#to be clear I didn’t get a message like this just thinking about it from Rini’s ask that she got

[you-know-honey]

A Strange Guy

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Chapter Summary: Jayce needs to go to Undercity for certain materials if he wants to continue his secret project. Which ends up taking him to the only crazy person who take risks to take him. You. Even if it ends up getting you into more serious problems than street fights.

Series: The Path of Zaun

Next Part

N/A: English is not my first language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I'll update it. Remember share if you liked it.

Knock…Knock…Knock

The knocking on the door started softly, like the sound of a drop on wood, almost imperceptible to your ears. The cold air of Piltover came through the window, clean air, so pure that even after so many years your lungs were still not used to it. In undercity you were used to the heavy, dry air, the damp, sticky streets, but above all, dark, where the sun was barely a mirage and everything was ruled by shadows. In the great city of progress everything was full of unusual energy, each piece destined to move with millimetric precision, full of light even at night.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The knocking became louder, making the beams of your very humble bedroom at the academy vibrate. It was not how you had thought you would end up. A small apartment, so old that you thought maybe Professor Heirmerdinger himself lived there when it was just new, but you couldn't expect anything less, without a last name to bear or a sponsor watching your back it was all you had, and still it was better than having nothing like in undercity.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

You woke up with a start, your back creaking as you stood up from the chair and stretched. Some of your notes were stuck to your face and the ink had been ruined by your drool. You were a complete mess right now, but who would come to your room at this hour? The clock read 2:36 AM. You ran your hands over your face trying to help you wake up and tear the papers off your face.

You walked as best you could to the door, tripping over everything in your way. You swung the door open, through the shadows of the night and your irritated eyes, you focused on a tall, burly man standing in front of you.

“What do you want?” you asked. You weren’t in the mood for whatever that guy needed, besides only one person in the world had the right to visit you in the middle of the night and it definitely wasn’t him.

“Are you Y/N?” he seemed quite nervous, playing with his fingers and avoiding eye contact with you.

You refrained from answering for a moment, if this was some kind of joke from your classmates they would pay dearly for waking you up at this hour. “Who’s asking?”

The boy didn’t seem to expect that answer but he answered as quickly as he could, as if he was holding back from spitting out a wave of words.

“Jayce Talis”

I think the raised eyebrow on your face gave him the message that you had no idea who the hell he was, maybe that’s why he seemed embarrassed.

“Mhmm, and what is Jayce Talis doing knocking on my door?” You leaned back against the door with your arms crossed. “I don’t think you’re coming here just to introduce yourself.”

The boy cleared his throat, as if he was gaining courage to be more firm in his way of speaking.

“You’re from undercity, right?”

“You got it, congratulations.” I joked, giving him a sarcastic, slow applause.

You snapped your fingers in front of him when you caught him looking behind you. “What do you need?”

The academy was very clear about where they wanted to invest the funds they received. The biology faculty was one of the last places on their priority list. It had been years since any of the projects proposed by their students had borne fruit or even been promising. This was the reason why you fell asleep on your desk that night, working on your own project.

“I need you to take me there.”

Your eyes widened before bursting into a loud laugh.

“You? In undercity? Are you crazy?” You’ll be eaten alive.” You tried to stop laughing when the boy’s brow furrowed in disgust, but you couldn’t imagine a guy like him, so well dressed in a place like your home.

The light of a flashlight at the end of the hallway caught both of your attention, your laughter had attracted a police officer who was making rounds in the academy.

“I don’t think you should be here, Jayce Talis” you smiled, ready to close the door and have someone else take care of him.

The man clenched his jaw and clenched his fists, he was annoyed, not at all pleased with you playing with him, the police officer’s increasingly closer steps left them little time to act.

“Hey!” you shouted when the man pushed you aside and snuck into your room, closing the door behind him.

You didn’t say anything when the police officer’s flashlight stopped in front of your door a few seconds before continuing his rounds. The academy was very strict about students in the hallways, their strategy had been foolish and risky. You could scream, alert the police about him…but you wouldn’t, because then you would bear the brunt of the possible punishment.

“What is all this?” he asked, moving from the door to walk curiously around the small living room.

Behind your back, what you had tried to hide from him, was your small private laboratory. The desk was overflowing without space, filled with papers and notebooks in total disarray, one of the walls was completely covered with terrariums, large ones with flowers that possibly no one in Piltover had ever seen before. A sight for someone so curious to Jayce.

“It’s none of your business” you replied, there was no way to excuse the sight, it was just what it seemed. You let yourself fall on the couch reluctantly.

He smiled maliciously “Maybe not, but I bet Professor Heimerdinger did”

Your body rose as if a spring from the couch had lifted it, you grabbed one of the books on the nightstand, the thickest one and threw it in his direction, with such good luck that you managed to hit him directly in the forehead.

“If you say anything I’ll kill you!” you screamed while trying to keep your composure and relax your agitated breathing.

He didn’t scream in pain, although you were sure he would have if it weren’t for the fact that the policeman would have surely heard him and well…it was the female student wing “Crazy…” he sighed while touching his forehead with his fingers, luckily there was no blood. He took the chair from your desk and turned it to sit in front of you, with a grimace you dropped back down onto the couch. “Let’s make a deal.”

You had no other choice so you just nodded.

“Take me to undercity and Heimerdinger will never know about… whatever you do here.” he said as he pointed at the terrariums.

“They’re toxin purifiers…” you muttered under your breath. You weren’t happy that they treated your job like a simple child’s game.

“What?”

“They’re plants that purify the air and earth of toxins, I’m trying to make them work on a large scale.”

“I’ve never seen that kind of plants,” he exclaimed, and it made sense, they were rare and it had been extremely difficult for you to find them, they glowed in the dark, some with leaves that seemed to move like tentacles, others gave the image of a skull.

You let out a small, egotistical and proud smile. “Of course not. They are plants from undercity”

“How did you get them?” he asked, standing up and bringing his hand closer to the glass of one of the terrariums.

“What do you think?” you walked towards him as soon as you saw him approach the terrarium, you had been working on this project for years and you weren’t going to let any of his imprudences ruin it.

He rolled his eyes, you weren’t being easy to deal with, not that you wanted to be. He let out a small growl before turning around to glare at you.

“Are you always this charming?”

“Only with those who enter my room without permission.” You forced a smile.

He sighed again, massaging his temples in frustration.

“Let’s stop playing games, take me to undercity tonight and no one will know about your research. Period.” He crossed his arms, seeming very determined to continue with this crazy idea.

You thought of some way to dissuade him from that, but he seemed too sure and perhaps too desperate for you to convince him. There weren't many undercity students in the academy, you could count them on the fingers of one hand and you would have fingers left over, but you supposed that no one was crazy enough to go down again after all the comforts that the academy offered.

“Why do you want to go?” You asked, giving up, after all if it was something simple you could do it, otherwise you would hit his head with something and leave him in the main hallway so it would seem like it was just a bad dream.

“It's none of your business” he replied, almost in the same tone that you spoke to him.

“You already stuck your nose in my business, it's only fair that I do the same.” He also sighed and sat back down in the chair.

Both of you were realizing that their pride would only lead them to an ego fight until dawn and neither of them were comfortable with something like that.

“I need some machinery parts…” he said, obviously not wanting to reveal too much and biting his tongue to avoid accidentally saying anything too much.

“Machinery parts? You could get that at any market here.” you snorted, finding it ridiculous that he wanted to go down for something he could get in much better condition in Piltover.

“They are specific parts, I couldn’t get them here without raising suspicions” he mentioned, taking a notebook out of his vest.

You hadn’t noticed that he had something inside his clothes, it made your hair stand on end to think that it could have been a weapon and you hadn’t noticed. You swept those paranoid thoughts from your mind to continue listening to him.

“Show me and I’ll tell you where to get it” you walked slowly behind him, leaning an elbow to rest your face on his shoulder, he winced but you didn’t care.

He opened the book to one of the bookmarks, very clever of him, so you wouldn't take a quick look at the rest, on the page there were very specific tools and materials, and you knew that things like that wouldn't be easy to get in the (in your opinion) very basic markets of Piltover, if he said to make them on his own, it would attract the attention of the teaching staff and since this boy had sought you out, that was probably the last thing he wanted.

You looked at the notebook for a moment, hoping to see something that would give you a clue about what he was up to. “You sign every page? A bit of an egotistical on your part.” He just rolled his eyes, but you noticed that he tried to cover his name on the page with his thumb. “Do you have money to pay for something like that? Things aren’t cheap downstairs,” you mentioned, letting your face fall on his shoulder.

“Will this be enough?” he asked, leaving in the coffe table a bag of considerable size with gold coins.

You let out a small giggle. “If you’re not easy to scam, I suppose this is enough.”

“So, do you accept?” He turned his head in surprise, getting too close to yours, both of you moving away from each other as if you were leprosy.

You thought about it for a few minutes, it seemed like something not too difficult to do, go get some gadgets and come back, it didn’t seem that difficult. It would be easy.

“Okay, deal.” You extended your hand to him, who didn’t hesitate to close the deal with a smile.

“So… are we going now?” he asked, like an excited child going on a trip for the first time.

You looked him up and down very critically, everything screamed Piltover boy.

“Not with those clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” he asked, looking at himself for any wardrobe flaws.

“Do you want to be stripped? If you come there’s dressing like that, forget about getting anything.” You crossed your arms, thinking of something that might work, you didn’t think he had a change of clothes in his vest.

“Do you have any ideas?”

An invisible lightbulb lit up above your head, accompanied by a mischievous smile that chilled his blood. “I think so…”

“I hate you.” Jayce exclaimed. If looks could kill your body would be unrecognizable.

“Who goes on an undercity with gold details on their clothes?” you quickly replied with a murmur. It wouldn’t be wise for any police to see them right now.

“Couldn’t you get something better?” he stretched the tight collar of the shirt that clearly wasn’t his size.

“The janitor’s clothes are fine, don’t complain.” You poked your head out of one of the alleys. “A cop is coming. Against the wall.”

For once he heard you, it was funny to see him stick to the wall, a little more force and he would go through it. You did the same, clearly with more class than him. It had been a long time since you had worn those clothes, you had buried them in the back of your closet in the hopes of never wearing them again but somehow it was the most comfortable you had been in a long time.

In Jayce’s case you couldn’t say the same, he looked like a cake in the wrong mold, the poor janitor’s uniform barely fit him, the buttons were trying their best not to jump out of the buttonholes of the shirt, you didn’t even try with the shoes, they were too small so you just limited yourself to putting tape on the gold details and making him step in every mud puddle on the way to the bridge.

When the policeman walked away, far enough so that he wouldn’t hear you, you motioned for him to follow you, both of you successfully sneaking to the end.

“This place isn’t so bad” he said as you walked through the streets of the surface.

“This isn’t undercity” you mentioned, giving him a quick glance before quickening your pace and tightening your grip on the backpack on your shoulders.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, as if he didn’t expect that answer from you. Somehow that irritated you.

Going back to that place simply awakened a huge irritation inside you, you couldn't control it, it was the part of you that kept you alive all that time. Both arrived in front of an old establishment in ruins, next to a dark precipice.

“Do you want the easy way or the interesting way?” you adjusted your backpack and began to stretch all the dormant muscles in your body.

“Which is the interesting one?” He asked, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets when you pointed with your head to the precipice “The easy one, definitely the easy one” he quickly said.

You sighed, you had definitely liked the idea of ​​jumping on roofs and sliding down pipes with the minimum of safety.

“As you wish princess” without warning you entered the place, at the back was the elevator “ I was thinking of giving you the panoramic view tour”

Jayce ran after you, as soon as he set foot inside you turned on the elevator and with the sound of old mechanism working you warned them that they were descending.

The sight in front of Jayce left him with his mouth open. The view only gave an industrial and decaying place, in the darkness the only touch of light were the saturated neon signs of some stores, he was surprised how they were still standing, above them rose buildings more similar to the architecture of Piltover, only a few could afford that luxury, as they went down the air became heavier and more humid with different smells that he preferred not to think about too much, he knew that the path would not be easy when you hid a knife in your pocket.

“Just in case” you told him. It's not like he would be of support if they found themselves in crossfire but at least it would be enough to keep away a few addicts and minor criminals.

The elevator soon filled with people and Jayce felt you press your back against his body to make him crash into the wall, you didn't look at him, nor did you apologize, it was what you were used to doing and he seemed to understand it well.

Each inhabitant had a unique style, crazy and anti-gravity hairstyles, old clothes or with patches everywhere, some with prosthetics made to make them look more intimidating than to take care of their health.

Going down you took his hand and pushed him through all the people in the elevator, you received some insults but you wisely ignored them.

Returning gave you back the feeling of hopelessness you used to live with, remembering all the time you were fighting to survive at all costs. Every inhabitant of undercity was resilient, refusing to let themselves die, clinging to life and the dream of something better with nails and teeth.

You shook your head to clear away that fog of thoughts, you weren't here to go back to the streets, you were here for work. Both of you walked in silence a few more blocks, loud and noisy music could be heard coming from most of the premises.

“Keep your eyes forward” you told him when you caught him looking at a modified weapon in the hands of a thug with an unfriendly face.

He listened to you, like a punished puppy he looked at the ground and let himself be guided to a small and lonely alley where they barely change.

“Why are we stopping?” he asked, he seemed somewhat worried. Sure two academy students caught trying to buy contraband in undercity deserved a considerable punishment if they were caught, but to be honest it was the least of the problems they could face right now.

“Show me what you need to finish this quickly.” He quickly pulled out his notebook in the correct bookmark, it was definitely things he could get here. You examined the sheets for a few moments before rushing over and tearing one of them off.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he yelled at you, pulling the notebook away from you and putting it back. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was very upset about it, the way his voice sounded and the heaving movement of his chest made it very clear to you.

“I’ll give it back to you later, don’t yell, we can’t go together or we’ll attract trouble.” After all, you were the expert here. “See the beech store?” you pointed with your index finger, there was a white-haired boy cleaning the glass of the entrance.

“The one that says Benzo’s?” Jayce asked, you just nodded.

“Go to that store and look for the rest of the stuff, it’s like a premium junk store.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked as he saw you putting on some goggles that were previously hanging from your backpack.

“I going to get the rest. I'll give you 30 minutes, if you're not out of the store by then you'll be back upstairs alone.” You pulled up your shirt collar to cover your nose. “Don't let them rip you off.” Giving him a friendly punch on the shoulder you ran off until you were lost among the people.

“Wait, you don't have any money!” Jayce shouted your name but the sound was swallowed up by the noise of the people, he had no choice but to trust that you would come back. Resigned, he walked as fast as possible to the store you had indicated, as soon as he entered he was already amazed.

He was greeted by a small child with white hair, who watched him from the counter, following him with his eyes wherever he went.

“Can I touch something?” Jayce asked, in other cases he would have expected the arrival of an adult but his minutes were numbered.

“Only the ones you plan to buy.” The child answered suspiciously while playing with a wrench on the counter. He was almost sure he used the same tone of voice that you used with him all this time.

“Okay…” Jayce shrugged as he looked at all the artifacts carefully to know which one to take “It’s all stolen?” he said to himself.

“Stolen is a very big word, let’s say they were bought without permission” The boy appeared at his side as if by magic “Buy something or leave” the boy crossed his arms in front of him.

Jayce sighed and began to take things and put them on the counter, at first with some laziness and before he knew it he already had a considerable mountain of things and was going for more.

“Why do you need so many things sir?” the boy asked as he noticed how the mountain of things grew and grew.

“I’m going to do something revolutionary” Jayce said proudly, if everything went well it would change everyone’s lives forever.

The boy nodded curiously, he was willing to ask more questions until his curiosity was satisfied but the bag of gold coins caught his eye the instant it was placed on the counter.

“How much would everything cost?” asked Jayce.

The smile on the boy's face was big and malicious. "This would be enough." He quickly grabbed the bag of money and put it under the counter before his naive buyer could complain or change his mind. Jayce was more than satisfied with everything he had acquired, his mind was already plotting how he would put it all to work. He looked at the old and strange clock on the wall of the store. He still had a few minutes of free time before you arrived.

"Waiting for someone, sir?" the boy asked, playing with a gold coin between his fingers.

"Yes," Jayce replied, his gaze fixed on the door, waiting for you to enter at any second.

"What's all that noise?" Jayce asked as he heard screams and moans of pain from outside the store, as well as a huge commotion among the people walking by.

"Some idiot caused a fight." The boy seemed too used to situations like that. He got off the counter stool and approached the door, ready to put up the closed sign.

His hand only stretched a little before returning to his body at a surprising speed. The door ended up swung wide open, cracking glass and wood alike, a hooded figure dropped to the ground, trying to catch his breath.

“Put… everything in the bag… we have to go… Now!” you got up from the ground, taking off your goggles.

“There’s the idiot.” the boy calmly returned behind the counter.

“What the fuck did you do?” Jayce asked as you carelessly threw all of his recent purchases into the backpack and threw it into his arms. “What do I do with this?” your adrenaline began to spread to him, you didn’t have to say anything to him as he adjusted his backpack himself.

“I pissed off the wrong people, we have to get out of here” He grabbed your hand tightly, something that made you scream in pain, you didn’t have enough adrenaline to not feel that your wrist was really hurt. Both of you left the store and ran, you could still hear them shouting your name, it seemed impossible to lose them.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Jayce pushed you into a small alley, both of you too exhausted to take another step, but your pursuers didn’t seem tired at all and they were getting closer and closer.

“You’re getting out of here. Wait for me at the end of the bridge, I’ll lose them.” You let go of his hand before he could stop you. With shouts and exaggerated gestures you managed to get them to follow you. “Hey! Finn! You’re falling behind!” you shouted and said goodbye to Jayce with a wink.

It wasn’t hard to lose them alone, yes of course, they were thugs with guns but you knew Finn well, the last thing he would want is for a bullet to go through his former ‘treasure’. You had run into him while you were walking through the market, taking some things from here and there, just what you thought Jayce might need, you can confess, you got distracted in the food area but who could judge you? It's been years since you tried something homemade. You ended up wandering until you reached the limit between the market and the red light district, there was your limit but there was also him. His eyes were fixed on you like arrows, you tried to calm down as he approached to greet you, you weren't friends, not even good acquaintances, if it were up to you you would erase him from your mind forever. When he got closer, that's when you punched him in the golden jaw and ran away, obviously it didn't take long for him to send his bitches after you.

Getting into that kind of trouble wasn't in your plans, you cursed yourself for having let yourself be guided by nostalgia and curiosity, that shouldn't happen again.

“Come on Y/N, is this how you treat an old client?” Finn’s voice echoed in the desolate street, his thugs had disappeared from your sight but they had to be close, never too far from their master.

You remained silent, it would be foolish to answer him and give away your location while you looked for a way out of there, the cliff you had mentioned to Jayce was close, if you managed to jump over it you could use one of the huge pipes to get out of there and knowing Finn he was too cowardly to follow you there.

You came out of your hiding place with the objective you plain in your mind. A huge hand grabbed you by the hair and slammed you against the wall, your thoughts scrambled a little from the blow, you were dropped to the ground full of broken glass. You tried to stand up as best you could but the small glass stuck in your skin and small rivers of blood dripped from your fingers.

“Aren’t you saying hello to an old friend?” Finn asked, placing his gun under his jaw, as if he were talking to a pet, forcing you to stand up.

“You're not my friend,” you spat the words in his face, he didn't seem to like it very much.

“You’re right…I was much more than that for you” his hands grabbed your thighs and forced you to hug his hips with your legs . “You still remember” He dropped the gun to the ground and quickly caught your wrists with his hand.

The feeling of having his body close to yours was too unpleasant. He made a gesture with his face and his thugs left, you rolled your eyes, hitting your head against the wall, but this time you felt higher than just the wall. You surreptitiously looked up, some rusty fire escapes were above you like a blessing.

A smile settled on your “perfect” face, you let your legs climb up Finn’s body until his face was between your legs and although your hands were trapped you managed to stretch enough to hold the first bar surreptitiously.

“Honey…you know I don’t do that” Finn replied with that stupid and pitiful tone that imitated flirting.

“But I do.”

Before the idiot realized it, your feet were on his shoulders, staining his expensive shirt with dirt, using him to push yourself up and make you touch the last bar of the emergency staircase, getting him to let go of your hands wasn’t difficult, you just hit them against the rusty metal, with the brief moment of freedom you used a bar to balance yourself and push yourself to a more comfortable position until you climbed up and reached the top. Finn tried to follow you but with a couple of kicks the ladder basically crumbled, creating an ideal distance between the two of you.

“Bye Finn” you didn’t stay to hear the answer, you ran as fast as you could before they found a way to follow you.

You ran in the darkness with blind faith that you wouldn’t fall, a dim light indicated that you were approaching the precipice and the sound of pipes greeted you, without hesitating for a second you jumped. It was easy to land on them, they were giants, while you ran back to Piltover you managed to see Finn and his thugs on the edge of the cliff, he wasn't happy at all but that wasn't your problem.

When you got to Jayce he seemed totally nervous and worried, he had dodged a few guards and was afraid that they would have caught you.

“Did you lose them?” He asked just to confirm.

You just raised your thumb, giving a long sigh “Job done”

Jayce sighed just like a worried mother would and both began to walk, this time calmer, without haste and better yet without pursuers.

“So… this is your house?” You asked when both stopped in front of a nice apartment complex in the academic district.

“Yes… umm, thanks for tonight. Without you I wouldn't have been able to get any of this” Jayce shook his backpack a little “I'll give it back to you tomorrow”

“Don't worry…” you turned to leave but a mischievous smile crossed your face “I promise that next time we go I won't get into trouble”

Jayce let out a genuine laugh “Prove it”

Your response was to laugh with him, while you let yourself be absorbed by the early morning mist until you finally disappeared from sight.

That morning, before going to the academy, Jayce opened the door to his balcony while sipping his morning coffee, only to find a small ribbon of stars and beneath it the page you had torn out of his notebook.

N/A: For the person who sent me a one-shot request… You could be more specific, my brain is a bit slow and I didn't understand the request 😅

[flightyalrighty]

Not trying to be rude, but, despite his rude speech.

the scrappered person, unfortunately, has a point.

tails has many escape routes, he is smart, he can fly, and You didn’t exactly include a “child death” content warning.

plus, sonic could think tails is dead(many ways how, such as a bloodbath when he returns, but doesn’t investigate past an orange fox dead), but he isn’t, which resolves the issue, and I can rewrite anything if you want me to, so you don’t have to worry about improving the plot!

plus, you could suggest to the audience he died without showing it explicitly(or even faking it)

yeah, and tails’ grief on discovering sonic is this beast now, and maybe even having extreme thoughts, now THAT’S something I’d want to see, rather than killing him off the bat!

feel free to say no, it is your story, but I’m supporting the “tails is alive and has grief” movement, and can rewrite easily if you want me to.

(yes, I’m that bored I’d rewrite this willingly, and quickly, )

ps, pretend to disagree or actually disagree, don’t give anything away if you do decide on the plot twist, but my Discord is here if you want me to rewrite. Trust me though; I won’t let you down:

https://discord.gg/v7Bu6f2B

Don’t worry, I won’t press too hard for this and will shut up if requested, but I do prefer that we still chat on discord, even if you disagree anyways(I like talking, and you definitely have a lot to chat about), and we both(that means I will also)respectfully argue.

this is not sent out of spite, I just believe that your comic would greatly benefit from survivors of the parasite attacks, such as sonic’s closest friend. And it would also make a good plot twist.

To everyone reading this: do NOT message this person on discord to harass them.

Now to answer: What the fuck? Lmao?

Anyway since "Child Endangerment" + "Major Character Death" isn't too much of a red flag, fine, I've added "Child Death" to the warnings page.

You have absolutely no idea what my intent is with the story, so how can you possibly offer to rewrite it? You're so hellbent on making sure that Tails lives that you fail to understand the many times I have made clear that this death is the single most important event in the story. It is THE event, which is extremely important not just to Infested, but it's SEQUEL as well.

And you want to change that? You wanna change that so so so bad that you're offering to "quickly" rewrite it? I am not messaging you on Discord. I am not going to waste my time sitting you down and spoiling the entirety of Infested (and it's sequel) to you just so that you, personally, can have a clear understanding of my exact intent, and the importance of Tails's death. Get a fucking grip.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: No one is crazy about him atm, me included, so this is strictly for my readers and my readers only. I don’t condone his behavior at all -Just let me finish out this fic please. Don’t come for me. I’m only a girl with a google doc whose spent hours upon hours and days on end on this fic

Chapter 10 - So Different | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.4k

Trent laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind a storm he couldn’t quiet. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sound jolting him momentarily out of his haze. Jack’s name lit up the screen, but Trent didn’t move to answer it. He couldn’t. The guilt was suffocating. Every time Jack called, every time Trent saw his name flash across his phone, it felt like a knife twisting deeper into his chest. He couldn’t face him. Couldn’t lie to him. Couldn’t explain to his best friend that the reason he’d been distant wasn’t some random funk but the unbearable heartbreak of losing you. You weren’t just Jack’s sister. He was coming to realize, you were his person, his peace, the one he went to when everything else felt like too much. And now, you were gone, and Trent didn’t know how to function without you. Since that night, he’d gone completely off the grid. He showed up for training, went through the motions, and then went straight home. He couldn’t bring himself to see anyone, to pretend he was okay when he wasn’t. His chest ached constantly, a dull, throbbing pain that he didn’t know how to soothe. He thought about you constantly. The way you’d cried, the way your voice broke. The look in your eyes. It haunted him. He replayed it over and over, trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Was it the secrecy? The guilt? The fear of what Jack and the others would think?

You hadn’t said, ‘Why don’t we just tell them?’ And so, he hadn’t. He’d been too afraid, too consumed by the what-ifs. But now, lying there in the quiet of his room, he wondered if things could have been different if he’d just had the courage to say, I love her. I don’t care what anyone thinks. His phone buzzed again, and he turned his head to look at it. Jack was calling again, and for a fleeting moment, Trent considered answering. But what would he say? How could he explain that he was grieving the loss of you, the girl he was never supposed to fall for but couldn’t help loving? He turned his face into the pillow, the tears coming unbidden. He missed you so much it hurt. He missed your laugh, your smile, the way you made him feel like the best version of himself. He missed the way you fit perfectly in his arms, the way your lips felt against his. He missed you. But he couldn’t have you. He’d made his choice that night, torn between his desire to console you, to pull you into his arms and make you stop crying, and the guilt and fear of Jack finding out. He’d walked away, and now, he was paying the price. Trent closed his eyes, his chest tightening with the weight of it all. He felt like he was losing both of you—you and Jack. He couldn’t talk to his best friend about it, couldn’t tell him the truth, couldn’t even pick up the phone. He was trapped in his own guilt and heartbreak, unable to see a way out. Day in and day out, he lay there, caught in a trance, replaying every moment, every word, every touch. He didn’t know how to move forward without you, didn’t know if he even wanted to. All he knew was that he’d never felt this way before, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would again.

You weren’t fairing all that well yourself. You curled up on your bed, muffling your sobs into the pillow, hoping the sound wouldn’t carry through the walls. But Jack had already noticed. He’d been noticing for days—the way you avoided him, the lack of your usual energy, the way your eyes always looked on the verge of tears. Jack wasn’t one to pry, but this time, he couldn’t stay silent. You heard the knock at your door, a quiet but firm tap, tap, tap.

“Y/N?” Jack’s voice was soft, cautious. “Can I come in?” You froze, wiping your face quickly, though you knew it was pointless.

“Yeah,” you croaked, your voice betraying you. The door creaked open, and Jack stepped inside. His expression shifted instantly when he saw you, eyes red and swollen, clutching your pillow like a lifeline. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, taking it in.

“Come here, what’s gotten into you?” he asked finally, his voice gentle as he opened his arms. You hesitated, guilt twisting in your stomach, but the look on his face broke you. Slowly, you got up and walked into his embrace. The moment his arms wrapped around you, the tears came again, harder this time, like a dam breaking.Jack held you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing slow circles on your back. “Hey, you’re okay,” he murmured. “Just breathe for me, yeah?” You tried to, but the sobs kept coming. After a long moment, Jack pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he searched your face. “What’s going on, Y/N? Talk to me. Who’s got ya like this? Is fucking Josh again?” The question hit you like a truck. Who. Not what. He already knew this wasn’t about work or anything trivial. He knew it was someone. You shook your head, pulling away from his touch, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively. 

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled. “I’m fine. Really.” Jack’s brows furrowed, his concern deepening. 

“Y/N, don’t do that. Don’t shut me out. I’m your brother. Just… tell me who it is, and I’ll sort them out.” He cooed with a sympathetic smik. You laughed weakly through the tears, the irony of his words hitting you. If only he knew.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Jack stepped closer, his hands gentle on your arms. 

“Why not? You know I’d do anything for you, right? Just tell me, and we’ll fix it together.” You shook your head more forcefully this time, the guilt washing over you in waves. You couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him. Not when it was Trent. Not when it was his best friend. Not when it would ruin everything. Not when you had betrayed him. 

“I just can’t, Jack,” you said once over, your voice cracking as fresh tears streamed down your face. “I’ve already lost so much over this. You’ll be mad and I can’t lose you too.” Jack’s face softened, but he still looked confused, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle without all the pieces. 

“Y/N, you’re not gonna lose me,” he said firmly. “You can tell me anything, you know that.” But you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk it. Jack was all you had left, and if he knew the truth, you weren’t sure you’d survive the fallout.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, stepping back toward the bed. “I just… I need to figure this out on my own.” Jack looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he sighed and nodded, his hands falling to his sides. 

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “But if you change your mind, I’m here, alright? Always.” You nodded, biting your lip to keep from breaking down again. When he finally left the room, closing the door behind him, the silence felt deafening. You sank back onto the bed, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. You made a decision then. You couldn’t keep doing this—to yourself, to Trent, to Jack. The guilt was eating you alive, and the secrecy was tearing everything apart. It was time to end it. For good.

The week of silence was unbearable. Days stretched into nights, with every moment consumed by guilt, longing, and the reality of what you had both built under Jack’s unsuspecting gaze. For so long, you’d tried to ignore the weight of it all, but now the cracks were too wide, the guilt too heavy. You couldn’t breathe. When you finally stood on Trent’s doorstep, your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. You hadn’t texted or called; you’d just shown up, your emotions too raw for words. Trent opened the door, his brows furrowing in surprise when he saw you standing there. His hair was still damp from a shower, his face soft and unguarded. 

“Y/N?” he said, his voice laced with concern. “What are you—”

“We can’t do it anymore,” you interrupted, your voice trembling, already on the verge of tears. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.” The words hit him like a blow to the chest. For a moment, he didn’t move, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“Just..” He couldn’t even talk before he instinctively reached for you, pulling you into his arms. You collapsed against him, the weight of your words crashing down as sobs racked your body. His strong arms held you tightly, his hand cradling the back of your head as if he could shield you from the pain you were feeling. “Don’t say that,” he murmured into your hair, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t say that.” But you couldn’t stop. 

“I can’t keep lying to Jack,” you whispered against his chest, your tears soaking through his shirt. “I can’t keep lying to myself. This… this isn’t right, T. It’s not right.” Desperation flickered in his eyes as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. 

“I know,” he admitted softly, his voice filled with sorrow. “I know it’s not fair to you. Or to him. But…” He trailed off, his words faltering under the weight of his emotions. The silence between you was heavy, the tension palpable. And then, as if drawn together by some unseen force, his lips found yours. The kiss was desperate, full of unspoken words and heartbreak. You clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded, your fingers tangling in his hair as you poured everything you couldn’t say into that moment. Before you knew it, the two of you were in his room, tangled in his sheets, your bodies pressed together as if trying to erase the distance that had grown between you. It wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, a last-ditch effort to hold onto something slipping away. When it was over, the silence returned, heavier than before. You lay in his arms, your cheek pressed against his chest as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. He pressed a kiss to your hair, a soft hum escaping him. The tenderness in that simple gesture broke something inside you. You sniffled, tears slipping down your cheeks once more. 

“This has to be it,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Okay?” You whimpered.

“Okay,” he replied, his voice low and full of sadness. He tightened his hold on you, his lips brushing against your temple. “But Y/N… can you just stay though? Just for tonight?”  He meekly asked you, his tone desperate. Your breath hitched as his words hit you. 

“Trent…” You cautioned him already struggling to will your body away from his.

“I didn’t know it’d be our last night,” he continued, his voice trembling. “And I just… I just want to remember it right.” You nodded silently, your tears soaking into his skin. You didn’t have the strength to say no, not when he held you like that, not when you could feel his heart breaking beneath your hand.

“This isn’t right,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible. But Trent didn’t respond. He couldn’t. All he could do was hold you tighter, his silence speaking volumes. The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of goodbye hanging heavy in the air. You knew this was the end, but for now, in this fleeting moment, you allowed yourselves to pretend that it wasn’t.

The morning was heavy with unspoken words as you pulled your clothes on, trying to keep your composure. The air between you and Trent was thick, weighted with everything that had gone wrong and everything that still felt so heartbreakingly right. As you made your way toward the door, Trent followed, his steps slow and hesitant, like he was trying to draw out the moment. 

“Y/N, Stay,” he said quietly, his voice cracking just enough to break your resolve. “We can figure this out. Please.” You paused, your hand resting on the doorknob, your back turned to him. Tears threatened to spill again, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to cry anymore. You didn’t want to feel this ache that had embedded itself so deeply into your chest.

“Please don’t make this harder,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned to face him. The look on his face nearly destroyed you—his eyes filled with a mix of desperation and heartbreak, his hands hanging helplessly at his sides.

“I’m not trying to make it harder,” he said, taking a step closer. “I just—this, us—it means something to me. You mean something to me. I can’t…” His voice faltered, and he exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. “I can’t let you go like this.” You shook your head, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

“You’re saying that because we’re behind closed doors, T… but that’s not the problem.” He shut his eyes, his jaw tightening as if the words physically hurt him. You knew he wanted to say something, to fight back, to convince you that it didn’t matter where you were, as long as you were together. But deep down, he knew you were right. As you reached for your bag, something poked you in the side, reminding you of what you’d brought with you. A lump formed in your throat as you pulled it out, the tattered book of poems looking smaller in your hands than it had when you first tucked it away.

“I forgot…” you started, your voice barely audible. “I want you to have this.” You extended the book toward him, and he hesitated for a moment before taking it from you, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch sent a jolt through your body, one final reminder of what you were about to lose. “I’m sorry for what I said the other night,” you said, your voice breaking as fresh tears began to blur your vision. “You are the furthest thing from nothing to me. You are everything, in fact. You are it all, T.” His hands shook slightly as he took the book. 

“Please don’t do this,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. When he looked up at you, his eyes were filled with a pain so raw it made your chest tighten. “Don’t go. I’m begging you.” You couldn’t stop the tears now, and they fell freely as you took a step back, creating the distance you knew you needed to survive this. 

“I have to,” you choked out. His hand clenched around the book, holding it close to his chest like it was the only piece of you he’d have left.  Trent’s fingers trembled as he turned the fragile pages of the book, the faint scent of aged paper filling the air. It didn’t take long until he started to notice the black ink penned in a handwriting he’d only seen a number of times in birthday cards. His head was almost hurting because he couldn’t place it. It wasn’t yours. His eyes scanned the handwritten notes in the margins, each word was a delicate imprint of your mum’s love and care, left behind like breadcrumbs leading back to her. The book flopped open on it’s own by its worn seam to a page you’d pressed the flower he’d given you the other week. His heart hurt more than his head at that moment. And then he saw it—why you’d marked the page - a line your mum had circled and underlined, her handwriting curling beside it with a note that seemed to reach through time:

'Even though we never said it to each other - We knew'

'Always reminds me of you and TAA—tell him one day, okay?'

His breath caught, his chest tightening as though the air had been stolen from the room. His grip on the book wavered, his fingers brushing against the daisy you had carefully pressed between the pages, a small but profound reminder of the park, of the simple, unguarded moments you shared. The lump in his throat was unbearable as he felt the weight of everything—the love, the grief, the guilt—all crashing down at once. 

“I know this didn’t work, but…” You stood there, knowing he’d read it, barely holding it together, your voice breaking as you forced yourself to speak. 

“Stop,” Trent cut you off, his voice shaky but insistent, the emotion barely contained. His movements were deliberate as he placed the book down on the counter, as if it were sacred. Then, with no hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, like letting go would shatter him completely. “We’re not doing this,” he murmured against your hair, his voice breaking. “We’re not nothing. I know we’re not. You know we’re not… She knew we weren’t. Y/N please.” The conviction in his words only made the ache in your chest swell. You buried your face in his chest, tears spilling freely now, soaking into his shirt. 

“I’m so scared, Trent,” you whispered, your voice trembling. You felt like in a way you’d disappoint your mum in giving up this but it was terrifying to love him. He was no longer a school boy, he was larger than life. “I’m so scared I’m just the girl of the season to you. That I’ll lose you, Jack, everyone. I can’t do this again. I can’t…” You confessed amidst your tears. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, his hands cupping the back of your neck as he pulled you even closer. 

“You’re not,” he whispered fiercely, the words shaking with emotion. “You’re not the girl of the season. You’ve been the girl of every season. My only season. You’ve been every single one.” His words cracked something deep inside you, but they didn’t erase the fear. You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, your tears making the world blur around you. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, your voice breaking on every syllable.  “I don’t know how to keep everyone happy and not lose you at the same time. I feel like I’m losing everything.” His hands came to rest on either side of your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears as his forehead gently touched yours. His voice softened, but it carried an unshakable strength. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, his words wrapping around you like a lifeline. “We don’t have to have all the answers now. Just stay with me, baby. We can sort this.” Tears streamed down your cheeks as you shook your head, the weight of the situation suffocating you. 

“This isn’t right,” you whimpered, your voice breaking under the weight of your emotions. “None of this is right.”

“Stay,” he begged softly, his voice raw and unguarded. “Please don’t leave me like this.” You sobbed into his chest, clinging to him like he was the only thing anchoring you in the storm of your emotions. His grip on you tightened, his own tears threatening to spill as he pressed a desperate kiss to your hair. You nodded through your sobs, too broken to speak, your hands clutching at him like he was your last tether to hope. But even as you let yourself sink into the safety of his arms, the doubts lingered, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on both of you. The unsaid love was there, undeniable and unrelenting, but so was the pain, and neither of you knew how to make it stop. Trent looked at the book carefully, his fingers trembling as he reached towards it with one hand. a centimeter of the daisy still delicately pressed inside sticking out. His eyes lingered on it for a moment before turning to you, his gaze steady despite the rawness between you both. “Keep this,” he said, his voice soft but resolute as he picked it up. “She left more in there than an annotation about me.” He smiled sympathetically at you. He’d glanced at the pages before his name appeared, and although it was brief he understood your mum purposefully left this book for you. It was a way for her to communicate with you, to support you through situations you might face after she was gone. “You keep all the other stuff. I don’t need any more if I know she was on board because I’m not going anywhere… that’s all I needed to know.” His certainty was like a balm against the ache in your chest, but the weight of everything still loomed heavy in your mind. You shook your head slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“But if this doesn’t work… T, I can’t” you started, the fear in your words palpable. Trent stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cradle your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, catching a stray tear. 

“Then I’ll still be here,” he told you firmly, his voice tinged with quiet determination. “I just told you. I'm not leaving.” His words wrapped around your heart, pulling at every fragile piece of you. 

“But how can you be so sure?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you searched his eyes for answers. “I didn’t mean for this to be a guilt trip. I just wanted you to know…” You babbled as your tears ran down your cheeks. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice steady and calm. 

“It’s not… And… I know… because you’re it for me. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We’ll try, yeah?” You nodded sheepishly, your heart warring with your fears, but his certainty felt like a light in the darkness. “Gonna give it a try, hmm?” he asked softly, his lips ghosting over your forehead in a tender kiss. This time, your nod was more sure, a small smile breaking through the tears. 

“Okay,” you murmured. And in that moment, with the weight of the book in his hands and the promise hanging between you, it felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward.

The next morning, the doorbell rang, pulling you out of your thoughts. Jack had already left for work, leaving you to shuffle to the door, still in your pajamas. You opened it to find not one but four massive flower arrangements towering in front of you. You blinked, confused, as the delivery man smiled politely and gestured for you to sign.

“Someone really likes you,” he remarked, handing you a small card after you’d awkwardly squeezed the arrangements inside. The arrangements were stunning—each one so different. One was a soft white and cream, delicate and elegant. Another burned bright with orangey-red hues, vibrant and warm. The third was lush with deep greens, earthy and grounding, and the last shimmered in an unexpected blue, rare and calming. You stood there for a moment, staring at the kaleidoscope of colors, trying to piece it together. Then you opened the card.

'To the girl I’ve let wait too many seasons—will you please let me take you out for a proper date?'

You laughed through your tears, the emotions of the past weeks bubbling over at once. The note continued, listing specific details about when and where he wanted to meet you, but you could barely read through the happy blur in your eyes. It was so him, so thoughtful, and yet so immediate—like he couldn’t stand another second without making his words from the night before a reality. The concept of girl of the season really was about his football season but the fact that flowers went beyond that. It was one for each season of the year; spring, summer, autumn, and winter. All there to signify, you were more than just a football season to him and he wanted you to know that. You held the card to your chest, tears still slipping down your cheeks as giggles broke through. He had acted quickly, proving he meant every word, every promise. Trent was asking, not waiting. Not hiding. This time, he was yours, out loud, in full color. And all you could think was… finally.

When Trent typed your address into his phone to send the delivery, his chest tightened with a familiar pang of guilt. It wasn’t just your address—it was Jack’s too. That nagging feeling of betrayal washed over him as his thumb hovered above the screen, memories from years ago creeping back unbidden. He could still hear Jack’s voice, clear as day, as if it were happening all over again. They were in Jack’s room, sprawled out after school, the usual banter bouncing around the group. A newer guy to their circle, loud and brash, had just moved to town and had made an offhand remark about you after seeing a picture on Jack’s phone.

“Is this your sister, mate? Fuck off! She’s well fit,” the guy had said, smirking. It wasn’t even a serious comment, but Jack’s reaction was immediate and sharp.

“Oi, Off-limits,” Jack had snapped, his tone firm and brooking no argument. He glanced around the room then, making sure everyone understood. “If that wasn’t already clear, no one moves to Y/N.” There was a beat of awkward silence before Noah, always the one to push a joke too far, broke it. 

“Come on, mate! What if she likes us? Girls move to me! What if she moves to me, huh?” He teased. Jack didn’t even crack a smile. 

“Nah. If she has feelings for ya, too bad.” Trent had sat quietly on the edge of the bed, his face carefully neutral, but the way Jack’s eyes flickered toward him didn’t go unnoticed. It was subtle, just a moment, but it lingered. Jack’s expression softened briefly before he looked away.

“Maybe…” Jack muttered under his breath, something unsaid hanging heavy in the room. But then, just as quickly, he turned back to Noah, snapping back into his usual banter. “But she’s not interested in you, mate. You’re a charity case.” The rest of the room burst into laughter, and the moment was gone, buried under their usual teasing. But Trent hadn’t laughed. He had felt something then, a pang of disappointment mixed with the quiet realization that Jack knew. Maybe Jack didn’t know the extent of it, but he’d always known there was something unspoken between you and Trent. And now here Trent was, years later, actively crossing the line Jack had drawn so clearly. He wasn’t a clueless teenager anymore, and the weight of what he was doing—and who he was risking—felt heavier than ever. But then his thoughts shifted to you. The way you’d looked at him the night before, your voice shaking as you’d told him he was everything, even when you thought you were losing him. That was enough to push the guilt aside, if only for a moment.

You called Layla that morning from your bedroom, your voice still thick with emotion but tinged with something lighter-relief, excitement, maybe even disbelief.

"When I tell you I was sobbing," you started, gripping the the edge of your dresser as you tried to steady your voice. "I was a mess, Layla. But then —he literally sent me flowers today. Like four arrangements. Four!" You explained. Layla didn't even pause before diving in, her tone pitched halfway between glee and exasperation.

"Finally! I've been screaming 'about time' since the first time you finally hooked up! That man's been fucking you for ages and he's just now asking you on a date?" She fell into giggles. You couldn't help but laugh, your cheeks heating even as you rolled your eyes.

"Layla! Can we not put it like that?" You tried to fight back a laugh.

"But I'm right!" she shot back. "It's been this whole dramatic saga of hiding and sneaking and you ending up crying at all hours because he's scared. And finally, he's putting it out there. I'm sorry, but I'm thrilled." You sighed, glancing at the arrangements. 

"It feels... so different this time. He said he wants to do it right. He called me the girl of every season." Your voice cracked on the last few words, the weight of everything hitting you all over again. Layla softened instantly. 

"Oh, babe. That's what you've wanted to hear, yeah? That he's sure. That he's not just scared of what Jack and the boys think but ready to fight for you." She cooed. You nodded even though she couldn't see you, tears pooling in your eyes. 

"It's just...so much. I feel like I'm still holding my breath. Like, what if it's too good to be true?" You asked her sheepishly. 

"Then let him prove it's not," Layla said firmly. "You've already been through the worst of it. Let him show you he's ready for the best of it." You sniffled, wiping at your eyes. 

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but...l think he is. Is that bad?” You asked her hesitantly hoping she’d almost lie to you if she felt otherwise. But Layla answered honestly, always. 

"No. This is good, Y/N, I can feel it," she said. "I''m so happy for you. Now we just let him sweep you off your feet properly. And wear something hot. You deserve to make him sweat." She told you very matter of fact and your mind began to work in overdrive after that imagining what you possibly had in your wardrobe that was fit for the occasion of all occasions; your first proper date with your brother’s best friend.

When the evening came, getting ready for the date felt surreal. You’d spent so long imagining this moment, and now that it was happening, the weight of it settled over you like a heavy, fluttering blanket. The mirror reflected your carefully chosen outfit, but your nerves made you question everything—was it too much? Not enough? Layla’s voice echoed in your head: Make him sweat. When the doorbell rang, your heart lurched. Trent was at your house. For a date. You opened the door with a shy smile, and Trent’s reaction stole whatever breath you had left. 

Trent had stepped out of the car, his heart already thudding in his chest as he approached the front door. For a split second, he hesitated, the weight of everything—Jack, the years of denying his feelings, the risks—hitting him all at once. This was your house, but it was also Jack’s house, and the lines between those roles had always blurred in his mind. You weren’t supposed to be this person for him. You weren’t supposed to be his. But when the door opened, and you stepped out to greet him, all of that disappeared. Everything—Jack, the past, the unspoken boundaries—faded into nothing. All that was left was you. And you were breathtaking. He blinked, stunned, as his eyes drank you in. You were wearing a black Saint Laurent mini dress that clung to your figure in all the right ways, the fabric draping elegantly across your body. The deep V neckline hinted at so much but revealed just enough to keep it tasteful, leaving him completely undone. The simplicity of the dress only heightened how stunning you looked, and Trent couldn’t believe this was the same girl he used to see in oversized jumpers and trainers, lounging on Jack’s sofa. You didn’t look like Jack’s sister anymore. You didn’t even look like the girl he’d been secretly pining for all this time. You looked like his.

“Wow,” he finally managed, his voice low and a little hoarse. He shook his head, clearly taken aback as his eyes swept over you slowly. He couldn’t stop staring, his gaze trailing from your perfectly styled hair down to the way the dress skimmed your thighs, then back up to meet your eyes. “You look…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly as if trying to find the right words.  He didn’t even finish the thought, just stepped closer and brushed a hand down your arm as if grounding himself.

“I look…?” Your nerves melted a little at his touch, and you dared to tease him. He smiled, leaning in to kiss your temple. 

“You look perfect. Unreal…”  He cooed. A shy smile crept across your lips as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Thank you,” you murmured softly, feeling the intensity of his gaze. Trent took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he reached for you.

 “You don’t look like…” He stopped himself, realizing how ridiculous it would sound to say, you don’t look like Jack’s sister right now. Instead, he smiled, his eyes softening as he leaned in closer. “You look like you. But more. If that makes sense.” Your smile widened, your cheeks flushing. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you teased, trying to ease the tension that was crackling between you. But Trent didn’t laugh. He couldn’t. His eyes were too busy tracing the way the soft lighting from the porch framed your face, making your features glow. You weren’t just beautiful—you were magnetic. “Let’s go,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with something more than affection—something closer to awe. 

“Hold my hand.” His words were so simple, but the warmth in them settled your nerves as you slipped your hand into his. His fingers gently brushing yours before intertwining, his grip reassuring. He gently tugged on your hand, pulling you toward him as he bent down to kiss your temple, his lips lingering there for a moment.  And as he led you to the car, his heart racing and his mind whirling, all Trent could think was how wrong he’d been to ever believe you were off limits. You weren’t just something he wanted anymore. You were something he couldn’t imagine letting go. As you walked toward the car waiting outside, the weight of the situation loomed again. You hesitated, beginning to voice your lingering fear. Your anxiety if you should even be holding his hand here in front of the house skyrocketing. 

“Are you…?” You began to speak but Trent didn’t let you finish. 

“Yeah, I’m really sure.” His voice was steady, his gaze unwavering as he glanced down at you. He traced his thumb along the back of your hand, his certainty radiating through his touch. The tension in your chest loosened, and you let out a soft hum of approval. 

“Okay.” You leaned in, kissing his shoulder as the two of you reached the car. Trent smiled down at you, opening the door with care. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something real.

The restaurant’s ambiance was a perfect blend of understated elegance and intimacy. The flickering candlelight reflected off the polished wood of your table, casting soft shadows that danced across Trent’s face. The low hum of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter from other diners barely registered; your world felt narrowed to the man sitting across from you. Trent was watching you intently, his eyes never straying far from yours. It was as though he was memorizing every detail, every expression, and every shift in your mood. You took a sip of your wine, savoring the moment, but before you could set your glass down, Trent leaned forward. His thumb gently brushed the corner of your mouth, catching a droplet of the deep red, his touch light but deliberate.

“Got you,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. His thumb lingered for a few seconds longer. You blinked, caught off guard by the tender gesture. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible as your cheeks heated. You ducked your head slightly, shy under his steady gaze. But Trent wasn’t about to let you retreat into yourself. He leaned across the table a little more, his hand moved to hold for your chin. His fingers tilted your face toward him, his touch as soft as his voice. 

“Look at me, baby,” he said gently, and when you lifted your eyes to meet his, he gave you a small, reassuring smile. Then, before you could overthink it, he closed the gap between you. His lips brushed against yours in a kiss so light it felt like a question, as if he was giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned in, your heart racing as the kiss deepened for just a moment before you pulled back with a nervous giggle.

“Sorry,” you said, biting your lip. “That was… woah, you had me…. That was a lot...” You laughed shaking your head. You weren’t sure what planet you were on. He had pulled you into this world tonight that felt so surreal. He’d never done that to you before, kissed you in public, flirted with you at right while you sat across a table from him, it was all so confusing, and yet, he looked calm as ever. His movements were slow and deliberate. But then Trent chuckled, leaning back in his seat, but his hand stayed on yours, his thumb stroking over your knuckles. 

“Was it now?” he teased, his grin playful. You smirked, trying to compose yourself. 

“How many girls have you done that to?” you asked, your tone light but with a touch of curiosity beneath the joke. Trent raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. 

“What kind of question is that?” He asked you. His smile now sickened handsome and taunting.

“An important one,” you shot back, your grin widening. He held up his hand, palm out like he was swearing an oath. 

“Hand on heart, I have never wiped someone’s face. Not like that.” He told you. You narrowed your eyes at him, skeptical.

“Sure,” you drawled, the sarcasm dripping from your tone.

“I swear,” he said, leaning forward with a laugh. “You can ask anyone. I’ve never done that before.” You shook your head, trying to hide the way his words made your heart flutter. 

“Right,” you muttered, looking down at your plate to avoid his gaze. The restaurant around you felt like a cocoon. The warm lighting and muted colors created a sense of privacy, even though you knew other people were dining nearby. It was hard to tell if his choice in restaurants that felt hidden was intentional or if it was just your perception, but either way, it was okay. The world outside might as well not exist you were so transfixed on him tonight. You had recently got to spend a lot of time with Trent but really getting his undivided attention at a dinner had your head spinning. And apparently that internal chaos was something he could feel. 

“Stop overthinking,” Trent said suddenly, his voice breaking through your thoughts. You looked up at him, startled. 

“I’m not.” You smiled softly trying to just act normal but you couldn’t. 

“You are.” He smirked, his fingers sliding across the table to intertwine with yours. “I can see it all over your face.” You sighed, letting your thumb trace over his hand in return.

 “Maybe I am,” you admitted. “This just… it feels surreal.”

“Surreal good or surreal bad?” he asked, his tone soft but his expression serious.

“Surreal good,” you said quickly, meeting his eyes. “Definitely good.” He smiled at that, the kind of smile that made your heart skip a beat.

 “Good,” he said simply, squeezing your hand. The rest of the evening unfolded in a blur of easy conversation and quiet laughter. Trent kept finding ways to touch you—his hand brushing against yours, his knee bumping yours under the table, his fingers trailing lightly over your wrist when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Each touch felt deliberate, like he was grounding himself in the moment. By the time dessert arrived, you’d forgotten about everything outside of this little bubble you’d created together. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t worried about what came next. You were just… happy.

Just as the waiter placed dessert on the table, your eyes drifted across the restaurant, scanning the room out of habit. That’s when you saw him—a player from Manchester United, someone you vaguely recognized. It took a moment to place him, but when you did, your stomach dropped. He wasn’t just another footballer. He was someone who was friends with Josh. And worse, he also knew Trent. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the table as a wave of anxiety crashed over you. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but it didn’t matter. The possibility that he might put two and two together made your throat tighten. Your heart raced as your mind spun through a dozen worst-case scenarios.

“Everything okay?” Trent’s voice cut through the fog. He’d been reaching for his fork, but now his full attention was on you, concern flickering in his eyes. You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

 “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quickly, trying to sound casual. Trent didn’t buy it. His hand reached across the table, covering yours. 

“What’s wrong, baby. Is this not what you wanted?” He asked. You weren’t sure if he meant the dessert you just ordered or tonight in general, and while you thought you wanted both before now… you weren’t sure.  You hesitated, glancing back toward the other player, who was now laughing with his group, blissfully unaware of your presence. 

“It’s nothing,” you said, your voice quieter.

“Y/N,” Trent said firmly, his hand squeezing yours. “Talk to me.” You looked back at him, his steady gaze grounding you for a moment, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift.

“Someone we know is here..” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Who?” Trent’s brows furrowed, his body tensing slightly as his protective instincts kicked in.

“Some lad on Man United… I think you know him,” you said, your eyes darting nervously toward the man again. “But he knows Josh… and he knows you.” Trent’s jaw tightened, and his grip on your hand shifted, his thumb stroking over your knuckles in a soothing motion.

 “Okay,” he said slowly. “And?”

“And he might recognize me,” you blurted out. “Us. Together.” Trent leaned back slightly, his expression softening as he pieced together your anxiety. 

“You’re worried about people finding out.” He cooed softly empathizing with your fear.  This was a big change to go from stolen kisses in the kitchen to sitting out in public together. You nodded, your stomach twisting. 

“This whole night has been amazing, but… I don’t know if I’m ready for this. For being public. For the questions, the stares, the judgment. I mean, what if Jack—” you began to babble, faster more panicked.

“Stop, pretty girl.” Trent interrupted gently but firmly. “Breathe for a second.” You took a shaky breath, but your chest still felt tight. “Look at me,” he said, his tone steady. When your eyes met his, he leaned forward, his expression open and earnest. “I get it. I do. This is… a lot. And if you’re not ready, we can figure it out. But right now, it’s just us. No one else matters.” He told you in a tone that Trent reserved solely god you. It was commanding but incredibly weak all at once. You swallowed hard, his words calming you slightly, but doubt still lingered. 

“I don’t want to ruin this,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

“You won’t,” he said, his tone firm. “I won’t let you.” The conviction in his voice made you want to believe him, but the weight of everything—your past, your ex, Jack, the scrutiny that would inevitably come—still sat heavy on your chest.

 “I just…” You trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

“Baby... please. Just be here with me ,” Trent said with a small smile. “I’m here with you. That’s all that matters right now. And if it's really too much, just say the word. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work but for right now.. Just try.” He cooed gently.  You stared at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. 

“You’re being too nice.” You giggled nervously. Trent had always been unreasonably patient and kind with you and that clearly wasn’t about to change. “I don’t deserve you,” you whispered.

“Yes, you do,” he said without hesitation, his voice so sure it made your chest tighten even more. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that you could do this, that you could be brave enough to let this relationship exist outside of the shadows. But as you glanced back at the other boy across the room, your stomach churned with doubt. Trent’s hand on yours pulled your attention back to him.  “Hey,” he said softly. “baby, I'm serious, if you’re not ready, we can leave. No pressure.” Trent meant what he said but he'd be lying if a part of him wasn't aching for you just to try with him. To really commit to him, to this, to trying- it hurt. You hesitated for a moment before shaking your head.  The dinner had been perfect so far—Trent’s soft smiles, the way his fingers occasionally grazed yours on the table, and the playful, teasing lilt of his voice when he spoke. But your nerves had made it hard to focus entirely on him. You were too aware of your surroundings, glancing discreetly across the restaurant, noting every unfamiliar face. And then him. Josh’s friend. Maybe his name was Devon, you couldn't remember. And while he hadn’t said a word to you or Trent, his presence alone had unsettled you, pulling your mind into a spiral of what ifs. You felt like you were holding your breath, waiting for something to go wrong. You looked at Trent, his concern breaking through the wall of anxiety building in your chest. Trent was being so gentle, so patient, and it hit you—he deserved all of your attention tonight. It wasn’t fair to let the past shadow this moment.

“I’m okay, baby. Thank you. I'm sorry. I'm here." you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to let go of the tension in your shoulders, and allowed yourself to fall back into the bubble he created. With each passing minute, it became easier to focus solely on him. His laughter was infectious, the way he leaned in closer to you when you spoke made your stomach flutter. You’d forgotten how safe it felt to be wrapped up in someone like this, where the rest of the world melted away. But while you were blissfully unaware, Josh’s friend wasn’t. From his seat across the restaurant, he stared, squinting as recognition settled in. First, he caught sight of Trent—someone he knew well from the pitch, a rival he loved to hate. Then, his gaze shifted to you, seated across from him, clearly on a date. It was all too good. You, the ex of his best mate, now smiling, laughing, leaning into the guy who had made headlines time and again for his assists. He reached for his phone, holding it low as he snapped a photo of you both, capturing the intimacy of the moment. Trent’s hand resting on yours, your head tilted slightly as you laughed at something he’d just said. He smirked, tucking the phone away, already composing the perfect explanation to Josh when they inevitably debriefed. Meanwhile, you and Trent remained nonchalant, completely unaware of the brewing storm outside your little world. It didn’t matter, though—not right now. Your focus was on the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, on how his foot brushed against yours under the table. For that moment, it was just the two of you—soft beginnings and unspoken promises, blissfully unaware of the chaos looming on the horizon.

As the car rolled down Trent’s driveway, the engine cut and he turned to you, his hand still loosely holding yours. “I’m off tomorrow,” he said, his voice soft but hopeful. “You’ll stay with me tonight?” He asked. You tilted your head, pretending to consider it, but the grin tugging at your lips gave you away. 

“Obviously,” you teased with a giggle.

“C’mon,” he said with a smirk, stepping out of the car and coming around to open your door, his hand extended to help you out. As you walked to his front door, he hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his tone quieter. 

“I know this might sound stupid, but… I feel like I don’t sleep as well when you’re not here.” Your heart clenched at his honesty, and you turned to look at him, warmth spreading through your chest. 

“Aw, I’m sorry,” you said, teasing but still genuine. “Guess you’ll just have to invite me over more often.”  You smiled at him.

“Yeah?” He smiled down at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. 

“Yeah,” you said confidently, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ll be here whenever you need me.” Trent unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let you in first. 

“That’s all the time.” As you walked past him, he murmured under his breath, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear it. You stopped just inside the doorway and turned to look at him, your expression softening. 

“Hmm?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, a bashful smile tugging at his lips. But you weren’t letting him off that easy.

“No, say it again. You said something,” you cooed, stepping closer to him, your curiosity piqued. He hesitated, running a hand over his hair, before finally meeting your eyes.

 “I said that’s all the time. I need you all the time.” He repeated himself feeling a little embarrassed. For a moment, the air between you felt heavier, charged with something unspoken but deeply felt. You stepped closer, your hand reaching up to brush against his cheek. 

“You’re such a closeted melt, you know that?” you teased, your voice trembling slightly with emotion.

“Yeah, well,” he said, his voice softening as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer. “You bring it out of me.” You leaned into him, your forehead resting against his, and for a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. It was just you and Trent, tangled up in each other, finding solace in the quiet honesty of the moment.

The moment you stepped into Trent’s ensuite that night, a wave of peace swept over you, so profound it nearly took your breath away. You paused in the doorway, your hand resting on the frame as your eyes scanned the room. It was large but not overly ornate, it felt like him—clean, understated, yet warm. Your toothbrush stood beside his on the sink, its placement deliberate and thoughtful. A small bottle of your favorite cleanser sat next to his cologne, nestled naturally as if it had always belonged there. A claw clip of yours rested near the edge of the counter, a quiet, unspoken reminder of the nights you’d spent here. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to undo you. You felt a tightness in your chest, not from anxiety or pain, but from an overwhelming sense of being seen. In the past, you’d been in rooms like this before. You’d picked up a bobby pin that didn’t belong to you, brushed past an earring left by someone else, and each time, it stung like a fresh wound, proof that you were just one of many. But here? Here, there were no ghosts of anyone else. Only you. It was all you tucked neatly beside only him. You took a step forward, letting your fingers trail along the edge of the counter. The thought of it—Trent deliberately making room for you, keeping your things here like they were as much a part of his space as his own—made your heart swell. It was such a simple thing, yet it felt monumental.

The sound of his footsteps behind you pulled you from your thoughts. You turned slightly to see him walk in, peeling his T-shirt off over his head in one easy motion. His body, lean and strong, caught the soft light of the room. He tossed the shirt onto the hamper carelessly before his eyes found yours in the mirror. A small, easy smile played on his lips as he crossed the room toward you, his movements unhurried. When he reached you, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you gently into him. His warmth seeped into your back as he pressed his chin against your shoulder, meeting your gaze in the mirror.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly, his voice low and steady, full of sincerity. You turned your head to look at him directly, but before you could speak, he tilted his head down, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck. His lips brushed against your skin, and the simple touch sent a shiver through you. “I mean it,” he murmured into the curve of your shoulder, his voice muffled but no less sure. “I can’t sleep without you sometimes, baby.” His confession made your breath hitch. Your chest rose and fell, your heart racing, but not from nerves. This was so different, quieter, yet somehow so much deeper. You turned fully into his embrace, letting your hands rest on his forearms, your fingers tracing the lean muscles there. His lips trailed across your skin, pressing soft, unhurried kisses along your neck and shoulder. He wasn’t rushing; he was savoring, as if every touch of his lips was a silent reassurance, a promise he didn’t yet know how to put into words. You let your eyes flutter shut, leaning back into him as he tightened his hold on you. His hands slid beneath your shirt, his fingers finding their place on your bare stomach. He rubbed slow, languid circles there, his touch both grounding and electrifying. “You look so good like this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and reverent. A quiet hum escaped your lips as you leaned into him even more, your head resting against his shoulder. It wasn’t just his touch that made you feel this way; it was the way he held you, like you were something precious, something he didn’t want to let go of.

“This,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “This feels… perfect.” You told him.

“It does,” he replied, his voice equally soft but certain. For a while, you stayed there, wrapped in each other, letting the stillness of the moment settle over you. The air between you was charged yet calming, full of unspoken truths and quiet reassurances. As his hands continued their soothing motion on your stomach, you felt it—a profound sense of belonging. This wasn’t just a room, or a night, or even a fleeting moment. This was what you’d been searching for, what you hadn’t known you needed until now.

“You really like when I stay with you?” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly with emotion.

“I really do,” he promised, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. His words weren’t just for the moment; they felt like a vow, one you believed with your whole heart. And as you stood there, his arms around you, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet comfort of something that finally felt like home. Your moment of bliss was split when his phone rang. It was late, no one but someone important would call this late so you nodded for him to take it. He placed a couple more kisses onto your shoulder and your neck before dragging his hands off of you.

"Come to bed when you’re ready," he murmured nodding you on to finish getting ready for bed whilst he answered a phone call that ended up being from his agent.  

As you stepped out of the en-suite, Trent was already lying on the bed, propped up against the headboard, his dark eyes fixed on you. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the bedside lamp, casting a warm glow over his chiseled features. He looked god-esque, his tanned skin glistening in the soft light, and his brown eyes sparkling with desire. You could feel a rush of excitement as you noticed the bulge in his sweatpants, a clear indication of his arousal. Smiling shyly, you approach the bed, your heart racing. Setting your phone down on the nightstand, you climbed onto the bed, your eyes never leaving his. Trent's gaze traveled down your body, taking in every curve, his eyes lingering on your tits, now partially exposed in your little silk pajama set.

"You look beautiful," he says, his voice deep and husky. "I love seeing you like this, at home with me… getting into bed with me.” He told you and though you agreed with loving his domestic this all felt you really liked the undertone of lust. You blushed at his words, feeling a surge of pleasure at the way he was able to make you feel desired. 

"Yeah?” you replied, your voice a little breathless. "I like how you look at me when I get into your bed.” You smirked. Trent chuckled, a low, seductive sound that sent shivers down your spine. 

"I can't help it, baby. You're so fucking sexy." He reached out and ran his fingers along your jawline, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. "I've been thinking about this all day. About having you here, back in my bed, doing all the things I've been dreaming of." Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You'd been dreaming of this moment too, of being with Trent, of a night like tonight exploring the passion and desire you'd both kept hidden for so long now bringing it out in public. Yet, in the bedroom, in private, was where you most wanted to be. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as his thumb brushed over your lower lip. "I want to make you feel good, Y/N," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "I want to touch you, taste you, make you say my name." He cooed gently with a purr. Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. You  always knew Trent was a confident and dominant guy, but hearing him express his desires so openly sends a thrill through your body every time.  You wanted to please him, to submit to his every whim, and the thought excited you beyond measure.

"Yes, please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I want that now, baby." Trent's eyes darkened with a fierce intensity, and he pulled you closer, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, a gentle tease that left you craving more.

 "I'm going to take care of you, baby," he murmurs between kisses. As his lips captured yours, you melted into the kiss, your body molding perfectly to his. His tongue danced with yours, exploring, tasting, and claiming. You can taste the mint from your toothpaste on his tongue, a refreshing contrast to the heat building between you. His kiss was demanding, possessive, and it sent a clear message—he wants you, and he's going to have you. Your hands began to roam over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his freshly clean shirt he’d just put on. You tugged at the fabric, eager to feel his skin against yours. Trent broke the kiss, his breathing heavy as he helped you lift his shirt over his head, revealing his sculpted torso. The sight of his bare chest took your breath away. His skin was smooth and tanned, with a light dusting of hair that trails down his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his joggers.

"Fuck, you're so hot, T," you whispered, running your fingers over his pecs, feeling the rigid definition of his muscles. Trent's eyes gleamed with satisfaction at your words. He leaned back, pulling you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. The position giving you a delicious sense of power. You took a moment to admire the sight of his strong body beneath you.

"Y/N," he growled your name, his hands gripping your thighs. "Show me how much you want me." He commanded you. You bit your lip, feeling a surge of boldness as you reached down grasping the waistband of his joggers. With slow, deliberate movements, you slid them down his hips, revealing his thick, erect cock, straining against his boxer briefs. You let out a soft gasp at the sight, your body throbbing with need, your fingers tracing the length of his shaft through the thin fabric. Trent's breath hitched as your fingers teased him, he bucked his hips, seeking more contact.  "Fuck, baby," he groans. "Take what you want. Show me.” You didn’t need to be told twice. With a swift motion, you hooked your thumbs under the elastic of his underwear and pulled them down, freeing his hard length. His cock sprung free, thick and heavy, the head glistening with pre-cum. You lean down, your breath ghosting over the sensitive skin, making him shudder. "Suck my cock, pretty girl," he commanded smugly, his hands gently dragging up your arm, to your shoulder, before moving to push some of your hair back. You obliged with a smile and a hum, lowering your head and taking the tip of his cock into your warm mouth. Trent let out a guttural moan as you swirled your tongue around the head, tasting the salty sweetness of him. You sucked gently, taking him deeper, inch by inch, until you could feel his hands in your hair, encouraging you to take more. "That's it, good girl," he grunted, his hips thrusting gently, fucking your mouth. And you took him well, minute after minute. "You wanna make me cum, baby? Suck me nice and slow, feel how hard you make me." You moaned around his length, the vibrations sending him over the edge. Trent's hands tighten in your hair, holding you in place as he empties his load down your throat. You swallow, relishing the taste of him, the evidence of his pleasure. He pulled you up, his lips seeking yours, sharing a deep, passionate kiss. "You're incredible," he breathed, his hands stroking your back. "I can't get enough of you." You smiled against his lips, feeling empowered by his words. 

"I want to feel you inside me, T," you whispered, your hands roaming down his body, eager for more of him. He grinned, his eyes alight with anticipation.

“Mmmm, good, cause I plan to be inside you all night, baby." With that, he rolled you onto your back, his body covering yours, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands slide under your top, caressing your skin, making you squirm with delight. "Let me take this off," he murmurs, his fingers deftly pulling up your silk tank top. You lifted your arms, allowing him to remove the garment, baring your tits to his hungry gaze. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your tits, your nipples already taut and begging for attention. "So fucking gorgeous," he growled, lowering his head to take a tight peak into his mouth. His tongue teased and suckled, drawing a moan from deep within you. You arched into his touch, your hands threading through his hair, holding him to you as he lavished attention on your sensitive flesh. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, squeezing, and caressing, making you feel alive and desired in a way you never had. "So good f’me, baby," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin as he moves to the other boob, giving it the same attentive treatment. You're lost in a haze of pleasure, your body humming with desire. Trent's hands travel down your body, playing with the waistband of your shorts before sliding them down your legs, leaving you clad only in your lacy panties. He took a moment to admire your naked form, his eyes burning with appreciation. "You're so fucking beautiful, Y/N," he says, his voice thick with admiration. "I’ve wanted this for so long. Every time feels like dream. Just want to worship every inch of you."  His words sent a thrill through your body, almost as if he cast a spell with them causing your legs to magically spread in silent invitation, eager for more of his touch. Trent knelt between your thighs, his eyes fixed on your core, now covered only by a thin layer of silk. "Gonna let me taste you, baby?” he asked tauntingly but his voice hoarse with need.

“Mhhhmm. Please, T.” You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps as he hooked his fingers under the elastic of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs. He took his time, his eyes never leaving your exposed heat, drinking in the sight of your glistening folds.

"So wet just for me," he murmurs, his fingers gently parting your lips, exposing your clit. You let out a soft cry as his finger brushes over your sensitive bundle of nerves, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Trent leaned down, his breath hot against your swollen flesh, and then he replaced his finger with his mouth, his tongue flicking and lapping at your clit.

"Oh God, T, fuck," you moaned, your hands gripping the sheets as he feasted on your pussy, his tongue delving deep, tasting your essence. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending you closer to the edge. His fingers joined his tongue, sliding into your wet heat, stretching and filling you as he suckled your clit. Your body coiled tighter with each stroke, each flick of his tongue, until you were teetering on the precipice of release.

"Cum for me, baby," he urges, his voice muffled against your sex. "Let me feel you come on my tongue." His words pushed you over the edge, and you cried out, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure rippling through you. Trent didn’t let up though, his tongue and fingers worked in perfect harmony, drawing out your orgasm until you were left trembling and sated. He moved up your body, his lips finding yours, sharing the taste of your climax. "So good f’me, baby," he breathes, his eyes filled with adoration. "I love making you feel good. Love making you cum." You tiredly smiled, your heart full as you pull him close, feeling the deep connection between you. 

"I love cumming for you, T," you whispered, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his face. Both of you were using the orgasm as a front. Hiding behind the physical sensations to mask the very deep emotional connection developing. Neither of you really cared about that specific orgasm, no matter how good it was - you just were so clearly in love with each other and needed to say something but this wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place. "I've never felt this way before." You sheepishly told him. He kissed you softly, his lips brushing yours in a tender caress.

 "I know, baby. I feel it too. This is just the beginning. Promise" Trent cooed. He was talking about sex tonight but he was also talking about your relationship, your feelings. As his words began to sink in, you realized this night was just the start of something much bigger. The rest of the evening was spent in every position possible. Each orgasm hacking away at your restraint. You were falling weaker and weaker to him literally and figuratively, terrified you’d let those three little words slip. But after round five and orgasm seven you said no more, clinging to Trent, exhausted and spent, your eyes fluttering closed as he held you securely rubbing his hands up and down your body gently. He hummed in agreement kissing your glistening skin. He cleaned you up but you barely remember it as you were focused on nothing else but not letting your tired mind and body mutter how truly in love with him you really were. You successfully fell to sleep with no slip ups but Trent could feel the tension. He almost wished you had said it so he could finally admit it to you but that wasn't the case. And so that night, he held you tighter to him than he ever had before as he dozed off, unable to leave any space for the words you both longed to say. He was struggling to bite back the feelings looking at you asleep in his arms, the words so desperate to come out now. You looked so different now. Different than you did on the porch and you felt different too. You felt like you were his. But it wasn't just you, it all felt different, so different. Things had changed. You two had changed and there was no turning back now.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 11 xx

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

2 Minus 1 - Act Three

Seungcheol is doing good without you. Really good, in fact! He’s got a great job, has his own apartment, and has many friends surrounding him. He’s even done some dating in the three years that you’ve been gone. On some blissful days, you don’t even cross his mind. But when you reappear in his life, he has to come to terms with the fact that he might not be doing as good as he thought he was. 

Genres: ANGST with a little bit of fluff here and there. One suggestive scene (minors, use caution). 

Word count: 7.7k

Requested? Yes!

You can find the series masterlist here.

Minghao’s throwing a New Year’s Eve party. Seungcheol seemed to have found out last because it’s you that asks him if he’s going when you both step out for lunch a couple days before. Instead of going back to his office, he stops into his team’s office, hanging over Minghao’s cubicle wall. “When were you going to tell me you were throwing a New Year’s Eve party? Is this your way of telling me I’m not invited?”

“Huh?” Minghao mumbles, still typing up something. “Oh, yeah. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing. Didn’t get a chance to send a message about it yet.” Seungcheol sort of accepts this answer because things have been pretty busy around here in preparation for the new year. New budget means new plans and new goals, along with a renewed push from leadership to break records. There’s been a lot of pressure to start out the year on the right foot. 

Still, Seungcheol pouts a bit. “And Y/N knew before I did?”

“Oh, yeah. I ran into her in the elevator yesterday and mentioned it. Stop being a big baby,” Minghao says, totally unsympathetic. 

“Y/N is coming?” Chan pipes up from his cubicle, sounding excited. He rolls his chair into the aisle, running into Seungkwan when he does the same thing. They both groan and start pushing each other. The rest of them ignore the scuffle.

“Yes,” Minghao says shortly, turning to Seungcheol. “I assume you’ll be there since you’re attached to her hip.”

He doesn’t miss the sly look that all four of his friends give him at the mention. “Not sure what that’s supposed to mean. I thought you wanted me to get along with her.”

“As just a friend?” Vernon poses. 

Seungcheol stalls out for a second, blinking. “Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?”

“Well, that’s a good thing, I guess. She asked if I minded if she brings a friend of hers. Someone from law school, or something. He’s in town for the holidays,” Minghao explains and Seungcheol can see clear as day that this is bait. Still, he can’t seem to help how his jaw clenches. 

“Did she happen to mention his name?”

“Jeonghan, something or other. It’s a law school friend, you wouldn’t know him right?” 

He knows they’re continuing to bait him. She’s a friend and this is a person he doesn’t know, so what’s the big deal? Seungcheol can’t help the curse he mutters. “No, I know Jeonghan. He’s from here, we went to school with him. And they dated while they were in California, apparently.”

An ‘oooo’ echoes throughout the office, then a cackle or two. They all look like they need bags of popcorn with how entertained they look at his suffering. “Oh no,” Seungkwan cries out in faux sympathy. “Cheol, what are you going to do? Her exboyfriend came all the way here to see her.”

“He didn’t come here just to see her,” Seungcheol defends, fists tightening on the wall of Minghao’s cubicle. “I just said he’s from here. He’s here to see family first, surely.”

“And run to see his ex before he goes back home? Maybe get a New Year’s Kiss from her?” Chan wiggles an eyebrow. The thought makes Seungcheol’s blood boil. He’d intentionally avoided spending much time thinking about you with Jeonghan. He knew you had kind of made the poor guy’s dreams come true by dating him. 

“Oh my god, look how red he’s getting,” Seungkwan chortles. 

Minghao turns to give them a warning look, though he sort of looks entertained too. He glances back to Seungcheol. “Don't pop a vein. You look pretty jealous for someone that fell apart when he found out she worked here.”

“I’m not jealous,” he insists stubbornly. Not a single one of them buy it and he huffs. “Get back to work. We have things due at the end of the day.”

He is not jealous. He is not jealous. He is not jealous! It becomes his mantra the whole afternoon as he tries to get through his to-do list.

~

He is not jealous. He is not jealous. He is not jealous!

He chants it to himself in his head when he knocks on your door. Jeonghan opens the door with a wide grin. “Hey, Seungcheol. It’s been a while,” he says letting him in. Seungcheol had always liked Jeonghan in high school. He was funny, a little bit of a troublemaker, but also seemed to be incredibly intelligent, judging by how he was always in the running for top of the class. He tries to be warm, but Jeonghan looks far too comfortable in your apartment. He wonders if Jeonghan stayed here for a couple days while in town. He wonders where he slept - was it the guest bedroom or somewhere else?

“Yeah, it has. How have you been?” He sits with Jeonghan in the living room, doing small talk. They’re interrupted by a yell from the hallway. 

“Hannie, who are you talking to?” 

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan shouts back. 

“Oh!” You shout. “Hi Cheol. I promise I’m almost ready.”

“Yeah right,” Jeonghan mumbles. “I’ve never seen her be ready on time.”

This does make Seungcheol snort. “Never.”

Jeonghan gives him a curious look. “How are things going there? Between you two, I mean. She was pretty anxious about running into you.”

The question gives Seungcheol pause for so many reasons. So many, in fact that it makes him shake his head confused. “You want to hear how things are going with your ex?”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, entertained. “Yes. Do you want to hear how things are going with your ex?” That question makes him grit his teeth and Jeonghan spots it, chuckling. “Yeah, that tracks. But yes, I want to know that things are going well between you two, no matter what it’s defined as.”

Seungcheol’s jaw is tight. “We’re fine. We always will be.”

He hates how Jeonghan leans back, feet propped up on your coffee table, sipping his drink like he owns the place. Like he has Seungcheol right where he wants him. “Uh huh. So no plans to rekindle anything then? Just going back to friends?” 

“Yes,” Seungcheol grinds out. “Have you always been this nosy?”

Jeonghan laughs. “Maybe not, but I’m invested when it comes to Y/N. The consequences of dating for a few years, I suppose.”

Seungcheol’s breath catches. When you said you had dated Jeonghan for a while, he was picturing a few months, not years. He doesn’t know why you didn’t just tell him the actual timeframe, but then he thinks better of it. If he’s not handling it well now, then he wouldn’t have handled it well a while back either.

Finally, Seungcheol decides he sort of hates Jeonghan - not him as a person necessarily, but because you sort of made a home with him in California for three years. Enough for Jeonghan to come see you when he’s in town. He wishes there was even a tinge of bitterness between you and Jeonghan post breakup.

“So, what? You've come to visit and get back together?” He can’t really hide his own bitterness. “How’s that going to work when you both live across the world from each other?”

Jeonghan shrugs casually. “Distance wouldn't be an issue for me personally, but I’m actually looking for jobs here.”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply because he’s spiraling a bit and you’re rushing into the room, dressed to the nines and it’s all so distracting. “I’m ready! Let’s go!” You yell, shoving your feet in heels and grabbing a coat while Seungcheol and Jeonghan trail behind you. You chatter enough for everyone on the way to Minghao’s and when he leads you both into his friend’s apartment, he goes straight to the alcohol. He feels sick to his stomach before the first sip, but he needs the distraction from thinking about Jeonghan moving back and moving in with you next door and having to see you two together all the time. 

He’d have to move and probably quit his job. And maybe leave the face of the earth.

~

Jeonghan knows quite a few people here tonight, but he still stays glued to you. It’s nice, really. You’ve settled in and have gotten comfortable with the way things are since moving back, but Jeonghan is an extra slice of familiarity that comforts you, if only for a couple days before he has to fly back. 

It’s not like you two haven’t talked nearly every week since you moved, but there are so many things that you both seem to want to talk about now that you’re face to face. You missed him, and you missed Joshua, who you can get decent updates on now that Jeonghan is in front of you. Joshua has scheduled to take the bar exam and has been studying night and day, ignoring pretty much everyone since graduation. Jeonghan says he pops in every few days to get him to come up for air. 

You’ve told him about your job, which you feel pretty neutral about it. Like Seungcheol, Jeonghan assures you that it’s okay to just have a job now and not a career, and that the degree wasn’t wasted if you don’t take the bar and practice law. He even discourages it because even though he hasn’t hit the books as hard as Joshua has, he says it’s still miserable.

He’s also incredibly nosy about how things are going with Seungcheol. When you told him about your first run in and subsequent birthday parties, he’d chuckled and told you it was only a matter of time. You can’t share mutual friends for your whole lives and never see each other. But he flat out cackled when you told him that you’d unknowingly accepted a job at the same company that he worked for. Jeonghan reveals that he knew that all along and you wished you could strangle him through the screen. You even threaten to get on a plane to do it in person. He just rolled his eyes and said, “What? You don’t check LinkedIn from time to time? I knew the company you accepted the role from sounded familiar so I checked.” He was still more entertained when you told him who your new neighbor was and made some joke about fate.

In the present, Jeonghan’s grinning over his glass at you in the corner of the room. “Someone hates me, I think. I’m getting a death glare.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like it’s hard to hate you?” He shoves you lightly. “But who?”

Jeonghan snorts. “Who do you think? The most jealous person I think I’ve ever met.” He gestures across the room and it’s not hard to figure out who he’s talking about. Seungcheol looks pissed, but you’re confused because for the life of you you can’t figure out why he’d be pissed at you or Jeonghan. You thought things were good between you and Seungcheol now, especially after he said he didn’t hate you on Christmas just a week ago. He really looks like that could have been a lie right now.

“But why? He’s not entertained anything more than friendship, and even then that was like pulling teeth at first,” you sigh, looking down into your glass.

Jeonghan sighs lovingly. “Oh, honey. I love you so much, you know that, right?” You nod when it seems he actually wants an answer. “But sometimes, you’re incredibly dense. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

Your eyes widen, hair standing on end. This doesn’t sound like a ‘spilled coffee on your laptop but here take mine’ kind of fix. The look on his face makes you nervous. “What are you planning, Yoon Jeonghan?”

He looks mildly entertained at your threatening tone before turning serious. “Do you trust me?” You stare up at him, blinking. “I need an answer to that. I can fix this but it might get worse before it gets better.”

“Define ‘fix’. And what are you fixing exactly?” You press.

“You and Seungcheol. It’s time to do something about this, but my methods might be unorthodox and you need to roll with it if it will work.”

Jeonghan has never led you astray and you do trust him implicitly. You glance to Seungcheol, who still looks angry, before looking back up at Jeonghan, huffing. “What did you have in mind?”

Minghao is coming around with flutes of champagne. The ball drop is queued up on the TV with the countdown ticking. You both take glasses from Minghao, setting your other ones to the side. “I promise it will be okay,” Jeonghan says evasively. It makes your anxiety spike.

“Hannie, please tell me what you’re planning.”

People are starting to countdown and he has to lean in close to your ear so you can hear him. “I’m going to help you make him jealous.”

You blanch, pulling away from him to give him a look. “What?!”

He’s pulling you back to him, hand now on the small of your back. “Just trust me. He’s holding back right now, but once all of that anger comes out I think he’ll be more upfront about his feelings. Namely that he’s not over you. You want that, don’t you?”

You think fast in seconds. You don’t like the pressure of the countdown. You do want to rekindle things with Seungcheol if he’d ever let you. You’d never really wanted it to end in the first place but it seemed inevitable at the time. And now he’s been a lock box for pretty much everything that isn’t professional as coworkers or casual as friends. He treats you like he wasn’t your best friend for years and it stings. He treats you like he wasn’t totally in love with you while dating, just as you were with him, and that stings even more. You want him back. 

The countdown has hit ten and you lean in to Jeonghan’s ear. “You’re sure this will work? How sure?”

“99% sure.”

“Okay, then. Don’t make me hate you.”

Jeonghan chuckles and his lips are on yours when the ball drops. 

~

It becomes apparent at approximately 11am on January 2nd that you should have doubted Jeonghan’s little plan. You have a meeting with Seungcheol's department to wrap up the contract revisions and Mrs. Jang and Seokmin have let you take the lead on it. It becomes clear within the first five minutes of the meeting that you’ve done something wrong.

Or everything wrong, really.

Seungcheol is cold, even flat out rude to you as you present the revisions, explaining the logic behind some of the changes. Nothing is good enough and he’s brutal about correcting your work in front of everyone. Minghao tries to delicately step in and get you back on track on some of the things you’ve done, but if he disagrees with the things he doesn’t speak up on, he doesn’t say so. Everyone’s uncomfortable and you close out the meeting as smoothly as possible, letting them know that you’ll make the revisions they mentioned and send out an updated version later today for review. 

In the elevator, Mrs. Jang kindly says that you did well and you’ll get better with those little things with time. You’re thankful that she’s not disappointed or upset with some of the mistakes you’ve made, and that she’s giving you grace to fix it. But still, you’re itching to go somewhere and cry because Seungcheol’s never treated you like that.

Seokmin seems to sense it because he’s handing you your coat as soon as you get back into your shared office. “Let’s go for a long lunch.” He doesn’t really leave room for an argument, and even threatens to go into the women’s restroom to get you if you take too long on your way out of the building. He promises he'll close the office door later this afternoon if you still wanted to cry.

At the restraurant down the street, he orders food before sitting back and sighing. “That was rough. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty fucking fragile,” you bite, trying to blink back your tears. You do not want to cry in this restaurant right now. You’re almost angry at how emotional of a reaction you’re having.

Seokmin looks sympathetic. “I’ll say. That must be the ‘unpleasantness’ some people alluded to before. What even prompted that? I thought things were going well there.”

You put your head in your hands, sighing. “My stupidity prompted it.” 

“What? What could you have possibly done to deserve that?” Seokmin cries out. You explain everything - Jeonghan, and your relationship back in California, and his bright idea on New Year’s. Seokmin hums, nodding his head with a deep sigh. “Okay, yeah. That might have been stupid.”

You groan, interrupted by the waiter bringing you and Seokmin your food. “It made sense at the time. And it’s not like Jeonghan doesn’t know Seungcheol. They might not have been super close, but Jeonghan’s usually pretty good at reading people and I trusted his assumption.”

“Eat,” Seokmin nudges, handing you chopsticks. “And his assumption was what? That Seungcheol would snap and confess his feelings?”

“Something like that,” you answer weakly. “Seems like it backfired. Yet another thing I’ve ruined.”

“Nuh uh,” Seokmin says automatically, waving his chopsticks at you. “Stop saying you ruin things. Ruining implies you can’t fix it.”

“And you think I can fix this? This felt pretty far gone before I made this most recent bad decision.”

Seokmin’s insistent though. “Going to law school abroad wasn’t a bad decision. Did it hurt? Probably. But stop acting like doing something for yourself ruins everything.” He pops a bite of chicken into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “Besides, I’m not doubting your trust in Jeonghan’s theory. Some people respond to jealousy… It just seems like it will get worse before it ever gets better.”

You play with your food, moving it around on the plate. “Yeah, Jeonghan said something like that. I just expected some silent treatment or something. Not to be berated in a work meeting.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s hearing about that as we speak.” You give Seokmin a look and he chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “His team loves you. They did not look happy about his behavior. Not sure it will change anything, but this does seem like a problem between you and Seungcheol, rather than a problem with your work itself. I’ve made the same mistakes you did.”

You groan. “And to think he’s my neighbor. I can’t even escape it at home.”

Seokmin’s choking on his food. “He’s your neighbor?!” 

“Oh,” you start. “Yeah, did I forget to mention that?”

When he’s no longer choking, he shakes his head. “That’s it, you’re paying this time. I know it was my turn and I was going to be nice because you’ve had a rough morning, but you better have your wallet ready because I’m ordering egg rolls to go.”

You get scolded all afternoon about keeping secrets from your only favorite office mate.

~

Seungcheol huffs from behind his monitor. He’s sent a message in the team group chat and it’s starting to look like he’s talking to himself as he scrolls through the recent chat history. He sends something, be it a task or a request for a status update, and he gets the shortest responses possible. Usually a thumbs up emoji, but sometimes a short answer if an explanation is required. Sometimes, it’s nothing at all. They’re doing the work, but it’s clear they’re mad. They have been since earlier this week. 

Seungcheol isn’t proud of himself for how he handled that meeting with you earlier this week. He didn’t stick around afterwards because he could tell his team was disappointed. But they usually aren’t shy about telling him their problems, even with him. The silence is deafening and he knows he’s fucked up.

Minghao comes in to drop off a stack of papers and looks like he’s trying to exit quickly, but Seungcheol stops him. “What’s this?” 

Minghao spins in the doorway. “Financials for last quarter. I need your signature on it before I can ship it off to Budgets.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol mumbles. “I’ll just do it right now.” He grabs a pen and starts skimming, but Minghao cuts him off.

“Actually, do it later. I’m not ready to be berated for my work right now.”

Seungcheol pauses and purses his lips, placing the report and the pen back down. “Why would I do that? Your work is usually flawless. That’s why you’re the team lead.”

“I don’t know,” Minghao drawls coldly. “You can be pretty brutal it seems.” 

Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek. “Is that why you guys have been dodging me all week?” To his credit, Minghao doesn’t deny it and that’s answer enough. Seungcheol sighs. “Was it that bad?”

“Bad? I’m sure she ran off to cry after the meeting. I think even I would have had an emotional reaction,” Minghao says bluntly. The knife twists in Seungcheol’s chest. He was so angry, and still is, that he hadn’t been thinking about your reaction. Minghao’s sighing, coming back in to sit down. “I thought you could be civil. What the hell happened to that?”

“I don’t know,” Seungcheol mumbles. He certainly does know, but he’s not brave enough to say it, lest he piss off his friends even more.

Still, Minghao scoffs. “Look. I saw her and Jeonghan on New Year’s. It really is okay if you just admit that you’re jealous. I’d even sympathize with you on it. You bottling things up is 90% of the problem here.”

Stubbornly, Seungcheol shakes his head. He doesn’t know why the word ‘jealous’ made him flip a switch so fast, but he’s back to being angry. “I’m not jealous. I did what you said and I tried to salvage some sort of friendship, but it’s hard to watch your ex with someone else. That’s not jealousy though. That’s me trying to accept the fact that things are different.”

“And your acceptance of these changes means ripping her apart in a professional setting?” Seungcheol doesn’t really have a response. No matter how he felt in the moment, he was embarrassed that he acted so unprofessionally. Minghao shakes his head. “I told you up front, you should just tell her you’re angry. Admit it and you’ll feel a lot lighter.”

“Why would she want to hear about that? I mean, who knows what’s going on with her and Jeonghan? He said he’s looking for jobs here.”

“And none of that might matter if you just admit how you feel,” Minghao insists. Seungcheol’s phone rings and Minghao stands up. “Take it. I’ve said all I can say now.”

~

It’s Saturday morning and your phone has gone off no less than ten times since 8am. You know who it is but you’ve been letting it ring. But after you’re ripped from sleep for the eleventh time, you’re starting to lose patience. You switch off the sound, turning on vibration. But the buzzing across your nightstand is just as obnoxious and by the thirteenth call, you’re snatching up your phone. “What?” You snap.

“Oh, so you aren’t dead!” Jeonghan cheers. 

“Nope, not dead. Just mad,” you bite, burying yourself back into the covers. 

“Uh huh, I kind of figured that out when you ignored everything I sent the whole week,” Jeonghan smarts. “Now are you going to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it?”

You snort. “No, I will not let you fix anything else for a while.”

“Ah,” Jeonghan’s voice lifts and it irritates you. “Well I did tell you it could get worse before it gets better.” You’re silent, and his voice turns gentle. “Come on. Tell Hannie about it.”

“No. You need to be going to bed,” you insist, thinking of the time difference. Mad as you are, he needs his sleep.

“And I haven’t been able to do much of that, what with my best friend ignoring me. Now, help me so I can help you.”

You sigh. “Hold on. Let me get coffee and switch to FaceTime.” Once dressed with a coffee mug in hand in front of your computer, you rant. It feels never ending and it brings you to tears. All of the frustration of the last week, and really the last few months of living here, are boiling over and you feel like you could sob. 

To his credit, Jeonghan looks sympathetic. He usually prevents these crying jags before they start, but he can’t really do that oceans away. “I’m sorry, honey. I did say it could get worse before it gets better, but I was genuinely hoping it would never get that bad. I kind of just wanted him to spit it out, you know?” He sighs, watching you rub your watery eyes. “Have you seen or talked to him since then?”

You scoff. “No. Thankfully, there haven’t been any more meetings and I’ve managed to avoid him at home too. I’ve been going in early and staying late, if only so he doesn’t feel compelled to give me a ride or anything.” You snort at the thought. “Not that he would do that right now, I think.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” Jeonghan trails off. “You know, you could just ask what his deal is? At least, he wouldn’t be holding back because he thinks you don’t want to hear it.” He hesitates for a beat. “You do want to hear it, right?”

You sigh, swirling your now-cold coffee. “I don’t know. Who knows what he might have to say? Maybe it’s better if we just stick to being coworkers. Maybe we can manage that one day.”

“I’m sure,” Jeonghan says confidently. “But don’t be shy about clearing the air for everything else if he gives an opening. You’ll both feel better for it, I think.” Then he’s holding up his phone. “Now, play me back in Words with Friends. Our game is about to expire! You can’t ignore me like this!”

~

The following week, Seungcheol stays late to wrap up some things. It’s 7pm before he finally stands to stretch, grabbing his coat and logging out of his computer. He looks at his phone on the way to the elevator and mumbles a curse. He’s got multiple notifications about a winter storm that’s rolling in, well, right now. He’s relieved he drove today, but it seems it doesn’t matter because road conditions seem to be a problem at the rate that the snow is coming down. 

He steps into the elevator when it arrives and presses for the first floor, going back to his phone. He’s surprised when the elevator stops almost immediately on the tenth floor. He bites back a sigh when it’s you of all people waiting for it. You look like you might back away and not get in the elevator with him, but he waves you in impatiently. You come in, finding the opposite corner in silence. It’s crushing and uncomfortable. 

On the first floor, he lets you step out first and even gets the door for you at the main exit. Outside, he’s ready to hustle to the parking garage because he had every reason to be concerned about the road conditions and doesn't want to dally. But you haven’t moved and it makes him bite back a curse. He doesn’t want to offer you a ride but it would be beyond rude not too. Plus, if Wonwoo or Mingyu knew he didn’t, he’d never hear the end of it. 

Seungcheol huffs irritably. “Come on.” You give him a confused look. “You’re not walking home. Come on before I change my mind.”

The only indication that you follow is the soft click of your heels behind him up into the parking garage. You don’t say anything as you climb into the passenger seat of his car, placing your bag in the floor. Seungcheol blasts the heat and pulls out of the space. The street is slick and he white knuckles it the whole way home as he drives around a number of accidents. You’re still silent, up until he pulls into his reserved spot in the parking garage at home. 

“Thank you,” you mumble softly. 

Seungcheol is tired in every sense of the word - mentally, physically, emotionally. So he mumbles back, “For what?” He rubs his eyes during the beat of silence that you let pass.

“For the ride. For making sure we got home safe.”

He’s exhausted by your constant thanks lately. ‘Thanks for asking.’ ‘Thanks for the help.’ ‘Thanks for the ride.’ It’d never occurred to him that you didn’t say it much before, but now it drives him up the wall that you do say it. “Why wouldn’t I do that?” He huffs tiredly. 

You hesitate again. “Because you hate me. It seems like it, anyway. You’re a good person for doing those things even if you feel that way, Cheol.”

His blood his boiling through the exhaustion and it occurs to him that this is a perfect opportunity to unload like Minghao has been encouraging him to do for months, so he does. His hand falls from his face, landing in his lap with a hard slap. He snaps his head to you sharply. “You know, yeah. I do hate you.” He watches how your perfectly guarded expression falls, but he’s on a roll already. “I do hate you. You make yourself a fixture in my life for over two decades. You let me in after I pined for you for years. You show me what it’s like to be loved by you. And then you rip it all away and move across the world like it all meant nothing.” His elbow lands on the door frame so he can lean into his hand in frustration. “And then you waltz back in like it’s no big deal and I can’t seem to get rid of you now because you’re everywhere. If I don’t see you at work or at home or with family and friends, I still hear about you. And I was doing good without any of that! I was happy again after you ripped my fucking heart out, and now I have to see you every goddamn day. So yeah. I do hate you.”

A thing about you that he should have remembered is that you have a temper to match his. You look livid now. “First of all, Choi Seungcheol, you act like you pined alone all that time. You know you didn’t. And you’re apparently still bitter that I did something for myself for once, rather than for you. I bent over backwards for everyone for years - taking care of my brothers and Mingyu, trying to be the perfect eldest daughter for my parents, and feeding your massive fucking ego. I needed to go explore that opportunity for myself for once but you didn’t have to leave my life because of it. The phone works both ways, asshole. I may have physically left, but you’re the one that ended all communication in the first place. Second of all, I didn’t come back for you! At least, not entirely! It’s not all about you! So you can keep being happy and pretend that I don’t exist if that’s what you prefer. Because I hate you too. I hate that I still want you even though I don’t even recognize you anymore sometimes.” 

Seungcheol scoffs heatedly. “Yeah, you wanted me enough to move on to Jeonghan as soon as you got to California. And you really wanted me on New Year’s while you were making out with him in the corner. Tell me, why did you even bother breaking up with him? Or is that just what you do? You seem rather good at it, two for two. And he’s still clinging on to your every word even though you left him, but that won’t be me.”

Your jaw drops briefly before you snap it back up sharply, eyes fiery. “You know what? Jeonghan was wrong about you. He’s been encouraging me this whole time to find a way to fix things with you, but I won’t be doing that anymore. You can watch me leave all over again.” You swing the car door open, lucky that there’s no car next to you to ding up, and slam it closed hard, marching into the apartment building. Seungcheol sits in the car for who knows how long until he realizes he shouldn’t let the car run inside the parking garage like this. He wanders into his own apartment and doesn’t see or hear from you the rest of the night. 

~

The snow comes down hard throughout the night and the city can barely keep up with it. Leadership in the office send out an email blast early the next day after your fight with Seungcheol saying that the offices will be closed. You enjoy the day off by going back to sleep to try to mend your broken heart. Around noon, you take a long shower and pile up on the couch with some hot chocolate to watch TV. As luck, or the lack of rather, would have it, the power cuts off within the first episode.

You curse out loud, clumsily dropping your mug onto the coffee table. It’s still bright out given that it’s midday, but the dark corners of your apartment unnerve you. You feel childish for it, but you don’t like the dark. It’s something you’ve never grown out of. Even in your mid to late twenties, you still like to sleep with the TV on at night if only to chase away the bad dreams. 

You think about who to call. It’s not a problem right now while it’s still light out, but if the power is still out when it’s dark out, you’ll be one big ball of anxiety. But you think better of calling anyone. You need to save your phone battery and you don’t want anyone out on the road to come and get you. Not your parents. Not Wonwoo or Mingyu. None of your other friends. Seungcheol has about twenty feet to travel, but reaching out to him is out of the question and it wouldn’t matter anyway because his apartment is just as dark as yours. You take some medicine that you rarely have to touch for anxiety anymore and plop down on the couch next to the window with a book to try to pass the time. You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it. 

It’s somewhere around 5:30pm when the light is beginning to dwindle. You’re trying to get through this last chapter when there’s a knock on your door. It startles you because the silence had your ears ringing all day, and you put your hand to your chest, book forgotten. Hesitantly, you stand up and go to the door, looking through the peep hole. However, it���s dark in the hall because there are no windows (not that they would have helped much now). 

“Who is it?” You call out, checking the lock. 

“It’s me,” a masculine voice says from the other side. You want to beat your head against the door because the voice is unmistakable. 

“Go away, Seungcheol. I’m fine,” you call out.

“Prove it,” he challenges. He knows he’s won by challenging you like that, but he has the good sense to not look overly pleased by it when you do open the door. In the dim light, he actually looks concerned. “I called and texted to check on you.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Well, I’m fine. Just reading.” Never mind that you had no idea he reached out.

“Well, your reading session is limited with the daylight fading. So get some stuff and come over to mine,” he says impatiently. 

You blanch. “Uh, why would I do that? You hate me, remember?”

In the darkness, you see him squeeze his eyes shut, looking frustrated. “Come on, Y/N. I’m trying to do something nice here,” he nearly begs. “You don’t like the dark, but at least you don’t have to be here alone. Plus, I got food and have some portable chargers for our phones.” 

“I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore,” you bite. You’re aware that you might be acting like a bit of a bitch, especially since he’s extending some kind of olive branch in the moment, but you’re still incredibly bitter about how the conversation last night ended. 

Seungcheol huffs, impatience bleeding out of him. “Y/N, that was me asking nicely. I’ll just throw you over my shoulder. You know that. Don’t test me.”

You know his threat is real, but you don’t budge. “When did you become so fucking hot and cold?” You hiss. “You hate me, and now you aren’t accepting no for an answer. Pick a lane, Seungcheol.”

“And you have yet to tell me no. You’ve just sassed, throwing things I said yesterday back in my face. So what will it be?” He snaps. 

“I don’t understand you!” You groan. “You are so fucking frustrating, Choi Seungcheol.”

He hums, looking resigned. “So be it.” Then he’s barreling into the doorway, scooping you up over his shoulder. He grabs your phone off the coffee table, stuffing it in his pocket, grabbing your keys off the hook to lock the door behind you both on the way out. What little kicking and screaming you do is over fast because you know him better than to think it will work. Your arms stay crossed when he puts you back on the ground inside his own apartment, totally unfazed by your glare. “Make yourself comfortable,” he says, handing you your phone. 

He walks farther into the apartment and you whirl around to bite back at him, but you’re surprised at the sight in the living room. Candles are lit all over the room. He does have dinner - bags of takeout that are still steaming on the coffee table. And there are many blankets on the couch. The portable chargers he mentioned are also on the coffee table, along with a few different cords. It’s… cozy, like you two are having a sleepover, something you’ve done more times than you can count. 

Seungcheol’s sitting on the couch now, splitting the takeout boxes up. He puts a few boxes in front of the spot next to him along with some chopsticks. “Broccoli beef. Come on.”

He doesn’t ask if it’s still your favorite, and your stomach grumbles loudly, so you sigh, joining him on the couch in silence. You both eat and nearly an hour passes before either of you say anything. 

You’re leaning back into the corner of the couch with one of the blankets up to your neck, staring at the wall ahead. “I don’t get you,” you mumble.

“I know,” he says softly, lacking any heat. It makes you tear up and you feel stupid for it. Still, you sniffle and you know he knows what it means. But he stays planted on his corner of the couch, matching your pose.

“I feel like I’ll never be able to get it right with you now. Not as coworkers. Not as friends. Not as anything more,” you mumble. “I don’t even know which one I’m supposed to try to get right, but I feel like I’ll always ruin everything anyway.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a long time and you almost forget you’re carrying a conversation until he speaks up again. “I don’t hate you. I should have never said that. What I meant is that sometimes I wish I did. I feel like I’m 22 all over again, getting my heart ripped out when you’re around.” You feel your chin tremble a bit at his words. “I shouldn’t have made that your problem though. Not the way I have lately anyway.”

“You know I didn’t leave without any guilt, right? Because I was drowning in it for a long time. I'm sorry for how I left things.” 

“I know,” Seungcheol whispers, sitting up to look at you. You sit up, matching his pose. “You were right last night. You needed to go to do something for yourself for once. I’m sorry my ego got in the way. I was thinking about the loss that I was about to experience and I was selfish.”

You take a deep breath, never really expecting to get an apology of any sort from him. “You had every right to be upset. I just… wanted you to be happy for me. Someday, anyway.”

“And I am,” he says solidly. “I am happy for you. That you went to the program that you wanted. That you moved back. That you might fix things with Jeonghan. I really am.”

You can’t help but give him a quizzical look. “Jeonghan? What does he have to do with this?”

Seungcheol gives you a matching quizzical look. “I… was under the impression that you guys might be getting back together. After New Year’s and all.”

You chuckle, putting your hands over your face. “Oh, yeah. That.”

“Have I misunderstood?” Seungcheol asks, confusion obvious.

“No, I guess that was the entire point. I’m not proud of it at all, but Jeonghan seemed to think that it would rile you up.” Seungcheol looks irritated even in the darkness, so you tack on an honest apology. 

“So you wanted me to be jealous?” He grinds out.

“No,” you quickly say. “I just wanted anything from you, honestly. There were a lot of things unspoken between us and I didn’t know how to get them out into the open.”

Seungcheol crooks his finger at you and you’re really helpless to not follow the instruction. You push off your blanket and sit on the cushion next to him. His finger finds your chin, holding it gently. “Well, it worked. I was jealous. Still am.” 

“Oh?” You mumble, wide eyed. There’s something about his intensity that makes you feel both shy and excited at the same time. He was somewhat possessive in the past, and it’s a little thrilling to know that he still might feel that way about you. 

He’s getting closer, creeping into your space. “I kind of hate him, actually. Wish you’d never given him a chance, because he’ll always rub it in my face.” His hand wanders from your chin, up your cheek, pushing your hair back. The touch is soft and makes you want to fold right away. It’s really totally unfair how much power he has over you. You’re reduced to a little hum in acknowledgement and he continues. “Wish you’d forget about him. I’d make you if you’d let me.”

The words spill out fast. “I’d let you do whatever.”

In the darkness, you can see Seungcheol’s eyes flare before he’s breathing a long sigh. His fingers in your hair tug lightly, pulling your head to the side. He’s crowding you, other hand wrapping around to your back, lips finding your neck delicately. Your hands find his chest, clinging to his hoodie. “I missed you.” 

The words make your eyes well up again, despite how his hand is crawling up the back of your sweatshirt and his lips are trailing up and down to the spots he knows you like. “I missed you too.”

The crack in your voice makes him lift up to meet your eyes. “If we go here again, I need you to be all in like I am. Are you?” You think he might be tearing up too, but you can’t be sure. 

“Yeah, Cheol,” you say, hands crawling up from his chest into his hair. “I’m all in.”

“Oh, thank god,” he groans, slamming his body into yours, lips finding yours. You both fall back onto the couch together and in a lot of ways it feels like you never left.

~

“You’re late.”

Minghao tries to look upset as Seungcheol rushes into the conference room for their team meeting. Luckily, Seungcheol’s supervisor isn’t in this one, just Seungcheol and his team. The others try to match the annoyance, but it doesn’t stick. They haven’t been good about looking annoyed with him in weeks. 

“Sorry, got a late start this morning,” Seungcheol excuses, pulling out his notebook and pen. 

“Date night on a Wednesday?” Seungkwan teases. “Come on, we have things to do. Save it for Friday.”

“No, Friday’s still date night. Who knows what kept him up late last night?” Chan says, though he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Seungcheol throws one of the thin coasters on the table in his direction.

“Let’s keep it professional, please,” Seungcheol says, hoping it comes out as a demand, but he knows it's more of a plea.

“Uh huh. Professional like making out with Y/N in your office in the middle of the day?” Seungkwan bites back. 

“Oh man, that was traumatizing,” Vernon chuckles. 

“He has glass doors, you think he’d be more aware of his surroundings,” Chan tacks on.

They’d known the day that everyone came back after the snow storm that something had changed and they’d refused to leave his office until they found out what it was. Seungcheol shouldn’t have been astonished by it, but they started trading money in front of him when he announced that he was official with you (again). Apparently, his behavior in meetings wasn’t the only bet they’d made. Minghao pocketed a pretty generous amount of money and was once again unfazed at the threat of going to HR. His exact words were, “okay, fire me.”

Seungcheol wouldn’t be doing that. 

But since then, they hadn’t let him breathe about much of anything. He takes two minutes extra for lunch? Must have stopped to see you. Lingers after a meeting? It’s only because you were in that meeting. Running late like today? Must be your fault. 

Still, Seungcheol is flushing about the fact that he was caught with you in his office last week, so he brings the meeting to order. He knows he’s only delaying the inevitable, but he can force them to stay on topic for the hour so he’ll do that. 

You miss each other most of the day between meetings and such, and he meets you at your office door at exactly 5pm, leaning against the door frame. You grin at him, pulling on your coat. “Hi,” you say, leaning up to kiss him. 

He pulls you in for one more. “Hi. Busy day?”

You sigh. “Yeah, what about you? Didn’t see you much.”

Seungcheol nods. “Yeah, I know. I was booked most of the day. But they can’t keep me here anymore,” he insists. 

You giggle, before looking a little pensive. “Are you sure you’re okay with just going home today?”

Seungcheol nods automatically. “Of course. I’m fine with a night in.”

“If you’re sure,” you say, but a pout has settled on your lips that he just has to kiss. 

“Stop. Pouting is my job. But really, I don’t mind. We can always go out another night.”

“If you insist,” you sigh, leading him to the elevators. 

Later that night, he’s got you curled up into his side. You both rarely sleep alone anymore. It’s all too easy to just run to the other’s apartment when it's time for bed, if you weren't together already. He debates on mentioning moving in together to save the money, but it feels too soon, so he bites his tongue. 

“Thank you for the night in,” you mumble sleepily. He’s surprised because he thought you were asleep already, but he presses a kiss to your head. 

“Of course, baby. Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

You don’t say it back, but he’ll forgive you because you really are asleep now. He whispers a little ‘I love you’ just for good measure. 

[polyamorouspunk]

Getting messages on here that are like “wow I’m so disappointed in you.. I thought you were better than that” is SO funny like bestie who are you to me? This is tumblr.com! The place we celebrate blocking people for the bare minimum because none of it fucking matters and we’re all just little icons and usernames in each other’s phones. Like you don’t know me! I don’t care that I’ve disappointed you! It doesn’t matter! Unless you are kissing me with tongue I don’t give a shit <3

[something-of-a-hermit]

Why is O Superman (Laurie Anderson) so incredibly comforting but also I’m sobbing my eyes out at 12am over the line “and when force is gone, there’s always Mom (hi, mom!)”?

[eddiernunson]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.

Warnings: idiots in love, best friends to lovers, ANGST, brief EddiexChrissy, ooc Chrissy, attempted SA, bestfriend!Steve, and needy, desperate smut that makes it all worth it.

Thanks to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie

I’m astounded at the response to the preview I posted last week. Thank you so much for the love, I hope you enjoy all 40k (20k wtf did my brain go)

-

As you pull up to the little house at the end of the street, you look over to the sweet boy with blonde hair and green eyes nervously, curtaining a strand of hair behind one ear. He shoots you a smirk, white pearly teeth peeking from behind pretty pink lips. The date has gone phenomenally well, the conversation over dinner was easy and your date even easier on the eyes. You smooth your hands over the dress you’re wearing, picking at imaginary lint as you’re entirely unsure of what to say next.

Daniel, your date, leans onto the center console, the scent of his minty breath roping you in. “So, dinner was like, forty dollars.”

Your brows pinch together, the topic of conversation coming from left field.

“And the flowers were about twenty.” He says, his voice hinting at a subtext lost on you.

You think back to the flowers, a cascade of spring colours that drenched you in their floral scent. They sit on your dresser in a vase, waiting eagerly for you to come home.

“Okay…?” You ask, unsure of what he’s getting at.

Daniel sighs, suddenly the frustration you didn’t see before is clear on his face. “Well, I think I deserve some compensation for the princess treatment, don’t you think?”

He’s raising his brow suggestively, and the atmosphere in the car turns thick as you realize what he’s referring to. You feel so stupid. Suddenly the smirk on his face isn’t sweet, it’s sleazy. The cologne he’s wearing isn’t earthy, it’s gross. He’s not a good guy, and you feel foolish for thinking otherwise.

You think fast, lowering your eyelashes in a feigned blush. “Actually, I think it deserves just a little more than that. Be right back, I’m going to grab a condom.” You wink as you get out, the cherry on top.

Daniel lights right up, apparently not expecting his ridiculous method to work. The sound of him undoing his belt makes you nearly gag as you run in the front door.

Your dad, the sweetheart of a single father he is, welcomes you with a kind smile until he sees your crestfallen face. “You okay?”

“No,” you choke back, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. “He’s demanding I repay him for dinner.”

“Repay?” You tilt your head, inferring what it means. “Oh. Fucking twerp. You need me to–”

“Can I have 60 bucks?” You interrupt him, avoiding his angry eyes.

He melts. “Sure.”

You walk back out the door, head held high right to the little corvette that sits at the end with the cheeky asshole sitting contently, waiting for his treat. The window is still open from earlier in the night, which works right in your favor.

“Here,” you toss the bills at him, allowing a small smile to grace your face at his confusion. “Since you’re so worried about being paid.”

As soon as he understands what you’re telling him, his face curves into a scowl, embarrassed, but too proud to say so. “Like I wanted to do it with Eddie Munson’s slut anyway!”

Halfway back up to the house, you turn back to the car as the engine growls into the night. How does that make sense? you wonder. Why am I being called a slut when I refused to put out?

The front door to your house slams shut again, and your dad receives the message that you would not like to talk about it. “Ed called just now, by the way,” he mentions as you reach the top of the stairs. Your pause in gait tells him you heard him, but you don’t respond because you can hear the smirk he wears, as much as you repeatedly tell him that Eddie is just a friend.

The flowers you thought so fondly of now have a looming presence in your room, like a dark shadow menacingly waiting in the corner. You ignore them as you lift the pastel phone to your ear, dialing the number you know by heart.

He picks up on the first ring. “Hi, sweetheart.” Relief washes over you, instant and comforting.

“Hey, Eds. How was your date?” You and he had the same plans tonight, you just hope it turned out better for him.

“It sucked,” he sighs, sounding like he’s rummaging through his messy chest of drawers. “She didn’t want a date, I guess.”

“Well what did she want?” You ask, going through your own drawers for something comfier to wear.

“Uh, to be shown a good time,” he answers dryly, the sound of rummaging coming to a sudden stop. “Heard the rumors of Munson’s magic fingers and apparently only wanted that.”

Yikes, you think. Eddie’s had many hook ups in the back of his van, but as of late he’s finding himself defeated when they don’t want him, just what he can do for them. Your heart hurt for him last week when he admitted they rarely, if ever, reciprocated.

You didn’t think it’d be an appropriate moment to tell him you would happily reciprocate for him.

“That’s extremely shitty. Guess it’s not all that different from my date though, who expected payback from spending a lousy sixty bucks.”

“Payback?”

“Asked me to suck his dick and pointed to it,” you say, a million times more bluntly than you could to your dad.

“I knew that Daniel guy was an asshole,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “I think our shitty dates deserve each other.”

You laugh, holding the PJs you plan on wearing as you sit cross legged on your bed. “To be honest, I don’t think Daniel would’ve been all that great in bed anyway.”

“I could’ve told you that. He looks like he would call thirty seconds a long time,” Eddie laughs. “Sit tight, princess, I think we’ve earned pancake night at Benny’s.”

“C’mon, I was just about to get comfy!” You whine.

“Nah, wear the pretty dress. It deserves to see a strawberry milkshake, don’t you agree?”

Honestly, a milkshake night with your best friend is exactly what you need. “Sure. See you in twenty?”

“Eh, ten.”

You throw out the flowers, tossing the vase full of water into the kitchen sink, shrugging when your dad gives you an apologetic look. You certainly are already over it, just another asshole in Hawkins, who would’ve thought? When the loud music from Eddie’s stereo pulls up, your dad nods in understanding, telling you to have fun as you leave through the front door.

The date night dress you wear is a summer dress that sits just above your knees, held together by spaghetti straps decorated with pretty blue florals. It's a dress you go to for formal events, and even saw a dance or two back in high school. Of course, you had to dust it off for the cute boy in your Psych class who ended up being a complete dickwad.

The fabric of Eddie’s beat up van is familiar. So familiar that you could argue his passenger seat has a permanent indent from your ass. Eddie has, in fact, pointed it out from one night stoned in the back with him, giggling as you vehemently denied it. At your sudden quiet shut down stature, he patted your ass gently, claiming that he didn’t want any other person’s ass planted on his seat except yours.

That conversation, as hazy as it was, stayed in your mind for days after the fact.

Eddie’s dressed in his own version of a date night outfit, tight jeans exposing his knees with jagged rips under a leather jacket and plain black t-shirt. He’s gorgeous, tauntingly so. It’s not much different from an ordinary outfit, but the faint smell of fresh laundry detergent and his best cologne is the best evidence he’s all dressed up.

The loud music speaks for him, loudly, pulling off before your seatbelt is even clicked into place.

The path from your house to Benny’s is well trekked by you and Eddie on late nights when you should’ve been doing homework but ended up goofing off instead. Martha, a waitress that’s been working there well over twenty years, smiles with smeared red lipstick and too much blue eyeshadow.

You walk in stride with each other, straight to the corner booth as the husk of 20 years of chain smoking barks over the gentle music, “Hey, you two! Eddie, are you finally taking this girl of yours on a date?”

Shut up, you silently beg her, avoiding either of their eyes as you stare at your lap, seemingly fixated on a loose thread at the hem of your dress.

“Oh, I’m not that lucky,” Eddie winks, throwing his arm behind you on the back of the booth. “We’re just recovering after shitty dates.”

“One day, you two,” she muses, tapping her pen rhythmically on her little notepad. It’s never been the same notepad twice, always decorated with a little cartoon sticker on the front. You’re tempted to run to the dollar store and grab her a larger one, but a part of you thinks she thrives on her many little notepads. “Alright, a large strawberry milkshake with two straws, pancakes with extra strawberry sauce and fresh strawberries on top, and waffles loaded with whipped cream and sprinkles. Correct?”

You nod in unison, both aware that she insists you will collectively rot the teeth out from your gums if you insist on overdosing with sugar every damn time you waltz in late at night. She’s given up offering other menu items, having ordered extra strawberries just to make up for your love of the fruit.

Less than five minutes later, following the blissful sound of a blender, the milkshake is wordlessly dropped off at the table, closer to you as even Martha knows you will be drinking 75% of it. The sweet, pinky taste flows easily down your throat, humming softly as you dip into the whipped cream with a finger. “Best milkshake in town,” You assert.

“I wouldn’t know,” Eddie answers, smirking, “you never let us get a milkshake from anywhere else!”

You giggle, licking some of the whipped cream that found a home in the corner of your mouth. “I could never! It would be like cheating! This milkshake would just know,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “it would smell the other milkshakes on me!”

“We couldn’t have that,” Eddie grins, grabbing the large glass to take a sip. “Sorry your date was such a jerk.”

You shrug, already having gotten over it. You’ll just need to sit on the other side of the lecture hall from now on. “He seemed so nice.”

“No offense, sweetheart, but I could’ve told you that Daniel Moore was a shitty person,” Eddie finishes another sip of the milkshake, making a large dip in the glass as the pink slush is pulled up the straw. “He likes to instigate.”

You rest your chin on your elbow, sad the milkshake is already nearly gone. “I had just hoped he would’ve matured by now…”

“In seven months?” Eddie asks you incredulously, raising his brows past his curly bangs. His expression quickly turns curious, tilting his head at you.

“What?”

“So, you’re willing to bet that Daniel Moore has improved just based on personal speculation alone but you’re not willing to believe me when I say Steve Harrington is no longer a douche?”

You roll your eyes. God, you should’ve seen this one coming. “That’s different! I only heard about Daniel. Steve Harrington actually sat back and laughed when Tommy asked–”

“You out as a joke, yeah, I know, I’ve heard it before,” Eddie mumbles, grinning at your shocked expression. “Well, that was like what, three years ago?”

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Steve Harrington now, of all people! Listen, I know he’s also Dustin’s friend, but I find it hard to believe that you guys even have something in common,” You shrug.

“I still can’t believe you refuse to give him another chance!” Eddie playfully retorts, licking some of the whipped cream that still sits on the rim of the glass. “He’s in your Sociology class, isn’t he?”

Yeah, and he seems to insist on forcing his friendship on you, too, no matter how much you resist it. If you found friendship in Eddie, it seems reasonable to find friendship with Steve, too. Yet, there’s a little part that remembers the cruel laughter, his carelessness with others’ lives, and it ripples down your spine in a violent shudder.

You haven’t gotten rid of the notion of being his friend completely, but it’s just not the right time for you, yet.

You shrug. The topic has too much nuance for a nice dinner with your best friend. Just in time, Martha wordlessly drops off the two plates, the smile that spreads across your face is effortless. Zachary, the night chef must’ve heard about the shitty night and added extra for you, because the mountain of strawberries on the table is huge, even for your standards.

Eddie smirks, reading your mind. “You gonna finish all those?”

“Absolutely!”

-

Eddie sits on one side of the open courtyard, flicking off ashes from his cigarette as he waits for you to get out of class. He mentally reflects on his crazy afternoon, taking another long, much needed drag. The car with the million symptoms was one thing, but the proposition he got right before, he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

It’s been 13 days since Daniel, four awkward classes of avoiding his glare, and you’ve decided to give up on boys completely. The one you want doesn’t want you, and the dates you’re going on don’t seem to do well no matter who you say yes to. The two offers you’ve gotten in the last week were therefore denied, realizing that even if they are cute, you don’t want to lead anyone on when your heart belongs to someone else.

Before the aforementioned date, you were practically begging for someone to ask you out, but for some inexplicable reason, now you’re getting offers left and right. Somehow people just know when you’re playing hard to get.

At least Eddie’s dates seem to be going terribly for him, as well. That’s one thing you can thankfully count on.

The puff of smoke that leaves his lips as you approach him should not be as gorgeous as it is. It’s practically unfair. “Hey, Eds.”

He flicks the filter, killing it on the cement table he sits at as he blows out one more puff. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Just from that particular look in his eye, you can tell something is on his mind. “You okay, there, Munson?”

He smirks, effortlessly standing up. “I suppose. I’m not sure how to react. Or how you’ll react.”

Your brows meet your hairline, watching his mind move at a million miles per hour. “Ok, Eddie, this better be about a new class of creatures in DnD, or something, because you’re scaring me.”

He smiles, nodding his head over to the halls that lead toward the front door of the campus. “Someone asked me out on a date, earlier, today.”

Your brows furrow, biting back the jealousy that eats at your chest. Every little part of you holds back the monster that threatens to claw its way out, to snarl and hiss at every girl that even so much as looks at him wrong. It’s hard to bite it back, to choke on it purposely, but if you must, you will.

It tastes like venom as you swallow it back down. “Oh, who?”

A faint pink spreads across Eddie’s cheeks, much to your dismay. Not once, in your fuck, what, seven, eight years, of friendship have you ever managed to see Eddie blush. (Just once but it was when you nearly walked in on him jerking himself off a few short years ago.) “Who?”

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”

Your jaw drops, but your gut falls through the floor. You swear you hear it smash through the tiled floors and fall into the depths of hell.

“She asked you out?”

“Hey! Don’t act so surprised! A cheerleader could like me!”

That was the last thing on your mind. Of course a cheerleader could like Eddie, they’d be stupid not to. No. Every other girl that Eddie has either slept with, or gone on a date with brought no worry to your head, competition, per se. But a girl like Chrissy, one with pretty blonde curls, adorable smile and a sweet disposition, it’s like your worst nightmare come true.

Thanks to living in such a small town, you can recall 99% of the names that Eddie had told you, whether they be hookups or a date. Most of them didn’t intimidate you, only because, selfishly, you could nitpick at things you think wouldn’t work out with Eddie. Whether they were too vapid, too shallow, had none of the same interests as him, only shallowly liked him for his looks, or was a bully…you had something to give great comfort to you to prevent that little jealousy monster from clawing its way out.

This time, your brain wracked itself for some sort of answer. Some sort of flaw in the Queen of Hawkins High that could settle this uneasiness that has taken over your mind. Nothing. Nothing.

“I’m not surprised a cheerleader could like you, I’m surprised that Chrissy Cunningham asked you out,” you answer candidly, walking in step with him to where you supposed was his van. “I’m guessing you said yes?”

“I’d be crazy not to!” Eddie answered sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket. “I’m taking her out on Friday night.”

“Ah, you’ll tell Steve to take Creeper off hold for us, then?” You try to keep your tone nonchalant, but bitter jealousy coats your tongue.

Eddie stops mid stride, faltering, his brows pinched as he gives you those big brown eyes. “Shit. It totally slipped my mind.”

This is also new. Even as his dates would happen, any previously made plans with him were always a priority. You just hope this doesn’t become a new habit of his.

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”

You nod, giving him the comfort you suddenly find yourself craving. From the pep in his step, the rosiness of his cheeks, the warm glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s truly excited. As a best friend, you try to be happy for him, however hard it is to make the smile on your face even remotely convincing.

Eddie curls his arm around your shoulder, tugging you along with him for what will probably be another afternoon in his room, clouded by a haze of weed.

You smoke more than usual, if anything to allow his excitement and plans for his big date in two days to buzz into the background, the bong hit rippling through your lungs as a punishment for yourself.

-

A weight on your bed suddenly dips down and you sit up quickly to face Eddie sitting on the corner of your mattress with a small smile on his face. Your headphones, still playing the obnoxiously loud music that drowned out his knocks, fall off your head as you sit up. You press the STOP button, clicking loudly in the silence as you stare at your best friend.

The anxiety of his date has eaten you all night long, the only thing strong enough to distract it being music loud enough to hurt your eardrums. You always feel some sort of anxiety, but tonight was even worse, eating at your brain in fear of how painful it might be to be third wheeling with him after being his #1 for so long.

For once, you can’t tell how it went. A slimy, selfish part of you is hoping he shares bad news. His smile breaks. Into a bigger, much brighter beam. Damn.

“How did it go?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

Eddie slams himself onto the bed next to you, hiding his eyes with his hands with his dimples deep, his pearly whites exposed. “Fuck, it was the best date I’ve ever had.”

Your heart shatters. “That good?”

“God, she’s– much better than I thought she could’ve been,” Eddie answers, peeking out from behind his hands. “It’s fucking crazy.”

Of course Chrissy Cunningham, a known sweetheart, is everything he’s ever dreamed of. Of course she lived up to his expectations. Just your luck. “I’m just jealous of your remarkable turn in luck, I guess.”

Eddie chuckles, turning onto his stomach to face you as he kicks his feet. “You’ll have your turn, baby.”

The pet name stings in the worst way. Instead, you raise your brow at him. “Look at you lookin’ like a schoolgirl with a crush. Pretty boy doesn’t even need makeup with all that blush.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching you on the shin. “You’re such a shithead.”

“Yeah, well you still choose to hang out with me anyway, so, that’s on you.” It takes everything in you to ask the following question, “So, tell me about your date, will ya?”

He does. He rattles on and on about how pretty she is, how easy the conversation was, how much she surprised him, how the night ended with a kiss that had Eddie giggling. He lays next to you, leather jacket put aside on the corner chair and boots next to your bunny slippers at the end of your bed. Your small twin mattress has you close in proximity, your side in direct contact with him as he rests his head on his hands.

“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”

You’re half asleep by now, allowing the exhaustion to overwhelm the slight ache in your chest. It zaps through your heart, overwhelms your senses and makes you dizzy. Your eyes flutter shut, but Eddie keeps talking softly next to you.

“Why were you blasting your 8-track, anyway?”

The question harshly yanks you out of the haze, failing to think of something that doesn’t seem completely false. You wish you were a better liar. “Just stressed out about your date.”

He gives you a strange look, eyebrows tilted. “Hmm?”

“We both haven’t had a very good track record, lately, and if things won’t turn around for me, then at least they should do one of us a favor.” Not, not the truth, but definitely an over exaggerated version of it.

“You’re so good to me, you know?” Eddie asks, intertwining his hand with yours. “Wasting your anxiety on me.”

The rings are harsh against your skin, squeezing your fingers tightly. The physical hurt is almost comforting in direct contrast to your emotional hurt.

His scent is comforting, as it lures you like the pied piper into the land of sleep. It’s about another twenty minutes until he realizes there are soft snores coming from you. He doesn’t care to drive all the way home, despite it only being a five minute drive away.

He falls asleep to your comforting breaths, allowing your hand to remain engulfed in his.

-

The loud ringing of your phone jerks you awake, quickly crawling to the side of your bed as you grab it from the dock housed on the floor.

“Hello?” Sleep sits deep in your voice, spelling out clearly to your caller that you just woke up.

It just occurs to you that you could’ve just allowed your dad to answer it.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Eddie’s voice is chipper, alarmingly so since you’re not even awake yet.

“You sound way too awake for someone that didn’t believe in waking up before 1pm,” you quip, rubbing your eyes sleepily.

“Ha,” he deadpans, yet it's clear he’s smiling. “Chris wants to meet you. I mean, I know you’ve already met her, but you know, as my girlfriend?”

Ugh. It’s been a harrowing three weeks. “Yeah, sure. What did you want to do with her?”

“I thought we could introduce her to pancake night,” Eddie sheepishly answers, like he knows you would be hesitant to invite someone into your holy ritual.

Yeah. You don’t want to invite her. But…you asked for patience last month and it seemed that the universe has answered with a lovesick Eddie Munson.

“I don’t see why not,” you lie, finding it rolls off the tongue much easier than it used to.

“You’re the best! I’ll see after you study in the library, yeah?” He knows your schedule. On Thursdays after the morning Sociology class, you opt to crawl up into a small corner and hermit yourself with snacks and a pile of books to get the work that needs to be done finished.

In high school, you could get away with doing minimum work and passing, but with your dad paying and barely able to afford it even with his second job, it sent the need to do your work to the best of your ability for once. You owed him at least that much from all the calls of missed classes for four years straight.

“Sure.”

As you stretch while hanging up the phone, you glance over to the alarm clock to see the time and it lurches you forward in bed to scramble for clothes, textbooks, and scattered papers as your lecture starts in less than twenty minutes. You’re usually already sitting in the seat by then.

On your way out the door, your dad is surprised you’re still home, offering to drive you. You don’t want to burden him even more than you already have, so you insist you can ride your bike and still get there on time. Well, at least you hope you can.

The bike rack is nearly full when you get to the college, six or seven locks messily put around the poles, most bikes already fallen over. You jam your bike in between two of them, hurriedly wrangling the annoying coil of sturdy cable between what you’re sure is entangled in someone else’s lock, too. Whatever, they should’ve been more organized.

The clock on the wall tells you class started three minutes ago and your heart falls to your stomach, knowing the professor is a stickler for punctuality. His words falter as soon as you enter the hall, the heavy door echoing its creak against the walls. He graciously allows you to sit and get situated before he continues. He makes examples of every late student, and you figured you would never be in his laser eyed focus. Well, before your alarm decided not to go off.

The last chair available is the corner chair in the front row, the one spot in class you love to avoid. It’s too close for comfort, a place he often chooses for students to answer his questions even if they don’t raise their hand.

That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.

His fingers raise from the desk as a greeting, sharing a sweet smile as you start to collect your textbook and notes. You awkwardly smile back at him, your attention snapped back to the professor as he pointedly talks right at your desk in his lecture. Fuck, this’ll be annoying.

By the time the three hour lecture ends, your hand hurts from the amount of notes you wrote down, one side covered in graphite from smudging the paper. Your stomach grumbles, asking loudly for lunch after neglecting to eat breakfast as usual.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve follows a step behind. “That lecture was brutal,” You hear from behind you. You toss your head over your shoulder to glance back at him before turning back around.

“I guess.” You say awkwardly. Here we go again.

“Out of curiosity, how are Eddie and his new girlfriend doing? Chrissy Cunningham, huh? I cannot say I saw that coming.”

Neither did you. “They’re doing great, from what I hear. Haven’t really met her, yet,” you answer, heading straight to the small cafe that has a home in the heart of the campus. “Listen, Steve, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Why not? You don’t think he’s happy with her, or something?”

You stop midstep, turning to face him. “It’s not that. I just don’t have the capacity for it, ok?”

“You like him,” Steve accuses, his brows meeting his hairline.

Your jaw drops, stuttering through an empty sentence. “I do not like him!”

“Really?” Steve laughs, crossing his arms as he watches you build a brick wall around yourself. “So you not wanting to talk about his new girlfriend has nothing to do with the way your face fell when I asked about it?”

How the hell did Steve Harrington pick up on it so fast, of all people?

“Even if I did, why the hell would I want to talk about it with someone I don’t even know?” You sigh, looking wistfully over to the cafe. “Besides, I’m not even caffeinated yet.”

Steve rolls his eyes, nodding towards the said cafe. “Here, if I treat you to some coffee will you talk to me about it?”

“If you add a wrap to the deal, then I’ll think about it,” You say dryly, pulling a laugh from him.

The barista, a student who you’ve gotten to know is somehow managing to do pre-law and work part time smiles nicely.

“I’ll get a vanilla latte with nonfat milk and an extra pump of vanilla, please.”

Steve raises his brow at you before making his own order, “I’ll get a medium black coffee with room for creamer, please, and whatever this lady wants from the menu.”

You scan until you reach the egg omelet wrap with mushroom, bell peppers, and tomatoes. “The loaded omelet wrap.”

After Steve pays he meets you on the handout counter. “Why nonfat milk and the extra pump of vanilla?”

“If I get nonfat then I can replace the sugar with the extra vanilla.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how that works.”

You pick up the cup as it lands on the counter, wincing at the temperature on your tongue. “It works.”

Steve grabs his, shaking his head as he makes his way over to pour some creamer in.

The wrap is soon presented as well, steaming in its cardboard sleeve as the scent alone pools on your tongue with saliva. The only thing that got you through that lecture was just the thought of lunch.

Steve meets you at a two-top by the window, setting his own bag down as he sits right across from you.

The omelet, much too hot to eat, sits waiting for you on the chestnut brown table as you sip on the latte. The latte is much too hot as well, but you’ve never had enough patience to wait for that caffeine kick. If you weren’t so afraid of your professor’s wrath you would’ve shown up another ten minutes late with a coffee cup in hand.

Steve allows you and himself a few minutes of quiet before he speaks. “So, why don’t you tell him?”

You cough mid sip, mentally apologizing to your lungs for allowing non-oxygen to make its way in. “I’m sorry?”

“Stop pretending. Eddie was dead on when he said you were a bad liar,” Steve says, grinning with stupid smirk on his face.

“Why have you and Eddie talked about me?” You ask, narrowing your glance towards him.

“Are you kidding? You’re all he talks about,” Steve shrugs, so nonchalant that you have no choice but to believe him. “Kind of annoying, actually.”

“Why?”

“I have to hear about how great of a friend this girl is but also how she can’t stand me.”

You huff in laughter at how distraught he genuinely seems by it, his face contorted into someone who definitely isn’t used to rejection. You cock an eyebrow at him. “Can you exactly blame me?”

“Yes! I can! Everybody loves me!” Steve rolls his eyes playfully, and damn it if you can’t help but find it mildly amusing.

“Hate to break it to you, there, sweetheart, but the people who were picked on by you don’t exactly crave to be around your oh-so-wonderful presence.”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Picked on? I mean that’s a little harsh, considering–”

“Fine, yes, you didn’t exactly jeer, or outright bully even, but you watched and laughed along and sometimes that feels even worse,” you admit, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. “Tommy and Carol said shit, that’s just what they did… But sitting back and watching sometimes is just as bad. You were nice, sometimes, I guess. But the fact that you had that capacity for kindness and chose against it just spoke volumes.”

“I met them in seventh grade. They weren’t as bad back then, mostly just somewhat belligerent. They got worse over time, but we all had terrible home lives, it was like we were the only ones that got what that was like…and somewhere along the way, I forgot that just because we had an excuse didn’t mean they had the right.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you answer, glancing at the omelet, debating taking your first steaming bite. “I mean, I’m not condoning it, but sometimes loyalty can be blinding.”

“I’m not that douche, anymore. I got that knocked out of me when I was seventeen. Literally. Now I spend most of my free time with a high school junior,” he laughs, taking another large sip of his coffee.

“Aah, Dustin,” you hum, thinking of the many instances where he had tried to convince you of what Steve had just told you. What made you so insistent on denying believing in either of your friends seems to dissipate, however, just in the friendliness that Steve radiates alone. Damn his charisma. “Would you believe me if I said he vouched for you many times?”

“The kid loves me, what can I say?” He shrugs, not hiding his laughter. “Now. Back to you. Why not tell him?”

No use in hiding it. If Steve can bare his soul in the middle of the day at a damn cafe just to get you to trust him, you suppose you owed him the same. “‘Cause he doesn’t feel the same,” you answer, starting to peel open the snack from the hunger pang. “Why make it weird when there’s nothing that could come from it?” You shrug, looking down sheepishly as the weight of your words sink into your heart like a stone.

“Doesn’t like you. Are you sure about that?” Steve asks, licking his lips.

You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”

“Nope. I just wonder if you truly believe it, or if you’re too scared to let yourself have something you’ve wanted for so long.”

“Where do you get off on acting like you’re some sort of expert on this?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest. The question rings out from the mere fact that he is dead on the nose. He couldn’t be any more right. The very idea that Eddie had even an inkling of what you had for him scares you to death. You would rather keep him as a friend and lie in wait than lose him from a great love and not have him at all.

“I��m more observant than most people give me credit for,” he admits, twirling his almost empty coffee cup. “I’ve heard countless hours of Eddie talking about you, yet I haven’t heard him speak once about Chrissy. That says a lot, don’t you think?”

“Well, me neither, and I’m his best friend. Don’t get down on your luck.”

“You are both idiots. Just tell him. Seriously. I’m sick of you both acting like a pair of love sick fools.”

“You seem to be very convinced of something that is not real,” you tell him, garbled from the bite of omelet you’re in the middle of swallowing. “If you keep this energy up when you’re studying, you would probably do pretty well for yourself.”

“Fine. Remain in denial. I don’t care. You can destroy yourself from the inside. Who cares? Just, let me in. I need someone to help me with these assignments. They are mind numbingly dull.” He throws his hands up like he’s admitting defeat.

“You need a study buddy?” You laugh, hiding the food that sits in between bites. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

“Sweet. Now are you gonna treat me to a coffee every now and then, or?”

“I have a single father, not an unlimited credit card from Daddy’s big business, Steve Harrington.” You say matter-of-factly, jabbing your finger towards him accusingly.

“Oh, so I have to provide the newly released movies and buy the coffee, I see how it is.”

“Privilege breeds responsibility, Stevie. I don’t make the rules.” You give him a half smirk. As you look at him, you’re finally seeing the person you thought could see all those years ago behind the mask of his terrible friends. Steve’s ambush would be the best thing to come out of the next few weeks.

Because it turned into hell.

-

As your hair runs wild behind you, there’s a grand attempt to allow yourself to let the wind distract you from the sinking feeling in your gut. It grows bigger and bigger, until it becomes unbearable as you reach the gravel lining the trailer park. You allow your bike to fall heavily on the trailer, taking a moment to collect your courage before knocking on Eddie’s front door.

It feels weird knocking. You can’t even recall the last time you did. But, you refuse to overstep any boundaries that might not be communicated yet. Being on Chrissy’s good side will make your life a lot easier.

Eddie answers the door, out of breath and sweating with wild eyes and even crazier hair. “Hey!”

“Hey,” you greet, stepping in right behind him. You blink, taking in the pristine surroundings. It’s like stepping into an alternate dimension, one where Eddie and Wayne regularly cleaned their trailer and preferred the smell of lavender over stale beer and greasy pizza boxes. The kitchen is spotless, the living room has a lit candle sitting on the coffee table, and the shelves containing the million mugs were dusted. “Who are you and what the hell did you do with my best friend?” You laugh.

He chuckles sheepishly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as protection. “Uh, is it too much?”

“Better warn her now so she doesn’t get used to cleanliness,” you answer, watching as the surfaces around you sparkle and shine.

“Ha, ha. I have to get dressed. I have some snacks on the kitchen counter. You mind starting the popcorn?” Eddie doesn’t bother waiting for you to answer, already walking to his room.

You get a glimpse of his bedroom as he shuts the door behind him, smirking at the clothes still scattered on his floor. At least one part of this little haven of yours remains normal.

The popcorn shakes in your hold as you continually stir it on the stove to prevent it from sticking to the bottom of the thin aluminum bottom and burning. Just as the first batch of kernels reach their limit, a knock from the front door hits, each one feeling like a crack in any normalcy you’ve ever had.

Things will never feel the same ever again. Not after tonight. On your way to open the door you try to tell yourself that it can be a good thing.

Right?

The door opens to the once head cheerleader of Hawkins High, wearing a pink dress that fits her tiny frame nicely with blonde curls and bangs that beautifully frame her face. Her hands are folded behind her back, standing meekly in white sneakers and long lashes and blue eyeshadow. It’s hard not to be envious of how pretty she is.

It’s clear she’s not expecting you to open the door. “Hey! Sorry, Eddie’s just in his room. He should be out any minute.”

“Oh. Ok,” she enters as you back up, wringing her hands together, probably out of anxiety. “What movie did he rent?”

“You know, I was so busy making fun of him for cleaning up for once I didn’t bother to ask,” you admit, hoping to make the atmosphere just a little bit lighter.

She looks around the place, seemingly taking it in. “Hmm,” she hums, walking over to the couch. “It’s cute when they try so hard.”

“Sure,” you answer, walking back to the kitchen, hoping the popcorn isn’t irredeemably burnt. “Do you want butter on the popcorn?”

“Yes please!”

You’re in the middle of mentally begging Eddie to come out already while the butter melts in the microwave, the hum of the microwave loud in the silence.

“Okay! I’m ready!” Eddie announces, opening the bedroom door with a flourish. “Sorry for the wait!”

As he gets to the couch behind Chrissy, he wraps her in a big hug and plants kisses all over her neck. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

You hold back the nausea as you pour the hot butter all over the popcorn in the large plastic bowl. You find it ironic that this is the same bowl you’ve held back Eddie’s hair over as he hurled into it. You just hope Wayne thoroughly cleaned it.

“Popcorn is ready, can y’all help me bring the chips and candy?” You ask, shaking the bowl to coat the butter over each kernel.

“We can do that,” Eddie answers, grabbing Chrissy’s hand as they walk to the kitchen.

“How can I help?” Chrissy asks, arms open as she looks around a kitchen she has no familiarity with.

“Um there’s some soda in the fridge, grab me and Ed a Coke, and you can grab yourself whatever you want,” you answer, pointing to the twenty year old fridge in the corner.

“Hand me some,” you command, holding a single hand for one of the many bags of snacks Eddie juggles.

The popcorn and a couple dozen little bags land on the coffee table in front of a blank tv screen. Chrissy sits with a soft grunt in between the two of you, cradling the cans of coke and sprite in her tiny arms.

She distributes the cans, handing them over to you and him. Eddie squats in front of the TV, pressing play on the tape which he apparently already prepared to watch. His plaid boxers peek out of his jeans, sitting above the studded belt as he adjusts volume and picture.

You share a smile with the blonde, opening your can and wincing at the loud hiss. You keep thinking about the days you and Chrissy will look back on how awkward this was. How the first days of this trio were so weird, and off putting, and how she thought you were a bitch when she met you.

Where she’s a friend.

You have to try.

“What are we watching?”

Eddie turns around slowly, that over exaggerated smile on his face that tells you he’s up to nothing but trouble. “Oh just a little somethin’”

“Oh god,” you wince, knowing that look on his face. You lean into her, whispering, “Hope you like horror.”

Chrissy turns to you with wide eyes and a queasy smile. “Not really.”

“Oh, this one is a classic,” Eddie promises, animatedly using his hands as he crouch-walks back next to her. “If any movie can turn someone into a horror fan, it’s this one.”

As soon as the music starts playing you recognize it. It’s a tune you’ve heard many times in his living room, subjected to it too many times if you had anything to say about it. Of course, you’ll watch it with him every time, regardless.

“Halloween? Seriously? The serial killer stalking the babysitter? You couldn’t think of anything else?” You roll your eyes. He could probably do a whole reenactment of the movie word for word if he tried.

“It’s a classic for a reason, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you, grabbing the bowl straight away. Of course, he will rip through the popcorn, he always does.

You feel Chrissy tense up, not that you can blame her. You suppose a talk about proper pet names will be necessary.

Each bag of snacks is eventually opened because you can’t stick to one bag long enough to finish it even if you tried. You get bored of the same taste too often. You have your favorite few, fuzzy peaches, M&Ms, Reese's Pieces, Swedish fish, and last and most controversially, at least where Eddie’s concerned, salt and vinegar chips.

He always has his own snacks at his disposal from nights of having the munchies, always on a dollar store run for said snacks. At each movie night he restocks, both yours and his alike, and suddenly you realize you will need to remember Chrissy’s too, if you’re going to be cordial.

With each bloody death that splatters the walls on screen, Chrissy grows closer and closer to Eddie. There’s a part of you that has considered using scary movies to cuddle up to him, but you’re just not genuinely scared of them enough to consider it. The ruse would’ve faded eventually. You try not to let the jealousy eat you up from the inside, no matter how much it burns your skin.

His arm wraps around her, petting her shoulder gently as she whimpers at the slash of his knife. “It’s corn syrup. Totally fake. You can tell by the color, it’s way too bright.”

Towards the end, the loud, chirpy, nauseating sound of kissing fills your ears. Your eyes can’t help it, they move towards the noise and immediately regret it. Oh god, they’re kissing. If you can even call that kissing. He’s practically engulfed her mouth.

Surely, with the company they have, they’ll stop, right? Their heads will remember and sheepishly get the fuck off each other? Right?

Two scenes and what feels like forever, later, you realize how wrong you are. “I’m glad you two are crazy for each other, really I am, but can we please wait until I’m gone?” You give an awkward laugh to try to stifle the discomfort coursing through your veins.

Eddie makes a surprised sound, almost like he completely forgot you were there. “Shit–sorry.”

Chrissy doesn’t make any apologies, in fact, you miss the way she rolls her eyes against his chest. She wanted to keep going, hoping you would take her hint to get lost.

Before long, the end of the movie finally arrives, the end credits rolling with that famous piano tune. Chrissy has practically stitched herself to Eddie’s side, her arms wrapped around his waist. The popcorn bowl is nearly full. All that work on it for nothing.

You sigh, about to claim that it’s your cue to leave when–

“I’m thinking we should show Chrissy one of our pancake nights, don’t ya think?”

No. You don’t want that. From the way Chrissy completely tenses up, neither does she. But for his sake, you both reluctantly agree.

Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.

As the ring of the bell against the glass door announces your arrival, Martha’s head snapping up from the magazine she’s buried her nose in. “Hey you two, I was wondering when I would see you again!”

You and Eddie walk directly to the corner booth, as per usual, Chrissy trailing a half step behind him with her left hand intertwined with his right. Before Martha walks up to the booth, she starts the blender, the sound oddly comforting for how uneasy you feel.

“Well, looks like we got ourselves a little straggler! What’s your name darlin’?” She asks, the notebook she now holds a dark purple instead of the red she had last time.

Chrissy stares blankly at her, curling back into him. You don’t remember her being this shy in High School.

“This is Chrissy,” Eddie introduces her, giving her a fond look. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Martha’s penciled brows raise straight to her ruby red hair, the chewing gum loud in her silence. Her surprise only lasts two seconds, shifting into hospitality for the new member. “Welcome to these two’s many, many nights spent here at Benny’s. In fact, could you make them come a little less often. We’re starting to get annoyed at them.” She jokes, throwing a wink at you.

You laugh with Eddie, taking note of the fact that Chrissy is still silent.

“Alright, well I already know what these two want, did you need a second to look over the menu?”

She nods.

“Alright, well, I’ll be right back with your milkshake.”

“Can you make it one medium, one large with two straws?” You ask Martha, sure it would get more awkward if she brought one for you and Eddie to share.

“Oh, sure,” she answers, her voice unusually soft.

Less than five minutes later she returns with two milkshakes and a menu.

“Oh,” Chrissy comments, looking curiously at the pink ice cream drink in front of her. “I don’t really like strawberry. Can I get vanilla instead?”

Your forehead meets the table, punishing yourself. “Shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think to ask.” Eddie apologizes.

“It’s fine.” Chrissy smiles sweetly at him.

“Oh, you gotta eat breakfast, it’s tradition,” Eddie mutters, switching her page to the all day breakfast menu.

“Hmm,” she responds, pointing to one of the menu options. “I think I’ll get the poached egg with the avocado toast.”

“Alright. Should be out quickly,” Martha answers, grabbing the milkshake from them.

“How often do you guys come here?” Chrissy asks, turning her face to Eddie.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Probably more often than we should. Like when shit goes sideways, or we need a hit of sugar, or when we just feel like bugging Miss Martha, over there.”

“When did you start coming?”

“My junior year,” you answer, smiling at the memory, “his second attempt at senior year, we both didn’t want to go to the stupid school dance, so we decided to get dressed up and come here, instead.”

“Why didn’t you want to go?”

Eddie shrugs, petting her shoulder with his thumb. “We thought it was dumb. Then, we ened up coming back when both of us failed this one really important bio test. Then, by the third time she remembered our orders and had the blender going by the time we sat down.”

Eddie asks how your day was, so you inform him you managed to have a civilized conversation with Steve Harrington. You have an audience for the conversation, one member animatedly interested, the other politely listening.

Polite is definitely the way to describe it, no spark in her eye. At least, not the one she wears when she listens to her boyfriend speak. In fact, you can practically see them glaze over.

Just as you nearly avoid explaining the main topic of the awkward conversation, Martha comes back over with two plates, one for you, one for Chrissy. It’s only half a moment until she’s back with the new milkshake and third plate.

The mountain of strawberries is bigger than average this time, this larger size becoming something you might get used to if the staff continues to spoil you like this. You take another flick of whipped cream from the top of the milkshake, suddenly realizing you’ve barely taken a sip the entire time. Damn, it’s usually half gone by the time you get your food.

“Do you guys order the same thing everytime?” Chrissy asks, looking at both of your plates.

“Yup!” You exclaim, spreading the strawberry sauce around your plate.

Her blonde brows furrow. “Maybe it’s not good to eat this much sugar every time you guys come here,” she comments, cutting at her squishy green toast. It doesn’t look appetizing to you in the least.

“It’s not like we come here every night,” Eddie laughs, spreading his sprinkled whip around the fluffy waffle. “It’s fine to indulge every now and then, you know?”

“Maybe you guys should try something a little healthier?” Chrissy asks, her voice having what you think is a little bit of a bite in it.

“People don’t exactly come here to eat healthy, Chrissy,” you laugh, thinking of the menu item called Heart Attack Jack, which is a burger doused in American Cheese with layers of bacon and a bucket of grease. It’s not going to be a soccer mom’s number one choice for health.

“You don’t have to bite my head off, it was just a suggestion,” Chrissy mutters, curling into herself.

“I-I didn’t,” you reply, very surprised at her knee jerk reaction. “I’m just saying, if we wanted to go somewhere to eat healthy, we probably wouldn’t pick a greasy diner in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I’m not sure anywhere in Hawkins really has the healthiest choice.”

“Chris, what she’s trying to say is that eating a crap load of sugar is just tradition at this point,” Eddie says, intertwining her hand with his. “It’s a part of our ritual. You don’t have to eat like us if you don’t want to, we just thought you’d want to be included.”

“It’s just a lot of sugar, is all.” She’s barely taken a chunk out of her food, resembling a bunny in the very small, very tiny bites she continues to take. “Maybe I won’t join you guys next time. I don’t really understand the point.” She says sheepishly.

In the depths of your soul, you feel at that moment you would probably never get along with her, have given up hope on her completely. It wouldn’t be for a handful of weeks until you acknowledge that you had sound reasoning.

The bill is paid, money hitting the table on your and Eddie’s parts, the vanilla milkshake just barely touched. If you knew she wasn’t gonna drink it you would’ve doubled down on the strawberry, Eddie hates vanilla.

As you walk out to the van, trailing behind them as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, you find yourself at an impasse. “Eddie, can you give me a ride home?” Chrissy asks. She moves on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I can ride you before you drop me off?”

The pancakes you wolfed down churn back up your throat, threatening to make their second appearance for the night.

Eddie’s cheeks flush, his eyes wide as he tugs her in. Guess that answers that question. “Um, do you need a ride?” He asks you, almost avoiding your eyes.

Chrissy’s death stare is plain as day, silently warning you not to take it. Fine, you didn’t want to sit in the van with these two, anyway.

“No, it’s fine. I can grab my bike from the back.”

Chrissy beams, her curls bouncing as she jogs to the passenger seat. You hope your ass imprint is uncomfortable for her.

Eddie returns with the bike, putting it gently down in front of you. “Hey, Ed?”

“Hmm?”

“Might want to teach your girlfriend how to whisper,” you tell him, grabbing the handles from him. “It’s not considered a whisper when everyone in a ten foot radius can hear!” It comes out harsher than you intend it, but with how horribly tonight has gone, you can’t bring yourself to want to apologize.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie swears, the pink in his cheeks now from embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t mention it,” you insist, dismissing it. You had a feeling she said it loud enough for you to hear on purpose, anyway. “Just use protection, ok? We don’t need any more Munsons in this world running around, creating chaos.”

If you got Chrissy pregnant I would actually be sick, is what you mean.

“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, wrapping you in a hug over the bike. “See you next time, slugger.”

That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.

-

There’s no whiplash like discovering your best friend is a completely different person when he’s in a relationship. On one hand, phone calls with him are as ordinary as always, teasing and jeering and flush with the familiarity of a best friend.

On the other hand, when you meet with him and his girlfriend, he seems to dampen his wild personality and slice it into ribbons for her sake. It kills you.

Reruns play on the small tv, old cartoons Wayne recorded for a rambunctious little kid in his mix. You’ve watched them enough to know some of them by heart, especially your favorite gags.

Eddie sits in the corner of the couch, curled up with Chrissy on his lap as they talk quietly. They’re low enough you can barely make out what they’re saying, but from the giggles alone, you have no interest in the nausea it would give you.

She was already in his lap when you got there, a sarcastic comment choked back having something to do with maybe getting off, opting to sit on the other end.

“Oh, Ed, the movie is next Friday,” you remind him, taking another sip of the ice cold coke in front of you.

“Remind me what that was?” Eddie asks you, peering his chin over Chrissy’s head.

You narrow your eyes, scoffing in incredulousness. “Uh, hello? I did not wait in line for hours for the Princess Bride just for you to forget!”

“OH, fuck I didn’t realize that was coming up so quickly!” Eddie exclaims, a wild look in his eyes. “Well, shit I’ll make sure to free my oh-so-busy schedule!”

“Sweet.”

“Oh, I totally wanted to see that movie!” Chrissy chirps, sitting up in Eddie’s lap. “Are there any more tickets for the night you guys are going for?”

“It’s been sold out for weeks,” you shrug, chomping on a potato chip. “I stood in line for like six hours that morning.”

“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.

You wish you could say it doesn’t give you great pleasure to know she won’t be able to crash your movie night.

“You think, uh,” she starts, turning around to face you. “You think I could have your ticket and Eddie could take me?”

You scoff, bewildered that this even crossed her mind. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, I really wanted to see it and it doesn’t really make sense for you two to go out for a date, now that he’s dating me…”

“I think you forgot the part where I stood in line for six hours to get these tickets,” you reply, trying to catch Eddie’s eyes. He’s avoiding you.

“And I’m sure we’ll all go next time!” She offers as an almost smug smile plays at her lips.

She can’t be serious. After watching her face, you realize she is fully expecting you to give up your ticket so she can go with him. Guess that Iron Maiden concert coming up this summer is off the table, too, you think, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

You look at him, waiting for him to say something to indicate how ridiculous his girlfriend is being, to stand up for you.

Oh. He’s not going to.

“I really don’t see the big deal.” Chrissy scoffs.

Of course you don’t. “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you my damn ticket!” you snap. “If you really don’t want Eddie to come with me that badly then I can get Steve to take me.”

Which is ridiculous, Eddie was the one who wanted to see this movie in the first place. It looked like it was about adventure, something Eddie loves in movies. You decided then sure, since his birthday is right after the movie comes out, you’ll stand in line for the tickets then treat him to a fun movie night.

If Chrissy is uncomfortable with that, then that’s her prerogative, but she can choose something else to do with her boyfriend since she wants to so badly. You won’t let her walk all over you.

Chrissy doesn’t answer, but she’s clearly upset by yours. “It’s alright, babe,” Eddie hums, tugging her up against his chest so she curls into him. “I can wait until it comes out. We’ll just rent it, yeah?”

You’re not sure which makes you more nauseous, the fact that he just made a plan with her that won’t come to fruition for six months, or that he had nothing to say in the conversation.

You’ve never felt so unwelcome on his couch. “I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you later.”

Whatever comes out of Eddie’s mouth then falls on deaf ears as you fight the tears that irrationally threaten to spill over your water line. They’re stupid, your emotions are stupid, the movie is stupid.

-

Steve sits on the other side of the light brown table in the library, hunched over some notes as you explain the concept to him once more.

“Ugh, this is ridiculous, I’m going to forget this as soon as we learn it,” Steve whines, rubbing his eyes.

“Well you’re only taking Sociology because you haven’t claimed a major yet and sociology is required in most degrees.”

“That’s true,” he smirks, stretching his arms. “This still is all starting to look like gibberish. I get it, we live in a society in which the rules are not in our favor, why does that have to be studied to this intent?”

You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”

“To who?”

You roll your eyes, wondering how he grew on you like a weed. “Alright, we’ll take a break, then.”

“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”

“Uh, no, at least not that I’m aware of,” you answer, putting your highlighter down. “We were supposed to see the movie for it, but, well you know how that turned out.”

“I’m sure there’s something he’s planning,” Steve assures, tapping his pencil rhythmically. “It’s not like him to not make a spectacle of his birthday.”

That, you agree with.

“Dustin said he hasn’t heard anything about it, either. He almost planned a surprise party for him. You think he’s just taking it easy this year?”

You doubt it, he’s turning 21, after all. Not like hasn’t been going to bars since he was fifteen, but now at least he’d be able to go into a major city with his real ID without getting flagged. Last year he prattled on about plans for this one, how he was gonna have a big rager at Steve’s and drop a whole paycheck on kegs.

You’re sure if he was going to do anything in those next two days, then he would’ve told you by now.

That Wednesday morning, you rise early to the sound of your alarm.

The kitchen counter is already filled with the ingredients you need, preparing for a labor of love. You hook your Walkman to your jeans, listening to the music blaring in your ears as you add one ingredient at a time, watching the batter slowly come to shape.

It’s familiar, your mom’s famous homemade recipe for cake batter. After missing her many cakes and the familiarity of her food, you finally searched for the cards containing her neat print, clearly and concisely telling the reader what her recipes needed.

It became your favorite thing to do when you missed her.

As you pour the batter into each divet in the tray, you recall the first time you thought to make a birthday cupcake for Eddie.

Neither of you cared much for first period, so it was easy to catch him before he woke up. That day you presented a vanilla cupcake with a swirl of black and blue frosting. You learned that morning he hates vanilla.

Every other instance of making him a cupcake has been a litany of flavors, but never vanilla.

As they bake, you whip up the frosting with a hand mixer, hoping the low hum doesn’t wake your father. He works so hard already. Red food coloring turns it from white, the process all too satisfying.

A plastic sandwich bag with the corner cut off is always just enough for you to pipe frosting on, the skilled hand you’ve trained after trial and error working fast.

Your dad always knows on February 19th he will wake up to 11 cupcakes on a big plate.

The pastry sits in a comically large container as you borrow your dads truck, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon as you climb the stairs to the Munson’s front door.

You balance the cupcake in your hand as you head straight down the hall towards Eddie’s room. The sounds filling the trailer take a moment to register, for some reason not realizing how quiet it should be on an early weekday morning. The only sounds should be that of an early bird or newspaper hitting the front door.

Dread finds home in your stomach, as if on a very instinctual level you realize what you’re hearing. Though for some crazy, masochistic reason, those instincts wanted to be sure.

His door, wide open, reveals him hunched over Chrissy with the blanket barely covering his broad shoulders as he’s rocking. He’s rocking…and oh, you can hear her, too.

She’s moaning, whining, clawing her nails up his back like a leech, or worse, a tick, digging itself in and refusing to give up the tight hold they have on their victim.

Your mind goes empty, numb, until you hear her faintly wish him a happy birthday. You blink yourself out of the trance, blindly stumbling back into the fresh air of the living room. The cupcake lands on the kitchen counter on your way out the door, not caring as it slams behind you, definitely alerting Eddie and Chrissy of the third unknown presence in the trailer.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to even care about it, the queasiness deep rooted in your stomach threatening to make itself known on the outside plants.

You have a class in less than an hour, something you need to continue into the second year of your Communications degree, but not something that requires brain power.

The simple question of how you managed to ride your bike all the way to the campus, take notes in your class and blindly walk over to the library will always escape you. You somehow watch yourself go through the motions until you meet Steve at the cafe.

The moment he sees you, he knows something is wrong just by the deadened stare that’s taken over your face.

When you break down into tears, he brings you to his house, letting you finally admit to him what you’ve been afraid to admit to yourself.

You’re in love with your best friend. And while you’re doing your best to be happy for him, your poor heart can’t handle it.

-

The cupcake isn’t mentioned until you call him two days later, still heartbroken, but missing his voice. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, despite the great ache that makes each and every day fuzzy.

Usually, more than half the cupcakes get eaten by him, which is why a dozen are made each year. There’s still more than half left, the very sight of the cupcakes depleting your appetite as his continued absence carves a bigger and bigger hole in you.

He answers on the fifth ring, sounding as if he’s in the middle of rummaging through items in some way, slightly out of breath. “Hey, Chris, sorry I can’t find–”

You swallow the pain. Maybe the lump of pain swallowed in your stomach will finally evict itself like the contents of stomachs should. Yet, the more you throw it up, the more it seems to gather. How does that work? “It’s me.” You say dryly, tiredly.

“Shit,” he breathes, the background noise coming to a sudden halt. “Hey, you.”

“Hey. How was the cupcake?”

“The mysterious appearing pastry was delicious as always, slugger.” Slugger. “What-what time did you drop it off?”

You know that he knows that you heard something. He doesn’t know how much you heard, but he knows the slam of his front door was you.

“I didn’t hear much. Just enough to know you had already received your birthday present for the year,” the attempt at humor doesn’t hit you very well. You’re not sure how it’s received, but Eddie laughs regardless.

“Sorry about that, she slept over the night before unplanned. I should’ve remembered your yearly morning cupcake.”

“Should’ve remembered you have a girlfriend,” you answer, wishing you had that better judgment. “Did you do anything for your birthday?”

“Chris took me out for dinner with her parents.” Honestly, that sounds like it was for her more than it was for him.

“Sounds fun,” you deadpan, earning earnest chuckles from him.

“They’re an acquired taste,” Eddie offers, allowing your slight criticism of his birthday party.

“You sure you still don’t want to go to Indianapolis and bar hop?” You can’t help but ask. It’s like you can hear his reluctance to accept the celebration he got.

“Nah. Besides, we can’t risk your fake ID, after all.” He pauses, an understated sigh passing through his breath. “How has school been?”

Small talk is not often something that passes through a conversation between you two. You’re aware of it, he’s aware of it, and it turns the conversation into something almost jilted.

“I miss you,” you admit, lying back on your bed.

“I miss you,” he parrots, soft and sweet.

“Can we do something? Just you and me?”

He chuckles, low and under his breath. “Sure. Pancake night. Just you, me, and Martha’s perfume.”

…that never happened.

-

The less you see Eddie, the more you end up hanging out with Steve. He seems to want to introduce you to his own best friend, but your admission of not wanting to be a third wheel again gets him to drop it. You can’t help but notice the only times you speak to Eddie are when you call him. He hasn’t called you since asking for Chrissy to join pancake night.

That alone wouldn’t entirely convince you to not call him anymore. The jilted conversations always ending with promises of time with one another never coming to fruition. It’s the equivalent of being skinned alive, one strip at a time.

Steve has watched the circles under your eyes darken, the enthusiasm in class deplete, and the lust for life dissolve before his very eyes. To say he’s pissed at his friend is to understate it, he’s ready to tell you to give up on him and forget he exists.

Yet, Steve knows how unlike Eddie it all is. Dustin has complained he hasn’t been called back for a long time, Gareth reached out to you asking if you’d heard from Eddie lately as they haven’t rehearsed for a while. He garners more concern than anger at times.

Steve’s living room has become a new choice of hang out space, but the unnatural cleanliness of the house, the lack of cologne that both Eddie and Wayne use, the familiarity of eight years of friendship, it gives this unrelenting feeling of emptiness. It’s worth trying to fill it with edibles and weed.

It doesn’t seem to work, but you’ve become more open, more free willing with him as a direct result. He doesn’t favor horror movies like you and Eddie, but you find common ground in action and slapstick comedy, instead. Anything but romcoms, you implore. Anything even close to resembling romance is rejected.

Steve spills the latest he heard from Hawkins’ elite country club group, a bunch of ladies with nothing better to do with their afternoons than spread rumors about the population as a whole and judge them for it. Steve knows for a fact which members of the country club have side women, bringing them in hours after walking in with their own wives.

It’s so nice to be concerned with the lives of others and to not care about yours falling apart at the seams. Well, really it's being ripped apart by Chrissy Cunningham’s greedy little claws.

Ironically enough, you get paired up with Steve for a major assignment in Soc class, one required to analyze social constructs that have been deep dived in class. Another little gift of irony is you were given Social Stratification, which is the hierarchical arrangement of individuals or groups within a society based on various factors such as wealth, power, and prestige.

Being from two very different classes, you and Steve find yourself uniquely qualified to discuss the topic.

It provides opportunities to hang out together, distracted by the collective want to not work at all, but driven by an looming due date. Your mind wanders to Eddie non stop, wondering how he is, if he’s ok, if work is still giving him a hard time, did he finally get the belt he was needing, if Wayne was taking it easier.

Your fingers itch for the phone to call and ask, always haunted by the memory of each phone call, the polite conversation and empty promises. You crave to remember what it was like before.

Steve seems to act as your voice of reason, disencouraging you every time you mention wanting to call him. He sympathizes, of course, but he recalls the last time you called him and the aftermath following it.

When the assignment is finally in the last stages, making final edits to clear up any loss in conciseness, the final second guesses if the point has been made clear, you sit on the floor of Steve’s room cross legged, going cross eyed as you reread it, again.

“I can’t wait for this thing to be handed in,” you groan, throwing your pen at him.

“I think we earned a celebration,” he sighs, throwing the pen back to you. “On Friday, after we finally hand over this paper to this asshole, I am throwing a big ass party in your honor.”

“A party will not make me feel better,” you reprimand, glancing at him under your brows.

“No, but a good excuse to drink the pain away, might,” he grins, leaning forward on his stomach and kicking his legs animatedly. He looks so innocent, as if he doesn’t have his own agenda. You’ve come to know him well enough that he really doesn’t. “C’mon. Let loose with me just for one night!”

You reluctantly agree to it after he pulls out his dumb puppy eyes.

News of Steve’s party spreads fast across campus, and you find yourself curiously excited for it when you usually dread dancing with complete strangers. The strangers at this point make it better, not needing to concern yourself with anything other than how the alcohol burns.

Your dad drives you to the party, the rain heavy on the pavement making it hard to bike in such weather. He’s noticed the way you’ve shut down a little bit as of lately, more than happy to bring you to a party if it means putting some life back into the eyes of his one and only daughter.

When you enter the door with slightly damp hair just from the walk from the truck, the party is already in full swing, music overtly loud, bodies bumping and dancing, empty cups already scattered on dusty surfaces.

As soon as you see Steve, he waves you over, talking to Robin, who he’s introduced you to. She became your friend the same way he became your did; ambush. Turns out, Robin is really cool. She hands you a beer, winking as you tilt your eyebrow out of skepticism.

“Beer, really?” You ask over the music, turning the bottle around in your hand.

“You’re drinking to forget, right?” She asks, an air of wisdom in her scratchy voice. “Then what does it matter what it tastes like?”

Well, you guess she’s right. You grab another from the fridge while you’re at it before they lead you to a couch. It’s surrounded by a crowd of people you mostly have never met before, more than happy to laugh with them at the particularly stupid topics of conversation.

You’re already pretty buzzed less than an hour spent at the party, having asked Steve to get you a third bottle. “Might wanna slow down, sweets.”

“I’m drinking to forget, remember?” You ask him, winking cheekily.

Time starts to meld together as the bottle gets emptier and emptier. Robin grabs you by the hand to dance with her and Steve in a circle, top 40 pop acting as a soundtrack while you forget any goddamn trouble that might have plagued you.

You’re chatting about some mindless gossip when something tells you to turn your head towards the door. The door opens to Eddie and Chrissy, holding hands as they look around the party that got even rowdier since your arrival.

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, frozen in place as the emptiness his absence has left consumes you.

“Oh shit,” Robin mutters right next to you, but you don’t answer it as you stumble your way into the kitchen.

The internal debate on whether you need to drink water or more alcohol is roaring, so you drown it with more alcohol. Maybe you can shut it up. It’s too fucking loud. The ajar door opens and closes, a presence in the kitchen you don’t bother acknowledging. You don’t smell Eddie’s cologne, the momentary disappointment flooding your senses that he saw you and didn’t even bother talking to you.

Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.

“I was wondering when I would run into you,” it’s not Eddie, or Steve. Confusion takes over you as you wonder which male voice in your life you’re forgetting, turning to face the culprit.

Daniel.

“Here I am, I guess,” you mutter, taking another swig. “What exactly do you want?”

“Retribution.”

“Huh?”

He laughs, cruel and blunt. “I’m here for what I’m owed, sweetheart. I don’t get told no. Girls don’t say no to me. So, I think I’m owed some payback for the humiliation you put me through.”

What the fuck?

The laughter that leaves your throat is loud and abrupt, clearly not what he’s expecting. “Oh my fucking god, you’re just delusional. Girls don’t owe you shit for buying them dinner! You ask us out for a date, that’s on you, bud!”

“I don’t fucking think so,” he growls, slinking in closer. You can smell his breath, he’s clearly been drinking. “I will get what I want, I always do.”

Panic floods your brain, suddenly realizing he’s being dead serious. “Wait–” you protest as he leans in, the wall and your back colliding harshly. “Wait, no–”

“All you had to do was blow me, baby,” he chides, as if he’s reprimanding a small child. His hand harshly wraps around your waist, preventing you from weaving from between him and the wall. “Now look what you made me do.”

You try to push him off, panic continuing to push up your throat as he proves himself much stronger than you. Oh god, am I about to get raped in Steve’s kitchen?

His hand feels slimy as it pushes past your shirt, sending a jolt of shivers down your body. You’re shaking from fear, one cheek against the wall as you continue to resist him. “Stop– Daniel, please stop–” Your voice is frantic, eyes wide in terror as you try to push his hands away.

The harsh laughter directed at your pleas are cut off, an incredibly familiar voice slicing the air with malice. “She said stop.”

The heat you were surrounded by is thrown off, leaving the cold air behind Daniel to overwhelm you as he’s thrown onto the floor.

Blows of fists on flesh fill the room, watching in horror as Eddie has him pinned, delivering blow after blow to his face. You only see a portion of Eddie, his dark jeans and leather jacket as he hunches over his victim and blindingly delivers one punch after the other. Daniel has stopped fighting back, just a limp set of limbs as it jumps from each hit.

When Eddie has shown no signs of letting up you’re forced to jump into action, stumbling as you run into his line of eyesight. “Eddie, stop! You’re going to kill him!” You plead.

The sounds of brutal fists on soft flesh die immediately, Eddie huffing as he rises to his feet. “You okay?”

You blink as his hands frame your cheeks, petting them softly with his hands. A tear falls, splashing his hand. His concern is comforting, but the direct juxtaposition of his concern from the silence he’s fed you the last few weeks washes over you, confusing every emotion that has been hurting.

Despite the sweet shine in his eyes as they watch you, you back from his hold in a jerk reaction. “Didn’t know you still cared about me.”

He wears the hurt from this statement on his sleeve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You wander back over to the fridge, grabbing a beer from the second six pack you’re working through. You pop it open from the mounted bottle opener, taking a handful of sips. “You’re kidding me, right? You haven’t called me in weeks. Weeks.”

He stands there, blankly watching.

“I might be more forgiving if it weren’t for Dustin and Gareth and hell, Steve also saying the same thing. None of them have heard from you. You went from calling at least once a week to radio silence! I wanted to get along with Chrissy. I really did. I started all the conversations, offering snacks, asking questions about her, letting her set her boundaries, but she had something to say about everything we did together!”

Eddie stutters, blinking as he watches you talk. He doesn’t try to talk, doesn’t try to defend himself. You don’t give him the chance.

“She clearly doesn’t respect you, otherwise you would still be my best friend and I would remember the last time we had a normal fucking conversation. I get wanting boundaries, but at this point, I don’t think she even wants you to have friends! Is that what you want? A girl who makes you make yourself smaller for her sake and isolate completely? Really? Because that’s what you have. No horror movies? No more junk food? No heavy metal music? She’s making you shrink yourself so she deems you desirable! Fucking– I can’t watch it anymore.”

“Wait, what do you mean–” he’s interrupted by the door closing, a yelp filling the room as Chrissy runs to him.

“What happened to your fists?” You glance down to them, seeing bruises lining his knuckles.

“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m fine,” he assures her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Alright. Well. I meant exactly what I said. I can’t do this one sided friendship thing with you anymore,” you take another swig, wondering how the bottle was already so light. “I can’t. Call me when you find my best friend, because I haven’t seen him in three months.”

You leave the room, ignoring the calls from his mouth that suffocate you. As you stumble into the living room, you catch Steve’s eye right away, chin trembling. The hot tears that trail down your face have already drenched your cheeks by the time you realize it’s even happening, choking on the emotion that drowns you.

Steve guides you into the guest bathroom, closing the door as he watches you attempt to stop the sobs long enough to tell him what happened.

“I think–” you hiccup, sniffling loudly, “I think I just lost my best friend–” tears rattle through you once again, just saying it out loud feels like lightning in its startling ability to shatter you once more.

By the time the sobs diminish again, you’re sat on the floor by the tub, head sitting in his lap as he pets your hair. You sit up suddenly, mid hiccup as you give Steve an odd look.

He almost asks if you’re okay when you spill over his lap, whimpering between gasps as you know what you’re doing, the toilet only a foot away, but it continues to explode from your stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” you explain, tears falling again, as he sits in shock.

He grins sadly, undoing his belt. “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

He finds someone, Robin, to grab him a second pair of pants, ditching the ruined pair in the bathtub.

The dry heaving seems to stop the tears, now staring blankly with a wet face and lashes that stick together. Steve brings you upstairs, wrapping his arm around your waist as he brings you to his bedroom.

As your head hits his pillow your eyes fall closed, mumbling something about fucking up, about three months ago.

Steve locks his door from any stragglers, walking down each step to find a particular metal head to give him a piece of his mind.

From how your sobs shook your body, he might give him the whole thing.

-

The light cascading through the blinds hurts, like a dagger through your brain as you take in your surroundings. You don’t know how you got into Steve’s room under his blanket.

As soon as you sit up, the pain stabs you, pushing you back down. Ow. You don’t even attempt to get up again until the urge to pee hits you, when it’s too much to ignore. You rub your eye, tip toeing to try to get back under the dark blue comforter decorating Steve’s bed.

On the corner of the bed Steve sits, one foot resting on the other knee as he holds a jade green drink. “How badly does your head hurt?”

You wince at the volume of his voice, placing your hands over your eyes. “Not great.”

He winces sympathetically, offering the smoothie. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Blurry images flash through your mind, the kitchen, Daniel, half of the second case gone. You attempt to remember past that point but it comes up blank. “I remember running into Daniel.”

As you sip on the surprisingly delicious hangover smoothie, Steve watches you, wearing a clear expression of concern.

“Anything after that?”

You can tell he’s egging you on, digging for something with an unprecedented seriousness in his tone. But there’s no memory after that. You gingerly shake your head, which sends more needles of pain through your skull.

“Why?” You ask weakly. Steve pauses, ruffling a hand through his hair as he releases a long sigh.

“You really don’t, huh?” Steve asks, one last attempt. “Maybe it’s good you drank as much as you did, then.”

“Steve, you’re scaring me.” Images of worst case scenarios course through your mind. What did you do?

Steve pats the spot on the bed next to you, double checking you don’t feel the urge to throw up. You don’t.

“Daniel tried to force himself on you.” He’s gentle, compassionate in his admission as he watches your reaction.

Huh. “How far did he–” you stutter, breath hitching as you bite back the sobs that suddenly threaten to rake through your body.

“He was interrupted before he even got that far,” he comforts you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he caresses it. “Eddie sort of bashed his face in.”

Now that you think about it, the memory of Eddie hunched over Daniel as he delivered blow after blow to his nose, his cheekbone, his eyebrow. You didn’t see the final result of Eddie’s defense, but the bruised knuckles you vaguely recall spell out how brutal the retaliation was.

Eddie.

“What–” you pause, stuttering through your breaths, “what happened after that?”

“You yelled at Eddie. Berated him. I think you even told him you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. At least, that’s what I gathered from what you told me,” he admits.

Your blood grows cold. From the weeks of silence, the jilted conversations, the slow resentment that bloomed through your stomach for him. The ache already hurt just from the absence of your best friend, but it was good for you. Fuck, this hurt.

“Is that all?”

He laughs, pulling your head into his neck. “Just that you can’t hold back your liquor.”

That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.

From the extra strength tylenol he gives you, the rest of the morning is spent helping Steve tidy up the trash around his house. Only after spending twenty minutes in the kitchen on his hands and knees scrubbing up the red stains does he allow you to help him. You only catch a glimpse of the paper towel soaked in dried blood and bleach when throwing out red solo cups, a small hint of the mess Eddie made of Daniel.

The thought of his name is a self betrayal, and you work faster once it crosses your mind.

Once the place is clean, you allow Steve to drive you home at his insistence, repeatedly asking when he pulls up to your house that you’re sure you’re okay.

Your dad is at work, not there to ask any questions you wanted to avoid from the previous night, namely why your eyes are swollen from tears. The blinds in your room fall with a trill resembling a xylophone, blocking the sun from your intense migraine.

For the first time in weeks, you’re stirred awake from sleep from the ringing of the phone on the floor that has been pushed under the bed. You let it ring.

Just as sleep pulls you back in, you’re abruptly startled as the phone alerts you again. You roll over, ignoring it as you wrap your head in your hands, curling into the pillow. No one has to get a hold of you that badly.

This person does, it seems, as they call you again. You groan, crawling over the edge as you grab the phone from your receiver. “Hello?”

You refuse the want to chew them out, to take your emotions and friendship breakup out on the person who has interrupted your sleep.

“It’s me.”

You lurch forward in your bed, still tethered to the receiver by the tightly coiled wire as it forces the receiver to scuff against the hardwood floor. Eddie.

-

Eddie’s sat on his couch, limply resting his head on the couch arm as the shrill voice of the main character complains over a problem that could be solved if she had just told someone. His hand rests on his eyes, shielding himself from the light to prevent the headache he can feel coming on. He’s given up on suggesting other movies by now, but she somehow seems to only play the movies that get on every last nerve.

He would probably be more willing to watch the romcoms in question if they weren’t the bottom of the pack. Last time Eddie even suggested a romcom he actually doesn’t completely hate he had to hear about it for an agonizing twenty minutes. Fine. She could watch her movie, he can practice on his guitar, right?

You would think.

So he dissociates and focuses on the gentle petting of his calf as he rests his leg on her lap. His mind floats to his best friend, how much he misses the smell of your shampoo, or when you make fun of the cheesier horror movies he loves to watch. If Chrissy wouldn’t make a near temper tantrum every time your name is mentioned in conversation, he would’ve called you weeks ago. He missed your voice.

Chrissy continues to insist that you like him, that you’re trying to steal him from her. It turned into many fights where Eddie felt like he was losing his mind, insisting he just wanted to see his best friend. There is a stubborn, immovable force still holding hope that something will just click one day and realize just how wrong she is. There’s a little nagging part of him, eating at his brain, warning that it probably won’t ever come true.

The possibility is almost too much for him to mentally handle, because when it blows up in his face and you decide not to forgive his radio silence, he doesn’t think he will be able to handle the absence in his life. So he procrastinates the detonation.

“I’m surprised you’re not going to Steve’s party,” Chrissy chirps, interrupting Eddie’s disarray.

Eddie blinks, trying to recall any mention of a party that might’ve slipped his mind. That might’ve been the reason for his ignorance if he could remember the last time he even spoke to Steve. He’s sure Chrissy knows that.

“I didn’t even know he was having one.”

She grabs at the extra material of his jeans, pulling his attention. “Did you want to go?”

He mentally rattles through the mechanics of going to Steve’s stupidly large house, knowing damn well his distance has managed to drive you straight into the arms of someone new, even if it’s only platonic. You’ll be there, the chance much more likely than not.

He wants to see your face, even if it’s in passing. He wonders if Chrissy sees you there if she’ll decide to leave early or just avoid you altogether. But it’s just the chance that drives him to agree.

By the time he gets there, vehicles have already littered the streets surrounding his house, some even audaciously blocking his neighbor’s driveways. Chrissy’s hand is in his as he walks in, anxiously looking around the party for you.

He peers into the living room, to the couch containing members of some of Steve’s closer acquaintances and it wasn’t long until he saw you, sitting right next to Robin holding the bottleneck of a beer bottle.

Your eyes are already on his, wide and still as you stare at him. You’re even prettier than he remembered, any polaroid he’s ever had of you does absolutely no justice to your radiant smile or vibrant eyes.

Fine, you’re staring at him like you would rather be anywhere else for the moment, panic flooding your features, but it’s a breath of fresh air for him compared to his last few suffocating weeks. As you stumble to your feet, Eddie tricks himself into believing that you’ve gotten up to talk to him until you pass the front entrance straight into the kitchen.

He supposes he deserves that, fading as Chrissy tugs him to the dance floor. His hands find her hips, allowing himself to get lost in the relentlessly catchy pop tune. He can’t help but allow his eyes to float back over to the couch every now and then, something in him carnally needing making sure that you’re safe.

Alarm bells go off, goosebumps trailing over his skin as something in him screams that you’re in danger. You could very much just be avoiding him, which he wouldn’t blame you for, not for one moment, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he found out his worry had any footing.

“Babe, I’m gonna grab a drink,” he mutters, blankly kissing her sweet scented blonde hair before his long legs take him to the kitchen.

His stomach drops as your voice fills the kitchen, asking the asshole with wandering hands to stop as he forces himself on you.

The next thing he knows, Daniel is under him, his back slammed on the floor with a face scrunched up in pain as Eddie’s fists are flying. His fists, his jeans, the floor, the whining little shit’s face, it all gets painted with blood.

Eddie doesn’t realize when the pair of arms stop trying to push him off, or when the green eyes no longer stare at him in horror, shut from the trauma of one blunt hit after the other. He just continually bashes his face in for even daring to attempt to force himself on the woman he loves.

Fuck this guy. Fuck him.

Eddie’s blind with rage, but he’s also blind with his own regret.

Your voice cuts through the anger, a warning that seeps in his brain like a sponge. If he keeps hitting him like this he will end up taking his life.

He stands up, facing your trembling form as you seem to be in shock. You melt in his hold, tears spilling over his hands as he caresses you, doing his very best to take care of you. He knows the answer when he asks, but he has to hear it from you.

Finally, the words seem to sober you from wanting his comfort to the hurt that you’ve felt from his silence. You lurch yourself from him, staggering blindly to the fridge as you grab another beer. The scent was harsh on your breath, the sight of you glugging back as much as you can sends jolts through his system.

Then you tell him everything. And he deserves it. He wants so badly to tell you how badly he wanted to call you, but the excuses sound lame even in his own mind.

When you tell him you’re done is when he finally snaps out of his own trance. He knows what you mean, but surely, you don’t really mean it? Before he can ask, Chrissy comes into the picture, doting over his bruised knuckles, ignoring you completely as she asks what happened. He’s fine. He’s not, but he’ll say anything to get back to what you were just saying.

Choked back sobs escape as you tell him with absolute finality that you are done, tripping over your own feet when you leave through the kitchen door.

No, this has gone too far. Eddie hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol but feels as if he’s wasted from stumbling after you, blocked by his girlfriend.

That conversation goes as well as can be expected.

In the hours following, he doesn’t seem to find you anywhere. But without Chrissy trailing after him, he finds himself free to converse with friends he’d missed, meeting their snide remarks of coming back to the land of the living with grace. Eddie stays for hours, half heartedly partaking in any conversation he finds himself witness to just in case you make another appearance.

Steve walks down the stairs after what feels like forever, wearing a grim look on his face. Eddie approaches him. “Hey have you seen–”

“She’s upstairs,” Steve answers, sighing. “Passed out. She’ll wake up tomorrow morning.”

“Is she okay?”

“Didn’t choke on her own vomit, at least,” Steve quips, his voice harsh. “Physically, she’s okay.”

Steve moves to walk around Eddie, seemingly done with the conversation.

“Physically?”

Steve sighs, angry, frustrated. “She just sobbed on the bathroom floor for an hour and a half, Ed. I literally watched her heart break! Safe to say, I don’t think she’s doing so well emotionally.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, feeling hopeless, like he should’ve been there to take care of you instead of being the cause of your suffering. “Steve, I–”

“Listen, Eddie. I just heard a bunch of shit from her that I’m not even sure she knows that she said. Other than her I guess telling you to fuck off, what else happened?”

Eddie gulps, not exactly wrapping his own mind around it, yet. “I found Daniel Moore trying to force himself on her.”

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, passing Eddie straight into the kitchen.

“Steve–” Eddie tries to stop him, or warn him at least, wondering how no one else has seen him, yet. There is almost no reason for most to make their way into the kitchen as the drinks station is in the living room, but usually a straggler or two, especially couples would make their own way in. He’s definitely not up and partying from the blood that seeped through the shirt he was wearing…

Should Eddie have called the ambulance?

“What the fuck–” Steve barks, taking in the crumpled form before him. “Jesus, Eddie, what happened?”

“You listen to your best friend beg someone to stop assaulting them and not beat the shit out of him?” Eddie retaliates, watching as Steve double checks to make sure he’s still breathing.

“Well, now I gotta get him out of here before someone has you fucking arrested,” Steve mutters, wracking his brain through old morally questionable friends of his that would help with no questions asked. Fuck. He has a few favors to call in. “Where’s Chrissy gone?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Eddie spits.

“Considering she has control over who you’re allowed to spend time with, probably somewhere nearby with binoculars,” Steve mutters, a fragment of seriousness in the joke.

“Well, not anymore,” Eddie shrugs, feeling surprisingly pragmatic about it.

“Oh.” Took you long enough, Steve thinks. “I’m gonna get him out of here, but I suggest you do the same.”

“Can I stay? I wanna be here when she wakes up.” His eyes pleading to Steve.

Steve’s brows raise. “Respectfully Eddie, I don’t think she really wants to see you.”

“I haven’t been able to tell her anything for weeks, I’m staying!” he insists, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Steve shakes his head, leaning on the counter. God, he wished he hadn’t invited a few dozen people to come to his house for the night. “God, you’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re an idiot. You’re both idiots, but, man I think you’re the bigger one.” Steve walks around the kitchen island, getting unreasonably close to him. “I don’t know if you’re blind, or just selectively ignorant. She loves you, dude! She was willing to support you getting a girlfriend, but then you just shut her out. It’s gonna take more than an apology to be back in her good graces. When she wakes up with a killer hangover, I think the last person she’ll want to see is you. God, if one of you just made the jump years ago this never would’ve happened!”

Eddie’s heart drops at Steve’s angry words, refusing to believe any of his feelings for his best friend are reciprocated. “Sure, because three months of friendship tell you everything you need to know about a person.”

Steve chuckles, walking over the snoring asshole as he steps out to the living room. “I would have to be blind not to see it. She talked about you one time about this stupid fucking movie she watched with you and I could tell. Rather than telling your girlfriend that you have a best friend and she has to get over it, you shut her out. For weeks. And left someone else to pick up the pieces.”

“Steve, I know. I know I was being an ass–”

“Then why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you give her a call? You had to know she wasn’t going to forgive you so easily–”

“Of course I fucking knew that, Steve! Why do you think I put off letting it explode in my face?”

“Because you’re an idiot! She loved you. She loves you! If you can’t see that then I really don’t know what to tell you. Listen, if you call her tomorrow, I’m not all that sure what would happen. It’s gonna be a while before she’s ready to forgive, bud. For now. Maybe you should go.”

-

“Oh,” you sigh, hugging your knees into your chest, feeling small. A war rages in your mind. You were hurt enough by him to break your friendship off with him, but you don’t even remember it. The other side of you just wants to be close to him again, willing to sink into the apologies that he owes you and happily accept them.

But you shouldn’t. And you know you shouldn’t.

“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”

You want to come over and watch a movie so badly, it wraps around you and constricts your airflow. “Will she be there?”

“No. Just me and you. I promise,” Eddie swears, voice low enough that it resembles a whisper. “She won’t be, uh, crashing our movie nights anymore.”

You diminish the pulse of hope that threatens to bloom. “What do you mean?”

Eddie sighs. “I was hoping to tell you in person, but we broke up last night…come over, I’ll tell you more. I just need my best friend…and a horror movie…and junk food, god, I miss junk food.”

You miss him so much it hurts. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The bike ride sends pulses through your head, worsening the ache of the hangover. If the pain isn’t gone by tomorrow, you might just ask someone to shoot an arrow through your head to put you out of your misery.

It’s been more than long enough since the last time you were on his front door step, nervous as you hesitate to knock. Eddie’s footsteps are rapid and loud as soon as your knuckles hit the door, the opening to him, wide eyes, graphic t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. He appears unlike himself, almost tired. You wonder if you noticed it last night.

Before either one of you says a word, he tugs you in, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace in his scent. Overwhelming emotion takes over, his shirt absorbing the tears that fall. He feels like home, every part of him. His scent, the muscles flexing under your grasp, his steady breaths.

“I missed you,” he mutters, his voice low, choked, even.

Then why didn’t you call me? “Me too–” you whimper, squeezing onto him even tighter. You sniffle, curling your head into his neck.

The hug lasts forever, or at least long enough for your arms to become numb.

Your butt lands on the couch, the spot that was once permanently marked by you now weirdly lumpy from the lack of use. Did Chrissy know she was allowed to sit in her own seat on the odd occasion? On the coffee table, Eddie has already prepared the popcorn and your favorite snacks, only your favorite snacks. Three movies are laid out, all awaiting their turn in the VCR.

“What’s this?” You ask, rubbing your nose from the snot.

“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”

You read the titles, Back to the Future, Friday the 13th, and Labyrinth. “What happened to wanting to watch horror movies?”

“I have a lot of sucking up to do before I get to be picky with our movie night,” Eddie answers, his voice gentle and careful. “Pick one.”

If he says so, then you’ll have to pick your favorite, rather than his favorite. “Alright, then, Labyrinth it is. David Bowie in leather pants, here I come!”

As the movie plays, a teenage girl desperate to find her brother, you sink into the comfort of the ratty old couch. Through Eddie, you found out that the rattiest couches are actually the most comfy. The more tears and rips, the better. Eddie stands up, running to the kitchen to grab fresh cans of soda from the fridge.

He sits back down, handing you a Diet Coke while popping open his own. Two things you notice when he sits. One, he’s remarkably close, his ass nearly planted in between the cushions. Two–

“Since when did you start drinking diet coke?” You ask him, wincing at the aftertaste.

“Since Chrissy was such a stickler for sugar,” he answers casually, grabbing a bite of the popcorn.

His simple tone, emotionless and understated, squeezes your heart. “What happened with her, anyway?”

Chrissy blocked him, staring at him with wide eyes as she held his shoulders. “What–what is going on?”

“I need a minute,” he stuttered, attempting to walk around her.

“Did you do that?” Chrissy asked, pointing to the lifeless piece of shit on the floor.

“Chris, it’s really not a good time, right now. I will tell you later, I promise. I’ll be right back.” Eddie promised.

She blocked him again, hands pushing on his broad shoulders. “You’re not seriously thinking of going after her, are you?”

“Chrissy, she’s my best friend! That creep just tried– I have to go check up on her, make sure she’s okay!”

“You mean the girl who is pathetically in love with you?” Chrissy asked, belligerent and full of sass. “Sure, go and give her more false hope! She was practically all over you at the diner, mooning over you, desperate to take you out on a date, I mean, don’t give her fucking hope!”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his face angrily. “I don’t know how many times I need to fucking tell you, Chris. She is just my friend. She was being nice, trying to include you. I’m so fucking tired of this conversation!”

“So am I!” Chrissy crossed her arms, popping her hip out. It was times like these Eddie was absolutely sure of why Chrissy and Jason dated for so long. “You know what? Fine. Me or her.”

“What?” Eddie was unsure if she was being serious.

“Pick! Me or her? Because when you pick me maybe then she’ll get the fucking hint!”

It was the easiest decision he’s ever made in his life. “Her.”

Eddie finishes explaining it, mostly nixxing the parts where she berated you or talked shit. You just needed to know the part where she practically had a temper tantrum.

“Wow,” you mutter, remembering how you called Chrissy sweet when they first started dating. “And…you, you picked me?”

“Of course I did.” Eddie pops a kernel into his mouth, leaning back into the couch. His body heat is warm, his scent intoxicating. “You’re my best friend.”

“You haven’t called in weeks, Eddie.” It comes out quietly, the hurt overflowing in your body and pouring out your mouth. “I thought you had a new best girl.”

Eddie sighs, grabbing your hand. “If I could take back the last three months, I would. I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I missed you so fucking badly,” you admit, focusing on how your hand feels intertwined with his.

“I missed you. I know– I fucked up, but believe me when I say, I missed you so fucking much.”

On one hand, it’s hard to believe him. It seemed like it was so easy for him to cut you off. On the other, the glint in his eyes, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, gentle and unequivocally vulnerable.

Eddie leans forward, connecting his forehead to yours. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”

“You have a lot of making up to do, mister,” you inform him, pulling away from him to lightly nudge his hair.

“And a million strawberry mountains covered in strawberry sauce,” he answers, kissing your forehead softly.

“You really had me worried,” you admit, taking a good look at his face. “I believe you when you say that you missed me, but Eds, you hurt me. I want to trust you, but–”

His movement is swift as he grabs your face with his hands, pulling you in close. “I know, baby, I know.” The pet name takes your breath away, music to your unsuspecting ears. The name wraps itself around your like a warm hug, melting all those months of worry and panic away. “I’m so fucking sorry, if I could just–”

Maybe it wasn’t the right timing, months of silence, unanswered questions, hurt, but all that just conveniently disappears the moment his lips touch yours. You startle, jerking backwards as you look at him curiously, looking for something that’ll tell you he’s not kissing you out of pity, or obligation.

You’re met with the exact way that he always looks at you, but this time, it’s radiant. How did you miss it this whole time? You smile, wrapping your hand behind his neck as you tug him in, entangling his lips with yours and chasing that emotion that ran through you the first time.

Eddie meets your kiss with enthusiasm, grinning madly as he pulls you in closer, your body flush against his as he pulls you down with him.

It’s maddeningly enchanting, the way you can taste his minty breath and his hums against your lips, buzzing and tickling. His tongue sweeps along your bottom lip, pulling a gasp as you happily meet his with yours. Your skin feels electric as his hand sneaks under your shirt, as if he’s just getting the feel of you.

You sigh, curling your arm around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. His kisses trail along your jawline, down your neck, pressing sweet kisses down your jugular. “You taste like strawberries,” he mutters, audibly smiling. “I should’ve known, all those damn strawberries you eat.”

“Before we go any further,” you gasp, clutching at his t-shirt, “and believe me, I want to, you owe me a proper date.”

“Taking you out for a date, baby?” He places more rapid kisses on your neck, letting himself absorb your laughter. “God, I’m lucky.”

-

You’ve learned one thing for absolute certainty, Eddie Munson knows how to grovel. Between the many kisses you’ve shared that night you tell Eddie with surety that just because he knows how to kiss doesn’t mean he’s suddenly forgiven. Eddie relishes in that, grinning just because you’re kissing him.

The previous night he was losing his mind at his ex-girlfriend’s terrible movie choices, and you, his best friend, the person who has always known him best, you’re finally here kissing him. You could ask him to write a 1000-page apology letter entirely in rhymes or haikus and he would do it heartbeat, but all he’s required to do is prove it?

He’s more than willing.

When the date is proposed, he swears he would love to take you anywhere. He provides a list, with all of the restaurants you know he can’t afford. When you ask him and inquire about such, he shrugs casually. There’s a silent question there, wondering if Chrissy had even considered his wallet size before their date nights.

Instead, you answer with, “Our first date should be the diner, no?”

You’ve never been so nervous before, looking through your small arsenal of date night dresses. He’s seen all of them, whether from a school dance or the aftermath of a date gone sour. One dress catches your attention, at the very back of your closet covered in plastic, just waiting for the right time.

White, with blue flowers hand embroidered on the bodice, a sweetheart neckline and bubble gum pink ribbons tied together as the straps. Periwinkle blue that bleeds into mint green leaves along the hemline, fanned out into a hoopskirt. You’ve stared at this dress when it sat in your mom’s closet, asking when it might be your turn to finally wear it.

The dress fits you like a glove, looking remarkably close to the photo on the easel downstairs, a first date 25 years ago that ended up being one of your favorite bedtime stories.

As you finally make your way down the stairs, hair half up in curls in a ribbon matching the ones on the dress, your dad looks at you with pride and glossy eyes. Whispered words of the resemblance as he hugs you, eyes too tired for a man in his forties from loss and stress, a whiff of gratitude hits you.

It’s a warm spring evening, no need for a coat as the van pulls up with the usual melodies of heavy metal and drumming. You make your way down the sidewalk to his passenger side, butterflies erupting as you open the door.

The volume is turned down to a background noise, the heavy metal feeling oddly out of place at such a low volume. “Hi, sunshine.”

You grab his hand, petting at his calloused skin. “Hi.”

You feel his eyes on you, taking in the dress that is on its first night out in decades. “I don’t know how you show up looking this good and expect me to act normal.”

You grin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and sniffing at the leather. He can’t say shit like that and expect you to go on like normal. “C’mon. I haven’t had a strawberry milkshake in ages.”

You open the window just a crack, appreciating the scent of fresh grass in the spring. New beginnings, fresh starts, rebirth. It seems oddly poetic.

He pulls up to the diner, bright neon lights against an evening sunset. It looks as if it’s painted, yellow into orange into blue. A lonely diner isolated sitting against a watercolor sky, but one of your favorite places in the world.

The bell ringing feels like an old song you haven’t heard in years, bringing some bittersweet nostalgia.

Martha perks up, the diner even deader than normal with only a lone man sitting on a bar chair holding a milkshake like a beer. The comparison sends a gag reflex through your body, never wanting to even smell another beer in your lifetime. As you sit next to Eddie, in such close proximity that the other side of the booth is useless, Martha appears with a cheeky smile on her face.

“If you two aren’t on a date, I’ll eat my notebook,” she sighs, hands on her hips as if she’s chastising two kids.

You and Eddie glance to one another, debating on fucking with her. It’s all the approval she needs.

“Finally! If you came in my diner again with those puppy dog eyes of yours I would’ve about had it with you two. Now, are you getting your regulars again?”

Eddie’s arm curls around your shoulders, his thumb petting the bare skin of your shoulder. “I’m disappointed you haven’t already brought the milkshake, Martha.”

“Smartasses. The both of you!” She walks off, a brand new pep in her step.

His thumb turns under your chin, pulling your face towards his. “C’mere. I need to make up for the times I just wanted to kiss those pretty lips in this booth of ours.”

“Why didn’t you?” You ask him, breathless as you stare at his eyes.

“I didn’t think the prettiest girl I know would want to kiss a goofball like me,” he chuckles, self deprecating and vulnerable.

You shake your head sadly, sighing happily. “You are so wrong.”

His chuckles are interrupted by your kiss, clutching onto the cotton t-shirt clinging onto his chest. It’s like you to forget how to breathe, taking the moment to take a deep breath before kissing him deeper, harder.

Your tongues meet, wrapping together with his and leaning forward to be as close to him as possible. His hand lands on your thigh, petting it roughly as he teases you. You hated yourself, hated how you told him you wanted to wait, because it’s becoming too much. The need for him sits deep in your stomach and begs you for any resolve from his teasing hands.

His kisses keep you only so satiated, whimpering by the time your make out sessions are done and ready to beg him to touch you already.

The glass of pinky sweetness hits the table, interrupting his electric lips on yours. “If you two do it, at least have the decency to take it to the bathroom like every other patron.”

You yelp, avoiding Martha’s eyes as Eddie tugs you in against his chest, kissing your temple. “Yes ma’am,” Eddie obeys, saluting with two fingers. Two, very distracting fingers.

You take a sip, humming. After weeks, you will proudly proclaim that this is still the best milkshake in town.

Eddie kisses your cheek, pulling you even closer. “If you lick that whipped cream off your finger, so help me god.”

It’s a habit of yours, one you’ve done at least once a visit just to get a taste of it before it sinks into the milkshake. The numerous times you’ve done it sinks in, unknowingly teasing him. “Something wrong with tasting whipped cream, Eds?”

“When you do it with that tongue of yours, yes,” he mutters, nipping on your jawline.

“Why don’t you have a taste,” you hum, taking a scoop with your pinky, licking it up.

Eddie pulls you in, humming as his tongue reaches out for yours to grab a taste of the cream melting fast in your mouth. He pulls back all too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he tuts his tongue. “Mmm. Yum. Thanks, baby.”

The milkshake is nearly gone by the time Martha rolls around again, pancakes and waffles in hand, interrupting soft conversation and sweet nothings.

He finally tries a taste of your pancakes, eating from the fork you offer him. His face winces, screwing up as he chews on it. “That strawberry sauce is sweet, ain’t it?”

“A little sour, I guess, but it’s my favorite. The fresh strawberries are a nice little addition.” You tell him, cutting up the pancakes.

“I’ll stick to my sprinkles,” Eddie mutters, dipping a piece of the big fluffy waffle in the whip. “They are the best.”

“I have a question,” you mutter, relishing in the taste of the sweet strawberry sauce. “How-how long have you liked me? Was it more recent, or have you liked me for years?”

Eddie smirks, placing a stand of hair over your shoulder. “Years.” He chokes back the correction of the word like, cause it’s so much more. “The first time I saw you, you were giving one of the football dicks hell for picking on one of the scrawny little freshmen. And I mean, berating him. You’re shy, baby, but not when it comes to others.” He pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “I knew from that moment.”

Oh. It was a handful of months before you found yourself sitting by the hellfire table, shaking your head at their antics. Plus, Gareth was just plain wrong in his opinion, you shook your head disapprovingly as you dug your nose in the book. Eddie caught on to it, demanding you join their group and inform him of how wrong he was. You did. You didn’t realize how charming Eddie was, how welcoming and genuinely kind.

It took your breath away, especially how gorgeous he was. The crush was kindled from then on, only being nurtured as you continued to debate him and his friends on their nerd culture.

Eddie followed up with the same question, asking how long ago for you, too. You tell him that very story, of how he enamored you just from being around him.

“You know, by then I was already head over heels for you,” he admits casually, sipping the last of the milkshake. “Something about sticking it to the man just does that to a guy.”

“Those dimples of yours are a weapon.” You admit in kind, and he laughs. You drop your jaw incredulously. “They’re a weapon! You think your hands are the only things those girls call magic?”

Eddie leans in, hot breath on your ear sending ripples down your neck. “And have you thought about these magic hands of mine, sweetheart?”

You gulp, licking your lips as your heart races in your chest. “Maybe...” You say softly.

He hums, tentatively kissing your skin. He really shouldn’t be doing this in a public space, you think, attempting not to wiggle at the uncomfortable feeling of arousal pooling in your panties. “I can’t wait to show you just how magic they are.”

You hold back a whimper, choking on it as your eyes flutter shut at his tentative kisses.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” You nod, watching as he places the right amount of bills with a decent tip for Martha.

On your way out the door, Martha shouts her goodbyes, happily yelling out her congratulations as the glass door slams behind you. Eddie’s lips find a home on the back of your hand, holding it as he kisses loudly, tickling the skin.

The trailer sits alone in the park, all lights off as he pulls up. With the turn of a key, his arm wraps around your waist as you walk in sync. It’s familiar as you help him turn on the lights, domestic, even. His jacket is off, tossed on the couch as he tugs you by the hand towards his room.

You’ve thought about it so many times, whisking away into his room with him to devour him completely. Usually it occurs when you’re mad stoned, happy and horny, but too blizted to make a move.

Your hands curtain the back of his neck, thumbs petting the nape of his neck and tangling themselves in his curls, rubbing in small circles. His lips connect to yours, stumbling over dirty laundry as he guides you to his bed. “Hmm, strawberries.”

He yelps as lands on his back, laughing as you collide with an oof. The playful moment is quickly replaced with intensity, staring down into his brown eyes, darkened by desire. Across the years of being his friend, he’s darkened his eyes in many moments, right before he decides to pin you down and tickle you senseless or when you talk down on yourself.

There were moments when his intense gaze took you aback, mostly when you innocently used too much enthusiasm in eating ice cream or put your hair up in a ponytail.

Or when you wore a sundress that sat a bit too high on your thigh.

All these moments suddenly make sense, filling you with a gust of emotion as you grab at him, tugging him harshly for a kiss much more powerful than you knew you had in you. He gasps into it, deep and desperate against your lips as you pull him closer. One of his hands travels downward, hiking under your skirt and grabbing at your thigh, your knee pulled up against his stomach.

Eddie turns you over on your back, hands grabbing at the skin harshly, his rings pressing at your skin hard enough to create an indent. Your leg wrapped around his waist tugs him down, his chest landing on yours.

“Question, my love,” Eddie mutters, words intertwined with his kisses. “Why the hell haven’t I seen this dress until now, it’s…oh my god.”

You grin against his lips, pushing your hands past his cotton shirt. “Waiting for a special occasion.”

“You telling me I could’ve seen this ages ago, baby?” He gasps, wrapping your tongue against his, delicate but enough to make you mewl into his mouth.

“Probably.”

He nips your lip, a punishment for your cheekiness. “It’ll look better on the floor.”

Your hips grind up, meeting the bulge in his pants just right. “You can’t say stuff like that–” you gasp, arms wrapping around his neck to hold on to him pathetically.

“You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you.” His hand travels further up, passing the waistline of your panties and spreading on the skin of your tummy. “All the things I’ve held back…”

The admission is thrilling and terrifying, giving you almost everything you’ve ever wanted.

Now if you could get that bike you wanted for Christmas when you were twelve…

“Can you tell me now?” you ask, smiling up at his pretty, bewildered face.

“Hmm, patience,” he tuts, using his hand to explore. “Right now I just really want to touch your pussy, please, baby, please.”

It’s your turn for bewilderment. He’s acting like touching you is this great honor, instead of a means to an end like anyone else you’ve slept with. “Uh, yeah, I want that. I really, really want that.”

Eddie sighs, using his traveling hand and dipping it under the waistband of your panties. As his best friend, you’ve gotten so comfortable around him, arguably too much. Late nights in his room with a t-shirt and panties as his room fills with smoke. Eddie is only human, appreciating them too much as as you sat cross legged with the strip just a tad too thin for what it was supposed to cover.

This particular pair is decorated in lace up the front, a sheer lace for the bum, a light blue to match the flowers. His fingers latch to your pussy, delicately moving them up and down the folds.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, playing with the slick and spreading it. “You’re so wet, all this…all this for me?”

He adds more pressure, rubbing small circles and watching you throw your head back and melt in the heat that spreads across your thighs and takes form in a tremble, in a shake. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, placing his thumb on your clit and rotating it in tiny circles. “You like the way I play with your pussy, baby?”

You frantically nod, grinding up against him. “Need..need more. Please? More?”

“What does more mean?” He leans in, decorating your neck with sucks and bites and licks. “You want me to lick it, baby? You need my fingers, you already beggin’ for my cock? C’mon my girl, use your words.”

You might just beg for his cock, but you don’t want it to be over so quickly. “Want–want your fingers, Eds.”

He giggles, planting a nice wet kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.” He doesn’t wait a second, curling one finger past your entrance and pumping it slowly, building a slow momentum that pulls at your stomach. He sighs, husky and deep, “Fuck, it’s so tight.”

He removes his finger without warning, not commenting on the moan in disappointment that escapes your mouth. He sits up, grabbing at the waistline as he tugs them down your legs, slowly, carefully, savoring in the moment. He lifts up the skirt, exposing the landing strip that sits waiting for his eyes.

“Did you decorate your pussy just for me? It looks so pretty… Thank you, baby girl,” Eddie is borderline emotional in his gratitude, showering you with praises.

Your legs attempt to close back together in embarrassment from his intense stare. He notices it, pushing your legs back down. “Do me a favor, won’t you? Keep these legs open while I eat your pussy.”

You drench your thighs, turned on even from the mere idea of being with him. “Mmkay.”

“You–” he gasps, delicately licking at the mound. “You taste so good. Wanted to bury my face in this little cunt for so long.”

His hands lift your thighs up and over his shoulder. His mouth tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing, listening to the cues you give him through your quivers and whines. The dress is completely covering his face, hiding the man that is eating you out, slowly and carefully, as if wanting to taste every drop of arousal you feed him.

Before long, your legs start shaking in his hold from the pleasure that has your hands tangled in your hair, eyes squeezed tight as he pulls whine after whine from you. One finger slides right back in, facing no resistance, sucking on your clit simultaneously. That arches your back and curls your toes, gasping from his build up, his words, god just from the years of mental torture.

You cum against his lips without warning, for him or yourself, twitching around his fingers and crying out his name.

He coaxes you through it, kissing your pretty pussy lips gently until your legs stop convulsing. Sweat beads on your forehead, spreading on your back and neck and making the thick fabric of the dress too hot. You untie each ribbon, desperately grabbing at the neckline to pull it up and off.

He kisses up your torso, laughing as you get stuck with the dress half off. One heel digs in his back in retaliation, whining as you gesture to him to help you. “I’m sorry, you’re just so cute.” Eddie giggles.

You whine, kicking your legs for him to hurry up. Your hair is stuck in your dress. It lifts over your head, a light bra covering your tits acting as a tease for him. The dress lands on the floor, nice and splayed out as it’s done its purpose.

You roll your eyes, tugging him in for a desperate kiss by the neck, wandering hands moving south to tug at his t-shirt. “Wanna see you, too,” you confess, helping him rid of his shirt. “Show me those tattoos.”

“You like the tatties?” You nod enthusiastically although you know he’s just teasing you. “Oh, I bet ya do. Probably ogled them while I wasn’t lookin’ huh?”

With a chest like his, you don’t imagine he could blame you. You let your eyes speak for you, raking over his covered chest and openly staring. “Wanna suck your cock.” You look up at him with big doe eyes, silently begging.

Eddie’s eyes widen at your admission, groaning as you start to undo his jeans. “Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll last that long…I need to be buried in you, wanna feel that pussy around my cock.”

You gulp, wrapping your legs around his torso so his jeans meet your pussy, probably drenching a wet spot on the front. “Me too…but I remember you said you didn’t really get reciprocated very much.” You inhale, gathering courage. “I remember thinking how I’d love to spend hours with your cock down my throat.”

Eddie keels over you, curling his face in your neck as he whimpers. “You were holding that back from me?” He punches the mattress right next to your head, a mild temper tantrum. “What other depraved thoughts have you been hiding from me?”

“You want me to tell you, or show you?” You’re not sure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but you’re running with it, especially if it means you can hear him make that sound again.

“Sh-show me- want you to show–” he nods, whimpering into your neck and shuddering.

“Mmkay,” you muse, smirking at just how easily the shoe falls on the other foot. “Get on your back.”

He complies promptly, wrapping his arm around the small of your back and turning the two of you over. You straddle him, grabbing at his chest carefully as you plant kisses all the way down his lean torso. You bring teeth into the mix, sucking and biting and marking your territory.

You’ve been itching to do so since he showed up one morning with bruises decorating his neck, claiming his hookup got a little too eager.

I'll show you eager, you begrudgingly think, wishing that all the boys were teasing him from bruises you gave him, instead. God, there was one planted on his collarbone that was excessively large, annoyingly so.

You mark your way down his chest, his stomach, lapping greedily at his treasure trail as he whimpers at your enthusiasm. This is power, you think to yourself, wondering what other noises you could conjure from him. As your mouth moves, so do your hands, undoing his belt slowly, taking your time as you unzip his fly.

The evidence of his arousal is strikingly clear, his boxers bulging out of the open fly and begging for your attention. While your subtle glances downward gave you an inkling of his size, his hardened cock presenting itself to you, even disguised in its plaid wrapping, had you letting out a gasp in unbridled lust.

You wrap your hand around it, gleaming as he hisses, a hushed swear passing through his lips. You watch his face, observing him as you place your lips on the covered shaft, just letting him feel the heat of your breath on it. “Oh, fuck–” Eddie chokes, letting out harsh shudders.

The sight of his face is borderline angelic, all of his walls down as he focuses on you. You can’t help but smile at that, at how you desperately wished for nights like these, only paying attention to one another. You poke your tongue out, drenching the cotton fabric with your spit, working your way down the length.

At his little whines, you finally curl his fingers under his waistband, drooling at the taut cock that pops out, giving you a friendly hello, swaying from the spring. You smile ear to ear, delicately wrapping your hand around the base.

You kiss the tip, lapping at the pearl of precum that gives the clear indication of his arousal, as if his hard on wasn’t enough. “Mmm,” you hum at the salty taste, leaning in to suck every last drop from his flushed tip.

You let the saliva that has pooled on the surface of your tongue drool onto his cock, spreading it down the shaft, absorbing the moan he rewards you with. “Shit, that feels–oh my god.”

You smile with pride, finally taking him into your mouth, enthusiastically bobbing up and down on his length. Your eyes remain on his, watching him as his face melts, committing it to memory.

“Oh, Jesus,” he swears, hips rutting up, clawing further into your mouth. You take him in further, gagging on it as you wrap your tongue around it experimentally, choking loudly and purposely. “Ch-choke on it, yeah, ch-ohmy god, just like that–”

Your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth, slobbery sounds of spit on flesh, his and yours, deliciously wet. He tenses up beneath you, whines growing more desperate, moans huskier, deeper. It’s a marvelous melody, one no composer could make even if they tried their hardest.

“St-st-stop,” he stutters, curling over himself, writhing under you. “Stop–I-I’m gonna cum.”

Reluctantly you listen, lifting your head off him with a pop and cheekily smiling at his heaving chest. You crawl upward, yelping as he wraps his arm around the small of your back and tugs you in for a kiss, more powerful, wrapped in an unnamed emotion you couldn’t possibly let yourself be delusional enough to define as. The one hand crawled up your back undoes the clasp of your bra, tugging it off your arms and flinging it across the room.

“Gimme those tits,” Eddie sighs, kneading them in his hands and toying with the flesh and nips. “Oh, they’re so pretty, baby. I love them, I‘ve wanted to play with them for so long.”

Eddie’s legs move under you, kicking off his jeans while holding you close to his chest. You sit up, tugging him up with you as you hover just over him.

His skin directly on yours, close and toe curling as you straddle his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you stare into his eyes. There’s a glow in them, eyebrows relaxed as he holds your hips, staring up at you with such enamour. “Want your cock,” it’s only a whisper, but loud in the intimacy between you two. “I want you.”

His brows furrow, only a moment. The thought passes through him quick as a flash, but you see it.

“What was that?”

He smiles, relieved and tender. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He leans in, pressing kisses on your clavicle, your neck, your shoulder, the swell of your breast. “Not-not just like this. I mean, fuck, I wanted it, so, so bad. But…I’ve wanted you, wanted your late nights and early mornings, to help you when you need to study, wash the dishes…sorry, I’m rambling.”

You pet his cheek, shaking your head. “No. Keep going.”

“I mean, we’ve always sort of had that, you know? It was just torture, not kissing you stupid whenever I wanted…because I wanted to. I wanted to, so much, baby. I love you. So much. You’re my best friend, my person, and I just love you so fucking much.”

A breath of a laugh passes through your lips, attempting to absorb what he had just told you. “Really?”

You smile, holding him tightly as you kiss him, sighing happily as he confirms, nodding frantically. The head brushes against your entrance, pulling a whine from you. “Eds, I-I love you, too.” The kisses get more fierce, Eddie clinging onto you harder and nearly attacking your lips. “But…if you don’t fuck me soon I might actually lose my mind,” You giggle.

He laughs, combing his fingers through your hair, away from your face, from the sweat. He slaps his cock against your clit, teasing you with his head. “Of course, baby, you wanna ride me, hmm? Hop up and down on my big fat cock?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip, hissing when he pushes his head in, watching as your jaw drops. “Oh, look at you, I knew you could take it like a good girl.”

You choke back a whine, swallowing hard as his words have such a strong effect on you. ‘Fuck, f-feels so good.” You stop, mewling as the burn of his girth becomes too much.

“Don’t rush yourself, baby, it’s okay.” He puts his hands on your hips, digging into the soft flesh. “So nice and tight, fuck.” His eyes practically roll to the back of his head.

You sink further, taking him deeper as the burn bleeds into bliss and back to burning again. “Jesus, s’good.”

“Mm, almost there, baby.”

“Move, please. Eds. Need-need you to move.”

Eddie chuckles, large hands holding your back. He lifts his hips, slowly filling you to the hilt and bringing it back out, one hand landing by his side to use it for leverage. You chirp out his name, mewling as he slowly rocks his hips. “Love the way you say my name,” he gasps.

You start rocking, slowly lifting your hips as you assist him. “You gonna make me scream it?”

“If that’s a challenge, then I will happily accept,” Eddie growls, gripping onto your hips harder and pulling you down so the union of where your bodies meet hurts in the best way. “Wonder when those legs will give up, hm?”

“I’ve thought about riding you on the couch too many times to give up easily,” you admit, giggling at his wicked grin.

“Oh, have you now? Been wearing those little panties just so I’d snap and ravish you, hmm?” He asks, hair wild as he watches you bounce on him.

“Maybe,” you admit, though that was mostly just out of comfort and trust of your best friend. “You have stronger will power than I thought you would.”

“Hmm, you think too much of me, baby,” Eddie mutters, framing your face with his hand and pulling you in for a kiss.

Admittedly, your legs are growing tired, but you soldier on, connecting your forehead with his desperately and watching his eyes glaze over. Your head already feels hazy, heat building in your stomach as you rapidly climb towards your climax. “You getting close? About to cum on my cock?”

You nod, startling in your movement as he starts to move you quicker with just the tightening of his grip on your hips. “Eds,” You whimper as he rubs his thumb on your clit, rapid movements as he hurdles you towards your orgasm, your cunt tightening around him as your eyes roll back.

“Lemme feel you squeeze my cock, baby, wanna feel you cum all over it.” Almost as he demands it into existence, you finish with a start, twisting your toes together and hunching over his shoulder while he rolls his hips, gasping and whining and mewling. “Oh, that’s my girl. Here, bet those legs’re gettin’ tired, hmm?”

You nod, giddily giggling as he maneuvers you on your back. “God, I love you. I really really do. I don’t–I don’t know what the fuck I’ve been thinking–”

You slap your hand on his mouth, giggling at his wide eyes. “Sorry, but…shut up. Rail me. Destroy me. We have time for all that later, now quit getting all emotional on me.” You take your hand off his mouth and pat his cheek. “Be a good boy and make me scream your name, won’t you?”

He chuckles deeply, his jaw dropping as he nips on the palm of your hand. “‘Be a good boy,’ hmm? Yes, ma’am.”

Okay, this turns you on too much not to eventually dissect it, but Eddie’s hips start moving, harsh and raw and brutal, just as you asked for. With each collision of his hips comes a whimper from the force, each one louder than the last.

His head curls down into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin as he sucks and bites and laps his tongue over the pain. “Look at your neck, all marked up. All mine,” He rasps.

“All yours,” you whisper, choking on the emotion that fills your throat.

“My good girl who loves to get fucked hard, hmm?” He chuckles, curling his arms tightly around you. “Oh, listen to those pretty little noises you’re making, so pathetic for me, oh fuck.”

“Ed-keep-oh-oh–” you gasp, whining higher and higher.

“Yeah, just like that. Pathetic little princess.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in close, skin to skin, all sticky and sweaty as the smell of sex fills the air.

“You’re moaning like a desperate little slut but you’re not screaming my name, yet. Can’t wait for it. Hmm? Why you makin’ me wait?”

“Maybe you’re not hitting hard enough,” you gasp, a smile spreading across your face.

Eddie’s eyes widen, lifting his body off yours quickly. “Oh yeah? Hands n’ knees. Turn around.” He sends a jolt of fear through you, eyes widening as move into a crawl position. “That’s a girl.”

His hands tighten on your hips, lining himself up and pushing in all within the span of 3 seconds. He’s relentless with it, lurching forward as he grabs a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, I can’t hear you.” He taunts you, pulling deliciously at your scalp.

He starts moving faster and harder, clumsily planting his lips on your back, messily trying to take any claim he can on you. One hand slaps your ass, Eddie hums, appreciating the print of his hand on your skin. Moans pass through your lips, the loud ones that Eddie was asking of you. HIs name is added into the mix, cross eyed and desperate as he somehow increases his force.

“There we are. Where do ya want me to cum, baby, I’m so fuckin’ close.”

“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”

“Fuck-you, y’sure?”

“Fill. Me up.” You say again, getting your point across.

“Oh fuck–” he stutters, jaggedly rutting into you as he bends over you, filling you up with sticky white ropes. “You feel that, baby? Fuck. You feel all full?”

Eddie releases the hold on your hair as you fall forward, breathing heavily as you collect yourself. He pulls himself out, collapsing right next to you. His arms easily wrap around your back, pulling you in against his chest. You curl into him, sighing happily as you listen to his racing heart.

You lay like that for a while, listening to his breathing even out as he pets your hair gently. He plants a kiss on your forehead, humming. “Why did that take us so long to do?” You ask, still trying to regain control over your breathing.

“Hmm?” He pulls away, processing your question. “Oh, I don’t know. We’re idiots.”

You tug him back in, feeling sleepy as you smile against his chest. “Yeah. Big, big idiots. I love you, idiot.”

He hums, pulling you in tighter. “Love you too, ya idiot.”

It’s strange. You thought it would change everything if he were to finally be yours. It doesn’t change anything, banter traded as always, only with a caressing hand that tugs you in for a kiss when he teases you. Hormones go wild, finding resolve in one another as movies are no longer watched, just a nice background noise.

-

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[hoshifighting]

Nerd!Seungcheol

— Synopsis: After finding Nerdy!Seungcheol crying in the corner of the locker room because his girlfriend broke up with him to be with a jock after joining in the cheerleading team, you decide to help him and do everything he wished his ex-girlfriend had done. — WC: 6.6k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, crack, some bickering—slight enemies2lovers plot, he cries, seungcheol is not a virgin (but his ex never gave him blowjob), mentions of alcohol (beer), mentions of glow-up, reader uses short dress and mentions short skirt, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, cock riding, answering phone in the middle of the sex—voyeur?, hickeys, body fluids (cum) and cringey mentions of hands mimics (fingering/blowjob).

As you head to the dressing room to grab your things after your Friday lonely practice, the usual silence from the night is broken by a faint, muffled sound. You pause, listening intently. It’s a sniffling noise, followed by broken pants. Curiosity piqued, you follow the sound deeper into the lockers, your footsteps echoing softly against the tiled floor.

Turning the corner, you find Seungcheol, huddled in a corner, hugging his knees to his chest. 

“Seungcheol? What are you doing here?” you ask, a smirk tugging at your lips. Teasing him is practically second nature to you.

His head snaps up, eyes wide and red-rimmed. “What do you want?” he snaps back, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

You place a hand on your waist, raising an eyebrow. “I think the better question is, why are you in the women’s locker room?”

His eyes widen in realization. “Seriously?” he mutters, scrambling to his feet, the embarrassment clear on his tear-streaked face.

You roll your eyes and turn to leave. 

You wait just outside, leaning against the wall with your phone, scrolling through messages, pretending not to notice the state he’s in.

A few moments later, Seungcheol emerges, his face still blotchy from crying but now trying to pull himself together. He dries his tears on his sweatshirt, still hiccuping softly.

“Spill it,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “What happened?”

He hesitates, but he knows that on Monday, everyone will know about it. “Minji broke up with me,” he admits, his voice cracking. “She’s dating Jaehyun from the basketball team now.”

It’s a stereotype for a reason. “And you didn’t see that coming?”

Seungcheol’s face crumples again, and you immediately regret your harsh words.

But you can't help it! Jaehyun is the quintessential jock, the kind of guy who always ends up dating cheerleaders. It’s almost cliché.

Seungcheol nods continuing, looking down at his feet. “I knew she wanted more popularity, but I didn’t think she’d...”

“Look, Seungcheol, she’s not worth it if she’s willing to dump you for some jock just to boost her social status.” You shrug as you walk toward the hallway exit.

He looks up at you, eyes filled with confusion. “Why are you being nice to me?”

You shrug, slipping your phone into your bag. “I can’t let you mope around like this. It’s pathetic.”

He manages a weak smile at that. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll walk you back to your dorm,” you say, starting to walk again.

You leave Seungcheol at his dorm, giving him a final glance. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you need to toughen up.” 

The weekend passes in a blur of volleyball practice and social events. You don’t see Seungcheol at all, not even a glimpse. Sunday night, you find yourself at a party, scanning the crowded room. There she is—Minji, with Jaehyun, surrounded by people. They look like the picture-perfect couple, a stark contrast to the image of Seungcheol crying in the women’s locker room just two nights ago.

After the party, you head to the convenience store near the university dorms to grab a late-night snack before heading to bed. As you wander down the ramen aisle, you almost bump into someone. You look up and see Seungcheol, his face so fucking swollen and hidden under a hood.

“What the fuck happened to your face?” you whisper, startled, clutching your snacks.

He scoffs, “What do you think? Been crying all weekend.”

You furrow your brows. “Seriously? You’ve been crying the whole time?”

“What do you think?” he repeats, more bitterly this time, grabbing a pack of ramen.

You both head to the cashier, the cashier glancing curiously at Seungcheol's disheveled appearance. As you walk towards the dorm buildings, it strikes you how funny you must look together—your party dress barely covering your ass, and his baggy 'I'm not going to see anyone I know' clothes.

“Man, if you’re going to show up looking like this tomorrow, you might as well ask to leave college for real,” you say, shaking your head.

He sighs, his voice weary. “I’m not going to drop out because of her.”

“Then stop crying,” you reply, exasperated.

He snaps at you, “What do you even know about it?”

You pause in your tracks and give him a hard stare. “While you were crying your eyes out all weekend, she was giving Jaehyun head in his car, like, minutes ago,” you say, your face contorting with disgust at the memory.

His eyes open wide. “She gave him head?! What a whore. She never even gave me a blowjob.” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You raise an eyebrow, munching on your snack. “She never did? Seriously?”

He looks even more pissed, fists clenching at his sides. “I swear! And I always—never mind…” 

“Dude, you were crying over someone who’s not even worth it,” you say, shaking your head. “She’s obviously just using Jaehyun for popularity. She’s not worth your tears.”

He kicks a pebble on the sidewalk, the anger beaming off him. “I thought she loved me.” 

“Pfft! Clearly, she didn't,” you reply, shrugging. “She’s a social climber. She’ll do whatever it takes to get to the top.”

He looks at you, grabbing a handful of your snacks “You’re right. I’m done with her.” he mutters, chewing monstrously. Seungcheol frowns, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “How did you even know about that?”

“I was at the party,” you admit with a shrug.

He glances at you, taking in your outfit and the faint smell of feminine perfume mixed with alcohol. “Now it makes sense why you smell like that and why you’re dressed like this at 11 p.m. on a Sunday,” He glances down, taking in your party dress that’s riding high.

He recalls the moment in the convenience store when you bent down to grab some Takis from the bottom shelf, your ass almost completely exposed. He had glanced, unfortunately and quickly moved to stand behind you, rolling his eyes, blocking the cashier's view, who was wide-eyed and staring. 

“Man, I gotta tell you about all the crap I had to put up with.” he begins.

You listen attentively, craving some juicy gossip to cap off your weekend. He needed to vent, and you were going to end the day with some top-tier gossip. A win-win situation.

At his dorm, Seungcheol sits on his bed, and you are plopping down on the chair, eager to hear the tea.

“Can you believe she made me cancel our anniversary dinner because she wanted to go to some stupid party instead?” he says, shaking his head.

“No way!” you exclaim, licking Takis powder off your fingers, your eyes wide with interest.

He nods, exasperated. “Yeah, and she didn’t even tell me until the last minute. I had this whole thing planned, and she just ditched me.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, munching on another Takis. 

“And she always made me do her assignments. I spent countless nights writing essays for her while she was out partying.” 

“She did that?” you ask, genuinely shocked.

“Yep,” he sighs, moving restlessly on his bed. “And get this—she once made me wait for three hours outside her dorm because she was ‘getting ready.’ When she finally came out, she said she didn’t feel like going out anymore.”

“That’s insane!” you gasp, shaking your head in disbelief. “She’s the worst.”

“She really is,” he agrees. “And she never wanted to do anything I liked. It was always about her and what she wanted.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s because you’re too nice, Seungcheol. If it were me, I’d have shown up the next day in a mini skirt like this—” You make a gesture with your fingers, indicating something tiny, “—just to rub it in her face.”

He snorts, amused by the thought. “Yeah, well, I guess it’s different for a guy.”

“Maybe,” you reply, pausing as an idea strikes you. “Wait, do you have contact lenses? Or maybe a clipper?”

He looks confused. “What? Why?”

You step closer, gently moving his hair out of his forehead. “Because if you’re going to move on, you need a new look. Let’s start with this mess of hair.” 

He looks at you, confused. “You really think that’ll help?”

“Bro, trust me,” you say, determined. 

You walk around his room, rummaging through his things, looking for the clipper. Seungcheol sits on his bed, looking at you… Nervously. 

As you plug in the clipper, the buzzing sound fills the room. Seungcheol’s eyes widen in alarm. “You’re not going to make me bald, are you?”

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember who did the girls’ undercuts below their ponytails for last semester's game?”

His eyes light up in recognition. “That was you?”

You walk back smugly, opening your arms. “Yep, that was all me.”

As you begin cutting his hair, he starts talking again. “You know, she once told me that my glasses made me look like a nerd, and she hated it when I wore them in public.”

You roll your eyes. “Ya! That’s ridiculous. Your glasses suit you. But we can always get you contacts if you want a change.”

You skillfully give him an undercut, trimming his hair and revealing a fresh look. He looks at himself in the mirror, his forehead and thick eyebrows finally getting the attention they deserve. You help him with the contacts, and before you leave his dorm, you give him a final piece of advice.

“No sweaters,” you say firmly.

The next day, as you finish getting ready in your dorm, you hear a knock on the door. Opening it, you find Seungcheol standing there, looking surprisingly handsome in his new look.

“Look at you!” you exclaim, giving him a knowing smile and nodding for him to enter. As you finish getting ready, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

He shuffles his feet, looking a bit shy. “I don’t know, just felt weird going alone.” “You look healthy,” he says, his eyes taking in your appearance.

“Yeah, I took a bath,” you reply, deadpan. “You should try it sometime.”

He chuckles, the nervousness fading a bit. 

Together, you head towards the university building. As you walk beside him, you notice people glancing at him, some even doing double-takes. You stand proudly, shoulders squared, almost waving like a beauty queen.

As you and Seungcheol make your way down the hallway, you spot Minji in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by a group of people. Your eyes dart between her, Seungcheol, and Jaehyun, and you think to yourself that this moment is straight out of a movie. You almost wish you had popcorn to complete the scene.

You and Seungcheol walk closer, and you can see Minji's eyes light up as she spots him. She opens her mouth, probably ready to deliver some dramatic line or apology. 

But Seungcheol, simply ignores her and doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a glance. His chest puffed out slightly.

You take a fine distance from them, your jaw practically dropping in disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually did that, did you really just ignore her?” you ask, laughing.

Despite his impressive new look, Seungcheol didn’t end up mingling with the jock crowd as you might have expected. 

Instead, during recess, you spotted him from afar, sitting with his book club friends. The contrast was cute—here he was, looking like he could easily fit in with the jocks, but he chose to hang out with his old crew, surrounded by books and enthusiastic chat. He stayed true to his roots, hanging out with the people who truly mattered to him

He had the whole package—stylish haircut, fresh look, and yet, he was still the same Seungcheol. Still maintaining his original traits and habits.

The bell rings, signaling the end of classes, and you head towards the dorms, looking forward to a bit of downtime. Suddenly, you hear someone calling after you.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You turn to see Seungcheol jogging towards you, his new look making him stand out even more than before. He’s out of breath but manages a grin. “How can I show my appreciation for what you did?”

You wave him off with a smile. “You don’t need to do anything.”

He pouts, looking genuinely disappointed. “Come on, please!”

You roll your eyes, teasingly. “Calm down, nerd! Hmm, maybe just a beer or something?”

His face brightens at the suggestion. “Beer? That sounds perfect!”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you both start walking together.

As you and Seungcheol sit at a small corner table in the campus bar, nursing your beers, he takes a swig and shakes his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe I’m drinking on a Monday,” he says, looking at his beer as if it might somehow magically make the week less mundane.

You laugh, leaning back in your chair. “Sometimes it feels like drinking just becomes a part of the routine. It’s like college fucks you up so much that you need these little escapes to keep your sanity.”

Seungcheol nods in agreement, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Yeah, it’s kind of messed up how we end up just normalizing this stuff.”

You both sip in comfortable silence for a moment before he glances at his phone, scrolling through a chat. “Oh, hey, look at this,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”

He shows you a photo on his phone. It’s from the party you were at on Sunday—Minji inside Jaehyun’s car, Minji’s head is down, clearly giving him a blowjob, and Jaehyun’s face is smug. Your face scrunches up in disgust as you look at it.

“Ugh, yeah, that’s what I saw,” you say, cringing. “I didn’t want to think about it again.”

Seungcheol sighs heavily. “It’s just... seeing that, after everything that happened, it’s like she’s moved on and I’m left here...”

You take a deep breath, considering his frustration. “Yeah, I get it. It’s a shitty situation.”

He looks at you. “You know, I never really got why she never... I mean, she never did that for me. Not that I’m complaining or anything.”

You blink, taken aback by his confession. “She has never given you a blowjob? You were serious then?”

Seungcheol nods, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, and now seeing her do it for Jaehyun... it just feels like a slap in the face.”

You sip your beer, thinking it over. The whole situation has him worked up, and you can’t help but feel a bit sympathetic. 

“Damn, that’s rough. I can see why you’d be so pissed.”

“it’s like, she was so willing to do it with Jaehyun, but never with me,” he says, clearly frustrated.

“Well, now you know,” you say, a bit smugly. “She was obviously saving that for Jaehyun.”

He looks down at his beer, indeed annoyed. “Yeah, she was a piece of work. I guess I should have seen it coming.”

“Well, we could always find a way to have some fun and blow off steam. I’m sure there’s a way to make you forget about Minji’s bullshit.”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow with curiosity. “Like what?”

“I’m sure we could figure something out. Maybe even something you’ve been wanting for a while.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? And what’s that?”

You lean in even closer, your voice barely a whisper. “Let’s just say, I know a thing or two about making someone forget their ex and feel a lot better. Are you interested?”

You smirk, is he acting, or he's that bad at catching hints?

He looks at you, catching the hint. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You grin, leaning in a bit closer. “Depends on what you think I’m saying.”

He blushes slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “Careful, Y/N. You’re making it sound like you’re fishing for something specific.”

“Maybe I am. Just putting it out there.” you shrug.

“Are you serious? Stop playin' with me.”

“I'm dead serious.”

He looks at you, contemplating the offer. “You know what? Let’s do it.”

You can't quite pinpoint if it's the alcohol working its magic, loosening up inhibitions, or if it’s just the chemistry between you and Seungcheol, but his attempts at flirting are hitting all the right notes. There’s a certain charm to the way he’s leaning closer, trying to gauge your reactions with every word he says.

He takes a sip of his beer, his eyes meeting yours. “You know,” he starts, his voice a bit slurred, “I’ve always admired how you can just say whatever you want.”

You laugh softly, leaning in to match his tone. “Oh really? And what else do you admire?”

He smiles, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Well, for starters, your confidence. And the way you’re not afraid to call me out. It’s actually pretty sexy.”

The alcohol seems to be giving him a boldness you’ve never seen before. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face a bit clumsy.

“You’re drunk,” you tease, though you can’t deny the flutter of excitement his touch brings.

“Maybe,” he admits, his gaze lingering on your lips. “But I’m not too drunk to know when something feels right.”

“Seungcheol,” you say softly, trying to keep things light but feeling a pull towards him, “are you sure you want to go down this road?”

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

[...]

The scent of your dorm—so unmistakably you—fills Seungcheol's senses, making him harder than ever. As he stands before you, your naked form on your knees, your hand between your legs touching your throbbing clit, and the sight of you looking up at him with hunger in your eyes, it’s enough to make his head spin.

You stroke his cock with one hand, licking your lips like you’re about to devour him. 

His cheeks are flushed, maybe from the alcohol, maybe from the very embarrassment of the situation. He bites his bottom lip, eyes wide with anticipation, his cock starting to ache with need. The handjob you’re giving him is good, but it’s not nearly enough.

“Fuck, you’re so hard,” you murmur, your voice dripping with lust. You can feel his cock twitching in your hand, the head sticky with precum.

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes glued to the sight of your hand moving up and down his shaft. 

You lean in, your tongue flicking out to taste the precum at the tip of his cock. The salty, slightly bitter taste coats your tongue, and you hum appreciatively, savoring the flavor. Seungcheol's breath hitches, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

“Oh, fuck!” he groans, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

You smile up at him, loving his reaction. You want this to be memorable, to engrave this moment into his mind permanently. You give the head of his cock a few teasing licks before enveloping your lips around it. 

“Holy shit, Y/N!” he groans, his voice ragged. As you slide your mouth further down, taking him deeper, his body curls inward, every muscle tensing. It’s like you’re sucking every ounce of energy from him, and he can barely stand it. Your mouth is so wet, so warm, and you look so devoted, so gorgeous.

You look up at him through your lashes, seeing the absolute ecstasy on his face. You’re dedicated, giving all of yourself to make this perfect for him. You bob your head, sucking him deeper, your cheeks hollowing with the effort. Your tongue works along his length, swirling around the tip before you take him in again.

Seungcheol’s efforts to hold back his moans crumble. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so good,” he whimpers, his voice loaded with desperation. He grips your hair, not to control but to anchor himself, as his arms on the bed threaten to give out.

You hum around his cock, the vibrations making him shudder. You suck harder, your hand stroking the base of his shaft in beat with your mouth. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue, his neediness evident in every spasm and moan.

His moans become louder, more ragged, filling the room. The sound of his pleasure fuels your horniness, and you touch yourself more frantically, your fingers rubbing your clit in time with the movements of your mouth. You’re giving him everything, and you love the way he’s falling apart above you.

“Y/N, I’m so close,” he chokes out whiny. “I can’t… I can’t hold it…”

You look up at him, and suck him even harder, your mouth sliding up and down his length faster. You want to push him over the edge, to give him the orgasm he so desperately needs. Your hand strokes his shaft with more speed, your mouth working tirelessly.

You can't believe that Minji never gave Seungcheol a blowjob. Just the sight of his cock is almost enough to make you cum. With your hand still slick from touching yourself, you grab the base of his shaft and take him as deep as you can, sinking him down your throat. 

You hold him there for some seconds, feeling the tears from your gag reflex forming. When you pull back, you see him nearly losing his balance.

Determined to make this unforgettable, you’re willing to suck his very soul out if it means you get to see his face as he cums and hear those incredible moans from him.

Seungcheol’s body tenses, his muscles locking up as the pleasure becomes too much to bear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cries out.

Seungcheol’s entire body convulses, his hips jerking uncontrollably as you milk every drop from him. His eyes roll back, and he lets out a guttural moan, the sound of someone utterly lost in pleasure. You keep sucking him gently, drawing out his orgasm, until he’s left trembling and spent.

When you finally release him, Seungcheol collapses onto the bed, needing to lay down to recover. 

You laugh softly, brushing your fingers through his hair, feeling a rush of pride at the look of utter bliss on his face. His eyes flutter open, and he smiles so wide it makes your heart swell.

He sits up slightly, his hand wrapping around your throat. He grips you gently, his thumb brushing over your skin. You’re caught off guard when he leans in, not giving you just a peck, but sliding his tongue into your mouth. You thought he might find it weird after cumming in your mouth, but he does it without hesitation, moaning at the taste.

You can feel your pussy immediately dripping onto the sheets. His kiss is hungry, filled with gratitude and lingering fascination, and you kiss him back just as fervently, your hands tangling in his hair.

When you finally pull away, you both are breathing heavily.

“Damn, Y/N,” he bites his bottom lip. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

Seungcheol's eyes roam over your body, and you can see the determination in his gaze. He wants to pay you back, to show you what he can do. Gently, he lifts you onto the bed, laying you down. He positions himself between your legs, his stomach pressed against the mattress. You hear him hiss slightly as his sensitive dick makes contact with the sheets, but his focus remains on you.

“I’ve been studying up on this, Y/N,” he says with a proud smile, like he’s presenting a perfect exam result. “Time to show you what I’ve learned.”

He starts by kissing your inner thighs, his lips soft and teasing against your skin. You shiver, your breath hitching in tension. When his mouth finally reaches your pussy, he doesn't hesitate. His tongue darts out, tasting you for the first time, and he lets out a low, appreciative hum.

“You taste so good,” he says, almost to himself, before diving in.

He licks a long, slow stripe up your slit, his tongue parting your folds and flicking over your clit. You moan, your hips twitching involuntarily. Seungcheol’s hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he starts to work his tongue with more ambition.

His tongue encircles your clit, teasing and tormenting, before he sucks it into his mouth, creating a delicious pressure that makes you gasp. He alternates between sucking and licking, his mouth hot and insistent. 

You can hear the wet sounds of his mouth on you, mingling with your moans, and it’s driving you even more soaked.

“Oh god, Seungcheol, that feels so good,” you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on. “You’re so good at this, nerd.” you smile looking at him.

He looks up at you eyes light up at the praise. “You like that?” he asks, his voice muffled against your pussy.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you plead.

He continues to be concentrated on you, his eyes sharp and focused, studying every reaction. His tongue flicks over your clit, and your hips buck against his mouth. He smiles against you, clearly pleased with your response.

Seungcheol grins and shifts slightly, bringing his fingers into play. He teases your entrance with one finger before slowly pushing it inside you, curling it just right to hit that sweet spot—finding it embarrassingly fast. You shout, your back arching off the bed.

“Fuck, Seungcheol, just like that,” you pant, your hips grinding against his face.

He adds a second finger, pumping them in and out of you while his mouth continues its assault on your clit. The combination is mind-blowing, and you can feel yourself hurtling towards the edge. His fingers twist and curl inside you, like they're calling you, pressing against your sweet spot, and your moans become louder, more desperate.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs.. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers.”

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you beg, your thighs squeezing around his head. 

You feel a bit guilty for trapping him like this, but Seungcheol looks delighted, his thick eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he reads every reaction from your body.

He flicks his tongue over your clit in a rapid, persistent move, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm. The wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you, combined with the slick noises from his mouth, are almost obscene, but they only heighten your arousal.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you gasp, your voice breaking. “Don’t stop, Seungcheol, please.”

He doesn’t let up, his tongue and fingers working you with a preciseness that makes your head spin. You can feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, ready to snap.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m cumming!” you cry out, your body shuddering violently as the orgasm rips through you.

Seungcheol keeps going, drawing out your orgasm, his fingers curling and his tongue flicking relentlessly. Your moans are loud and broken, your hips grinding against his face as you moan vulgarly, your chest rising as you soak his mouth and face. 

Your body convulses, your thighs squeezing him even tighter, and you scream his name, your voice echoing in the room. He continues to lick and finger you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you’re left shaking and breathless.

Finally, he pulls back, his face shining with your arousal, a pleased smile on his lips. “How was that?”

Your body is still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm, and all you can manage is a breathless moan, your hands smudging your face as you try to collect yourself. Seungcheol laughs softly at your reaction.

“I don’t know if I can ride you right now,” you admit, your voice shaking. “I’m still trembling.”

He smirks, a naughty glint in his eyes. “Who said anything about you riding me? I can fuck you just as good, just lay back and let me take care of you.”

The promise in his words makes you clench, and you nod, eager to feel him inside you. He positions himself between your legs, his cock hard and ready. As he lines himself up with your entrance, you can’t help but gasp at the sight of his size.

When he finally pushes inside you, the stretch is both breathless and blissful. His cock fills you completely, the sensation intensified by how wet you are. Your body welcomes him, and he slides in easily, the friction making you moan loudly.

“Oh god, Seungcheol, just like that!” you breathe out, your hands gripping his shoulders.

He lowers his head, his lips brushing against your neck as he begins to move. His kisses are surprisingly sweet for the roughness of his thrusts, and you find the contrast and incredibly hot.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he moans, his thrusts becoming more urgent. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more and more.

“Fuck me like you mean it.” you grit through your teeth. 

Seungcheol’s eyes blacken, and he grips your hips, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. You cry out, your head falling back against the pillow, your body jiggling with each strong movement.

 “I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name,” he promises, and you know he means it.

His thrusts become relentless, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you, your eyes watering. Your moans turn into cries, your mind going blank with pleasure. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and you cling to him, needing him closer.

“Seungcheol, I’m gonna—”

The sudden sound of Seungcheol’s phone ringing startles both of you. “Fuck... no,” he mutters, pulling out of you reluctantly. You almost swallow a sob, your orgasm fading away.

"Answer it," you tell him, your voice steady despite your frustration.

He looks at the caller ID, his face contorting in disgust. "Minji," he says, showing the screen to you. You wave your hand, signaling for him to answer. He does, putting the call on speaker. The fact that he's not hiding it, that he wants you to hear, that he doesn't have a problem with it, is unexpectedly hot.

“Seungcheol?” You roll your eyes at her voice.

“Yeah?” he replies, his tone short and uninterested.

“I... I wanted to talk. Can we meet up?” she asks, her voice faltering.

You sit up silently, your mind racing. Seungcheol answers her shortly, clearly wanting to hang up. As he talks, you get an idea. You crawl over to him, your eyes locked on his as you straddle his lap, your breasts pressing against his face. 

He looks up at you, confused.

“What are you doing?” he whispers, his breath hitching.

“Seungcheol, are you listening to me?” Minji’s voice is impatient, and he can't answer.

You just smile, grabbing his cock and sliding it back inside you as his face contorts in silence, jaw slack as he looks inside your eyes. He bites his lip, trying to stifle a moan as you begin to move, slowly at first, then faster, circling your hips around him.

“Seungcheol? Are you there?” She asks, sounding more desperate now.

He tries to answer, but you start moving, slowly at first, then picking up the pace.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he replies, his voice strained. He places a hand on your hip, trying to steady you as you ride him.

“What are you doing?” her voice cuts through the tension, suspicion clear.

You moan slyly, loudly, not even needing to force it. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you purr, the sound sending a cold lick down his spine. He can't help but moan too, his resolve breaking.

Minji’s voice rises in panic. “Seungcheol, what’s going on? Who’s there with you?”

He can’t help but moan too, gripping your hips tighter. “Don’t talk to me anymore, Minji,” he says, his voice strained with pleasure.

“What the hell is happening? Who is that?!” She's furious.

Seungcheol’s hands grip your hips, his body shuddering with each thrust. “Y/N... I can’t...”

“Just a little more,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss his neck. “Let her hear how good I make you feel.”

He groans, unable to hold back any longer. “Minji, I’m fucking done with you,” he says, his voice shaking. “Don’t call me again!”

You moan again, louder this time, and Seungcheol echoes your sound, his head falling back. 

The call disconnects abruptly, but you don’t stop. 

You ride him harder, feeling him throb inside you, his body tensing as he reaches his peak.

“Y/N, I’m gonna—” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss, swallowing his moans as he comes, his release sending you over the edge as well.

Seungcheol throws the phone aside with a decisive flick of his wrist, his focus entirely on you now��not that he stopped, his mind was imploring for you every second. 

He grips your hips firmly, handling you on his lap with a possessive, almost primal passion, like you’re a fucking doll. The strength of his arms moving you on his lap, makes you gasp, and you abruptly pull away from the kiss, your hand flying to your mouth in a futile attempt to suppress your scream.

It doesn’t work. 

The sound that escapes you is raw and unfiltered—a high-pitched scream that echoes off the walls of the dorm room. You’re cumming all over his cock, your cum spilling over onto his balls and pelvis, the wetness spreading in a deliciously messy explosion.

Seungcheol’s grip tightens, his breathing ragged as he feels the lock of your orgasm. He’s fighting his own demons to keep his eyes open, the pleasure so harsh that it’s almost too much to endure. His eyes are locked on yours, and you see the struggle written all over his face.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, his voice wasted with overstimulation. His moves become more desperate, desperate to feel every inch of you.

Your body shakes uncontrollably, every muscle tensed as you fight to keep your eyes open, to stay grounded in the moment. You feel the room spinning, the pleasure so intense that it’s almost blinding. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you struggle to stay upright.

You collapse against Seungcheol. He pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a protective, almost desperate grip. Despite his own wavering strength, his desire to hold and shield you is real, overshadowing any fatigue he might be feeling.

With the last of your strength, you gently pull his cock out of you, your movements sluggish. You remain close, still wrapped around him, feeling the warmth and softness of his body against yours. The sensation of his cock slipping free leaves a trail of dampness between you, your orgasms dripping onto his pelvis and the sheets beneath you.

Seungcheol shudders as he feels the wetness spreading across his skin. The soaked feeling on his pelvis, combined with the aftershocks of your orgasm, makes him groan softly. His hands are still firmly clasped around you, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we just did that while Minji was on the phone.”

You chuckle softly, your exhaustion making your laugh feel weak but genuine. 

Seungcheol lets out a rueful laugh. “I was trying so hard to keep it together while she was talking, and here you are, riding me like there’s no tomorrow.”

You raise an eyebrow playfully. “So, what did she hear exactly? Did she get the full experience or just a taste?”

Seungcheol grins, his cheeks flushing a bit. “Oh, she heard more than a taste. I was trying to get her off the line quickly, but with you going at it like that, I think she caught on pretty fast. She definitely knew something was up.”

“And now she’s probably going to think you’re a total jerk for just hanging up on her like that.”

“To be honest, I was so caught up in how good you were making me feel that I couldn’t even process what she was saying. All I could think about was you.”

The next morning is a whirlwind of frantic activity and poorly disguised attempts to cover up the previous night's larks. As you glance in the mirror, you notice the indicative signs of sex: red, blossoming hickeys on your neck that stubbornly refuse to be concealed. You grab your concealer and try your best to dab and blend, but the more you work, the more obvious it seems.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, is in an equally frantic state. He’s darting around his dorm room, desperately scrubbing away any remaining proof of the night before. He’s juggling a toothbrush in his mouth while trying to hide the hickeys with his hoodie. He eventually settles on a high-collared shirt that looks formal and slightly out of place for a morning class, but it gets the job done.

You rush out of your dorm, barely managing to grab your things before heading to your first class. The entire way there, you catch glimpses of yourself in shop windows and mirrors, each time cringing at how you might still look too happy, too satisfied.

Seungcheol is nearly out of breath by the time he arrives at the hallways, his face flushed—not entirely from exertion, you suspect.

“Did you manage to get rid of all the hickeys?” Seungcheol whispers walking on your side suddenly, as he tries to adjust his collar without drawing too much attention.

“Not even close,” you reply with a wry smile. “I’m basically wearing a turtleneck now, but it’s not foolproof.”

He laughs, a bit too loudly given the circumstances. “Well, at least we look like we’re going somewhere fancy. If anyone asks, just say it’s a new fashion statement.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s going to work. I’m just hoping people don’t look too closely.”

As you both ascend the stairs to your respective classes, the early morning hustle is almost forgotten when Seungcheol suddenly grabs your wrist, his eyes darting around to ensure no one is watching. 

The empty stairwell is the perfect backdrop for his next move.

Before you can react, Seungcheol leans in and steals a quick, tender peck from your lips. The unexpected kiss surprises you, and a smile instantly lights up your face. You respond with another, slightly longer kiss.

You pull back slightly, looking at him with a playful glint in your eye. “So, what about tonight?” you ask slyly.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Huh?”

You make a theatrical gesture with your hand, tracing a path up and down to your cheek, poking your cheek with your tongue, mimicking the motion of sucking him off. Your naughty movement is clear and provocative.  

Seungcheol's face flushes instantly, his eyes widening as he processes your meaning.

He bites his lip, his eyes locking onto yours with a glint of playful defiance. With a teasing smirk, he lifts his middle fingers, licking them exaggeratedly before curling them inward, making the motion unmistakably obscene.

“Something like this?” he asks, his voice sultry, his eyes never leaving yours. “Think you can handle it tonight?”

You can't help but be taken aback by Seungcheol's bold gesture, your jaw falling slack in surprise. 

“Meet me at the storage room,” you murmur, urgent. “You’re going to finger me there.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen. “The storage room?” he repeats, his voice a quiet, thrilled whisper, his breath catching slightly.

He thinks then gives you a quick, eager nod, the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

“Sure thing,” he continues. “Can’t wait.”

A birthday one-shot to my cutie pie hahaha 29 years old—I'm crying n'shit. 😭🥺❤️

[soobnny]

my girl — jeongin x f!reader ; the boys find out their youngest has a gf

(1.3k words)

It’s a once in a while thing for the boys to be able to eat out together.

Challenges usually pose through schedule conflicts, one or the other being absent, and timing. They can never truly catch a break. So, when the first sign of a temporary alignment showed, they took the opportunity in a flash.

It was going to be their first dinner together in months, one of their off days.

Usually, the next challenge of indecisiveness would present itself. However, their youngest is quick to suggest a place.

Apparently, they had really good jjajangmyun.

(The boys didn’t know then, but it was because the faster they could decide where to eat, the faster he could go visit you.)

(They also didn’t know then that jjajangmyun was your favorite.)

A chorus of laughter echoes through the little corner store as they’re served their third plate of food. Jeongin didn’t lie about their food, and it was a safe enough space for them to celebrate the end of their latest comeback season.

“Seungmin, you’re getting really brave with your jokes about PD-nim.”

“I ran that contract renewal like the military.”

They spend the night joking, revisiting their past, and being hopeful for the future. A few grateful messages are exchanged after liquid courage is brought to their table. And while a simple night, the boys knew they’d remember this day for the rest of their lives.

There’s quiet pop music playing in the back—the kind you’d hear in the early 2000s. And Han Jisung orders another plate of jjajangmyun.

“Ayen, the food here is crazy good. How’d you find this place?”

Jeongin snaps out of his mental chant at the call of his name, fox-eyes trained on the older boy before the question reverberates in his mind. “My girlfriend recommended it.”

A pin drops.

Their youngest has a habit of lying, taken after his roommate, Seungmin. He usually does it with sneaky smiles and a few giggles. However, both signs indicative of lying are absent, and the boy has the audacity to refill his plate and keep eating as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on his members.

“Girlfriend?” Hyunjin is the first to speak, asking the boy to reiterate what he had just said, even though he heard. Loud and clear, in fact.

“Uhuh.” Jeongin replies through a mouthful of food. “What?”

He looks curiously around the table. His friends’ eyes are glazed, and he’d expected the conversation to be over three minutes ago, but it doesn’t.

Jeongin is in the middle of another bite when all hell breaks loose.

“Girlfriend?!” It’s said even louder now, more amplified, and Hwang Hyunjin stands from where he was previously seated in pure disbelief. All the while, their eldest is having an existential crisis. “Innie, what do you mean?”

He perks his head up, pursing his lips slightly and tilting his head. “What’s the big deal?”

“You have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell us?” It’s Han’s turn to be perplexed, and it’s humorous the way his features mimic the dramatic shock on Hyunjin’s.

Seungmin simply keeps eating.

“Yah, Kim Seungmin. Why aren’t you as surprised as us?”

“I already knew.”

“Seungmin knew, but not us?!”

“Not my fault he trusts me with dating advice.”

That boy definitely knows how to add fuel to fire. Chaos erupts as the younger half harass Seungmin for knowing before them.

“How long have you been dating?,” Minho asks.

“Just around 3 months now.”

If Chan was out of it then, you wouldn’t know how to describe his state now. Felix sits next to him to comfort the poor boy.

“My baby has been dating for 3 months, and I didn’t know anything.”

“Sorry.” Jeongin responds bashfully, scratching the back of his head. He knew his hyungs would act this way, which had led to his decision of keeping it hidden for a while. He thinks he should’ve just told them right away.

Though, he thought they’d known by now. He wasn’t exactly the most secretive about it, and he was sure he’d mentioned you before.

And although shocking to suddenly hear that their youngest (and their baby) had a girlfriend, they will not have his head for it. They know he’s responsible enough to know what not to do, and it was a little touching to know the boy had enough time to fit romance in his life.

“Show us what she looks like!”

The boys get a selfie of you that’s set as his lockscreen, and it’s enough proof to have the boys cooing at how adorable you two would be together.

“Motherfucker, she’s really pretty.” Changbin comments.

“I know.”

Meanwhile, Han and Hyunjin are making up fake scenarios in the corner, scrolling through photos and videos. Then a message.

While their youngest is distracted, Han quickly taps on the notification.

(8:23pm) innie: I miss u

(8:30pm) ynie: miss u too!!!!

(8:31pm) innie: Wish you were here right now

(8:32pm) ynie: aren’t u celebrating with ur friends rnnn

(8:32pm) ynie: stop texting me and enjoy !!!

(8:33pm) innie: But i miss u

(8:33pm) innie: Call me later?

(8:36pm) ynie: after you spend time with ur friends let’s call

(8:37pm) innie: Wanna call now. Just for a second

(8:37pm) innie: Haven’t heard your voice in a while

(8:37pm) ynie: ok fine >:( give me like 10-15 mins

(8:51pm) ynie: i’ll call now

“Oh my god, she’s calling.”

That’s definitely enough to get Jeongin’s attention.

“Give me my phone back.” He reaches out to them, but Hyunjin is fast enough to swipe it.

“Answer it!” Changbin instigates.

Jeongin’s eyes widen in horror when he hears your voice go through his phone. “Innie? Oh—hello.”

You sound so shy, and Chan feels like he’s about to cry. “She calls him Innie.”

The youngest finally snatches his phone back when all Hyunjin could do was stare at you through the screen of his phone. You were real. Yang Jeongin actually has a girlfriend.

“Hi.” He mumbles, moving away from their table to talk to you privately. Though, before he does, he makes sure he leaves a threat to the boys not to follow him. “‘M sorry, did they scare you, baby?”

“It’s okay, I was just surprised.”

Jeongin visibly melts at the sound of your voice. “The boys know about us now.”

“I figured.” You laugh, and the service at the restaurant doesn’t do the warmth of your laughter any justice. He can’t wait to see you later.

“Can I see you later?”

“Mkay, but just… enjoy your time with the boys, okay? You told me it’s been a while since all of you were able to relax over a meal like this.”

“Fine.” He sighs, before a smile creeps on his face. “They liked your suggestion.”

“That’s good. Now go!” There’s a pout on his lips when you shoo him away. “Go have fun, go! I’m hanging up now. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

The wide, bright smile remains on his face even when he goes back to their table.

“Who has our Ayen smiling like that?”

“My girl.”

“Innie’s getting soft.” Minho teases.

Seungmin, on the other hand, fake vomits at his response, and another chorus of laughter bursts from their seats. The night continues through conversations over Jeongin’s sudden revelation, and the promise to let the boys meet you properly next time. He agrees if they promise not to scare you away.

And while he’d kept you a secret for a while, he can’t help but feel a tinge of happiness in his heart that the most important people in his life know about you now, are even eager to meet you. There is no better contentment than all of the people he loves aligning with one another.

The entire night, Jeongin itches in anticipation to hold you in his arms and hear your voice in person after his schedules had torn apart his much needed quality time with you. And when he asks to leave, they don’t need to know where he’s going.

One look at his face, and the only evident answer is you.

[luveline]

oooh what about hotch's sister calling spencer to pick her up at the hospital after an accident or something because she doesn't want hotch to know since worry and go into protective big brother mode, but spencer tells him anyway and they both show up and lots of fluff ensues :)

adopted fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for panic attacks

You should call your brother. 

You think about it, even pull up his contact, he’s the first person you go to when you need help and he always has been, but lately Aaron has been so stressed you hesitate, clicking the text button by mistake. 

You read back his last message. 

I can feel myself being spread too thin but there’s nothing I can do to fix it, he’d text. I guess I’m frustrated. But how are you, working girl? New jobs are scary. I bet you’re doing better than you think already. Jack and I are super proud of you

You’d sent him a meagre response. You aren’t always sure what to say to him. Sincerity is easier in person, but even then, he can be terse and deflective; he looks after you and no one looks after him. 

You didn’t tell him about work, and you won’t tell him about now. You call Spencer instead. This is a good way to test the almost dating thing, right? 

He doesn’t answer. When you call again, he answers on the first ring. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“No. Are you busy?” 

“I’m not busy if you’re not okay. Two seconds.” There’s a pause where you assume he’s moving from one place to another, perhaps closing a book around his hand, or closing the lid on an early lunch. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m, uh, in hospital. I had a huge panic attack at work and I… thought I was having a heart attack, so I–” You’re so embarrassed your voice turns to a thread. “Sorry, I know it’s so stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid, that’s not stupid. How do you feel now?” 

“Like someone hit me really hard in the chest.” 

“Are you calmed down?” 

“Mostly.” You wince. “They want to talk to me about medications. Uh.” You clear your throat. “I want to go home.” 

“Angel… I’m on my way, okay? I’ll get Hotch and–”

“You can’t tell him.” 

“What?” 

“Please, Spencer, he gets so worried, he’s worried enough. And if he finds out I had a panic attack he’ll try and make me take time off of work and that’s just another thing on his plate he didn’t ask for–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, “please don’t panic. You’ve had a hard morning, panicking again is really gonna hurt. Try and think about things that don’t wind you up, alright? Is there anything you need me to get?” 

“You don’t have to come.” 

“That’s why you called me, right? I’ll be there.” 

You can’t know that he says goodbye and ducks straight back into Hotch’s office, where he’d been, to tell on you. It’s not to hurt you and it isn’t because you told him not to —it’s two parts concern, and one part self preservation. Aaron needs to know and you need him with you, and he also can’t imagine things going well for himself if he kept the news of your stay a secret. The shovel talk plays in his mind. 

Aaron’s shovel talk being, You won’t do anything to hurt her, said simply, and with an impassive expression that bordered terrifying. Not overly unaffected, just casual. 

You’re laying in your hospital bed with your hands clasped across your stomach when Spencer arrives. He frowns at you in your bed, worse when he sees your smudged makeup and the chafed inside of your wrist where you’ve picked and squeezed at your own skin. Your panic has left a physical mark, your chest aching as you force yourself to sit, and it hurts doubly so when your brother lets himself in behind your nearly-boyfriend.

You don’t have it in you to complain. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says, reaching down to give you a quick hug as you sit. “I had to tell him.” 

 Aaron’s hug is similarly apologetic, though much longer. “You weren’t gonna tell me?” he asks quietly, his hand settling at the place between your shoulders. “How do you feel now?” 

“I’m fine, I– I really thought I was having a heart attack.” 

“That’s common,” Spencer says, “it’s the feeling of impending doom, thousands of people mistake anxiety for medical issues every week.” 

Aaron holds you by the shoulders. “It’s okay,” he says. “Was it a doctor that checked you out, or a nurse?” 

Aaron probes the name of your nurse from you and promises to be back soon. He seems to have gleaned that the quickest way to get information today won’t be from you. 

Spencer goes in for another hug when he leaves, and then, to your delight, a very quick kiss pressed to your cheek. He ducks away after that and sits on the side of your hospital bed, his knuckles gracing the outside of your thigh. “Thank you for calling me,” he says, smiling at you, and better when you smile back.

“Thanks for coming.” 

“Of course. I know how it feels, okay? If they want to talk about medication it’s a good thing, but everyone has moments like this.” 

“I can’t believe you told Aaron,” you say, giving a weak but playful glare.

“I can’t believe you weren’t going to. He loves you, he wants to know what’s hurting you, no matter how much stuff is on his plate.” 

You bite the inside of your lip, contemplative for a few slow seconds. “You think so?” you ask finally. 

The hair flicked under his ears wobbles as he nods. “Absolutely.” 

You lean forward to readjust his collar and tie. He’s wearing one of his cutesy waistcoats, dark grey over a light blue shirt. His tie has patterns you trace with your thumb, like fish scales. “Sorry, I know you were working,” you murmur. 

“I think my boss will forgive me.” 

You let your hands fall. Spencer, perhaps picking up on a hint you hadn’t meant to give, takes them both into one of his and squeezes reassuringly. 

“It’s harder than I thought,” you confide softly. 

“It’s an adjustment period. But maybe it’s not right for you, there. That’s what started it, right? Your job.” 

“I’m not sure. I don’t know. I get panicky about all sorts of stuff, but I’ve never had one this bad before. I was a miserable kid, you can ask Aaron, but I really thought I was better.” 

He rubs over your fingers with his thumb. “I think we all have stuff that messes us up. Doesn’t mean you’re not better. You don’t even really have to be better. And I… I am here for you, I promise. I know you have no reason to trust me with it yet, but I’ll listen whenever you need me to.” 

You think about kissing him. Spencer kisses like he’s suffocating and your air, it’s cliche and undeniably true. Whenever you kiss him it’s like a shock —he steals your breath, he can’t stop himself from grabbing your face, and any other time you’d love it, but right now you just need a peck. You’re hoping he can do those kinds of kisses too. 

“Will you kiss me?” you ask tentatively.

He gets the memo on gentleness. You shouldn’t be surprised, your very first kiss was tame, his hand running up your arm as he encourages you forward. Your eyes shutter closed at the feeling of his lips on yours, and the exhausting thrumming that’s lived beneath your skin since you woke up numbs to a more manageable ache. 

Spencer breaks away. He cups your cheek quickly, dropping it immediately when the door opens. 

You shuffle backward nonchalantly. 

Aaron gives you a sarcastic look. Really? it says. I wasn't born yesterday. 

“They want to give you a prescription for Paxil, honey, what do you think?” He turns his attention to Spencer reluctantly. “What’s her best option here?” 

“Paxil could be fine. They didn’t suggest a benzodiazepine? Paxil is an SSRIs, it slows down the rate of serotonin reuptake, basically increasing the effectiveness of your bodies natural serotonin, which could decrease the risk of another attack, but taking it won’t stop her from feeling like this,” —he frowns at your location— “very quickly. Ideally she should have a medication for general anxiety and the option for quicker relief if this happens again.” He smiles at you suddenly, nearly shyly. “If that’s what you want, that is.” 

“What are you thinking, honey?” Aaron asks you. 

You have the two of them here to look after you while you decide. You take Spencer’s hand gently, desperate for reassurance. “I’m not sure.” 

“It’s okay, we’ll work it out,” your brother promises. 

Spencer squeezes your hand. 

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

it’s downright pouring outside.

suguru rests on the living room couch, cooped up in a bundle of soft blankets, watching droplets ricochet against the windows. heavy, sharp, like the rain is trying to break into your apartment — a steady pitter patter that makes him feel at ease.

it’s cozy, he thinks. being indoors, safe and warm and dry, while the outside world is blanketed by gray. wearing baggy clothes, a pair of reading glasses, his hair tied up into a loose bun; slender fingers turning the pages of the new novel you gave him.

he thinks of you, and finds himself frowning.

suguru got home just before storm clouds gathered in the sky — but as far as he knows, you’re still outside. he’s memorized your comings and goings, what time you usually return home, the paths you tend to favour. as any attentive roommate should.

so he’s a little worried. usually, you’d be home by now. and you still haven’t replied to his messages.

tentatively, he reaches for the warm cup of tea on the coffee table, bringing the ceramic to his lips. sipping from the green, honeyed brew, letting the scent soothe his growing nerves. he shouldn’t be too high-maintenance; you’re a perfectly capable adult. if he nags at you all the time, you’ll just be weirded out. and the last thing he wants is to scare you away.

so it’s fine. you’re fine, he’s sure. there’s no need for him to freak out over your whereabouts. he needs to maintain his cool, calm exterior.

— suddenly, the click of a lock being turned.

suguru’s head whips towards the front door. a moment passes, and then he’s stumbling to his feet, untangling himself from the heap of blankets he’s burrowed into — gently setting the cup back on the table, fixing his hair, making sure he’s presentable — before making his way towards the hall.

and there you are. clumsily dragging the door open, stumbling inside, keys jingling as you step over the threshold; absolutely soaked. just as he feared.

”hey…”

you meet his gaze. panting softly, cheeks a little flushed, wet locks of hair sticking to your forehead and neck. disheveled, letting out a sheepish little laugh — gosh, why do you have to be so cute? — leaning down to pull your shoes off. you’re wearing a thin, white shirt. entirely drenched. 

suguru looks away, a heat sticking to his cheeks.

”hey,” you greet, a little out of breath. tossing your shoes away, tugging absently at your collar. ”god. i feel like a drowned rat.”

at that, he lets a little chuckle slip. shaking his head, taking a step back — careful not to let his gaze stray towards the soaked fabric of your clothing. ”why didn’t you call me? i would have picked you up.”

”well, i thought about it,” you hum, walking right past him, ”but i figured you’d still be at work.”

suguru frowns, ever so slightly, discontentment in his eyes. ”… they let me go early today. but you should have texted me, either way. what if you get sick?”

”i’ll be fineeee,” you slip on a grin, turning back to face him. ”just need a quick shower. don’t worry, okay?”

he narrows his eyes, playfully, enjoying the way your eyes crinkle in response. then he exhales, hands on his hips. feigning exasperation. 

”… fine, fine. need me to go get you a clean shirt?”

”ah. well...” you let out a wince, earning a tilt of his head. ”i haven’t done my laundry, in like… a week.”

a moment passes. suguru’s lips curl up, an exasperated exhale slipping from his lips. he gazes at you, ever so fondly, raising a brow. ”i asked you if you needed me to wash anything for you.”

”i know, but…” you scratch at the back of your neck, letting out a breathy sigh. ”i don’t want you to pull all my weight. we both live here.” now there’s a pretty little pout on your lips. it makes suguru want to run his thumb over the sensitive skin, soothe it away.

but he only clears his throat. 

”i don’t mind,” he answers, truthfully. ”i like doing laundry. you know that.”

”… still.”

his smile only grows, at your quiet mumble, something soft blooming in his eyes. he takes a step forward. ”we’ll see about laundry later. in the meantime… want to wear one of my shirts?”

the words have left his lips before he can think them through — maybe a little too eager. silently, he curses himself for being so forward. but you raise your head, meeting his amber eyes, blinking so sheepishly that he thinks he’d give you just about anything you could ask for.

”… is that okay?” 

”more than okay,” he reassures you, a smile on his face. ”i’ll get you something comfy.”

you quiet down, for a moment. still pulling at the collar of your shirt, making sure the thin fabric doesn’t stick to your soaked skin. ”… alright,” you exhale. ”that’d be great, then.”

a hum buzzes in his throat. suguru walks past you, towards the hallway leading up to his room, ruffling your wet hair in passing. his heavy palm on your head, a perfect fit. smiling to himself.

”got it. one second, okay?” 

behind him, you nod — but he can’t see it. walking into his room, rummaging through his closet, trying not to lose his mind at the idea of you wearing one of his oversized shirts. maybe a pair of sweatpants, maybe a tank top… he gulps at the thought. heartbeat accelerating, a jittery feeling in his throat.

he settles on a big, comfortable hoodie. bundling it up in his arms, before making his way back to where you’re still standing, still soaked, shivering a little. 

”here,” he hums, passing the bundle of soft fabric into your awaiting arms. you nuzzle into the pile, already looking comforted; warming his heart down to the marrow. he hopes you like the cologne he picked out, earthy and deep. a hint of cinnamon. ”now go take your shower, hm?”

”mm. thank you.” you give him a smile, cheeks still damp, a little flushed. ”you’re too nice to me.”

suguru resists the urge to frown. resists the urge to tell you that there’s no such thing, that you deserve every last drop of kindness he can wring out of his cramped-up heart. he knows he shouldn’t be too forward, but you’re making it difficult. you always make it so difficult.

(or maybe he’s just a weak, weak man.)

”oh, please,” he gives you a playful little roll of his eyes, sighing gravely. ”this is the bare minimum. we don’t want you catching a cold, do we?”

”we don’t,” you grin. ”i have a feeling you’d just end up feeding me soup all day.”

a chuckle flows from out his lips. he hopes it doesn’t come out as shaky as his heart feels, just at the thought — the idea of taking care of you like that. being allowed to tend to you, being trusted by you in that way. ”well, i am a chef. need to make sure i don’t get rusty, yeah?”

there it is, again. the crinkle of your eyes, that upturn of your lips, all things he finds himself constantly seeking — suguru exhales, somewhat in bliss. he might need to quit cigarettes for good, soon. it wouldn’t do for him to have more than one vice.

while you take your shower, your roommate lounges on the couch. or at least, he tries to — though his feet inevitably take him to your tiny kitchen, to the water cooker, to the cabinet with all his expensive tea bags. he picks out a nice, strong ginger brew. something to help boost your immune system. silently, drowsily, he pours water into a ceramic cup, stirs the slowly brewing tea with a honey-clad teaspoon. raindrops cascade against the window, and the faraway sound of thunder reaches his ears.

it’s cold outside, but warm and cozy in here. in the home you’ve made for yourselves. he’s really, really glad that he followed satoru’s advice — that he put out that advert, that the first person who reached out ended up being you. he’s happy to share a living space with you, these cozy leftover afternoons. he’s happy to have someone to brew tea for.

(what more could a man like him ask for?)

”um, suguru?”

he stiffens. ears perking up at the sound of your voice, that mellow little lilt — broken out of his syrupy stupor. after a moment, he turns around.

and his breath hitches in the back of his throat.

you’re standing there, right at the threshold separating the kitchen from the living room, hair a little damp from the shower — and you’re wearing his hoodie. it cascades down your frame, the hem of it ending right above your knees, sleeves rolled up to reveal your hands. that hoodie is baggy even on him, but you’re just drowning in the fabric. his heart feels like it’s about to burst, pupils wide as saucers.

suguru lets out a shaky sigh.

”jesus…”

a series of blinks. you tilt your head, like a confused puppy, glancing up at him with a doe-eyed look. fuck, he wants to bundle you up in his arms. he wants you to fall asleep on his chest, wants to keep you there forever. god, who thinks stuff like that?

(he needs to get a grip, and fast. he can already feel his ears growing hotter.)

”it looks… kind of ridiculous, doesn’t it?” you mumble, sheepishly, clouded with what he thinks must be shyness. cute. ”this isn’t really my size…”

suguru lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head, raven locks swaying with the movement. ”i can see that. looks good on you, though.”

”… does it?” you let your arms fall slack, at your sides, the softened fabric swallowing your hands entirely. he can’t even see the tips of your fingers. oh, how his heart aches — it’s squeezing so tightly he fears his chest might cave in, but all he can do is nod.

he turns around, again, absently clearing his throat. clinking the teaspoon against the rim of your cup, stirring idly. ”is it comfortable?”

”mhm!”

a warm smile. ”good.”

silently, you scoot closer, taking your rightful place beside him. resting your elbows on the counter, watching his movements, the flick of his long fingers. one of his rings catches on the ceramic, a quiet clang.

”here,” he hums, pushing the cup towards you. when you look up, his eyes are crinkled at the edges, warm and sweet, a melting pair of honeycombs. ”drink up.”

a moment passes. ”… you really are too sweet for your own good, you know that?” 

suguru grins. his heart blossoms a little more; petals sticking between the ridges of his ribs. it manifests as a delighted little chuckle, flowing out his throat.

”don’t thank me yet — there’s sushi for you in the fridge. they let us bring leftovers home again.”

”really? i can have some?”

suguru raises a brow. smiling, all the while. ”would i be offering otherwise?”

(you can have anything, he wants to say. i doubt i could say no. i’m a little weak, when it comes to you.

such embarrassing words.)

a heavy sigh escapes you, laced with relief. taking hold of the cup, raising it to your lips, sipping slowly. ”god, you’re the best. i’m starving.”

”haha… better eat, then, yeah?”

nod, nod. you give him another one of those giddy grins, putting your cup down, taking a step back. suguru can’t help but turn his head, to catch a glimpse of you — how cozy you look, waddling around in that big hoodie, hair a little tousled. humming softly to yourself, tapping the tips of your fingers against the handle of the fridge. it mashes well with the endless pitter patter against the windowpane. a purr of thunder echoes in the distance, and suguru feels at peace. hyacinths line the windowsill, the crinkle of a plastic container being rustled rings out across the room. he watches, listens, observes. wallowing in the feeling. 

domesticity. 

with a breathy, blissed-out exhale, his eyes fall shut. smile dripping with sweetness, barely contained. wishing on every single droplet that you’ll stick around a little longer than your lease allows.

”here,” you grin, stepping into his line of vision. handing him a plate full of sushi, all his favorite pieces. ”you eat up, too.”

suguru smiles.

”what would i do without you?”

(that’s a bridge he’ll worry about crossing another day.

for now, this is more than enough.)

[chosok-amo]

. . . KAWAI, HENTAI, BOOBIESSS!

ME AND YOUR GIRLFRIEND PLAYING DRESS-UP IN HOUSE, I GIVE YOUR GIRLFRIEND CUNNILINGUS IN MY COUCH!

shoko ieiri. it just happened that the girl hated satoru gojo so much that day, so she decided to give his girlfriend— you, a little fun, on her couch.

warning. cunnilingus, cheating, fingering, overstimulated, gxg, squirts, name-calling, pet names.

wc. 3,8k

𝜗𝜚. please don't judge me, it is my first time writing gxg and i'm trying my best to picturing it without overdoing it because i never experienced it. 🥹

in shoko’s cozy apartment, you and shoko were rummaging through her impressive wardrobe, trying to put together the perfect outfit for your date with satoru gojo, your lovely boyfriend. shoko’s playful mood had shifted into one of frustration as the conversation turned to satoru’s recent behavior.

“i just don’t get it,” shoko huffed, sorting through a pile of accessories with a frown. “why does he always have to be so late? It’s like he thinks time is a suggestion, not a rule.” you laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood. “you know how he is. he’s probably just caught up in something.”

shoko’s irritation didn’t fade. “caught up in something or not, it’s still rude. you deserve someone who respects your time.” before you could respond, shoko’s phone buzzed. she glanced at the screen and rolled her eyes, “speak of the devil.”

you peered over her shoulder at the message from satoru, apologizing for being late and asking if he could still meet up. shoko’s face darkened with annoyance, “seriously?” she muttered, her voice laced with irritation, “he’s been late three times in a row now. i’m about ready to give him a piece of my mind.”

you placed a comforting hand on shoko’s shoulder, “he does mean well. maybe something came up unexpectedly. let’s give him the benefit of the doubt.”

shoko sighed, her anger slightly diffused by your support, “i guess. but if this happens again, i’m going to have to set him straight. it’s not just about being punctual; it’s about showing you that he values your time.”

you nodded in agreement, understanding where shoko was coming from. “i appreciate you looking out for me. let’s focus on getting me ready for the date.”

shoko’s demeanor softened as she focused on helping you choose the right outfit. her frustration didn’t fully disappear, but she channeled it into finding the perfect look that would impress satoru and show him that you were worth his time or she might steal you from him.

as you tried on various outfits, shoko offered advice with a mix of seriousness and subtle jabs aimed at satoru. “this outfit is great—perfect for making an impression. let’s just hope satoru shows up on time to see it.”

shoko eyes focusing on your cleavage— seems like she can't stop her eyes from looking at the peak of your breast. with a small blush creeping onto her cheeks, shoko quickly looks away from your chest, pretending to be interested in the clothes hanging in front of her. “umm... i think this one might work,” she says, holding up a dress with a deep v-neck that accentuates your curves nicely.

her gaze flickers back towards your chest, unable to resist another glance despite herself. “it really brings out your... figure,” she murmurs under her breath before quickly clearing her throat and attempting to refocus on the task at hand.

blushing even more intensely now, shoko stammers out an apology while avoiding eye contact. “i-i'm sorry, i didn't mean to stare...” she busies herself with folding the rejected outfits neatly, hoping that by keeping her hands occupied she can distract herself from her wandering eyes.

but even as she tries to regain control of the situation, there's a noticeable shift in her demeanor— one that suggests she might not entirely regret looking at you like that. after all, what harm could come from admiring such beautiful curves?

“um... maybe we should try this one?” she asks tentatively, pulling out another dress that reveals even more of your cleavage than the previous one. “it's okay,” you smile at her kindly. you take off the dress without turning your back on her, now fully showing her your naked breasts. her eyes widen in shock as you suddenly strip down completely, exposing your bare breasts to her gaze. for a moment, she freezes, unsure of how to react.

then, almost against her will, her gaze drops to your nipples, which hardens slightly in the cool air of the room. a soft gasp escapes her lips as she takes in the sight of your pink, erect buds. slowly, shoko raises her eyes back up to meet yours, a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and perhaps even arousal flickering in their depths. she swallows hard, her mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“i... um... wow,” she manages to stammer out, her voice barely above a whisper. “you're so beautiful...” without thinking, she reaches out a trembling hand, hesitating only briefly before gently cupping one of your breasts. as her fingers make contact with your soft flesh, a shiver runs down shoko's spine. she squeezes your breast gently, marveling at its weight and suppleness.

“you feel amazing,” she whispers, her thumb brushing lightly over your nipple. the sensitive bud stiffens further under her touch, sending tingles throughout your body. unable to resist, shoko leans in closer, her warm breath ghosting over your skin. slowly, teasingly, she darts out her tongue and gives your nipple a quick lick.

a moan slips past your lips at the sensation, encouraging shoko to continue her exploration. she kisses along the swell of your breast before taking your nipple into her mouth, sucking and nibbling on the hardened peak. meanwhile, her other hand drifts downwards, tracing the curve of your waist and hip before settling on your ass.

shoko brings her feet to slowly move behind you until your back touching her chest— one hand still not leaving your breast before her other hand joining. she squeeze your breast lightly, fingers flicking your nipples from time to time.

shoko wraps her arms around your torso, pressing her soft body firmly against your back. her ample bosom squishes against your shoulders, making you acutely aware of her every movement. feeling bold, shoko's hands roam freely over your exposed skin, occasionally dipping lower to caress your sides or hips. her fingers continue to tease and pinch your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

murmuring softly against your ear, shoko's hot breath sends shivers down your spine, “you have such a beautiful body... i want to explore every inch of it.” her words are punctuated by gentle bites along your neck and shoulder, each nip causing your heart to race faster.

shoko's hands begin to wander lower, slipping beneath the hem of your skirt to stroke the smooth skin of your thighs. her fingers dance closer to your pussy, teasing the edges of your underwear. “mmm, you're so wet already,” she purrs, her nose nuzzling the side of your neck as she inhales your scent deeply, “i can smell how much you want me.”

with a deft motion, shoko tugs your panties aside, exposing your slick folds to her eager touch. two fingers delve between them, stroking your clit in slow, deliberate circles. “let me make you feel good,” she coos, her voice dripping with desire, “i want to hear you moan my name."

encouraged by your moans, shoko intensifies her movements, rubbing your clit harder and faster. her fingers slip easily through your slick folds, exploring every nook and cranny of your heated pussy. “ohh, you're so tight,” she groans, thrusting two fingers inside you. the stretch sends ripples of pleasure coursing through your body.

her other hand leaves your breast momentarily to join in the fun, sliding down to fondle your clit directly. the dual stimulation has you writhing against her, desperate for more, “please don't stop,” you beg breathlessly, “i need it.”

you throw your head back to her shoulder. hands gripping tightly on her arms as if your pleasure depends on it. your eyes flickering caused by the pleasure hugging your body. “oh, fuck. .” you moan into the air.

hearing your moans of pleasure, shoko becomes even more insatiable. her fingers pump in and out of you rhythmically, hitting spots that send shocks of delight surging through your entire being. her free hand snakes down to join the first, doubling the pleasure as both thumbs work relentlessly on your swollen clit. the dual assault has you bucking wildly against her, seeking friction where you can get it.

“that's it baby, let go,” she encourages, leaning down to whisper hotly in your ear, “come for me.” driven by your pleas and the intoxicating scent of your arousal, shoko redoubles her efforts. with each thrust of her fingers and rub of her thumbs, she brings you closer to the edge. with your raw moans, shoko's excitement grows exponentially. her fingers work you relentlessly, curling within you to hit that sweet spot deep inside.

“fuck yeah, just like that,” she growls, biting down gently on your earlobe, “let go for me.” the intensity of her touches drives you wild; her firm grasp on your arms is the perfect anchor amidst the storm of sensations coursing through your body.

suddenly, she adds a third finger, stretching you wider as she pumps them in and out rhythmically. simultaneously, she rubs your swollen clit mercilessly. “you're going to cum soon,” she predicts confidently, “and i want to be here when it happens.” the combination of her dirty talk and expert touches proves too much to bear. your inner walls clamp down around her invading fingers as an intense orgasm rips through you.

“yes! yes!” you cry out, shaking uncontrollably in her embrace. “don't stop!” shoko continues pumping her fingers vigorously, drawing out your climax until you collapse limply against her, spent and satisfied.

“that was incredible,” she praises, peppering your neck with soft kisses. “your pussy felt amazing squeezing my fingers like that.” gently withdrawing her hand, shoko brings her glistening digits to her mouth, sucking your juices off with a contented hum, “delicious.”

as your breathing slows, shoko tenderly strokes your flushed cheeks and neck, soothing away the remnants of your orgasmic high. her own arousal is palpable— evident in the way she presses herself against you, seeking friction where there wasn't any before.

“i want you,” she confesses quietly but urgently, “will you let me taste you?”

without waiting for a reply, shoko pushes you to the couch, gently landing your body on the soft material before dropping down onto her knees between your legs. her hands grip your hips firmly as she pulls you towards her awaiting mouth. once you're positioned to her liking, shoko leans in, dragging her tongue up the center of your slit in a long, slow lick. she savors the taste of your arousal, humming in approval at the flavor.

“mmm, even better than i imagined,” she murmurs against your sensitive flesh before diving back in for another lap, this time focusing on your throbbing clit. her tongue swirls around the bud, applying just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerve endings. as she works you over, shoko's hands roam your body, kneading your breasts and tweaking your nipples.

“please let me make you cum again,” she pleads between licks, “i need to feel you lose control for me.” driven by her desperation to please you, shoko redoubles her efforts, alternating between licking and sucking on your clit while plunging two fingers deep inside your still-quivering pussy.

“oh god, you taste so fucking good,” she gasps, her own arousal leaking down her thigh as she loses herself in the act of worshipping your body, “i could do this all day.”

picking up speed, shoko fucks you with her fingers, curling them to hit that magic spot that makes your toes curl and back arch. at the same time, she increases the suction on your clit, sending you hurtling towards another explosive climax. “cum for me, baby,” she urges, her voice strained with lust, “fill my mouth with your juice.”

she doesn't seems willing to stop, still can't get enough of your taste on her tongue and heart. she looks up to you, seeing your fucked-face, eyes drop low and chest moving rigid, trying to catch your breath.

“do you ever squirt?” she ask, giving your clit a kitten lick. you didn't even get a chance to answer when you feel you leg shaking, “fuck!—” sometimes catch you breath as you arch your back and took a fistful of shoko's long brown hair. the action make the girl moan and groan on your clit.

at the sudden tangle of your fingers in her hair, shoko lets out a needy whimper, her own desire spiking at the dominant display. she gazes up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, panting softly as she continues to lap at your oversensitive clit.

“i've never seen you come undone like this,” she breathes, nuzzling her face into your heat, “it's so hot.” emboldened by your reaction, shoko begins to suckle more insistently on your clit, her tongue darting out to flick the hypersensitive bud. the sensation sends jolts of electricity straight to your core, making your already quivering thighs clench.

“squirt for me,” she urges, her voice a husky purr, “drench my face with your cum.” with each thrust of her fingers and lap of her tongue, shoko coaxes more and more moans from your lips until they merge into one long, drawn-out sigh. the sensation builds quickly, making your thighs quiver and your pussy clench tighter around her fingers.

“i think you might be close,” she whispers against your slick folds, “are you gonna give it to me?” feeling your impending orgasm approaching, shoko intensifies her efforts, doubling down on her relentless assault. her tongue darts and flicks mercilessly against your swollen clit, while her fingers pump in and out of your dripping cunt, hitting every sweet spot.

“come on, baby,” she encourages, her voice muffled by your pussy. “let go. show me how much you love this.” with a final, desperate suck, shoko draws you over the edge. a loud moan tears itself from your throat as your entire body convulses in pleasure. “s-so good, mmh-mmm, fucking goo-oh!” your pussy squeezes tight around her fingers, pulsating rhythmically as wave after wave of euphoria washes over you.

caught in the throes of ecstasy, you barely register shoko's triumphant cry as she laps up every last drop of your sweet release. eager to savor every last drop, shoko laps up your juices with gusto, not stopping until your spasms subside. she then slowly rises, standing between your spread legs with a satisfied smirk on her lips.

“that was amazing,” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that.” despite the mess, shoko makes no move to clean herself up. instead, she leans down and gives your thigh a gentle kiss, marking you as hers— more likely stealing you from gojo satoru.

“but i'm not done yet,” she teases, sliding her fingers out from within you and bringing them to her lips. “taste so fucking good, can't get enough of you baby,” with a sly grin, shoko brings her glistening fingers to your lips, holding them there expectantly. as you part your mouth to accept the intimate offering, she pushes them past your lips, letting you taste the essence of your own arousal mixed with her saliva.

“don't you agree it tastes divine?“ she purrs, her voice thick with satisfaction. “now open wide for me,” demanding that you taste what she had been enjoying moments ago. the tangy sweetness of your cum coats her fingertips, leaving a salty residue on your tongue.

once you comply, shoko slides her fingers into your mouth, gently probing your tongue with them. the dual stimulation sends a thrill through your body, leaving you weak and pliant beneath her. her other hand ventures downwards, tracing teasing circles along your inner thigh before dipping lower. this time, instead of plunging her fingers inside you, she focuses on your clit, rubbing it gently with the pad of her thumb. “you're so responsive,” she murmurs, watching your reactions closely. “do you want more?”

nodding your head like obedient dog, your eyes watering, “please. . . want more,” you beg her. shoko chuckle, “look at you acting like a little slut,” her lazy eyes never leaver yours. at the same times, her phone ringing and your boyfriend name pop up. gladly she accepted the call before putting her phone aside, purposely letting your boyfriend hear what a slut his girlfriend is and doesn't have any attention to let you know that your boyfriend is listening.

“you ask for it,” shoko sweetly said before pushing your tight upward, “now open your leg wider, baby,” she command and you happily follow. she land your thigh on her shoulder. lean down to spitting on your pussy and a soft moan left your glisten lips. you don't realize how your boyfriend listening on the other side.

a sound of shoko's hand slapping your overstimulated pussy echoes follow by your moan. “oh fuck!” gojo hear your whimpering voice. as soon as you utter those words, shoko's eyes light up with mischief. she grins wickedly, clearly relishing the power she holds over you in this moment.

“look at you, begging like a bitch in heat,” she taunts playfully, her fingers trailing along your slit. “i bet you'd let anyone touch this greedy little cunt, wouldn't you?” shoko punctuates her question with a sharp slap to your sensitive mound, eliciting a yelp from your lips. before you can recover, she pushes your knees up towards your chest, folding you nearly in half and exposing your dripping hole completely. her voice dripping with lust, “i'm going to feast on this pretty pussy until you scream.”

as shoko's palm connects with your sensitive flesh, another sharp slap resounds through the room, followed by your high-pitched whine. her eyes light up with sadistic glee at the thought of gojo listening in on their depraved activities. shoko dives in, burying her face between your thighs. her tongue delves deep into your folds, lapping up your arousal with reckless abandon. she sucked hard on your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your trembling body.

“oh fuck, fuck— ahh!” gojo hears your muffled cries as shoko devours you whole, “yes, just like that!” the sounds of shoko's slurping and your moans fill the room, creating an erotic symphony that gojo cannot tear himself away from. he listens intently, his cock twitching in anticipation as he imagines shoko's skilled mouth on him next.

shoko pulls back momentarily, her lips shiny with your juices. she looks up at you with a hungry gaze, her eyes dark with lust, “i want to make you cum again.”

“please— fuck, please don't stop,” you begging.

shoko smirks at your desperate pleas, knowing full well the power she wields over you at this moment. she returns to feasting on your pussy with renewed vigor, her tongue darting in and out of your clenching folds. “such a good little slut for me,” she purrs, the vibrations of her words sending tremors through your core, “i'm going to milk this cunt dry.”

with that promise, shoko redoubles her efforts, sucking harder on your throbbing clit while thrusting two fingers knuckle-deep into your slick channel. she curls them just right, stroking that magic spot inside you that makes your vision blur and toes curl. “fuck, yes! right there! faster. . .” gojo hears you scream, your voice hoarse from pleasure. “i-i— don't stop, please!” shoko continues to ravage your pussy with unrelenting intensity, her fingers pumping in and out of you as her tongue working overtime on your clit. she can feel your walls starting to flutter around her digits, signaling your impending orgasm.

“that's it, cum for me,” she growls against your soaked flesh, her breath hot against your sensitive skin. with a final, brutal suck on your clit, shoko sends you careening over the edge. your body convulses, a high-pitched wail escaping your lips as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

“oh my god, oh fuck— yes, yes. . .” gojo hears your voice rise to a fever pitch, your words barely coherent as your orgasm rips through you. shoko laps up your release greedily, milking you for every last drop. as your climax subsides, shoko slowly withdraws her fingers from your spent channel, bringing them to her lips to clean off the evidence of your pleasure. she savors the taste of your arousal, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

“you are even sweeter after i make you cum three times,” she murmurs, her eyes glinting with mischief, “so fucking good.” shoko rises to her feet, towering over you in a dominant pose. she reachdown to help you sit up, her touch gentle but firm. “now, let's get you cleaned up and presentable,” she says, her tone taking on a playful edge, “we can't have you looking like a mess when gojo gets here, now can we?”

with that, shoko grabs a washcloth and begins wiping away the remnants of your passion, her touch both soothing and intimate. she took her phone that lying flat on the floor before pressing the electronic against her ear, smiling as she looks down at you.

“satoru..” she sang happily, “i hope you don't mind me having a little fun with your girlfriend,” her voice dripping with mocking even though soft smile kissing her as she looks at you, “that's what you get for fucking pissing me off.” satoru's angry voice comes through the speaker, causing shoko to giggle softly. she runs a hand through your hair, keeping her eyes locked on yours as she continues the call.

“satoru, darling, don't be so dramatic,” she coos, her tone sugary sweet despite the mischievous glint in her eye. “i was just giving your precious girlfriend a little attention. after all, you've been neglecting her lately,” shoko leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “besides, she seemed to enjoy it quite a bit. maybe you should take some pointers from me on how to satisfy a woman properly.”

satoru growls in response, but shoko merely laughs, unconcerned by his anger. “oh, don't worry, i won't tell if you don't,” shoko ends the call, tossing her phone aside with a nonchalant flick of her wrist. she turns her attention back to you, a devilish grin spreading across her features.

“well, that was entertaining,” she muses aloud, running her fingers down your side in a teasing manner. “but enough about satoru. let's focus on making sure you're ready for him.” shoko helps you to your feet, steadying you as your legs wobble beneath you. she leads you to the bathroom, where she begins running a warm bath.

[jenscx]

LOVE ME BACK — yu jimin

after a nasty breakup with your boyfriend of two years, you find solace in a bar and a mystery woman’s arms. you were convinced it was just a one time thing. yet, you didn’t expect to see her again at your workplace.

TAGS — fluff, lowk crack, suggestive themes, mentions of sex and alcohol, ceo!rina, office au, reader has a boyfriend (at first), hwang hyunjin as plot device, mentions of cheating, probably a hr violation, jealousy, hidden relationship, cursing

WORDCOUNT — 10.3k

when you were younger, your dream was to be an astronaut. now in your early twenties, you’ve succumbed to the average 9-5 job that every adult hates. your job was a pain in the neck, figuratively and literally. staring at a computer all day was tough work, but if you said that out loud, you would seem like a lunatic.

your hands dance bleakly across the keyboard, fingers tapping insistently to finish the report. maybe you would even get home on time today. a vibration from your phone distracts your focus, a message from your boyfriend.

staring at the notification, you sigh and pick up your phone to text back. it’s a chain of messages, ranging from urgent calls to angry scoldings. your eyes narrow as a call comes in, displaying, hyun ♡.

“hyunjin oppa,” you whisper, “i’m at work.”

“you’re still at work? i thought i told you that my sister’s visiting today? my mum’s cooking for you.”

groaning internally, you reply softly, “i’m really sorry but this report will probably take half an hour more. tell unnie and auntie i’ll be late.”

hyunjin’s voice rings through the phone, irritated, “i told you about it. did you forget or are you just not willing to spend time with my family?”

“i didn’t forget, seriously, and you know i love your family and your mum’s cooking.”

that’s kind of a lie. you weren’t really welcomed with his family. his mother had objected to your relationship from the get go. his father was cold and indifferent. his sister was the only one who actually talked to you. but his mother’s cooking was good.

“you’re prioritising your work over spending time with me,” hyunjin states.

“i made this clear from the start,” you pinch your nose bridge, “my job always comes first.”

his annoyed tone shines through, bright as day, “i don’t get why you’re still working at that firm. i can provide for the both of us.”

you sigh, frustrated at hyunjin’s insolence.

“i enjoy this job,” a lie, “i don’t want to just stay in my apartment all day with nothing to do and i worked hard to get here.” true.

“that’s why you should just move in with me.” with that mother of his? no way in hell.

“i like my apartment,” you say firmly, glancing at the unfinished report open, “oppa, if you’re just going to scold me, at least do it later. i’m working now.”

“you’re always working. how can you work so much? y/n, are you preoccupied with something else? or someone?”

anger bubbles lowly in your veins.

“what on earth are you saying?”

“i’m saying that you may be busy with someone. whatever, if you’re always working, let’s just end things here. i can’t always be waiting for you at home.”

“you don’t make time for me either. on my off-days, you always hang out with your friends. how many dates have you cancelled?”

“i’m sorry i have a social life. my life doesn’t revolve around spending time with you. if you have a problem with it, let’s break up.”

you roll your eyes. you would be amused at how a 24 year old would think so irrationally, if that 24 year old wasn’t breaking up with you right now. your hand forms a fist on the table. maybe hyunjin was fine with lazing around at home, letting his mother serve him like a maid. but you weren’t. hyunjin didn’t have any ambitions, dropping out of college after his first year, claiming it was too difficult. you had only cooed at him gently, his first and only year at college was when you met him and started dating.

“fine. let’s break up as you wish. ask yeji unnie to pack my things at your house, i’ll pick it up—”

the call ends abruptly, you’re baffled at his childish antics. groaning, you throw your head into your hands. was your two year relationship really ending here? over a phone call? tossing your phone to the side, you perk up, determined to take your mind off your boyfriend. you still had a job to do after all.

yet, the thought of losing the two years you’ve spent with hyunjin makes you frown. he wasn’t a bad boyfriend. he was a nice guy, most of the time. he was a man after all, he had his stupid moments. spending two years with him meant that some part of you actually liked him. maybe not to the extent of love. you’ve never thought about it.

is that why he broke up with you? because you weren’t in it for love? was hwang hyunjin just another guy for you to past time with? if you couldn’t find love with a guy like hyunjin, who’s good looking and well-mannered, who could you find love with? were you some emotionless robot who didn’t care for others’ feelings?

forcefully removing these persisting questions from your head, you focus on the report. missing fabric, wrong dimensions, plagiarised designs, what was wrong with this fashion company?

“sunbae, still not clocking out?” kim minjeong, the new intern and coincidentally, your junior from high school, peeks above your computer. you shake your head, smiling sheepishly at her, “don’t call me sunbae, I’m ms seo right now.”

minjeong pouts, “sorry, i’m just not used to it. and you’re only like, a year older. want me to wait for you?”

you eye the report with distain, grimacing, “it’s okay, minjeong. you can go first, i think this will take a long time.”

the younger girl nods and quickly leaves. you’ve never wished you were someone else so badly before. your eyes follow minjeong from her cubicle to the lift. you slap your cheeks, willing yourself to focus.

after a few excruciating long hours, you clap your hands merrily, eyes gleaming with excitement and happiness. the stupid report was finally finished! you hum happily as you pack up your things. once you had picked up your bag, a notification graces your phone.

swiping up, it’s a text from yeji, warning you that hyunjin had left the house urgently. concerned, but not panicking, you reply saying that maybe he went out for fresh air. yeji’s next few messages are about how their mother is blaming you for hyunjin’s bad mood.

whatever. you can’t find it in yourself to care.

still overjoyed by the fact you had finished the mundane report, you head down to the lobby, grinning. a few employees who were still there eyed you weirdly but you brushed them off. today was a good day, despite stupid hyunjin.

as the doors open, you bring out your phone. no new messages from hyunjin or yeji. maybe it was partially your fault for making promises you couldn’t keep. ugh. the late night graces your presence, streets filled with busy cars. you check the time, 8pm. you should take your mind off hyunjin. and what better way to do so than to go get drunk?

you quickly text yizhuo, who’s probably also drinking right now.

seo y/n [8.26pm]:

are u at jiwoong’s bar?

i just ended

ning yizhuo [8.27pm]:

how’d you know?

i’m drinking with chenle

come unnie

chenle? you furrow your brows. wasn’t he that super rich kid who yizhuo plays video games with? ah, whatever, you seriously need to get drunk now.

swiftly hauling down a cab (honestly, props to you. calling a taxi at night was basically war), you make your way to the bar.

it’s a relatively new establishment, furnished with matte dark oak floorings and a sleek marble bar. it was the closest bar to your workplace, making it a common meeting area for you and your co-workers. normally, during the last day of each month, team manager kim would bring you to go drinking. you push at the doors, the sight of two figures yelling at each other greet you. usually, you would have ignored it. it’s a bar, it’s common to have drunk people fighting. yet, when you squinted closely, realisation struck you.

“hyunjin?” you gasp, “what are you doing here?”

your ex-boyfriend swerves around, eyes blazing with fury as yizhuo curses at him.

“where were you?” he demands, “i texted you multiple times.”

you turn on your phone, grimacing at the countless messages.

“it was on silent mode. if you want to talk, let’s go outside, don’t disturb the people here.”

yizhuo attempts to follow but you just hold a hand out. if hyunjin hurt yizhuo, you would never forgive yourself. besides, this was something you had to do alone.

begrudgingly, hyunjin agrees and exits the bar. out in the street, you take note of his dishevelled self.

“why’d you decide to come here? i know you’re here to find another guy. who is it? i’ll fucking kill him,” hyunjin seethes. you notice the slight flush in his face. was he drunk?

unable to remain passive, you say firmly, “hyunjin, you said you wanted to break up. now that i’ve seen you, let’s break up.”

“are you fucking serious?” he asks incredulously, “i came all the way here to find you and you are the one breaking up with me?”

you retort, “you are the one who said you want to end things. if i found another guy, so what? we’re not dating anymore.”

your last few words hit a nerve. hyunjin’s hands fly out to grab your arms, furiously digging his fingernails into your wrists.

“i’ll fucking kill you if you leave me for another man, don’t test me seo y/n,” he growls. disgusted, you try to escape from his hold. being taller and a guy, he’s obviously stronger. you feel your skin breaking at the edge.

“let go!” you grit your teeth, trying to pry his fingers off. he relentlessly grips on, even managing to avoid any attempts of your escape.

slow, steady footsteps approach. you notice the look of anxiety on hyunjin’s face. what would this look like to an outsider? his grip doesn’t lessen however. the figure opens the doors, raising an eyebrow.

“what the hell are you looking at?” hyunjin snarls. your eyes fly to the stranger. it’s a woman, thank god.

despite your current predicament, you can’t help but admire the woman staring at you. her face was sculpted by the gods; dark, deep, hypnotising eyes, a tall nose bridge, red, full lips that formed a thin line.

“why are you assaulting a woman?” god, you could just die hearing her voice. husky and intimidating, hyunjin was practically quivering in his feet.

“i-i’m not doing anything! you’re the one staring at us, bitch.”

her eyes narrow and she scoffs, “did your mother teach you any manners? i was just concerned for her safety,” she gestures to you, “it seems as if you’re holding her here, unwilling to let go.”

“i’m not doing jackshit.”

your eyes bore into her, calling out for help.

“ah,” the stranger inches closer, fingers trailing from your shoulder to your arm. you shudder at her touch. she smirks, “why don’t you let her go now? or should i call the police on you, hwang hyunjin?”

hyunjin’s face turns red. nervousness grows at the sight of his anger.

“how the fuck do you know my name?”

she tilts her head, reminiscent of a curious puppy, “oh, don’t you know who i am? tell your father if his son acts up again, we might not continue our deal.”

“how do you know my dad?” hyunjin yells, “and what deal do you have with him?”

“i’m your father’s biggest business partner. how would he feel if he found out he lost his company because of his idiot son? or would you want me to reveal some of your own secrets? what’s her name, jiyeon?”

your eyes widen at the mention of hyunjin’s ex. he had broken up with lee jiyeon months before meeting you. why was this stranger bringing her up again? and how did she know so much?

hyunjin glances at you, “don’t you fucking dare.”

by now, hyunjin had let go of your hand entirely. the stranger just sighs dramatically and stares at her fingernails.

“hyunjin-ssi, you really have a knack for being a public nuisance. i just wanted a drink, and my precious evening was interrupted by you screaming. ah, should you really be concerned about your ex-girlfriend finding a new guy? haven’t you already done so while still in the relationship?”

in a second, hyunjin lunges for the stranger. his hands fly out to grab at her hair, but she manages to dodge the sudden attack. frowning at hyunjin, the stranger finally scoffs, “you’re pathetic. don’t you dare touch my clothes, they’re designer. leave now before i call the cops on you.” despite his anger, hyunjin actually looks spooked and quickly stomps away. thank god. she swats off the imaginary dust on her shoulders and turns to you.

in contrast to before, she sends a small smile, “you did a good job breaking up with this idiot.”

“thank you for saving me.”

she shrugs, “it’s all right. he was being a nuisance.”

“i’m sorry…” you ask, “but how did you know so much about hyunjin?”

“i deal with the hwang group. i have met his father on several occasions. sometimes, he has to clean up his son’s mess. most of the time, he can’t do it alone. hence, he finds us,” her smile turns into a grimace, “i apologise that someone like him has been taking advantage of you. i assure you that hwang hyunjin and park jiyeon will be taken care of.”

“no, it’s okay, i kind of had a feeling already,” you hesitate to reach out to her, “uhm, can i know your name?”

the stranger adjusts her clothes; a black pantsuit. your eyes trail down from her face to her luminous black hair. they follow the shape of her jawline, sharp as a knife, down to her collarbones. you unconsciously swallow your saliva.

“you can call me jimin,” she says, taking a piece of card out from her pocket, handing it to you. your eyes skim the details. yu jimin. nothing else is on the card except for a phone number. “what can i call you?”

“y/n, seo y/n.”

“if you find yourself in another situation as such, i will do my best to help, y/n.”

you can’t believe a woman like her is pledging her assistance to you.

unable to control yourself, you blurt out, “what can i do to repay you?”

jimin’s eyes form into slits, crinkling into a devilish smile.

“what are you insinuating?”

everything around you is soft, pillowy and warm. except for one. the incessant buzzing of something. it snaps you out of your reverie. groaning loudly, you throw your hand to reach out for the device causing the vibration. your fingers hit an unfamiliar surface. since when did you have a bedside table this close? eyelids fluttering open, you regain consciousness.

“what the hell?” you say out loud, sitting upright in bed. your phone lays beside you, its buzzing unable to distract you from what you’re seeing. white silk sheets covered your bare body, which was littered with bite marks and hickeys. it trailed on from your neck to the dip in your hips. lingering bruises were left on your thighs too.

oh fuck.

you were screwed.

grasping your phone, you scan the room for your clothes. finally catching sight of your scattered clothes, you gently pick them up, face turning red at the sight of your well-marked body. your purse and belongings are littered all over the floor as well. a disgruntled groan emits from the bunched up blankets. it’s only now you realise there’s a person below it, snoring peacefully.

wincing at the slight soreness in your lower body, you gently throw the duvet cover off you and slowly put on your clothes, afraid of disturbing the sleeping woman. taking one last look at the bed, a mop of black hair contrasting the pale serene face below.

running your hands through your hair to comb the mess, you rush out of the bedroom. the sight before you leaves you in awe. whoever this jimin person was, her apartment was amazingly furnished. whatever, you shake your head before you could be further distracted.

there’s countless messages left by yizhuo, all inquiring about your whereabouts. shit. you forgot to tell her. after assuring her that you were alive and not kidnapped, you quickly navigate your way back home. surprisingly, jimin’s modern apartment wasn’t far away from yours, despite the contrast between the two homes. you could infer accurately that karina was some wealthy bachelorette who held power. between her penthouse and the conversation with hyunjin, she was probably a high rank in the business industry.

after reaching your house, you take a much needed shower and slip into a white button up blouse and a black pencil skirt. this was your usual office attire. thankfully, as you had finished the looming report the previous night, you didn’t have to get to the office early. finishing up with some light makeup, you head out satisfied. the soreness in your lower body serves as a constant reminder of the activities you took part in. at least you didn’t have a hangover.

entering the lounge, you spot your colleagues all conversing with one another. minjeong seems to be in a heated debate. your eyes dart to the figure standing by the counter.

“good morning, ms seo,” you bow when team manager kim greets you. kim gaeul, two years your senior, and somewhat of a friend.

“good morning,” you reply. gaeul is sipping on the coffee from the cafe opposite. she gestures towards the paper bag on the counter, “there’s a latte in there for you. good job on the report, i read it this morning.”

you beam at the manager, “thank you so much.” desperately, you chug the latte, relieved that you had caffeine in your body to survive the day ahead. gaeul stares at you in amusement before clearing her throat, “now that everyone is here, i would like to announce that a new ceo will be coming.”

there’s some mutters and murmurs of confusion.

“our current ceo will be resigning,” gaeul says, a fixed smile on her face, “hence the need for a new ceo. she will be here shortly. at ten, please gather in the meeting room so she can introduce herself to all of us.”

you check the time, it was forty past nine. the new ceo will be coming soon. was there enough time to get any work done before she arrived? probably not. you sit down next to minjeong on the couch. she catches you mid yawn.

“sunbae, did you get enough sleep?” your ears blush at the memory of what happened.

“maybe i didn’t sleep well,” you say. minjeong nods, a look of pity on her face, “you must have gotten home late because of that report.”

you scratch your neck, “yeah, i got home pretty late.”

“maybe you can take a quick nap? you still have twenty minutes, i’ll wake you up.”

shaking your head, you chuckle, “it’s okay, minjeong. i’ll get through the day. at least team manager kim got us all coffee.”

despite your words, you find your eyelids fluttering close every second. maybe you should really take a nap. the events of the previous night had left you incredibly tired. breaking up with hyunjin was emotionally draining, whereas jimin… you rid the thoughts from your brain. it would serve you no good to be thinking about her right now. she was just a helpful woman who you repaid by sleeping with. at least it was enjoyable. you certainly enjoyed the feel of her warm body against yours. even before you start to reminisce, minjeong jolts upwards and exclaims, “time to go meet the ceo!”

the rest of the group follows suit, heading towards the lift. you wearily drag yourself to follow along, an arm looped through minjeong for support.

“y’all think she’ll be pretty?” a voice rings out from the crowd.

“aren’t most ceos like forty years old?”

“women don’t expire past the age of forty, mark,” you retort. mark only smirks, “maybe she’ll be a hot cougar.”

you roll your eyes at his words, yet you can’t help but imagine what the new ceo would be like. would she be intimidating? confrontational? you just hope she won’t be unreasonable. god knows you need a break from this absurd company. the only good thing about it was its pay and the people you work with.

“quiet down everyone,” gaeul says, “she’s coming soon, please be on your best behaviour.” she shoots a look at the rowdy group of guys nearer to the back. you try to inch closer to the front, the denial of your curiosity itching at you. despite your tired state, there was still some interest in the next ceo. “there she is!” minjeong whispers loudly.

your head flies to look up, mouth agape as your eyes bore into the woman’s frame. under the exquisite fabric draped over her, you could still sense her elegance. the way her steps echoed against the tiles, commanding everyone’s attention. your heart drops at the familiarity.

oh.

oh no.

below her bright red, glossy lips, resides a beauty mark.

you remember your own lips moulding against hers from the night before. the feel of her burning skin on top of your equally desperate body. her lingering touches, fingers tracing down from your collarbone.

“she’s pretty,” minjeong blurts out. you nod.

she was a goddess, aphrodite incarnated. you distinctively recall how sweet her words were, how her voice toned down to a husky drawl, whispering the things she would do to you. a shiver runs down your body, you clench your fists. how were you getting riled up over a memory?

your eyes follow her as she turns to face everyone. her face remains impassive as she addresses the crowd, “i am your ceo, karina.” cold, narrow eyes flick through the gathering, eventually meeting yours. if anyone else had looked closer, they would have noticed the shock in the way her eyes widen ever so slightly. yet, she swiftly regains herself.

“please do carry on as usual,” she says, you can’t believe she’s the same person as the jimin from last night, “i will be conducting a meeting later. do not be late.”

as her footsteps recede, you let out an exhale of breath. having her eyes on you made it hard to breathe, she literally took your breath away. minjeong eyes you curiously, but the crowd quickly disperses, sensing that karina was not to be messed with. they would rather get back to their jobs than deal with an angry ceo.

after heading back up, you finally sit down on your office chair, finding it more comfortable than usual. normally, it felt like it was forcing your spine in the most unnatural way. yet, after that interaction with jimin, you found solace in it.

“guys! ceo wants everyone in the meeting room now!” gaeul’s head pops out from the room, hurriedly gesturing for everyone to come. you reluctantly rise and walk to the room slowly. jimin’s already standing inside, a stony look on her face as she analyses a file of papers, presumably reports.

once everyone had entered and were settled down, jimin places the file back on the table, eyes roaming around as she says, “this company will collapse within a year’s time if i did not take the offer to buy it. hence, starting from now, there will be extreme changes.”

you take a gulp.

“first of all, we have to start investing more of our time into doing trade and business with others. isolating ourselves and believing that we can become successful without the help of others is idiotic,” jimin explains, “we should take the initiative and with someone like me at the helm, this company will flourish.” she hands out an assortment of papers around the room.

“this will tell you everything you need to know about your duties as an employee of this company. do take the time to read through thoroughly. i assure you with such a strategy, no one will need to work more than they have to.”

you can see some impressive looks from your colleagues. jimin was definitely a strong ceo, you already knew from how well-connected she was. yet, this would be your first time seeing her work ethic in action.

“everyone is dismissed. however,” jimin turns back around, eyes gleaming with mirth, “seo y/n, i want to meet you in my office.”

every inch of you freezes up. you sense some curiosity lingering around your colleagues, especially minjeong who offers a comforting pat on your shoulder. jimin’s lips form a devilish smile, akin to the one you saw previously. you sigh, already regretting all life choices thus far.

the door closes shut behind you. jimin sits down in her luxurious and pristine office chair. you kind of envy her.

a moment of silence passes before jimin speaks, “i did not expect to see you here.”

“neither did i,” you answer back. her appearance was a shock.

she chuckles slowly, “after leaving me in bed alone, with no note or anything, should i fire you?”

your eyes widen. what the hell? wasn’t this an abuse of authority? she couldn’t fire you that easily, right? over something that wasn’t even related to your job!

“you seem to not be able to finish your job, seo y/n,” jimin spins a fountain pen between her fingers. your gaze darts from the swirling pen to her face. indifferent, yet a hint of amusement.

“i assure you i am a hard worker and the night before is not related to my work ethic,” you reply.

jimin laughs, “do you not know how upset i was when i did not feel a body next to me? my sheets tidied up neatly, clothes gone and not a single hint of you left behind.”

“last night was a one-time thing,” you state firmly, “it will not happen again as i intend it to.”

the ceo’s eyes rake down your body, seemingly turning into satisfaction as she smiles, “you do not intend for it to happen again?”

“i… thank you for saving and helping me with my ex-boyfriend, but you’re my boss now and it’s probably a workplace violation.”

“so it is not because you do not want to, more so you feel that you are not allowed to,” jimin bluntly says. she’s right. you would like to indulge in the pleasure she provides once more, and continuously, but she’s your boss.

your silence speaks of your answer.

“it is unexpected that we have met under these circumstances. i won’t lie and say that i’m fine with forgetting about the night we spent together. huh. i wanted a date… yet, if you insist…”

jimin stands up from her desk, staring at the city skyline. you stare at her hooded eyes in the reflection of the window panel.

“you may leave,” she smiles, “but do call me karina and not jimin in front of others. they do not know my real name.”

you nod, unsure how to reply. were you meant to feel special that she had so willingly spared her real name to you? with others not privy of her name, you were the only one. jimin closes the door firmly behind you. you’re greeted by the sight of an anxious minjeong and a smirking mark lee.

“what did she say to you? and how did she know your name already?” minjeong asks hastily.

“just talking ‘bout work,” you answer smoothly, “we have a mutual friend.”

mark, bless him, adds on, “she’s prettier up close, right?”

“yeah,” you reply, cheeks reddening. you were well acquainted with her beauty by now, finding yourself momentarily starstruck.

“must be nice having the ceo know you,” minjeong says, sighing. you smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. was it really a blessing?

no, of course it wasn’t. you slept with your boss. unintentionally, in fact. you head back to your desk, hands almost ripping out your hair as you gaze at the closed door.

what have you gotten yourself into now?

you’re annoyed. irritated. angered. all because of your ceo. jimin doesn’t do anything outlandish, no. but she throws a mountain of work onto you. and only you. her previous promise of no one having to work more than they need to is out the window. you can only scoff, ashamed that you truly believed she would let you leave by five. however, it seems that jimin is rather petty. every time you snap back with a remark, she just smiles and places one more report on your desk a few minutes later. it’s maddening. was she not abusing her power?

the stack of papers on your desk feels never ending. compared to your colleagues, it’s clearly taller. even minjeong had commented about it. if the sudden increase of workload wasn’t enough, jimin also demanded you to do the most trivial things, such as fetching her coffee, shredding papers… did she not have enough money to afford a personal assistant? you were just an employee to the company. after bringing up your concerns to gaeul, the team manager merely shrugged, saying she could not do anything against the ceo. and it wasn’t as if jimin was outright abusing you. she was so clearly just messing with you!

(“you’re joking,” you gape at the pile of paperwork jimin was carrying to your table.

“how is this a joke to you?” jimin asks, a stern look on her face, but the small grin she wore betrayed her facade.)

this wasn’t any different from your life before the new ceo came. honestly, it might be worse. you had more work than ever, overtime was becoming a necessity in your life, and jimin just gets to prance around. you seriously had to take the initiative to discuss this, because what on earth.

finally deciding you had enough of jimin’s antics, you stand up from your desk, leaving the heaps of papers undone. determined, you take long strides, arriving at the door of jimin’s office. some of your colleagues eye you weirdly but they don’t make a sound. you just ignore them. not even knocking, you open the door. if jimin notices your presence, she doesn’t show it. her face is buried in a file, eyes darting from the report to the computer screen. you swallow, drawing courage from every fibre of your being.

“i need to talk to you.”

jimin’s head shoots up, an eyebrow raised. her bangs are parted today, no longer hovering over her eyes. the first few buttons of her black blouse are unbuttoned, revealing her carved collarbones. a pair of thick, black framed glasses rest on her sharp nose.

“about?”

“you’re messing with me,” you state.

the ceo stares. she looks rather dishevelled today, you wonder why.

“interesting. how did you come to that conclusion?” she asks, placing the file back onto her desk, her eyes fully focused on you now. trying to not get hypnotised by her forceful peering, you voice out, “you’ve been giving me more work than others. you always find some excuse to make me do stuff. i’ve worked here for three years and you’re making me an errand girl.”

it’s true. it feels like she’s just giving you filler work to do. there hasn’t been any improvement at all.

“i… i thought you would be different,” you admit, “different from our previous ceo. but it feels like nothing has changed. i’m still working overtime with no end in sight and it feels even worse than before.”

jimin doesn’t say a word. it’s the first time you’re saying this to anyone, your true feelings. jimin had made such big promises at the first meeting but after two months, there really wasn’t any change.

“i give you more work because you’re more capable,” jimin explains, a grim look on her face.

“that doesn’t excuse the fact you literally demand me to run around and make you coffee.”

“i can’t deny, that was for my personal amusement.”

your anger flares up, “see! you’re messing with me!”

“your reaction is funny,” she reasons weakly, “it’s really… i didn’t know it was taking a toll on you. i just wanted to see you get annoyed. you look cute when you’re grumpy.”

the previous frustration simmers down completely at her words. cute? was it appropriate for your boss to be saying this?

“what?”

jimin looks away shyly, a stark contrast to her intimidating facade, “i’ll try to restrain myself from now on… but i would like to talk to you about something as well.”

your curiosity is piqued. jimin’s face turns dark, her eyes narrowing as she asks, “are you and mark in a relationship?”

a gasp escapes your lips, because what the fuck?

“no, ew,” you instantly say, “mark acts like a kid.”

“so you have no romantic feelings for him?” jimin repeats.

“no, none at all.” somehow, you know why she’s even asking in the first place.

jimin frowns, “so why were you touching his face that day?”

you remember it vividly. mark was showing you the netflix movie, ‘365 days’ and stating that you could recreate it with jimin. he was joking with you, but you still got flustered. minjeong had been laughing so loudly it attracted the ceo to come into the break room. she has witnessed your hands grabbing mark’s collar, in the midst of threatening him.

“he was just saying something weird,” you mumble, not exactly willing to tell jimin she was the cause. the ceo nods. you can’t help but like this jimin slightly more than the brooding one. she seems more vulnerable today. more gentle and soft.

“okay,” jimin smiles, wider than usual, “you can leave now.”

you bow, slightly happier that the ceo was understanding of your concerns. maybe now you would get home on time, not that you had anyone waiting for you though. after your break up with hyunjin, you had increasingly found more alone time. sometimes you would spend the night with yizhuo, cooking dinner together. most times you would reach home and immediately fall asleep.

content with the meeting, you leave her office, bouncing back to your desk. the stack of papers feel considerably lighter knowing her true reasoning behind piling so much workload on you. perhaps she had more faith and trust in you. that made you feel proud.

a head peeks out above the partition.

“what did the boss talk to you about?” minjeong asks. you wave a hand at her, brushing her words off, “nothing really. karina was just telling me stuff about my job, giving comments, y’know.”

minjeong nods and ducks her head, returning to her work. you do the same, the weight previously resting on your shoulders significantly lighter. the day doesn’t seem so gloomy anymore.

you carry on typing with a small smile. unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes gaze through the blinds.

jimin stays true to her word. despite the heavier workload, your heart feels lighter that she acknowledged your ability. it doesn’t bother you anymore that minjeong and the rest of your colleagues can leave instantly while you stay for a bit longer to refine some finer details. deeply engrossed, you don’t notice the sudden pattering of raindrops splashing against the windows. and you definitely don’t notice the light in jimin’s office still on.

stretching your arms, you yawn, intending to go home. yet, the moment you start packing your bag, realisation strikes you that it was raining. raining heavily. as you try to decide your next move, the door to jimin’s office opens.

her head peeks out, a frown on her face as she calls out, “why are you still here?”

“i was doing something and i just lost track of time,” you explain. jimin’s head tilts. you internally coo at the similarity of her to a puppy.

she takes one look outside and asks, “how are you going to get home? don’t you take the bus?”

you scrunch your nose, trying to think of a way to return home without being caught in the rain but with no avail.

“no idea,” you shrug, “i might call my friend to pick me up or something. not sure if she’s busy though.”

jimin takes long strides towards you, “i can drive you home.”

your eyes widen considerably, “no, it’s really okay!” you don’t know what you would do enclosed in a small space with her without other people around. she looks extra delectable today as well. usually, her hair is neat and proper, but today it’s slightly messy and her bangs are swept to the side, exposing her forehead. she still wears the pair of attractive black glasses and she’s adorning a navy pantsuit today.

“as your boss,” jimin smiles, “i need to ensure that all my employees are cared for. i can’t have you coming to work sick, can i?” you can’t really fight her logic there. it makes sense, she wouldn’t want you to get sick because she would lose manpower. yet, the explanation digs a hole in your heart.

she’s your boss.

you glance at the rain splattering.

“okay. take me home.”

jimin’s smile widens. you walk together in silence to the elevator. only the soft humming of her voice fills in the gaps. the silence stretches on till you reach her car as well. it’s only when you try to enter the backseat, jimin says, “what are you doing? come sit here.” she pats the passenger seat. you follow her instructions like a dog with its owner.

as the ceo starts up the car, you notice small details of it. it’s clearly expensive, no doubt. the sleek leather you were sitting on just speaks for itself. jimin had an air freshener hanging from the mirror, the strangest thing was that it was a dinosaur smelling of vanilla. she had a small shiro, the dog from shin-chan, figurine posed on the dashboard. you quietly giggle at the cuteness of it all. jimin having adorable items accessorising her car was such a stark contrast to her distant and cold persona as your boss.

“that’s cute,” you point out. jimin glances at what you’re pointing at and her cheeks redden, “ah. do you like shin-chan too?”

“uh,” you blank out, “i guess so? i like boo.”

jimin beams.

“that’s amazing,” she says with all the sincerity in the world, “let’s watch shin-chan together someday.”

it’s a strange proposal, no doubt. but you find yourself nodding too soon. the grin you receive from jimin is well worth it though.

“you can key in your address here,” she hands you her phone. as you type, jimin continues talking, “i broke off my deal with hwang by the way. has he contacted you at all?”

you shake your head, “no, but his sister has been texting me. apparently he’s very disoriented and is always drunk. he got into a scandal recently for starting a fight at another bar.”

jimin sighs, one of bemusement, “i truly wonder where such men get their audacity from.” you giggle at her words.

“honestly, hyunjin is childish and immature but he’s a good guy,” you confess, “i don’t know why he suddenly turned into someone like that.”

the ceo falls silent. you wonder if you said something wrong. maybe you offended her in some way. gulping, you distract yourself by watching the scenery of urbanised skyscrapers.

“you’re giving him too much credit,” jimin says, “he’s always been like that. he’s just a good actor.”

“really?”

jimin nods firmly, “of course. and did you really like him? or did you just like having him around?”

you debate on answering. wasn’t this too personal for someone’s boss to ask? your eyes swerve to watch jimin’s grip tighten on the steering wheel, her small hands showing white knuckles.

“there’s many things that are mistaken for another, such as liking someone and liking the idea of them.”

“what other things are you talking about?” you ask, genuinely curious.

the traffic light turns red. jimin presses on the brakes, a smirk plastered on her face as she turns to you.

“like finding someone good-looking and attractive. i know i’m good-looking, but am i attractive to you, y/n?” she leans forward, her face inches away from yours. your eyes unintentionally trail down to her lips before snapping shut and turning away.

“don’t leave me hanging,” you can hear the damn pout in her voice. a warm hand leaves a fleeting touch on your arm as she pulls you to look back at her again.

you resist the urge to throw yourself out of the car.

“the light’s green,” your voice comes out almost as if you were constipated.

jimin lets out a hearty laugh.

“we can settle this debate back at yours, don’t you think?” your hands clench by your side, neck strained to crane your head away from looking at the delectable woman.

“i don’t think that’s appropriate,” is what you end up saying. jimin shrugs. your eyes are drawn to the smooth expanse of her hands that rest against the steering wheel, and the way her knuckles unintentionally flex when turning.

“we’re far past appropriation,” she states, amused.

shrugging, you stare at the outside scenery instead, ensuring that you wouldn’t be salivating at the sight of your boss.

jimin hums to the music playing in her car. you roughly recognise it as a song from the pokemon anime ost. somehow, it’s totally believable that this domineering boss could also have a silly and endearing side to her. it was yu jimin after all.

“what are you thinking so hard about?”

you.

“work.”

“what about it? is the workload too heavy for you?” the concern in her voice makes you want to puke.

you shake your head.

“i’m just thinking… about that day,” you decide to answer truthfully.

jimin tilts her head, “what day?”

“you know…” it comes out in a hushed and embarrassed whisper, “that day.”

either jimin’s stupid or she’s just playing dumb. she stares at you, confused. you make some inappropriate gestures with your fingers, until she lights up in recognition.

“that day?” she repeats teasingly.

it’s not like you can ask her for a repeat of that day. you had literally stated outright that it was a one-time thing. she was your boss, for god’s sake. if you slept with her again, you would be breaking all sorts of violations.

“…it was nice…” your cheeks redden, “that’s all.”

the smirk on jimin’s face is unbearable. thank god you’re not the one driving, or you would have gotten a heart attack.

“want to do it again?”

your face gets undeniably hotter. redness flushes through your entire body as you cower.

there’s a moment of decision-making.

was it worth the risk to try again with jimin? for some reason, you know you’re past the phase of attraction. it’s pure interest for her now. you’re not sure if your heart’s fully beyond lust, but there’s something lingering that feels akin to adoration. there’s no doubt that you find jimin extremely good-looking, but like she said before, there was a difference. it’s unfortunate you’re attracted to her as well. maybe she already knew your answer, that’s why she didn’t push for you to reply.

(it would be a resounding yes.)

but jimin was still your boss. what if people in the company found out? they technically couldn’t do anything since jimin was already in the highest position, but if you had to suffer questioning looks and backhanded remarks from them, about how you achieved this job by sleeping around, it would break your heart.

and you don’t want a repeat of hyunjin. you don’t know if you’re ready for another relationship. at least now you’re aware you can actually feel things for others and you’re not some emotionless robot.

but something about jimin pulls you towards her. like two opposite poles of a magnet. there’s something so endearing yet mysterious about the girl that makes you want to try.

“we’re here already, i think my friend lives nearby here,” jimin says as she looks around. she’s parked along the road, your apartment just a few metres away.

you gulp, murmuring softly, “jimin.”

the ceo turns to you, like a little cat.

“can we try dating?”

jimin’s eyebrows shoot upwards, shock evident on her face. after all, you had rejected her not long ago.

“really?” she can barely contain her excitement.

“uh, yeah,” you’re a little uncomfortable with the way she’s staring at you so intensely.

happiness was coursing through her veins. jimin had never expected you would end up giving in. she had a whole plan in her head— first, get you riled up and then convince you to sleep with her again. her second phase consisted of insanely good aftercare that would definitely draw you in into her amazing personality. the last phase was just playing hard to get and making sure you wanted her badly. it seems like she skipped most of the steps. whatever, it doesn’t matter since she got the same end result.

“okay!” jimin beams.

you stare at her stunned.

“uh, so we’re dating now, right?” you repeat.

“mhm!”

her compliance makes you want to jump on her.

“let’s set some boundaries first, okay?”

jimin ponders for a bit before stating confidently, “i have no boundaries! you can do whatever you want.”

it’s a little riveting having her agree with whatever you say. her natural submission is jarring. you laugh, “that’s okay, but i have some rules.”

“go ahead!” jimin’s gazing at you, her eyes wide and rapt with attention. you hold out your hand, pointing at each individual finger, “one, no pda in the office, i don’t want to give people an opportunity to gossip.”

she nods. it would be hard to continue dating if people kept invading your privacy.

“two, we have to keep this a secret,” you continue, “and three, we’re not official yet okay? just dating for now. let’s take it slow.”

“mhm sure.”

“four, don’t call me any nicknames in the office, i’m just seo y/n and you’re karina.”

jimin smirks lazily, her hand resting against the wheel, “you’ll be yu y/n soon.”

“jimin,” you groan at her sleaziness.

“go on!”

you list off the final rule, “five, no special treatment just cause we’re dating. i don’t want people to think i’m getting more opportunities to do well just because we’re dating.”

the ceo blinks.

“okay.”

“okay?”

she hums, content, “yeah. i’m fine with all that.”

you breathe out shakily, “that’s good.”

“mhm. you should get going now,” jimin smiles, “it’s late.”

“right, okay. uh, see you tomorrow?”

the ceo tilts her head, a wide grin on her face, “see you tomorrow, baby.”

your face flushes red.

“jimin.”

“we’re not in the office!”

dating jimin is wonderful. she’s the sweetest and most caring girl on earth. everytime she does something even remotely romantic, you’re swept off your feet. despite your insistence to take it slow, you had only resisted at the start. now, after weeks of dating, you succumbed to jimin’s puppy eyes and begging.

wrapped in her embrace, you snuggle into the crook of her neck even deeper, breathing in her cologne.

jimin only tightens her arms. if it wasn’t for the fact that it was extremely comfortable, you would have complained that she was strangling you.

“baby,” she whispers, planting haste pecks all over your face.

that had been a recurring thing. you realised soon after the first week, jimin loved calling you baby. sometimes you wondered if she forgot your name and called you baby to hide it. the girl, obviously, denied it.

“hm?” your voice comes out muffled.

“you look really cute like this.”

you couldn’t disagree more. adorned in an old oversized sweatshirt that was literally disintegrating by the second, messy bed hair after the nap you had just taken, and a bare face that probably had drool all over.

meanwhile, jimin’s wearing a calvin klein hoodie with little boy shorts that exposed her bare legs. your own legs fitted nicely against hers, tangling your bodies together on the couch.

“i won’t get to see you tomorrow,” jimin says out of the blue.

“why? do you have something going on?”

the ceo groans heartily, “my friends want to have dinner together.”

this puts a frown on your face. originally, you had planned a cute little date for the two of you.

jimin, observant of your turmoil, only runs her fingers through your hair comfortingly, “i know, baby. but we don’t always get this chance. and it’s just dinner! just this once.”

you nod your head, burrowing further into her embrace. jimin only sighs happily, her hand trailing down from your head to your back, rubbing circles repeatedly.

“what are you wearing then?”

“maybe that dress that you really liked? or maybe a random pantsuit.”

you know which dress she’s talking about. an ivory coloured, strapless dress that accentuates her collarbones nicely.

“wear the pantsuit.” something about other people being able to see jimin in that dress doesn’t sit right with you.

a chuckle escapes her, “didn’t you say you liked the dress?”

shrugging, you reply nonchalantly, “don’t want anyone else seeing you in it.”

silence. then a high-pitched squeal.

“y/nnie, you’re so cute!” your head is dramatically pulled back from jimin’s neck and you come face-to-face with the ceo, who’s cooing at you incessantly. she plants multiple pecks all over your face whilst squeezing your jaw tightly.

“jimin!”

the girl finally pulls away from covering your face with kisses, but if it weren’t for her bright red lipstick, she would have seen how underneath all her kiss marks, your face was splashed with maroon.

“if you come with me, then can i wear that dress? i really want to wear it,” jimin pleads.

it's a fair deal in your opinion. you could spend time with her and being able to see jimin in that dress was just a plus. it just leaves the problem of jimin’s wandering hands. even in your office, her hands seem to have a mind of their own, constantly roaming around places they shouldn’t be. like how when you were brewing coffee one morning, jimin had snuck up behind and rested her hands on your waist, whispering a quiet greeting. thank goodness no one else was in the lounge. that surely would have started endless amounts of rumours.

“but we can’t kiss or hug there okay?” you reply, deciding to make a trade-off.

jimin pouts, but she ends up huffing and then nodding.

“just stay by my side. i’ll restrain myself.”

well, that turned out to be a lie.

despite her previous promise of keeping her hands to herself, they somehow ended up entangled in your own. one of her hands lingers between your shoulder blades, and in the car ride to the restaurant, it trailed down to the small of your back. you had scolded jimin for that.

even now, jimin still ensured she was somehow touching you. the restaurant was extremely high-end, evident from the menu which didn’t even have prices on them! you had gone through culture shock with that.

the table was surrounded with people you assumed held equally sophisticated titles, some of them stared at you with curiosity, probably wondering why a newcomer had arrived.

there were a few empty seats, but jimin had informed you that some maybe couldn’t make it, as always.

“so,” one of the extremely gorgeous women had cleared her throat, “are you going to introduce the lovely woman you’ve brought with you, karina?”

jimin smiles as her hand comes to lie on your arm, where your elbow is.

“this is y/n, she’s my colleague,” jimin says, a practised answer. you try to muster up a smile.

“i’m giselle, or aeri, nice to meet you, y/n,” the woman drawls, her tone full of mischief and she had that twinkle in her eyes that reminded you of jimin when she’s about to tickle you.

“how has ceo life been treating you? we haven’t heard from you much,” another woman asks. you notice how cat-like this woman looks. she had beady eyes that were laser-focused on jimin. there’s a chorus of agreement from the rest.

the ceo laughs, “it’s good. i’ve gotten to experience many things. what about the park group that you’ve visited, ryujin? are they still doing well?”

as the now named woman, ryujin, goes into a tirade about the park group, you take the opportunity to identify everyone. most of them were dressed to the nines, their hair all prim and proper, and not a speck of dust on their clothes. just from a quick scale, you could tell they were all extremely wealthy. you listen to ryujin speak while digging into the sirloin steak jimin had ordered for you.

“—and i actually met someone new recently, she should be arriving soon with her brother,” ryujin exclaims. the group chatters excitedly about her newest paramour, while jimin explains that ryujin had gone a few years without a relationship, hence the enthusiasm.

right as you nod, the door to the private room opens and two extremely familiar figures stride in and take their seats.

fuck. you think, unable to control the way your eyes widen. jimin shares the same feeling seemingly, with how she stiffens and a huff escapes her.

“this is hwang yeji and her brother hyunjin,” ryujin beams proudly, unaware of the tension surrounding the table.

“seo y/n?”

your eyes dart downwards, unwilling to face hyunjin. yeji only gasps, “what? oh my gosh, y/n!”

you grit your teeth as hyunjin laughs loudly, “what are you doing here?”

jimin’s hand slithers down to yours, encasing it in a tight but comforting grasp.

ryujin’s head goes back and forth and the table’s filled with surprised chatter and questions.

“how do you guys know each other?”

hyunjin beats you by answering, “she’s my girlfriend.”

what?

you wince a little at how jimin only grips you even more firmly.

“you are?” ryujin exclaims. yeji sends you a sympathetic look, but before she even says anything, aeri interrupts.

“are you a two-timer?” she accuses, eyes blazing with fury, “aren’t you dating jimin?”

your head snaps towards jimin.

“uhm—” she splutters out, “i— okay! it just slipped out and i told aeri to play pretend!”

“what?! you’re dating her?” hyunjin suddenly barks. you groan, wondering why you even got involved with these people. they were all insane!

“wait, so who are you actually dating?” ryujin finally asks. you sigh, “i’m dating jimin.”

a scoff escapes hyunjin.

“you’re actually with her? i can’t believe you jumped into bed with someone else right after we broke up! i knew you were a slut from the beginning.”

a chorus of gasps echo from the table. you should feel saddened that someone you cared for previously was throwing insults at you, but you don’t feel anything. yet, the same couldn’t be said for jimin, who rises up from her seat abruptly, and tosses her glass of champagne at hyunjin.

“don’t talk about her like that.”

“are you fucking serious?!”

“shut the fuck up,” jimin seethes, “and don’t let me hear you utter her name from that filthy mouth of yours ever again.”

hyunjin’s hair down to his tailored suit, drenched in expensive champagne that is probably worth more than your apartment. you watch as his face turns an angry red, and you can almost see the steam coming out from his ears. his mouth opens to retort but he can only gape furiously.

“you’re pathetic and i pity the people that have to be in your company. you forget yourself. don’t you dare come into my sight. my eyes aren’t adjusted to the filth that you are.”

hyunjin stands up from his chair but yeji pulls him back down harshly.

“i can’t believe my girlfriend saw anything but a deplorable man in you.”

you’re left jaw-dropped. jimin grits her teeth before tossing you a look, “c’mon y/n, let’s go.”

she pulls you out of your chair and as you leave, you turn back, sending an apologetic look to the others at the table. aeri only guffaws and ryujin yells, “you didn’t pay for the food!”

jimin’s hand doesn’t leave yours, and you’re a little shocked at how quickly and agile she moves even in heels. your heart’s beating a mile, both from surprise and the adrenaline coursing through your veins. when you reach the car, jimin slams the door shut and she deflates in her seat.

“oh my god,” she says.

“oh my god indeed,” you parrot, still in awe of jimin’s reaction. it was crazy, but you can’t lie, it was attractive having her stand up for you like that.

she turns to you, “i can’t believe i just did that.”

“yeah, me neither,” you laugh, “this is the second time you’ve called him pathetic.”

jimin pouts, so unlike the girl from before, “he just made me really mad! holy shit, aeri’s blowing up my phone.”

you’re reminded of something that aeri slipped out.

“jimin,” you place a hand on her arm as she checks the messages, “so you told aeri about us?”

the ceo turns to you, eyes glistening and her lips pursed out cutely, obviously as an attempt to cull your anger, “i really didn’t mean to! please believe me baby. she just asked me why i was so happy recently and then asked if i was seeing someone and you know i can’t lie to aeri… so i told her about you and—”

“hey, calm down,” you chuckle at the way jimin’s turning red from how quickly she rambled. she catches her breath as her chest heaves, “i’m sorry. i know i broke the rule.”

“it’s okay, jimin. i’m not mad,” you reassure.

jimin’s eyes perk up, “really?”

“yeah, it’s fine. i think it’s really sweet that you stood up for me today.”

“i’ll always stand up for you, you know that right? don’t you remember my promise of helping you whenever?” jimin says earnestly. you smile at her cuteness and sincerity.

you don’t know what this feeling is. the chasing thrill every time jimin’s hands are on yours. the gleamy look in her eyes. the curve of her crooked smile. but it feels similar to love.

“jimin-ah,” you mumble. it’s the most unromantic place and time ever— jimin’s car, parked next to a gloomy lamppost, right after she had just poured champagne on your ex.

but because it’s with jimin, it feels perfect.

you can’t believe you ever thought of rejecting the girl prior.

“yes?”

“i really really like you,” you tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. it’s a shame jimin’s dress couldn’t be properly admired today with all the ruckus. but that’s fine, you had plenty of opportunities to do so in the future.

“i really really like you too,” jimin whispers, as if it’s a secret.

you grin, “you looked really attractive just now. i think you’re god’s gift to earth.”

“mhm. you’re perfect too,” she sighs dreamily, “i really don’t mind giving you my everything.”

it sounds like a confession of love. maybe it’s jimin’s own way, but you both know it’s too early, even if the feeling rivals the purest form of affection and adoration.

“i liked it when you called me your girlfriend,” you admit. jimin beams, “so can i call you my girlfriend? can i be yours?”

you nod shyly at how jimin phrases the question. it’s not whether you’re hers, it’s whether she’s yours. and it’s a barely noticeable difference, but it only makes your heart pound more rapidly against your ribcage.

minjeong likes her job. it’s easygoing and the pay’s good. her colleagues are all really nice too. it’s an enjoyable job. she especially enjoys the company of her sunbae from high school. but recently, despite minjeong’s annoyance, her senior has been spending more and more time in the ceo’s office, and not at her desk. the usual conversations between them had gone so quickly and minjeong missed her sunbae’s presence.

she wonders if the ceo is holding you hostage. she’s seen the mountain of papers on your desk before, but she chalked it up to you just being an overachiever.

“minjeong,” her head lifts up, it’s mark lee and team manager kim gesturing at her to come over. their behaviour is strange, minjeong immediately notices, huddled in a corner of the lounge and whispering conspiratorially.

“what’s up? is something wrong?”

manager kim shakes her head and instead asks the damning question of, “do you think y/n and our boss are hooking up?”

what!

“uhm,” minjeong mumbles, “i don’t know?”

mark only nudges minjeong’s shoulder, “wait till y/n comes out of karina’s office and just look at her neck. she might have a few hickies.”

minjeong doesn’t think so, but she agrees to be their lookout and she waits patiently for you to come out. once the door swings open, minjeong catches a glance of karina adjusting her blazer and your hands pulling at the collar of your blouse.

huh. that’s strange.

she trods over to you, a faux smile on her face as she says, “are you in trouble again? you’re always in karina’s office!”

minjeong watches as your eyes widen and you clear your throat, “y-yeah… we were talking about a report… i made a few mistakes.”

her own eyes trail from your face to your poorly hidden neck, where a few bruises reside.

suddenly, everything clicks into place. the frazzled look you always had, the way karina would come out all messy— and the hickies!

minjeong can’t control the words that come out next.

“oh my god— you’re fucking the boss?!”

[sansaorgana]

— LADY OF THE ROSES (I)

PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Tyrell!OC

SUMMARY — When Lord Tyrell organizes a huge tournament, the rumour has it that the winner might get his eldest daughter's hand in marriage. When she finds out that certain twins are not playing fair and are scheming together with her father to win, she finds herself a champion she wants to succeed instead – Ser Gwayne Hightower, who was sent by his father to win the tournament.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is a Tyrell. Although I am not sure if we have even seen them in House of The Dragon, so they can literally look like anything...? 🤔 Thank you so much for reading my last fic with Gwayne and leaving lovely comments and messages! 🌹 It inspired me to write for him again and I already have more ideas for him and a Tyrell Lady Wife (although I don't think the fics will be connected, so they can be read separately). For some reason it makes SO MUCH SENSE to me for Gwayne to have a wife from Highgarden! Some sexual things are mentioned here but there is no actual smut, so I didn't put the warnings. 😉

WORD COUNT — 5,040

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

LADY OF THE ROSES (I)

Beautiful courtyards of Highgarden were filled with tents and knights. The sound of horses and clinging armour reached your ears as you were taking a stroll between the tents – against your father’s wish. He didn’t want you to walk freely around all those knights but you had your own guards and your curiosity had no match because you knew perfectly well what that expensive and flashy tournament was about.

You were in the right age to marry – some would say the age was more than right, too right even. You were Lord Tyrell’s eldest daughter and out of all the three sisters, you were the only one who still remained unmarried. The reasons behind that were two. First of all, you were a picky and proud Lady. Second of all, you didn’t want to leave Highgarden and The Reach.

Your father hoped that your marriage would create a powerful alliance and as a daughter of The Lord Paramount of the Reach and The Warden of the South, you were quite a catch for your suitors. Walking amongst them, you saw them turning around and staring at you with smirks. You were the only Lady around and your pale green dress was showing off just enough of your virtues in a typical Highgarden fashion. There were golden roses in your hair and golden eyeshadow on your eyelids as you were all dolled up for the first day of the tournament.

You took a turn around the Lannister tent and you hissed at the sight of your father. Thankfully, he was not looking in your direction and you managed to hide behind your guards but you ordered them to stand still. You wondered why your father was even by the Lannister tent. Talking so openly to one of the knights participating in the tournament was a clear favouritism.

“Thank you, Lord Tyrell, your support means a lot,” Lord Lannister said and you tried to see him better from between your guards’ shoulders. You didn’t like him at all since arrogance was written all over his face.

“It is no secret for all the men here that I would like you to win. It is a formality,” your father lowered his voice. “An alliance between such big houses… It would make us both stronger,” he put his arm around The Lannister. “But I liked the idea of the tournament. It has splendour, don’t you think? I like to show off,” you father grinned.

“As I said before, I am no knight. My younger twin brother is,” Lord Lannister said and your father looked around before shushing him and they both entered the tent.

Curiously, with furrowed brow, you peeked inside the tent despite your guards’ protests. And you nearly gasped at the sight of another man inside who was being prepared for the tournament as a squire was putting his armour on. He looked identical to the man your father was talking to.

“My brother, Ser Tyland, will pretend to be me during the tournament. No one will know,” Lord Lannister told your father and your father nodded at that. “I will sit and watch, pretending to be him. I will be criticising his techniques out loud just like a real knight would criticise his foolish brother who takes part in a tournament without being a knight,” he explained, very proud of himself.

He wouldn’t be the only man who wanted to take part in this tournament without the title of the knight. After all, everyone was aware that the prize was your hand in marriage and you didn’t necessarily need a knight. There were lots of common Lords joining the tournament but they were all honest with their intentions. Not only Lord Jason Lannister had your father’s favouritism but he also was planning to obviously cheat by using his brother.

It made you angry as you carefully took a step back and nodded at your guards to follow you down the path. It seemed like the whole tournament was just a show and a theatre play – you were no longer excited since the end result seemed to be fixed. You would be sent to Lannisport to marry that annoying and arrogant Lord Jason Lannister. Tears filled your eyes and you didn’t even care about your makeup anymore since you no longer longed for the tournament to begin.

You walked past the greenest tent around and saw a man in auburn hair washing his face outside. He noticed your staring and looked up with a dashing smile. He recognised you immediately from the portraits and your clothes. Also, what other Lady would dare to take a walk here? Only the one for whom the tournament was taking place.

“Lady Tyrell,” he bowed his head but his blue eyes were still on you.

You sniffled your tears back and straightened yourself.

“Lord…?” You asked and turned your head to see the banner on the tent. “Lord Hightower? No, that cannot be. Lord Hightower is in King’s Landing, is he not? And he is much older. He is The Hand of The King Viserys,” you tilted your head a little.

“You mean Otto Hightower, my Lady,” the man nodded with a smile as he approached you. His armour wasn’t fully on yet and you could see his shirt slightly open. “I am his eldest son, Ser Gwayne Hightower,” he introduced himself and reached his hand out.

After a while of hesitation, you allowed him to kiss the palm of your hand.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower. You are a brother to our Queen Alicent! Are you to inherit Oldtown after your father’s death?” You asked.

“That is correct, My Lady,” he nodded and straightened his back.

You hummed to yourself. Oldtown was in The Reach and it was the second largest and most populated city in the Seven Kingdoms. To get there from Highgarden, a horse needed around ten days down the Roseroad. You had been there before a few times with your parents but you had never met Ser Gwayne before. 

You looked him up and down. He had a cocky grin on his face but there was something about him that you actually quite liked – especially compared to Lord Jason Lannister. Ser Gwayne seemed to be confident but in a different, less exasperating way.

“Did your father encourage you to take part in this tournament, Ser Gwayne?” You asked him as you raised an eyebrow at him. “I do believe he is known for being an ambitious man.”

“Yes, my father insisted on me taking part,” Ser Gwayne admitted. “But I do not mind it myself.”

You nodded at that. Well, a union between your houses seemed to be right. You were both from The Reach and perhaps The Tyrells were more significant but The Hightowers were a real power, especially now. Sadly, your father seemed to be fixated on that whole idea of you marrying a Lannister.

Unless… Unless you would interfere somehow.

Your silence was interpreted by Ser Gwayne as a sign of exhaustion or boredom, though. He nodded his head and took a step back.

“It was nice to meet you before the tournament, my Lady,” he bowed his head. “I know there are dozens of knights around but, please, do remember about me while choosing your champion, I humbly ask,” he gave you one more dashing smile before walking inside his tent.

As a Lady for whom the tournament was taking place, you had the right to choose your champion. A man you favoured. Although, since the unofficial prize was your hand in marriage, it would be very awkward for a man who was not your champion to win. You assumed that your father would try to force you to choose Lord Jason Lannister.

And you had been right. Now, when you were holding a golden rose prepared for this occasion as all the knights were standing in front of you and your family in the audience, your father squeezed you by your elbow. He leaned in to whisper into your ear:

“You shall give the rose to Lord Jason Lannister and name him your champion,” he said with a fake smile before moving away.

You swallowed thickly and took a step ahead to be able to reach the man you would choose. You glanced at The Lannister man on the horse – Tyland, pretending to be Jason. And in the audience nearby you there he sat – Jason, pretending to be Tyland. Your eyes met for a second and he grinned at you confidently although he had no idea you were aware of his plan.

You searched for a different pair of eyes now, amongst all the knights. And then you found them, the blue ones. His armour had beautiful ornaments and even his horse was armoured. It all looked so elegant and you smiled at the sight.

You bit on your lower lip. But was he a good knight? Did he actually stand a chance to win?

Well, you were about to find out.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower,” you took a few steps to the right to be closer to him as he commanded his horse to take a few steps ahead. “I choose you to be my champion,” you smiled at him and leaned in to hand him the golden rose.

“Lady (Y/N) Tyrell, it is an honour,” he bowed his head and you saw in his eyes that he was quite surprised that you had named him amongst all the men your champion. He took the rose from you carefully and pinned it to his armour before closing his helmet and returning to the other knights.

You took a deep breath in before walking away to take your seat. Your father’s burning gaze was nearly painful but your mother kept smiling, unaware of the schemings.

“That’s Otto Hightower’s eldest son. The Queen is his sister,” your mother babbled to your father. “Our daughter has chosen wisely,” she smiled at you. “And he’s handsome and quite young.”

Your father ignored her words and gave you a deadly glare instead but you only huffed and walked away, locking your eyes with Lord Jason again. The real one, sitting in the audience. He was not grinning anymore.

Thankfully, Ser Gwayne turned out to be an excellent knight. Sadly, so was Ser Tyland Lannister, pretending to be his brother Lord Jason.

On the second day of the tournament, they already got rid of most of their opponents as they defeated them in combat. Some of the knights were seriously wounded.

On the third day it was already known that the last duel would be between Ser Gwayne and Ser Tyland. Everyone was taking bets and your father was gritting his teeth.

All this time, you were carefully watched by him and you had no opportunity to speak to any of the men taking part in the tournament. But on the night before the last, fourth, day when the final duel would take place, your father had thrown a feast, during which you were approached by Ser Jason Lannister.

Or Ser Tyland. Were they pretending to be each other during feasts as well? You were tempted to ask but you had no courage to do so.

“Lady Tyrell, there should be songs about your beauty,” he bowed his head and you bowed down.

“Lord Lannister,” you mumbled out, uninterested. “Why aren’t you busy writing them then?”

Your mother looked at you with terror in her eyes but you ignored her.

“Oh, believe me, I do not have time for such frivolities although I wish I had. However, my duties in Lannisport are many. My treasure is full and I shall spoil you with my goods when you are my Lady Wife,” he grinned at you, luring you with his wealth.

“You sound so sure that you’re going to win, my Lord,” you pointed out.

“Oh, I am sure. Ever since you named that Hightower knight your champion, I am determined to show him his place. But I hold no resentment towards you for your choice. I do realise that you, women from The Reach, like to tease,” he winked at you and you had to pretend his words were not an insult. Even your mother gasped a little at his boldness.

“I cannot believe you would spoil me with your wealth for nothing in return, my Lord,” you raised an eyebrow, curious of the response.

“Well, of course not. Like every husband I want my wife to be obedient, easy on the eye and give me many, healthy children,” he informed you. “Sons, I mean,” he fixed himself. That arrogant smirk was still on his face.

“I think your father is calling us,” your mother saved the day as she quickly took you by the arm and excused you both to walk you away from Lord Jason. “Oh, what an insufferable man! Sadly, your father seems to be fixated on the idea of you marrying him. And you know, dear (Y/N), after all the matches you had dismissed in the past… You just can’t say no now. Especially at your age,” she looked at you sternly, but still worried.

You didn’t answer that. You simply nodded your head and walked away to go outside and catch a breath.

You kept walking ahead of you, leaving the noise of the party behind you. You wanted to be alone and despite the darkness, you knew where you were going because you knew this garden better than yourself.

You entered the maze to hide in your favourite spot but after a while you heard unfamiliar steps behind you. You gasped and turned around to see a male silhouette, which caused a shiver go down your spine. If something happened to you now, unguarded and with no one to rescue if you called for help… You didn’t even want to imagine the consequences.

“That is only me, my Lady,” you heard a familiar voice and the man took a few steps ahead. It was Ser Gwayne Hightower, smiling at you.

“Ser Gwayne!” You pretended to sigh with relief but the truth was that you didn’t trust him either. You trusted no man who was creeping up on a Lady like that. “We shouldn’t be left alone without a chaperone,” you pointed out.

“Forgive me, I saw you running away and quite upset. I wanted to make sure nothing bad would happen to you as you wandered off from the crowd without any guards following you,” he lowered his voice as he approached you.

You swallowed thickly. He was right in front of you and behind you there was a tall live-fence that was making it impossible to escape. As he leaned in, his auburn hair fell onto his face and you felt it tickling your cheeks. That close he was.

“How chivalrous of you,” you breathed out, starting to feel dizzy. You had never been so close with a man.

He looked down, his gaze fixated on your tight, revealing dress. Your breasts were squeezed under the silky golden fabric.

“What if I don’t win tomorrow?” He asked as he lifted his eyes up again to meet yours. “Lord Jason is surprisingly good, especially for a man who is not a knight.”

“It’s because it’s not him,” you confessed with a heavy sigh and Ser Gwayne furrowed his brow at you.

“Are you suggesting that…?”

“I am not suggesting, Ser. It is true. I know from the very beginning, I have overheard them talking to my father. My father wants me to marry Lord Jason Lannister and this tournament is nothing but a show-off. He was angry at me for choosing you as my champion,” you told him.

Ser Gwayne seemed to be confused as he took a step back and you surprised yourself because you wanted him close again.

“That is… Unhonourable and disrespectful,” he pointed out. “Do you wish for Lord Jason to win as well, my Lady?” He looked at you, intensely.

“No! Why would I choose you as my champion then, Ser?” You shook your head, desperate to make him believe you.

“To toy with me, perhaps. Or to tease Lord Lannister,” Ser Gwayne pointed out.

“I do not wish to have anything in common with that man,” you huffed.

“And me? You do not know me, do you, my Lady?” Ser Gwayne smirked as he leaned in again, his nose nearly brushing yours as he put his right hand on the live-fence above you. You felt so small underneath him suddenly.

“What do you expect from a wife, Ser Gwayne?” You asked, swallowing a lump in your throat and he looked confused at that question as if it was a stupid thing to ask.

“Loyalty, of course,” he answered.

“And that’s it?” Now you were the surprised one. “What about children?”

“Well, it would be nice to have them, don’t you think, my Lady?” Ser Gwayne chuckled and rubbed your nose with his.

“What if I am flawed like my mother and I can give you only daughters?” You bit on your lower lip, slowly getting drunk at the feeling of having him so close.

“Then we shall make them all great ladies of great houses. My sister is The Queen. Us, Hightowers, we are ambitious,” he told you. “And I have many younger brothers who can produce their male heirs. The future of my family is safe whatever I do,” he assured you and raised his other hand to caress your cheek with his fingertips.

At first, you got startled at his touch as if it was causing you pain because you were not used to being touched like this by a male hand. But then, after a short while, you gave in and hummed to yourself, making him smirk.

You leaned back onto the live-fence and arched your back, connecting your crotch with his. You had no idea what made you do that… It was as if your instincts were telling you what to do. And it felt good.

“Don’t,” Gwayne scolded you and took a step back as you whined.

“Aren’t you here to claim me just in case you lose the duel tomorrow?” You asked, feeling your cheeks heating up. You couldn’t believe the boldness of your own words.

Lord Lannister had been right about the women from The Reach, apparently.

“Perhaps you should have not made me your champion, Lady Tyrell, if you think so lowly of me,” Ser Gwayne bowed his head and turned around to walk away, leaving you alone; confused and full of embarrassment.

One thing was certain – he was messing with your head. You couldn’t stop thinking of him all night long, touching yourself to the thoughts of him standing so close, to the memory of his touch and his voice.

You would rather die than marry Lord Jason Lannister. Any attempt to imagine anyone else other than Ser Gwayne touching you, was making you physically sick.

You watched with fear, clenching your fists on the railing and leaning down to see better although, at the same time, you didn’t want to see; you were that scared.

You knew that people had been betting on who would win this combat. And more people had bet on The Lannister. Your eyes followed the golden rose attached to Ser Gwayne’s armour, though. You only wanted to keep looking at him as you prayed to the gods old and new for his victory.

The combat was fierce and long. Both of the horses got hurt and taken away and the two opponents were standing face-to-face now, having to duel with their swords on the ground.

Lord Jason Lannister – the real one, the one in the audience – stood up and clenched his fists on the railing, too, as he watched his twin brother.

“Come on!” He yelled and that was when the other Lannister struck Ser Gwayne down. “Yes! That’s right!” He cheered alongside the audience. Then, he looked at you with a smirk.

“Ser Gwayne!” You exclaimed in a high-pitched, scared voice.

To your relief, your champion stood up after taking the blow and you clenched your fists even tiger around the railing. You wouldn’t be surprised if you broke the wood with your hands.

After a few more attempts to strike each other down, both opponents were roaring with frustration. And then you spotted Ser Gwayne taking his helmet off and throwing it aside as people gasped.

Was he insane? You had been thinking that he was a rational man but apparently much less than you expected.

He looked up at you and nodded his head as the wind ruffled his auburn hair a little. You had to admit that he was presenting himself very handsome and you were aware that the helmet was limiting his view during combat but it was still very risky.

When you nodded back, he went back to the fight. His strikes and blows were fast and determined as if the fight was to death. You held your breath whenever he would get a punch or a strike since he was wearing no helmet. However, he seemed to be doing much better now.

Eventually, The Lannister was laying down and not standing up for quite a long time now as Ser Gwayne spat some blood out and looked up again – his face covered in blood and a few bruises but other than that, he was fine.

Your father stood up, carefully, before walking up to you to see with his own eyes. He hesitated and froze instead of announcing the winner and the whole audience was now looking at him.

“You shall announce my champion the winner,” you reminded him and he swallowed thickly.

“I… I announce Ser Gwayne Hightower the winner of this tournament. Congratulations!” He exclaimed and turned around this very instant to sit back down on his chair.

“You fought bravely, Ser Tyland,” Ser Gwayne helped his opponent to stand up as everyone froze at his words. “Oh, Lord Jason, do forgive me,” he nodded at him with a smirk before leaving the field.

Your heart picked up its pace and you couldn’t help a big grin. You glanced at The Lannister in the audience and he gave you a very unpleasant look this time. You couldn’t blame him, really. Ser Gwayne’s little mistake would make people gossip about The Lannisters cheating in the tournament. It was bringing you lots of satisfaction.

You were about to excitedly leave your parents’ side, when your father grabbed your wrist and stopped you.

“Where are you going?” He asked, harshly.

“To see my champion!” You answered him.

“Absolutely not,” your father shook his head. “You are coming with me to meet with The Lannister brothers,” he told you and both you and your mother widened your eyes at him.

“Father… Ser Gwayne has won the tournament… Fairly,” you pointed out.

“You said that the winner would have (Y/N)’ hand in marriage,” your mother reminded him.

“It was never officially announced, was it?” He barked at the both of you. “It was just a rumour.”

“Do you want to enrage The Hand of The King by disrespecting his son? Do you want to enrage The Queen herself by disrespecting her brother?” You asked him.

Your father let go of your wrist but he kept staring at you with anger and resentment in his eyes.

“Why did you want The Lannisters to win so badly?” You asked him. “To the point of letting them play it dirty and cheat?” You continued as your mother’s eyes were widening. “I have overheard your conversation on the first day while taking a stroll between the tents like you had forbidden me to,” you admitted. “Why, father?”

“My Lord Husband?” Your mother asked him, enraged by what she had just heard.

“Perhaps you have also overheard the part where I was saying that the tournament is a nice show-off,” he explained.

“I do understand why you threw the tournament. The question was not about that,” you raised an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms.

“Wealth,” was all he said after a short silence.

“And… that’s it?” You asked, disappointed.

Your father nodded and looked away.

“Wealth and splendour. An alliance between The Tyrells and The Lannisters would be a powerful one. And their treasure is big,” he added.

You opened your mouth to say something but you had no words.

“Your foolish sisters!” He continued as he raised his voice suddenly. “One married some Dornish lesser Lord and the other went up North to marry a knight in The Vale! The Ladies of House Tyrell! I should have been creating powerful alliances with you, foolish girls, but, no, all of you know better! All of you!” He yelled at you as your mother began to calm him down.

“I would never marry a man without an honour like Lord Jason Lannister,” you only said. “A cheater who plays dirty by using his brother because he knows very well that he would lose his very first combat if it was him down there,” you finished.

Without any other word, you hurried downstairs to run up to Ser Gwayne’s tent. His squire was working on removing his armour off of his body and you approached him to cup his bruised face splashed with blood.

“Ser Gwayne…” You started and then you swallowed thickly and looked down, remembering your encounter with him from the previous evening and the things you had been thinking of at night.

“Lady Tyrell,” he nodded at you with a smile.

“Are you alright, Ser? What has gotten into you to take the helmet off?” You asked as you dared to look up again, right into his blue eyes.

“It was limiting my view,” he answered. “I am alright, my Lady, no need to worry about me.”

“Are you always that irresponsible, Ser?” You asked yet another question. After all, it was important to know if he was supposed to be your Lord Husband.

“Never, my Lady. But it was rather an important combat, was it not?” He raised an eyebrow at you and you smiled widely at him.

You let go of his face as you took a few steps back to let his squire continue his work with the armour.

“I shall leave you now,” you nodded. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Tyrell,” Ser Gwayne bowed his head slightly as he watched you walking out of his tent.

There was a feast again on that evening but instead of being with the guests, your father was locked in the library with Ser Gwayne, discussing the unofficial prize of the tournament – your hand in marriage.

You were pacing around the corridor, all dolled up for the party in a pastel pink dress but with no interest to walk down and participate in the celebrations. You were afraid that your father would be rude to Ser Gwayne or scare him off, so you wanted to be around just in case you needed to put out some fire.

At first, you had chosen Ser Gwayne Hightower to be your champion simply to annoy your father and to avoid showing any favours to Lord Jason Lannister. But as the time progressed – especially after last night… – you just wanted to become Ser Gwayne’s wife. You would still live in The Reach and have your mother quite close but at the same time you’d be away from your father and his constant remarks of remaining unmarried despite your age.

Oldtown was an important place on the map of Westeros and you would be The Queen’s sister-in-law. Your father would be foolish to choose Lannister's gold over that honour.

The doors opened finally and you saw your father who was visibly surprised at the sight of you nervously pacing outside the library.

“Are you curious or nosy, dear daughter?” He asked you with his eyebrow raised.

“Perhaps both,” you answered.

“Either way,” your father shrugged, taking a step aside and revealing Ser Gwayne standing behind him, “that is not a problem of mine to deal with anymore,” he finished. “Disciplining her might be a challenge,” he chuckled at Ser Gwayne.

“With all respect, Lord Tyrell, I am not Lady (Y/N)’s father to discipline her,” Ser Gwayne nodded at him and approached you to hold your hands in his as he looked at your face. “We are going to get married, my Lady,” he announced to you and you smiled widely at him, feeling a huge wave of relief washing all over you. Relief, happiness and… excitement.

“When?!” Was all you asked before looking at your father’s face. He seemed to watch you carefully but wasn’t as displeased as before, right after the tournament.

“Ser Gwayne is running Oldtown in the name of his father so he must return there immediately tomorrow morning,” your father answered. “We will escort you to him for the wedding once all the preparations are finished. It shouldn’t take more than a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?!” You whined. “How am I supposed to wait for so long?”

Ser Gwayne chuckled at that and so did your father as you felt your cheeks heating up.

“You have been waiting for so long to get married, my dear, you can surely hold off a few weeks more,” your father pointed out.

But he didn’t understand. Now, when you actually wanted to become a wife and found a man worthy enough to be called your Lord Husband, you didn’t want to wait a day longer. However, being whiny about it would only make you look childish and desperate.

“I shall wait then,” you sighed and looked down in defeat.

“And I shall prepare The Hightower for your arrival, my Lady,” Ser Gwayne nodded at you. “What is your favourite colour, may I ask, my Lady, just so I know how to tell my people to decorate your new chambers?”

“It’s green, Ser Gwayne,” you answered with a soft smile. “Green and yellow like the colours of my house.”

“Something tells me we are going to be an excellent match,” Ser Gwayne smirked at your answer with a wink.

MASTERLIST

[likeumeanit9497]

please baby | c. s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: chris and y/n have always had what felt like a perfect relationship. that is, until a few weeks ago. chris had been treating y/n poorly, and after one especially hurtful conversation, she is forced to make a difficult decision. when chris comes to the realization that he is about to lose it all, will he swallow his pride and do what he needs to win her back?

warnings: established relationship; smut; angst; fighting; (relatively) toxic chris; crying; unprotected sex; fluff; 18+

notes: based on this request by 🎀. i've never rlly written an angsty fic before, so let me know what u all think! also wrote this super quick so i don't think it's my best work, but still i hope u enjoy <333

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

Through tears, I stared blankly at my phone. My eyes had been glued to my lit up screen for the past two minutes — unmoving, and unable to register what I was reading. Even with blurry vision, Chris’ last message to me was seared into my memory.

Chris: Ffs Y/n, just shut up. I said I’ll get there when i get there jesus.

Just as my brimmed tears finally spilled over, so did the water I was boiling on the stove. The immediate steam and sizzling noises pulled me from my phone, and frustrated for more than one reason, I raced over to the stove and shoved the pot off of the element; leaving the boiling pasta noodles to sit in the water. Just looking at my failed attempt at dinner brought on a new level of pain, as it was a reminder of what I hoped that the night could be.

Chris, my boyfriend of almost one year, was supposed to be coming over tonight. I had been super excited, because both of our schedules had been especially busy lately and we hadn’t been able to spend much time together over the past three weeks, plus I had some good news to share with him about my work. I had wanted to make the night special, so I had decided to cook one of Chris’ favourite meals — chicken alfredo — to surprise him with once he arrived.

He was currently stuck at the warehouse for a merch meeting with Nick, Matt, and his manager, and he had told me that he would come over and spend the night once he was done there. That was a few hours ago, and I had been patiently waiting for an update from him until about thirty minutes ago, when I sent him a simple message asking if he had any idea when he would be done at the warehouse. Little did I know, that singular message would cause a massive storm to erupt.

Y/n: hey babe! just wondering if you have an idea on when you can come over?

Chris: Not rlly sure

Y/n: okay…rough estimate maybe?

Y/n: just have some things i need to get done before u get here hehe

Chris: I’ll get there when I get there.

Y/n: uh..is something wrong?

Chris: No why

Y/n: ur being kinda mean???

Chris: No I’m not

Y/n: ok

Chris: My god Y/n I don’t have time for this rn

Y/n: i just said ok

Y/n: you go ahead and go back to your meeting

Y/n: i was just asking for an update, that’s all.

Y/n: didn’t realize that was such a horrible thing.

Chris: Ffs Y/n, just shut up. I said I’ll get there when i get there jesus.

Even though I hate to admit it, this wasn’t the first time that Chris had been an absolute asshole to me lately. Just last week, he had started a fight that ended with him hanging up the phone on me; only to call back a little while later to apologize. And then a few days before that, he had put zero effort into making time for me when I had tried to make plans for us to go to the movies. And during all of this, he has been incredibly dry over messages. It had been bothering me for a while now, because to me it was clear that he was losing interest. I knew that our relationship would be far from perfect going in to it, considering Chris had never been in a real relationship before me, but deep down I hoped that it would always be as perfect as it was at the beginning. Unfortunately for my hopes and dreams, his actions — or lack thereof — were shattering.

I wasn’t some oblivious girlfriend either; it was clear to me that Chris was going through something. I knew that for a fact, but every time I tried to get him to open up to me about it all, he shut me down with lame excuses: “Oh, I’m just tired,” or, “I’ve just been stressed lately”. I figured that he just needed time, and that eventually he would come to me and explain exactly what had been going on so that I could help him through it.

But now, after his hurtful words to me tonight, I was seriously considering my other options. I had been in far too many toxic relationships in the past, and had learned that I deserve more than what I had been accepting. I wouldn’t let myself be Chris’ punching bag anymore, and I knew right then and there that I had an incredibly painful task to do.

Allowing myself to be overtaken by my build up of tears, I slowly walked into my bedroom; turning off the lights and covering myself with my comforter. My shoulders heaved as I let the tears stream down my face; my brain accepting what I needed to do but my body rejecting it in every way possible. Through the tears, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Chris — telling him that I was tired and that he might as well not come at all tonight, but we should talk tomorrow — before curling into a ball and wallowing in my own sorrows.

I stayed in the exact same position for what felt like ages; allowing myself to get all of the emotions out now so that when I had to do what I had to do tomorrow I could do so without breaking down so hard. Eventually, my tears slowed and I felt my burning eyes begin to grow heavy. Sleep was beginning to overtake me, and as I gave into my exhaustion my mind filled with scenes of the nightmare that I was going to have to face tomorrow.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

I was startled out of my sleep by the sound of keys jangling from the direction of my front door. Disoriented, it took me a moment to be overtaken by the feeling of dread that came from hearing that noise. The only person who had a key to my apartment was Chris. Before, hearing his keys at my door filled my stomach with undeniable excitement — now, my stomach did anxious flips knowing what had to be done.

As I heard the door open and close, I rolled over so that I was facing away from my bedroom door and glued my eyes shut; pretending to still be asleep. I heard his soft footsteps on the other side of the door as he wandered through my dark apartment, before a hushed “shit!” broke the silence. After a few moments, I listened as his footsteps grew closer and closer to my bedroom door, and as I heard it slowly creak open, I braced for impact.

The room stayed silent, though I couldn’t really say that for sure since I couldn’t hear anything above the sound of my own racing heart in my ears. I did my best to stay completely still, though it felt like every part of my body was vibrating; waiting for his next move. Suddenly, I felt a shift in my mattress as his body leaned against it, and physically jumped at the feeling of his hand on my shoulder; shaking it gently.

“Y/n, wake up.” He spoke in a faux whisper, and, even though I had been pretending, I felt my body grow hot in anger that he would have the audacity to wake me from my sleep after showing up to my apartment uninvited. However, my body still not understanding that it wouldn’t belong to him much longer, I shot up from my place on the bed and searched for his eyes. The room was pitch black, but I could sense exactly where he was in front of me.

Rubbing my eyes, I searched the bed for my phone, checking the time to find that it was already nearly 2 a.m. I felt the mattress shift once again and watched his faint outline as he sat on his side of my bed. “Y/n, you left the stove on.” He was still whispering, and his sentence ended in a slight chuckle; clearly oblivious to the decision that I had made on my own just hours before.

Too heartbroken to really care about the stove, I shrugged my shoulders. “Whoops.” Was all I said to the silent room. “What happened? You fall asleep in the middle of making dinner or something?” His voice was still light-hearted, and was far from a tone that matched his previous texts to me. It made it so difficult for me to remember what I had to do.

“Turn the lamp on please.” I said simply, using every ounce of strength in my body to keep my tone monotonous. Chris stayed still for a moment, clearly thrown off by my behaviour. “Uh, okay.” He finally said as he leaned toward the bedside table closest to him and switched on the warm-toned light. After allowing my eyes time to adjust to the sudden brightness, they immediately fell on him.

Oh, my Chris.

His beautiful blue eyes were so kind and bright, his long hair was wet and messily draped across his forehead, and his matching oversized sweat set made me want nothing more than to curl into him and breathe him in. He stared at me blankly for a moment, clearly beginning to register that I was upset, before finally speaking. “I’m really sorry about earlier, baby. I had been in the meeting for hours and was getting really stressed out.” I felt the lump in my throat begin to grow. Some variation of that exact sentence had been the same excuse he had given me each and every time he had hurt me over the past few weeks, and it had lost its sincerity long ago. So, instead of giving into his cheap apology, I sat up in my bed and faced him; taking a deep breath before speaking.

“I have to tell you something. And I need you to let me say this without interrupting, or else I’m scared I won’t be able to go through with it. I’ve had to say this for a while now, and now that we are where we are I know it has to be done. So please, let me say it, okay?” His light eyes were focused intensely on me, he was clearly trying to figure out where this conversation was going. But finally, he swallowed before tentatively nodding his head. “O-okay.”

I closed my eyes, feeling my lower lip quiver as I tried to find my footing on this conversation. After taking a shaky breath, I finally found my voice. “I can’t do this anymore, Chris.” Immediately, my attempt at getting all my tears out of the way earlier proved to be a failure; because as soon as the heavy words left my mouth I broke down into sobs.

Over my crying, I heard Chris’ disbelieving voice. “What do you mean you’re done with this? With what? Me?” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, clearly being hit with the same emotions that I was. I stayed silent — my eyes screwed shut as I wrapped my arms around my torso; doing my best to comfort myself. “Y/n, please tell me what you’re talking about.” He pleaded, and I felt him scoot closer to me on the bed; placing a hesitant hand on my knee.

After catching my breath, I wiped my tears away and opened my eyes to find his frantically searching my face like an uncertain creature. “I know you’re going through something right now,” My voice was coming out nearly silent, but I continued, “And I tried so hard to be there for you, I really did Chris. But you won’t talk to me! Instead, you’ve been taking out all of your frustrations on me and treating me like absolute shit. Do you really think that’s okay?” I fought the lump in my throat as I got my words out, his shattered face no help in that department. Frantically, Chris shook his head. “No. No, it’s not okay, baby, and I’m really sorry. But please, please don’t do this.” His tone tugged at my heart strings as his desperation grew more and more transparent.

Shaking my head and closing my eyes, I shut him down. “Can you tell me why you’ve been acting the way you have?” I knew my question was pointless before I even asked it, but his silence confirmed it. Releasing an ironic chuckle, I continued. “I promised myself that I would never let another man treat me badly. I’ve put up with it far too many times, and no matter how much I love you, Chris, I can’t allow you to speak to me the way you have been lately.”

I opened my eyes and felt my heart sink at his ghostly expression, clearly on the verge of losing his shit. I brought a hand up to his cheek and stroked it for a moment, and as I did he closed his eyes and let a few tears fall. “I want you to get better, I really do. But I clearly can’t help you, so you need to do it on your own.” My own words felt like a stab in the chest, and I couldn’t help the tears as they streamed down my face. “Come to me when you’ve worked through your shit, and we can see if we can repair things. But for now, I need you to leave.”

At that, Chris’ eyes shot open in a panic and he immediately grabbed onto my leg. “No, Y/n, please. Don’t do this.” I turned my head away from him as his desperation became too much to bear. His hands traveled across my body in anguish, clearly losing all control of his emotions as the reality of our situation began to set in for him. His body slid off of the bed as he dissolved into tears against my comforter. Still having the instinct to comfort him, I scooted towards the edge of the bed, where I let my legs stretch out beside him as I ran my hands through his beautiful curls.

“Please, please baby, I swear to god I can’t do this shit without you.” He wretchedly pleaded with me, clutching my leg and trailing distressed kisses along it. I looked up at the sky, too pained by the scene that was playing out in front of me. “Chris, please, I need you to go.” I begged him, needing to put him out of his misery so that I could hurt in private. He maintained his grasp on my leg, sobbing inconsolably against it. I gave him a moment, in which he slowly began to regain control of his emotions. I watched as his sobbing grew quieter and his breathing slowed, before finally watching as he pulled himself up to his feet; the weight of our conversation evident in the way he held himself weakly.

He glanced down at me quickly, his blue eyes red and puffy, before turning away in what looked like shame. In utter silence, he turned and began walking slowly in the direction of my bedroom door. With his hand on the door knob, he paused for a moment. “I’m sorry.” His words were so quiet I could have easily missed them, but the sincerity cut through my heart like a knife. That sincerity hadn’t been present in any of the other apologies he gave me, and I was gutted that it appeared too late.

And then just like that, he was gone. I felt all the air leave my chest at the realization of what I had just done, and let my body fall back against my bed as tears once again poured down my cheeks. I couldn’t help but immediately question whether or not I had done the right thing. Was I a horrible person for abandoning the man I loved when he was so clearly dealing with something? Did I allow my fears of repeating my past distort my current reality? Were the things he said to me really that bad?

I was pulled out of my tormenting thoughts by a soft voice coming from my doorway.

“My meeting today wasn’t about merch.”

That was all that he said. That was all it took for my heart to begin to beat for him again. One small hint of vulnerability. Feeling humiliated internally, I sat up on my elbows and found him hovering in the doorway. “Talk to me about it Chris.” I sounded exacerbated even to my own ears, feeling frustrated from all of the overwhelming emotions that the evening held. Tentatively, he walked over to the bed and sat beside me on the edge, arms resting on his knees. After clearing his throat, he began to explain. “The meeting today wasn’t about merch, it wasn’t really about anything to be honest.” Confused, I waited in silence for him to continue.

“A few weeks ago, Laura brought up the idea of going on another tour. A European tour.” He paused for a moment. “Nick and Matt immediately agreed and wanted to start planning everything so that we could do it this summer, but I said I didn’t want to do it.” I watched the back of his head, slightly shocked by his words since I knew that he had enjoyed the previous tours so much. “We would be overseas for a month, and I didn’t want to be so far away from you for that long. So I told them I didn’t wanna do it.” He took a deep breath. “Now, Matt and Nick are super pissed at me. They’ve both been giving me the silent treatment for weeks outside of the few times when they’ve just tore me a new one. And sure, we’ve all fought before, but never this bad. It’s been going on for so long, and I feel like I’ve lost sight of everything without having them be there for me.” His voice grew thick with emotion, and I fought the urge to cry along with him.

“Things have gotten so bad between us, that Laura forced us all to come in tonight to basically have a supervised argument. We sat there for hours, Y/n, just screaming at each other. And we got nowhere. I stood firm in what I wanted and so did they, so that’s why it went on for so long. And that’s also why I have been treating you like a complete dick lately. Because even though you had no clue what was going on, I think a part of me was kinda blaming you for all this shit. And I know that wasn’t fair, I really do. I just didn’t know how to tell you all of this because I’ve never been in a situation like this before.”

He turned to look at me, grabbing at my hand that was lying dormant in the space between us. “And I’m so, so sorry that I treated you the way I did. You didn’t deserve it. At all. But please baby, please don’t leave me. Because if you do, I will be completely lost. You are my anchor, and I need you to be there for me.” Tears rolled down my face as his voice cracked in desperation. “And I swear, baby, I won’t treat you like shit ever again. If you can’t believe me, and if you’re really truly done, I’ll understand. But please, Y/n, if there’s any part of you that believes me, please don’t leave.” He dropped his head into my lap, wrapping his arm around my waist and gripping onto my oversized t-shirt. Out of instinct, I brought my hand to his face and began stroking it softly; wiping away his tears as I did.

We stayed that way for a long time, both of us sniffling, heaving messes. I couldn’t lie, his honesty truly impacted me. I knew that he had to have gone against every single one of his instincts to finally tell me what had been going on in his life, and the fact that he did meant so much to me. I knew that Chris was extremely reliant on his brothers being a constant in his life, and couldn’t even imagine how lost he must feel knowing that they’re against him. His problem was much more severe than I thought it would have been prior to him opening up, and I felt an overwhelming amount of empathy for him. I knew that his poor treatment of me — as wrong as it was — had been completely out of character, and as I sat there stroking his soft cheek, I decided that I would believe him.

“Come up here.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Immediately, Chris lifted his head off of my thighs and sat up, his face inches from mine. Without a moment of hesitation, I leaned forward and engulfed his lips with my own. He immediately reciprocated, and both of our tongues worked in unison to lap up the salty taste of each other’s tears. Chris leaned forward, encouraging me to fall back against my pillows as he continued his passionate assault on my lips. His mouth travelled down my neck, where I shuddered as I felt him place sucks and nibbles sure to leave a trail of purple bruises. His body was warm on top of mine, and I had never before felt so present with him; so aware of his every movement.

He moved down my body, stopping briefly at my chest to remove my shirt, before continuing down below my waist. With his tongue, he created a path from just below my belly button to my right hip bone, where he left another purple bruise; causing my skin to break out in goose bumps. Lifting my hips, he wasted no time in pulling my boy shorts off of my body and leaving me completely bare. He continued to leave gentle kisses along each square inch of my body surrounding my core, but making sure to leave the place where I needed his mouth the most completely untouched.

I began to grow impatient, my body temperature increasing as my body filled with arousal. As he placed a kiss on my inner thigh, I bucked my hips up in frustration; practically begging for contact. Noticing my agitation, Chris almost immediately obliged, and I gasped out in pleasure as his tongue began working its magic against my clit. With each hand holding up my thighs, Chris swirled his tongue relentlessly against my bundle of nerves. I struggled to keep my body still as his movements continued, and failed miserably once he inserted two of his fingers into my core. “Fuck Chris, t-that’s so good.” I moaned out as his tongue and fingers worked my cunt in harmony. The wet sounds of my arousal grew louder and louder as I began to approach my orgasm, and in reflex my hands tangled in his hair; doing everything I could to keep him exactly where I needed him.

“Gonna cum, baby.” I cried out, and his encouraging hum against my clit was enough to get me there. My back arched off of the bed as my body began to convulse. To keep me in place, Chris took his free hand and placed it firmly on my lower stomach; causing me to scream out in pleasure. His mouth and fingers continued to push me through my orgasm, and didn’t stop even after my nerves became over sensitive. “C-Chris please. Can’t take anymore.” I struggled to get out the words, but he listened. Detaching his mouth from my core, he dragged his body back up my own and came face to face with me.

With the glean of my arousal still on his lips, he kissed me so deep I felt my lungs inflate. I could taste myself on his tongue, and my eyes nearly rolled to the back of my head from the intensity of the moment. I broke the kiss for only a moment to pull his hoodie over his head; relishing in the feeling of his bare chest against my own. Through his sweatpants, I could feel his bulging member press against my pelvis, and I reached in between our bodies and pulled his waistband down along with his boxers. Now completely free, his cock dribbled pre-cum down my stomach. With my hand still between us, I collected what was left of his fluid along his slit before slowly stroking my hand up and down his swollen shaft.

His breath hitched as I continued my movements, and he thoughtlessly bucked his hips into my hand to increase the friction along his trembling member. My hand twisted around his dick for a few more pumps, before I slowly guided it down toward my entrance. Once Chris felt the heat of my core at the tip of his cock, he looked down at me with darkened eyes — still slightly puffy from his previous tears — and dropped his jaw as he began to slide into me.

I gasped at the feeling of my walls stretching around his sizeable girth, and released a breathy moan as he bottomed out. Laying on top of me, he grabbed both sides of my face in between his hands and held it firmly as he began thrusting into me. His eyes never left mine as his hips rolled into me, and I watched in ecstasy at the pleasure visible on his face — as I’m sure he was doing to me. Our bodies smacked together in a steady rhythm and the wet sounds filled the room, adding an additional sensation to my arousal.

“I-I’m so sorry, baby.” Grunted Chris through deep thrusts. “It’s — oh fuck — it’s okay Chris.” I replied as I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Just please — please tell me you’re mine.” His voice sounded desperate and choppy, most likely caused by a combination of arousal and real distress. His choice of words and the tone at which he said them caused my stomach to do a flip, and I felt my second orgasm approach. Fighting the urge to give into the overwhelming feeling, I reached up and swiped his glistening lip with my thumb. “I’m yours baby, always.” I managed to respond through my cries of pleasure. Chris smiled down at me lazily before burying his face in my neck; leaving sloppy, breathy kisses along its thin skin.

My walls began to pulse and my skin started to feel like it was being lit on fire; both clear signs that I was extremely overstimulated as I was approaching my orgasm. “Shit, gonna cum again.” I blurted out just as I was hit with a tsunami of an orgasm. My legs tightened around his waist and my nails dug into his arms as I fought to keep my head above water, but my mind grew fuzzy as I spewed guttural profanities into the room as I came in waves.

It didn’t take long for Chris’ orgasm to follow, and that was made clear by his throaty grunts and sloppy pace before he stopped entirely; shouting breathless 'I love yous' into my neck as his cock shot its warm fluid deep inside of me. He eventually pulled out, before curling two fingers into me and shoving all of our conjoined juices up to my cervix. His eyes stayed glued to my cunt as he did so, seemingly in awe of the view.

“You’re all mine, and I’m all yours.” He said it so quiet that he might have just been saying it to himself, before he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on the crest of my heat; earning a full-body flinch from me.

He came back up to the top of the bed where he laid down beside me, pulling me towards his chest and running a hand up and down my naked back. I felt so secure in his arms — his familiar smell filling my nostrils and calming my mind — that I nearly forgot everything that had happened prior to the past 15 minutes or so. That is, until he spoke.

“So, are we okay?” His voice was tentative, and he was very clearly afraid to hear my answer. I uncurled myself from his body so that I could look up at his lovely face, his desperate eyes scanning my poker face for any sort of hint.

“You will never, ever, speak to me like that again, no matter what.” I kept my voice firm, even when his face immediately relaxed into a grin. “I swear, I won’t baby.” He responded, trying to tuck me back into his chest, but I pushed back slightly. “And, I need you to talk to me about shit you’re going through, Chris. I’m your girlfriend. That’s my job. You need to promise me, you will come to me about anything, and I will do everything I can to help you through it.” He continued to gaze at me, though his wavering eyes and his chewing on his lower lip made it clear that the idea made him anxious. “Promise me, Chris.” I repeated, making it clear how serious I was.

Finally, Chris nodded his head. “I promise, baby. I’ll tell you everything.” I smiled, then, finally feeling secure in our relationship for the first time in weeks. “Then yes, we’re okay.” I responded before planting a soft kiss to his pink lips. “And you and your brothers are going to be okay, too.” His worried expression deepened at the reminder of his conflict with Nick and Matt. “We’ll talk about it more tomorrow once we get some rest, but we can make the tour work. You know, I’ve always wanted to visit Europe.” I watched as his lips began to turn up into a soft smile. “Plus,” I leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “I wouldn’t mind being your groupie.”

He dissolved into giggles at that. “But what about your job?” He asked tentatively. I shrugged. “I actually got promoted today. I was gonna tell you earlier, but y’know.” His face fell momentarily. “I got a raise, but more importantly I got more benefits. Including thirty vacation days.” His face lit up once again, and it was almost like I could see the weight lift off of his shoulders before he attacked my face with kisses. “So let’s have another meeting with Laura and your brothers tomorrow and work this all out. I can come, and we can fix this easily together.” Tears welled in his eyes, and he nodded his head before kissing me hard. “I love you, Y/n.”

I curled myself back into his chest and sighed, taking in the feeling of him mindlessly drawing random shapes on my back. This was the Chris that I knew and loved, and I knew that this is who he really was. He wasn’t perfect, but I never expected him to be. Problems come with every relationship, and of course there was never any guarantee, but I had a feeling that this night would vastly change our relationship for the better.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

[moonchild9350]

Pick You Up

Summary: Chan comes back from the gym complaining of sore muscles. You offer to give him a massage amongst other things.

Pairing: dom Chan x sub fem reader (soft dom reader for like 2 seconds)

Genre: smutt- this is a 18+ fic, MDNI

Word Count: 2511

Warnings: cursing, hand job, daddy kink, breeding kink, spanking, overstimulation, p in v penetration, creampie (wrap it up, wrap it up), cum swapping/cum eating...I think that's it

Note: This is inspired by Chan's bubble message saying he only works out to pick stay up. After he sent that message my mind went feral and this is the product. I think I wrote this is record speed lol Enjoy!

This is in no way how Chan is in reality. This is just for fun.

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

You knew your boyfriend Chan liked to work out. He goes diligently everyday with Changbin, the two letting their stress out that is built up from busy days in the recording studio by lifting weights.  Chan always said he didn’t feel like he was muscular, but you knew better.  You saw and felt those muscles every night when he would wrap his arms around you as you two fell asleep.  Nonetheless, you knew it was hard to change his mind once he thought a certain way. 

Chan was on his way back from the gym, having given you a call thirty minutes earlier, saying he was going to bring back dinner with him.  He walked in the door, kicking off his shoes and setting his gym bag down.  He walked over to you and gave you a kiss, as you were sitting on the couch watching TV.  He placed the food on the table.

“Hey baby girl, I brought dinner.  Wanna eat after I shower?”

“Yes babe, that’d be great. I’m starving!” you replied.

Chan chuckled at this and said, “Well I gotta feed my girl yeah?  Sit tight, I’ll be done shortly.”

You nodded at this and watched him walk towards your bedroom.  You heard the shower turn on and settled back in to watch your show. 

Not long after, he came back out.  He opened the take out and gave you yours.  He took his dish and sat down next to you.  While you guys ate, you asked about his gym session.  “Not bad, my muscles are killing me though,” Chan responded.  You hummed at this and said, “would you like me to give you a massage?” Chan considered this and agreed with a nod of his head.  “Well let’s clear this away and I can start your massage,” you responded.  You and Chan dropped the dishes in the kitchen and made the way to your shared bedroom.  

“Go ahead and sit down Channie,” you said.  Chan made his way to the bed and sat on the myriad of blankets littering the bed.  You sat behind Chan and started massaging the muscles in his neck.  At your touch, Chan sighed, relaxing and leaning back against you.  You slowly kneaded your hands into the tight muscles, taking your time.  There was silence as you worked, just the sound of the nightlife outside your window. 

“Feels amazing baby girl,” Chan grumbled out, letting his head fall back against your chest.  His eyes fluttered closed and he let off a sigh every now and then as you continued the massage.  Once you got to his sides, you took one of your hands and carefully brought it to his crotch.  You gently placed your hand on his cock and gave it a light squeeze.  Chan’s eyes flew open with your actions.  Chuckling, he asked, “What are you doing there baby girl?”  You shushed him and responded, “Just relax Channie, just want to make you feel good.”  At that Chan grinned and relaxed further into you, closing his eyes once more.  

You began rubbing his clothed cock, giving it a light squeeze every now and then. With each touch, you could feel his cock filling out the space in his shorts.  Chan groaned as you gave his cock a hard squeeze.  “Can you touch it baby girl? Go ahead and get daddy’s cock out.”  You reached your hand into Chan’s shorts and grabbed his cock.  It was warm and hard in your hands.  You rubbed your hand over his slit, gathering pre-cum, Chan hissing in the process.  You moved your hand up and down his shaft at a slow pace, placing wet kisses on his shoulders and neck. 

 “Does it feel good Channie?” you whispered.  

“It feels more than good baby girl.  Keep going, keep stroking daddy’s cock.”  You picked up the pace, jerking your hand, gathering more pre-cum to help the glide.  

Chan’s eyes fluttered at the feeling, sighing out with pleasure, as you worked his cock, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.  With each stroke, his breathing kicked up, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He thrusted up his hips, when he felt your other hand reach into his shorts and fondle his balls.  

“Yes baby girl, yes, so…so close, don’t stop.” 

With a hard squeeze of his balls, you whispered, “cum for me daddy.”  

“Fuu.. fuck,” Chan groaned loudly, muscles tensing, as he came hard, cum spurting out all over your hands.  You continued to stroke his cock, milking every last drop of cum, until Chan was hissing from the overstimulation.  You took your hand out of his shorts and licked up his cum, making sure to get every last drop.  

Chan turned his head and gave you a kiss, tasting the saltiness of his cum on your lips.  “It’s daddy’s turn now huh,” Chan whispered against your lips.  You nodded yes and kissed him again.  Chan guided you to lay down, your head resting on the pillows.  He pulled his shorts off before helping you get undressed, tossing the clothes on the floor. 

Chan grasped your breasts and started to knead them.  You shivered as he leaned down and blew on your nipples, causing them to peak.  Leaning down, he latched onto and suckled your nipple.  You moaned out, running your fingers through Chan’s hair.  He switched to your other nipple before trailing his hand down to your pussy.  You sighed as he slid his fingers through your folds, teasing you.  Gathering up some of your arousal, he brought two fingers to your entrance, sliding them in. He stretched you out with his fingers, dragging them in and out, before curling his fingers upward searching for that spot that drives you crazy.  You gasped out and gripped Chan’s hair tighter when he found that spot within you.  Chan smiled, as he continued to suck and knead your breast, while stroking your g-spot.  You were wiggling around as the pleasure became too much, feeling your high approaching. 

“Stay still babygirl, let me get you there.” 

You moaned and stilled your movements, tears pricking your eyes.  Chan brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing mercilessly, as he kept rubbing your g-spot.  You were a mess, babbling out, “daddy, daddy, I’m close.  Can I cum please? Please let me cum, please, please.” Chan cooed at your babbling, giving you a kiss, before saying, “Go ahead and cum, baby girl. Cum for daddy.”  Your head flew back on the pillows and you rocked your hips violently as you came around Chan’s fingers, chanting, “daddy, I’m cumming, daddy, ahhhh.” Chan continued to rub your clit, as you came down from your high.  

“You're daddy’s good girl, hm?” Chan brought his fingers covered in your arousal to your lips, “Open up baby girl, go ahead and taste yourself.”  

You opened your mouth, suckling his fingers covered in your arousal, moaning at the taste.  You licked every last drop before he pulled his fingers away, giving you a kiss. 

“Good girl, such a good girl yeah?”  

You hummed and whined at his praise.  “Want your cock. Can I please have your cock daddy?” 

“Baby girl, needs my cock?  I’ll give you my cock, but we’re going to try something different today, yeah?”

You whimpered at the suggestion, not caring about what he was saying, as long as it led to him burying his cock deep in your pussy.  He hummed and gave you a wet kiss before saying “Go ahead and sit up.”  Chan made to get off the bed.  You were a little confused at his actions, but listened anyway.  

“Daddy’s gonna lift you up ok.” You cocked your head sideways, “You’re gonna lift me up?” 

“Mmmhmm.”  Chan walked toward you, “wrap your legs around me baby girl.”  You stood up and wrapped your legs around his hips like he instructed. You then wrapped your  arms around his neck and held on tight.  

 His hands went to grasp your ass, giving it a squeeze.  “Ready baby girl? Ready for my cock?”  You shook your head, “Yes daddy, always ready.”  Chan took one hand to grasp his cock and slid you down onto it.  You moaned at how deep he went in this position.  Chan started to bounce you on his cock, nearly hitting your cervix with each bounce.  You were lost in pleasure, a babbling mess, chanting “daddy, daddy, daddy.”  

Chan looked at his love, watching the emotions flood through your face.  “How does that feel, baby girl? Feel daddy’s cock deep inside?” He walked you backwards so your back could rest against the wall before thrusting hard upwards into your pussy.  You wrapped your arms tighter around Chan’s neck, little ‘ah ah ahs’ leaving your lips as Chan pounded into you. You felt close to your high, as with each thrust, Chan’s neatly trimmed pubic hair brushed against your clit.

Chan leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours for a heated kiss.  He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.  He had sweat dripping down his face, down his back, your pussy just felt that good.  

“You know what baby girl?  I only workout so I can pick you up.  So I can pick you up and pound that sweet, tight pussy of yours.  So you can feel me deep inside…and fill you up.”  

You groaned at his confession, “So strong daddy..ahhh, I’m close, so close.” 

“Baby girl is close? Yeah? Go ahead and let go, let go for daddy.”  His dirty words were just what you needed, you let go, letting your orgasm take over, leaning your head back against the wall, and letting out a loud moan.  Chan leaned forward and kissed your neck, not stopping with his thrusts.  

When you finally opened your eyes, Chan gave you a smirk and said, “I’m not done with you yet.” He turned around and threw you on the bed and flipped you onto your hands and knees.  He kneaded your ass, spreading apart your ass cheeks before letting some of his spit drip down between your ass.  You moaned at the sensation, arching your back further, presenting your pussy for him.  Chan brought his hand down, giving your ass a slap before kneading the area to soothe the pain.  He repeatedly slapped your ass,  listening to you moan which each smack. When he was done, there were red marks where his hand landed, causing him to smirk. “If only you could see yourself.” 

He brought his fingers down to your pussy once more, running them through your folds.  You whimpered at his touch, feeling overstimulated from your previous orgasm.  Despite this, your arousal was steadily dripping down your thighs, and Chan noticed.  “Need my cock again baby? Once wasn’t enough for you?”

“Ne..need your cock again daddy, please, please, need to be full of you!”

He hummed at this and grabbed his cock.  He hissed at his touch, he cock rock hard,  needing his release.  He brought his tip to your entrance and slammed his cock into you, bottoming out in one thrust.  He began pounding into you, without giving you warning.  The sound of your ass hitting his pelvis and Chan’s moans resounded throughout the room.  

Chan grabbed your hands and brought them behind your back, pulling you up to his chest.  He continued pounding into you.  No sound came out of your mouth, your lips formed into an O, the pleasure beyond amazing.  “Are you daddy’s good girl? Letting me use you like this, letting daddy have your pussy in any way he likes.”  

You couldn’t respond right away, lost in the immense pleasure Chan was giving you.  You finally found the words after a moment, mumbling “Hmmmmm da..daddy’s good girl, yeah, yeah your good girl.  Want your cum daddy,” you babbled.  What you to fill me up, please fill me up, breed this pussy.”

“Yeah? Want daddy to fill you up? Breed you full?” Chan let your hands go, continuing to pound into you as you fell onto the bed, face buried in the pillows, moaning and mumbling.  He grabbed your hips, squeezing them, as he rutted into you, feeling his high approaching. “Here ya go baby, here’s my cum, here’s daddy’s cum.” He rutted into you one last time, pressing his hips against yours.  You felt his cum flood your insides, and whimpered at the feeling.  

Once Chan came down from his high, he flipped you over onto your back.  He took one look at you, tears running down your face, lips red from you biting them, and gave you a kiss.  “My good girl, such a good girl.  Let me clean you up, yeah?”  Chan scooted down your legs, opening them so he could fit in between them.  You could barely register his actions until you felt his hot tongue on your pussy.  You squealed at the stimulation, beyond overstimulated.  

“Gotta clean you up baby girl, hold still.” Chan opened your lips with his fingers and lapped at your pussy, licking up both his cum and yours.  Your hands went to his hair, pulling at the strands, causing Chan to moan.  Between his tongue on your pussy, and the vibrations from his moans, you came hard, your vision going white, hearing fuzzy, and legs spasming.  Finally Chan leaned back, mouth covered in both his and your cum.  He hovered over you and leaned down to give you a kiss.  You latched onto him, tasting his cum and yours on his tongue, moaning at the taste.  

Chan was the first to break the kiss.  He laid down next to you, pulling your limp body into his.  “How are you doin baby girl?” He pressed kisses on your neck and shoulder.  You mumbled something, not completely coherent.  Chan chuckled and squeezed you tighter to him.  “You did good, so proud of you.”  You hummed at his praise and carefully turned your body so you could face him.  You gave Chan a kiss and just rested in his embrace.  Before you knew it, you started to doze off.  Chan nudged you and whispered, “No falling asleep yet baby, we gotta get you cleaned up, for real this time.” You mumbled what he thought was ok.  

Chan got up to run a bath.  He filled it with your favorite bubble bath and lit the candles you liked.  He came back into the bedroom and scooped you up.  Once he got to the bathtub, he gently placed you in it.  You sighed at the feeling of the warm water on your sore muscles.  Chan got in and sat behind you pulling you close to his chest.  You snuggled into him, sighing in content in more ways than one.  Chan stroked your back gently, pressing a kiss to your head.  “What’s going through that head of yours hm?” 

You hummed and said, “you’re my strong Channie.”  At this Chan chuckled, “I guess so.”  You were in thought for a while and then said, “Channie, can we try that again some time?” 

Chan looked down at you and smiled, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”