#I mean it's not fair that he'd take me on his morning runs

[sungbeam]

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

nonidol!kang yeosang x f!reader

yeosang doesn't remember your name, but he remembers what kissing you tastes like and how you like your eggs in the morning. just your regular prince charming trying to find his cinderella, or in this case, his passenger princess..?

9.5k (lord.....), nc-17, s2l, frateez au, college au, mentions of alcohol, swearing, kissing, humor, fluff, minimal angst, another cinderella story au/trope(?), drama (i bring i bring all the drama-ma-ma-ma), a girl who is not a girl's girl :l, the barest of proofreading

a/n: this is for the @atzhouse you can't outrage us event! guys if the flirting is lackluster, it's cuz im running out of rizz

“I don't believe you.”—

The last place you expected to end up was in the front seat of some guy's white Lexus while the party raged on inside the ATZ fraternity house just down the street. According to him, he had to run out just before the crowd rolled in, and when he got back, somebody had snatched his parking spot. 

—“Okay, but why don't you believe me?”—

The car smelled not like fresh leather, but an enchanting mixture of something like pine and smoked wood. Bitter, yet somehow, refreshing. You bet, even as the alcohol was hitting you, that it was what he smelled like. 

His name was Yeosang—the guy sitting next to you in the driver's seat, the owner of this car, and the ATZ fraternity brother you bumped into at his house's own party. That had been just about twenty minutes ago when you'd ended up isolated from your pack of friends, and Yeosang had needed a desperate breather. It seemed he'd been running from someone (question mark), so you asked if he knew where the kitchen was. Eager to get away from whoever it was, he guided you straight to the kitchen and where the secret stash of flavored sojus were. 

An offhand comment about wishing you didn't have to miss this one drama episode dropping tonight led to a longer conversation about the dramas you both enjoyed, which somehow landed you in his passenger seat. 

The rest was history. Or—you supposed the rest was now. 

“Because,” Yeosang said in a tone that sounded a lot like he was saying 'duh’, “you don't look like a biology major.”

He was gorgeous, even if the lighting in the party and out here was jack shit. The way the shadows cut across his face made him look like a faerie torn straight out of one of your old sketchbooks. You were half certain he had pointed ears beneath the cat-eared beanie he wore, but maybe that was just the alcohol doing its thing. 

You sputtered out a laugh as he knocked back another gulp of his melon soju. He was more drunk than you were, maybe not by too much because that wouldn't have been fair, but it did take him seven tries to unlock his car seven minutes ago. “What's a bio major s'posed to look like?”

“Mmm…” he hummed, lips pressed together in a line that dug into his cheeks. “Not you.”

It only made you laugh harder. It wasn't even that funny. “That doesn't even make sense!”

“Does it have to make sense?” He squawked. His face shuddered for a moment as if he just experienced a glitch. “I forgot what I was gonna say, but it's the vibe.”

“The vibe,” you parroted in mild amusement. After you swallowed down your next gulp of soju, you gestured to him with the bottle, “Okay, now what about you? Your major, go.”

“I read shit.”

“Who doesn't?”

“Jared, 19,” he replied, dead serious. 

Equally serious, you asked with wide eyes, “Really?”

He gave you an emphatic nod back. Really. Now, if you were a little less tipsy, you wouldn't have taken what he said at face value, but tonight was already miles away from your regularly scheduled program. 

You pondered on that—the “I read shit,” not the misfortunes of one nineteen year old named Jared. “So if you read a lot of shit, does that make you a literature major? No, wait! I got it; you look like Comparative Lit.”

“Bingo,” he cheered, raising his bottle up into the air. “Wait. What do you mean I look like a comparative lit major? What does a comp lit major even look like?”

“I dunno, but it’s you.” 

He pursed his lips into a deadpan at your callback to what he'd said before, and you merely stuck your tongue out at him like the mature adult you were. “Touché, my friend. Touché…”

Silence passed between you two for the first time since you met each other. In the distance, you could hear the muffled sounds of the party raging on. It wasn't that you didn't go to parties often; it was more so that you usually went to house parties hosted by friends or friends-of-a-friend. Making it all the way to Greek Row was not something you did every weekend, but a mutual friend—Chungha—knew the ATZ president and got you and your friends in. 

Nearly finished with his third bottle (or was it his fourth?...), Yeosang knocked the remainder down his throat with a grimace. With the empty bottle, he set it at his feet on the car floor to join another—the cup holders were already occupied with yours and his second rounds. The first was abandoned on the frat house lawn somewhere. 

“I think—” he slurred, blinking slowly at you like a cat, “—that you look like an artist.”

“An artist?” You parroted dumbly and felt warmth rise to your cheeks. “And why would you say that? Vibes?”

“Well, yes!”

You sputtered out a laugh at the way he said that. “Then yes, I am an artist,” you said, emphasizing the latter half of the word so it sounded like “teest” and not “tist.”

Yeosang gave a hoot. “I'm so good at this. Does that—does that mean you can paint me like one of your French girls?” He pulled his lips into an adorable, little smile, the back of his hand poised beneath his chin as he fluttered his lashes. 

“I don't think I could do you justice,” you admitted. There was a rather annoying buzz at the back of your brain that was distracting you. With a shake of your head, you refocused your gaze on him. “You're too pretty.”

He preened at the compliment, unconsciously reaching up to adjust his beanie. “Like calls to like then.”

“What does that mean?” Your buzzed-out brain couldn't compute—

“It means that prettiness is attracted to prettiness, and I'm attracted to you.”

You whined, burying your face in your hands. Yeosang giggled to himself, incredibly proud at making you flustered, his knees curling upward to kick his feet in the cramped space. “I don't like you.”

“You don't?” 

“No,” you raised your head up with a displeased frown, only to see that his eyes seemed to be twinkling with unrestrained happiness and something else. You weren't in the right state to hyper-analyze the way he looked at you, but it made your heart skip more than just a beat. “It's not fair that you're a literature major.”

“But I'm drunk,” he said innocently. 

“That's even worse!”

He grinned boyishly at you, bashfully stretching his limbs and then cupping the back of his neck with a hand. “What if I told you I'm minoring in math?”

You deadpanned. “I don't think that makes me feel any better. You rule both the realms of words and numbers.”

“It doesn't mean I'm good at math,” he guffawed, leaning back in his seat. “It's only there 'cause my mom's a math teacher, and having a math minor makes my parents feel better.”

That sounded familiar… awfully familiar. The thought made you sober a bit, and it seemed your counterpart wasn't so wasted that he didn't notice the shift either.

“Uh oh,” he chuckled nervously, “what'd I say?”

You waved your hand around dismissively. “Oh, it's nothing. I'm kind of the opposite—my bio major is sort of to appease my parents and the fine art minor is for my sanity.”

He pressed his lips into a line, nodding in understanding. “Ah, I see,” he drawled. “So you don't… you're not happy? With what you're doing, I mean.”

Maybe it was the way he asked it, but it made the cogs in your head turn. You bit your lip. “I'm happy-ish. It's kind of a lot, but I'll survive.”

“'m sorry I upset you,” he pouted. “But,” he stammered, swallowing, “but I get it. My parents never wanna talk about my major anymore. Pretty sure they're just bitter and disappointed. I always feel like I’m walking on eggshells around them.” 

You could tell that it affected him more than he wanted to admit. You wordlessly passed him your half-drunk bottle, and he gladly took a generous sip. When it was back in your hands, you guzzled down the remainder. 

The buzz was getting better. 

“Well, if they're not proud of you, I am,” you declared, setting the empty bottle at your feet. Your eyes blinked slowly for a moment as you got your bearings again. Maybe… maybe you should stop drinking! Yes, that would be the smart thing to do. 

Yeosang hummed. “Thanks,” he said with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He gazed over at you from his side of the car. “I'm proud of you, too. You'll be happy one day; it'll always turn out okay, Yn-ie.”

Something warm and fuzzy settled in your chest, like a cat had just curled up there, purring and content. 

A thought suddenly popped into your head. “Yeosang, how do you like your eggs?”

He snorted and burst into laughter, coaxing a similar expression out of you. A moment later, you were trying your best to pout at him, “Hey! Don't laugh! I hear it's all the rage on the pick-up line scene.”

“You're trying to pick me up?” He giggled. All memories of the previous topic flew out the car window.

“Well, is it working?”

He licked his lips around a smile, leaning over the center console to rest his cheek against his fist. “Ask me again.”

You took another sip of your soju before returning it to its cupholder. “Okay. Yeosang, how do you like your eggs in the morning?”

“However you'd like them.”

You deadpanned, and that only made him laugh louder. His head tilted back so you caught a glimpse of his canines, before he brought himself back down to Earth. His cheeks looked as flushed as you felt—even in the dim streetlight you could make out the blooms of peony pink across his cheekbones. “Yeo.”

He reached over to pat your head a couple times, though the sloppiness of his movements made it feel closer to two affectionate smacks. “Okay okay. Sorry. How about we say it at the same time?”

“Okay.” That wasn't a bad compromise. 

“Okay, one, two, three—”

“Sunny-side up,” you both said at once. 

Your eyes and his eyes widened at once, gasps of delight sounding into the quiet car. Could this guy be any more perfect?

“You're not bluffing?” You asked with narrowed eyes. 

Yeosang shook his head vigorously. “Mm-mm. I wouldn't lie to you, Yn-ie. Scout's honor,” he slurred, holding his hand up as if he was a boy scout. 

You giggled at the gesture, and he broke form to melt into an ooey gooey puddle of liquefied butterflies. For a moment, he just stared at you with a strange look on his face, one that you couldn't quite place when you were in this inebriated state. 

You chuckled, shifting your position when one leg started falling asleep. “What’s wr—?”

He leaned forward and—oh. Oh. Those were—his lips were on yours. He had leaned over the console and kissed you. He was kissing you. 

And when you didn't kiss him back, he drew backwards, an embarrassed expression painted over the adorable flush on his cheeks. “That—I shouldn't have done that, should I? I'm sorry; I dunno what I was—”

You crushed your mouth against his this time, effectively stealing the apology right off his tongue. He tasted like melon soju, and his touch was gentle as he brought his hand up to cup the side of your face, cradle your jaw. He was tracing the outline of your features in the dark like he could sketch them in the lines in his mind. 

He tasted like the color of amber, warm and bright, but not blindingly so. He was mellow and sweet, with the undertones of the burnt wood in his cologne. 

You melded your lips against his mouth like you could engrave him into you, and you were practically half over the middle console already. Yeosang's free hand fumbled backward to find the button on the side of his chair—there. The chair began moving backward with a monotonous brrr sound, and as it moved you couldn't quite keep your lips physically attached to his. 

You disconnected from him for what felt like an eternity in order to climb over—shoes knocking against empty soju bottles, ass nearly bumping the horn—and with some clumsy, awkward maneuvering, you were on him again, this time quite literally. You tumbled into his lap, his hands landing on either side of your waist and your hands bracing against the back of his chair.

He loosened a soft groan with the return of your lips to his, and he hauled you down closer to him, until your chests were pressed flush against one another and you couldn't tell which heartbeat was who's. His beanie fell off at some point, but your fingers buried themselves within the dark, silken mass of his hair, a hat in their own right. 

When you both pulled away for breath, your chests heaved in tandem to catch it. You settled your cheek against his shoulder while you inhaled the smell of his cologne, much stronger now that you sat against his chest with your nose by his throat. His hand warmed the small of your back with the other cupping the back of your head in an affectionate cradle. 

“I don't think I've ever kissed someone like that,” you admitted into the quiet. You suddenly couldn't hear the muffled music blasting from the party in the background anymore. 

“Me neither,” he replied, voice hoarse from the kiss. “I've never met someone like you before.”

“Never in your life?”

“Never in my life.”

“So let me get this straight,” drawled Wooyoung with both hands poised at his temples, eyes screwed shut against the bright morning light coming in through the window. There were currently eight people crowded onto President Hongjoong's bed at a time that was far too early to be alive for a group of people who partied until four in the morning. “You're saying that you know this girl's family life, how she likes her eggs in the morning, and how she kisses—but you don't even know her name?”

Yeosang was propped up against the headboard, squeezed between a very unfairly serene-looking Seonghwa and a mildly hungover Hongjoong. Yeosang's bangs were flat against his forehead and he squinted his tired eyes through the strands. “No, that's not what I said. I said that I know her name… it's just not coming to me right now.”

He knew your name. Right? You told him your name, right? He addressed you by your name at least once last night, right? 

(If he was being honest, as soon as Yeosang woke up this morning, he started whimsically recalling the events of last night in his head. But once he realized he neither had your number nor remembered your name, he jostled his friends up to invade the president's room for an emergency round table discussion. Who would have guessed their alarm clock would be a very panicked Maltese screaming, “I DON'T REMEMBER HER NAME!”)

“Which pretty much means you don't know her name,” Jongho piped up where he was laying against Yunho's back on the corner of the bed, his eyes closed while he attempted to squeeze in five more milliseconds of sleep. 

“Well, do you know who she came with?” San asked. “She probably has at least one mutual friend or else she wouldn't have gotten in.”

Mingi furrowed his brows together. “Not necessarily. The pledges might not have been thorough when checking.”

Hongjoong's eyes narrowed. “You were supposed to be there with them at the door, Mingi.”

“Oh, was I?”

Yunho cut in before Hongjoong could tackle Mingi off the bed. He grinned to himself, “Okay, but San has a point. Usually people are only able to sneak in if they're with a group.”

“Awh,” Wooyoung cooed, reaching over to pinch at Yeosang's cheek, “Yeosangie fell in love with a stowaway—ow! Hey! He just bit me!”

“Deserved,” Seonghwa said plainly. He turned his head so as to not have to face Wooyoung's wounded puppy eyes. It was too early for this. “Do you know if she came with anyone, Yeosang-ah?”

Yeosang scrunched his nose up, disgruntled. “No. I'm pretty sure she was looking for her friends when we met… something like that. I remember some things, but not everything.” He pinched the place between his brows in an attempt to piece together his memory of last night. He could remember the way you made him feel—it was the jittery warmth that came with falling, and his heart had never grown wings before like it had around you. 

After the kiss, the two of you had sunk into a comfortable, quiet conversation about anything and everything beneath the sun. For the first time in a long time, he felt comfortable and heard by someone other than his fraternity brothers. You were perfect, for lack of a better word. And he knew a lot of words. 

But how could he fucking forget your name? 

He was never drinking that much melon soju ever again. 

“She's a biology major,” he offered with a defeated sigh, letting his hand fall into his lap. 

“What does she look like?” Hongjoong asked. 

Yeosang's gaze went up to the ceiling as he recalled what you looked like to his friends. It was pretty dark the entire time he was with you, but there were a few moments when the streetlights hit your face and his conscience was constantly trying to keep his drunk ass from kissing you within the first ten minutes of meeting you. He'd managed to hold it together for a little bit longer before throwing all caution to the wind. 

When he was done, San said in light amusement, “I'm just surprised you kissed her first. She must be something then, huh?”

Yeosang couldn't conceal the smile that slowly crept onto his face. “Yeah, she's…” He cleared his throat. “I just don't want last night to be the first and last time I see her.” It couldn't be—just when he thought he clicked with someone, the universe couldn't possibly be so cruel as to rip you away from him, could it?

“Don't you worry!” Mingi chirped, “We'll help you find your passenger princess.”

Seonghwa snorted. “Passenger princess? What is this, Cinderella?”

“It might as well be,” San chuckled, lifting his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Operation: Passenger Princess is a go!”

Yeosang wasn't sure if recruiting his friends’ help was a good or awful decision. But because his past, drunk self hadn't done many favors for his future, sober self, he would take all the help he could get. 

You knew the moment you stumbled out of your bedroom and saw your roommate that you were in trouble. It wasn't trouble in the conventional sense; considering her eyes were laughing as she watched your pitiful walk of shame from your room to the shared bathroom, you knew you were not going to hear the end of everything that happened last night ever. 

“Not a word,” you said to her as you winced at the blinding bathroom lights. 

Her toothbrush hung out of her mouth as she slipped in behind you to spit her toothpaste into the sink. When her mouth was rinsed and clear, she made eye contact with you in the mirror, eyebrows wagging up and down. “So you and Yeosang, huh?”

You glared at her from around your own toothbrush. You would have taken the damn thing out to defend yourself, but you were already late. 

Reina took full advantage of your occupied vocal chords. “I never knew pretty frat boys were your type, Yn,” she teased, practically floating out of the bathroom to go check on the state of her espresso in the kitchen. 

“Aye hae yuu,” you grumbled around your toothbrush. 

“What's that?” She cackled, bringing a hand up to the shell of her ear. “I love you? I love you, too, Yn. But you know who else loves you?—”

“Dompt shae it.”

“Yeosaaaang!” 

You loathed the fact that her saying such things made butterflies flap their wings and dance around in your belly. It was simply delusional to think of love when all you and Yeosang did last night was make out in his car and accompany each other in deep, provoking conversation… conversation that definitely didn't make you feel incredibly seen or anything… definitely not. 

Finally, you were able to spit your toothpaste out to make your argument. “Okay, first of all, I don't even have his number. And—how could he love me?” As if possession of a phone number could even correlate to love either.

Reina paused, her expression arranging into loud incredulity. “You what? After all I went through to separate the two of you to go home, you didn't exchange numbers?”

Okay, so maybe you shouldn't have disclosed that information—now you just looked stupid. 

You lathered up facial cleanser in your hands and on your face. “Look. Exchanging numbers was just the last thing on our minds—” Oh, Yn. Have you ever said something smart? 

Reina snorted. “Oh, I know.”

“We didn't just make out,” you grumbled, your cheeks warming beneath your hands. You furiously splashed cool water over your skin before patting your face dry. There likely wasn't much time left before you and Reina had to run to meet your other friends at your weekly volunteering session. “We talked.”

“Uh-huh, and you know that denial is a river in Egypt, right?”

Suffice to say that Reina most definitely did not let your shenanigans from last night go. The two of you managed to reach the food bank sometime before fifteen minutes past your original start time. Everyone else was already stationed and on time, and because you and Reina were the last to arrive, you were sent straight to dishwashing. 

As you and Reina pulled on your twin pairs of pink rubber gloves, your friend Mark Lee (and brother with the NCT fraternity) barrelled into the backroom with a dirty ladle in his hands. His head perked up at the sight of you both, a smile blooming on his face. “Well, good morning, Party Animals. How was the ATZ party last night?”

He deposited the ladle into the sink for you to wash while he went to go find a clean one. 

“It was cool, but I think Yn would love to tell you all about her experience,” Reina teased, bumping her elbow against your side. 

Mark sidled up beside the two of you and leaned in close in proper tea-spilling fashion. “Oh my gosh, did something happen?”

You scowled at Reina, then said to Mark, “Nothing catastrophic—”

“She hooked up with Yeosang!”

You cut her a hard glance. “Reina, I don't think Neptune heard you.”

Mark's eyes went comically wide, jaw slackening. “Yn and Yeosang? That's so wild. Like—like Kang Yeosang?”

“I think? We didn't exactly exchange last names, but why would it be wild? We just kissed and talked.”

“Who kissed who now?” The new voice had you all glancing back over to the kitchen door where another member of the group, Yura, walked in. Yura was Reina's cousin, and the two grew up quite close, so it was natural that they ended up in similar social circles. You and all your other friends got along pleasantly with her. She flashed you all a small smile. “From the sounds of it, I'm guessing you guys had a fun time at the party last night?”

“We did!” Reina chirped. 

“Shame you couldn't come with us this time,” you said offhandedly. It wasn't like Yura to miss a party. 

Reina cocked her head to the side. “I could've sworn I saw you there though—”

“Ah,” Yura waved her hand to dismiss her cousin's thought. She chuckled, “You're probably mistaking someone else as me; I had that paper I needed to work on last night, remember? But Yn, you and Yeosang?”

You groaned. “I thought we were over this.”

“Dude, we can't not get over this,” Mark quipped back. “Yeosang just doesn't do stuff like that—hook up with people, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Yura chimed in, “I've seen him at a couple other Greek parties with some of my sorority friends and he looks pretty standoffish most of the time. He's usually always with one of his brothers. He's kind of cold, really.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “I wouldn't call him cold; he's just a little shy, is all.”

“My friends told me that a lot of sorority girls chase after him,” Yura said with wide eyes. “They get, like, aggressive about him or something.”

You and Reina exchanged a look. Was that who he was running from last night? “That must be kinda stressful,” you said softly with a small frown. 

“Apparently, that's why his social medias don't take DMs unless approved,” she shrugged. 

Well, there went your backup plan of finding him on social media. Then again, if he recognized you or your name, would that help if you requested him? That was if you deigned to change your profile picture to yourself and not one of your silly doodles. 

You couldn't help the weight that your heart seemed to gain as it sank to the pit of your stomach. 

“Well, that's mildly disappointing,” Reina muttered, turning to quickly wash the ladle Mark had just dropped off. 

“I just wouldn't want you to get targeted by any of those crazy sorority girls, y'know?” Yura gave a laugh that sounded almost nervous. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before snapping on a fresh pair of gloves. 

You nodded, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, no, I—I get it. Thanks, Yura.”

She gave you a sympathetic look. “Of course,” she said. With a wave, she made her way back toward the kitchen door. “Mark, we better get back to work. See you guys at lunch break!”

When she was gone, Mark clapped a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Hey, listen. I don't really know the guy personally, but me and Wooyoung are pretty tight. I can get in touch with them if you want—”

Baekhyun, the section leader for your session, charged into the kitchen with his arm piled high with dirty dishes. If you didn’t fear for the safety of the porcelain bowl at the top of the stack, you might have chuckled at the scene before you. “Mark! We don't pay you to stand around.”

“Hyung,” Mark huffed exasperatedly as he rushed over to help Baekhyun before the section leader could get knocked over the head by a rogue dish assisted by gravity. “You don't pay us. We're here out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“Well, I don't get paid enough for this,” Baekhyun said once all the dishes were transferred to the sink, and you and Reina were put to work. “Now come on; lots to do!”

Just as Mark was about to follow after Baekhyun, he caught your eyes. “I'm serious about the offer, Yn.”

You smiled. “Thanks, man, but let me think about it and I'll get back to you.”

“Yeah, just lemme know!” And he was gone. 

Word broke out that someone in the ATZ household was searching for a girl. Word of mouth was a method of dissemination that could spread like wildfire, leaping from one tongue to one ear to another, leaving only ash and debris behind. And around Greek Row, it became a massive game of Telephone. 

But while nearly everyone in the university's fraternities and sororities knew about his strife, Yeosang’s efforts seemed to be for naught. The only thing that emerged from this were more people harping after him, claiming to be 'the one he was looking for.’ None of them were you. 

Your name had manifested itself in his head about halfway into the week. He'd been toiling over the theory readings his professor assigned for Thursday's lecture when he'd underlined a word, and it came crashing down upon him with ice cold clarity. 

His eyes went wide as he shot up out of his chair, nearly sending Jongho careening off his bed on the other side of the room. “What the—”

“Yn,” Yeosang said. Then he declared a little louder, a giddy smile on his face, triumphant and bright, “Her name is Yn.”

Jongho resettled himself on top of his bed. “Well that narrows things down for us,” he drawled, taking his phone out and typing something out. “I don't suppose you have her last name.”

Yeosang fwumped onto the edge of his bed with his lips pressed into a line. “Dude. I literally just thought of her first name. Do you really think I can come up with—”

“Okay, okay,” Jongho laughed, flicking his wrist at him for a moment before resuming his typing. 

“Who're you texting?” Yeosang asked as curiosity drew him across the room to Jongho's side. 

His friend sat up so he could peer over his shoulder at the phone screen. “I'm doing the heavy lifting,” he teased. Based on the social media handle at the top of the direct messages channel, Jongho was texting Chungha, a friend of the frat's but a closer friend of President Hongjoong's, and the recently graduated head of the Phi Omega Phi sorority. “Hongjoong hyung mentioned offhandedly that Chungha wanted to get some friends into the party on Friday, so I'm seeing if she recognizes this Yn person you're looking for.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows flicked upward as he settled into a more comfortable position on Jongho’s bed while they awaited Chungha’s response. In the meantime, he pulled out his own phone in an attempt to search for your name amongst his mutuals. He frowned at the lack of a successful search—did you use a different name or did you not have a social media account? Was that why you hadn’t attempted to contact him in the past few days?

For a moment, a shard of self-consciousness pierced through his chest at the prospect that you didn’t want to contact him. Did sobriety make you embarrassed at what happened that night? Had he made you uncomfortable with the amount of vulnerability that was in the car—no, the vulnerability was mutual… but maybe—

“Gotcha.” 

Yeosang’s head whipped back over to Jongho’s screen. Having your name and major seemed to ring a bell for Chungha, and she forwarded a social media handle, along with a “tell Yeosang good luck ;)”. 

“Thank you, Jongho. And bless up, Chungha,” Yeosang muttered as he swiftly input the social media handle into his search bar. There it was—a private art account with your first name in the biography line. There were only one or two people who you both shared mutuals with, which made sense. 

His thumb hovered over the request button, and he bit his lip. With little else left to do and his heart banging around in his ribs from the anticipation alone, he clicked the button. 

It didn’t take you incredibly long to accept his follow request and to follow him back. (Though, half an hour felt like an eternity when he was so anxious.) He made it painfully obvious that you acted in response, because Yeosang fumbled his phone between his palms like it was a hot potato, before he dropped it and stubbed his toe with it. 

Jongho sent him a strange look as he handed the device back to a red-faced Yeosang, who furrowed his brows together to think of an opening direct message to you. 

“It doesn't have to be perfect,” Jongho said as he peered over Yeosang's shoulder this time. He had even paused the game he was playing on his phone to stay tuned into the live entertainment. 

Yeosang made a face. “Yes, it does.” It had to be the perfect mix of witty and funny and subtle and—

He figured it out. 

@/yskang99: how do u like ur eggs?

Jongho released a sound of utter flabbergast, and Yeosang shushed him, both pairs of eyes pinned to the three dots that appeared on the bottom left-hand side of the screen. 

@/studioyn: sunny side up

Yeosang broke into a smile, and Jongho's face contorted into pure incredulity. “What kind of security question is that?”

“Inside joke,” Yeosang replied giddily, rising from Jongho's bed to cross over to his side of the room. He collapsed into his desk chair and propped his feet up along the end of his bed. 

Jongho scoffed, shifting his lounging position. He threw his friend another incredulous glance before giving up and returning to his game. He'd done his job. 

@/yskang99: congrats u passed the test!

@/studioyn: ahh so that was a test? i imagined us doing a virtual handshake tbh

@/yskang99: i like that better actually

@/studioyn: also how did u find me lmao

Yeosang bit his lip through a grin. I have my ways, he typed out cryptically, cheekily. 

@/studioyn: wtvr u say ig… 🤨🤨🤨

For a brief moment, Yeosang wondered if he should bring up the concern lingering in his mind—why you hadn't reached out to him. He didn't want to simply assume that he was “popular” enough that just anybody knew who he was, but he was also aware that most people were able to track him down on social media. But would that kill the vibe? He liked the energy. 

@/studioyn: i can't get a read on whether or not ur any different than how u were drunk 

@/yskang99: would that matter?

@/studioyn: not particularly, no, but i've met people who r

@/yskang99: no i get that, i've met my fair share too :/ 

He began typing out slowly: I missed you… Then he swiftly amended it to: I missed talking to you. 

@/studioyn: awhh wait ik we've only technically spoken the one time, but i missed talking to u too yeo :’)

A smile split his face from ear to ear. Would you wanna hang out again? Only if you're comfortable, of course. 

He watched the three dots appear, then disappear. You were thinking and his heart was sinking.

Finally, your response came in. I'd love to, but I don't wanna disappoint you with my god awful schedule this next week. 

@/yskang99: what abt the weekend? something low stakes maybe?

@/yskang99: my brothers and i r going to the nct house on sat

@/studioyn: oh!! im actually close friends w mark lee :] i'll see if i can drag my friends along, and we can link up there?

The thought of seeing you again, even if it was at another dumb Greek party, made electricity zip through his veins. His stomach filled to the brim with butterflies, and he had to shift his position because of how much it tickled. 

@/yskang99: yeah sounds great :D i'll look forward to seeing u

@/studioyn: same here yeo :’))

@/studioyn: how's ur week been so far? 

Yeosang leaned back in his chair again, propping his elbows on the armrests to sink into a comfortable position. He had a feeling he might be here awhile, but he would sit here all night if it meant talking to you. 

“Yn! We're gonna be late!” 

You nearly jolted at the sound of Reina's voice carrying through the other side of your bedroom door. You dropped your phone onto your bed, racing to finish up the rest of your makeup. “You can never be late to a Greek party!” You countered, swiping your thumb over the pigment you just put on your lips. 

Your bedroom door opened just as you were slipping a chain necklace around your collar. Reina poked her head in, her eyes looking you up and down. “Ooh-la-la,” she gushed with a teasing smile. “Someone's gotten all dolled up. I wonder who for…”

You rolled your eyes and ignored the obvious warmth rising to your face. “I just felt like it,” you defended weakly while spritzing a light mist of perfume over your neck and wrists. You stood up from your desk to collect your wallet, keys, and lip gloss to dump into a purse, then went over to retrieve your phone. 

The screen displayed another message from Yeosang, no doubt continuing the conversation you had to abruptly pause because you would be late for the NCT party. This was going to be the second Greek party in two weeks—a record for your books. But you had a feeling it was going to be a good time like last week, you were sure of it. 

As you skimmed the message Yeosang sent, you slipped out of the room to join Reina in the main living space. She casted you a pointed look with arms crossed over her chest and lips pressed together. 

“What?” You blinked over at her innocently. 

“You're never gonna see your boy at this rate,” she said as the two of you picked out your shoes for the night. 

You sent a text answering Yeosang and letting him know you would be at the party soon. “He's not 'my boy,’” you said. 

“Right. He's your man.”

You hated how hard it was to keep the giggle in your throat down. It was embarrassing how you smiled just then, too, turning your head away from a smug Reina. 

God, he was just a guy; how did you get so head-over-heels after just one night? It had to be the fact that you'd been texting him nonstop over the past few days. Though you were busy and exhausted, you continued to check your phone all throughout the days and stayed up long into the nights just to talk to him. He had you hook, line, and sinker. 

At some point, you'd forgotten what Yura warned you about on Saturday. 

Your friends picked you and Reina up in one of their family minivans. A round of greetings went up as you clambered in behind Reina, and your friend asked where her cousin was tonight if she wasn't carpooling with the rest of you. 

“She said she was at her sorority friend's house,” Sieun said offhandedly from the driver's seat. The minivan door closed on its own with a mechanical whirring sound. “She's probably at the party already.”

Some nights, parties called for a pregame session, while others (not unlike this one) was attacked raw. Sieun parked the minivan about a block outside of Greek row where there were spaces between cars along the curbs and where there was less of a chance of her accidentally running over a drunk partygoer stumbling into the street. The party was already in full swing with neon green strobe lights blazing aggressively through the front windows, and Gasolina blasting at nothing less than one hundred percent speaker volume. 

You felt your phone vibrate in your hand as Reina grabbed your hand to avoid instantly losing you in the crowd. 

@/yskang99: im on the second floor where there's less people 😋😋 they've got a nice balcony we can hide on!!

“Mark said they've got spiked Capri Sun somewhere in here!” Reina shouted into your ear. 

You nodded your head vigorously. “Let's find it then!”

@/studioyn: gonna grab hard caprisun and then head up!! do u want some??

@/yskang99: surprise me w a flavor, pretty pls x

You grinned to yourself and slid your phone into your purse to focus on the task at hand. 

The NCT fraternity house wasn't a completely unknown landscape to you and Reina. Being friends with one of its brothers and friends-by-association with all the rest, you'd popped by more than a few times. You could likely navigate this house with your eyes closed; that was what it was like weaving through the dark rooms and throngs of people squeezed together like sardines in a can, anyway. 

Along yours and Reina's trek to the kitchen, you gained a couple people in your conga line of linked hands, NCT's own Xiaojun and Jungwoo. NCT frat brothers always pregamed, so the two brothers were already tipsy and giggled about your kindergarten field trip line (with Reina being dubbed the poor kindergarten teacher tasked with keeping you together). 

When you arrived at your destination, it didn't take long for you to lose both Xiaojun and Jungwoo to the game of Texas Hold 'Em being played at the breakfast table. The singular lightbulb overheard made it feel like a smoke-filled backdoor gambling den. 

“Aha!” You cheered after playing a game of mystery cooler roulette, and opened the cooler lid that held the spiked Capri Sun juice pouches on ice. 

“Mine!” Reina snatched up the last cherry flavored one, the shiny aluminum slippery and ice-cold as she impaled the opening with the thin, yellow straw. 

You grabbed a Pacific Cooler flavored pouch for yourself, and a second for Yeosang. 

“Ah, is that for the man of your dreams?” Reina said between sips, her pouch already half empty. 

You sent her a look. “He has good taste, which means he'll probably appreciate Pacific Cooler as much as I do.”

“As long as it's not lemonade,” came a voice to your left. There stood a rather tall and lean man, his warm smile enunciated by the dim kitchen lighting as the green strobe lights from the living room painted across his face. “I can't deal with sour shit,” he explained, making a face. 

You laughed. “That's valid. Fruit Punch is a classic though.”

“Can't argue with that,” he replied, leaning down to pick his poison for the night. He stabbed a straw into his pouch of strawberry kiwi juice, then arched an eyebrow at you. “I feel like I know you. Do I know you?”

“Hey,” Reina chimed in as she leaned over your shoulder, “you're with the ATZ frat, aren't you? I recognize you from Twister last week.”

He smiled sheepishly from around his straw. “Ah… haha, not my best moment, but yes. I'm Yunho.”

“Reina,” your friend replied. 

“Yn,” you added on. 

Yunho's expression jerked as if he'd just been delivered an electric shock. He waved his pointer finger at you. “Oh my god, you're Yeosang's girl!”

Your eyes shuddered in surprise. Yeosang's girl. “Sorry?” You stammered. There was an insane amount of possessive pronouns being used tonight, buy you definitely weren't complaining about it, and could he perhaps say that again—

“Yeah, he won't shut up about you.” Yunho slurped up the rest of his juice pouch, draining and flattening the life out of it in record time. “He loves Pacific Cooler, by the way.”

He took his leave then, saying nothing else to you and Reina except for shooting you a pair of finger guns like saying 'go get em, tiger!’

Reina wheezed, draping herself over you for a moment. “Oh—my god! Good thing Yeosang's just as down in the trenches as you are.”

“Don't do this to me, Reina,” you whined and dragged her along out of the kitchen toward the second floor staircase. “I don't need encouragement; the crush is enough!”

“It's never enough,” she declared with her pointer finger up in the sky. “You are gone, my friend! Gone, I say.”

You patted her head as you both began your ascent up the stairs. “Alrighty; then gone, I am. Do you remember where the balcony is on this floor?”

She hummed. “Ooh! Somewhere by Johnjae's room, abouts. I just remember because Mark told us how—”

“Right—the sophomore year Romeo and Juliet reenactment,” you snorted. You couldn't wrap your head around the batshit crazy things that occurred around these parts. “Who convinced Doyoung to play Paris anyway?”

She made a noncommittal noise. “Must've been bribed—oh, there it is, but I think there's a couple out there already…”

There was most definitely a couple on the balcony. Their outlines were silhouettes against the residual strobe lights shining up from downstairs, so it was a little too dark to make out who they were. They seemed close—the girl was all over the boy, the latter trying to hold her up by her waist. Maybe she'd had too much to drink, and for a moment, you were glad someone was taking care of her. 

But when she leaned in for a kiss, green light glanced across their faces to reveal their features to you. It was only a split second, but it was all you needed. 

“Reina,” you exhaled in shock, turning away from the balcony with enough speed to nearly give you whiplash. 

She didn't question you, as you both careened back down the hall from where you came from, heading for one of the open bedrooms on this floor to collect yourselves. When the two of you were out of earshot of the balcony, she hissed under her breath in utter disbelief, “Yura?”

You'd seen it nearly clear as day, too. That was Yura kissing Yeosang. 

Your head spun as you shouldered your way into Mark's and Haechan's room, their names plastered on the door in foam letter stickers from the craft store. As Reina closed the door and turned on the lights, you sat down in Mark's desk chair attempting to make sense of what you and Reina just witnessed. 

Yeosang and Yura? But wasn't Yura the one who warned you that chasing after Yeosang was a risk because of how many others were, as well? Why would… 

Oh. 

Well, now you just felt stupid. 

Reina dragged over Haechan's desk chair to settle in front of you, her expression less enraged than before, and more concerned over what she was reading off of your face. “Hey, don't do that. Don't think like that.”

“You don't know what I'm thinking,” you murmured, setting the untouched juice pouches on the desk. 

“You're thinking that you're stupid.” 

“Okay, maybe you do know what I'm thinking.” You inhaled, then exhaled slowly, leaning forward onto your knees. “I don't really know what to think or assume.”

Reina nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. “That's okay. I don't think I really understand what I saw either.”

“But that was Yura, right?”

She bobbed her head again. “That was my cousin, yeah.”

“Would it be fair to even think that she told me all that shit last week to discourage me from seeing him?” You didn't enjoy thinking that another person would have such malicious intentions without understanding their point of view, especially someone you considered yourself friends with. 

“Well,” Reina drawled, “I think we both saw what we saw, and Yura was acting strangely about it on Saturday. It would be fair if you were hurt by it; I think your feelings have been clear.”

You gave a small nod. “Do you think he…?”

“I'm not sure, hon.” 

You resolved to talk to him about it. If anything, you had these juice pouches left to console yourself, but you wanted to make sure you knew where his feelings laid. You would be lying if you said your heart didn't harbor even a glimmer of hope that this was all a misunderstanding, and that the kiss was an accident and didn't matter. 

You and Reina left the relative safety of Mark and Haechan's bedroom to go find Yeosang. There weren't any new messages between either of you since the Capri Sun exchange, and you thought about texting him on his whereabouts. 

The balcony by Johnny and Jaehyun's room was empty now, barren of any evidence somebody was there in the first place. 

You and Reina wandered back down to the main floor. The party was nowhere near over; the night was still young. Hope was sinking fast in your stomach as the two of you traveled from room to room in search of him, but with no luck. Even asking around was useless. 

“Text him,” Reina encouraged, as the two of you sipped on the juice pouches that were supposed to be for you and him. 

She held your spiked juice while you texted him. 

As time passed, and a response had yet to come through, you tossed yours and Reina's flattened Capri Sun pouches into the nearest garbage can.

If he wasn't going to answer, then maybe you would just go home for the night. You had a lot to think about. 

Defeated, you let Reina sweep you under her arm and guide you to the front door. “Let's go home, hm?” She said, rubbing your shoulder. 

On your way to the front door, you paused. You thought you heard someone calling your name—

You turned around to find Mark barreling toward you through the crowd with another guy at his side. “Mark?” You shouted over the music. 

“Hey, we've been looking all over for you,” he said. Nodding to his friend, he told you, “This is Wooyoung, by the way, the ATZ brother I'm friends with.”

“Yeosang's been looking for you,” Wooyoung said in earnest, eyes as wide as Mark's. Had they been looking for you as much as you were looking for Yeosang?

Something like hope sparked in your chest again—you were at odds. The fight had nearly dissipated from your blood and you were ready to go home. But if he was trying to find you… it must be worth it then, right?

“Where is he?” You asked. 

It was nearing midnight by the time you settled yourself on the concrete curb outside the ATZ frat house just down the block from the target being thrown at the NCT house. With everyone over there, no wonder it was quiet enough to finally hear yourself think. With the coming of deep autumn, a slight breeze wafted by that drifted over your skin and raised goosebumps on your arms. 

You heard gravel crunching from behind you, coming down the ATZ driveway, and before you could turn your head to look, a warm jacket was placed over your shoulders. You held your breath, fingers finding the lapel to keep it from slipping as you glanced over at your counterpart. 

Yeosang lowered himself onto the curb next to you, mimicking your position with his knees bent and arms resting upon them. “I—my phone died,” he said lowly. 

“Oh.” That took care of at least two of your questions. 

“Is there—” He stopped himself, amending his statement, “There's something on your mind.”

Understatement of the century. You pulled his jacket around you, the intertwining scents of alcohol and his cologne lingering on the collar. “I was going to meet you at the balcony, and I was there, but… but I saw you and Yura, and…”

It was his turn to say “oh.” He angled his body toward you now until his knees bumped against yours and he was muttering out an apology he didn't need to say. He laid his upper body over his arms that were folded onto his knees and peered up at you through lengthy lashes.

He was waiting for you to finish. 

You swallowed, following his lead and turning your body toward him. “I saw her kiss you,” you said, the sound barely audible to anybody but you and him. “Reina and I went somewhere to kind of just soak in what we saw, and then we went back out to find you so I could talk to you about it, but we couldn't find you.”

“I'm sorry you had to see that,” he murmured, eyebrows furrowed together. “It—it didn't mean anything. She did try to kiss me, but I pushed her away before she could.”

You believed him. You loosened a small chuckle from your lips. “Y'know, it sounds silly to me now, but last week she told me that there were a number of girls who were pursing you and were very aggressive about it.”

He snorted. “If there were any, I only know of one.”

“She…?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, lips pursing. “I know she's liked me for a while, but I've made it clear I don't see her the same way. At last Friday's party, I was actually trying to lose her in the crowd when I found you.”

Your eyes widened. “So she was there?” Then Reina had actually seen her cousin at the party; Yura had lied about where she was. 

“She told me tonight that she was scared about me liking you more than her,” Yeosang said as he lifted his body back up to rest his cheek against his fist. “She was really drunk—which was why you probably saw me trying to hold her up—and then she… tried to kiss me. I pushed her away, and one of her friends found us, so I handed her over and went to get some air.”

And that was why you couldn't find him. You released a breath you didn't realize you were holding in. “Are you—are you okay? I'm so sorry she did that to you.” 

The corners of his lips tugged upward in a reassuring smile. “I'm alright, thank you. And it's not your fault.”

“I know, but still,” you insisted. “Your boundaries were violated, and it makes me feel so icky that I've called her a friend of mine, and—what?” 

Your words came to a screeching halt when you realized that Yeosang was just smiling at you. Or rather, gazing at you, admiring you. It was whatever he did whenever his eyes possessed a set of twin jewels in his irises that needed no light to glitter like gold; and when his grin softened at the corners by a tenderness that knocked the wind out of you, all words and systems failed you. 

You recognized this look, except this time, you weren't drunk. 

“I'm really happy I met you,” he said in your silence. “And I'm happy I got to see you again.”

You nearly melted. You smiled back at him, replying quietly, “Couldn’t have said it any better. Thank you for being honest with me.”

“And thank you for believing me.” He reached for your hand, his movements slow as if giving you an opening to pull back if you wanted to. But you didn't, and you closed the remaining space to link your fingers and press your palms together. 

You and Yeosang shared mutual smiles in the dim lighting outside his fraternity house. Your heart beat had quickened a considerable amount now that he was so close to you again. 

You cleared your throat. "Just to be clear though—when you said she was scared about you liking me more than her—?"

His smile reached his eyes and turned them into upturned crescent moons. "I'm not scared," he said, "that I like you more than I have ever liked her." By a landslide.

Your heart gave a lurch in your chest. "Good," you smiled. "That's good, because I like you a whole lot, too."

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Yeosang inclined his chin toward where his car was parked a couple vehicles down. “Properly this time, now that we're not completely wasted?”

You laughed. “I would love nothing more.”

Pleased, he helped you to your feet. You must have stood up far too quickly though, because the blood rushed up to your head in a riptide current. You swore as the vertigo hit you, and your footing stumbled. 

“Woah, careful there, pretty,” he murmured, his low voice by your ear as he steadied you with one hand pressed between your shoulder blades and the other around your waist. 

Oh, there went your heart… it flew up to halo around Yeosang's head, and it wasn't yours anymore—

“You okay?” He mused. 

You cleared your throat, straightening. “Yeah, I'm great,” you said sheepishly, ducking your head toward your chest. 

A warm, fond chuckle left his mouth. “Cute,” he murmured. He lifted your chin up so you would look at him, his eyes darting down toward your mouth, and yours mirroring his movements. “I was wondering…”

“You can kiss me,” you blurted out, ignoring the utter leap in your pulse and the heat crawling up the back of your neck. 

You tasted his smile as he leaned over to seal his mouth over your own, a long awaited return to the place that felt just right. You breathed him in, inhaled him, devoured him whole—you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer just as his hands pressed you flush against him. 

In the distance against the heavy house music in the background, a cheer went up into the night sky. 

You and Yeosang parted only to crane your heads in the direction of the noise, only to find what looked like a gathering of your friends and his friends hooting and applauding like it was New Years. 

“OPERATION: PASSENGER PRINCESS WINS!” The guy from earlier, Wooyoung, practically howled up at the sky. 

You pressed your face against Yeosang's shoulder as he groaned. “I am so sorry about them,” he chuckled through a grimace, lips grazing over your crown. 

You laughed along with him. “My friends are also among the guilty party, Yeo.” 

He kept his arm around your waist and you kept your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked away from your friends and toward his car. Contentment curled itself up over your chest again, and it nestled in deep, as if it planned to stay awhile. 

“By the way,” you piped up as he unlocked his car. 

“Mhm?”

You opened the passenger side door and leaned over the top of it to ask, “What the hell is Operation: Passenger Princess?” 

Yeosang sputtered out a laugh and his cheekbones burned red. “How about we save that for our third date?”

You blinked, lips parting. 

Yeosang grinned impishly. “Close that mouth, pretty, or I'll close it for you.”

Your jaw snapped closed, and his laugh echoed against the houses along this street. You climbed into the car after him, flustered beyond words. “I don't like you,” was all you could come up with. 

“I'm sure you don't.”

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if you enjoyed! also, the plan is to try and write another wooyo frat au as well, so pray for me...

atz m.list

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[storydays]

Brozone Older Brothers' NSFW Headcannons

🧡John Dory:

Whew, boy, are you in for a treat!

So it'd been 20 years-ish, since he'd been in Pop Troll culture, so he is out of practice when it comes to intimacy.

100% an ass and thighs man: You bend over in front of him, no matter what you're doing, instant hard on.

He's more of a grower than a shower: 5.1 inch normal and 5.3 when hard (Correct my if this is wrong bc I know nothing about penis education lmao)

Play with his ears, or even his tail, and he is instant putty in your hands.

Turn-ons include: edging (giving or receiving), eating you out/blowing you, (loves receiving more than giving but will still pleasure you as well as you did him) tying you up (and he knows some different knots from his adventuring days) and many more that I can't think of lol.

Def gives me top vibes but once in a while you'll catch him off guard and top the hell out of him

When you do top him, he is such a whiny little bitch, and you hold him there for hours until the sunshine peeks through your curtains.

Leave hickeys on his neck and he'll happily wear them and preen when you press a soft kiss to them when you're jealous.

When it's jealousy sex, angry sex, or sex in general, the bed will be creaking, Rhonda will be shaking, and anyone who happen to walk by the armadillo-bus will know exactly what's going on and run away in horror at the noises they heard.

He is a caveman when you first meet but starts to clean himself up a bit.

Is a total mess when it comes to cum. He cums buckets in you (if given consent), on your face, stomach, anywhere really.

Bruce:

Ooh, this is gonna be fun

So Bruce has had his fair share of lovers, and knows his way around different genitalia and how to expose his partner's feel good spots.

Ugh, please please pull his tail

Just like the rest of him, he's pretty girthy down there, but is still long enough to hit those special spots.

His hair is beautifully tamed, which means he is tamed down there too, and even learned to make different shapes and designs out of pubic hair.

Def a a shower and grower: 3.5 when flaccid, but a whopping 5.5 when hard

He knows how to use his mouth, hands, and tail to make his partner scream

Def a power bottom; watches you through half lidded eyes as you take what you want from him, occasionally praising or degrading you, depending on his mood.

He's a attentive lover, and will cherish everything about your lovemaking, and make sure you're okay.

Turn ons include: hair (only time) and tail pulling, you making eye contact with him while making lewd gestures, being a brat and teasing him, morning 69, and loves when you surprise attack him; so many emotions flood through him, and he allows you to take some control, before he takes over and pushes you over the edge, with a smug smirk.

Sex is like a game to him: the end goals are making you feel like a million bucks and making you drunk on his love. Will tease you by cumming first, before he allows you to cum.

He is one smug son of a bitch when you can barely walk, or when someone makes a comment about the hickeys on your body (he leaves them everywhere), or about the scratches and bite marks on his back.

📚 Clay:

Okay, so he wants to be the best you've ever had, so this bookworm absolutely studied up on how best to pleasure you. STUDIED FOR DAYS, and even studied while they were attempting to pleasure you.

Annoyed, you snatched the book from him, and turned the tables on them.

He's pretty average, right in the middle both length and thickness so pretty enjoyable for both parties.

Prefers giving than receiving, adores when you use your hair to hold him in place

THEY ABSOLUTELY ADORES THICCCCC THIGHS; (Yall see how thick Viva's thighs are? #CLIVIA )

Would spend hours in between your legs if you let him

Quite noises escape him....unless you bring out the dark green strap on and/or cock ring...then it's the Theatre Du Chatelet in y'all bedroom!

(Their brothers' overheard y'all one time, and the next day they all avoided your smirk and Clay's bright purple blush when you make a smart comment.)

Everyone sees him as serious/fun, but when you two are intimate, it's just Daddy and Baby Girl, it's up to you to figure out which is which, (😉)

Always uses protection just to prevent any accidents.

With you, he can let go of labels and just be Clay and they love you for that.

Turn ons: that strap on/cock ring, dem thighs, being pulled closer when they go down on you, you taking control, just you in general, teasing him in public, making suggestive comments in his ear while his brothers' and friends are around and he can't do nothing but try to make the blush go away and ac natural, glaring darkly at you when no one was looking.

He is clean and trimmed down there.

[theminecraftbee]

Vintagebeef and time loop?

The second-most annoying thing, he thinks, is that his crops just won't grow.

He's wanted to retire for a while now. Head out and live on a farm. Get some rest. Not have to worry about gunfire and business fronts and drugs and appearances and being in charge. He'd known he wouldn't be able to escape fully. Beef always knew he was on a timer, no matter how he tried to bury the hatchet and bury his past behind you. It always catches up.

He had a big name. He had a big life. He can't just retire from being head of Big Salmon, even if his loyal Skizzleman is the only person he told where he was going. One day, someone will catch up with him, and perhaps if he's lucky they'll turn his tractor into a car bomb. If he's unlucky, it'll be personal.

So in a lot of ways, really, the fact he keeps on waking up in the morning is a gift. It may be the same morning over and over again, sure, but he collects the eggs from his chickens, and he pats his dog, and he feeds his pigs, and he feels the sun shine on his face in a place that smells nothing like asphalt and fumes.

If his tomatoes would grow, it'd be nearly perfect, getting to wake up again and again in the sun like this. It's better than a man like him deserves, really. And it may be Wednesday, and Wednesday, and no tomorrows, but he didn't have himself much of a tomorrow anyway, and collecting the eggs from the chickens is nearly as good as harvesting the crops.

Quiet, and peaceful.

Or it should be. But see: the crops not growing are the second-most annoying thing.

The first most annoying is--

"HALLO! I have decided that this time, I am announcing I am here to assassinate you, ah? That way, you won't see it coming and manage to escape."

Beef groans and puts his head in his hands. A red dot appears on his temple.

"Don't try to run. You have a lovely home, of course, and I don't want to put holes in it. You've repaired those holes real fast, I have to say. You're a real hole expert. No, wait, that sounds terrible in English. Ah well, I'll just say it again."

It's him again.

"...hello? VintageBeef? I have been hired to kill you by your rivals? You aren't even moving. See, this is how you always get me. You do not move and I think I have killed you, then I come back in the morning and it is fixed! Very strange, very strange."

He hasn't realized it's a time loop. Somehow. Beef's tried to tell him. It's a little hard when he's busy being as annoying as possible, and ruining what would otherwise be the best chance for Beef to retire he's got.

"Well, okay, I guess I'll just pull the trigger. This is boring. You're boring, except for the part where you won't die. Hey, wait, maybe you can introduce me to your chickens instead? So next time I can bring you a totally safe chicken."

"Go away," Beef says.

"But I'm being paid so much money to kill you!" the famed assassin codenamed Iskall85 says. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"No!"

"But I've tried to do this so many ways!"

"Have you considered there's a reason it's not working?"

Iskall considers for a moment. "Naaaaah," he says, and Beef's instincts flare all at once. He dives to the ground as Iskall takes the shot. "Awww, no fair. I thought you were not moving."

"What do you want from me," Beef says.

"I mean, I feel like I've been pretty clear," Iskall says, and Beef doesn't say that he's not even asking Iskall at this point. He's asking the universe. He's asking this Wednesday. He's asking why this has happened to him.

The universe, of course, does not respond, and Beef ducks behind cover for yet another day of his peaceful time loop retirement being completely ruined.

[ohthemis]

Hi! May i request a fanfic?? Where tot male leads are sick and mc is taking care of them, despite them saying they are fine and later on they starts acting clingy? Thank you so much! Stay safe :)

tot boys when they're sick

characters: all

a/n: ive been gone for centuries lol, sorry i got into a big school and underestimated the workload. finished this because i ditched my case study after a breakdown.

ARTEM WING

he just wants to work, so why won't you just let him work? "i'm fine, mc. i promise, so please, just give me some time to work in peace." he knows he's being snappy, and it isn't fair to you, who just wants to help him, but it's not like he's dying.

you come behind him and tenderly place your hands on his shoulders. "you're sick, artem. please rest?" he sighs, he's trying to understand you, after all he'd do the same for you, but he can't help the nagging feeling of annoyance pulling on his chest.

"mc, i really need you to get out of my office right now. okay?" he doesn't intend for his tone to be so sharp, so mean, but that's exactly how it comes out. you sigh and do as he says, not before giving him a soft kiss on his scalp.

artem then proceeds to go back to work, or at the very least, he tries to. he feels sick and he feels guilty. he reluctantly gets up and opens his office door, greeted by the sight of warm soup and some tea prepped up by his doorstep.

his legs move faster than his brain, and before he knows it, he's already wrapping his arms around you on the bed. he relishes the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. 'it's good to be sick once in a while', he thinks.

MARIUS VON HAGEN

he playfully nudges you away, "i'm fiiiine." his voice is nasally and hoarse, and his skin is paling. you both know he's not fine. "marius, i'm serious right now. let's get you to bed." he refuses again, his hands still typing away on the laptop, despite your tugging on his sleeve.

you even go as far as to try and entice him to bed. "come on, i'll even join you." he grins at that. "tempting offer, but this needs to get done asap, mc." you sigh at his stubbornness. "marius, you look like you're at death's doorstep." but he doesn't budge.

eventually, you're left no choice but to make him some soup and resign yourself to the sofa behind him. you're tapping away on your phone when you feel it. the sofa dips beside you, and he drops his head into your lap.

"mc, my head hurts so bad. i think i'm dying." you roll your eyes but your fingers almost reflexively start to massage his forehead. "that's why i told you to get off your computer and come rest." he sighs into your stomach as your ministrations on his skin relieve him of some pain.

"mm, you're always right, mc. offer still up for the bed." you help him up on his feet. "yeah. but don't get any ideas. you're sick." he lays his head on your shoulder, "'m not that sick." he proceeds to collapse on the bed within seconds of laying down.

LUKE PEARCE

he's coughing his heart out and you're to your knees in worry for him. he, as always, assures you that it's nothing. in the morning, he tells you he was just choking on breakfast. now, he's telling you that he just swallowed wrong.

"luke, you're not fine. please just rest." you plead with him to the best of your abilities, but he refuses to budge. luke smiles at you reassuringly. "for what? just something in my throat is all." you sigh, knowing there isn't much you can do to argue with him.

he goes back to tinkering an old watch a client left for him to fix. you hear a sharp intake of breath and luke slowly turns around. you look up, and you nearly collapse yourself once you see the blood dripping from his nose, down to his shirt.

you're quickly standing next to him, panicking. luke calmly instructs you what to do, and you follow his words. your hands tremble as you tend to him, and he lets you lead him to the bedroom.

that night, he can barely sleep. he's tossing and turning, going between shivering cold and sweating hot. you spend the night kissing his tears away, brushing the damp strands of hair away from his forehead, and adjusting the ac as needed. he finally falls asleep during the early peaks of the morning, his hand tightly wrapped around yours.

VYN RICHTER

vyn is a stubborn man. you should be used to it by now. there's no point in arguing with him, especially when he's dead set on something. but you wish that he'd just listen to you this once. "vyn, you aren't fine. you're sniffling and clearing your throat ever five seconds." he repeats the same thing he told you five minutes ago.

"it's just a cold, don't worry too much about it." but what kind of cold has him staggering as he walks or refusing lunch because he just has no appetite? you come over and wrap your arms around him, a frown on your face. he kisses your jaw and goes back to his papers.

you try to tug on his shoulder gently. "please? just listen to me this once. please?" he signs something, before humming. he sighs and stands up from his seat. "alright. lead the way." you take his hand and lead him to the bedroom. you lay him down, and he thinks it's sweet how much you care for him.

he thinks it's sweet until he's on the brink of insanity because he feels absolutely sick and you're busy getting some medicine for him. "mc, just let me die, i need you here," he whines from the bedroom. you've heard the same thing in about 30 variations in 5 minutes.

once you get back with his pills, he practically inhales the drugs and latches onto you. he grabs you by the arm and pulls you in. "please stay," he asks, in a voice softer than you've ever heard from him. "you won't let me go anyway," you reply. he hums smugly.

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley just wants to make you as happy as you make him, and he hates it when you won't even let him try. But when your frustration boils over, you snap at the person you believe deserves it the most.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, swearing

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You had been foolishly holding out hope. Until your period actually began, you'd been telling yourself that maybe there was still a chance. Maybe you had just taken the pregnancy test too early. Maybe you got a false negative.

So when you woke up for work on Monday and needed a tampon, you scolded yourself for your optimism. There was no point in it, because it only made you feel worse in the long-run. 

Bradley rubbed your shoulders and kissed your neck as you put your contacts in at the bathroom vanity. You looked gross. You were bloated, and your face was broken out. You vowed to stick to a better diet until you lost some weight. 

"Morning, Baby Girl," he murmured against your ear. It wasn't even fair. You wanted him all the time. He was perfect all the time. His voice gave you chills. 

"Morning," you whispered. "My period started." Your voice shook pathetically. 

"It's okay," he promised. "It's going to be okay." 

But you really felt like it wasn't. And work was pissing you off. When you got to your lab, you remembered that you and Cat were going to be spending the day working on proposals together. Great. 

"Did you have fun at the Hard Deck?" you asked her, practically throwing your computer onto the counter next to hers. 

She looked up at you, and you could tell she wanted to roll her eyes. "It was fun," she replied. "Not really my scene, but I can see where it would be yours."

You wanted to ask her what that was supposed to mean, but you bit your tongue. You wouldn't give her the satisfaction of thinking you cared about her opinion of you. And you were definitely going to have to tell Jake to get a crush on a hot looking woman who was actually nice, because you'd had just about enough of this. He had bugged you all night at the bar to introduce him to Cat again. He asked you about her all the time, but there was nothing to tell.

You took a seat and pounded away at your keyboard, working all morning while trying to ignore your cramps and your irritation with the woman next to you. Neither of you spoke a word about anything personal. It was all professional. When you noticed that it was noon, you said, "Let's take a break," in as bright a voice as you could.

Jake was waiting in the doorway for you. Or maybe he was just trying to catch a glimpse of Cat. But regardless, when you approached him, he smiled and handed you a container of soup from the cafeteria. "Angel. Let's eat in your office," he drawled. And when Cat breezed past him, he murmured, "Hi, Lieutenant Coleman."

She smirked in response, and Jake turned to watch her walk the entire way down the hall. "You're such a dog," you told him, inspecting the soup and finding it was chicken noodle. "You just need to get laid. Go to the bar tonight. There'll be a line of girls waiting for you."

He met your eyes and shook his head. "I'm not really doing that anymore."

You snorted as he followed you to your office. "Could you imagine if I agreed to go out with you? Bradley and I would have never happened after that."

Jake kicked his booted foot along your office floor before he plopped down into your extra chair. "Yeah, well... he'd have likely killed me if we went out. But, hey, you're not listening to me, Angel. Tell me more about Cat Coleman."

You sighed and ate some soup. "She's mean to me, okay? She doesn't like me."

"I don't believe you."

"It's true. She's so bitchy to me but nice to everyone else. She makes fun of the way I work. She won't eat lunch with me. She avoids me all the time. She hates me."

You swallowed another spoonful of soup, and tears immediately sprung to your eyes. You looked up at Jake, and you knew he could tell something was wrong immediately. When he jumped to his feet, you tried to wave him off, but he was kneeling next to your chair and rubbing your hand before you knew it. 

"What happened?" he asked softly. When you didn't respond, he gave you a few seconds before asking, "Do you want me to go get Rooster?"

"No," you croaked, your throat burning with the effort to talk. "I'm fine."

"You do not sound fine. You can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Right."

"Well, I'm all ears."

And he just knelt there next to you while you told him how much you hated going to your lab now. And you told him that you had your period. And then you said, "Bradley and I are trying to start a family, but it's just not happening."

"Hey," he said, letting you cry it out. "You and Bradley are already a family. Plus, you've got Tramp. And Nat and I are like siblings you guys never even wanted."

You kind of shrugged at him. "It's not the same thing."

"I know that, but sometimes it takes time," he told you.

"It's been four months," you whispered. 

Jake stood up and pulled you to your feet, and then he wrapped you in a hug so tight, his name tag was digging into your collarbone. "Just give it some time. You want me to talk to Rooster?"

"No. Let's just finish eating lunch."

-----------------------

Bradley had been trying all week. Kissing along your neck and rubbing your hips through your khakis while you made dinner. But you finally snapped at him on Wednesday night when you were trying to cut up some sun dried tomatoes for the Marry Me Rooster he had requested. 

"I'm trying to cook dinner, Bradley. Yes, I realize you're trying to get me in the mood. Yes, I can feel your erection. No, I don't want to have sex. I look gross, and I feel gross." You set down your knife and turned to face him. He had taken one huge step away from you, and now he was looking at you with the saddest brown eyes. 

"I'm sorry," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair as he walked down the hallway toward your bedroom. 

"Shit," you whispered as you rushed after him. "I'm sorry."

He was standing next to the bed unbuttoning his uniform shirt when you walked in and headed right for him. But he didn't say anything, just yanked his shirt off and tossed it onto the bed. The sight of him in his khaki pants and black undershirt had you sucking in a deep breath. It wasn't that you didn't want him. You just didn't even want yourself right now.

"Bradley," you whispered. 

"Nah. I'm going to go workout in the garage," he told you, stripping out of his pants and digging in a drawer for some gym shorts. "I'll eat later. Don't wait for me."

You watched him walk back out of the room. Then he called for Tramp, and you heard the sliding glass door open and then close. You went back to the kitchen and finished making dinner. You had to fight the urge to go out to the garage and get Bradley, because somehow you knew you'd just end up making things worse. You made him a beautiful plate of dinner and left it on the island. And then you got yourself ready for bed. You were no longer hungry. 

------------------------

Bradley was stressing out. He could feel his composure crumbling as every maneuver he performed in the air was wrong. Everything felt wrong. It was like he and his Super Hornet were out of sync. Like he couldn't trust himself. 

"What are you doing, Rooster?" Phoenix asked him through the comms. But Bradley didn't even know how to respond, because he hadn't been paying attention. He was distracted. He was never like this in the air. 

And then he heard Maverick call his team back to the ground, and he knew it was his fault. He wished he could take all of the pushups for Phoenix and Bob as well, but it was a team effort after all. So Bradley had to try to keep calm while he could feel them glaring at him through all two hundred pushups.

He had been like this all week. Nothing made as much sense to him as flying did. Well, other than you. But things had been a little rough and unpredictable at home. He wasn't really trying to do it, but he had begun to memorize when you were ovulating and when your period was due. Fucking you was no chore, but he was absolutely ready for you to miss a period. He was obsessed with the idea of you showing him a positive pregnancy test. But it just... wasn't happening yet.

And now he was putting pressure on himself. Because he knew he was a ticking time bomb. He felt it in his bones. Any day now, he would be getting deployment papers. And then you would be alone for who knows how long. Weeks or months. Bradley would be on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific Ocean, and you would be at home, worrying about him. And the mission to make a baby would be put on hold, replaced by a different kind of mission.

The thing was, all of this was bothering him a hell of a lot more now, because it was bothering you so much. 

Bradley slammed his locker closed only to find Jake standing there. "You better pull it together, Bradshaw," he said so calmly that it pissed Bradley off even more. "Or you're going to get grounded."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Bradley asked, getting in his face. "Do you think I don't know I'm flying like shit right now?"

But Jake didn't move an inch, and his expression didn't change. "I think whatever is bothering you... well, you should take it home to your wife. Angel will help you feel better."

Bradley took a deep breath and let it out slowly, leaning against his locker with his fist clenched. "She's part of the fucking problem," Bradley growled, and he watched Jake's eyes grow wide. 

Jake gaped at him before he said, "I can't think of a single time you've ever said something like that about her." His feelings seemed to be hurt on your behalf, but Bradley didn't know how to explain how he felt. 

"When she puts pressure on herself, all I want is to relieve it for her," he told Jake softly, trying to unclench his fist. "But I can't. She won't let me."

Jake sighed. "I think I know what it's about. She's been pretty upset. Tried to tell her it's not her fault, but I can tell she's blaming herself."

Bradley could feel his cheeks flushing. You and Jake were close. The other man probably did know some details about your intimate moments with Bradley which was kind of mortifying. However, Bradley would never want you to feel like you couldn't confide in someone you trusted. It was just hard to gasp that Jake was oftentimes that person for you. 

"We just want to have a baby," Bradley growled. 

"It's only been a few months," Jake reminded him. "Deep down, Angel knows it takes time."

Bradley looked up at the flickering fluorescent bulb. "Sometimes I feel like I'm never doing enough for her," he whispered, grabbing his bag and brushing past Jake. 

But he almost ran into Payback on his way out. "What are you still doing here, man?" he asked with a grin. "If I had a girl as hot as your wife, I'd be home by now, pumping her full of babies."

The urge to punch his friend directly in the face was so strong, Bradley had to bite his lip and keep moving. He needed to get home to you but not take this out on you. That would be unacceptable. Because while you were adding to his stress, he would never tell you that. 

You were already home when he walked inside, and Bradley had to try to fight for composure. "Hi," he managed to say. Of course you looked impossibly cute, laying with Tramp on the couch in Bradley's oversized UVA tee and a pair of his boxer briefs. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to keep his hands off you right now, but you'd been distant with him for more than a week. 

"How was your day?" you asked him softly.

Somehow your sweet voice just made him angry. Your voice and your gorgeous face and the way he could see your nipples through the shirt. And Bradley couldn't help himself. His voice was rough to his own ears, and he sounded mad. "My day fucking sucked. It was terrible," he growled. "I flew like an asshole. I got everyone assigned to pushups. I was so distracted from work, thinking about you."

Your eyes were wide as you sat up. "Thinking about me?" Tramp jumped to the floor and ran over to sniff at Bradley's boots as he untied them. 

"Yeah," he grunted, wrestling out of his flight suit and tossing it to a heap on the floor. His skin felt too hot. He needed to go for a run or lift weights. "I told you I think about you all the damn time. And today, trust me, I wish I hadn't been."

"What does that mean?" you asked him, standing up between the couch and the coffee table, your lips forming a little pout. 

Bradley yanked his undershirt off as well, standing just inside the front door in only his compression shorts and his socks. "It means I'm mad because you won't let me try to make you feel better! You don't even want to talk to me, but you'll talk to Jake! I'm fucking pissed that you're skipping meals and ditching me for lunch every day!"

Bradley took off toward the bedroom, leaving you behind. He was afraid of what else he was going to say if he didn't get some space to himself right now. And the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. But when he got into the bedroom to get some workout clothes, you followed him. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered, biting your lip and looking at him with wide eyes.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked loudly, slamming his drawer shut instead of actually pulling anything out of it. "Tell me."

"I'm sorry I've been shutting you out, Roo." You took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry I haven't been eating lunch with you. I know we can keep trying, but when I get my period now, I panic."

"You panic and talk to Jake," Bradley growled. When you simply nodded, his blood boiled. He knew he was red in the face as he closed the distance to you. The words were there before he could take them back. "If you want to talk to Jake all the time, maybe you should have married him."

Your lips parted soundlessly, and then you moaned. A needy sound, from the back of your throat. One that had Bradley's cock stirring immediately. 

"I don't want him. I've never wanted him. I just want you."

"Do you want me right now, Baby Girl? Because I wanna fuck you right here," he said as calmly as he could, but his voice was still gruff and unsteady. "You're going to have to tell me to go out back to the garage if you want me to keep my hands to myself. Okay? Because I want my wife. But I will settle for my hand and then the bench press if you don't want me back."

You whimpered, reaching for the hem of the tee shirt and guiding it up over your hips. "I am so turned on," you whispered. "Please."

"Please what?" Bradley demanded, running his hand along his cock through his shorts. 

"Daddy," you gasped in shock. Like you couldn't even believe you said it to him. Like you needed him as badly as he needed you. "Fuck me."

"Baby Girl," he whispered harshly as he pressed himself against you.

You yanked the shirt over your head and pulled his boxer briefs down over your delicious hips as you moaned, "I want my husband."

His cock was fully at attention now as he stroked your dainty Rooster tattoo with his fingertips. "I'm right here," he growled, watching you step out of his underwear and kick them aside. Your eyes were wide and fixed on his as you stood naked before him. "You gonna let me take care of you?"

"Yes," you gasped when he moved his hand to your pussy. "Are you still angry, Daddy? From your bad day?"

Bradley raised one eyebrow. He knew how he sounded. He knew he was breathing heavily. He also felt how fucking wet you were as he slid his middle finger along your slit. 

"Do you want me to be?" he asked before placing a rough kiss to your lips. 

"Yes," you moaned, and in one swift movement, Bradley had the front of your body pressed up against the wall next to the bedroom door. You squealed and braced yourself with both hands as he gently kicked your legs a little further apart. 

"You like making me this way?" he growled next to your ear before sucking hard on your neck. "I think you do."

Bradley reached his hands up to squeeze your tits as you whined his name. He stroked your nipples softly with his thumbs while he sucked on your neck some more. 

Then he took his cock in his right hand and guided himself to your opening. He filled you in one swift motion, and started fucking you so hard, your face almost hit the wall. He caught you with his hand on your jaw as you whimpered for him. 

"You think it's fun to get me all pissed off at work?" he asked, low and soft. "You love having so much control over me, don't you?"

"I do," you whispered as he turned your face so you were looking at him over your shoulder. 

"You love knowing I think about your voice during lectures. Think about your body when I'm flying. I can't stop thinking about how much I love fucking you," he said, his voice getting louder as he pressed his forehead against your perfect cheek and brushed his fingers over your tattoo before stroking your clit.

You cried out for him. "I do, Daddy! I love it!"

Bradley was determined to get you off. He wouldn't have a repeat of the dining room floor. Not today. He went a little harder, a little deeper. He listened to the incoherent words tumbling out of your mouth. And then he said, "Try and find someone better than me. Someone else who can fuck you this good. You can't."

"No!" you grunted, your fingers bending, nails digging into the wall. You were struggling to look at him as your eyes fluttered closed. 

He kissed along your jaw before ending at your ear and whispering, "I love you." And then he felt it. That beautiful clench of your pussy as you came for him. He knew the feel of you so well. He wanted to take care of everything for you. He needed to give you everything you wanted. Be everything you needed. 

He came for you too, hands drifting to your hips as his movements slowed. You were unsteady on your feet as you turned to face him. Bradley's cum was dripping down your legs and onto the floor as you reached for him. Then you were in his arms, kissing him just right with your fingers in his hair. And he couldn't remember why he'd been upset in the first place. 

"I love you," you whispered against his lips. Bradley stumbled back onto the bed with you wrapped up with him. When he fell back with you on top of him, you laughed. 

"Come here," he coaxed, and you straddled his waist and kissed him until your lips were puffy. When he tried to move, you held him down and kissed him some more. He felt himself relax completely with every little sound you made and every swipe of your tongue against his. 

"Roo," you crooned, your lips moving to his neck and kissing him softly there.

He groaned and started to sit up. "What's it called when the foreplay comes after sex?"

You giggled. "Post play?"

"Shit, Sweetheart," he said, letting you keep going with your lips. "You want more?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed against his skin, setting his nerve endings ablaze. 

"Give me a minute, and I'll take care of you again."

--------------------

You were sore on Monday morning. In the best kind of way. You and Bradley had spent the weekend talking and having sex. And then having more sex. Only taking a break to go grocery shopping and swing by the Hard Deck. Jake knew right away that you were both feeling much better. He was always so patient with you that you found it hard not to smile when he bought you and Bradley beers. 

You needed to be more open with Bradley. And you would be. And starting today, you'd meet him and Nat in the cafeteria unless you really were honestly working through lunch instead of hiding in your office. You just needed to get through your morning with Cat. Which was easier said than done.

She gave you short answers to every question. When you asked her to type up some of the notes you wrote, she looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "Shouldn't you have typed this up yourself?"

You sighed. "I worked it up over the weekend. In my free time. I read it to my husband as I wrote it, and it seemed to flow easier when I wrote it."

She scrutinized your notebook. "Well I can barely read it. I'll work in the code while you type it up. I'm better at the code anyway."

Was she implying she was better at coding than typing? Or that she was better at coding than you were? She made you so mad. The next time Jake mentioned how beautiful her eyes were, you were going to pummel him. 

Everyone else had already deserted the lab when you realized what time it was. "Should we take a lunch break?" you asked, scrambling to lock up your computer. Bradley and the others were probably waiting for you already. You did not want to disappoint him today. Not after such a perfect weekend. 

"Fine," Cat agreed. Her tone was short, like you were throwing off her entire day by deciding to take lunch at lunchtime. 

You squared your shoulders and turned to face her as she stood up. Then you blurted out, "I don't understand what I did to make you dislike me."

Cat froze in place, her eyes appraising your face. You felt the prickle of embarrassment along your skin, and you were afraid she was going to laugh in your face. But she just shook her head slowly. "I don't dislike you."

"Yes, you do," you scoffed, your embarrassment swiftly replaced with annoyance. 

"No, Lieutenant Commander. I do not," she said, firmly closing her computer. Then she went off, and you didn't stop her. "But your life is so perfect, it's honestly hard for me to relate to you. Even at work. Your husband dotes on you. He's always in the lab, bringing you snacks and asking you about your day. You've got Seresin in here all the time, too. And you're the golden child. Bickel sings your praises at the meetings every week."

Your eyes were bugging out. "But, that's not-"

She cut you off and kept going. "You and I both have the same master's degree, but I'm a year older than you, and you outrank me." Her voice sounded bitter as she said, "I'm a single mom. My life is a mess. I'm broke. We live with my uncle. I feel like a joke all the time. But your life is perfect. And trust me, I wish more than anyone else that I wasn't jealous of you." 

You stood completely still and watched her walk out of the lab and disappear down the hallway. Your life was not perfect. The fact that it maybe looked that way to someone else shocked you. Cat thought she was a mess. Well, you were a mess, too. But she was a mom. 

A moment later, you followed her down the hallway toward the cafeteria where Bradley was waiting for you with a smile on his face and a bottle of your favorite hot sauce on his tray.

-------------------------

Oh. Cat's a little jelly of BG. Well, Cat... BG just might be a little jelly of you. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

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[m-jelly]

actress reader x levi where reader does a seggs scene with someone else and levi sees it on film and gets jealous? all fluff!

The panting and slight hums didn't seem familiar, but it was still you. Clearly, you were wearing something to cover your body, but it was still you. The way you smiled at the alien lover was believable to everyone but Levi because he knew your real smile, but it was still you.

"Levi?" You walked into the living room with a gift you'd bought him. "Leviii?" You looked up and saw what was on the TV. "Oh, that's my new movie!" You hurried around the sofa and sat next to Levi. "What do you think?" You hugged his arm and smiled. "I finally got to do a space movie like I always dreamed of!"

Guilt hit Levi hard, he felt bad that he'd gotten jealous over a sex scene in a movie you had dreamed of doing. He knew you loved space and now you were this incredible space Captain like Commander Shepard from a game you adored.

"I uh..." He shifted in his seat. "You are incredible in this movie. You play the Captain so perfectly. Your fight scenes are so impressive. Your character is so kind, sweet, strong and fair. You're impressive." He released a long sigh. "You..." He pouted hard. "Your romance...with the handsome alien man?"

You tilted your head. "Mm?"

"It was...it..." He huffed. "Did you have to have sex with him?"

You frowned a moment. "I didn't?"

He pointed at the TV. "You're naked with him right there!"

You looked at the TV to see the morning after. "Oh, you mean the sex scene? God, those are so fucking awkward. You have to be all taped up, there are hot lights over you, lots of people watching. You get directed to do every single move. They keep saying cut to adjust makeup and hair. I had makeup in odd places. Every blemish, mole or tattoo had to go. I felt very far from me possible. Plus, my co-star's makeup and prosthetics had to be fixed cause he had them all over his body."

Levi's jealousy slowly reduced. "Really? Is it that bad?"

You whined. "Yes. I really hate doing them for movies. I ask for them to take them out. I don't think they add to the movie or TV shows at all." You hugged your legs. "Plus, it's out there for everyone to see. Makes me feel a bit sick knowing some guy has it on repeat and he's just.." You sighed. "I'm sorry you had to see it. I'm trying to stop them."

He yanked you into his arms and held you. "I didn't realise they're so awkward and what it could mean also." He kissed your cheek a few times before kissing you. "I love you."

"I love you so much."

He held you against him. "My precious brat."

You snuggled up to him. "I did love that movie. I'm excited to do a second one with the character, but it will also mean possibly another sex scene." You threw yourself against Levi. "I don't really want to."

Levi rubbed your back. "Poor brat." He massaged his fingers in your hair. "How about I be the body double?" He smiled when you gazed at him. "I know some actors and actresses get their partner to stand in for kissing scenes and sex scenes so it's less awkward. So?"

You grinned. "That'd be amazing! I'd love to suggest that." You cupped his face. "You'd look sexy as an alien." You kissed the end of his nose. "I just want to ravage you."

Levi dragged you onto his lap. "That sounds exciting."

You straddled him and cupped his face. "Levi, you're the only man for me." You gasped. "I got you a gift!"

"Really?"

You showed him a ring box and opened it. "I saw this on my way back from my interview and I thought it was perfect for you."

Levi gazed at the black ring. "It's incredible...I can't believe you're proposing...I was going to this weekend on our date!" He shifted you off him and hurried to his office before running back to you. He sat on the sofa and presented you with a ring. "See?"

You gazed at the ring, it was so perfect and delicate. "Levi..."

His smile slowly faded and a blush consumed his cheeks. "You weren't proposing."

You giggled. "Well, I have been thinking about it. I love you, Levi. I want to marry you. So, will you marry me?"

He growled as he said your name. "Will you marry me? I was thinking it first."

"Yes."

He kissed you. "Yes." He slipped your ring on your finger. He took the black ring and put it on his hand. "I can't believe that a sex scene led to our engagement."

You dove at him as you giggled. "Yes. My handsome Levi. I love you."

He gripped you tightly. "I love you more."

Tag list under the read more.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a

@youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity

@nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08

@levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife

@demonic-bird @searriously

[xoxoavenger]

Try Me

pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N has powers that can heal any illness or wound through her cooking, which comes in handy when Matt gets hurt.

word count: 2279

warnings: small mention of wounds but not graphic

part 2

12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist

"Matt, oh my God." Y/N said as she walked into the office to see Matt all bruised, a cut above his eye. "What happened?" She asked, walking closer to see it closer. He looked away, but she was already sitting on his desk, moving his glasses away.

"I, uh, I fell down the stairs." He told her, but she just shook her head and clucked her tongue. She reached into her bag to grab the pastry she packed that day. She always packed one everyday just in case, but she didn't think she would have to use it this early.

"Did you eat breakfast?" She asked, trying to keep herself from running a hand through his hair. Because of course she had to fall for him, her coworker.

"No, but I-"

"Come on, Matt." She smiled as she got off the desk, pulling her skirt down. "I can practically hear your stomach growling from here." With that she walked to her own front desk, Karen's old one. Y/N had taken over the blonde's position of secretary, and she was good at it.

"Good morning you beautiful people!" Foggy practically yelled as he walked through the door. The man had way too much energy for eight thirty in the morning. "Y/N, here's your coffee." He grabbed a cup out of the cup holder and placed it on her desk before winking at her.

"And here's your breakfast." She handed him a pastry, because she always gave one to him even though she knew it wouldn't do anything.

The truth was, Y/N had a power. It wasn't one she flaunted, hell, she hardly ever used it, but she practiced it just incase. She could heal people with her food; how, she wasn't sure, and she had only found it out ten years prior, when she made food for her friend. A couple minutes later, the small cat scratch on her friend's cheek was miraculously gone. After that, she continued to test her theory until there was no doubt in her mind that she had powers.

Just like the Avengers.

But she didn't want fame. She didn't want to be in an elite team of super heroes. She wanted the life she had, working with Foggy and Matt and Karen when she was in the office. It was a fine life.

Plus, she was totally in love with Matt Murdock.

"You're telling me I'm not the only one you make breakfast for?" Matt asked, causing Y/N to smile. She looked over to see Matt eating, which made her happy. She was glad he would be healing, and her heart was hurting slightly at the fact that Matt had to live all alone. Obviously he could take care of himself, but she wanted to be able to take care of him, to heal him when he did things like fall down the stairs.

"Fine, from now on, I'll make breakfast for both of you." She smiled as she looked between the two boys.

"That isn't fair! I bring you coffee, which means Matt has to bring you something too. You cannot just give your baking talents out like that!" Foggy complained, making Y/N roll her eyes.

"I'm sure I'll think of something. Until I do, just keep track." Matt smiled at her before going to his work, grabbing his glasses and putting them back on. Y/N stared for a few seconds before going to work filing and sorting.

~

"Matt," Y/N said in surprise when she walked in the next day. It wasn't surprise of his presence, he had often been in the office first now. Foggy told Y/N that he used to never come in, that Nelson and Murdock had once been done for because Matt never showed up, but he was obviously over it now. No, she was gasping because she was so in shock at his state. He didn't look any better from her pastry - in fact, he almost looked like he'd fallen again.

"Y/N," Matt smiled, but she could tell it was strained.

"Matthew, what did you do this time?" She sat on his desk once more, giving him the pastry. She took his glasses off before he could protest, and looked at his wounds.

"What do you mean?" He chuckled, shying slightly away from her. "I fell down the stairs."

"Twice?" She wiped her finger over some of the dried blood off his face.

"No, I fell the night before yesterday." He told her, wincing as she touched a fresh cut.

"No," She fought back, frowning. "That's fresh blood." She wanted to say that she knew it was new because the pastry should have accelerated his healing enough that he shouldn't be bruising this bad.

"Must've reopened a cut." Matt shrugged, but he made no move to move her hand. She rubbed her fingers over his bruises, hoping the pastry she brought today was enough to help him.

"I'm fine, Y/N. Don't worry about me." He waved her off and she stood, not wanting to annoy him.

"Have you figured out a way to repay me for the pastries every morning?" She asked, trying to find a topic he'd be comfortable talking about.

"Not yet. But, I promise I will." He looked in her general direction, eyes unfocused. She stared, not out of confusion or disgust, but out of wonder. Why would he hide his eyes? They expressed so much emotion, and they were beautiful. He must have sensed her staring, because he quickly felt around for glasses before putting them back on.

"Well, keep me updated." She said as she went to her desk.

"Morning!" Foggy was opening the door a couple seconds later, which put Y/N back in a good mood.

"Good morning, you beautiful person!" She said, referring to his greeting the day before.

"The usual, my fair lady." He said in a strange accent, and she tipped her imaginary hat to him.

"Thank you, kind sir. Whatever would I do without you?" She smiled as he went to his own desk.

"So, Matt figure out what to pay you with?" Foggy asked, bringing out his computer out of his bag.

"Not yet." Y/N shook her head, looking through the company emails.

"I know what he could pay you with." Foggy looked up and smirked at Matt, who began to talk at the same time of Y/N.

"What?"

"Shut it, Fog." Matt had temporarily paused his work, but he got back to it when the conversation dropped. Y/N looked between the two, but Foggy only smirked at her before going to do his own thing.

"Did you forget my pastry?" He asked, making her eyes widen. She had forgotten, and she felt slightly guilty. She reached into her bag to get Foggy's pastry, standing and bringing it to his desk.

"So sorry, sir." She joked, bowing and going back to her work. She couldn't help but sneak glances at Matt all day however, watching his bruise start to fade.

She smiled to herself when she left and his cut was almost fully healed.

~

She still made Matt pastries every morning, however he hadn't come in with any injuries that she could see.

Until he didn't come in a week later.

The door wasn't open, and even after she tried knocking she didn't hear any movement. So she tried calling him.

No answer.

"Hey Matt, I'm at the office and apparently you're not here, because you didn't answer the door, so if you could just let me know if this is a holiday or something?" She chuckled at the end, but her heart was beginning to pound. She called Foggy next.

"The time hasn't magically warped forward, has it?" He joked as he answered the phone.

"Where's Matt?" She felt bad but she needed to get down to business.

"He's not there?" Foggy began to get worried now as well.

"No, and he's not answering his phone." She told Foggy quickly. "Ya know what, I'm just going to check on him." She said, walking back out of the hallway and going down the stairs.

"Don't worry about it! I'm almost there anyway." He rushed out, but Y/N shook her head.

"I'm coming too." She wanted to help if she could, wanted to be there incase he happened to be injured. Foggy was quiet for a moment.

"Fine. I'll meet you there. He may be sick."

"He's not sick." She said. He had been eating her pastries every day, and she knew that was all someone needed of her cooking and baking to keep away from the common cold or viruses.

"He could be." Foggy pointed out, but Y/N shook her head as she walked down the street. Matt didn't live super far away, so it didn't take long for her to make it. Luckily, Foggy was also pretty close.

"I'll be there soon. Wait outside - the doorman is a stickler. He won't let you in alone." He told her, so Y/N confirmed and hung up. Foggy was there a minute later, and the two walked into the building together, hearts racing.

"He does this all the time." Foggy assured her, but she could tell he was freaking out, even if it was slightly less than her. "He probably just overslept." His voice seemed to give away more than his actual words.

"Right." She nodded as they began to climb the stairs. They got to Matt's floor and walked quickly to his apartment, Y/N banging on the door as soon as she could.

"Matt?" Foggy called out from her side, both of them going quiet to try and listen to what was going on.

"Matt, are you okay?" Y/N yelled, heart getting lodged in her throat as she couldn't hear anything.

"That's it," Foggy reached into his pocket to grab his keys, picking through them to find a key that Y/N assumed was Matt's. She stood back to let him open the door, and the two walked in, their worries for their friend outweighing the fact that they had just actually broken into Matt's apartment.

"Matt? Matt are you alright?" Y/N yelled, following Foggy in. She heard a groan from the living room and rushed with Foggy through the small hallway to see Matt on the couch, only in his underwear. She was about to look away when she noticed that he was covered in cuts and bruises, the blood wet around the cuts but drying down his body. There were at least four thick, deep cuts and dark, almost black bruises.

"Shit," Foggy muttered. He thought that Matt would be bruised from his after work activities, but he was hoping it wasn't this bad. He didn't want Y/N to come with him, but he couldn't exactly tell her no.

"Oh my God," Y/N made her way to his side, assessing the damage.

"I was hoping you'd find me." He muttered as he opened his eyes slightly. "I need your help." He grabbed her hand, shifting with a groan.

"With what? I can't stitch you up! I don't know the first thing about medical aid." She muttered, instinctively reaching up to push his hair out of his face.

"Maybe not," Matt chuckled but then ended up coughing, causing Y/N and Foggy to wince. "But you do know a thing or two about healing." Y/N froze, her heart stuttering. How did he know?

"What?" She whispered, but Matt squeezed her hand. "How did this happen? This is worse than falling down the stairs." She tried to change the subject, but Matt moved in pain again.

"I notice things." He said, as if that would explain everything. Before Y/N could answer, he was speaking again. "Could you make something while Foggy helps me clean up?" All she could do was nod and look in her bag, taking the two pastries she always brought for the boys out.

"If you can get these down, it'll help, but I'll make some soup." She smiled at him and got up, squeezing his hand before letting it go.

"What is going on?" Foggy whispered to Matt, making him chuckle slightly.

"Let's just say Y/N's soup is special." Matt closes his eyes and tries to ignore the pain while Y/N works. Foggy looks between them quickly.

"What the fuck does that mean?" He cries, making Y/N chuckle.

"It's alright, Foggy." Matt has a tired smile, one that worries his friend.

"You need medical attention." Foggy tries to convince Matt, who just shakes his head.

"Try to eat the pastries!" Y/N calls from the kitchen.

"What the fuck are pastries gonna do?" Foggy screams, wanting to rip out his own hair.

"Foggy, how many times have you gotten sick in the past six months?" Matt asks softly.

"That has absolutely nothing to do with you dying on the couch." Foggy gets up to grab a cloth to wipe at the blood on his face.

"I am not dying." Matt mutters with the roll of his eyes. Foggy returns and gets him to shut up by wiping at his mouth.

"The soup just has to heat up." Y/N comes out of the kitchen and kneels next to Matt. "Foggy, can you run to the store to grab some bandages?" She asks, taking the cloth.

"When I get back, you guys are telling me what I'm missing." He says very seriously before he walks out the door.

"How did you figure it out?" Y/N whispers, wiping his blood away with one hand and his hair out of his face with the other. "How did this happen?" She changes her question while shaking her head.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He muttered, causing Y/N to scoff.

"The food I make can heal people. Try me." She smiles.

"Well, you know Daredevil?" 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler @thefandomplace @punzoquack @mcueveryday @icequeen1371

[kakujis]

if i could just get my hands on you.

feat: bonten!mikey, kokonoi, kakucho, + sanzu. i really wanted to put the haitani brothers in but i cant think of anything rn ;-;. afab! reader x bonten.

a/n: this probably, most definitely ooc bc lets be real they would most likely not hold back(unless ur kakucho) but this was self indulgent for me!

warnings: i say “maybe” a lot. face-fucking (kokonoi), voyeurism + panty!! stealer!! kakucho my beloved!!!, a bit of angst, drug mentions/usage(sanzu), squint and there’s some yan, oral f! receiving(sanzu). minors dni.

manjiro sano always gets what he wants. it doesn't matter if it's something as simple as taiyaki or becoming the most notorious gang in japan. every request is met with a "yes, sir.” but for some reason, mikey, just can't have you. his pretty receptionist. he’s not entirely sure why he doesn't just order you into his room, bullying his way into your tight cunt and fucking you dumb. maybe it's the way you always smile at him, even as he's just ordered sanzu to kill the three rival gang grunts begging for their lives off-site. or maybe it's the way you make him his tea every morning, doing your best to make sure its just right and none of it spills. you're so sweet to him and yet every time he touches you, he feels the way you stiffen. the way you begin to tremble when he gets too close. he thinks you shine brighter than the sunlight that peeks through the curtains onto his desk. perhaps, there is still a piece of the old mikey left, because he just can't bring himself to hurt you. so instead, he fucks the next whore that sanzu throws at him wishing it was you.

due to his massive amount of wealth, kokonoi hajime, loves to spoil his girls. anything they want, he gives, as long as he gets what he wants in return. which means face-fucking them until he shoots his load down each one of their throats, throwing them away until he calls them up again with another tempting wad of cash and the promise of luxury. you walked in on him once, trying to fulfill one of mikey’s orders. a small gasp left your mouth once you realized what was happening. you shut your eyes, immediately apologizing and slamming the door. after that incident kokonoi wanted you to see him again. he’d think about it every time he shoved his cock deep into one of his playthings. would you run away again? probably. or maybe, you'd join in and beg him to take you next. he'd like that, he thinks, as he slams into one of his girls, a bit frustrated that her moans and wails were doing nothing for him. ah, if only he had the guts to ask mikey if he'd want a new receptionist.

kakucho is in love with you. every morning, he waits to hear you greet him. and every night, he waits for you to take his blood stained coat off and welcome him home. unfortunately for him, you do that for all of them. bonten's little maid, who runs around the base tending to each and every one of them. sure, they have the money and the access to all the top doctors in japan, but most of the time you're enough. as japan's top gang, no one really ever stands a chance against them in a fight and anyone who does is promptly shot. he feels so guilty, stroking himself with your used undies, outside your bathroom door. he drinks in your sweet voice as you hum a familiar tune, his little songbird. he desperately wishes he could slip inside your shower, your back arching against his chest, fingers sinking deep into your cunt. he imagines kissing you to swallow your moans, hand coated in your slick as he fucks you thoroughly on his fingers. ever so gently, he’d ease you onto his aching dick, feeling the flutter of your plush walls. he thinks you’d look so beautiful, more than usual, being bounced on his cock, water running down your body. he climaxes quickly once he hears the water switch off, stuffing your soiled panties into his pocket. he hopes you won’t notice this is your third missing pair.

sanzu haruchiyo needs you to need him. its only fair considering how badly he needs you. when he finds himself slipping from reality or sobering up from a bad trip, your voice always calls out to him. “sanzu… sanzu?” he blinks, your fuzzy form bringing some much needed company. as he continues sobering up, you always bring a cup of water to his lips, coaxing him to drink. it’s mind numbingly sweet the way you swipe at his scarred mouth when some liquid drips. you always dim the lights as well, not wanting to overstimulate him as he sobers up. if he wasn’t so fucked up he’d probably pounce on you then, ripping your clothes to shreds as he dives face first into your pussy. sanzu wants to feel the tug on his pink locks, envisioning how you would desperately grind on his face inching closer and closer to completion. what he would give to taste you just one time, to be completely soaked in your juices. he could probably eat you out for hours, licking and sucking on your poor puffy clit. maybe he’d tongue fuck you next, ignoring your pleas and overstimming you until you’re a trembling mess on his bed. but those are just dreams and by the time he’s grounded in reality, you’re gone, back to mikey’s office.

[hippiegoth97]

Be Kind, Rewind: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by Me :)

Master List

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams

@slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals

@eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30

@jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson

@sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne

@ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975

@costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer

A/N: Hey, everybody! I've decided to start posting my Eddie Munson one-shots on here. This one is the first ever story I wrote, both for Eddie and fanfiction in general. It's been edited a couple of times, and may still be a bit rough compared to my current work. But I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Description: You work with Steve and Eddie in the video store while Robin is off at summer camp. You like Eddie a lot, but you've never pursued him out of fear. Lucky for you, he has other plans...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: Smut, swearing, female reader, drug use, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, choking, praise/degradation

Word Count: 4k

Divider by @strangergraphics-archive

Be Kind, Rewind

"Alright, for 3 rentals your total is $8.50." You say to the mother struggling to keep her child at bay at the register. He's squirming from her grasp, with a mysterious, sticky substance around his mouth. The woman lets him go in order to reach into her purse. He immediately runs around the corner, headed straight for the candy display. He almost rams directly into it before he's scooped up by your supervisor, Steve Harrington.

"Whoa there, little guy! Looks like you've had enough sugar today. Let's get you back to your mother." Steve walks over and plops the child down. He almost makes yet another run for it, but the transaction is through and the woman wraps her arm around her son to keep him close.

"Thank you, young man! He has just been a terror today. His father dropped him off this morning after letting him go ballistic on a Hershey bar."

"No problem at all, ma'am, have a good day!" Steve replies. And with that, the mother and son walk out the door.

"I see why you get labeled by your friends as 'the babysitter'. You're really good with kids. You'll be a great dad someday, I'm sure." You say with a semi-sarcastic tone. He fixes you with a glare.

"Yeah, whatever. Stop slacking and take these returns in the back to rewind. Eddie is no help, he's probably lighting up in there right now."

"Yes sir!" You salute, which earns you a middle finger from Steve. "I'll whip that freak into shape for you too. Fuck knows I hate pulling more than my fair share of the weight." But that isn't exactly true. You’ve always had a thing for Eddie, ever since you were in school with him. You had talked a few times over the years, but soon enough you were swept up in your own interests. He was running the Hellfire Club, and you were too focused on your studies to have any free time for fun. You found yourself staring at him at lunch though, and he'd always looked right back with a smirk on his handsome face. But you never did anything more. It seemed like you both were worlds apart, even though it was just the opposite end of the cafeteria. But in this job you were lucky enough to get, you are in close proximity to Eddie almost every day.

You still stare sometimes, and you are far from subtle. Neither of you go any further than looks or the occasional teasing remark or small conversation. You wish you had the courage to make a move, but despite his perceived interest in you, you’re afraid he’ll reject you if he knows your true feelings. Sure, he plays around and makes somewhat off-color remarks. But those don’t mean anything, right? Eddie does that with everybody. You're not special to him, right? You spend far too much time trying to convince yourself he doesn't mean anything by what he says around you, thinking it would be crazy for him to like you that way, or at all. It's just a game for him, you always tell yourself. It has to be. You sigh, trying to shake these thoughts away and focus on your task.

You grab the stack of returns, and walk from behind the counter to the back room. Before you open the door marked 'Employees Only', you notice the smell of weed and even see smoke peeking out the bottom of the door. You sigh, rolling your eyes at Eddie's usual antics and pushing the door open, struggling to keep hold on the videotapes. As you walk inside, you ram right into Eddie's chest, causing the tapes to crash onto the floor. "Shit." You mutter, and scramble to pick them back up.

"Oh, shit. Sorry Y/N. Lemme help." Eddie kneels down to gather some tapes. He also picks up the blunt he dropped in your collision, quickly putting it out and into his pocket.

"It's the least you can do, Munson. You know, it wouldn't kill you to do some actual work for once. But I see you have more important things to do." You're not really angry, you're more embarrassed for looking clumsy in front of him. You stand, putting yourself above him.

"Yeah, yeah, save it. I hear enough of that from Harrington already. I know you're not that much of a stickler for rules anyways. You sure do like to pretend though." He looks at you from the floor, reaching up to give you the last tape. A devilish smirk plays on his lips. He really enjoys teasing you, pushing your buttons. It's like he gets off on seeing your face scrunch in quick protest.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Once again, your face goes into that grumpy scrunch he finds so adorable. You cross your arms, acting annoyed.

"It means, Y/N, that you act like the perfect citizen. Good grades, never late, hardworking, blah blah blah." He stands now. Putting that final tape on the table next to the rewinding machine. "But we both know about the looks you liked to steal in the cafeteria at lunch. Those same looks you still like to take now. You are no innocent girl, Y/N."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You lie, cheeks turning bright red. He takes note of your reaction, and presses further. He steps closer to you slowly with each word, eyes staring into yours, until his mouth is just centimeters away.

"Oh, come on, princess." You shiver at the nickname, which he also takes note of. "It's not polite to lie. I get it, you've lived a sheltered life. You feel like you can't waste any time on an asshole like me. Too many reasons not to. You have a bright future waiting for you, right?" He moves his head past yours to speak right into your ear, his hair brushing against your cheek. You freeze, how close he is to you sets your skin aflame. He then speaks quietly, "You wanna know what I think, darling? I think you don't like being a goody-goody at all. I think you're just waiting. Waiting for the right reason to come along for you to break all the rules." He pulls back to look in your eyes, still smirking.

You just stare back in shock, but you're also extremely turned on. You've always wanted to pursue something with Eddie. But he’s right. You don't have time. At least, you think you don't. After the summer, you’re off to college, the first in your family to make it out of this town. But what about before that? The summer has just begun, surely you've earned some fun after years of pounding knowledge into your brain. You’ve earned this, deserve it, even. And Eddie seems more than willing to give it to you.

"You're right." You say simply. His grin somehow gets even wider. You contemplate what to say next, not wanting to give in to him so easily. You're smarter than that. You keep your expression stern, playing a game."You are an asshole." His face falls, and it hurts to see him look like that. You immediately regret that decision.

"Sorry." He turns away from you, grabbing a tape to rewind in the machine. "I guess I read you all wrong. I won't do that again." His tone is soft, sad. He's disappointed, and it's now that you realize he truly likes you. You never really thought about it that way, he always comes off so smug. You just wanted to toy with him the way he seems to do so with you. You have to fix this and fast, otherwise you've blown your chance.

"Oh jesus fucking christ, Eddie! If I would've known you liked me back like that, I wouldn't have said that. I was just messing around, teasing you back. You just act so damn smug all the time, I didn't want to give you the satisfaction so easily." You walk to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He tenses for a moment, and then relaxes, sighing. He turns to you again, a smaller smile this time.

"You sneaky little shit. I ought to punish you for that." His hand comes up to hold yours. His ringed fingers rub gently over yours, the cool metal making you shiver again. He chuckles at your reaction.

"So do it then." You look into his eyes, you're the one smirking now. He just stares at you a moment, seemingly genuinely shocked to hear you say something like that. Then he once again starts grinning like an idiot.

"As you wish, princess." He says as he pulls you into him, smashing his lips onto yours. You kiss him back, biting his lip after a moment. He grunts slightly, letting you slip your tongue in his mouth. He guides you backwards until you're against the wall. His lips move to your neck. He licks a long stripe from your collar bone to below your jaw, making you moan. In response, he starts sucking and biting your neck, being spurred on further by any whimpers or whines you let out.

"Oh, Eddie." You moan out, causing him to stop a moment to look at you.

"I like when you say my name, darling." He resumes his work on your neck, on the other side this time. He also brings his hands up to grab your breasts. You are loving this, but you want more.

You push him away for a moment, and he looks at you, confused. "I just want to take this off." You say as you start to lift your top over your head. Eddie assists you, and strips himself of his own. You take a moment to look at his toned chest, his tattoos, and it makes you melt.

"Like what you see, princess?" You blush as he's caught you staring again. You snap out of your trance and pull him back to you, lips colliding again. You run your hands along his arms, up and down his chest. In turn he grabs your breasts again, massaging them gently. He reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He breaks away to lean down to your breasts. He kisses them sloppily and takes one of your nipples in his mouth.

"Eddie!" You gasp, your hands going into his hair. He nips on your sensitive bud, making you whine, and then he moves onto the other one. Your hands travel down to his jeans, you can feel how hard he is for you. You palm him through the material, and his breath hitches slightly.

"Eager, are we?" He asks, slightly muffled against your chest. He lifts his head up, eyes meeting yours again. He takes a moment to look deep into them. He brings his right hand gently to your face, the thumb brushing across your cheek. His gaze makes you feel so exposed, nevermind the fact that you’re completely topless. This moment seems to last hours, but you could also stay like this forever. "I've always liked you, you know." He says finally.

"I can see that." You say jokingly, Eddie rolls his eyes. "I've always liked you, too. I wish we would've done this so much sooner." You look down, feeling even more exposed somehow. He lifts your chin to regain eye contact.

"Hey now, darling. Don't hide that pretty face from me. And technically speaking, we haven't started much of anything yet." His smile is light and kind this time. "And we don't have to rush into anything if you don't want to." He tries to search your face for an answer, as your mouth is stuck in place. "I'm gonna need you to use your words, Y/N. What do you want?"

You can't help but struggle to get the words out. "I want you, Eddie. All of you. Please?" You don't mean for that last part to sound so desperate, you know it just feeds his ego. But you can't help it. You've tasted Eddie and you want more.

"Then all of me you will get, dollface." He kisses you again, softer this time, slower. He moves you again, to the counter next to the rewinding machine, lifting you onto it. His tongue roams down your jaw, neck, chest, his body lowering with it. He's on his knees now,  his hands making quick work of unbuttoning your jeans. You lift yourself slightly so he can pull them down, along with your panties. "Well damn, princess. So wet for me already?" He gazes with wonder at your glistening pussy. You blush a bit at his words, almost reaching your hands up to hide your face. Eddie stops you, holding your wrists. "Don't try to hide from me, darling. Be a good girl for me." You felt yourself become wetter from his words, good girl. "You like when I call you that?" He looks up at you for confirmation.

"Yes, Eddie." You say, your voice is a little shaky.

"I'll keep that in mind." With that, he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

"Oh, fuck, Eddie!" You cry out. Your hips buck slightly, but Eddie holds them down.

"I love hearing those beautiful noises from you, baby. But I don't think either of us want to get caught fucking on the job by Harrington, do we? Just try to stay quiet for me, okay?" You nod in agreement, biting your index finger to suppress your moans as Eddie resumes his work on your dripping cunt. He licks your entrance, occasionally inserting his tongue, moaning at how sweet you taste. You've had this done to you before, but that’s nothing compared to Eddie. He starts sucking on your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. His middle finger going inside you, pumping in and out at an agonizing pace. You moan and whine for him, and he's eating up every moment of it. He moans against your clit, the vibrations pushing you closer and closer. You're seeing stars when he puts in a second finger, curving and pumping them in and out expertly.

"Oh fuck, oh, Eddie!" You feel the knot inside you snap, and you release onto his face and fingers. You do your best to hold the scream back, your hand clasped tightly over your mouth. Your hips buck violently and your legs shake as you ride out your high. Eddie slides his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips as he stands up. You watch as he shoves them fully into his mouth, sucking them clean. He keeps his eyes on yours the whole time, and you can't help but feel soaking wet for him again.

"Mmm, you taste delicious, Y/N. And you were such a good girl for me." He says as his fingers leave his mouth with a pop. He kisses you once again, and you taste yourself on his bruised lips. You take this as your signal to stroke Eddie's cock through his pants to give him a turn. He groans slightly, moving to your neck to suck harshly on your flesh. You’re sure to have marks before he’s done with you. You start fiddling with his belt, and he stops. He moves your hands and helps you out, undoing the belt and zipper clumsily. He pulls his jeans and boxers down, his cock springing free, hitting his stomach. Out of instinct, you slide off the counter and onto your knees. You grab the base of him, and take his head into your mouth. He groans again, and it’s quickly becoming your favorite sound.

"Mmm." You moan as you swirl your tongue around the head, your hand stroking the rest of him. You take him as deep as you can, surprising yourself when you fit him all the way in. He mutters curses under his breath as you bob your head on him, licking swirls around his length the whole time.

"Fuck, Y/N" He rasps. "Such a good girl for me." His praises make you more and more wet every time he utters them. You could hear them a million times, and be left wanting to hear them a million more. You can feel his balls tightening, he's so close to cumming. "Y/N, sweetheart. Stop or I'll cum." He says quietly. You remove yourself from him, standing up again. "You are a goddess at that, baby. But I have a feeling we'll both enjoy something else even more." He lifts you back onto the counter, slowly rubbing his cock against your clit and folds. You both moan quietly at this action, and he lays you down while kissing you. He pulls away, preparing to position himself. "Are you ready, darling?" He asks, seeming genuinely nervous about your answer. He truly wants to please you, but only if you let him.

"Yes, Eddie. Please, just fuck me already." Again, you sound so desperate, which you are. But you can't help but love the smirk he gives you in response.

"Anything for you, princess." And with that, he pushes into you, causing you both to groan at the sensation. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, trying to keep himself together, despite how perfect you feel around his dick. You kiss him passionately to signal him to start moving. And when he does, he starts real slow. Carefully pumping in and out of you, teasing almost. He's in no rush, he just wants you to feel comfortable.

"As amazing as you feel right now, Eddie, I need you to go faster." You look in his eyes, practically begging him to make you unable to walk for a week.

"Your wish is my command, Y/N." He begins to snap his hips, plunging into you at a punishing pace. He hits your g-spot easily and expertly. You moan his name over and over, feeling the knot rapidly forming again. He moans too, your name and the phrase 'good girl' falling from his lips. "Is it okay if I try something?" He asks while thrusting at almost inhuman speed.

"Yes, Eddie. Do whatever you want to me. I want it all." You beg, and he brings his ringed hand to your throat. He wraps around it gently, squeezing ever so slightly, gauging your reaction. You moan loudly in response, looking at him with lust and hunger in your eyes. He smiles at you, loving how willingly you submit to him. He loosens his grip on you, moving to stroke your breasts instead. You stop him, bringing his hand back up to your throat. "More, please. It's so fucking hot." You say to him, almost whining for him to continue choking you.

"I knew you were a kinky little freak, princess. I fuckin’ love it." He puts pressure on your throat again, making you feel lightheaded. The knot is threatening to snap any second now. You can tell he’s close, too.

"I'm so close, Eddie. Fuck me harder." You can't believe the things coming out of your mouth, begging him to have any way with you he desired.

"I’m right there with you, sweetheart. I'll give you anything you want. You're such a good girl. Cum for me." He says with a groan, his thrusts becoming sloppy. Despite this, he tries to keep up the pace to bring you down with him. 

“Oh, fuck! Eddie!” You scream as your orgasm rips through you, the world around you exploding. Your walls clamp down onto him, and your thighs tremble outside of your control. 

“Shit.” Eddie grunts when his own high overtakes him. His load spills into you, his hips bucking wildly against you in his final thrusts. He collapses onto you a moment later, panting heavily. You both lie here for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Eddie plants some grateful kisses on your throat as you come down from your highs. When he finally pulls out of you, he looks down to see your mixed release oozing from your cunt. “Jesus christ.” He mutters, his softened cock twitching at the sight. He’s unable to resist the temptation, and kneels down to clean you up with his tongue.

"Fuck!" You're still sparking from your last orgasm, and his cleanup efforts swiftly cause you to cum yet again, screaming his name and tangling your hands in his hair. The stars subside and Eddie stands upright to kiss your lips.

"You're such a good girl for me, darling. Let's get you dressed before Harrington busts us in here." He helps you to your feet, but you stumble as your legs feel like jelly. "Take it easy. I'll help you." He gathers your clothing and gently helps you put everything back on. Only then does he start dressing himself again. You almost whine at the loss of looking at his naked body, but you keep the lust at bay for now.

"So, what does this mean, Eddie?" You feel stupid for asking, this could just be a one-time thing for him. Another notch in the bedpost for the famous Eddie Munson. You pick at your fingers, looking down at the floor.

"What do you want it to mean?" He lifts your chin with his finger, wanting you to meet his eyes.

"Well, I'd like to do this more often with you. And maybe more...if you want." You feel so naked and vulnerable again, even though you're now fully clothed.

"What? Like a date? You wanna be my girlfriend?" He asks, his hand moving to your cheek again. You can't help but feel like he thinks it's a joke. He's hard to read when he smirks like that all the time.

"Yes. If you want to." You reply, trembling slightly. You can’t help being so nervous. Maybe this was all a mistake. He just said things you wanted to hear to get in your pants, and now he's toying with you again. He uses his hands to try to calm you down, rubbing your shoulders gently. He looks into your eyes with sincere care and affection, making your heart melt.

"You need to stop overthinking in there." He taps on your temple with his finger. He smiles calmly. "Of course we can do that. I'd love that more than anything." You smile at his words, throwing your arms around him. Your lips meet again, soft and tender. You can't believe it, you just fucked the baddest guy in town and you get to be his girlfriend. You feel like the luckiest girl in the world, and Eddie feels like he won the lottery. You keep kissing for a while, not wanting to stop living in this moment.

"Alright, guys. I don't know how much pot you've smoked, but if all those tapes aren't rewound by now I'm gonna-" Steve barges in the door, and his jaw drops at the sight of you kissing and groping each other. "Oh, for fuck's sake, you guys! I mean, I saw you two hooking up coming from a mile away. Shit, a blind man could do that. But why must it be here? Where I have to see you?” Steve scolds, continuing on his rant. “And goddammit, it reeks of sex in here! I'll need to get more air freshener. Not like I don't use enough covering Eddie's weed smell. Congrats on being cute and disgusting at the same time. Dammit! Do I need to babysit you, too? Just get yourselves together and get those tapes rewound!" He storms out, but you can still hear him muttering things to himself on the other side of the door.

You and Eddie look at each other, mouths open in shock. And then you burst out laughing, Eddie falling to the floor in a fit of cackling. And all you can think is that this is going to be the best summer of your life.

The end.

[aeliuss]

my dear! I'm your fan, I love your writing. Thank you for taking us out of our reality and allowing us to enter a world of our own! Could I make a request for a crazy idea I had? An anguished Y/N and Chan fight and he tells her to leave and leave him alone. When Y/N leaves in a daze he doesn't see the car and is run over. In the end I trust you. =) If it doesn't bother you and you can fulfill my request, I would be very happy!

hey! thank you so much that means so much to me :(( this is my first ever request so i'm excited but also super nervous 👉👈I hope it came out okay!! here ya go <3

warnings!: angst, mentions of anxiety, blood, swearing, arguing, chris is kind of mean, reader gets run over by a car

word count: 2,311

you're bleeding.

you're sitting on the bar stool in your kitchen, knee bouncing absently, nails cutting into your cuticles, blood dripping down your thumb. there's a commotion outside. a loud one, and when you peeked through your window earlier, you saw two of your neighbors arguing loudly.

then you saw chan's car pull up through the window and you pulled the curtain shut abruptly. he should be coming in any minute now. and then you'll tell him what you know. what you know about him and what he'd been doing under the guise of "working."

you will. this time, you will.

when he steps through the door, he doesn't even look at you. just kicks off his shoes, and slides into his home slippers.

his evident fatigue almost softens your resolve. he's exhausted. maybe this could wait till the morning... you begin to think, before you shake yourself out of it. no. no this can't wait. not anymore.

You clear your throat, the sound echoing through the quiet kitchen. chan pauses, finally acknowledging your presence with a faint tilt of his head.

"hey," you start. pause. clear your throat again. "We need to talk."

he glances at you, looking mildly annoyed.. "can it wait? I'm beat."

"it can't." the words surge from your lips before you can chicken out and stop them.

he sighs, turning around to full face you, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "fine. what is it, then? what do you have to say that's so important that it couldn't wait till the morning?"

his demeaning tone is almost enough to get you to change your mind. but you don't.

"do you realize how late it is?"

"yes." his tone is curt.

"okay," you take a breath. count to three. "okay. so you do realize it."

"that's what I said," he says mockingly, sagging against the wall.

you straighten your back, determined not to let his dismissive attitude deter you. "and do you have any explanation for why you're four hours later than you said you would be?"

chan's eyes narrow, a flicker of annoyance passing over his features. "work ran late, okay? it happens."

"it happens," you repeat. "except it always seems to happen to you. only you. and not the other members."

"the other members aren't responsible for keeping deadlines, y/n." he says through hissed teeth, his back straightening with tension. "i'm leader. it falls on me. i thought you knew that."

you can feel the tension crackling in the air, the weight of unspoken truths hanging heavy between you. you know this conversation could change everything, but you're resolved to see it through.

"I know you're the leader, chan," you reply, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. "but that doesn't mean you have to shoulder everything alone. we're a team, remember?" with your words, youre begging him to take the excuse youre practically throwing at him. but he doesn't. he just scoffs.

"except we're not a team," he says. "youre not with me in the studio, because you know nothing about it."

"chan, that's not fair," you retort, the frustration bubbling up within you. "just because I'm not physically there doesn't mean I'm not supporting you in every other way I can."

"supporting me? is that what you call it? sitting at home, waiting for me to come back at ungodly hours? that's not support, y/n, that's called being clingy."

you feel a sting at his words, but you push past it, refusing to let him deflect the conversation.

"I'm not being clingy, Chan. I'm concerned. Concerned about you and your well-being. This isn't just about work running late. It's about the pattern, the secrecy, the distance between us," you say, your voice steady but laced with emotion.

he latches onto one word. "secrecy? what're you talking about?"

the words lodge in your throat. you don't want to say them. you don't want to say them because if you do, the truth you have been trying so hard to deny will etch itself into the walls of your shared apartment. if you do, there will be no going back, no more pretending that you don't know.

the only sound between you is the sound of a siren outside. the sound of your neighbors arguing. his eyes are dark, intense. they don't waver from yours. waiting for you to speak. you don't think you can.

you speak.

"i know about her."

the fact that he doesn't even ask who makes you feel dizzy.

"she's just a producer," he says. "she works with us."

you shut your eyes, disgust coiling in your chest. "please don't insult me, chris."

chan's expression shifts from annoyance to something unreadable, his eyes darting away from yours for a fleeting moment before returning with a hard edge.

"what are you trying to say?" he asks, his voice quieter now, a dangerous calm settling over him.

her heart is beating so fast in her chest, she is almost sure it will leave a permanent indent. "i'm saying that i know that you asked her out a month before you met me. that you were in love with her for years and that she rejected you."

his fingers curl into fists, and he's gone slightly pale. "who told you?"

"god, chris, that's what you care about? who told me? it doesn't fucking matter who told me!"

his silence is deafening. the anger that had unfurled in your chest goes out as quickly as it had come. it is replaced by desperation. it disgusts you how much you love him, how much you are desperate for him to deny what you are insinuating, desperate for him to hold you and kiss away the tears that had made an appearance on your cheeks and tell you that you are wrong. but he doesn't. he doesn't.

you're still bleeding from picking at your thumb and his silence speaks volumes, filling the room with tension thicker than any words could. you watch as emotions flicker across his face like shadows dancing in the dim light of the kitchen. you want to take back everything you said, to erase the truth that now hangs heavy in the air between you.

but you can't. because you said it. and now it's out there, impossible to retrieve.

"what am i to you?" you finally ask, your voice barely a whisper. but he hears you. he always does. "what am i to you that you can stay all night alone in the studio with a girl you used to love for years and then come home and turn on me like i'm the one that's done something wrong?"

chan's eyes flicker with a myriad of emotions—anger, guilt, frustration. he opens his mouth, then closes it, as if grappling for the right words.

finally he says, "don't do this to me, y/n. not now."

a strangled sound leaves your lips before you can stop it. "to you? to you?"

"yes, to me." he hisses, running a hand through his hair, messing up the curls more than it already was. "you know we have a comeback soon. you know how stressed out i get--"

you interrupt him, unable to bear the weight of his excuses any longer. "don't you dare turn this around on me, bangchan."

he looks at you, eyes hard, but there's panic in them. panic and anguish. "don't call me that. you don't call me that."

"you kissed her!" you shriek suddenly.

he freezes. everything seems to freeze, your fingers and toes are numb. youre still bleeding.

the words hang in the air, heavy and charged with emotion. chan's expression tightens, jaw clenched, eyes darkening with a mix of anger and guilt. he takes a step back, as if physically recoiling from the accusation.

"i..." he starts, but the words catch in his throat. He struggles to find the right response, his mind racing with excuses and denials. but there's no denying the truth in your eyes, in the trembling of your voice. "yeah. i did."

there it is. the blow you've been waiting for all night.

tears threaten to spill over as you struggle to comprehend the magnitude of his confession. every moment you shared with him feels tainted, every word spoken now questioned. you thought you knew him, trusted him, loved him. but now, it feels like you're standing on the precipice of a vast unknown, unsure of where to go from here.

chan's gaze flickers, remorse etched into his features as he takes a hesitant step forward, reaching out a hand as if to console you. but you recoil, the pain too raw, too fresh to bear his touch.

"don't," you whisper, your voice barely above a broken sob. "don't touch me."

"y/n-"

"how could you do this to me?" your voice is broken, sailing of several octaves, shrill, because how could he? "how could you come home and lie to me every single fucking night--"

"y/n, please, just listen-"

"i'm so stupid. so fucking stupid. how could i believe you? all this time i was just a fucking rebound, chris. you never loved me, you--"

"y/n, that's not true. i-i made a mistake, i should have told you, spoken to you. i never should've let it get this far, i should've broken up with you before--"

"you said you loved me." you sob. "you said nothing could come between us, that you would marry me, you said that i was the girl of your dreams--"

"well i woke up!" he screams suddenly, chest heaving. you flinch, back hitting the wall. "i woke up, y/n!"

you stare. you're still crying. still bleeding.

"i woke up and realized i made a mistake," he continues. "i thought i could move on, that i could love you the same way i love her, but i can't. i can't, y/n. i can't and it's killing me." the pain in his voice, his eyes, is raw. "i know that that makes me a fucking cunt but i- i don't know...i'm sorry."

your heart shatters into a million jagged pieces at his words, the pain ripping through you like a violent storm. the truth hits you with a force you hadn't anticipated, leaving you gasping for breath amidst the wreckage of your shattered dreams.

for a moment, the world spins around you, and you struggle to find solid ground. how could everything unravel so swiftly? how could the love you believed in so fervently turn out to be nothing but a cruel illusion?

"i'm sorry," he repeats pathetically. "i do care about you, y/n, i swear--"

"stop," you whisper. "stop lying, chris. enough."

chan's shoulders slump, defeated, as if your words have drained him of all remaining strength. he takes a step back, hands falling limply to his sides.

"i understand if you hate me," he says softly, his voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breaths.

hate him? the thought seems foreign, inconceivable, despite the searing pain that courses through every fiber of your being. how could you hate the person who once meant everything to you? the person whose name used to bring a smile to your lips, whose touch once ignited a fire within your soul?

"i'm leaving," you say and you hate the small, desperate, pathetic part of you that hopes he'll stop you. he doesn't.

"okay," he says.

you stumble towards the door, your vision blurred by tears, your heart aching with a pain you never imagined possible. each step feels like an eternity, each breath a struggle to hold back the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to consume you.

as you reach for the doorknob, your hand trembling, you steal one last glance over your shoulder. chan stands there, his silhouette illuminated by the dim light of the kitchen, his gaze fixed on the floor as if unable to meet your eyes.

for a fleeting moment, you wonder if he'll say something, if he'll beg you to stay, to give him another chance. but the silence stretches on, unbroken, and you realize that there are no words left to say, no apologies that can mend the shattered pieces of your heart.

youre outside before you can even comprehend it. your neighbors are now arguing loudly with the police in the middle, trying to break them up. one of them is struggling to escape into their blue car. it looks violent. it looks like the least of your worries.

the chilly night air hits you like a physical force, causing you to shiver involuntarily as you step out onto the deserted street. the echo of your own footsteps feels like a solemn march, a dirge for the love you thought you had.

you don't know where you're going, only that you need to get away, to escape the suffocating weight of betrayal that hangs heavy in the air around you. your mind is a whirlwind of emotions, each thought a jagged edge that cuts deeper into your wounded heart.

then you hear a car door slam. a loud screech. a shout. your name.

then you are hit by a blue car.

the world spins and there is pain everywhere but you can only focus on the sun that is just now rising. on the red and gold. it's very pretty, you realize. it's very pretty and it might just be the last one you see.

__________

chan swears he loves you. swears it with his whole chest, swears it on the tears that run down his cheeks as he holds your hand, swears it on the sun that is only just rising. swears it until his voice becomes hoarse, raw with his declaration.

he wants to believe that you can hear him. but your laying on the pavement, laying there and bleeding like its the only thing your body knows how to do.

you bleed and bleed and bleed.

[passionateseadruid]

Snake kings bride 5

The Date(s) part 1 Lu Lu land

Back to touchy pervy Lucifer! The floodgates have been opened and he is a touch starved whore. Warning F Bombs! Lots of them.

The next morning you woke up to something soft wrapped around you and something poking you from behind. 

"Lilith please don't go." You heard him mumble. "Charlie needs you, the people need you, I need you."

You opened your eyes and were brought back to the reality of the situation. The Devil from Da Bible had kidnapped you, made a lot of innuendos towards you, hugged you almost everyday without your consent, and to top it all of he tried to gaslight you last night into thinking that the reason you were uncomfortable with this situation was because you weren't giving him a chance.

"What in the Apollo and Daphne?"

This man threatened your family and had the Gaul to say YOU were the problem.

(A/n: Lu Lu world more like delulu world. If you can't tell I think I'm funny.)

"Lily please." Lucifer's pathetic whines snapped you out of your thoughts. He had his arms wrapped tightly around your arms and torso, while his big white and red wings were laying over you like a cage

"I'm sorry I married her, but you were gone for seven years. I needed help running hell. You should know that better than anyone. I'm a mess, Lil. I was broken when you left." With every word his arms tightened around you.

You don't know whether or not you should interrupt this. He clearly still loves her, so maybe you should let him have this moment even if it’s not real.

"If you loved me as you claimed you’d let her go." You snarked.

"Don't say that Lilith… 's not fair. You left me. I should get to be happy."

Okay this is getting too weird. "LUCIFER!!"

"AH!" He gasped, letting you go.

"Is that how you see me? As a replacement for her?" You turned 

"What?" He asked rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"When I said you don't love me you thought I was Lilith."

He slowly blinked one eye after another "When did you-"

"Just now when you were sleeping."

"That was you?"

"Yes. And I mean both that and the inverse. If you still love Lilith you should let me go, I don't want to be a replacement for her."

"Does that mean that you want to marry me?"

"No." you deadpanned. "It's called basic self respect." You turned to get out of bed and he pulled you back down into bed.

"Stay~" He whined. "Don't you want to hear about the dream I had last night?"

"No."

"It was our wedding night. Things were getting steamy~"

"Well that explains… that…"

"You wanna help me get rid of it?"

"No."

"Aw c'mon~ I think you’d look pretty with a round belly on our wedding day~"

You felt you face heat. "So we fucked then Lilith walked in and called you a whore?" You changed the subject.

"Basically. Let's forget about that part though. C'mere, I want a morning kiss."

"Wait, don't kiss me! I have really bad morning breath."

"I don't care." He grabbed your chin and kissed you. "You taste hellishly good. I wonder if the rest of you tastes this good~"

You shuddered. "Your highness! The queen is-" Pluto burst in with Nina behind her.

...

"Missing?" Pluto asked as the two stood staring at you two.

"OH MY GOODNESS WE ARE SO SORRY!! BUT ALSO HAVE YOU NO SHAME? YOU TWO AREN'T MARRIED YET AND YET YOU'RE PARTAKING SUCH SCANDALOUS ACTIVITIES!!" Nina freaked out. 'She's so adorable.' You thought.

"Did you find her?" Renesmee came running. "Hello my lady. Oh uh... your highness you've got a problem there. Shall I start a cold shower for you?"

You bury your head under the covers. "No need! I've got my wife for that." 

The ladies and Styx who has joined them in the doorway here a muffled. "HEY!"

"See I told you all that she hadn't ran away. His Majesty would tear through every ring of hell to find her and if he couldn't he'd raise hell on earth till she was returned to him."

"I'm going back to my room to take a shower and get dressed." You Say and wrap one of his comforters around him and leave.

"I’ll iron the outfit you chose my lady."

"Thank you Renesmee." You walk away with her and Nina in toe.

After your shower you sneak back into Lucifer's room. "If there isn't one book about the living world in the library then there has to some in either be in his room, or in his study. He's the Devil, it's not like he can just not stay up to date on the news of earth. Great, now I'm talking to myself."

His room was filled with pictures of Charlie. There were some family photos of him Charlie and a blond woman with horns.The walls were once again… red. White trim laced the top and bottom of the walls with gold apple decals. Ducks littered buckets in each corner of the room. The double doors were stripped a bright red and a burgundy red.

"If he loves me as much as he says he does I'm redesigning this whole room and I don't want to hear shit from him!"

His bed was exactly like your own. With the exception that his comforters were Long. You didn’t realize how big his bed was. 

"Who needs a bed this big? What was he so much of a freak with his wife that they had to roll around so much?"

"STOP FIGHTING!" You hear a deep scary voice from the hallway. You look around the room and decide to duck under the bed. It was kind of crowded under there but the comforters reached all the way to the floor so it was the safest option.

"Mammon for all of our sakes and sanity stop trying to steal our shit! You took practically my entire brand, you've stolen Levi's thing, and Ozzie wants more control over the Fizz robots your selling."

You held your breathe as Lucifer walked through his room. Several voices were talking over each other! "All of you shut UP!"

...

"I'm looking through my paperwork, right now Levi."

...

"Ozzie, please focus."

...

"Bee! Stop encouraging him! We're in a meeting."

...

"Fine! You two want to know so badly, My bride is fine. Here they are, finally found the paperwork."

While Lucifer was talking on what you can assume to be his phone you turned to look at what was under his bed and why it was so cramped. It was mostly ducks, shoes, random pieces of clothing that you assumed to be Lilith's (Seeing as how they were sparkly dresses (Though no hate if he wants to dress in drag)); but what caught your attention the most were polaroid photos. They were all of you. Some were of you sleeping; some were you Renesmee and Nina with the latter twos faces scribbled, burned, or cut out; some were of you looking through books in the library; and luckily there were none of you in the bathroom (So he's not THAT much of a creepy stalker.) And in the very back there were some books.

'The Ars Goetia.'

It chronicled the history of… a bunch of bird demons? And their various duties and trips to the…

'Mortal realm'

This was it! This was your ticket out of here!

"No Belphy I don't think I'm moving to fast! If I don't tie her down she'll leave me." Lucifer spoke.

…

"Oh hardy har har, Mam! Laugh it up that my wife left. And no, I don't have abandonment issues!"

He finally left and you made a mad dash for the exit.

You spent the rest of the day pondering on what you could do to try and get in contact with one of these "Ars Goetia".

You looked through the entire library once more.

"No offense princess but do you do anything other than read? You have the hell wide web and you're spending all your time reading."

"Nina she's the future queen. Please be nice." Renesmee begged.

"No offense was taken even if intended. And for your information, web searches can be traced and tracked. I also would rather not give that prick the satisfaction of using his bribes."

"Not even gonna sugarcoat it." Nina rolled her eyes.

"I'm pretty sure everyone in Luci's inner circle knows what I am. Or at least his daughter, her girlfriend, and his servants do. And most people can assume what happened to me."

"Has anyone actually ever correctly guessed that you were kidnapped?" Nina snarked.

"Well… no. But I'm hopeful!"

"You'd have to be insane to have hope in a place like this."

"I think I found something my Lady!" Renesmee called. You slid down the ladder and she pointed out where she was reading.

"Most Goetia are Loyal to the king that presides over their circle of the pride ring.”

"Wait what? Circle? Like Dante's inferno?"

"Yeah. Dead souls can only be in the pride ring, while there are six other rings stacked on top of each other like a cake." Renesmee explained.

"Like a cake?" You giggled. "Are you hungry?"

"Kinda. I skipped breakfast because Pluto called in telling us that you'd gone missing." Renesmee confessed bashfully.

"I'm sorry. I didn't have any say in whether or not I stayed with him."

"I'll go get you a snack, Love." Nina kissed Renesmee on the cheek and left.

"You two are so cute."

"Thanks. Now anyway, there are nine kings for the nine circle. Lucifer presides over them all, and they all have various degrees of loyalty to him."

"Why does this make so much sense with Dante's inferno. Like how did he know? Because if he's dead then he'd only be able to see the pride ring so he'd think that there was only nine rings. But if that's the case how did he publish the book? Hallucinations of the other side?"

"Apparently only one Goetia has ever rebelled against Lucifer and the system at large. His name was Apollyon and he was once a knight in the Ars Goetia. He left to pursue a relationship with an imp woman, they fled from the pride ring and were never seen again. It says he was the guardian to the gates of hell."

'He might be my way out, but how am I going to find him?'

"I'm going to my room. You and Nina have a break okay?" The rest of the day you spent reading.

The next morning you felt a tight grip around your waist.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

"Sleeping with my wife. What does it look like I'm doing?" Lucifer replied.

"I'm not your wife!"

"Not yet, but you will be."

"Get out of my room fucker!" You tried to push him off the bed.

"Noooo..." He whined. 

"I'm leaving and I'm burning these sheets."

"Stay Doll." He pulled you to lay in bed with him.

////////////////////////////////////////

This went on for a few weeks. He either snuck into your bed or you ended up in his by morning without your knowledge.

One day you finally snapped and had enough.

"Stop! Stop touching me! Don't you see how fucked up this is? I don't know you. You don't know me."

"I want to. Please just give me a chance."

A light flickered on in your brain. "One chance, and on one condition. You let me go anywhere I want today. ON. MY. OWN."

"Okay... don't wear yourself out today! Because tomorrow we're going to Lu Lu world! Oh and here!" He pulls out a briefcase of money. "I won't follow you but please take the succubus."

"I'll take Nina. And I'm not going to ask what Lu Lu world is. Thanks for the money." You take the briefcase.

"I'm just so glad that you're finally seeing things my way."

////////////////////////////////////////

It was the day after your outing and You had to get ready for a date with the devil.

"I think I'm actually going to be sick, Renesmee." She was brushing out your hair as you wore a pastel yellow romper and some matching platform tennis shoes.

"You'll be fine My Lady." She finished off by tying a bow in your hair and pushing you towards the door.

"Wow... you look like a giant duckie. I'm falling even more in love with you than before." Lucifer said as he stood outside your door holding up a bouquet of your favorite flowers. "Hey this isn't fair. Why do you get to wear platforms when you're already taller than me? It's going to be even harder to kiss you now." He teased.

"Thanks for the flowers I guess. How did you know I liked these flowers?"

"I talked to that old coworker of yours, and she mentioned you had a roommate and so I paid her a visit. I promised her that if she filled me in on all of your likes, dislikes, and interests that I'd put her in your contacts."

"Lilian? Did... did you tell her that you're... what you are?"

"Lily...?"

"Do you want to get going?" You asked.

He nodded and you took the limo to a big theme park. He wrapped a wristband around your wrist and took your hand as the two of you exited the limo; you in the regular disguise of course.

There were several different attractions. A tower of babble drop, a great flood water ride, and lots of other bible themes attractions. In the front there was a big map. According to that there was a far off cafe that was called Eden's eats. Along the right there were some game booths where you can win various prizes.

"Where do you want to go first? We have fast passes to anywhere in the park. Perks of being the owner."

"Owner? OH! That makes so much more sense. Lu Lu World, Lucifer. I feel so dumb. Are there any food carts I didn't get breakfast."

"Hmm I think the golden apple food cart should be in the upper left corner at this time. Cmere I'll teleport us there. Their candy apples are the best thing in the park." He opens a portal and you two step through to find a man cowering in fear at the short man next to you. "Hello my good man! We'll take two of your ripest candy apples." 

The man gives you each a candy apple and you smiled and thank the man. He sighed as soon as Lucifer took you hand and lead you away.

He Took you on several rides. Once he figured out that you'd cling onto him on the higher, faster rides he'd take you on exclusively those. After a while you ended up regurgitating that candy apple and he took you to some of the game booths to try and calm you down.

"Pick a duck to win a duck?" You questioned.

"I'm pretty good at this one. You want the big plushie? Oh what am I saying of course you do! If I can't get you the biggest and best plushie, what king of Husband would I be?"

"Wait let me guess. You're simple one Hell of a husband." (A/n: To those of you who get this I love you.)

"Yes actually. I'm also the embodiment of pride though so I kinda need to get you the absolute best of the best."

He ends up winning the game with a high score and you two get the biggest duck plushie they had and a small matching plushy for him. He teleports them home and you two keep walking around.

After a while you two had lunch. Then you won matching apple keychains for you and him. He bought you one of those long white snake plushies they sell at zoos. And at the end of the day you two rode up to the top of the Farris wheel and watched the firework display. 

This was honestly one of the least unpleasant dates you've been on. If you were being honest this was probably one of the least unpleasant days you've spent with him. He spent the day cracking jokes and being a dork. He made you one of those origami fortune teller things earlier. He talked all about how and why Lu Lu world was built, and he even got a bit into his first date with Lilith here. 

But now as you sat in front of the fireworks display, his arm around you, you felt scared. Scared because you felt warm and safe.

'NO! This man threatened my entire family. He knows where Lilian Lives now. He could use her against me.'

"Hey Darling?" He turned you to face him. "I love you."

You gulped down the insults you wanted to throw at him.

"Thank you for today."

He cupped your chin and forced a kiss from you.

[appocalipse]

ask nicely | steve harrington

summary: you had your fun teasing steve, so it's only fair for him to do the same, right?

pt 2 to this drabble, but you don't really have to read it to understand this | 3.6k words

this content is intended for 18+ readers only!

The very moment your eyes fall on Steve's figure, standing in the parking lot and leaning against his BMW with his hands in his pockets, you know you are in trouble.

You let the door slam behind you and straighten the bag on your shoulder, hopping over to where he is patiently waiting with barely concealed excitement— which makes him laugh all too sweet, all too lovesick, shaking his head as if not believing his own eyes.

"What are you doing here?" you ask once within ear-reach, genuinely curious.

He pretends to be offended, hand over heart.

"What, can't I pick up my beautiful girlfriend after work?"

Before you can reply, Steve hooks a finger around the strap of your bag and pulls, making you trip forward and straight into his arms. He rests a hand on your hip then, the other moving up to your cheek, thumb gentle when it runs over your skin.

You squint your eyes at him. “I won’t sleep at your place tonight,” you already did the night before. It's an unspoken rule.

He squeezes your waist.

“I know,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But maybe I could sleep at yours?”

Damn, he's pretty.

You look up at the sky for dramatic effect, leaning in just a little to press your body closer and pretend to consider the idea. As if there was something in this world or the next that this boy could ask and you'd say no.

“Maybe,” you tease, “if you ask nicely.”

Steve leans down to kiss the tip of your nose lightly, his smile terribly sweet. “Don’t be mean.”

"You're still not asking nicely, you know."

“What do you want?” he nuzzles your neck, pressing a soft kiss on that spot he knows never fails to make you shiver. Then he brings his lips right up to your ear and murmurs, half playful and half trying to make you blush, “Should I get on my knees for you, baby?”

It works. You gasp, shoving his chest lightly, but Steve doesn’t let go, and when his face comes back into view he’s displaying the biggest shit-eating grin ever.

“There’s people around, you know?” you whisper, more flushed than you care to admit.

“Then get in the car,” he steps away from the BMW — where he'd been leaning — and opens the passenger door for you.

When Steve sits behind the wheel and beams at you, you finally gather the courage to ask, “What are you up to?”

He has the audacity to feign innocence.

"What do you mean?"

You're trying not to grin from the memory alone — it's hard. “This morning?” you offer.

"Oh," Steve says, pretending — in an exaggerated manner — that he's only now remembering what you're talking about, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “You mean when you gave me a boner and then left?”

You press your lips into a thin line, trying to hide a smirk that wouldn't help your situation at all. You look down at the hand he's just slid down your thigh. He gives you an affectionate squeeze and you let out a breath, kind of expecting his hand to go higher and higher and exact some sort of revenge…but it doesn't.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

Steve chuckles. "No."

Your house isn't far from work — in fact, you usually walk from one place to the other every day — but in Steve's car, it takes even less, of course. He makes sure to open the door for you when he pulls up to your driveway; a perfect gentleman, one could believe.

He is still grinning and it's odd; not that Steve doesn't usually smile at you, he smiles all the time, but this smile is different. It's that smile. The trouble smile. The you-are-so-screwed smile. You know what to expect.

You get out of the car and give him a little kiss on the chin, suddenly all innocence and kindness.

“You're gonna torture me, aren't you?” you croon.

Steve laughs. Yes. Yes, he will.

“Just a little bit,” he pats your head — as if you both weren’t thinking of extremely dirty things half a second ago, for God’s sake — and asks, sweet as ever, “Are you hungry?”

Turns out Steve really is nice, even when he's sort of mad. He can’t help but be — especially to you — and not only does he make spaghetti for the two of you while you take a hot shower, but he also sets the table and waits patiently for you to return to the kitchen so you can sit down and enjoy your meal together.

“Was it good?” he asks as soon as you finish eating, brown eyes shining with something that looks like innocence but can't be.

You smile. The food was pretty good, though you're certain you'd be capable of eating dirt if Steve said he'd made it just for you. “The best. Thank you, baby,” you reach across the table for his hand and kiss it softly — which makes him chuckle, the sound warm and soft in your ears.

“Since you cooked, I'll wash the dishes.”

You get up and take the dishes to the sink. Oddly enough, Steve doesn't say anything.

You're wondering if he'd left the kitchen when an arm wraps around your waist and- oh.

A surprised yelp escapes your lips as you're thrown over his shoulder, ass in the air, sink and dishes definitely out of reach.

“Steve!”

He is laughing. Bastard.

Well, to be fair, as he carries you upstairs, you start laughing too — it's hard not to laugh in a situation like this, and Steve revels in the sound of your laughter reverberating against his skin, playful and sweet.

“Steve,” you yell again, this time patting him on the back lightly. “What are you doing? Hey-”

It happens fast. Your skin is suddenly tingling — did he just slap your ass?

“Shut up,” Steve admonishes, but his tone isn't rude at all; is playful and loving and full of intimacy he only had with you. And God, how you love him.

Your room is small; a dresser, a small dressing table, a bed that can barely fit two people. Steve's been here a hundred times — he doesn't even turn on the light before tossing you into the bed with little care, and you gasp as you sink into the fluffy mattress.

“Steve-”

Two seconds and he's on top of you. His breath on your neck makes you giggle, ticklish, and you can feel his gaze on your face even in the dark, hot and full of adoration; but then he grabs one of your legs, hitching your knee up to your hip, and presses down against you, rock hard, squeezing the skin of your thigh into his hand with strength enough to bruise — and you lose it, biting down on your lower lip to hold back a moan, then a louder one when he does it again, even harder this time.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses, nibbling on your throat.

The fabric of Steve’s jeans is rough and he’s very, very hard under it. He presses your thighs further apart and pushes his weight into you, leaning down to kiss your jaw and neck, slow and open-mouthed, teeth grazing your skin every now and then. Too much and not enough.

You try and remember to breathe. “Take those damn pants off.”

He could. Instead, Steve smirks and runs one hand slowly down your body, though — between your breasts, down your tummy, and even lower…he slides his hand into your shorts, brushing his fingers against your clothed clit and pressing gently down over your panties, slowly, painfully slowly.

He knows exactly where to touch, exactly how to touch.

You moan and his smirk turns into a full-on laugh.

“You like that?” he teases, touching the same spot again, very pleased when your mouth falls open. “I'll take these off now, okay?” he tugs on your shorts, and you nod, arching your back, desperate to be touched again.

He's quick to get rid of it. Looking down at the black lace panties you're wearing with big brown eyes, he asks, momentarily distracted, “is that new?”

“Maybe.”

“I like it,” Steve takes it off too, flinging it across the room, then bends down and kisses your hip adoringly. You don't even realize he's dragging you further to the edge of the bed until he's kneeling on the floor between your legs, holding your thighs tightly on either side of his head….and then he drapes them over his shoulders.

You try to sit up. He pulls you by the ankles, forcing you to lie back down.

“Steve,” there's desperation in your voice. Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.

He kisses your inner thigh first, in a tender way that doesn't quite match the smug look on his face. You throw your head back and sigh, squirming and squirming a little more in anticipation, unable to move an inch as he holds you down firmly, lips moving higher and higher, leaving a trail of wet kisses behind.

Head between your legs, he hums quietly — smiling like the devil — and the sound seems to travel up your body, resonating across your skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Maybe you shouldn't have left him like that this morning.

And then he drags the tip of his tongue over your clit — slowly, once, twice, then again and again. Your legs tremble under his hold, eyes fluttering closed, and Steve seems to find your desperation very endearing, because he chuckles, amused, and his hold on your thighs tightens to keep you in place.

Out of nothing but sheer instinct, one of your hands finds its way down and threads through his hair, trying to bring him closer, to set the pace, to do everything at once.

Not very bright of you.

As if a switch has been turned off, Steve stops altogether, taking your wrist into his hand in a firm grip and smiling; too smug. “What do you think you're doing, hm?”

Even when he scolds you, he smiles. More like smirks, but still.

“Baby,” you sound a lot more desperate than you’d like. “You’re not leaving me like this, are you?”

Still holding onto your wrist, he moves higher to hover over you, pinning both of your hands above your head in one of his, lips finding the sensitive skin under your ear, again and again. 

“I should,” he muses, his free hand slipping under your shirt, fingers moving slowly towards your chest. “That’s what you did to me.”

“I’m a terrible person,” you say, your grin a weapon you use with intent. “You’re better, Steve, baby.”

He laughs. You gasp when his hand slides back down, between your legs and – oh.

“Am I?” he murmurs, biting down your shoulder lightly, then running his tongue over the spot to soothe it.

A thick finger slides inside of you — met with barely any resistance, if the wet sounds filling your ears are any indicator, and still, Steve pumps his finger once, twice, way too fucking slow.

You squirm — both hands locked above your head, helpless. So your legs close on his hand instead. Steve chuckles.

“Can't move my hand if you do that,” he croons, clearly having the time of his life being in control.

You can still feel his finger inside of you — Steve has a devilish grin when he curls it up, hitting the right, right spot and forcing a gasp out of your parted lips as you clench around him; he moves to kiss your mouth then, swallowing a loud moan that would certainly be heard outside of your bedroom window.

It's convincing enough for you.

His eyes trail down when your legs hesitantly move away from his hand, spread over the mattress, knees bent, and he's staring when he inserts a second finger and starts pumping in and out, in and out, picking up the right pace in no time.

“Oh. Oh.”

“Oh?” he encourages, grip still firm around both of your wrists as he searches for your reaction. “Like this?”

You arch your back and… oh fuck; he takes the opportunity to suck on your throat.

“Yes, yes, I'm gonna-”

His fingers slide out of you; wet and warm.

"-come?" he teases.

Fucking hell. You could cry.

Above you, he brings his hand to his lips, sucking on his wet fingers right in front of your face, eyes never leaving yours.

You watch – big, pleading eyes, maybe angrier than you should look considering your current position. He seems to enjoy it — both you and the desperation in your eyes — all too much.

“I take it back,” you whine, somewhat playful and entirely too desperate. “You are a terrible person.”

That turns his smug smile into a soft and fond one. You know you've brought this on yourself. Steve leans down and kisses you, nice and slow, lips brushing yours over and over. But you don't need sweet right now. You need fast and hard and bruising. This is frustrating and he's all too aware of it.

“Steve?” words pressed against his mouth. A kiss, then another.

He kisses you yet again before managing a reply.

“Hmm?”

“At least let go of my hands?”

He sighs and kisses the corner of your mouth. “I really need to learn how to say no to you.”

When he lets you go, you touch him; his face, gently on the lips, his neck, his chest, fingertips tingling with each touch, more so when he giggles; he allows you to discard his shirt without any hesitation. When your hands get closer to his belt though, you look up at him, asking for permission. Steve smiles and kisses your chin. Resounding yes.

You undo his belt with shaky hands, sliding the front of his pants down just enough for his length to spring free. When you reach out to touch him, though, he holds your wrist, breath caught in his throat.

“You don’t want me to touch you?” you ask nice and slow, and his hand holding yours falters for a moment.

One moment is enough. He doesn't realize what's happening until it's too late — your hands are on his chest, a thigh on either side of his waist. You lean down and kiss a line from his happy trail — he holds his breath — to the side of his neck, barely a hint of your teeth brushing against his skin as you trail open-mouthed kisses, love bites, anything in between.

You straddle him, arms raised over your head to discard the shirt you're wearing. You're naked and you're wet when he reaches between your legs again and finds your clit, drawing a small circle over and over with his finger.

You're pretty much panting. “Are you- oh. Are you gonna tease me all night?”

“Well…”

“I swear if you don’t fuck me right now-”

Steve laughs full of fondness and pushes you on your back, climbing to be on top once again, his mouth quick to find your throat, his hand holding behind your knee to set the right angle. Reaching down to grab a hold of himself, he presses the tip of his cock to your entrance, just barely, barely brushing against your skin, slick and hard and ready.

“Ask nicely,” he bends down to murmur into your mouth, straightening out once again afterward, kneeling between your legs.

Then something happens — you're not sure what exactly, it's possible you've moved your leg inadvertently, a spasm of pleasure that was his fault anyway — and then Steve is falling, falling right on top of you.

He stretches out his arms, palms down in an attempt to save you from taking his full weight at once. It kind of works — when his body touches yours, bare chest against bare chest, one hand on either side of your head, you feel nothing but a light pressure, far from any discomfort — actually, his skin is warm and it feels good; very good.

"Ow," he grumbles, letting his face fall into the crook of your neck. He kisses your jaw, suddenly all sweetness and concern. "Are you okay, baby?"

The answer he gets is a giggle; an adorable sound that makes your chest vibrate against his. Steve, surprised, lifts himself up on one elbow to look at your face, his kisses growing meaner along your neck to the corner of your mouth, his free hand splayed over your tummy.

He's grinning, caught up in the sweet sound of your laughter when his eyes meet yours. "What's so funny, huh, lovebug?"

"Nothing," but you're still laughing.

He's about to do the same when you give him a bear hug. There's no other way to describe it — you place your arms around Steve's neck and sigh, inhaling his scent before running your hands down his shoulders, down his back, squeezing him tighter and closer to you, feeling his warm skin between your fingers.

The intensity of your embrace has him losing his balance and landing on you awkwardly again — and it's his turn to laugh, a sound husky and deep and full of love. Then your legs are wrapped around him too, knees bent, heels crossed just below the waistline of his pants... and Steve's laugh becomes a half-exasperated sigh, almost a groan.

“Baby,” he moans, lips on your neck, jaw tense. “You’re so– fuck– so wet.”

He moves his hips slowly, up and down, examining your face for a reaction; the length of him slides over you, hot and hard, and oh God, why must he be so mean?

You tighten your legs around him.

“Please,” you don't even have to say what.

He should make you beg more, he knows; that was the plan, after all. But Steve can't. He looks down at where your bodies are almost, almost coming together, at your flushed skin, at how wet you are, the way your hips desperately try to reach for him.

Then he pushes in — slowly. His mouth hangs open immediately, a desperate sigh of pleasure coming out as he slides inside as slowly as he can, one hand on your hip holding you in place.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he squeezes his eyes shut, trying desperately not to come undone right there and then. “You feel so good.”

You do too, you wanna say. You feel fucking perfect. But you can't; he's only halfway inside and you're already losing the ability to form coherent sentences, any thought other than him quickly evaporating from your mind as his skin slides against yours.

Your lips part and you try to mumble an answer, but what comes out is just an incoherent moan that probably inflates Steve's ego a dozen times over.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” he's smirking, far from trying to hide it.

Not wanting to yield, you giggle. You are too fucking much; Steve's head is spinning as he pushes all the way in and the two of you sigh together, bodies as close as possible, his hand squeezing your hips tightly. Slowly, very slowly, he pulls out and pushes in again, and then again, so unhurried it's barely a rhythm. You moan, his firm grip preventing you from lifting your hips to meet his, eagerly taking whatever he wanted to give you instead.

Your nails trail along Steve's back in response. He lets out a deep sound from the back of his throat, furrowed brows, hips thrusting into you just a little bit faster, filling the room with nothing but wet noises and breathless moans as his thighs slap into yours again and again and again.

"Steve-"

You tighten around him, squirming as he moves faster and deeper. It's good, too good — the word doesn't even seem like enough to describe this, doesn't even come close.

Steve's hand lets go of your hip to move up to your chest, squeezing your flesh eagerly. He brings his face back to the point where your neck and shoulder meet, lips on your skin as he murmurs, “Say please.”

It's almost a question, far from an order or a way to tease you this time, voice low and slightly desperate. He starts placing featherlight kisses on your skin, taking his time with each one. “Say it, say it again.”

Not much convincing is needed.

“Please,” the word is sweet in your mouth. He shudders and you hug him, wanting to bring him even closer, wanting to disappear within him, toes curling and stomach tightening, “Please, oh, fuck, I’m-”

You can feel everything, everything inside of you; every inch of warm, wet skin, every slight movement as he thrusts at a more desperate pace, hitting that gummy spot inside of you just right, over and over until you can't take it anymore, walls clenching around him, legs beginning to shake.

Steve can tell. “Are you…shit, are you close?”

“Oh. Yes, very close.”

“Good,” he looks relieved when your eyes meet his and he leans down to kiss you — or to try to, because it's hard without slowing down, which he refuses to do.

You gasp, eyes fluttering closed when one of his hands reaches between you two and finds your clit, drawing quick, rough circles that have you moaning louder than you probably should.

“Look at me, baby,” he pleads.

You do. The only light comes from the corridor outside your door, and under this one faint light you still find him very pretty, very perfect when you two reach your high almost at the same time, bodies together, hands everywhere, his lips ghosting over yours, chasing a proper kiss.

You're quite bewildered this man is real.

Steve collapses on you without pulling out, all too sensitive, all too tired to do so.

Still, he smirks. “How funny do you think teasing is now, sweetheart?”

a/n: idk what this is. i'm half asleep right now, so maybe go easy on me 😭

ly 💞

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #29] 'Daddy'

warnings: polaroid taking, titty compliments <3, teasing, 'daddy' but not seriously lol, busan invite!!! yaaaaay!!!

a/n: last update for 2nite cos next week will be busan hehe

wc: 8k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

A soft smile rests on your lips as you wake up; the heat of Jeongguk's body keeping you warm beneath your duvet. His arm is looped over your waist, and while there's nothing inherently romantic about it, you find yourself indulging in how lovely it feels. Safe. Snug. Stable.

He eventually stirs a little later than you, squeezing you closer while his legs stretch out a little bit, and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. Groans.

"Morning," he says, voice gravelly, throat a little parched from the dry winter air. Your humidifier had run out of water in the night, but neither of you had been woken by the small beep that would have told you so.

Your hand drops to rest over his, and he doesn't really think much of it as he spreads his fingers for yours to sink between. It's nice, the way his body just sort of accepts yours in any capacity; the same way yours does for him. You wouldn't say you're holding hands (even if you are). Would just say you're connected. Fostering a feeling of togetherness (even if you aren't).

"Morning," you hum gently, voice also a little croaky.

Jeongguk always thinks you sound cute like this. Likes your morning voice.

You like his, too. It's a little deeper than usual. Breathy. It's just 'cause the air has dried out his throat overnight, and his vocal cords can't vibrate at their full capacity. There's logic to his lethargic-sounding voice, but you ignore it all, 'cause you like the excuse of him just being sexy.

And yet despite the attraction that comes with a husky voice, the overwhelming adoration that irritates your heart as it bubbles through your veins comes in the form of intimacy.

Jeongguk's voice sounds like this because he slept in your bed.

He sounds like this, because he feels safe enough around you to let down any and all guards.

Sure, you're no longer hunter gathers from prehistoric times, and sleeping doesn't hold the same weight as it would have done for your ancestors. There are locks on your doors in one of the safest nations in the world. To sleep doesn't mean to risk death - and yet the cautionary tales of humanity run within your veins. You're only alive because one night, thousands of years ago, someone stayed awake throughout the night to ensure their family's safety.

Falling asleep together? Well, it only confirms one thing: you're a safety zone for one another.

Or maybe not. Guess you'll never truly know.

It's all very sickening, how sweetly you think of one another. Would never admit to it. Both as bad as one another in that regard. Made for one another, some may say.

"You stayed," you say, as if Jeongguk would ever leave.

"You know I always stay," he mumbles. He's been in your bed enough times for you to know this. Why you'd ever think he'd do otherwise is beyond him. "Plus I like your shampoo. Wanna use it."

His sleepy eyes are still shut. He's only entertaining this conversation 'cause he enjoys entertaining you.

"Show up without warning, claim my bed as your own, and now you're after a shower, too?" You affectionately scold him. He squeezes you a little tighter.

"What's mine is yours, remember?" he says, echoing a statement from the night before, lips brushing against your neck so subtly that you wonder if he even realises.

He does.

"We're not married," you tell him, to which he just shrugs. Holds you even tighter, still.

"We could be."

"Would you make me sign a prenup?"

"No."

"Okay," you airily agree. It's all facetious, and carries no weight. Is just fun to joke about from time to time. Something you've done for a while, now. Will always pretend like it repulses you. "We can get married. I'll rinse you in the divorce, though."

He pouts against your skin. Huffs. "That's not fair, B."

He'd never do that to you.

"Then don't marry me," you tease, as if it's even an option. "Problem solved."

Jeongguk doesn't like this scenario.

Also doesn't like that he's started joking about marriage, 'cause he knows it's only because his brain is doing that stupid little thing it likes to do whenever he has a crush.

See, Jeongguk is bad at the whole casual thing. Made a marriage pact with Hayun before he'd even fucked her. Fancied a friend in high school and ended up studying the same optional classes as her 'cause she told him that he should. It's why he was late applying for uni. Didn't have the right set of subjects studied to be accepted onto his course, so had to take a couple extra exams.

So now he's joking with you about getting married, 'cause he's accidentally thought about it a couple of times, and doesn't wanna be the only one of you thinking about it.

It's not like they were big dreams - just little daydreams, small snippets of a 'what if' . You hardly even feature in the daydreams. Apart from that one where he imagined you both walking into a reception room after the nuptials to a crowd of your friends cheering - but, like, everyone has silly little thoughts like that! Or at least, that's what he likes to tell himself.

He's been speaking with Yoongi a lot lately about wedding plans. Decides that's what's corrupted him. He's still young. Still single. He's not ready for any of that. Not in the slightest.

"Wouldn't wanna marry you anyways," he says. "You're so not my type."

"Gguk," you deadpan. "I can feel your boner digging into my ass."

It's not a lie. It's also not because of you, you know this. Know that morning is a particularly... hard time for him.

"It's morning," he pouts. "Not my fault. I'd get a boner even if I was hugging... I don't know. A pillow. Or Jimin."

"You'd get a boner for Jimin? Does mean a threesome-"

"No," he mumbles quickly, his sleepy voice making him sound so sweet and tepid, despite the burning heat beneath his ribs. "Shush, baby. No threesome."

Baby .

A term of endearment reserved for only the most intimate of endeavours, Jeongguk has never called you it outside of sex. He knows this. You know this.

Neither of you mention it.

You simply just pretend like he never said it; like your heart isn't beating so fast you're scared it might stop.

The rule of no pet names was put in place by you; ignored by him.

Disco Ball? Fine. Whatever.

Byeol? Excusable.

B? Well, it kinda makes sense.

But baby ? God, it gets you all sorts of fucked up.

You're able to ignore the way it makes you feel, usually. Too distracted by his lips, or the need to keep yourself from coming undone. Like this, when you're being kept warm by his body, but his touches are as innocent as his voice is sleepy, it's different.

For the first time in a long time, you feel a little bit scared. He's so good with your fears, but they still exist. You've just been holding a pillow over your eyes for a few months.

The pillow is gone now; just you, him, and the cinematic-scale fears your harbour in your heart.

"A threesome would be good for you," you say, not really believing it. "You're wasted on just one girl."

He squeezes you a little tighter, for the billionth time within a fifteen-minute window. "No, I'm not."

It's lovely to indulge in such a declaration.

It means nothing, in the grand schemes of things - just that Jeongguk thinks you're worthy of his body - and yet it feels a little weightier than it really should do. It's almost as if there are rocks tied to his words, but they're disguised in pretty satin scarves, wrapped up and hidden away, only felt when they get tied to you and drag you down. Head in the clouds, feet on the ground typa shit. The kinda feeling that makes you wanna write poetry, but you haven't written anything of any substance since Seokjin.

There's a quiet sadness to the way that your broken heart always seems to spill onto pages of notebooks, but the things you really want to shout about? The things that make you smile? They never make it onto the pages of your journals.

You keep these feelings all bottled up. Wax sealed. A daisy dried into the imprint. Just for you. Yours, all yours. No one can steal them that way. They're safe.

Like you are right now; Jeongguk holding you in such a way that lets you know you'll never be truly alone, as long as he's in your life.

You're grateful.

And it terrifies you.

You know that Jeongguk is withholding something that will only hurt you.

Have done since he showed up at your place after the last Dionysus night.

Should you rip it like a band-aid, or apply pressure to stop the bleeding? It's not a choice you wanna have to make.

Yet you know you need to.

Quietly, you muster up your courage. Untangle your fingers from his. Remain in your little spoon position, but busy your hands with picking off flakes of glitter from your forearm.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" you ask, a little apprehensive of the answer you could get.

Jeongguk's grip on you doesn't ease. He keeps you close, for fear of you wanting to leave. He won't stop you, if you do, but he wants you to know that he wouldn't like that. Wants you close, even if his past actions might push you away.

He sighs. Inhales. Loves the scent of your shampoo. Your sheets. You . Your smell , his brain corrects. Loves the way you smell. Not you. God no. Fuck. No. Not at all-

"Hm?" You encourage a response, knowing that Jeongguk is probably letting his thoughts get away from him.

When things get intimate, Jeongguk's thoughts tend to go awry. He voices the most unhinged shit he thinks of, just because he can. Says stuff he'd never dream of saying otherwise.

Contrarily, in moments of vulnerability (though his thoughts are very much still awry) he stays silent. It's a curious contradiction, but one you've grown used to. You don't mind it. Understand it. Understand him.

Eventually, he speaks up. "You really wanna know?"

Sitting, you twist your body to face his. Back against your bedroom wall, you pull your legs up to your chest. "Mhhm."

Your body language says 'absolutely not', and Jeongguk knows this. Sits up too. Lets your duvet pool around his impossibly slim waist, abs on show, and the freckle on his ribs that you adore so much says 'hello'. A teeny tiny tummy roll (thanks to how awfully he's been eating during exam season) reminds you that he's still human. Still lovely, regardless. Lovely, and warm, and a little forlorn in his gaze.

It doesn't linger on you. Drops to his fingers, which twiddle in his lap. He shakes his head, hair waving ever so delicately around his pretty features. His lips part. Words try to come out. Silence prevails.

"I already know," you say quietly, to which his eyes find you again. You're looking down, now. He hates this. Hates that it's his actions that have caused it. "I mean, I don't know know. I just know something happened with Hayun."

"How?" he asks quietly. He's not rude, nor confrontational. Just curious.

You shrug. "Intuition?"

Got a shit-bag ex who taught me all the warning signs, your brain corrects you.

He seems to accept this answer, so you don't elaborate.

He's quite forthcoming, when he admits to the truth. States it plainly, just like he did with Jimin.

"She kissed me."

"When?" You ask, wanting a timeline. Thinks it might help you understand his thought process if you know the steps that led him to your apartment that night. "Where?"

He battles with his mind for a moment, but his heart wins. Honesty is owed.

"Um, like, outside. The courtyard area-"

"New years," you say quietly, not to interrupt, just to connect dots in your own head. It's embarrassing, the way shame drowns you out. It's like you're spluttering for air, but in reality, you're stoic. Not moving a muscle.

"New years," he echoes. Hates this.Wishes the conversation would just stop. Knows it can't. "We were talking and-"

"I don't need the ins and outs," you interrupt, suddenly changing your mind.

Now that he's giving you specifics, it's just making you feel worse.

That's the most confusing part, you think. You've been feeling fine about things - and yet now, seeing his guilt? Makes you feel like maybe you should feel awful, too.

Jeongguk looks down. Purses his lips. "I know. I just don't want you getting the wrong impression."

"My impression is that you kissed Hayun and then came and fucked me," you sigh, bitterly disappointed. It's exactly what you've been assuming ever since that night, but the confirmation still stings.

"No, see, that is the wrong impression, B," Jeongguk stresses. You're so casual and flippant about things, but Jeongguk knows it was anything but. "It wasn't as linear as that. I know it sounds shitty-"

"It does."

"-But it really wasn't like that at all."

It doesn't matter.

You feel like a cheap consolation prize, regardless. Sort of like Jeongguk only came to you because Hayun decided she didn't want him after all.

It's stupid really. Your pride is getting in the way of things. Your disdain for Hayun? Even more so.

If he explained the what, the when, the why, the who, the how, you'd know that Jeongguk really didn't mean to make so many bad decisions. The only good decision that night, he thinks, was coming to see you - but even that, he managed to fuck right up.

The thing that pushed Jeongguk to leave Dionysus that night?

Wasn't Hayun. Wasn't Danbi rightfully giving him a piece of her mind. Wasn't any of that.

It was a choice that he had made earlier in the night.

Sick of his eyes searching for you in the crowd and always drawing blanks, Jeongguk had gone searching for you. Yeonjun had no clue where you were at this point, and had suggested maybe you'd already left.

You hadn't. Were just in the girls bathroom with Danbi, and some college girls who were in awe of the glitter (so naturally, you were turning them into glitter girlies too, free of charge).

Nonethewiser, Jeongguk tried his luck dipping from the club and heading to the next street over to where the arcade was. Less than a minute walk. Again, you were nowhere to be found - but the machine you had been at was currently free of punters.

Sure, maybe he spent a little too long trying to win the My Melody plushie, but he was drunk , and it felt important . He almost gave up after he got the Cinnamoroll, but couldn't. Had convictions. Was determined. Was gonna get your stupid, adorable plushie no matter what.

And he did.

Of course he did.

He's Jeongguk. There's nothing he can't do, when his heart's really in it.

Looked for you upon his return. Didn't realise you were still in the bathrooms, this time consoling a girl who had just seen her boyfriend kissing one of her friends. Classic, really. A little liquor and so many men seem to think that cheating is okay. Will cry about it being a mistake, but you know damn well the mistake is getting caught in the act, not the act itself.

His final port of call had been the staff room. Tossed the plushie down on the sofa. Sighed. Lamented the way things had changed since you'd last been together in Dionysus. Knew it was all his fault. Wondered if it was really worth it.

If Hayun was worth it.

He knows the answer, now. Had to experience it to really be sure, but he already knew. Deep down, he always has done.

But she'd entered the staff room when he was all sad and doe-eyed over you, and convinced herself that maybe it was her making him feel this way. Invited him to get some air. He'd needed a friend. Had lied to himself so well about the nature of the relationship that she was only ever a friend, he had seemed to think maybe she was. Maybe it'd be good to talk with her.

Lessons have been learned. Mistakes made. Decisions done.

"Should have told you first, I know," he says quietly, eyes on his hands. Looks up at you. Wishes you would look at him. "I'm sorry, Byeol. I'm sorry, and if I could re-do the events of that night, I would - butI I can't, so. This is where we're at. Fucked up, then I fucked you. Kinda poetic, in a way."

You snort out a disapproving laugh. "Yeah, if you were a teenager on tumblr in 2014."

"Not even gonna pretend to know what that is," he says, genuinely clueless to what a tumblr is, and why 2014 is relevant. "But B, we both know I didn't come here that night with the intention of fucking you, I never... Look, I'm sorry that I let it happen. All I can do is promise you that it won't happen again."

Men have promised they'd move mountains for you before. You'll believe it when you see it.

"What won't happen again?" you ask, a little petulantly. "You fucking me, or you kissing Hayun?"

Being childish right now will do no one any favours.

Will make you feel vindicated for a split second, mind you.

"Well..." Jeongguk begins, but stops himself from finishing.

He means Hayun.

Is done with it. Done with her.

Hates what's become of your friendship since her return. The loss of your closeness aches more than the residual pining feelings for her have ached in the last year. The way he once felt about her is not representative of who he is now.

"Well?"

"Well, kissing is intimate," Jeongguk says with a curt sense of authority. He's speaking your opinions as if they're universal truths.

"It is," you agree.

"I don't really think it's appropriate to be intimate with a girl my best friend hates."

"Hate is a strong word," you say, hiding a smile.

"I think it's just the right strength, here."

You know what Jeongguk is saying. He's speaking in tongues, but you're well acquainted with his. It's easy to decipher.

Yet you're an insolent little brat when you want to be, and so you twist his words. Not to be malicious, just to get confirmation.

"Hayun told me she was your best friend," you tell him. "And I'm pretty sure she hates me, so... you're saying we shouldn't kiss?"

"You rarely ever let me kiss you anyways, B," Jeongguk reminds you with a fond smile. Thinks he'd settle with never kissing you again if it meant he still got to banter with you. "But no, you idiot. Hayun says a lot of shit. You shouldn't listen to her. You're my best friend."

He's heard it with his own ears. Had always shrugged her mean comments off. Hasn't been able to shake the way he heard her speak about you. Tried, for a while. Just ended up making him feel like a shitty friend.

You deserve people in your corner. If Danbi was acting like besties with someone who had been cruel about you, he'd be pissed off. Thinks she had every right to criticise him in the way she had on that evening.

Despite being at his little party last night, Danbi had barely spoken to him.

Had looked at his neck. Raised her brows. Asked, "Well, are you being nice to her? I sure hope you are. And I sure hope those are from her, otherwise you're in for a world of pain, my friend," and then walked away before Jeongguk could even reply.

Danbi scares him.

Is pretty sure she scares Tae, too, but he seems to get off on that. To each their own, and all that.

"B, I don't wanna fight with you," he says, holding out his hand.

For reasons you can't, or simply won't, explain, you accept it. Toy with his fingers as your hands rest on top of your duvet. Trace his knuckles. Admire his tattoos. Relish in the serenity of him.

"Don't wanna fight, either," you sigh. Glance up at him, only to realise he's looking at you with such crestfallen need for forgiveness that it feels like the only thing you can do. "And, hey, maybe it was good. Me being mad at you gave me a little push in the right direction."

"Oh?" Jeongguk questions. His skin feels all hot. Prickly. He doesn't like it. "How so?"

You think nothing of it as you admit to the date you had last night. Jeongguk asks for his name. Nods when you tell him it. Asks for specifics. His career path - "sounds boring" ; his hobbies - "meh" ; his charms - "I have a dimple, too. See? Look, and I get dimples when I smile like this, too!"

As you're explaining the night before, Jeongguk is hunting for one of his shirts amongst your clothes. Says he wants to get a drink from the convenience store.

In reality, he just doesn't wanna have to look you in the eyes, just in case they sparkle for Seojoon.

"You're too competitive for your own good, Gguk," you laugh. "I'm not gonna ditch you for another guy. Unlike some of us , I'll keep my best friend around even if I do fall disastrously in love."

"Okay, one - I kept you around!" He protests, rummaging through the clothes on your desk chair for one of his shirts. There's definitely one in the pile. You're sure of it. "Two - who said anything about love ? I wasn't! Are you going to be in love?!"

Jeongguk can never really hide his emotions. He tries. Really hard. Always fails. His competitive edge is showing now in a way that it never has done before. He really is feeling threatened by Seojoon.

He's stupid, you think. You're not gonna ditch him. Would miss him too much.

Sure, you'll need to iron out the nature of your sleepovers, but that'll just be a small change - and fuck ! You've only been on one date. Hardly falling in love, are you?

"No!" You laugh. "Christ, Gguk. It's only been one date."

"But there's gonna be more?" He asks, still rummaging. Has already found a shirt. Just doesn't wanna face you right now. "You're gonna see him again?"

"Well maybe," you admit. "I don't know yet. He hasn't asked."

Jeongguk pretends like he isn't satisfied with that answer.

Again, he fails to compel this narrative. The little hum he chirps gives him away.

But then he's thinking about the reason you went on that stupid date in the first place, and wants to explain himself again. Really wants you to know how shitty he feels about it.

"About the Hayun stuff," Jeongguk begins, glancing over to you, but you just shake your head.

"Why waste your time explaining it away?" You ask with a small shrug and eyes so sincere Jeongguk thinks you could end world wars. Eyes he thinks he'd go to war for .

Silly thoughts, for a silly boy, who's engaging in silly conversations that makes his heart feel anything but silly.

It feels serious. Stern. Secure in his understanding of his feelings, but too scared to do anything about them. Especially now.

"I don't love your choices," you continue, not trying to be critical, but wanting him to understand why you aren't lingering on the situation. "But we learn from our bad decisions, no? We make mistakes so that in future we can make things right."

"It doesn't mean I shouldn't feel bad about it," he says quietly, eyes down.

"Well, what will beating yourself up about it do? Will just make you feel crappy - and like, don't get me wrong, I think you deserve to feel shitty for fucking me without telling me-"

"I do."

"But I'm not hung up on it," you stress. Really, you're not. "You feeling bad about it will make me feel like I should feel bad about it."

If Jeongguk was elated about his choices, enthusing about Hayun, then yes - you'd feel awful.

Thing is, his distress is written all over his pouty little face. There's nothing about even kissing her that he seems to enjoy. Not anymore.

Or at least, even if he liked it in the moment, the aftermath seems to have catapulted him into a near-permanent state of disgust. That's enough to make you feel alright about things.

"Okay," you sigh when you see his frown hasn't eased up. "Tell me one thing: do you still want her?"

The way Jeongguk recoils with a crease between his brows almost instantly says it all.

"Christ, B. No. Obviously not"

Cherry on top.

"Well, I mean she can have you," you tease, pleased to be smiling through such a conversation. Progress has been made.

"I don't want her," he insists, and it really does boost your ego.

"Should have thought about that then, shouldn't you?" You smirk with a raised brow.

Jeongguk throws his shirt at you. Whines. "Cut me some slack, B. I said I'm sorry."

The conversation dissolves into nothingness - Jeongguk asking you what you want from the shop, and you asking him what he wants to watch on Netflix when he gets back. Will only be gone for a few minutes, but it'll give you a chance to breathe and process the morning's revelations.

He slips on a pair of your jeans - mom cut, and shrugs when he looks in the mirror. Thinks they don't look too bad. A bit baggy, and loose on his hips thanks to your curves, but nothing that a belt can't solve. For a quick run to the shop? They're fine. Will do the job. Saves him from wearing sweats again, and given his near-constant state of boner this morning, sweats are not a wise idea.

The waistband of his Calvins peek out from the top of the jeans, framing his hips like they're a work of art deserving a place in the Louvre.

You sort of think they are. Think he's got a body that deserves to be admired. Worshipped. Appreciated. Know that you're more than capable of doing all of those things.

"Take a picture," he smirks, when he catches you looking.

You're unashamed.

Sure, your cheeks blush a little bit, but you just keep drinking in the sight of him. So often his body is shrouded in darkness when your hands are running over it - but you can see him, now. See the ridges of his abs, and the way they move ever so gently as he exerts a little energy.

Nodding towards the shelf just behind him, where your old polaroid sits prettily amongst some other tat, you smirk right back. "Gimmie it and I will."

You expect shyness - and get shyness, Jeongguk's smile a little scrunched as a soft giggle escapes his lips - but you don't expect for him to actually reach over for it.

"How do you work this thi- oh!" He exclaims as he presses down on the button that extends the lens.

It's not a proper polaroid, just an old instax that has seen better days, but it does the job well enough for you not to trade it in.

Honestly, you rarely use it these days. Maybe once a year, if you're lucky. You've no idea if it has any film in it - but as Jeongguk points it towards you, not bothering to adjust the exposure settings ('cause he doesn't realise it's needed) and presses down on the shutter button, it's confirmed that there is, indeed, still film in it.

"Oh, shit," he laughs, as if he wasn't the one who very deliberately took a photo.

He's not that stupid. He knows how cameras work. The mechanical whir as the photograph pushes itself out of the slot is nostalgic; a reminder of times that were simple.

He shakes the polaroid a little as he passes the camera over to you, looking at the empty photograph with a small pout.

"Takes a couple of minutes," you explain. "Put it on my desk, let it develop."

He does as he's told, believing you without hesitation. You've honestly no idea what you're supposed to do while they process.

Shake it - no! Don't shake it. Keep it out of the light. No! Give it light! No put it in the light for a minute only.

Everything you've ever been told about polaroids has been contradictory, and you enjoy the chaos too much to actually figure things out.

Holding the polaroid camera to your eye, you're smiling as Jeongguk decides to pose like an absolute tool. Muscles tensed, arms up in swan position, he looks like he's trying to compete for a place in Men's Health magazine.

"You're so stupid," you murmur affectionately.

"Stupid hot ," he corrects.

"Mmm," you hum as you press down on the shutter button, a flash lighting up your room. "Like a real-life Calvin Klein model."

He pings the top of his briefs against his skin with a teasing wiggle of his brows.

"Careful, or you'll speak it into existence," he assures you. "And then everyone will want me."

"So?" You laugh. "Am I supposed to feel threatened?"

Jeongguk's met many girls in his lifetime. Watched many on screen, and seen just as many in magazines. Gorgeous women. Beautiful women. The kind of women he'd be lucky to have - and yet, if were to be honest about his feelings for once in his damn life, he'd say 'no' .

No Hollywood star could ever compare to his star.

Instead, he deflects.

"Threatened? Huh," he smirks. Shakes his head to the side, like a dog with an itch. He's quite puppy-like, when you think about it. All doe-eyed and charming. Exquisitely cuddly and notoriously boisterous. Cute - and yet that smirk of his? The toned muscles of his chest? Sin . "You jealous?"

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. "I'm not the jealous type."

Jeongguk presses his lips together, still smiling. Nods. Eyes sparkling, his tongue toys with his lip ring a little, the freckle beneath his bottom lip on full display.

Shakes his head. "I think that's a lie."

Oh, how insufferably right he is - but you're not gonna give him the satisfaction, even if you're both well aware of it.

"I've never been jealous in my life," you say with a small giggle as Jeongguk prowls towards the bed. You lift the polaroid to your eye, and press down on the shutter button once more.

He doesn't imagine it's a great angle.

He's wrong.

"No?" He flirts, taking the camera from your hands as he gets himself between your legs.

He's sitting on his knees, with his thighs hooked beneath your legs. The hand that isn't holding your camera - the tattooed one - pushes the shirt you're wearing up a little. Reveals your underwear, and the bottom of your cute little tummy. There's a softness to you that he likes. Gets him hard .

"Shame," he shrugs. "I get jealous."

"I could tell," you assure him, as if your heart isn't beating a mile a minute. Something about Jeongguk like this - half-dressed, Calvins, body on show just for you - really gets you all hot and bothered.

The tips of his fingers stroke your skin, until they meet the top of your lace underwear. His thumb dips. Presses down on your clit, the thin piece of material the only obstruction.

You gasp, because of course you do, and Jeongguk feels vindicated. Thinks he'll never need to be jealous, 'cause no one is ever gonna make you feel like he does. Knows that he'll try his goddamn hardest to keep things as they are right now, 'cause he's had a taste of what it could feel like to lose you.

He doesn't want that - and yet he feels the need to preserve things as they are, just in case. Knows that Seojoon exists, and doesn't like the prospect of what that could mean for the future.

He raises the camera to his eye. Looks down at you.

"Chess?" He asks, giving you the option of an 'out' that only the two of you understand.

"You finally gonna teach me how to play?" You banter back, knowing that he wasn't asking you to play. He's checking consent before he presses on the shutter button.

It will produce just a single image. One for you to keep; proof that once upon a time, Jeon Jeongguk had touched you so indecently angels would weep. The sins you commit with him feel like heaven on earth, so how could they blame you? You're sure when you reach the pearly gates, they'll understand - though heaven wouldn't really be worth it, you think. Not when you've already experienced Nirvana with him.

"Not if you don't want me to," he says, his intentions thinly veiled as he lowers the camera to look at you.

There's innocence in his dark eyes; an elixir you just want to bottle up to preserve for a rainy day. His thumb is still pressed against your most intimate of areas, languid in its subtle movements, just to remind he's there. Willing. Wanting. Waiting.

"So chess, or no chess?"

He's too far away for your hands to reach him properly, so you simply tap beneath his hand to encourage the camera further up, indicating that he should realign it with his sight.

"No chess."

Slow as he makes sure he's got the perfect angle, Jeongguk presses deeper against you. Has you humming in anticipation of more substantial touches.

The camera flashes, a mechanical buzz accompanying your bated breaths. He can't have captured much, you think, knowing the camera well. Will likely just be his hand, probably, and the part of you it was taking ownership of.

The photo begins to slide out of the slot at the top of the camera, but Jeongguk's hands are full. He nips the edge with his teeth. Pulls it out. Keeps it there. Realigns the camera. Lets go of your pussy to push your shirt up your stomach.

"Up," he instructs, teeth gritted thanks to the polaroid, letting you take over the removal of your shirt. Your body is bare, save for the pair of underwear he's been toying with, your chest now his to play with - but he doesn't. Not really. Just holds one of your tits in his firm grip. Tells you to hold the other one. You comply. The camera flashes again.

He spits the polaroid between his teeth to the side. It's developing now. He doesn't dare look at it. Another, arguably worse one is printing out anyways. Again, his teeth nip at the edge and pull it out.

"You'll use all the film," you say softly, a fondness to the way you're scolding him. He discards the polaroid between his teeth, a smile on his pretty lips.

"I'll buy you more," he says as his hand strokes up your chest and sinks to where your bird should be. "Still missing a necklace."

Oh, on the contrary, you think.

"Shame."

Camera still by his eye, Jeongguk lines up the perfect shot: the top of your chest, collarbones sparkling in your bedroom light, his hand wrapped around the base of your throat. Careful not to include your face, he thinks it's a shame. Would have quite liked your pouty lips as part of the picture, too.

He squeezes his hand as the camera flashes.

Pulling the polaroid out with his fingers this time, he shakes it gently. Finds the other photos scattered around your body and tosses them in a neat pile beside your bed.

"Gimmie," you say, scrunching your hands out in a bid to retrieve the camera. There's no protest. He sort of wants you to take pictures of him, too.

Wants evidence that you once wanted him as badly as he seems to want you.

"Where do you want me?" He asks, a little shy now the camera is back on him.

Aligning focus, you hold out your hand, and let the tips of your fingers trail down the ridges of his torso. Jeongguk glances down to watch your hand, so focused on your dainty touches that he barely even notices the flash going off.

"Only two shots left," you say quite contently as you perch the camera on your bedside table, the polaroid still printing. You'll check it later. "Should save them for something important."

He raises a brow. Looks genuinely confused. "Your tits are important."

With a laugh, you shake your head, hair tangling against your pillow. Cupping your tits for a little support (and warmth) you simply say, "not if you're an ass guy."

Jeongguk's whole entire face scrunches up, to the point where his lip ring does the thing, but you can't focus on it. He looks too cute. Stroking the tops of your thighs adoringly, Jeongguk sighs.

"Look, I'm not saying I'm not an ass guy anymore, but, like - shit , B."

He reaches up to rest his hands over yours, but you slide yours out so that his are making direct contact with your tits. Putting your hands back on top of his, you encourage him to squeeze them, which earns you a whine from his prettily pouted lips.

"Love your tits. Absolutely corrupted me, they have."

"I know," you say smugly. "You're welcome."

"I'm not thanking you," he laughs, rolling your nipples between his fingers. The arching of your back gets his cock throbbing. You're so easy to work up. So is he, though. "Ruined me."

He loves your laugh, but loves it catching in your throat as he spanks the soft flesh of your chest even more so.

He doesn't let the sting linger; soothes your skin immediately. Mutters to himself, with a shake of his head. "Absolutely ruined."

"Careful," you tease. "Or I'll start thinking you're a tit guy."

"I'll eat your ass just to prove I'm not," he banters back - but then you twist beneath him. Get on your front. Ass up for him, just how he likes.

"Alright, then," you challenge.

"B," he husks, gripping onto your ass with one hand and stroking down your arched back with the other. Poised so that you can see the mirror across the room, there's something sordid about watching Jeongguk like this.

Desire becomes him. There's nothing about his mind, body nor soul that doesn't want you in this moment, and it's written all over his skin. He has to have you. Will simply die if he can't.

"Yeah?" You reply sweetly, and he just knows you're gonna be in one of those moods - a mood he loves, but a mood he knows is no good for the way you make his heart beat these days.

"Behave yourself," he husks. "We both know we shouldn't."

It hasn't been discussed, but he's got a point. You know you should be practising a little more self-restraint.

"I won't tell if you don't."

His grip gets tighter. Jiggles your soft flesh a little. Gets him gritting his teeth. Cursing.

Your body jolts forward as he spanks you, just once. It's so satisfying.

"Shouldn't play with your food before you eat it," you smirk, knowing just the way to wind him up.

Yeah, Jeongguk thinks to himself. You're definitely one of those moods.

It's the bratty type. The 'wind him up just because it's fun' type - but two can play at that game.

"Want me to eat it, huh?" He husks.

"Mhmm," you whine a little as he massages your skin.

His hands are strong, but his determination to not let your brattiness win? Oh, even more so.

"God, you're filthy for me, aren't you baby?" He husks. Knows how much baby gets you. Uses it deliberately.

"Mhmm," is all you can whine in anticipation of something, anything, to relieve the ache in your pussy. Have been horny all week, but unable to act upon it without thinking about him - and you were mad at him. Didn't wanna be thinking about him at all, let alone as you came.

"My pretty little slut, aren't you?" He praises, fingers toying with your lace underwear. The slickness of your pussy seeps through the fabric. Gets him all wet and dirty, just how he likes it. "Cunt just begging to be fucked, but it's your ass you want eaten."

"Koo," you whine .

He's rarely ever mean in bed, but it always gets you even hornier than usual when he is. It's the juxtaposition, you think. A man as kind and charming as Jeongguk should not be as unhinged as you know he truly is.

"What have I told you about calling me that?" He laughs. "Don't fuckin' do it."

It's not that he doesn't like it. In fact, it's quite the opposite. He likes it too much.

"Why not?" You ask, because again, it's one of those moods - so Jeongguk decides that if you wanna fuck with him, he's gonna fuck with you instead.

"'Cause you're gonna address me properly, aren't you, baby?" He says, thankful you aren't looking at him, 'cause a smile is tugging at his lips.

He's got a plan. Doesn't know if you'll play along. Hopes you will. Knows that there's no way you'll fuck him if it goes right - and that's sort of what he's hoping for. The pair of you simply have no self-control, so he's trying to create some.

"What am I gonna call you?" You whine as he rubs over your panties with his long fingers.

"What do you think, baby?" he teases. "Use that pretty little head of yours, baby girl."

God. You're gonna die.

"Koo," you whine, because of course you do. There's only one name that compliments baby girl - and you don't wanna say it.

What you do want? Right now? Is for Jeongguk to fuck you so hard it makes you booking the entire day off worth it.

"Uh, uh, baby," he says as he holds your cunt. Absolutely takes ownership of it. Gets you all whimpery and whiney - and when he starts being nice? Oh, fuck . You're done for. Death imminent. "Use that pretty, perfect brain of yours. You're so smart, aren't you? You know what to call me."

Jeongguk would be lying if he said his cock wasn't throbbing. Your mom jeans - the ones that were baggy - appear tight now, thanks to his hardness.

You take a second. Assess how much dignity you stand to lose from 'addressing him properly', and decide you're too horny to care.

"You think I'm smart, Daddy?"

Glorious , Jeongguk thinks. Not the name. Just that he managed to get you to say it, and mean it. His power knows no bounds. This is fucking fantastic .

"There you go, baby girl," he praises, pushing your panties to the side so that he can get a good look at just how messy you are. He thinks he'll die almost immediately. "So smart. You like being smart for me, don't you?"

You can't believe you're gonna say it again. And yet -

"Yes, Daddy," you nod into your pillows, 'cause the anticipation of Jeongguk doing something - anything - to your pussy right now is simply too much.

" Too smart, almost. I'm gonna have to fuck you so hard you can't think straight," he tells you. Smirks to himself. His breathy laugh echoes around the room. "Gonna be a dumb slut on my cock, aren't you?"

"Fuck," you moan, not willing to subject yourself to another 'daddy' - but Jeongguk pushes his luck.

"Who?" he insists. "Who you gonna be fucking?"

You roll your eyes, not that he can see it. Can't believe you're doing this. Can't believe you kinda like it, either. "You, Daddy."

"Hmm," Jeongguk hums with great satisfaction, giving you a very gentle but curt spank, before rolling back down beside you.

You're confused. Worried .

And then Jeongguk is chuckling to himself. "That was easier than I thought."

You sit up instantly.

Mouth ajar, you turn your head judgmentally, reaching a conclusion that is gonna earn Jeongguk the bluest balls he's ever had. You'll make sure of it.

"What?!"

"What?" He smirks right back.

"That was easy? " You question, still confused, but also aware that despite the raging boner he has, a fuck is not what he's after.

Maybe he wants to be blue balled.

Weirdo.

"Yeah," he smirks, then fucking giggles to himself. "I got you calling me Daddy . God, you're so willing to do anything for my cock, B. It's so cute."

His smile prevails as he giggles, finding much amusement in playing you at your own bratty game.

"Oh my God," you wail. "I fucking hate you! You know I hate 'Daddy'."

"And yet you'll do it for my cock," he laughs even harder, now. "Oh, it's adorable. Really really sweet."

"I'm ending our friendship."

"No you aren't," he tells you, reaching for your wrist to pull you back down into your sheets with him - and for reasons you (again) don't care to explain, you just let him.

"I am," you assure him, even though you're kinda now snuggling into him.

"Don't disobey your daddy, baby," he jokes.

"I'll send him to an early grave if he isn't careful," you warn, but it only cracks him up even more.

"So you admit it?" he teases. "I am your Daddy?"

"Oh my God!"

"I'm your God, too? Wow, you really are being kind today-"

He's interrupted by your dainty hands covering his mouth. "Shut your face."

Jeongguk just laughs. Knows he'll probably just make it up to you with a quick fuck, if you let him.

The cursed thing about it all?

You probably will let him.

'Cause even though you hate Daddy, and you hate feeling embarrassed, and you hate not understanding your feelings, you do understand that nothing feels quite as calm as the aftermath of time spent in bed with Jeongguk.

It's the orgasms, you tell yourself. He makes you calm when he makes you cum. There's probably a science behind it. You're not gonna google it, 'cause you don't wanna be proven wrong.

"Put a shirt on," you huff. "You're paying for the snacks this time. You owe me, like, I don't know. Three weeks worth of snacks for that little stunt."

And so when Jeongguk returns from the shop a little while later, you're pleased to see he really did buy enough snacks to last at least a month, if not longer.

"Was meaning to ask you," Jeongguk says as he unpacks one of the bags while you scroll through the Netflix home page. "When are you next in work?"

You're yet to tell him you booked the day off because of his exam. Now Wednesday, you have Thursdays off as usual. The Friday shift pattern changes most weeks depending on who needs it off, but this week, you've managed to get it off, too. Saturday will be your first shift.

"Well," Jeongguk says. "I missed a bunch of family events 'cause I was studying all the time. I'm probably gonna head over to Busan this evening just to show my face for a night or two. Keep mum happy."

"That's cute," you smile. "She'll appreciate it, I'm sure."

He nods. Knows she will. Feels bad for being a bit of a shitty son in the last few weeks.

"I know things have been a bit mad with Tae's shows, and just... Well, everything," Jeongguk staggers his words, a little unsure of himself. For once, he fears your rejection.

"Mhmm," you agree. "Been crazy."

"Yeah," he nods. "Sea air helps, though. You wanna come with?"

"To Busan?" you clarify.

For some reason, it feels like your heart is in your throat. You might throw it up entirely.

"To Busan," he reinforces. Turns to face you. "With me. Busan. You wanna come?"

"Do you want me to come?" You ask, not wanting to be a charity case 'cause he feels bad about the whole 'Daddy' thing.

Jeongguk doesn't feel bad about the 'Daddy' thing in the slightest. He genuinely just wants you to come with him.

"I'll get bored on the drive if I'm alone," he shrugs. "Plus mum keeps asking why I don't have a girlfriend yet and if I introduce her to someone as repulsive as you, maybe she'll stop insisti-

"Oh fuck you," you laugh. "Mothers love me."

"Yeah, sure they do," he teases, knowing full well his mum will think you're the greatest thing he's brought home since his first-grade report card.

"I'll prove you wrong," you say, not that you have to. Jeongguk is just winding you up. "Your mum is gonna like me more than she likes you."

"So you're gonna come with?"

You bite down on your bottom lip. Ignore the conventions of a relationship that are looming over the pair of you both. Nod.

"Yeah. I'll come with."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[vexcraft]

Writing prompt:

Cub and Scar have had naturally white hair ever since they sold their souls to the vex. They dye it though cause they just prefer having black/brown hair.

However, nobody except them are aware of this fact. Not because they’re hiding it or anything, it’s just cause it’s never really considered it a possibility. It’s a bit of a shock to everyone when eventually news gets out.

There’s a tug at Cub’s hair and he instinctively tries to shy away from it, only to create a painful pull on his scalp. 

“Cub’s getting old again! His hair’s getting white!” Bdubs yells and Cub hisses at him from where he’s crouching on the floor trying to fix redstone so they can continue playing the game. The other man lets go of his hair and Cub turns to glare at him. “I knew it was some magic trick that’s now wearing off!” Bdubs adds almost proudly, more directed at Cub than the others. 

Cub rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not getting old,” he says a little defensively. Scar had told him he looked fine earlier!

“That’s not what white hairs from age look like,” Etho comments, leaning over Bdubs’ shoulder to inspect the crime scene. “Bdubs, you should know that.”

“What?!” the man gapes. Cub watches Etho take a few steps back before Bdubs turns around in faux rage. It’s quite amusing. “What do you mean I should know, are you calling me old?! Wait, how would you know what those look like? All of your hair is white!”

“I’m not stupid?” Etho suggests and there’s a wave of laughter from the few other hermits present that are actually listening to their conversation. 

“Etho’s right,” Cleo says, walking over. “That’s definitely root growth.”

“Like from hair dye?” Bdubs questions, his intense gaze switching between Etho, Cleo, and Cub’s hair at light speed as he tries to make sense of the situation. “You dye your hair?” 

It feels a little demeaning to have everyone stare down at him – especially at his apparently not very well dyed hair – while he’s just trying to fix his game mid event. 

“It probably wouldn't look like that if I just did it myself,” Cub grumbles. “Where did Scar go? I have a few words to say to him.”

“Scar dyes your hair?!” Bdubs asks unnecessarily loudly. “Dude, I would not let that man near my precious hair with hair dye in a million years!” 

Cub almost disagrees and points out that Scar isn’t too bad with it, before remembering the very situation he’s in right now. Speak of the devil and he shall appear – Cub watches Scar walk over, probably alerted by Bdubs’ yelling.

“Who’s talking about me?” he asks with a wide grin, too-sharp teeth on display. Cub gives him an unimpressed stare.

“Is it true you dye Cub’s hair?” Bdubs questions instantly and Scar looks a little taken off guard by the sudden question thrown his way.

“Oh, yeah,” he replies casually. “It’s a vex thing, the white hair. What about it?”

Bdubs stares at him like he just said something more outrageous than that, clearly not impressed by the nonchalance. “A vex thing- does that mean your hair is white too?!”

“It is, yeah,” Scar shrugs. “I prefer brown though. I thought you knew this, my hair was white in Last Life when I didn’t feel like dyeing it.”

“I thought your hair just kinda did that or something!” Bdubs tries to defend himself and Cleo snorts. “Don’t laugh! He could’ve dyed it white or something, I didn’t think he'd been dyeing it brown for like, what, seven years! And Cub too, he does not strike me as a hair dye kinda guy! Don’t act like you guys knew about this!” 

Etho and Cleo both shrug. The other hermits don’t disagree, though Cub knows Joe already knew this but seems to have decided to remain quiet, probably for his own entertainment.

“Well, the more you know,” Scar replies cheerfully. “I don’t think I’ve really talked about it to anyone to be fair. How did this come up anyway?”

“You said I look fine this morning,” Cub finally speaks up and Scar turns to look at him. “But apparently I have root growth. Scar, I look stupid.” 

Realization finally dawns on Scar’s face as his gaze shifts from Cub’s sour face to his hair, noticing his mistake. His smirk turns into a sheepish smile. “Whoops?”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

"Love"

Draco was a mess and Harry's heart couldn't take it.

"And then," Draco sniffled, tears running down his face, strands of hair slipping out of his messy bun, "he laughed at me and told me that it hadn't been 'love'," he continued, making hideous air-quotes around the word and Harry had never wanted to punch someone in the face more than he wanted to punch that prick that Draco had been seeing for the past 5 months. "Of course he'd been seeing other people," Draco said, "how could he possibly be interested in someone like me?"

“That’s not love,” Harry spat. Draco looked up at him sharply, “it’s not,” he repeated firmly. “He's such a dick, Draco. He’s not worthy of you.”

Draco let out a wet laugh-snort-sob sort of noise, “right.”

“I mean it,” Harry said desperately. “You’re so amazing,” he said softly, “kind and handsome, and clever and funny. I-” he started then broke off swallowing. It wasn’t the right time.

The other man’s body stilled, “You-?” Draco asked, tipping his head down to catch Harry’s eyes.

“I would never treat you that way,” he whispered, heart shattering inside his chest. He couldn’t stand to see the way he was treated by other men, especially when Harry loved him so much it consumed him.

“Harry-”

“I wouldn’t,” he said, eyes stinging. “You deserve so much more, Draco. All the kindness and tenderness in the world. I would love you with everything-”

“Harry,” he tried again, “I-” he shook his head. “I’m not ready-”

“No, I know,” he said. “It’s not fair to you and nothing has to change-”

“I want to be worthy of you”

“You already are,” he said.

Draco shook his head, “I’ve got to go,” he managed before standing and apparating away, leaving Harry alone in his kitchen.

———————

Harry’d spent half an hour moping around the kitchen, fighting tears while he tidied away the things he’d set out for tea. He was about to go to bed for the night, go sleep and try to sort it out in the morning, when there was a sharp wrap at the door.

He wasn’t expecting that Draco would be standing on the other side when he opened it. Draco had been letting himself into Harry's house for years at this point, he was his best friend.

"I'm sorry," he blurted at the same time as Draco.

Draco blinked, "What are you sorry for?"

"You're grieving your last relationship and I made everything harder-"

He shook his head and interrupted, "Did you mean it?"

"Yeah," Harry said helplessly, "Yeah. Every single word."

Draco leaned up and captured his lips with his, cupping Harry's cheek as he kissed him softly, achingly.

His whole body curved toward Draco's, arms wrapping him up.

"I love you too," he whispered into Harry's mouth. "And I am fucking terrified of you."

"What?" he asked, trying to wrap his head around the other man's words, when his body was still caught up in the sensations of the kiss cascading through him.

"If you leave, I won't survive it," he said, leaning his forehead against Harry's. "You're the most important person in my life, you have been for years and I can't-" he shook his head, and Harry heard his breath catch the way it did when he was trying to compose himself.

"Can't what?" he murmured, nudging Draco's nose with his own.

Draco let out the breath he'd been holding, "I can't lose you. I can lose any of those other idiots, I can keep breaking up with people and I'll be fine. But I need to know you mean it," he said, "because I won't survive it if you leave me."

"Draco," he breathed, "let me keep you," he begged. "Godric, let me keep you. I promise," he added, "I'll never leave you. I couldn't."

He could feel Draco's body trembling in his arms and he held him that much tighter.

"It's okay to be scared," he said, "it's okay if you don't believe me-"

"I want to!" Draco insisted.

He nodded, "I know," he soothed, "It's okay if you can't believe me. You know why?"

Draco shook his head.

"I'm happy to prove it to you," he said softly. "I'll prove it to you," he repeated, "every day, for as long as you'll let me. I'll always stay."

-------------

And true to his word, everyday was a new opportunity to stay.

-----------------

written for the @hdcandyheartsfest prompt 'love'

[miasmaghoul]

Miasma, im a lil sick and if its not too much to ask could i get a lil fic of sick dew with mountain and swiss and cumulus taking care of dew? It'd mean a lot 🥺🥺❤️❤️. (Ty in advance for your consideration)

Sick little guy ahoy.

I hope you feel better soon! ♡

"Has anyone seen Dew this morning?" Cumulus pokes her head into the common room, searching for a telltale blond head.

Mountain shakes his head, not looking up from the pan of eggs he's in the middle of scrambling.

"Not yet," he rumbles, cracking some pepper into his breakfast. "He missed sunrise."

Well that's concerning; Dew never misses his early morning coffee with Mountain and they all know it. A grunt sounds from the couch, and Swiss's head appears over the arm of it.

"Haven't seen him since yesterday," he says, stifling a yawn. It's still early, and Swiss has never been a morning person. "Why, he owe you money or somethin'?" Cumulus rolls her eyes.

"He's supposed to help me organize the storehouse today," she informs them, watching Mountain pluck a few fresh chives from the base of one of his horns. He snips them into the pan, and her mouth waters. Mountain makes the best eggs. "I can't find him anywhere. I think he's hiding from me."

Swiss snorts out a laugh, shoving himself up and stretching both arms over his head.

"Sounds about right," he scratches at his chest, sauntering towards the kitchenette to steal a sausage link from the plate Mountain has prepared. He earns a wooden spoon to the knuckles for his trouble, but it's not enough to dissuade him. Mountain grumbles, but doesnt whack him again. Swiss plants a wet kiss on his cheek in thanks. "You check his room?" He leans against the counter, munching on his prize. Cumulus nods.

"I knocked," she confirms, crossing both arms over her chest, "he didn't answer." Swiss rolls his eyes, smirking.

"C'mon, Lus," he chides, popping the rest of the sausage into his mouth and licking grease from his thumb. "You really think he'd answer if he's hiding?"

That's...a fair point, actually. Cumulus pinches the bridge of her nose. She'd like it noted that it is still very early, and she can't be blamed for her brain not firing on all cylinders.

"You're probably right," she sighs, running manicured fingers through her curls. "I guess I'll go try again."

"Do you want breakfast first?" Mountain asks it over his shoulder, stirring a spoonful of creme fraiche into his eggs. "It's just about ready."

"I'll be right back," she assures him, giving the pair a wave. Hopefully with a grumpy little fire ghoul in tow. Swiss pushes away from the counter and pads his way over.

"I'll come with," he offers, "in case you need backup." Mountain trills in discontent and Swiss ruffles his hair, gives him a chuckle. "Hush, grasshopper. We'll be back before you know it."

Mountain grumbles regardless, but doesn't argue further. Swiss hooks an arm around her shoulders and Cumulus does the same to his waist, the pair of them striding down the hall towards the stairs that will take them to the dorms.

"It's not like Dew to miss sunup," Cumulus murmurs after a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek. She can count on one hand the number of times this has happened, and it's never been for anything good.

"I wouldn't worry," Swiss replies, giving her shoulder a squeeze, "you know how he gets when it comes to chores."

That much is true. If anyone is going to shirk duties, it's Dewdrop. Cumulus hums, but something in her isn't convinced. There's an unease in her belly, something not quite right. She doesn't speak on it though, the rest of their short journey made in silence. Soon enough, she's knocking on the little ghoul's door once again.

"Dew?" Cumulus calls through thick oak, Swiss leaning against the wall nearby. "You in there, sugar?" There's no response, and that wiggly feeling in her stomach grows.

"C'mon, firecracker," Swiss says, louder than Cumulus had been, "rise 'n shine, you got shit to do!" He wiggles the doorknob, but it doesn't move. Locked.

"I don't think he's here," Cumulus mumbles. Swiss is less convinced.

"One way to find out."

Swiss drops to his knees and presses a large palm just below the lock. Cumulus watches wide-eyed as tendrils of shadow leak from the tips of his fingers, slithering up into the keyhole like tiny snakes. Seconds later there's a clunking noise, and Swiss fixes her with a grin as he stands.

"That's new," she comments. Swiss gives her a wink that makes the little hairs on the back of the neck stand up.

"I'm full of surprises, sweetheart." The way he says it has her stomach fluttering for a different reason, but Cumulus tries not to think about it. She clears her throat, knocking one more time.

"Dew? We're coming in, okay?"

Once again, no response, and Cumulus pushes the door open with no further warning. They step into the little ghoul's room, and are greeted by darkness. Dew's curtains are still drawn, the only light leaking from between cracks in the heavy drapery. Swiss crosses the room to throw them open, letting the sun in and revealing an empty bed piled with messy blankets.

Now that they're in the room, though, she can hear water running, and it makes sense why Dew hadn't responded. He's in the shower. Of course he is, it's the only place he could be. She feels silly for being so worried in the first place.

Something, though, still doesn't feel quite right. She'd last knocked nearly thirty minutes ago, and Dew isn't the biggest fan of long showers. The worry bites at her again, and before she can stop herself Cumulus's legs carry her to the bathroom door.

"Dew, baby? You in there?" She knocks, presses her ear to the door, and over the rushing sound of the shower she hears...something. Soft whimpering. Then,

"L-Lulu?"

Cumulus shoves the door open without a second thought, spurred by the weakness in Dew's voice. She finds him sitting in the corner of his shower. Fully clothed, drenched and shaking like a leaf. Hugging his knees. There's steam rolling off of him in waves, and it takes a moment for her to realize that it isn't coming from the water itself.

It's coming from Dew.

"Lulu," he rasps, voice as shaky as he is, "p-please..."

Cumulus reaches through the spray and finds it icy cold, turning the faucet off before stepping into the stall, dropping to her knees.

"Dew? Dew, sweetie, what-"

Cumulus sets a hand on his shoulder and immediately puls it back with a gasp. Dew always runs hot, but right now he's boiling. The little ghoul stares at her with foggy eyes, blinking so slowly.

"Help."

Shit.

"It's okay, lovebug, I'm here." She rests a hand on his cheek despite the heat, stroking too-pale skin. "Swiss!" Cumulus calls, trying to keep the encroaching panic from leaking into her voice. It's a skill she's developed over the years, staying calm on the face of even the worst things. "Need a hand in here!"

Dew doesn't seem to know that she's speaking, breathing shallow though his mouth and leaning heavily into her hand. He looks half dead, pasty and gray. Swiss pads in a moment later, and Cumulus hears him suck air through his teeth. She doesn't bother acknowledging it.

"He's roasting," she says gently, eyes never leaving Dew's face. She's not sure he can see her, but she's not going to risk it. "Help me get him out of here, would you?"

Swiss doesn't hesitate, stepping into the stall to scoop the suffering ghoul up in strong arms and hissing at the heat of him.

"You aren't kidding," he murmurs, carrying Dew back to the bedroom. Cumulus follows close behind, shedding her now-soaked leggings along the way.

"He must have finally picked up the bug we had the other week," she says, mostly to herself. Dew is their defacto caretaker when sickness hits, his natural heat keeping him insulated from the ills that float around the abbey from time to time. When it does hit him, though, he suffers. Mightily.

"Guess so."

Swiss sounds concerned now too, a rare tone. He sets Dew down in his desk chair, the little ghoul whining and clinging to him with weak limbs. He strips Dew with careful hands while Cumulus gathers a change of clothes from his dresser - an old shirt of Aether's and a pair of sweats that must have been Rain's at some point. They're too long, but they'll be warm and that's what matters.

She and Swiss work together to get him dry, Swiss channeling his fire to blend with her air and pulling the moisture from his skin and hair. Dew shivers through it, and through the pair of them getting him dressed again. He looks so tiny in the oversized clothes, and Cumulus's heart clenches. Poor thing must be miserable. She certainly was when she was stuck with this garbage.

"You'll be okay, bug," she assures him, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. "You'll be okay."

Swiss picks him up again once he's dressed, the little ghoul unconsciously burying his face in Swiss's chest for comfort. He deposits Dew on the mattress, only stepping back long enough to pull off his own shirt before crawling in after him. He hauls Dew onto his bare chest, that slight body limp and obviously heavy. Cumulus follows, organizing the blankets enough to get the pair of them covered. Swiss is already sweating by the time she's done, focusing his own power to draw some of the heat from Dew's trembling form.

"He's in bad shape." The other ghoul strokes Dew's back under the covers, and Cumulus nods.

"Yeah," she agrees, tucking a blanket around Dew's shoulders. "Where's Aether when you need him?" Of course this would happen the one week their resident healer was away, he and Rain accompanying Papa on a press junket.

"Seriously," Swiss huffs, forcing a chuckle. He presses a kiss into Dew's hair. "Guess it's up to us to play doctor for a change."

Cumulus sighs, perching herself on the edge of the bed and rubbing Dew's leg though the blanket. They sit in silence for a few long minutes, the quiet broken only by the little ghoul's soft, distressed whines. Swiss keeps his lips pressed to temple, gauging his temperature through thin skin.

"There you are."

The voice makes them both jolt, and Dew makes the saddest little sound until Swiss settles again. Cumulus turns to find Mountain in the doorway, a large tray in his hands and a crease between his brows.

"I figured I'd find you all in his bed, but uh. Not quite like this."

Cumulus can't help her sad smile.

"Little guy's sick," she says, barely more than a whisper. "Nasty fever, like we all had."

Mountain's frown deepens. He sets the tray on Dew's desk and Cumulus sees that's it's full to bursting with a wonderful spread. Eggs, sausages, toast and fruit. It's easily enough food for for all of them, and alongside it all are four steaming mugs. Two have teabags, the other two black coffee. The ideal breakfast in bed.

She hopes it won't go to waste.

"I can help," Mountain says, eyes slipping closed.

Cumulus raises an eyebrow, but before she can ask how she's greeted by small clusters of white flowers blooming at the crown of Mountain's head. He plucks them carefully, crushing the tiny blossoms between his palms and dropping them into one of the mugs of tea.

"Elderflower," he says by way of explanation. "It's a natural fever reducer." Mountain gives the concoction a stir, licking his spoon clean with a satisfied nod. "Tastes nice too. Can he sit up?"

"Dunno," Swiss rasps, now visibly drenched in sweat. Dew has more or less stopped shaking, though, so that's a positive. "He's pretty weak."

"We have to try," Cumulus whispers, biting her lip, "before his brain poaches."

Swiss chuffs out a laugh, one echoed by Mountain, and together they work to get Dew into the proper position. Swiss moves himself to the headboard, and Mountain lifts the little ghoul with no effort. Arranges him to sit against Swiss's chest, head tipped back against his shoulder. Cumulus gathers the mug and spoon while Mountain climbs in next to them, getting a large hand on the back of Dew's neck to keep him upright. Cumulus settles herself between Swiss's legs, kneeling and giving the drink in hand a stir.

"Dew? Sweetheart?" Swiss gives the little ghoul's waist a squeeze as Cumulus speaks, Mountain rubbing a thumb along his hairline. Dew blinks up at her, hazy and lost.

"Mngh...Lus?" Cumulus smiles, stokes his cheek.

"That's right, baby," she coos, offering him a small smile.

"Wha...wha's goin' on?" He squirms a little in Swiss's arms, but he has no energy to fight.

"You're sick, Sparky," Swiss breathes into his ear, kissing just behind it. Dew makes a soft sound, drooping against Swiss's chest. "Don't worry, we're here to help."

"Mount made you some medicine," Cumulus tells him, tapping the spoon against the rim of the mug. "It'll help. I'm going to feed it to you, alright?"

Like he's in any condition to argue.

Dew gives a weak nod, and there's no more talking after that. Cumulus feeds him the tea spoonful by spoonful, the floral scent of it permeating the air around them. Dew hums after each sip, licking at his lips every now in then. It takes a while to get the full mug into him, and by the time they're done Dew's barely conscious.

He's boneless between Swiss's legs, supported only by his arms and Mountain's hand. Cumulus sets the mug to the side once he's done and the others waste no time in getting Dew settled back into the bed. Laying him out on the center on the mattress, Swiss molding himself to the little ghoul's back. Mountain gets up long enough to take his shirt off, and in the process Cumulus catches him glancing at the breakfast tray he'd brought. She rests a kind hand on his bicep.

"I'm sorry," she says, a genuine apology. "We should have come and told you what was happening, but Dew-"

"Shh," Mountain soothes, dropping a kiss between her horns. "It's alright, Lus. There are worse things than cold eggs." She smiles up at him.

"I'll make it up to you," she promises, and Mountain will certainly hold her to that. She knows from experience. She stands on her tiptoes to kiss his collarbone, and Mountain gives her ass an affectionate squeeze.

"Lulu," comes a sad little voice from the bed, and the ghoulette turns to find a spidery hand reaching for her. "'mere."

Who is she to say no to that?

Cumulus climbs in where Mountain had been earlier, pressing a soft kiss to the little ghoul's forehead. It's a touch cooler than it was earlier. That's a good sign. Dew snakes an arm around her waist, nuzzles into the softness of her chest, and to their shared delight a rusty purr kicks up in Dew's chest.

Swiss wraps his arm around the both of them, and Cumulus hums. The blankets shift and Mountain makes himself comfortable at her back, mirroring Swiss's position and getting them all tucked in.

"Rest, now," she whispers, knocking her horns against Dew's affectionately. "You'll feel better soon." Dew whines, tired eyes searching hers.

"Promise?"

Cumulus kisses his cheek.

"Promise."

Dew drifts off quickly after that, and the rest if them are content to let him. Content to care for him as he cared for them.

It's the least they can do for their favorite little fire ghoul.