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moonlinos · 5 months

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Invisible string (pt. I)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader / Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: With your terrible history of boyfriends during high school, you swore off love and vowed to get through university without a relationship. Things are great: you’re in your junior year, in an uncomplicated arrangement with a friend with benefits, and living in a nice sharehouse with two amazing roommates. But things begin to change once you meet Lee Minho, a student in your new class who vows to change your perspective on love.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, eventual smut, light angst, pining, jealousy, strangers to friends to lovers, friends with benefits

♡ CW: Swearing, sexual themes and discussions, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: This is a three-part story because I can’t shut up. The second part will be posted sometime next week, and I’ll link it here. I’ve been writing all my life and have written for maaaany fandoms, but being on Tumblr as an active reader of SKZ fics made me want to write for them. So, yeah, guess this is what I’m doing now.

part II →

You are woken up by Hyunjin shifting beside you on the bed. He groans, arm reaching to mess with your already closed curtains. You chuckle.

“You know, the curtains won’t close any more than that.”

“I keep telling you your bed is in a terrible position,” He grumbles as you turn to face him with a smile. “Who thought placing a bed right under a window would be a good idea? Mornings are fucking hell here.”

You shrug. “Well, it’s not my house so I didn’t exactly have a say in that matter.”

“I told you a million times I could help you move it.”

“And I told you a million times Mrs. Choi doesn’t like for us to mess with her furniture,” You explain, turning under the sheets so you could face him before bringing your fingers up to pinch his cheek. Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “Speaking of which, you need to leave. You know her rule: no—”

“No boyfriends spending more than two days at the house,” He interrupted you with an eye roll. “I’m not your boyfriend, though, so that rule shouldn’t apply.” He shrugs.

Hyunjin has been one of your best friends since you first met over two years ago. It was Hyunjin’s first college party and one of the many times your housemates had dragged you along on a night out. His friends had dared him to try and chat you up, arguing it would be hilarious to see him get turned down by an older girl. What they hadn’t expected, however, was for Hyunjin’s clumsy attempt at flirting to be so endearing to you; his pink cheeks and bowl-cut hair made him look like a helpless kid despite his height towering over you. Before you knew it, you had spent the entirety of the party talking to him about everything and anything, only stopping once your housemate Eunha emerged from inside the house to drag you home with her as she desperately tried to dodge a rather insistent guy’s advances. After that day, you and Hyunjin became almost inseparable.

You can’t quite pinpoint when you began hooking up. It was meaningless in the best sense of the word. It was simply something that had happened. All you can remember is that Jisung had recently bleached Hyunjin’s hair after yet another dare from his friend. It had started with cuddles, which turned to kisses, which turned to touches, until you eventually slept together for the first time sometime last year after an excruciatingly stressful exam period. It had never once gotten weird between the two of you; the line was always clear: you were just friends who hooked up due to convenience. Everybody had needs and stress and shit complicating their lives, and fucking your best friend was far more practical and safe than going out to look for a random hook-up whenever you needed it.

You find yourself smiling at Hyunjin once again. His now long black hair fell in his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Yes, you’re not my boyfriend, but how am I supposed to explain what we are to a little old lady?”

“Doesn’t she always say she’s super modern?” Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at you with a chuckle. “Maybe she’d like a situationship of her own and you’re depriving her of that by keeping this knowledge to yourself.”

You roll your eyes at his words, attempting to push him off your bed. “Why did you sleep here, anyway?”

Hyunjin sits up on the bed, a pout on his full lips. “I had a shitty date. I was sad and lonely. Glad to know you were paying attention to my story.”

“Hyune,” You sigh, ‘When you tell me said story while fucking me, can I really be blamed for not remembering anything?”

Hyunjin flicks your forehead lightly. “Yes, you can. At this point, it’s like our thing to vent about bad dates during sex,” He argues before getting up from your bed, finding his shirt, which had somehow been thrown over your study desk.

“You mean it’s your thing,” Correcting him, you get up as well, turning to fix up your sheets. “I don’t even go on dates and you know that. The only thing I vent to you about is how awful academic life is.”

Once you turned to face him again, Hyunjin was busy messily tying his hair. His brows promptly furrowed as he took in your words. “Remind me why you literally never leave the house again?”

“Just don’t want to get distracted. Getting my degree is more important than getting a boyfriend.” You lie with a shrug.

Your history with relationships was something you kept secret from everyone you met after high school. You feel embarrassed, as if it was all somehow your fault. After five failed relationships where you had been the one to be broken up with or cheated on, you began to accept that maybe the problem really was you. Maybe something about you makes men want to yell at and cheat on you. Perhaps you are just bound to be a distraction until they find someone better.

Which is why you don’t date.

Would anyone go through the hassle of reading a long, tedious book if they already knew about the bad ending?

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your answer, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your degree isn’t going to keep you company when you’re eighty and alone.”

“Well, my degree isn’t going to wake up one day and suddenly decide to leave me either,” you refute, earning an annoyed groan from your friend as you walk past him to leave your room.

“You literally never have fun, though. All you do is go to class, work, and study. You should at least pick up a new hobby,” Hyunjin insists as he follows you, walking into the kitchen-living room area. “Go out more, stop avoiding college parties like the plague before it’s too late to experience the joys of watching your friend throw up on some random person’s couch.”

You make a face at the offers, grabbing your mug from the cupboard. “Why would I want to see that? Besides, I have hobbies.”

“I meant a social hobby. Sitting in your room watching fucking iceberg videos isn’t sociable,” He explains, and you let out an aggrieved gasp. Your iceberg videos were educational and entertaining, thank you very much. Behind you, your housemate’s bedroom door opens, and you turn to watch as she stumbles out of her room, looking half-awake. “Soojung, don’t you think she should get a new hobby?” Hyunjin addresses the blonde girl, who stares daggers at him.

“If I say yes, will you two stop speaking so loud?”

Hyunjin slams one hand on the kitchen counter, his other pointing a finger at you. “See, she said yes. You’re outnumbered, now you have to stop spending all your free time holed up inside your room.”

Soojung groans, stepping into the kitchen and shoving Hyunjin to the side. “He’s annoying, but he is kind of right,” she mumbles.

Truthfully, you did feel bad about having essentially wasted three years at university by actively avoiding parties and invitations any chance you got. The only parties you did attend, however, only served as an irritating reminder as to why you shouldn’t put yourself in those situations. Parties and bars only meant desperate college boys. Desperate for sex, for attention, for a potential relationship. For someone’s heart to break. You had met Hyunjin at a party, for fuck’s sake. Who knows just how south things between you two could’ve gone if he had become interested in you romantically?

But, as much as you hate to admit it, Hyunjin is right. Your life is essentially an endless loop of studying and working. You only socialize when your roommates are home, when your few friends come over, and when you and Hyunjin hook up. But you aren’t ready to step out of your comfortable bubble of avoidance, so you settle for the best thing you can think of.

As Hyunjin rummages through your fridge like he lived there and Soojung stirs her coffee blankly, you loudly set your mug down on the counter. “An elective course,” you announce.

The both of them turn to face you with the same puzzled expression.

“The fuck?” Hyunjin questions, and you roll your eyes.

“I’ll take an elective,” you explain matter-of-factly, “The university offers a lot of great courses in things I’m actually interested in. It’ll be a way for me to get out of the house without having to watch a friend of mine puke on a couch or whatever atrocity it is that you said.”

Hyunjin slams the fridge door closed, earning a scolding scream from Soojung, and walks over to where you’re standing. He pulls you into a tight embrace, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You’re such a fucking nerd, what the fuck, but I’m so glad your hermit life is coming to an end.”

The elective course you choose is Japanese. It’s a language you’ve always been interested in learning, and while you know the class is merely introductory, you figure it will be fun to learn some phrases and expressions. You might even find yourself wanting to learn more in the future, and you’ll undoubtedly be glad you took this class during university.

Even if that means having to endure Hyunjin calling you a weeb.

You are able to begin attending classes a week after signing up; the lessons lining up with your work schedule to a T. The professor explained that, since you had joined the course late, you would likely need some guidance with phrases and words the class had already been taught. You didn’t mind, actually feeling excited in the morning despite your boring routine classes since you knew you would be doing something new you enjoyed in the afternoon instead of simply killing time around your house until it was time for you to work.

You walk into your first class ten minutes late, mentally cursing Eunha for being so good at telling stories about her weirdly entertaining life that it made it physically difficult for you to drag yourself away from her. You mouth a brief apology to your professor before scanning the room and scurrying over to the only available seat.

You sit down in haste so as to not disrupt the class any further, swinging your bag over your chair and accidentally knocking over your seatmate’s water bottle all over his side of the desk. Luckily, the bottle lands on the soft surface of his notebook, barely making any noise. Unluckily, said bottle had been filled with coffee, staining his notes a faded brown color. You silently gasp, instinctively reaching out your hands to fruitlessly try and dry the pages that are now sticking to each other.

“I am so sorry, what the fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you continue to inspect his notebook frantically. “I’ll buy you a new notebook and another cup of coffee as soon as class ends, I promise,” You whisper to him, your eyes boring holes into the stained pages as you watch the bitter liquid slowly dissolve some of the black ink. At this point, you’re rambling out of nervousness, but you can’t seem to stop, adding, “Hell, I’m so angry at myself for what I did I’d bind you a new notebook and brew you some fresh coffee myself.”

You mentally berate yourself for your word vomit. It was just your luck that you would make someone hate your guts on the first day you attended a class.

After what feels like minutes of silence from him, you are prepared for the imminent burst of rage bound to come your way, the guy’s wrath more than likely stirring inside him as he sits beside you and watches as you foolishly shake the piece of paper, hoping it will miraculously return to its untainted state.

However, what you aren’t prepared for is the small burst of laughter that leaves your seatmate’s lips; it’s quiet, but you’re close enough to him to be able to hear it.

You furrow your brows, finally mustering the courage to look up at him for the first time.

“Did you…” You trail off. You feel a strange sensation inside your chest as your eyes meet his. It was something you had never felt before, a small burst of a fluttering that briskly washed over you before disappearing just as quickly. Like a pinwheel was placed inside of you and a strong wind had suddenly started blowing. You shake your head, returning to the matter at hand. You are probably just experiencing some anxiety due to what has happened, you argue mentally. “Did you just laugh at me?”

As you finally take him in properly, the guy before you looks as dazed as you felt just now, courtesy of your minor panic attack; his lips agape and his round eyes blinking while his dark pupils are fixed on you. You two remain that way for a few seconds in an impromptu staring contest that causes the peculiar feeling to bloom inside your chest once again.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. “You… offered to bind a notebook for a stranger,” His lips twitch into a grin. “It was a little funny.”

You open your mouth but promptly close it, unable to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make you appear like more of an idiot than you already do. You sigh. “Sorry,” you mumble, your voice low as well. “I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I’m—”

“You two, on the back,” your professor calls out in a louder voice, however still keeping her calm demeanor. You and your seatmate turn to look at her. “I’m going to teach a few new phrases useful for traveling now. How about you two talk after class? This is actually quite perfect. Minho is one of my best students, so he could help you catch up to where we are.” She offers the two of you a small smile, and you feel your cheeks burn.

This class wasn’t mandatory, and you didn’t need it to get your degree. It is still a class, nonetheless. Ever since high school, you’ve always hated people who disrespect their professors by brazenly talking or sleeping during class.

“I’m sorry, professor,” You muttered. Beside you, your seatmate — Minho, as he was just called — scoots closer to you and whispers something you don’t understand under his breath. You look at him, confused. He chuckles, and you feel his breath on your cheek. It makes the odd fluttering return.

“Gomenasai,” He repeats more clearly, his voice louder, “It’s ‘I’m sorry’ in Japanese.” He offers you a smile, and you soak in just how good-looking he is. Ever since you first raised your head to look at him — when the pinwheel inside your chest rapidly spun and unexplainedly made you feel nervous — you knew he was a handsome guy, but his soft smile and calm eyes made him look even more annoyingly pretty.

Before you’re able to do it yourself, your professor speaks again and pulls you out of your trance.

“In this case, Sumimasen would be a bit more appropriate,” she corrects Minho, who clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath. The woman chuckles at his reaction. “It’s okay. This is also something you can explain to Y/N after class.”

As the class went on, you couldn’t help but notice how Minho didn’t take any notes. Your mind latched onto how you ruined his notebook and how it was your fault that he couldn’t properly study during today’s class, so you couldn’t find the courage to offer him some paper so he could take notes.

After almost an hour of unrelenting guilt swallowing you up slowly, you place your hand on Minho’s shoulder as soon as the professor announces class is over after assigning the students a small written assignment.

“We could talk outside? If you want,” you offer him, feeling the now-familiar nervousness come back, making your mouth speak faster than your brain can even think to rationalize, “There’s a bench I really like outside this building. It’s a good spot. There’s a nice shade, and it’s secluded enough that people don’t bother me when I’m studying. Or googling how to bind a notebook.”

Minho lets out a brief chuckle. “Okay. I would love to talk on your favorite bench.”

You blink at him. “I don’t have a favorite bench.”

“Hm, it sure sounded like it. You listed some good attributes of that bench,” He argues, a grin etched onto his lips.

“I told you I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He raises an eyebrow at your words. “You’re nervous?”

“Of course I am. I never bound a notebook before.”

Minho lets out a hearty laugh this time, his head thrown back and his eyes turning into crescent moons before he shakes his head. He picks his notebook off the table, showing you the crinkly light brown-tinted pages. “It’s dry now. I actually kind of like it, gave the pages a sort of vintage vibe. You don’t have to bind me a new notebook,” He reassures you, placing the small book into his bag. “As much as I would love to see how that would turn out.”

And just like that, your nervousness fades away. You smile at Minho, asking that he follow you over to your favorite bench.

The two of you talked for almost two hours. During that time, Minho helped you catch up with the vocabulary and phrases you had missed in class. When you asked him how he was able to know so much off the top of his head, his lips curled into a crooked grin as he sheepishly told you that he had been taking Japanese lessons since he was in high school. He explained that because he procrastinated signing up for an elective course, the advanced class was full by the time he got to it, so he decided to go for the introductory one instead. You chuckled and questioned why he would choose to spend his time on a course when he already knew everything being taught. He shrugged and explained that it was nice to have at least one class in which he didn’t have to try and that the fact that it made him feel smart also helped.

Not even your shift at work was able to make your conversation stop flowing, as Minho offered to walk with you to the coffee shop upon realizing it was near his apartment.

That was one of the many coincidences and things in common you found to have with each other that day.

It started with ordinary things like the fact that Minho had three cats back home just like you and how he had been collecting plushies since he was a child, while you had started your own collection as soon as you had access to money of your own. Or how your favorite authors were Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë — Minho swore you would die if you saw the special edition books he had back at home.

Then, it became a bit more amusing as you found out that Minho had worked at a convenience store chain when he first finished high school, and it was the same one you worked at for your first job after starting university. And you both had worked there for exactly a year and two months before quitting. You then told him about how you ended up attending this university after your top three choices turned you down, and his choices were the same as yours. And just like you, he also got rejected by his top three options, which led him to attend the same university as you.

You two couldn’t hide your bewilderment, eyes widening and lips bursting into laughter as these linked facts kept spilling out during your conversation. It was strange, you thought, but in a comforting way. It was almost as if you two had been living weirdly similar lives, all while having no clue about the other’s existence.

The two of you approach the small coffee shop while talking about your degrees. You try your best not to bore Minho with your ‘existential crisis-inducing psychology talks,’ as Hyunjin always put it, and you mostly listen to him as he talks about programming. He tells you that his dream is to develop cozy games that people can jump into without much thought, simply to relax. He says he knows how stressful life is and that people sometimes need something they can mindlessly do to get their minds off of shit. You resonate with it more than you care to admit, as cozy idle games are one of your favorite things to do while locked inside your room.

“So I do these freelancing gigs to make money but I’m actually set to start my first quote-unquote real job in two weeks,” he beams as you two stop in front of the coffee shop. Minho’s eyes lit up the moment he started speaking about his degree, and although you didn’t understand most of the terms he used, it is always endearing to watch someone talk about something they’re so passionate about. “There’s this guy who’s graduating soon who recruited me and a friend for a project he’s working on, so it’s not technically a job and we’ll work in his living room. I’ll still get some money and the chance to actually develop something, though, so it’s better than nothing.”

You smile at him. “If you like programming as much as your words led me to believe, I’m sure it won’t even feel like a job.”

Minho’s ears turned a faint shade of pink, and he scratched his head. “Sorry, I talked your ear off about shit you don’t even understand.”

“I think everybody likes to hear people talk about things they like,” you assure him, “It was a good talk. I still can’t believe we have so many things in common. It was kind of funny how they kept coming up.”

Minho chuckles, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Guess the universe is giving us signs that we should be friends.”

“It seems like it.”

That day, you work with a persistent smile engraved on your lips. You can’t remember the last time you felt so good about meeting someone new. Despite your awkward first encounter, you found that talking to Minho was as easy as talking to an old childhood friend. It felt refreshing. The last friend you made was Hyunjin — whom you were so grateful to now for pushing you out of your comfort zone — and after that, you had unknowingly closed yourself off.

Minho had managed to open up your mind to the idea of letting someone in almost comically fast. And you loved that.

It’s been a month since you’ve been attending Japanese classes, and your studying sessions with Minho — which always turned into long conversations on what now had really become your favorite bench — were a weekly appointment, much like having him walk with you to work twice a week.

Today, however, Minho stopped you with a hand on your shoulder as you made your way toward your usual spot. When he asked you if you would like to study at his favorite bakery today instead, his eyes rapidly blinking as he looked at you through his bangs which had grown to slightly cover his eyes since you met him, you just couldn’t say no. He stammered as he promised that the place was even closer than the one where you worked, so you wouldn’t be late for your shift.

You smiled at his apparent nervousness, finding it endearing. You knew all too well how stressed you felt when offering something new or initiating plans with a new friend, and Minho seemed to be the same.

“Good thing you made this offer today, on my day off,” you bumped shoulders with him. “It’s almost like you knew.”

You begin walking, and Minho gently pushes you to the side so that he’s the one walking on the edge of the side of the sidewalk. You shoot him a questioning look, and he blinks at you again.

“Sorry, force of habit,” he chuckles, “My mom taught me a guy shouldn’t let a girl walk on the street side. I know it’s old-fashioned and probably made me seem like an ancient guy who wouldn’t let his wife work or something. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s kind of sweet. I never had anyone do that with me.”

You feel the pinwheel twirl inside your chest again.

The two of you approach a familiar building together. You furrow your eyebrows as you take in the floral curtains on the windows and the pretty font adorning the store sign of your favorite bakery. You think about how it would be nice if you two came here on another day. Maybe you could use that opportunity to finally introduce Minho to your other friends.

You only realize Minho has stopped walking when he calls out your name. When you turn around, he’s standing in front of the bakery with a smile.

“This is the place.” He points toward the white door with a nod as you return to where he’s standing.

No fucking way.

“This is your favorite bakery?” You ask, although it is a stupid question. Minho nods. You play with the strap of your bag. “Okay, this is starting to sound ridiculous, but I swear I’m not lying. This is my favorite bakery, too.”

Minho’s eyes widen at your words, and his lips curl into a smile again. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I will not,” You chuckle.

Minho opens the door and the two of you walk inside, the familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods bringing back great memories you made in this place. You often come here with your two roommates; it’s close enough to both your house and university that you can skip out on taking the bus, the atmosphere is always relaxing and comforting, not to mention the delicious cakes they sell. You smile to yourself as you remember Eunha scuffing down far too many slices of their chocolate cake after a nasty breakup a couple of months ago, tears streaming down her face so violently that the poor little old man who owns the shop appeared to check up on her.

“Their lemon cake is my favorite.”

“The lemon cake is what made me—”

You and Minho speak concurrently, with you unable to even finish your sentence before you both freeze for a couple of seconds in front of the only small table available at the crowded shop.

He’s the first one to move, pulling out his chair a bit awkwardly. “We should…” He trails off before clearing his throat as you sit down before him. “Should really make a written list of things we weirdly have in common.”

“At this point, I think it’d be easier if we made one of what we don’t have in common.”

You two settle for the obvious choice of two pieces of lemon cake with a cup of coffee for him and a glass of cola for you. Minho almost looked offended when you informed him that you hate coffee, wondering out loud why you even worked at a coffee shop before ensuring he could change your mind with just the five amazing facts about coffee he thought about off the top of his head. You shrugged him off with a grin. You couldn’t deny the irony of being a barista and having to make endless cups of a drink you despised daily, but you were sure Minho could never change your mind about coffee.

You two talked about your improvement in Japanese in the last month until the waiter returned with your order. Minho insists you’re a natural and could be on his level in a couple of years if you tried, but you roll your eyes at his compliments. You’ve never been naturally good at anything. That wasn’t about to change now.

“You know,” Minho begins once the waiter steps away from your table, looking around the coffee shop. People slowly started to leave as it got later in the day; the place was now much quieter, and the atmosphere even more cozy. “I used to think I would meet somebody in a place like this.”

“Like, in a romantic sense?”

Minho hums, still looking out to his side. You notice his side profile is really pretty, and you have to hide your smile by sipping your drink.

When he returns his gaze to you, he’s the one smiling. “Yes, in a romantic sense. Like being destined to meet someone.”

“Look at you, a hopeless romantic,” You roll your eyes with a chuckle. You never thought of Minho as someone like that. He seemed rather methodical, always following a routine and too engrossed in his codes to be preoccupied with something like love.

Minho furrowed his brows. “Why the eye roll?”

“I just don’t believe in that stuff,” you shrug with a small smile, “Stuff like destiny, soulmates, love…” You trail off, taking your spoon and poking the slice of cake in front of you. “Love has the awful tendency of being bad.”

Of course, you once believed all those things. Doesn’t everybody? But love has shown you time and time again that those are things reserved only for some people. And, clearly, you are not one of them. So why believe in it?

“It’s the most amazing thing in life,” Minho’s voice almost startled you as you were so deeply entranced in your thoughts.

You don’t lift your head to answer him, instead drawing mindless shapes on the icing on top of your cake.

“What is?”

“Love,” He replies in a soft voice. When you finally look at him, you’re surprised to find Minho’s deep eyes already looking at you, a small smile adorning his lips. “Love is the most amazing thing in life.”

You freeze.

You tear your eyes away from him, gaze focusing on the plate in front of you again.

You were careful with your rules. No parties, no bars, no talking to your male co-workers unless absolutely necessary, and no male friends unless they were in a relationship or proved beyond a reasonable doubt to only be interested in you platonically — which was what Minho was. So, why did him bringing up love make you feel so nervous?

Under the table, you unwittingly bounce your leg. This was stupid. Minho has been your friend for a month now; you see each other twice a week, and you talk for hours, always so comfortable around each other in a way that is still so new to you. He has never flirted with you or treated you in any way that led you to believe that he wanted anything more than to be your friend. You will not let your foolish trauma ruin what was proving to be an amazing friendship. He was simply sharing his thoughts on a topic. That’s all love was: a conversation topic.

You force out a chuckle as you snap yourself out of your senseless panic and look up at Minho once more. “We can just agree to disagree?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, something you can’t quite pinpoint swimming in his deep eyes as he looks at you. Instead of breaking the silence, he scoops up a piece of cake with his spoon and raises it like a glass. You shake your head with a giggle as you realize what he’s doing, toasting your spoons together at the center of the table before you both eat your spoonfuls of cake.

“You know,” He speaks as soon as he’s done eating, his eyes having never left yours. “Love can never be bad. I don’t think so, at least. It never makes anything worse. It can only ever make things better.”

You hum and shift in your seat, lowering your gaze toward the table. The truth is, you hate talking about love. That — coupled with your shame regarding your past relationships — is the reason why you never indulge in this type of conversation, even with your own mother. But years of swallowing down your thoughts and opinions whenever the subject was brought up only caused a buildup of emotions in your throat. So much so that you only realized you were talking once you were midway through a sentence.

“Love can make so many things worse,” you affirmed, your eyes following the polka-dot pattern on the tablecloth, “Losing someone is bad enough, but put love into that equation, and it just worsens tenfold.”

Minho nods. “By that logic, you can say that having someone by your side is always good, but if it’s someone you love, it makes it better tenfold, right?”

You let out a chuckle as you realize you two could go back and forth about that subject for ages.

But it felt good to finally speak out your feelings on the matter, so you continue, “Love can’t be that great if people can so easily fall out of it and for so many different but equally stupid reasons. You’re suddenly not attractive to them anymore, or you have different opinions, or they love picking fights but hate it when it’s the other way around…” You trail off, swallowing down a lump in your throat as you speak out of experience. But Minho didn’t need to know that. You lift your eyes. “Not to mention falling in love with a new person all while supposedly already being in love with someone.”

“That’s not genuine love,” Minho shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, as if it was his first time hearing of such things happening. “Real love is unconditional and understanding. Real love makes the person you love beautiful simply because they’re them. Real love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself as well.” His expression softens, and his eyes lock onto yours. “And real love makes it so that you can only see the one you love. You can’t possibly fall in love with someone else if you’re truly already in love.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, nodding slowly. You hate the fact that part of you is desperate to believe that what Minho said was true. And you hate it even more that an even bigger part has already dismissed every single word that left his lips.

Desperate to shift the subject from Reasons Why My Exes Left Me — which only leaves you feeling sad and pathetic — back to Love Is Amazing, you decide to try and lighten the mood.

“Okay, but then explain to me how love is so great when you can just have sex with anyone, and it feels the same either way?” You question him with a teasing grin on your face. Minho shakes his head with a smile and eats another bite of his cake. You continue, “Be it a stranger at a party you met ten minutes ago or the love of your life, sex will always be sex. Therefore, you’re wrong, mister Love-Makes-Everything-Better.”

Minho chuckles around his mug, eyes closing as he almost spits out his coffee. His eyes are like crescent moons when he looks at you again, clearly amused by your words. “Well, yeah, of course, sex will always feel good no matter who you’re doing it with. It’s sex, and sex feels good,” He shrugs dismissively. “But sex with love is different. You aren’t just fucking, just fulfilling your own desires selfishly. Love makes sex better because you feel good simply by making the person who’s so important to you feel good. It makes you want to melt into the other person and become one with them because close isn’t close enough when you’re in love.

“Touching them feels like a gift, like heaven. Tasting them feels like heaven. Hearing their voice in their most blissful state feels like heaven. The trust and connection you feel in that moment is heaven, and that’s only possible through love. You can have sex with anyone, but you can only make love to someone you love, and those are two different things. That’s how love makes sex better. Therefore, I’m not wrong.”

As you take in Minho’s words, spoken so casually, like it was common knowledge, they leave you speechless. You watch him as he smiles triumphantly when he realizes you aren’t going to refute him — because you can’t refute him.

You berate yourself mentally as you notice the familiar feeling of arousal wash over you as you repeat his words inside your head. Not because it was Minho who said those things, but simply because that kind of sex sounded so good. Good in a way you had never once experienced before. Like heaven, as he had put it.

Your experience with sex has always been simply about fulfilling desires. You thought that was all there was to it.

Until now.

And even so, with your ex-boyfriends, it was always unbalanced. Ninety percent about their pleasure and only ten percent about yours. The first time you had a guy go down on you was the first time you had sex with Hyunjin, and by that point, you had already had five boyfriends. It felt weird when it happened, and you remember Hyunjin whining about how you didn’t have to ask him every five minutes if he was really okay with doing that. It had always been different with him, the good kind of different. He had never been selfish during sex; if anything, Hyunjin was too much of a giver, sometimes forgetting about his own pleasure in order to focus on yours. You thought that was the best sex you could ever have.

Until now.

Because, even with Hyunjin, there was never a genuine connection. It never felt like a gift to touch him and have him touch you. It was never anything more than sex, more than something you both did because it felt good and it was easy. He slept in your bed, and he cuddled you until morning came, but it had never once felt anything close to what Minho described.

You can’t help but wonder if Minho has ever experienced that. You desperately want to ask him, but you two aren’t close enough for that yet.

You also can’t help but wonder why you spend the rest of the evening raging a war against yourself as your mind is consumed with thoughts of what it would be like to experience that kind of sex with him.

It’s late in the night on the following Saturday, and your phone incessantly vibrating under your pillow rudely demands your attention just as you’re about to fall asleep. You squint your eyes as you type in your password. You sigh as you see Hyunjin’s name on your screen because of course it’s him.

Hyune: I’m outside open the door Hyune: please open the door? quick? Hyune: mrs. choi is gonna kill me if I use the intercom pls I don’t wanna die Hyune: I’m in my pajamas do you know how humiliating this is

Hyune: and I’m highkey pissed off Hyune: I WILL sleep on the bench outside your house if you don’t let me in and then I’ll die and who’s gonna live with the guilt? Hyune: you Hyune: OPENM TEH DOOR

You roll your eyes at his dramatic texts, stepping out of the comfort of your bed and padding across the floor as quietly as possible so as not to wake up your roommates. You open your front door and speed past the hallway and Mrs. Choi’s home, reaching the outside door in record time. It’s something you’ve done more times than you care to admit in order to let Hyunjin into your house. Your tenant was a sweet woman, insistent that she was modern and understanding of ‘young people’, but she despised people coming into your home any later than midnight.

You step outside, finding Hyunjin pacing back and forth like a creep in front of your house. True to his words, he stood in his checkered pajama pants and a black t-shirt. His hair was in a ponytail, the strands messily sticking out everywhere like he had tossed and turned in bed before coming here.

“You look like shit,” you speak up, causing him to jump and let out a gasp. You chuckle as he scowls at you, climbing the few steps to reach the door.

“I had a fight with Mingyu,” he grumbles as you two walk toward your front door. “He told me I spilled paint on his favorite shirt, which is fucking impossible since I don’t even paint anywhere near his shit.”

“I mean, you are a messy painter.”

Hyunjin shoots you a look as you close your front door behind you. You take off your shoes and walk toward your bedroom in silence. This was routine. Hyunjin knew the rules: no knocking on the outside door, no buzzing the intercom, no shouting from outside, keep your voice down in the hallway, no talking until you reach your bedroom. It was all automatic at this point.

His voice is louder when he speaks again inside your locked bedroom. “First of all, I am not a messy painter. The paint is messy, not me. Second of all, if Mingyu wasn’t a fucking idiot, maybe he wouldn’t leave his favorite shirt on the floor of the living room right by my art corner,” Hyunjin huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, “If that’s how he treats his favorite shirt, I feel bad for his girlfriend.”

You let out a chuckle, which is cut short by him pulling you into his arms. “Hyunjin, that analogy makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does. You treat your favorite shirt like shit, you treat your girlfriend like shit,” he states matter-of-factly before pulling you into a kiss.

This was routine. It was all automatic at this point.

Hyunjin kisses you like he’s angry. Because he is, and that’s one of the reasons why you two do this. You let out your frustrations during sex. You complain, and you let off steam until you both feel okay again. It’s been this way for a year and some months now, and you never once thought anything of it. It was beneficial for you both, so why change or question it?

But that was before your talk with Minho. Before you were awoken to the truth that you’d been having meaningless sex your whole life.

When you’re pulled away from your thoughts, you’re already laid in your bed with Hyunjin hovering over you. His lips and hands wander through your body as he mumbles things you can’t quite understand; you can only make out your name and Mingyu’s mixed with curses. You try to bring yourself back to the moment, bringing your legs to wrap around Hyunjin’s waist and bring him closer to you.

He stops kissing your neck and yanks his shirt over his head, his hair untying in the process and falling on his face like a curtain. You giggle and try to fix it with your fingers. Hyunjin pouts.

“Don’t you think I’m right?”

You frown and hope he can’t see your confused expression in the dim lighting. You truly weren’t paying any attention to what he had been saying, too engrossed in your thoughts and too busy feeling sorry for yourself. Hyunjin’s tendency to tell you about his frustrations during sex always left you a bit puzzled, but it was also oddly sweet. It was like he trusted you so deeply as a friend that he believed he could share anything with you, no matter the time.

So you nod, lightly pulling at his hair. “Of course you’re right.”

He hums and buries his head on your chest, grinding his hips into your clothed core. “Of course I’m right,” he mumbles under his breath.

Everything is a blur after that, your mind insistent on repeating Minho’s words like an annoying echo. When Hyunjin’s tongue fucked you hastily, and he murmured something about you tasting so good, all you could hear was Minho’s voice telling you how tasting the person you love feels like heaven. When Hyunjin pushed his cock into you, his hands gripping your thighs and head buried in your neck, all you could think about was how this sex paled in comparison to what you could’ve been having — what you could have already had — if only you weren’t so damn unlovable.

You knew that Minho didn’t intend to make you feel bad with his words. They weren’t targeted at you. But that didn’t stop your mind from sabotaging and putting yourself down. It was one of your biggest talents, after all.

Your body was present and responsive the entire time; you moaned because it felt good, and you kissed Hyunjin because you wanted to. But you were mentally somewhere else.

And the worst thing is, you’re a hundred percent sure Hyunjin doesn’t even notice it.

Because this wasn’t love. This was only sex.

And this was all you had ever known.

Time flies by faster than your brain can comprehend; before you know it, another month goes by. You only managed to go to your favorite bakery with Minho one more time before your work hours were changed, your shift now starting a mere thirty minutes after your Japanese class ends. He still walked you to work twice a week, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t upset you to have to let go of your weekly talks.

Minho also became busier due to his own job. With so little time to see each other face to face outside of class, most of your talks took place over text. He talked about his job with so much adoration it made you a little jealous; his partners were now simply friends he worked with, and his joy over finally being able to create a cozy game made it so that he pushed himself over his limit, often sleeping on his friend’s couch after working until four a.m. and getting through the next day on excessive amounts of coffee.

That was how you two came up with the idea of Minho dropping by the café where you work to pick up coffee for him and his friends. He would drop by at least twice every day, his friend’s house — which also served as their office — only one bus stop away.

The first time Minho came by, he had his wallet and phone in one hand, a sharpie and a block of sticky notes in the other. You eyed him curiously as he scribbled on the piece of paper while your co-worker prepared his coffee. When he was done, he stuck the note to the monitor in front of you on the counter. You furrowed your brows as your eyes shifted from the Japanese words on the bright yellow note back to Minho’s smug face. You were certainly grateful he at least had the courtesy of including the romanization of whatever he had written down. Not that it helped you in any way.

“Since our studying sessions after class were rudely taken from us, this is your extra homework. It’s all words we already learned. You just gotta think a little bit, and you’ll figure it out. You’re smart, I know you can do it,” He assured you.

Expect you weren’t that smart and ended up giving up by the time you got home that night. The piece of paper was no longer sticky on the border due to you carrying it around all day, boring holes into it as if that would magically give you the answer. You snapped a picture of it as you got ready for bed and sent it to Minho, begging him to put you out of your misery and simply give you the answer. ‘I want to drink coffee,’ he replied. You slapped your hand over your forehead with so much force you were sure the entire house had heard you. He was right; you did learn that in class. Curse the Japanese language for being so difficult.

After that, it became a routine. You waited expectantly for Minho’s visits daily, but you are extra excited today. It’s a Friday, and your birthday is tomorrow. After much pestering from Eunha, you agreed to have a small gathering at your house. It only made sense to invite Minho; he’s become one of your closest friends in the two months you’ve known him, after all.

As he walks into the coffee shop, sticky notes and sharpie in hand, you chuckle to yourself. You two chat about the development of his game, with Minho kindly using layman’s terms when explaining it to you. He also tells you about how one of his friends got so frustrated with a code that he threw his phone at a wall before immediately regretting it and crying on the floor next to Minho’s desk. Before you can get worried, he assures you that it’s just an ordinary day at the office, and the three of them end up laughing everything off at the end of the day.

After taking his order, you watch as he begins writing down your homework for the day on the small piece of paper in his hand. As you look around the coffee shop, most tables are empty, and the sun is starting to set outside the glass doors.

“You wanna come over this Saturday?” You ask Minho, who looks up at you before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. That was one thing you learned about Minho since he began coming over: he wears glasses. Not every day, but enough times for you to notice how good he looks with them. But friends find each other attractive all the time, you justify it. “You never came over to my house, and my roommates really want to meet you. Plus, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “Your birthday? And you save that information to the end?”

“It’s not a big deal. I usually never even celebrate.” You shrug lightly. You’ve never been big on birthdays, as you just don’t see the reason why it’s supposed to feel different from any other day of the year. “But my roommate pestered me to do something this year, so I agreed to have a party.”

Minho shifts on his feet. “I… really hate parties…” He trails off.

“It’s not a party party. I promise!” You hold up your pinky finger. “It’s more of a get-together, just my roommates and my only two other friends. And, you…” You trail off, “If you come.”

Minho blinks his eyes a couple of times before tearing the piece of paper he was writing on from the pad and crumpling it in his hand. He quickly jots down something new and sticks it to your forehead.

“Minho!” You scold him, to which he laughs, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. You advert your gaze from him as your persistent thoughts regarding how unfairly pretty Minho is begin to flood your brain once again. You take the note and analyze it:

はい (Hai)

You smile as you understand the word, looking up at him.

“I’d love to come to your birthday party,” He beams. “Thank you for inviting me.”

To say Minho is nervous would be an understatement.

He gets out of his car twice, ready to march back inside his friend’s apartment like a coward and pretend that nothing happened both times. Only when he thinks back to how you smiled at him when he agreed to your invitation does he find the courage to start the car and drive to your house. He’d noticed for a while now how much he likes you. But it was when he agreed with the idea of going to the café you worked at to pick up coffee that it truly dawned on him that he really liked you. Minho hated taking the bus, he hated doing anything other than zoning out on the couch during his breaks, he hated bustling shops, and he hated how his co-workers both managed to have such intricate coffee orders.

Yet he agreed to that idea, even suggesting he drop by two times a day.

He noticed he’d felt a familiar small whirlpool inside his chest whenever he was with you, when he heard you talk about something you liked or saw you smile. He’s also noticed that this tiny whirlpool has been growing bigger and bigger the more he’s been around you.

But that doesn’t scare him. Minho loves love. He loves to be in love, to love someone, and to make that person feel loved. It’s his favorite thing about life. If he was honest, he missed it so much he didn’t know how he was able to live without it.

Just down the block from your house, he parks his car and gathers his phone and his present for you — clearly clumsily wrapped, even with his co-workers’ help. He feels another wave of nervousness wash over him as he approaches the house; he’s an hour late and needs to mentally prepare to socialize with people he’s never met before. Minho chuckles as he realizes a silly party makes him more nervous than the prospect of possibly falling in love.

You open the door almost as soon as he rings the intercom, and he walks down the hallway into your house door; the crooked box he’s been holding makes his hands sweat. The first thing he notices as you open the door is your styled hair with a big white bow on the back, looking much prettier than the ugly bow he and his friends managed to stick on top of his present. He smiles at the sight and scratches his ear in a futile attempt to stop them from turning red.

God, he really liked you, didn’t he?

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him with a smile. Minho notices the quiet music playing inside the house, the simple decorations, and the cake on top of the kitchen counter. He mentally sighs in relief. This truly wasn’t anything like a big party. “You’re wearing your glasses again,” you point out as Minho walks inside and removes his shoes. He subconsciously reaches his left hand to touch his wire-rimmed glasses that sit on his nose bridge. He grimaces and curses at his friend for making him stay later than he was supposed to today.

“I had no time to go home and change,” He apologizes, fingers now toying with the stupid bow on top of the box. “I usually wear contacts, but they make my eyes dry if I stare at the computer for too long, so I just… wear my glasses at work…” Minho trails off, suddenly feeling stupid, his eyes looking anywhere but toward you.

You chuckle, lightly touching his glasses for a second before moving away again. “You always come to the coffee shop wearing them, and I think you look really good,” you assured him. His eyes quickly met yours, only for you to advert your gaze this time. “You should wear them more often.”

Minho only hums, lightly nodding his head. He feels stupid all over again as the image of himself throwing his contact lenses down the drain crosses his mind.

Clearing his throat, he finally hands you your gift. You giggle at the mismatched wrapping paper and poor excuse of a bow, which makes Minho let out a chuckle and murmur an apology. You open the box, and your eyes light up when you spot the stuffed bunny you have been raving about since you two met. It was the only animal missing from your collection, but you couldn’t find the right time to save up money to buy it. Minho didn’t need to ask if you liked it as he watched your smile grow bigger as you looked at the brown bunny.

“Come, I gotta put him in my bed now,” you beamed and took Minho’s hand in yours, leading him to the living room. There, five people sat on the couch and on the floor. Minho furrows his brows as he takes in a head of light brown hair covered by a familiar beanie. “These are my friends. Eunha’s the girl with short hair on the floor, and Soojung’s the one with blonde hair next to her. They’re also my roommates,” You point at them as you speak. “That’s Jisung sitting next to Soojung; he’s also her boyfriend. And then Hyunjin, with the long hair, sitting next to Chan on the couch. Everyone, this is Minho from my Japanese class.”

With that, you pad off to your room with your bunny in tow. As Chan finally turns to look at Minho, his shocked expression mirrors his. They stare at each other for a while before Chan finally breaks the silence.

“What the fuck, that’s my co-worker.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “So this is why you had to leave an hour earlier today?”

As you come out of your room, you chuckle. “Chan is your co-worker?” You ask Minho, “I can’t believe this. He’s been our friend for longer than I’ve known you. He came like a package deal when Jisung began dating Soojung.”

“Damn, dude, you hate me so much you never talked about me to your friend?” Chan gasped, a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt.”

Minho rolls his eyes but is unable to stop a small grin from forming on his lips as the entire living room erupts in laughter. “Of course I talked about you. I talked about you and Seungmin all the time. It’s just I…” Minho shifts on his feet, shrugging. “I never said your names.”

More laughter seeps out of the group of people, including Chan, and Minho finds himself laughing along this time, shaking his head at his own stupidity.

He sits beside Chan on the couch while Hyunjin heads to the kitchen with you. He quickly asks him how he came to be friends with you in the first place. Chan explains that he’s been in a class with Jisung for almost two years, and the boy had always pestered him about ‘old people’ needing to hang out with people their age. That’s how he ended up meeting Soojung as soon as she became Jisung’s girlfriend. You and Eunha were an inevitable addition, seeing as you were not only roommates but also great friends.

You offer Minho a beer, which he declines. As much as he wanted to, no beer was worth having to take the bus back home. He silently sips his cola as he watches your group of friends chat. You end up sitting beside him on the couch, your friend Hyunjin to your right.

Minho finds that he missed getting together with people like this and didn’t even realize it. His only friends were left behind back at home, and although they were less than an hour away by bus, their busy lives prevented them from meeting in person. Minho’s favorite memories from his teenage years were having his friends over and just doing nothing for hours, talking about stupid shit until their stomachs hurt from laughing. Eating takeout on the couch with Chan and Seungmin after work came close, but they were always too tired and too stressed to entertain the idea of making jokes. Those were times when Minho realized he had really become an adult.

Jisung’s loud voice suddenly booms through the living room and startles an already drunk-looking Eunha, who murmurs something about the younger boy giving her a heart attack one day.

“I’m bored,” he grumbles, draping his body over Soojung. “Let’s play spin the bottle.”

Soojung rolls her eyes at him, flicking his forehead. “Are you a teenager?”

Jisung pouts, sitting up straight once more. “We’re in university. University students play this fucking game all the time,” he states matter-of-factly. “Don’t make me regret falling for an older woman.”

“Jisung, I’m only three years older than you, I’m not—”

“Don’t make me call you noona.”

Soojung inhales deeply before turning to face the people sitting on the couch, placing one of the empty beer bottles scattered around her feet on top of the coffee table. “Let’s play spin the bottle. But let’s do dares instead of kissing, that’s too boring.”

Jisung beams, cuddling close to her like a needy child. Minho chuckles at the sight.

Eunha scoots closer to the couple so the group is seated in a circle around the coffee table, half of them on the couch and half on the floor. Minho never had the chance to play spin the bottle, which seemed to be such a staple game of one’s teenage years. By the time his friends were off sneaking into clubs and drinking behind their parents’ backs, he was already in a committed relationship and well aware of the fact that he didn’t enjoy parties.

It seems silly, but he’s glad he won’t live past his youth without experiencing such a trivial thing.

Soojung spins the bottle, and the neck stops facing Chan while the bottom faces Jisung.

“Take your shirt off,” Jisung waves a finger at Chan, who looks somewhat disoriented. Minho chuckles under his breath just as you do the same. You two face each other and let out a hearty laugh, your arm coming to rest on his bicep before retrieving back to your lap faster than Minho hoped it would.

Soojung squishes Jisung’s cheeks and places a small kiss on his lips. “You’re such a fucking chaotic bisexual,” she giggles, “Y’know, Chan, Jisung has had the biggest crush on you since you two first met.”

Chan shakes his head with a stifled laugh and proceeds to remove his shirt, neatly placing it on his lap.

Jisung is next to spin the bottle, this time landing on Soojung, who you dare to show her most embarrassing text. After showing the group a string of texts showing raunchy screenshots of a manhwa she’d been reading at that time, all sent to one of her class group chats which included some professors, she lets out a heavy sigh and orders Eunha to spin the bottle before any questions can be asked.

This time, the neck faces you while the bottom faces Eunha herself. With a smile, the short-haired girl dares you to kiss Minho.

He feels his smile drop at the very second the words leave her lips. This was not what he had in mind for tonight.

“What?” You sputter, “Why?”

Eunha shrugs, adjusting herself so she’s seated upright and staring right at you. “Well, he’s the only one here who would be actually fun to see you kiss. Jisung and Soojung are okay with each other hooking up with other people, so that’s no fun,” she explains, using her fingers to list her reasons, “I’m not into girls, so that’s no fun for me. Hyunjin is too obvious. We all already know Chan, so it would also be boring. Minho is like fresh meat. That is fun.”

Minho’s brain begins finding a suitable excuse for why you two can’t kiss, because he’s certain you have no interest in doing it. Not only are you friends, but your reaction didn’t exactly exude excitement at the prospect of kissing him. Just as he’s ready to lie through his teeth, you turn to him and place your hand on his shoulder, a touch so soft he’s barely able to feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

“Is this okay with you?” You ask him, the tone of your voice so sweet Minho feels like it melts his every thought until his brain is nothing but a sugary pool filled with only you. So he nods because god, yes, this is okay with him.

You gingerly place your right hand on his cheek, bringing your faces closer until your lips press together. The whirlpool inside his chest spins fast, like a vortex dragging every sense of his body toward you and only you.

You remain still for a few seconds, Minho’s eyes opening slightly to search for any sign of regret on your face. Before he can even properly look at you, your lips begin to move against his — gently and carefully, like you’re not sure if this is what he wants. Minho deepens the kiss and hesitates three times before committing to placing his left hand on your waist. The giggles around the two of you nothing but a muffled murmur to him. He presses another kiss to your lips, his body shifting until he is all but caging you against the back of the couch. But just as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you push him back with a smile, Minho chasing after your lips.

He blinks a couple of times, eyes zoning into your smudged red lipstick. He subconsciously bites his own bottom lip, wondering if any of the color transferred to him. The surrounding murmurs bring Minho back to the moment this time, awkwardly clearing his throat before lifting himself off of you and sitting upright on the couch. He tunes out every comment regarding the kiss to the best of his abilities, focusing his energy on slowing down his heart rate. When he catches you giggling while looking at him, your arm touching his bicep yet again, he nods, grabbing his cola bottle from the floor and taking a sip.

Minho can’t remember the last time kissing someone got him so worked up. He entered a long-term relationship at such a young age that he’s only now realizing how unaccustomed he is to kissing someone new, to the rush that comes with having your lips pressing against the ones of someone you like. It was exhilarating and a bit terrifying all at the same time. He was awkward, unsure where to put his hands, uncertain if you were enjoying yourself. He was also greedy, wanting the moment to last for much longer than it had.

This had cemented the fact that he does, in fact, really like you.

After kissing you, the whirlpool living in his heart had now fully transformed into a tiny hurricane — with great chances of growing even bigger.

Minho only notices the game has continued upon hearing your voice complaining beside him. He watches as Soojung shrugs.

“It’s the only thing I could think of, sorry.”

“But why?” Hyunjin asks, placing his cup on the coffee table. “It’s a stupid dare.”

The blonde girl scoffs. “No, it’s not. I’ve had to basically live with you two for the past year, and it’s common knowledge how easily you get a boner for her.”

“Not true,” Hyunjin retorts, although it sounds more like a question than an affirmation.

Eunha blurts out, “You once got a boner watching her stir a cake mix.”

Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth before groaning, pulling you into his lap by the waist. You apologize to him quietly, to which Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.

Minho feels as if he’s intruding on something private.

You sit on Hyunjin’s knees, almost falling off his lap as you clearly try to keep some distance between the two of you. Hyunjin clicks his tongue and pulls you closer to him until your back is pressed up against his chest. He whispers something in your ear, to which you lightly slap his arm as his lips upturn into a grin.

Minho is definitely intruding on something private.

At some point, you turn so you’re sitting across Hyunjin’s lap, your body now facing Minho. He can’t help but watch with dark eyes as the younger boy’s hands wander through your body; playing with the buttons on your blouse, squeezing your thighs, and caressing your skin a little too close to the hem of your skirt. He furrows his brows as he tries to understand your relationship with Hyunjin, seeing as you’re obviously not put off by his hands on your body.

Minho is so transfixed by the sight and his racing thoughts that he only realizes the game has ended when someone taps his shoulder from behind the couch. When he looks back, Chan is holding a cigarette and motioning towards the stairs that lead to the house’s terrace.

In the chilly open space above the house, they sit on a bench behind a tall vertical planter. Minho wonders who tends to the garden as he observes the various flowers, as well as some vegetables and herbs scattered around him. The terrace is small; the garden taking up all the space, an old wooden railing that overlooks the quiet street the only other thing in his sight.

He and Chan chat about school and work, as they often do nowadays. After Chan recently broke up with his girlfriend, Minho found that his friend had become much more closed off, so the list of subjects they would talk about became minimal. Chan bites his thumb before taking a long drag of his cigarette. He chuckles when he mentions being scared of graduating next year. Minho bumps his shoulder with him, arguing that being in his situation is worse. He admits that he regrets starting university late and that being in his first year when he should already be in his third is discouraging. Chan dismisses his worries, reminding him of how Minho is often the one to fix broken codes and come up with ideas for their game whenever Seungmin gets stuck.

“A degree is just a piece of paper,” Chan says, throwing his cigarette butt at a nearby trashcan. “You’re already a fantastic programmer, Minho.”

“You’re just saying that because I saved your ass today.”

Chan shrugs. “You’ve saved my ass basically every day since we started working together.” After a beat of silence, he asks, “Why did you start uni so late, anyway? You never told me.”

Minho hums, digging his brain for a way to sum up the entire story. “It’s complicated—”

He’s interrupted by footsteps on the stairs leading to the terrace. A loud giggle echoes through the open space before you and Hyunjin step into their field of vision. The long-haired boy holds you from behind, and you two stagger toward the railing.

“Wish everyone would go home already so I could just fuck you,” Hyunjin whines as he turns your body around so you’re facing him. Minho almost chokes on nothing at those words, and Chan stifles a laugh with his hand. He curses the small space as they’re able to so clearly hear everything you’re saying.

You playfully kick Hyunjin’s shin. “Don’t say it like that, Hyune, what the fuck.”

“It’s true, though,” Hyunjin continues, pressing you against the railing. He towers over you, so the only thing Minho can see from where he’s seated is your white skirt floating in the wind behind the tall boy. “I had a stressful, terrible, awful, dreadful week. All I kept thinking about was coming over and relaxing with you.”

“See, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so awful.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “There’s nothing awful about fucking. I know how much you like it, don’t act so coy.”

Minho watches as your hands clench around Hyunjin’s gray shirt, pulling him closer and kissing him softly, much like you had done to him a few moments before.

Minho presses his lips into a thin line. He connects every dot available to him inside his head and suddenly feels pathetic.

Hyunjin being too obvious of a choice for you to kiss, his hands all over your body, his words about fucking you, the way you kissed him like it was a habit.

If you had a boyfriend, why did you agree to kiss him?

The words swarm Minho’s brain. He vaguely recalls you and Hyunjin eventually walking out of the terrace. Chan starts a one-sided conversation about one of his classes, with Minho humming after every couple of sentences to appear like he’d been listening when his head is too busy wondering how to feel about everything.

Minho recalls Eunha walking up the stairs and shouting for the two of them to come downstairs to sing you happy birthday. He recalls Hyunjin’s hands wandering through your body throughout the song, his lips pressing small kisses on your face and lips as you smiled. He recalls feeling confused, stressed, jealous, and pathetic.

Minho is only truly back to the present moment once Chan’s voice bids him a loud goodbye, and the door slamming behind him makes his senses finally return to him. As he looks around, he notices that the only people left in the living room are Jisung, Hyunjin, and you. Beside him on the couch, Hyunjin stretches with a loud groan.

“I’m gonna take a shower. D’you have any of my clothes in your room?”

You sigh from where you’re sitting on the floor, resting against the television stand. “Of course, I do. You’re always living shit behind, you’re like our third roommate at this point.”

Hyunjin chuckles, walking over to give you a small peck on the lips before disappearing into your room. Minho gnaws on his bottom lip with a bitter smile as he realizes Hyunjin will sleep over at your house. The ugly feelings return as he remembers his thoughts about you these past few weeks when he unknowingly cultivated too big of a crush on you. Even on his way here tonight, when he had chuckled to himself at his lack of nervousness in the face of potential love.

Love.

Minho can’t help but wonder why your view of love is so negative when you’re in a relationship. And, at the same time, he doesn’t dare to think about it for too long, fully aware that his foolish affection-filled brain will come up with a myriad of reasons — all where your boyfriend is the sole culprit for your distaste — and Minho knows better than to let those thoughts linger for too long inside his mind. He knows himself all too well, knows only awful shit would come out of assuming things about your relationship; the urge to beat Hyunjin senseless for being a shitty boyfriend and making you think that way about love being the worst of them.

“I’m too drunk to go back to my dorm,” Jisung suddenly speaks, his eyes glazed over as he stares ahead. “Gonna crash here tonight, too.”

Minho takes that as his cue to leave.

You walk him outside, a small smile on your face the entire time. He feels guilty not being able to reciprocate the gesture. As you tell him goodbye, thanking him for coming, you pull him into a hug. You hadn’t hugged much since you met, and Minho foolishly wants to draw you closer to him, to feel your body pressed against his just as it was pressed against Hyunjin most of the night. But he can’t do that.

“Are you okay to walk back by yourself?” You ask him as you pull away.

Minho nods, forcing out a small smile. “My car is parked just down the block.”

“That’s why you didn’t drink!” You exclaim with a giggle, “I forget that most people our age already drive. My anxiety didn’t allow me the chance to even try and get a license, so I just accepted my fate of taking the bus.”

“I could drive you…” Minho trails off. There he goes again, being pathetic. “If I have the time… You can give me a call and I’d be happy to drive you anywhere.”

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another embrace. Minho smiles genuinely as he buries his head in your hair.

The drive back home has Minho feeling stupid all over again as he thinks about how you’re probably in bed with Hyunjin by now. The whirlpool is back inside his chest, but it isn’t good or welcome this time. It’s agonizing and painful.

Love had never been painful. Love had never been bad.

But he had never experienced love toward someone who already loved somebody else. Although you brazenly state that you don’t believe in it, you must feel some type of love toward Hyunjin if you’re willing to be his girlfriend.

As he silently drives home, Minho finds himself agreeing with you.

Maybe love can be bad, after all.

Minho feels stupid.

This has become a constant in his life.

He had always thought of himself as a logical person. Programming had taught him that everything is predictable and fixable if you work on it hard enough. A broken code? It may take him six hours of staring at the computer to figure out it was nothing but a missing semicolon, but he will get there in the end. It was annoying and frustrating, but it was always something easily fixed.

He thought love was like that. It had always been like that with him.

Until he fell for you.

Minho was coming to terms with the fact that maybe love and programming were nothing alike. Love isn’t predictable. Loving someone who is already in love with someone else isn’t easily fixed. He can’t backspace and delete your boyfriend from the equation.

It’s been a little over six months since you two first met. Minho has consistently gone to the café you work at every day, and you two still had endless talks over text messages. You talk about everything and anything, from silly things like sharing pictures of both your growing plushie collections or your love of that particular coffee shop’s lemon cake to more serious topics like how Minho learned how to cook when he was twelve so his mom wouldn’t have to do it by herself, and now his roommates take advantage of that, or how sad you are that next year you will have to leave the house you’ve grown to love so much.

But, whether it is in person or through text, you still avoid the topic of love. You don’t ever bring up Hyunjin unless he’s part of a story you were already telling, and Minho feels his heart heavy as he slowly allows himself to imagine what it could be that led you to hate love so much.

He desperately wants to ask you, know your reasons, and make sure you’re happy with your boyfriend. But he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and doesn’t know how to go about it without scaring you. So he never does anything, like a coward.

Minho finds himself coming over to your sharehouse on most weekends since summer break ended. Your countless get-togethers at that house have become a hard-to-break habit. Hyunjin, Jisung, and your roommates are always assured to be there, with Chan joining whenever he isn’t overwhelmed with work or school, which was rare.

Minho had always been a hopeless romantic, always doing things for love that people repeatedly warned would result in regret. This time, it was forgoing visiting his parents and friends back home just to spend most of his summer with you. Despite not being able to pursue you in the way he truly wanted to, Minho still wanted to be your friend. You were still a fantastic person he loved to have around; that didn’t change simply because you had a boyfriend. Although he could feel a bit of his heart cracking every time he had to see you, all while knowing he couldn’t do anything about his feelings for you.

He couldn’t change your perspective of love if he weren’t allowed to love you.

In all the time he spent at your house during summer break, he ended up becoming good friends with Jisung, as you tended to stick next to Hyunjin most of the time. Minho didn’t mind it; he is your boyfriend, after all. At least, that’s what he repeats to himself every night he comes over like a mantra as he almost masochistically forces himself to watch how Hyunjin kisses your lips and caresses your skin or how you play with his hair and snuggle with him on the couch. He also endures the countless nights he’s left your house knowing all too well that Hyunjin would be spending the night with you in a way that Minho can only ever dream about.

Tonight, in particular, Hyunjin seemed to be all over you like bees on honey, buzzing around you everywhere you went, his hands never leaving your body as he pulled you closer to him every time you even slightly pulled away. Because god forbid your bodies not be touching in some way for even a split second. Before he knows it, Minho is downing his third bottle of beer of the night.

From where he’s sitting on the couch, Minho rolls his eyes as discreetly as he can while he watches Hyunjin pull you to sit on his lap on the floor as you all get ready to play a game of cards. He gnaws on his lower lip because he knows he’s being petty and borderline childish. You’re Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Of course he’s all over you, of course he wants to be close to you, of course he wants you on his lap. Minho concludes with a bitter chuckle that he is, indeed, pathetic when it comes to you.

He gulps down more of the awful-tasting cheap beer.

The night comes to a close after far too many rounds of Cards Against Humanity, with Jisung winning more than half of them. His ethics and morals fly out the window the moment the cards are handed to him, as he manages to create the most absurdly offensive phrases known to men every single time. Minho found himself groaning and yelling at the younger boy as the alcohol took over his system. He doesn’t know how much of it was simply his annoyance at Hyunjin clinging to you like a koala throughout the entire game disguised as competitiveness.

He doesn’t think he’d like to know either.

Like every night he comes over, Minho is the last person to go home. He has to call an Uber, far too buzzed to want to sit at a bus stop all alone at this time of night. He hadn’t even noticed how he kept downing his drinks until he felt the familiar buzz of inebriation wash over his body a while before the game ended. Although slamming his fist into the coffee table with a whine about how he had only been given lame cards should’ve been a sign.

As he waits outside your house by the fence, he suddenly hears the door shut behind him and your voice calling out to him. He smiles at the faint slur of your speech and the way you drag out the last syllable of his name like you always did when you were a bit drunk.

“I told you to wait for me!” You reprimand, opening the gate to stand next to him. “Look how lonely you look here all by yourself.”

Minho just shrugs with a smile, shaking his head. He did wait. He waited almost half an hour after announcing he should leave as you disappeared into your room with Hyunjin. He was still waiting, in fact, only mindlessly scrolling on his phone for the past ten minutes instead of finding a ride as he hoped you would come outside when you saw he wasn’t in the living room anymore.

You poke his shoulder, bringing his attention away from his phone to your smiling face.

“Tonight was fun, wasn’t it? Especially that last round when Hyunjin won after being tied with Jisung for the whole game,” you grinned, “Seeing Jisung make a whole damn case about how much better his card was really made my night. Think that’s the first time I’ve seen him act like a law student since I met him.”

Minho chuckles, bringing his attention back to his phone. Seeing your smile and how your eyes light up while you talk about something you like brought back the whirlpool inside his chest, which wasn’t a pleasant feeling any longer. It made him glum to think how a once beautiful feeling had turned into nothing but discomfort simply because he was lovelorn.

He hums. “You must be proud to have your boyfriend put an end to Jisung’s annoying winning streak.”

“What do you mean?”

Minho looks up from his phone, eyes wandering through your puzzled face. He furrows his brows for a second. Maybe you’re both drunker than he’d thought.

“I mean, it must’ve been nice to see Hyunjin win after Jisung basically made us all want to quit the game,” he explains, watching as your expression turns from confusion into shock before you let out a loud laugh.

Minho’s eyes widen, worried your laughter might wake up your neighbors. He gently shushes you, his arm grabbing your shoulder, but your smiling face only makes his lips stretch out into a grin. He suppresses a giggle as you catch your breath, shaking your head.

Minho smiles at you so fondly he’s certain he looks like an idiot. “What’s so funny?”

“Hyunjin isn’t my boyfriend,” you explain like it’s obvious. “We’re just friends. I thought you knew that.”

Minho only then realizes he had never once heard you refer to Hyunjin as a boyfriend, nor had any of the people around you. But his assumptions weren’t so ill-judged, either. You two acted like a couple. It wasn’t so absurd to assume that you were one.

He finds himself staring at your amused face for a few seconds before forcing himself to turn his attention back to his phone.

You acted like a couple, but you were just friends. Minho groaned mentally.

“So, you’re like friends with benefits?”

“Yeah… I don’t particularly believe in love anymore, Minho. I thought you knew that from our talk a while ago,” You chuckle, shifting on your feet. “Hyunjin is one of my best friends. We just hook up ‘cause it’s convenient.”

Minho hums, his fingers ghosting over his phone screen. “Sounds like you’re running away from love.”

He blinks a couple of times as he takes in his own words. He would have never said such a thing if it hadn’t been for the liquid courage flowing through his veins.

You shrug, moving to sit on the white bench just outside the house. “Well, yeah, that is what I’m doing. Love hasn’t been kind to me at all. I have no interest in going after it, only to be hurt again. It’s a movie I’ve watched before and I hated the ending every time.”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek, finally clicking the button to find a ride, his thumb pressing on his phone screen more forcefully than he intended. He felt angry. You didn’t deserve to settle for a friend with benefits due to convenience. Had you wanted to be in that situation, it was your every right to do so, but you were in it out of fear of being hurt.

He felt sad. He wished you didn’t equate your past experiences with love to everything it could be. Bad experiences in love were possible for everyone — even for him, who used to believe unwaveringly that love could never be hurtful — but that didn’t mean it was all there was to it. Minho desperately wanted to show you that. The good side of love, the side that made him put it above everything else in his life on so many occasions, the side that made him crave it even now when it hurt more than it felt good.

And, strangely, Minho felt relieved. It was a small percentage of the chart of current emotions he was experiencing, but prevalent nonetheless. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he felt happy Hyunjin wasn’t your boyfriend and, most importantly, that you weren’t stuck in an unhappy or toxic relationship, as he had so often feared.

His ride arrives, and he’s overcome with a wave of courage. Minho would much rather live with regret than with a constant ‘what if’.

Shoving his phone inside his pocket, he offers his hand to you, who looks up at him curiously from where you’re sitting on the bench before taking his hand. Minho pulls you to your feet and hugs you. With his hand on your waist, he pulls your body closer to him, finally holding you tightly the way he’s always wanted to do. He presses a kiss to your head, bringing his lips to your ear and whispering, “I’m gonna change your mind.”

He feels your body shake with a chuckle, but he only tightens his hold on you.

“What?”

“About love, I’m gonna change your mind,” He answers matter-of-factly, “You deserve to feel love without being afraid.”

Minho pulls back from the embrace just enough to see your face, and he’s surprised to find you smiling up at him. He smiles back.

“I will change your mind.”

Minho had just dropped you off at your house, ready to drive around aimlessly until he absolutely had to go back to his dorm, when Seungmin texted him.

Kim Seungmin: hey my sister’s engagement dinner is tonight Kim Seungmin: and i might have fucked up something in the code i was working on so now there’s a chance that you fish 100 rare fish at once 🤪 Kim Seungmin: pls pls do me a solid and fix it before chan sees it and kills me? Kim Seungmin: love you hyung 💚

Minho initially groaned at the messages, thinking of the many ways in which he could murder Seungmin and get away with it. But, ultimately, he didn’t want to go back to his dorm anyway, so he gladly turned his car around. If he was lucky, this would take hours and he would have a valid excuse to crash in Chan’s cramped living room.

He punches the code to the front door and his friend greets him with a puzzled expression.

“I forgot to do the, uh, troubleshooting for this week,” Minho blurts out. It’s the first lie he can come up with, and he hopes it’s convincing enough. Chan nods slowly. Seungmin might have saved him from having to endure his roommates on a Saturday night, but he still owes him.

“It’s all good,” Chan says with a sigh, “I’m most likely gonna pull an all-nighter designing these new characters. Anyway, how did you waste your time today?”

Minho has been taking you on what he likes to call Subtle Dates for a month now.

Chan affectionately calls them Waste of Time Dates.

Minho rolls his eyes, sitting down on his own desk. “We went to Han River and walked around till sundown, then watched the Banpo Bridge water show.”

Days like today were rare, so Minho was happy. Most weekends, it seemed as if the whole world was conspiring against anything he planned with you.

“Oh, how romantic of you,” Chan gasps, feigning amazement. “Did you at least kiss her this time?”

“You know I can’t just kiss her like that. I know she’d freak out if I tried to do anything romantic with her,” Minho taps his fingers on his desk, knowing he sounds ridiculous. But he has a plan. He just hopes this plan actually works out soon. “I don’t mind being patient.”

He hears Chan scoff. “So, you took her on another one-sided date and then drove her home so Hyunjin can fuck her?”

Minho’s fingers stop tapping on his desk, his hand coming down to slam on it before he can stop himself. He lets out a heavy sigh, and Chan mumbles an apology. But, the truth is, he knows his friend is right. Just last weekend, Minho dropped you off straight into Hyunjin’s arms, the younger boy waiting for you to come back in front of your house.

And Hyunjin wasn’t the only inconvenience that rendered it almost impossible for the two of you to spend time together. Minho had to cut most of your dates short due to Chan calling him about something urgent that only he could fix at work, or you canceled altogether because your roommate was upset and you didn’t have the heart to leave her alone like that. There were also times when Minho was too tired to even go out at all, like on the day of his birthday, which resulted in you coming over to Chan’s apartment and eating cheap takeout food with him and his two friends.

Minho found himself dealing with countless bumps in the road when it came to finding a way into your heart.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” Chan says hesitantly, “You clearly like her a lot.”

Minho repeatedly opens and closes the code he’s supposed to fix. He sighs. “I like her more than a lot, and I don’t even know when that happened.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” His friend explains, his face disappearing behind his own computer screen. “I just can’t see what will change if you go on dates with her when she doesn’t even know they’re dates and if she’s just gonna go home and have sex with someone else. I don’t get it. What difference does it make?”

He can hear Chan scoffing, although he tries to disguise it by clearing his throat. Minho shakes his head.

“It makes all the difference because that’s not love. I wanna show her what love is, and that it isn’t always bad. I promised her that I would.”

Chan sighs, sliding his chair toward the mini-fridge by the couch. “Agree to disagree?” He asks, grabbing a bottle of water and tossing it in Minho’s direction. He grabs it mid-air, just before it hits him in the face, and clicks his tongue.

“Agree to disagree.”

Minho plugs his headphones into the computer, drowning out the noise of Chan’s pen sliding across his iPad with his brown noise playlist. But he can’t drown out the obstinate thought ringing inside his head, screaming at him that Chan is right.

Taking you out on dates — which you don’t even know are dates — doesn’t really make a difference if you’re just going to go back to your convenience with Hyunjin at the end of the day. If you think you’re just friends going out together, and you go back home at night to the comfort of sex without the love you’ve been running away from for so long, what Minho is doing truly is useless.

It’s just like when he argues with Seungmin through their codes, screaming at the younger boy in all caps about something that’s broken, even though he knows he’s going to be the one who will end up having to fix it.

Minho’s fingers come to a halt on the keyboard.

Closing his work, he opens up Google and finds the first flight he can to Japan. Almost as if he’s on autopilot, and his brain is completely shut off. He books the flight and the cheapest hotel he can find, using almost all the money he’s saved up to move out of his hell of a dorm. It might be the most idiotic thing he has ever done in his life, but he’s so in love it hurts him. And he loves love, and love with you — the thought of that alone has his heart beating at his throat. He doesn’t want to keep on with these futile attempts at trying to make you see that love is good and that, maybe, love can be good with him.

The truth is, he feels scared. Maybe even more scared than you do. He is terrified of knowing the answer, of finding out that maybe he could change your mind about love but that it would simply lead you to someone else’s arms and he would have to endure the pain of unrequited love until it inevitably faded away with time.

Minho would gladly live with that pain if it meant you were happy.

But he needed to know.

He adjusted his glasses — a childhood nervous habit that returned after he started wearing them more often since you complimented him months ago — and retrieved his phone from his backpack.

He typed and deleted more times than he’d like to admit.

Me: Hey, it’s late sorry Me: Just wanted to know if you’d be up for a trip to Japan? Me: In two weeks Me: For study purposes Me: We’d finally have the chance to use what we learned in class lol Me: Chan was supposed to go with me but he has a family thing so he can’t anymore Me: Everything’s already paid for and he said he doesn’t mind if you go in his place Me: Lmk what you think

Minho’s fingers typed as his brain came up with excuses and lies, sending more messages than he needed to. He couldn’t tell you he booked a whole damn trip with you just to see if maybe, possibly, you have feelings for him too.

He all but throws his phone across his table after turning on Do Not Disturb. He’ll need to muster up the courage before reading your answer, and having his phone buzz for anything that wasn’t your reply would just be torturous. He felt stupid, would feel even more so if you turned down his invitation. He almost doesn’t want you to answer, wants to pretend he never even sent anything.

Because it was stupid.

But love is stupid, and he is in love.

Worst-case scenario, he’s stuck with Chan in Japan for a weekend while he laughs at him.

Best-case scenario, he spends a weekend with you in Japan. No letting you go back to another man at the end of the day, no more hiding that he is taking you out on dates, no more distractions, no more inconveniences of your daily lives.

Minho opens the code he was working on again, quickly typing out:

// NOTE: Minho will fix this.

879 notes · View notes

honeyangelkiwi · 2 months

Text

Bull Riding & Boobies

Plot: Going to the bar and bull riding 🤷🏽‍♀️

Sexual Content: slight exhibitionism, grinding

Word count: 2.5k

The mechanical bull was throwing him around like he weighed nothing, but he was holding on for dear life, refusing to be tossed off. His hair was pulled into a loose bun on the top of his head. His head was thrown back in laughter, eyes crinkled shut, and with the widest smile on his face.

“I hate physical activity!” He hollered and everyone in the small bar laughed up at him. His friends were chanting for him to get someone up there with him and my friend did not hesitate to try and push me forward.

“No, there’s no way I can get up there with Harry fucking Styles! I can’t even believe we ended up in the same fucking bar as him!” I hiss at her as she still tries to push me forward.

“This is your chance, plus it’s your birthday! Just go!” She laughs at me and gives me a harder shove that actually makes me move forward a couple of steps. I turn around to see if anyone has noticed and, of course, I see one of his friends pointing at me.

Just as I am about to turn around and run for the hills, his head turns my way. The ride had come to a pause and it seems his friend had gotten his attention to turn towards me. I stood frozen, unable to move from his gaze. His eyes were sparked with mischief, adorning a matching smirk.

My best friend started pushing me forward again and all I could do was shake my head. I could see Harry start to laugh as he lifted his pointer finger to motion me over. I guess I didn’t have much of a choice now. I couldn’t say no to the Harry Styles.

I start to walk over, shocked, and face red with heat that could put hell to shame. As I approach, he looks down at me from his spot perched up on the fake bull and smirks once again. “Hope on up, love.” He says and pats the spot in front of him.

Shaking my head a little to clear the chaos and get a bit of confidence back I look up to him and smile sweetly. “Which way do you want me… love? Would you rather look at my chest or my backside?” I question, and wow where did that come from. I look back up at him through my thick lashes and see the shocked look on his face.

I could see how stunned he was, but he soon shook the feeling from himself and his eyes immediately darkened. I was so startled by the quick change that I subconsciously took a step back. With the smirk back on his face he reaches a hand down for me to take and helps me hop on, my back flush with his chest.

“I guess we know you’re an ass man then, Harry Styles.” The words tumble from my lips before my mind could catch up with my mouth. Before I could overthink I turned to look at him with a smirk and see he’s leaning into my ear. “I would say both, but for this specifically, I am definitely an ass man.” He says and I involuntarily shiver from the feeling of his breath cascading down my neck.

I can’t help the way my head falls back into his chest as my eyes flutter shut, the feeling going straight to my core. I feel his hands slide around me, one grasping my hip and the other grasping the handle in front of us.

“Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have a free ride.” His voice drops lower as his mouth meets the skin just below my ear. Goosebumps rise across my skin understanding what he was implying. Who would have thought he would be so… filthy and straight forward in such a public space and with a stranger.

The grip he has on my waist is burning straight through me. His rings pressed into my skin and I can feel how clammy his hands were from the previous round he did up here. I glance to my side to see my friend staring at us, mouth on the floor. I simply shrugged at her, silently telling her ‘this was your idea.’

She laughs at herself and shakes her head, walking off towards the bar. Knowing her, she’s going to have a round waiting for us when this is over.

Having not been paying attention to the task at hand I jump, startled when the ride slowly starts moving. “Better hold on love, it doesn’t stay this easy.” Harry leans back down to my ear. The hand on my hip slides around my waist and pulls me back, until I am practically sitting on his lap.

I wiggle my hips around a bit to tease him. “You’re in for one hell of a free ride.” I chuckle towards him when I hear the smallest groan fall past his bright, pink lips, wet from licking them.

I still can’t wrap my head around him being so forward with a random girl, but I’m not complaining. I just can’t believe this is actually happening, and to me of all people, and on my birthday. Whatever God people believe in, I’m thanking him.

“I hope this is okay, love. Did I mention how gorgeous you are? I’m glad my friend put my attention on you.” He says into my ear, the bull starting to move around a bit more. His lips move down to my neck and leave a small open-mouthed kiss.

“Mmm, this may sound bad to say to a stranger, but it’s more than okay.” I tell him, moving my neck more to the side to give him more access, hoping he’ll keep up the gentle assault. “I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of a birthday present.” I say.

He pulls back a little to look down at me, eyebrows raised with a surprised look on his face. “Well then, should I wait to tell you happy birthday before or after your present?” If I wasn’t on this contraption my thighs would be pressed so tight together. The suggestion in his tone is fogging my brain. “How about after.” I tell him.

Just as he was about to respond the machine jerked particularly hard and sent my backside grinding right into his lap. I let out a gasp, only now realizing the hardness pressed up against me. The fact that I was wearing a dress that ended up laid out over the both of us instead of underneath my bottom made it easy to feel everything… and there was definitely a lot to feel.

“Jesus fuck.” He groaned out, head dropping to my shoulder. The machine continued to jerk around some more. It was both sending my ass back into his center and whipping us around like ragdolls. It somehow managed to be perfectly balanced, riling us both up some more.

I can feel how sweaty he is behind me. His arms coated in a thin sheen, glowing in the darkened room. It's coating through his shirt enough that I can feel it on my back, and it may seem weird, but I can’t wait to get a taste. His grip tightens on my waist briefly and I turn to look at him questioningly, only to see his gaze focused solely on my chest.

I can tell he wasn’t lying about being a boobs and ass guy, because if we weren’t up here right now, based on the look on his face, it would be buried into my chest. I can’t help but groan thinking of those diamond shaped lips wrapped around my nipples, sucking and biting them. I can see him teasing his hand down into my panties and praising how wet I was for him from a simple touch.

Still not believing that I was quite literally on Harry Styles fucking lap I glance around the small bar and see that no one is actually paying attention to us up here. I would assume it was because there weren’t many people here to begin with.

Suddenly, Harry’s arm that was around my waist lets go, and for a split second I panicked knowing I would go flying off if he wasn’t holding on. But just as quickly as he let go, he was grabbing onto me again, except this time his arm went under my dress to hold on to me.

“Still okay, love?” He asks, and I can’t lie, my heart fluttered at the way he was caring enough to make sure I was okay with everything. I tell him yes, and I can’t deny how turned on I am that he’s doing this. Turned on by the fact that anyone can look over at us and see his hand under my dress and the looks on our faces and know exactly what’s happening up here.

With another quick look around I turn and glance at him. His eyes are black, no longer green, the lust is pouring from him and the second we make eye contact the tension between us skyrockets. Deciding to take this further I pick up the rhythm of the ride, grinding back into him in time with the machine.

Aside from his hand being under my dress, from the outside it simply looks like we’re successfully maneuvering our way on this beast, not teasing each other up here. “You gonna come with me when we’re done up here?” He quite literally moans in my ear. His voice is several tones deeper, raspy, and laced with need.

“As long as you want me to. Nothing more I’d wa…” I couldn’t control the moan that fell from my mouth. The cheeky fucker decided it was the pefect time to take the hand that was holding onto me and move it to my core. He wasn’t shy at all, because he full on pulled my panties to the side and swiped his fingers from my entrance to my clit, stopping to rub a small circle.

My head fell forward as I gasped for air, shocked he was bold enough to do that up here. He pulled his hand back and I couldn’t stop the whine that fell from my lips, needing more than just the small, tantalizing touch.

“Harry, don’t fucking tease me. If you’re gonna touch me then do it and don’t stop.” I snap at him, turning my head in his direction, frustrated with the teasing. I wanted to slap the smirk right off of his face. “So fucking needy baby, don’t worry. I’ll take care of that ache between your legs. Get your belly in that feeling I know you’re craving right now.” And Christ does his filthy mouth make the wetness between my legs pool even more.

He glances around for a second before he suddenly grabs my hair and pushes me down so that my chest is flat against the ride. As soon as he does the machine starts jerking very violently, sending his hardness right up into my center with each movement.

It takes everything in me not to moan out, because every movement pushes him straight into my clit. The roughness of his jeans is very noticeable through my thin underwear. Being up here is doing nothing but sending us both spiraling and I can’t wait to get off. It seems like we’ve been up here for hours, but it couldn't have been more than two minutes.

There’s no way people don’t know what’s happening here. It takes one glance at us to see me bent over, face and chest flush against the bull, Harry’s hands wrapped in my hair and around my waist, and his hips driving into me at a sickening pace. If there weren’t clothes separating us his cock would be driving straight into the spot I crave him the most.

Harry bends over so his mouth hits my ear, moaning absolute filth to me while his hips continue driving into me. “If there weren’t people around right now love I would have my cock so deep in you you’d feel me up in your tummy. I can feel how wet you are, soaking me through my pants, gonna make it look like I came for you up here. Wanna have you bent over a counter right now so you can watch me in the mirror, fucking you so good I have to hold you up.” I can only moan, feeling myself clench around nothing.

“Fuck baby, I can feel you tryna squeeze me.” He moans, his face so close to my mouth that I can’t help but to reach out and kiss him. Only we both get thrown from the ride and I’m scrambling to keep my dress covering myself.

I catch my breath for a minute and glance over at Harry who is smirking down at his pants. There is, in fact, a wet spot right where we were attached and, although I’m still very turned on, I can’t help the need to look down, letting my hair fall across my face as a curtain to hide the embarrassment.

“Don’t be shy now, love. We’re just getting started.” He says and holds a hand out to help me up. He starts leading me away from the ride towards the bathrooms and if I wasn’t so turned on from the ride I would have refused, but it’s Harry Styles and I am turned on. So, to the bathroom we go.

I glance over my shoulder for my friend and catch her eye. The look she’s giving me let’s me know she saw what just happened and can’t fucking believe it either. I gave a shrug and waved my hand at her letting her know she can leave without me if she wants. She nods and then shakes her head laughing while leaving. Right before we walk into the bathroom she hollers happy birthday to me across the bar. Fortunately, no one was paying attention or everyone would see me walking in here with a guy.

Luckily, this is a single bathroom and it isn’t occupied. He swiftly locks the door and grabs my waist, shoving me into the door with just enough force that it’s still attractive. His lips are on my neck in an instant. “You looked so good bent over for me out there, love.” and he pulls back slightly to finally smash his lips onto mine………

#harries #fanfic #harry styles imagine #harrystyles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry!smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles oneshot #harry edward styles #harry fanfic #smut

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melobin · 5 months

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✧ eunseok as your boyfriend ✧

part of the riize as your boyfriend series!

cw. eunseok x female reader. strangers to lovers, fluff, some light angst, smut toward the bottom.

summary. eunseok as your boyfriend, both domestically and sexually. nsfw content is included below!

a/n. sorry for randomly abandoning this series .. it’ll be finished i promise 🫶🏻

how you met

you met when you were quite young

he’s been your brothers best friend for as long as you can remember

you grew used to him always being at your house, always being around you

you tried to not take too much notice of him but it was hard, he was sweet, funny, attractive

in some fucked up way he felt like your dream man that realistically you knew you could never have, or so you thought

eunseok was always quite doting on you

your brother trusted him around you, trusted him to be there if something was to happen and your brother couldn’t show up

you knew all of this, your brother always telling you that if you can’t get ahold of him, call eunseok

you hardly ever did but in the rare occasion you did call for him, he’d be there

how you got together

your crush developed on him quite quickly as you grew up

you pinned it down to some form of silly little school girl crush

the cliche, having a crush on your brothers best friends who’s older than you, who’s so sweet to you, who always makes you laugh and who is attractive as fuck

you’d read about those kind of relationships and how in the end they always worked out

you weren’t too optimistic about this though, spending a while fearing he saw you as nothing more than his best friends younger sibling who just happened to be around him because of a mutual connection

it wasn’t the case though

eunseok wanted to take care of you, he wanted to protect you

for a while he pinned it down to the fact you were younger than him and you’d practically always been in his life

it wasn’t really he case though and deep down he knew it

as the two of you grew older around each other, the more his feelings of needing to protect you and take care of you grew

he founds himself hoping he’d bump into you around your house, hoping you’d reach out to him because you needed something, needed him

once he accepted his feelings he decided he needed to play them out on the table as soon as possible

the day it came to confessing to you, he was stressed

wasn’t really sure how it would go, hated the ides of things becoming awkward between the two of you and for your brother to find out the man he trusted with you

he really was stressing over nothing though

it was a little strange for you when you received a message off of eunseok, asking if you could meet him somewhere

you weren’t entirely sure on what he wanted to say to you and in all honesty it made you worry a little bit

did he notice the crush you had on him? was he about to reject you? was he about to tell you to never look in his direction again?

maybe your overthinking was a little extreme

and completely wrong

for some reason eunseok thought the best place to be rejected for his confession was a little cafe near by your house

something about him seemed different when you got there, he was fidgety, couldn’t seem to stay still no matter how hard he tried

“there’s something i need to tell you” you looked over at his, eyes confused and head tilted to the side. you looked so cute, distractingly cute. the pout that formed on your lips as you watched him made me want to lean over and kiss it off of you, he both loved and hated how you made him feel. “is everything okay?” your voice was so gentle, it calmed him. he cleared his throat “yes? uh well i guess it depends how this talk goes” now you really were concerned “i’ll just come out and say it, in the past few months i’ve noticed myself growing feelings for you and i didn’t know what to do about it or how to handle it due to the nature of our relationship and i just didn’t wanna fuck anything up” whatever you had expected him to say, you were dead wrong. you sat in silence for a few moments, those few moments terrified the lost looking boy in front of you. you weren’t mad or upset or anything like that you just weren’t sure on what to say. what do you say when the boy you’ve been pining over for years confesses to you? “i’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable or anything i just-“ “eunseok” he stops speaking, eyes darting to yours, entire body relaxing instantly at your next words “where are we going for our first date?”

he was smitten right from the start, he loved spending time with you. although he hated lying and keeping secrets from your brother, you were worth it

the dates he took you on were simple but intimate

he realised he couldn’t do anything too big without your brother noticing, he had already been questioning him about him seeing someone, already noticing the change in his behaviour

he noticed it in you too, but decided against commenting on it, already putting the math together in his head, he just wanted the two of you to tell him before he spoke up about it

he wasn’t against the idea of a relationship forming between the two of you, there was no one he trusted more than eunseok, especially when it came to you. he just wanted to watch eunseok sweat and panic for a while

eunseok wanted to ask you to be his before tackling your brother thought

boy already adored you and didn’t wanna wait too long before securing your relationship, so he didn’t

only a few dates had passed before his hands found themselves sitting on your hips and his eyes trained on yours, looking down at you like you held everything he could ever want

wanted to be sweet with it but couldn’t stop himself from just asking you, wanting to be able to call himself your boyfriend as soon as possible

“would it be too soon to ask you if you’d be mine?” his fingers rubbed small circles into your hips, yours played with the bottom on his hair, you wanted to humour him “hmmmm i don’t knowww” you dragged out your words, laughing a little as he rolled his eyes, but your demeanor turned serious after “but if you think it’s not too soon seokkie, i wouldn’t be opposed to it” he smile and pulled you. a little closer to his, lips ghosting over the skin of your cheek “in that case, be mine?” “happily”

what he’s like as a boyfriend

he adores you and everything you do

he’s the walking definition of domestic dominance

just wants to take care of you in every way that he possibly can

it’s the small things that matter, standing and sitting close to you when you’re doing mundane things, always having an eye on you when you’re out and about, hand on your lower back when you’re walking past people, even leaning over you to put your seatbelt on when you’re in his car

you don’t ask him to do any of these things and you never fail to get flustered when he does them

he just wants you to be safe and happy and content and will always be prepared to do what he needs to do in order to make that happen

his ideal date is just laying in bed with you in his arms, starting with watching whatever film or show netflix has decided to offer the two of you and ending with you making out under the covers and giggling against each others lips

he embraces any form of intimacy and gentleness that he can get with you, especially out of the way of the other boys. wants you to himself, just for him to enjoy

he does enjoy the occasional date outdoors, usually during the night. something about being under the stars with you is so peaceful and comforting

likes to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you against his side as you walk, always taking precaution to glance around before leaning forward to kiss you

eunseok is not too fond of pda, he adores touching you, kissing you, holding you in his arms but he’s a little less willingly to do it around other people

not out of embarrassment, but more so out of wanting to keep his privacy with you

in private he’s very touchy, hands always on you, all over you. everywhere.

he loves forehead kisses, will find any excuse he can to hold you in his arms whilst you’re laying down and press a gentle kiss to your forehead before resting his own head on yours. it’s so comforting and intimate. for him, it’s a kiss that says both everything and nothing at the same time

boyfriend eunseok would give you anything you wanted and more if you let him.

arguments with him

eunseok can be quite nonchalant about a lot of things, he doesn’t enjoy arguing with you but he’s not the most outwardly emotional about it either.

he’s cold, he doesn’t necessarily mean to be, especially when it comes to you, but that’s how he is by nature so it’s not uncommon for you to assume he doesn’t care when you’re upset about something. even more so when it’s something that he’s done.

but he does care, often finds himself stuck in his own thought once he realises he’s hurt or upset you.

sometimes he’ll realise mid argument and try to fix it but he finds himself making it worse, often accidentally saying things like wrong.

most arguments usually end with him holding you, stroking your hair and kissing you’re head until you’ve calmed down, whispering the sweetest words in your ear about how you mean the world to him and how he’d never want to upset you.

if you’re the one who’s upset him then he just doesn’t know how to act.

he knows you’d never hurt him intentionally but sometimes he finds himself overthinking things you’ve said to him, getting into his own head and beating himself up over it.

he loves you and he’ll hear you out when you apologise. he might seem a little distant and off during it but once you curl your fingers around his hand and tell him how much you love him he tends to come back to the ground.

letting you wrap your arms around him and tell him sweet words, comforting him

at the end of the day he loves you more than anything and he’s ready to work through any argument the two of you have. he thinks you’re worth it.

his love langue

quality time and physical touch are his.

he loves spending time with you, just sitting and talking or playing games or anything. as long as he’s with you it doesn’t matter to him what you do.

he values all of his time with you, you’re his favourite person so he treasures everything.

if you’re around other people he always finds himself gravitating toward you, hand in yours or arm round your waist.

thinks the way you’re happy to just sit and play with his fingers whilst he talks to his friend is cute.

he also loves touching you, having his arms around you, holding your hand. anything that lets him having skin to skin contact with you.

his favourite times are when you’re sat together, arms wrapped around each other playing a game or watching something, he gets to spend time with you and have fun as well as have you in his arms.

lowkey bullying too. lovingly.

he’s teasing, taunting, mocking, he’ll make light hearted jokes to you.

genuinely gets slightly upset if you don’t find them funny because you’re his girlfriend and you’re supposed to find everything he says funny, those are his words.

it’s all with love though, teasing you when you get flustered around by him, taunting you when you lose against him in your favourite game and mocking you when you ask him for something as simple as a kiss.

he always finds your reactions to be the cutest thing, loving the way you whine and pretend to be mad at him.

knows he’ll always get your attention back on him when he starts littering kisses on your neck and telling you i’m so sorry baby, a hint of amusement in his voice.

what he’s like in bed

dominant. it’s very rare that he’s not. eunseok just loves taking control, loves having power over you.

thinks having you at his mercy, a wreck under him is the ideal way to spend the night. especially when you’re crying out his name as he fucks himself into you.

he can be mean, you’ve found yourself bent over his knee, counting the slaps he makes against your ass countless times.

he just likes when you’re good for him, loves his good girl more than anything and needs to put you in your place when you’re a brat.

has no issue in putting you in your place either.

very rarely will he drop the dominant act, but sometimes he will.

no power play sex with eunseok is the sweetest, softest thing you’ll ever find yourself doing.

he holds you so softly as he fucks you, whispers the sweetest words in your ear, moans so prettily as you clench around him.

constantly reminding you about how much he loves you, cums so deep inside of you just to be sure you take all of it.

on the flip side, he can be rough.

he loves forced eye contact, making you look at him whilst he fucks you senseless.

but he also loves pressing you face down ass up and fucking you till you’re crying, god he loves it when you cry.

the way you look, the sound, everything is so beautiful, even more so because it’s coming from you.

you’re just his everything and he makes sure to treat you and fuck you as such.

tag list - @ma-riiii @choqolei @addictedtohobi @strayghibli @seokeuns @productiwity @swaggyjinnie @kvstjwonnie @xushigyu @daebin @saintzdoll @hyucksdelicate @shotaroswifeyily @imthisclosetokms @wccycc @gyuvision @seotired @starrypen @llearlert @yeolwrld @snowyseungs @shawnyle @bbg7mae @hwhjsthetic @cysier @lilriswife4life @blueberryyuta @revehosh @kpxpseoul @emoseob @sashasbluehair r @ohmykwonsoonyoung

#✧ melody posts #riize smut #eunseok smut #riize as your boyfriend #✧ hard hours ✧

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rthko · 6 months

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Hey, I remember reading a while ago a post or two of yours about the word faggot, specifically as almost a third/"failed" gender. I've come to identify with the word a lot myself as I've figured out my sexuality and gender, so I was wondering if you had any further reading on the word and its history and reclamation that I could look into? Thanks!

First, I'm glad this post resonated with you! I unfortunately can't help much with the etymology or history of the term itself, but maybe I can help with the concept I use it to represent. It has been an ongoing project of mine to articulate, if nothing else to myself, the specificities of gayness. "Gay" refers to too wide a range of experiences to really be specific, but I am referring to those of us for whom "gay" refers not to the mere fact of our desires but what distinguishes us in a gestural and cultural level from other men. In effect, a gender in its own right. When writing that post I opted for "faggot," because what I wanted to described referred not just to male homosexuality but the experience of having chance or the expectation to live as men and symbolically or literally rejecting it.

I have a lot to say but I'll try to keep it brief. When I have articulated something like this in the past, some people have commended it saying that there's a lot of writing on lesbian as a gender but not the same for gays. This is not entirely true. Karl Heinrichs Ulrichs was the first to write of and identify with homosexuality as an essential characteristic, but this version of homosexuality was the urning, or "woman enclosed in the body of a man." We would recognize this today as trans womanhood, although there is great writing by trans women challenging the "wrong body" framing. This concept came to be known as inversion, which sexologists co-signed often in good faith but to predictably unhelpful ends. This concept is understandably obsolete because of its essentialism, the proliferation of trans theory, and of course the offense it poses to gay men. But as someone who has always self-identified and been externally considered at the fringes of manhood, I took a strange comfort in it. To know that gay men and trans women were grouped together in this uneasy alliance goes against ahistorical notions that transgenderism is an unwelcome intrusion into queerness.

So I guess the text I was looking for was The Faggots and their Friends Between the Revolutions by Larry Mitchell, 1977. People recommended me that book after my post, and I was stunned by its resonance. Mitchell waxes lyrical about the faggots, their allies the women, and their adversaries the men. His description of the faggot's identify formation is as follows:

The faggots once called themselves the men who love men. But they discovered that they did not love men, they loved only other men who loved men which was not that many of them. The men who hate others were false and death-inflicting and obsessed with being strangers. The men who hate others hate the men who love men. And this hatred is so strong that it turns the men who love men into the faggots.

Notice it does not use the logic of inversion or make any pretense of the faggots being women. Yet it does locate the point at which "faggots" detach from "men" and recognizes them as different categories. The post-stonewall pre-AIDS period in which this book was written produced a lot of "proto-nonbinary" identities, like faeries and queens. It's hard to determine by 21st century standards who in the mix counts as trans and who doesn't.

When I tried to articulate in more personal terms what this gray area means to me today, a lot of people found it resonant but a lot of people found it offensive. I felt like I owed apology to those who felt aggrieved, but the problem was that half considered it offensive that I considered myself related to transness in any way and the other half considered it offensive that I still described myself as cis. I was either a cis man who refused to check his privilege or a self hating non-binary person who just needed to come out already. I maintain that whatever you want to call me or what I want to call myself, there are material distinctions between me and most trans people that can't be ignored. And I think what keeps me from making the jump is that to introduce myself as nonbinary would make people tiptoe around language in a way I don't personally feel is necessary, but gayness has its own methods that work for me. I like the way we careen promiscuously between gendered scripts and signifiers, and the camp sensibility that refuses to take itself too seriously. I am also hesitant to describe myself as what Lyft would call "Women+."

This is a long post by Tumblr standards but if I were to really say everything I want to say Tumblr would not be the medium for it. But if you're looking for something to read on the subject, I recommend Larry Mitchell of course, Susan Sontag's Notes on Camp, Judith Butler's Gender Trouble (but just skip to part three and the conclusion honestly), Cruising Utopia by José Esteban Muñoz in part for his analysis of gesture in queer of color dance, and The Queer Art of Failure by J Halberstam that further elaborates on Muñoz's writings on failure and adds a butch perspective. Currently I am reading Male Subjectivity at the Margins by Kaja Silverman, which is a little psychoanalytic for my taste but offers a fascinating re-evaluation of inversion theory without endorsing it.

Despite all the effort I put into this post it will not be rebloggable sorry. 🤐

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farfromstrange · 5 months

Text

Do No Harm

CHAPTER SEVEN: Downward Spiral

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: After agreeing to go on a date with Matt, you start realizing the weight of your decision, and your thoughts begin spiraling. In a moment of need, you turn to the only close friend you have in Hell's Kitchen, hoping she can pull you away from the edge of the very steep cliff your trauma is trying to throw you into.

Warnings for this chapter: ANGST (the caps feel appropriate here), mentions of domestic violence, suicidal thoughts, allusions to a suicide attempt, allusions to sexual assault, mentions of being taken advantage of by a superior, (I guess you could say) mentions of hypersexuality, self-loathing, PTSD, some foreshadowing, mental breakdown, alcohol, Season 1 related plot (spoilers)

Word Count: 6.4k

A/n: Surprise! I'm posting early because I'm going to see my family this weekend, and after I had an epiphany at two in the morning and spent 3 days writing this, I got it done, and I'm actually quite proud of this (or maybe it's the caffeine). Anyway, heed the warnings because the topics of conversation in this are pretty dark. That's why I highlighted the angst. And if you haven't watched past episode 1 of Season 1, this might spoil some things for you. (Also, I have no idea how this turned into a beast with a word count over 6k. Sorry in advance.)

Read Chapter 7: Downward Spiral here on AO3

You don’t know what came over you.

You typed in Matt’s number in a moment of weakness, and once you heard his voice through the line, you gave up on being careful. You gave up on denying yourself what you’re so desperately craving, and you abandoned all rational thought.

For him.

You promised not to get attached to someone ever again—let alone a man. You started a new life in Hell’s Kitchen to find your way back to normalcy. You took all the necessary precautions, and even though you look back at the shreds of your old life every day, you are never going back.

Two years. That is the longest you have managed to stay in one place ever since you left California. But you still haven’t found your way back into the real world.

You have been guarding yourself, afraid of having your heart broken, afraid of losing this chance at a new life, and afraid of the man who ruined you.

Every time you close your eyes, you see his face. You hear his voice in the back of your mind. He’s everywhere, even when you don’t want him to be.

It’s easier to put a wall between yourself and everyone else. A wall no one can break through, not even yourself. You trapped your soul for the sole purpose of keeping yourself alive after you made the hardest decision of your life. When you ran, you believed your life was over, but you have always been too much of a coward to end your misery. God knows you’ve tried, but even a trained doctor can’t fully understand death, and some things just don’t work out the way we want them to.

Drunken one-night stands can’t possibly compare to a meaningful emotional connection, but they satisfy the need for physical intimacy. At least for a little while. It killed you; slowly, almost pathetically, but sleeping with strangers in dirty motel rooms did a better job than you ever could.

For the longest time, you used sex as a coping mechanism. You let strange men use you because that is the only way you know how to be with someone else. You let them hurt you to feel something, anything because pain is better than feeling nothing at all. But when you finally got settled in Hell’s Kitchen, thanks to Claire, you stopped.

You locked up your heart and threw away the key. You started to shield your body the same way you have shielded your soul. You retreated into a shell of restlessness and constant fear of every little sliver of hope you feel being taken away from you.

You have nowhere else to run, which is why keeping a low profile is so important to you, but after two years, don’t you deserve to finally live?

We don’t exist to just survive; we exist to live the life we were given. You are Olivia Clarke now, not the broken girl you left behind, but every time you think about it, his voice returns and backs you into a corner that you can’t escape from.

Every time you see the scars on your body, all you want to do is rip the skin off your bones and feed it to the dogs.

The men you slept with while you were running from your past saw you as a mere object, and you are used to being seen that way, but it was isolating nonetheless. They didn’t care about your scars, they only cared about what you could give them. They treated you like he did without lifting a finger.

Even though you don’t do that anymore, it still weighs heavy on your wounded soul.

Matt treats you like a person. He can’t physically see, but he still sees you. He sees you in a way no one has ever seen you before. And he is gentle, and patient, and—

You scream into your pillow. Your nose still hurts, but it is nothing compared to how fast your heart is beating.

To you, Matt is perfect. You know that no one can be perfect, and you should be careful, but he makes you feel things you have long denied yourself. He makes you feel wanted. Desired. Like you can be yourself around him and still be worthy of his attention. Like you matter. And he has a certain way of being around you that makes you feel protected, almost.

You don’t need protection. You have made it this far without a bodyguard by your side. You know how to fight your own battles better than most, but you can’t deny that you wouldn’t mind being saved by him.

You wouldn’t mind those hands he always wraps around his cane to wrap around you instead. He can’t see your scars, but he can feel them, and as terrifying as that thought sounds, it also excites you.

You’re treading dangerous territory, but God, he won’t leave you alone, not even when you’re trying to sleep. He could offer you a sense of normal that you have long missed. He could teach you how to be a person again. And maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself be cared for by him.

You roll back onto your back when you need to breathe, one of your hairs getting stuck to your lip. You let out an annoyed huff. There won’t be much sleeping tonight, you’re sure. Not when you keep thinking about tomorrow.

“You’re not fifteen anymore,” you mutter to yourself. “What is wrong with you? God!”

It’s almost too surreal to believe that this magnetic force of a man managed to retrieve some of your long-lost hope, and he only had to call you beautiful once for you to be completely smitten.

When he allowed you to take care of his injuries on the first day you met, you didn’t think a person could be this guarded yet so vulnerable at the same time. He’s breaking under an invisible weight that must have been on his shoulders for years, maybe even decades. You’re painfully aware of other people’s feelings, and it wasn’t hard to tell that Matt carries a lot of unresolved pain with him. Always. He reminds you so much of yourself, it’s like staring into a mirror. Two broken halves of a whole.

Your thoughts won’t stand still, no matter how hard you try. You’re stuck inside an invisible hourglass. Not even heaven knows what will happen once time runs out. You don’t understand why you’re overthinking this while, at the same time, knowing exactly why. And you hate it.

There is a part of you that you can never get back. A little girl who grew up too fast. A girl who didn’t know any better. A broken teenager who wanted nothing more than to escape and live a better life than her parents could ever give her, and when she did manage to escape one hell, she found herself in a new quarter of purgatory built just for you.

You used to think that maybe you just bring the worst out in people, but after seeing the worst of humanity outside of your broken relationships, too, you’re not so sure about that anymore.

The fact that you don’t understand why you can’t stop your usually so intelligent brain from spinning out of control makes you want to claw at the walls of your apartment that threaten to cave in on you.

Part of you wants nothing more than to run and never look back, but you can’t run forever. This time, you wouldn’t be running from the Devil; you would be running from a fear of your own feelings. Human feelings. Feelings that have a high likelihood of recurring, and then you will have to run again.

You can’t run from reality forever. It’s a different reality now, but it’s a better reality. That is a rational thought, but being rational currently has no place in your mind, so you’re spiraling, and all because a nice guy asked you out for coffee.

You find yourself in a cab a few minutes later, wearing a pair of sweatpants, and an oversized shirt, with an untouched bottle of wine in your bag. Your worn-down sneakers are not the appropriate footwear for today’s weather, but you couldn’t be bothered to pick another pair.

You’re aware that it’s late and maybe you should have texted, but you’re already here, and Claire told you that you could always come to her, even if it happens to be the middle of the night. If the rule still stands after she suddenly decided to stay at your co-worker’s place without a proper explanation, you’re not quite sure though.

You knock. At first, no response. You knock again. The floorboards creak on the other side of the door.

“Claire, it’s Liv,” you call out.

You can hear the exact moment the person inside the apartment starts to panic. The floorboards creak again, more frequent this time, and it sounds almost as if Claire is turning the room upside down. You raise your eyebrows.

Before you can knock again, the lock finally clicks, and she opens the door. She’s more of a mess than you are, and that is put lightly.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Claire greets you. “What are you doing here?”

You blink a few times. “Hello to you too?”

She sighs. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, it’s just been a long night.”

“I can see that,” you answer. “Are you alright?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” She looks you up and down. “What happened to your nose?”

“It’s a long story.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah. Can I, uh, come in?”

She hesitates before stepping aside to let you in. “Sure.”

You take a quick look around the apartment. Nothing seems out of place. A bowl of cat food stands in the corner by the kitchen. The window in the living room is open, but it seems intentional.

The scent of antiseptic lingers in the air. You’re not sure if your nose is betraying you as you breathe in, but the smell is familiar. Bandages, disinfectant, and salve. You don’t want to question it, but you can’t help it.

“Did you hurt yourself?” you ask.

Claire blows her nose behind you. If you didn’t know better, you would think she was actually sick. She shakes her head upon hearing your question, but there is a faint blush on her cheeks.

“What makes you think that?” she retorts.

“Oh, no particular reason. It just smells very… hospital-y. That’s why I asked.”

“I, uh, I had to put a bandage on my leg earlier ‘cause this stupid cat decided to scratch me after peeing everywhere.” She sniffs. “Had to clean the wound, that thing—“ she nods toward the cat sitting in the cat tree, “and then the apartment. Maybe that’s why.”

You follow her gaze toward the little furball resting on his cat tree. You approach him, but Claire seems less pleased at the prospect.

“Be careful. He’s pissed.”

“At you,” you correct her. “Also, you’re having an allergic reaction, and—if he really, honest-to-God scratched you—very probably an infection. Why are you even staying here?”

Your voice rises in pitch when you reach the sleeping cat. “Hello, you.” You stroke his fur. He only opens one eye to sniff you, but once he recognizes you, he starts purring. For a moment, you forget the reason why you even came here.

Claire exhales loudly. She scratches her neck, her skin threatening to break out into hives. “It’s a long story,” she says.

You glare at her over your shoulder, your hand still stroking up and down the cat’s back as he settles back into a deep sleep. “I’m worried about you."

“That’s sweet of you, but I’m fine.”

“You called out of work and told Shelly you were sick.” You straighten up and turn back to face her. “You’re not sick, Claire.”

She sniffs as if to prove her point.

“Your immune system is overreacting by producing Immunoglobulin E. The antibodies are traveling to the cells responsible for releasing chemicals into your body, causing you to get a stuffy nose and break out into hives. You’re not sick. You’re allergic to cats and sharing an apartment with one. There’s a big difference,” you state. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but you have to admit that, from where I’m standing, your behavior looks a little suspicious.”

“I’m going through some shit, alright?” she says. “And it’s a lot easier to deal with them here than back at my place. That’s why I called in sick.”

You don’t know what to make of her answer. It’s vague. You don’t like vague answers because they often indicate a bigger problem. It is one thing for you to deal with your demons on your own and refuse to talk about it with your best friend; it’s another thing entirely to keep a dangerous truth from the person you’re closest with, one that could potentially lead to worse consequences. If Claire were a naturally secretive person, maybe you would understand, but she isn’t like that. She isn’t you.

She’s the only person who knows your entire story. She saved your life. You can’t imagine her keeping secrets from you that might end up hurting her.

You dare to ask, “Are you in danger?”

She shakes her head a little too fast. “I’m fine, Liv. Really.”

“I’m sorry, but I have a hard time believing that.”

“It’s…personal.”

“Personal? Oh, my. Are you sleeping with Luke again?”

Claire stammers. The look on her face suggests that she didn’t expect you to jump to that conclusion. “What? How did you even–”

“Are you?” you repeat your question.

The last time she slept with Luke Cage, she lied to you about it. She knew you would worry. It’s only natural for you to come to that conclusion now. Except that Luke is in prison, serving his sentence, and it doesn’t make sense.

“How would I sleep with an incarcerated man?” Claire deadpans.

“I’m sure you have your ways,” you say.

“You’re grasping at straws.”

“That’s… true, but it’s coming from a place of love.”

She responds with a sigh. “I don’t wanna fight.”

You join in. You exhale, slowly lowering yourself down on the couch. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. “Just tell me you’re okay, please.”

She offers you a gentle smile. “I’m okay,” she says.

“Thank you.”

You choose to believe her. For the time being, at least.

The silence tugs at your brain cells. You obsessed over Claire’s situation because you didn’t want to face your own, but now that your thoughts have regained the freedom to roam and cause irreversible destruction, you start spiraling again.

You reach into your bag.

“You brought wine,” Claire points out.

“Yep,” you say. The bottle weighs heavily in your hand.

“You need a glass?”

You unscrew the top. “No.”

She doesn’t listen. Claire makes her way into the kitchen, reaching for the wine glasses in the cupboard. “Does this have anything to do with why your nose is all blue and swollen?”

You shake your head at her question. “That was a patient I tried to sedate. No, I, uh… I have a date,” your voice falls flat.

The wine glasses move back into the cupboard. Claire turns around, her eyebrows moving up to her hairline. “Come again?”

“I have a date.”

Saying it out loud makes it real. Something so surreal cannot be real, but it is. You have a date with Matt Murdock. Your heart begins racing again, and you feel the same desperate urge to scream into the nearest pillow again.

You take a sip of wine straight from the bottle. You have a date with a nice man who, for the first time in two years, made you see some resemblance of light at the end of this endless tunnel of despair, and the thought alone is terrifying. Because how are you supposed to live after just existing for the longest time? After you dedicated your life to the act of survival?

Claire steps out of the kitchen and in front of you. “Liv, that’s… that’s amazing!” she says. She sounds like a proud mother. Maybe she is.

You want to shake your head, but you can’t find it in yourself to do anything other than put the bottle back against your lips and take another sip. The alcohol burns down your esophagus into your stomach, spreading a warm feeling through your fragile body, and into your broken soul.

“Or not,” she corrects herself upon seeing the expression you’re carrying. Your eyes are empty. “I’m confused,” She pauses, “Are we not happy about the fact that you’ve finally got a date after two years of being miserable?”

If she puts it like that, you feel even more miserable. Another sip of wine finds its way down your throat.

“Okay, maybe you should put the bottle down. I’m sorry if I said something wrong–”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” You put the bottle down.

Claire sits down next to you, but you get up before she can take your hand and look at you with that caring look she always gives you when she’s worried. You’re not even mad that she played your concerns down when you expressed them and now she is expressing concerns about you; you’re mad at yourself.

She watches you. “You have a date. That’s a good thing. It means you allowed yourself to finally say yes to someone interested in you, right?”

“No,” you shake your head.

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You’re pacing over the creaky floorboards. “The last time I went on a date with someone was after my intern year.”

Her gaze softens. “You told me that,” she murmurs.

“He took me to a restaurant,” you tell her. Your lip quivers as you speak, and your nails dig into your palms until they draw blood. You can barely feel it. His face is right in front of you. “It was a nice restaurant. He paid for me, even offered me his jacket while we were walking home. It was the best date I ever had. And then he kissed me on the doorstep before wishing me a good night.”

“I know. You told me all of that before. But you couldn’t have known that he would turn out to be who he turned out to be. He was your boss. He had no right—”

“That is precisely the problem, Claire!” your voice breaks. “The guy I met, he’s… his name is Matthew. He’s… he is so nice to me. He cares. He treats me like a human being. He… he’s respectful. He called me beautiful. I don’t even know how he knows that. He just… he was so nice to me, and I feel so comfortable around him. I haven’t felt this comfortable around a man in so long. I… I wanted to go out with him. I flirted with him, for fuck’s sake! And when I’m with him, I finally feel wanted again.”

“But you know who else was nice to me when I first met him?” you say. “Who was respectful? Who said I was the only real thing in this world, the only important thing in his life, and that he loved me? You know who made me feel safe and wanted, and who said he cared about me? John said that I was the most beautiful woman on this planet, and I fell for it because he was nice to me. He–”

“But that guy isn’t John,” Claire cuts you off. She raises her voice only slightly—only enough to make you stop and stare at her, tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re miserable. You’re a mess. It is truly embarrassing. But she doesn’t look at you any differently.

“Don’t you think I know that?” you snap back.

“Liv–”

“Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. I’m 32, and I can’t sleep without a nightlight most nights because I wake up in a cold sweat. I can’t drop a glass without going into shock. I can’t look in the mirror without feeling his hands on me. Without feeling disgusting and worthless, and…” You can feel the shiver traveling up your spine from the thought alone. “I can’t exist without feeling like he should have killed me when he got the chance.”

“Liv, I know you’re upset, but please, don’t say that,” Claire says, her voice gentle yet assertive.

“Why? It’s true. I wish he would’ve killed me. He took four years of my life that I can never get back. At least if he’d killed me I wouldn’t have to suffer now.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want you saying things like that.”

“You don’t get it,” you say. “Every time I look in the mirror, I want to vomit because I see what he made of me. I can’t even meet a nice guy and allow myself to like him without seeing his face and hearing his stupid voice in my ear, telling me—telling me that no one will ever love me, that he tainted me, and that I will never be free of him because I can’t exist without him.” You break into a sob.

“And he was right, you know,” you cry. “I ran from him. I made the hardest decision of my life after years of living in his shadow, and I almost died. Because of him, I can’t trust a kind and respectful man who treats me like a person to actually be kind, and I recoil at the thought of someone being gentle with me. Something is seriously broken inside of me, Claire. Very, very broken.”

Claire opens her mouth, but all she can do is bear your tirade. She knows that if she speaks now, you will find another reason to shut her down. This is your pain talking. It’s a powerful avalanche set out to cause destruction on a global scale.

“With Matt, I—” you exhale. “I was myself around him for the first time since I ran away, and he didn’t shy away. I had hope, Claire. I felt like I could finally step into normal life again after settling down here, and I thought I’d have a chance,” you say. “But I just have to close my eyes, and John is right there to ruin everything for me. He is always right there, and I can’t fucking escape him. That’s the problem. That’s why I can’t be happy about this date because I’m fucking terrified. I can’t go through this again. I—I can’t give myself to someone again because there is hardly anything left of me. He took everything, including my ability to love another man ever again, and that thought is fucking with my head.”

You fall silent. The tears continue running down your cheeks, and you bury your face in your hands. Your knees are so weak. You don’t have it in you to hold yourself up any longer. You drop to the carpet, crying into your hands, but you don’t sob. You stay silent because your pain is so great, you don’t know whether to scream or shut down, so you scream internally and shut down from the world around you because you can’t face it. You can’t face Claire.

The couch creaks. Her feet brush against the carpet. “He abused you,” her voice borders above a whisper.

She kneels beside you, her hand reaching out—but not touching you. She knows what lines to cross and which to better leave untouched.

“What he did to you wasn’t your fault. He’s a cruel man with cruel intentions.” When you don’t shy away from her proximity, she finally places her hand on your shoulder. “You did the impossible. You survived. You’re here now because you chose to save yourself, and that is so admirable,” she says. “It’s been two years. You’re safe here, you’re not alone anymore, and I know it hurts and it is terrifying, but it’s a good sign that you want to feel more of what this guy made you feel.”

“But I can’t,” you choke out.

“I know, and I wish I could help you, but I’m not a professional. The truth is, John may have made you feel like there is nothing left of you, but you’re not Olivia Clarke. You’re still you. You’re still…” Claire takes a deep breath before she utters your name. Your real name. The one you were given when you were born.

The mention of your name makes you shiver. “She’s gone,” you say. “He killed her, but he left her body alive.”

“She’s not gone, she’s just buried very fucking deep. I mean, you said it yourself. You could be yourself around this other guy, and he took you for who you are. That isn’t Olivia, that’s you. And it’s such a good sign that you want to go out with him. That you like him. John hurt you, but he didn’t break you beyond repair. Please, you have to remember that.”

Your tears slowly subside. Her words finally manage to reach your rebelling mind through your ears. Even though everything feels like it has been wrapped in cotton, she manages to get through to you like no one else. It was a subconscious decision to come to her, but perhaps your soul knew something that you didn’t, and you can’t say that opening up didn’t help.

The mess slowly subsides. Left behind is nothing but hot air, and the words Claire decided to share with you.

You look up to meet her eyes. She smiles down at you. “I just… I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” you whisper.

“That’s why I think you should go on that date,” she tells you.

“Yeah, but who wants to sign up for a mess like me?”

“Seems like he does. And if he’s a good guy, he’ll like you regardless of your mess.”

“You know it’s not that easy.”

She shrugs. “I hate to break it to you, but you can’t pretend it never happened. And you can’t give John the satisfaction of putting your life on hold because of him. That’s just giving him what he wants.”

“I don’t want to give him what he wants,” you’re quick to answer.

Claire hands you a tissue, and you take it gratefully, wiping your runny nose and the salty tears stuck to your dry skin.

Her words stir something within you; even though you don’t want her to be right, she is. Matt may not deserve a mess like you, but if he’s truly a good guy, it can’t hurt to see if it would work between you. And when your past comes out eventually, there is a chance that he won’t abandon you. A slight chance, but a chance nonetheless. That’s a positive outlook you still have to learn how to adapt.

“C’mon.” Claire helps you off the floor and onto the couch.

You reach for the bottle of wine instantly, but she takes it away from you. She screws the top back on and places it aside, far out of your desperate reach.

“This is not the answer,” she says, “talking is.”

“Can’t we talk and have wine?” you counter.

“Not when you’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”

You sniff, wiping the remaining tears on your cheeks with the tissue.

“We need to take care of you, and alcohol won’t fix your problems.”

Once again, she isn’t wrong. You let out a defeated sigh before dropping your head in her lap.

A long time ago, you used to be an affectionate person. The fear of being hurt again, of someone raising their hand against you, took that away from you. With Claire though, it’s different. You know she won’t hurt you. She’s not that kind of person, and you can say that with complete certainty.

Claire Temple is not a violent human being, except for when the people she loves are in danger, but only then.

She gently brushes the hair out of your face and crumbles it into a messy bun at the back of your head. She wipes at your nose and the last of your tears before they can dry out your skin more than it already is. The past couple of days have taken an emotional and physical toll on you.

You wince slightly when you notice how sore your nose is. It isn’t broken, but you still got hit. You’re not quite healed yet. A shiver rolls down your spine.

Shaking her head, Claire gently removes her hand. “You always get yourself in trouble when I’m not around,” she mutters.

You scoff softly. “Maybe that’s a sign.”

“A sign for you to be more careful, yeah,” she says.

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” You try to joke, but your voice falls flat with the weight of your exhaustion.

Claire offers you a chuckle, but it’s more of a pity laugh than anything else.

You sigh. You know that you’re not an example when it comes to the significance of making the right decisions. Not at all.

“Did I ever thank you for saving my life?” you ask her then, breaking the silence between you in two.

She leans back against the cushions. “Once or twice.”

“Not nearly enough then.”

“I don’t know about that. I mean, if you hadn’t come into Metro General with your hand in a man’s chest cavity, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to help you. You chose to stay.”

“Well, I had my hand on his vena cava, so, letting go would have been unfortunate for the poor guy.”

“That’s true.”

“But if you hadn’t disobeyed protocol, risking your job by putting your trust in me, I wouldn’t have had a reason to stay.”

Claire looks down at you, and you meet her eyes. “That sounded a lot like a love confession,” she nudges you.

You roll your eyes playfully. “You wish.”

“Hey, I’d understand it if you were in love with me. I’m hot.”

She never fails to make you laugh, even when you feel like a truck has rolled you over and broken every bone in your body. That is one of the many qualities you value about her. She’s a good person with a good heart, and she is the kind of person you could trust with your life and she would always make sure that you come out on the other side unharmed, mentally and physically.

If she hadn’t taken you under her wing, you’re not sure where you would be, but it surely wouldn’t be where you are now.

When your laughter quiets down, you nod. “I can’t argue with that. You are hot. If you weren’t my friend,” you say, “I’d ask you out.”

“And if I were into women, I’d say yes,” she says.

“I appreciate that.”

“Speaking of dates though–” She stops when you sigh a little too loudly. Claire shoots you a stern glare before she continues, “Promise me you won’t cancel.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. She wants you to mean it. You won’t lie; canceling your plans with Matt did cross your mind, but after Claire worked her magic on you, you can see a little clearer. The fog that kept your mind clouded has started to lift slowly but steadily. You’re no longer spiraling as fast as you have before.

If you could wash your hands and wash him off of you, it wouldn’t be as much of a problem as it is, but you’ve tried. You have tried washing all memory of him off of your body, out of your mind, but he’s a resilient son of a bitch. John will always try to drive a wedge between you and a normal, happy life, the question is just if you will allow him to do so without even being near you, or if you will finally allow yourself to crawl out of the dark hole he tossed you into.

You can’t do it alone, and asking for help is terrifying. You have spent the past two years trying to push through. Unfortunately, your healthy coping mechanisms won’t work forever.

You sigh again, a little quieter. “I won’t cancel,” you tell her, your voice barely above a whisper, yet still so very certain. As certain as you can be, anyway.

“Thank you.” Claire reaches for the wine bottle next to the couch. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Hm,” you can only murmur.

“What?”

“What are you doing with the bottle?” you ask.

“Drinking,” she says.

“Now I feel betrayed.”

“You should celebrate the fact that you found a Matt, or whatever his name is, and not another Mike.”

You promptly sit up. “Hold up. Pause. Rewind. Mike, like your ex?”

Claire takes a sip of the bottle. A storm rages behind her hazel eyes. You have never seen her that conflicted before.

“Is he the personal reason why you’re subjecting yourself to a constant allergic reaction by staying here?” you ask.

The pieces slowly start falling into place. She nods. “Not Mike Mike, but yeah. It’s always the Mike’s.”

Your jaw drops. “I feel like you skipped some chapters there. You met a guy and you didn’t tell me? What–”

“He met me,” she corrects you. “I didn’t tell you because we’re not a thing. Let’s just say there’s a reason his name is Mike. That’s why I’m here.”

Claire takes another sip. You watch her closely, trying to catch her in a lie, but it seems like she’s telling the truth—or a version of the actual truth, but that still makes it true. She’s giving you as much as she can after you cried your eyes out to her.

You clear your throat, lowering your voice. “But you’re not in danger?” you ask to clarify.

She shakes her head. “I just have shitty taste in men, even if it's platonic, apparently. It’s like… I’m trying to exist, and then I find a stray cat in a dumpster, but the stray cat has been stabbed and needs medical attention.”

“But you’re allergic to cats and you’re not a vet?” you try to make sense of her analogy.

When she lets out a sigh and nods, you figure you came as close as possible. It still doesn’t make sense to you, but when does anything? At least when it comes to romance and people’s love lives.

You decide to push a little more, “Did you actually find an injured guy in a dumpster?”

She shakes her head. The reaction comes a little fast, but you don’t question it. “No, that–that was just an analogy,” Claire says.

“And Mike is the stray cat in that analogy? But not your Mike, another Mike?”

“Yeah.”

“Dude, you’re frying my brain cells.”

“The single one you still have, or did you buy new ones?”

You try not to laugh, trying to look like you are genuinely offended, but your lips still curl up into a smile. “Shut up,” you mutter. You reach for the bottle, against better judgment, and take a sip.

Claire shakes her head. “What I’m trying to tell you is that, if he’s a good guy, you can’t let him slip away. You can’t let a good thing slip away and possibly end up with a–a Mike kinda guy for the rest of your life.”

“I know.” You look down at your hands, your broken fingernails, and sore knuckles from the constant scrubbing. “I just wish I could understand what he’s doing to me without questioning my entire existence.”

“Some people are just that enigmatic,” and she sounds as if she knows exactly what she’s talking about.

You wonder about Mike. Not her ex-boyfriend but the one she mentioned. He sounds like he has no sense of self-preservation, and he may not even be a good influence. He reminds you of yourself, and that’s creepy—you don’t even know him.

And then there is Matt, who is also so eerily similar to you, but in different ways. It’s more of an emotional connection. His heart is in the right place. And unlike the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, he doesn’t have a savior complex.

Why did he even come to your mind? His existence should not be playing into the equation. You brush the picture of his chiseled chest in that tight shirt away, or the way he looked even more dangerous with that smirk below the the mask.

You hand the wine bottle back to Claire. If you don’t cut yourself off now, you will melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

Your focus should be on Matt and Matt alone. You have to try. Claire was right. You can’t sacrifice your happiness because you’re scared—you can’t give the man who dedicated his life to breaking you and your confidence down the satisfaction of cowering in fear every time a man shows an interest in you. A good man. A man who could make you happier than he ever had.

You won’t run this time. You will face the situation head-on. You owe that much to the little girl who dreamed of a life beyond the hell she grew up in, the same girl who was obsessed with finding her soulmate and still believed in true love. Above everyone, you owe it to yourself. No one else matters quite as much as you do.

And for the sake of seeing what could be instead of wondering what could have been, you have to try.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #reader insert #charlie cox #doctor!reader #do no harm

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withlovewriting · 11 months

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All I Ever Knew, Only You 1: Bye Bye, Benny

Chapter One.

You were riding your bike to the sound of ‘It’s No Big Deal’, And you’re trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels, Nothing ‘bout the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming till now, So you tie up your hair and you smile like it’s no big deal.

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities, and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 4,983

Chapter Warnings: Strong language, alcohol abuse, child abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, typical season 1 mean-girl Steve and his little gang of assholes. An offensive term to specific religion, i guess. Also apologies, first chapters are awkward and just plot building but there ya go.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize... ‘wait a damn minute...’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

Next Chapter

Masterlist

(art)

Chapter One: Bye Bye, Benny.

Your legs moved faster than ever before, calves crying out in pain as your lungs burned, feeling like you hadn’t taken a proper breath in forever. But you still continued to push forward, dodging the oncoming vehicle and pedestrians as best you could. A car slammed on their breaks, horn blaring through the bustling streets during the late evening causing you to wobble slightly, hands gripping the handle bars of your bike so tightly you were sure you’d be able to pull them off completely.

Once you had regained your balance, you held up a hand, a silent sorry to the passing car as the driver shouted obscenities that you didn’t have time to be offended by. Just as you passed the coroners office, a loud whoop, whoop sounded behind you, the red and blue lights lighting up the ever darkening evening.

Shit, you mumbled to yourself, head darting around to watch as the officer stuck his hand out of the window, flagging you down. Well, you were definitely going to be late now.

Stopping alongside the side walk, one dirty converse perched on the curb to balance yourself, you waited as he slowly approached you, taking his sweet time. Of course, it wouldn’t be Callahan, the man gullible enough that you could easily spin a tale and get yourself out of this quickly, or even officer Powell, the man much more commanding than the former yet still not as assertive — or nosy — as the man in the unsightly beige uniform that was walking towards you.

“Kid, do you know how recklessly you were riding?”

Tilting your head backwards, face scrunched up slightly, you tried to suppress the annoyance that was bound to seep through your voice, “Hop, listen-”

“You almost caused two separate road traffic accidents, and don’t even think I didn’t see you almost wipe out Mrs. Lloyd.”

“Hopper, I-”

“I should take this damn thing off you, throw it in the junk yard where it belongs. Looks like this piece of shit is falling apart.”

“Are you gonna give me a ticket? Because if you are, can we speed this thing along and maybe save the whole responsibility talk for next time.”

Raising a brow, Jim sent you an incredulous look, “Next time?”

Rolling your eyes, you finally released the pent up, frustrated sigh, “ You know what I mean.”

Mumbling under his breath, Jim took off his slightly off-color hat before gripping his leather belt, hands firm on his hips, “Look, kid. You’re on a bike, which means you’re not gonna win any fight you decide to pick that day with a car. You might not give a shit, but I could really do without the extra paperwork. So stop riding like you’ve just robbed a bank.”

Nodding along with the man, you hoped your silent agreement would make this exchange go by at least a little quicker.

“I’m giving you a verbal warning, alright? If I have even one more complaint about a delinquent teenage cyclist bowling over old ladies in the street, I’ll personally arrest you myself and make you fill out the complaints paperwork. Got it?”

“Got it, chief.”

You couldn’t help but imagine how boring his job must be — especially since moving back from New York — to even bother with a cycling non-incident.

“Now, grab you bike and throw it in the back, if you’re in such a rush my car will get you there a lot quicker than that rusted piece of junk.”

Doing as he said, you then joined him in the car, the man glaring at you until you remembered to buckle your seat belt. Eventually, he pulled away, and you directed him towards Oak street.

“So, hows your Mom doing?”

His comment was meant to come off as flippant, uninterested in your actual answer and just trying to fill the silence. But you’d had your fair share of interactions with Jim Hopper since he crawled back to Hawkins in 1979, as had your mother.

He’d vehemently deny it if he was ever asked, but Jim Hopper — in all of his gruff, cynical glory — had a soft underbelly. He didn’t care about much any more. Not his job, not himself, nor any family, but in the few months he’d had some kind of relationship with your mother, he had unwittingly taken on a role in your life that had been missing for so, so long. So, what did it matter if he checked in every now and then?

Shuffling uncomfortably, you peered out of the passenger window, hoping he wouldn’t push too hard, “She’s fine. Got a cold, at the moment, so…Can’t exactly make it into work right now.”

“You’re covering for her again? You really shouldn’t be out late, and especially not on a school night-”

“She’s not well, Hop. A lecture won’t pay the bills.”

Despite reading between the lines, Hopper shut his mouth, even for just a moment before changing the subject, “No car tonight?”

“Mom forgot to get gas after work last night.”

“I thought she was too ill to work.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you couldn’t have been more happy to see the shitty, run down bar you’d be spending the next couple of hours. Barely letting the man come to a full stop, you hopped out of the car before struggling to pull your bike out of the trunk without scuffing the police vehicle,

“Thanks for the ride, Hop.”

As if it took him a moment to realize you’d even exited the car, he quickly rolled down his window, “You’re not even old enough to be in there-”

It was safe to say your ride home from covering your mother’s shift wasn’t as fast paced, or exciting, as your previous journey.

You felt exhausted after a long day working at the arcade, revising for a stupid chemistry test that Mr. Kaminsky seemed determined to make half of the class fail, and then rushing like a mad man toward The Hideout, a long 6 hour shift bussing tables for old men who seemingly had boundary issues when it came to teenage girls. If it wasn’t for Thomas, the owner, you might’ve had another run in with the chief, certain you’d of stuck a fork through one of Mr Hanson’s wandering hands.

Turning down Morehead Street, you were almost relieved to be home. Almost.

All you wanted to do was shower off the smell of stale beer and greasy burgers and flop into bed. This wasn’t exactly how you’d wanted to spend your Sunday.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the lurking feeling of uneasiness crawled up your throat, the familiar, yet uncertain apprehension causing you to slow to a stop outside of the large, blue house that sat at the other end of your street. Hauntingly intimidating, the formidable house had sat abandoned since before you were even born. Children would often dare each other to play ding-dong-ditch, especially around Halloween, but nobody to your knowledge had actually made it much further than the path that led toward the rotten porch stairs. It had been boarded up since before you could remember, and nobody seemed all that bothered to disrupt it, the memories of what happened there more than two decades ago settled like the dust that was sure to line the floorboards inside.

Despite the desolate appearance in the daytime, the house only looked even more daunting in the shadows that lingered in the night, crawling their way over the house to leave it in almost total darkness.

Swallowing down the lump of uneasiness, you placed your foot back onto the pedal, ready to push off when you heard something. Your head swiveled back toward the large house, eyes wide and inquisitive, certain you’d heard voices.

Maybe the teenagers of Hawkins had finally become brave enough to step forth into the house, or maybe it was the ghosts of the slain family. Either way, you weren’t hanging around to find out, cycling home a little faster than before as you willed yourself to not peer back at the house for one last look, too worried about what, or who, you might find staring back.

Leaving your bike in the front yard — it was Hawkins, after all and the only thing more boring than the teenagers in this town, was the workload, or lack thereof, for the police — you quietly made your way up the creaky, half-rotten porch steps, all too aware of the television blaring so loudly from the living room that you could hear it from outside.

After taking a moment to prepare yourself, you finally pushed the door open, silently grumbling about how your mother always left it unlocked, regardless the time of day. Creeping toward the archway leading to the living room, you caught sight of your mother slumped on the sofa, eyes heavy from more than just sleep, but somehow still conscious. Stepping into the room, you called out for her, hoping she’d hear you over the loud laughter from whatever bullshit show she was half-watching.

“Mom?”

Her head turned, eyebrows raised as if she was surprised anyone had entered the house at all, before her glossed over eyes narrowed, pointing the empty bottle in her hand in your direction, “Where the hell have you been?”

It took everything in you not to release a frustrated sigh, telling her that you had in fact been covering her shift in order to guarantee you’d be able to keep the heating on this month. Winter in Indiana was a bitch and you were certain neither of you would survive another year without at least a mildly-warm house.

“I was working, Mom. C’mon, lets get you to bed-”

“Were you late? Cause you know they dock my wage by a whole hour if you’re even a fuckin’ minute late.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shook your head, avoiding her eyes, “No, Mom. I wasn’t late. I-”

“Fuckin’ liar!” Standing, your mother wobbled on uncertain legs much like a newborn foal as she stumbled toward the telephone, where the answering machine blinked a devious, betraying red. Your mother almost looked too happy that she’d caught you in a lie as her clumsy pointer finger pushed hard at the button, playing the message out loud,

‘Rebecca, this is Thomas. You’re late for your shift, again. You better be on your way, I swear to god, this is the last fucking time. And you better not send your kid, again. I’m sick of it, Bec. So unless your face-down in your own vomit somewhere, you better be in work within the next 10 minutes, or- Oh, hey sweetheart-’

Bottle still in hand, your mother floundered toward you, nose scrunched in annoyance and distrust, as if you’d lied to her about something so much worse, like smashing up the car, or god forbid, pouring one of her beloved bottles down the kitchen sink.

Thankfully, by the time she reached you, she’d not only half forgotten what she was mad about, but wouldn’t be able to work out which one of you she saw to swing at. So instead, you took her gently by the shoulders, ushering her toward her bedroom. She collapsed onto her bed face-first and rather ungraciously her fingertips still gripping the empty bottle as if her life depended on it, and by the time you’d placed a throw blanket over her body, soft snores were already escaping her.

Despite your mother now being out cold, you still closed your bedroom door as quietly as possible, the fear that you’d manage to wake her up too ingrained in you to do anything but.

Keeping the light off, you sprawled out onto your own bed, deciding to forgo the shower and overflowing laundry basket that had been calling out to you most of the week.

Deciding to shower when you awoke in the morning, you didn’t have a choice but to drive your mother’s old Fiat Brava to school, knowing you’d be late otherwise.

Grumbling at yourself for not finding time to do the laundry, you dug deep into your drawers, trying to find something both suitable for school, knowing half of the clothes were creeping up on being too small for you. But money was sparse in your household, and an oversized jacket that you were yet to grow into had sufficed so far.

Pulling out a blue blouse that you absolutely knew was too small, meaning you would be pulling down the sleeves all day in an attempt to stop them ending up halfway up your forearm, you knew it would have to do.

Leaving with barely enough time to fill up the coffee pot in hopes your mother would be drawn to the bitter smell rather than the temptation of the alcohol cupboard, you remained just under the speed limit, gnawing at your lip for the entirety of the drive.

School was dragging by, every minute feeling like an hour, and you knew clock-watching wouldn’t help, the gentle tick, tick, tick lulling you into a drowsy mess as you tried your best to keep your attention on your school work.

Making your way toward your locker, ready to dump half of your books out and enjoy your free period sleeping in the library, you saw Barb staring off down the hallway, her eyebrows pulled together as she watched Nancy turn the corner in a hurry.

“Everything OK?” You asked, causing her to jump slightly, head whipping toward you.

Relaxing as she realized it was you, she released an annoyed sigh, “It’s like he calls and she goes running. Literally.”

“You mean Harrington?”

“She’s still denying they’re even a thing.”

Your eyes remained in the direction of where Nancy had disappeared to, the hallways clearing out as people prepared for their next lesson, “Nancy’s a smart girl. She knows what he’s like.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Barb sighed, pushing her glasses to sit a little higher on the bridge of her nose, “He’s gonna use her, and dump her, and she’ll end up hurt. Just like every other girl he’s dated.”

“Dated is a very loose term,” you joked, Converse heel digging into the hard floor when Barb didn’t quite appreciate the joke, “He’ll get bored eventually, alright? He always does. But Nancy’s not an idiot. I highly doubt she really thinks he’s gonna be the love of her life, or even her date to prom if his reputation is anything to go by.”

When Barb remained silent, her top teeth worrying at her bottom lip you sighed, “Hey, if he hurts her, we can always key his car. Or set his hair on fire. God knows it’s got enough product in it to go up like a bonfire.”

That, at least, caused a smile to pull at Barb’s lips. Feeling satisfied that you’d at least kind of cheered the girl up, you left your friend with a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making your way down the long hallway.

Pushing the bathroom door open, you came to a halt almost right away, body colliding with the same person you’d just been shit talking for the last five minutes.

“Watch where you’re going-”

Scoffing at the boy, you pushed him away slightly, “This is the girl’s restroom, nimrod. You watch where you’re going.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve lent back against the wall slightly, hands grasped at his hips, “Nice shirt, but I think you’re shopping in the wrong age department of the Goodwill.”

“Says the person wearing a polo. Mommy pick it out at the GAP?”

Your stand off would’ve continued for much longer, had the second bell not have rung. Grabbing his yellow gym bag from the floor, he brushed past you with an annoyed glare, “It’s a vintage H R Robinson’s.”

God, he was such an ass.

Word about Will Byers’ disappearance had spread around town quicker than the time Mrs. Hunt’s husband had been caught balls deep in his receptionist at the local car dealership.

After returning home, your mother was nowhere to be found and to say you spent your night pacing around and doing absolutely anything to take your mind off the fact she was gone, was an understatement.

Your laundry was washed, dried and shoved back into your drawers, homework finished in record time and by 9pm you were certain you were a chemistry master. At least, you would’ve been, had any of the information stuck in your brain, instead using your notes as nothing more than a distraction.

So when the sound of shoes kicking up rocks and unsettling the gravel on your driveway roused you from your light sleep, you felt your heart finally settle back down to a normal speed as your mother carelessly stumbled down the path, slamming the front door shut behind her — still not learning to lock it — before making her way to her own bedroom.

Peering at your clock, the illuminating numbers spelled out 4am, causing you to release a long sigh before rolling over, hoping that you wouldn’t sleep through your alarm, less so for the fear of being late to school, and more-so for the fear of your mother’s hungover wrath if it woke her up instead.

Shoving a few books into your locker, you felt too mentally drained to even bother with the chemistry test, and if it didn’t count for half of your grade that semester, then you probably would’ve skipped.

The doors at the end of the corridor opened, the cool November wind slipping in behind a head of brown, scraggly hair, and you felt your heart plummet. Closing your locker, you heaved your half-empty messenger bag over your body and made your way towards the boy,

“Hey, Jonathan.”

The boy peered back at you, a strained smile on his face as he struggled holding everything in his hands and attempting to pin one of the papers to the board, “Oh, hey.”

Taking the papers from under his arm, you tried to send him a reassuring smile, “I, uh… I heard about Will. He’s a smart kid… He’ll be back soon, he’s probably just… hiding out, you know.”

Jonathan’s smile grew meeker, “Yeah… Yeah, I’m sure he will. It’s just not like him, you know? He’s not the kind of kid to just run off.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, eyes peering down at one of the many sheets you held for him, the boy’s smile wide and genuine. You didn’t know, though. You felt like you barely knew Jonathan, let alone Will. The eldest of the siblings, you’d met during your quick stint working at the cinema down town. You had similar music taste, bonding over your disdain for the popular kids in school, and he’d even taught you how to properly change the pump for the buttered popcorn. Your job there had only lasted a few months, but your friendship with Jonathan had lasted a lot longer. But it wasn’t like you two sat around braiding each others hair.

He was quiet and meek, whilst you were indifferent and aberrant. At least, that’s what your mother had always called you. You had perfected the art of acting like you didn’t care, and Jonathan seemed to not care at all. He kept to himself, and that’s how he liked it. You had bulldozed your way into his life, pouring flat half-cups of Coca-Cola and stale barely buttered popcorn and given him no real chance but to accept your sudden appearance. He took it in his stride, at least. But he remained quiet and shy, nonetheless.

“Hey,” a small, familiar voice called from behind you. Turning, you both send Nancy a small smile. Handing the papers back to the boy, you gave them space to talk, ready to make your way towards Kaminsky’s classroom in hopes of looking over your notes one last time.

Barb, however, had another idea, her arm halting you mid-stride before you could pass, “How is he?”

Before you could answer, you could hear the snickering of the three people to your left, “Yeah, hows he doing? Heard guilt can really tear a person down from the inside, out.”

Watching as Tommy’s face broke out into a large grin, the boy finding himself all too funny, your eyebrows pulled together in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about, Hagan?”

“He’s talking about the rumor that your boyfriend over there had something to do with his brother’s disappearance,” Steve explained, his eyes still set on his girlfriend, “Might wanna be careful. I wouldn’t be in any rooms alone with him.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms over your chest, eyes darting toward Jonathan, Nancy, their eyes soft and sweet, and then back to Steve, an insolent smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, “I think if anyone needs to be worried, it’s you, Harrington.”

Steve’s dark eyes darted toward you, and you made a point of looking back at his girlfriend, eyebrows raised as the smile broke onto your face. Deciding you’d had enough, you strolled down the hallway, ignoring Steve’s confused calls of your name.

“Absolutely not,” you shook your head, sucking in a deep inhale of smoke, trying your best to aim it away from your friend as you blew it out, “The last thing I intend to do tonight is go to a lame-ass party at Harrington’s house. I’d rather fry my own eyeballs.”

Barb pouted, her eyes widening as they silently pleaded with you, causing you to turn your attention to the cigarette between your fingers,

“You have to come, please. I really, really don’t want to the the 3rd wheel tonight.”

Rolling your eyes at the girl’s dramatics, you sucked in another deep breath, the smoke burning your lungs slightly, “You won’t be a 3rd anything, Carol and Tommy will be there, too.”

“Ugh, 5th wheel, then. Please? I really don’t want to spend my entire evening there alone.”

“And I don’t want to spend even a second of my time there, at all. Why don’t you just tell Nancy no, for once? Put your foot down? I mean, she’ll be swapping spit with Harrington all night either way.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Barb send you an exasperated sigh, “You know I can’t do that.”

Your hand halted mid-way to your mouth, cigarette burning right down to the end, leaving you only faintly aware of the slight pain, but your eyes were focused on Barb. Of course, you knew Barb couldn’t — and wouldn’t — let Nancy go to this party alone. And you knew why, too. But that didn’t mean you had to be dragged along too, did it?

Dropping the butt of your cigarette onto the floor and crushing it with your worn sneaker, you frowned, forehead creasing as you sighed, staring off into the distance, “Oh my god, fine. I’ll go. But only for an hour, and then I’m out.”

Barb had never looked more grateful, pulling you into a strong hug and thanking you a million times.

Unable to not smile back at the girl, you shook your head, “Who even has a party on a Tuesday night?”

The plan was for Barb to pick you up at 8pm, along with Nancy. The girls had told their parents that you would all be studying at the library before sleeping over Nancy’s house. It was only a half-truth at best, and one that needn’t be repeated for your own mother.

Around 5pm you drove out towards Randolph lane, deciding to grab some burgers for yourself and your mother, hoping that it would at least sober her up whenever she wandered in that evening. Grumbling, you realized you still hadn’t topped up on gas, and decided that after you’d hit the gas station before heading home, hoping you still had some change in the car.

Pulling into the parking lot, a frown pulled at your features, dipping your brows towards each other. The lights were shut off, and as you approached the door, you almost bounced right off it, realizing a little too late that it was locked. Jiggling the door handle a few times, you knocked on the glass. Sure, Benny could’ve closed up early… But Benny never closed up early. Not even on week nights. He was always open for the evening rush normally fueled by hungry teens and loitering pre-teens.

“Benny? You in there?” Rasping your knuckles against the door one last time, you huffed, annoyed that your plan of an easy dinner and been thwarted. Before you turned to return to your car, something through the darkened window caught your eye.

It was definitely a figure at the table, but not quiet sat… More-so slumped. Backing away from the window a little too quickly, you stumbled off the deep curb, falling backwards onto the concrete. Eyes wide as you pushed yourself back, you managed to heave yourself up before taking off across the road, heading into the gas station.

The bell rang as the door bounced off the wall, hinges squeaking as the owner, Earl, turned his annoyed glare in your direction, “Careful with the damn door-”

Upon seeing your panicked face, Earl quickly made his way around the counter, brows pulled together in a frown as he held his hands out, “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“I think… I think something’s wrong with Benny-”

“Benny? Benny Hammond? I saw him yesterday, he’s fine-”

Shaking your head, your eyes whipped back toward the diner, “No, I… I don’t know. I came to get dinner, but it’s closed, so I looked through the window and I think… I think I can see him.”

Earl’s eyes darted between yourself and the diner, concern and skepticism evident on his features, “Right. I’m gonna go check it out, you get on the phone to the Sheriff. But I swear to God kid, if this is some stupid teenage prank-”

Perched on the wall just outside the diner, your leg bounced erratically as you waited for Hopper to return from inside. He’d arrived within 30 minutes, Powell to his left and Callahan to his right, and a face stormier than a rain cloud.

It didn’t take 10 minutes after his arrival for the fire department and ambulance to turn up, backdoor open as they carried out a stretcher.

“What happened, kid?” Hopper’s once dour expression had melted away, smoothing out into something slightly softer, though his frown remained. Maybe, after so many years, his face was stuck like that, you wondered.

Shrugging, your teeth worried at your bottom lip for a moment, “I came to get dinner. The door was locked and… Benny never shuts this early.”

Nodding, Hopper scribbled something down on his notepad before turning his attention back to you, swallowing uncomfortably at your tremulous voice, “Then what?”

“I thought it was weird… Knocked on the door a few times, but I didn’t get a response. So I looked through the gap in the curtains and… I don’t know. I saw someone leaning over a table. I didn’t know what was going on so I went and got Earl. He said to call you guys.”

“Alright. Look, I’ll have to take an official statement, but that can wait until tomorrow. Why don’t you-”

Before Hopper could finish his sentence, your attention was pulled away by the door opening, the familiar bell above it ringing like it always did. Two paramedics rolled out the stretcher, a large white sheet stretched across a white, zipped bag. A body bag.

Feeling your stomach lurch half-way up your throat whilst your heart dropped the other way, you couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath, body all but toppling off the wall and thankfully into the arms of Hopper.

Sure, he’d seen a lot of shit during his time in New York, but they had all been strangers and that seemed much easier to disassociate from and get the job done. But Benny… Well, they went way back. They were friends.

Despite Hop’s insistence to not look, you couldn’t help but turn your head, watching as they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance and carted off toward the morgue.

The last suicide in Hawkins had been in October of 1961, and despite not even being born then, you knew all too well about it. It had been your Grandmother, after all.

Crazy old Colette, the town had so lovingly referred to her as. Lost her husband in the war as well as her mind and never got either back. And, of course, instead of helping, the town simply ignored and gossiped, watching as she wandered around town at all hours, jittery and talking to herself, shouting that the ‘end was nigh’.

What was strange, however, was your family weren’t particularly religious. Your mother only worshiped the God she found at the bottom of a bottle, and you couldn’t even guess the last time you’d stepped inside the town’s chapel. Sure, Hawkins had it’s fair share of bible bashers — typically the overprotective PTA moms and their husbands who would frequently break their marriage vows whenever they headed out of town — but your family weren’t exactly known for their love of Jesus Christ. Or any other higher being, for that matter.

You had frequently wondered if that was the start of your mother’s downward spiral, the loss of her father and consequently her mother too, her drinking only exacerbated when your father headed out for a pack of Embassy Gold cigarettes one evening and apparently got lost on his way home, ending up in Georgia, or Colorado, or wherever the hell he was now.

Worse than that, however, was the torment that maybe whatever had caused your Grandmother to lose herself was hereditary, trickling down through the generations of your family right to the very bottom.

To you.

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington smut

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ughalicesblog · 2 years

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credits: oliviapbells ok instagram

oliviapbells: This one is for Kit.

Olivia and I weren't originally planning to illustrate this scene from our Heartstopper AU. But after the heartbreaking harassment and outing that Kit went through, we wanted to do something, anything, to show our support. So here's an excerpt from our story, where our alternate universe Nick shares a glimpse of what it was like when his dad refused to see him for who he really is, on his own terms. It's just a little scene from a silly little story, but... well, I guess it's our way of speaking into the void.

Like Charlie says in the show, bisexual people exist. They shouldn't have to somehow "prove" they're bi for people to be decent human beings and believe them.

Believe them because it's their sexuality, not yours. Why would you ever think you know their heart better than they do?

Besides, no one owes us details about their personal lives in the first place. Not even celebrities. God, especially celebrities! Can you imagine millions of total strangers obsessing over your personal life? Jesus. They're real people, same as us, just.. with better hair. Leave them ALONE, ffs.

And when someone is actually brave enough to share their heart and reveal who they are, even if it's just a glimpse, even if they don't want to label it, even if it isn't how we imagine them to be... our only, ONLY job... is to shut up, and listen.

You tried to tell us.

So many times.

We're sorry people didn't listen.

We love you, Kit.

#we love you kit connor #heartstopper #kit connor #lgbtq #lgbtq+#lgbtq pride #nick nelson #charlie spring #nick and charlie #osemanverse #bisexual pride #gay love #nick x charlie #charlie x nick #bisexual

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thegayhimbo · 8 months

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Stranger Things Rebel Robin (Book and Podcast) Review (Part 1 of 2)

WARNING: The following review contains MAJOR SPOILERS from the book and podcast!

If you haven’t yet, be sure to check out my other Stranger Things Reviews. Like, Reblog, and let me know what your thoughts are regarding the show or the upcoming season! :)

Stranger Things Comics/Graphic Novels:

Stranger Things Six

Stranger Things Halloween Special

Stranger Things The Other Side

Stranger Things Zombie Boys

Stranger Things The Bully

Stranger Things Winter Special

Stranger Things Tomb of Ybwen

Stranger Things Into The Fire

Stranger Things Science Camp

Stranger Things “The Game Master” and “Erica’s Quest”

Stranger Things and Dungeons and Dragons

Stranger Things Kamchatka

Stranger Things Erica The Great

Stranger Things “Creature Feature” and “Summer Special”

Stranger Things Tie-In Books:

Stranger Things Suspicious Minds

Stranger Things Runaway Max (Part 1 of 3)

Stranger Things Runaway Max (Part 2 of 3)

Stranger Things Runaway Max (Part 3 of 3)

Stranger Things Darkness On The Edge Of Town (Part 1 of 3)

Stranger Things Darkness On The Edge Of Town (Part 2 of 3)

Stranger Things Darkness On The Edge Of Town (Part 3 of 3)

NOTE: If you would like to listen to "Surviving Hawkins," the companion podcast to Rebel Robin, you can find all 6 episodes here.

Synopsis: As Robin struggles to survive her sophomore year of High School, she becomes desperate to break free from the viciousness of high school conformity and her depressing living situation in Hawkins. To this end, she forms an escape plan to travel to Europe (which she calls "Operation Croissant") and becomes determined to get both the money for her trip and a companion to travel with her. However, as she attempts to accomplish these goals, she begins to discover things about herself, and the people around her, that leaves her woefully unprepared for how to deal with her situation............

Observations:

I've talked before in previous reviews about which comics and tie-in novels I've enjoyed, and which I haven't. However, the one that really connected with me on a personal level was Rebel Robin. Both the book and the podcast. I guess I shouldn't be surprised since this is a coming-of-age story about someone finding their own identity in a world that values forced conformity over individualism, and is also about coming to terms with one's own sexual orientation while growing up in a town that's deeply homophobic.

I should know: I lived Robin's story in my own way.

Those of you who follow my blog know I identify as gay (my username is literally titled TheGayHimbo), but I've never really gone into my own experiences about living in denial for years regarding my attraction to men (which might have actually saved my life in high school), how I dealt with homophobia and bullying (even as an adult) and how I tried playing the same game Robin initially does of trying to "fit in" to survive before growing disillusioned and staging my own rebellion when it became clear there would always be people out there who would never accept me as I am.

This book, and the podcast, hit a lot of personal nerves. That's not a bad thing because both were not only excellent, but also managed to perfectly capture what it's like growing up as an LGBT+ teen and constantly putting up with bullshit on top of that. It also does a great job encapsulating that feeling of desiring to escape the place you've been raised in for most of your life, and wanting to explore the world. I had the same dream Robin had as a teenager of leaving the United States and traveling to Europe. Unfortunately, it's only been in the last 2 years that I've finally made that dream a reality. Maybe it's for the better though since I'm a lot more wiser about the world than I was at the age of 17.

But I'm getting ahead of myself: Let's talk about the book and the podcast.

Part 1: Robin's Journey

Do you remember Mrs. Click's history class? Mrs. Clickity-Clackity? That's what us band dweebs called her. It's was first period, Tuesdays and Thursdays, so you were always late. And you always had the same breakfast: Bacon, egg, and cheese on a sesame bagel. I sat behind you. Two days a week for a year. Mister Funny. Mister Cool. The King of Hawkins High himself. Do you even remember me from that class? Of course you don't. You were a real asshole, you know that?.......... But it didn't even matter. It didn't matter that you were an ass. I was still.....obsessed with you. Even though all of us losers pretend to be above it all, we still want to be popular, accepted.......normal.

Do you remember what I said about Click's class? About me being jealous, and like, obsessed? It isn't because I had a crush on you. It's because............she wouldn't stop staring at you. Tammy Thompson. I wanted her to look at me.

Both of these conversations Robin has with Steve in season 3 are what make up a good chunk of the plot of Rebel Robin: Her infatuation with Tammy Thompson. Her dislike of Steve (a lot of it rooted in preconceived notions about him). Figuring things out about herself and how she relates to Hawkins and the world around her.

The way the book is written reminds me of the type of John Hughes movies that came out in the 80s: Sixteen Candles (which is one of the films that plays at the theater Robin initially works at), The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, etc. All of these were stories focused on teenage identity, questioning high school stereotypes, rebelling against conformity and authority, and characters coming to terms with hard truths about themselves. The big difference here is that the book looks at these themes through a queer perspective, as well as the self-esteem issues that come with growing up in a homophobic environment.

For most of the book, Robin doesn't really put together that she likes girls. She's constantly infatuated with Tammy Thompson, but she tries framing it in her head as being interested in Tammy only because she's a nice person who's passionate and has a lovely voice. Robin also can't understand why Tammy would be interested in Steve when he barely has any interest in her.

When it finally does hit her that she's attracted to Tammy, she's completely caught off-guard by the epiphany since she's always pegged herself as a logically-thinking person:

This isn't something rooted in logic though, but emotion. I would even argue Robin's initial ignorance about her sexuality was a defense mechanism. Her whole conflict in the book is about trying to survive Hawkins High and blend in so that no one notices her. In the podcast, when she's talking with Mr. Hauser (who's one of the only people at that point who knows Robin's secret and figured it out before she did), she tells him that she deliberately makes herself average and uninteresting because it's the best camouflage. Those who try to be different don't last long, and get eaten up by the metaphorical monster that is "forced conformity" in Hawkins. Robin has seen that with Sheena Rollins, the girl everyone bullies because she's odd (which is sadly similar to the bullying El is subjected to in season 4 by Angela and the students of Lenora High School). Even though there are moments Robin considers stepping in on Sheena's behalf, she's either held back by her so-called friends, or she becomes worried that her intervening is just going to make things worse for Sheena (which, again, is similar to what happens when a teacher intervenes on El's behalf in season 4, and Angela later punishes El for it by publicly humiliating her at Rink-O-Mania).

Side Note: Whenever I see fans make stupid excuses for bullies like Angela by claiming they're children who aren't responsible for their behavior, and it was the lack of adults that's to blame, I wonder if those morons ever factor in how certain adults (like Miss Garvey here) enable people like Angela and other kids to become vicious brats BECAUSE they refuse to step in. When Robin is forced to take the bus later after her parents freak out over Will and Barb's disappearance, there are several instances (in both the book and podcast) where Robin is catcalled and harassed by other guys, and yet the bus driver refuses to do anything about it because they don't care to. "It was the lack of adults" my ass. 🙄

For me, growing up as a gay man who was also in denial about his sexuality for years (similar to Robin), I never had to deal with bullying when I was in high school. I was raised in a Conservative/Republican suburban neighborhood, and in a church that had an anti-homosexual stance, but I never got subjected to the vicious cruelty that Mike, Will, Lucas, Dustin, El, and Sheena were put through. For the most part, our high school cracked down hard on bullying, and I was never made to feel unsafe when I went there. I was even an AP student and never received grief for it, which is why I find it depressing when Robin tries justifying to Mr. Hauser in the podcast that she won't do AP classes because she wants to go unnoticed. She's lowering herself for people who don't care about her. I know I grew up in a different time period from Robin, and haven't had the same exact experiences she's had, but I have been in her position before of shrinking myself for others, and it is painful.

The irony is it wasn't until later in my life, when I finally accepted myself as homosexual and was moving through college and adulthood, that the homophobia and bullying I got subjected to started.

There are plenty of examples I could give, but one particularly disgusting instance I remember came from a Reddit user who intentionally went out of her way to target me on multiple occasions because I was gay (and because she saw me as an SJW) and did everything in her power at the time to diminish me, make me feel bad about my sexuality, and repeatedly tried to gaslight me into thinking there was something wrong with me. Unfortunately, she is still active online to this day, and continues the same cycle of bullying, belittling others, mocking people for caring about social issues, and then hypocritically positioning herself against bullying. Despite being reported multiple times for her behavior (which continues to be as bigoted and nasty as ever), the Sitewide Administration for Reddit has refused to do a damn thing about it (which I guess shouldn't be surprising since they've also kept up the accounts of users who've literally told others to kill themselves). This happened years ago when I was still new to the internet (having been sheltered from online discourse prior to attending college) and didn't have the skills set and knowledge at the time to deal with condescending assholes like her. I have avoided this user since, and I want nothing to do with her (or Reddit for that matter), but it's experiences like this which have hardened me and made me cynical about people and life in general.

On an unrelated note, it's why I have no sympathy for Angela when El finally has enough of her bullying and smashes her face in with a roller-skate. I don't usually condone violence, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't get some dark satisfaction in seeing this moment:

Cry me a river of blood and tears, sweetheart. You deserve it.

Getting back to the review, having read this book and listened to the podcast, I related stronglym with Robin during this. I also grew to appreciate Mr. Hauser. He's the one who encouraged Robin to be herself and not let the small-mindedness of other people keep her down. He's the one who supported her plan to travel to Europe (Operation Croissant) and encouraged Robin to find a companion to go with her because he understood that happiness and memories are better shared with others. There's a very powerful scene in the podcast when Robin is at a low point, having come to believe there's something wrong with her, and Mr. Hauser firmly reassures her that she isn't broken and that she doesn't need to change herself for others.

Hearing that, especially as someone who deals with anxiety and depression on a daily basis, nearly moved me to tears.

I wish there were others out there who had a Mr. Hauser in their lives. I met mine on Tumblr years ago, and I'm grateful to know her. If she's reading this, she knows who she is. :)

I should mention at this point that the companion podcast for the book only covers a specific part of the novel (i.e. Chapters 15-29) and they mostly focus on the conversations between Robin and Mr. Hauser that aren't in the book. They're deep conversations about what it's like living in Hawkins, how the books they're reading relate to their current situations, discussions about other characters like Steve, Barb, and Will, having to work in a rigid system that focuses on molding people into becoming productive members of society, and so on. All of it is wrapped in a mystery surrounding Mr. Hauser that Robin begins to piece together.

I read the book first before I listened to the podcast, so I already had the twist regarding Mr. Hauser spoiled, which made the build-up to the mystery feel redundant. I'm sure the podcast is meant to be listened to at the same time you're reading the book, but I don't think it truly matters which order you go in. Even if you haven't read the book or listened to the podcast, it is EXTREMELY EASY to figure out what Mr. Hauser's secret is. If you've been paying attention to what I've been talking about in this review, you've likely figured it out for yourselves.

In any case, it makes what happens to Mr. Hauser later all the more heartbreaking.

It's also the reason why Robin finally has enough when her plans get derailed, and she finally goes full Rebel Robin: She's sick of trying to survive. She's sick of confining herself to a box for people who either don't care for her, want to use her for their own self-serving purposes (i.e. her former friend Dash), or will criticize her no matter what she does. She also realizes that, for all of her scheming on Operation Croissant, it wasn't going to fix her problems:

I can relate. Recently, I got back from a trip to Italy and Greece. While I had a fun time (and brought back some nice souvenirs and pictures), the issues I've had for years didn't magically go away either. Running away doesn't fix your problems, and sometimes you have to face hard truths if you want to move on. I'm still getting there, and I'm glad Robin was able to get there as well.

The climax of this book comes off as a combination of 10 Things I Hate About You, National Lampoon's Animal House, and Mean Girls: It takes place at a school dance, there's a lot of wacky shenanigans that involve damaged property, a sleazebag who's been the antagonist for most of the story rightfully gets humiliated, and there's some kind of reconciliation. Robin doesn't exactly get what she wants (and her behavior is what causes her to end up working alongside Steve Harrington at Scoop's Ahoy), but she does get catharsis and a special moment where she can be herself with someone who also understands her. After spending most of the book wishing for that, it's at least something for her to hold onto.

Part 2: Robin's Relationship With Other Characters

We get to meet Robin's parents in this novel, who are both hippies from the counterculture movement of the 60s. Robin notes that both of them have traveled around most of their lives (which is one of the reasons she's inspired to create Operation Croissant and travel to Europe), they both have other hippie friends who've been on their own exciting adventures, they are relaxed in their parenting of Robin (to the point Robin admits to feeling like the adult in the family), and they taught Robin to question authority and not trust the government (which comes into play for her during her later adventure with Steve, Erica, and Dustin). However, when Will and Barb disappear, they end up becoming a lot more strict with Robin, confiscating her bike and forcing her to take the bus for her own safety.

While Robin is unhappy, it's understandable why they act like this, and it was absolutely the right call considering what was going on at the time. There's even a scene where Robin has a near encounter with the Demogorgon on the night Will disappears, and only barely avoids the monster:

On top of that, when her parents accidentally discover Robin's plans to run away to Europe, they're rightfully upset about it. They make a bunch of incorrect assumptions, but at the same time, this situation was avoidable if Robin had sat down with her parents beforehand and trusted them with what she was planning. I know Robin tries to justify to herself why she didn't, but even though I wanted Robin to explore Europe, I also understand why her parents reacted the way they did. Robin did not think all aspects of her plan through. If I had pulled what she almost did where I ran away during high school and only called my parents once I reached Paris, I know EXACTLY how that would have gone: Not well.

This book also reveals that Robin used to be friends with Barbara Holland back in grade school, only for them to drift apart later. There were certain factors, from Barb hanging out with Nancy more, to Barb becoming more of an overachiever in academics whereas Robin did not, but it wasn't anything bad that ended their friendship. When Barb disappears, Robin constantly projects this idea that Barb managed to get away from Hawkins and isn't truly missing (which is something Mr. Hauser calls Robin out on in the podcast). It gets pretty uncomfortable to read about, especially when the audience already knows what actually happened to her:

Barb acts as the ghost that's still in the room for many characters. Robin speculates on where she went, Nancy is later found sobbing her eyes out in the theater bathroom by Robin, and there's even a scene at the end of the book where Robin sees Nancy and Steve looking alone and scared. Even though Barb isn't mentioned by name, her presence is there:

I know that when it comes to the show, Barb's death had the biggest impact on Nancy, and it's usually Nancy's grief/guilt that gets the most focus, but I wish we'd gotten to see Robin's reaction to learning about Barb's death. It could have even been a bonding moment between Robin and Nancy when they were working together in season 4. Maybe it'll be talked about in season 5, but I'm not holding my breath.

Robin's former friends (Dash, Kate, and Milton) were a mixed bag. Milton was probably the one I like the best, but I wasn't impressed at him distancing himself from Robin later on because he was looking to date Wendy and didn't want people to spread gossip about him dating Robin. Kate was frustrating, and the way she kept trying to push Robin to date other boys (despite Robin insisting she wasn't interested) didn't impress me. Nor was I impressed with her dating Dash. To her credit, she does wise up and apologize to Robin later on, but I do find it telling that her relationship with Robin deteriorated and that Robin refers to both her and Milton as ex-friends by the end.

Dash is straight-up awful. I will talk more about him in the second post for this review, but his character struck a nerve. For all of his posturing about being an intellectual nerd, he's a sleazy womanizer (similar to Billy Hargrove) and a serial cheater. I loathe him the same way I hate Billy, Angela, and Dr Brenner.

Something I appreciated with this book is how it goes out of its way to invert the social dynamic with certain characters. I've seen criticisms before about how the popular kids on Stranger Things are always portrayed as monstrous, and the nerds/outcasts as the heroes, which isn't completely true. Chrissy Cunningham for instance was one of the most popular girls at Hawkins High, and yet was shown to be a sweet (if troubled) person. Steve, despite some initial hiccups, also demonstrated himself to be a good guy, willing to own up to his behavior and put his life on the line for others. By contrast, Henry/One/Vecna portrayed himself to El as being a social outcast growing up, and yet is not only a straight-up sociopath with no empathy for remorse for his actions, but ultimately the Big Bad of the series.

In Rebel Robin, Tammy Thompson is popular in school and has a circle of popular friends, but she's also a kind individual. She's repeatedly nice to Robin, and goes out of her way to talk to Sheena at one point to help her after she gets bullied again. By contrast, Dash labels himself as a band geek/nerd, and yet reveals himself as one of the most condescending, unkind individuals in the series. It's a major reason Robin washes her hands of him, and wants nothing to do with Dash when he shows his true colors. All of this adds a little complexity to the series beyond Popular = Bad and Nerd/Outcast = Good.

And then there's Steve himself: Even though Robin thinks about him in a negative light for most of the novel, I can only recall one or two instances where they briefly interact before the Epilogue (which is when Robin starts working for Scoops Ahoy).

I've seen fans repeatedly debate whether Steve was a bully to others pre-season 1, and the answer this book gives is a firm NO. Steve's shown to be self-absorbed and insensitive at times, but not vicious to others the same way bullies like Troy, Billy, and Angela were. He wasn't malicious, and he didn't go out of his way to torment others for his amusement. At one point, in the podcast, Mr. Hauser point-blank asks Robin if Steve's bullied her, and she denies it. Part of Robin's feelings against Steve are her projecting her issues on to him, part of it is making assumptions about him without the whole context (like when she thinks Steve made Nancy cry at the movie theater when Nancy was actually crying over Barb's death), and part of her dislike occasionally has some merit (like when Steve runs into Robin in the hallway during the podcast and acts like a douche).

All of this makes Steve and Robin bonding with one another in season 3 feels more meaningful. She gets to see a different side to Steve after constantly assuming that people don't change, and he comes to value her as a friend. She shared her secret with him (albeit under the influence of the Russian truth serum), and not only did he accept her for who she was and kept her secret, but also encouraged her to start dating Vickie in season 4. He's the friend she deserves to have.

Assuming that both Robin and Steve survive season 5, I'd love to see Robin fulfill her dream of traveling to Europe, and that she takes Steve with her. He's the true companion to have while they visit museums, cafes, the countryside, and eat plenty of croissants. 🥐

Overall, I strongly recommend both the book and podcast. Both are entertaining and quick to get through, both enhance the show and Robin's character while adding new details, and both are great examples of LGBT+ representation.

To be continued in Part 2..........

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txemrn · 1 year

Text

Déjà Vu

Chapter 4

New? Check out the first THREE chapters HERE! (Go ahead; we'll be here. 😉)

Series Summary: After an unforgettable night with a stranger, Princess Eleanor finds herself caught in a secret love triangle between a noble and a commoner.

Chapter Summary: Drake heads to Club Core with Leo; he unexpectedly meets a young woman that reminds him of a past life.

Pairing(s): mention of Liam x Riley; Drake x Riley (former)

Word Count: ~4970

Warning: 🔞 Mature Audiences Only 🔞 language (tons; it's Drake); sexual references (crude); mention of excessive drinking; drug-use reference; brief violence

A/N: Welcome to my Crack Fic! If you are new, hi! Thank you for joining us! This story takes place approximately 2 decades after TRR/TRH. I have made some canonical changes (they will be mentioned). Although this is from my crazy mind, it takes a village! Huge thanks to my sweet writing buddies for helping me figure out various parts! Love y'all! Characters and some plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry! This was not Beta'd; please excuse my errors.

~🖤~

Drake

What the fuck was I thinking? I hate large crowds and eardrum-piercing music. I hate being around people who can't hold their liquor, not to mention I hate dancing. But even worse, I hate Leonardo Anselm Phineas Rys. Old thorn in my side. What in the actual fuck made me agree to hang out with blondie in the first place? At a club? On opening night?

Because you're lonely, and he offered free booze…

My twisted expression relaxes as I shrug my shoulders. Meh. I guess it could be worse.

"Okay, baby… I'll be home later… yes… I'll tell Liam you said, 'hello'..." Leo gives an obnoxious kissing sound before disconnecting his call with the touch of a button. He lets out a sigh, taking a hit of his vape pen. "Dahlia," he answers to the question I never asked. He glances at me, sucking in his bottom lip before giving me a slow flutter of a wink. "She's a bit clingy."

I nod, drumming my fingers against the leather interior, playing it cool like I care. "Is… she your–?"

"Friend."

Ah. Okay. 'Friend.' The term just glides off of his tongue. Nonchalant. Sweet and syrupy, almost as if he believes the bullshit he's feeding this poor girl that's waiting at home for him.

And she thinks what now? That he's coming over after an evening with his brother's family which, no doubt, she has never met. And judging by that brief interaction with goldie locks here, she doesn’t seem to have the intellectual capacity to wonder why she wasn't invited to the dinner in the first place.

Side-piece. Booty-call. Friend. It's all just semantics to douchebags like Leo Rys.

I fidget with the navy collar to the button-down shirt Leo loaned me. I could barely fit my broad shoulders into the lean cut of his tailored threads. The guy has a rock hard physique, but tough, manual labor creates a different kind of body. A strong one. Like mine.

The buttons pull slightly across my chest as I flash a glance in the car visor mirror. I look like a fucking tool. I'm not used to my stubble brushing up against starched cotton; I'm usually wearing a tee, my work denim and my steel-toes. I mean, unless I'm meeting with a client or going out to dinner where you have a waiter and utensils. But, other than that, I am a fish out of water: this shirt is uncomfortable. And I have a feeling this is just a prelude of what's to come.

At least Leo approved of my jeans and Tecovas. He tried throwing my trusty chambray shirt in the trash. "No one has worn this for at least twenty years… and they weren't even wearing it then."

Fuck off.

We pull up to this club, and I swear everyone in Cordonia has turned out for this spectacle. The moment Rys steps out of his 'I didn't want anything too flashy' red Ferrari, the paps were on him like white on rice. Flashes of light rain from every direction as reporters flood him with curious questions about his Gucci loafers and gray Brioni blazer.

Lucky for me, I'm a nobody, and the press quickly discovers that the moment I step out onto the red carpet. Dropping their cameras and microphones in disappointment, they instantly turn their attention elsewhere. I don't know if I should be grateful… or offended, to be honest. At least confuse me for Leo's new lover… bunch of dickwads.

I push past the commotion, combing my hair out of my eyes as I look around the red carpet. This place is pretty snazzy, but holy fuck, they didn't spare with any expenses. It’s like a fucking fortress: a tall, wrought iron fence encased with stone surrounds the perimeter. Armed security in black tie a la James Bond swarm the space.

Now, the entrance? This wasn't just any ol’ red carpet; oh, fuck no, that wouldn't do for such a prestigious guest list. Contortionists and acrobats on pedestals perform sultry poses and maneuvers, leaving the crowd bewildered and amazed.

Scantily clad women tend to the average Joe commoners waiting in line. They serve hors d'oeuvres and complimentary spirits, fooling them into thinking they're still important even though they're on the outskirts of the main event, and truth be told: they'll never get in.

Taking it all in, I suddenly feel a massive clap against my back before an arm hugs tightly around my neck.

"Ready, Walker?" Leo pops his gum in between his smarmy grin. "Let's get our dicks wet."

—

Fucking. A. I'm pretty sure I just entered the third level of hell.

"Hey-yo, Walker!"

Make that the fourth level…

I glance back at Rys who is now flocked with an entourage of, and I quote, ‘aspiring models,’ all with their fake tits falling out of their tops, their overly-injected blow-job lips, and lashes so thick, you can't tell if they're sleeping or having a stroke. He flashes those pearly whites as he dangles a small, gram-size plastic bag of white powder.

Now, I'm not against tokin' up or getting obliterated with alcohol, but cocaine isn't my style… not to mention, if we got caught–no doubt, Leo knows people that could bail us out, but if Liam and Riley were to hear about this? They'd kick me to the curb in an instant, especially with their kid around. They’d label me as a bad influence, and Liam would give me that fatherly disappointment glare.

"What do you think, Walker?" Leo nods with eager anticipation. "Wanna join… all of us?" He lets out a knowing laugh, winking at the women around him. They take his cue and begin to giggle, as if he was the funniest, most charming man they've ever met.

And my IQ just dropped two points.

"I think… I'm going to… " I notice a large bar area, quickly throwing a hitched thumb back at it. "...I'll check out the bar,"

"Suit yourself." The women practically swallow him whole with their arms. "Don't forget: give 'em my name. Drinks on me!"

The drove of venereal diseases buzzes off with their king, and a sense of relief washes over me. Would I rather be at home? Absolutely, but since I'm already here…

I make my way toward the crowded bar area, ducking between drunken cat fights and groping couples. Finding a stool, I plant my ass down, and despite how busy it is, the bartender tends to me quickly–probably because I'm a 45- year-old man alone in a club. Translation: I have money, I know what I want, and chances are, what I order doesn't require my rim being bedazzled with seasonings, flowers, or fruit.

"What can I get ya?"

Oh, shit, I haven't heard that distinct nasally Portavira accent in so long. My God…

"Um… Larceny. Neat."

"Double?"

My man… I nod as I watch him pull out the bottle and a clean tumbler.

"Do you have a tab started, sir?"

I reach for my wallet, but I abruptly stop, remembering Leo's words. 'Give 'em my name. Drinks on me!'

"I do. It's under Rys," I smirk, "and actually, do you have Macallan?"

The bartender stops, giving me a glance over when finally a Cheshire grin creeps across his face as if he just struck oil. "We sure do, Mr. Rys." He extends his hand to fist bump me before reaching to the top shelf for a new bottle of the liquid gold. Before I knew it, he's twirling the tumbler across the bar. "Enjoy, Mr. Rys."

Taking a sip, I give him a wink as a thank you as I bask in the much needed woodsy burn of clove on my tongue. Damn, that's tasty.

Feeling more relaxed, I glance out onto the dance floor as other club-goers get lost in the hypnotic buzz of the ethanol electrifying their veins. The tantric beat of the music and the flashing swirl of multicolored lights feeds the adrenaline and raging hormones as people grab and grope one another.

I am way too old for this scene.

I grab my glass to take another pull when out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar face at the bar. Turning my head to get a better look, I suddenly swallow my whiskey down the wrong pipe, causing me to fall into a fit of coughs. Smooth, Walker, real smooth.

Blinking back the tears, I sniff into a napkin before looking back at the beautiful face. Shit. She's absolutely…wow. Gorgeous dark, silky waves, porcelain skin, that pouty mouth with those big, doe eyes… She's the spitting image of… Riley.

"Fuck," I growl at myself before rubbing the shit out of my eyes. No way, it can't be. I look up again, and instantly I can feel my jeans begin to tighten.

You're just wanting to see her. You're just wanting it to be her, especially with what happened back at the palace.

I down the rest of my drink before allowing my attention to be completely saturated by this girl.

It's not Riley. It's not…

See? Her nose appears more prominent from the side, and-and her neck. Her neck seems longer, slender. And her eyes. They're gorgeous and big… they aren't Riley's navy blues, but damn, that sparkle–

"Would you like another–?"

"Please," I grumble as I stare at this Riley look-alike. I just… can't tear my eyes away. Her presence feels so real, so intimate. Now, judging from this woman's creamy, velvet skin, she's young. Maybe early 20s. Way out of my league… but still that face. It's like looking into a past life, a life I once loved.

—

(Two decades ago…)

"Brooks," Drake whispers loudly, "come on!"

"Shhhh!" Riley presses a finger to her lips, stifling her giggles as she looks down from her palace window. "Are you trying to wake everyone up? You're going to get me into trouble."

"You are trouble, lady."

Riley looks back at the commoner, the glint of mischief in his eyes making her adrenaline pump faster through her veins. "Now are you sure about this?" She bites her lip, "you'll catch me if–"

"For the hundredth time, yes," Drake rolls his eyes, holding his arms out wide.

Since Drake's confession to Riley at Applewood, the two of them have been enjoying each other's company, especially after hours. They flirt with danger, sharing in kisses that they swear will never happen again for obvious reasons: she is there to pursue Liam and his hand in marriage; Drake is his best friend.

After watching Liam share a kiss with Riley, a dam of excruciating jealousy broke in Drake's heart. He already shared with Riley before that he was developing feelings for her, but now, it was… something else. Something more.

During dinner, the commoner passed her a note, asking her to meet him outside her window after midnight because they needed to talk.

Riley is staying in the guest quarters off the West Wing with the other suitors. She's only on the second floor, but still, a jump from that high could be dangerous. So, Drake helped the brunette construct a climbing rope with her top sheet.

"I've got ya. Just… ease yourself over."

Riley takes one step at a time, following Drake's directions; but when she gets close to the ground, she looks back at Drake, raising an eyebrow, then jumps.

"Whoa!" Drake stumbles as Riley crashes into his chest, his arms quickly cradling her close. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Riley giggles, combing her fingers through Drake's thick hair. "Sometimes a girl just wants to be caught."

Their eyes lock on one another, Drake's hand finding her cheek. He gently rubs his thumb across her soft skin, her eyes fluttering closed as she leans into his touch.

"Come with me," he whispers softly while grabbing her hand.

"Wait… I thought we were going to talk–"

"I want to show you something." Riley gives him a curious glare. "It's a surprise," he smirks, pulling her to follow him.

They walk silently, hand-in-hand across the grounds, playfully gazing back-and-forth at one another–that is, until all a sudden a bright flashlight skims over where they are walking.

"Who goes there?" A palace guard bellows.

"Brooks, take off your flip-flops," Drake commands under his breath, watching the guard in the distance.

"What? Why?"

"Just trust me," he squeezes her fingers.

Riley quickly kicks them off, holding them in her hands. "Okay… now what?"

Drake grabs her hand again, his grip tight. "Run!" Giving her a warning tug, they both take off across the wet lawn, Riley following Drake's lead.

"Where… are we… going?" She pants, laughter bubbling from her chest.

"You'll see," Drake chuckles, "but we have to lose Barney Fife first!"

Dodging the glow of the searching lights, Drake and Riley finally make it to a large wall of greenery. Finding an entry, they pass through the walkway and hide behind the vines and leaves.

Drake looks to see if they finally lost the guards, but Riley takes a moment to look around the thicket they just entered.

"Whoa," her eyes widen as she looks at the well-manicured covert. "Where… where are we?"

"It's… a maze. A hedge maze that we used to play in as kids."

"Are you serious?" She meanders down a corridor, looking around a corner. "It's so dark. Did you ever get lost?"

Drake chuckles, reaching into his pocket. "Plenty of times." He saunters closer to Riley, pulling out a flashlight and handing it to her. The air crackles around them as the charm of the blue moon ignites the twinkle in their eyes. Drake lowers his voice into a deep gravel. "Come get lost with me, Riley Brooks."

With that, he smiles and takes off jogging, Riley staying close behind. "Hey, not so fast Drake." She turns a corner and notices his denim shirt discarded on the grass. "You lost your shirt."

"Did I now?" He snickers. "Can you bring it to me?"

Riley scoffs into a giggle as she continues through the maze at the sound of his voice. "Maybe if you'd stop running away–"

"Maybe if you weren't so slow–"

"Hey!" Riley chides, "I just jumped out of a window–" she falls silent as finds Drake's belt tossed on the ground. She collects it in her hand, biting her bottom lip. "Drake?"

"You're getting warm," he teases. Riley stumbles through another corner, turning left, then right. The sounds of her toes in the grass compliment her heavy breathing as she stops again to the cooing of his voice. "Warmer, Brooks."

She continues until suddenly, she notices a warm glow just up ahead. Her steps quicken until finally she reaches a small clearing in the maze that opens to a stunning backdrop of the star-filled sky. Gas-lit sconces illuminate the garden, revealing tapestries of vines and flowers fixed to wooden lattice work amongst the bushes.

"Wow," Riley gasps, her eyes glowing with the wonder all around her. "This is beautiful." She feels Drake's warm touch on her hand, their fingers lacing together.

"Cmon," he tugs on her, "I want to show you something."

"There's more?" She giggles, following his lead. They walk a short, pebbled path until they are standing in front of a large gray-stoned well. Riley presses her fingertips to the cold marbled edges before looking down into the dark abyss. Her eyes shift to Drake, "Is this where you murder me?" He chuckles, shaking his head as she turns back to the well opening. "Hello!" She shouts, the echoes welcoming each other back and forth.

"I'll be honest, Brooks." Riley looks back at Drake. "I'm kinda shocked Liam hasn't already brought you here. It's one of his favorite places to show off in the entire estate."

"Oh," Riley's eyebrows knit together with a pained expression.

"Hey," Drake nudges her playfully. "What's with the long face?"

Riley snickers into a scoff before finally succumbing to tears. "I'm just exhausted," she pulls her hands to her face.

"Brooks," he pulls her into his comforting arms.

"This social season bullshit is just … it's really screwing with my head," she sniffles. "I've never been more insecure in all my life, and what for?" She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, clearing her throat. "I wish I knew where I stood. I wish the competition was over. I wish–"

Drake reaches into his pocket, pulling out a couple of worn copper coins. He offers them to a confused Riley.

"Pennies?" She sniffles.

"Yeah," he chuckles, "I forgot to get rid of them when we were in New York. They're worthless here. No conversion."

Riley's lips begin to curl. "Then why keep them?"

Drake starts inspecting the coins in his hand, allowing them to softly clang together in his palm. "I read a book once–"

"--picture books don't count as reading."

"Ha. Ha." He smirks, feigning annoyance as he starts to jingle the coins in his hand. "I read that in ancient civilizations, finding random metals was a sign or a blessing from the gods."

"You see them everywhere back home. The streets, sidewalks," she snickers, "a whole cent. How generous of the gods."

"What? A penny isn't enough for you?" Drake playfully growls, slowly leaning closer to Riley. She coyly bats her lashes, a soft titter in her throat. "Here." He puts a coin in her hand.

"What's this for?" Riley studies the trinket.

"For something bigger, citizens would offer the metal back to the gods, like a payment. So they would say a silent prayer, then toss it–"

"--into a well," Riley softly finishes.

Drake nods over his shoulder to the stoned well. "Let's make your wishes count."

One by one, Drake and Riley silently take pennies, casting them into the well with unspoken hopes and dreams until every last coin was gone. Feeling his close proximity, Riley stares up into his dark eyes, getting lost into a charming stillness.

"What did you wish for?" She whispers.

Drake slowly shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He offers a crooked grin. Combing his fingers into Riley's dark, espresso waves, his hand gently grips the back of her neck, pulling her closer. "All my wishes have already come true, Brooks." He closes the space between them, their lips grazing one another. The feather-light touch instantly ignites a hunger, one they both feel and crave. Drake pulls back, chuckling under his breath as he fidgets with the hem of Riley's shirt. "So... why didn't you take off any clothes?"

Riley bites her bottom lip. "Maybe... because... I wanted my wish to come true." She pauses, her fingers tucking into the front pocket of Drake's jeans, pulling his hips flush against hers.

He swallows thickly. "Which is?"

"Take them off for me, Walker."

—

(Present)

Damnit. I adjust myself in my jeans, but my cock always hardens at the memory of Riley and me that night. We fucked. A lot. But that night, our first night together, it was more than just sex. We made love.

I take a swig of my new drink that the bartender must've dropped off while I was taking a stroll down the boulevard of broken dreams when my eyes dart to my Riley look-alike.

And I feel my dick shrink.

She's with someone, some blond tool, probably named Chad, with a tool haircut that shops at Tools-R-Us with a matching trust fund.

I sigh to myself, polishing the rest of my drink before staring at my empty glass.

He is pretty hot; I don't blame her.

I glance at them one more time, kissing my own dirty fantasy away when I notice something odd. His hand is sternly gripped around her wrist, staring at her like she's his next meal.

But her face tells a different story. She seems to be struggling, trying to tear her arm away from him. Those big, doe eyes are panicked, large as table saucers as she frantically looks for help.

I sigh. Goddamnit...

I wipe a napkin across my mouth as I stand, my glare fixed on this commotion transpiring before me. I shrug my shoulders, loosening the tight fabric off my back as I stretch my muscles. Just in case.

I hurry my way through the dense crowd of patrons gathered around the bar. I flex my fingers, bending my wrist as I get closer.

Ah, shit. This is the part I'm bad at. What do I say first? 'Stop that!' No, that's lame. I need something clever, like maybe, 'Is there a problem here?' How about–

My clenched fist meets his jaw, knocking the asshole in one swing into a bartop table before he crashes down onto the floor. He's so disoriented; he's trying to get up, but he keeps slipping on shards of glass, falling back into the pathetic rumple he calls his life.

Fuck. My hand. I know it will hurt like a bitch in a few minutes when my body depletes of adrenaline, but for right now, I'm basking in the moment.

A smirk grows on my mouth, but it doesn't last for long. The young woman. I turn to the Riley look-alike, her terrified stare already fixed on me. Instinctively, I carefully put my hand on her shoulder. She's shaking.

"Excuse me, miss. Are you alright?"

Ho.ly. Fuuuuuuck.

Brooks? Seeing her up close is almost painful; I can feel my balls beginning to ache. This woman is hauntingly stunning: the subtle freckles on her nose, the curve of the bow to her top lip, even the flounce of her long, flirty eyelashes. She's beautiful; she's… like somebody I used to know…

The young woman shyly nods, but she's trembling. She's clearly not alright.

And I suddenly possess this overwhelming need to take her in my arms, hold her tight and let her know she's safe.

Calm down, Walker.

"Let's get you away from this." I look up, noticing an open lounge-type area near the dance floor with large, plush couches. Offering my arm, she holds on tightly as we escape through the debris of the nightmare that just happened. Placing a reassuring hand on her back, I encourage her to sit.

I, on the other hand, keep an eye on douche canoe who is being helped up by security and his friends. But, I don't think he'll be a problem for us anymore tonight. He never got a good look at me, and even if he had, something tells me his ego would keep him away from telling the truth of who made him taste his own blood.

Turning towards the young woman, I notice she is anxiously looking around, her body on edge. I tilt myself to her ear, shouting over the blaring music, "Are you here with anyone?"

She nods, "B-but it's okay," she yells back, waving her hands. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

She fakes a smile, and my God, it knocks me back. Stunning.

Focus on her words, Walker...

"I don't exactly want to…"

I don't quite understand the rest of her statement, her words lost in the heavy beat of the music. I give her an inquisitive look, causing her to careen towards my ear, her hand brushing across my shoulder.

And my cock twitches. Breathe, buddy…

"I said… I don't want to interrupt their fun." She motions aimlessly to the dance floor. Got it.

"Can I call someone for you? Family perhaps?"

Her eyes widen. "What? No, no."

She grins, but it's clearly hiding her true feelings. Which is fine. I'm a complete stranger. Shit, she probably thinks I'm some creepy old man, hitting on her at the bar. And sure, maybe on a night where she wasn't assaulted, maybe I would've bought her a drink, asked for her number.

But the fact of the matter is this: I really don't feel comfortable leaving this girl alone. She just got into a physical altercation with… whoever that guy was. Her boyfriend? Oh shit, husband? I look at her hand; I don't see a ring, but that doesn't mean anything. You never know these days. Still, she doesn't need to be by herself right now. She really doesn't need to be here, but again, who am I but another creep at the bar.

I run my fingers through my hair. Oh, what the hell. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

A hint of fear crosses her expression as she looks me over.

I hold up my hands in defense before leaning over her shoulder. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone in a place like this," I shout, "especially with what happened with your boyfriend."

She takes a deep breath. She flashes those big, brown eyes at me before finally nodding in agreement.

And my heart melts.

I offer my hand. "Drake."

The corners of her lips curl as she takes my hand, leaning towards my ear. "Jake?" She yells.

I shake my head, facing her ear more directly. "Drake!" I holler over the deep thrumming of the bass.

She raises an eyebrow. "Jake?"

Eh, close enough. I smile in agreement.

"I'm Nora," she smiles, already more relaxed.

"Nora?" I repeat, ensuring I heard her correctly. At least one of us should be called by our real names this evening.

She nods innocently, a beautiful rosy pink painting her cheeks. "Oh, and, um… he's not my boyfriend." A piece of her hair falls like liquid silk into her eyes as she looks down at her lap. She quickly shoos the wisp away, chasing it behind her ear before looking back at me, trying to figure out my angle. Am I here to hurt her? Flirt with her? Invite her home for a messy, drunken fuck?

Don't worry, sweetie, you're safe with me.

"American?"

She catches me off guard with that one. "Uh, yeah. How did you–?"

She points to her mouth, her lips perfectly rounded and plump, painted a deep crimson. Oh, duh. My watered-down accent. Toto, we're not in Texas anymore. It's hard to believe that at one point in my life, I actually sounded like these people. Every once in a while, the Cordonian beast pounces, but these days, I sound like the typical American mutt.

"Are you on vacation?" Nora asks.

I smirk, shaking my head. "I… moved here for work."

"To Cordonia?" She snickers. "Of all places?"

"Fair," I chuckle under my breath as I feel the heat rise up my neck. "I… grew up here, so I have… connections, friends and family. It makes for an easy transition. How about you?"

Her eyes brighten, like a pageant contestant being asked about world peace. "Cordonian. Born and raised."

"That's unfortunate," I joke. Sorta.

"Hey," she giggles, scrunching up her nose playfully. She swats the back of her hand against my shoulder. The touch sends a shockwave of familiarity, robbing me of my breath. "I love Cordonia–"

"Spoken like a true Cordonian."

"And… what's wrong with that?"

Drake guffaws. "What isn't wrong with that?"

"Your tone is suggesting that there's something wrong with having pride in your country–"

"It's egotistical–"

"The only thing egotistical is thinking that your opinion about Cordonia is the only opinion to be had." She furrows her brows. "If you hate it so much, why did you come back?"

Shit. She's feisty. And this conversation has gone completely off the rails. I can't tell if she's really pissed… or if I'm just really turned on and wanting a sparring match.

Fuck. You just had to be a jackass…

"Okay, truth?" I offer, even though I'm sure she wants to toss a drink in my face at this point.

She turns to face me, tucking her leg underneath her. "Please."

"I had a rough time fitting in here. Except for my best friend. He's–" I grin thinking about Liam and I, growing up together, how perfect and inseparable we were. "--as Cordonian as you can get. Well, except… I mean, his mom… nevermind," I shake my head. "He's the nicest person I've ever met in my life. I needed some help after a bad business deal, and… he was there and… now I'm here."

"Huh." She sits back, crossing her arms as she takes me in. She raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips curling. She's clearly unsure of me, and I don't blame her.

"Drinks?" A cocktail waitress dressed in a skimpy, leather skirt interrupts us.

Rubbing the back of my neck nervously, I turn to Nora. I have a feeling that this might be the end of the night for us, especially if I don't offer her a cocktail.

I stare at the sparkling flecks of bronze in her eyes. There's something about this girl, more than just the memories she stirs up in me. I can't explain it… shit, then again, maybe I'm fooling myself, wanting something to be there that never was. Still… I clear my throat… you never know unless you try.

"Would… you like one? A drink?"

She narrows her eyes in thought… and fucking hell, she's so goddamn beautiful. Like Riley incarnate. The mannerisms, some of her expressions. Watching her literally robs me of speech and air, and I am dying to spend more time with her. Hell, who knows where the night will take us.

I really hope she agrees to this drink. I can tell I haven't exactly won her over in the past twenty minutes, but if she would just agree to one more drink, just a few more minutes with me, maybe history could repeat itself. Maybe I could experience the woman of my dreams in a different way. Now, I could never tell Nora this; she could never find out. I mean, I am attracted to her, it's just…

"Sure," Nora interrupts my thoughts, her lips curling. "I'll take a drink."

~🖤~

Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤

~🖤~

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kaizyi · 2 years

Text

Party Girl

neighbor!Eddie x f!reader(y/n)

context: you go to a party, you meet Jason, bad stuff happens, you go 'home'.

warnings: swearing, sexual assault, trauma, opening up, It's also not very proofread!

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

WARNING!!! SEXUAL ASSAULT INVOLVED!!!

Y/N POV

There is this huge party downtown and I heard most of my friends are going there. Even though I usually don't go to parties, maybe I should change that. Plus, it's better than spending all day doing nothing in this little old trailer anyway.

I took out my party dress from the deep dark depths of the compartment under my bed and tried it on. It used to fit nicely a year ago... Now it's a bit tight on me but it kinda makes me look more like a party freak this way. I'll wear it. It is now 6 pm and the party starts at 8 pm. I'm getting ready and set to go. I bet all the fancy ladies will probably come in with their rich handsome boyfriends with his new fancy car. I'm just an ordinary girl living in a trailer park with her mom but I have a car. I can drive myself there and under no circumstances I'm ever letting a boy drive me to a party. I decided to sit in my car and wait for the time to come. It'd be stupid to arrive so early right?

EDDIE POV

I decided to go outside for some air after smoking so much weed, I see the girl next door walking to her car in a party dress. She looks kinda hot, wearing such tight clothing. I bet she's going to the party downtown but I thought she never goes to parties? Does she consider how easy it is to catch creeps going like that to a party with a bunch of strangers? She sat in her car but did not move. I guess she's waiting for the perfect time to leave. I mean, everyone is invited, right? I wouldn't go to a party either but maybe I can go too. Logic doesn't say freaks can't go to parties. I can at least help this party girl when I can.

I decided to wear some casual clothing and wear some cologne in case I encounter some pretty ladies. I get ready to leave at 8.30 pm and I could see that the party girl has left. I hurry my way into my van and drive off to the place full of dorks.

Y/N POV

I arrived outside the house at about 8.45 pm. I hesitated on whether I should go in or not but right then, I heard someone knock on my window. When I looked to see who it was, it was Nancy, my best friend. I got out of the car in relief. "Nancy, you scared me," I said. "Sorry, I'll knock lighter next time." she smiled at me. "No, I was scared that you wouldn't come. I was just scared of going in there alone." I told her. "It's okay, Y/N. I'm here, now let's go inside, you look stunning by the way," she said as she took my hand and we went inside the house. As we went in, I could feel stares. I'm not sure if they were staring at Nancy or me. We went to the counter and grabbed a few drinks. "What is this?" I asked her. "I think it is pure fuel." she laughed as she chugged a cup of it. "Is this alcohol? I can't be having alcohol," I told her. "Come on Y/N! What is a party without alcohol? Try being a partier at least once in your life. You might never experience it again." she laughed at me. "True." I smiled and started drinking the bitter liquid.

After a bit of drinking, Nancy decided to go to Steve and Johnathan so I was left alone. I sat down on an armchair and stared at the clock. It read 9.30 pm. I felt dizzy and sort of lost but pulled myself together since I was among a crowd of partiers.

EDDIE POV

I had a hard time trying to find the place where the party was but in the end, I found it. I walked in and right then and there, I saw Y/N drinking on an armchair. Isn't she only 18? I thought she didn't drink. I walked up to her, seeing that she is unwell. "Hey Y/N," I said before she looked at me confused. "What? Eddie Munson, my neighbor?" she asked. "Yeah, it's me. Are you having a good time?" I asked her. "Yes but no. I feel great that I finally fit in but my insides feel like they're about to pour out of me in seconds," she said which me laugh. "Do you want to go to the bathroom?" I offered her. "No thanks, I know what guys are up to these days. I'll go on my own. Don't think you can take advantage of me just because I'm a bit out of it." she told me. I stood out of her way as she walked to the bathroom, struggling. I watched her go in safely which made me sigh in relief. Why am I even here? Just to escort her? Just like she said, I'm sure she can on her own. So I walked to the door and Jason approached me. "What? Is this the freak at a party?" he said as the boys behind him laughed. "Yes it's me, don't cream your pants," I said as I gave them a fake smile before walking away. I left and entered my van and drove off.

Y/N POV

I started to throw up, feeling my insides twist. I've never felt such horrible discomfort in my entire life. After I finished throwing up, I stood up from the toilet to wash my hands and saw the popular guy Jason standing right in front of me. I felt even more discomfort and on top of that, uneasiness. "Hi, Jason. Why are you here?" I asked him nervously. "Hey Y/N. Looks like you finally came to a party. I was really surprised at the sight of you here," he told me as he smiled in a way that made him look like he was up to no good. "Yeah, I'm surprised I even came here," I answered him, almost studdering. "I was thinking, maybe we can hang out a bit?" he said as he put his arm around my hips making me shake a bit. "Look, Jason, there is no problem in us hanging out but I really need some privacy right now, I don't even know how you got in here but can you please wait until I'm done with vomiting up my insides?" I asked him nicely but he pulled me in toward him, holding onto me even tighter. "Oh but I want to hang out right now. Right here. Plus, the door was open. I only wanted to handle my business but I saw you in here, so vulnerable. Almost looks like you could let anything happen to you and not feel worried." he said as his hand started to travel even lower. "Can you leave me alone, please? I don't feel comfortable," I said, making him laugh. "Aww, you don't feel uncomfortable? Who cares?" he shut the door behind him, locking it. I started crying uncontrollably of the feeling of intimidation, wondering what was about to happen to me. I stepped back from him. "Jason, please don't do this. I'm a human being too. Plus, you have a girlfriend! Think about how she would feel if she found out what you and I did!" he turned around, looking angrier. "Chrissy broke up with me. Don't you ever talk about that again. I'll make her pay one day." he got closer with every word, making me cry even harder. "No, Jason. Get away from me. Or else-" "Or else what? Will you scream for help? Do you think that anyone could hear your screams mid-partying out of their minds? The only people close to sober are me and you." he said, causing my heart to sink. He pulled me in for a kiss aggressively, causing my cold tears to touch his cheeks. I couldn't believe something like this was happening to me. I can only try to save myself, or get into even bigger trouble. I pushed Jason with all my strength, into the bathtub, causing him to get hurt. I wasted no time, unlocking the door and running out even though I was still drunk, causing me to trip in between steps. I made it out of the hellish place, not even worrying about Nancy and into my car, immediately locking it and driving away right before Jason reached my car. I almost went into a breakdown, driving and crying. I tried hard not to get into an accident, making it home safely. I got out of my car and ran into my trailer and locked the door behind me, crying and having a hard time catching breaths.

EDDIE POV

I was laying in my bed, about to sleep but a bit worried if Y/N was okay. Then a car pulled up, causing me to get up and check it out. She immediately left the car in a hurry and ran to my door, opened it quickly, and shut it, locking it. She was crying with makeup all over her face, struggling to breathe. I ran to her. "Y/N??? Are you okay? What happened? Why are you crying?" I asked her quickly. She looked at me, eyes filled with tears. I could see she is struggling a lot to form words, not even that but struggling to breathe. "Hey hey hey, it's okay, don't cry. Whatever happened to you back there, you are safe now. Shit, I knew I shouldn't have left you there. It's okay." I held onto her shoulders, making her flinch. I was worried to death. "I-I, J-Jason" is all I heard. She kept trying to breathe in between words so I pulled her into a hug, feeling her shaken body. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to talk. Just calm down first, take deep breaths, and don't cry, it's okay. I got you." I said as I rubbed her back up and down, lightly so she wouldn't feel uncomfortable. A bit later, I felt her breathing come back to normal. I broke the hug and asked her again. "Tell me, what happened? Why are you crying? What did Jason do to you?" then saw her look at me confused. "Wait, Munson? w-why are you here?" she asked me, dragging her body away from me. "Y/N, I'm not gonna hurt you. I know Jason did something to you and I need you to tell me what happened. You ran into my trailer and locked the door behind you. I'm guessing you went into my trailer by accident?" I said as her tenseness lessened. "I guess I did. I don't feel so good. Can I have some water, please?" she asked me. "Of course, but promise me you'll tell me what happened," I said to her, making her eyes tear up and frown. "Please, I don't wanna talk about it," she said, making my heart break at the sight of her like this. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have left.

I poured her a glass of cold water and helped her sit down on the couch, wrapping her up in a blanket. She stank of alcohol and seemed like she was still pretty drunk as well. After she chugged the cold water, she rested her head on my shoulder and started crying. "I'm sorry for talking to you like you were a creep. I should've known that you were such a sweet guy after all. Jason was the real creep." she said to me, making me feel so bad. I hesitated on whether I should put my hand on her head or not but decided that it might help reassure her so I did.

Y/N POV

My mind was still very out of it. I felt like crap still. I couldn't keep a word to myself so I told him everything. Every single thing I did at the party and what happened and even the tragic little story of my life. I regret going to the party. So. Much.

I kept on talking about whatever comes to mind, not even aware of what until I slowly drifted off to sleep.

I then woke up, feeling like I have a knife in my head and stomach. I looked around and saw an unfamiliar place, making me uneasy. Am I still at the party? I instantly got up and looked around. I saw a guy in a white shirt and jeans. I couldn't really make out who it was, my vision kept going in and out until I suddenly had the urge to throw up. I ran around the place, searching for the bathroom, opening and closing every door until I found it. I threw up a lot and then sat there on the bathroom floor after flushing the toilet. I could finally see like a normal person again. I didn't feel like knives were in my head and stomach as much anymore, but still a little. I saw my neighbor, Eddie Munson standing by the door looking at me worried. I'm confused, why is he here? Am I at my neighbor's trailer? Oh right, I ran into his by accident and broke down in front of him. Embarrassing much huh. "Hey, are you good? Do you need some water? I made eggs if you want to eat." he said. After a bit of thinking, "Yeah, sure." is all I said. He helped me up off the ground and into the kitchen table. After sitting down had I just noticed, I'm wearing a white t-shirt and shorts that aren't mine? "What am I wearing? Did you change my clothes?" I asked him worriedly. "No, actually you did it yourself," he said, making me confused. "I don't remember changing into these?" I said to him. "Oh Y/N Y/N, you think you would remember after drinking so much?" he asked me smiling. "I remember everything. Except for the changing part?" I told him which made him laugh. "Trust me Y/N, you did it yourself after waking up in the middle of the night telling me how itchy you were in that dress so I gave you some of my clothes. Also, you remember everything from yesterday?" he asked me. I then got hit with all that happened yesterday, making me think. "Yes, even the part where I got sexually assaulted by Jason," I told him, making his smile fade away. "It's okay. Things like this happen to some of us. You can't expect a perfect life you know?" I shrugged and started eating. "You didn't deserve it. I'm sorry I left you there. It's all my fault." he said making me feel guilty. "No, it's not your fault. I made you leave and plus, even if you were there, you don't need to help. I'll only owe you more." I smiled, reassuring him.

After we finished eating, I sat at the table waiting for him to finish washing the dishes and after he did, I remembered how caring and reassuring he was to me yesterday. Without him, I couldn't have snapped out of the breakdown. "Thank you, so much for helping me yesterday. I don't know what I would've done without you. I'm kinda happy that I ran into the wrong home." I smiled at him and he smiled back. "It's okay. Now I know more about you, thanks to your emotions," he said. I then realized that I even said all of the little details about me and my life. "Wait, did I-" I asked him when I got cut off. "You did. You told me everything. Not just the party, and it's okay. Thank YOU for trusting me." he smiled at me. I guess this guy is just a really good soul.

After that day, we started hanging out and talking more often. He would help me a lot with any issues I had, and I helped him wherever I could as well. We became better friends and mom made me take a few months off of school after I told her to get me to overcome the fear of Jason. My mom very much knows about Eddie and thanks him to this day.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson headcannon #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #joseph quinn #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #reader x eddie munson #eddie stranger things

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haniegame · 7 months

Text

📂 Main characters

⤷ Yoon Jeonghan x fem!reader

📂 Honorable mentions

⤷ Lisa & Jennie (BlackPink)

📂 Genre

⤷ fluff, angsty, caregiver!jeonghan, strangers to friends, slice of life (?)

📂 Warnings

⤷ bad family relationship, mentioned human body fluids a few times, main character death, awkward situations, naked reader in NON-sexual way, age gap, reader being sick, mentioned/talking about reader's weight

📂 Authors note

⤷ Hi ♡, I'm just here to say that the end is... meh. I did not know how exactly to end it and I came up with this. Yeah...

• If I miss something, let me know ♡ (p.s English is NOT my first language, thank you)

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎ -> masterlist

"Oh, I forgot to mention!" Lili suddenly said, grabbing your attention again after a few minutes of silence. The only thing that could be heard in the room was a TV show playing. "A new person is joining us." she gave you a small smile.

"Really?" you raised your eyebrows in surprise. It was quite rare to hear that they have a new worker that goes out; usually, it's someone who does all the paperwork and stuff like that, staying inside the building with not so much work. "But we both know how it will end." your lips shook slightly and your eyes once again focused on the phone you were holding.

"Hmm, yeah." she nodded. "But maybe he won't chicken out like the others. He will definitely come in handy with his strength," she said with hope, and now it was your turn to nod. But then you realized what she said...

"It's a boy?" you asked her a little anxiously. It's not common for boys to do this type of job and you weren't mad about it. You were glad, but... Allowing the boys to see you in this vulnerable state is terrifying and, let's face it, you were ashamed. You were ashamed of yourself, of your state, and everything that had to do with you and taking care of you.

"Yes," she said the word you didn't want to hear. "He's very nice, so there's no need to worry about anything." she tried to make it sound positive for you but this is something that just won't vanish with nice sweet words; it's a genuine fear that you'll have to face soon.

You faked a smile (maybe a little frightened) to her and then let out a small sigh. "Do you perhaps know when I'll meet him?" you asked her with not much desire to do anything anymore and took a glance at your phone in case you missed something in the game you were playing.

"I'm not sure, but I'll check if it's already there." she grabbed her phone and searched in the worker's schedule plan to see, firstly, if there is a schedule for the next week and secondly, when I'll be meeting this boy. "Haha, you'll be very happy." I knew it was bad when she looked at me.

"Just say it." you shook your head and waited for her reply. It was obvious now what her answer would be, and you had no choice but to accept it.

"Jennie will accompany him tomorrow to show him how things are going here." she put her phone back on the table and gave you a small smile. "Don't worry. I can tell him how you have it, Okay?" she raised one eyebrow in question.

"I guess." you shrugged your shoulders which probably wasn't noticeable for Lili. "I don't know... Just..." You were unable to come up with any words to express yourself. Yeah, Lili would tell him about your fear but it won't change anything.

"I will prepare him." you thanked her after receiving a small smile from her. From Lili, it's a really nice gesture, but it won't do anything, this is something that's inside you and all you can do is, suck it up and just pretend everything is fine. "Shall we go?" she suddenly asked with blue gloves in her hand.

"Of course." after you nodded and locked your phone, she grabbed it and placed it on the table to prevent it from falling and breaking. And after that, she did her job.

-🫧-

"Good morning, Y/N." you heard Jennie's voice, which means that he is here too. You didn't say anything or do anything. Jennie understands that this is normal and started preparing things for your morning hygiene while also talking to the boy.

On the other hand, it was the same as every morning (except for the weekends). One of the caregivers would come around 8.30, say good morning like you would be already awake, and then start to prepare warm water and some gel for your face to clean you up. When that is all done, they will properly wake you up.

"Wakey, wakey." Jennie gently shook your shoulder and removed a blanket from your face. "Well hello there, sleepy girl." she smiled at you when you finally opened your eyes. She laughed at your quiet greeting when you returned the smile; she always found it adorable. "How are you today?"

"Good." simple answer but you just woke up and you really don't have the energy to talk. That's the reason why you closed your eyes again for a few seconds. "How are you?" you asked in return. You always do that, so the girls who are taking care of you won't think you are rude or something. You have a rule, don't be rude to them because they are taking care of you! Your goal is to make them feel comfortable around you.

"Great." she laughed and that made you chuckle 'cause you know that it is not that great so far. "But now I am here, which is always a joy," she added and started to clean your face. "And we have some help here today. He is our new co-worker." and there goes the topic you didn't want to come, but couldn't run away from.

You opened your eyes and looked behind Jennie where you saw the boy, the new co-worker. "Hello." you smiled a little, just a tiny bit, at him. You were anxious and it was getting worse 'cause your time to go to the toilet was near.

"Hi," he answered and that was all. But you didn't mind that, you tried to trick yourself that he isn't here, so if he is not gonna talk, it will be better to imagine that.

Jennie proceeded to work without waiting any more minutes. For you, it's the same every day, so you shut your eyes again and let it all up to her. She removed the blanket completely from you and put it aside because it won't be needed for a while. She removed the long pillow from under your legs and began to take your panties off. You sucked a deep breath through your nose and tried not to think about the boy who was watching and learning how to deal with you.

Jennie dropped your panties and carefully placed your legs on the bed, so she could remove the bedpan from under your adjustable bed. She put the bedpan next to your legs, took away the lid, and moved you to your side, then back to your original position. The difference now was that you were on your toilet. Jennie placed the long pillow beside the left side of your legs and another, a small pillow, between your knees and also didn't forget to place a blanket over your legs to give you some privacy.

Although it was for your comfort, it wasn't about privacy since they had already seen everything on you, but it felt right to do it.

Everything went smoothly until the boy spoke. "Oh, now you'll brush her teeth?" he obviously asked Jennie but you were present too, and it made you feel embarrassed and you just wanted to dig yourself a hole. However, you maintain your composure to prevent this annoying feeling from arising.

"Not really, Y/N can brush it herself. You need to do the rest, which is normal," she answered him and gave you your toothbrush. You then started brushing your teeth. Although it took some time (and more head movement than hand movement), you still couldn't do it faster.

Once you've finished brushing your teeth and removing the bedpan from underneath you, it's time to wash yourself. This is followed by a terrible question. "Do you want to do it yourself?" the question came from Jennie and was meant for the boy who was now supposed to wash you. Awesome!

You inhaled deeply and waited for his reply. It was clear what the answer would be, but there was still a slight hope that he would say that it was okay and he would do it next time.

"Sure."

BAM! You have no luck. You nodded to yourself and mentally prepared yourself, or you tried. Were you being too exaggerated about this whole situation? Maybe... But you couldn't help feeling ashamed, embarrassed, and even scared. You're a girl and were taken care of your whole life by your mother, a girl. Yes, now it's your stepdad in that position, instead of your mother, but with him, it is a whole different story than with a random boy who you are seeing for the first time and so does he.

Your stepdad has essentially known you all of your life. You were eight years old when he and your mother started dating; today, you are nineteen. The only difference between him and a random boy who will likely only see you once before quitting this job is, that he went through everything with you in the same way that your mother did. Yes, it wasn't very comfortable at first when it was just your stepdad and you without your mother, but it was still better than this. Now that everything is fully normal, you two joke around with each other about this stuff.

"Okay." Jennie nodded her head and moved to the side so the boy could take her place. "Firstly, you'll wash her legs and butt and you'll put on her new clean socks and panties, which you can find right here." she pointed with her hand to a toilet chair which was most of the time used as your wardrobe.

The boy probably shook his head in agreement because you couldn't hear him talk. In a second, you heard how he dipped your sponge in the soap water and not long after that, he started to wash your right leg. It was fine until he had to open your leg to wash the inner side of it. You bit your cheeks and slightly scrunched your eyebrows. Oh, how embarrassing!

"You can scrub her with the harder side. It's better for her, right Y/N?" even with your eyes closed, you could tell Jennie was smiling while asking you.

You let your eyes open a little just to look at her. "Yeah, that's true." you nodded and closed your eyes once again. The boy just hummed and switched to the harder side of the sponge.

Soon, your legs and private parts of you were nice and clean and he started to put your panties on. Jennie of course told him how to do it (and that you can't be moved to your right side because it makes you nauseous) and he did as he was told. You had to admit, that he did a really good job. Socks were very easy to put on and he was done with your bottom.

"So, now for the top half," Jennie spoke once again. "You need to find your system of how to take her shirt on and then also put it back. But it works almost the same way as her panties, moving her on the side and back!" she said somehow with enthusiasm in her voice which surprised you but you didn't ask - maybe if you two were alone...

You enjoyed the little time you were clothed as much as you could but it still wasn't enough. He was now taking your shirt off and you could tell it was tricky for him but he managed to do so without causing you much trouble. He then washed your front and back and put the new shirt back on you. And of course, he did not forget to dry you with a towel before that.

Oh how much you tried not to think that he is washing your body and that you are naked in front of him. But the harder you tried not to think about it the more your mind was thinking exactly about that and it was annoying and you hated it. Still, you were glad he did not talk much and just did his job in silence. This way, it didn't feel that much real.

"Perfect," said Jennie. "Now it's time to brush her hair." she went from her spot and took your comb from your special corner of things that involve your hygiene. "Here." she handed it to him. "You will move her to her side and brush it. You don’t need to worry about knots, she can handle that." her lips let out a small chuckle, and that made you smile a little too.

Once again the boy did as he was told and brushed your hair. After that it was just a small things; your glasses, putting back the long pillow under your legs and slightly moving your butt into a more comfortable position. That, luckily, had to do Jennie to show him what you mean by that. The last thing was a blanket and a small adjustment of your left hand and ta-da! You were done.

"Now it's time to bring her something small to eat from the fridge." Jennie continued with the "education" of what to do with you in the morning. They both were back in just a second, Jennie placed a plate with your very small breakfast on your chest and you ate. When you were done, Jennie exchanged the plate for a bottle of coke and you took a few sips. "The last thing is to give her a phone and you can rest for the rest of the time. Another toilet time is before we have to leave," she told him and gave him a small smile while handing him her phone. "Everything good?" she asked you.

"Yes, everything is perfect. Thank you, Jennie." you smiled at her and started to do your things on your phone - that means, you will check up on your game cats and look on social media.

"Oh, I need to take that... But you two should talk more," said Jennie with a smile, and before you could say anything, she went to the next room to deal with her phone call.

You took a deep silent breath threw your nose and bit your lip. You didn't want to start first but at the same time, you thought you should. "Ehm.. hi, again." you laughed awkwardly and mentally slapped yourself. You moved your head so you could look at him sitting on a couch. On the very end of a couch far from your bed.

"Hey." he smiled at you. "My name is Jeonghan. Jennie and Lisa told me about you a lot. Actually, all the workers in the company told me about you." he chuckled. "You are their sweetheart, I heard only praises," he told you and you had to shake your head in disbelief.

"Oh god..." you mumbled. "It's... I think they overpraise me. I don't do anything at all, to be honest." you laughed. "But I am very happy, that the girls like to come here even tho, they need to deal with me." small smile crept on your lips.

You hear similar words to his a lot from new co-workers (who, in the end, didn't stay for more than a week at this job) and also from the others who are still working there. Apparently, by their words, you are nice, sweet, and polite. They always are happy when they have you that day and you make them happy too just by your presence. But you were never able to handle such nice words, so you just laughed and said, that it can't be true. The conversation about that ended with that.

"They say all of these nice things just because they need to deal with grumpy old people," you told him with a kind smile. Yes, you still did not fully accept him as your new caregiver but you are not a bad person to be angry with him just because of that - because he is a man. "That's it." you chuckled and looked at your phone to see your cats in the game you play more like a routine now.

"Hm, I don't think so," he said after a while. "I don't know you that much but just by the small talk a gestures you had with Jennie, I can tell that it's true." he gave you a big smile and you weren't sure how to react. You never were. The kind words towards you said by some other people never felt right in your brain.

"Well... I thank you?" you just smiled. "And how old are you, Jeonghan? You seem very young to be doing this job," you remarked and it was true. Usually, it's not that boys don't do this job but young people in general, so you were curious.

Jeonghan laughed. "You are welcome, Y/N. But you didn't have to thank me in the first place." he was still smiling at you. "I am almost thirty. Not that young anymore." he laughed once again.

"Okay okay." you laughed too. "But why this job? Boys don't do this and I know that. I can truly say I am lucky with my stepdad." now, you got away from the game and locked your phone, so you could give Jeonghan your full attention.

"I took care of others all the time, that's why." he simply answered. "I know, boring answer but there isn't anything special behind this." he nodded his head. "But I promise, I don't bite."

"Oh... Lisa talked to you?" you nervously laughed while he nodded his head in answer. "It’s nothing against you, Okay? It’s just..." you struggled with your words. There wasn't really a nice way to describe it, you just don't feel comfortable to be seen naked by a boy.. a man. But you can't do anything about it in your situation and that makes you angry about yourself even more.

"Hey, don't worry." he moved on the couch a little closer to you. "I get why you are feeling this way. I would too. And I promise to make you feel comfortable around me. If you don’t like anything, tell me and I figure something else." he gave you a reassuring smile.

"Thanks." you send a small sad smile to him and move your gaze to the TV that is playing some show you have probably seen dozens of times already.

It was nice of him that he understood what you were feeling but those words just won't make the weird feeling about him disappear; it will take time and knowing yourself, it will take a long way for you and your mind.

"I'm back." Jennie came back and sat on the couch next to Jeonghan. "And with some news," she added and you immediately looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Jeonghan will have just some of our clients and you're one of them, Y/N!" she smiled.

"Guess we will see each other often then." he looked at you with concern. He could sense that you don’t want him to be taking care of you, hence, you basically told him that, and now this. Life really is just a bad joke to you...

"Yeah..." you nodded and then smiled to not seem disappointed by this news. Once again, you took a deep breath and tried to find something positive about it - maybe you won't have the one girl anymore who is just complaining about everything and does her job poorly.

Luckily, the next day was already the weekend, which meant that your stepdad was free from work and was now taking care of you. And that also means that you have two days to convince yourself, that you'll be alright with Jeonghan. What a hard task...

-🫧-

Monday has come and with that also comes Jeonghan - of course, he had to come on the first day of the week, it's just how your life is. And thanks to Lisa, who writes you every Sunday and will come in the week to take care of you, you know that Jeonghan will come two more times, great.

Today, Jeonghan was already on his own which scared you more than you thought but you were quite good at not letting it show. And because it was only his second time (first time alone) here, you had to still help him. That also made things a little bit better, 'cause there was no time for stupid overthinking that Jeonghan is, in fact, a boy.

"Is it alright like this?" he asked you and looked at you when he put the bedpan under you. "I'm not sure if it sits right?" he let out an awkward laugh.

"It's perfect." you nodded your head and smiled a little. It was true, he placed it perfectly under you, and for his first time, it was impressive. Not everyone can master it on their first try; not even after many many other tries...

You have to say, Jeonghan does such a good job and he remembers most of the stuff he was told on Friday. He also uses his brain and does think logically, which you would think that everyone does, but no. Some caregivers just don't think during this job and make simple things somehow hard. Jeonghan also tried to conversate with you while he was washing you up.

"How was your weekend? Did you do something fun?" he asked while he put new and clean socks on you. Your bottom was already nicely washed, which you didn't even realize he was done with.

"It was good." simple answer. "If you consider listening to songs and watching YouTube videos to be fun, then yes, I did something fun," you said while a small chuckle escaped your lips. "You know, I'm always at home. I don't like going out."

"Well, it was fun for you. That's all that matters." he gave you a small smile and you smiled back. "Can I move to the top?" with this question, he hinted if he could take off your shirt and continue his job.

"Of course." you nodded. "And how was your weekend?" because you don’t want to be impolite, you asked him too, to keep the conversation going. And also because you didn't want to think about the washing up.

"I was just at home and relaxing. There wasn't much going on," he answered you while taking your shirt off. "Oh, sorry. Hope I didn't pull your hair?" he apologized almost immediately when his hand touched your head. He needed to lift you, just a little bit, and he was scared he grabbed you in the wrong spot.

"No, it's Okay. You did not pull my hair, don't worry," you assured him even with a small smile. "If you did pull my hair, I think I would scream," you said while laughing.

"Okay, I'll believe you." he nodded and threw your shirt on the ground to the rest of your laundry. "But please, if I ever grab you badly and it will hurt, tell me."

"I will."

Jeonghan once again nodded his head and without another word started to wash your top half. Everything went smoothly and soon enough you were lying comfortably in your bed nice and clean with new clothes. When you were done, Jeonghan cleaned up after himself.

"Now... Now you will have breakfast, right?" he asked you and when you gave him a green that he was right, he went to the kitchen to look inside the fridge. "What would you like to have?"

"There should be a plate with brownies, so if I can have that, please," you answered him. "Oh, and don't give me everything. I want just a small piece," you added kinda important information because you're not a breakfast person. You're not hungry in the morning but still take something small, just because.

You could hear how Jeonghan is looking for a plate and knife, perhaps a fork too. You also heard how is cutting a piece for you and then you realized he can have some too. "You can have a piece too if you want to."

"Thank you, it's nice of you but I have to decline," he said while putting the rest of the brownies back in the fridge. You just nodded to yourself and thanked him, when he gave you your plate with a fork, which you forgo to mention that you want. "Do you need help?" he looked at you.

"No, I should be able to do this by myself. Thank you." you smiled and started to eat the breakfast that was given to you by one of your stepdad's relatives.

Jeonghan sat on the couch next to you and grabbed papers that he needed to fill. The papers are from the company that you are under and all the caregivers need to fill them up with information about what they did that day with you. You know, wash you up, give you food, and so on. After he was done, you were done too, so he took your plate and went with it to the kitchen where he washed it and put it back in its place. Jeonghan also returned to his place and you were both silent. Luckily, there was a TV playing so it was not a complete silence.

"Can I.. ask what happened to you?" Jeonghan suddenly asked a question you expected him to ask. "You don’t need to answer if it’s uncomfortable for you."

"No no, I am fine. I never had a problem talking about this." you smiled at him. You weren't lying, you were absolutely okay with answering it. This has been part of you for some years now, of course, people will ask, they are curious. Everyone is. "Well... I have something that is called muscular dystrophy. In easy words, it means that muscles in my whole body are getting weaker and weaker with each day passing by. I was unfortunate enough that it started this quickly." you told him.

"When did it start?"

"I must had it already when I was born but it started around four. I wasn't walking well and physically I was horrible." you let out a small laugh. "I ended up in a wheelchair when I was nine and since that day, it went downhill."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It must have been hard." he gave you a small sad smile. "I can't imagine how hard everything was, and still is." he exhaled quite sharply.

"Yeah." you shrugged your shoulders. "But there is nothing I can do and pitying myself isn't an option for sure. That won't change anything." you chuckled.

"I heard there was a donation that our company made for you because of your story." he slightly changed the topic but you can't blame him. It is still awkward to hear something like this when you did not experience it yourself and you don’t know what to say to that or react.

"Oh, yeah." you laughed and looked away. "Something was going on... You can read about it. It's on that table, they wanted me to write my story so they can have it for the people who would want to donate." you moved your head to the table where was your story on a piece of paper.

"Can I?" slowly, he started to get up so he could take the paper. You gave him a positive answer and he grabbed the paper and started to read to himself.

'Hi, everyone,

My name is Y/N, I am 19 years old and today I will tell you about my life. I was born as a healthy girl, who wasn't really gifted in doing good in sports. Me and my mom didn't really think much about it because not everyone is a sporty person but later it turned out to be something much worse than me just being clumsy. I used to trip on air and fall and that was happening many times in a day. When I was seven, the doctor sent me to some surgery, where they had to take a small piece of my leg muscle to do tests on it. They found out I have something called muscular dystrophy, which makes the muscles in my whole body weaker and weaker. You can probably guess where is this going...

In third grade, I fell on stairs in school and broke my arm. The same year I broke my other arm. In sixth grade, I had to have back surgery because of scoliosis that was caused by sitting in a wheelchair. You would have thought that this surgery was a good idea but because of that, I stopped walking completely and I had to start using an electric wheelchair. After that, you could say my life was okay. I was visiting my grandma, and friends but... Then came another harsh part of my life.

Two years ago, they found out my mom had cancer. She had surgery and many chemo. Doctors told us she was doing great, that she was basically cancer-free and everyone was so happy. A few months later, she had another surgery which was a big mistake. Her condition got so much worse, that doctors let her go home with words, she didn't have much time. Because my mom was taking care of me 24/7, there was now no one. Her husband, my stepdad, had to go to work (he was the only one making money), and he found me a company that was, and still is, sending caregivers to our house.

We also were thinking, who will take care of me after my mom is gone? Everyone for sure things, that family would take care of me and we did too. Mom asked her sister who agreed but a few days later she said, she won't do it.

There comes my dad to the scene.

He still lives with his parents and he used to visit me once in two weeks when I was at my grandma's because he did not want to drive around twenty minutes to a different town. At first, he said that I was his daughter and he would never put me somewhere in the hospital or anything like that and Mom even told him that I might come to him very soon. When the time came, he turned his back on us, on me.

That is not all! In one of our family gatherings, they started to talk about mom's condition and stepdad said, to see how they would react, that I might have to be put in some place for disabled people. Everyone agreed without asking ME about MY opinion about it. They just decided on what was best for them, which was to get rid of me so they didn't have to take responsibility.

Not even my father talked about it with me, he just told me that he has his girlfriend, his life and he doesn't want to ruin this said life. He even dared to call social services on me that I lived in a household that was not suitable for me, even dangerous. What a lie... Three social workers came to visit me and asked me about my opinion on all of that and I told them, that I didn't wanna go away to some of those places and they agreed with me. They told me, that it's crazy to put someone who can think by themselves in those places and my stepdad told them, he would be keeping me. He just wanted to know, what my family would do.

Sadly, some days later, my mom passed away...

With that said, I live with my stepdad who is basically a stranger to me now. I also have a younger brother who is still too young to understand some of those adult things.

Thank you for your time ♡'

"I... I have no words. That is... That is absolutely horrible. How can a family treat you like this?" his voice got a little louder at the end with anger.

"I don't have an answer for that." you shook your head. "Or maybe I do." you looked at him. "They don't want to ruin their lives. They don't want to lose their freedom. That is the reason." you had a sad smile on your face. "I stopped talking to them after all of that."

"So they ruined yours instead." he scoffed. "Family shouldn't think like that. I think you did the right thing that you stopped talking to them."

"Yeah... At least I found out what they were as people and what they thought about me. They never liked me or my mom, we were some dirt to them." you took a deep breath and rolled your eyes.

"I'm very sorry for what happened and also for your loss," he told you after a few minutes of complete silence that started after you stopped talking.

"It's Okay, you did nothing wrong. You didn't do any of that." you shook your head and gave him a small smile.

-🫧-

The past few weeks went without anything interesting. In that time you had Jeonghan a few times, it still didn't feel really good but it was getting better which made you happy. You and Jeonghan always had something to talk about and he even showed interest in the stuff you like, so you were happy when he was with you. You became friends.

Today was Jeonghan supposed to come which he did and you were happy that it was him that day because you weren't feeling good in both ways, mentally and physically. You were sick and even tho today you were doing better, yesterday was absolutely horrible for you.

"Good morning, Y/N." Jeonghan smiled at you when you finally opened your eyes and looked at him. "How are you today?"

"Morning," you mumbled and looked away after he asked his question about, how you are doing. "I... I am sick, so it is not that great." you tried to chuckle a little bit.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you still want to wash up? I don't want you to be cold so you won't feel worse." he asked you and placed a hand on yours.

"No, that's.. that's..." you wanted to continue but your emotions overflowed inside you and you started to cry.

"Y/N? Hey, it's Okay." he moved his hand on yours up and down a few times. "What's wrong? You can tell me, I'm here for you."

You felt so many things at once but there was also embarrassment. You didn't want to cry in front of him, you never liked to cry when people were around. Usually, you could keep everything to yourself till you went to sleep and were alone, then you let it all out and still tried to be quiet about it.

"I a-am sorry..." you tried to take a deep breath but the crying was stranger than you. "My s-stepdad, he... H-he was so an-ngry with me for being s-sick. He..." you had to pause.

Yesterday, when you became sick, it was harsh. There was coming so much fluids from both of your ends and you couldn't stop it just by a whip of a finger. You were already feeling like shit but your stepdad made it much worse. Not that he was angry, but he told you, he won't take care of you anymore if you're sick and that you should tell the social worker that you need to go away.

"He t-told me, he can't d-do this an-nymore and I need-d to write a social w-worker to find me so-ome place." you once again tried to take a deep breath. "I get he is t-tired from w-work but it's not m-my fault for bei-ing sick. Like... I can't con-ntrol it."

"I am sure, he did not mean it." his face showed concern. "He was probably just stressed from work." he stroked your hair with a sad look on his face.

"If he didn't me-eant it, he wouldn't sa-ay it." you shook your head. There has been so much going on in your head since yesterday and so many negative thoughts.

"It's true that you are not the one to blame for being sick. It just happened. And let's be honest, it was probably one of us who brought something with us. We may not be sick but we still can make others sick." he told you and went away from you. He came back with a tissue and started to wipe your face.

You just nodded your head. You wanted to talk, you had so much to say but at the same time, you just wanted to be silent. Talking bad about your stepdad feels wrong because he took you under his roof but you're not the wrong here. You are sick, it's not the end of the fucking world so why he makes it seem like it?

Jeonghan could sense that you wanted to be silent for now, so he started doing his job without saying a word. He already knew what to do and didn't need your guidance anymore, which was perfect for a time like this. Soon enough, you were already done with hygiene; Jeonghan was such a great caregiver.

"Can I have my phone first?" you asked him when you saw him bringing you a plate with breakfast. "I... I want to deal with that situation first."

"Of course." he put the plate on a table and gave you your phone. Jeonghan then sat on the couch and was waiting for you to tell him, that you wanted your breakfast.

You took a shaky breath and opened a chat with your stepdad. You knew you were not strong enough to message the social worker so you asked your stepdad if he could do that for you. You even apologized for being sick, which is ridiculous. Why would you have to apologize for this normal thing that can happen to anyone? But you felt like it. He made you feel like it's your fault like everything is your fault.

A new wave of tears burned your eyes but you took a couple of small deep breaths to stop you from crying again; you need to be strong. After sending the message, you placed your phone on the bottom of your stomach and looked at Jeonghan. "Can I have it now, please?"

Jeonghan gave it to you. "Thank you," you told him and started slowly eating. You're not a breakfast person but this time you weren't hungry at all.

Somehow you managed to eat it all and after you were done, Jeonghan gave you your bottle of Coca-Cola; you are only living on that. It's not healthy but you told yourself you won't care about this.

A big problem (and not the only one, probably the least horrible one) with your condition is, that if you live only on water and apples, you would still gain weight very quickly so what is the point of not eating and drinking whatever you want when it will have the same result? With that said, that sometimes doesn't stop you thinking about yourself like a fat pig that should lose some weight.

Sometimes you think your mind is making big jokes on you with all of those thoughts that are one time nice and the other time bad.

"It will end up okay," said Jeonghan suddenly. You looked at him not very sure about that; he doesn't know your stepdad. "I know it will. He wouldn't keep you just to put you away because of something small like this." he sounded so sure about it.

"I hope so." you swallowed hard. Anxiety was building up in you and you were scared, really scared. The thoughts of what is going to possibly happen were still running and fresh in your mind. It was exhausting. "But it seemed like it isn't that small to him," you added and looked away from him.

After you were done talking, your phone vibrated which meant you received a message back from your stepdad. You grabbed your phone and with another deep breath opened the chat to read it.

"I'm staying here," you said out loud to inform Jeonghan. "But I can't get sick again," you said slightly annoyed. Easier said than done but for him everything is easy because he thinks like that.

"That is good news. Not the one about not being sick but that will change over time." he smiled at you. "It's gonna be good for some time again, don't worry." he tried so hard to be positive about it but you knew yours. Still, you just nodded and thanked him.

When Jeonghan left, you broke down crying again. You just needed to let everything out and clear your mind a little bit. It may have not helped your sickness but you couldn't hold your tears anymore and you also needed calm before your stepdad got back from work. Crying in front of him is forbidden, that is one of your rules (because he would just mock you a tell you, you have no reason to cry).

Luckily, your sickness went away throughout the day and you were calm enough to deal with any outburst your stepdad has prepared for you, which you wish he did not but you won't know until he returns home.

-🫧-

Jeonghan earned your trust very quickly. It might have helped the fact, that you cried in front of him but you'll never admit that. You were finally comfortable around him but there were times when you still felt a little awkward. Both of you shared stories from your life and talked about nothing and anything. It was more like a friend is helping a friend type of relationship than a caregiver to a patient. It was nice.

But everything good in your life must have an early end...

"Lisa?" Jeonghan sat down next to you on the couch. "I.. I don't know what to do so I called you," he told her.

"Jeonghan, what are you talking about?" Lisa was obviously confused about why is Jeonghan calling her and what even is he talking about.

"It's, Y/N, she..."

Saying that everything good in your life must have an early end was not the right thing, no. It should be, that you finally found your piece for once. And last...

"She is not breathing. She... She is dead."

#seventeen imagines #jeonghan #seventeen #jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #jeonghan x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #kpop #kpop imagines

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norah-posts · 10 months

Text

Coffee and Weapons

Simon Ghost Riley x singlemom!barista!fem!reader

Summary: You own a coffee shop near the military base. Your coffee shop is always full of with soldiers, but that Lieutenant, who always wears a skull-patterned balaclava, grabs your attention. You try to talk with him, but he doesn't seem friendly, always gives short replies and never spends too much time in your shop. Until that day when Ghost finally starts to talk with you.

NSFW - minimal use of y/n, strangers to lovers, Ghost and reader are in early 30's, flirting, mutual pining, sexual tension, smut, p in v (unprotected), pet names, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex

Chapter 1/ 2 /

Wc: 3,2k

Chapter 3: Good girl turns into a dirty girl

Simon walked through the door of your coffee shop with a confident look in his face beneath his balaclava, his head held high. However, his expression turned slightly hesitant as he saw the number of soldiers in the shop, all staring at him.

He took a deep breath and adjusted his glasses, trying to ignore the gazes of the soldiers as he approached the counter.

"Good morning," Simon said softly as he looked at you.

You turned to him and put down the cup on the counter what was in your hands. "No, no, no," you shook your head as you stepped closer to the counter. "No glasses in the coffe shop, sorry. It's the rule," you said teasingly, as you reached out your hand to take off his glasses.

Simon watched as you took off from him and set it down on the counter.

"Alright, fine," he said quietly, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He took a deep breath as you looked up at him, trying to force a smile and ignore your teasing. "I guess that means you'll finally see just how tired I am then," he added with a smirk as he leaned against the counter, trying to hide his embarassment.

"I'm tired too," you shrugged and turned back to the coffee machine to make a cup for Simon without asking about it. "It was a long night, huh?" you continued with a sly smile on your face. "You found a girl who were into your mysterious balaclava style?"

Simon tried to hide his amusement as he heard your teasing. "Well, let's just say she liked me more without the mask," he replied with a wink as he glanced at your face. "How was your night? Did you have fun hanging out with those soldiers?" he asked, his voice sounded slightly teasing.

"Oh, yeah," you nodded when you turned to Simon and placed a cup of coffee in front of him on the counter. "That guy is russian," you pointed at a bald soldier. "He said yesterday I need to drink vodka with him sometime, I'll love it."

"He even have vodka for breakfast, lunch, and dinner," Simon said with a teasing grin and gestured to the bald soldier. "So, did you drink with him? Or you were too busy talking to with another one?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes, I was busy with just one," you replied and leaned your elbows on the counter, leaning closer to him.

"Just one?" Simon repeated the phrase with a sly smile and when you saw you leaned closer to him, his gaze lingered on your face for a few seconds. "So, tell me. What did you and the 'one' talk about?" Simon aksed, his tone shifted to sound slightly more flirtatious.

"Nothing special," you shrugged. "About his job and his balaclava... About his love life," you glanced at his eyes.

Simon looked at you and raised an eyebrow curiosity, "About his love life? And what exactly did he say?" He tilted his head slightly and glanced at you with a small smile. "Was he into you?" he asked jokingly, his tone sounded a little teasing.

"I don't know. was he?" you asked back, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe he was," Simon replied with a sly grin underneath his balaclava. He took another sip of his coffe and looked at you, his expression turned more serious as he leaned closer to you. "Or maybe he just liked your eyes," he said softly. "Or maybe... Maybe he did like you," Simon said teasingly.

"Hmm..." you hummed as you kept looking into his eyes. "Maybe I should wait him here after work?" you asked in a whisper and for a moment you looked down on his balaclava where his lips were beneath it.

"Mmm, maybe you should," he whispered a bit playfully, his grin turned into a soft smile as you looked at his lips beneath the balaclava. "After all, if he's coming here for coffee, he might be interested in chatting with you some more."

"Thanks for the advice," you murmured, your voice was seductive. And then you pulled back a little, pushing his cup of coffe toward him. "Drink it," you said softly. "I'll be free all night," you added with a small blush on your face.

Simon took a moment to process your words. He looked at you, then his eyes slowly travel to your lips. "You1ll be free all night?" he asked as he picked up his coffee cup, his tone sounded slightly amused. "Well, lucky me," he said with a small smile and rolled up his balaclava on his lips to take a sip of his coffee.

You smirked, Simon made you embarassed with this flirt, so you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

Simon paused for a moment and looked at you. He smiled again and raised an eyebrow at you, seeming slightly amused and confused at your behavior. "Are you trying to look seductive, princess?" he asked in a teasing tone as he shifted his weight towards you.

"What?" you looked down on your chest and you saw your decolletage was too deep, your arms made your breasts pressing together, making a seductive line between them. "No... I'm not," you muttered as you put down your arms.

Simon chuckled at your reaction, his gaze lingered on your chest for a few seconds longer.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a teasing tone. "Because, if you look at me like that a little longer, I might just have to take you on this counter," he added with a sly grin beneath his balaclava. "And I can do it all night with you, right?" he added with a wink.

Your eyes widened. "You don't have to work?" you hissed as you looked around nervously. You tried to ignore those scenarios in your head about you and Simon on the coffe shop's counter.

"Who says?" Simon asked in a quiet, teasing tone. "And I think you already know what I would do with you if I didn't have to work," he added, his voice sounded a bit more sultry.

"Okay, hush, go away!" you giggled with red cheeks and took away the empty cup from him.

"Princess," Simon said softly, being suprised on your reaction as you got embarassed, "you have nothing to be nervous about." He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, his gaze lingered on your lips for a few moments. "But... if you don't want anything to happen tonight, that's fine too," he added quickly. "We can just sit and talk for a while."

Perhaps, you didn't want to just sit and talk with him all night. "We'll meet later," you smiled softly.

Simon's face softens beneath the balaclava as he smiled at your smile, his gaze lingered on your face for a few more seconds. "Yeah, we'll meet later," he replied softly and stepped back like he was ready to go, but he paused for a second and then glanced back at you, his expression turned a bit mischievous. "And hey, when we do it, don't be shy," he added slyly, and before you could reply, he turned and exit the coffee shop.

The day turned into night. It was dark outside, when Ghost done with his work at the base and came into your coffee shop, knowing the fact that you'll be his all night and you could continue whatever you had between you and him.

Simon stepped into the coffee shop what was empty finally. He took off his balaclava and his glasses, and he saw you stood in the back of the coffee shop, being back at him. He made his way over the shop and stood in the doorway to the coffe shop's storage. He watched as you held a paper in your hands, reading it before he spoke.

"Hello, princess!" Simon said softly, his tone sounded more flirty than usual and leaned against the doorframe.

"Shit!" you winced scaredly and turned to him. "You scared me," you muttered as you took a few deep breath to calming down your heart.

Simon laughed softly, his expression turned a bit teasing. "Sorry," he said as he smiled at you, his gaze lingered on your face and your red cheeks. "Didn't I tell you not to be nervous?" he added with a laugh and looked around the empty coffe shop for a moment, seeming a bit amused. "Did you close the shop earlier tonight?" he asked.

"Yes, I do," you nodded as you took down the paper on the shelf in the storage.

"Oh, why'd you close the coffee shop early?" Simon asked with a little bit of mock increduty in his tone. "Did you want some time alone with me?" he added with a smile.

"Calm down, big boy," you chuckled. "I needed to do some paperwork and I can't give attention when the shop is full."

Simon looked at you and chuckled softly. "Give attention?" he asked with a smirk. "Is that what you call it?" His gaze lingered on your face for a moment, then he leaned against the doorframe and looked at you with a slightly flirty look on his face. "Well, if you need someonte to give attention to, I can definitely help," he added, his tone turned a bit more seductively playful.

"Oh really?" you raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"I don't know, I can be very persuasive," he replied with a wink. Simon enjoyed this playful banter and the way your gaze lingered on him. "And besides," he continued with a soft smile. "A sexy girl like you shouldn't have too hard a time finding some attention," he paused for a moment and look down and up at you, his tone turned slightly more serious. "Unless you need the attention of someone specific," he added with a teasing smirk.

"And what do you think how should I get that specific person's attention?" you asked back playfully.

Simon chuckled softly as he heard your question. "You mean... me, right?" he asked in a teasing tone, his tone turned a bit more flirtatious as he watched your face. "If you ask me, you already have my attention."

"So I don't have to do nothing, just being pretty for you like a good girl do?" You asked quietly, your eyes lingered on his face.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Simon smiled and he raised an eyebrow, his voice sounding a bit teasing. "But being pretty for me is definitely part of it," he added with a sly grin.

He shifted his weight slightly, leaning closer to you. "But you don't have to be a good girl for me," he whispered after a few moments of silence. "In fact, I think it might be better if you weren't a good girl."

"Oh," you nodded with a smile on your face. "So... you're into the bad girls," you grinned. "I'm curious. What does a bad girl?"

Simon hesitated for a moment, looking at you with a teasing expression on his face as he considered your question. "I like girls who speak their minds," he started, his voice sounded slightly flirtatious. "I like girl who aren't afraid to break the rules... and who aren't afraid of getting a little bit dirty." he said with a sly grin on his face.

"Dirty?" You smirked teasingly.

"Simon kept looking at you and grinned with a slight blush spreading across his face. "I like girls who aren't afraid to explore..." he mumbles softly, his voice sounding a bit more seductive. He paused for a moment as he took a step closer to you, seeming to enjoy the flirtatious tension that is building between you two. "And who aren't afraid to do whatever it takes to get what they want."

"So, you like it when a woman is indulging you?" you asked back with a soft smile as you take a small step toward him.

Simon continued to grin seductively at you. He leaned closer to you, watching your soft smile closely. "I like a woman who isn't afraid to indulge me...," he murmured softly. "And I really like a woman who isn't afraid to get a little dirty..." he added in a whisper.

"Hm..." You glanced down at Simon's lap, where was a big bulge and you looked back at his face.

Simon saw it, he saw how your gaze lingered on his lap and his face flushes slightly. "Oh, princess," he whispered lightly. "I think you know what you're doing, dont' you? Are you trying to be the bad girl I like, sweetheart?" he asked in a teasing as he watched you.

"I don't know... Maybe?" you asked back in the same tone as Ghost.

Simon grinned. "I guess I'll have to teach you how to be a bad girl for me..." he paused for a second and shifted his weight again, his gaze lingered on your face. "How to make me want you..." he added with a sly, seductive grin.

You were staring at each other for a few moments, until Simon sighed and straightened himself. You looked at him with a shocked expression as he started unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. Your gaze lingered on him as he started to pull his pants down, revealing more of his chiseled physique and his hard, thick cock.

"Get on your knees, princess." Simon's voice sounded suddenly more serious and dominant.

You hesitated for a few moment, the slowly bend down and knelt down on the floor. Simon continued to look at you as you knelt down on the floor in front of him. He watched as your tongue ran along your lips slowly on his cock's sight, looking slightly nervous yet also seductively excited.

He gripped his cock, pleasing himself with his palm and you watched his hand's moves. The sight was so seductive, it made your mouth watering and you heard as Simon grunted lushly as he looked down at you. His eyes seem to be focused on you as he watched your mouth for a few second. Then, his gaze lowers to your body and he watched your breast, your hard nipple under the fabric of your shirt. Then, he looked back up at your face. He was breathing a bit heavily now, and he moved his hand on himself a little bit faster. His eyes were watching your face and lips as he started to tense up.

"Ahh..." Simon sighed softly when you looked up at him with red cheeks. "You can come closer if you want," he whispered. He moved his hand up and down on his cock slowly, his face flushed with excitement as he looked down at you. "Don't be shy, princess. I want you to come over here..." he said with a sly grin.

Simon grinned as he watched you lean closer to him. You moved closer to his body slowly, your face blush red. You felt Simon's hand on your neck as he pulled you closer to him.

"Ah..." Simon sighed softly as his hand ran through your hair. His voice was deep and seductive, and he sounded slightly out of the breath as he pushed himself closer to you. "Open your mouth, sweet coffe girl," he whispered.

He moved his hand up and down still, while his other hand moved to your chin and tilted your head up so that you were looking up at him. "Open wide," he whispered softly, and you could feel his hand on the back of your neck, his touch felt a bit hot. "Open your mouth for me... you know what I want," he told you in a seductive, urgent tone.

You opened your mouth and Simon drove himself into it. You felt the sheft of his cock on your tongue. The taste of his thick cock made you moan and Simon replied to you with a deep groan. But he was too big.

You couldn't accept his cock fully in your mouth. The tip rubbed that sensivite spot the back of your mouth what made you gag and your eyes watering.

"C'mon... You can take it," Simon murmured as he held the back of your neck. He felt you were struggling, so he gently caressed your cheek, his touch felt a bit comforting. He looked at your face as he did this, his eyes fluttered a bit in pleasure.

"C'mon, princess, relax..." he whispered softly as he continued to caress your cheek and moved his hips forward a little.

"Hmm..." Simon grumbled softly as he started to move his hip back and forth. "Breathe... I know you can handle it. You're a bad girl, right?" Simon moaned, holding your head. "My... sweet... bad girl." He whispered with every thrust into your mouth.

His touch felt a bit more forceful now in your hair, his words were becoming more urgent. "My sweet, bad girl.," he murmured again, his voices sounded deeper now. "Just relax..."

He moved his hand to your cheek and touched your face gently, his eyes glanced down to your mouth every now and then as he thrusted his cock in between your lips agan and again.

Simon sighed softly as he felt you relax, his eyes were fluttering a bit in relief. "Good girl..." he whispered softly as he continued to look at your face as he moved his hips, his gaze lingered on your eyes and your lips.

His touch felt a bit more intense now on your neck, his breath a bit more labored since he was moving his body in a more rhythmical way. You looked up at him with innocent gaze, watching his reactions.

He moaned, continued to move in a rhythmical way, staring at you with a soft, seductive gaze. His finger rand through your hair, gripping it a little, his touch felt a bit more intense and sensual. "Keep looking at me," he whispered softly. "Look into my eyes, princess."

You moaned around his cock, trying to keep that intensive eye-contact with him. He moved a bit faster now, he held your head firmly in place. His face flushed with excitement, his moves were sloppier and his groans got deeper and louder, his breath were getting more labored and rushed.

"Fucking hell..." He grunted, his voice was low, his tone sounded a bit more intense and urgent. "You'll swallow it," he said, sounding slightly more firm. "All of it..."

You nodded quickly, your face flushed with excitement and anticipation. Simon's grip tightened on your hair as his body started to tense up. You could feel the heat of his breath on your face as looked up at him. His eyes were looking down at you, his gaze lingered on your mouth and lips.

He bited down his lower lips as he was spilling into your mouth. His eyes shutted tightly, gritted his teeth as he tried to hold back his loud moans. All of this was just a few seconds.

When Simon was done, he let go your hair and stepped back a little, letting free your mouth and giving your space. He stood in front of you, his body flushed with excitement and pleasure as he watched you wipe away the saliva and his cum from your chin.

He looked down at you and smiled softly. "You were a good girl," he whispered to you, his voice sounded a bit more relaxed and laid back against the doorframe. "A very good girl..."

-----

Chapter 4 ... soon ...

39 notes · View notes

claranight · 1 year

Text

Guardian Angel||

Character: Kurapika, kid!oc(Kurta), oc

Warning: Mention of the bad part of past, manipulation

Category: Fluff, slight sexual activities.

‘Where is Neon!’ Kurapika looked around the shops. Somehow, Neon was able slipped out from his team, with her maid and ran off for fun. The team is searching everywhere for her, then Kurapika accidentally bumped on a little kid. “Oh, sorry little one.”

“Ugh…it’s ok! The groceries seem fine too.” The kid got up and dust himself, grabbed his groceries bag and started leaving. “Wait!” he turned to him and looked confuse.

“Have you seen this girl?” Kurapika took out a pic of Neon and show it to him. “Uh…yea?”

“Really?! Do you mind showing me where she is?” the kid nodded and takes his hand to his house.

_____________________________________________________________

“Pfft! You manage to get out of their gasp and look for my apartment. For FOOD?” you were laughing to on the table, while Neon is eating your homemade sweets. “You never come and work for me. So, my only option is left is using the sneaky techniques that you uses to get away from me to them.” You started to laugh again and bang on the table while holding your stomach.

“Miss Neon, Kurapika is here.” The maid alert. Neon turned and saw him and waved at him with her mouth stuffed with sweets. “Hi, Kurapika!”

“Miss Neon, why are you here? Everyone else is worried about you! You need to notify us, if you are going to your friend’s house!” he busted at her, he was already stress with the worksheets that he was given.

While Kurapika was lecturing Neon, you slipped out their way and walk toward the kid. “Aki, you finish groceries shopping?”

Aki sparkled at his ‘sister’ and nodded his head. “Yep and I brought that guy to Neon-niisan” you took the bag and went to the kitchen to prepare dinner, with him. “You shouldn’t bring strangers home.”

“He’s not!”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know how to put this, but I felt some kind of similarity to him.” you looked at Aki and back to the blond man, then back it him. “Are you betraying me?” you gasped dramatically, making Aki panic. “ no, No, NO! Nothing like that!” you snicker when he waves his little arms at you.

You felt shadow hovering over the both of you, you turned and saw the blond boy. “Thank you for taking care of Miss Neon for me! I wasn’t sure, what will happen if no one takes care to her.”

“No big deal! She kinda like one of my cousins who’s spoiled. Also, she’s the one who came to me.” You pointed out.

He stay silent for a while and then chuckled at your statement. “I guess so, but I still thank you for taking care of her.” He bowed at you. You blush a little at his gestion, then you and the other went toward your exit door, once you guys are outside, your apartment. “I have to take Miss Neon back now.”

“Alright…wait.” You ran back to get something, while Neon was escort to the limo. You finally got back with a bottle in your hand. “Take this.” You threw the bottle at him, knowing that he will catch it. “You seem stress, so drink the tea inside the bottle to ease out your headache.”

“No worries, I’ll be-“

“Take it, I’m serious. Geez, you’re almost like my boyfriend.” You claimed. He smiled at you then he felt as if he saw something shine in your apartment. It’s looks like it’s glowing bright red like the scarlet eyes, then it stop glowing, he tried to see what it was but the only thing he could make out is Aki.

______________________________________________________________

‘Ugh, my head.’ I finally got back to finish my job as a bodyguard for Miss Neon, now I need to do paperwork. I still can’t forget the glow; it seem more like the scarlet eyes. ‘Aki’ the little boy always rings in my head. ‘Is he a Kurta?’ I want to go back there and to confirm if it’s true, but it’ll be rude to intrude their apartment.

I’m almost finished my paperwork, but my headache came back. I saw the bottle that was given to me, so I gave it a try. “It’s warm…” I felt the bottle that is still hot inside and taste it. I felt my whole body was warm and relax, in this cold weather.

“Hmm? My headache is gone.” I touched my head. I guess the tea did ease out my headache.

“Kurapika?” I turned and saw Melody. “You seemed happy.”

I looked at the bottle and smiled at her. “Yea, it does seem so…”

“Was it because of that girl, who was taking care of Miss Neon?” I felt a bit fluster, then I nodded at her. “I can tell when you stare at the bottle that she gave you. You like her, don’t you?” Melody tease a bit.

“I liked her?” I question myself. I felt my face red, but I calm down remembering what she told me “Geez, you’re almost like my boyfriend.”

“She already in a relationship with some else.” I told her. I felt my heart dropped on the ground and shatter, not knowing why. I silted my tea and felt a bit better.

___________________________________________________________

Six months has gone, you and Kurapika have become closer and almost realising that they have feeling for each other.

Kurapika went back researching to find the Phantom Troupe or look for more for the Kurta eyes. When he finally for another Kurta eyes, in an abandon building far away from town, him and his comrade drive towards the abandon building. They defeat (no killing) many guards that was in their way and find four Kurta eyes in different rooms.

They finally got to the last room. What they didn’t expect to be there is that there is a cage and someone familiar is in there. ‘Aki’ they thought.

“Get me out of here!” his eyes glow red. Kurapika knew it, that he suspect that Aki is Kurta, and he seems to be in trouble. Before could he hear something muffled behind him and saw his comrade being holding down by a bunch of people.

“Kurapika, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.” Kurapika turned and saw your boyfriend who is the mastermind of all this operation.

“What’s going on! Is (y/n) here?!” Kurapika demand answers.

“Haha, no she’s not here.” (bf/n) chuckled at him. “You know, how easy to tame a girl’s heart? Give her gifts and pamper her with sweets compliment and they are all over your hands. She is one of those simple and naïve little girls. How boring…”

“You were taking advantage of her!?” a bunch of man started to keep him down on the ground too. He can tell in their eyes that he is using nen manipulation on them.

(bf/n) laughed again, seeing Kurapika’s reaction. He takes Kurapika’s chin to look at him in his eyes, “I can already tell that you are from the kurta clan. Your clan’s eyes are so magnificent, I want my own hands to ripped them off your heads”

Kurapika can fell all the rage piling up his stomach but there is one thing stop him from killing him. ‘(Y/n)’ how would you feel if (bf/n) was dead or never was seen again. Then he saw a figure sitting on the stairs staring at them, leaking a bit of bloodlust. (Bf/n) turned around to see what, Kurapika was looking at, then the saw was you…

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen. What a fine night it is today.” You sarcastically asked your audience, showing an innocent smile.

“Hey baby! Looks like you heard everything, didn’t you?” he walked towards you

“Stay away from her!” Kurapika yelled. But (Bf/n) ignore him, still walking towards you, locking his eyes with you. Before he could touch you, his arm as cut off and (element/n) is circle this arm to keep him from bleeding. (Bf/n) looked at his arm before he started to react and screamed in pain, confusion is in head mind. ‘What did you do?’ ‘How do you do it?’ ‘What kind of nen is it?’ ‘Why you never told him, how powerful you were?’ ‘What kind of (element/n) is this.’

“You know that I never liked you right?” you told (bf/n). “I know you were stalking me to make out what my movement was when I’m with Kurapika or with someone else.” You broke Aki’s cage and took down the people who is holding the other’s down. “The more I learned about you the more I see how fake you are.” You brought Aki to Kurapika’s arm, you buried Aki’s head on his chest to cover this seen. “I told myself to quit killing people and I tend to do that.” Everyone heard sirens outside. “Besides no one is killed so it a win~win for me not to loss control and cut you to pieces.”

“What power do you process?” (bf/n) panted still feeling pain on his arm. You turned to him and smiled. “It’s none of your business, don’t worry about it.”

___________________________________________________________

In the car with Kurapika and his comrade, you were hold a sleepy a little boy, cuddling in your arms.

“(Y/n)?”

“Hmm?” you turned to Kurapika.

“Who are you?” he asked calmly.

“Me? Well, I guess I should tell you, since you and Aki came from the same place.” You looked at him with a sweet smile, no fakes, a real smile. And Kurapika knows. “I was a former assassin or a killing machine, which you could called that.”

“Why did you stop.” Kurapika was nervous if Aki should stay on your arm, but he still remain calm because he trust you.

“Let’s just say. Aki open my eyes a bit.” Everything suddenly felt comfortable, learning that you aren’t a threat to him or Aki. You were just moving on from your past. “How did you meet Aki? Is Aki really his name?”

“The first question, I won’t answer.” You held a bored face. “The second one; Aki is for short for Akimitsu, that’s what his mother told me…that’s when she died.” You mutter the last part, but he can still hear it.

“Thank you…”

“What are you thanking me for?”

“It’s obvious.” Kurapika hugged you and Aki together, you felt embarrassed for what he’s doing. “Taking care of one of the Kurta clans.” Everything was silent and you lead back to his embrace, feeling his warmth. When he was about to let got, he notice you dose off.

“You guys look like a family.” Basho comment and made Kurapika blushed hard.

_____________________________________________________________

More months came by and your friendship with Kurapika, soon almost turned into a relationship but neither of you confessed. Aki tried many ways to get in Kurapika away from you, but it just draw you guys closer.

“Go away, Kurapika!” Aki throw a bit trauma at him, out on the door. “(Y/n)-niisan is MINE!!!!”

Kurapika’s friend came to help him, trying calm Aki down. “Kid, why are you like this?” Leorio asked. But all he states that you are his.

“Do you hate, Kurapika that much?” Killua question and giving Aki some attitude. “No, but I just don’t want him to take (Y/n)-niisan from me!!!” then he squealed when he felt someone pick him up, he turned and saw that it was you…

“Sorryforthewait. Comeinsideandmakeyourselfathome!” you speed walk inside with a fluster face. You made a fest for everyone to enjoyed. Once you all full, you and Kurapika are left alone while the others are busy playing with each other, you two enjoying each other presents. Outside your balcony, he pulled you closer and place his lips on yours.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” You can see how hot you and Kurapika’s faces. “I liked you for a while now. You are amazing, you’re strong and have confidence on what you are doing. You light up my heart and made me feel relax whenever that is a piece of you. So… will you be my-“ you cut him off by kissing him. He was shocked at first but slowly kissed back, holding your waist and head close to him while you circle your arms around his head.

The kissed soon turned into a make-out. “AHHHHH!!!!!” you and broke apart and saw Aki was the source of that scream, his eyes turned scarlet. He is standing there pointing at us, then he start crying. “Waaaa! Kurapika-niichan took my sister away from me!” he cried out and goes towards him and started hitting Kurapika on his leg (cause he’s small) while he is still crying. “You thief, you thief, you thief!” he repeated while crying, you tried calming him down.

You took Aki into your arms, trying to calm him down, rocking him to not cry and disturb the neighbours. “Hey, it’s ok. What do you mean by thief? Don’t cry!”

“Waaaa! You love me not him! Don’t take my sister away from me!”

“No, I’m not taking your sister away from you.” Kurapika tried to calm him down, but he started trying to hit him while you still holding him. “You love your sister as much as I do. I’ll take better care of her then (bf/n).”

“I know you will, but I still won’t let you take niisan away from me!”

“Hey…” you spoked gently that made Aki stop crying and turned to you. “I won’t leave you, like ever. Your stuck with me ever since you started to become my little brother.” He sniffed at your words and buried himself in your chest.

“Ok, but I still won’t accept him.” Aki pointed at him. “Hehe, you’re so cute but you will eventually.” You rubbed your face against him, he tried to get away but gave in and rubbed back.

Gon and Leorio looked happy for them while Killua looked like he is about to throw up upon this scene.

“Aki! Why don’t we have a sleepover, right now!” Gon yelled out. Aki look at him and nodded, you put him down and he started running out to Gon.

You got closer to Kurapika. “You wanna sleep with me?” you whisper in his ear with a teasing tone. You giggled at his flustered face, and he started to back away. “Just kidding.” And you started to leave.

_____________________________________________________________

You took the kids to the bathroom to get cleaned up for bed. “Are you sure, you don’t want me to join you.” You asked. Killua was fluster at your question, “No!” then he slam the bathroom door leaving a laughing you on your knees. “You’re so cute!”

“Baka, shut up! You old hag!”

“Alright, aright! I’ll go, Haha!”

You went back to your bedroom, and you saw Kurapika sitting on your King size bed. He notice you and close his book having his full attention on you. “Ah, you’re here.”

“Why are you on my bed?”

“You asked if I should sleep with you” he talked serious.

“That was a joke!” you exclaim.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a joke.” He sat up and walk towards you and picked you in a braid-style, which made you startle and held him close. He walked back to the bed, gently sat you down, pull the cover and held you close to his chest.

“Goodnight, my guardian angel!”

#kurapika #kurapika x reader #hxh x reader #kurapika fluff #hxh #gon #killua #neon #leorio #hunter x hunter #anime

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mysteriouslybluepirate · 1 year

Text

Criminal Justice (2007)- Episodes 1-5. Watching Con O'Neill's old stuff cause it's fun. Day #? RALPH STONE!

Warnings: Murder. Blood. Drug Use. Needle Use/Injection is shown on the scene. Drunk driving. Accused/discussed sexual assault. Abusive parents, grief, and general bullshit in the justice system.

Should you watch this if you haven't: YES! Five episodes, each being an hour, but if you don't have any issues with the warning, it should be a fun time. I was on the edge of my seat for most of this show and Con is a very important character! He is on screen more than most of his other tv parts and is having a great time. It's a story about one defendant and the shit that goes down as he's tried for the crime.

Special thanks to:

@dianetastesmetal who I chatted with around midway through about the show! (For me it was ~2 in the morning, so it was a whole lot of fun!)

The Usual Suspects! I would love to hear your thoughts about this show down alone! I want to thank all of you for following me and giving me love. Y'all are enabling my current fixation, and I thank you all! If you haven't seen it, just ignore me <3

@sphealybojeely @thedowneyheart @kimpreg @gydima @ivegotnonameidea @treesofgreen @tummy-stab-wounds @mossiestpiglet @sidewalk-scrawls @crybabyclover @

Criminal Justice- EP 1 (Guest starring my brother)

Why does that kid look like Benedict Cumberbatch?

He just needs a haircut. That hair looks awful.

This takes place in 2008 right?

Why didn't the dad knock?

He's going to go have sex, huh, he's not going to his friend's house.

Is he going to abuse his position here? Pretend he's a cab driver?

I feel like cab drivers are trained to drop a rando with no destination to a hospital or a police station.

Also, a situation that's only playful because it's a young woman. If this were a homeless person? This shit isn't flying.

DON'T SHARE YOUR FUCKING DRINKS WITH A STRANGER??!?!?!

I got to inform my brother that in England they call soft-served ice cream 'whippies' after the popular brand 'Mr. Whippy', to which he just said 'it's a clown land'

DRUGS! Here we go!

This is suspicious as fuck. Don't take her booze! She's a chick you just met!

WHY IS THIS HAPPENING

NOOOO! NO. NO. NO. KNIFE GAME IS TAPPING, NOT FUCKING STABBING! WTF!

Society would be a lot further on if we just stopped caring about peer pressure.

WHAT? HE STABBED HER!?!?!?!?!? WHY ARE THEY FUCKING?

We have seen so much of this man's ass, why?

We are 12 minutes in?

Oh. She's dead. She's so dead.

OH SHIT. Yep thats a stabbing

Brother guesses it was the parent, I say ex lover.

God, he's just bad at this

BRO WENT BACK AND NOW HAS A WITNESS?????

This is an actual ACE ATTORNEY CASE WTF

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. HE THEN CRASHES THE CAR? ACE ATTORNEY LEVELS OF DUMB!

Bro, is this your first break in?

Ohhh he's fucked.

Ohhhhh, this is the cops best day of his life

Oh, good luck defense attorney Con. You better get Phoenix Wright levels of bullshit.

Oh my god, don't fucking fight the cops.

Bro, take a nap. It's been a long night.

OH MY GOD IT'S HIM.

Hello Con! Lovely to see you. Love the rat man fit. I know it's on purpose, but damn. He looks wet.

This is where my brother bullies the shit out of Con.

OH I LOVE HIM-He's actually giving good legal advice! The cops are going to do whatever they can to get a false conviction.

'No comment man'- Hard nose solicitor I FUCKING LOVE IT

RALPH STONE! TROLLIN'. I love it. GOD I LOVE IT.

It's so much easier to be quiet when you're nervous.

Lessons to be learned from this tv show: Don't random desperate women, don't fall to peer pressure, don't say shit to the police.

They wouldn't have left her body there. They would have taken photos then taken the body out of the house asap. It's weird they've waited so long to investigate.

Solicitation of evidence. It's illegal to receive testimony from a private source without giving the evidence to opposing council.

Nice that she packed him a sandwich.

Why is the shitty cops boss so much taller? That's funny.

Whelp. RIP Ralph, you did all you could. Having the guy almost assault a police officer isn't fun.

OHHHHH!!!!!! RALPH I LOVE IT- GOOD GOD IS HE FUN

Oh this whole detective thing feels illegal. Without his attorney to represent him.

Yeah. Sure. Don't get buddy-buddy with the guy who wants to put you away for years.

IS THIS DETECTIVE A VILLAIN? Oh, he likes you? FUN.

They're in a public spot, there is no expectation for privacy and this can be recorded, HAHAHAHAHHAHA. GOOD, HE DIDN'T SAY SHIT.

It's 2007, a bit of weird transphobia was to expected.

UHHHHH….. I SWEAR TO GOD. DON'T SWAP ATTORNIES!

CLASSIST BRITISH PEOPLE AHHHHH-

OH I'D BE PISSED!!!!!! RALPH IS SO GOOD!!!!!

Oh good, Ralph corrected himself about his client's name and pronouns, nice.

Ralph at the end of ep 1-'I looked into his eyes, and we vibed. He can't be innocent'

AWWW RALPH STILL WANTS TO HELP HIM EVEN AFTER HE GOT SCREWED OVER BY HIS POSH LAWYERS! God, I love him.

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EPISODE 2: This is where my brother dipped out, but I summarized as much as I could for him.

I'm going to be honest I skipped through this ep a ton. I generally got the gyst. I'm here for my guy, you know.

I watched a bit, but this just establishes our protagonist's life in jail.

I skipped Ralph's scene/ the trial. Seriously the preview in ep 1 gives you the gist. Read a summary. Etc. His roomie is great.

AHHH RALPHS SMILE. "I don't care what you'd do as a lawyer, just as a human being" AHHH.

GOD HIS CELLMATE IS SO GOOD.

HAHHHAHHAHAHAHHAH! WTF?!?!?!??! Oh, poor ralph. You guy just blowing up in court.

At this point, if I was Ralph Stone, I wouldn't really believe him, but that's what that whole grin was for. He just knew our guy was innocent!

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Episode 3

Oh good. Protag was able to deep throat the drugs.

Ralph! AHHH!! God, he has great outfits in this show.

WHY DOES RALPH HAVE A FOOT THING? I noticed it earlier, but why are we drawing attention to it.

Oh good, Ralph doesn't want to senselessly tarnish a dead girl's name. Nice.

THAT FACE! Uh, the reluctant face! Chewing on the lip!

Ralph! AHHH!! God, he has great outfits in this show.

WHY DOES RALPH HAVE A FOOT THING? I noticed it earlier, but why are we drawing attention to it.

Oh good, Ralph doesn't want to senselessly tarnish a dead girl's name. Nice.

THAT FACE! Uh, the reluctant face! Chewing on the lip! Love it.

Ohhh, god. Ralph's a good actor. That's cute.

OHH THE DETECTIVE ALSO BEING THERE! SHIT. RALPH RUN!

GOD HIM BEING VAGUE AS SHIT TO A WITNESS! I love it.

'With alpha brain?' What the fuck?

AHHH! I LOVE RALPH.

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA. I got to see his chest :)

Oh, Ralph doesn't like this at all. But shit. Not much he can do.

Oh no. It's really not ethical. And this yonger lady is going to mess it up.

AHAHHAHAAAHAHAAA. THE WIGS!

Is this inadvertently informing the audience of how fucked the courts can be. Which is both good and bad. People deserve to know exactly what our lawyers know.

RALPH BEING THE FUCKING SAD DOG MIDDLEMAN THAT NEEDS TO RUN BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM IS SO FUNNY.

Ralph with glasses gives me life.

OH SHIT THE FRIEND SHOWED UP?

Okay, this is fun. But maybe let's not make jokes in a murder trial?

I love the one juror struggling to stay awake. Showing that even with all these verbal chess, they still need to convince the jury.

Hey, babe. If you really fucking hate prison, maybe don't give a shit about how your mom reacts here!

Good on Ralph. Trying to speak up for her.

(Seeing Ralphs…ex? For the first time) Oh I love them. WHAT ARE THEY ON?

OH SHE MOVED ON, GOD HIS ACTING. A SECOND TO SEE THAT FULL FUCKING FACE JOURNEY!

Oh good. We can really hate the cops now. I mean, I already did. BUT.

OHHH DO THEY HAVE FOOTAGE.

OH, HE COMPLIMENTS RALPH WHEN IT LOOKS GOOD IN FRONT OF THE JURY.

God I hate her(lead defense lady), but this scene is fun.

RALPH IS HAVING SUCH A GOOD TIME. He's watching the divorced parents fight and he loves it. He should be allowed to smile.

Ha, she's sowing seeds of guilt but that's really not how the law works.

Ralph-'I told you not to talk two episodes ago, and you do it fucking now?!?!??!?!'

Is Ralph being kinda shitty? Yes. Is there any other option right now? Nope.

Them showing how mentally I'll people in prison are severely punished without being able to seek help is cool.

Back to court- OHHHH! SHIT. Yeah, digging at how the medical examiner is only going on prosecution for the state is suspicious as fuck.

FUCK. ASSHOLE DON'T SAY SHIT! DONT CONTRADICT THE DEFENSE!!!!!

SHIT

Ralph, mentally deciding if now is a good place to just call it a day when his client is just begging to go to jail.

OH ANOTHER FUCKING CON CHARACTER WHO FELL IN LOVE THE WRONG WAY!!?!?!?!??!?!!? Well, that fills out my bingo card. This makes maybe 20 characters. I swear to god, if he ends up sad and alone I will make a Con O'Neill drinking game.

"Are you calling me a hypocrite?" *Slight head tilt* -ME rolling on the floor laughing

Good on Ralph for staying with him though.

AWWW. Ralph's an asshole but this is one of the few cases that's gotten to him! I love it. :)

Aww, they are sweet as a couple, but he needs to reorient himself. Find his own center and work on not 'always looking for doubt' before moving on.

OH GOD! Don't fucking smile Con. It's mean. To me. Personally.

AHHH! HIS TICKS WHEN HE'S LYING! Okay, that's funny as shit. I love him.

It's good that the main defense younger lady and the defendant trust each other. AND CON'S GRIN!

Say what you will, this man loves his job

OH SO YOU'LL LET THE SENIOR DEFENSE CHAT AND BE EXTRA BUT NOT THE JUNIOR! RUDE!

OHHHH SHIT THEY GAVE HIM BACK (the inhaler) EVIDENCE

AHHHHHHH!H!H!H!H!HH!H!HH HE TOOK EVIDENCE BITCH! It proves that he stayed in her bed

RALPH SMILING AHHHH!H!H!H!H!H!HH!

Oh they're getting him addicted to drugs to keep him loyal. Whelp. That's going to ruin him.

EPISODE 4:

Why is Ralph going into his clients home?

Ralph(I'm paraphrasing)- Look, I'm a hard ass. I'm a dick who usually has guilty clients and does what he can to abuse loopholes and police mistakes to get them free. If I have a gut feeling, that really fucking matters. So I'm going to do what I can.

Yeah, the neighbor did it

OHHHH! SHE PULLED RANK ON RALPH AHAHAHAHAHHAHA

Stone is pissed, and doesn't want to freak out in court. OR HE'S GOING TO EXAMINE A WITNESS?

What act is he playing here? I love it. He's being a clever cheeky bastard. Knowing how people want to treat court like they're the important heros that can save the day! AHAHHAH! I love it.

"Are you the kind of person-"- SHUT THE FUCK UP-He's just trying to establish his character before crushing it.

OHHH THEY ARE ABUSING THE SHIT OUT OF HIS COYNESS AND NERVOUSNESS WHEN TALKING ABOUT SEX.

AND HE'S HIDING EVIDENCE

Ralph, I love you. Babe. This is the kind of trust in the justice system I need.

Another court scene goes by without note. But Ralph shows up? Oh boy, I'm typing.

OOOOHHHH RALPH GETS TO BE A DETECTIVE!

SCENE SKIP

WHY ARE THE CLIENT AND YONGER LADY DEFENSE ATTORNEY SMOOCHIN? EXCUSE ME? ISN'T THAT AGE GAP WEIRD??!?!?!??!?

Oh good. Ralph.

OH MY GOD HIM FUCKING SITTING ON THE TABLE? Me Moment. Queer? Coded. I'm assigning it to him. I'm giving him an honorary badge even though this is probably one of his straightest roles.

Ralph- "I like getting my clients off." YEAH so does she! *Ba Dumb Tisk*. See, Ralph is smart. Get entangled with others in the arm of the law, not your fucking client.

Scene passes without note. But a few prison scenes go by.

GLASSES!!!!!! Look at them! THE EXAMINER GENUINELY HELPED. I'd also be smiling at him like that.

Aww, Ralph's trying to ask without asking to hang out with a friend.

Skipped a bit. Back in court.

AWW Ralph and the yonger female defense attorney leaning together to chat.

BRO HE IS SO WHIPPED FOR THE EXAMINER! I LOVE THIS!!!!!

THAT FUCKING SMILE. GOOD FOR HIM! GOOD FOR HELLEN! I love that they're immediately like, yeah, this might be a conflict of witness BUT. She still has a point.

I WOULD BE SWAYED BY HIS CHARM! I HAVE BEEN SWAYED BY HIS CHARM.

DAMN. Good on the friend/witness.

Oh wow, the cellmate is just as shitty and corrupt as everyone else? I'm shocked.

I love Ralph trying his best here.

"You're 46 years old, what do you know about justice?" :0. WOW.

OH SHIT THIS MIGHT FUCK THIS ALL UP. CALLING IN THE DAD IF HE HAS AN ALIBI

OHHHH FUCK. RALPH IS A SECOND FROM STEPPING IN.

OHHHH FUCK. GOOD ON HER. CALL THE DAD OUT FOR BEING ABUSIVE.

FUCK if they pull her in the case is fucked.

YEP RALPH SEES IT! SHIT!!!!!!

EP 5:

JURY CONSIDERING VERDICT!

HI RALPH! LOVE YOU BABE!

Hour and a half deliberation is good!

Yeah, I should have seen that coming.

WHELP. SHIT.

He's going to kill himself within a year. Calling it now.

That moment when you work the same job as our prisoner protagonist 😐. Hey, don't dis a dishwashing job, protag. It's nice and easy.

HI CON!

"'Self-deprecating jokes get you out of hard questions'- avoids the question by shoving toast in his mouth"-me. God, I was messaging @dianetastesmetal during this bit. Who pointed out how loving these characters is a form of self-love, and I will partially embrace it. Maybe I just want to see a man with a nice chest and a nice smile huh! ;)

Oh good, the protagonist is doing more drugs. Love that

GLASSES! I AM BACK ON MY WHORE SHIT.

The hugging of the book! THE GRINNING! AHH!

This is why Ralph is emotionally distant, 'cause he's lost good cases before. HAHAHAHHA HE CAN'T LET IT GO.

AHHHHH!H!H!H!HH!!H THE TUFTED-UP HAIR ENTERING THE PRISON!

OH SHIT! RALPH INVESTIGATING THEIR RELATIONSHIP! He's asking the protagonist to sell out his legal advisor!

No, RALPH IS SO RIGHT! She abused her station and got too close.

Oh good. Another arm of the law is weird around police reports and evidence. Great.

AHHH! Her sewing that little tidbit in the cop's head! She's onto him!

Yeah, good on our protag to stand up for himself.

Cellmate is going to get killed cause he knew too much, huh.

Hey, good on the cop for looking into it a bit more. Still a jackass. But you know.

Skipped a few scenes without note.

OHHH SHIT HE FILED THE SUIT!!!!!!! GOOD ON RALPH! We love a man who cares about giving justice to his client.

'Frances- out for blood after Ralph is about to ruin her career'

'Ralph-Half passed out on a couch with a rag over his eyes, already done with this conversation. Ready to throw every insult she directed to him back into his face.'

Ralph knew to get romantically entangled with a medical examiner and not a fucking witness.

GET IT RALPH! God, good for him. SHE ABUSED HER POSITION! She took everything they worked for and threw it all away. She didn't let their client find justice.

Yeah, cellmate's about to die, huh.

OHHHH SHIT! GET IT!!!!!! Good on him! Yeah, he's going to get murdered, but good on him. MURDER THAT BASTARD!

OHHH SHIT. THE ASSHOLE COP HELPED THE MOB!

GOOD ON THE CHIEF FOR CALLING HIM OUT! DAMN!

Oh, wow. Ben's life is ruined. He's hooked on drugs, and he thinks he has no prospects in life.

Now he can't fall asleep without listening to the radio.

Hi Ralph. Why are we talking about your feet?

Frances is fucked essentially.

Yeah, going in for a mistrial was the right option.

Yeah, no. Nothing would have changed if Ben told Ralph the truth the moment they met. Good on Ralph! Giving our protag a bit of closure on this whole thing. Telling that none of this was really his fault.

Yep. He had his last few free years of youth ripped from him.

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

Final thoughts:

I think the fact that this was a mob member being the real murder and that it was covered up was the real thing here. The entire point and moral the audience was meant to learn. It didn't matter if Ben had the best case, the entire Crown was against him. Ralph and his team could have been the best defense lawyers in the world and it still would have gotten buried. I'm happy the final evidence came out, obviously, but Ben was fucked over in so many ways. Now what life does he have? He lost his friends, his trust in his family, and is now destined to fall back into the system he knows. It's a shame.

Con: 11+/10. Long hair AND glasses AND he's Exhausted! Perfect role. I want him. I want to be him. He's divorced, and sad, and I love it.

Ralph saved this series for me personally. He was so much fun. I will be updating the Con list here soon to include bit TV roles. Ralph is going to be high on my ranking. We are given a Con character who has REAL impact on the story, introduces the audience to the rules of this world, AND GETS A HAPPY ENDING! It's brilliant. Obviously, there are moral issues to him being such a good defense attorney to allow criminals to get away, but this whole story was about giving Ralph a different perspective. He's a slime-ball but he's not totally against change. Willing to look at other perspectives. He started to genuinely care about his client, and didn't treat it as some weird game of chess. Him genuinely helping the younger defense attorney was nice, especially because he rarely blew up at her for her choices. He did his best to help where he could and didn't take things personally when shit blew up.

Con's acting here is so fun and fluid! I hate being a person that ties OFMD into everything, but this is kind of what I want Izzy to become. Con's allowed to be fun! He's allowed to be mad, suspicious, have doubt etc. There are a few scenes that got me chuckling just by his face! He feels really confident and comfortable in this role. He talks with his hands! He's a dick, a total slime-ball, but he really cares about getting things done right! I love it.

Everyone else: 8/10. Nothing really stood out besides our protagonist, and after a quick google, he won an award for this role. Which is deserved. He does great. I liked the characters the show wanted me to like, and vice versa.

Story 7/10: Intriguing. I had fun, but this show sits more in the turn off your brain and gets swept along by the bullshit, vs trying to solve it yourself.

Overall. 9/10: I highly recommend it if the tags don't worry you. Con is in this enough to justify a Con watch. I have a thing for Professor esk Con. I will not be ashamed about that. His whole speech about how he was perceived was nice. Now, this is about five hours of commitment, but If you need something longer I'd recommend it.

#ralph stone #criminal justice (2008)#con oneill #con o'neill #ralphposting #criminal justice #I want his gender.#Con's Conography

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