tell the man that cared for (Name), the male having gotten over his larger insecurities that Alfred only cared for him about his job. On (Name)’s end- he was being bothered… almost every second one of his ex-brothers would come up and beg for his attention, wanting to hang out and have fun… as if they didn’t already have the chance.

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(Name) laid there in the couch, groaning in annoyance, head pounding, it was early in the morning, with Jason drinking a coffee and cooking some pancakes. Last night he had to deal with all his brother’s desperately looking for his attention. Just thinking about it now gave (Name) a headache, thankfully he had some water to help it, it was amazing- the cold and refreshing taste. Jason would than walk in and place the plates down, smiling at (Name) and ruffling the boys chair roughly, causing the male to chuckle and push Jason’s hand away as he sat up. “Thanks Jay.” He spoke starting to eat straight away, enjoying the taste of the pancakes. “No problem… you wanna watch something?- I’m gonna go out to work-“ (Name) didn’t even know Jason job and never brought it up- there was no need, (Name) had quit his own previous job after everything, he missed the old man- but at least he’s fine- (Name) mostly just takes care of the apartment, Jason makes more than enough for the two of them, allowing for (Name) to kinda just… chill and laze around. “Hm, sure- you can put something on, I don’t really mind…” (Name) spoke as Jason nodded, turning on the TV to just a random documentary- which happens to have a focus on sea life, showing off the beauty and a little horror of the deep blue sea.

Soon enough the brothers would finally finish eating and just enjoy the small moment together before Jason gets up and bid his brother a goodbye, leaving (Name) alone in the apartment, just watching the TV and drinking away water. It was a peaceful experience- (Name) could just exist and relax alone for a while, not dealing with anyone barging in or bothering him, but his ears started to burn up until they were burning… a bit strange, maybe someone’s talking about him- or thinking out him- be it as a vigilante or as who he is out of that…. Well than that would be Jason- so likely his vigilante persona.

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Though that wouldn’t be the case- in fact it was the second last person (Name) expected to remember him. Dick. The acrobatic male was simply walking around the manor, it felt the same as always- well maybe a little more empty… it was off and he couldn’t think as to why… so that lead to the male snooping around- nothing seemed out of place- well until he made his way to the side of the manor where none of their bedroom were and it was incredibly dusty- and typically Alfred ensure everything was cleaned- so it was strange to see a part of the manor so dirty, causing the male to investigate all he could in this section, opening door after door- most just held old items, things lost to time, so many were just filled with nothing but random items, all until one room, one room which was kept clean- one with a decent bed inside of it- a simple bed with thin covers, no items inside- completely empty besides the bed… well except for a book or two, and some childish drawings- one being what looks like two small stick figure boys- labelled Jason and (Name). Was this Jason’s room? Is what first entered Dick’s mind before he shook it out of his head… wait- who is (Name)?

Dick would try to think through his mind, circling with all sorts of ideas- (Name) must have been someone close to Jason to be in a picture in Jason’s former room- wait no, this was on the complete other side of the manor for bedrooms- maybe it was a guess room?- perhaps this (Name) stayed a night and was the one who draw this… yeah that seemed possible and was most likely, though how come he never met (Name) before?- or was told by Jason… did (Name) mourn for Jason at his passing? It was pretty much just him, Alfred and Bruce mourning… wait- Dick would halt for a second- he remembers a crying boy, one begging for a comfort and release from his distress, crying for Jason- their… brother. “How could I… forget… how could I forget about my own brother…”

Dick would quickly sit down on the bed, head hanging low as he went through his mind, trying to remember anything about his brother… he must’ve took him out somewhere, hung out, go ice cream, helped with homework… but he had nothing- not a single moment he spent with (Name)… how could he forget someone that lived here for almost their entire life- a boy that was found covered in his mother’s blood while she was but sliced and broken pieces… who could have done that to this boy?… why didn’t he help or care for them? Why wasn’t he there for them like he was for the others?- wait… does anyone else remember (Name)? Surely Tim has to know- he’s too intelligent and observant to let someone slip under his nose- but not once was he ever brought up…

What about Damian?- surely they know, after all, those two shared blood, and considering how Damian more better respect their bond as family and made his way into it, he must of kept notes on them- but than again, he could partially remember some more… cruel ways Damian treated (Name)… he must’ve drove them away- they never had any training or were a vigilante, they were just a normal… teen?- god, Dick couldn’t even remember how old (Name) was- he was a terrible brother…

But there was likely one of them that would know- Jason!- he and (Name) were close, at least he thinks… that drawing says so! Maybe his little Jaybird knows and could reconnect their family! If Jason could accept them and come back after all that, sure (Name) could as well! After all, what happened to them was the same treatment they all got- they all lost a parent- or even both, Damian had tried to hurt or kill them all, so it was basically nothing… though perhaps they could all apologise, after all, each of them did ignore (Name) for… well however long he’s stayed in the manor for- and now that Damian was better with people, than he’s surely accept his brother related by blood and (Name) will forgive them- they never meant to treat (Name) so badly, so they’ll make it up, for every day and second not spent together, another five will make it all up!

So Dick pulled out his phone, deciding to try and find (Name)’s number, perhaps he could talk to them directly instead?- after all, he likely gave his number in case of emergencies, and than he wouldn’t have to bother Jason… but than Dick would find out that he doesn’t even have a (Name) in his contacts… alright, so Jason it is! Than with a few taps and rings, the phone was answered, leaving Dick to speak out. “Hey Jaybird! Remember (Name)?… was wondering if you’ve seen him… or know where he is? I wanna check up on my little brother!”

[millerskitty]

Running If You Call My Name

❥ dbf!joel / f!reader x joel miller

❥ (18+) nsfw

❥ reader insert

❥ medium burn, no outbreak au. some timelines are changed to fit the story.

dividers by @/saradika !

warnings: angst, lots of angst, angry joel, mentions of infidelity

word count: 1.6k

masterlist

Chapter 4

The call came in the middle of the night. Sarah had texted you “SOS” and “You up?” half a dozen times and you’d only woken up when she’d finally called you.

“Hello? What’s wrong, Sarah?” You asked groggily.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” She sniffled, “I need you to come over tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“Please. It's not a medical emergency, it’s for emotional support.” She sounded desperate.

“Fine, meet me on your lawn in five minutes.” You hung up and threw your feet over the edge of the bed. You realized it was two in the morning. You grabbed a toothbrush and a blanket and walked over in your little shorts, tank top and bunny slippers.

“I’m so sorry to wake you. I swear I wouldn’t if it wasn’t a crisis.” Sarah whined.

“Shh, s’okay, I’m here, love,” you said, wrapping your arm around her and heading into the Miller home.

You hadn’t even registered that you’d practically snuck into Joel’s house until you were sat in Sarah’s room on her twin bed. She turned on the Christmas lights that decorated her bedroom walls so you could properly see.

“So what’s going on?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

“My girlfriend…” She looked down at her feet. “She cheated on me tonight.”

Your jaw dropped for many reasons, but firstly because you didn’t know that Sarah was dating anyone. “Girlfriend?” You exclaimed.

“Shhh!” She said, nodding her head towards Joel’s bedroom. “Don’t want them to hear us.”

“You mean Joel?” You asked. Them? As in plural?

“Yeah and his, whatever she is.” Sarah said, shrugging.

You didn’t have time to ask, you fought to stay on topic and settled for getting details later despite the pit that formed in your stomach.

“You have a girlfriend and she cheated on you?” you whispered.

“Yes, and she doesn’t know that I know yet.”

“Well how are you sure?”

“Someone showed me proof. She’s spending the night at a guy’s house.” Sarah’s eyes welled up with tears and you grabbed ahold of her hand, caressing it with your thumb.

“Who could possibly know that-”

“The guy’s brother is one of my closest friends and Avery doesn’t know that.” Sarah whispered, her voice cracking, “He sent me a lot of pictures of them cuddling in their living room and then one of them heading to the guy’s bedroom.”

“Oh, honey…” Your own eyes welled up with tears. “She’s fucking horrible for this.”

Sarah’s lip quivered. “Why do I still love her?” She broke into a muffled sob, clinging to your arm.

It was a loaded question. You wondered how it was possible to love someone who’d hurt you so badly. You thought of Joel and his rejection, how he’d made you feel like you weren’t worth the risk despite sharing feelings for each other. You knew that this didn’t quite compare to full on infidelity, but it was all you had.

“Because you have a forgiving nature and a generous heart.” You said, rubbing her back.

“She was my best friend, I don’t know how she could possibly forget about me.”

“Sometimes people do fucked up things,” You pulled her down to be your little spoon.

“It feels like Hell. I don’t know what to do with all this pain.”

“Feel it, think about what you’re going to say to her. See if she confesses, and then make a decision.”

“What would you do?” She sniffed.

“I’m not so merciful. I would humiliate him and then cut him out of my life completely.”

“How?”

“I’d show his mom the proof and show her the son she’d raised was nothing more than a tool.”

Sarah giggled at the idea of showing Avery’s mom what kind of child she’d been raising.

You spent hours talking about the situation until you fell asleep.

~

You woke to the sound of Sarah whispering your name and shaking you. Light flooded the room from the large window and you remembered the night before. You panicked, sitting up in her small bed and checking the time on your phone. It was eight a.m. Pop was at church. You were in Joel Miller’s home. You were starting to devise a plan to escape unseen when Sarah interrupted your thought process.

“Hello? I said she confessed.” Sarah waved a hand in front of your face.

“Oh. Wow. Good morning, did you even sleep?”

“Some, but you stole the blanket so I was cold and I woke up to see a super long message from Avery. She confessed to the whole thing. But my friend said it was because she’d figured out that I was close with him. I guess she’d seen my pictures on their fridge at some point and realized.” Sarah said.

“Fuck. So you think she’s trying to save face? Did she-Did they?”

Sarah’s eyes welled up with tears again, “Yeah.”

“Baby girl, I am so sorry…” You pulled her into your arms and let her cry for a few minutes.

“I’m going to do it.”

“Do what?” You asked, pulling her back to look in her eyes.

“I’m gonna show her mom what kind of girl she raised.” She said, her lip quivering.

“Oh, you don’t have to. I don’t want to be a bad influence.”

“It's going to make me feel better. And then I’ll cut her out of my life.” Sarah wiped her face with a long sleeve.

“I stand by you no matter what, kiddo.” You said, standing up and stretching. “Mind if I use the bathroom?”

“Girl, please. Take your ass to the bathroom.” She half smiled, plopping down onto her back and getting straight to texting up a storm.

You poked your head out of the room, toothbrush in hand and then made your way quietly down the hall and reached for the doorknob to the bathroom before it was yanked out of your reach.

A young redheaded woman stood there in a t-shirt. One of Joel’s t-shirts.

“Who are you?” She asked, her brow raised.

“That’s my daughter,” Joel said, coming around the corner. He stopped cold in his tracks to see you face to face with his “whatever she was".

“I’m actually not, I’m his neighbor. I’m here with his daughter. But I was just leaving.” You said after a very awkward moment of silence.

Your body was on fire with embarrassment, you had no time to register the shock of seeing Joel shirtless, freshly fucked by the woman you’d just met.

You popped your head into Sarah’s bedroom. “Hey, something came up. Gotta go, but text me all the details.”

“Okay, thank you for being here for me!” She called as you ducked out and headed for the front door. You heard the sound of footsteps padding on the wooden floor behind you, sending a chill down your spine as you made it to the door and practically leapt out of it.

He called your name. Once, twice, then on the third time you swung around, anger had finally registered. “What the fuck do you want?” You spat.

“What’re you doing here, let’s start with that?” Joel hissed.

“I was here to emotionally support your kid through something she obviously couldn’t bring to her preoccupied father.” You knew you had no right, but the venom spewed from your mouth anyways. You regretted it immediately.

“What?” Joel shook his head in disbelief. “When did you get here?”

“In the middle of the night, she called me crying. Girl problems. It's fine though, it’s handled.”

“Look, I didn’t mean for that to happen.” Joel said, stepping closer to you.

“I don’t care, Joel. I have no right to feel any type of way about who you put your dick in.” Your voice was getting louder and you knew you should have stopped, but it felt too good to say how you felt to the man in front of you.

“But you do. You do care, don’t you?” Joel asked, towering over you, just a foot of space between you.

“No, I don’t.” Liar.

“Hmm. Funny, I’ve never seen you this upset in all the time I’ve known you. So I call bullshit.”

“I’m not in the mood for your mind games, Joel.” You said, starting to turn away when his hand wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you to face him.

“I’m not the one playing games. Does Chad know you give such a huge fuck about your old man of a neighbor?” He had the nerve to crack a smile.

“Caleb? No. Why would I tell him about the biggest mistake of my life?” You said, instantly regretting it. Joel’s face fell and a little piece of your soul descended to Hell.

“Mistake, huh?”

“Well, what else would you call it? You made a fucking fool of me.” Joel’s hand was still holding onto your wrist when the front door swung open and Sarah came jogging out with your blanket and phone in hand.

“Hey, you forgot your-” She stopped when she saw her father’s hand on you. “You guys okay?”

Joel dropped his hand. “Course, baby, just tell me next time you bring a guest over, will you?”

“Dad, it’s just” She said your name and Joel’s eyes flashed over to yours guiltily.

She looked between you and then decided to remain neutral, handing you your things and slowly retreating back into the house.

“I’m sorry,” Joel said, rubbing the bridge of his hooked nose.

“Don’t even mention it. We can pretend like it never happened, right?” Your words aimed to kill, but they killed a part of you too.

[stareiiez]

You're Mine, Now and Forever

chapter one

notes: shorter chap this time, the gym and 3D art critiques tired my little brain out.

warnings: MINORS DNI

The wind drowns out your screams for help. Considering how fast this Invincible is flying with you tucked tight to his chest, you wouldn't doubt that anyone down below you could hear you now. Anyone still possibly alive wouldn't give half a rat's ass to save the damsel in distress, screaming at the top of her lungs because she's being kidnapped against her will. Your limbs are tired from the slaps and punches you gave to the male when he first wrenched you from the car and pinned you to his stone rock body. You're weak compared to his alien bloodline; it's like he's being pelted by very soft feathers. It's only making you cuter in his eyes, even if that cuteness will turn tiresome if you keep this stupid shit up.

His eyes roll behind his goggles, sighing out while you inhale another lungful of air and scream for the umpteenth time. He hopes to god, this war shit was good enough for Angstrom to send him home now. Or else he's going to pop that stupid-looking excuse for a head off his skinny body and play kickball with it when the other variants come back. Childish delusions aside, he's quite happy with himself for finding you on sheer luck. You still use the same kind of shampoo that you used to, god, he's never letting you go again.

Thankfully, you've grown lightheaded enough to remain quiet for the rest of the short trip back to Angstrom's rendevous location. The bastard is sitting on a sad excuse for a throne of twisted metal and glowing scraps when the two of you land with a harsh thud in front of him. "Send me home, now." His voice states bluntly, his hands bruising your bicep and hip. he talks like you aren't even present. The other man doesn't attempt to question your safety, you doubt bad guys have that bone in their body to harbor empathy for the weak.

'You're not done yet, the variants are still fighting those heroes. You can't quit now." Angstrom quirks a misshapen brow, his skull pulsates in a sick fashion; like his brain is melting into his skin to become one sick brown-colored flesh sac. Your nose wrinkles.

"You promised me another world, but I found a new one." The Invincible squeezes you, to prove his point. It sounds fucking cheesy, but he knows what he meant. Even if the words make the back of his mouth taste sour.

"And so you have, I didn't think your kind was capable of positive fluctuating emotions."

Your neck quirks when you're grabbed so viciously tight again, and your breath squeaks against the shell of his ear. You swear you feel your vertebrae pop, but maybe that's just due to your joints being stressed and you're not seconds away from being squeezed to death because this Invincible hasn't gotten his way yet as if it would have been easy in the first place.

"Send me home, or I'll do what your Mark couldn't and wipe you off the face of the E-" His voice gets cut off by the sound and the strong apparent suction of the green portal that opens up behind him. Both of your combined yells are abrupt and cut off just as quickly as they were let out when you were pulled into the neon green void. Angstrom was wiped out of your view in a matter of seconds.

That was the only way to shut up yapping feral dogs that bit and nipped at his ankles, by giving them what they want so they never bother him again. Your eyes blink

rapidly, at the change of scenery. You can't tell what's different from your home, it looks like you never left; however, everything looks slightly off. The color of the grass is a little too green, and the cars driving by honk a little too loud. You're beyond overstimulated and overwhelmed, that suffocating in this Invincible's arms would be a paradise for you. The male hums, satisfied with this outcome. He's thrilled to be back home that smile you start to hate, when he aims it at you, flickers down onto your pale pale expression. You look like you're about to pass out, and he couldn't be happier.

The air screams in your ears when he takes off without warning. Your arms wrap around his neck on instinct, thanks to Mark taking you out for ' fly dates' every other night when he's not a superhero around the world and beyond. Your heart drops in your stomach at the thought of your boyfriend. For all he knows, he thinks you died in whatever is going on back home. How you wish you could have told him you loved him back in that one short phone call, now who knows when you'll ever be able to say it to him again?

Houses, streetlights, skyscrapers, and cars blur beneath the both of you. City life goes on peacefully from what you can decipher in watercolors that whirl below teary gaze. You blame the wind for that, and not the dread and homesickness that makes your arms wrap tighter around the male. You hate how your body reacts to your kidnapper, just because he has the same build and the same figure as your boyfriend. Maybe in some sick delusion, he would sound like him too if he was nice to you and touched you better.

You're jostled in his arms when the two of you descend rather roughly in front of a house. His house. It looks perfectly fine, with nothing outta place. The color of the shingles and paneling still matches Mark's home back in your world. You swallow thickly, hating how perfectly normal his world looks. You thought someone like him would be born and bred in nothing but hellfire and misery. So what went so damn wrong for this superhero to end up fucked and abnormal in attitude.

"Home sweet home." He speaks, cheery with a sort of raspy twang in his tone that makes something in your spinal column curl inwards. You hate it. His arms, still wrapped around you, shove you forward.

You stumble your way forward, as the invincible guides you forward like smelly dumb cattle. You haven't dared to open your mouth, not yet. Not when you fear to make a fool of yourself to this version's mother and his father. Who knows what this Omni-Man was capable of in this world? Time travel, dimensions, and realities were still fresh to you. Mark never spoke in such detail about them, just due to how worried or uneasy you looked when he had to describe just how different alien anatomies are from your own. You did like the mementos he brought, however, the weird rocks he'd pocket somehow in the nonexistent pockets of his suit. The crumbles of alien flora, or pretty architecture pieces he'd slip in the confines of his boot for safekeeping so he can show it off when he's back in your bed and telling you the very few stories he had about his time in space or whatnot.

Your eyes droop down on the corners, heartache wracking your chest at possibly never getting to giggle over Mark's terrible impressions of the species he'd meet, just so he could see you smile after you were done worrying over him.

"Watch it." You hissed under your breath when you got pushed forward again. The tips of your shoes tripped over the only step to the Graysons' front door.

He ignores you, 'cept for putting a gloved hand on the back of your neck while his other hand reaches over your shoulder for the doorknob, and pushes the door open after a twist of his wrist.

Where you expected to be greeted by Oliver running around, or gossiping to his mom about his older brother sneaking out in the middle of the night to see his version of a girlfriend or partner. You're met with stomach-dropping silence, and the house looks empty. The house doesn't even feel like a home that Mark Grayson's home typically felt like when you visited it often. It felt more like a prison, and your jailer was guiding you by the neck inside. The home felt cold, blinds pulled tight enough to hide the outside world from your wandering gaze. Your arms wrap around your middle and squeeze to try and conserve what little body heat you have.

The door of your cell closes behind you, and you jump too high, much to the chagrin of the Invincible that held you collared. He exhales from his nose, sliding the deadbolt of the lock with his other hand.

He doesn't give you much time to play spot the difference between the living room and kitchen of the house before he leads you up the stairs to the bedrooms. His fingers are a constant reminder as they brush up and down over the pulse point of your neck. You take the steps one at a time, choking down another bout of nausea when his supposed bedroom door stares you in the face. You brace for the worst, thinking that this is where you'll die. This sick bastard just likes to play guard and prisoner with his victims before he tears them in half and goes to sleep in their blood and gore.

His bedroom looks just the same, clean and untouched. The bed made, the posters of Science Dog and other comics have been stripped from the walls. Anything that screamed childlike and so young adult have been scrubbed from the small bedroom, it's so sterile and bland. Another shove and you're sent taking a few steps roughly into the bedroom, catching yourself before you trip and fall.

"Get to liking it here, I don't care either way." The male leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest while his eyes trail over your figure behind black lenses. "I'll be back later."

Your eyes widen, and the thought of being left alone makes your whole body seize up in a wash of unease. "Wait! You can't just kidnap me and leave me here, I don't even know you."

"Watch me." In a blink, before you can comprehend the audacity of it all, the bedroom door closes and locks in front of you. The invincible is gone in a flash, his footsteps thudding away and down the stairs methodically slow.

Panic seizes in your mind, and stupidly you rush forward, trying your dumb luck at wiggling the doorknob frantically. Your breath comes out in faster beats, you're on the brink of hyperventilation when the door doesn't open, and you turn on your heel to give a try at the open-faced windows. The window sills don't budge an inch when you try and wrench slightly dusty glass panes open, your muscles quiver and strain. Your face turns fuchsia in the worthless effort he's gone ahead and planned for you to try and run. He's nailed or glued the windows shut. The walls feel like they're closing in as you grow light-headed with all your wasted strength to fight a losing battle against stubborn window panes. At some point, you're begging for mercy under your breath. Hoping some god, any god, would take pity on your nightmarish situation and save you as best they can.

But they don't. You wear yourself out before any higher being can be bothered to hear your reverent prayers. The walls of the bedroom close more around you, the oxygen in the room grows thinner, and your heart beats harder and your chest even tries and keep you functioning. You're spiraling into a panic attack, or maybe even a heart attack, with how your arms feel prickly and sharp under the layers of skin and muscle. Either or, you hope one of them kills you before you come to accept that you're a prisoner now. At some point, your ass thuds down on the hardwood floor and you end up curling in on yourself. You form into a tight little ball of tears and snot, you're crying. You've panicked yourself enough to crash down hard and let your weary body sob and scream into the folds of your clothing. Your cries bounce off the walls of Mark Grayson's bedroom, it's a mockery of what was once your safe space.

[formulakracing]

fanboy behavior - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 1.3k

warnings: an older man having an insanely large crush on a woman thirty years his junior, ONE-SIDED PINING (LOTS OF IT OKAY), allusions to smut/sexual fantasies, toto is a mess, mentions of divorce, common fic tropes, yadayadayada

a/n: this is sort of a prequel to alkaline! this is set one year before the events of the 2024 bahrain grand prix. toto is super down bad in this already, so expect lots of pining and him being a flustered mess hehe! i figured this would provide some context/background for the first chapter of alkaline <3 (ALSO PLS LISTEN TO ALKALINE BY SLEEP TOKEN!!! IT REALLY ENCAPSULATES TOTO'S YEARNING!!)

his mind is other places.

he should be invested in the current conversation with his engineers and drivers, discussing the current status of the car and the potential modifications that needed to be made before sunday.

but he's not, his foot tapping against the concrete floor absentmindedly, body on autopilot.

it's almost as if his brain was short-circuiting, desperately trying to compute any sort of coherent thought in correlation with the task at hand. yet, if he tries, it just sputters, trailing off, veering towards something else.

well, someone else.

he's thinking about a driver, merely a few paddocks down.

a williams racing driver, actually.

the american girl. barely twenty-one, a rookie in the second williams seat, preparing to compete in her first formula one race in approximately twenty-four hours.

her eyes were like starlight, bursting with a torrent of emotions and complexity, pulling you into their depths, begging for you to get lost within them. her hair was absolutely gorgeous, complementing her features no matter its state.

and her physique?

fuck, the team principal felt like a teenage boy very time he stole a glance, his slacks feeling a little tighter than usual.

with a smile that lit up every room she was in, a radiant aura brimming with kindness and humility, as well as a fiery determination to compete, she was comparable to the sun.

the woman who was starting to become routinely embedded in his daily pondering.

ever since that fateful day in december, when his eyes first drank in that photo of her, hand interlocked with james in front of that williams car, she was the last thing on his mind before he dozed off. and well, the first thing his mind wandered to in the mornings.

she even made an appearance in his dreams, the sound of her voice almost haunting him, so tantalizingly sweet and angelic.

fuck, he was a goner.

this was the third month now where she consumed every crevice of his brain. a continuous loop of all of the sins he wanted to confess, the ways in which he wanted to touch her, and the burning desire to take her under his wing, teaching her all of the ins and outs of racing.

was he obsessed with her? surely not.

not that he memorized every single one of her f2 stats or anything. not that he spent a majority of his free time lately invested in interview clips with her, jotting down all of her favorite things. not that he doodled her during meetings or anything.

not that at least twelve times a day he fantasized about her in a mercedes suit, his fingers carefully tugging down the zipper.

this was normal behavior after a recent divorce. completely normal behavior, actually.

the team principal clears his throat, "i need to step away for a moment. i can barely think straight right now. please, continue. i will rejoin the conversation once i get my shit together."

he can't help but notice the way his drivers exchange a concerned glance, lewis coughing slightly.

"um, all right. toto, is everything okay?"

not quite.

he was going absolutely insane, his mind already reeling at the anticipation of potentially catching a glimpse of her. he wasn't even sure if he would or not, but that possibility sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

those endless possibilities are what kept him up at night. what sent the blood rushing in the mornings, the stiffness in his boxers nearly pulling him out of his slumber. what had him pacing some days in his office, desperate beyond belief for some sort of way to break this spell.

as he strolls out of the garage, a warm breeze rolls through the track, strands of hair blowing all over. he curses slightly, running a quick hand through the tousled mess.

just to his left, a flurry of voice catches his attention, his head swiveling, searching for the source.

besides james is the object of his every desire, the apple of his eye.

as the sun dips below the horizon, he can barely make out her expression. she appears frustrated, her brows furrowed together, a deep frown etched across her lips.

"i just don't fucking understand why that dickhead felt the need to ask me if i was on my period!" she groans, shaking her head, "what the fuck was i supposed to do? let that slide?"

there's a sternness plastered across james' face, yet his voice is soft, laced with sympathy, "i know, but you have to realize that you're going to be asked questions like that because there are misogynists within the sport. no matter how much you prove to us that you deserve this seat, there are going to be pricks out there. we can do a little bit more media training, if you'd like. or, i can hire a publicist for you."

"a publicist? are you fucking kidding me?" her eyes widen, her tone growing more and more frustrated, "i'm not fifteen. i can speak for myself, james."

"it was just a suggestion," he shrugs, sticking out his hands, "look, i know you had a rough day, but let's focus on tomorrow. all right? you're tenth on the grid. that's monumental for your first race. you could win us points."

"we'll see," she scoffs, the toe of her shoe scuffing against the pavement, "i'm sorry for getting upset with you. i'm just really nervous. and well, scared."

scared of what? you have nothing to fear, sweet girl. you're one of the best drivers i have seen step foot on the grid.

toto narrows his eyes, lingering for just a moment longer.

"i just don't know if i deserve this seat," he can sense the falter in her voice, how it shakes, "i don't even know if i deserve a spot in formula one. i mean, look at me! i'm this upset over a dumb question. and i'm just scared everything is going to go to my head tomorrow and i'm going to overthink it."

james wraps his arms around the driver, pulling her in for a tight embrace as a sob wracks her body, "hey, when you're in doubt, you have alex and i. we will always be there for you. i know you're nervous, but you have to realize how special and talented you are to be in this position. you've deserved everything that has come your way, and you will continue to deserve this. i promise."

his biceps flex as he folds his arms against his chest, every fiber of his being resisting the urge to just walk over there and casually sweep her off her feet, squeezing her against his chest as he murmurs in her ear how fucking special she was.

james, she wasn't just special and talented.

she was a fucking star. a star that deserved to shine and hold every ounce of that spotlight.

just like the sun, she deserved to cast her rays of light all over the world.

the world deserved to know who she was. where she came from. how she got here. why she was a worthy competitor and excellent driver.

and by god, toto wolff was hellbent on making that happen.

one way or another.

he just had to be patient. play the long game.

every move from here was to be carefully calculated.

as toto harbored a plan. one that had been brewing the second that speculations swirled around the world of formula one that the first female american driver would be signing to a team.

he was going to have her by his side at mercedes.

fuck, he had been yearning for her this long already.

how much harm would a few more months do? a year?

he could wait a year. he was a patient man.

well, he could wait that long.

as long as that hunger gnawing away at him didn't kill him first.

[hannie-dul-set]

나비 / NABI — ONE.

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, alcohol consumption, rumors as a plot device, mentions of sex, a few minor injuries. WORD COUNT. 9k (out of 40k).

NOTE. hehe...it’s here. this first part is a little short and slow, but things are gonna start picking up from here! please let me know what you think so far 😭😭 half my soul was injected into writing the entirety of this i will never be the same again 💔 also, i recommend listening to beomgyu’s covers while reading this and the upcoming chapters HAHA anyhow, please enjoy!

모기 / MOGI — ONE — TWO — THREE

YOU STILL DON’T LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. Ever since you and he reconciled and publicly became friends again, your life has never known quiet— all thanks to the countless insects constantly buzzing around him, and by consequence around you, every damn day. And it’s not like you can keep avoiding him. Choi Beomgyu has made the executive decision to take advantage of the guilt you’ve been feeling, so for the past month, you’ve been a slave to his whims. 

Responding to 3AM ice cream runs even though you’re swamped with assignments. Going to parties hosted by people you don’t know the fucking names of because he keeps calling you a boring loser. And, the cherry on top, having to deal with Lee Heeseung’s even more annoying presence, just like how you’d predicted he’d behave if he ever finds out you and Beomgyu are friends.

Which he did. Much to your despair and agony.

“Beomgyu, your girlfriend’s here to see you.”

Case in point. You spare him nothing but an eye roll when he lets you in the clubroom of the, ahem, coding club. You’re here because Beomgyu texted you to fetch him a matcha latte and since you’re playing as his slave at the moment (and until your patience runs out), you obliged out of the kindness of your heart, only to get a truckload of teasing in return.

“Oh, hey, what’s up,” Yeonjun throws you a peace sign from their worn out sofa by the door the moment you enter. He’s accompanied by a good number of chip bags on the cushions.

“Hey,” Hanbin greets you as well when you pass by their alleged meeting table. Which, by the way, has stacks of leftover takeout containers and some empty, some half-empty plastic jugs of water. “Beomgyu is on the computer.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. This clubroom is a fucking gremlin hole.

“You know what.” Your path towards Choi Beomgyu is interrupted by Hyunjin, suddenly popping out of the half-wall separating the lounge area from the computers at the back. You jump, because what the fuck? “My heart races everytime you come here. I still get flashbacks from the day you threatened to wreck our safe haven. I think you gave me PTSD.”

Ah, yes. That day. That was eventful. It was the first time you’ve seen Choi Beomgyu cry.

“Serves you right, gossip snorter,” you say. “Out of the way, I have business to deal with.”

Hyunjin indeed gets out of your way, and there he reveals a row of four computers lined up against the wall with their assigned nerds mashing on the keyboards and yelling profanities at matching game screens. You zero in on the one on the far left corner. Surprisingly, Beomgyu is relatively calm compared to the others. You tap on his shoulder. He turns his head around.

“Oh,” he says, pulling his office chair back from out of the desk with a swivel while removing the headphones from his ears and letting them rest around his neck. You notice Jeongin seated beside him, who looks up at you only for a moment only to flinch back to the screen. “You’re here?”

No, shit. You jangle the latte in front of his face, head cocked, and he reaches out for it. But then you quickly jerk back your hand before he can snatch it from you. “Nuh-uh. Pay up.”

“Tch,” Beomgyu clicks his tongue and shoots you a bitter look. “Hyung, can you toss me my jacket?”

Someone from behind does indeed toss him his jacket, and at that very moment as well, Heeseung decides that it’s a great time to indulge in his newly founded hobby. “Hey, how about me? Why didn’t you get me a drink?” He joins the already crowded crevice in the back and swings an arm around your shoulder. “You get a boyfriend and forget all your friends. Have you forgotten that you two got together because of me? I’m hurt, I’m so hurt.”

Your face scrunches up. “Literally, how many times do I have to tell you he’s not my boyfriend.” You elbow Heeseung off, eliciting another whine from him. When your eyes snap back at Beomgyu, you see that he’s preoccupied with going through wallet. You kick his chair. “Say something, dipshit.”

Beomgyu hands you a bill and exchanges it with the matcha latte. You wait for him to speak. He takes a long sip, pulls his face away from the straw with a grimace, hands back the drink to you, then says, “What she said.”

You look at him, drink now back in your hands.

“What the fuck?”

“Keep it,” he says, putting his headphones back on. “Don’t you have class?”

Your jaw clenches. Fucker made you run an errand for nothing. He gives you an asshat smile of goodbye then spins his chair back to his computer. You scoff and smack the back of his head, causing his headphones to slip off. “Bye.”

“Hey!”

“Later,” Heeseung bids you off, and it’s followed by a chorus of goodbyes from the inhabitants of the testosterone infested, stinky gamer cave. Seriously, every time you drop by here, you feel an ounce of your soul shriveling up and rotting away. Yeonjun very politely opens the door for you. You hear one of them yell out before you leave.

“Come over tomorrow. Hanbin hyung’s treating us to pizza!”

And with that, you’re finally free, matcha latte in hand and a desire to breathe in some fresh air because you’re pretty sure the air is polluted in there. But still. It’s been a lot easier to breathe recently than when you two weren’t on good terms.

“Saved you a seat.”

You make it to class two minutes before the schedule. Minjeong proudly taps on the seat next to her, and you take the invitation. “As you should,” you hum, taking out your notes from your bag, and not long after Sungchan arrives and lands on the spot next to you.

It’s the week before finals. Prof Shin starts the class and decides to fuck all of your study schedules by giving a last minute assignment due next week as well. 

“Does this guy want to give us depression before the summer or some shit?” Minjeong complains the moment your professor leaves the lecture hall.“I swear to god, if another prof gives us an assignment due over the break, I’m killing myself.”

“You two have plans over the break?” asks Sungchan, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and the three of you head out for lunch, funneling out into the hallway along with the rest of your blockmates.

“I’m going home,” says Minjeong.

“I have summer classes,” you answer.

Sungchan stops in his tracks. “You serious?” 

“Yup.”

“You bet on it.”

He looks at the both of you like you’re a bunch of withering old ladies and he’s very much unimpressed. “Make some time for the last week. I’m throwing the wildest summer rager and you two can’t miss it.”

You’re pretty sure you replied with something along the lines of an agreement, but you’re not quite sure. The thought completely slips out of your head throughout the next week because, well, finals. And before you know it, your first semester of uni comes to a close, and summer comes crashing in at full swing.

#1: YOU STILL DON’T LIKE HIM FOR WASTING SO MUCH OF YOUR TIME. It’s eight in the morning. Monday. You’re standing in front of Choi Beomgyu’s door.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s the start of your summer semester so you thought you ought to make something healthy just to kick things off on a good note, but as you were scavenging ingredients for fried rice, you realized you were out of salt so that’s why you’re here. You knock on his door again, three times, and you manage to finish watching five more Instagram reel clips before Beomgyu finally answers the door.

Creak.

“Took you long eno—”

You’re caught off guard by the mop of shaggy hair greeting you, clearly having just woken up. His eyebrows are knitted together while he lets out a yawn. He’s in a tank top. It rides up a little when he stretches his arm to reach for an itch on his back.

“What?” he rasps with a grunt, squinting at you after he’s finally settled himself into reality. “Why the hell are you up so early?”

You clear your throat. “Got any salt?”

Beomgyu blinks at you, processing your words. Then he steps back, points a thumb towards his kitchen, and nudges his head in the same direction. “Go crazy.”

With that, Beomgyu lets you monopolize his kitchen cupboards while he flops onto the sofa. You laugh seeing him practically melt into the cushions. He’s never been a morning person. You’re pretty sure he fell asleep like three hours ago.

“I’m gonna steal some of your chives too,” you inform. Beomgyu makes a muffled noise that you assume is a yes, so you go ahead and take the liberty. When you pop out of his kitchen area, you see him in a not very spine-healthy posture on the same sofa while scrolling through his phone. “I’ll drop off some bokkeumbap later.”

Beomgyu’s eyes flit up from his phone and he wiggles into a more normal position. “Do you have plans today?”

“Class,” you answer on your way back out.

“It’s summer?” he says. “Did your dumb ass get your calendars mixed up?”

You roll your eyes, stopping right before the door with your hand on the knob and turn your head to face him. “I thought I could use the early credits so I won’t have to take too many classes in my fourth year. So I could focus on my internship and all.”

There’s a pause. You can see the three dots slowly appearing in succession above Beomgyu’s bedhead. “Oh,” he says. There’s a drop in his voice. Only for a second. “Well, have fun, nerd.”

You stick your tongue out and leave his apartment with your borrowed goods, returning once more after you’ve finished cooking to give him a portion. Honestly, without the food your moms send over, you’re pretty sure he’d be living exclusively off of takeout.

Anyhow, you head to campus for your first summer lecture, and— for the first time god knows how long— your entire day is spent with a lingering, and almost unusual echo of quiet.

“That’s it for our syllabus. We’ll be starting our full swing of classes next week. See you.”

When you exit the lecture hall, the hallway is near empty. The courtyard too, with only a few students littered about underneath the midday sun. It’s so quiet, it’s weird. Around this time, you’d usually be having lunch with Sungchan and Minjeong, sometimes Beomgyu, sometimes Heeseung, but that brat’s not around right now either because he’s on vacation. 

Not having anything to do, you decide to stop by the campus cafe— Horangnabi. You don’t go here often, committed to the shop near your apartment because, well, it’s more convenient for your morning coffees, but you weren’t able to grab one earlier since you cooked breakfast. Might as well get a latte before you leave campus.

“Hi, welcome!”

You’re greeted by the barista, and like most of campus, it’s pretty empty inside as well. "A spanish latte, please. Iced.” While making your order, a sign on the counter catches your eye.

Part-timers, now hiring. You blink, letting it settle for a moment. Maybe for too long of a moment, because the whir of the milk frother snaps back your attention. 

“Are you interested?” 

The barista slides you your drink over the counter with a smile. You take it and press your lips together in a moment of thought. 

You only have classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, and it’s too inconvenient, not to mention expensive to go home, back and forth from Seoul to Daegu and vice versa, on the days in between. Most of your friends are on vacation or went back to their hometowns over the break so you have no one to hang out with over the summer. And you could use the extra money.

“I don’t have any experience, though,” you tell her.

“That’s fine. You’ll get a few days of training,” she answers.

Tempting. You’re almost convinced. “What if I just want to work for the summer? Can I quit when the next semester starts?”

“A lot of students do that,” she hums. You see her take a square of tissue paper from the display, jotting down a series of numbers before sliding it over to you as well. “Julie. Call me if you wanna take the bait.”

You spare one more second to ponder. Then you take the number from under her fingers and carefully stuff it into your pocket. “Thanks.”

The heat has finally settled the moment you exit the cafe, a little bell jingle trailing you from behind, and you take a mental note to bring an umbrella with you from this day forward. Their coffee is good, you have to admit. If you work there for a good month or two, maybe you’d even end up saving cash by making your own drinks instead of having to buy them.

You decide to take the path through the parking lot to make your exit. There’s more trees around, meaning more shade because it’s really freaking hot. It’s very bare in the lot. You pass by a few cars, of which you assume belong to faculty and staff, until one of them honks at you, and you flinch to a halt.

Another honk. Your brows furrow. Looking around, you try to find the culprit, but you end up moving your head in just the right direction for the sun to beam its light directly into your eyes, blinding you temporarily, and you wince. God damn it. You hear another honk again, and you feel yourself start to get irritated. It’s coming from behind you. You spin your heels, vision still muddy from the direct sun attack, but nevertheless you start walking.

“Seriously, who the hell keeps fucking— oh!”

You bump into someone. You feel them balance you by your shoulders.

“You should’ve seen how dumb you looked.” You hear a snicker. Of fucking course, it’s Choi Beomgyu. Who else would it be? “But hey, you make a pretty good pigeon jerking your head around like that.”

“Fuck you,” you jab his arms off. “What are you even doing here?”

Beomgyu notices your coffee and takes a shameless sip from it before answering, “Get in the car. It’s so freaking hot out, jesus.” 

You don’t really have a choice because he practically shoves you into the passenger’s seat. So gentle. You nearly spill your drink all over when your ass lands on the leather cushion. 

“I was just about to sleep again after you dropped off the food earlier,” he explains while starting the car, and you watch him intently. Whenever your schedules matched, you’d sometimes go to and from uni together. But you can’t seem to get used to the image of your friend acting like a responsible adult. It’s fucking with you a bit. “But then I got a message from Prof Kim, asking if I could come by the office today.”

He pulls out of the parking lot, and the cool air finally settles into your skin. “For what?” Beomgyu lets out a groan. Must’ve been for a not great reason.

“The EMC department is hosting a conference of some sorts this year and he asked if I could be a volunteer facilitator, ask a few others from the department to help and join along too.”

“Oh? You gonna do it?”

“Ugh. I don’t know.” You pass through security out the main gate and start heading back to your apartment. “I wanted to come home over the break but the working days for this thing will apparently last throughout the summer. Prof Kim did say this will be minused from my volunteer hours, but I don’t know.” Beomgyu then gives you a side eye all of a sudden. “Speaking of. You undutiful daughter.”

“What?” you leer.

“Your mom hoped that you’d be home for the summer, too. Why didn’t you ask her first before enrolling for summer classes?”

“Why the hell do you two keep talking about me behind my back?” You’re shriveling up. Seriously, why does your mom contact him before you? This is getting ridiculous. “And I’m doing all this so I can graduate early and find a job early, by the way. I don’t even have a full week of classes so I can still come home the first week of July.”

Apparently, you two argued for long enough to finally reach your building. 

“Tell me when you plan on going home,” he says, leaning against the wall beside your door watching as you key in your passcode to your unit. 

“Obviously,” you roll your eyes, smiling. The door unlocks. You push it open. “You’re my free ride after all.” 

Now, your expected response from that is another retort from him, how you’ve been exploiting his kindness and whatnot and you’d have to snark back as well. But for some reason Beomgyu just stays quiet. He says nothing, an unreadable look on his face as he looks at yours. You raise a brow.

“What is it this time?”

Choi Beomgyu says nothing. He lifts up an arm, points his index finger near your face, and jabs his finger straight into your forehead.

“I’ll send you a review of your bokkeumbap later.” He laughs at your appalled expression.

“You’d be shocked to find out it’s better than my mom’s,” you say back, a hand tending to the spot he just attacked unprompted.

“You wish.”

“Eat shit.”

“Oh, I definitely will.” 

You send him a kick, which he dodges before fleeing into the safety of his apartment. Slippery bastard. Anyhow, you call it a day and settle into your own place. Few hours later, Beomgyu indeed sends you a review of your cooking with a photo of an empty dish attached. Three out of five, he says. Slippery bastard turned ungrateful bastard.

The next day, you’re at Horangnabi again. The night prior, you called Julie’s number and gave her the news that you’re in, and she told you to come an hour before opening so they can get you settled.

You come in with a greeting, and you see Julie look up from behind the counter to wave you in with a smile. “You’re here! Hanbin, come meet our new part-timer.”

At the mention of Hanbin’s name, you immediately double take, and emerging from the door to what you assume is the storage area is indeed the Hanbin you know from the coding club. 

“You!” you immediately shriek, almost feeling a hint of betrayal because this is the first time you’ve seen him in daylight, because their clubroom is always so fucking dark. And in something other than the god damned flannels everyone in their club is always so fond of wearing like it’s an unspoken uniform. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, so it is you!” Hanbin happily exclaims. “I thought it was just someone with the same name.”

Julie was delighted to find out you two already knew each other. You skip all the necessary introductions and jump in head first into getting acquainted with the equipment instead.

“We’ll go through all of the drinks first. I also have the recipes printed out over here in case you need reference.”

Having a familiar face in an unfamiliar workplace is indeed a pleasant surprise, but there’s also a familiar sense of dread to have one of Beomgyu’s coding club buddies in here. Granted, he doesn’t annoy or tease you as much as the others, but those guys have already given themselves a label in your head, and Sung Hanbin is no exception to your collective bad impression.

“And then you twist the handle— just like that.”

You’re in the middle of your first latte, the espresso machine up and running. After which, Hanbin teaches you how to use the milk steamer without any difficulty, and you pour the milk into the same cup as the espresso you made earlier. “Wow,” Hanbin remarks. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“I think it’s all thanks to the caffeine I’ve ingested,” you say. “Skill buff. Or whatever you guys say.”

Hanbin laughs and compliments your latte once more. Needless to say, it doesn’t take long for your discomfort to completely disappear because at this point in time, Beomgyu’s friends would already start asking you about him— where he is, why isn’t he with you, etcetera etcetera. But his name has not left Hanbin’s mouth even once, and it’s already the end of your first day.

“It’s always slow here, except on rare occasions, so you’ll be able to handle it with no problems,” Julie says before sending you off. “Anyway, Hanbin and I will be around during your shifts, so you can run to us in case a particularly grumpy student comes to order.”

Hanbin gives you a thumbs up and a bright grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

And that’s how you established your new routine for the rest of the summer. It’s just like Julie said. Things are pretty slow. The only notable thing that happened on your second day at work is Beomgyu sending you a very unflattering, low-angle selfie under the blinding lights of the faculty office glaring behind his head with the text message that he said yes to volunteering for the conference. Sad face emoji included. 

On Thursday, Julie taught you how to make a damn good waffle. On Monday next week, you got your first shitty customer. Finally on Friday, you decided to open your skeleton closet to Hanbin, because not once since your a little over a week of working here has he asked you about the whereabouts of Choi Beomgyu.

“You and Beomgyu are friends right?”

There aren’t any customers except for the regulars from Bio that are almost always found in the corner of the cafe until closing. Hanbin is wiping the already squeaky clean counter because there is nothing to do. “Yes?” he answers, a smile on his face, but with a tone that’s evidently confused. “So are you?”

Christ. Now you’re the one bringing that bastard up. “Right. It’s just a little odd.” There, you bring up what you’ve observed so far since working here, and the fact that you and him have shared actual conversations not involving your old friend, and how it’s pretty surprising to you. “One time, I thought someone was going to confess to me. Turns out he just wanted me to convince Beomgyu to help him rank up in League.”

“Well, I don’t really need any help in that area.” Hanbin laughs, shaking his head. “Sounds like you and him have been friends for a long time.”

Neither of you have told anyone about your history. No reason in particular. Beomgyu just never found the need to tell his friends that you’ve known each other from birth, and neither have you. But Hanbin’s presence, when separated from the rest of his friends, just feels like a blanket of comfort, and you find yourself spilling your guts to him— including the previous three to four month cold war you caused and the reasons.

Hanbin is patient. He listens the entire time with an attentiveness you can only compare to a saint. “I guess being a social butterfly has its unintentional consequences. I’m just happy to hear you two made up.”

“I probably would never regularly step foot in your dungeon hole otherwise.”

He laughs. “The guys in the club also tease you a lot, don’t they? Doesn’t it bother you?”

You press your lips together. “Yeah, but at this point it’s just white noise to me now.”

Hanbin looks at you. “That doesn’t mean you enjoy it either.”

Well. He’s not wrong. 

Your conversation gets cut short with the cafe bell signaling the entrance of customers. You look at the door. It’s a whole stampede of people. It’s Choi Beomgyu and his friends and you can’t even go on a day of talking about them without them showing up.

“Whoa, I’ve never been here before.”

“Dude, you’re in your third year. Where the hell have you been?”

“Doesn’t Hanbin hyung work here—”

“Yeah, let’s ask him to give us free cookies.”

“Hyunjin, buy me a drink.”

“Buy your own drink, nerd.”

“Hi, I’ll have an iced americano, and a— o-oh, my god.”

You’re face to face with Yang Jeongin who nearly pisses himself upon the recognition that it’s you behind the corner. It dominoes to the rest of the group. You don’t know why they’re being so dramatic. You let out a huff and a sigh. “An iced americano and…?” 

Jeongin doesn’t get to answer. Beomgyu unwedges himself from the group and squeezes his way to the counter. “You work here now?” 

You cock a brow. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Since when?” he immediately follows up. You’re a little taken aback.

“Since last Tuesday,” you answer after recounting. Beomgyu makes a face that burrows a pit in your stomach.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Okay. Now you’re very taken aback. There’s a cough from the crowd. And then a very intuitive, not-so-hushed remark from one of the boys. “Holy shit. They’re having a lovers’ quarrel.”

It hits a nerve. Hanbin quickly dissuades anything before you could open your mouth. “So, what are you guys ordering?”

The amount of drinks to make and pastries to bring out gets you busy for a while, but you still keep an eye on Beomgyu, watching as he settles back to normal joking mode with his friends while you try to find an opening to talk to him. You and Hanbin finish making all their orders, so you ask him if you can be excused for a moment. He tells you to go ahead and you make your way to Beomgyu, who’s sitting on one of the ends of the three conjoined tables in the more spacious corner of the store.

He’s talking to Yeonjun. When Yeonjun notices you approaching, he immediately quiets down, so you take this as permission to interrupt. You tap on Beomgyu’s shoulder. “Hey.” He turns around and looks up. “You good?”

Beomgyu opens his mouth, about to say something— “Ahem,” — but then Yeonjun clears his throat, accidentally catching the attention of the rest of the boys, and they’re suddenly popping out their heads like meerkats in your direction. “Should I give you two some space?”

“What’s going on?”

“They’re having a moment.”

“Oh my god.”

“Do you guys sell popcorn?”

You’re used to their teasing. You’re used to their bullshit, really. You’re fine if they pull on your hair strands inside their clubroom, but for fuck’s sake this is a public space. Heeseung isn’t even around, but it seems like all his clubmates caught his disease. Your bio regulars are sneaking a few glances at the commotion. There are other customers too. You’re visibly annoyed and embarrassed— which doesn’t go over Beomgyu’s head, because he notices. And he also looked like he’s getting irritated. 

“Hey, you two should just apologize and make up!”

Beomgyu gets up. You see his jaw clench. Oh no. You quickly grab his arm with a tug before he can do anything— only for Hanbin to show up with a tray, setting it down on their table in a less than gentle manner. They flinch. They shut up. Hanbin sets down a few plates with a chilling smile.

“We don’t have popcorn, but here are your fries,” he says. Wow. “Do you guys want to add anything else?”

There’s a single squeak from the group. “No, we’re good.”

Hanbin hums in acknowledgement and retrieves the tray from the table— not without sending you a thumbs up, to which you mouth a thank you in return. He smiles and nods before going back to the counter, and there you feel Beomgyu removing your hold on his arm from a while ago, and you quickly flit your attention back to him, fearing that you might’ve upset him. Again. Like last time.

“Wait—”

“Are you trying to slack off?” he jeers. You look at him, a little surprised. Beomgyu nudges his head to the counter and you see a few customers filtering in. He did remove your hand from his arm, but he’s still holding it. “I’m not upset because you didn’t tell me you started working here. Well. I was. A bit. But not anymore.”

You feel his thumb run through your knuckles, going over the bumps of each joint, followed by a gentle squeeze.

“It must’ve been heaven for you to get some peace and quiet for once. But then I had to bring these losers around,” he wrinkles his nose. You feel a load get off of your chest. Beomgyu lets go of your hand. “If you told me beforehand, I would’ve steered them away from here.”

“Well it’s fine as long as they don’t cause a scene.” You say the last part a little bit louder than conversational-volume. From the corner of your eye, you see Hyunjin cough on his fry. “Anyway, I gotta get back to work.”

“No shit. Go do what you’re paid for, slacker.”

He lands a smack on your back and you’re pushed off to do your job. Gosh. Hanbin welcomes you back to the station and the both of you are kept busy for the time being, up until late afternoon strikes, and Beomgyu says he can’t drive you home today since they’re still needed back at the faculty office.

“Your girlfriend can get home just fine! Prof Kim’s looking for us, hurry—”

And just like that, he gets lugged out of the cafe. Jeongin laments about returning to “printing hell,” whatever he means by that, and the walls of Horangnabi are once again returned to their original state— peace and quiet.

The bell jingles. You hear nothing but the metronomic melody from the speakers. “Your friends are so draining,” you tell Hanbin.

He just laughs. “They’re quite energetic.”

You should’ve appreciated the serenity and calmness of your first couple of days working here because for the next few weeks, the coding club has decided that the campus cafe is going to be their regular hangout spot from now on. Or until their summer volunteer work finally ends.

“You know, you’re so pretty.”

It’s the end of June now. You’re wiping off some spilled milk from the counter when Julie suddenly decides to dote on you. She’s on the other side of the counter, face between her palms, and your wiping stops, face flushed.

“I—I’m sorry?”

“You’re like the prettiest flower in a garden and I’d fend off all the other bees and butterflies just to have you for myself,” she doubles down. You release a laugh, mildly forced because holy shit, this is a new kind of attention. “No wonder you have all these guys buzzing around you all the time.”

Julie thumb-points at the corner the coding club guys usually occupy. You hear Hyunjin losing his shit over something—

“I think he’s the one they keep buzzing around, seonbae.”

—something Choi Beomgyu very likely said considering the grin he has on his face, and how Yeonjun is also collapsing on his shoulders. You watch as his grin disappears into a cup, taking a sip from the lime soda he ordered. Then he notices you staring. He settles down the drink and gets up. 

“Oh no, he’s coming over.”

“What?” he says after reaching the counter, taking the spot next to Julie. “Are you talking shit about me again?”

“Hey, not everything is about you, insect,” answers Julie. Those two have gotten pretty close too. “I was talking about how pretty our new barista is. She’s a breath of fresh air. A rose among the truckload of weeds sullying the pretty interiors of our dear cafe.”

Beomgyu snorts at the comparison. You give him the stink eye.

“I get what she means,” Hanbin slides into conversation. He hums and passes you the milkshake Jeongin ordered. It’s still missing the whipped cream on top. You fetch a container from the fridge and walk back to your station, only to be met by a sudden debate on what kind of flower you are now.

“No, no. She’s not a rose,” you hear Yeonjun interject. “Appearance wise, she’s like a daffodil. Personality wise, she’s a venus flytrap.” A few of them chortle and laugh. You roll your eyes and start shaking the container.

“You’re wrong, she’s a hydrangea!”

“Aren’t they poisonous?”

“Exactly.”

A few more give their pitches. Honestly, you’re pretty impressed by the amount of knowledge these gamer gremlin boys have. You finish Jeongin’s milkshake and give it back to Hanbin for delivery. Beomgyu is quiet throughout the whole debacle, until Hyunjin eggs him on to give his pitch. They need to hear the expert’s verdict, he says. Beomgyu just brushes them off until he notices you looking at him expectantly. He pauses. He’s actually thinking about it. You’re pleasantly surprised at his sudden thoughtfulness— that is, of course, until he actually opens his freaking mouth.

“You’re a milkweed.”

It’s like a ball gets punted into your head. It bounces off and lands on the ground. You hear a wheeze from the boys. You give Beomgyu the middle finger.

“A weed! Not even a flower!”

“Hey, they are flowers! Go look it up!”

Beomgyu can’t redeem himself anymore. You’re already looking at him with bitter disgust and Julie proceeds to call him a piece of shit.

“It really is a flower!” 

He still defends, pleading his case to you even after the topic has shifted. Julie has left to clean up some tables. Beomgyu remains in his spot on the other side of the counter until you decide to believe him and his alleged substantial botanical knowledge. 

“Sure, whatever,” you deride. Beomgyu is still pouty. “Anyway, your conference thingy is this weekend, right? We’re going home right after?”

“Yeah,” he says, still sounding a little bitter and you bite down a laugh. His eyes flutter down, noticing something on your chin, and offhandedly wipes off what you assume is some stray whipped cream from earlier with his thumb. “Do you wanna leave in the morning or afternoon?”

“Oooooh.”

Lee Heeseung suddenly rears his head near the counter to return their empty plates. He’s back from vacation and now he’s here to reclaim his rightful spot as your number one annoyance. “Get a room,” he says with a shit eating grin that you want to wipe the floor with.

“Why’d you even come back early?” you leer at him. “Weren’t you supposed to be island hopping until the end of July?”

He sticks his tongue out. Beomgyu just laughs. “I can’t miss Sungchan’s party. You’re going, right?”

Right. The alleged wildest, most epic summer rager Jung Sungchan mentioned before parting ways with you and Minjeong over vacation. He texted you about it again last night. You couldn’t leave him on read because he called you immediately after.

“Unfortunately,” you lament. “Sungchan’s gonna throw a tantrum if I don’t show up.”

“You know Sungchan?” Beomgyu suddenly asks. 

You give him a pointed look. “Duh, obviously. We’re in the same major.”

It’s like a lightbulb materializes on the top of his head. “Ah,” he says. “I forgot you had other friends.”

You quickly retaliate by attacking him with the nearest thing you can get your hands on: a dish towel. He lets out a very fake, very dramatic yelp of pain and tells on you to Julie noona for abusing your customers and that you should be fired. 

“You’re no customer, you termite.”

“Ack! Noona! She’s hitting me again!”

“Is this how the youngins flirt nowadays?”

Both of you freeze in frame— him trying to yank your weapon from your hands and you with an arm up ready to throw a punch— and turn your heads towards Heeseung, who has a very smug smile playing on his face. You shoot Beomgyu a glare before roughly tugging the dish towel from his grasp. “Shut your mouth, Hee. How’s it going with your compsci girlie, anyway. You’ve stopped bragging since last month.”

Heeseung’s smile stiffens. He breathes out a ‘haha,’ before starting to turn away. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Serves him right. After a while you routinely bid them good riddance since they have to leave for volunteer work again. The weekend comes rolling, they finish the conference, and, with summer vacation coming to a close, you also bid your part-time job here at Horangnabi farewell as well after two-months of service. 

“It’s not like she’s never coming back here,” Beomgyu huffs. You two decided to stop by before leaving off to your hometown, Monday after their conference. Julie refuses to stop squeezing you. Beomgyu tugs on your shirt sleeve, but you don’t budge. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Coming from the guy who’s spending the entire week with her,” Julie spits back. “You better bring her back here in one piece, you bug.”

Choi Beomgyu succeeds in retrieving you this time. The container carrying two cups of coffee swings in your hand as an arm hooks around your neck, tipping you back, and the top of your skull hits Beomgyu’s chin.

“Hanbin, we’re heading out.”

“Drive safe!”

You’re only spending a little over a week in Daegu. You two still need to come back to Seoul in time for Jung Sungchan’s, cough, epic summer rager. He hasn’t missed a day in reminding you about it. You’re out for a joint-family dinner with Choi Beomgyu and his family and your phone buzzes only to see Sungchan’s text saying [three days. i better see you there 🫵🫵🫵]. 

“Your classes don’t even start until September.”

It’s the third week of August. Your mom decides to walk you to Beomgy’s car. “I still need to enroll and register for my classes,” you tell her. “I’ll call you when I arrive.” You pause. “And if you want to know what I’m up to, just ask me directly for god’s sake. Quit asking that guy.”

That guy wrinkles his nose at you. “Auntie, don’t listen to her. She’s just being jealous.”

“Wait until I tell your mom about how you nearly set fire to your kitchen.”

“Say a single word and I’m never letting you in my car anymore.”

Jung Sungchan’s party is at their vacation home in Eunpyeong District because his parents aren’t in the country. There’s a pool (gross). He promised you and Minjeong exclusive room access to escape to in case of emergencies (nice). It’s late afternoon. Beomgyu is already there because, well, he’s Choi Beomgyu and everyone’s obsessed with him. You’re still at Minjeong’s apartment, getting ready and borrowing some of her accessories.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you guys here?” he asks over the phone. You can barely hear him with the noise in the background. “Taxi fare’s expensive.” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Minjeong makes a face from the foot of the bed while she irons her hair. “I’ve saved up a lot of pocket money thanks to you being my personal chauffeur anyway. And Minjeong doesn’t like you. She thinks you’re a douchebag.”

“I don’t even know her!”

“Bye.” You hang up. Minjeong still has a look on her face. “What?”

“I think he’s stringing you along,” she says bitingly.

You let out a huff. “How can he string me along when I don’t even like him?” Minjeong simply says that Choi Beomgyu gives her bad vibes, whatever the fuck she means because the only vibe Beomgyu exudes is the vibe of extreme annoyance. You hop off Minjeong’s bed and change into the outfit you brought, opting to put on this very big, droopy sunhat you once bought at a flea market as extra protection. It’s stupid hot out. You steal some of Minjeong’s sunscreen as well before finally heading out.

“Did Sungchan invite everyone at uni or something?”

A foot into his gate, it’s already so crowded. Like really fucking crowded. There’s music blasting somewhere. You can’t find Sungchan anywhere in the yard so you and Minjeong squeeze your way into the house, and there you find him with Heeseung. Minjeong yells for his attention, and he spins around with a big smile. “Hey, you made it!” Sungchan hurls himself at you with a bone crushing hug. “It feels like it’s been ten years since I last saw you.”

“Quit being so dramat— ack! Tap out, tap out! I give!”

He finally releases you, and you grunt. “Here you go.” He tosses the keys to the room he promised. 

“Have fun partying.” Minjeong snatches it into her hands immediately. You scan the area for a bit. You see Hyunjin and Jeongin in the corner of the living room.

“Boo, you’re so lame,” jeers Sungchan, to which Minjeong just ignores and tugs your arm.

“How about you?” she asks.

You shift your gaze back to her. “I’ll go look for Choi Beomgyu’s round head first then hermit up there with you.” Minjeong makes a gagging noise before going off for the staircase. You’re ready to take out your phone to shoot Beomgyu a text, but you feel a sudden weight on the top of your head, so you look up, brows knitted.

“Your boyfie’s out in the back, sunshine,” Sungchan says while attempting to snatch your hat. 

“Not my fucking boyfriend.” You swat his hand away and readjust the hat on your head. “But thanks. Later.”

The thing about your longtime friend is that no matter how crowded the place, no matter how flooded an area is with people and people and people— he’s generally very easy to find. Just look for a crowd, look for bodies circling around each other and whoever is at the epicenter, at the eye of the storm, is more often than not Choi Beomgyu.

Your trick is proven to be effective this time around as well. When you leave the living room through the glass doors to the backyard, you spot him instantaneously sitting on the ledge of the other side of the pool, feet dipping into the water as he laughs along with the large group surrounding him. It’s bright out— the sun’s rays bouncing off from the water’s surface to glitter the underside of his face. Even the sun has his attention. It’s so comically ridiculous that you almost roll your eyes into a scoff. That is until you see him see you, and within a moment’s notice, he’s up on his feet and is departing from the crowd to walk up to you.

“You’re here.”

The first thing he does is swipe the sunhat from your head, adding it to his obnoxiously colored outfit: a bright pink buttoned top with neon orange flowers, the color matching the necklace he’s uncharacteristically wearing. He’s also got a pair of square framed sunglasses perched on his nose. “Is this your highlighter cosplay?” you ask, snickering. 

He shoots you a glare. “Fuck off. What took you so long, anyway? Thought you got lost or something.”

“I wish I did,” you grunt. There’s a holler and a splash from somewhere. You feel a few droplets hitting the skin of your feet. Beomgyu tugs you by the arm a little farther away from the pool. “This is way too noisy for my liking. And I thought I’ve been desensitized by you and your friends.” 

“Yeah, but—”

“Beomgyu!”

A third voice suddenly barges in from behind you. Beomgyu’s eyes leave your face for a second when you feel someone brush past your shoulders. “Hey!” Beomgyu greets back, giving who you assume is one of his friends a high five before the guy runs off again, then his gaze flits back to you. “Anyway—”

“Hey, kid, haven’t seen you in a while!”

A more familiar face shows up and greets Beomgyu with a slap on the back, once more fishing away his attention. You’ve seen him at Horangnabi before, you think. “Hyung, I’ll get to you in a sec!” he says. When Beomgyu looks at you again, his smile quickly drops into a pursed huff. “Ugh.”

You laugh. “You were saying?”

Beomgyu smacks his tongue in distaste, tugging you even further into a corner in the backyard, right next to a bush-lined fence under the shade. “I was trying to say— it’s good to get out of your comfort zone once in a while, you know. Your mother would cry tears of joy to hear that her hermit of a daughter is at a party.”

“Why do you always bring up my mother when you want to make a point?”

“Extra leverage,” he grins. “There’s drinks in the cooler. Want me to get you one?”

“Nah,” you say. “I’m gonna hole up in Sungchan’s room in about—” you check the time on your phone. “Ten minutes. Minjeong’s already in our sanctuary.”

You receive a pinch on the nose from Beomgyu for that. You try to elbow him off, and just as he’s about to say something again, you two hear his name being yelled out from somewhere in the area. “Choi Beomgyu! Pool volleyball, stat!” Beomgyu pauses, arms dropping to his sides and his shoulders slump in defeat. A single breath of wind, he’s gonna fall over.

“God fucking damn it.”

It’s very funny seeing him like this. “Off you go,” you push his limp body out of the shade, the sun hitting you both once more. Beomgyu makes a grunt of protest. “Go, butterfly, go. Your people are waiting for you.”

Beomgyu gives you a look of awful judgment, but starts unbuttoning his shirt anyway in preparation to take a dive. “You’re not gonna swim?” he asks.

“In that water?” you grimace. “Want me to catch a disease or some shit? You’re on your own, pal.”

“Drama queen,” he huffs, fully removing his shirt now and you’re like whoa there— eyes away, eyes away. A screeching voice calls from his attention. He looks behind to yell back, “Shut the fuck up, I’ll there in a minute!”

“Hand me your phone,” you tell him, holding out your hand. Beomgyu turns around, looking at you with his atrociously bright shirt hanging on his forearm. You clear your throat. “And clothes. Ask Sungchan for directions to his room to find me later.”

“You sure?” he asks, digging into his short pockets.

“Yeah. Go have your fun, loser.”

Beomgyu hums and takes your offer, handing you his phone, tossing his shirt to your face, putting your sun hat back on top of your head and making sure to ruin your hair in the process. He’s so fucking annoying. “I’ll be back after I kick their asses.”

The shirt drops from your face and falls, only to hang on your arm. “Hey. I don’t really care,” you say. Beomgyu doesn’t find that response satisfactory. He makes a face before running off, slow at first before breaking into a sprint once he’s near enough the pool, before jumping straight into the water with a loud splash!

His head emerges from the water, largely grinning with his hair sticking to his skull. It doesn’t take long for him to be swallowed by a group of people. You take this as your cue to leave.

“I know you hate it when people assume you’re dating. But seeing all that, I really can’t blame them.”

“Holy shit— Minjeong,” you jump, meeting face-to-face with your friend the moment you spin your heels. She’s got her arms crossed, looking at you like she’s massively unimpressed. “When did you get here?”

“I thought you died or something,” she shrugs. There’s a splash from the pool, you two getting hit as collateral damages and Minjeong makes a gagging noise. “I can’t believe I left home early for this mess.”

You make a noise of agreement. It’s around four right now, the number of people isn’t getting any smaller, and the music is yet to get louder. Choi Beomgyu’s shirt and phone are still on your person. Said phone buzzing incessantly in your hold. “I’ve been out here for a good ten minutes,” you say. “I think that’s enough.”

“Good call. Let’s go upstairs.”

On the way to the room, you bump into Heeseung, who ropes you in to taking two jello shots before setting you free. You also greet a few people that you know for uni here and there, but you can barely hear them over, well, everything. It’s so chaotic, you’re beginning to wonder how the hell Jung Sungchan is going to clean up the aftermath of this. Or maybe that’s why he was so desperate to have you and Minjeong over. So that you’d help him clean up. 

Minjeong seems to agree with your theory. You two key in the door to the room he gave you while cussing him out. “That bastard. Of course, he’d have ulterior motives.” The door opens. Minjeong lets herself in and immediately throws herself face-first onto the bed. “I’m gonna nap.”

“You dressed up all cutely just to sleep at a party,” you say, scanning around the room for a place to put away Beomgyu’s things. 

“Hey, my ten minutes of screentime needs to be worth it,” she replies, voice muffled by the mattress. “Night, night.”

With how pretty the interiors look, you’re pretty sure this isn’t a room Sungchan frequents. A guest bed, maybe. There’s a large window on the opposite wall revealing a vivid backyard view, sheer white curtains filtering the sun. It’s very bohemian. Tasseled rugs, rattan decor hung all around. You notice the round, wicker seat next to the bed with a patterned cushion. You toss Beomgyu’s belongings there and walk up to the window.

Peeling back the curtain, you look down to see a flood of people scattered all about the yard, muffled music and noises leaking into the cracks of the room. Choi Beomgyu is still splashing around the pool. You watch as he throws a beach ball overhead, eyes following it fly across the water, until it ultimately bounces off the pool ledge and hits someone from behind. He looks pretty happy with the stunt. You let out a huff, a tug on the corners of your mouth, and let yourself sink into the soft rug in between the bed and the windowsill, laying down.

You hear Minjeong squirming from above. Damn, she’s actually sleeping. You’d get up there and join her too, but the floor is already comfortable, and you’re already yawning, so you feel yourself starting to doze off, lulled by the distant sounds of people from the outside.

When you open your eyes again, it’s orange.

You open your phone. Almost six in the evening. The sunset leaks into the room through the sheer curtain, painting shadows on the floor as you blink and regain your consciousness.

Then you hear three sharp knocks from the other side of the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Coming.” It takes a while for you to reconnect the wires in your brain. You let out a yawn as you make your groggy steps towards the door, seeing Minjeong wedged into the upper corner of the bed in a way that’s definitely going to wrinkle her outfit. There’s a few more knocks on the door. You twist the knob open and lo and behold—

It’s Choi Beomgyu.

“Oh, thank god, I found the right room this time.”

Half-clothed. With a very evident, painful red mark on his left cheekbone.

“Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?”

You’re wide awake now. Beomgyu answers with a sheepish grin. “Well. You see. A little accident occurred.” 

He flinches back and looks away guiltily with tightly pressed lips the moment you nudge your face closer. It’s swollen. You take a step back with a sigh. “Explain,” you say, grabbing him into the room. You tip the door close with your foot and bring him to the foot of the bed, careful not to wake Minjeong up in the process.

“Some of the guys got a little too tipsy,” he starts as you sit him down onto the mattress. You kneel onto the bed stool, sinking into the loose blanket draped on the cushion just next to his outstretched legs while he continues yapping. “There was a surfboard involved. Don’t ask. But with alcohol-induced lack of coordination, and then there’s me who was by the pool ledge at the wrong place at the wrong time— I think you can get an idea of what happened.

He leans back, sinking his hands into the cushion. You dip forward. “That’s nothing to brag about.” Yeah, he’s gonna need some ice. 

“I think I bumped my head a little too.”

You feel a breath escape. He’s smiling. How many beer cans has he downed already? “Beomgyu. Seriously. What the fuck?” His face is irritating you, so you grab it and yank it down to get a good look of his big, round head. “Where?”

“Ack! Gently! Do it gently!” he complains, and you feel his right hand coil around your left wrist. “It’s father in the back, I think—”

“Quit grabbing—”

“Ow!”

You do manage to find the bump, but you accidentally press on it a little too hard, causing Choi Beomgyu to yank your wrist in surprise, jerking you forward out of balance. Now, that’s fine and all, but at the same moment, you hear two unfamiliar voices speaking in hushes approaching the door. Your eyes widen.

“Are you sure this room is empty?”

“Yeah, it’s empty, just—”

Swing! 

You try to get up. But your knees slip on the blanket on the stool and you stumble forward upon hearing the door slam open.

It’s a domino effect. Your palms are pressing against the soft mattress. Choi Beomgyu’s bruised face is looking straight at you in alarm. From underneath. You’re on top of him. On the bed. You snap your head towards the door and it’s wide, wide open with two people, half inside, and a few more heads poking in and zeroing in on you as the realization that you forgot to fucking lock it dawns upon you and soaks into your bones.

This. This isn’t a favorable position.

God damn it all.

“Sorry!”

And the door is slammed shut once more. That doesn’t matter. The damage has been done. You feel your face starting to burn and your strength attempting to escape from your body.

“Uh.”

The voice from below you reels your attention back in. You blink. Shit. You’re practically pinning Choi Beomgyu against the bed right now and his face is just a few inches away from yours. The heat is rising to your head. You want to move, but your arms won’t budge— seemingly temporarily locked into place by the shock of the sight underneath you.

His eyes are wide open, reflecting the orange tinted light from the ceiling, flushing his skin with a light shade of auburn, the tint deeper on his cheeks and nose. You see his throat bob, muscles contracting. 

The thing is, you’ve known him for a good twenty years or so, give or take. But you’ve never seen his face this close before, and you have to admit—

“C—can you move?”

Choi Beomgyu is kind of pretty.

Even with an ugly bruise forming underneath his eye.

“Hey. I don’t think this is gonna help kill any of the rumors.”

You look up to see Minjeong further up on the bed, very, very awake. You forgot she’s here. You toss yourself to the side with a squeak, practically hurling yourself off from the bed. “It—it was an accident!” you start. Minjeong simply shakes her head with sigh.

“I know. I saw everything. I was already awake the moment you sat this fucker’s ass on the bed.”

Hot. Your face is very hot. But Minjeong is also very right because god— you’re not sure how far things are gonna escalate. How many people saw that? Five? Maybe Six? Gosh, you don’t fucking know. The only thing you’re sure about is the fact that Lee Heeseung is gonna have a field day once he hears about this. You are royally screwed.

나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[acid-ixx]

Hiii, I have read all your work and it is very good :D!! I've read it several times and never get bored.

Can I ask about something? I'm curious about the characteristics or signs of yandere appearing in Tim. Will he be the last family member to become a yandere? Sorry I asked like this because I feel like he's not getting enough attention in drabbles, questions from other readers, or anything else. So I'm curious.

I hope you understand my question. Because English is not my first language.

— masterlist !

don't mind me using the tags here, i want to clarify a lot of things.

hi anon!! don't worry about your english, i understand perfectly and it's also not my first language too hehe. and to all the others who have asked about tim's (or any other characters') appearance in the series: fear not, nobody is getting ignored at all, i intend for everyone to have their designated events/moments that trigger yandere characteristics for the reader for each chapter. it's my plan to make them each as unique as possible with their intentions, motives and goals, not just them being simply "obsessed" with you, so i'm trying my best to add depth to the story.

that means the entire series will stretch out quite a lot (i already have outlined multiple arcs, flashbacks, and all the characters' individual traits and significance). it's not just going to be ten chapters, i want to remind others that there's more lore to just the neglect, your mother's dark past, and characters that haven't even been introduced to the plot yet, so if you guys prefer one-shots or something shorter, then the series is not for you folks, sorry 😭

as for tim, he is quite literally my favorite character (surprise!), so of course he's going to get special treatment. he's not going to be the last to become yandere, but his spiral to becoming a yandere takes quite a lot of time since compared to others, it's him who spends the least amount of moments with you. even in the non-neglected au i wrote, what triggered his obsession was mere curiousity.

though just because there're lesser events with him, doesn't mean there will be none. he certainly plays a major role in the "wild goose chase arc where the family tries to negotiate (kidnap) you whilst you try to escape to multiple cities/end up in a completely different country". he may not express his love for the reader well, but he most definitely knows the most about you.

oh! and the traits that he does have as a yandere looks tame when you compare it to others, but it's also because it manifests through his personal dialogue (as i reckon he's keeps most of his thoughts about you to himself most of the time (gatekeeper archetype) and he's the character with the most internal dialogue/thoughts too). he's the worst stalker you could have, the one who you should look out for the most with just how much he knows about you in such a short period of time. tim's intelligence and detective skills knows no bounds, and he won't stop exhausting himself until the very knowledge of what the blood pumping under your skin feels like and the exact temperature of your body— is extracted and stored into the terabytes of data he has into his personal batcave.

and spoiler alert: he's also the one who uncovers your mother's past and alongside bruce, what had happened between the period of time when you were dragged out of the closet and the other time in elementary when you were nearly kidnapped, which completely leads to another arc wherein it's where their obsession drives off to a completely different plane of existence, exalting vengeance on the people who tormented you; but tim's pettiness is just on a whole nother level.

and i have to stop here before i (excitedly) spoil the entire series' plot LMAO. my answer to this is a bit more casual to the other asks, so i hope it doesn't irritate anyone.

so thank you for asking this! i also have a question for you people too:

how is the current progression of the plot? i get that it isn't even 10% finished and some moments feel slow, but i try to be as immersive as possible to the readers. so for those who have read the entire thing, what do you want me to possibly add, or does anyone have other clarifications? can anyone tolerate a fanfic that can possibly lead to more than 250k words??? 😭

[fxtalitygod]

X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

Love.

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

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