#Word Count: 9.2k

[youarewhatyoulove-blog]

the violence of the dog days.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

summary: In the midst of summertime, after a week of neglect, your boyfriend has a way of making you feel even more heated.

OR

you're hot and horny for jeongguk.

rating: mature🔞 (minors please dni)

genre: non-idol au, college au, established relationship, smut, fluff, pwp

word count: 9.2k words of unadulterated smut.

warnings: reader and jeongguk are absolute horny simps for each other, but they're also so inlove, soft boyfriend jeongguk (because yes that is a warning), jeongguk is a law student (oof), overuse of the petname 'baby', reader hasn't been getting it seven days a week😔, switch jeongguk (kinda), hair pulling, hickeys, making out, thigh riding, nipple play (jeongguk is proudly a boob guy), religious imagery because jeongguk worships reader like a god, usage of the words 'c*nt' and 'p*ssy' (because i know some people are iffy about that), cunnilingus (f-receiving), jeongguk is low-key a sadist y'all (in his fantasies), a bit of dom/sub dynamics, prayers for reader because jeongguk's got that big d🙏🏽, unprotected sex, doggy style, degradation, a teeny weeny bit of overstimulation, creampie - like this is just pure smut guys 😬, possessive sex, choking, aftercare, reader kinda hints at having attachment issues (but don't we all).

author's note: 1. please ignore any typos :). of course, i'd appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism. but if you find yourself uncomfortable by any of the themes in this fic, there's no need for hate, just kindly move on. 2. also, this is a lot longer and softer than i intended. this fic was supposed to be purely hard smut, but i fell in love with the characters and their relationship, and some aspects of the story just turned out sickeningly sweet - so proceed with caution.

You're an hour into tossing and turning when you can't take it anymore.

The heat.

With June coming to a close end, the surviving remnants of summer creep in through your bedroom window with barely a whisper of a breeze. It clings to every part of your skin, that ever-lingering humidity thickening the air, and wraps itself around your body like a cloak. For some reason, you thought that scrolling aimlessly through the various apps on your phone would help distract your mind from the muggy weather or maybe, by some miracle, even lull you to sleep.

But it hasn’t—of course it hasn't. Because summer is here to stay, burrowing deep within your bones and making a home there. Each passing minute is a testament to that, insomnia creeping up your spine with ill intent and wriggling into every cranny of your mind until you feel like you're losing it.

Perhaps you are, you think.

Because when the desk fan a few feet away suddenly stops whirring and the fumbling grasp you had on sleep slips from your reach like a fleeting dream in the morning light as a result of it—drifting further and further away—you hit your breaking point. The lack of white noise and cool air blowing your way mounts your frustration into place. It hangs there in the ether like a looming shadow but, unlike your slumber, has no plans of deserting you.

With an annoyed huff, you drop your phone back onto the nightstand for the umpteenth time and kick your leg out from under the duvet.

“Fuck.” You sigh, rolling onto your back.

A thin sheen of sweat lingers on the surface of your skin, causing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to every part of your body. You spread your limbs out like a starfish in some futile attempt to cool them down, hoping that you'll catch a draft, but the action only reminds you of how largely cavernous your bed feels right now.

The space beside you is missing a particular doe-eyed boy and, as your hand brushes over the empty spot, you realize that it's not so much the seasonal heat that's making you feel weirdly restless, but rather Jeongguk's absence. In an inconveniently clingy way, you need his body settled next to you at night, your legs and arms a tangled mess beneath the blankets.

You don't know why that is. Why sleep eludes you like a compass without direction, unable to find its way to you when Jeongguk isn't near. But you don't mull over it or give the thought a foothold to stand amongst the endless anxieties already in your head.

All you know is that cuddling up with him in the evening is perhaps one of your favourite pastimes. Akin to a baby with it's bottle, falling asleep in his embrace is something you've grown incredibly used to, maybe even a little dependent on—like a security blanket or night-light—and there's nothing you can do about it.

Sneaking a glance towards the dim light spilling in from beneath the bedroom door, you picture Jeongguk on the other side. Chances are, he’s still where you last left him. Sitting cross-legged on the couch with a laptop balancing carefully on his lap, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, as he catches up on coursework.

You worry your lip, the thought of your boyfriend causing your mind to wander...

He looked so good tonight; adorned in a pair of grey sweats and a baggy t-shirt with his tattoos fully exposed. His dark hair was strewn across his forehead, falling into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch.

You, on the other hand, are sporting an old, oversized shirt you opted to steal from Jeongguk's wardrobe to combat the high temperatures, but it hasn't helped much. The heat still loiters, creeping up the back of your neck and imbuing your cheeks with warmth.

It makes you long for winter, for the bitter nip of frosty ice and pelting rain, and the desire for that inadvertently reminds you of that fucking silver lip ring Jeongguk had gotten recently.

The memory of its cold, metal sting against your lips as he kissed you goodnight sends a distant, carnal hum coursing throughout your veins. It's probably tugged anxiously between his teeth right now whilst he types away, eyes deadset on the screen before him, and the image of that sends you reeling. Makes your skin flush further, yearning to feel its steel bite again.

For some reason, it propels you into motion, skin prickling as you throw your legs over the edge of the mattress without a second thought.

The last thing you want to do is bother his progress or interrupt his work, but selfishly, you persist. That gnawing feeling deep within your chest is too hard to ignore, heart beating voraciously with each step you take because it longs to be satiated by Jeongguk's presence. Your boyfriend is only one room over, just four thin walls separating the two of you, yet still—you miss him, want him.

Treading lightly, you hear the persistent click-clack of his keyboard and the muffled sound of typing only grows louder as you step out into the hallway. The wooden flooring is frigid beneath your feet, a sensation you immediately relish in as soon as the fiery crawl of discomfort across your skin begins to lessen. Your shirt—or more precisely, Jeongguk’s shirt—falls flat from your waist, landing a few inches above your knees, as you wander further into the apartment.

Just as you’d predicted, Jeongguk is all pretzelled up on the sofa, too focused on his work to hear you enter. A few empty bottles of soju and convenience store snacks litter the coffee table, serving as silent witnesses to the length of time he's been out here. He must have dimmed the lights as well because a faint, warm glow shrouds every facet of the room, making him look particularly soft at this hour.

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around the length of his shoulders as you bend over the couch's headrest to envelop him in a hug. ”Hey,” You hum softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jeongguk startles slightly at the contact, shaken from his deep concentration as he angles his head to look up at you. “Shit, baby. You scared me.” He breathes, voice rough from disuse. It rumbles through you like a distant thunderstorm, body vibrating with electricity.

“Sorry,” You murmur, glancing at the assignment he's been working on and tiny pangs of guilt gradually trickle into your stomach. “I didn't mean to disturb you, but-”

“You're not disturbing me.” Jeongguk instantly reassures, scanning your face with a knowing look. “Can’t sleep?” He asks and you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The scent of his body wash immediately encompasses you like a warm embrace, wild pinewood and bergamot invading your senses.

“I thought you’d be in bed by now.” You mumble against his skin, unable to hide the pout in your voice.

Jeongguk frowns, eyes flickering to the time at the bottom of his laptop screen.

Shit, he hadn’t even noticed how late it’s gotten, the hours skulking along the cusp of a new day. He should probably be turning in for the night, head to bed and worry about this project tomorrow, but he’d rather not postpone his responsibilities. Not when you’re staying over the weekend and he could be spending that time with you instead.

“I know.” Jeongguk responds, hand coming up to intertwine with yours. “I’ll be there soon, okay?” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The featherlight kiss he presses there soothes you like a curative balm.

“Okay,” You relent, untangling yourself from his body. “But, can I stay here for a bit? It’s too hot in there.” You half lie, gesturing towards the bedroom while simultaneously walking over to the kitchen only a few feet away.

“Yeah, of course.” He murmurs, eyes following your movements.

“Thanks, Kook.” You smile, sparing him a glance over your shoulder as your eyes sparkle with mirth. “By the way, your fan broke down again.”

“Again?” He laments, eyebrows furrowed together whilst he runs a disgruntled hand through his hair. “I seriously need to get that old thing repaired or maybe even replaced.” He grumbles to himself, before a guilty afterthought occurs at the sight of you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby. No wonder you couldn't sleep.”

You don't tell him that it's not so much the heat keeping you awake but, more so, him.

“No, don't worry about it.” You settle on instead, trying to dispel his concerns. “It's not your fault.”

This isn't the first time that Jeongguk’s fan has given him problems. He's had the thing since high school; so it’s no surprise that the motor tends to give in every now and then, running a little too hot. He’s been meaning to get the issue sorted, but hasn’t really found the time to do that these days.

“Plus, I'd much rather be out here with you.” You add.

Jeongguk smiles at you so sweetly then, dimples making an appearance, and your body flushes all over, burning once again.

God, what is wrong with you tonight?

You need to calm down, cool down. At this rate, you feel like an overheating engine, bound to crash in on yourself and combust.

Grabbing a glass of ice water from the fridge dispenser, you rein yourself in, distracting your mind with conversation. “I promise not to be a bother though, like you won't even notice I'm here.” You say, before chugging the cold liquid down on the spot, completely ignorant to the way that Jeongguk drinks you in.

A welcome sight is what you are, so cute tonight with your hair all mussed, practically drowning in his shirt. “You’re never a bother.” He responds, mouth going dry when you lean back to empty the glass. The action causes your shirt to hike up, the creamy expanse of your thighs further exposed to his hungry eyes.

He feels his dick stir at the sight.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” You ask, wiping your lips with the back of your palm, as you place your cup in the sink and shuffle over towards your boyfriend.

“Uhh…” Jeongguk clears his throat, broken out of his stupor. He turns back to face his laptop, skimming the Word document that's open before him when he feels you nestle into his side a second later. Automatically, he brings a hand down to rest against your leg.

“I’m not sure,” He grumbles, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your bare thigh. The absent-minded touch ignites something in you, skin blazing at the contact, and you try your best to suppress the goosebumps that rise in Jeongguk’s wake. “Maybe another hour or so?” He guesses.

“Oh.” You mumble and, although you fight the disappointed curl of your lips, Jeongguk doesn’t miss the deflated look on your face.

“I’m sorry,” He squeezes your thigh apologetically, frown overtaking his pretty features. “I know it’s been a while since we spent time together.”

A week exactly, you note, but ultimately keep that detail to yourself. After all, neither one of you is to blame for being so busy, constantly caught between work and university.

You think that's maybe the reason you're feeling so needy tonight, body set ablaze by every minor look and touch from your boyfriend. In a way, you're feeling a little neglected since your relationship’s taken the backseat, not by choice but by consequence, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

“It's fine.” You shrug. "It's not like we can help it.”

You try to be nonchalant about the matter, injecting the slightest hint of indifference into your tone, but Jeongguk sees right through you.

He always does.

“Come here.” He says suddenly, voice soft as he shifts his laptop onto the coffee table.

You look up at him, confusion clear on your face.

“What?” You blink, but your question falls on deaf ears because Jeongguk merely uncrosses his legs and pats his lap.

“Come here,” He then repeats and reaches for your waist.

You're uncertain for the briefest of moments, eyeing Jeongguk suspiciously, before you ultimately give in like malleable clay in his soft hands, allowing him to pull you onto his lap with ease. “I've been working for hours.” He grumps once you're comfortably straddling his waist, hands resting on either side of your hips. “Hardly seen you since you got here.”

You hum, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. It's no secret that you've been spending a lot more time at Jeongguk's place in lieu of your ratty little dorm room. You felt bad about it at first, feeling as though you were invading his space and overstaying your welcome. But your boyfriend couldn't be happier about it. He rather likes the idea of your lives interlocking, melding together as if they were puzzle pieces falling into place. He likes that when he's working, like on nights like this, that you're just on the opposite side of the door, not one phone call or car ride away.

He likes that you're his and he is, equally as much, yours.

“I wanted to leave you to your work.” You explain, curling your arms around his neck. Your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair that have grown out and the light touch only brings about the memory of how much he has missed you these past few days.

“Well, it's about time I take a break, don't you think?” Jeongguk muses and you become hyper-aware of the way his fingers brush up your spine. “Give my girl some attention…” He trails on, eyes flickering to your lips.

You practically preen at the idea, smiling shyly as you lean into his touch. “I wouldn't object to that.” Your heart patters in your chest, beating wildly at the mere sight of Jeongguk. At the thought of him finally touching you, kissing you, quenching your thirst after this week-long drought. “I've missed you.”

Jeongguk chuckles faintly. “Me too, baby.” He murmurs, perching his head upwards to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is gentle, chaste, his plush lips feeling so featherlight against yours. You almost imagine they were never there to begin with because Jeongguk pulls away before you can truly savour the taste of them.

“You know, you look so pretty in my clothes.” He begins, large hand spreading lazily around your left hip and up your back. “Kinda makes me want to wreck you.”

“You already wreck me.” You breathe without missing a beat.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk rasps, his voice low and a little dark. It sends a thrill straight up your spine.

You nod in response, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “No one makes me feel the way you do.” You admit, eyes flitting across his face. It's an unwavering truth—one that simultaneously scares and excites you in this quiet dead of night.

“Can I kiss you again?” The words come out as a breathy whisper; as if you've been holding on to them for too long, as if they're the oxygen you so desperately need to breathe, and Jeongguk tilts his head, bewildered frown on his face.

“How is that even a question.” He gripes, slanting his head in a means to meet your mouth halfway, but you have another idea.

You press into him instead, leaning forward, and set out to peck lovingly along the curvature of Jeongguk’s jawline. He huffs in amusement, endeared by the way you take control. Because, although he’s usually the dominant one in the bedroom, he doesn't mind when you take charge like this. In fact, he's grown to love it. Loves the way you come into your own, toying and teasing with him, until your own actions cause you to grow desperate.

It's one of his greater weaknesses, his Achilles heel, and right now, you want nothing more than to expose it. Unveil a certain side of him. The one that'll see how far you can push before he starts to push back. The one that'll give in and take you right here on this couch after he's entertained your antics for long enough and you finally beg him to fuck you.

Your body practically hums at the thought.

You map out his skin, lips brushing against the surface like you're exploring a new land. Every movement careful, every touch claiming what's yours. And it almost goes to your head—how quickly Jeongguk submits to your mouth’s assault, his body relaxing into the couch like he's letting you have your way with him.

Jeongguk doesn't tell you that he is. That your lips are a holy grail he'd happily yield to.

When your teeth graze lightly at a particular soft spot below his ear, he lets out a small groan, eyes falling closed at the sensation. You feel the sound roll through you, the ache between your legs becoming hard to ignore when you think about the fact that you've roused that melody from his mouth.

It spurs you on, makes you want to hear it again and again. You want to paint the entire column of his neck red and then watch your confession of love fade to a bruised purple in the weeks to come. You want to rediscover all the ways that you can make Jeongguk sing, and the way your body dances to his tune in turn. Your lips lap him up, kisses becoming indelicate with desperation, teeth nipping with intent along his upper jaw, tongue tracing over the skin before you repeat all these gestures twicefold.

You can feel yourself growing wet, relish in the way that Jeongguk's hands tighten around your form. “Shit,” He mumbles and your body crows. Without pause, you shift against his lap and move to the neglected side of his neck, targeting the skin there. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, your core situated right above his growing erection, and it causes a shiver to run down your spine.

You plant a few messy kisses against his throat, nibbling vehemently, but then Jeongguk tuts and pries his eyes open before you have the opportunity to really sink your teeth into him.

“Baby,” He warns, curling a hand into your hair to form a makeshift ponytail. “No marks. I've got a presentation on Monday.” He says and pulls you back by an inch. His movements are somewhat hesitant, voice rough, like he's not entirely sure he truly wants you to stop.

But he has to. He can't afford to show up to class on Monday and present the most important project of his life with hickeys all over his neck.

“Next time.” He promises, but you consider outright ignoring him for a second, even though it's nonsensical, like some twisted form of punishment for a week of neglect.

But it’s Jeongguk—Jeongguk who’s been extra stressed lately about completing his degree. Jeongguk who’s carving time out of working on his big assignment right now—one which, not only counts forty percent of his grade, but could also earn him an internship at one of the top law firms in Seoul if he's lucky enough—all to pay special attention to you.

So, “Fine.” You give in, albeit a little petulantly, and brace your hands against his chest, face feeling flushed. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be close to you is all.”

“I know. Me too.” He rasps, grip on your hair loosening a touch, but not completely. “We don't have to stop though, just don't mark me up.” He explains, free hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

“Okay,” You slide your palms up his chest, feeling the toned muscles tense beneath your touch. “I really love you, you know?”

Jeongguk's eyes soften, a hint of a smile creeping up on his face. “I know,” He hums, tugging at your hair in a way that makes your scalp tingle. “But I don't think it comes close to how much I love you.” He rasps, using his grip as leverage to pull your head backwards until the delicate skin of your throat is exposed. “It's incomparable.” He murmurs, placing a single kiss on the side of your mouth before he travels south, lips peppering across your jawline.

You shiver, hands twisting into the thick material of Jeongguk's t-shirt. You want to tell him that it's not a competition, that you'd love him until the sun stops rising and, even if this one week of distance had been more, you know that he feels the same.

But the heavy palpitations in your chest causes the words to dissolve on your tongue because Jeongguk pulls the collar of your shirt to the side a second later, exposing more of your skin, before he traces a path along your décolletage. He's touching you like a starved man, mouth just as desperate and feverish as you’re starting to feel.

A stuttered gasp escapes your lips, your hands moving upwards, unsure of where to be, when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. You settle them on his shoulders.

“Jeongguk,” You moan, the tingling between your legs maturing into an unbearable ache.

“I know, baby.” He abruptly pulls away from your clavicle—lips red, eyes blown. “Tell me what you want.”

His demand goes over your head because you don't know what you want; can barely think straight with the lingering feeling of Jeongguk's lips on your neck. With the growing wetness sticking uncomfortably to your panties. With the burning, hot embers laying at the base of your stomach, begging to be set ablaze. And Jeongguk knows that. Knows that you're neither here nor there, only somewhere in the middle, teetering on the line of endless choices. So he lets go of your hair then, manoeuvres your body until you're straddling only his left thigh.

“Don't think about it, baby.” He murmurs, both hands moving to your hips. He guides them back and forth, slow and gentle, with just enough pressure to relieve that desperate throbbing in your pussy. “Just feel.”

And you do, sinking into your own little bubble, a paradise as impenetrable as the gates of heaven. You take your time to grind up against him, moving in tandem with the flow of his hands and a soft whimper climbs up your throat at the sensation of your clit brushing against the firm muscles of Jeongguk’s thigh. You're already so soaked, underwear absolutely sodden from the relentless pendular motions of your pelvis, and when you look down to find a dark, damp spot beginning to stain Jeongguk's sweatpants, you can't help but intensify your movements.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you've become turned on, how much you're dripping, when Jeongguk's barely touched you, but instead you just feel liberated. Pure power coursing through your veins because your boyfriend has given you the reins, is letting you use his body like a bitch in heat, and it's exhilarating; intoxicating every facet of your mind.

“That's it,” Jeongguk purrs, deserting your hips once you gain momentum to instead sneak both hands up the hem of your shirt.

Your breath escapes its chambers when he trails past the soft curve of your waist and straight to your breasts. “Fuck, you're so beautiful.” He grunts, gaze intent on your every reaction, like he's watching artwork unfold. His nimble fingers circle your nipples, tracing them with the most tantalizing pattern, until they begin to harden.

“Please,” You choke, clasping his shirt in between your fists like it's some sort of lifeline. You're not even sure what you're begging for, pace quickening as you ride Jeongguk’s thigh more aggressively. Every rut forward sends sparks shooting throughout your body, nerve endings alight, and when Jeongguk pinches your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, your back arches in pleasure. A throaty moan penetrates the room otherwise filled with nothing but your uneven pants and the sound of Jeongguk's voice.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” He groans, hands inching towards your shirt’s lower seam. He drags it over your torso, itching for better access to your breasts. Even in your muddled state, you meet him halfway, raising your arms above your head until the damned thing is off and you're left in nothing but your lacy underwear.

You hardly have time to adjust to the humid air hitting your torso, when Jeongguk tips his head forward, enveloping your right nipple into his mouth with reckless abandon. The response is instantaneous, a strangled sob slipping past your lips at the feeling of his warm mouth encased around your stiffened peak. His tongue swipes across your nipple, shockwaves manifesting at the blissful contact, and you don't know how much longer you're going to last—an embarrassing feat you don’t ponder on too much.

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the attention Jeongguk pays you. Whimpering when the pads of his fingers move to fondle the nipple of your forsaken breast while the other submits to his mouth’s pleasurable torment, each purposeful pinch causing them to tighten all the more. Your skin feels like it's on fire, the warmth of Jeongguk's touch igniting the cinders glowing from deep within your belly. “I-I think,” You swallow, your pussy rubbing deliciously into Jeongguk's leg. “I think I'm going to come soon,” You manage to admit through a repressed whine, voice so strained it sounds foreign even to your own ears.

You don't think you've ever hit an orgasm this quickly. You've never had to. Because you and Jeongguk are like inseparable magnets; every atom in your bodies drawn to each other, always connecting like two poles seeking the other out—never going more than a few days without some form of intimacy. Never mind a week.

At least, not until now.

So when Jeongguk bounces his leg upwards to meet the force of your pussy coming down on his quadricep, adding to the way you slam into him, your clit positively throbbing at the impact, you feel the onset of that familiar coil in your stomach tightening.

“Just let go, baby.” Jeongguk rasps, granting you permission with one final flick of your nipples and then you're coming undone, white fiery heat flooding every fiber of your body, as you cry out his name. Only his name, forever on your lips. You feel the way your entire form convulses, the way Jeongguk helps you through it, flexing his thigh so that you can get the most out of your orgasm, and your hips buck forward—unrelenting and greedy—before they finally ease into a slow rut. Grinding into him until the receding, minuscule waves of pleasure begin to fade.

With the last few clenches of your pulsating core, you slowly catch your breath, muscles slackening as you become pliant in Jeongguk's arms, the weight of your body suddenly too much for you to bear. Your boyfriend holds you tight though, both hands moving to your waist to keep you secure.

Behind the darkness of your closed eyelids; you hear Jeongguk softly murmur your name and feel the way his hand comes up to your face, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “You okay, angel?” He asks, voice emerging as a hushed tone.

When you manage to tear your eyes open and give him a soft, affirmative nod, Jeongguk seems satisfied, pressing a delicate kiss to your sternum before he shifts you from his lap and onto your back in one fell, but gentle swoop.

Your head hits the soft leather of the sofa with the aftermath of your climax still lingering against your skin like crackling electricity, fuzzing up your mind. “You think you can take more?” He asks, eyes flitting across your face to get a read on your current state of mind.

You nod your head assuredly, reaching out to make a grab for his body, to bring him closer. “Yeah I can,” You say confidently, arm's snaking up his back to explore the taut muscles that reside there.

Jeongguk is hovering over your body, thigh pressed hotly between your legs, and even though you can feel the rush of arousal, brought on only a second ago, pooling uncomfortably in your underwear—you want more. You want him. “I want to carry on.”

Jeongguk studies your demeanour, casting your body and expression a careful once-over, because he wants to feel you, be in you, wants to make you see stars. But it's only a matter of whether you're able to handle that right now. He has barely had his way with you, but you already look so fucked out, so perfect for him. It makes the blood rush straight to his dick. “You make me crazy.” He rasps, eyes locking with yours as he brings a hand up, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip.

You almost cower beneath his touch, beneath the sincerity of his gaze; appraising the very depths of your being as if you were a delicate treasure, as if he were staring at a god or something of a divine beauty.

Jeongguk thinks that maybe he is; thinks you’re the light, the one thing he’d worship morning, noon and night through blind faith. And there are barely enough words in the dictionary for him to express this notion to you, so instead he settles for “I love you.” Voice as rough as the high tides, but softer than moonlight.

He feels compelled to tell you this every chance he gets, a hopeless slave to his feelings for you. “Like I've never loved anything else in my life.” He continues. It's a quiet confession in the night, not a new one, but the words mean just as much as the first time he admitted them to you.

You feel yourself melt, can't remember ever feeling this cherished. Not since before Jeongguk and hopefully, never after. “I love you too.” You murmur, taking a moment to drink in every detail of the man who has left you restless all night.

Your eyes flicker over the defined cut of his jaw. The delicate curve of his lips and the pretty mole resting just beneath it. The small kissable scar on his cheek. The feathery flutter of his eyelashes. The strands of hair that have fallen over his face, and you retract your hand from his back to push them away.

How did you ever get this lucky?

“So much.” You emphasize and your voice thickens with the weight of your words, spoken from the very depths of your soul. “More than you could ever know.” Because there aren't enough words in the dictionary to get this notion across, so instead you lift your head, planting a firm kiss to Jeongguk’s lips as if sealing a vow, a promise of forever.

Jeongguk receives your kiss like he does with everything else related to you; openly, hungrily. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip—once—twice—and you instantly become pliant under his weight. Your fingers find his hair, tangling into the dark tresses as you deepen the kiss. It’s hot and it’s heavy, and in the distant part of your mind, you register that Jeongguk tastes like peaches, most likely from the alcohol he’s been drinking.

The sweetness of his lips immediately goes to your head; drunk and euphoric, and all grace flies out the window the next second. “Touch me,” You murmur breathlessly against his mouth, fingertips skimming over the nape of his neck. “Please, I need you.”

Jeongguk groans, a husky sound resonating from deep within his throat. “Fuck,” You can feel how rock hard he’s gotten, his erection pressing into your inner thigh and it's making you delirious with need. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Jeongguk rumbles, his mouth forming a wet, messy trek away from yours to embrace the flesh of your breasts.

You want to tell him that it's him, only him you want. Puppeteering your every move, body relinquishing itself to his touch. But you don't. You can't, not when Jeongguk's teeth leave scarlet marks across your chest that render you mute, words evaporating on your tongue like sacramental bread.

“My pretty baby,” He coos tenderly and you fight the urge to rut up against him. “Always so fucking ready for me.“ He praises, kisses traveling southward and it burns, searing, everywhere that Jeongguk touches you. You think you might erupt or shatter, and nothing less, if he doesn't meet you where you really need him to, your cunt begging to be satiated with his fingers, or his tongue, or his dick—anything.

A whimper escapes your lips, an embarrassing, desperate sound hanging in the thick air, as you glance down past your heaving breasts. You watch as Jeongguk abandons your boobs, planting a trail of kisses across the expanse of your stomach, your hip bones—takes the tiny little ribbon on your underwear between his teeth and tugs. The deliberate gesture causes your panty to rise up a bit, ever so slightly brushing against your clit in the process, and you bite down on your bottom lip, holding back an ungodly moan.

You can't take it anymore, all this teasing.

Jeongguk can read it on your face; sees it in the way you swiftly tilt your head back, eyes closed, brows scrunched together. He knows you like the back of his hand, which is how he gauges that you've fallen back into a place of submission—done with the tortuous foreplay, done with calling the shots, done with delaying the inevitable. You want him to fuck you, to use your body the same way you had used his mere minutes ago. And if his dick could get any harder at the thought, it would.

Jeongguk licks his lips, slips a finger into the curve of your waistband as he murmurs, “I’m gonna take this off now, okay?”

You nod your head, not daring to open your eyes to confront the image of Jeongguk's face a mere hair's breadth away from your cunt. It's too erotic. Too much. You feel him drag the thin garment down your legs, a string of arousal following suit, and suddenly feel self-conscious, attempting to close your legs to hide how shamefully wet you are.

But Jeongguk's not having any of that.

He carelessly chucks the lacy material to the side like it’s nothing but a rag, a nuisance, and then grips your inner thigh. “Don't you dare,” He grunts, using his grasp to keep your legs apart, lifting them upwards until your knees are bent to your chest and your ankles are resting over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt.

You barely have time to register the ticklish feeling of Jeongguk's breath fanning against your core before he dives straight in, licking a long stripe across your pussy, and your hips instinctively buck up. “Shit,” You mewl, rejoicing in the way his tongue traverses from your slit to your clit, lapping up every drop of arousal.

Jeongguk groans, a sound so low, stemming from the heart of his diaphragm, when he samples that first morsel of your leaking nectar. You taste like heaven, so sweet and unbearably wet, and all just for him.

“So fucking good,” He grumbles, mouth drinking you in. His tongue is unrelenting in its efforts to devour your pussy, and the overwhelming sensation of him slurping and sucking—of him eating you out like a connoisseur tasting the rarest of delicacies—causes frenzied pools of pleasure to ripple within the base of your belly.

He keeps at it, nose brushing against your clit as a byproduct, and after a few minutes the pure, unwavering rapture of Jeongguk's tongue becomes excruciating. A feeling so good, it’s almost too much. “Jeongguk,” You wail, heels digging into the couch as you try to back away from his mouth, but your boyfriend merely hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you closer. Holding you in place; unable to run or escape from the ruthless onslaught of his tongue, from the metal bite of his piercing brushing against your lower lips. “I can't,” You cry, writhing beneath his touch.

With his grip keeping you firmly anchored, Jeongguk brings one hand down to toy with your swollen clit, fingers moving in languid, clockwise motions. “You can,” He grunts thickly, tongue slipping between your folds and prodding deliciously at your hole. “I know you can, baby.” He mumbles in between fucking your drenched pussy with his fleshy muscle.

You shake your head frantically, eyes screwed shut, as you feel the waves of your second orgasm surfacing. “Not like this,” You beg, using your hands to reach down, fingers twisting into his fluffy hair as you desperately try to push him away. “Please, I want you in me.” A sob runs free, your walls pulsating around nothing because Jeongguk is taking his time with you, teasing your opening like he's got all night. But you don't. You're close, so fucking close, you can feel it in the tightening muscles of your pelvis, in the quivering of your legs.

But Jeongguk isn't giving you enough. He isn't giving you what you need. Your boyfriend, in all his hot glory, is taking you there with his tongue, swirling insufferably along your orifice—bringing you right up to the edge of the plank with an ocean of pleasure waiting just below your feet, but then he pulls you back. Drags you from the precipice before you can allow yourself to fall in, and it causes a frustrated whine to escape your lips. You need his cock deep inside, filling you up, pushing you off the ledge and into troubled waters. Your pussy throbs at the very thought. “Please Kook,” You find yourself beseeching for the second time. “I wanna cum with you in me.”

And any thread of composure Jeongguk has been holding on to up until that point, snaps at the pure neediness burrowed within your tone.

He looks up at you; lips glistening, eyes dilated—a mess of a man. But you don't look any better—or, if you were getting a glimpse of yourself through Jeongguk's point of view, never better—skin flushed, gleaming with a fine film of sweat, lips swollen from the way you've been biting them, and all at once, Jeongguk is overcome with the desire to give you everything you've ever wanted.

“Fuck, okay,” He curses, rising to his knees and you force your eyes open at the rough edge tainting his voice, at the overwhelming relief of getting what you wished for. “But it’s going to be a bit of a stretch, baby.” He says, not having prepped you fully. It's been a while since the two of you have had sex and, if he had it his way, he would have given you his fingers first, would have warmed and widened your lubricated walls, to ease the initial discomfort of him entering you.

But you look so pretty beneath him, so impatient, and—“I can handle it,” You mollify, voice a sweet concoction of sultry persuasion.

He nods in response, a curt motion, because if he thinks about how eager you're being, about how you're willing to take a little bit of the pain for the insurmountable pleasure, he might just come right there. Might just think of all the other ways you like to hurt; of the way you'd react if his palm made rough contact with your ass cheeks, or what would happen if he handcuffed you to his bedpost and stuffed you full with a vibrator and butt plug—if he fucked you tonight with no end in sight. He wonders if you'd cry, if you'd beg him for more or want him to stop, sopping and spent. More than that, he wants so badly to find out.

Jeongguk’s dark eyes find yours, their typical doe-eyed demeanour having turned hooded a long time ago. Yours are twinkling with anticipation, watching intently as he pulls his sweatpants down, letting them hang low beneath his buttocks. His cock immediately springs free, slapping against his stomach, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight.

“Come here,” Jeongguk's voice carries a jagged intonation, raw and untamed, and breaks through you like crashing waves. But when he makes a grab for your body, his hands are nothing but gentle, hoisting you up onto your knees and positioning you on all fours.

With your ass bared before him, face pressed into the cold faux leather of the couch, Jeongguk smooths a hand down your back, watches with satisfaction as your spine yields before his touch, and then he takes a hold of his dick. Doesn't even bother giving it a few preliminary pumps because he's already painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip as he lines himself with your hole.

He doesn't put it in though.

First, he teases your little cunt with only the head of his length, not fully embedding himself within your warmth just yet. You whimper pathetically at the testing prod, fingers balling into frustrated fists, while Jeongguk watches in awe as your entrance narrows, pleading to be stuffed.

“God, look at you.” Jeongguk groans, eyes traveling from your glistening pussy to the state of your overall servile form.

He places one hand on your hip, fingers digging into the skin there, as he inches just the slightest bit forward, his dick slowly pushing into you. Your mouth parts at the sensation and you shakily prop yourself up onto your elbows, head falling forward with a moan. “So fucking needy, huh.” He goads when you attempt to meet him in the middle, subtly backing up against his pelvis.

“No,” You shake your head as if it's some sort of lie, as if you haven't been thinking about this moment since you stepped over the doorsill of Jeongguk’s apartment earlier. And your boyfriend laughs—he actually laughs—a maniacal, derisive sound that rings in your ears.

“There's no need to deny it, baby.” He drawls like smooth liquor hitting the back of your throat, a silky succour that, for some reason, has you dumbly nodding along. Because Jeongguk’s entering you more now, his dick fighting against the tight restraint of your heat, and you're too distracted by the feeling of it to fully comprehend what he's saying.

“I mean,” He continues, reaching down between your legs to gather the wetness clinging to your folds before he bends over your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You’d think you've never been fucked a day in your life.” He murmurs, bringing his slick fingers to your level of sight.

You flush instantly, burning at the way your arousal dwells on Jeongguk's digits and forms a translucent web when he parts them into a V shape. “I can't help it,” You breathe shamefully, about to protest that it's his fault for letting you go so long without attention, for not taking care of your sexual needs and making you this susceptible to moments of depravity, when Jeongguk fully entrenches himself into your heat without so much as a warning.

“Aah,” Your jaw slackens at the sudden stretch of his length against your walls, the sensation so unfairly delicious you find yourself clenching around the intrusion with gasp, and your boyfriend uses the opportunity to stuff his letch-laiden fingers into your mouth.

“Clean them.” He grunts, lazily rocking forward and you choke back a moan, mouth instantly closing around his fingers. Head full of clouds, pussy filled to the brim, you obey. Your tongue licks up the juices stuck to his slim digits, gliding sensually across each one with care, and you vaguely hear Jeongguk curse below his breath, hips grinding into your core. “Fuck, just like that, angel.” He praises, allowing you to suck them clean for a few more seconds before he pulls them from your lips altogether with a lewd pop.

“Such a good girl,” He murmurs lovingly, pressing a singular kiss to your shoulder blade before he straightens to his full height behind you. “Always so perfect for me.”

Jeongguk's hands find your ass again and he gives the supple flesh a few gentle squeezes, savouring the way you whine in response.

“Please,” Your words come out embarrassingly broken and wretched, heart hammering in your chest with want, as you peek at Jeongguk over your shoulder. “Please, no more teasing. Just fuck me.”

“What do you think I'm doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrow raised, voice harbouring a hue of cockiness. He withdraws his thick length from your warm embrace at an agonizingly slow rate before thrusting right back in, repeating the motion steadily. “I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?”

You want to cry, your need to come so severe, it's starting to physically hurt.

Your fingers leave deep indents in the couch as you tackle the burning coals of frustration setting every inch of your body on fire. “M-More,” You stammer, feeling a pearl of arousal trickle down your thigh. You're so turned on right now, your mind an empty haze as Jeongguk edges you into oblivion, cunt so wet, you can barely feel the brush of his shaft against your walls anymore. “I need more.”

Jeongguk grins, feels the crown of his cock brush against a particular soft spot, and then decides to give you what you want. Because he loves it when you beg, when you become a blubbering mess beneath him, so cock-hungry, you forget yourself.

Without a moment's pause, Jeongguk pounds into you with unbridled vigour. His hips slap against your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room, and your body jerks forward at the impact. Your core is so drenched he's able to enter you with little resistance now. Emitting a rough, throaty groan, he fixates on how your creamy arousal coats his cock, disappearing in and out of your cunt.

“F-Fuck,” You hiss, your hand reaching back to firmly grip Jeongguk’s wrist for support, but he takes advantage of your extended arm and yanks you up until your back is pressed to his chest.

The new position gives him better access to your front and Jeongguk ghosts a hand around your waist without a second thought, smooths it down your stomach until he reaches your clit. Your body jolts the instant his fingers make contact with the swollen bud, legs quivering with the strength it's taking you to stay upright.

Your boyfriend notices your struggle and hooks his other arm around your waist, his fingertips holding you so tightly you won't be surprised if some bruises appear there tomorrow.

“Fuck, I've missed this.” He rasps, more to himself than you, whilst drilling against your g-spot. But the words affect you just the same as your pussy tightens in response, squeezing him into a death grip, and Jeongguk's hips stutter. “Jesus,” He groans, making a mental effort to stave off his own orgasm, trying to focus solely on you.

You really are going to be the death of him.

He breathes heavily through his nostrils before starting up again, slowly driving into you and his cock burrows so deep, you swear you can feel it in your uterus.

His fingers skim over your clit, tracing the nub ever so slightly because you're starting to flinch from his touch, starting to grow sensitive. And when your head falls back against his shoulder, a choked whine forcing its way out your throat, Jeongguk knows that you're close.

“You gonna come for me?” Jeongguk's lips brush against your temple, his hand deserting your pussy in sympathy to knead your breasts instead. You feel his thumb run over your nipple, static lightning steamrolling across your skin with each sweep.

“I-ah!” You can barely form a coherent sentence, the inklings of even one lucid thought slipping from your empty, fucked out mind as Jeongguk slams into you. He's setting a brutal pace, the noise of skin-against-skin undeniably obscene, but you can hardly find the will to care when the muscles in your abdomen begin to tense. They twist up like a clockwork toy, winding and winding, until Jeongguk hits a particular spot that makes your toes curl, and then you're coming undone for the second time tonight, knees buckling with the sheer force of your orgasm.

It hits you like a freight train, your body spasming. White dots of euphoria blur your vision, the pleasure so blinding, and Jeongguk's hold around your midsection is the only reason you don't collapse right there onto the couch.

“That's it, baby.” He reveres, hips never ceasing their movements even as your walls contract sporadically, determined to fuck you through it. An uncannily pornstar moan spills from your lips, mind and body having finally plunged into the silvery, stormy torrents of your climax, and the strangled sound causes something impossibly primal to rupture within Jeongguk. It thrashes at his chest like a wild caged animal, demanding release, and he recognizes the feeling all too well.

“You're mine, right? ” He finds himself grunting, voice husky with strain. The hand that was attending to your boobs instinctively ascends to your throat, squeezing slightly as he chases his own high, gives in to that grueling streak of possessiveness that only every rears its head when he has you like this—naked and vulnerable—and you groan at the familiar pressure.

You hum, walls clenching around him. “Only yours.” Your own hand reaches up, cuffing around his wrist for support as a tremor runs down your spine.

Jeongguk feels his balls tighten, the knowledge that he’s the sole witness to this side of you, so subservient and docile, sets him off the deep end.

Then you angle your head to the side, joining your lips with his. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, but the intimacy of it all causes Jeongguk's last bit of composure to crack.

He spills into you with a groan, the sound muffled by your mouth, as he rocks forward until every last drop of his seed is snug within your warmth.

The feeling of his cum bursting inside of you, length twitching, causes your pussy to flutter by reflex, milking Jeongguk of every ounce of cum, only suspending their contractions once he's thoroughly depleted.

By the end, you're both a heaving mess; chests rising and falling in unison as you come down, the electric current pulsing through your bodies fading into a comfortable hum.

Your skin is still buzzing, head befuddled, when Jeongguk presses a few lazy kisses across your shoulder—as if to ground you, to bring you back from the constellations he's painted behind your eyes.

“You were so good, baby.” He commends, smoothing the hair at the side of your profile and you can't help the soft, but dopey smile that breaks out onto your face then.

“I've been dreaming about that for forever.” You murmur, submitting to the assault of his lips. Your boyfriend chuckles in return, nuzzling your neck as he commits the smell of your skin, an alluring scent of sex and lavender, to his memory.

“Me too,” He hums, thumb gliding gently across the contour of your waist. Your sensitive pussy throbs at the light touch, rousing from the stimulation; which only reminds you of the unpleasant remnants of arousal coating your inner thighs.

As if reading your mind, Jeongguk whispers against your skin. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”

He eyes your figure carefully, waiting for any hint of consent before he leaves you here alone.

You manage to muster a nod and then feel his dick slip from your entrance a second later, withdrawing in a way that makes you cringe and leaves you feeling oddly empty.

“I’ll be right back.” He assures, his lips quickly, but comfortingly, brushing against your hairline. Thereafter, from your peripheral, you see Jeongguk detach himself from your side, pulling his pants back up as he disappears into the bathroom to do what he does best—take care of you.

In the meantime, you resist the temptation to slump back onto the sofa, feeling a hefty load of cum leaking down your thighs. Every muscle in your body feels relaxed, those sparks from earlier sizzling down into sleepy, smoky remnants that weigh you down. Mind a dazed mess, not sure of how much time has passed, you almost give in—the slumber you so desperately sought out at the beginning of the night finally settling into your bones—when Jeongguk walks back into the living room. He's changed into a pair of briefs and is carrying a wet cloth, as well as, a small tube of ointment.

Your body instantly perks up, a little rejuvenated by his presence.

“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs once he's back in your close vicinity, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he peers down at you with a soft smile.

“Hey,” You tiredly grin back, pointing a finger at the items in his hand. “Those for me?”

Jeongguk hums, draping an arm around your waist to steady you. If you had the energy to freshen yourself up, you honestly would but currently, you can barely keep your eyes open. So instead you lean on your boyfriend—figuratively and literally—clutching onto his biceps as he brings the warm cloth to your nether regions. You hiss a little at the contact, still feeling delicate down there, but Jeongguk handles you with a gentle mindfulness that makes your heart swell. Makes you think back to a little over an hour ago, when you were alone in bed unable to fall asleep because he wasn't there.

And sometimes it worries you. How much you need him. How much something as simple and basic as sleep, needs the warmth of his touch to make its mark on you. How much you’ve grown to love him in the span of a few months, your life endlessly orbiting around him like the earth to the sun. How much the deepest crevices of your soul, where the vile fear of abandonment and instinctual desire to run, relinquish themselves to the light of Jeongguk’s unconditional love.

You watch him toss the used washcloth to the side before unscrewing the top of the ointment. Sigh; as his fingers, tender with purpose, apply dabs of vitamin K salve to your hips where the marks from his fingertips are starting to surface. “Shit, I'm so sorry baby.” He apologizes, the raspy, hushed tone of his voice communicating how guilt-ridden he feels. “I didn't mean to be this rough.”

And, you've never known a love like this. One that rustles through your hair like the wind on the drive down to your parents. One that meets you in the dead of winter between classes, wrapped up in coats and scarves, and coffee as the snow falls. One that kisses you goodnight, hands cupping your cheeks while the street lamps flicker outside.

One that dresses all your bruises.

It makes you want to run in the opposite direction every now and then, fleeing until you forget that you ever knew it could be this good, this safe.

But, staring at Jeongguk and the careful, intricate way he's massaging ointment onto all your black-and-blues, you bury these trepidations away, laying them to rest in the one place they belong—the past.

Because yes, you’ve never had this sort of love before—the seriousness, the commitment.

The emptied-out drawers for your clothes.

The spare toothbrush at his place.

The conversations of a future together—the clear line being crossed from fling to forever.

Even though it's a concept so scary and unfamiliar, and foreign to you—you never want to let it go.

You never want to let him go.

[hoseoksluna]

STEAM | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: smut

word count: 9.2k

summary: one video call awakens your neediness for two cocks.

playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam

warnings: female masturbation, mentions of shower sex, praise kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, a hint of voyeurism, oc rly goes through it and faces mental battles, fear, intoxication, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, choking, cum eating, manhandling, degradation, provocation, mutual masturbation, rough & raw sex, brief oral sex (f. receiving), pet names

note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE SKFDSFLSFJ, okay so—let me introduce to you a new yoongi series featuring JUNGKOOK oh my god. i am SO EXCITED about this and i wanna apologize for my insane ideas in advance... i'm so sorry, guys. nevertheless, i hope you like this as much as i do, i literally went mad writing this and i smoked so many cigarettes i lost count. please, let me kNOW UR FAVORITE PARTS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT THEM. oh fuck, guys. ENJOY READING SDKFJSD. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

side note: btw, the playlist i made is literally perfect and depicts the fic wonderfully. you can listen while you read! <3

The scent of mangoes finds its way up your nostrils, heating your senses through its balmy touch as you rub the body butter over the damp skin of your arms. Fingers graze along your décolletage, tucking in the fragrance for your boyfriend to breathe in when he comes home. He’s out for the night—said something about his friend finishing his military service, so the whole group was going out to celebrate it. Yoongi was so frantic in his excitement, hastily putting on the first outfit that sparked his eye. Didn’t even touch his hair, only sprayed a mist of his sandalwood and tangerine-tinged perfume. Grabbed his phone, keys, wallet. Barely kissed you goodbye before he fled out of the door.

He didn’t even ask you if you wanted to come along.

You didn’t mind, though—you’re only in the early stages of your relationship. It hasn’t even been half a year since you’ve started dating. And you figure he deserves a night out with his closest friends because you’ve been attached to the hip since the beginning. Funnily enough, you no longer live at your own place. Somehow, you’ve settled in Yoongi’s apartment, never setting foot outside, save for your walks, grocery shopping, the few dates with your friends and work. There wasn’t any conversation about it; you just mostly spend your free time with your boyfriend.

And all you do is fuck, eat and watch movies.

The last time Yoongi took you out was during the first two months you’d been getting to know him. The realization of how long it’s been sends a trail of chills down your arms and you rub it away.

But because you’ve been spending all your time together, you’re glad to have a moment to yourself—glad to be able to take a long hot shower, to do your hair and skincare. Perhaps, you’ll even have time to do your nails and that energizes you, propels you to spread the body butter further down the rest of your body. It is your rose garden, these night times reserved for your hot showers. The place you go to—your hideaway from the pressure and nerves of life that the steam loosens and soothes, especially when you let your sultry playlist echo through the mightiness of Yoongi’s bathroom, your favorite singer’s voice reaching your veins like the growing stems of those roses; pretty, pink and so feminine. Yes, Yoongi’s therapy sessions and thick length might have been a great help, the best in fact, but there’s something about letting yourself be burned off of all that’s been weighing you down and watching it trickle down the drain that is just so satisfying.

It was all that you were once used to. That is, until you met Yoongi.

Showers with him are something else.

Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right there at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did along with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.

That has become your new version of hot long showers.

And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.

You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.

That is why you enjoy your exceptional alone shower all the more—you haven’t had it in so long. Only this time, it’s quite different.

You feel him everywhere.

You feel him in the drift of your hand down your tummy because you recollect the way he likes to pepper kisses there on his way to eat you out. You feel him when you round your palms across your backside because you know he particularly likes to leave traces of saliva when he presses open-mouthed kisses there. His love for you circulates in your bloodstream, mingling with the little love you have for yourself, making it bigger, turning it into a turbulent rush of liquid. You sense it tapping beneath your skin, asking for more of your body just like Yoongi does, always begging, begging for more—for more skin to kiss and lick, for more sensitive parts of you to find and nibble on.

Your hands sense the ghost of him even when your fingers slip past your mound and realize that the film of your memories dampened your cunt. You hear the words of praise he’d utter into your ear at the discovery and you sigh at your tender touch. 

That’s a good girl. Messy for me. 

The rotund case of your body butter remains opened, forgotten. You suddenly have better things to do—like give your body the self-care, the self-love it deserves.

It’s a part of the solo girl's night.

A mewl comes out of your mouth at the first round of circles on your clit. Furrowing your brows at the pleasure, you prop your free hand on the edge of the bathroom counter, riding the pads of your fingers. And then, just like Yoongi taught you, you take your digits away, edging yourself, taking them elsewhere. You cry out at the contact of your wet fingertips on your stiff nipple and you pinch the nub, a spasm of delight coursing through your sensitiveness.

You imagine Yoongi standing behind you. Not touching you, merely guiding you, telling you when to stop, when to pick up the pace—when to fill your hole. Watching you in the mirror, hands in his pockets, having a perfect view of your slick-caked folds, of your clit swollen and asking for his tongue. Determined to make you lose your mind by teasing you, letting you only slap your pussy once you’re close. Your essence drips out of you at that thought, making a mess on the floor and you plug it in with your finger, fucking yourself steadily, inflamed by how slippery your heat is, how easy it is to slip the digit inside. Hot flashes close over your body, pearls of perspiration kissing the crook of your neck. You fuck yourself faster and—

A sudden ring of your phone jolts you. And the picture of your boyfriend, half dressed, with the early morning sunlight leaking over the scars and tattoo on his shoulder, crammed inside your screen, greets you.

You pant hard, your finger still inside of you. Delirious.

He must be on his way home. You don’t even know what time it is. 

Leaning forward, you hide your breasts behind your forearm and you swipe your finger to accept his video call.

Blurry Yoongi. The night sky, starlit and alive, behind him. A shoal of silhouettes, some lanky and some buff, all short-haired and all as woozy-lidded as you. The picture smooths into a crystal clear view and there you see your boyfriend, the nocturnal breeze brushing his ebony hair back. Not just him, however, but another male craning his neck to regard you fully. 

His eyes flicking from your neck to the smallest of your exposed décolletage, a smirk blossoming on his face like your imaginary roses. 

Yoongi slaps his phone face down. You withdraw your finger from your heat, a cacophony of giggles, whiny cries and the exclamations of his name emitting out of your mouth. 

He is not, in fact, on his way home. 

It is a warning, his low and strict call of your name back and, heeding it, you take your phone into your hands, so he’s only able to see your deeply flushed face. Device back in his hand, he’s not looking at you at all. As a matter of fact, he’s shooting daggers fueled with deadly nightshade at his friend, grumbling something that you can’t quite make out amidst the chaos and bustle of the outing. The shoal of the rest of his friends and strangers disappear out of the perspective, as if threatened by the cold energy. 

You wish you knew what he’s saying to him. Even your pussy aches to hear it. The principle of him scolding his friend for looking at you at your most private moment scorches you and you’re red, flattered and majestically horny. 

Yoongi turns his head to see if you’re well-behaved and you beam at him, the pulse on your clit intensifying, forcing you to say, “come home, Yoongi.” 

He chuckles, aware of the reason behind your words, pretends he isn’t. “What were you doing, baby?” 

The growth of your grin doesn’t falter. You show him the sheen of your wet finger in the ivory bathroom light, the glint, the stickiness as you push your index finger to your middle and pull away, your arousal on full, filthy display. 

He curses under his breath. Doesn’t give a fuck that his friend sits beside him and adjusts in his seat. Bites his lip briefly. “Stick it in your mouth for me.” 

Doesn’t say the words that so very often follow after in that sentence. Taste yourself. 

Why he doesn’t step aside to take this video call eludes you, but something about you being watched by two pairs of eyes excites you. Enough for you to do as he says. Perhaps it’s due to the fact you don’t know the male sitting beside him and Yoongi is letting him keep his sight glued to the screen. 

Two sharp inhales of breath. Not one of yours. Yoongi readies his hook to feignedly lash out at his friend and you press your thighs together to alleviate yourself of the unbearable feeling between your legs. Confidence, a bad, bad version of confidence suffuses you whole, turning you into a person gone mad by lust. You swirl your tongue around your digit, the tanginess of your taste causing your eyes to narrow, the principle of driving not just one, but two men mad just the same intoxicates you, as if you were there among them, drinking. 

A pair of round eyes peek at the corner of the screen. Soft, naive, so terribly innocent. A dash of sobriety washes over you, owed to those brownish effervescent orbs, a sprinkle shame pooling low in your core. A reality check. You sense some kind of stability of that reality beneath those eyelashes of his, the stability that whispers—is this the right thing to do? 

It’s not rough, it’s not stern, it’s not Yoongi coded—it’s anything but. Gentleness is what you detect, free of any prejudice. 

You sigh. Millions of thoughts about how you could toy with them pass through your mind, but you decide against them, the stability a pillar that blends into your spine, helping it unbend. You can’t do this; you can’t do this to Yoongi and you need to keep your dignity intact in some way, despite the fact that every fiber of your body compels you to do the opposite. You distract yourself by screwing the lid of your body butter back on. 

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, causing you to whisk your eyes to the screen in perhaps disbelief, shame or your still pending arousal—you’re not sure. How can you be a good girl when you let another man see something so lewd? How can your boyfriend validate something like that? “One more beer and I’ll be home. Wait for me on the bed. As you are.” 

Naked. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, to the surface of every part of your skin, dragging away small ounces of shame. You curse, mentally, running a hand down your face. Yoongi downs his drink without taking his gaze off of you, watching your reaction, adds once he swallows, “and don’t touch yourself.” 

And with that, he hangs up. 

The harsh comprehension of what the fuck just happened envelops you in a confining embrace, the precipitately increasing weight of shame now a burden on your shoulders that you just can’t shake off, even when you slink your arms through sleeves of your silky robe and welcome in the summer breeze coming to caress your face on the balcony—even when you burst your lighter to a flame and light up your cigarette, inhaling the smoke that you hoped would rid you of its such uncomfortable hold around you. 

You licked your cum clean under the gape of a guy you don’t know in front of your boyfriend. 

His friend heard the order. Don’t touch yourself. Yoongi didn’t whisper it. Didn’t camouflage his words in any way. Uttered them straight and bare, allowing his friend to hear them, despite the fact he almost fought him then and there for sneaking one glance at your moderately naked form. 

Question marks hover in your mind and the pulse on your clit cries, seemingly knowing the answer. 

Did Yoongi like it as much as you did, the aspect of having an audience? 

The wetness in your heat dribbles out, staining your thighs. You squeeze them together, the drag of your cigarette hard and long, expecting to feel your nerves burn off. You gain no such thing—no relief, no lifting of the burden, just constricting tangles in your tummy, zippy spasms of butterflies going mad, mad, mad. 

Perhaps Yoongi didn’t like it at first until he perceived the auspicious debauched look on your face. Saw the way you didn’t hesitate to oblige him when he told you to stick your finger in your mouth. And perhaps the fact that you didn’t express any signal of discomfort was the key to unfastening the leash on his possessiveness over you. 

What have you done? What have you so selfishly and disgustingly done? 

You hang your head in your hands, the white smoke intertwining with the burden on your shoulders and pressing down harder on you. 

That’s why he let his friend hear the command. Don’t touch yourself. He saw the way you indulged in it, and that awakened his liking for it.

Yoongi lied when he said he’d have one more beer. 

By the time you hear the thunder of his voice, all the roses in your garden have wilted, leaving faded, withered petals in its wake—leaving a path of your internal battle all around the apartment for Yoongi to follow. You’ve paced, your bare feet stepping on them. Tried to untangle yourself from the incarceration of your mind by chain-smoking, but to no avail. The only change that took place in your body was the decline of your shame, for you couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened, had you let free rein to your desire—had those round eyes never looked at you with such purity. You figured there wasn’t anything bad about letting your imagination be colored like that, and so you sat on your boyfriend’s couch, cigarette switched to a coconut-flavored vape, and dreamed.

You dreamed about those two men being of service to you, right here on the same couch, where they would lay you down and make you squirt over and over again, betting between each other who could make you come the fastest, counting down your orgasms until the number was a mere blur to you. 

The throb on your clit heightened to heavenly levels and when you emerged from your dream, you found yourself being able to breathe—your momentary disappearance tricking your shame into leaving. It was difficult for you not to touch yourself and you opted to adhere to Yoongi’s wish, not risking to feel worse than you already had. 

The war ended, undeterred by the fact you never expected it to. 

Loud swear words roar in Korean. You rise to your feet to open the front door for Yoongi and you discover that he’s not alone at all. 

The same pair of round eyes, the cause of all the ruckus you just departed from, meet yours, hauling you back there with a force. Your mouth falls agape and before you can react any further, Yoongi stumbles into you. You almost topple over, realizing you didn’t care to steal a glance at the state of him, but the male grabs a hold of Yoongi’s jacket and pulls him back. You wish you had tumbled over and the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole. It would have been less embarrassing than to be stuck in this situation. You want to run, you want to scream— 

“He’s drunk out of his own mind,” the male says, his voice deep like the warm wind before a tumultuous storm, fitting just right with the thunder of Yoongi’s intonation, his gaze wandering over the entirety of your shock-stricken face, taking it in; giving you the same attention that fucked you up hours ago. Yoongi begins to mumble something you can’t momentarily focus on, his hands grasping your waist, lips latching onto your neck. No, you cannot for the life of you focus because the man steals you all over again and you hate how easy it is for him to do that, when you’re far from being available. “Don’t ask what made him drink this much.”

Did Yoongi get drunk because he let his friend in on your most intimate moment? 

Humiliated, turned on and angry altogether, a concoction that simply worsens everything, you draw back from your boyfriend. You want to beat at his chest with your fists just to have some sort of relief from blaming him—because if you blame yourself, only doom consumes you. Why did he call you? Or, essentially, why didn’t he step away to take that damned video call? 

“Thanks for walking him home,” you say eventually, your voice smooth, despite the violence of your feelings, despite wanting to say something else entirely. Your first words to him and, wholeheartedly—despite it all, you hope they aren’t last, even if that possibly makes you a despicable person. 

Yoongi’s friend nods. Chews his bottom lip and lowers his gaze to the ground for a split second. You wonder if he feels the need to remove himself from this uncomfortable situation as much as you do because you can’t read anything in that paleness of his countenance. Not a hint of any emotion whatsoever, just blandness of expression, slightly dimmed by the few thick strands of black hair that have fallen from his disheveled, pushed back mullet. As if they did fight after all, perhaps on the way home, or wrestled if Yoongi was being difficult. 

You don’t realize you and the male are just staring at each other until Yoongi places his hand on your cheek, brushing back a wisp of your tresses. Only then do your eyes flick to Yoongi’s and you finally notice him, the gloss in his hooded irises searching and searching for you, the rosy blush on his cheeks, dry parted mouth and the dart of his tongue as he wets it, softening the flecks that have been created there. 

This is it. If you are focused on him, all things are made right—all things that have been stained get purified and dreams get turned into dust. This is the man you’ve fallen for, who puts you before himself and has done so every day since the moment he made you his. You can’t let anyone else get in the way of the home that your relationship has become, you can’t let your feelings flee—

“For the record,” Yoongi’s friend starts, hand massaging circles on the nape of his neck, the leather of his jacket tight around his arm. Your heart jumps and beats against your chest ferociously. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps you sleep better tonight.” 

It’s such a fat lie and you’re about to shake your head, but then he looks at you with such sincere regret that, ultimately, you choose to believe him. Just to keep your peace of mind unscarred. 

Yoongi tightens his hold around your waist, which grounds you, and a small part of you begins to bloom in healing, disseminating little by little across your whole body. 

A healer with big, round eyes. A good man. 

With a swing, Yoongi closes the door but you don’t hear the click. No, the light spills in from the hallway. Your hands reach for the doorknob but Yoongi blocks them and wraps them around his waist while swaying on his feet. He traces the shell of your ear with his lips, his alcohol-reeking breath wafting over you, and softly, you whine his name. Shuffling beyond the door, feet never entirely moving—the male is still standing outside and he hears as Yoongi hums at your call, as the sound grows into a groan at the feeling of being alone with you at last, at the feeling of all that makes you feminine under his hands. He hears your gasp as Yoongi pushes your chest flush to his body, kisses you harshly and cups your bare pussy. Hears the smack of your mouths, the pop once he withdraws, the squelch of your wetness. Hears as Yoongi murmurs, “you been horny, baby? Wet for me, hm?”

It’s those words that make him shut the door for you.

You made Yoongi drink a lot of water. 

And while he downed the glasses, you ordered him Thai food from his phone, which he now devours. You had wanted to change out of your flimsy robe into your plush pajamas, but Yoongi stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder and with the nastiest puppy eyes he could manage, considering his plastered state, he begged you not to. Informed you that he wanted to fuck you in your little robe and you told him that if he wanted that, he needed to get sober. 

He’s your boyfriend and you trust him, but you don’t feel comfortable having sex with him while he’s wasted and you’re not. It’s a dangerous territory you don’t ever want to cross. 

So, now he eats as quietly as a mouse, feeding you every other bite with his chopsticks, meanwhile you’re jittering your leg with your arms crossed across your chest, mind full of the male who walked him home. Of the way he pulled you under and resurfaced with you soon after. Of the calm peace you feel all over the perimeter of your mind that peculiarly stresses you out. Of what would happen if you voiced your little dream to Yoongi, especially. 

Was it out of the question or would he consider it? 

Your leg jitters harder. 

You want to tell him, badly. Seeing his friend in real life changed fucking everything. If you hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten about it in the days to come. Yoongi would’ve fucked it out of you in most probability. But those eyes… those eyes got under your skin. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Yoongi scolds with his mouth full of food, no hint of slurring. The hot meal and hydration worked a miracle. “You’re making me nervous.” 

He picks up two cut pieces of chicken with his chopsticks and stuffs your mouth, adding a few pieces of vegetables as you’re chewing. Watches you swallow it, noticing how your eyes are focused on nothing in particular on the other side of the room. Tucking his utensils under his palm, he places his hand on your thigh, halting your restless motion. 

You still won’t look at him. Too lost in the overthinking maze, debating whether you should speak or remain quiet about your desire. A strong part of you fears his reaction and the other half is horrified at the possibility of being turned down—

Yoongi takes his hand away. Props it on his cheek. 

“I can see your pussy from here,” he says, licking his lips. “You’ve shaved?” 

You breathe a soft laugh, turning your head to face him, covering yourself with the small fabric. Dark, but tender eyes, void of any glossiness, awake and stirred—amused. Cheeks awash with color. Lips puffy, a dark tinge of red coating them. A sturdy fist on his cheek, the milky jawline underneath. That messy hair, the slicked-back look ruined by the constant rake of his fingers through them, now falling to the side from the middle. That slender body, clad in the night from head to toe—legs outstretched under the table. So fine, so delicious. A beautiful strong man—all yours. Why do you want another one? 

You slide your leg across his thighs and Yoongi slouches in his seat, discarding his chopsticks. 

“I shaved everything,” you respond, cocking your brow at him—a sly invitation for him to feel its smoothness. 

And he does. Runs his hand up and down your skin. Goes as far as lifting your other leg onto his lap, cradling them both, thumb caressing your calf. The movement causes your robe to expose you again and, cursing the fabric, you go to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. 

“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “I wanna look at it.” 

You raise your brows altogether, looking up at him. “You wanna look at her?” 

Yoongi smirks. That dangerous tug of one corner of his mouth to the side. Your death, your undoing, the root of your submission to him. “I want to have her at my disposal.”

You gulp and Yoongi catches it, chuckling. Drifts his hand down your calf, to your heel, to the middle of your foot up to your toes. He plays with your pinky. You note the fact he changed the pronoun after you did. 

Your arousal returns at full speed.

“Did that make you wet?” Low, low is his voice—you feel it prodding at your core, thrumming vehemently. 

You blossom like your roses, thoughts put to the side. 

“I’ve been wet this entire time,” you say, zeroing in your gaze on the flick of dimness that whirls past his eyes. “For hours.” 

He makes a sound of pitiful nature. “Poor baby.” Furrows his brows and juts his bottom lip out, making you weak. Lets his hand roam on your thigh. “So you listened? You didn’t touch yourself?” 

You merely nod your head quickly. You were too distressed to give your body the pleasure it sought. Too busy flaring your lungs with the burn of smoke. And you respected his wish enough to keep your hands to yourself. 

Yoongi coos. “Good girl.” 

A flashback—your lips wrapping around your slick-coated finger, Yoongi praising you and… another pair of eyes watching. Chills spread across your arms, your stomach flipping. Thankfully, your shame is kept at bay. It relieves you. 

“Can I feel how wet you are?” 

A sweet, devious smile. “If you can manage to get to her.” 

You press your thighs tightly together. Yoongi looks at you as if you’ve greatly offended him and alas, he turns your chair so you face him head-on. Forces your thighs apart without any strain at all—and there you feel it, the embarrassment of fucking with him, once your pussy is at complete disposal to him just like he wanted. 

“If your pussy wasn’t so pretty, I’d make you regret your words,” he purrs, eyes fixed on your drenched flesh, hands pushing your thighs back until your knees are at level with your shoulders, folds parting with the movement, revealing more of you. Yoongi wets his mouth with his tongue. 

He thumbs your gleaming lips back and forth, collecting your essence, mesmerized by them. Looks at you intently. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Would it?” 

You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.” 

He rubs your swollen clit in slow circles, still with his bedewed thumb, still with his eyes on you. You choke out a moan at the delight permeating through your being. “That’s not the proper way to apologize, now is it?”

You lean your pelvis into his touch, a natural body reaction unfolding. He disapproves. You scrunch your face. “What should I say?” 

Yoongi tuts. “I’m barely touching you and you already forgot your manners?” 

The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine. 

He shakes his head, putting pressure into his circles for a mere beat of time before he slaps your pussy curtly. A vivid spasm of pleasure fills you and you moan. “Needy girl. Don’t I take care of this pussy enough? What’s this behavior?” 

Another whine. A roll of your body, asking for more of his touch. “Spank her again.” 

A cock of his brow. Harsh, stern, evil. His hand remains propped on his thigh, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hear you say please. You wanna be bad? You want me to make you cry?” 

You know just how much he’s capable of doing that. You shake your head ‘no’. You want gentleness, the kind you saw in his friend’s eyes—

You flutter your own shut to get rid of that thought. Take a deep breath. 

“Spank my pussy again, please.” 

Yoongi massages the apex of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt, squeezing the flesh every once in a while. 

“Apologize first.” 

“You didn’t tell me how.” 

He clicks his tongue and pinches your folds and your clit between his fingers. You cry out, and then Yoongi gets up to his feet, leaning over you, propping his hand on the back of your chair. He begins to swiftly spank your pussy over and over again. You just jump at every contact, moaning, eyes flicked to his, never breaking apart. Taking it, taking it so well that Yoongi kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Then, he grunts. Fingers flat against your clit, he moves them from side to side. Roses, a myriad of them, flood your form with their freshness and dewiness, with their beauty and delectation and you shudder, you scream, you arch your back off of the backrest—

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m such a bad girl that I deserve every spank and I’ll take it until it hurts.” 

Flabbergasted and horny beyond measure, your mouth falls agape. Your brain turns into mush, the pleasure paralyzing you, your sounds now loud and obscene, the roses in you flitting, growing and murmuring. Yoongi adds more pressure to your clit and your eyes sink back into your head, his darkness wafting over to you, seeping into your skin—now completely yours. 

You repeat after him—word for word. With a simper on your face that causes him to scowl at you, as if you dared to toy with your punishment he bestowed upon you. But then, a tongue prods the inside of his cheek and he laughs, taking a hold of his dominant role and making sure you know. He spanks your clit twice in a row, hands lifting to fondle your nipples. 

“Good,” he praises. “You like that, don’t you? Spanks on your pussy?”

You don’t like that softness. Like the personified thunder he is, it is the calm before the storm. It unnerves you, the expectation of what might come next and your disliking of it. Nonetheless, you brim with the craving to have his fingers inside of you. Your hole clenches at that and Yoongi notices, hissing under his breath. The language of the darkness rises on your tongue and you figure that if you let loose, you’ll get your wish fulfilled.

“Yeah, it feels so good—” He pinches your nipples between his knuckles and you mewl, your lashes shaking at the impact, another set of wetness coating your folds. “Please, fuck me with your fi—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Yoongi plunges his middle finger into your heat, cursing at your tightness, at how slippery you are and at the delight of being filled at last, you knit your brows. With his other finger, he traces the outline of your puckered mouth, his breathing hard and ragged. 

“I’ll do anything for that pout of yours, fuck, no matter if you deserve it or not,” he utters, slipping the digit inside. Instinctively, you suck on it and only then does Yoongi begin to pump you slowly. “You just need a little roughness to be good, don’t you?” 

Dumbly, you nod, swirling your tongue around him, but a faint, silenced part of you begs for the gentleness that you know hides somewhere deep inside his chest, never once unfurled during such intimate times. 

You pay it no matter, too fucked out to think. 

When he adds a second finger into your heat, he does the same thing with his other hand. Two fingers in your cunt, two fingers in your mouth. And he fucks you with both until you gag and a light flashes in his eyes—then, he withdraws all together, leaning against the table, his bedewed fingers coming to rest at his hardened length in his pants. 

Roses, opening. Roses, sighing. 

You breathe heavily, needing to finish, needing to have him in your mouth—

“You liked being the center of attention today?” he husks, surveying your whole body, bent in half. 

There it is—the storm. Just what you expected. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. And it is fear, what you feel, even when you refuse to admit it. Stiff, tempered fear that pervades each and every vein on your body, regarding being possibly degraded, being made feel dirty—regarding, even, tasting the dark wine of his wrath. 

Such a stark, sudden change. 

You don’t want this. You don’t want any of it.

Abruptly, an internal question comes and pokes you in the middle of your forehead.

Will you succumb to it or will you, with the wildly fresh darkness within you, fight against it?

You take a deep breath, and in with the air also follows, with the little rationality you have amidst the sensuality of your lecherous appetite, the decision to take a hold of it all. To take charge. Just like he did.

You shall prioritize yourself. Your feelings, your desires—your roses.

Your choice envelops your fear in bubble wrap. It doesn’t dissipate. And as much as it pains you, you take a mental note of that. 

“I did,” you spit out, angered by the fact you’re afraid of your boyfriend, and so you stand your ground. “It made me so fucking needy and I want more.” 

The relief that hits you almost causes you to weep and you lower your legs to the ground. Not wanting him to see the film of tears clouding your eyes, you avoid his gaze. Yoongi crosses his arms across his chest and clicks his tongue at you, disapproving. 

“Keep your legs where they belong.” 

“No.”

A lift of his brow. He crouches down to your level and cradles your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. And there he sees, under the waterfall of your hair, your emotions at his disposal. Yoongi studies you, frowns at you and you want to sob, you want to go home. Shame slithers towards your spine like a ghost, and although it keeps a distance, you feel its presence prickling your back. You cover your cleavage. 

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, a silky murmur, eyes flicking between yours. His fingers don’t caress your skin; they merely hold you firmly, making dents in the skin. 

You don’t trust that voice, dismayed by what might lie under. 

“Why did you do that to me?” you ask in return, and it’s a blue fire shooting out, engulfing the room in stifling heat. You catch a glimpse of its sparks in the dimness of his eyes, of how he’s momentarily stricken by it before it folds beneath the shadows.

“You want to get fucked by someone else?” 

A question for a question. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, caused by your frustration. 

Your devotion to him didn’t let you go as far as to imagine being fucked by his friend while Yoongi watched, but the brief flash of it in your mind is enough incentive for the heat to spill into you, mingling with the darkness, turning you candescent, traveling through you until it finds your core—and there, it stays. There, it finds home. 

The pulse on your clit returns, filling you with abrupt energy. 

There’s something about him coming up with it that makes you unhinged, but you’re so utterly sick of the instability of your feelings. You need it to stop.

“And what if I do?” you retort. “What will you do?” 

Truthfulness, at last.

Yoongi takes in a sharp inhale of breath, and that is the only reaction you receive from him. Nothing else on his face flickers; no wrath, no sliver of jealousy, not one thing. You stare at an empty canvas, ready for you to paint on. And you simply decide that you want to start. 

You push his hand away from your face. Stand up to your feet. But the hardened look he gives you inclines you to sit back down. 

You fight against it. 

Untangling the knot on your robe, you let him see your bare femininity. The perkiness of your breasts, the long dip of your stomach that he likes to pepper kisses on. Yes, you’re aiming for his weakness. 

And you decide to repeat history. 

You reach your hand down, lower and lower while he stares you down, and you collect your glimmering essence. Sinking your finger into your mouth, you make a show of rolling your eyes back and moaning faintly, softly. Your other hand, in the meantime, unbuttons his pants. 

The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat. 

“Is this not evidence enough?” you purr, dragging down his zipper. “How else am I supposed to show you?” 

You pull his manhood out as you suck on your finger, all while maintaining eye contact. You don’t touch him beyond that. In fact, you withdraw your hand altogether. 

And then, you collect your essence again. 

This time, you smear it across his bottom lip. Yoongi lets you. Your heart thuds, threatening to jump out of your chest. 

“Your actions during the video call told me everything,” you whisper, catching the sliver of wooziness scattering along his narrowed eyes. “And I think you liked it more than me—the thought of sharing me. You can’t hide it. Not when I saw it.” 

Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you. 

He parts his lips for you. 

And the contact of the pad of your finger with his wet tongue coaxes a string of your dewiness to drip down the side of your thigh. You moan for him. Relieved, fucked up, woozy just the same. Finally, finally, finally. 

You’re in charge. And it feels divine. 

His length twitches against the fabric of his T-shirt. Long, hard, drooling. Such a delight for you—and so you continue. 

“I also think it made you hard. Not just because you called me when I was touching myself, but because your friend was right there beside you,” you purr, your voice a seductive sound of silk—leading him to wrap his lips around your digit. You moan for him, showing him how much you like that. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Your walls clench at the pet name, solely due to the fact that these soft terms of endearment have always been addressed to you, never the other way around. It thrills you. “I’d always be devoted to you, even if he fucked me. I’d look at you the entire time. If that’s what you want. I had a different idea, but yours is just—” you pause, and again you make a show of sighing and rolling your eyes back, “better.” 

A straight hit to his core. A glee for you. 

But you don’t realize how much you fucked up until Yoongi grips your waist and the hold hurts enough that you wince. 

And then—then he manhandles you. 

Lifting you and laying you down on the table, Yoongi spreads your legs. Watches you drip, watches as the satiny fabric follows the movement of your limbs and reveals you in all your entirety. He pulls you closer to him with a sharp tug until you collide with the tops of his thighs. Bends over you. Hovers his lips above yours. You expect him to kiss you—he even angles his head and rubs the side of his nose against yours—but he never does. 

He only leaves you waiting. Leaves you submitted to your empty expectations, taking charge, taking his control back from you. You shiver in anticipation, reaching for him, however he pins your hands down on either side of you. An angel in a rose garden. 

Yoongi chuckles, darkly, his teeth glinting in the yellow light. You fight against his hold, hips rolling against the underside of his length, beckoning him to do something, anything. You merely manage to prolong the thunder of his laughter. 

“One cock isn’t enough for her, so baby wants two,” he spits. That smirk, the crinkles around his eyes—he’s enjoying this. The hint of degradation doesn’t reflect what’s swarming inside of him, doesn’t reflect the face of pleasure coursing down his body. You smile and he scoffs. “I have enough friends for you to choose from in case you want more. I think you’d be stellar at taking three cocks. Four, even, huh? Would you have enough then? One in your tight little virgin ass, two in your cunt, one down your throat?” 

You gulp, frozen, eyes widening. 

Yoongi bites his shiny lips, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. Kisses you once. Begins to rock his hips, his length sliding across your wet fleshiness. The moan that escapes your throat trembles with each delicious motion. 

“You watch too much porn, honey,” he coos, giving you tiny kisses on the mouth. “I’d kill anyone who would come near this pussy. And I’d kill Jungkook, too, if he so much as glanced at her.” 

So that’s his name. You mewl, knitting your brows. That’s his pretty name. The entirety of your form shivers at the discovery, at the pleasure given to your throbbing clit. 

Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free. 

You prop your elbows on the table, pouting. Yoongi grasps his length, spreads his arousal and begins to jerk himself off. 

“You’re not fucking Jungkook. You’re mine.” He groans, squeezing his tip; your hole clenches. “Rub your clit.” 

Like him, you spread your arousal on your seashell, the arousal long caused by his presence and now the mention of his name—the reason behind your frustration and his, the reason why you’re spread on the dining table, why your boyfriend is hard. You rub your clit from side to side, amused. 

“No,” Yoongi disapproves, knowing you do the motion when you want to prolong the build-up. “Circles. Make yourself come.” 

You change direction, obeying him. A sly grin blossoms on your lips, dark eyes looking up into his, permeating them, permeating into his soul. You pick up the pace, moaning into your expression of elation. 

“Jungkook is such a pretty name,” you provoke and you heighten your sounds in volume and intensity just to piss him off, just to have your way. 

A grunt escapes him, matching your pace. He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes. You hum. 

“A pretty name to moan in my opinion.” A layer of sweat coats your body. Yoongi grasps your jawline firmly and your satisfied laughter inches you closer to your orgasm. You feel the hot flashes, roses surrounding you—its tender petals grazing your feverish skin. You give in, watching Yoongi do the same, his mouth in a tight line, hissing and sizzling, an open fire, an open fire you want to be radiated by, burned whole by. “Just imagine him here, watching us. Oh my god, imagine him knowing he’s the reason why you and I are doing this.” 

Yoongi has had enough. 

He pushes you down harshly. Fills your hole to the hilt without letting you adjust, observing himself disappearing inside of you and begins to pound you into the table. The sound of skin slapping, the hard and quick strokes, the ravaged grunts he lets out, the fast change—it all takes your breath away, so much that you can’t, in fact, breathe. He grabs your face and makes you look at him. The dead of the night captured in his features, you absorb it, whining like the brat you are onto his mouth, mingling into your noises your approval, your yes’. 

Swallowing it, he kisses you, keeping his eyes open. “He could never fuck you like this.” 

You laugh. He swallows that, too, moaning. “What if he could?” 

He taps you on the cheek, a warning, giving you an exceptionally hard stroke that causes you to scream. He pauses. Does it again. Over and over—and your screams echo across the room, your own soul slipping out of your body. Petals flutter against you and you’re done for, hanging off the edge. You’re close, so terribly close. Your eyesight blurs and Yoongi pulls out entirely and rams into you. Again and again, abusing your cervix. 

You moan his name, gone—entirely gone. 

“Yes, moan my name like that. Just mine,” he mutters. “Who’s fucking you this good? Who’s gonna make you come?” 

He rams into you more rapidly than before. Your senses leave you until all that you know is Yoongi. His name, his scent, the wholeness of the night encompassing him. 

“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”

Yoongi laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right. That’s my good girl.” 

He rolls his hips, slowing down the coming of your orgasm, owning you. Lets your senses come back to you momentarily. You swallow, your throat dry and you blink, dazed still. Yoongi kisses you, giving you all that he took from you. 

“Who’s only capable of fucking you like this, honey, hm?” he asks, his voice tender and sing-song. “My pretty honey, so fucked out. So out of it.” 

You whine and you don’t control what comes out of you, your body answering for you. “You, Yoongi. You’re fucking me so—so good. I can’t—fuck. You’re the only one.” 

He smiles down at you fondly, kissing your nose, then your lips, parting your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours briefly. Then he withdraws, begins to fuck you again, slowly, reaching to the side for something. 

Once you see his phone in his hand, your heart stops. And when he puts the device to his ear, your throat dries up even more. You suddenly become aware of the silence all around, especially in your chest. You can’t breathe, you can’t blink—

Yoongi jackhammers into you, purposefully luring your loud noises out of you. “My girlfriend wants to fuck you.” 

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, the suddenness, the quickness of pleasure you haven’t yet felt piercing you. Fuck hot flashes and petals, you feel a heavy urge of your orgasm closing down on you. 

“She’s so desperate for you, even when I’m fucking the life out of her.” 

You flutter your eyes open to see Yoongi surveying you. You scrunch your face—so close, so fucking close—and then he puts the phone to your ear. Breathing, hard, ragged breathing fills all of your senses and you come. 

It’s an explosion. Roses bursting, their dew soaking you and Yoongi whole and you exit. You exit out of this situation, this world, this universe while your soul remains here with them. Vibrancy, colors so beautiful and sensations so vivid, ardent and fierce. You don’t know what it is you’re feeling or where you are. That is, until Yoongi’s voice yanks you back to planet Earth, back into this world, this situation—back to them. 

“In fact, she just came for you. Squirted.” 

You sob. Overstimulated, rhapsodic, but effulgent. Yes, you emit light and glow. You can see it in Yoongi’s softened eyes. 

“Think about it. No pressure. Just know she won’t shut up about you. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. I think it’s only right you fuck it out of her.” 

With that, he hangs up. 

You brim with so many emotions that it numbs you. Happy tears flow out of your tear ducts—and happily, endearingly, Yoongi chortles. You don’t even feel humiliation or shame. On the contrary, you’re ready to come again. 

Yoongi kisses you and the sounds he slips into your mouth divulge how happy he is about this, how pleased he is with himself. 

You pout, burning your eyesight into his. He begins to rut into you. 

“What, you’re not even gonna thank me?” he says, grinning, as if he wasn’t fucking you at all, as if you two were still sitting at the dinner table, conversing. 

You stammer, head empty, silencing yourself and trying again. “What—what made you change your mind?” 

Yoongi places open-mouthed, wet kisses along the bone of your jaw, and there he seals his answer. “I made up my mind the moment you admitted you wanted to be fucked by him, but you wouldn’t shut up about him. I wanted to hear you babble for me. About me. I just had to mess you up to get to that point.” 

You mewl, running your hands through his sweat-slicked hair. Like a cat, he perks up to your touch, lifting his head, angling it. He kisses you, deeply. Kisses your relief. 

“Where are your manners, hm?” he whispers onto your mouth, giving you hard strokes that erase your vocabulary. You want to make him come and so you push against his thrusts, but to no avail. The intensity won’t allow you. 

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you murmur, cradling his face, pecking him, giving him the softest eyes you could muster so you can show him how much it means to you. 

He approves of your effort on bettering your manners and to reward you, he lifts you up and fucks you in the air. Your breasts bounce against the material of his T-shirt, stimulating you and he alters between jackhammering into you and sliding you up and down on his length. Your pussy squelches around his girth, tightening and Yoongi—

Yoongi loses his mind. 

And it’s him who begins to babble when you snap your hips down on him in circles. 

“Just like that, honey, oh fuck. So good, so good for me.” 

He takes it until his sounds grow in volume and you focus so much on his pleasure that you forget about yours. 

But you don’t let him take charge. 

“Let me fuck you, please, Yoongi. I wanna make you come.” 

Just like you, he’s out of it and because of that, because you asked so nicely, he lets you. 

His chest heaves, staccatos of his choked out breaths sail through the room and you can see it on his face that he’s close. Brows furrowed, bottom lip bleeding due to the way he bites hard on it, the way his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter closed. 

You hold onto his neck with your dear life. 

“Look at me,” you demand and swirl your hips in slow circles around his tip. “I want you to look at me when you come.” 

You’re so stunned that he allows you to be in charge, even more when he truly does open his eyes and pierces his gaze into yours. 

“I need to pull out,” he breathes, but you shake your head, snapping your hips down on him harshly.

“No, I want your cum in me. And I want it to be inside of me when Jungkook fucks me.” 

Yoongi grunts and this is it for him. His cock twitches in you, over and over again and then you feel it—the hot, thick ropes of his cum stuffing you full. You’re so mesmerized by the feeling, by the blissfulness evident on his face, by the smoothness between his brows at last that you can’t even milk him dry. You’re frozen, stupefied by his beauty, by his personal rapture and you want to feel it in unity with him. You kiss him. 

It’s him who fucks him cum into you, burying it deep, moaning into your lip lock. 

It’s him who lays you down to your original position and briefly, feebly licks the sheen on your spread lips before devouring your clit. 

It’s him who gives you the fastest orgasm of your life. 

And it’s him who tells you—in the shower—the story of how he almost beat up Jungkook black and blue once he heard him say how pretty you are.

And it’s you who checks up on him. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” 

You’re stroking his hair in the bed, the duvet heavy and warm around your body and his, the night overflowing into morning—Yoongi, too. 

He’s falling asleep, but still conscious, still here with you, purring. 

“I wouldn’t be waking him up in the middle of the night if I wasn’t,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look at you, to see you enveloped in the extra blanket of the dawn’s rosy light—glowing, throwing the sun off of its throne. “Poor guy just got out of the military and you’ve already rocked his world.” 

You smile, fondly, thumb caressing his temple. Yoongi hums in appreciation. 

“I’m happy for him he’s getting pussy—one that’s mine. Before he enlisted, he spent all his time painting and getting drunk alone,” he pauses in a thought, blinking at the light. “You still want this?” 

You nod, settling into his chest. Yoongi pulls you closer, tucking the duvet into the lines of your form, bringing in comfort and sleepiness. 

“I’ll make sure you have the time of your life. I’ll be here the whole time, taking care of you,” he promises against your hair and you squeeze him. 

“He hasn’t said yes, though. He could turn me down.” 

“I’ve seen the way he looked at you. You have nothing to fear. He’ll come to you like a puppy.” 

Yoongi sinks the promise onto the plane of your forehead and holds you as you drift to sleep. Happy, relieved, steamed off of all the negative things you went through. It evaporates into the dawn—far, far away from you. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / READ part two 

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. ii

hi. this is max's lawyer speaking. please don't get mad at her for this part. she asked me to let you know that she loves you all and hopes that you trust her. sincerely, jimmy mcgill

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're pregnant with joel miller's kid. he's dating someone else. you deal with it.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy stuff like nausea (none of the v word, y'all are safe with me), ultrasound scene set in a hospital, anxiety and guilt surrounding pregnancy, description of body change/growth, brief and i mean brief discussion of abortion, joel is dating someone who isn't reader, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), reader has no physical description save for hair, cursing, genderless use of buddy when referring to baby, joel kisses someone who is not his partner, mention of alcohol, disturbing & semi-graphic nightmare about being involved in car accident, reader has a panic attack, discussion of dead parents, fluff and the beginnings of angst DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there's ever anything you feel i've missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 9.2k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

“I know, I know,” Joel holds a palm up, “it’s nine thirty. I know. But I had to lug all this wood over here, and it – You okay?”

You realize when he pauses that you’re gaping at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place behind your front door. Your jaw hinges shut, a gulp like carpet burn down your throat. You didn’t hear a word he just said.

How does he know? He can’t possibly. Did he sense it, from two lawns away? Dream about the binding of cells, the furnace left lit in your body from that night? The embers still floating, just waiting to catch to life again?

Did he do the fucking math, the way you probably should’ve? How does he fucking know?

The minute the question leaves your mouth, you regret it.

Joel’s eyebrows drop. “How did I know what, kid? That you need new closets? Like you ain’t been nipping my ear about ‘em for weeks?”

Your eyes unlock from his and shift to the slats of wood leaning against the balustrade. The toolbox hanging from his fist. The worn jeans and the white dust marks on his thighs. He doesn’t fucking know, you idiot.

Joel steps forward. Takes your wrist. One grounding, steady hand around your thrashing pulse. “You’re freaking me out. What the hell’s –?”

“Nothing,” you chirp, remembering. The closet. The deal. The fucking – the deal. You withdraw your arm. Hidden up your sleeve, quickly slipping out of his grasp, is the news that his life is about to change forever.

Maybe. You don’t fucking know.

“No,” you continue, blinking the burn of sunlight from your vision, “I just – I forgot. Sorry. Come in. Sorry.”

“Quit sayin’ sorry,” he mutters, eyeing you suspiciously. He lifts a foot and hovers it over the threshold, hesitating. Like the first step across a minefield; instinct telling him to tread carefully.

And you swear an oath to yourself, swear it on your own life: if he doesn’t put the heel of his boot in your hallway, if he turns around right now whether because his instinct is razor sharp, or because he forgot his lucky screwdriver, or purely because he needs to take a fucking leak before he gets started – you will never tell him. He will never know.

If his intuition is that good, he’ll turn around and never show up on your porch again. If he has any sense, he’ll forget any of this ever happened. Deal off.

“How’s the stomach?” Joel asks, sole still three inches from wood.

“What?” you bleat, your heel knocking against the bottom stair. It’s a little more panicked than you intended.

“Yesterday,” a crease forms between his brows, “you said you had a weird stomach. That any better?”

Oh, you think, and as you open your mouth to reply, his foot hits the ground. No answer needed. He was coming in whether you tried to deter him or not.

“Oh, yeah. It’s – Well, it’s better than it was. I think I worked it out,” you grimace, tongue curling under the tinge of anxiety and – well. “Thanks,” you add, noticing the brisk cut of your replies.

The heavy thud of his footsteps follows you upstairs, blunt on the carpet as you lead him up. Joel sets the toolbox down and casts your room a quick glance, snapping back to you as soon as you notice him.

You tug on the corner of the bedsheets, a heat bubbling beneath your cheeks. Something shy and self-conscious, all of a sudden. The reality that you don’t feel close enough to this man to share the anatomy of your room with him, mixed with the knowledge that the two of you are, now and forever, bound by the anatomy of something a little more significant than dirty laundry and dusty wardrobes.

A little closer than most humans get, let’s say.

“You want a coffee or something?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning back against the window sill.

“You havin’ one?”

“Sure. Wait – actually –” Can you have coffee whilst pregnant? A woman at work quit it altogether when she fell pregnant with her son. Fuck. “I’m – No. I’m good. But let me go make you one.”

Joel shakes his head, amused. Screwdriver burrowing into a door hinge already. He flashes you a tickled grin. “I’m good just now, kid. Wait until you’re makin’ one. Thanks.”

You lift a shoulder. “Welcome.”

His eyes flit from the twist of silver to your hunched shoulders, your arms crossed protectively over your chest. “You gonna stand there ‘n watch me all day? You my foreman now?”

“Sure,” you reply, and he laughs. You sniff, twisting your foot into the carpet. The plastic test itches against your skin; you can feel the two lines ripping into your wrist like tiny burns. “I can go, if you want.”

His lip turns, musing. A quick flick of his jaw. “You’re good company, all in all.”

Metal clanking against metal; fingers knuckle-deep in the toolbox. You can hear the harsh sound across your body, like the point of screws and bite of rust are actually scoring your skin. The groan of a near-fifty-year-old man rising to rip a decades-old door from its home. The creak of wood as it splits.

Everything so heightened that it’s actually painful.

Joel straightens up and pauses, turning his screwdriver between his fingers. “Are we –? We’re good, right?”

“Good?”

“Yeah. You’d tell me if things were weird?”

“Why would things be weird?”

His answer scrawls itself across his face. Your response scoffs from your lips.

“I just,” Joel sighs, “I feel like something might be off with ya. Maybe you just ain’t feelin’ too hot. But you’re quiet.”

“Quiet,” you whisper, palms locking heavily against your biceps. More defensive than convincing.

“Yeah. You usually annoy the hell outta me.”

Over your shoulder, Alice Brown waddles down her driveway, eyeing her flowerbeds. She pauses when Diane’s station wagon pulls up across the street; stands motionless as she watches the round figure climb out and totter to her own front door.

“Just – not in a very annoying mood, I guess,” you offer, staring at the white head of hair fluttering in the breeze. The glint of a trowel in her hand.

Joel’s chin lifts. He studies you, tongue tracing the ridges of his teeth. And then he’s nearing you, turning until you’re shoulder to shoulder, two silhouettes stood against the bright square of blue sky inside your window frame. His arms crossed; his stare fixed.

The words begin to boil in your stomach. Violent bubbles against the wall of your midriff. Rising like steam, fading into nothingness over your tongue, the sting of heat where your voice won’t collect them.

Joel moves from foot to foot. It feels like some kind of merry dance, some choreographed moment between you – like a skit in a comedy show. I know something you don’t know.

“What happened – at the wedding,” he murmurs, addressing the polished gold of your bedframe.

Some small sound passes your lips. An affirmative. You’re on the same page.

“We didn’t use – you know. And with you not feelin’ well, it’s…” A deep breath. Chest full of a ghostly bravery. And then he asks, “Are you –?”

Silence swallows the end of his question whole. You didn’t need it, anyway. The stiffness of his frame, his stare shooting straight ahead. The lack of oxygen between you – both holding your breath for fear that something might tear loose from your lungs. He knows. He knows he knows he knows.

You gulp. “…If I was?”

His head cranes upwards, focusing on the cracked plaster of your ceiling. The realization slowly trickling down over his skin. It hasn’t seeped through, hasn’t bled into his brain yet. “Then,” another breath, “then it’d be a conversation…” His voice is halved, split somewhere between knowing and – what is it? Hoping?

Your eyes slip over to the worn sleeve of his T-shirt, stretched around the swell of his bicep; scaling up to his shoulder, the tight set of his jaw. He’s so much taller, he’s so much older. There’s so much life lived and so many lessons learned behind his eyes that you wonder how much the news I’m pregnant would actually crack him.

Your eyes meet. You whisper, “Then – talk,” and his expression softens.

He blinks away whatever’s left of his trying, his polite attempts to skirt around it. He sheds probably a good three decades – turns back into some doe-eyed boy, wonderstruck and terrified. His voice is quiet, and at the same time, the heaviest with emotion you’ve ever heard it. “Are you?” he asks, and immediately, he blurs behind a wall of tears.

Your sentence gets caught in your teeth. It made no sense to begin with. Tangled between your molars, latching at the back of your tongue. Your hand slowly pulls free from your sleeve, the little white test between your fingers.

Joel’s eyes instantly drop, staring at the pale stick with a fraught expression you understand to mean the message has finally reached his brain. The same words now ringing between his ears: She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. I got her pregnant.

You hold the test out, quivering in the daylight. He takes it in his thumbs, instantly soothing its tremble. Everything muted, every movement steady and considered. And suddenly the sight of that positive test feels less scary, in his hands. Feels like a smaller problem, if that were ever possible.

And he says nothing, and it’s almost unbearable to watch the shape of his lips thin, the shadow beneath his brows darken. Agonizing to stand here and wonder what the next words over his tongue will be.

He stares at it a moment longer. You count the beats of your pulse in your throat. You wrap your arms tighter around your body, holding your skeleton together.

Joel’s lips part. Your breath freezes. Whatever he says, you don’t want to miss a syllable.

“Are you –” he blinks, “– are you feelin’ okay?”

You stare blankly. His eyes finally lift.

“What?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Your head jerks. “I’m – I’m fine. I mean, I’m fucking shocked.”

He nods. “How long have you known?”

“Took that right before you showed up,” you say, eyes diving to his hands. “Twenty minutes, maybe.”

He’s still switching between you and the test. Checking those two lines are still there, as if they might fade to nothing, and then checking you’re still there – as if you might, too. Might be swept off if he’s not keeping an eye on you.

His face pales. He sinks back against the window ledge. “Jesus,” he breathes, a hand down the scruff of his chin.

And it feels like relief, like a mirror sat before you, presenting the honest truth: you’re fucked, and Joel thinks so, too. It embeds the shock into the cushion of your brain, the weight of it absorbed and laid bare for every particle in your body to pay it a visit. What the fuck do we do now?

“Yeah,” you sniff, “Jesus.”

But then his arm wraps around your shoulder, reminding you you’re still solid. Still whole. He holds you to his side, and when you turn into him, he takes you in the other and pulls you flat against his chest. His lips to your hair. His breathing slowing yours.

“We’re gonna work it out,” he says into your hair. “We’re gonna – Jesus, I did not expect…We are goin’ to be fine, alright? You are goin’ to be fine.”

You’re nodding, the prickle of tears flooding across your eyes again. They’re doing nothing, his words – blunt against your skin and insignificant to the fear swelling around your heart – but it feels better to be afraid with someone. Feels better to hold onto something stronger, something bigger, while you feel yourself beginning to shrink.

“What do we do?” you ask into his shirt.

Joel loosens his grip, pulls away until you’re staring at one another. “What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t…” Your head’s shaking, lips moving quicker than your voice will offer the words over. “I don’t think I want to get rid of it.”

He nods, a hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Alright. Then you don’t have to. You don’t gotta do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with.”

“But,” you sniff, guiltily averting his gaze, “this fucks everything up. Everything’s about to change.”

Joel takes a long, slow breath. “It complicates some things, that’s for sure.” He looks out to the street; Alice Brown now hauling weeds from the edge of her lawn. In his exhale, he breathes a name.

“V…What?”

He looks down. Eyes dance around your damp cheeks. “Vanessa,” he says, clearer now.

“Vanessa?”

A nod. His nose wriggles with an awkward sniff. You push off from his chest.

“Who the hell is Vanessa?”

Joel lets you go; lets you step back. He watches as you brace yourself against the ledge. Runs a hand through his hair while he fixes the right order of words. He’s thinking. Carefully.

Too fucking carefully. He’s taking too long.

“Joel. Who’s Vanessa?”

“She’s…” He sighs. “She’s my ex. From Tommy’s wedding. Vanessa Hart.”

Your jaw slackens. The purple dress. The hair like silk, a halo around her head where the light kissed her perfectly. Her plump lips; the way her head tipped back to laugh. The amount of air you felt her take up the second you laid eyes on her, the second you saw her, arm on top of Joel’s.

“Vanessa,” you whisper, your eyes descending his frame. The memory feels menacing now: her sweet giggle a sneering cackle, and you’ve no idea why. The bulky jewels around her neck, her clawed fingers on his arm.

Joel’s hand sits inches from yours on the wooden sill. Alice is walking back inside.

“We, uh…we swapped numbers the morning after the wedding, at breakfast. I didn’t think much of it, but we’ve seen each other a couple times since.”

This isn’t the time for another it’s a date, it’s not a date argument. What the fuck does he mean by –

“Seen each other?”

“Mhm.” He owes you better than that. He reckons so, too. “Dates,” he clarifies. “We’ve been on a couple dates.”

“Oh.”

Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. Plummets, dragging with it your breath and your nerve and any other words you can think of. Your chest gnaws at the edges of the cavity left behind. It hurts. It stings.

Though you’ve no right for it to hurt or sting: as far as you were concerned, as far as you think Joel was concerned, that night was a one-off. It meant as little as the alcohol draining from your glasses, the vacant buzz of love and hope loose in the air. Equally as intoxicating as each other.

Cataclysmic, for the first little while. So heavily awkward that you would wait to watch Joel head out in the morning, clear of your path, before you’d set off for work. It felt like the aftermath of some natural disaster – the cleanup of debris and mistake.

But oh, it feels like a punch to the gut. Low, unexpected; a foul move by someone who never meant to hurt or not hurt you. Someone ignorant to every move he made, right up to this moment.

Your arms wrap around your body again, as though tending to the bruise left by the sucker punch shaped something like that tall woman named Vanessa.

Joel scratches the back of his neck. “We were…we were seein’ about starting things up again. Me ‘n her.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I got you. That’s – I mean, I’m – I’m sorry, Joel, I –”

“Woah, woah,” he’s stepping forward now, “hey, no. No way. This wasn’t you. Well, shoot – it kinda was you. But it was just as much me, right?”

You smile, your face back in the safe hold of his hands. Tears roll down your cheeks, collecting in the corners of your mouth. His thumbs swipe them away.

“This was just as much me,” he repeats, voice soft and soothing.

“But, you know – if you wanted to – just ‘cause I don’t want to get – so if you didn’t wanna have to – that’d be okay, you know that, right?”

His head snaps back, brows low. It’s the first time he looks like his cool has broken all morning. It’s the first time he looks…downright offended. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, and then, “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I just – I know this ain’t ideal. It’s even worse if you’re tryna make it work with Vanessa. So if you felt like it was too much, then…”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up,” he says, edged with some kind of groan. “Stop talking, right now. Stop. You gotta take a deep breath, alright? I’m here, ‘n I mean I’m here. We’re in this together. I am not running out on you.”

“Joel –”

What was a mere crack in his cool before, rips through it now like lightning spreading across the sky. He closes his eyes, a sigh escaping between his teeth. “If you think I would leave you right now, to deal with this on your own –”

“I don’t,” you tell him, his vexation powering your sudden animation. You wipe your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m just saying, it’s a fucking lot. I don’t want you to feel trapped. I’m giving you an out, man.”

“I am not interested in taking it. Enough. Conversation over.”

“And what about Vanessa?”

“What about her?” he asks, the question dripping in something akin to anger. He catches himself, draws it back in. “She’ll just – We’ll talk, I’ll explain it. The hell else can we do? One thing at a time, okay?”

“Right,” you nod, “okay. One thing at a time.”

“Let’s just build these damn wardrobes. I sure as hell didn’t lug all that timber over here to not do ‘em.”

“Okay,” you repeat, making for the door.

“Ah.” He clicks, and you turn back. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”

“To get the timber.”

“I don’t think so,” he says, pointing to your bed. “Sit down. Relax. You ain’t getting a damn thing.”

Joel calls it a day at six o’clock.

The skeleton of the closet is up: a smooth, tan frame lining one wall of your room. Much bigger, much sturdier than its predecessor.

You’re in the same spot he left you in: lying across your bed, admiring his handiwork. He’s good at what he does. You told him twice, and the two of you almost heaved both times. Compliments aren’t something you’re used to handing one another.

He left, maybe, three hours ago. Said he had to shower; said he’d be back first thing to finish the job. You sat up to see him out, got struck by a wave of nausea so bad that you fell back to the bed with one hand on your stomach and the other over your lips, and Joel had insisted – demanded – that you stay where you were.

I’ll be back later to check on ya, he assured, setting a glass of water at your bedside. And then he told you to call him if you felt even remotely off – sick, or panicked, or had a tickle in your throat that you couldn’t clear – and that’s when the two of you realized that you don’t even have one another’s numbers.

And you laughed, the both of you; laughed at the absurdity of you carrying his child when you don’t even carry his contact details in your phone. Laughed at how quickly everything has turned one hundred and eighty degrees in the few hours since you woke up. It felt like some form of release, the only way to clear the blockage of tension in both your throats. So, you laughed, until you felt sick again, and Joel swept the hair from your shoulders to cool you down.

The attentiveness is…new. It’s interesting. It’s kind, in the same way that being told to say hi to whoever your grandma is talking to in the grocery store, is kind. Sweet, the same way that answering the door on Halloween to a bunch of kids you don’t know from a street you don’t recognize the name of, is sweet.

Whatever. It’s fucking weird, alright?

You’ve never seen this side of Joel. You didn’t know or even think, in your wildest dreams, that he existed. Let’s face it: you two have spent the entirety of your inhabitance next door to one another, antagonizing each other. Your favorite hobby has always been pissing Joel off – teasing him for having backache, seeing how far down his porch you can launch his newspaper and he’ll still go get it. Playing the same kind of music you heard him playing on his guitar that one time, full-volume from your kitchen window just to fuck with him.

And, likewise: his favorite hobby has always been…well, ignoring you. Doing everything he can not to engage. If it weren’t for that fucking cat lady and her jittery green Chevrolet, none of this would’ve ever happened. She was a catalyst where one was neither needed nor wanted. You would’ve gone about your life, pinning your underwear only slightly more carefully to your clothesline, and Joel would’ve gone about his, doing – whatever the fuck he does.

Sure, it’s weird. But it’s nice. It’s nice to have him on your side, turning to check on you rather than snap at you for something. Nice to have him talk – actual, rounded words in place of grumbles and mumbles and groans and sighs. Nice to hang out with him and watch him work and ask questions about screws and power tools and pretend to be interested just to distract from the weight of queasiness in your stomach.

Your hands trail down, cupping around your navel. Your stomach still feels like your stomach: still soft, still spongey under your touch. If not for the two more tests you’d taken this afternoon, perched on the bathroom counter waiting for Joel to unstick his gaze from his watch and announce, That’s three minutes – both also positive, by the way – you’d have no fucking clue.

You hold the bottom half of your tummy, fingers rubbing gently over the skin that will soon enough grow and swell and protect.

“Hey,” you whisper, staring at the stationary ceiling fan overhead. A pause. An awkward inhale. “…hey, little buddy. I don’t – know you very well, yet. I figure you can’t even fucking hear me, but whatever. Just wanted to say hi. I’m – Ew, no. I’m not Mom, yet. What the fuck. I don’t know who I am right now, so just…maybe go easy on me until I figure that part out. And after, too. Alright? Are we…we cool?

“You can’t tell me, I know. I just have to assume we’re cool. Okay. Well. Keep growin’. Keep…doing your thing. You’re doing great. We’re doing – we’re doing alright.

“Good job, kid. Good job.”

Joel tells Vanessa two days later. She takes it…about as well as you might hope.

He says they talked for four hours. Three cups of coffee and a drive to Taco Bell later, she agreed to meet you. Properly. Not across the cluttered dancefloor of Tommy’s wedding.

She –? Is – is that a good idea?

I don’t know, kid. It’s the best I’ve got.

Meet me? Like, come kick my ass for sleeping with her boyfriend?

Joel had sighed and deadened his eyes on yours. Not her boyfriend, he corrected, passing you a sweater folded a little slapdash for your liking, and wasn’t her boyfriend when we slept together.

You shook the sweater straight again and fixed his work, muttering to yourself that at least he’s a better builder than he is a folder.

Joel heard you, and let it go. Passed you another – unfolded – sweater to sit in your wardrobe. Let’s just see how it goes, alright?

Alright.

We’re really trying this again. It’s only been a couple weeks.

Okay.

And neither of us have had much luck in that department since we broke it off, y’know?

Joel. I said okay.

He held your gaze a moment too long. Okay.

You’re on your porch when he strolls over, wrist blocking the six o’clock sun from his eyes. Newspaper in his fist, wind licking the corners. “Forget somethin’ today?” he asks, meeting you at the top of the steps.

“Came out to get it,” you brace yourself on the railing, “felt sick. This is me workin’ up to it.”

“You want me to toss it back onto my lawn so you can go fetch me it?”

You smile, eyes screwing shut. “Was coming over to ask what time for tomorrow.”

The reminder snaps him from his happy daydream. He says, “I was comin’ to ask you the same thing. Seven work?”

“Seven’s good. Are we getting food?”

“You wanna get food? I figured maybe you wouldn’t be up for it, what with the, uh…” Joel gestures to your hunched position, your head low between your shoulders, your deep, deliberate breaths.

“Maybe just drinks,” you utter, gulping back the sharp taste of bile.

He nods. “Drinks it is. You okay? You need anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks. See you guys at seven.”

Four minutes early, there’s a knock at your door. You pull it open, and there they are. Picture-perfect, like they might be posing for a holiday card. A bottle in his arm, a bunch of flowers in hers. A timid but genial smile between her cheeks, a twinkle in her eye. That same circle of shining light around her head, brunette tresses curled into bouncing waves.

“Howdy,” Joel says, stepping into the space you create. He dips his head, kisses your cheek, whispers a brief, Y’okay? in your ear. You nod quickly, gently shifting him out of the way.

Vanessa lingers for a moment in the doorway. She glances from Joel to you again, blinking in the porch light. Her pale skin lit in an ethereal glow. She’s prettier up close.

Joel addresses you, hand brushing the small of your back, “…this is Vanessa.”

“Hi,” she says, and pushes the flowers towards you – a small bouquet of gypsophila and eucalyptus. Bright, polite. Each sprig laden with the burden of appearing simpatico, but important. Meaningful, in the airiest sense of the word. “Hi,” again.

“Hi,” you echo, and then feel stupid for having nothing more to offer. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, hot on your shoulder.

But Vanessa takes the weight from your chest. “It’s nice to meet you – officially. I saw you at Tommy and Maria’s wedding. You looked so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” springs from your tongue sooner than the rest of the sentence. Your brain scrams to find more words. “You looked – you looked great, too. Do you wanna –? I mean – Sorry. Come in. Obviously.”

She clicks over the threshold, her pale dress floating into your hallway like she’s part of a dream. She’s just as beautiful in this light, relaxed form – pastel blue and the glimmer of golden jewelry – as she was in the sleeker, more dramatic form you saw her in before. An aura about her which captures and tends to your attention. Intense, captivating, but not intimidating.

You usher them to the living room, offer them a space on the couch while you take Vanessa’s flowers to the kitchen. Joel follows you through, sets the bottle on the counter.

“Nonalcoholic,” he says, unscrewing the cap.

Your eyebrows jump. “Great. Thanks.”

“She’s nervous,” he murmurs, leaning in. “I know you are, too. Y’all are similar like that.”

You slot the stems into a vase of water one by one, carefully organizing a display. “She seems sweet,” you assure him. “She shouldn’t be nervous.”

“Neither should you.”

“Is this…totally weird for you?”

Joel breathes in deep, filling three glasses. “Yeah,” he says, eyes never lifting from the sparkling peach.

“Sorry.”

He angles his jaw. “Stop sayin’ you're sorry. I’ll kick your ass.”

Your head drops between your shoulders, eyes lifting only to his elbows. “Sorry.”

He scoffs, swiping the glasses and stepping back to let you out first.

“I’m trying not to make it weird,” you offer, slipping by.

“I don’t want you to try anything.” He kicks your ankle lightly and follows you back into the living room.

Vanessa sits forward and clasps her hands around her knee when you sit back down, shifting as though to reach for you before she stops herself. “How are you feeling? Joel said you’re a little…worse for wear, right now.”

“I’ve been better,” you say, smiling. “Just morning sickness. Which lasts – all day.”

She nods sympathetically. “My sister had it rough with her first. I actually…” She twists around, reaches for her purse, fishes out an orange packet. “I brought you some ginger tea. Kate told me it helped her a lot, so.”

She holds it out in almost trembling fingers. Likewise, you steady yours to take it from her, thanking her with a shy nod of the head. “That’s so kind,” you reply quietly, eyes darting to Joel. He’s staring at the pack in your hands, watching as you turn it over to read the back.

“And – listen,” Vanessa continues, the acceptance of her offering clearly fueling her assuredness, “I don’t want anything to be weird – between you and I, between you and Joel. I know this situation is…new. It’s, um…”

“It’s kinda weird,” you say, humoring. “It’s okay. I know.”

She breathes a relieved laugh. “It is. Thank God you said it.” She glances back at Joel, who smiles at her, slips his hand onto her knee. “But I guess,” a deep breath, “I guess it is what it is. And we’re all adults, you know? We can make it work, right?”

Your head switches rapidly between nodding enthusiastically and shaking enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yes. No, absolutely. And, you know, me and Joel – there isn’t – we’re not at all…”

“Oh,” she bats the idea away, “I know. I know that. He told me everything. It’s – You know, it’s just a timing thing.”

Joel’s staring down at his hand locked around her leg. Unblinking. Unmoving. His expression doesn’t shift until the two of you settle back into your seats; until Vanessa asks if he’d mind making you a cup of ginger tea.

You barely notice his absence, the way she takes you up in conversation. Like twirling you off in some kind of dance, each sentence strung safely to the next. There are no lulls, no awkward pauses. She asks about work, asks about your family. She tells you stories about her niece, who’s three now, and compares how you’re feeling to how she remembers her sister feeling.

Then her work, and the IT guy her friend hooked up with, and her class at the gym which she’s trying to convince Joel to come along to, and Kate’s hot yoga class every Thursday night, and the new sushi place which just opened downtown and You gotta try it some day; the nigiri is divine.

And you nod along, and you laugh at her anecdotes and tell your own, and Joel tells her to tell you about the jazz band who were playing at the restaurant they visited a couple weeks ago, and you offer to top her drink up and she says she’ll do it herself and she leaves you and Joel alone for the first time all evening, and – it’s weird.

Because – behind the veil of conversation you’re doing your best to uphold, sits an image of this very night – only, in Joel’s house. In Joel’s house, on Joel’s couch, drinking nonalcoholic wine with Joel’s brother. Joel and Vanessa leant against one another on one couch, Tommy and Maria on the other.

You can’t help it – you’re wondering what Maria thinks of Vanessa. How long they knew each other, if at all, before the breakup. Whether they hung out, whether they discussed sushi and yoga, or the housing market, or their Miller boyfriends and their annoying Miller habits.

Maria would’ve liked her, you think. Would’ve found her as lovely as you do. And the idea, the image of them giggling together at family parties and being Tommy’s Maria and Joel’s Vanessa – presses a firm, bullying finger into the bruise you thought had faded some from the other day.

And once they’re gone, once you’re left alone again – lying in still silence, closed in on yourself by the thick darkness of your room, nothing but you and your thoughts and your unborn child for company – it slips out.

“Fuck her, right?” You hold your hands out, addressing your stomach. “She was so fucking nice. Did you like her? Fuck me, I liked her. I hope they break up.”

And then, realizing who you’re talking to: “No. Sorry, baby, no. I don’t hope they break up. I want your dad to be really happy. But – Goddamn. She was so sweet. I thought she was gonna slap me, and she just – she brought ginger tea! Fuck. They look good together, don’t they?”

It’s just hormones. Just the emotional trip that is being four weeks pregnant. Everybody feels like this when they fall pregnant – sensitive, vulnerable, clingy. Right? Right?

Your words sit stagnant in midair. You swear you can see them, heavy and intruding. Awkwardly lingering someplace they don’t belong. Because none of it even matters – the hormones, the emotions. The weird knot burning a hole in your chest, shaped like a clenched fist, knuckles branded by the heat of longing. It can’t matter.

You’re where you are, he’s where he is. A pillow in your arm, Vanessa in his. Feet apart, bricks and mortar and something like twenty years and two dates too late separating you.

Both staring up at the ceiling, wondering who the other’s thinking of.

“At eight weeks, your baby is roughly the size of a raspberry.”

Your knee bounces, breath coming and going in shaky ripples. The rubber sole of your shoe cries against the sterilized hospital floor. Your chest hums anxiously and your throat catches when you swallow and are the lights too bright? The room too hot? You’re sweating. Why are you sweating? Can you breathe right now?

Joel nudges your arm and your eyes roll to the pamphlet in his hand, his finger tracing the words. “C’mon,” he utters, leaning in, “how can anything the size of a raspberry be scary?”

You squint under fluorescent white. “A raspberry that grows into the size of a watermelon, can break my ribs, make me throw up, make me lose hair, and then tear my vagina apart on its way out? That’s pretty scary.”

He smirks. “Not to me it ain’t. My vagina stays perfectly intact the entire time.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you reply, whacking him.

He laughs, swatting your palm away, keeping ahold of your fingers inside his own. “Speaking of – we gotta talk.” He elbows you, waiting until you’re looking again to speak. “We gotta cut the language.”

“Cut the language?”

“Uhuh. Rein it in. And by we, I mean you.”

“Uh,” you scoff, “I don’t think so. When you do the growing, then you can rein your own swearing in. Leave me alone, asshole.”

“Charming,” Joel says. “You know the baby can hear you? You want it to come out swearin’ like a trooper?”

You grin, tipping your head to him. “If it comes out and says anything, we’re rich. So – yeah. Let it.”

He opens his mouth to reply when a nurse emerges from a nearby room and calls your name.

“You’re up, kid,” Joel says, standing beside you.

You turn back, speaking before your brain settles on words. “I’m scared.”

“Hey,” he says, taking your hand. He squeezes it gently, uses the other to keep you facing him. “This is the easy part, right? We’re just going to meet them.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, and wander over to meet the nurse. Joel’s hand a vice grip around yours.

She leads you into a similarly washed-out clinic room, only slightly dimmer with the lights turned out, and yanks a roll of paper across the bed. Tapping it twice, she smiles. “Hop up, darlin’.”

You settle into the crinkly paper, leaning back until you’re blinking up at the speckled ceiling. Another door opens and a woman in a white coat floats in, and you swear that if it weren’t for Joel’s Evenin’, ma’am when she greets the two of you, you’d believe she were a figment of your imagination. Another character in this fucking insane dream.

“Not often I do these past five o’clock,” she says, clicking her mouse and typing on her keyboard and fixing a hair grip back into her bun. Casual. It’s not even a thing to her, introducing parents and children. She does this all fucking day.

Joel tosses half a glance to you and then realizes you’re not currently in the room. He pinches your hand again. It grounds you for all of two seconds.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat, “work commitment. I couldn’t get away any earlier, so we’re havin’ to do this a little late.”

“What do you do?” she asks, staring at her screen. Her glossy brown eyes and rich, dark skin.

“I’m a contractor,” Joel replies, thumb stroking your shoulder.

Something bubbles in your stomach, something akin to jealousy, an urgency to tell her that right now, in this room, he’s mine. No more questions. Something which quickly dissipates when you remind yourself to quit being fucking ridiculous and that right now, in this room, he’s someone else’s, and the thumb on your shoulder is merely to hold you back from fleeing. Nothing more.

The sonographer nods. Her name badge reads Freya. Pretty name. Stop picturing what your kid would look like as a Freya. You are not naming them after the first sonographer you meet.

“Shouldn’t be too long, then y’all can get home for the night. You live nearby?”

“Twenty minutes’ drive. Not far, are we?” Joel asks you.

Your eyes shoot down to his. “No,” you push your cheeks up, telling Freya, “not far.”

She flattens her lips against one another, lending you a sympathetic smile. “You got nothing to worry about, honey. Promise. Gel might be a little cold, that’s about as scary as this gets. We’re just gonna make sure everything’s looking good, check your dates, check your measurements. You’re doing great.”

“You hear that?” Joel murmurs, settling down into the chair by your side. His hand hasn’t left yours. His voice is low, meant just for you, when he repeats, “You’re doin’ great.”

You huff a laugh, some nervous release from your lungs.

Freya smiles, face lit by the faint glow of the screen in front of her. “We ready?”

You roll the hem of your tee up when she motions, bunching it under the wire of your bra. She squeezes a bottle over your stomach, which tenses solid when the frozen bite of gel curls right below your belly button. Freya smiles apologetically when you wince. Told you, she murmurs, and your breath escapes in a slightly more comfortable laugh. Lighter, easier. Scariest part over.

She presses the probe to your skin and spreads the gel, coating the bottom of your tummy in a slippery slick which tickles with each inch she covers. Two buttons pressed, and a dark image appears on a screen opposite you.

A gray fan, speckled like the ceiling above your head. Dark, black shapes growing and shrinking at the turn of Freya’s wrist. She pauses, two blobs onscreen: the larger, black, round, home to a smaller, misshapen one. Flecked with white and silver and moving slowly, gently, but – right there.

“Mom, Dad,” she grins, “meet your baby.”

You and Joel move forward at the same time, drawn closer to the crunchy image as if by some kind of natural magnetism. Eyes never blinking, lips agape. The shapes flutter, the smaller dipping in and out of view.

“You see right here, right in the center?” A white cross appears over the blob’s middle. “That little movement? The kinda – pulsing?”

You each nod. Your nails dig so deep into Joel’s hand that you risk drawing blood.

“That’s the heart. Ticking away.”

“The heart?” you ask, watching the rhythmic flicker in the center of the screen.

“Yep. Perfect, too.”

She hits another key and suddenly the room is filled with a muffled thudding; a steady, energetic pulse in your ears. It matches the movements onscreen, the tiny throb of the baby’s chest, the shape of your womb moving like waves before you.

And suddenly, it's real – all of it: the screen and the room and the sonographer and you, and Joel’s hand encasing yours, holding your knuckles to his lips, and –

And the heartbeat. Right there, right in front of you. Shy, probably as nervous as you are to introduce themselves. Feeling your eyes on them, curled up somewhere safe inside you. Right there.

You turn to Joel, and his illuminated face is staring straight at the screen. Eyes soaked with tears, blinking as they form, cheeks dappled with wet. He draws his eyes from his child only to look back at you, only to mirror your stunned smile, your disbelieving laugh, more tears dripping down into his beard. He sits up, presses his damp lips firmly to your forehead.

Freya mutes the heartbeat, pauses the scan where the image is clearest, and sits back. “I’ll give you guys a moment to yourselves,” she says, wheeling back in her chair. “Take all the time you need. I’m right outside.”

“Thanks,” Joel mumbles for the both of you, sweeping hair from your face.

The door closes on your little bubble – you, Joel, and the grainy image of your baby. The evidence that – yeah, that night happened, and yeah, you’re forever changed because of it. The evidence that you’re about to become a mom, for real, no matter how much the thought makes you feel like your stomach is kicking around at your ankles.

And the evidence that, no matter how scared you might be, how unprepared and unworthy you feel – you fucking adore that little blob already.

Love it as much as Joel does, stood over you, kissing your hair and whispering words you’re only half-listening to. A quiet thank you, a shaky I can’t believe it. Something about showing his brother. And when you look up at him, blinking at one another, inches apart – he takes your jaw in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Different. Softer. No want laced through. No urgency. Nothing needed, nor requested, that isn’t already right here in this little bubble of yours.

He kisses you slowly, eyes closed, holding you until you pull away for breath. His nose bumps against yours and you laugh, heads together, eyes low.

“Still scared?” he whispers.

“Terrified,” you tell him.

“Me, too,” he says, and kisses you again.

You lean back against the bed, relief settling your bones and soothing your heartbeat. The notion washes over you that, if you could, you’d stay in this room forever. Staring at the screen, holding Joel’s hand. Whispering fears into his mouth and letting him swallow them in a kiss.

He hands you some paper towel and helps you drag it across your stomach, your eyes still fixed on the little shape opposite. He hooks his chin over your head – the fresh, woody smell of his cologne infiltrating your lungs and throwing you under the haze of something you’re not quite sure how to define.

“Duck,” he says, voice vibrating into your skull.

“Huh?”

“Start saying duck. Make the baby think we’re saying that, then you can say –” he lowers his voice, “– fuck, all you want.”

“The hell would I have to say duck for?”

Joel stands upright and shrugs. “I don’t know. Think of somethin’. A nickname, maybe.”

“Duck?”

He nods plainly, glancing over to the screen.

The pillow beneath your head sighs as you turn from Joel back to the ultrasound. “Baby Duck,” you offer, and he smiles.

Smiles in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile. Eyes glistening, cheeks swollen. Something innocent and earnest about it. Something pure.

He agrees. “Baby Duck it is.”

Joel insists that you spend the night at his place.

“It’s been a big day,” he reasons, fixing the bed in his guestroom. “Just – let me run around after you for a little bit.”

You fight your corner as much as you can be bothered – I gotta maintain my independence, I’m gonna be a single mom soon enough, you know – but, truthfully, you’ll take any excuse to have him rush around at your beck and call. Some days you open your mouth and he hears the wet click of saliva between your lips, and grabs a glass of water for you before you’ve even voiced the request.

He orders takeout, settles shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the couch, and lets you pick whichever movie you feel like putting him through until the food’s gone, he’s out of beer, and you’ve abandoned Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles for an argument about the best part of pizza.

You don’t like the crust?

Nope.

What fuckin’ age are you?

If it ain’t stuffed, it’s just not worth it.

At eleven, you bid him goodnight and wander upstairs, falling into a sea of navy-blue sheets to be delivered to sleep by the serene silence of Joel’s home. It takes no time for your eyes to flutter closed, the soft sheen of moonlight painted across the wall, sweeping from your view to be replaced in a whir by –

Lights. Overhead and all around and so bright and so close that you swear they’re etched on the inside of your eyelids.

You’re in the backseat, watching them soar by in blurs of white and red and amber and green, and your pulse is rattling through your veins and throbbing between your temples and you can’t focus on any one object for longer than three seconds, before your eyes roll and your head dizzies.

A word, slung from your lips in a half-wakened attempt to stop it. A word you barely recognize at first, don’t understand the meaning of. It’s been years. Why now? Mom.

You’re not sure why, or who you’re even reaching out to. There are two figures in the front seats, heads facing forward. She’s not turning around. She’s not even fucking moving, not reacting to the speed or the lights or your voice. Mom.

You scream it, the syllable ripping violently from your throat, and your tiny fingers reach for her swirls of hair. You pause, staring at the chipped polish on your stubby, kiddy nails. Mom, I’m scared.

The distorted blast of a horn scoops the car up in one motion, hurtling over itself along the freeway. You’re thrown to the roof of the car, plummet back down to your seat; the seatbelt throttles you, rips a burn deep into the skin of your neck. Back up again; your head hits the spongey roof of the car. Your stomach somersaults.

Mom, please, you wail, swiping for her hand. It’s lying limp by her thigh, dark droplets on her wrist. Mom Mom please Mom I’m scared Mom please I’m so scared I –

“Baby.”

His voice is low, earthy. It chews apart the high-pitched squeal of brakes and screaming. The glass smashing. The metal crunching.

You lift from the bed like it’s ice water, gasping when you finally surface back on Earth. Your chest heaves, it’s not sucking in enough breath; you can’t breathe you can’t breathe you can’t fucking breathe.

Joel whips the cover from your legs and you roll from the mattress, feet planting on the floor. You bend forward to grip onto the sheets, a choking rising up your throat, closer and closer until it tugs on your tongue.

“Icantbreathe,” you pant.

Joel’s body curves around yours. “You’re alright,” he’s telling you – urging you; one hand between your shoulder blades, the other holding your wrist for fear you might collapse. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re at my place, you’re safe, but, kid – I need you to slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”

You work your breathing to the strokes of his hand up and down your spine: in out in out in and out and in and out and in, and out, and in, and…out…and in…and…out.

“That’s it. Keep doing that. You’re good, baby, I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

In – and out. In – and out again.

The room slowly desaturates back into boring, moonlit blue. Feeling sputters back into your hands, clawing at the sheets once the sharpness dissolves. The cotton pets back, smooth under your quivering touch. Your lips stop tingling, your ears stop ringing. One after another, until your blood settles back to a steady stream and you straighten up.

“Can you sit down for me?”

“No,” you whimper, and Joel nods.

“That’s alright,” he says. “I’m gonna get you a drink, that okay?”

You grab his T-shirt. “No. Don’t leave me. Please. Sorry.”

He cups your frozen cheeks. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Just downstairs. You can come.”

He settles you at his kitchen table and shuffles over to the cupboards, rubbing his eyes. You feel the heat of embarrassment and guilt, watching as he settles down with a groan minutes later.

“Ginger,” he tells you, voice rounded by his mug, sliding one of your own over to you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, lifting it with two hands. The smell sharp, cutting up the remnants of gasoline and smoke.

“Many times do I gotta say it?” he asks dryly. “Quit sayin’ you’re sorry.”

You gulp nervously. “You got work in the morning. You’re gonna be exhausted.”

“And if I hadn’t let you keep me up watchin’ chick flicks, I’d be rested. That’s something I can deal with later. I got you to worry about right now.”

You shake your head; the ceramic hits the table with a sharp thud. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Well,” Joel sniffs, “you’re carrying my child. I’ll always worry about you.”

You sit back, the curve of the chair cradling, your heart beating lamely against the wood. Joel’s jaw rests in the cushion of his palm, staring back at you.

“What time is it?” you ask, and he glances over his shoulder.

“Three. Take a sip.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sip.”

You obey, lifting the tea and swallowing harshly.

He watches every move, every shift reflected in his dark eyes, decorated by a tense, stony expression. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Never,” you say. “This never happens.”

Joel cranes his jaw, cracks his neck. “Alright,” he sighs, “that’s okay. Breathe again. You’re doing fine.”

But you don’t feel fine. The dregs of panic sizzle into something thicker, hotter. Anger. Frustration. “Why the fuck is this happening?” you hiss, fingers prodding into your eye sockets. “What the f–?”

“Easy. I don’t know. Hormones? Stress?”

“You sound like my fucking doctor.”

Joel smiles. Amusement, before concern wipes over it again. “Let’s just give it some time to pass, okay?”

You nod, hanging over your drink, the silhouette of your reflection staring back at you. The steam snakes up, seeping into your skin, bubbling under the surface. Wiping clean any memory of freeway or nail polish, like coating over a bathroom mirror. The shapes still visible behind, but blurred. Gone.

“How’s Vanessa?” you ask, an attempt to distract yourself.

Joel adjusts a little awkwardly in his chair. “She’s good. She loved the scan photo. Showed it to her sister. They’re sure it’s a boy.”

“Ha. Joel Jr.”

“Joel Jr.,” he agrees, and then attempts to distract himself. “So,” he says, “Allandale.”

“Mhm?”

“Wonder if I ever saw your mom or dad. When I was there visitin’ Sam.”

You shrug. “Doubt it. I mean, they always lived right next to the elementary school, if that helps. My mom was a first-grade teacher. The two of us used to walk there ‘n back together, every day.”

“First grade, huh? Best one.”

“Yeah. Yeah, and she was the best of the best. She used to go all out for her kids; used to go to Michaels and get all this crafty stuff so they could spend all afternoon making little houses or zoos, or – whatever she could think of. And she’d always keep some aside, bring some home for me to make one, too. One time, she came home with all this blue tissue paper and little foam fish, and we made an aquarium together.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Joel says.

“Yeah,” you say again, nodding eagerly. “She was so cool. And fun, y’know? I just remember her being so much fun. I always felt safe with her, felt loved. I actually used to think she hung the sun every morning, just for me.” You take a deep breath, replacing it with a broken sigh.

“What about your dad? What was he like?”

You frown. “He was…fine. Real quiet, reserved. A little grumpy, I guess. I always got the idea he couldn’t be bothered with me, young as I was. Always wanted to be left alone. I think my mom overcompensated a lot.”

Something flashes across Joel’s face that seems to say he knows – or, at least, he understands. Almost imperceptible, a quick flicker of annoyance. “You miss her?” he asks, switching back.

“My mom?” You almost laugh, gripping onto your mug. Staring at the slow swirl of ginger. A shrug which presents more like a flinch; an animal swatting a fly away. “I miss those parts, when I think of them. The aquarium, the walking to school. Miss the memories. But I don’t think I knew her well enough or long enough to miss her.

“I’ve lived way longer without her than I ever had her. Done everything without her, like –” gesturing down, “– this. But, sometimes…sometimes, I bundle the sheets up behind my back in bed, and I pretend it’s her. Pretend I have a mom, and she’s cuddling me to sleep. I dunno. Maybe that’s what missing her feels like.”

Joel soaks in every word you say, letting the shape of each one settle on the table between you before he speaks again. Letting them be spoken into the dead of night, collected by no one, and letting them fade into silence. Secrets sweeping off into starlight. Nothing you would admit in the daytime.

“What was her name?” he asks, voice timid and gentle in the dark kitchen.

You almost choke on your tea. “Shoot – I’m sorry. That was a lot. Sorry. She, uh – Her name?”

It brings the first genuine smile to your lips; the memory of your mom now clear behind your eyes. Her round cheeks, her fluttering earrings. The deep, dark curls of her hair, thick ringlets twisting and lighting in the sun. The gap between her front teeth, the purse of her lips as she kissed your cheeks, your hands, your tummy.

Her name like a melody in your head; a safe word, a calming mantra when the world becomes too noisy, too saturated, too sharp to bear. Two syllables. Two little beats, like a piece of her still lives in the sound of her name.

“Sarah,” you tell Joel. “Her name was Sarah.”

[l1xvanter]

SKZ fic recs !!

-- most of these are felix, and some of them are jisung and minho :3

-- {❤️‍🩹} = angst {💋} = mature/suggestive {💞} = fluff || pink means personal favorite !!

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⟡ ᶻz﹒l.felix﹒➳﹒

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[INSANELY GOOD. please read this, it also has a oneshot that goes with it. went through hell and back while reading this i was so invested.]

[freedomfireflies]

Reckless*

Summary: The third part to Knockout*

The one where Harry secretly gets paid to fight, but you're the one paying the price.

Word Count: 9.2k (...no comment)

Content Warning: 18+, violence, mentions of an abusive ex, mentions of blood, smut

Harry’s fist instantly snaps closed around your hand, subtly but pointedly tugging you back. Seeming to want to put a bit of space between you and the man standing before you.

“Oh, do you…know each other?” you ask slowly, glancing between the two rather curiously.

Jesse offers nothing more than a raise of his eyebrow, redirecting his attention back to Harry as though encouraging him to respond.

Harry merely grits his teeth. “We used to. Long time ago.”

It’s hardly an answer, somehow just as frustratingly vague as you expected, yet you nod, nevertheless. “Ah. I see.”

Jesse’s smile somehow stretches a bit bigger. “Are you working today?”

“Uh, no. Just…came by for the keys,” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to the other almost nervously. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Thought I’d…maybe stick around a bit? Catch up?”

Harry’s grip gets stronger.

“Besides, today’s pie is apple, yeah?” he asks. “You know it’s my favorite.”

You force a tight-lipped grin and a hum of acknowledgement before the three of you fall silent. Continuing to stand by the door to the diner as the rest of the room continues on with their lunch. Their soft murmurs and clinging cutlery like white noise in the background of the conversation. 

You clear your throat. “Okay, well…I’m gonna…I’m gonna tell him goodbye, and—”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” Jesse says, waving you away before returning to the counter. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be right here.”

The last word has hardly left his mouth when Harry suddenly spins on his heel and drags you back through the door. Pulling you into the parking lot without so much as a goodbye before leading you around the side of the building.

“Harry,” you murmur hesitantly, almost cautious of his rather silent reaction. In the little time you’ve known him, you’ve never known him to be this quiet when he’s upset. Or this well behaved. “What’s wrong, what is it?”

He continues his furious stride until he’s brought you both into the alley. Releasing you in order to run a hand through his hair with a strained, “Fuck.”

You slow to a stop and stare at his tensed back. “Harry?”

A long pause. Deafening and loud enough to lodge your heart in your throat.

Finally, “How do you know him?”

“What?”

“Fucking Jesse, how do you know him?” he repeats, somewhat viciously.

Your head tilts. “We…I mean we’re friends, but we…we used to date. For a while. Couple years ago. Why?”

He turns, and the pinching of his features together makes your stomach twist. “Was it him?”

“…Harry—”

“Was it…him?” His eyes flick to yours. “The one you fucking told me about. The one who treated you like shit, the one who fucking threw things at you. Was it him?”

You’re almost surprised he remembered. After all, the revelation of your last relationship had been quite a while ago. An off-handed comment made one stormy night as you sat together in his favorite booth, talking about the past and exchanging odd traumas.

But he does. He remembers. And he’s looking at you like your answer is going to break his heart. 

You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your chest. “Yes.”

Your voice is small. Timid and weak, nearly carried away with the wind. But it reaches him, nevertheless, and his expression guts you.

He steps back. Trying to get away, either from you or your admission. The truth he can no longer stand to be so close to.

“Why?” he whispers, and your lashes flutter. “Why did you…why would you keep him in your fucking life after he…”

You offer him the same answer you’ve offered everyone else. “I don’t know.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and takes another step. Glancing over your face as if searching for more than you have to give. “Cherry…”

“I know.” You can feel the tears already working their way to your waterline. “I know, but he’s…he’s trying to do better. He’s trying to change—”

“Oh, that’s fucking bullshit,” he scoffs, hands shoving into his pockets almost vengefully. “No, that’s bullshit. He’s not…guys like him don’t change. They just get better at hiding it.”

Maybe he’s right. But it stings to hear. “I…yeah. I know. But we’re just…we’re friends. We don’t talk a lot, just when he needs help.”

“So he uses you?”

“No, he…” You hesitate. “I don’t know. I don’t think he means to—”

His vile scoff cuts through the rest of your excuse, and perhaps it’s for the better.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, fingers itching to reach for him. You feel naked without his body against yours. “I should have…I should have warned you. Or told you, I just…I didn’t think—”

“Are you safe?”

You stop. “What?”

“Are you safe?” he repeats, a tad softer. “When he’s around you, do you feel safe? Do you know that you’re safe, and that he won’t…that you can leave? If you need to?”

 You consider this for only a moment before nodding once. “Yes. He’s never…it’s never been like that. He’s just…he gets very angry. And sad. And I think…a part of me wants to help, I guess.”

His expression drops ever-so-slightly, as if wounded. “I know, Cher.” He moves closer to you once again, and you feel like you can finally breathe. He places his palm against your cheek and brushes his thumb beneath your eye. Wiping away the first tear. “You always give your kindness to those who don’t deserve it.”

 You take hold of his wrist and bite back a sigh. “Everybody deserves kindness.”

“Maybe.” His voice is quiet. Labored and thick. “But maybe you deserve it more.”

There’s something…heavy in the way he speaks. In the way he feels. As though he’s carrying the entire weight of his world – and yours – on his shoulders. 

You know there’s more to the story. More to this anger that’s so prominent in his heart and more to his background with Jesse. You want to ask, want to understand.

But if he wanted you to know, he would have offered.

Maybe he thinks he’s sparing you. Maybe he thinks he’s protecting you in the only way he can, and you feel grateful for him. Grateful for this subtle, unspoken act of intimacy and protection that you’ve become so familiar with in the time you’ve known your handsome stranger.

You choose to have faith in him. In what brought you to him.

“I have to go,” he says now, dipping down to brush his forehead to yours. “Cause if I don’t, I’ll fucking kill him.”

You smile to yourself, but a part of you knows he means it. “Okay. Will I see you again?”

His other hand slips around the back of your neck, keeping you close before he exhales a shaky breath and brings his lips to yours. Kissing you hard and with a thousand unspoken promises. “Of course. M’never gonna leave you, sweet girl. Swear it.”

And it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

You kiss him until you can’t breathe, clinging to his hoodie as if begging with him to stay. To keep himself close to you.

And when he eventually pulls away, you nearly crumple to the ground.

“Okay,” he whispers, reaching back to slip his hood on. “Okay, I gotta go. Or I’ll never leave.”

You touch your fingers to your lips and nod once. “I know. Just come back, okay?”

He grins, and it’s wickedly delicious. “Always.”

With that, he turns around, and disappears down the alley. Rounding the corner of the building before disappearing from sight.

Leaving you exactly where he found you, only a few hours ago.

With a heavy heart and weary mind, you make your back into the diner and toward the man still waiting for you.

Jesse has never scared you. Annoyed you, but never scared you. He’s been in your life far longer than you care to admit, ever since you were just kids. And maybe that’s why you keep him around. Because a part of you believes you owe it to the people you used to be.

You loved him. You really did. He was cute, charming, witty. He made you smile, made you laugh. He listened when you talked, said all of the right things. Of course you wanted to believe him when he said he’d do anything to make it work.

His anger had taken him away from you. Had changed who he was. Or perhaps merely highlighted who he’d always been.

He was the one to end things. Claiming he could never offer you the life you deserved. That until he had his temper under control, he couldn’t be with you. You had agreed to remain friends and help him when he lost his way.

He seems to lose his way a lot these days.

And maybe that’s the part that scares you…just a little bit.

“Hey, sugarplum,” he calls once you enter, grinning brighter than he has in weeks. “You all right?”

You nod as you join him near the counter, hands disappearing into your pockets as if to hide. “Mhm. Are you?”

“Absolutely.” He leans over to nudge his elbow against yours. “Feel like it’s been forever.”

“Jess, I saw you last week,” you can’t help but laugh.

“I know, but that was last week,” he argues coyly. “Which is like a lifetime ago.”

And even if there’s a part of you that feels cautious of him, there’s also something so familiar about his company. The sound of his voice, the way he laughs. His effortless ability to remind you of the way things used to be.

Despite how it ended, you can’t help but feel calmed. Your muscles unwinding as you grow a bit more comfortable in his presence.

“Ha, very funny,” you tease, stepping closer as though drawn in by his charm. “Well, if you’re waiting for the apple pie, that’s not until tomorrow.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to come back.”

The conversation lulls as the two of you smirk at each other, and for the first time in days, you don’t feel so on edge.

 “Fine,” you agree. “But you can’t come back to the kitchen with me. Not after last time.”

He pretends to pout, but it only makes you smile. “Oh, come on. Everything was going so well up until the flour incident.”

You reach out and shove his shoulder playfully, and he laughs. “All right, enough. Why are you really here?”

“I told you, I wanna catch up. Clearly I’ve missed a lot.”

The mention of Harry is like a sharp needle to your blissful bubble, popping you free of his spell until you come crashing back to earth. “Right. How, um…how again do you guys know each other?”

“Oh, we don’t. Not really,” Jesse explains, shrugging one shoulder up almost casually. “We used to go to the same gym. Spot each other now and then. But we never really knew each other, I guess.”

“Ah.” 

“Was kind of surprised to see him with you, though,” he adds. “But good surprised. I told him he should come check out the diner, and I’m glad to see he listened."

Harry’s previous mention of how he found you suddenly clicks, and you nod, eyes drifting toward the floor. “Yeah, he…he seems to like it here.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” He seems oddly thrilled by this. “And I guess you two are…?”

The implication brings a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you quickly shake your head as you step back. Almost as though guarding yourself from his question. “Oh, no, we’re…we’re just friends. Or we’re…yeah. Friends.”

His brows furrow but he’s smiling. “Are you…sure about that?”

No. “Yeah. We don’t…we don’t really know each other that well, is all. We just…we like to talk.”

“I see.” He studies you for a moment, somewhat curious. “I’m glad he found something here he likes so well.”

The heat in your face begins to burn. “Yeah, he…he really likes the pies.”

Jesse hums, expression mischievous. “Yes. The pies.”

You force a laugh and nudge him again. “Okay, enough. I should…I should probably get back—”

“Wait,” he interrupts, slipping off the stool in order to get closer, “is there…any chance you’d fancy a drive? Thought we could go around the block a few times like we used to. Just…listen to the radio and people watch.”

Truth be told, the offer is compelling. Because you know if you go home, all you’ll do is worry. About Harry, about Jesse. About all the things you wish you could do for them but can’t. 

Maybe a distraction is what you need. One day where you aren’t expected to fix everybody else’s problems but your own.

So, you nod. Tentatively but with a small grin that makes Jesse’s entire expression light up. 

“Great,” he chuckles before nodding his chin at you. “So…do you want me to drive? Like old times?”

Your answer is to dig back into your pocket for the keys before tossing them over. “Think you already know the answer to that.”

He laughs again and spins the ring around his finger. “Then let’s hit it, sugarplum.”

It’s almost too easy to settle back into your old habits. To follow him to your car, hop inside the passenger seat, and allow him to take you away.

And it’s nice. Comfortable and…safe. Windows down, music loud. The two of you singing along with every bad song that comes on. It really does feel like it used to, and for just one evening, you forget about everything else. And you let yourself just…be.

The two of you drive around the city until the sun goes down. He tells you about his new job at this fancy law firm and you tell him about this new recipe you’re working on for the diner. You talk, and you laugh, and you sing until your stomach hurts. 

You forget. And you’re okay with that.

“Okay,” he finally declares not much later after a quick glance at the clock. “I know you have to get back, but I just have one last thing I want to show you.”

Your brow raises. “Oh? What?”

“A surprise.” He begins to grin, almost wickedly, and it makes you smirk. “It’ll just be a quick little detour, and then I’ll have you home. Promise.”

You consider this for only a moment before sighing. “Fine. But just for the record, I hate your surprises.”

He merely winks before taking a left and leading you both out of town.

The further you go, the darker it gets. This part of the city appears to be rather neglected, with very few lights along the street to guide you. The buildings are rundown and abandoned, there’s police tape over half the doors and boards across half the windows. 

Sketchy would be putting it mildly.

Yet Jesse appears undeterred, swinging into one of the large, unkempt parking lots where a collection of cars are already gathered.

“I don’t…understand,” you begin slowly, glancing around the dark space in search of answers. 

However, instead of answer, he merely puts the car in park, tosses you the keys, and hops out. “You’ll see. Come on.”

Despite your hesitancy, you choose to follow, trailing after him as he begins toward one of the shabby buildings just up ahead. 

There’s a strange sort of itch crawling its way up the back of your neck. Blossoming into your cheeks until you feel a twinge of apprehension.  

But Jesse walks ahead as though he hasn’t a care in the world. Nonchalant and relaxed, leading you to the door.

Then, he knocks twice, stops, and adds three more.

A beat passes before there’s a sharp, electric buzzing. Immediately followed by the sound of something rather heavy before the door suddenly swings open.

Your breath catches.

The inside of this disheveled building is divine. Luxury drips from floor to ceiling, a rather stark contrast to its exterior. There’s fresh paint on the walls, towers of champagne in each corner of the room, and a crowd of men and women dressed to the nines in their most elegant and expensive outfits.

But there’s something off. They’re yelling, and cursing, and cheering. Raising their glasses while shouting at something happening in the middle of the room. 

And that’s when you see him.

Even from this distance, you’d recognize him anywhere. The soft, sweaty curls matted to his forehead. The blood that drips from his mouth and jaw. The tattoos and marks that glisten from his chest – the same tattoos that you saw for the first time only hours ago.

Your stranger. Landing hit after hit to the man standing just opposite him inside the large ring. 

You don’t move. You don’t think you can breathe. You can’t think straight or understand…and then Jesse throws his arm around your shoulder.

“Let’s go have a look, yeah?” It’s posed like a question, but he’s already leading you toward the crowd before you can decide on your answer.

Your heart is in your toes as he slips through the collection of onlookers. Pulling you to the front until you have a near perfect view of the violence happening only a few feet away.

A perfect view of him.

You’re not sure how long he’s been at it. Clearly long enough, if the new cuts and fresh bruises are any indication. He doesn’t seem to notice you, instead throwing his arm toward his opponent before ducking down to miss the strike back. 

You hear yourself gasp as you recoil away from the forceful blow, nearly hiding yourself beneath Jesse’s arm while he laughs.

“What’s the matter, sugarplum?” he hums. “Thought you’d wanna see what your little boytoy gets up to when he’s not with you.”

You can hear it now. The vindictive sneer hidden beneath his charming chuckle. And that uncomfortable itch begins to burn as you pull yourself back in order to see him. “What?”

Jesse nods toward the boxing ring. “You see, when he’s not with you…he’s quite busy. Beautifully and spectacularly fucking me over.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. “What…what are you talking about?”

“Do you know what this is?” He raises a brow. “Do you know what he really does?”

“He…he fights. He gets paid to fight.”

“Right. And who do you think pays him?”

And that’s when it happens. That’s when the final puzzle piece clicks into place, and you understand. You see the whole picture laid out in front of you, and it wears his face.

“You.” It’s a strained, timid whisper that’s buried beneath the loud, vulgar hollering.

Jesse nods. “Exactly. I pay your boyfriend to beat the shit out of anyone dumb enough to get into that ring with him. And all he has to do…is fucking win.”

The cheering grows louder in your ear as he steps closer. Forcing your attention to split between the two men.

“But I have a problem,” he continues. “You see, Harry can win a fight in his goddamn sleep. He never loses. Ever. That’s why I pay him so much fucking money. That’s why I’m his sponsor.”

Your stomach twists.

“So, imagine my surprise when he suddenly started to lose. Night after night. Over and over. Constantly and consistently losing fights he should have been able to win with his fucking eyes closed.”

There’s something trapped in your throat. The room is spinning, and there’s a ringing in your ear that just won’t quit. 

“And then I find out…he’s fucking throwing them.” His hand finds your hip and he turns you toward the ring. “Every goddamn night, he throws the fight. Because, for some reason, he seems to think that these fights are up to him. He thinks that he gets to decide who wins and who loses.”

He leans down now, lips hovering near your ear while his voice settles into a rather malicious hiss. 

“But the only person that really loses…is me,” he sneers. “Because if he doesn’t win, then I lose a shit ton of money on him. And I don’t really think that’s fair…do you?”

You suck in a quiet breath right as Harry steps back to avoid a massive swing before landing his own blow just beneath the man’s jaw. 

“So, I wondered. Wondered why the switch. Why he’d suddenly be willing to lose so much money and allow his ass to get kicked into his throat…for nothing.”

He leans back now, and your lashes flutter.

“And then I found him…with you.” He tsks almost teasingly while his head cocks to the side. “Seems my best fighter has found himself distracted. Pussy-whipped by a pretty face that serves him fucking pie. And he thinks that if he throws the fights…he can save you.”

A set of knuckles connect with Harry’s left cheek, sending him stumbling back while you suck in a sharp inhale and turn away.

“So…I want you to watch,” Jesse tells you, snaking an arm around your waist in order to keep you in your spot. “I want you to fucking see what you’ve done to him.”

Your features twist into a fearful grimace as you drag your eyes back to the ring. Watching as Harry swipes the back of his hand across his mouth to clear the blood before surging forward. He swings and it’s a miss. Arm flying over the other man’s shoulder before he’s shoved toward the rope.

He’s losing. A few more strikes to the face and you’re almost sure he’ll pass out.

And you don’t understand. Can’t comprehend any of this. Why Jesse brought you here, why Harry does this to himself, and why you’re somehow a part of it.

They lied. They both did. Harry looked you in the eye and told you he didn’t know Jesse. Even when he knew about…all of this.

Jesse being involved in some sort of illegal fight club doesn’t surprise you. Perhaps it should, and yet, it might be the least surprising thing you’ve learned so far. 

But Jesse being Harry’s sponsor…being the one who pays him to do this to himself, who gambles on Harry’s very life…

Another strike is laid to his jaw, forcing Harry’s head to snap to the side.

And he sees you.

You watch the realization pass over his face in real time. The way his eyes widen and his lips part.

He stumbles back from the blow, catching himself on the ropes before Jesse tightens his hold on your hips…and Harry looks over.

The rage that settles into the lines and details of his features is evident. The way his teeth grit together, the way the veins in his neck strain against his skin, the way his fingers flex by his side.

He must understand why you’re here now and he channels this understanding and rage into his next hit.

He spins to the side, flings his arms around his opponent’s waist, and yanks him down.  Throwing him so hard to the floor, you’re almost surprised he doesn’t break his spine right down the middle.

Half of the crowd cheers while the other half yells in disappointment.

But Jesse merely smirks.

And you realize that this is what he wanted. To use you as a tool in his game. A pawn for his pleasure until Harry’s hand was forced.

Harry rears back only to raise his fist into the air. Over and over, he lands his knuckles to the man’s face. Hit after hit after hit until there’s blood everywhere. Dripping from his knuckles, the man’s nose, his mouth.

He doesn’t stop. Even long after he should, and the man has gone limp. He goes and goes and goes until the referee has to physically step into the ring and drag him back.

And the fight is declared over.

They grab Harry’s wrist and sling it into the air, raising his arm in victory while the room hollers their support. 

Your heart is racing inside your chest, going far too fast, and you feel a rush of blood to your head. Your knees are shaking, and your hands feel clammy, and you can’t breathe and why won’t that ringing in your ear stop?

“This is what he’s good at,” Jesse murmurs to you now, lips ghosting down the shell of your ear. “This is all he’s good for. And he fucking knows it.”

The room begins to disperse while Harry is led out of the ring and into the shadows on the far side of the building. 

Your eyes and your heart go with him.

“So, you’re gonna do what you do best,” Jesse continues. “You’re gonna remind him why he has to fucking win. Because if he throws one more goddamn fight…I’ll fucking kill him myself.”

With that, he releases you, and turns around. Disappearing into the crowd before you can stop him.

You stand there, in the middle of this extravagant room, and you stare at the ring. And the blood stains on the mat. And the shadows that dance across the floor from the chandelier on the ceiling. The collection of empty glasses and empty promises that are scattered about the vast space.

Then, your feet are pulling you toward the door Harry disappeared into. Taking you to him, despite everything else. Because even after all of this, you want to help him. To make sure that he’s okay, and…and fix him. Somehow. 

The door leads to a hallway that leads to what you can only assume is a locker room. It’s empty when you arrive, although you aren’t too surprised. The other fighter was taken to the opposite end of the building, and the people who led Harry away don’t seem to be around.

You hesitate for only a moment, attempting to decipher if you truly feel safe being alone with him after everything you’ve seen in the past 24 hours.

But the answer is obvious.

So, with a deep breath, you brave a step inside. 

The shower is running. Steam already beginning to dance through the air as you pass by the collection of lockers and benches. Looking for any sign of him. Your stranger who perhaps isn’t so strange anymore.

You see his clothes tossed toward the floor. See a trail of scarlet streaks leading you further into the room and toward the showers just around the corner.

And you don’t hesitate now as you step past the wall in order to see him.

He’s standing beneath the stream of water, one hand braced against the wall as he stares down at the floor. Watching the blood disappear down the drain.

And he’s…beautiful. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him – all of him – and you feel your breath hitch as you step closer. Allowing your eyes to travel along his tall, tensed frame. From his curls to his thighs and everything in between.

“Harry?”

Your voice snaps his head up, and he turns. Instantly pushing off the wall in order to fully face you. 

“Cherry, you can’t be here,” he breathes, and it’s almost lost beneath the heavy stream of water. “Can’t be in here, it’s not safe—”

But you’re already moving closer, toeing off your shoes and tossing your jacket aside before stepping inside the showers. 

His lashes flutter, the muscles in his stomaching quivering as he leans back. “Cher, I mean it. You can’t…I can’t let you see me like this.”

You step up to him. Ignoring his protests and the water pouring from the ceiling, you step up, you put your arms around his shoulders…and you hold him.

At first, he goes still. Deathly still, almost bracing himself from your touch. Afraid of what it means.  

Then, he settles. Understands that you only want to help, and slumps into your embrace while his face buries into your neck.

You reach up and run your palm down his head. Carding your fingers through the wet curls before squeezing the back of his neck. “You’re okay.”

He takes in a sharp inhale, arms snaking around your middle. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says again. And his voice breaks like the cracks of a sidewalk.

You merely hold him tighter. “But I am.”

And there’s so much to say. So much to understand and question, but right now, he just needs you to hold him. To let him know that it’s okay – that he’s okay.

That you’re not going anywhere.

You stand there for what feels like hours. Until your clothes become soaked, and your fingers begin to prune. But you keep your grip on him tight. Offering nothing more than soft murmurs of, “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

He’s angry. So very angry, and you can feel it in the way his muscles twitch beneath your hands. Can hear it in the shallow breaths he takes and the clenching of his jaw. 

He’s trying to keep himself together. For you. But he’s moments away from slipping, and you can only hope you’ll be able to bring him back.

“Harry?” you whisper, scratching your nails down his bare shoulder.

His head shakes. “No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it.”

“Har—”

“No.” He leans back, lip curled up into a snarl. “No, I can’t…I fucking can’t—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, taking hold of his wrists to keep him close. “Okay, I understand—”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says for the third time. “You aren’t supposed to be here, and I can’t fucking believe he brought you.”

“I know. I know, but I’m okay. It’s okay, I promise—”

“What did he say?” His eyes flick between yours. “What did he say to you?”

You feel your insides twist as you squeeze his hands. Taking a moment to find the right words. “He…he wanted me to see what you really do. And…to tell you that you have to win.”

His brows stitch together. “What else?”

“Nothing,” you lie. “Just…just that.”

And maybe he doesn’t believe you. Maybe he knows there was more to Jesse’s threat, but it doesn’t matter because he’s tugging himself out of your grasp and turning toward the wall before you can argue. Sending his knuckles straight into the tile until it cracks.

You gasp, quickly surging forward to pull on his arm in protest. “Harry—”

Surprisingly, he allows you to yank him away, but he doesn’t look at you. He keeps his venomous glare on the drain, chest heaving with uneven breaths.

But you aren’t deterred. Instead, you guide him back to you, and lift his hands. Studying the torn skin of his knuckles closely with a sigh. “Harry…”

The wounded waver in your voice makes his expression soften, and he allows his shoulders to roll back. Releasing a bit of his rage. “It’s okay. M’okay, Cher—”

“No,” you argue softly. “No, you’re…”

You can’t find the words. Can’t find the right thing to say that explains this anguish in your heart. That lives within your chest.

So, instead, you bring his ruined hands to your lips, and you hold them there. Kissing the stained, battered skin while he sucks in a quiet breath. 

And you don’t care. About any of it. About the fights, or the lies, or the threats. You don’t care what he really does or who he really is. 

You just want him to be happy. To be safe. No matter what that looks like. No matter what you have to do to make that a reality. 

You want to kiss away his scars, kiss away his pain. Take it and make it your own. Carry the weight he’s been trying to carry all by himself.

You don’t want him to be alone. You want to keep him, you want…

He watches you. Keeps his eyes glued to nearly every inch of your face as you do this. And something changes for him. You aren’t sure what.

But he sets his anger free before slipping his fingers from yours in order to take hold of your face.

And he kisses you. Pulls you to him almost desperately before pressing his lips to your own.

It’s soft, and sweet, and so deliciously him. Gentle despite everything else you’ve seen from him today.

He steps forward, subtly pushing you back. Again and again until your back meets the wet, tile wall.

He holds you there almost hesitantly before straightening up and deepening the kiss. Slipping his tongue in beside yours and savoring everything you have to offer. 

And you let him take whatever he’d like. Allow him to have all of you as his chest meets yours and he cages you there. Hungry kisses now moving for your neck.

His touch travels to your hips, nails curling into your shirt as though resisting the urge to grab hold. And you smile as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. Breath hitching at the way his thigh brushes against yours.

You drop one hand to his chest. Allow the tips of your fingers to dance along the swallows on his collarbone and toward the muscles in his abdomen. Careful to mind his stitching and new cuts.

And he seems to remember now that he’s completely bare to you, his mouth falling still against your wet skin as he steadies himself.

Quickly, you stop yourself from going any further, settling atop his stomach before nosing under his jaw. “You’re so beautiful, Harry.”

He says nothing, lips ghosting across your pulse point before pressing in deep. 

“All of you,” you whisper. “You’re beautiful.”

His lashes flutter shut while his arm loops around your back. Face burying in your shoulder as though to hide, and you wonder if he’s embarrassed or enthralled. 

Either way, you gingerly ask, “…may I touch you?”

There’s a quick pause before he nods. Only once, and then he returns to leaving an array of kisses to your throat. Nipping at the skin until you smile.

So, you continue your search, moving your hand toward his hips and down until you feel him.

And the moment your palm brushes against his cock, you both gasp. Straightening up almost attentively before settling back into the pleasure. 

Your thumb finds his slit and he curses. Hands tightening around the fabric of your shirt, keeping you against the tile as if he’s worried you’ll disappear.

“Shit,” he mumbles, palm moving to your cheek. “Baby, you know you don’t have—”

“Shh.” You wrap your fingers around the tip before smoothing down. “I want to. Please?”

When he says nothing, you stop, and it forces an instant groan. His body seeming to have made the decision for him.

“Yes,” he finally says, nodding again but quicker. “Shit, yes, Cherry. Can do whatever you want. M’yours.”

And it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

You chase after his pleasure as though your life depends on it. And perhaps it does, but you certainly don’t mind. Because his grunts and pants are deliciously addictive. And you could spend the rest of your life touching him if it meant you’d get to hear just one more.

And maybe now you understand why he’s also so determined to do the same for you.

You run your hand up and down his cock, squeezing the tip before moving lower. Palming at his balls before dragging your touch back to the top. 

He does his best not to rush you or overwhelm you. Resisting the urge to buck his hips closer in a desperate attempt for more.

Instead, he focuses his attention on you. A role he seems much more comfortable in.

He kisses you everywhere he can. Your lips, your cheeks, your jaw, your nose, your neck. Below your ear, along your collarbone, and down the dip in your shirt.

Then, his fingers slip down to your jeans. Absentmindedly fiddling with the button before he whispers, “Can I touch you, sweet girl? Wanna make you feel good, too.”

And who are you to deny him?

“Always,” you whisper back, releasing him for only a moment so he can wrangle the wet material down your legs. 

Once he has, he straightens up, and runs his palm along the inside of your thigh. Indulging in the feel of your skin while you take him back in your hold.

And it’s strangely beautiful, this dance you do. The synchronicity of teasing touches and playful strokes that leave you both breathless.

Anytime you gently tighten your fist around him, he curls his finger inside your walls. And anytime you brush at his slit, he brushes at your clit. 

You both share a smile when you realize, and Harry laughs before nuzzling his face back into your neck. Tugging your skin between his teeth to muffle his groan.

“You have no idea how badly I needed this,” he says. And it’s a faint thought, perhaps not meant for your ears. “Fucking need you, baby. Always.”

Your head drops back against the wall. Your body already growing sluggish under the weight of undeniable euphoria he inflicts.

“You always have me,” you tell him. “I’ll do whatever you want—”

“Shit.” He yanks your chest to his, mouth painting warm, wet kisses along your skin. “Don’t say that. Don’t, or I’ll never stop.”

You grin. “Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

You go faster. Finding a pace he seems to enjoy and zeroing in. You want him to cum – need him to cum. To offer him that release and that promise of more. 

And it works. His tattoos rise and fall under the weight of his frantic gasps for air. He’s tipping over the edge, just needing a final push, and you want to get him there more than anything. Want to see what his face looks like when it’s overcome with pleasure. When he’s releasing into your hand, or your mouth, or your cunt. Want to feel him, know how his body moves when it’s spent.

“Please,” you murmur, almost anxiously as you work him closer. “Please, Har…let me feel you. Wanna feel you cum, please.”

He moves to squeeze the back of your neck before his hand disappears into your hair. Gently but pointedly tugging on your roots. “Baby—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, you can cum. Can cum for me—”

“Fuck.” He jolts forward, fingers slipping from your cunt. “So good to me, sweet girl. So fucking good to me. Don’t deserve you. Never deserved you—”

“Yes,” you nearly whine. “Of course you do, Har, please—”

He cums with a soft groan that bleeds into your throat. Woven between his kisses and flicks of his tongue to your skin, and it’s everything. The warmth, the feel, the implication. It covers your hand, and wrist, and even parts of your thighs. 

And you watch it drip down toward the floor almost regretfully, but you’re mesmerized. Addicted to something you only just discovered, and desperate for more.

But he gives you no time to reminisce, instead moving his mouth to yours in order to show you exactly how much it meant to him.

  “Knew you’d be good,” he remarks playfully, nipping at your bottom lip before squeezing your waist. “Fucking knew, yeah?”

You release his cock as gently as you can before smoothing your palms up his chest and into his hair. Tugging on his curls in order to bring him closer. “Just for you.”

He smirks to himself before leaning back to study you. Glancing over your body as though in search of something. And the longer he looks, the angrier he appears to become.

Then, he mumbles, “He fucking touched you.”

Your heart wrenches. “…Har—”

“He touched you,” he says again, bitterly, and almost to himself. “He fucking put his hands on you and he made sure I saw. Wanted me to see, and now…now I can’t see anything else.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt a panic like this. “Harry, please—”

He crouches down, large hands curling around your thighs and pulling them as far apart as they’ll go. Which, admittedly, isn’t very far because of the jeans still pooled around your ankles. But he doesn’t mind, instead staring at your legs rather thoughtfully.

Finally, he looks up.

“I need to wash him away,” he whispers, and your stomach leaps into your throat.

“What?”

“I need to wash him away,” he repeats softly, moving closer to ghost his lips along your hip. “Need to erase him. Need to clean him off you.”

Your fingers twitch by your side, and you aren’t even sure what to say. Because the look in his eye is unrelenting, and you can see how badly he wants this.

“Okay,” you exhale. “Okay, erase him. Make me yours again.”

And this is all he needs to hear, wasting no more time before smoothing his lips and his hands along your thighs and waist. Repainting every inch of you with his touch. Washing away the metaphorical marks Jesse left when he held you and replacing them with his own. 

Even if it’s not inherently sexual, it’s the most erotic and wonderful thing you’ve ever experienced. The way he feasts on your flesh like a man on a mission. Nipping and licking at you just to make you whimper. He’s nowhere near your clit and it doesn’t even matter because he’s so divine.

The heat of his mouth on your cool, wet skin. The way he gingerly kneads at your ass in an attempt to comfort you. Tenderly pulling you closer as though you’re somehow still too far away.

“I’m sorry, Cherry,” you hear him sigh, and it makes your insides tighten. “M’so fucking sorry for doing this to you. For bringing you into this.”

Your expression drops while your head shakes. “You didn’t. You didn’t, I asked. I asked to be a part of you, and I don’t regret that.”

But it’s like he can’t hear you over the sound of his shame. Instead kissing you softer as if to apologize. “It’s my fault. Should have told you the moment I saw him. Should have taken you with me. Shouldn’t have left you with him when I fucking knew—”

“Hey.” You reach down and take hold of his hair. Yanking his attention to you. “None of this could ever be your fault. Do you understand?”

He seems to ignore this as well, nudging his nose against your hip with a crestfallen expression that makes you want to scream.

So, you tug harder, forcing his head back and his eyes on yours. “This is who Jesse has always been. You didn’t change that, and you never will. And I know that. I know him. I know his heart and I know what he’d do to hurt me.”

His lips part, as if going to speak, but you merely tighten your grip in an unspoken order to remain silent.

“And I know you,” you continue. “I know that this is who you are. All of this. The fighting and the bets and the torture you put yourself through. And I know that you would never hurt me. That you have always done your best to protect me, even if I didn’t know what I was being protected from.”

His hands begin to drop down your legs and toward the floor, an act of complete submission. 

“This is not your fault,” you repeat earnestly. “You are not responsible for Jesse’s intentions, and you’re certainly not reasonable for mine. And I need you to know that. Okay? You have to know that. Because I have never felt safer than I do with you.”

His features remain unchanged, and you wonder if he heard anything that you said at all. If he understood and internalized your instance. If he’ll believe it.

And then—

“I love you.”

You feel your pulse skip inside your chest as you suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“I love you, Cherry.” He says it again without pause, without a moment’s hesitation. Proving that it wasn’t a mistake or a trick of the mind. He really said it. And he meant to. “And m’so fucking sorry it took him for me to realize it.”

You aren’t sure what to do. What to say or…what to think, but he’s already shaking his head and offering you a small smile before you can decide.

“I don’t want you to say it,” he says quickly and quietly. Slipping your hand from his hair in order to press his lips into your palm. “I just want you to know. And I wish I could have done it differently, but…I do, I love you. And I will do everything I can to prove that to you.”

You want to tell him that he already has. Want to tell him a lot of things that maybe you shouldn’t, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

He merely kisses your hand before moving back to your thighs. Looking for your permission to continue. 

Breathlessly, you give it to him.

With a soft grin and great care, he extends his tongue and slowly drags it up your clit. He’s not rushing this time. He’s enjoying it. Allowing himself to indulge in your taste and your feel as you slump against the tile and let him.

He leaves a trail of apologies and promises along your pussy. Kissing, sucking, and flicking until you squirm. And he’s so focused, so dedicated to your orgasm. To making you understand how badly he needs you.

And you do understand. More than you’ve ever understood anything else.

“Love to see you, baby,” he murmurs after a moment, now running the tip of his finger between your folds and down. Taunting you with the intrusion yet not giving it to you. “Love to see this pretty pussy take me.”

You whine pitifully before he finally pushes in. Allowing your walls to beckon him closer until he hums.

“Can’t wait to see you take my cock,” he muses, thrusting the digit once or twice before bringing a second into play. “Gonna watch you stretch for me. Gonna just sit and watch this sweet, little hole take me in. Get me nice and warm. Till I’m soaking in you. Fucking drenched—”

“Harry,” you whine, overcome by a rather euphoric rush that makes him smirk. “Harry, please—”

“What, sweet girl? You like the sound of that?” He ignores your cries and flicks his tongue against your clit. “S’okay. I do, too. Think about it more than I should. Think about you and this tasty little cunt till I’m fucking my fist in the shower.”

The lewd image that’s painted in your head makes your toes curl, and you imagine you’d give anything to watch.

“But it’s not nearly as good as when you do it,” he says coyly. “Won’t ever be able to picture anything else but your sweet, little hand wrapped around my cock. Making me cum like a good girl.”

He adds a third finger, and your vision goes hazy.

“And this,” he breathes, fucking into you a bit faster. Until the sound of your arousal bounces between the walls. “Replay this in my head every goddamn day. The way you sound when you take my fingers, take my tongue. S’fucking beautiful, Cher. The best thing I’ve ever heard.”

You believe him.

“Wanna listen to you forever.” He laps at you like he’s dying of thirst. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you. Wanna fucking hold you and never let you go. Never let anything hurt you. You’re the only good thing in my life, sweet girl. Need you to know.”

You aren’t sure if the tears in your eyes are from the pleasure or his admittance, but they fall from your cheeks almost mercilessly. And you can’t even wipe them away because, in some strange sort of way, you enjoy it. This pain and this angst that comes with the man on his knees before you.

“You’re mine, yeah?” he asks next. But the lustful undertone is gone. He’s pleading with you now. Begging you. “Not his, but mine. Always mine.”

Your agreeance comes before you can question it. “Yes…yes, I’m yours. Yours, I promise—”

 He groans into your cunt like he’s never been happier. And the reverberation down your thighs and across your clit nearly ruins you. “Say it again. Say it again, baby, please—”

“I’m yours. Just yours, Harry. Not his. Never…never his—”

“Fuck.” He pulls on your thigh in order to bury his mouth into your pussy. And you almost wonder if he’s actively trying to suffocate himself. “Again. Again, Cherry—”

“Yours.” The word drips from your tongue like honey from a honeycomb. “Just yours. Don’t wanna be anybody else’s.”

His entire face is nuzzled between your legs, and it almost kills you. Because he’s so beautiful. You’ve never seen or felt something so ethereal, and you can’t look away. Even when your eyes are desperate to fall shut, you force your attention on him. Watching as he mouths at your clit and drives in his fingers until it hits you.

You nearly collapse onto the floor, but he refuses to let you. Keeping you upright before you can go slipping down the wall and cementing you to his tongue in order to drag you through to the other side. 

“Mine,” you vaguely hear him hum, and your heart flutters. “Always mine.”

When he’s sure you’ve caught your breath, he straightens back up, and takes you in his arms. Kissing you and holding you and keeping you safe. Making sure you understand that he wants more than your orgasms. He wants you. Even without the explicit words, you know his true intentions. Know where his heart truly lies, and you settle there beside it.

Moments pass before either of you speak again. Instead listening to the sound of the running water hitting the floor. 

And you’re afraid to be the first to break this tranquility. Because you know once you do, you might not find it again. Jesse’s threat still lingers rather prominently in the forefront of your mind. And you’re terrified that every time you look at Harry…you’ll remember.

“Cherry?” he whispers minutes later, and your pulse jumps. 

You bury your face in his neck, bracing yourself from whatever he might say next. “Harry.”

He nuzzles his cheek against the crown of your head and sighs. And you can feel the heaviness of the breath leave his body. “I don’t know what to do.”

The vulnerability makes your throat run dry, and you subsequently tighten your arms around his middle. “Don’t have to do anything.”

“Cherry—”

“No, just…we’re okay,” you insist. “It’s okay. You just…you’ll win. You’ll keep fighting and you’ll win, and we’ll be okay. And I won’t have to lose you.”

A beat. “But what if I lose you?”

“You won’t. Never.”

“But he knows, Cher,” he murmurs. “He knows, and he’ll use you to hurt me. He’ll drag you into this as many times as he fucking wants, and he’ll use you. And I can’t let him – I won’t let him.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care what he does, he doesn’t scare me, Har—”

“But he fucking scares me.” His volume rises until it can carry over the shower walls. “All right? He terrifies me. Because now he has the one thing I can’t fucking…”

Your eyelids flutter before you take hold of his hand.

“And he wants to play this stupid fucking game, and I won’t let him,” Harry continues. “I won’t let him use you or threaten you, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. “Okay, but you’re the one with all the cards. Right? He’s shown his hand. He’s shown how desperate he is. He can’t do anything to me if he really wants you to listen—”

“You don’t know him like this,” he nearly scoffs. “You don’t know what he’s willing to do—”

“Harry—”

“I can’t…I can’t,” he seethes. “I can’t get him out of my fucking head, and I can’t let him win. I won’t let him win.”

He’s unrelenting. Unwavering in this insistence and you feel as though your insides are being twisted around a knife.

All he has to do is win. All he has to do is let Jesse believe he’s still in charge. And he’ll be okay. You’ll both be okay.

“Harry,” you try again. Softer this time, hoping to reach him. “We’re gonna be fine. Okay? It’s you and me. We’ll be all right. We have to be.”

His expression instantly drops before he dips down and lays his forehead to yours. 

He says nothing else. Offers no more ideas or excuses. He simply exists in this belief and the serenity it provides.

Even if he knows it’s not strong enough to stand on.

“Okay,” he finally mumbles. “You and me.”

And it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard. Because for the first time all night, you see the way out. You see a future where he can be who he is, and you can be who you are, and it can still be all right. Where you can be together and be free of any threats and complications and just exist in this little world you’ve created.

A world outside of the diner and the backseat of his car. A world where he offers you more than his orgasms but his secrets, too. His life. And you need that. You need it more than you’ve ever needed anything in your life.

He leads you out of the shower not much later, digging through his things before offering you his hoodie and sweats to wear home. 

And there’s something so intimate about wearing his clothes. The way the tattered fabric feels against your skin. The way it smells like his cologne and the shampoo he must use. The way it fits your frame as if it was always meant to, keeping you warm despite the frigid air that greets you when you step outside.

You offer to drive him home, but he refuses. Insisting that it’s better if you don’t know where he lives, at least for right now. And you don’t have it in you to argue.

He makes you promise to lock your door the moment you get inside the car, and to lock your apartment door the moment it’s closed. You vow to do both before dragging him closer for a kiss.

And he gives it to you. He gives you five kisses, in fact. One on the forehead, one on each cheek, one on the nose, and finally…one on your lips.

 When he lets you go, you feel empty. Lost. As though a part of you is missing, and it aches the entire way home.

In fact, it aches for the next two days until you can finally see him again. And you busy about your shift, watching the clock like a hawk until midnight finally strikes, and you fly through the kitchen doors. Ready to see him and fill this gap in your chest.

But for the second time this week…booth 505 is empty. 

Instantly, the blood drains from your face. All the way down to your toes, and almost feel faint as your shaky legs carry you to his table.

However, the moment you’re close enough, you catch something just out of your peripheral, tucked just beneath the sugar dispenser. Something that most certainly wasn’t there a few minutes ago. 

A note.

With furrowed brows, you slip the folded napkin free and bring it closer. Straightening it out until you can make out the haphazard message scrawled across in black ink.

Meet me at the station after your shift.

Don’t tell Owen.

H.

Next Part:

~ Uppercut*

Previous Part:

~ Whiplash*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

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[tqmies]

Love Guard | Lee Chan

Description. Lifeguard Lee Chan is a pain in your ass, and you swear he's only picked up this job to ogle at girls in bikinis. Little did you know, the only girl he wants to look at is you — not that you'd ever let him tell you that though — Especially now that you're convinced he's in love with your co-worker.

Pairing. Lifeguard!Lee Chan x Lifeguard! Fem Reader

Warnings. Curse words, (Pretend) Drowning, Karina attempts to meddle, Fluff, Chan's so whipped, Swimming, E2L (One sided)

Word count. 9.2k (Oops?)

Note: Summer has been over but I couldn't help myself! Welcome to my first Seventeen fic! Not 100% sure if I like this one but feedback is always appreciated!

"Two weeks." You repeat to yourself, attempting to calm yourself by digging your fingers into the squishy material of the rescue tube you have strapped on. Only two weeks left until the local waterpark is closed for the year — and until you have to look for another job — but the point remains a positive one.

In exactly two weeks from now, you will be freed from your own personal hell in human form, otherwise known as Lee Chan. Even when he's not stationed at the same ride as you, he's always finding his way over in your general proximity, just like he is now.

He's chatting up a few girls who look gorgeous in their tight fighting bikini sets, and you just about scoff at how obvious he is. You and Karina are set at the wave pool right now, and you feel bad for whatever station Chan is supposed to be manning. Does he ever do his job?

Karina quirks her head, her long ponytail falling to her side. "I heard he was supposed to be with the flow rider."

Ah yes the flow rider, the stationary surfing machine that tiny children and older adults alike swear they can do. You've only had to operate it once, and let's just say you complained so much you never had to do it again. Just this once, you can understand why he wandered over to the other side of the park.

"Vernon probably took over and kicked him out." You shrug, knowing how serious the older male takes his job.

"I hope so." Your friend giggles, patting your shoulder as she walks away. You notice her hand on the whistle, she must've spotted a few kids running again, nothing out of the ordinary.

A few feet away, Chan is just about whining into these poor girls ears. He smirks at them. “Is she looking this way?”

The girl on his left — whose name Chan hasn't caught — glances over her shoulder and then turns back. “She’s not, she’s watching the pool.”

One of the other girls snorts. “Looks like she’s doing her job.”

"That makes one of us." Chan slumps dramatically before an idea pops into his head. (The girls swear they could see a lightbulb above his head in that moment).

Chan swivels into the water after he stood to his feet, the others awaiting his revelation. "Okay, I'm going to need one of you to pretend you're drowning."

"Drowning?!" The blonde girl's jaw drops. Chan doesn't see why he has to explain it though. They would simply pretend they were drowning, he'd jump in all heroic like, and save them. And in the process, you'd notice and commend him for being so cool.

Chan was a genius, he nodded to himself.

So after explaining the plan to girl's that he had just met today, well about twenty minutes ago, he's ready to get this show on the road. He's lucky the girls felt bad for him after he gave the typical sob story on how his crush hated him. Otherwise, they probably wouldn't have agreed.

The blonde girl submerges herself into the water, on purpose, as Chan prepares to take action. But first, he had to take his shirt off. Oh don't act so shocked, he's literally trying to get your attention! He's not above showing a little skin!

You don't even notice though, too preoccupied with watching some children jump on each other. You approach them and politely tell them to not attempt to kill each other under the water. You didn't even think that needs to be said but, this job surprised you every day.

However, the minute you turn around, you notice some arm's flailing around in the water. It was the area where Chan was just standing, but he's nowhere to be found now. Shit! You were going to have to act, and fast!

So you dive into the water, peeling your eyes open in the chlorine to find the girl. You reach her in record time, using your rescue buoy to grab her and pull her out. You lay her on the concrete, shaking her shoulders and gaining no response.

"Someone get me an AED!" You shout, preparing to begin CPR. Karina rushes to your side, asking any bystanders if they knew what happened and trying to gain more information about the situation. Thank goodness for her.

A crowd begins to form around you as you recall the CPR process in your head, ready to begin when you're abruptly shoved out of the way.

"I got it!" Chan explains, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You're too stunned to reply so you just let him take the lead, watching his next moves in silence.

He barely starts to push on her chest when her eyes shoot open, and she begins coughing up imaginary water. You're a bit suspicious, but this was your first time dealing with an unconscious victim, guess you'd just been lucky so far.

She sits up as she starts talking, waving her hands around. "Don't call 9-1-1 or anything! I'm fine!"

Karina leans forward. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" The girl replies, before easily standing to her feet as she rushes out, her friends following behind her. They didn't even have their shoes on?

Chan watches them in defeat as you and Karina silently gape at each other. The girl had run away steadily, no signs of being disoriented for someone who had just been unconscious. It did all happen so fast though, maybe you weren't seeing things right.

Karina is the first to stand. "What just happened?"

You shake your head, your now wet hair dripping on you. "I don't even know."

Chan doesn't look as confused as you two though, but never mind that, you had a bone to pick with him first.

"And where the hell were you?"

Chan barely registers you speaking to him, as he's mentally recounting how his plan went awry. "I was getting my CPR keychain."

You want to bang your head against the ground. "You didn't have it on you?"

Hey, give him a break. He's human too! He forgets things sometimes, it can't be that bad! However, if he was going to convincingly look like he was saving the girl earlier, he had to have his keychain on him. Which is why he ran off looking for it...

"I left it in my locker." He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

"God, just put a shirt on Lee." You stand to your feet. "And please do us all a favor and stay in your station."

"So you acknowledge that you checked me out?"

You deadpan. "I acknowledge that you make my job harder because an old woman almost slipped on the shirt you threw off!"

Had he really thrown his shirt? He didn't even notice, your wording had to be a bit exaggerated.

You cross your arms as you head back to the other side of the pool, back into your comfy life guard chair. And preferably, as far away from Lee Chan as possible.

..

"Then he shows up like some fucking hero and interferes with me doing my job!" You state sarcastically, slipping your sweatshirt on as you stand by your locker. Screwing the cap back onto your water bottle, you sigh.

Minghao, your close friend who you never managed to get stationed with, just listens in mild amusement. "But he saved the girl, right?"

You shake your head as you gather your things. "I don't know if you could call it saving. It was weird, she just up and ran off."

Minghao giggles. "Are you sure she was drowning?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say no." You admit, the jingling of a lanyard behind you catching your attention.

"Okay, I'm heading out." Karina says as she holds her bag over her shoulders. Your brain is too busy trying to configure how she looks so cute after a full day at work. You were sure you looked as worn-out as you felt.

"MIngyu's still around here somewhere. And Seungkwan and Chan are still in the back, I saw them fighting with the pool nets." Karina continues, referring to the long wands used to skim the pools for bugs and dirt. Or worse, fecal matter.

Thankfully, that's usually not the case. Nevertheless, you're grateful that wasn't your job today. You did have to lock up though, meaning that you had to get the aforementioned boys up and out.

"I'll get Minghao to yell at them." You nod, and Minghao just laughs.

Back at the pool, Chan is currently shuffling his brain for another plan, one that won't fail this time. Honestly, it probably made you more angry at him than anything. "I have two weeks Kwan."

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. "Oh God."

"Two weeks to make her mine." Chan repeats, rubbing his eyes.

"You're delusional." His friend replies, picking up his own pool stick and heading to the main area. "Why don't you start with something simple, like driving her home first."

Chan perks up at that. "Wait, that's actually a pretty good idea!"

"Actually?" Seungkwan starts, but Chan is already racing past him, pool cleaning long forgotten. Though the older male still shouts after him. "I always have great ideas!"

Chan mentally prepares himself on the way there, stopping by one of the outside mirrors in the kids splash area to check his hair. Looking good, he thought.

"Hey," Chan speaks, approaching you and Minghao as he tries not to give the latter a death stare. He could never figure out what kind of relationship the two of you had, and that made him uneasy. Not that you owed him an explanation or anything, but it'd be nice to get some clarification.

All he knew was that you and Minghao applied for this job together and you'd been friends for a while. Chan also knew you spent your lunch breaks together at the snack bar, courtesy of his friend Mingyu's spying, and he knew he took you home everyday.

But those could all just be friendly gestures, right?

You ignore Chan's presence as you turn to close up your locker, not bothering to acknowledge him. Minghao does though, "You heading home?"

"Yeah, actually." Chan responds, eyes never leaving your figure. He calls out your name, to which you roll your eyes to. "What?"

He stands up straight, slightly puffing his chest out in an attempt to appeal more to you. Was it working? Probably...Not. "Can I drive you home?"

"Not a chance." You shoot down immediately, not a hint of hesitance in your voice. Oh, that was fast. But Chan knew this wasn't gonna be easy after all.

"I'll buy you food on the way." He offers, clinging to his last ounce of self respect before he gets on the floor to start begging. He was not above that when it came to you.

You cross your arms. "Are you insinuating that I can't buy my own food?"

Of course things were going this way, "That's not what I-"

You put a hand up to stop him, smirking. "Because you're right, this stupid job doesn't pay me nearly as much as I'd like."

Chan stays quiet, unsure of what to say next. Luckily, you continue for him, all in a condescending tone though. "Whatever Lee. Even though you're probably doing this just to feel better about yourself for being such an asshole all the time, I'll bite."

Minghao grimaces, had you always been this harsh? Well, he knows the younger male did you piss you off more than usual today. He knows in his rational brain that he probably shouldn't let this happen. But will he? Yeah.

Minghao gently grabs your arm. "Call me when you get home, okay?"

"Of course." You reply, and Chan watches you flash a smile reserved for your friends only. He knows that because never once had you directed that smile at him. This was soon to change, or so help him.

"You can go ahead, I'll get 'Kwan and lock up." Minghao nods and you thank him.

Chan's just about losing his mind though, Minghao was on a nickname basis with Seungkwan? What the hell? Did Seungkwan not know that Minghao was enemy number one ?! He had some words for him later.

Right now though, his main focus was you. Even in the horrible florescent lighting of the locker room, he thought you looked beautiful.

You, on the other hand, were getting the ick from seeing Kim Mingyu walk around with flip flops. That was going to be hard to move on from.

Just to be clear, you really weren't interested in relationships right now. And yes, you and Minghao were just friends, strictly platonic. However, with on slow days, you liked to occupy yourself with staring at Mingyu's prominent muscles. And honestly, who could blame you?

Chan redirects your attention to him. "So, where to?"

You roll your eyes. "You were the one who invited me out, and you don't know where we're going?"

He looks down. "McDonalds?"

So that's how you two end up in the drive-thru of the famous golden arches. Chan has a million thoughts running through his head, the main one being how he managed to get you in his car, willingly!

In another universe, Chan imagined that this would be your first date. He'd make you laugh, hold your hand, and maybe even get a kiss at the end of the night.

"Should I get a Coke or a Sprite?" You speak to yourself, pulling Chan out of his thoughts.

He straightens his posture. "Oh you should-"

"I wasn't actually asking." You roll your eyes, already mentally having decided in your head.

Chan shuts his mouth.

"You know, I'm really interested in hearing why you invited me out of a sudden." You say, leaning your head against his car window.

Chan's scrambling for the words. "I just wanted to talk."

"About?"

Chan breathes in, here goes nothing. "Well, we only have a few weeks left working at the park, and I kind of.. like this girl."

You narrow your eyes, knowing where this was going. "Oh lord, did you really drag me all this way to try to get me to set you up with Karina?"

Chan's eyes widen. What?! How did you get to that conclusion. Chan barely knew the other girl, much less liked her. In all honesty, he barely even paid her any mind, always too preoccupied with staring at you by her side. He rushes to deny it. "No-"

"You don't have to lie." You speak, rolling your eyes. "You took me here on a bribe so I could put in a good word with you."

Chan's so confused right now.

"Sorry but I think Karina's worth more than whatever you're getting me on the dollar menu." You spout sarcastically. "And anyways, why would I help set her up with you?"

Now, Chan has to speak up, because really? Was he that bad that you couldn't even imagine setting him up with a friend ? He's mildly offended, even if he could care less about her. It's more so that he's utterly infatuated with you, and he can't believe you don't see him as possible boyfriend material. "Huh? What's wrong with me?"

You narrow your eyes. "Well, for starters you're broke, lazy, and irresponsible. Oh, and stupid, immature, full of yourself-"

You were really laying it on thick, and Chan doesn't think he can take anymore stabs at his character without possibly jumping out of his car window. He interrupts, "Anything else?"

"I wasn't even done yet." You stop counting on your fingers. "Point is, you're not good enough for Karina."

He doesn't even care about who you're talking about anymore, he throws his hands up. "You don't even know that, you've never seen me on a date." Because you've never given me a chance, but he only speaks that last part in his head.

"I've seen your everyday character, that says more than enough."

Chans on the verge of ramming the car in front of him in line. "So what kind of guy would be good enough?"

You shrug. "Probably someone like Joshua."

"The manager?" Chan draws back, because were you referring to Karina's taste or yours? He was so lost right now. "He's like way too old."

You click your tongue. "I said someone like him. He's smart, soft-spoke, responsible, and he knows how to deal with conflict."

Chan grips his steering wheel. Yes, Joshua had his life together, but that's because he was older! Was that really what you were into? Chan might as well throw in the towel now. "It sounds like you want someone like Joshua."

"Maybe, I don't know."" You cross your arms in thought. "Well, he's kind of boring, can't be much fun dating someone like that."

So there is a drawback to perfectly stunning men like Joshua, or was he just saying that to make himself feel better? He'd have to ask Seungkwan for advice tomorrow. "Well-"

"Whenever you're ready." A voice takes over through the intercom. Chan hadn't realized he had already pulled up this far.

He didn't even know what he wanted, in fact this whole conversation made his stomach turn. Was he even hungry anymore?

However, you knew exactly what you wanted. But Chan's silent by the intercom so you do the only feasible thing to do, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over him. Climbing past the center console, you throw your body halfway out of the window and start reciting your order.

Unbeknownst to you, the male in the car with you was losing his mind. Why were you so close to him? Why did you smell so good? Why was your body basically on top of his (You aren't touching at all)? And Why did this feel so intimate?

You turn to him, still in the same position. "What do you want?"

Chan's face is red, and he's trying his best to stay cool, avoiding eye contact. "A burger."

"Which one?"

Poor guy can't think straight. "The normal one?"

You sigh, turning back towards the speaker. "And a Big Mac."

"I think Chan likes you." You speak, seeking refuge from the scorching hot summer sun under the tiny roof peeking out from the food stand.

Karina sips on her slushie, that's halfway melted, and grimaces. "No way."

You offer a tight lipped smile before shooting her glare. "Don't give me that look! Who wouldn't like you?"

Karina laughs. "It's not that I don't think he'd like me, it's that he doesn't."

"And how are you so sure?" You ask, adjusting the straw on your own slushie.

"Um, okay one, he's never held a conversation with me for longer than two minutes." She starts, placing her cup on the counter. Trying her best to stop the syrup from getting her hands all sticky.

You digress though. "That's because you make him nervous!"

"Two, we barely know each other."

"You haven't given him a chance." You tease, unaware of prying ears listening to your conversation. Give you a break though, honestly, it was too hot for all of this.

"Where did you even get this idea from?" She inquires in disbelief.

"Last night when he took me to McDonalds."

Karina's jaw goes slack. "You voluntarily went somewhere with him outside of work?"

Guess you had forgotten to mention that, oops. "He bribed me with food."

She narrows her eyes, suspicious but moving on anyways. "And then he told you he liked me?"

"No," You answer truthfully. "But he didn't deny it."

Karina shakes her head. "I think you're just desperate for some cute lifeguard-love-story to shake things up around here, and it's not going to work on me."

You giggle. "Whatever you say."

"You could have your own story if you just asked out Minghao already." She suggests meekly, despite knowing your constant insistence that there was nothing going on between you two.

"That's gross, I think I just threw up in my mouth."

"Yeah, I know." She teases before lowering her voice so only you can hear, and her eyes dart over to Mingyu making a hot dog. "But you could finally strike something up with mister beef cake over here."

You roll your eyes. "He's too hot for me, half the park wants him."

"He gives you free food."

You hush your friend. "He gives everyone free food!"

"You win this battle." Karina says, trashing her finished cherry drink. "But the war is far from over."

"Get back to your post, Yoo." You sigh, cleaning up the mess your melting treats made with a few napkins and discarding them.

Mingyu comes back to the front where you are after noticing you were alone, "Going back?"

You groan. "Unfortunately my break is over."

He offers a small chuckle, and all you think about is how good he looks. Especially since he's donning a sleeveless red shirt, matching the parks general colors, and you can see his arms in their full glory. No wonder you'd heard girls in passing giggle about how they wanted to take a bite out of the food stand guy, you saw the appeal.

Why couldn't he be a lifeguard? Just saying, it would be nice to see him without a pesky shirt sometimes. Oh you were so embarrassing.

"Have you seen Hao? I wanted to talk to him about something?" The male inquires but you shake your head.

"He called in today," You stand. "Said he felt sick, or some other kind of lie."

"He's not sick?"

"Judging by his Instagram stories on a boat?" You quirk your head. "I'd say no."

MIngyu laughs at your humor, and you're flashing that pretty smile again, and Mingyu's feeding right into it. Are you two flirting?!

Chan hates it!

Not your smile, no he could never hate your smile. But he hates how he's never once gotten to see it aimed at him. Yet here you were, chatting it up with Mingyu? Did the nuggets he bought you last night mean nothing? He thought they were a great symbol of his undying love for you!

Vernon looks unimpressed. "Stare at him any longer and you might just burn a hole through him."

Chan narrows. "That's the plan"

Vernon's bored. "Okay, this is getting weird."

"I just don't get it, what does she even see in guys like Joshua? Or Mingyu?" Chan crosses his arms.

"Maybe because they do their job-" Vernon tries to get his station partners attention back.

But Chan's having none of it. "Yeah right, look at Mingyu! He's flirting on duty!"

"He just runs the food stand, in his defense. Half the time isn't he helping you spy on her and Minghao?"

"Well it seems like he's playing for the other team right now, standing there and talking to my girl!"

"Your girl." Vernon repeats, shaking his head in disbelief as he mocks the younger male. "You're ridiculous."

Chan stays rooted in his place. "I can't even believe-"

"Hey, Chan right?" A voice plucks him out of his plotting to kill Mingyu (Okay, maybe killing was extreme, but at the very least he was going to jump him. Eh, that might be a little too much as well, he was still technically Chan's friend. Maybe he could-)

Oh wait, someone was talking to him, and he should probably respond. "Yeah that's me."

"Oh, well I'm Karina." The girl introduces herself as Chan finally gets to take a look at her. He knew who she was, everyone did, but the two had rarely a few words to each other before now, if anything.

He adjusts his sunglasses, eyes barely moving from you and Mingyu. He had to make sure Mingyu didn't try anything. This was a matter of national security! "Nice to meet you, I guess"

"What's up Karina?" Vernon asks, trying to break up this weird tension as he saw how Chan effectively ignored you.

Karina places her hand on her hip. "I'll just be straight forward, someone told me that Chan had a little thing for me, but I know that's not the case, even though she's entirely convinced."

Chan's irritated. "What?"

"I'm not blind, Chan." Karina raises a brow. "I know you have a crush on her."

"Well yeah, could he be more obvious?" Vernon snidely remarks as Chan does his best to ignore his comment.

"So," Chan looks down, slightly dissapointed. "Did you come just to make fun of me?"

"No," She leans forward. "I've decided I'm gonna help you."

"Help?" Chan's taken back as he snaps his head up.

"Help?" Vernon parrots, though he sounds more confused.

She smiles. "Yup"

"Why?"

Karina stares at her perfectly manicured nails. "You're a decent guy. Good looking, nice enough, and I know you're trying your best."

Chan blinks, this was the complete opposite of what you had told him. Karina continues, "But mostly, it's because I can tell you really like her. And I think she deserves someone that'll treat her well for once."

"Well give it up," Chan sighs, wiping sweat from his brow. "Mingyu's about to propose to her anyways."

"Mingyu's not doing anything," Karina moves her hair. "He been standing there like a dweeb the whole time, completely oblivious to everyone around him."

"And she still likes him more than me."

Your friend glares at the male. "Well this isn't going to work if you're going to be so negative."

"Karina," He turns to her. "Honestly, what's the point? She wants nothing to do with me."

"Because she's blind, she can't see how much you like her."

"So, what should we do?" Vernon pipes in, surprisingly intently following the situation.

"We have to prove to her how much you like her!"

"And how can I do that?"

"Don't worry, I have that part covered."

...

"And then he threw up right next to the trashcan." Jeonghan — one of the new hires — finishes venting to you about one of the kids on the waterslide he was manning.

"Swear there should be some kind of law forbidding kids from eating four hotdogs and then getting on a ride that sends you spinning." You sympathize.

"Or people could just have more common sense." Jeonghan comments, before his eyes drift off somewhere else. "Is that Karina talking to Chan?"

Your eyes widen as you try to follow his line of sight. "What? Where?"

"Over there." Jeonghan points with his head, towards the bathrooms.

Sure enough, leaning on the bricks outside the bathrooms, was your friend talking to Lee Chan. Had he finally gained the courage to talk to her? And oh no, was she actually reciprocating?

"I didn't know they were friends." Jeonghan breaks the silence.

"They're not." You raise a brow. "I think he likes her."

Jeonghan looks at you like you've grown three heads. "You're joking right?"

You shrug, "Why would I be joking?"

"Everyone knows that he-" Your friend stops himself before waving you off. "Never mind, you wouldn't believe me anyways."

"Believe what?"

Jeonghan snickers. "Nothing."

You're eager to press on more about whatever he was talking about but the manager, Joshua, asks if you and Jeonghan can get showered already so you can all head out.

By the bathrooms, Chan's about to start throwing a fit. "She looked over here once!"

Karina pats his shoulder lightly. "We'll get her next time. For now, I'll just have to feed her a great narrative of you until she realizes she wants you for herself."

Chan looks down. "This is hopeless."

"Holy shit, where is Chan?" Minghao complains, but you show no sympathy as he was seemingly having the time of his life yesterday.

You shrug, adjusting the strap of the bathing suit you had just put on. "Don't know, don't care."

Your friend tsks. "At least we get out early today."

You shake your head. "Doesn't matter, Joshua's forcing us into that work bonding thing."

MInghao groans, resting his forehead against the steel locker. "I forgot about that, what's the point again? We've had plenty of time to bond already."

"It's mandatory if we want that last paycheck." You remind him and he sighs.

He grabs a bottle from his locker and uncaps it. "Can you put sunscreen on me?"

You nod, it was a normal occurrence, and usually no one batted an eye. Even as you rubbed it into his face, too close for it to be considered just friendly, you know it's all platonic.

Chan on the other hand, isn't so sure.

Him and Karina were walking up the gravel path and the scene hits him before he walks into the area. "H-He's rubbing sunscreen on her back!"

Karina tries to calm him. "They do that for each other all the time."

"Then why does it look so romantic!"

"You're overthinking!"

"Seungkwan rubs my sunscreen in! Why don't you do it for her?!"

"I always get here late!" She defends. "Anyways, this isn't about me, we need to get in there!"

You're instantly drawn to Karina and Chan loudly entering, and it seems the two have gotten close over the past few days.

"Hey guys," Minghao greets and they offer him a hello back before opening their lockers.

"Chan," Karina speaks louder than her normal volume as to draw your attention. "Could you help me put on sunscreen? Can't reach my back today."

Chan nods, grabbing the bottle from her hands and slowly helping her rub it in. He wants to make sure you looking too, and how he's one hundred percent sure he can do it better than Minghao can.

"Uh Rina," You speak before you all head out.

"Yes?" She responds, hoping for you to say something about Chan.

"You have a couple white streaks on your back." And you grimace at Chan's poor job of doing something as simple as rubbing sunscreen in. "Do you want me to-"

"No! No," Karina laughs at her outburst. "Um, I'm sure Chan can help me fix it."

You almost flinch.

"Right, Chan?" Your friend grits her teeth so the male could take the hint.

"Oh, right!" He catches on and then vigorously continues to rub the cream into her skin. He's a little too aggressive with it.

"Ow- um, okay!" She lets out. "I think I'm good now."

You stop, "Okay..."

Chan scurries off, and he realizes he actually needs to get his own swim trunks on, and for heavens sake, where is his first aid whistle?!

You two walk away, you picking at your nails as you dread the day ahead. Your friend needs to break the silence. "So, you're staying today?"

"I wish I had a choice." You grovel.

"I feel you."

You catch the time on one of the parks various clocks. "We open in five."

Your partner nods at the reminder, continuing to with you just out of the sight of the boys and any other listeners. "So, what do you think of Chan? Isn't he sweet?"

You're taken aback. "Is this you trying to get my approval?"

"No.."

"Because you could do way better."

She almost stops in her tracks. "What?! But Chan has lots of redeeming qualities."

You feel like this is a prank. "Like?"

"Well he's nice, a good listener, and-"

"Oh, you got it bad." You interrupt.

She's about to start swinging. "No, you know he's not my type."

You frown. "So you're leading him on?"

Karina deadpans. "We're just friends, but all I'm saying is, uh, he's not a bad guy!"

You almost stop walking. "Right..."

She speaks again, trying her best not to seem pushy. "You know, I think the two of you have a lot in common, you could be good friends."

Before you can even respond, someone is yelling your name across the park, and its too early in the morning for that.

Though your face softens when you realize its Mingyu beckoning you over. You tell Karina you'll meet her at your station and separate. She was acting kind of odd anyhow.

"Mingyu," You approach him, the shade now concealing your face as you take a seat on one of the chairs. You try to keep your eyes from wandering, mainly to his exposed arms. "What's up?"

He smiles' bashfully, leaning on the counter. "Well, I've been wanting to ask you this for some time,"

You can sense he's a little nervous, so you nod your head. "What is it?"

"Could I maybe..." He trails again, before closing his eyes in mental preparation. "Have Karina's number?"

You gape like a fish out of water, doing your best to conceal your light disappointment. "K-Karinas number?"

"Well yeah, I'm interested in her. Unless she's seeing someone." He stumbles on his words.

You tilt your head. "Not sure, maybe you should ask Chan."

"Chan?" Mingyu almost laughs. "He doesn't like her like that."

You grimace at that. Had Chan been telling everyone that he didn't like Karina, when clearly he had been acting the opposite? Sure, she didn't like him back but, for him to be saying things like that was a low blow. "Did he tell you that?"

"Huh, what?" Mingyu looks confused. "Well, not directly. Though, It wouldn't make sense because he already likes someone."

You wave him off. "Doesn't matter, either way, you should ask her yourself. I really can't give you her number on my behalf." You explain, feeling kind of bad, but keeping a peppy voice.

"You think she'd give it to me?"

You smile. "You'll never know if you don't try."

Watching, once again, a few feet await is Lee Chan. He's using all his self control not to rip the foam tube in his hands apart, but Vernon brings him back to earth, or more like back to helping him tie up the obstacle course in one of the pools.

Even as he's experiencing red-hot jealously from watching you interact with his friend, he can't help but admire how pretty you were. You somehow managed to make that stupid visor look cute. And trust me, Chan thought no one could make that hat look cute.

If Chan was anyone else, he probably would've given up on his painful crush by now, but Chan wasn't anyone. He's not sure where his liking for you started, maybe it was that first day you joined. Looking all pretty as you stood next to Minghao and introduced yourself. Chan had overheard from Joshua that you had impressive swim skills, and you had a crazy dedication for your job.

It was a few weeks before he even got to interact with you. You were pretty much attached at your friends hip, taking a minute to warm up to the others. You had gotten partnered with Karina for a ride once and she helped you get along with the rest of the staff pretty well.

That's not how you first knew of Chan though.

No, that was a while later. One hot day a few years ago, when Chan was still scrawny and more awkward with girls. He had finally had a chance to grab a slushie, opting for the purple mystery flavor that rested in the machines. (Chan thinks it was a result of a machine that hadn't been cleaned, so it really just tasted like a mixture of all the flavors.) Anyways, he happened to be in a hurry due to him chatting with Mingyu for well over his break.

Which meant he booked it to the other side of the park.

Which consequentially meant that he wasn't watching where he was going. This meant that his slushie met an unfortunate end on your lifeguard bathing suit. And all over the floor.

Now, you were testing patience at the time. This was a new job, plus it was an accident, you could forgive the guy. You also didn't mind that he was pretty cute.

That was until he ran.

Look, in Chan's defense, you made him so nervous. You were so much prettier up close! He stood there frozen for a few minutes, stuttering and thinking of ways to apologize. So he did the only viable thing to do, he ran to the bathrooms to fetch napkins!

Only, he didn't say a word so you thought he literally just ran off to avoid conflict - which wasn't even happening in the first place!

After that, you dubbed Lee Chan someone to avoid. He obviously left you in a mean spirited haste, a deep purple stain blotched all on the front of your uniform. You figured he had a good laugh about it too!

Chan regrets it everyday, why didn't he just act like a normal human?! Why did he have to make things harder for himself?!

By the time Chan had returned, you were long gone. You had ran to the bathroom on the verge of tears, basically abandoning your post and leaving Minghao to run after you.

So if anyone asked, you'd say that your distaste for Lee Chan was completely valid.

...

"Great work today team." Joshua addresses you all, clapping his hands together before placing them on his hips. "I'm really proud of you all today."

"Which is why you should let us go home." Jeonghan pipes up from behind you in the cluster of a group, smiling hopefully.

Joshua laughs sarcastically. "But then you'd miss all the fun!"

The smile dies on Jeonghans face as Joshua starts recanting the same little group seminar tips he gave last year. And the year before that.

Then he waves a hand out. "I've noticed that there's been some tension on the team lately, so we're going to heal that with some bonding time!"

Karina stiffens beside you, leaning in to whisper. "I'm already bored."

You giggle a bit as Joshua starts pairing up teams for an obstacle course through the park. Normally, you wouldn't care, that was until Joshua cited a twenty five dollar Starbucks gift card awarded to the winner. Oh, he had your attention now.

"Karina, I know you don't talk to Jeonghan a lot so you're with him!" Joshua says esthetically, while you sigh at losing two possible partners. Well, there was still Hao.

"Minghao and Vernon."

Well there goes that.

You finally are graced with the call of your name but are immediately shot back down to earth when the accompanying name leaves your managers lips. "..And Chan."

You immediately step up in protest. "Are we allowed to switch partners?"

Chan frowns but regains a bit of hope as Joshua shakes his head. "Nope, sorry but I have to be firm with this. In fact, you two are the tension I was referring to earlier."

"Are you kidding?"

Joshua narrows his eyes, gripping his clipboard. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"Joshua, with all due respect, there is no tension! It's just Chan being an idiot!" You complain, widening your eyes.

Ouch, Chan thinks. That went straight to his ego.

Though your boss stands his ground. "I would just like you two to work together for once."

You scoff, muttering a string of curses under your breath which Joshua pretends not to hear, Chan does as well. For the sake of his pride.

Your manager finishes reading the names off of the paper and announces the commencement of the challenge, which you could be less than excited about.

"For this activity, one of you is going to be blindfolded. This will help strengthen the trust you two have in each other."

Trust? You and Chan just looked at each other after you were handed the blindfold. You didn't even know what the objective of the game was yet.

"Part of this activity is deciding who will be blindfolded amongst yourselves." Joshua continues, rubbing salt into the wound.

"Well-" You begin, about to start arguing when Chan holds his hand out. He can see that you're definitely uncomfortable with the idea.

"I'll be blindfolded." He states.

"What?" He wasn't even going to fight you on it? "Really?"

He shrugs, trying to will his face from not turning red. "I trust you."

You blankly stare for a minute, trying to read a hint of humor or anything of that sort in his eyes. But you come up empty, his expression dead serious. You just handed him the blindfold, leaving him to fend for himself as he tied it around his eyes.

What did he mean he trusted you?

Karina finishes tying Jeonghan's when she turns back to your boss. "Now what?"

"You're going to lead them through the water course," Joshua smiles, although it seems a bit mischievous. He had to be getting a kick out of this. "The ones that come out first, and the most dry, win."

You gape, you were supposed to lead this grown ass man through the water course and not let him fall in?

"Lead your partner to the starting position, and then we'll begin."

You do a steady job at pushing at Chan's back to the finish line. You're less than enthusiastic about it though.

You line up among the others, knowing you'll probably come out of this ordeal soaking wet, and that's less than desirable.

The course is simple, lined up floating fuzzy blocks paced in a pathway like structure. Then you have to follow up a little climb of inflatable stairs. Then back down to the finish line. Easy enough right?

Chan's shaking right now, he's not looking forward to falling in and possibly being left to drown — as if he's not in the prescence of a group of lifeguards right now — as if he's not one himself.

He's still scared though, give him a break, he can't see!

He hears the sound of a whistle and you begin pushing at his back, leading him onto the first block. The weight of you two displaces the block, and you can feel the other block getting further.

"Okay, move about two inches onto the next block, don't fall." You instruct him and he follows, waving his foot around until he feels the safety of the makeshift ground.

You jump onto it after him, "The next one is directly in front."

And you're pleased as he lands right on it. The two of you are ahead of some of the others as well, Seungkwan already having fallen into the water, and Vernon still on the first block as Minghao tries to encourage him to move already!

"The next one is far, so I'm going to go ahead of you. I'll grab your hand after and pull you, alright?" You explain and Chan nods.

You do as you said and then hold your hand out, grabbing his palm and pulling him so the blocks float closer together. He carefully makes the step and you cheer a little in your head.

You only had one more block, then the stairs, and you were home free. You could practically taste your drink now.

Well, maybe if Chan hadn't almost fell over.

You grab both of his arms in an attempt to stop him, and you catch him just in time. He winces at the prospect of falling, and you squeeze him. "I'm not going to let you fall, okay? I've got you."

Chan's glad he can't see you, because then he'd bear witness to you noticing the growing redness of his face. And if he had to acknowledge it, then he'd jump into the water himself.

You two successful make it to the last block and you cheer, the others having more trouble with their team work behind you. The others seem to be having a hard time due to lack of trust in their guiders.

You notice that Chan had trusted completely in everything you had said, even though you knew he didn't want to splash in the pool.

You stare at him for a minute, and he starts talking. "Uhh, aren't we supposed to keep moving"

You shake your thoughts from your head. "Up the stairs now, I'll lead you, just hold my hand."

Before you know it, the two of you had made it to the end. You take off Chan's blindfold as you announce your victory. Throwing your arms around Chan as you celebrate. "We won! We beat those suckers."

"Those suckers are right here!" Karina says, panting as she comes down the stairs. She's wet, pulling a much dryer Jeonghan behind her.

You keep your hands around Chan as Karina explains. "He stepped back on the block and basically pushed me off on accident."

You giggle at that, face on a few inches from Chan as he tries not to combust. Lord, he was so in love with you. Your pretty eyes as they crinkled while you let out the prettiest laugh.

Karina notices and she lets out a smile. He really did like you, anyone could see it in his eyes.

You don't notice though, sliding your hands off of Chan as you jokingly tease Karina. "I won the card! I won the card."

Jeonghan pulls off his blindfold just in time for you to see him roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

Chan insisted you made a night of spending the card together. You didn't mind, telling him you'd meet him there after your much needed shower.

So here you sat in the Starbucks lobby, awaiting Chan as you had the card and he had already passed you his order. You tapped away on your phone as you hear the chime of the door and you hear someone sitting across from you.

You don't mind his presence, weirdly, you felt he was really vulnerable with you today. While it likely didn't mean much to him, it had you overthinking everything.

"Here's your drink, it just came out." You speak first, pushing the cup towards him.

Chan thanks you and drums his fingers on the side of the cup. "You know, I think this is the longest we've been together without you saying you hate me or something."

You shrug. "It's hard to be mad in a Starbucks. Place smells like heaven, plus you showed out in the game today."

He waves you off. "It's easy to trust you, we've known each other for long."

You snort. "More like you've bothered me for so long."

"Oh, admit it. I make your job more interesting. If it wasn't for me constantly causing a scene then you'd be bored out of your mind."

"I guess you have a point." You reluctantly agree as you sip your drink.

He smirks. "I know."

You purse your lips. "So, any updates with Karina? I know you two have been spending time together lately. Seems I was wrong."

Chan sighs. "No, I'm not into her in that way."

Brows raised, you chuckle, asking a question you already knew the answer to. "She's not interested or?"

"No, and neither was I." He states, eyes meeting yours. "She was never the one I liked."

You don't know why but you stutter a bit. "S-She wasn't?"

Chan looks away. "If it had been her and I out there today, I would've fell into the water."

"What do you mean by that, Chan?"

"You know what I mean by that."

...

You'd been avoiding Chan for the past two days, even constantly buttering up Joshua so you could be on the opposite side of wherever Chan was. It was wrong, you know, but you couldn't help it.

You were a coward, you couldn't even think about acknowledging any feelings Chan had for you. You only had a week left until the end of Summer anyways. Maybe if you ignored it you could move on.

You couldn't like Chan, not after the years you spent disliking him. Sure, had he done anything else to make you increasingly upset? Well, no. And he did usually brighten up slow days with his presence. And he did leave random water bottles by your chair when he knew you were too busy to go get one yourself. (He didn't know you knew, you figured this was his way of trying to get on your good side after the ordeal, but you never forgave him)

That was another thing too, how could he say he liked you after purposefully trying to embarrass you? Sure, it was a while ago, but you never forgot.

You're brought back from your thoughts when Jeonghan speaks, "I'm sorry, your child is not tall enough to ride this ride. It's regulation."

In front of you was an increasingly stubborn woman and what seemed to be her child as she whined about rules you had nothing to do with. "This is ridiculous!"

"It's regulated by the city, ma'am." Jeonghan shrugs. "You can leave a comment card up front if you have a complaint."

She just scoffs and storms off, stomping loudly down the stairs with her child in tow. You'd never understand some people.

Jeonghan turns to you. "Been here the whole summer and I'm still not used to it."

"You never get used to it, trust me."

He laughs in response, before changing the subject. "It's quiet up here, usually Chan's in the general vicinity by now."

You stiffen at the name. "He must be busy."

"He's never too busy for you." Jeonghan crosses his arms.

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Too busy to bother me?"

He suddenly turns serious. "I don't understand, Chan is nothing but nice to you and yet you're always ratting on him like he's a pest."

"You don't get it." You say, hoping he'll drop it.

He doesn't though. "Sure, he's a little overbearing at times but it's only because he really likes you."

"Don't say that."

"Say what?"

"Say that he likes me."

"Are you stupid?" Jeonghan spouts, and you're shocked at his tone. "The poor guy looks at you like you hung the stars yourself and you always just brush him off like he's a nuisance! But you know what? Even after all the mean things you do, he does nothing but talk greatly about you. About how you're the kindest soul, about how your smile lights up his day. How you're the prettiest girl he's ever laid eyes on."

You stay quiet, holding back tears.

"He thinks you're the greatest girl in the world, you've just never given him a chance to tell you." He finishes, leaning against the railing.

"I don't believe you."

Jeonghan turns away. "Then you'll have to ask him yourself."

You open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your friend reads your mind. "I-"

"Go," He interrupts, jutting his chin in that direction. "Before it's too late. He's with Vernon at the flow rider."

You nod and take off down the stairs, mindful of the puddles of water on the floor, but your urgency remains the same. You had to know, you had to hear it from him. You need to know why.

It's not too far in the afternoon that there's a huge line, only a couple people standing around but Vernon's helping them. Chan stands to the side looking unoccupied, now was your chance.

Wading through the people, your heart beating against your chest, you find yourself standing in front of Chan.

He averts his eyes, unsure of how to start the conversation. He had gotten the message from your avoidance, you had made your point. "You want to, um, ride the flow rider or..?"

You clear your throat. "Do you like me?"

He leans back at the question. "I thought it was obvious."

"And this isn't a prank?"

He wipes his palms on his pants. "W-Why would it be a prank?"

"I don't know! How am I supposed to believe you after that slushie?" You say, genuinely distraught.

"What slushie?"

"The one you spilled on when I first got hired here! What kind of joke was that?" You ask, finally glad to let it out into the air after holding it in for so long.

"What do you mean? I ran off to get napkins and when I came back you were gone!" Chan answered, confused on why you even remembered that.

"You could've told me! I thought you had ran off to laugh at me!" You argued.

He stands, ignoring the attention you two had drawn from others. "I would've said something but I clammed up and didn't know what to say, you were just so pretty-"

You straighten up. "Chan, you're a moron."

He stills. "I know."

"I thought you were cute before then too. But I felt so embarrassed after that, I even had to pay for a new one because Joshua said someone took the spare."

Chans eyes soften. "I grabbed it for you, but as we know, I never got to give it to you."

You look down at the new information. "Oh."

"I like you, I really do." He begins. "I like a lot of things about you. Like your perseverance, your passion for this job, your love for your friends. Just one of these days I wished you would've talked to me long enough without ripping me apart."

"I'm a bit harsh, aren't I?"

"It's one of the things I like about you, you're not scared to put anyone in their place." He admits, and it was true. Chan liked all of you, not just your better qualities.

"This whole time I thought you were the jerk when really it was me." You remark, eyes on your shoes and the floor beneath you.

"I don't blame you, I'd hate me too." Chan chuckles.

You shake your head. "I don't hate you. In fact, these past few days have been so draining. As much as I complained, you gave me something to look forward too. Knowing I'd see you do something to get my attention, just didn't know why you wanted it so bad."

"Now you know." He steps forward. "And between you and I, I've done a lot of embarrassing things to get you to look my way."

"Oh, you did them on purpose?" You tease.

He playfully rolls his eyes. "Obviously."

You assured him that you believed him as you smiled. He grabs your hand in his, the two of you standing in the sweltering heat of the park. He rubs his thumb over your palm. "So what now?"

"Take me on a date."

"You want to?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't." You respond. "I want to give us a chance."

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that."

BONUS:

"That bastard really did it." Seungkwan remarks, eyes bulging out of their sockets as he watches you and Chan flirt by the lockers before closing.

Karina stares on as well. "They're so cute that I want to throw up."

"Give them a break." Minghao butts in. "Today is the last day."

"Thank the Lord." Vernon approaches the others. "As if he couldn't get more annoying about her, I've had to hear him recount every date they've had so far."

Minghao cringes. "She's the same way."

Karina agrees. "I'm not even that bad."

Seungkwan looks over at her. "So how are thing with Mingyu anyways?"

Karina put her hands up. "Oblivious as always."

Shrugging, Minghao leans on the wall. "Should we just ditch them here and go?"

"But we haven't finished cleaning-" Jeonghan, who appeared out of nowhere starts before his voice dies down. "Yeah, lets go."

"They'll definitely be too in love to notice us leaving."

"For sure."

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter eleven ⭐︎ Yeah, I know it seems surprising when there’s lipstick still on the glass

Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact! smut, oral (male receiving), mentions of the upside down, jealousy, mentions of unrequited feelings

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Your jealousy gets the best of you, and you show Steve a side he hasn't seen before.

Word count: 9.2k

Author's note: I know you're sick of me tagging you but shoutout to you for always helping ♡ @hellfire--cult

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

“It has to be perfect!” Lucas says from the passenger seat of your car, clapping his hands together as he glances at you with an excited smile on his face. 

“It will be, you got all her favorite snacks, that alone will make her happy,” you chuckle as you keep your eyes on the road. 

“You think?” Lucas asks, sounding nervous. 

“I know it,” you assure him, nodding at him, “besides, why are you so nervous? You’ve been together for how long? Over a year?” 

“Well, she broke up with me for a while, remember?” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t count in my opinion, she went through a rough patch and you were always there for her, you were still… kind of together… in your hearts. She was just… hiding her true feelings and needed to be alone, she still loved you, it was a different kind of break up.” 

He nods at your words, smiling to himself as he looks down, “yeah,” he whispers before he turns back to you, curiosity flashing in his eyes. 

“Have you ever loved someone? I-I mean like, like I love Max?” 

Your eyes soften behind your sunglasses. 

The love between them is so pure, so young, yet so very real.

You get lost in your thoughts for a moment, his question repeating itself in your mind. You think about yourself at fifteen, at sixteen, at seventeen and eighteen. You are nineteen now, and the answer to his question is still the same, it will always be the same. 

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” He asks but not with judgment in his voice, only with pure curiosity. 

You shake your head, glancing at him before you pull up into the parking lot at Family Video, next to Steve’s BMW. 

Your chest flutters at the sight of his car – the car that was in your driveway all night.

The thing between you and Steve is still new, still fragile but… constant. 

After you gave in and stopped the radio silence that was driving you crazy, you started seeing each other frequently – five days out of the week. You were going behind everyone’s backs, sneaking around while you kept pretending to not like each other in front of your friends. You were still Blondie and Lego Head in front of them, but behind closed doors you were both someone else. 

You are not what you wish you could be, but that doesn’t matter when Steve is inches deep inside of you and you feel his lips on your skin and his hands on your body, you get to pretend while you’re in moments of bliss. And when it’s over, you get to pretend that the marks on your skin are there because he wishes you were his, even when it’s nothing but a lie. 

Steve can’t keep his hands off you, he can’t stop touching you, he can’t stop kissing you, he can’t stop fucking you – something keeps pulling him back to you, something makes you irresistible to him. You know it’s only that, the sex, the lust, the secrets, nothing more. He doesn’t feel the way you do, not in the slightest, but in some way, he feels something, and that gives you peace… for now. 

You keep pushing your feelings aside, not wanting to give in, not wanting them to get in the way. 

“Yeah,” you mumble, leaning back in your seat after parking your car, “I’m not good with feelings.”

“Huh,” he nods, furrowing his eyebrows, “that’s funny, reminds me of a certain someone.”

You tilt your head at him as you take your sunglasses off and put them in your cup holder. 

“Yeah? Who’s that?” 

“Well, she’s got red hair, wears pigtails a lot and can be super mean.” 

A chuckle falls from your lips. 

“You’re basically the older version of Max,” he grins, “you’re both stubborn and act all cold even though you’re the biggest softies at heart.” 

You roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head at him. 

“All you need is your basketball star boyfriend,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and Family Video. 

You scoff at him, waving him off as you hide your flustered face by turning away from him and getting out of the car. 

“Steve is single, you know?” He says as he gets out of the car, shutting the door and walking around it to get to you. 

“Mhmm.” 

And you’re glad that he is. 

You place your hand on his shoulder, giving him a pointed look, “why don’t we focus on your date night with Max, King Lucas?” You ask as you start walking towards Family Video, “and we focus less on mine or Lego Head’s dating life.”

He chuckles at both nicknames, he follows you to the store, rushing towards the door, he grabs the handle and opens it before you can, bowing his head with a playful smile on his face as he gestures to you to walk in first.

“Dork,” you chuckle. 

You step into the store with a smile on your face and excitement rising up in you, knowing that he is here. Your eyes instantly catch him standing behind the counter with his arms crossed, biceps on full display as he wears a black shirt beneath the green vest, his hair slicked back a little, probably from running his fingers through it all morning. A smirk tugs at his lips, and normally, it would drive you crazy and make your skin prickle, but not now. 

Definitely not now. 

Because the smirk, the look in his eyes that he always looks at you with, isn’t directed at you, no, it’s directed at her. 

The girl you only recently found out about, the girl you hoped was long gone and away from Hawkins. 

Jennifer Mitchell stands in front of Steve in all her glory, clad in a short sundress, her boobs are nearly on full display, her dark waves falling down her tanned back as she twirls the front strand around her finger, she glances back at you when the bell above the door goes off, her plump lips are the first thing you look at – god, you can’t even lie to yourself and think that she isn't gorgeous, because she is, you’re not blind. 

She’s got a pretty face, curves that make her look like a goddess. She’s perfect. 

A few months back, you would have swallowed down the jealousy inside of you, and you’d walk away, because there would be no point in dwelling on those thoughts in your head. 

But now you have him. 

And so far, you haven’t seen him flirting with other girls in front of you, you haven’t felt the need to worry about him hooking up with anyone else, even when it was there in the back of your mind, you ignored it and pretended that you were the only one. 

But you aren’t, you aren’t the only one, you aren’t the special one, you aren’t enough for him. 

The bitterness on your tongue is strong, just like the burning in your chest, the red and ugly flames that become brighter and brighter the longer you look between them. 

The way he stands before her, so confident and cocky, the way he talks to her, the way he is so close, the way his lips are curled into a smirk.

You could throw up. 

His eyes meet yours, and you instantly look away with an eye roll and a sigh, making your way into the horror movie section without bothering to greet him. 

What you failed to notice was how bored he looked until he saw you, and how his eyes lit up when he took in the sight of you, the way his plastered smirk turned into a soft smile. 

“Hey Steve,” Lucas greets him, waving his hand at him as he follows you. 

“Hey guys,” Steve greets you both, even though you have already walked past him and turned your back to him. His shoulders slump a little, but you’re long gone to see.

Robin is stacking up tapes, humming along to the song that plays on the radio, standing with her back turned to you, she doesn’t notice you or Lucas, until the latter taps her on the shoulder, startling her a bit. 

She turns around, some horror movie tape in her hand, her features relax when she sees the two of you. 

“Oh, hey guys! What’s up?” She grins. 

“Lucas is looking for a movie, for his date night with Max,” you say, smiling at the boy beside you. 

“Aw!” Robin pouts, tilting her head as she looks at him with an adoring smile on her lips, “you two are just the cutest.” 

Lucas rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you both off, taking a step back, “I will just… look around for the perfect movie or go bother Steve while you girls chit chat,” he mumbles before he leaves the aisle again. 

Robin frowns at him, “why don’t you chit chat with us? We wanna know more about your date!” 

“She can tell you all about it!” Lucas points at you, blushing already. 

She chuckles at the flustered look on his face, watching as he inches away from the two of you, her eyes fall on Steve, who is still talking to Jennifer, who is now leaning over the counter, a pen in her hand and a note in front of her, she’s writing down her number, no doubt. She straightens back up, giving Steve a flirty smile – yeah, she definitely wrote down her number. She hands him the note before she turns around and makes her way out, looking over her shoulder one more time to wave at him. 

You clear your throat, looking around at the tapes in front of you, “so… they’re having a movie night. We went to Big Buy’s first, he got a bunch of her favorite snacks, and then we stopped at the record store, he bought her a new album – oh, but he’s also been talking about making her a mixtape, which I think is super cute!” You ramble, not noticing that Robin’s eyes are elsewhere. 

She raises her eyebrows, craning her neck a little. 

Steve turns around with the note in his hand, he doesn’t even open it, he doesn’t even look twice at it, he just throws it in the trash and turns back around, running his fingers through his hair, for the millionth time today. He reaches for his magazine and continues flipping through it like nothing happened. 

Robin’s jaw nearly drops at his action. 

When has he ever done anything like this? 

“And I thought maybe she will like a horror movie, so that Lucas can wrap his arm around her…” Your voice falters a little when you notice that she isn’t even listening. “Robs?” You mumble, waving your hand in front of her hypnotized face. You turn around and follow her gaze. Your eyes land on Steve, who is now alone again – a sight that fills you with… relief. 

You turn back around, raising your eyebrows at her. 

Robin seems to snap out of her stupor, shaking her head a little before her blue eyes meet yours again. 

“Sorry, spaced out.” 

“Because of Dingus?” You chuckle, tilting your head, “you’re not turning straight are you?” You joke, earning a slap to your shoulder from the blonde. 

She gags at your words, before she starts laughing. 

“Okay! So… we are looking for a horror movie for the love birds?” She asks. 

You nod. 

“Alright,” she smiles, nodding her head as she turns towards the tapes, looking through them with squinted eyes. 

And while she is distracted, you can’t help but turn back to Steve to look at him properly, even when you can only see his back, your eyes are filled with longing, and still with jealousy. 

Did she leave her number before she left?

Is he gonna take her out on a date now?

Is he gonna see her instead of you now? 

Is he gonna replace you with her? – That thought leaves you with nothing but sadness, not the burning red anger that you feel when you think about him hooking up with her. As long as he comes back to you, everything will be okay, you will be okay. But, if he leaves for good, and he replaces you with someone else, the anger won’t be the feeling in control. 

With a sigh, you turn away from him and look back at Robin, who reaches for some Zombie apocalypse movie that you have never even heard of before. 

Lucas doesn’t seem to mind that she’s the one picking the movies out for him, once he’s got everything he needs, you both make your way over the counter, and you once again have to hide your feelings behind a confident smile as you’re forced to face him again. 

“Having a movie night?” Steve asks as he grabs the tapes, taking a look at them. 

His voice alone makes your stomach flutter. 

“Yeah, my parents are having a date night, they won’t be home until past midnight, so… I’m having a date night with Max,” Lucas grins and places his hands on the counter.

“So you purposely picked the horror movies so you can wrap your arm around her, huh?” Steve smirks at him, before his eyes move to yours and he winks at you when Lucas looks down. 

One look from him, one smile, one tiny little action and all your worries are out the window for a second. All you see is him, all you feel in your chest is the pounding of your heart that he causes every single time, he leaves goosebumps on your skin, he leaves you aching and wanting for more. 

Every time you’re with him, every time he smiles at you, nothing around you no longer exists, none of your bad thoughts, none of the girls he had been with, not even the one that just stood here in your place, the one that caused you a sliver of panic. 

You’re truly and utterly ruined. 

Steve turns you into a lovesick puppy, you wear the pink sunglasses when you’re with him, no longer able to think straight – you are blind and unaware of absolutely everything. And it should scare you, it really should, but you don’t care, not right now, you might not ever. 

Steve could do anything to you, and you’d still look at him the same. 

“That was her and Robin’s idea,” Lucas murmurs, nudging your shoulder. 

“Oh?” Steve raises his eyebrows, smirking at you, “well, Robin must be the expert.” 

“Not me?” You ask, tilting your head at him. 

“Nah,” he shakes his head as he looks down, ringing up the tapes, “you’re the type of girl that wants to be protected during horror movies.” 

A laugh falls from your lips, “right.” 

Lucas looks between the two of you, eyes flashing with mischief, “well, Steve, you seem like the guy to protect the girl during horror movies,” he wiggles his brows, “so, I’d say you’re the perfect match for each other.”

You expect Steve to say something slightly mean, to keep the cover up, but instead, he looks back at Lucas before his hazel eyes lock with you, and an even bigger smirk tugs at his lips, as his eyes move up and down your body teasingly. 

“Yeah? I guess Blondie and I should have a little movie night then huh?” 

Lucas snorts, not taking Steve’s words seriously, knowing that this would be way too easy. 

But you know what Steve means by that. 

“Mhmm, sure,” you nod, tilting your head at the handsome brunette.

Lucas looks between the two of you, rolling his eyes, “you guys can stop playing, I know you won’t actually do that,” he mumbles, taking your words as a joke. 

He pulls out his wallet, and pays for the movies, taking the receipt as well after Steve places it on the counter. 

“Maybe I’ll convince you two to spend some time alone someday though,” he grins at the both of you, not noticing the way Steve looks at you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, stepping away from the counter, “come on, buddy.” 

You raise your eyebrows at Steve as you bring your hand up to your neck, where he had left a new hickey. 

His eyes flash with lust and he bites his lip as he nods at you. 

Excitement rushes through your body, despite what you had walked into just minutes ago, you can’t wait to see him tonight. 

You flash him a smile before you leave. 

Completely unaware of the storm it causes inside of him. 

His eyes stay on you, even when you’re out of the store and inching closer and closer to your car. He tilts his head a little, so he can see more of you through the glass door, he watches the way your skirt bounces a little, he feels like a perv when he wonders about your panties, what color they are, if they’re lacy or not, but he can’t help it, especially when he thinks about your previous night together – how you looked beneath him, how pretty your face looked when it contorted into pleasure, how his name fell from your lips so beautifully, how your hands felt on his skin, how you clung to him as he thrusted in and out of your tight pussy. 

Steve licks his lips, gripping the edges of the counter, watching as you get into your car. 

His mouth waters as he thinks about devouring you, tasting you on his tongue and making you scream out in pleasure, again and again, until you’re nothing but a whimpering, shaking mess beneath his hands. 

He looks at the watch around his wrist, nearly groaning in annoyance, three more hours to go. 

“Hey,” Robin walks up to him, “what are you doing tonight?” She asks as she leans against the counter next to him. 

He takes a look at her, finding her staring at him in pure curiosity, eyebrows pulled together as her eyes stare at him expectedly.

Fuck. 

“Uh…” He murmurs, scratching the back of his neck, he tilts his head down, eyes falling on the trash can and the note he threw away. “I’m meeting… Jennifer.” He smiles, hoping that she will believe him, hoping that she will remember the time he talked about the girl a few months back. 

“Oh?” Robin nudges her chin up a little, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Steve nods, smiling as heat rushes up to his cheeks. 

“A-And you?” He asks, hoping that she won’t ask any questions. 

“Oh, nothing, maybe I’m just gonna go bother Eddie,” she shrugs, still staring at him and at the way his cheeks burn red. 

Steve avoids her eyes, and that is something he only does when he is hiding something – usually it’s nothing serious, nothing big. But this is different. 

He is hiding something else from her. 

She knows it, she is sure of it. 

He stopped looking at Nancy, he stopped talking about Heidi and Linda, he threw away a note of one of the hottest girls of Hawkins. 

“Sounds great,” he mumbles, bringing his hand up to her hair, he ruffles it, chuckling at the annoyed groan that falls from her lips. 

“I’ll be right back, Robs.” 

He walks away from her and disappears into the hallway. 

And she waits, she waits until she hears the door to the break room closing. She listens closely, biting her lip as she already looks down into the trash can, eying the note as her fingers itch for it. 

The moment the door shuts, she quickly bends down, digging her hand into the trash that is luckily only filled with papers and wrappers, she reaches for the folded note and straightens back up, turning around after taking another look into the hallway, she leans her elbows on the counter, and unfolds the note. 

Sure enough, Jennifer’s number is written on the white paper, under her name that is decorated with a heart on the side. 

She raises her eyebrows, her lips part in surprise as she stares at it for a long time, unable to make sense of why he would do this. 

Not only was she surprised to see him rejecting a girl a few days back, now he has also done… this. 

Maybe… just maybe, he is sick of dates that lead to nothing and sex that has no meaning. After all, he did complain about his dislike of meaningless relationships that only consist of sex. It was fun for a while, but he got sick of it, he wanted something different, something real. 

So maybe, that is why he keeps rejecting those girls and throwing away notes. 

When he comes back a few minutes later, Robin acts innocent but she keeps a close eye on him, taking in the sight of his glowing eyes, the smile that keeps appearing on his lips whenever he gets lost in his thoughts, the blush that sometimes rises to his cheeks – If only she knew the reason behind it. 

If only she knew that Steve wasn’t thinking about his upcoming ‘date’ with Jennifer. 

If only she knew that he wasn’t rushing home after his shift because of her. 

If only she knew what he was really going to be doing tonight. 

If only she knew that it would be your door he would knock at. 

“Missed me?” You smirk at him after you open the door, leaning against it, you don’t let him in just yet, turning your head to look at the clock in your hallway, “you’re here earlier than usual, someone’s eager to get his dick wet, huh?”

Steve huffs, lips tugging into a smile as he looks away for a moment. 

“Don’t act like you haven’t been waiting for me,” he murmurs, taking a step closer to you, he puts his hand on your waist and pushes you to step back so he can walk into your house, he closes the door behind him, ready to grab your face and pull you into a deep kiss, but you seem to be having different ideas, you take another step back, letting his hand fall to his side as you turn around and make your way down the hallway instead of upstairs into your bedroom. 

He furrows his eyebrows as he watches you disappear into the kitchen. 

“Do you want a drink?” You call out to him. 

“Uh… yeah, sure.” 

Usually, you save that for later, but not today. 

Steve scratches the back of his neck, looking around the empty hallway, he throws his keys on the counter and makes his way into the kitchen, almost startled by the way you push the cold beer in his hand, your fingers grazing his for a split second before you pull your hand away again, and grab another beer for yourself. 

You pop the can and take a sip, eyes staring into his now. 

A smirk tugs at his lips as he takes in the look of your darkened eyes, the lust that is clearly there, but there is something else tonight as well, he can’t pinpoint what it is, maybe because it’s a look he had never seen in your eyes until now. 

He licks his lips as he eyes the top you’re wearing, low cut and stopping just below your belly button, showing off your cleavage and your soft skin. You replaced your skirt with shorts that are even shorter than what you wore before, but they look much more comfortable, soft and perfect to… sleep in. He can’t wait to rip them off of you and dive his face into your pussy.

He mimics your action, popping open his own can. 

“So…” You start, piquing his interest. 

He knew there was something, a reason as to why you didn’t pounce on him the way you usually do, the moment you open the door for him. 

You start walking into the living room, and he follows. 

“You talked to Jennifer today. Having a date, Stevie?” You ask, taking a look over your shoulder.

Something you’ve always been good at, was hiding your true feelings, your jealousy that you have dealt with over the years… but, hiding your jealousy is much more challenging now that you have him in some way. You try your best, you put on a brave, smug face and look at him with a smirk on your lips. 

You take a seat on the couch, and he doesn’t hesitate to sit down beside you, eyes glinting with curiosity. 

He doesn’t have a date, he doesn’t have one planned, and he’s not looking for one with her either. But you don’t know that, and you don’t have to know that. 

There is a sliver of hope in him, that you might ask this question out of jealousy, despite the teasing tone behind your voice, he hopes that it’s that. 

“Uh… I don’t know,” he mumbles as he looks down at his beer, he takes a sip, unaware of the glare that is directed at him. 

“Aw, why?” You ask, tilting your head at him, “didn’t she fuck like a… goddess?” 

When he looks back at you, he finds you staring intensely, the smirk still playing on your lips, though with a hint of tension, your eyes are a little squinted, if he didn’t look so closely, he would’ve missed the fire behind your eyes. 

He doesn’t care about how great of a fuck she was, no one is better than you, no one appeals to him the way you do, right now, not that he would ever admit it to your face. 

He wants to keep you, he wants you to keep him, he wants you to feel jealous. 

“Mmm, can’t remember it that well,” he shrugs, sipping his beer, “so maybe I should refresh my memory a bit.”

You are driven by anger, by jealousy, his words make you see red, it feels as though you are in a haze, you can’t see clearly, you can’t see the look in his eyes, the teasing smirk on his lips, the smugness in his features after saying that to you. 

You know he isn’t yours, you know that you’re exclusive, that he can go on dates and fuck as many other girls as he pleases, but you don’t want that. 

You want to be the only one. 

You want to be his only one. 

The fire burns beneath your skin, the gnawing feeling in your chest wanting you to move, to do something, to prove to him that you are the only one that he needs. 

You slam your beer on the coffee table, and then you reach for his, quickly placing it next to yours before you turn back to him, scooting closer to him on your knees, you grab onto his shoulders as you straddle him.

His large hands instantly reach for your hips, eyes blazing with lust as his smirk transforms into a lust filled one. 

You cup his cheeks and without hesitating to, you smash your lips against his, dragging him into a rough kiss that he reciprocates right away, moaning approvingly as he finally gets what he had been craving all day long. 

His fingers dig into your sides as he pulls you closer and closer, until you are flush against him and you are sitting on his dick, the only thing now separating you both are the clothes on your bodies. 

You can feel him growing hard beneath you, his dick straining against his jeans and into your center, begging for attention. You slip your tongue into his mouth, and deepen the kiss with a whimper that vibrates against his lips, you taste the beer, the mint gum that he must’ve spit out before he came here. You pick up the pace, kissing him faster, rougher, more desperately. 

Your hands leave his face, reaching into his hair instead.

A deep groan leaves his lips at the feeling of your fingers pulling his hair.

You start moving your hips, grinding against him as you keep moving your lips against his, still keeping control – the way you plan to keep all night. 

His hands start roaming your body, getting lost beneath your top, he moans when he finds no bra to unclasp. His fingertips graze your smooth skin, moving to your front, he squeezes your waist with both hands, as he tries to buck his hips up to throw you under him, but you don’t budge, not today. You tug at his hair roughly, groaning into the kiss as you grind down harder against him, keeping him in place. 

A whimper falls from his lips and he knits his eyebrows together, something deep within him stirs at your action, making him weak beneath you, making him putty in your hands. 

You kiss him as though it’s the last thing you will ever do, taking his breath and making it your own as you swallow all his moans, you only pull away when the lack of oxygen gets to you, but you don’t hesitate to tilt his head to the side, and latching your lips onto his neck, sucking and biting his skin the way he usually does to you.

“F-Fuck,” he whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as he grabs your waist even tighter than before, “Blondie.” 

His jeans have never felt more uncomfortable than they do right now, dick aching and throbbing as you keep grinding your pussy against it. 

He tilts his head further to the side, allowing you more access to his neck, you instantly start peppering kisses along his side and his jaw, switching between sucking and kissing roughly, and Steve basks in the feeling, closing his eyes as he gets lost in the pleasure of your lips blessing him with such intensity. 

His heart is pounding in his chest, his stomach swirling with lust as he holds you tightly, wanting to feel you close and closer. 

Your hands slip down his stomach, fingers grabbing at his shirt, you pull it over his head swiftly, not wasting more time, you throw it behind you somewhere. 

His eyes shoot open, and he looks at you in surprise when you start kissing down his chest instead, nails grazing his shoulder, his collarbones and the hair on his chest before your hands fall lower and lower, skimming his stomach, making him shudder at the feeling. His hands fall to his sides as he stares at you in awe, watching the way your lips trail kisses down his stomach. And then, you fall to your knees in front of him, hands reaching for his belt. 

“O-Oh shit,” he blurts out, eyes growing wide, “y-you don’t have to,” he rushes, despite feeling the need to see your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. 

“Shut up,” you nearly growl, “you’re gonna sit there and look pretty for me while I suck your dick.” 

“O-Okay,” he whimpers, eyes turning black as he watches you. 

Who is he to say no to this, to you anyways?

He had been dreaming of this moment. 

You unbuckle his belt hastily, popping open the button on his jeans as you start tugging his pants and boxers down. He lifts himself up a little, helping you. His dick springs free, slapping against his stomach, his tip an angry red as pre cum leaks out and rolls down his length already. 

You will never not be amazed by how big he is, no matter the times you have seen him or felt him inside of you. 

You lick your lips, placing your hands on his thighs as you move closer to him, you look up into his eyes, the shock, the lust and the desperation in them making you feel satisfied. Because this, all of his feelings, the look in his eyes is only reserved for you, right now. No one else. Just you. 

You keep eye contact as you spit into your palm before you wrap your hand around his aching cock. 

He furrows his eyebrows, biting his lip as he looks at your much smaller hand, and the way you start jerking him off slowly, teasing him. 

“Don’t tease me like that,” he growls. 

A huff falls from your lips, the fire inside of you, growing bigger, “don’t tell me what to do.” 

Steve had never seen this side of you. 

You are bratty sometimes, even mean, but you are never like this, you never order him around or tell him what to do – but this only gives him the confirmation that he needs, you are jealous. 

And that fuels his own fire. 

“Stop teasing and suck my cock, Blondie.” 

You glare at him, clenching your jaw and unclenching it a second later when you move closer and closer until your lips are only inches away from him. 

“When’s the last time you got your dick sucked, Stevie?” You ask before you stick your tongue out, pressing the tip to the underside of his cock and licking up to his tip. 

A needy moan falls from his lips, and he has to restrain himself from throwing his head back. 

“Answer the question,” you murmur as you swirl your tongue around his tip, welcoming the salty taste of his pre cum on your tongue. 

You want to know if he has been with anyone else since you, you need to know. 

He curses under his breath, curling his fists as he moans again when you keep teasing him with your tongue.

“I-I don’t know! I don’t remember!” He nearly whines in desperation, cheeks growing red under the dim lights in your living room. 

He truly doesn’t, it’s been long before you, and it wasn’t very memorable either.

He never let you suck his dick, you don’t know why, but every time you tried to kiss down his body, he pulled you back up and threw you under him instead, using his tongue to pleasure you instead of letting you do the same to him – no guy has ever denied head, no one but Steve and it confused you, but you always guessed that he finds more enjoyment in giving, than receiving. 

“Hmm, before me?” 

“Yeah, fuck… Yeah, before you!”

Good. 

You spit down on his dick, letting it roll down his length before you wrap your lips around him and envelop him with wet warmth as you take him down your throat, tearing a gasp out of him. 

He almost jumps up, eyes growing wide as you nearly take his full length. No one has ever been able to take all of him. He is aware of his size, of his length, one girl nearly threw up all over him when his tip hit the back of her throat, but you, you are special. 

“Mmm,” you moan around him, closing your eyes as you start sucking him off, like you’re doing it for your own pleasure. 

His lips part, jaw dropping as he stares down at you. 

You start bobbing your head, slowly at first, moans vibrating against him as you get lost in it. 

Steve can’t hold back any longer, he brings his hand down to your head, grabbing your hair as he whimpers your name loudly and it only prompts you to move faster. 

You hollow your cheeks around him and take him deeper and deeper, until he hits the back of your throat, and you keep sucking him off with no struggle, you breathe through your nose calmly, moans still falling as you pleasure him in ways no one ever has before. 

He nearly wants to curse and pull at your hair when he thinks about how many men had the pleasure of feeling this before him. An ugly feeling bubbling in his chest at the thought of it, he had been so good at pushing those thoughts aside ever since he learned more about your past, ever since you revealed more of your secrets to him. He wasn’t very pleased to find out details about your sex life, a weird feeling cursed through his veins every time he found out something new, but he couldn’t hide his curiosity either, wanting to know things himself… so he can make you feel better than they ever could. 

But now is not the time to think of such things, he pushes everything aside, every worry, every weird feeling in his chest, and he focuses on you, just you. 

“Y-You’re doing so good, B-Blondie…” He gasps, pulling at your hair a little, he watches you, he watches the way tears start to roll down your cheeks as you suck him off eagerly, desperately, and in such a dirty way. 

Saliva rolls down your chin, your moans falling and vibrating against his throbbing cock, glassy eyes now looking up into his as you bring one hand up to his length, using your hand where your mouth can’t reach, while you use your other hand to play with his balls gently. 

Steve is speechless, he can’t come up with the right words, he is in awe, in absolute bliss as he gets lost in the pleasure that you bless him with. 

You both should’ve done this earlier, much much earlier. 

His eyes nearly fall shut, but he doesn’t, he can’t look away from you, not even when his own eyes fill with tears from pleasure, turning the vision in front of him blurry. 

He adores your big eyes and your swollen lips as he watches how they move back and forth on his aching dick. 

He feels the heat in his stomach spreading, moving down to his pelvis, to his thighs. His breathing gets heavier, the more seconds pass, his moans get louder and needier, his heart starts racing. He is so close, so very close, and it feels so good. Not as good as it feels to be inside of you, to feel you around him, to feel you clinging to his body, to feel how tight you get around him, but this is definitely the second best thing he has ever come to feel. 

He nearly starts drooling, unable to close his mouth. 

His stomach contracts and he digs his fingers further into your hair, he keeps his hips still, not wanting to gag you. 

You remove one hand from him, and move it down your own body, slipping it past your shorts and your panties. You moan around him as you push your fingers through your slick folds, teasing your clit before you slip two fingers inside of you, stretching yourself open for his cock. 

“Fuck!” He gasps, watching you wide eyed as your moans get louder, “are you touching yourself?” 

Another moan from you is the only confirmation he needs, and that, only brings him closer to his high. 

You feel him twitching in your mouth, and you would love nothing more than to keep doing this until he cums down your throat, but you pull away from him, almost smirking at the loud whine that leaves his lips when you release him with a pop!

You’re surprised to see tears in his eyes, desperation lingering in them as he stares at you, waiting for more. He is breathing heavily, his lips parted and cheeks glowing. He looks so good like this, so sexy. It takes everything in you not to sink back to your knees and finish what you started.

You rise to your feet, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach at the sight of his disheveled looks. 

You quickly take your shorts and your panties off, letting them pool at your feet. 

Steve swallows, cursing under his breath as he leans forward to retrieve the condom he stuck in his back pocket earlier. Before he can even rip the foil apart, you snatch it from his hand and straddle him just the way you did before, you bite your lip as you open the foil and pick out the condom. 

Steve doesn’t realize just how fast he is breathing, how needy he seems as he grabs your bare hips with his hands, urging you to put the goddamn condom on his throbbing dick.

You scoot closer, licking your lips as you roll the condom over his length, eyes flickering back and forth between his eyes and his lips, a smirk tugging on yours. 

Steve can’t help but admire you, staring at your slick and swollen lips, at the tears that pool on your lower lash line, your nipples that poke through your thin top. You’re hot, you’re so fucking hot, he can barely contain himself. 

You grab his left shoulder as you use your free hand to tease his cock by slipping it through your folds, making you both moan in pleasure. 

“I-I’m gonna… fuck… Blondie!” He warns, glaring into your eyes. 

You can’t even help but chuckle, taunting him with a smug smirk on your lips. 

He holds your hips tighter, face growing redder, he is ready to flip you over and fuck the brat out of you. He is so close, so goddamn close already, it won’t take much for him to shoot his load into the stupid condom. 

You look into his eyes, as you finally give into both yours and his needs, you sink down on his cock, scrunching up your face in pleasure as he splits you open. 

“O-Oh,” he groans, gripping your hips so tightly that it’ll definitely bruise your delicate skin, “just like that, ba– good girl.” 

You bite your lip so harshly that moments later, you can taste blood, but you don’t care, you don’t care about anything when he is inside of you and his hands hold you so needily.

You take him inch by inch, until his cock is buried deep inside of you and you’re fully seated on top of him. 

He is moaning, whimpering beneath you, and you didn’t even get started yet. 

You take a moment, a few seconds, to adjust to his size, blinking away the tears that keep building up in your eyes, your mouth waters as the mix of pain and pleasure takes over, you shut your eyes, not seeing him any longer, not seeing the way he’s looking at you, like he is in awe, in utter bliss, like you’re the only thing that matters in this godforsaken world.

His eyes take in the way you throw your head back, the way your lips part in pleasure, the way the strap of your top falls down your arm, exposing more of your chest to him. He licks his lips as he moves closer, kissing your shoulder and up to your neck, trying to distract himself from how good it feels to be balls deep in your pussy that he wishes he could feel around him without the rubber that separates him from feeling you the way he only did once before.

You wrap your arms around him, cupping the back of his neck lightly, as you roll your hips, earning a moan from him. 

He instantly pulls away from your neck, stopping the kisses, he needs to see you again, to watch your face contorted in pleasure. 

He leans back against the pillows behind him, still holding your hips tightly as he takes a look at you. 

Your eyes fall to his neck, you would choke him, that was something you were into before. Before the whole upside down thing happened, before the Demobats choked him, before Jason choked you. 

So instead, you grab his hair tightly, knowing that it’ll make him whimper, you pull his neck back, and lean in, licking his skin teasingly before you start kissing him there again and giving the scar around his neck the soft attention it deserves as you roll your hips again, and clench around him. 

“Did Jennifer do this to you, Steve?” You murmur against his skin as you press another soft kiss to his scar, “or did she just lay there, making you do all the work?” 

He doesn’t know what drives him more crazy, the fact that you’re jealous, the fact that you’re sitting on his cock or the raspiness of your voice as you kiss him like he means something to you.

You roll your hips again and again, making him whine and groan in pleasure, but then, you still on top of him, making him wince as you suck on the side of his neck. 

“She totally let you do all the work while she screamed your name to fill your ego, didn’t she?” 

He clenches his jaw, growling at you, “Blondie… if you don’t move…” 

“If I don’t move, what?” You ask as you pull back to look at him, lips curling into a smirk as you look into his angry eyes, “I can just say no and you wouldn’t be able to do anything.” 

He gulps at your words, but he nods, hazel eyes taking on the desperation again. 

“S-She didn’t ride me,” he admits. 

“I know she doesn’t… Billy told me she sucked at it,” you smirk, not giving him the time to react before you finally start moving. Slamming yourself down on his cock.

“Oh fuck, just like that!” He moans, wrapping his arms around you fully as he pulls you flush against him, “don’t stop!” 

Your own moans start falling from your lips, hands clinging to his hair now as you ride him. 

His hand gripping your sides and tugging at your top, silently begging for you to take it off – and you grant him his wish, pulling back just enough to rid yourself off the skimpy material, you throw it on the couch, gasping in surprise when he buries his face in your chest. 

“S-Steve,” you moan as you start bouncing on his cock. 

He massages your boobs, moaning against you as he wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking it. 

You let yourself get lost in the pleasure, shutting your eyes.

“Y-You feel so good,” he stutters against you, “you’re driving me fucking crazy.” 

“Yeah?” You whimper, grabbing his hair even rougher than before, pulling him back so you can see his face again, his lust filled eyes, his swollen lips, “you drive me crazy too,” you whisper before you slam your lips against his, nudging your nose against his as the kiss starts off roughly. He meant those words physically, while you mean it in a whole other way. More ways than only one. 

“Mmm.” He whines as he twitches inside of you. 

You know he won’t last much longer, he was ready to bust in your mouth just minutes ago, you’re impressed by the way he is able to hold back for so long. 

His hands touch you everywhere, your back, your ass – groping it for a second before he brings it up to your front, tilting his head down, he watches the way you ride him, the way his cock disappears inside of you, a sight that only brings him closer and closer to his orgasm. 

The room is filled with moans and whimpers, along with the squelching noises of your pussy, it’s what nears him to the edge he’s been dangerously close to since you wrapped your lips him.

Nothing could be better than this. 

Nothing. 

Your walls clench around him, and your moans get high pitched now, your lips move lazily against his. 

He presses his fingertips against your clit, rubbing circles on your nub. 

You respond by grabbing his shoulders tightly and picking up the pace, catching him off guard when you start bouncing harder and faster. 

“Holy fuck!” He whimpers as you both break the kiss to look at one another, “I-I’m gonna cum!” He warns, moving his fingers faster on your clit. 

You drag your nails down his chest, pressing your palms against his hairy chest as you lean your forehead against his, blinking away the tears of pleasure. 

Your breaths mingle together as your noses bump into each other. 

“Cum for me, Steve.” 

“Cum with me, Blondie,” he demands as he keeps on pleasuring your clit with his calloused fingers. 

You press your lips back against his, moaning into the kiss when you let go, and cum around him, as he spills into the condom, groaning loudly as he pulls you close, breathing heavily and whimpering at the feeling of your walls pulsating around him. 

You stop moving after a moment, falling against his chest, you break the kiss, sighing in contentment. 

Steve is too speechless to speak, still coming down from his high, he breathes heavily as he runs his finger up and down your spine, not knowing that a small action like that, is able to set your heart on fire, making it flutter and race at the same time. 

You place your head on his chest, closing your eyes for a moment, and you let yourself get lost in the feeling of him, of the way it feels to be in his arms while he touches you gently, softly, his lips on your shoulders as he kisses you as though you are his, like you are the only one that matters, like you are the only one for him. 

When in reality, you’re not. 

You’re only this to him, something, someone who keeps him warm. 

While he is your everything. 

You aren’t the only one, you will never be, and yet, you will always take him back whenever he feels like having your body beneath him, instead of someone else’s, and even though it crushes your heart a little, you will always run into his open arms whenever he wants you.

You open your eyes again, staring into nothing. You only pull away when he stops with the kisses and squeezes your waist, tucking your hair behind your ear as he cups your cheek, pulling you back so he can see your face. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks when your eyes meet his again, his dimples show when he smiles at you. 

“Well… I discovered something I didn’t know I was into, just now.” 

You can’t even help but giggle, pride swelling in your chest. 

His eyes light up, he lets his hand move down your side again. 

“Ah,” you nod as a smirk reappears on your lips, “that confirms that no one ever rode you before.”

He rolls his eyes at you, shaking his head with a chuckle. 

“Don’t get fucking cocky now,” he murmurs as he pinches your ass, making you yelp a little. 

“Let’s take this upstairs,” he smirks, “I wanna return the favor.”

And just like that, all your worries are out the window for now, because tonight, you are the only one on his mind, tonight he belongs to you. 

-

Eddie is sitting out on the porch, smoking a cigarette as he looks up at the starry sky. 

Wayne has a couple of friends over – Hopper included. He hears their laughter echoing in the backyard, the smell of burning wood lingering in the air from the little bonfire. 

Eddie blows out the smoke of his cigarette, returning his attention to the notebook on his lap, he skims over the words he wrote before. He is working on a new song, one that he will hopefully play at The Hideout someday, soon. 

The sound of footsteps pull his attention away from his notebook again. He furrows his eyebrows as he looks into his darkened driveway, craning his neck to see better. 

For a moment, he thinks it’s you, until he sees the bike next to the lone figure that inches closer and closer and he recognizes the short hair and the red converse. 

“Buckley,” Eddie says loudly, a grin pulling at his lips, “to what do I owe you the pleasure?” 

“Hey,” she mumbles, a serious look in her features – a rare sight to see. 

She drops her bike on the grass before she makes her way up on his porch, plopping down beside him. A loud sigh falls from her lips.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at her, grin slowly falling when he realizes that she’s in a bad mood. 

He stubs out his cigarette, knowing that she hates the smell of it. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. “Did something happen?” 

She shakes her head and turns her body towards him, looking into his eyes. 

“Steve is lying to me about something.” 

“Oh?” 

She nods, eying his face, trying to figure him out, if he knows something. 

“Yeah,” she mumbles, “I-I don’t know what it is, but… we usually tell each other everything, so either, it’s something super embarrassing or… something he doesn’t feel ready to talk about.” 

Eddie nods. 

“He’s been acting weird for a few weeks now, but it’s not just that.” 

Her eyes are troubled as she waves her hands around. “Today, Jennifer Mitchell walked into Family Video.” 

Eddie raises his eyebrows again, curiosity sparking inside of him at the mention of that name. He remembers the conversation at the bonfire, how he gloated about that girl. 

“She flirted with him and left him a note with her number written on it!” 

Eddie chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “okay…?”

“Guess what he did!” 

He shrugs, shaking his head, “I dunno, he called her?”

“No!” She throws her hands up, “that’s the thing! He didn’t call her! He threw the note away, but he told me that he’s going on a date with her tonight, when clearly, he isn’t!”

“Oh…Oh!”

“Yeah, oh!” Robin nods, her blue eyes shining with confusion. “But it’s not even the first time that he’s done something like this! Five girls left him their numbers on notes, he threw them all away, every single one of them!” 

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, pressing his lips together. 

“You know, normally I’d think that maybe… maybe he’s sick of all the dates and the sex but I swear to god, he has new hickeys every few days or so… so he’s definitely being sexually active!” 

“Huh,” Eddie nods as something sparks in his mind, “that’s uh… interesting.” 

“Yeah, so I was thinking!” She raises her hands up, tugging at her hair for a moment as her eyes widen, “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the only explanation that I have!” 

Eddie tilts his head to the side, squinting his eyes, he can see where this is going, what is about to leave her lips. 

“And that is?” 

She takes a deep breath, blue eyes staring into brown ones as she presses her palms together. 

“Steve is gay.” 

And Eddie blinks once, twice, three times…maybe sixty times. 

“What did you just say…?” 

“Think about it!” She nearly yells, “not going out with girls anymore, throwing their phone numbers away, Heidi suddenly being good at sex!?” She scoffs, shaking her head a few times. “Nuh uh. I’m– rejecting girls? Steve!?” 

Eddie sits back, and stares into nothing. 

“Holy shit,” he laughs, “you think he’s into dick?” 

“I’m telling you… I am 90% sure.”

Eddie squints his eyes a little bit. 

“What’s the other 10%?” 

Amusement flashes in Robin’s eyes as she shrugs, “he’s a stripper in Indianapolis at night.” 

Eddie snorts, chuckling as he pinches the bridge of his nose, looking back at the starry sky, he stared at before. 

Robin’s explanation makes sense, but he knows what he saw. Steve’s eyes that day in the pool didn’t follow a man’s figure. 

They were following his best friend. 

♡

A/N: Stripper Steve was Roe's idea, if you're an Eddie girl and you wanna see more of Stripper Steve (and Eddie duh) and you haven't read Do I wanna know go and read it right nowwwww, it's literally one of my fave fics ever

tagging friends and mutuals

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

[kiachiako]

september nct recs

my library of favorites from SEPTEMBER <3 all creds to authors

[ sorted by word count ]

series

[m] HAECHAN | settle down pt. 1 | pt. 2 | @hyuckmov — rockstar!hyuck, genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), fluff

oneshots

[m] MARK | sweet cream, cold brew | @lucyandthepen 26.4k — something about mark lee keeps you up at night, and you’re pretty sure that it isn’t the lingering smell of espresso on his shirt.

[m] MARK | my little doll | @haechansdoll 20k — Humans have hormones, you understand that much. But does that explain why you can't stop the filthy daydreams that fill your head whenever you see a specific redhead? Does it excuse you for getting turned on by him simply breathing in your direction? And to make matters worse, he is off-limits, if your father found out you were messing with his prized boxer? You would be chained to a tower and your red-haired crush would be used as mincemeat.

HAECHAN | one, two, three | @cherryeoniis 19k — In which you devise three different ways to get your best friend to fall in love with you, but things never really go quite as planned.

[m] JENO | summer hair = forever young | @setsugekka 18.1k — Only three weeks after being broken up with by your long time partner, you’re dragged along for your friends summer vacation plans despite your best attempts at staying home to do little more than feel sorry for yourself. Day one? Dinner and a movie. Day two? The bar down the street that smells like old socks. Day three? Well, that’s the waterpark, and the cute, blonde lifeguard that seems to make the lazy river his mainstay is a bit of a sight for sore eyes.

JAEMIN | written in ink | @cherryeoniis 15.3k — professor!jaemin, historical au (early 19th century), fluff, angst, strangers to lovers

[m] MARK | watch me | @sluttyten 14.6k — you pick up the voyeuristic habit of watching your neighbor that never closes his curtains and whose face you never see. on an unrelated note, you start dating the cute barista from down the street that also happens to live in the building across from yours. what could happen?

TAEIL | in earnest | @neonun-au 12k — a letter written in haste when you were fifteen and in love with your best friend gets sent out in the dawn of your engagement. when a reply is sent, revealing feelings you had long thought forgotten, you are left with a choice to make amidst a rather awkward visit. 

[m] JENO | fight club | @tyonfs 11.9k — after park jisung introduces you to his shady after-school activity, you realize it’s far too dangerous to be involved with the underground fight club in any way. their members are rough around the edges—except for lee jeno, who keeps you coming back for more.

MARK | a series of white lies | @tyonfs 10.5k — in which it takes you six years to accept that you’re in love with mark lee. (it takes him one.)

HAECHAN | wicked games | @cherryeoniis 10.1k — angst, fluff, suggestive, university! au, friends with benefits, fuckboy! haechan

MARK | baseball (& other disasters) | @tqmies 10k — Everyone admired Mark Lee, starting pitcher of your school’s baseball team and famed ladies man. You, on the other hand, only know him as the boy who broke your dorm lobbies microwave the first time you met.

[m] JAEHYUN | dive | @yougotthatbilly 9.2k — frat boy!Jaehyun: Jaehyun calls shotgun.

[m] RENJUN | high-waisted shorts | @tyonfs 7.8k — huang renjun might be the least committed to all this “bitch hunting” bullshit, and he doesn’t want to stoop to the level of stupidity his friends are at. that’s why he’s pissed when you’re strutting around in those high waisted shorts wherever you go, making renjun lose all sense of reason.

[m] JAEMIN | blur | @jaeminvore 7.5k — Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face and hungover was one thing. Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face, hungover and in a bed that wasn’t your own in nothing but a pair of sweatpants that were obviously not yours, was another and a punishment specifically made for you—your own personal hell.

[m] JAEHYUN | racer | @smileysuh 6.7k — street racer!Jaehyun, star-crossed lovers, secret relationship, step-brother!Johnny

[m] HAECHAN | tattoos together | @cherryeoniis 5.4k — rockstar!haechan x reader

[m] DOYOUNG | hungry for you | @sluttyten 4.9k — doyoung is your best friend’s older brother, and you hate each other until one evening you’re alone together and the tension finally breaks

HAECHAN | dance to this | @cherryeoniis 3.8k — dancer! haechan x dancer! reader, university au, slight enemies to lovers

. . .

drowning in college rn :((

xoxo <3

[sluttywoozi]

Jeon Wonwoo

For Worse Or For Better (Complete)

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~11.0k

Wonwoo never meant to fall in love with his wife, honest!

For Worse Or For Better | And Better, and Better, and Better (alternate ending)

All Of You, All Of Me | Barefoot In The Kitchen

Breathe In, Breathe Out (Complete)

Rating: M (18+) | Word Count: ~9.2k

Whenever We Breathe: Weed always makes you a bit looselipped, especially around your two best friends, Wonwoo and Seungcheol.

Ruin The Friendship: Wonwoo knows he's fucked up by avoiding you after you, him, and Cheol slept together. He doesn't know how exactly he can fix it, but he figures begging for your forgiveness might be a good start.

Whenever We Breathe | GN Part One | Ruin The Friendship | GN Part Two

Good Luck Charm

Wonwoo is having a minor breakdown in a closet pre-tournament. Thank goodness you know the perfect good luck charm for him!

Rating: M (18+) | Word Count: ~3.0k

Angel Kisses

Wonwoo just got his wisdom teeth out, which is normal enough, but why is there an angel in the car?

Rating: T | Word Count: ~1.2k

Tongue Twister

Wonwoo has started practicing tongue twisters before bed. This benefits you greatly.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~1.1k

Step By Step

Finally, you and Wonwoo are married. Now if only you knew anything about what's waiting for you in his Royal Quarters.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~1.3k

Nothing But Love (Complete)

Wonwoo's never had a girlfriend for Valentine's Day before, or a girlfriend period, so this day needs to be perfect.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~8.0k

Part I | Part II

Interlude No. 5

You've been laying in Wonwoo's arms for hours, watching him play video games. Or, more accurately, watching his hands as he plays video games.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2.3k

April Shower

Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.

Rating: M (18+) | WC:~12.0k

Kinktober Day 25 - Double Penetration with MinWon

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~1.1k

Chubby!Reader Headcanons

Soft!Wonwoo Headcanons

Vampire!Wonwoo Headcanons

Seventeen Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[bloompompom]

Safekeeping

Your brother's best friend learns you don't want to leave for college a virgin, and he thinks he might be able to lend you a hand.

✧ content: ~9.2k word count. 20 y/o eren jaeger x 18 y/o female reader. shameless porn without plot, older brother's friend trope, inexperienced reader/virginity loss, praise, spit, corruption themes, dry humping, guided masturbation, oral sex (f!receiving), protected PIV sex, reader's brother has a name, pet name ('baby'), passing mentions of alcohol/marijuana, explicit sexual content, explicit language, reader discretion advised. 18+ only. ✧ a/n: virginity is a social construct but this is smut so i’m gonna play into it. enjoy ♡ ✧ part two

You planned to move away to college at the end of the summer, finally. Your school of choice was a three-hour drive from home. To you, it was the perfect distance. Just far enough to give you some much-needed space, but still within reason for a weekend visit if needed. You wouldn’t know anyone there, but that was what you were looking forward to the most, actually. It would be a fresh start.

You never did get the ‘fresh start’ that everyone talked about. You know, the new beginnings that came with every school year. You always tried to be optimistic about it but each time, without fail, your teachers scowled when they saw your last name on their rosters. They all knew your older brother Collin—very well, unfortunately.

His reputation preceded you as a punk who was sent to the principal’s office for acting out in class time and time again. Out of the classroom, too—in the hallways, on the football field after hours. Even in the parking lot when he got into a fender bender with his English teacher his senior year. You were cursed with the same teacher last semester and learned the hard way that she had a habit of holding grudges. 

But that was beside the point. What you were trying to say was: you were ready for college. More than ready. Giddy and practically vibrating with excitement, marking the days off on your calendar until move-in week. Until you could finally quit your lousy summer job at the ice cream shop, waiting on old folk that never knew what they wanted and didn’t bother tipping. 

Still, there was just one teensy little thing you were hoping to get out of the way before freshman year. But now that it was only a few weeks away—twenty-three days, but who’s counting?—it was starting to feel more like a pipe dream.

At the end of the day, there was no point throwing a tizzy over going to college a virgin. Surely, you wouldn’t be the only one.

Right?

Your parents had left for their annual end-of-summer trip down to the beach to visit your grandparents for a week. It used to be a family event, but now that you and Collin were deemed old enough, you had more say in whether you tagged along or not. 

Collin had skipped out the last two summers, but this was the first year you were allowed to stay home, too, now that you were eighteen. But what you didn’t expect was that his three best friends would be there with the two of you��for the better half of the week, at that. Apparently, since they had done it the last two years, it had become a tradition, as they put it. Honestly, you were just impressed Collin was able to pull it off without your parents catching on, considering he was never one to clean the house when you were kids. 

No matter, though; it didn’t bother you much. They had been your brother’s friends since they were in the eighth grade. Having them around was nothing new to you. Of course, it was more fun when you were younger—back when you could play Mario Party together and force Collin to sit out. Now, there wasn’t nearly as much in common besides the occasional tormenting of your brother. 

So, the four of them did their thing, and you did yours.

But therein lies the problem. Even while you minded your business, someone just couldn’t seem to mind theirs. He couldn’t prevent his thoughts from wandering back to you—couldn’t prevent his eyes from lingering longer than they should.

It wasn’t Armin. He would never dare to look at you that way, the girl he tutored in algebra. Nor was it Jean, hopelessly consumed with texting his classmate, still determined as ever to win her over.

No, it was Eren. 'The cute one,’ as coined by you and your friends once he hit his growth spurt and grew out his hair. Though Eren was unaware of the epithet, this would be the year he’d unknowingly return the sentiment, thinking of you as Collin's very cute sister.

Eren was gone last summer, away at an internship, so it had been a couple of years since he’d last seen you. And you appeared to have—ahem—really grown into yourself, to put it delicately. 

Listen, it was harmless. It wasn’t like Eren planned on feeling this way toward you. He didn’t think twice about it when Collin said you’d be at his place, too. And there was no way in hell he’d act on it. He wouldn’t even dare to let the thoughts hang around in his mind, consistently shoving them aside before they could permeate. You were Collin’s—his best friend’s—sister. More than that, you were his little sister! 

He thought he was being discreet about it, but man, did you have to make it so tough? Did you really need to lay out by your parents’ pool every single day? Jeez. As a matter of fact, when was the last time it rained? This had to be the longest they’d been without it, now that Eren was thinking about it.

Back to the point here: Eren was, in fact, not remotely discreet. Armin brought it to his attention as they went to grab another beer. You happened to pop into the kitchen at the same time, just to grab a snack, and damn it, why did you have next to nothing on? Like, yeah, the place was a little warm tonight, and it was your house and all, but seriously—tiny shorts rolled high on your waist and a tank top that looked extra clingy as you reached for a cup on the top shelf? Really?

“You can’t be serious,” Armin grumbled to Eren. Once you were gone, obviously. 

Eren should have known what Armin was referencing, but he was dumb to it, wholly convinced he had been treading carefully. “What do you—”

“You can’t bang Collin’s sister!”

Who even says ‘bang’ anymore?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a second.” Eren innocently held his palms up, waving them as if he could shake off the wicked accusation. “That’s a little far now, isn’t it?”

Armin was getting ahead of himself again; even Eren hadn’t let his mind wander past that boundary… yet. 

Armin gave him a look, like he knew better than to take Eren’s word at face value. “Well, it sure looks like you’re trying to bang his sister.”

“Who’s trying to bang who’s sister?”

Both Eren and Armin jumped at the voice, heads spinning like they were on a swivel to find Collin. He emerged from the basement, Jean trailing behind with a suspicious, low-browed expression.  

“Oh,” Eren stammered. He had to come up with something fast because he wasn’t about to leave it to Armin, the notoriously awful liar. “Armin was just telling me about some porn he watched the other night.” Eren shrugged. “You know, where the guy tries to bang someone’s sister.”

Armin glared at Eren for throwing him under the bus but reluctantly went along with the lie. “Yeah, and then he, uh… bangs the sister?”

Idiot, Eren couldn’t help but think. Whatever, it seemed to work well enough. Collin stared back at them like they were no better than a couple of horny morons. Jean dismissed it, too. Or at least, it didn’t bother him enough to let it interfere with him going for another beer.

With the crisis only half-averted, the four returned to the basement with freshly-cracked cans of beer in tow, where they would spend the rest of the night playing video games until they eventually passed out.

Well, at least three of them did. 

Eren couldn’t sleep, but that wasn’t anything new. He battled with insomnia from time to time. Tossing and turning on a wobbly air mattress didn’t make it any easier to fall asleep, and with the basement only marginally cooler than the rest of the house, he thought he might as well get a glass of water. 

Unluckily (luckily?) for him, he was interrupted before he could do just that. The sight of you, simply existing, lounged up on the couch, startled him. 

Someone’s jumpy tonight. You giggled when he cursed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What are you doing here?” Eren asked.

You lightheartedly taunted, “Last time I checked, I live here, don’t I?”

He made a face at you, lacking the amusement your voice carried. “You know what I meant. Why are you still awake?”

It was the first time Eren had bumped into you. Not the first time ever, obviously; you had been alone together on countless occasions. But this was different, never this late at night before, and it was the only time it’d been just the two of you since he’d thought about you like that. 

“Do I need a reason?” you airly replied, almost on a yawn as you stretched. “It’s summer break, and I don’t have work tomorrow.”

He didn’t offer more than a nod of acknowledgment before moseying across the room, his hands shoved into his pockets. Unsure of where this was going, you reached for the remote and paused your show.

“What are you guys doing down there?”

“They’re all asleep,” Eren answered. He stood idly in the middle of the room because, like you, he was curious as to where this was heading.

“And you’re not asleep because…?”

No, he couldn’t think like that. This was going nowhere. 

“I came to grab some water,” he hurried to say—or at least, you thought it sounded hurried—and disappeared into the kitchen right after. 

You listened for a moment, fingers dancing on the button of the remote as you debated starting your show again. But when the faucet flicked off, he didn’t return to the basement in the apparent rush he was in. Instead, he stayed there, with you. 

Eren sipped his water, thinking of what to say next. It was an uphill battle because there wasn’t anything to say. There was no reason he needed to start a conversation with you. And yet, there he was, leaned up against the wall, dumbly scratching at his midriff as he racked—

Wait. Were you checking him out?

If there was one thing Eren had learned at college—let’s be real here, he had a nasty habit of skipping class—it was that he did pretty well for himself when it came to girls. Decent enough, he’d say. He at least had enough sense to know when a chick was interested in him. And now that you had creaked that door open, ogled at where his hand had lifted his shirt to reveal his stomach, he didn’t really have another choice but to step inside and explore around. Just a bit. 

Armin’s warning blared in the back of Eren’s head. As luck would have it, his conscience tended to have Armin’s voice. But there wasn’t anything wrong with casual conversation, was there? After all, he had known you for years. 

“So, are you excited to leave for college soon?”

Nope. There was no turning back now. 

You perked up in your seat. “Yeah, for sure. It’ll be nice to go somewhere new. Meet new people, make new friends—”

“Maybe you’ll finally find your Fabio.”

There was a joke there, unfortunately. One you hadn’t heard in so long that you cringed at the memory.

As Collin’s sister, his friends were first-hand witnesses to your boy crazy phase, all your dating flops. Perhaps they had even learned you were quite the hopeless romantic. And by that, you meant Jean had found a smutty novel you had stolen from your mom—yes, it even had the signature Fabio-esque cover, hence the joke. Anyway, he read it aloud in front of your brother and the rest of their friends until Armin snatched the book from him, which somehow made the whole ordeal even worse. 

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” you offhandedly chuckled. “I was sort of hoping that would happen before college, but you know—I’m sure plenty of people go to college inexperienced.”

Your voice trailed off there at the end, almost like the notion really bothered you. Eren scrutinized it, this thing you handed him. It was a conversational game of hot potato—something you had shoved his way and forced him to hold onto. Why were you bringing this up? Were you looking for his advice?

Eren set down his glass and moved to sit by you on the couch. The far side of it. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“No,” you blurted out, embarrassed and kicking yourself for having said anything in the first place. But your abruptness sounded just as bad, so with a sigh, you said, “I mean, I guess. I don’t want people to think I’m a loser for being a virgin.”

Again, why were you mentioning this to him? Eren felt like he was playing with fire. He knew he was going to wind up burnt the longer he stayed, maybe even scorching everything around him, even you, in the process. 

Still, he poked it, added some kindling because he was unwilling to let it die out. “I think there’s a fairly simple solution to that.”

“What, getting laid? I think I know that,” you scoffed. “And it’s easy for you to say that, looking like—” You loosely waved your hand over the length of him. “You. Believe it or not, I don’t exactly have suitors lining up outside my door.”

Okay, so he was picking up on something here. He wasn’t crazy. You said it then: you found him attractive. And he found you attractive. Extremely so, if that wasn’t obvious already. The answer was easy enough; he might as well go on say it outright then.

“What if I did it?” Eren suggested.

You didn’t know what he meant by it, his casualness throwing you for a loop. Surely, he couldn’t be talking about that. 

“You know, took your virginity.”

Oh. There was no mistaking it now. He was, without a doubt, talking about that. 

And why were you considering it?

Your brother’s friends, Eren included, had taught you all sorts of things before, things they probably shouldn’t have. They told you to flush the toilet to mask your squeaky front door if you planned on sneaking out. Taught you how to roll a joint, and how to take a proper hit after you confessed you had never ‘felt high’ when you smoked. So, would this be any different?

While you mulled it over, Eren took the far-away look behind your eyes as a horrible sign. He realized how insane the proposition sounded once he spoke it into existence. Before he could take it back, play it off as a joke—he had one too many beers, that’s all—you piped up.

“Really?”

He certainly didn’t expect that, stammering, “I—yeah. Why not?”

Another lengthy pause passed before you accused, “Are you just fucking with me?”

“No, no! I wouldn’t.” He started rambling then, a jumbled mix of ‘I just—’ and ‘I shouldn’t have—’ until you decidedly cut him off.

“Okay.”

“Huh?”

“I said okay. You can… take my virginity.” It felt like a strange way to say it, too formal. And to say it to Eren of all people, who would have guessed it?

Then again, maybe this was the most logical outcome. It wasn’t like you needed to make a big deal of losing your virginity. You weren’t looking for something romantic, with rose petals or a waterbed or any of that corny-porny crap. You were just looking to get it out of the way. That way, when you inevitably meet the love of your life in college (okay, so maybe you were a hopeless romantic), you wouldn’t embarrass yourself the first time you hooked up. 

“Okay,” Eren replied on his inhale, a breath sucked through his teeth, like it was a sin to say aloud. 

He scooted closer, sitting on the cushion that once separated you. You expected him to kiss you, even leaning into him with closed eyes, but your lips barely brushed into his. He didn’t come any closer than that.

Lowly, he asked you, “Do you trust me?”

You nodded. Your noses bumped.

“I need to hear it.”

“I trust you,” you said, even quieter than him. You could barely hear it over the sound of your heart, thumping so hard you swore it might burst into your throat.

Eren kissed you then, tentatively, with his hand cradling the side of your face. He didn’t move until you did, and when you returned the kiss, he followed while letting you take lead.

It didn’t last long, though. You jumped away from each other, back to the opposite sides of the couch, when the basement door squeaked open. The panic subsided when you caught the bright eyes of your family’s cat, her little head poking out from the shadows.

You held a hand to your chest, steadying your breath and trying to settle your rapid heartbeat, as if both were possible. When you met Eren’s gaze, he was already staring at you with a brittle sort of look. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Did he regret what he had done with you? You didn’t, and you prayed he didn’t either.

Before you had the chance to ask, he finally said, “Should we go to your room?”

“Good idea.”

He knew where your room was, but still, he followed right behind you anyway. At the top of the staircase, just before your bedroom door, you split. You turned to see Eren sneaking into Collin’s room. A minute passed while you listened to his rustling, but when he returned, held between his two fingers was that infamous, shiny foil.

You frowned, hard. “I’m not going to use one of my brother’s condoms.”

“Do you have one then?” Eren asked, already well aware of your answer.

“Fine.” 

Eren had never been in your bedroom before. It felt foreign, and weirdly wrong, to have him in there. He looked out of place for it, too big, too mature, especially as you looked at all your girlish knick-knacks and old photos. You wished you could tuck everything away into some lonely drawer. 

You avoided Eren’s eyes and fixed your attention on adjusting the lights. Your bright ceiling light was far too unforgiving for this, so you switched it out for your bedside lamp. The drone of the old bulb buzzed in the back of your ears, its light a fizzy yellow.

You were nervous. Eren didn’t need to see your face to know it was written all across it. Not that it surprised him, considering this was about to be your first time having sex, and it would be with him. 

He felt his heart drop into his stomach, the sick feeling you get on a rollercoaster, but somehow you want to ride again. Maybe he was just as nervous as you. You had put your trust in him, enough to take your virginity. Handing it to him as if it were some sentimental treasure he could watch over, for safekeeping. 

Sure, he knew the optics were bad. Not just bad but horrendous, actually. He was about to sleep with his best friend’s younger sister, a recently eighteen-year-old virgin. The whole situation sounded no better than a second-rate porno—like the one he had made up with Armin in the kitchen, ha!

This was as much a blessing straight from heaven as it was a curse. But he couldn’t care about the optics now, not with you taking a seat on the bed, looking over at him with these come-and-get-me eyes that may or may not have been intentional. 

No, this wasn’t a curse at all. If it were so wrong of him, then why was it that he already felt his cock straining against his sweats at the mere thought? The thought of how delicate he’d be with you. He needed to be, for the last thing he wanted was to ruin your first time. He’d be the first to show you what pleasure could be with another person—what you were deserving of before going off and letting other boys touch you.

He set the condom on the nightstand and joined you at the edge of your bed, his knee barely grazing yours. He was about to ask if he could kiss you again, but you entirely side-skipped any conversation by picking up right where the two of you had left off. 

Again, Eren relinquished control to you, but he did take the initiative to swipe his tongue into your mouth. You tasted him, the bittersweet flavor of light beer. He was nothing like the last boy you kissed. He didn’t ram his tongue down your throat but kissed you as though he wanted to taste you, to muse over and memorize you. And you let him, lips languidly caressing one another with little point or purpose, solely running on instinct. 

You balled his shirt in your fist, twisted the fabric of it between your hands to have him close—closer. He hoisted you onto his lap with his hands at your waist, and you went along with him more than willing. You draped your hands over his shoulders, crossing them at the wrist, and didn’t let your lips break from his once. 

He smoothed his palms up and down the small of your back until he eventually ventured lower. He gripped at your ass, pulling you down to grind over him. Just once, so you could feel him, how achingly hard he was for you. Then, you did it again all on your own. Lightheaded and teeming with desire, the pressure against your clit, even through your layers of clothing, was an addicting relief. You moved against him, again and again, until you were dragging yourself over him, practically about get off from that alone. 

But Eren didn’t let that happen. Before you get there, Eren used his hold on your hips to stall you. His voice was a mumble against your mouth as he asked you, “How far have you gone?”

“This,” you professed. “This is the farthest I’ve gone.”

Fuck.

“Okay.” It was the word of the night. Eren breathed it out like he was talking to himself. The type of sigh you’d give yourself in the mirror when trying to calm down, which was precisely his goal.

He lifted you with little effort, had you lie back into the pillows before he crawled on top of you. He kissed at your jawline, then placed another on the side of your neck. He left a few of them there. It was all lip, all wispy, like he could break you. Still, you felt each of them like a spark at the base of your spine. 

His fingers trailed lower, tickling over your collarbone but stopping short of the neckline of your tank top. 

“Is it all right if I touch you here?” he asked, punctuating it by running a hand down your breast, over your shirt.

“Yes,” you whispered with a shudder. 

With the confirmation, he massaged lightly, his thumb caressing over your perked nipple. 

He kissed you again, his tongue meeting yours while he rolled your nipple between his fingers. Your back arched instinctively, wanting more—needing more. He listened to your body, learning as he went, and tugged down your tank top. With nothing between you, he lightly pinched at your nipple, pulling a whine from you, one that didn’t get the chance to meet the air.

Eren kissed the side of your face. “Can I kiss you there?” he muttered, referencing your tits as he gave another squeeze. He pressed another kiss, lower, against your throat.

“Mhm,” was all you managed with a voice that was long gone, lost somewhere in the opened-mouth kisses he left along the dip between your chest. 

It tickled a bit when he flicked over your nipple with his tongue—even more when he latched onto it with his mouth. You were wiggly beneath him, driving him wild, and you didn’t even know it. It was sweet how sensitive you were, his mouth being the first to kiss you there, to learn the taste of your skin. So soft. And warm, too, heating up the longer he sucked at your tits, anywhere he pleased.

Eren kept his hand at your waist, palming over your stomach but never risking any lower than that. His touch was heated, urgent, yet he only showed restraint. 

He pulled back from you, letting his face hover inches above yours when he asked, “Have you ever touched yourself before?”

He was strangely calm for asking such a personal question, setting your face ablaze. Too rushed, you replied, “Of course I have.”

What did he think? That because you were a virgin, you hadn’t thought about sex before? Hadn’t ever watched porn? Yes, you hadn’t actually done it, but it wasn’t as though you were heading into the situation blind.

“Then—” You, the sight of you wriggling out of your sleep shorts, interrupted him. You caught the bob of his throat when he swallowed, but you weren’t sure he was trying that hard to hide it. “Show me how you do it.”

Eren sat back on his knees, just shy of sitting between your legs as you rested against the pillows. The only thing separating him from you was a thin pair of panties. You hoped he didn’t notice your jittery fingers as you slipped them beneath the band.

You started, “This is—”

“It’s not embarrassing,” he interrupted. It only made you more anxious, like he could read your mind or something. But he was genuine as he said it, assuring you even while struggling to maintain eye contact, his attention flitting from your face to between your legs. “Show me how I can make you come.”

How could he possibly be so open about this? There wasn’t even a shred of hesitation or shame in his voice. You wondered how many people he’d been with—how many times he’d rehearsed before he could speak with such confidence? Enough confidence to have you listening loyally and plunging your hand beneath your underwear. 

You pressed the pads of your fingers against your clit and started to rub. Slowly at first, but already, just that smidgen of relief was enough to pull a flimsy sound from you. You were sensitive, throbbing, and so incredibly turned on that you didn’t hide even as he unabashedly stared at you with pure infatuation. 

Eren rested a hand on your leg, sliding higher and reaching for your panties. “Can I take these off?”

You stopped only to help him work them down your leg, shimmying until he had them thrown to the foot of the bed. You were hesitant to spread your legs again, but he did it for you, placing one at each of his sides. He took your hand and returned it between your thighs, eager for you to continue. So you did just that. 

There wasn’t any doubt he could see everything now—how wet you were, how it coated your fingers the longer you rubbed, the tighter your little circles became. But you were too wrapped up in it to care, playing with yourself just as indecently as you would if you were alone. You couldn’t even be bothered to stifle the chant of gasps spilling from you.

“Can you put a finger inside for me?” Eren requested.

You nodded and pushed one inside, felt how you pulsed around it. You moved it in and out, the same way you had done many times before. 

“Yeah, like that,” he murmured. You heard the ‘fuck’ he cursed under his breath. “How’s that feel?”

“Good,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

“Try a little faster.”

You did just that and bit back a whimper.

“Add another.”

He needed you stretched. He needed you ready for him. 

You took your second finger well; you had done that before, too.

“You’re doing so good,” he told you. He leaned into you, closing in. “Can I help you now?”

“Please,” you breathed. You slipped your fingers from you, giving Eren access to do with you as he wished.

But he didn’t reach for you. Not there, at least. He held his fingers before your mouth.

“Open up.”

You weren’t sure what he was after, but you obeyed, lusty enough that you found you were trusting him implicitly. He placed his middle and index fingers against your tongue, telling you, “Get them nice and wet for me.”

You sucked on them lightly. Saliva pooled on the back of your tongue as he pressed down. He pulled them from your mouth with a lewd sound and smiled at you. It made your chest swell a bit.

Eren returned to your side. His presence was engulfing as he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. It surprised you, the intimacy of it, but you didn’t have any time for second-guessing before he urged, “Keep going.”

You returned to circling your clit as his hand met yours. He traced his pointer finger through you, and every muscle in your body tensed.

“Can I?”

“Yes,” you said, practically a moan.

He slipped it inside you, taking his time with it. His finger was much larger than your own, thicker, reaching deeper than yours had ever gone. Your stomach tightened at the intrusion, trying to adjust. 

“That okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” It was better than okay. “More. Please.”

Eren chuckled warmly. He pumped his finger in and out of you, curving it just right to have you squirming in his arms. You were beginning to understand why he was holding you now. He wanted to keep you still so that, once he figured out what you liked, he could maintain his pace through your needy bucking. 

He had a hand on your head, petting over you as he asked, “You close?” You couldn’t respond because he added a second finger. A hiss left you, but it melted into a satisfied whine. “Yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you whispered against him, his body dizzyingly hot even through his T-shirt. 

It was becoming quite the task to keep your fingers moving, what with Eren’s fingers hitting a spot that you didn’t even know existed, over and over again. It had you—fuck—it had you coming. So hard that you thoughtlessly rode his hand, eyes screwing shut as you fucked yourself deeper on his fingers, prolonging the bliss however you could until you turned to goo in his arms. 

You were panting against his chest, your body still twitchy, when he started to ask, “Did you—”

“Yes,” you said on a drawn-out exhale. 

He pecked your forehead. You still felt the stamp of it as he moved to get back on top. He held himself above you with hands planted on either side of you, kissing you full on the mouth. Still hazy, you didn’t move much, letting him make out with you all he wanted until his lips traveled down to the dip behind your ear, then the delicate crook of your neck.

He bunched your tank higher up your chest until you both tore it over your head. With it out of his way, Eren continued kissing lower—even lower than before. His breath tickled over your nipples, leaving you a needy, rutting mess—for what exactly, you didn’t know, just more.

“Too much?” Eren asked, looking up at you with his big, green eyes.

“No,” you assured, your mouth agape and in awe of him. “I like it.”

He pressed his smile against your skin, kissing and licking his way down your sternum.

When he reached your navel, you asked, “What are you—”

“Making sure you’re ready.” He kissed your hipbone.

“It’s really okay,” you said, slightly wary. “We should just get this over with, right?”

“What if I don’t want to get this over with?” Eren kissed just above your slit. “What if I want to take my time?”

Eren wanted you as comfortable—as relaxed—as possible. And since he was already about to fuck his friend’s younger sister, with one of his condoms nonetheless, he certainly wasn’t going to dig around for his friend’s lube next. Luckily, there was another, more fun, way that he could ensure you were properly lubricated so as to avoid any pain that may arise from him splitting you on his—

Focus. 

“I need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t,” Eren said, a reminder more to himself than for you. 

You gasped, almost choked, when he kissed the top of your thigh, then the inner part of it. 

“Can you do that for me?”

“Eren, I—” 

“Please.” He licked a broad stripe up the crease of your thigh. That alone had your head thrown back against your pillow, a tiny ‘oh’ escaping you. “Let me. I want to.”

“You do?” you timidly asked.

“So badly,” he replied, but it sounded more like an admission. A white flag of surrender, like he was letting himself fully give in to his desires because, yes, he had thought about this before. There was no use in lying about it now. 

“O-okay.”

On that, he returned to teasing his way between your legs, kissing from the delicate flesh of your inner thighs to—

“Wait!” you interjected. Eren immediately looked to you like he had done something wrong, but you quelled his worry with, “Can you get undressed, too? Like, at least your shirt.”

Your request didn’t sound nearly as self-assured as his, but he listened to you nonetheless. He sat back to peel off his shirt. He smiled at you softly. “Better?”

You scanned over his toned torso, sun-kissed and tanned from summer. Definitely better. “Thanks.”

He leaned over you, his mouth inches from your pussy as he murmured, “It’ll feel good.” Then he kissed your entrance, and the sensation of it jolted through your body like lightning. “Promise.” 

Eren parted you with his fingers before licking through you, letting the newfound feeling sink in deep. His tongue was warm, wet, and exceedingly gentle—nothing like his fingers or even your own. You couldn’t begin to describe it, but that might be because, after a second lap of his tongue, you were already losing any and all coherency. 

You made a few strained sounds, flowery and pathetic, but supported yourself on trembling elbows to watch. When you met Eren’s eyes, he only stopped licking at you to say, “Tell me what feels good.”

“Everything.” The word tumbled out of your mouth desperately. “Everything feels good.”

You felt his laugh just before he closed his mouth back over you. He continued having his way with you, sucking and licking at you, saliva and slick making a mess of his pretty face as he staggered kisses between his laps. Whenever his lips brushed against your clit, your legs would flex tight. He hooked his arms around them, laying them over his strong shoulders. You felt the way his fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, locking them in place while he circled his lips around your clit with more pressure than before.

“Ah—oh,” you moaned, your back leaving the bed to press your pussy further into his face, as if you could have him any closer—you know, until you’d have him inside you. But that would come soon enough.

Eren didn’t ask this time; he knew exactly how he was making you feel. And you were thankful for it because you couldn’t dream of him stopping. You needed more, lacing a hand through his locks and pulling lightly, encouraging him. He groaned against you, clearly liking it, so you did it again.

He was sloppy with it while still… thoughtful? That didn’t feel like the correct word for it, but even as he made out with the most intimate part of you, he did it with intention, doing that thing again, whatever it was, with his tongue pointed, because he had quickly learned you liked it. No, he showed you that you liked it. Loved it, actually; it was excruciatingly evident by the breathless sounds you made. 

And when Eren paired his tongue with his sucking lips, swirling it against your clit, you came with your own hand clamped over your mouth. Your entire body gained a pulse of its own. It was much stronger than your first orgasm and longer-lasting, too. The muscles of your stomach wound and released while you rode out your high, Eren groaning against you just as pleasedly. 

Only once you were no longer propped on your elbows but flopped against the bed did Eren let up. Your thighs were still trembling as he kissed a pathway back to your side. You both sat with heaving chests, though yours much heavier than his, and you were beginning to question how you were supposed to go for another round. You hadn’t even reached the—for lack of a better word—main event yet. Truthfully, you expected Eren to throw you to your bed, pop your metaphorical cherry, and be done with it. But now you had already orgasmed twice and he still had his sweatpants on. 

You should probably do something about that, shouldn’t you?

“I wanna touch you, too.”

While innocent, it was the most you had communicated with him this far, so he didn’t stop you when you reached for him. He was more than ready for it. 

You explored him a bit, tracing over his length and discovering what touches made him twitch beneath your touch, still as chaste as ever. 

“Show me,” you purred.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to do—a hand job was far from rocket science. It was more like if you had to show him yours, then you wanted to see his. You wanted to watch. 

Eren tugged his sweatpants and boxers down his legs. His cock sprung out, nearly slapping against the low part of his abs. Already, his tip was wetted, needy for anything after going untouched this long, even if it was his own hand. 

He wrapped his fingers around his shaft, working his fist over his cock, faster, until he was jerking himself off for you. His breath, fanning just above your head, went from steady to ragged, his chest tight.

You watched him for a moment, already needing to touch him. You pushed yourself upright, perched so that your knees brushed against his thigh, ready to take him with both hands. 

“Hold on.”

You glanced at him. He fidgeted, like he was about to say something but retracted it immediately. He sounded hesitant, looked even more hesitant, when he asked, “Can you—can you spit in your hand first?”

“Oh, um.” You looked at your open palm and tried your best to collect some saliva in your mouth. It was a little daunting, knowing he was watching as you did it, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

No, he definitely didn’t mind. Not in the slightest. But he wouldn’t admit that to you right now. 

You took him in your hand, mimicking how he did it, with a loose wrist and your grasp slightly firm. When you squeezed over his tip, you heard the sharp inhale it pulled from him, noted how his pelvis flexed. Eren’s hand closed over yours. He was going to show you exactly how he liked it. 

Eren moved your hand for you, gripping it whenever you reached the head of his cock. His pinched breaths turned into groans, his brows hanging low over his keen eyes. That was when he started thrusting, fucking your hand, and nearly forgot where he was—forgot whose hand he was using like his own personal toy.

“Spit on it,” he grunted, that temperate side of him growing unrestrained. 

He didn’t mean to come off so crass, not in front of you, not this soon. It was just that Eren couldn’t remember the last time he came from a handjob, but he was nearly there, with your hands so dainty and velvety around him. Not to mention the spit dribbling from your pretty lips before you spread it down his cock—he was about to lose his last smidgen of composure. 

Thankfully, he remembered the reason why he was here. He had a much bigger agenda than fucking your hand. How could he have forgotten already that he was here for you?

“That’s—ah, shit.” Selfishly, Eren waited for another second before releasing your hand. You continued stroking him eagerly, and it felt wrong to stop you, but he did just that with his hand around your forearm. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep going.”

“Sorry,” you said, your hands now politely to yourself and folded on your lap.

With a short, huffing laugh, he told you, “You do not have to apologize for that. Believe me.”

His chuckle had you smiling again. That closed-mouth, coy smile that he was quickly learning might become the death of him. He straightened out, taking your chin between his fingers to kiss you again.

“Lay back for me,” he whispered. 

You fell into the mess of pillows and tangled sheets, making yourself comfortable while Eren fetched the condom. You didn’t know what the feeling was—trepidation, anticipation, excitement, perhaps all three—but it bubbled in your stomach as you watched him rip the wrapper before rolling on the latex.

He pumped himself a few times as he reminded, “We can stop at any time if you need.”

Eyes wide and fixed onto him—specifically on his cock, which he’d soon gape you on—you asked, “Do we need a safe word?”

He laughed again, through his nose like earlier, but only because you were so agonizingly cute about it. “I think ‘stop’ will work just fine.”

You did that smile again, winding the knot in his stomach more than he even thought possible. Eren was so close to snapping—not like that! Not hurting you, never. More like coming undone, turning into a puddle of himself, finishing humiliatingly early—that sort of snapping. He didn’t know what had him feeling this way, but something about you made him feel like the virgin here. 

He didn’t dare push inside yet, not only for your sake but for his. His eyes, now brazen and alert, scanned over you, staring you straight in the face like a silent check-in. And when you gave him the go-ahead, nothing more than a bobble of your head, slowly, he tilted his hips into yours. 

With you unbelievably tight around him, he stilled with only his tip inside you. Even so, his breath had already hitched in his throat. He couldn’t hold back, he simply couldn’t. And when he gave you a little more, between his eyes flittering shut, he caught the scrunch of your nose. 

There was a stretch, a certain fullness. It didn’t necessarily hurt, but it didn’t exactly feel like he belonged in there, either. It was considerate of him to take his time with you, prep you with his fingers and tongue. But even so, with his cock only halfway inside, you had your nails dug deep into his biceps. 

“How’re you doing?” Eren asked. 

“I’m—” You glanced at where your bodies were connecting. There was still more of him to take. “Okay.”

It didn’t appear like he believed you, which was fair because it was a shaky statement at best. “It’s too much?”

“A little,” you sheepishly admitted. 

He pulled out of you, and even that made you wince. Your shoulders dropped back to the mattress, every muscle in your body easing up now that he wasn’t bullying inside you. 

"Here.” Eren rolled onto his back. He guided you on top of him, set you so your knees straddled his waist, his cock resting between your legs. Somehow, it looked even longer like that, laid upon his abs. “Let’s try it like this.”

Like this? It felt incredibly vulnerable from up here, where he could see you—in all your glory—bouncy above him. Plus, you hardly knew what you were doing; you had just given your first handjob! If you were being honest, you thought you’d just sort of lay there and take it from him, and now he was expecting you to ride him? It was intimidating, to say the least, even if Eren tried to assure you it wasn’t.

“You have total control this way.”

That was the exact thing you feared. You didn’t want any control. What if you did something wrong? 

Apparently, you didn’t do a great job at masking your worry because Eren immediately placed his hands on your hips, not taking them in his grasp but rubbing his thumbs encouragingly against your skin. 

The entire point of this was to trust him. That was why you were doing this—losing it to Eren, someone who wouldn’t make fun of you. That way, when it really mattered, you wouldn’t royally fuck up. And after getting this far, there was no chance in hell you would end the night a virgin. Well, half-virgin.

Ready to try again, you drew a deep breath, lifting yourself to your knees. Before you reached for him, like the new sexpert that you were, you spat in the palm of your hand, not minding Eren’s eyes this time. You stroked over the condom, mixing its lube with your saliva, then lined his cock up with you. 

Carefully, you sat down. He only reached as deep as before, but the pressure was nowhere near what it once was. You rolled your hips, testing different angles to see what worked best—how you could get more of him, all of him, inside you. 

Eren curved a hand around the nape of your neck, cooing, “Come here.”

He brought you in for a kiss—more than a kiss—his tongue immediately licking into your mouth the second your lips crashed into his, tasting every one of your contented, little hums.

He snaked a hand between your legs, lazily thumbing over your clit until your lips were unable to match his fervency. It was more like you were moaning against his mouth, right into it, sharing each of his breaths until your cheeks sweltered. He melted you from the inside out, softening you up like butter until you were flush against his pelvis—as easy as that. Cautiously, you started rocking your hips.

“That’s it,” Eren whispered into the corner of your mouth.

With quivering arms, you held yourself up with your palms pressed into his chest. Perched proudly atop him, the tip of his cock reached deeper, filling you deeper than anything else had before. It stole your breath, almost like you felt him in your throat.

Eren admired how your mouth fell into an adorable ‘o’ before you started moving. As though a switch had flipped, you were suddenly rolling your hips against him—slowly, of course—repeatedly having him hit that delicious spot again as you indulgently chased after your third orgasm.

“You’re doing so good, taking me well for—for your first time.”

Shit. Eren remembered he was taking your virginity. 

He inhaled sharply, hoping you wouldn’t notice how his voice gave way, or how his cock jolted inside you when he realized he was the first to have you like this. His cock was the first to fill you, stretch you, mold you to accommodate him. Only him. 

“Do what feels good for you, baby.”

The pet name slipped past him before he could wrangle it back, but you didn’t seem to catch it. Or, at least, you didn’t mind. 

No, you were too busy to hear him, more occupied with getting a feel for what you liked best. Eren let you use his cock freely because—what, was he supposed to stop you? Fuck no. He would let you continue forever if you desired it, so long as you’d continue gifting him with such lovely and lewd expressions—the sweet curl of your lip, the knit of your determined brows as your thighs had surely started to burn.

But, boy, it was quite the challenge, letting you have your way with him. You could only keep your pace for a moment or two before you’d take a break. Such a fucking tease, and you didn’t even know it. It was endearing how worn out you were from everything that came before this, and all Eren wanted was to dig his heels into your bed, pound away at that tight pussy of yours, and show you just how wonderful he could make you feel. 

It was a test of strength for him, whether he could hold back or not, because finally, you looked like you were enjoying yourself on his cock. You took him with short strokes, a simple tilt of your hips back and forth once you realized you could grind your clit into his pelvis.

He could tell you were close, from the way you fluttered around him to the gasps getting caught in your throat from the added, and absolutely euphoric, pressure. 

“Just like that. Keep going. Make yourself come for me.” 

The gravel in Eren’s voice pushed you closer to the edge. There was a growl to it, and you could feel it vibrate through you. You tossed your head back with a cry loud enough to wake a neighbor as you shoved a hand between your legs, desperate to come. 

Eren shushed you dotingly, but there was a grin on his face as he placed his sticky palm against your mouth. “Can’t let them hear us now, can we?”

He felt your heady breath as you panted, trying to reach your peak. When you couldn’t ride him any longer, your hips an erratic sputter, he beamed up at you, slack-jawed smile and all, and said, “Feel good? Need some help?”

Too overwhelmed, you couldn’t even nod your head. You babbled uselessly.

“Want me to fuck you, just a little? Get you coming on my cock?”

“Yes, please—oh, God, Eren.”

When he started to move, thrusting into you ever so slightly, you were already scratching your nails down his chest. It was no bother to him, though. He only wanted you to do it again.

When you came, you squeezed him so perfectly that he thought he might explode. It was taking his last bit of self-control to fuck you at such a steady and slow pace when, in reality, he only wanted to hammer into you. Eren felt like he was moments away from boiling over. His face was burning, and he could feel the sweat beading in his hairline from this aching, pent-up desire within him. After fingering you, going down on you—no, after days of fantasizing about you—he needed release.

Even you could see it—the unmistakable flush of his face now spreading to the base of his neck and spanning his chest. As blissed out as you were, limply collapsed on top of him, you mumbled against his skin, “Eren, I want you to come, too.”

And how could he turn that down? Now that you had come three times, he figured he could finally have his turn. 

“I’m gonna go a bit faster now. You tell me if that’s okay or not.”

Before he could even flinch, you assured him, “It’s okay. I want you to.”

The soft laziness of your voice, the dreaminess seeping through it like syrup—it was too much. 

Eren took you by the hips first, holding your body pliant for him to thrust into. He started with long drags of his cock, letting his tip kiss your entrance before stuffing himself back inside you. Each time he bottomed out, he bit back every vulgar curse he wanted to hiss into your ear. 

Then, he flattened his hands against your back, folding you into him with his palms seared into your shoulder blades. Your face was smothered in the crook of his neck as he fucked up into you. The bed began to squeak, like a mockery of your tiny bleats.

“You all right?” Eren asked, his voice hoarse.

You only made an affirmative sound that got muffled as you burrowed against him. With your chest warm, like a tingling between your lungs, and your head stuck somewhere in the clouds, you took him in a speechless, almost surreal, bliss. How fiercely he needed you, if only for a blip in time, was intoxicating.

And in that fleeting moment, the sin of it, the forbiddenness surrounding you, had vanished. Eren was sure it would rear itself again, that was for certain. He could predict the ripple of guilt that’d course through him once he inevitably faced what he’d done. But even if it meant betraying his best friend, he couldn’t find it within himself to regret it.

Especially when he realized how fucking good it felt to come inside you. With his arms locked around your waist, your entire body smushed against his, he snapped his hips into you, as if he could possibly fuck you any deeper. He emptied himself into the condom as a groan tore through his throat, the hum of it against the shell of your ear like a final shudder down your spine. 

He pulled out of you, faintly cursing as he did. You flopped at his side, entirely spent, and stared at the ceiling with fuzzy, unfocused vision. The rush of adrenaline was on a steep comedown, and you were already starting to feel it. Sore, but extremely satisfied. 

“You should probably go to the bathroom—to pee and stuff,” Eren said, that familiar, boyish side already returning in full force. 

Pee. Got it.

You only muttered a ‘yeah’ before you redressed and tip-toed off to the bathroom down the hallway. There, you wiped yourself clean, forced yourself to pee, and gave yourself a good long look in the mirror.

In just one night, you had hit every base. By definition, a home run, in your book—and with your brother’s ‘cute friend,’ at that. 

You were shocked to see Eren was still there when you returned to your bedroom. He had on his boxers and tee already, stepping into his sweatpants as you opened the door. He gave you a soft smile as you hopped into your bed. 

Then, even more surprisingly, he asked, “Do you want me to stay?”

Eren knew he should leave unless he hoped to get caught. Still, he thought it was the right thing to say.

You giggled, “I think my brother would kill you if he found you in here.”

He laughed along with you, but when it settled, he crawled beneath your sheets anyway.

Though you felt uncertain about it, he consoled it away with, “Don’t worry. I’ll just hang here until you fall asleep.” You at least deserved that.

He turned the light off and let you rest your head against his chest, your arm looped around his waist. You didn't know where the urge to cuddle came from, and neither did he, but he didn't question it. It was comfortable, even as he waited for that pang of guilt to hit.

But it never did. And once he heard your breathing taper to a peaceful drone, he slipped out of your bed and snuck back down to the basement. That stupid air mattress felt a whole lot more comfortable now.

Finally, Eren had scratched the itch he couldn't kick, just to get it out of his system. Now, there was absolutely no way he'd think of you again—not that kittenish little smile nor how you curled against him in your sleep—and definitely not while you were three hours away at school…

Right?

✧ continue to part two ✧

[bussyslayer333]

There was something ‘bout you

summary: bradley bradshaw didn’t fall in love, especially not with uptight girls in his english lit class and especially not the ones being forced into tutoring him. college au

pairing: fratboy!bradley x tutor!reader

word count: 9.2k

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, mentions of blood, teeny amount of violence, smut (oral and pinv), bradley sucks so bad but he’s cute!! MDNI 18+

Bradley knew girls liked him, loved him even.

He once had a girl leave him a love letter after a night together. It was a sweet touch, the pink paper and the gel pen she’d written it in, he slept with her once more after that but had to cut her off once he caught her snipping a little bit of his hair off in the middle of the night.

Anyways, what Bradley had concluded is that he was an attractive guy. Not too classically like his roommate and best friend Jake with his blonde locks and ken doll looks. But in a boyish charming way with his “big brown puppy dog eyes” or whatever that girl had written in the letter.

So when his Eng Lit professor had told him he was going to be tutored by a girl in his class he was pretty excited to say the least. Truth be told, the only reason he had picked this Eng Lit class was because he knew there would be an abundance of girls in there, sure they were probably a little more intellectually advanced than the girls he would usually go for but maybe that was what he needed. Some girl obsessed with like gothic literature, Jake had assured him they were the freaks he needed to bag.

He’s already started tuning out Professor Clarke’s spiel on getting his grade up and started imagining all the hot girls in his class who could possibly be tutoring him. There was Clara, she was the kind of gothy Jake was on about, he could definitely be into that. Or even Natalie, she was who Bradley usually went for, pretty brunette and what Jake would call in his omniscience; a colossal rack.

“Bradley, are you listening to me?”

Bradley pulled his mind from the depths of analysis of the girls in his class and hummed,

“Yes, Professor.”

“So you know who I’m assigning to tutor you?”

Bradley winces apologetically and watches as Professor Clarke runs a hand down his face.

“Please, Bradley. I’m just asking you to try and put some effort in, she’s only gonna be able to do so much to help you, you need to help yourself.”

Bradley sighs, “who is it?”

When Professor Clarke gives Bradley your name and tells him that you’ll meet him after class tomorrow his first thought is “who the fuck is that?” and his second one is in mourning of being in forced proximity of a hot goth chick or one of the girls who he’s already slept with.

Bradley walks back to his house slightly dejected, if he couldn’t even recognise you from your name there was probably not a huge chance you were going to be the ‘bad boy gets taught in a different way by his tutor’ wet dream he was hoping for. When he finally gets back he finds Jake lounging on the couch with another one of his frat brothers Reuben.

Jake looks up from where him and Reuben are watching this weeks football highlights on the TV to meet Bradley’s moping gaze.

“You good bro?”

Bradley replies with a whine, “Professor Clarke is making some girl tutor me.”

Reuben snorts and shovels another handful of chips into his mouth, “hot.”

Bradley rolls his eyes and flops onto the couch in between his two friends. He says your name to the two boys and begins, “do you know her?”

Jake’s eyebrows furrow in thought for a moment before he smacks Reuben on the back of the head,

“Bro?” He whines.

“It’s the library chick!” Jake exclaims.

Reuben looks confused for a moment before he realises, “oh shit yeah!”

Jake and Reuben looks happy for themselves for a few moments before Bradley interrupts again, “When the fuck have you ever been to the library?”

Jake frowns, “I’ll have you know that I read, the classics are my favourite!”

“What classics?” Reuben scoffs.

Jake smiles, “You know, the classic ones?”

“Where’s Waldo isn’t a classic J,” Bradley smirks.

“Shut the fuck up, okay I was trying to impress this girl in my econ class.” Jake admits, “she’s very well read.”

Bradley mutters something about Jake being pussywhipped before deciding he needed to get back to the problem at hand. You.

“Okay, so library chick. Do I know her?”

Jake racks his mind for a minute, scowling at Reuben’s loud chewing sounds.

“Fuck, yeah okay, do you remember last year? She dropped that massive encyclopaedia on your hand after you whistled when she was bent over sorting out books.”

Bradley cringes in recollection. In his defence he did think he was complimenting you… albeit with not much class or subtlety. You were cute. Maybe a bit nerdy, but you clearly had guts which he appreciated.

“Shit.. yeah.”

Bradley hoped you weren’t one for grudges.

You weren’t for the most part, and when Professor Clarke had told you who you would be tutoring you had decided last years incident could be water under the bridge. You figured he didn’t even remember you, he hadn’t acknowledged your presence in the one class you shared either way.

However, when he came sauntering down from his seat right at the back of the lecture hall and paused in front of you by Professor Clarke’s desk you were already becoming mildly irritated.

Bradley could tell, and he also knew that he was goading it on by making eye contact with your tits before your eyes and then saying,

“Hey, beautiful.”

He watches as you scoff and mutter something that sounds similar to “fucking prick.” It makes him smile.

Professor Clarke sighs loudly and speaks directed towards you, “I trust you’ll be able to help Bradley, Lord knows he needs it.”

Bradley’s smile drops, “Hey! I literally submitted my last assignment in on time!”

Your face drops in shock, is that seriously what he considers a win?

Professor Clarke looks at Bradley and sighs once again, “you sent me a gif of a rat dancing and made the subject of the email “The Great Ratsby”.”

Bradley sputters slightly but clears his throat feeling the weighted stare of Professor Clarke still on him. The older man smiles thinly as you thank him for his time and move towards the door. Bradley is hot on your tail, and he rounds on you once the reach the corridor.

“So…. how are we doing this angel?”

Bradley can’t control how his lips quirk upwards at you apparent distaste for the pet name. He can’t help but wonder what you’d appreciate more; maybe sweetheart or baby or something cute like bunny. He’s snapped out of his thought process by you waving your hand in front of his face.

“Earth to Bradley?” You quip.

He shakes his head a smiles, “Sorry what was that sweetheart?”

He notices how your brows furrowed once again before you start up, “I could book a study room in the library? Wednesday at 6?”

Bradley nods, “Sure, can I get your number?”

You’re taken aback slightly before Bradley clarifies, “So we can text about when to meet?”

“Oh. Right, yeah of course.”

Bradley reaches for his phone in his hoodie pocket and hands it to you, opening it up to his contacts. Before you can type in your number you can’t help but notice the sheer amount of girls in his contacts. All with specific names.

cass (toothy ❌)

natalie (.)(.)

samantha (screamer ✅)

It makes you’re stomach churn in mild horror, which your push down in favour of finally typing in your number. You hand his phone back to him and watch as he chuckles whilst writing your contact name. He doesn’t let you see it before shooting you off a short “hi” text to send his number to your phone.

Bradley stares at you for a moment before whistling, “right… so I’ll see you Wednesday?”

You smile awkwardly back at him, “yeah.”

He readjusts his cap and nods in a goodbye before turning to leave the building. You try to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as you walk out the exit opposite.

It’s 6:45 on Wednesday when Bradley finally shows up. He’s wearing black joggers and a top that you presume is a few sizes too small with a cap placed backwards on his head.

He felt kind of shitty about being late, he was leaving to get to the library at 10 to 6 when Jake and his other frat brother Mickey called him over whilst they were playing COD, he thought he could squeeze in a game and not be too late. Evidently, he was wrong.

You’re reading a book which he doesn’t recognise when he finds you in the study room and begins to apologise.

“I’m sorry for being late sweetheart-”

“Yeah. Whatever Bradley, let’s just start.” You breathe out, not having the energy to listen to his excuses.

Bradley’s pissed at that. He came in here willing to apologise and you think you can make him feel bad? Not likely.

“There’s no need to get bitchy? I literally said I’m sorry.” Bradley snorts, pulling a chair out opposite you with a loud scrape.

You scoff, “seriously? I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour!”

“Yeah and I said sorry!”

“That’s not the point-”

You catch yourself before you carry on, he wasn’t worth the waste of breath.

“Look it’s fine. Let’s just get started.”

Bradley pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek and leans back.

“Alright.”

The session is as productive as you can make it with your significantly shorter period of time. You find out that Bradley knows little to nothing about any of the texts that you’re studying and enjoys annoying you deeply. You’re not sure whether he hates silence or just loves the sound of his own voice. You figure it’s the latter.

“You’re glasses don’t fit you properly.” He points out after you push them up your nose for the third time in the past minute.

They’re slipping down your nose as you look down to read over some notes Bradley had made.

“Sure they do.”

Bradley shrugs and leans back again. You can feel his heavy gaze on you as you push your glasses back up again. He doesn’t say anything. Just smiles.

You’re cute, for sure. He kind of digs your chunky cardigan library assistant vibe. Maybe if you loosened up a little he’d like you even more. Bradley starts to wonder what you’d be like at one of his frat parties. He doesn’t think he’s seen you anywhere outside of class or the library. Maybe you’d go absolutely buck wild after a few of Reuben’s infamously too strong drinks. He figures you’re probably his friend Bob’s type, you’re both sort of nerdy and cute in a mousy way.

Bradley doesn’t realise he’s been zoned out looking at your face for the past two minutes until he sees a book being dropped down on the desk in front of him. It gives him slight PTSD from the encyclopaedia incident. He picks up the book and looks at you, confused.

“What’s this?”

You laugh with an almost unbelieving look on your face.

“Shakespeare? Romeo and Juliet? We’ve just started going over it in class?”

Bradley picks up the book of various Shakespeare plays and skims through it until he reaches Romeo and Juliet.

“Yeah, my bad, I think I recognise this.”

You cringe inwardly at the amount of work you’re probably going to have to put in to stop Bradley from failing.

“Great.”

Bradley smiles at what he thinks is praise from you and goes back to reading the first scene of the play. You’re blessed with a blissful silence for a moment whilst Bradley reads and you send off a few texts to you roommate Maya about how the tutoring session is going.

maya 😘😘

how is it???????

you

he’s an idiot

i’m pretty sure i saw him read dickens on the reading list and snort and then mumble “dick” under his breath

maya 😘😘

LMFAO

the cute ones are never smart

you

ew

maya 😘😘

shut up you’d hit

you

i find that offensive

Before you can send off another annoyed text to your friend, Bradley speaks up again.

“Do you like, read and shit?”

You stifle a giggle, “what?”

“Like books?”

“Are you seriously asking the girl who works at the library-”

Bradley chuckles, “Okay! I see my mistake, what’s you’re favourite book then?”

You hum whilst staring at him, it was an oddly thoughtful question.

“Probably Wuthering Heights. It’s by Emily Brontë.”

You’re not quite sure why you told him the last part. There was no doubt in your mind that Bradley Bradshaw did not know who the Brontë sisters were.

He cocks his head to the side, “what’s it about?”

You’re not sure whether Bradley genuinely wants to know about you and your interests or if he just doesn’t want to actually study, Bradley is equally confused because he’s asking his question in earnest.

“It’s about this guy called Heathcliff who gets adopted into this family and falls in love with his sister Catherine, he grows up to find out that she’s a married another man and basically becomes obsessed with avenging what could have been his.” You try to explain as simply as possible.

“HIS SISTER?” Bradley exclaims with a laugh.

“It’s not like that-”

“Babe, I didn’t realise you were into that freak shit.”

You can’t control your laugh at the absurdity of his words. Bradley really likes that sound, and the way that your eyes crinkle. It’s weird, he suddenly feels like he wants to be the only person to make you do that.

Once you’ve calmed down you look back up to see Bradley staring at you once again. You quirk an eyebrow up questioningly before looking at the clock behind him.

“Shit, we need to go. I only booked this place till 8.”

“What! I swear I only just got here!”

You snort, “Yeah well if you’d been on time…”

Bradley pouts at you, “Baby, please. I’m sorry.”

It’s half mocking, but the way he’s staring up at you with wide eyes makes your stomach flutter slightly. You shake your head as if to banish the thoughts and begin picking up your books.

“Just be on time next week, please.”

Bradley stands, moving round the table and pats you on the head.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

The gesture makes your frown slightly, but it served as a reminder for how you suppose Bradley truly feels about you. You’re not friends, and he doesn’t like you in any romantic capacity. You’re just the girl forced into tutoring him.

The next few tutoring sessions go somewhat the same. Bradley has a short attention span but tries his best, he’s nice enough to you that you can sometimes forget he’s slept with half the girls in your class.

You’re sat next to him in the study room doing some quick flash card recap questions. He’s fiddling with a thread at the end of your long sleeve shirt, it feels kind of intimate but you don’t want to look into it too hard. It’s been like this over the past few weeks, touches that last too long and his incessant usage of pet names. But, every time you begin to let yourself feel special you’ll catch a glimpse of a girls name flash across his phone screen and your predicament hits you right across the face with a loud crack; shattering the hope you’ve been building.

Bradley moves from playing with the thread on your top sleeve to your fingers, mumbling a correct answer to one of your questions. He keeps finding the need to be close to you, and not even always in a sexual way which shocks him the most. Don’t get him wrong, he’s definitely thought about it a few times in the shower, or in his bed or even when he was fucking Natalie last week and he suddenly thought about how cute you’d look with your glasses sliding down your nose whilst you’re sat on top of him. He had to look away from Natalie for the rest of the time she was there, he felt too guilty.

The morning after when Natalie had left surprisingly early, Jake (who had been noticing the lack of girls flowing in and out of his shared room on Bradley’s part) had an inkling as to why.

“You like her.” Jake declares as he plops himself down in the gaming chair in his room, spinning to face where Bradley is lying on his bed.

“What?”

“The library chick. The one who’s been tutoring you.” Jake expands.

“What do you mean?”

“You like her!”

Bradley huffs, annoyed at Jake’s insistence, “yeah, she’s cool.”

Jake rolls his eyes, “no, you like like her.”

“You’re 12, and no I don’t!” Bradley removes his hands from behind his head and moves to sit up straighter against his headboard.

Jake clicks his tongue, “okay so you wouldn’t mind if I fucked her?”

Bradley cocks his head to the side but doesn’t say anything.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, she’s kind of hot.”

Jake watched as a muscle in Bradley’s jaw ticks. He knows he’s struck gold.

“Maybe we’ll do some roleplay, she can be my sexy teacher and I’ll bend her over the desk.” Jake wraps his knuckles against the desk behind him and chuckles, “sturdy.”

Jake knows he’s almost got Bradley as he watches him clench and unclench his fist.

“I mean that ass, it’s insane really I’ll tell you how it feels afterwards if you-”

“Shut the fuck up! Fuck! Fine okay I fucking like her, what do you want me to say?!”

Bradley’s outburst doesn’t surprise Jake in the slightest. In fact, it puts a smile on his face.

“Nothing. I just wanted to know.”

Bradley rubs a hand down his face, he’s pretty sure he’s never felt like this before. It kind of scares him to be honest.

“You should invite her here on Friday.”

Friday. For the party. Bradley thinks about it for a second, “Bro, not if you’re going to try and fuck her.”

Jake chuckles, “she’s all yours, her roommate is the girl from my econ class so if anything this is selfish of me.”

Bradley smiles, “alright.”

After Bradley answers another question correct you smile at him brightly.

“Looks like somebody’s been hitting the books!” You poke, setting your flash cards down on the table.

Bradley warms at the praise and looks at you for a moment.

“Will you come to my party on Friday?”

You study his face for a moment, he looks almost nervous.

“I don’t know Brad, it’s not really my scene and I wouldn’t really know anyone,” you smile apologetically at him.

“You know me!” Bradley reasons, pulling your hand into his.

“And you’re gonna spend the whole night sitting with me? You’re funny.”

Bradley thinks about how he’d definitely do that if you asked him to.

“Bring your roommate! Maya is it? I’m pretty sure Jake is in love with her.”

Bradley’s words make you giggle and you consider for a moment, when you look back to Bradley he’s got an adorable pout on his lips,

“Please don’t make me beg, angel.”

Although the idea of Bradley on his knees begging is tempting, you’re not that cruel. You pretend to think for a moment more before answering.

“Fine. But only in the name of Jake and Maya.”

Bradley is pleased with your answer, “Thanks, angel.”

You smile, “whatever.”

You check your phone and find that you’ve spent the last 10 minutes of the session just chatting with Bradley.

“We need to go,” You remind him.

Bradley looks a little crestfallen but stands anyway. He helps you gather your books and puts them into your tote bag for you.

“Thanks.” You mumble as he hands the bag to you.

He scratches the back of his head for a moment before speaking, “Can I, like, walk you back?”

His gesture makes you smile, as well as his sort of nervous demeanour, “Little old me? Bradley Bradshaw wants to walk little old me home?” you tease.

The familiar smirk makes its way back onto Bradley’s face at your prodding. “Shut up, I’m being a gentleman or whatever.”

“Well then, who am I to decline?” You smile at him.

“Dork.” Bradley mutters under his breath as he opens the door for you.

Bradley takes your bag off of your shoulder and places it on his own, once he feels the weight settles down he looks at you shocked,

“You carry this shit around everywhere?”

The confused look in his eye makes you laugh, “yes?”

“This is so heavy? What are you even carrying?”

“Books? My laptop?”

Bradley laughs, “Shit, maybe I need to start coming to these sessions more prepared.”

Bradley pushes open the main door to the library and the cold night air hits you unexpectedly, making you shiver in your long sleeve tee. He looks down at your attire and rolls his eyes.

“Hold this for a sec.” Bradley drops your bag back into your hands and begins to pull his hoodie up over his head.

You go to protest but your mouth falls open awkwardly at the way his t-shirt rides up, exposing his toned lower abdomen and the sprinkling of hair that leads all the way down-

“Angel?”

“Yes! Sorry, what?” You stutter out with a chuckle.

Bradley gestures for you to hand him back the bag and hands out the hoodie with his other hand. You take it and pull it over your head, revelling in the smell of it. It’s partly his cologne and the rest something uniquely him.

“Ready to go?” Bradley asks, looking down at you.

“Sure,” You smile up at him.

Bradley feels his stomach flip, looking down at your frame drowned in his hoodie. Before he can even process what he’s doing Bradley has slipped his hand into yours. You don’t say anything in fear of him retracting it but the smile that sits on your face is blinding.

You walk in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, Bradley squeezing your hand every now and then in reassurance. You turn a corner and watch as you apartment complex comes into view. Squeezing his hand you look up at him and speak,

“This is me.”

Bradley pouts a little, “You don’t want me to walk you all the way in?”

You giggle and shake your head, “No don’t worry.”

You reach for the hem of the hoodie and begin to pull it up when Bradley stops you.

“Keep it. Please. It looks better on you.” He almost whispers.

You flush at his words and look at him with furrowed brows, trying to study his expression. Whether he’s being truthful or not. He hands your bag back over to you and nods.

“If you’re sure.” You smile, “I’ll see you Friday?”

Bradley winks, “You better.”

“Night Bradley.”

“Goodnight, angel.” Bradley hums.

He watches your retreating frame until you’re inside of your building before spinning on his heel to walk in the opposite direction back to his house.

Bradley pulls his phone out of his pocket, checking through his messages as he walks. He finds himself deleting almost all of the irrelevant numbers from girls that had been littering his contacts without much thought. Once he’s done he goes to pocket his phone again before it vibrates in his hand.

angel ❤️‍🩹

thank u <3

Maya has been ready to go for the past half an hour as she sits on your bed and watches as you pick up various dresses and items of clothing before discarding them on the floor.

You’ll admit you probably look ridiculous stood in your underwear with a full face of makeup on and your hair pulled up into a styled ponytail but it was not your priority at this second.

“I have nothing to wear! I’m not going Maya, just go without me!”

Maya sighs and walks towards you’re closet, rifling through the particularly skimpy dresses you had purposely avoided. She pulls out a short blue halter neck dress and shoves it into your hands.

“Go put this on.”

You roll your eyes at her tone, “okay, mom.”

“And don’t ruin the makeup I did!”

You wander into the little bathroom and begin to pull the dress over your head when Maya opens the door with a tiny scrap of fabric in her hands.

“You are not wearing those granny panties,” She looks pointedly down at the cotton panties with flowers that you have on.

You pout, “They’re comfy.”

Maya struts over and places the lacy garment in your hand, “Bradley can thank me later.”

“Shut up!” You exclaim, trying to hide your smile.

“I’ll be in here if you need me,” She giggles,

“Wait! Maya you didn’t give me a bra!” You whine.

She rolls her eyes, “I know.” Before closing the door behind her.

You strip out of your comfy underwear and look down at the baby blue lace and sigh, at least you’d shaved. Pulling the dress over your head whilst trying to maintain Maya’s artistry was hard but not impossible you found, and when you pulled the dress the rest of the way down you realised you didn’t need a bra anyway. You spin a little, looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked good.

There’s a new found confidence in your walk as you make your way back to your bedroom where Maya is sat fiddling with the buckle on a pair of wedges in her lap. When she looks up she hollers at you,

“Damnn! Twirl for me gorgeous!”

You laugh at her antics but indulge her anyway gasping in faux shock when she slaps your butt playfully. She hands over the wedges and your eyes widen slightly at the height.

Maya laughs at your expression, “baby don’t worry I’m sure they’ll be in the air more than they’ll be on the ground anyway.”

“You’re relentless!” You swat at her before bending down to do up the shoes.

You gather your phone and some lipgloss before linking your arms in Maya’s.

“Let’s go?”

“Let’s go.” She confirms.

You check your phone once your a block away from Bradley’s frat house. There’s a few messages from him that you’ve yet to respond to.

brad 🙃

when are u getting here??

i miss u angel

you

almost there :)

You snort at how needy Bradley sounded, there was probably enough girls there to keep him entertained.

It’s not hard to miss Bradley’s house, there are people littered around the front yard drinking and the music could be heard from at least a block away. As you walk up the steps on the front porch you wobble slightly on your wedges and Maya steadies you, she sees the anxious look in your eyes and smiles,

“You look so hot right now babe,”

You roll your eyes but let the nerves sink down as she grips onto your hand tighter.

The house is pretty packed with girls in tiny outfits and an unnerving amount of shirtless dudes. Maya leads you through the crowds to where there’s a group of dudes playing beer pong. As you get closer you recognise Jake and Bradley and a few other guys from their frat.

Jake spots you both first, nudging Bradley. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous when Bradley makes eye contact with you and starts making his way over, much to the disappointment of the frat bro he was playing with. You look to your side to find that Maya has already made her way over to Jake and when you look back Bradley is right in front of you.

He’s still tall enough that you have to look up to make eye contact with him, and his cologne clouds your thoughts. He takes your hand and drags you over to a quieter corner of the room. Bradley’s eyes rake over your form hungrily, you drop your hands in front of your stomach almost on autopilot.

“You look incredible, angel.” Bradley speaks earnestly.

He takes both your hands in his and holds them up so he can stare at you again.

You can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks as you look up at him, “You think?” You ask somewhat coyly.

Bradley nods, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, making you giggle. He takes one of your hands and spins you around just slightly and whistles lowly,

“Can I take a picture?”

You roll your eyes and spin back around to face him, pushing lightly at his chest, “Shut up.”

He raises both hands in mock defence and shrugs, “worth a shot.”

You move to stand to the side of him, back against the wall and take a moment to look at him. He looks handsome, as always, but you can tell he’s put extra effort in. He’s wearing a thin shirt with two of the middle buttons done up and dark jeans. You’re sure he could have forgone the shirt with how much of his skin is exposed but you can’t complain seeing how tightly it fits around his biceps. His hair is tousled but in a way that looks purposeful and he smells incredible.

Without realising, you’ve inched closer to Bradley and his cologne hits your nose in a pleasant surprise. When you meet his eyes you find that he’s already looking at you.

“You smell good,” you murmur.

Bradley leans down so that you can hear him clearly, “thank you, angel.”

His lips brush against the shell of your ear so delicately that you could almost pretend that you imagined it, but the way a shiver runs down your spine tells you otherwise. Before you get a chance to compose yourself Bradley is imposing on your personal space again and speaking into you ear,

“Do you want me to get you a drink?” He nods towards the kitchen on the far side of the house.

You consider for a moment, then nod.

“Please.”

Maybe it would help calm your nerves.

“I’ll be back in a sec.”

Bradley departs from his space next to you with a wink, his lack of presence already making you frown. Instead of moping, you survey the surrounding area for Maya, hoping to check in with her.

You finally catch sight of her when her hot pink dress catches your eye as she ascends the main staircase with a tall blonde who you can only recognise as Jake. You giggle, swiping open your phone to send her a text.

you

use protection 😘

You can only hope she reads your message.

After a few more moments of scrolling through your phone you look up to realise Bradley still hasn’t made his way back to you. First you consider the fact that this is a party that he is hosting, he could have been sidetracked by any one of his numerous frat brothers or friends.

So, you decide to make your way to the kitchen, just so you could retrieve your drink of course.

What you’re not prepared to see is short brunette girl kissing Bradley, because of course that’s what held him up from getting your drink. It serves as a reminder of the fact that he is not your boyfriend and had no intention of being so, you figure he probably got tired of waiting for you to put out so he moved onto the next girl. You see that someone had lined up a few tequila shots on the counter nearest to you and knock back the few closest, wincing as the liquid warms the back of your throat all the way down to your stomach.

You close your eyes and breathe out, stomach churning from the shots and sight you’ve just seen, you spin on your heel to walk away from the counter but stumble whilst turning around too quickly. You probably would have hit the floor if it wasn’t for a strong grasp, steadying you by the waist.

“Shit, you okay darlin’?” The person who saved you from near embarrassment drawls out.

You steady yourself with hands on his surprisingly hard chest and look up into his blue eyes. He’s handsome, even with his wired frame glasses slipping down his sloped nose. He’s not less attractive than Bradley, just in a more refined way.

“God, I’m sorry, I’m not used to wearing shoes this high yet.” You mumble sheepishly, frustrated that you’ve managed to embarrass yourself in front of another freakishly attractive man.

“I’m Robert or Bob or whatever you want to call me,” Robert smiles down at you, speaking somewhat loudly to combat the thumping bass of whatever song was currently playing.

You give him your name and he smiles brighter if possible, almost as if he’s shocked you’re still talking to him.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He charms, watching you giggle.

His words almost make you forget what you had seen in the kitchen, the memory making you frown ever so slightly. Robert mistakes this for annoyance at his words and quickly adds on,

“Sorry, that was stupid and-”

You’re quick to silence his anxieties, “No, I liked it.” You speak in earnest, propelled by liquid courage.

Robert scratches the back of his neck and cocks his head to the side, “Do you want to dance?”

His question makes you smile, because yeah you do want to dance and fuck Bradley Bradshaw.

“Totally.” You beam up at him.

Robert pulls you toward the living room where people are crammed together dancing, sweaty bodies moving on top of each other in some cases almost obscenely.

The music seems to be vibrating off of the walls and the familiar voices of Rihanna and Bryson Tiller fill your ears. Robert seems somewhat apprehensive but the tequila buzzing through you makes you confident as you turn you back to him, grinding your ass back subtly as to test the waters. Robert’s hands move to grip at your waist, aiding you in grinding back onto him. You move one of your arms to rest around his neck and you giggle as you hear him groan quietly into your hair.

Bradley returns to where he’d left you flustered and annoyed carrying two red cups. Natalie had cornered him in the kitchen and tried to kiss him. He was furious, he’d sent her a text a few days ago apologising and letting her know he wasn’t interested in seeing her again. Clearly, that didn’t matter to her. After she had forced herself on him, he shoved her off somewhat awkwardly and told her firmly that he wasn’t interested. Bradley realised she was clearly already plastered and retrieved one of her friends from nearby to look after her.

He felt bad for leaving you on your own for so long but he hoped that if he could explain you wouldn’t be too annoyed.

However, when he gets back he finds that you’re not there. Initially, he worries that you’d left to go home. But after scanning the large living room packed with people, he spots you, grinding back onto his friend Bob.

Bradley’s stomach drops watching how you giggle at something Bob has whispered into your ear, how his hands and wrapped around your waist and how your ass is grinding back onto his crotch.

Without realising, Bradley has began to storm through the clumps of intoxicated people, dropping the drinks on a side table nearby. Fuelled by anger and jealously he pulls at one of Bob’s arms wrapped around your waist.

Bob stumbles back and turns with brows furrowed,

“Bradley? Are you okay-”

Before he can finish his question, Bradley’s fist hits the side of Bob’s nose with a sickening crunch, pushing him to the ground before raising his fist to hit him again.

The people who were previously dancing have made a circle around the commotion, drawing the attention of Bradley’s frat brothers Reuben and Mickey who push to the middle of the circle and grab Bradley before he can cause anymore damage.

“What the fuck man!” Reuben scolds in his ear, pulling him from his anger induced trance.

Bradley stops struggling against Reuben and Mickey’s grip, and instead looks down to see you tearfully wiping at the blood spilling from Bob’s nose in copious amounts.

Your watery eyes are looking up at him with so much anger that he feels bile rising in his throat. He runs a bruised hand through his sweaty hair and sighs. He can hear Mickey trying to get everyone to disperse, clearly not wanting his friend’s dirty laundry being aired out in front of everyone they know. Bradley can’t focus on any of the words being spoken to him, just the utter look of disappointment on your face.

A few hours later almost everyone has left the house. You’re sat on a bench in the backyard knees tucked under you and wedges removed and on the floor. Maya and Jake are sat next to you, they had returned to find an almost empty house save for you and Jake’s frat brothers.

Bradley had stormed out following Reuben and Mickey’s intervention, he couldn’t handle looking at your sad face and being the one who caused it.

“I just don’t know what the fuck he wants from me!” You exclaim to Maya.

Her and Jake had been filled in by you and Jake had the decency to look sheepish. It was his idea to invite you tonight, he knew how Bradley felt about you but it wasn’t necessarily his place to say.

You didn’t know how to feel, you were still upset from seeing him kiss that girl, confused as to why he punched Robert if he clearly wasn’t interested in you. Maybe it was some strange frat bro mentality, he didn’t want you but he also didn’t want anyone else to have you? It was all too confusing for 2am.

Maya’s hand is comforting on your back, rubbing circles and trying to alleviate the stress radiating off of you. Guilt is eating at Jake’s stomach and he’s about to spill everything he knows when he hears the glass patio doors opening from behind him.

He turns back and makes eye contact with Bradley, trying to non verbally say “not the time.” But you’ve noticed his presence before Jake can save him.

“Fuck off, Bradley.”

Bradley winces, he deserves your anger.

“Angel, please. Hear me out?” Bradley pleads.

He looks awkward, scratching at the back of his neck, nervous for your answer.

You look to Maya and she shrugs. She thinks you should hear him out, of course she does.

You sigh, “Fine.”

Jake and Maya exchange words silently and move to leave. Jake pats Bradley on the shoulder, he knows how shitty Bradley feels about how tonight went down and he also knows that he’s just been at Bob’s apartment apologising profusely.

Bradley sits down on the bench next to you, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his lap and tuck his chin on top of your head, but he knows that probably wouldn’t go down too well right now.

“I’m so fucking sorry angel.” Bradley breathes out.

You raise your eyebrows, “I don’t get you Bradley!” you huff out, “You walk me home and call me ‘angel’ and you have no concept of personal space but then I see you kissing some girl in the kitchen whilst you’re supposedly getting me a drink and then as soon as I-”

“I wasn’t kissing anyone!” Bradley cuts in, confused.

“Bradley there was only one person in that house wearing a floral button up and he was kissing a girl in the kitchen when I went to check on you.”

Bradley racks his brain for a moment before he realises what you’re talking about.

“Oh shit. Natalie.” Bradley concludes, mostly to himself.

You roll your eyes, “Great to know you caught her name before you let her shove her tongue down your throat.”

Now you knew her name you recognised her, she was in your Eng Lit class. Natalie was gorgeous to make you feel even worse.

“Angel, I didn’t want to kiss her.” Bradley sighs, “she was wasted and pushed herself on me.”

You look at him sadly, wanting so badly to believe him, “really?”

Bradley shuffles closer towards you, placing his hand over yours resting on the faded wood of the bench.

“I wouldn’t lie, angel.” Bradley promises, squeezing your hand.

“Still doesn’t excuse you acting like a fucking neanderthal and punching Robert, he didn’t deserve that. He’s sweet.” You’re not willing to fully forgive him yet.

Bradley feels anxiety pool in his stomach, at the thought of what he’s going to have to say to you.

“I know and I told him how sorry I was. I just, you make me crazy you know?” Bradley laughs out, “the first time I met you, you dropped an encyclopaedia on my hand. Do you remember that?”

You giggle slightly at the memory, “You deserved it.”

“Yeah well the thing is sweetheart, I deserve a lot of shit. I know I kind of fucking suck, but one thing I really don’t deserve is you.” Bradley smiles nervously.

“You’re so smart, and I’m such an idiot because I thought I could try and pretend that I’m not in love with you.”

Your eyes widen at Bradley’s confession. He looks pale with anxiety, he doesn’t think he can remember a time where he’d ever been nervous when talking to a girl. But this was so much different. Because it’s you.

Bradley can’t help the word vomit that seems to be pouring out of his lips, “You’re so beautiful, but that’s not the reason I love you. I love how smart you are and how you’re funnier than me and all my friends combined. I love the way you make me feel when I’m with you. I know I’ve probably completely fucked this up tonight but I just wanted you to know how I feel.”

The vulnerability in Bradley’s words makes your heart clench, the way his eyes are staring at you so deeply, shining in the moonlight like he’d do anything for you. You can feel the tears pooling in your lash line.

“Oh Bradley.” You give him a watery smile, reaching your free hand up to cup at his jawline.

“I love you too, you dick.”

Bradley laughs, loud. Relief is sweet but not as sweet as how you look, staring at him with wide eyes and pouted lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers.

You nod and surge forward, hands coming to rest around his neck. Bradley pulls you into his lap and connects your lips. He thinks about the cherry chapstick you always carry in your bag and how he can taste it on you now, how soft your lips feel against his. His tongue pushes against your lips tentatively, you grant him access and sigh contentedly at the feeling of him.

One of Bradley’s hands is soft at the back of your head, guiding you against him gently whilst the other is tracing circles against your hips rhythmically. You trace your nails in patterns against the short hair and the back of his head and smile into the kiss as he moans at the feeling.

Bradley goes to deepen the kiss once again but is stopped abruptly by a noise coming from behind him.

“We should check on them, oh-”

You pull back from Bradley sheepishly with a wet saliva caused noise and make eye contact with Maya. Then Jake.

Jake is the first to laugh, “I told you they’d be fine.”

You wake up before Bradley at noon the next day. You’re lying in his bed draped in a large t-shirt of his.

The sun is streaming through his thin curtains and you’ve been swapping your gaze between a shirtless Bradley and something that caught your eye on his bedside table.

Bradley begins to stir with an aggressive yawn and stretch that almost wipes you out. You whack his arm out of your face and lean down kiss his forehead.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” You giggle.

Bradley groans and smushes his face into your boobs,

“I’m tired.” he mumbles, muffled.

You thread a hand through his curls and speak tentatively,

“I have a question.”

Bradley sits up at that, moving so he can look at you properly.

“When did you get this?” You reach for the book on his bedside table, it’s a copy of Wuthering Heights with an old receipt sticking out at around the half way mark being used in place of a proper bookmark.

Bradley’s cheeks flush slightly, “Like, I don’t know. Maybe a few days after that first session in the library.”

Your cheeks hurt from trying to suppress your smile. You reach forward and kiss him sweetly, handing resting on his toned chest.

When you pull back he chuckles, “I wanted to impress you.”

“That is the sexiest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Bradley cackles at your emission until he realises how deadly serious you’re being.

“Angel.. we need to change that.” He smiles, lifting at the hem of his shirt on your frame.

You hum and connect your lips again, slipping your tongue into his mouth as he begins to pull at the t-shirt.

You separate for a moment to let him pull it off you fully. On reaction your hands reach up to cover yourself but Bradley catches them before you get the chance. He manoeuvres you so that he’s now the one on top and stares down at you hungrily.

“Jesus christ, angel.”

His hands reach for you breasts, squeezing them appreciatively. His thumbs flick over your pebbled nipples, smirking upon seeing how you preen into his touch, back arching up off of the bed.

Bradley moves to kiss down from your lips to you collarbones, paying specific attention to your pulse point, tongue lathing at where he sucked a mark too harshly. He can feel the blood rushing to his cock, straining against his boxers, at the sounds of your little whimpers and moans.

Bradley attaches his lips to one of your nipples, swirling his tongue in circles, revelling at how your breath hitches.

“Fuck, please Brad,” you whimper from underneath him.

He unlatches his lips and rests his head on your stomach.

“What do you need angel? Anything.” He promises.

Your teeth bite into your bottom lip as you consider, “your mouth?”

Bradley smiles at your request and shucks the covers off from his back, he moves down the bed slightly and sits back on his knees. His hands reach forward to grasp at your panties, pulling them down your legs. You lift your hips to aid him and giggle at how he holds them appreciatively once they’re off.

“These are cute.” He admits.

“Thanks, babe.” You giggle, make a mental note to tell Maya.

“But this. This is fucking incredible.”

Bradley lifts your legs over his shoulders, head dipping down to look at your pussy. He blows a cool breath onto your glistening folds and smirks at how your squirm at the feeling.

“Does me reading seriously make you this soaked?” Bradley chuckles.

You buck your hips up and whine, “yes! It’s cute you wanted to impress me.”

Bradley laughs and decides to put and end to your waiting, licking a stripe up your folds. The sound you make is music to his ears. He swirls his tongue around your clit, arms holding your thighs from closing around his head.

He licks at you languidly and moans against your pussy, “you taste amazing.”

Bradley’s words make you whimper, a shiver of arousal running down your spine.

“Keep going, baby please.”

Bradley’s tongue dips into your hole, fucking into you for a moment before coming back up to swirl at your clit. He’s moaning almost as much as you, the vibrations making your hips jerk up against his hold. You reach a hand down to grab at his hair making Bradley whimper. The noise shocks you slightly and makes you gush, pleasing Bradley to no end.

He sucks at your clit, spurred on by your hand grasping at his curls.

“Fuck, I’m close Brad please.” You whimper out.

Bradley flicks at your clit once more then pulls away, tongue poking out to lick at your juices that have accumulated around his chin.

You whine at the loss of contact and the pout on your lips almost makes Bradley cave, before he speaks up again.

“I want to feel you around me angel.”

You shiver at his words and nod, pulling him up by his chin to kiss him. You can taste yourself on his tongue and you can tell he knows it too by the way he smiles against your lips.

He pulls back only to reach for a condom from a drawer in his bedside table. He hands it to you to open whilst he pulls off his boxers. Although, you’re sort of hypnotised by how handsome he looks in the sunlight peaking in through his cheap curtains. His skin is tan and he has a few moles dotted around his chest, but most importantly there’s a sprinkling of dark hair that spans from between his pecs all the way down into his happy trail. When you catch sight of his cock your mouth waters slightly and Bradley laughs.

“It’s rude to stare, angel.”

“It’s rude that half the girls on this campus have seen the snake between your legs, Bradley.”

He snorts at you short streak of jealousy and moves to cup your cheeks with his hands.

“You’re the only one for me, angel.”

He sighs against your lips as he feels your small hands wrap around his dick. He looks down and groans loudly at the sight of you slowly stroking him before ripping open the condom he had given to you.

You let go of him so that he can roll the condom down his length, shuffling down so you can lie with your head resting against the pillows. Bradley sits on his knees between your thighs, staring down at you intensely.

“You’re so beautiful, angel.”

He leans down to connect your lips quickly and pulls back only slightly so he can watch your features as he guides his cock towards your entrance, dripping in arousal.

He pushes in slowly, smirking as you whimper quietly. You roll your eyes at his expression and whisper into his ear,

“Fuck me like you mean it, Bradshaw.”

Bradley laughs and hikes your legs up higher around his waist. He plunges into you without warning, revelling in how you squeak in surprise. His thrusts are deep and calculated, hitting at the right spot almost every time.

You moan out gutturally, “shit, right there Brad.”

The way his name rolls off your lips make Bradley grunt in pleasure, speeding up his thrusts if even possible. You feel incredible around him, squeezing at him just right. Bradley continues his ministrations but reaches a hand down to toy at your clit, smirking at how your moans increase in pitch. He makes circles around the bundle of nerves and feels his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your walls are pulsing against him.

You reach a hand down over Bradley’s to swirl at your clit, he groans loudly at the sight, head dropping down to stare at where he’s fucking in and out of you. He moans a little pathetically but can’t feel it within himself to be embarrassed when you tighten so deliciously around him.

“I’m really close, angel.” He groans, leaning down to breathe into your neck.

“Me too, baby.” You whine, kissing the top of his head, “please cum for me, Bradley.”

Your words were all Bradley needed to reach his peak. His hips stutter against yours as he spurts into the condom and the feeling combined with your fast swirls against your clit shoots white hot pleasure through you, pushing you over the precipice as well.

Bradley is a panting mess above you, his skin sticking to yours with sweat. He pulls out of you slowly and ties off the condom. When he flops down next to you, you kiss all over his face, squealing when he grabs your face and smushes your lips together. He pulls away from you and stares at you in your sweaty post sex glow and smiles.

You catch his eyes and hum, “you’re so pretty, Bradley.”

His lips quirk as he reaches to stroke his thumb over you cheek.

“I’ve not heard that one before.”

Bradley eventually ventures downstairs to retrieve you a glass of water and makes eye contact with Reuben as he goes to ascend the stairs again.

Reuben flips him the bird without looking, “you’re fucking loud bro.”

Bradley can’t find it in himself to care.

No one is more surprised on Monday morning than Professor Clarke when he sees you walk into his lecture hall with Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your waist, your usual large tote bag now slung over his shoulder.

He watches in amusement for the hour as you note diligently and raise you hand as usual, however there was now the addition of Bradley. Pointing at your notes when he wanted something explaining or whispering something in your ear after you made a good point that makes you smile.

Professor Clarke finds it sweet, albeit slightly confusing considering the tension that surrounded the two of you when you’d been introduced.

Once your class has finished Bradley helps you pack your things up before putting your bag over his shoulder once again,

“You know I can carry my own bag?” You tease, poking at his bicep.

“Then how will everyone know you have a super strong and handsome boyfriend?” Bradley rolls his eyes playfully.

As you’re descending the stairs you spot someone walking towards you and Bradley from the corner of your eye.

“Natalie, hi.” Bradley speaks awkwardly, placing a comforting hand on your waist.

“Hi Bradley… I just wanted to apologise, I was fucking wasted on Friday and I didn’t realise you have a girlfriend and I should have read your texts properly and I’m really embarrassed to be honest,” she chuckles out awkwardly.

You smile at the girl, sensing her guiltiness. You look to Bradley who has a small smile on his face as well.

“It’s cool,” Bradley speaks truthfully.

She nods and sends you another apologetic smile before making her own exit from the classroom.

Once she’s out of earshot you turn to Bradley,“That was nice of her,”

Bradley nods and threads his hand in yours, leading you down the rest of the stairs. As you walk past Professor Clarke’s desk he calls out your name. He gestures down to where you’re holding hands with Bradley and jests,

“I’ll admit this was the last outcome I was expecting when I asked you to tutor Bradley here.”

You can feel Bradley’s smirk from next to you and roll your eyes, “He’s not so bad.”

a/n: HERE SHE IS LADIES AND GENTS!!!!! fratboy!brad and his angel 😭😭😭

my apologies for how sucky he gets BUT HE MAKES UP FOR IT PROMISE

also apologies for making him deck bob LMFAO

as always i love to hear feedback so pls comment, reblog or send me an ask and tell me what you think!

thank u for reading!!!

- honey <333

[lovelyhan]

— divorce child ⟢

you like to think that your most recent breakup with vernon ended on relatively good terms. there’s only one issue left to sort out: who’s getting custody of the cat you got together?

★ FEATURING; vernon x producer!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 9.2k words

★ TAGS; exes to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ NOTES; 3/4 stories in the series are now up <3 i hope you like this bc i really just wanted an excuse to write something fluffy and adorable with vernon.... he's got me in my feels these past few days fr. small heads up that this fic also features a bunch of characters from again and again, the mingyu installment of the series. this story takes place a couple years after that fic, but you don't necessarily have to read that part to get the events in this one :3c

★ P.S.; this was not proofread as usual lol if you spot any mistakes, do me a favor and pretend they don't exist !

this is part of the doting on you! series.

★ SMUT TAGS; vanilla, clothed sex, wearing ur bf's clothes kink(?), unprotected sex, body worship, praise kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is just so sweet okay

★ SVT TAGLIST; @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @cheolhub - @Idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jeonghancvunt - @jyiiscool - @jinniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @emmmui - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @jkbabiey - @featmia ★ SERIES TAGLIST; @exactlygreatcoffee - @gyusbabydoll - @jeonwonhi - @ti--red

“You sure you don’t need me to pitch in for this month’s check-up? I can always wire you some cash, you know.”

As you zip the pet carrier shut, you roll your eyes despite the fact that Vernon can’t exactly see your expression. Your phone’s sitting all the way on the coffee table but you were so preoccupied with wrestling your cat, Milana into the bag that you couldn’t exactly hold it like a normal person would.

“I’m good. You already covered for me last time, remember?” You remind him before taking the call off loudspeaker before pressing your phone to your ear. “I just got her inside the carrier. Might have to patch up a few scratches before we leave though.”

Vernon laughs. “She always hates going to the vet. It’s nothing too bad, right?”

“I’ve handled worse,” you snort before grabbing a couple of band-aids you keep around various corners of the house for this scenario specifically. “How about you? I thought I remembered Jihoon mentioning that today’s gonna be shut-in day. You know, that time of the month when you guys lock yourselves inside the studio to brainstorm lyrics together. Didn’t think you’d have the time for a phone call.”

“I always have time for a phone call when Milana’s going to the vet,” he says a-matter-of-factly and you can almost picture the warm smile on his face. The thought is enough to make your chest flutter, but you push the feeling down before it can completely come to the surface. “But you are right about shut-in day though. I might have to go in a few, so if there’s anything you need, you better tell me right now or forever hold your peace.”

“Nah. I told you, we’re good,” you insist with an eyeroll before placing band-aids on the scratches that your cat affectionately left all over your arms. “I’ll drop by the company later to drop off a mix that Jihoon asked me to mess around with. But if it’s shut-in day, I doubt we’ll get to see you.”

“Hmm. I can hide his Coke Zero stash outside so he’ll be forced to go out and get it?”

“Now that’s just downright evil.”

“It is. Anyway, aren’t you going to be late?”

“I already am, but Milana’s vet adores her, remember?”

“Nari adores everyone’s pets. Mingyu-hyung told me so.”

“Shush. You talk like our baby isn’t special,” you huff as you sling the strap of the pet carrier across your shoulder. “We’ll head out now. Thanks for checking in, Vernon.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, take care on the way.”

You end the call with your heart racing inside your chest. It’s not the phone call with your ex-boyfriend that flusters you, per-se. You work in the same agency, for god’s sake. Meaning, you’d be in deep shit if talking to him throws you off just because your relationship has already come to an end. 

But whenever you jokingly refer to Milana as ‘our’ baby whenever you talk to him, it feels like you’re encroaching on something you’ve already lost a long time ago. 

Your listlessness lasts until you pull up by the parking lot. Whether Milana’s staying at yours or at Vernon’s, this pet clinic at the heart of Seoul has always been your go-to. The fact that the attending veterinarian is Mingyu’s girlfriend does wonders to your final bills—she loves giving discounts to regulars and acquaintances—and you like to think you’ve found a friend in her ever since. 

The automatic doors slide open when you walk in—Milana’s bag still slung over your shoulder. Chae, the receptionist, flashes you a bright smile before you notice the familiar golden retriever lying in front of the front desk. Old eyes flicker up to you for a moment before his tail twitches once or twice to signal his excitement. 

“Good morning, Chae. Good morning, Namja,” you coo before crouching down to pet his head. “Is Nari waiting for me? Sorry for the hold up. It was a bit tough getting this one inside her bag.” 

Chae lets out a soft laugh as she types away behind her computer. “Really? Vernon always gushes about how much of a sweetheart she is whenever it’s his turn to bring her in.”

You don’t know whether you should be surprised or embarrassed that Chae knows—or at least has an inkling—of your little arrangement with Vernon. When the two of you were still together, you always brought Milana in at the same time, but now you’re taking turns in bringing your little divorce child to the vet. 

But hey, at least you’re still upholding your parental responsibilities, right?

“Of course he does,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “He knows better than anyone that getting Lana inside the bag is a nightmare. This one’s already her third this year. I was thinking of investing in a cage-type carrier instead but Vernon said it was like we’re sending her to prison.”

Chae sighs. “Men. Always so dramatic. Oh, but Doctor Nari’s waiting for you inside.” The receptionist glances at you curiously before you start taking Milana out of the bag so Chae could measure her weight.

It’s a bit of a challenge, handing your full-grown Maine Coon over to Chae, but despite the fact that she thrashes all around before vet visits, Milana has always been tame whenever she’s at the clinic. You manage to settle inside Nari’s office once your cat’s vitals have been measured and her vet is more than happy to see a familiar face.

“Well, if it isn’t Milana and her single mother,” she chuckles. “You here for routine check-ups? Where’s the father, though?”

You roll your eyes—fully aware that she’s only teasing. “Do you ask Vernon where’s the mother when he’s the one who brings her here?”

“Maybe.” Nari smiles before getting up from her desk and receiving your big cat into her arms. “Oh. She’s gotten heavier since the last time she came in.”

“Yeah, her father has been spoiling her with too much catnip. I only found out last week,” you sigh as you settle into one of the seats adjacent to the one across Nari’s desk. “But she’s been hairballing a lot recently. She doesn’t usually groom as much as she does now. Should I be concerned?”

She hums for a moment as she puts on her stethoscope—checking Milana’s heartbeat while her free hand examines your cat’s light brown coat. “Doesn’t look like she has any fleas or mites hanging around, but I can always do a scrape for you if you want the definitive results on paper. Though the excessive grooming could also be caused by stress.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Stress?”

Nari nods before hanging her steth around her neck once more, stroking Milana’s fur with calm affection. “Cats are more easily agitated than dogs. Lots of things can stress them out. Loud music, vacuum cleaners, thunderstorms… Actually, even a switch-up in their pet parent’s schedules is grounds for stress.” 

You can only watch in silence as Nari scratches behind Milana’s ears, making your cat purr like a kitten despite the fact that her long limbs are spilling out of her vet’s arms. But regardless of how adorable she looks, Nari’s words got you thinking.

In the tail-end of the breakup, it was a topic that was brought up over and over: who gets to keep Milana? You both split half and half with expenses after the two of you adopted her at a nearby shelter. Not to mention, you both loved her in equal measure, so it was difficult to come to a decision that the two of you could soundlessly agree on. In the end, you settled with the compromise of taking turns watching over Milana because neither of you could stand not being able to see her for too long.

It’s been about three months since you and Vernon call it quits and three months since you’ve agreed on ‘splitting custody’. She stays with you on weekdays and with him on weekends—along with some exceptions for when one party isn’t available. It was also agreed that you’ll take turns bringing her to the vet every month to make sure nothing is amiss with her health.

But when you planned on paying Nari a visit today, you didn’t expect to find out that the fluctuating schedule you and Vernon made a deal out of could be a possible stressor for your cat.

“I think you should just keep her.” Nari suggests, a hint of concern creeping on her face. “You could always tell Vernon to visit Milana whenever he wants to, right? The back-and-forth travel is definitely going to take a toll on this one. Also, cats are smarter than you think. I’m sure she’s already sensed something’s off with her parents a long time ago.”

Milana heaves a deep sigh as if she understood every single word her vet just said and you can’t help the guilt that gnaws at your gut. You thought that this was the best decision you could make for both yours and Vernon’s sanity, but you completely forgot to take Milana’s well-being into account. You can almost hear Nari silently judging you, but you shake your head to rid yourself of the thought.

“We’ll… We’ll talk about it,” you reassure, swallowing the lump in your throat. “But…she’s okay, right? No serious health complications or anything?”

She rolls her eyes. “Sweetie, you’re literally the most responsible cat owner I’ve ever met. No one ever bothers to bring their pets in unless the situation’s already too severe to handle. So you’re good. Milana’s perfectly healthy. Just a little…sad, maybe.”

“Why would she be sad?”

Nari stares at you like you just asked something ridiculous, but thankfully she doesn’t dish out any half-assed remarks about it—opting to settle Milana back onto a nearby examination table to do a couple more physical exams. 

“Have I ever told you that me and Gyu used to be in a similar situation in the past?” 

You stare at Nari with a bewildered look while her gaze never strays too far from her patient. She even coos out little remarks of praise whenever Milana behaves. How can someone who’s this focused drop such a question in the middle of work? 

“Vernon told me you guys split up and got back together after almost a year,” you tell her dryly, not liking the fact that you admitted your ex-boyfriend is a big gossip, but you don’t see any point in hiding the fact that you knew. “What brought it up?” 

Nari’s lips twitch into a firm smile before she lifts her gaze to meet yours. “I just think that…you and Vernon? You’re kind of on the same boat we were in before we reconciled. It’s either the two of you are too stubborn or too afraid to see it for what it is.”

Too afraid to…? 

“What do you mean?” you ask. “It’s best that we split up, you know? Relationships between co-workers can get ugly really quickly if we forget to be professional. I don’t want us to stop doing the things we love just because of some work-related spat.” 

“Then the two of you should just learn how to segregate work from play,” Nari insists before smoothing her gloved hands across Milana’s long torso. “I’m not trying to meddle or anything, okay? It’s just that there’s virtually no reason for you to not get back together. You’re still taking care of Milana together, still checking up on each other, still working together—”

“There it is. That’s the reason why we can’t be together, Nari,” you groan at her stubbornness. “We’re still working together.” 

She huffs. “Is there a clause in your company’s contract that prohibits romantic relationships among talents and staff?” 

“I’ve never read the fine print, but I’m pretty sure there’s something along those lines somewhere in there.”

“Oh. Well, who cares? Milana needs a loving home where her parents can take care of her at the same time.” Nari then leans down to cup her face in her hands. “Isn’t that right? You need both of them to look after you, hm?”

“So you’re suggesting that Vernon and I should just get back together for Milana’s sake?” you ask half-jokingly and to your surprise, Nari nods like it’s the easiest question in the world.

“Well, I won’t make any assumptions by saying that you’re still in love with him, since you’re the only one who can say that for sure. But come on, do it for the not-so-little baby. You can just learn to love each other again in the process!” 

You can hardly believe your ears. In the quick stories that Vernon shared about Mingyu’s girlfriend, you never expected her to be this carefree about the matters of the heart. It must’ve been her six-foot boyfriend’s bubbly personality rubbing off on her. 

“Right,” you say with a shallow sigh. “Pray tell, why’d you and Mingyu split up in the first place?”

Nari’s eyes dart to the ceiling as if deep in thought as Milana nibbles playfully at one of her latex-covered fingers. The silence presses on for a few more seconds before she turns to you with a mellowed out expression.

“I thought we weren’t going to work because of how different our jobs are,” she admonishes quietly, lips spread into a thin smile. “But after being an idiot for almost six months, I realized that our jobs don’t matter. I love him. I don’t think I really stopped. Don’t think I’ll ever stop, actually.

“That’s why I was so surprised when I found out you and Vernon broke up three months ago!” Nari continues with a disgruntled look on her face. “The two of you spend so much time in the studio and at your apartment. You even have a child together!” She then gestures dramatically over to Milana. “So forgive me if it doesn’t make sense to me, why the two of you broke up. But won’t you reconsider it? For Milana?”

You shake your head. “Nari, some relationships just aren’t meant to work out. Just because you and Mingyu managed to make good on that second chance, doesn’t mean it’ll be the same with us. We’ve already…settled with what we have right now.”

“What, the endless pining and using the poor cat as an excuse to see each other?” She huffs again and, god, she reminds you so much of Mingyu now it’s actually funny. “Come on, sweetie. I’ve been in your place before, so I know perfectly well. Gosh, this must be how Seungkwan felt when I was still getting my shit together.”

Unsolicited mention of Seungkwan aside, you just don’t see any reason to pursue what Nari is convincing you to do. Nothing really changed after you and Vernon broke up. That’s one of the things you like about him—how easy it is to fall back into a comfortable friendship despite the history you shared. 

But you aren’t going to deny the fact that it kind of sucks that you can’t kiss him anymore. Can’t lean into his chair in the studio to pull him into a hug. Can’t tell him you still love him even if…

Oh. 

Oh. 

Fuck. You still love him?!

“Fine, fine. Since I have a couple more patients on the waitlist, I’m gonna let you off the hook. For now,” Nari grumbles before handing Milana back to you and taking a seat behind her desk. “Just stick to her usual vitamins and diet and she should be fine until the next visit. But if you want the stress problem to go away…”

“Nari,” you groan. “I’m not getting back together with him.”

“Hey, that is not what I was saying,” Nari rebuts with her hands up in surrender. “I was gonna suggest that you just lessen her traveling! Maine Coons are usually really active, but Milana’s a bit of a…homebody, isn’t she? Might not like all that moving around between yours and Vernon’s apartments.”

“But she’s literally with me five days a week. Won’t she have plenty of rest time then?”

“Oh, who am I kidding? Just get back together soon, pretty please?”

Yep. Mingyu’s definitely rubbed off on her.

When you get home later in the afternoon, Milana is quick to slink off to her usual spot behind the sofa to take a nap while you make a beeline for the kitchen. 

It’s always been a post vet visit ritual to get take out to eat at home—even when you and Vernon were still together. However, you opted against the practice for now because not only does it remind you of your ex, but eating all alone in your apartment will only give you more leeway to think about the things Nari told you earlier today.

If you make your own food like you are now, your mind is at least preoccupied enough that you don’t have enough thinking room to even wonder if Vernon even wants you back. 

By the time the sun sets, Milana is still dozing behind the couch and you have a potful of pasta noodles and enough red sauce to last you five days. Another thing that you overlooked whenever you cook inside the house is that you almost always cook enough servings to feed two people. Whether subconsciously or not, you can’t bring yourself to hate how your habits are still attuned to the lifestyle you had three months ago.

Before you and Vernon broke up.

“Work,” you mutter to yourself as you dump some pasta and sauce into a bowl. “If I work, I won’t think about him anymore.”

Not-so wise words from a not-so wise person because newsflash: the time that you and your ex spent in your studio is leagues more than the time you spent together in the bedroom. Vernon has already cleared out his leftover gear from your home office, but memories aren’t something he can pack up and leave with so easily.

You recall quiet afternoons where you’d bounce ideas about their group’s next song off each other—sometimes with Jihoon and Seungcheol connected to a Discord call, but more often in the privacy of each other’s company. 

There were also gloomy days where it rained all day long. Milana would curl up on Vernon’s lap while he played around with the software on your computer—sometimes using the weird sounds she makes as samples to add into the mix along with the soft drizzle pattering against the windowpane.

But it’s even harder to just forget about all the times the two of you came together intimately within the soundproof walls. You can’t even count how many times Vernon has eaten you out while you’re perched on top of your work desk—one hand muffling your moans despite the fact that no one outside the studio can ever hope to hear you. The world is none the wiser when Vernon pulls you onto his lap, bouncing you on his length until he’s spilling into you with gratuitous release.

In the present, there you are in the ear-splitting silence of your studio—the music software your ex bought for you ages ago seemingly glaring at you for spacing out again. You know you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself since it’s easier to come up with the perfect beats when you’ve got a rough draft of the lyrics in front of you—something that Jihoon and Vernon are busy getting done today. 

But still. You can’t help the frustration because you’ve been functioning normally since the breakup. Sitting in the studio didn’t usually lead to you reminiscing about the countless hours you and Vernon spent here together. Making dinner never made you miss having someone to eat across from you at the dining table. 

If only Nari didn’t breathe a word about your ex-boyfriend and all the reasons why you should just get back together. Maybe you would’ve remained rational. Maybe you wouldn’t have started considering things that are beyond your control. 

Maybe you wouldn’t be hoping so badly for something to happen.

You try to distract yourself by listening to and reviewing the mix you’re supposed to hand over to Jihoon today. The visit you planned on making to the company was canceled since neither he nor Vernon were answering their phones, which usually means they’re taking shut-in day seriously for once.

The track continues to stream through the speakers as you munch on your dinner, filling the room with a quiet melody that would make a great ballad once the lyrics are in place. But no matter how good Jihoon’s music is, no matter how delicious your cooking can be, it isn’t enough to quell the thoughts that have been suffocating you all day.

You still…love Vernon. 

If you didn’t, your apartment wouldn’t feel as lonely as it does. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have to feel so awkward whenever you bring Milana to the vet all alone. 

But part of you insists that you’re just being carried away by the ideas that Nari planted in your head. You’ve been doing fine on your own for the past three months. How is today any different?

Your senseless overthinking gets worse before it gets better. 

The next thing you know, you’re scrolling through your gallery, unearthing pictures whose existence you’ve long forgotten about. You’ve spent almost three years with Vernon—two years officially before getting Milana on your second anniversary. Tons of photos were snapped, countless memories created. 

You could’ve snapped more photos, could’ve made more memories if only you hadn’t split up. The fact that (what should’ve been) your third anniversary passed a few weeks ago, stings more than it’s supposed to. That day, Vernon jokingly asked if you wanted to celebrate by your usual spot in the park a few neighborhoods away and you jokingly rejected his offer by saying you had a sitcom to catch up on.

Part of you wishes you accepted the invitation. Maybe the joke could’ve been subverted into something real, and maybe you could’ve been back in his arms by now.

That night, you go to bed with a mild headache and a million thoughts racing through your mind. It isn’t Jihoon’s sad, mellow mix that drones on and on in your head, but a single question that you aren’t sure if you’ll ever get a proper answer to.

How can you still love someone you were so sure that you didn’t anymore?

Come morning, you wake up with a heart that’s heavier than last night and the glaring realization that Milana is missing.

Panicking isn’t usually your first instinct when it comes to your cat. Milana is fairly easy to spot because she’s built more massive than your regular neighborhood felines. But when you’ve already scoured the vicinity for your beloved Maine Coon, it becomes clearer and clearer that she’s nowhere to be found.

You ask around with your neighbors—fairly certain that they know what Milana looks like since she slinks out of the house every now and again. What makes this particular situation worrisome is that she hasn’t come bolting back inside your apartment when you brought out the goddamn catnip. So, when your neighbors begrudgingly tell you that, no, they haven’t seen an oversized house cat prancing around the area, you don’t know what to do.

“Wait, come again?”

“She’s missing, Nari,” you whine into your cell as you nervously bite down on your nails. “I… I was so sure that I locked everything last night, but when I woke up, the front door was wide open and Milana’s just gone.” 

Your friend curses at the other end of the line and from the concerned voices in the background, you figure that you must’ve called at a busy time in the clinic. 

“Sorry for bothering you,” you tell her while choking down a sob. “Just…give me a ring if ever you or Chae see her around the clinic.”

“It’s not a bother at all! I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Nari sighs. “I’ll keep in touch. Oh, but it’s also worth considering that cats like familiar places. If you’re going to look for her, you can start with that.”

“Alright, thank you, Nari.”

After hanging up on her, you bury your face in the palms of your hands—sticky tears matting your skin as you breathe in sharply. You’ve never had to deal with a lost pet before. How the hell are you supposed to find Milana in a city that’s as big as Seoul?

You consider calling the police to file a report, but you’re not sure if pet cats even count for a missing person’s case. They wouldn’t be of any help if it didn’t. The only thing you can do right now is go outside and look for her yourself.

You’re quick to pull on an old sweatshirt you once nabbed from Jihoon before heading out—simultaneously texting every one of your friends about the situation as you scout further out of your neighborhood. Hell, you even contacted the animal shelter you and Vernon adopted Milana from out of sheer desperation.

Thankfully, a handful of them responded right away with a promise that they’ll keep a close eye out for any Maine Coons that surely don’t belong in their areas.

But no matter where you look, you always end up back to square one. It doesn’t help that Milana doesn’t usually wander too far from your apartment, which means that you have no clue where she could’ve possibly gone.

Nari mentioned that cats like familiar places, but the only places that are remotely familiar to Milana are yours and Vernon’s apartments. 

Yours and Vernon’s…

You quickly bolt back to your place—scrambling to your car before fumbling to get the keys into the ignition. A few failed attempts and very loud cursing later, you manage to rev the engine to life. The next thing you know, you’re pulling into the street with an urgency that’s barely beating the speed limit. 

Given that it’s still a weekend, you don’t have to come into work, which means that you have no idea what the boys’ schedule looks like right now. You’re not even sure if Vernon is in the same city, but you’d rather risk the off-chance that he isn’t in Seoul than do nothing. 

You try your best to keep an eye on the road all while dialing up your ex-boyfriend as well as doing your best to obey every Korean traffic law there is. The first call goes straight to voicemail and you would’ve crashed into an SUV that’s idling by a red light if you hadn’t angrily brought down your foot on the brakes. Why the hell isn’t he answering?!

By the time you’ve made it to the street that led to his apartment complex, you’re already shaking with anxiousness. Dozens of uncertainties flit into your mind a million miles per minute. What if he doesn’t know where she is? What if he gets mad at you for losing Milana? Hell, what if he isn’t even here? 

Shoving down all these biting questions, you park haphazardly across the street, locking your car behind you as you jog up to the steps that lead to the entrance. You don’t know how to feel about the fact that the receptionist at the counter still recognizes you—even going as far as flashing you a kind smile and informing you that Vernon is just upstairs. You wordlessly thank her for the tip before jamming a thumb on the elevator buttons. 

You tap your foot impatiently across the marble tiles. Why the hell did Vernon choose to live in a place where you have to use elevators just to get home? Your apartment’s much more accessible especially in times like this when you feel like you’re going to explode with how fucking nervous you are—

The elevator dings when it arrives at the ground floor, making your nerves jump back into focus. You’re completely ready to brush past whoever’s getting out so you can come up to your ex-boyfriend’s apartment faster, but when you meet said ex-boyfriend’s surprised gaze at the mouth of the elevator, your prior urgency comes into a screeching halt.

He’s dressed like he usually is on lazy days—ugly checkered pajama pants, a tour shirt from some Western band that he probably hasn’t listened to a day in his life, and that perpetual bedhead he always sports whenever he just rolled out of bed.  

God, he looks so good. It’s so fucking unfair.

“Hey,” he greets awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I was just about to head out and grab breakfast… Uh, make that brunch. Did you need something?”

You don’t even dare to dawdle. “Is Milana with you?”

Vernon cranes his head in confusion and the look makes your heart sink like a stone. “Last I recall, you’re the one who brought her to and from the vet yesterday. Aren’t we missing a couple of chapters here or…?”

You meant to explain the situation as concisely as you possibly can to him. Vernon’s always been an easy going guy. You’re sure that he won’t resent you for it when he finds out that you lost the daughter you’ve been sharing custody over. Even if some irrational part of your brain insists that he will. 

But instead of coherent words, all that comes out of your mouth is a choked up sob.

The curve between Vernon’s neck and shoulder is as comfortable as you recall as you press your face against the crook of it—letting the tears run from your eyes and across his pale skin. You vaguely feel him wrap a protective arm around your frame while his free hand smooths down your hair and it makes you wonder why he’s patient enough to let you cry in his arms despite not having explained what the hell even happened yet.

He’s thoughtful enough to bring you to a more secluded corner of the lobby, calming you down by rubbing soothing shapes on your back with his hand and never letting you stray too far from his embrace. It helps that his low voice is there to keep you grounded—telling you that everything’s going to be fine and you just have to breathe, love. 

It works after a few minutes and Vernon only lets you let go when he’s sure you’re not in danger of suffocating on your own tears anymore.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he murmurs, taking your hand in his. A small gesture that you’re too selfish to resist. “Is it about Lana?”

You nod weakly. “She’s…gone, Vernon. I have no idea where she went, but she’s gone.”

He hums in understanding and surprisingly enough, the understanding glint in his eyes never wavers. It’s a bit off-putting since you expected him to at least be shocked by the news, but it’s almost like he’s used to hearing that your pet cat just ran away. 

“Right. I forgot to tell you about this new habit of hers.” He chuckles with an apologetic smile before one of his hands reaches up to wipe the tears off your cheeks. The close proximity has heat rising to your face, but you’re too stunned to react.

“I read somewhere that it’s good for Maine Coons to wander around to stretch out their limbs. Nari also told me last month that Lana could use the exercise, so whenever she comes over to mine, I let her out without supervision. She eventually finds her way to the lobby and just waits for me to come back if I’m ever running a little late.”

You listen to every word of Vernon’s explanation with a look of disbelief. All this time, you were worried sick about how he’ll react to the news that you lost your cat, but he’s been letting her go out and about when it’s his turn to look after her?

“Then where is she now?” you ask—not bothering to pick a fight with him now of all times.

Vernon hums for a moment as if considering the options and you don’t miss how his fingers tighten around yours when he gives you an answer.

“I might have a good idea.”

When Vernon suggested for you to head to the park just a few minutes away from your apartment as he climbed into the passenger seat, you merely scowled at him. “Milana is afraid of all the dogs that go for walks there. The only dog she isn’t scared of is Namja.” 

“Just trust me,” he insists as you start the car. “Better we look there and find nothing than not look when there turns out to be something.”

His logic isn’t so flawed after all when he briskly leads you down a familiar walkway to an even more familiar location. It’s a small hill that’s got a perfect view of the river nearby. The upslope is lined with plum blossom trees that bloom even more vibrantly in spring and it just so happens that one of those trees is dubbed as yours and Vernon’s usual spot. 

It’s where you and him usually hang out when the air in the studio has gotten a bit too stale to bring forth any sort of output. The outdoors can offer all sorts of inspiration when it comes to writing and producing songs and it’s common practice to make the trip to the usual spot when either of you are suffering from a nasty bout of creativity block. 

And under the shade of the tree in the said usual spot is none other than Milana—curled up in deep slumber as plum blossom petals drift onto her pale brown fur. 

You don’t even feel bad for rudely disturbing her from her comfortable nap, immediately pulling her into an abrupt embrace as you feel the tears welling in your eyes again. Milana lets out a strangled meow—claws straining against your skin with a threat of attack if you don’t knock it off. But you can’t bring yourself to care. You’d gladly use up all the band-aids in the world after she scratches you up if it means you can get to hug her for a few seconds more.

“There she is. All cozy at that.”

Vernon’s smooth voice startles you out of your relief—so overwhelmed to see your cat again that you almost forgot that you had company.

“I told you she’d be here,” he laughs before reaching out to pet her head. “You got us worried though. Don’t go wandering too far, okay, Lana? You scared your mom shitless, you know?” 

Milana responds with a disgruntled noise but you can feel her claws retract nonetheless. Damn Vernon and the fact that he’s obviously the favorite parent…

She seems considerably happier when you deposit her into her father’s arms—nuzzling his chest with a satisfied purr as you and Vernon start to descend the hill. 

But as he showers her with affection, you can’t help but sneak brief glances in your ex-boyfriend’s direction. Vernon has always been easy on the eyes. That’s one of the reasons you were drawn to him in the first place. But whenever you see him like this—laughing goofily as he teases Milana, the high of his cheekbones dusted red with a shower of plum blossoms gliding all over…

The gods are cruel to think you could ever put up a fight.

When Vernon comes over to bring Milana back to your apartment, you don’t expect him to stay for too long. He mentioned on the way that yesterday’s shut-in session was a complete success and that they’ve got all their work cut out for them. All they need is a green light from the higher-ups before Jihoon can start handing the song samples to the company’s usual team of producers—a team that just happens to include you.

So yeah, you don’t expect Vernon to linger because he’s obviously got a lot on his plate. The man hasn’t even had breakfast or brunch or whatever. So when he surprisingly decides to stay and rummages through your fridge for the pasta noodles and red sauce you’ve been saving for tonight, it’s like you never broke up with him at all.

The sight is almost too familiar for you to bear. 

Vernon sitting on the kitchen counter, helping himself to some day-old pasta as his long legs dangled over the edge. Milana watching his feet sway around with keen eyes as she attempts to swipe at them with her claws. Not to mention you, who’s staring at the two of them like they’re the most precious things in the world.

“Hey, this is really good,” Vernon compliments with half his mouth stuffed with noodles. “You’re using that one Italian tomato sauce that I like, right? Man, I missed this a lot.” 

You will yourself to snap out of whatever trance his presence has got you in before walking closer to him with a soft laugh. You lean across the counter, grabbing a fork from the drawer where you keep your silverware to help yourself to some of the pasta that he haphazardly tossed into the microwave. 

“It could’ve been better if you heated the noodles properly in boiling water.” You shake your head. “Then again, you’ve always been impatient when it comes to food.”

“Not as impatient as Seokmin-hyung,” he snickers. “One time when we were still staying back in the dorms, Mingyu-hyung just put the lasagna in the oven but Seokmin-hyung was already yelling about when it’ll be ready to eat. Actually, he always does that even if one of us just pops something in the microwave.”

You shake your head, recalling the words of Nari’s receptionist, Chae. “Men. Always so dramatic.”

Vernon snickers in agreement. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

You fall into conversation with him so easily, it’s almost unreal. When Vernon finishes his food, the two of you eventually migrate to the living room—catching up with each other in a way that you don’t really have the time to whenever he comes over to pick up Milana from your apartment in the past. 

Speaking of Milana, your cat acts as a barrier of sorts between you and Vernon, lying comfortably in the space that the two of you left unfilled. Cuddling up to him on the couch used to be so easy, it’s almost second nature, but now that you’re nothing but co-workers that are friends at best, you’ve got a lot more reservations than you used to have.

“By the way, I’ve been looking everywhere for that sweatshirt,” he muses before pointing at the graphic crewneck you’re wearing. “I thought I lost it in the laundry or that Seungkwan might’ve nabbed it when he came over to my place.” 

“Why is he your first suspect?” you snort. “Also, what are you talking about? This is Jihoon’s.”

Vernon blinks at you, a little confused. “No, that’s mine. Jihoon-hyung must’ve borrowed it from me and let you borrow it after. When did you even get it from him?”

“Um. About a month ago?”

“That explains it then.” 

You roll your eyes. “Look, if you want your sweatshirt back, I can just give it to you.”

“No, it’s okay. You can keep it,” he insists, one hand drifting onto Milana’s head so he can scratch her ears. “You’ve always looked good in my clothes anyway.”

Silence fills the room almost uncomfortably at how easy it is for him to admit that. The sudden shift in the atmosphere occurs to Vernon a little late and the smile on his face falls when he realizes what he just said.

“Oh, I didn’t… I mean—”

“It’s— It’s okay,” you interject meekly, managing a shy smile as you tug on the sleeves of your—his—sweatshirt. “I always liked wearing your clothes too.”

You’re perfectly aware that you should know how to hold yourself accountable for the things you say. That goes the same for Vernon. So when the two of you willingly let the other hear such controversial things that co-workers-slash-friends probably shouldn’t be saying to each other, you’re not sure what to make of the situation. 

Are you reading him wrong? Or is he actually reciprocating your misplaced longing, no matter how subtle? It’s always been hard to tell with Vernon, who’s never straightforward with what he wants to communicate. Always trusting that you would understand the nuance of his every action, his every word, when all they do is make your head spin.

The sight is perfectly domestic—lounging comfortably on the sofa after a good meal, both of your feet kicked up on the coffee table, and your big baby daughter purring quietly from where she lies between the two of you. 

But even if three months doesn’t seem like a whole lot, it’s enough time for some…due changes to eventually set. 

“You know…” Vernon starts, sucking in a deep breath almost like he’s nervous.

“Do I know what?” 

His eyes flicker over to the ceiling as if praying for some sort of deliverance before forcing himself to meet your gaze again. There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t parse right away, and you wonder if you can ever understand what it is. 

“I… I still listen to that old mixtape you gave me. Do you remember? The one you gave to me when we first met?” he murmurs quietly, bringing his hands onto his lap so he can twiddle with his thumbs. “Before we have to come up on stage and I start feeling nervous, I just listen to a softcopy of that mixtape on my phone. I still do now.”

That mixtape… He still has that? Moreover, he managed to save a softcopy and downloaded it onto his phone? You would’ve asked him how on earth he managed to do that, if you weren’t so startled about his sudden revelation.

“Your voice always gives me strength. Even when we weren’t together yet—even if we’re not together anymore.” Vernon purses his lips, a sad look eclipsing the sincerity in his eyes as he strokes Milana’s fur thoughtfully. “So I’m really sorry if you think I’m overstaying my welcome today. I definitely am. But I just— I just wanted to be selfish for once.I wanted to spend a little more time with you because I know you’ll go back to distancing yourself from me once I leave.”

When he turns to face you, you know it’s the real deal. There’s a spark of determination in his eyes that scares you a little—like he’s about to say something you’re not ready to hear yet regardless of how badly you want to. 

But before he can get a chance to utter the words, your phone starts ringing on the coffee table. You’ve never swooped in to answer a call so quickly in your life.

“Hello, what’s up?” You nearly cringe at how bubbly your voice sounds as you get up from the couch.

“Hey, have you found Milana?” Nari’s voice flows into your ear, genuine concern lacing each word. “I asked Mingyu to look around with Namja, but no dice. I could contact some other friends if you—”

“It’s okay, Nari,” you interject, fingers drumming across your thigh. “We already found her.”

Your friend makes a curious noise. “Who’s we?” 

You nearly balk when Vernon plucks the phone out of your hands, pressing it to his ear with a smug grin that you don’t usually see him wear.

“Who else?” he says. “Thanks for checking in, Nari. But we’re kind of…busy.” 

The call isn’t even on loudspeaker but you can obviously hear the way Nari gasps like Vernon just unveiled some scandalous secret. “Oh my god. Are you—”

Vernon ends the call before tossing your phone back onto the couch, startling Milana out of her nap. Your cat flashes Vernon something similar to a dirty look before hopping off the cushions and sauntering off elsewhere. You just hope she doesn’t retaliate by wandering outside again.

But your cat’s newest penchant for wandering around is the last thing on your mind because even if you’re not facing him, you can sense Vernon’s towering presence directly behind you.

You don’t resist when he hugs you from behind—resting his forehead against your shoulder as he breathes out a shuddering sigh. His arms still feel like home despite being months into the breakup and you don’t know how to fucking deal with it.

“I still love you. Never stopped,” he whispers. “It was…completely stupid of me to think we’re better off as friends just because we’re coworkers. You’re too important to me. I don’t want to be your friend. I want to—”

You don’t even give him leeway to finish that sentence, whirling around in his embrace as you meet his lips in a quiet kiss.

In a split second, several things happen at once. Dying stars collide. Black holes collapse. Eternities unspool. 

And you start to realize that you can’t live without Vernon Chwe.

“Shit, Hansol, please.”

Vernon loves how his other name falls so gracefully from your lips—loves how you frame the words in such an…interesting way. You only ever call him that when you’re feeling particularly strong emotions—happiness, anger, disappointment…

Pleasure.

He heaves a long sigh as he peels himself away from the home he’s made between your thighs. You’re not sure how long Vernon has been eating you out, but your brain is close to melting and you can’t process any other coherent thoughts aside from how your cunt still tingles from the orgasm he just gave you. 

Your panties have long been discarded on the bedroom floor. All you’re donned with now is the old sweatshirt that you thought belonged to Jihoon but turns out was Vernon’s property all along. He insisted that you keep it on—emphasizing just how much he likes seeing you in his clothes before promptly robbing you of your capacity to think by eating pussy like it was his life’s purpose.

It doesn’t help that he looks so fucking delectable between your legs—big hands splayed across the sensitive flesh of your thighs as he looks up at you with a dazed expression. His lips are parted, still glossy from the aftermath of your release and the look in his eyes almost makes it seem like he’s the one who’s just been eaten out to completion.

“Fuck, ‘Sol,” you whimper, head falling back onto the pillows as you shield your eyes with your arm. You can’t even look at him without feeling like you’re about to combust. “Stop staring at me like that…”

Vernon leans down to pry your arm off your face—forcing you to meet his loving gaze before pressing your arm down onto the mattress.

“Like what?” he whispers, the blunt of his nail scraping against your bottom lip. 

“Like you want to swallow me whole.”

His eyes almost crinkle with how wide he smiles at you and you nearly writhe with anticipation when you feel his drenched fingers prodding your slicked entrance again. 

“What if I tell you that’s exactly what I want?”

Vernon’s mouth is on yours before you can even breathe, tongue bullying its way past your lips as he licks into your mouth. He slips the digits he used to tease you back into your wet channel and you delight in how he swallows your moans as he pumps them inside at a languid pace. Vernon has always been good at building your release from the ground up—never one to rush any orgasms he’s willing to give. As long as you feel good, he’ll exercise as much patience as he can.

“V-Vernon,” you gasp when he curls his fingers and thumbs at your clit at the same time, flicking your sensitive bud with just the right amount of pleasure that has your toes curling with pleasure. “Fuck, please, please—”

“Sounds so good for me,” he sighs, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before giving a delicious tug. “Wanna record all your pretty noises and use it in a song. D’you want that too, love? Want everyone to hear how nice you sound?”

The idea of him using your voice in the throes of pleasure for such a mundane thing sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You moan in reply, rubbing your needy cunt against his hand in a desperate attempt to get yourself off. Vernon chuckles against your lips and his teasing almost makes you pout, if only he isn’t so fucking good at finding your g-spot.

The first time he makes you come, it’s with his mouth and the second is after he expertly picks you apart with his fingers. But no matter how well Vernon knows your body, you still think it’s fucking unfair for him to coax orgasm after orgasm from you like it’s as easy as breathing.

“Hansol,” you whisper—brain too fucked out to segreget his two names properly. “Want you inside me. Want all of you.”

He shakes his head with an audible tut, slipping his fingers out of your pulsing hole. The action makes you mewl in protest, but Vernon brings those same fingers to your lips to silence you. 

“You have to work on your patience, love,” he murmurs, angling his face a little before his lips descend onto your neck. “It’s been a while since I’ve had you like this… I want to savor you. You’ll let me do that, right?”

All you can do is answer him with a helpless nod.

His sweatshirt is off in a split second, revealing your body to him in a way that makes you want to hide underneath the covers. He gazes at you so intensely, it makes you wonder how someone you broke up with three months ago still looks at you like it's the first time.

Vernon writes poetry onto your skin with each caress of his lips, making sure you feel everything he’s doing to you as he leaves no inch of your body untouched. Sex with him has always been intense, not because he likes to fuck hard and fast but because he likes to take his time—to sink himself into your skin deep enough that you can’t ever hope to flush him out of your system. 

That’s probably one of the reasons why you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop loving him. He’s become such a fundamental part of your life that living without him is the same as breathing without oxygen. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as his lips latch onto your breasts. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Vernon isn’t a man of many words. You’ve come to know this for a fact, so whenever he spills all these compliments for you to hear, it makes your heart swell inside your chest. A handful of other people have called you that in the past, but when the words come from Vernon’s mouth, it feels like the gospel truth.

Fortunately, your lover was never too cruel to you. Sure, he likes to instill the value of patience, but Vernon never found the appeal of bringing your partner to tears because of their unquenchable need for release.

He doesn’t even make you beg for his cock. Vernon simply lines up the tip with your swollen entrance before slowly pushing inside—dark eyes cognizant of every shift in your expression to make sure he isn’t hurting you. When all he sees is you whimpering from how good it feels to be split open by his cock, he knows he’s doing it right.

“I love you,” he whispers breathlessly—hoping the words won’t be lost in the midst of the mind-numbing pleasure. “I’m so in love with you.”

He ploughs you into the mattress slowly, deeply, wanting you to feel every inch of his cock as he fucks into you. Vernon is rarely vocal with his words when it comes to sex, but he makes up for it with the pleasurable sounds that escape his lips. And with how long it’s been since the two of you lied together like this, you wouldn’t blame him for feeling more unhinged than usual.

“I love you, too, ‘Sol,” you sigh but the words are eclipsed with a high-pitched keen when he amps up the pace of his thrusts. 

“I love hearing you say that,” Vernon groans, biting his lip until he can taste iron on his tongue. 

“Then I’ll keep saying it.” It’s a miracle how you manage to get the words out when he’s quite literally punching the breath out of your lungs with each stroke. “I’ll say I love you while you’re fucking me. I’ll say I love you even when you’re not.”

“I’ll say it all the time if it means you’ll come back to me.”

For a moment, the intense pace he’s set falters—eyes wide and mouth agape. You worry that you must’ve said something out of turn, but Vernon proves you wrong by pulling you forward into a tight embrace, fucking up into your tight cunt with a kind of vigor that you never would’ve associated with someone as easy going as he is.

“I’m yours, love.” he rasps against your neck, teeth grazing the skin just above the thrum of your pulse. “I’ll always be yours.”

The sudden switch in positions and the sincerity of his words is what pushes you over the edge a third time—making you cling onto Vernon like a lifeline as he continues fucking you through your orgasm. You can tell that he’s close. His strokes are more erratic, more frantic. Now that he’s brought you to the pinnacle, he doesn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t make it to that same paradise too.

When he comes, it’s a burst of white hot pleasure that singes through every single nerve ending in Vernon’s brain. You let out such an adorable little whimper as his cum coats your insides in generous spurts, filling you to the brim with his emission with the full intention of keeping it inside you for days.

But as much as he loves entertaining the idea of defiling you until everyone in the world knows you belong to him… 

He’s always put great importance in the art of aftercare.

Both of you try very hard to ignore Milana’s judgemental stare as Vernon carries you to the bathroom—propping you up on the toilet cover first as he draws a warm bath. But from the way she dismissively leaves the two of you to your own devices after a few minutes, you like to think that you’ve gotten her seal of approval.

Your no-longer-ex-boyfriend gently lays you into the tub with him, reaching out for the soap on one of your toiletry holders as he massages you everywhere you’re sore. You let out a satisfied sigh before resting the back of your head against his firm shoulder.

“How’re you going to explain to the higher-ups that you’re dating one of their producers again?” you chuckle, placing your hand on top of his as he continues to clean you up. “Maybe I should just find a job somewhere else. A place where it isn’t illegal to have an idol as a boyfriend.”

“Maybe,” he muses before placing a firm kiss on your temple. “But whatever happens, I know I’ll always stick by you no matter what.”

You turn around, arching an eyebrow at him. “Even if it’ll cost you your job?” 

You completely expect him to backtrack a little. Vernon is obsessed with you—you get that. But probably not to a point where he’s willing to breach the company’s contract just to keep being with you, right? 

But for some reason, it sounds so fucking easy for him to say it when he whispers:

“Even if it’ll cost me my job.”

⟢ end notes: this is probably the sweetest thing i've ever written bc i personally headcanon vernon as someone who loves his s/o so deeply, it consumes him (like in a good way yk). i had so much fun writing this (esp since i got to sneak in vet!reader from again and again under the name nari hehe) so i rly hope you enjoyed it! do look forward to the last part of this series, which will feature resident catboy jeon wonwoo <3

this is part of the doting on you! series.

[anemonelovesfiction]

I’ve Neglected you Far Too Long

Ao’nung x Hybrid Fem! Reader

No mentions of Y/n though but its implied. Obviously they’re adults- I quite literally mention Ao’nung has tattoo’s. And obviously theres some smut.

Kind of like an arranged marriage scenario. Any words in English are stricken through. If they’re in italics its just emphasis on that word. Starts off with a bit of background, smut is near the end lol, but its a lot of it.

Word count: 9.2K because I got carried away.

I would say it started with my birth. I was granted the luck of being born Kiri’s twin, with a few minor setbacks, although to Neytiri they were enough to refuse taking me in as her own. I was born with the size and appearance of a human- but I was a halfbreed. My features were human but I was the one born with fangs and I had a kuru as well but it was relative to my size, it was still encased in a big braid and reached past my butt, almost mid thigh, yet still had the natives squinting to see it.

If it wasn’t for Jake pointing out that I had a queue and didn’t need an exomask to breathe, one of the Metkayina warriors would have thrown their spear, killing me. I was captured alongside Spider, when they put me in the machine they’d put Spider in, it awakened some telekinetic abilities I didn’t know I had.

But they’re tied to my emotions and I could only ever really use them if I felt strongly about something. Which is why I was able to help kill most of the humans that had hunted the tulkun, I had enough of their interrogations and abuse.

After losing Neteyam, Ronal and Tonowari welcomed the Sully’s into the Metkayina, and were willing to accommodate for Spider only if I were to marry their son. Their reason being that my telekinetic abilities - which seemed to surpass Kiri’s in their eyes- could protect their clan and son if anything like that happened again.

Ronal disliked that I was half human, she didn’t really want me to marry her son with my outward appearance- like one of the tawtute- sky people- but if I could be used to protect her dear son, thats all that mattered to her, keeping her lineage going.

“We could unite the reef clans and forest people.”

Were Neytiri’s words after Ronal had brought up her reasoning. Tonowari had stayed silent with his hands on his knee’s. It was Ronal’s idea for them to kneel so I wouldn’t feel intimidated by their height, but I’m shorter than most humans, so they were still a good head taller than me, maybe two.

“Of course this is your choice, kid.” Jake stated carefully, his hand movements mimicking that of a calm ultimatum, and this was anything but.

I nodded once, then walked out of the tent and sat by the beach. I couldn’t think of anyone other than Spider. If he were to go back to the Omaticaya, he’s be lonely. His entire life revolved around the Sully’s and I couldn’t risk him being kicked out, and I refused to spend any more time away from my sister.

I’d gotten an earful from Neytiri that day about being disrespectful to the clan leaders for leaving the way I did. I had no idea how to respond and she despised me- had I looked like Kiri I’m sure the story would be different, but I’m not like her, my genetics decided to mute the blue and because of that, I’d forever be treated as a human by Neytiri- even if I could breathe the same air as her, even if I can make tsaheylu.

And it has lead me to being bathed in scents that Ao’nung found pleasing. Neytiri and Jake were allowed to voice their opinion on the matter and Jake had mentioned that this smelled of raspberries back on earth.

As tradition, the mother of the groom and any female sibling, or honorary females washed the bride in the scents and got her ready for her soon-to-be husband. And all of the males near and dear to my heart would do the same to the groom. In this case I had told them not to do anything to change his appearance and to leave him as is. Even if he’d made up with Lo’ak, I could never forget the face he made after finding out he was betrothed to me. The shock in his face said it all, he didn’t want me, and I didn’t want him either but at least I was cordial about it.

I had no idea how big of a celebration this would be. Everyone from the clan walked up and wished blessings upon us, a fruitful- and fertile- marriage. I’m glad I stuck around with Spider and learned Na’Vi while we were kids as a lot of the well wishes were very long and I’d kick myself in the face if I had to childishly reply with broken Na’Vi.

Nothing happened that night.

Don’t get me wrong I’m excited and happy we didn’t do what I was told married couples do by Neytiri. She went into greater detail than Norm did about mating as a Na’Vi and how the tsaheylu was a crucial part of becoming connected to ones mate. Most nights I was ignored and we’d go to sleep on separate mats. I’d need to start Tsahik training but I’d need to learn the things Tsireya had learned when she was younger and work my way up in rank. Because of this, Lo’ak was in the lead of becoming Olo’eyktan considering he’s earned their trust and Tsireya knew more about healing.

_________

“The tattoo’s have different meanings and what one curve could mean for someone, it could be translated differently in another clan members markings.” Tsireya mentions while showing me two nearly identical tattoo’s.

“These are almost identical.” I stated blankly and giggled, placing her hand over her mouth to hide her laughter.

“Yes but you noticed the difference between the two, you said almost. Explain what you see.” She asks.

“This one has what appears to be a smoother execution. This one seems bold, like you used a darker ink? It has jagged edges too.”

“The first one was for a warrior who had just had his inknimaya. Everything went well for him and the skimwing he had bonded with. For the second, not so much, he experienced much pain and eventually managed to execute it perfectly.”

“The second tattoo is slightly bigger, could this indicate multiple tries to his inknimaya?”

“You are a quick learner.” Tsireya smiles at me and I smile back. It wasn’t hard to be genuine around her and she made it hard to hate her. She’s seen me naked more times than my own husband, and she’d only seen me before I got married to him.

By the end of the lesson she struggles to get on her feet from kneeling in front of me and I feel terrible.

“You don’t always have to kneel for us to be the same height, Tsireya. If you wanted to stand I wouldn’t mind.” This isn’t the first time I tell her.

“I need to be flexible.” She states happily.

“For who, Lo’ak?” I ask and start laughing at her embarrassed face.

“I’m sorry, Rey, but these jokes just come naturally to me, I can’t stop them when my tongue is faster than my mind.” I giggle as she huffs and turns her head.

“I’ll make the same jokes when you are with child.”

“No you won’t.” Partly because I’ve yet to consummate my marriage. “I don’t even know if we could have kids considering I’m a half-breed that looks human.” I stated aloud.

“Toruk Macto is a half breed.” She states as if it were obvious.

“Yes, but he has the appearance of a native. It’s easier for him to blend in. Lo’ak is also a half breed and he too can hide with the rest of the Na’Vi. I’m-“ I stop myself before saying anything too harsh, or she’d scold me. “-different.”

“The kind of different my brother needs in his life. Keep trying for children and I will pray that the great mother blesses you!” She says over enthused.

“Sure.” I stated simply, smiling at her. We said our goodbyes and I headed off toward his marui pod.

_________

“Where have you been?”

“With your sister. Learning.” I stated, I’ve grown to know Ao’nung likes short answers and to never bother him when he was entranced with something- whether it was learning a new trick on a skimwing or sparring. I placed my medical bag down- Kiri made this one for me as a present and I never went anywhere without it.

I can feel his eyes on me while I search in a big box for some herbs to refill my bag. The bag hangs over my chest and does a good job of hiding my stomach- not that its big, I hide it from the sun since I’m often exposed. I’d learned to wear traditional clothes and the loincloths were made in children's size due to my stature. The top was something Kiri had to teach me to make- it resembles a human sports bra but matching my loincloth.

My loincloth was traditional in every sense except it didn’t have a hole for a tail, but it still adjusted and tied off on the side, just like everyone else's.

“Are you hurt?” I ask him once I refill my bag and look up to face him. I’d known of his tattoo’d arms but the one on his face was new. It made his eyes pop and he looked handsome- but that didn’t matter.

“What?” He asks as of he hadn’t heard me before.

“Are you hurt. Do you need something from me?” I asked him and he understands what I mean.

“No.” He answers and turns his face toward the side to look at the floor of his- our, because it technically is ours- marui.

“Then I will head out and assist.” I answered not really caring to give him a chance to respond- let alone process- what I said. But he was faster than I was and his hand reached around my bicep and that stopped me.

He was never one to touch me. Not when it came to helping me learn the way of his village, not now, and not even on our wedding night. I press my teeth on my tongue to prevent myself from saying something smart and I turn to face him. I refuse to talk as I’d always found some way to offend him with whatever I said so I waited for him to speak.

“Do you resent me?” He asks simply and this question is a slap to my face. My face only forms in confusion as my eyebrows knit together and my eyes squint slightly.

“I don’t-“ I began but stopped myself from speaking as he lets go of my bicep. I look over at his hand and back at him feeling more confusion than ever.

“I see.” He answers plainly and I furrow my brows some more before raising one and looking at him.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to.” He answers simply and I feel like I’d immediately done something wrong again. “Your face said everything your words could not.”

“But-“

“You should go out and assist my sister. Let her know I held you back if she asks why you are late.” He states before walking past me and heading out the opening of the marui with his spear.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding once the curtain fell shut again. Of course I resented him, he was rude, underestimated me in everything, and never made an effort to get to know me. But I hadn’t said any of that to his face and I was in control of my emotions and knew I didn’t make a face of disgust- but why did he ask the question in the first place?

_________

“Did you talk to her?” Spider asks as soon as Ao’nung joins the hunting party. Due to his inability to bond with the animals he often rode with Lo’ak.

“Yes.” Ao’nung answered.

“Is she coming to the party tonight?” Lo’ak asks after lightly nudging between Spider’s hips to quiet the grown man in front of him, he sure was nosey today.

“I did not ask.” Ao’nung answers and Spider grumbles.

“The whole point was to-“ Spider stops himself when Lo’ak’s Ilu immediately surges forward. And the hunt began.

_________

“Theres a lot of people gathering for something outside. Was there something planned for today? Did I have to do something?” I asked nervously once Ao’nung had come into the marui. He must have showered at some point because he didn’t smell like sea air like he usually does after a hunting trip.

“The celebration of our union.” Is all he says while placing his spear on the wall along with his others.

“But we-“

“It’s what you call an Annie-server.” He states in his best english and given the severity of my nerves I couldn’t find the way he fudged up the words funny at this time.

“It hasn’t been a year yet-“ I stop myself as he walks over to pick the accessories he never touches, taking the ones he has on and replacing them with those.

“Has it?” I ask myself quietly.

“It has.” He answers and stops in front of me. One hand on my shoulder but its immediately removed when I look at it.

“Please put these on.” He hands me a matching pair, the one from our wedding- union as they call it. It’s supposed to show that we are harmonious. I try to tie the bands on my anklet together but my fingers keep fumbling and I let out a frustrated sigh.

“Let me help you.” He sits in front of me and offers his hand to take my leg.

“No-“ He takes my leg after letting out a small hiss of his own and sets it on top of his thigh where he leans over and carefully ties the bands together. His hands on my ankle sends a shiver up my spine.

“It’s only done the first year. They will ask invasive questions. I’m glad my sister convinced you to use the soap. Come.” He stands quickly and heads over to the entrance of the marui.

He holds the flap of the curtain open for me to walk through. I was going to comment on why his hair was undone but was met with a bunch of cheers and a celebratory song. I’m awestruck as the clan starts parting and a walkway is created for me. I follow them and end up near the front.

“We have come to celebrate the night this union was made one year ago.” Ronal smiles big at the clan as she announces her words.

“It is time to take on the tradition of the couples.” Tonowari joins in and the crowd basically goes wild. I stand with a fake smile plastered on my face.

“Ao’nung. Face your bride.” Tonowari speaks once more and he steps up in front of me before kneeling respectfully taking my hand and kissing it, making a majority of the girls awe at his gesture, but I knew better, it was a show. I let go of his hand quickly and awaited further instruction.

“This is our clans best kept secret. You will braid his hair to your liking as a symbol of life's twists and turns bringing you together. And he is to maintain the hairstyle or one similar for the rest of his life as his devotion to you.” Ronal states.

My eyes widened and I’m fucked. I can braid for sure, all thanks to Tuk, Kiri, and Neteyam consistently asking me to braid their hair often, but I didn’t know about this was a requirement. If Lo’ak and Tsireya were to have wedded before myself and Ao’nung I would have expected this. But they married about four weeks after we did. And Ao’nung doesn’t let anyone touch his hair. My eyes wandered over to find his staring back at me and I looked down releasing quiet but heavy exhale.

“But before we start, you are to drink this.” Ronal hands me a cup thats decently sized, still huge in comparison to me but good enough to grab.

“This is made up of many many plants and fruits from our clan and has been prayed over with many blessings poured into it from the beginning of the process.” Ronal informs me.

“This drink is to be shared between the two of you. You will speak many blessings in it yourself- in a hushed voice, take a drink and you will hand it off to your mate to receive the blessings.” Ronal smiles and hands the cup over to me.

I’m nervous as shit and am worried I might say the wrong thing but am glad it doesn’t have to be shared aloud. And I take a look into the cup and see the deep red liquid inside and sigh.

“Treat me like the mate I ought to be treated and my face won’t show resentment again.” I whispered into it and took a big chug- considering there was a lot of liquid in there.

I walk over toward Ao’nung and hand him the cup I’d just drank from and he drinks the rest. The cheers coming from the crowd make my tummy tingle and I start feeling weird. I should probably ask Tsireya what kinds of things were included in there to see if its compatible with my human half.

“You may begin.” Tonowari gently nods his head once at me and I nod.

“Could-“ I stop myself and Ao’nungs eyes are burning in mine and nervously chuckle, averting my eyes once more.

“Could you please turn so I can reach your head, Yawne?” I blush harshly at that and the positive whispers in the crowd are making me feel uncomfortable, but I always had to put on a show for them. Ao’nung nods once and does as I ask and I put myself to work.

His tail wraps loosely on my calf and it feels warm. I’m sure this is all for the sake of appearance but it makes it feel like it’s a smidge hard to breathe. I won’t lie, after a long day of chores, or whatever strenuous activity Ao’nung has done his hair looks the best right before he showers. Pieces of it have come out of the braids and are clinging to his face by his sweat- no, stop it.

I’d worked diligently and managed to create the hairstyle he always wears. Except some of the braids on the sides twist to form X’s.

“You barely changed it.” Ao’nung states after feeling around and turning to face me.

“This is how you look best, to me.” I admit.

“Especially when some of these,“ I gently yank out the loose pieces I’d failed to tuck in properly. “Slip out. Like after you finish working.” I find myself gingerly placing my hand on his cheek, I look down at his lips and my eyes slightly widen at my own actions before I remove my hand slowly, making my movements not show how we truly are with one another, and taking a step back.

Several one of the younger girls had held on to the boys courting them and mentioned how they wanted a love like ours and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. If only they knew what our Love really was.

“The last thing for you to do is to decide which one of these your mate has prepared. This will also test to see how well you notice our signature hunting mark.” Tsireya steps back and reveals three fish total that had been cooked. If he managed to hunt with Lo’ak and Spider I’d be more willing to pick out Spiders pathetic excuse of a hunt since he did things the human way. Then I’d have to compare it to Lo’ak’s which might resemble both clans hunting and preparing skills into one and choose the one that least resembled the two. But if they decided to choose at random from other clansmen, I’m screwed.

It suddenly felt like my body temperature had risen and I could feel the slight stickiness that forms on my skin before I start sweating and I feel slightly uncomfortable. I take a look at the three and can tell which one Spider made and fight the urge to giggle. He has talent, but sometimes massacres his huntings, whether he did this on purpose or not I’m thankful to Eywa.

The next two are hard to tell as they’re on similar plates and dished the same. So I focus in depth on the one in the middle and notice it’s one of Lo’ak’s favorite fish to hunt and I want to look at the boy and thank him, but instead look up to Tsireya and smile.

“The one on the left.” I point to it and she smiles back.

“How do you know?” Tsireya asks.

“The cutting pattern is one he chooses often and he knows this is my favorite fish.” I hold a hand on my chest for sentimental value.

The party continued without a hitch and I started feeling hotter by the second before excusing myself while everyone was either drunk, picking at the food table, dancing, or even singing I managed to slide my feet in the water and felt myself cool down significantly.

“Enjoying your anniversary?” Lo’ak asks me as he comes up behind me.

“Sure. Just glad its you and not any nosey person asking me invasive questions. I had an elder ask me if he’s good in bed. I had to lie to someone about my non-existent sex life.”

Lo’ak lets out a laugh and places his arm around me. For being more human appearing than him he always treated me as an equal. I appreciate him for doing that, even if I wasn’t technically adopted alongside Kiri, he always called me his sister.

“What was in that drink?” I asked him and he shrugs.

“I thought you’d know, but I think Tsireya said something about it containing an aphrodisiac?” Lo’ak states and I laugh.

“Come on bro,”

“I’m deadass.”

“Even if it did, nothings coming out of it. He hates my guts.” I sigh and bring my knees to my chest.

“He can’t possibly hate you.”

“Yes he does! Every morning I wake up he’s not there. Every time before bedtime I set out his mat since he comes home after I’ve passed out- and I know this because I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and see him on the opposite side of the room dead asleep.”

“Okay but what about that time you said he cuddled you.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why not?” He asks.

_________

I lied shivering getting up frequently due to the cold air and having to pee. Ao’nung had come in quite late and I’d woken up for the upteenth time tired as hell and unable to warm myself up.

“Why do you keep getting up. Either stay up or stay asleep.” Ao’nung complains and turns around harshly. I didn’t bother responding as I figured sleep was more important than being petty.

But when I’d finally get comfortable and dozed off, I’d wake up with my teeth chattering and my body shaking, trying to keep warm.

“Aren’t you a half-breed? Why are you still making sounds!” He asks angrily.

“Because I’m still half human! I can withstand colder temperatures than humans can but not by much. Trust me when I tell you I’d much rather be held in captivity and tortured than to be here with you. At least they gave me blankets.” I grumble and get up to go pee once more.

I’d decided to take a long time returning but even when I’d figured he was asleep, as soon as I stepped inside he turned to face me, it looked like he might have been pacing- but I couldn’t be too sure. I’m just glad I went pee before coming back in.

“We do not have blankets right now, but we are often very warm. Maybe if I-“ He gulps. “If I held you, you would not be making noises with your teeth.” He explains.

_________

“Did you take him up on his offer?” Lo’ak asks and I push him.

“I had to. And the next day I asked your mom how the hell I could hand knit a blanket and she made a huge one, thinking it was for us to share. But I didn’t have to bother him on cooler nights again.

“But he did care for you, he came up with a solution.”

“A solution so he could get sleep and my teeth would stop chattering.” I roll my eyes.

“Okay but your favorite fish for today, explain that.” Lo’ak crosses his arms.

“I could easily tell Spider’s mutilation from yours.” I roll my eyes. “And He asked me two days ago what my favorite fish was. I know he hates when I take to long to explain myself- probably because he hates the sound of my voice, so I told him in one simple answer.”

“Did he tell you that?” Lo’ak asks.

_________

“I think I like the tulip thorn because of the way it glows at night. But the stem is also pretty with the way it wraps around and creates a mini shelter. Tuk and I used to take some leaves and tie them down to make a fort and-“

“It was a simple question. I don’t need a story attached to every answer you give me.” He stated harshly.

“Oh,” I state and do a little reflection and cringe at the many times I’d gone off on tangents while talking to him. Or the times when he’d straight up turned and walked out and I’d been left talking to myself for Eywa knows how long.

_________

“You could say that.” I answered back shortly as I didn’t want to bore yet another Na’Vi with my stories.

“Thats all you have to say?” He asks.

“I can tell you just about every negative encounter I had with him and they start from the moment I met him and lead up to this morning. I try to stay out of his way as much as possible. Its all he wants anyway.” I shrug.

“What if he didn’t?” He asks and I look at him wondering what joke he had in mind this time. Tears start to fill my eyes and threaten to fall.

“I don’t think I need a joke about my marriage, Lo’ak.” My voice wavers no matter how strong I wanted to sound.

“Hey, Hey, Hey-“ He’s quick to kneel in front of me and places his hands on my shoulders.

“I wish I could have a love story like you and Reya, or even your parents.”

“I wasn’t making a joke, I swear.”

“I can’t blame you. I’ll never know what its like to be loved.” The tears slide down my cheeks with ease. “I’m stuck with a mate who hates my guts and wishes I was a native with three fingers and three toes instead of this shit-“ I hold out my hands and wiggle my fingers.

_________

“I’m married to you for political appearance. Thats it. And the sooner you can accept that I’d much rather be with my own kind than a four-fingered-freak, the better it will be for you.”

“Don’t think I’m in love with you. You’re an asshole, a jerk, and a bully. Never in my life would I willingly choose someone like you.”

“Then don’t ask me about the status of our marriage anymore. You’re the least attractive thing I could ever lay my eyes on. I won’t ever love you, get that through your thick skull. The sooner the better.”

“You don’t even want to attempt a friendship with me?” I asked taken aback by his outburst.

“With you?” He asks and laughs bitterly. “I want nothing to do with you.” He gets in my face and pushes my chest with two of his fingers to make a point. But I’m not sure how strong he thought I was because he pushes me down. I fall flat on my ass and yelp. Something flashes in his eyes real quick.

“I’m so-“

“Don’t. I receive your message loud and clear.” I swat his hand away and I stand, making sure to walk away as fast as I can.

_________

“That can’t be true,” Lo’ak shakes his head after grabbing my hands with his.

“He might be hard headed but he will come to love you the way I love Tsireya, or how sickeningly my dad loves my mom, or how Spider loves Kiri.”

I hear someone clear their throat from behind myself and I pull my hands from Lo’ak’s and quickly wipe my tears off my face.

“I would like to speak to my mate. Alone.” My shoulders stiffen at his voice and my lower lip trembles.

“It’s okay Lo’ak. Go enjoy the party. I’m sure we’ll head back soon.” I stated as emotionless as possible and he looks between Ao’nung and myself before nodding toward me and walking back. I didn’t look back since I knew him and could hear the clap of his hand on Ao’nungs shoulder. I wish Neteyam were here to witness the amazing man and husband Lo’ak turned out to be for Tsireya.

“May I join you?”

“You requested to speak with me alone.” I stand as I say that.

“Please. Speak.” I state as I try rushing this along. I could feel myself getting warmer, although I’m sure its from the anger I was feeling at him at the moment.

“I-“ He starts speaking and stops. He looks down at the floor and kneels down, the most sincere apology in this clan. “I need to apologize for how I have treated you.”

I can’t help but let out a chuckle at the scenario in front of me and shake my head in disappointment. He furrows the skin where his eyebrows would be if he were human and studies my face.

“What is wrong?” He asks and I feel like a mad woman.

“You expect me to believe you mean that?” I ask him and he looks confused. He makes eye contact.

“You don’t care about me or my feelings, Ao’nung. You only care about your appearance. Tell me that isn’t true.”

“I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you and how I have acted.” He states again and I feel the air being knocked out of my lungs as I let an audible quick exhale and couldn’t breathe in as he held eye contact.

“I have been nothing but ignorant to your needs and I want that to end. I want to get to know you. I want to learn about you.”

“I don’t know what kind of fun party juices you’ve been drinking but I’m not entertaining this. I’ll go talk to your mom and explain we haven’t bonded and you’ll be out of this union.” I start heading back toward the party.

“Please don’t,” He asks under his breath but I heard it, and stupidly turned around.

“This is what you wanted. I’m helping you. Shouldn’t you be thanking me?” I scoff. “The girl you want is probably going to be over the moon when she hears you’re single and untouched.” I stated.

“I want you.” He states loudly. Still in his kneeling position.

“What?” I asked him and feel like the world has shifted. The party music had disappeared and it felt like we were the only ones on the beach. He stands and starts walking but picks me up and continues walking.

“I said I want you.” He looks directly in my eyes and holds my stare as he says that, then turns his head back to focus on where he’s going.

“Yeah I heard you the first time.” I uttered and I could feel something snap in my body. The warmth I felt earlier was in my lower belly and I felt the small zing of- no.

“Then why ask?”

“Because theres no way you- woah.” I stated as I looked to see his pupils were huge. Barely any blue coming through. And it took me until now to realize he’d walked us toward our marui pod.

“You smell so good.” He shoves his nose in between my neck and my shoulder and takes a whiff, and I squeak in surprise.

“Yeah its that soap I used when we-“

“Not that smell.”

“Fuck.” I muttered as his voice had gotten deeper for some reason. “What are you doing.” I asked as he had still not let me down.

“I’ve neglected you far too long.” He lays me down and I’m surprised to feel something soft underneath me. I could feel whatever effects of that stupid mystery drink turning me on and I laid there breathing heavily looking at his face.

“May I kiss you?” He asks and I’m too stunned to speak. I look down to his lips but quickly look back up toward his eyes.

“Why are you being nice? Is the juice affecting you too?” I asked and take my hand to feel his forehead since I’d been feeling warm too. He closes his eyes and-

“Are you purring?” I asked as he manages to nuzzle my hand and make it look like I’d been caressing his face.

“May I kiss you, yawne.” He asks again and his eyes are bearing into my soul.

“I don’t- I,” I struggle to even think this through as a flame fans through my body. “Yes.”

And his lips are on mine. He takes one of his hands and places it on my cheek and I instinctively place my hand on his arm. He prods his tongue out to stroke my lip and I squeal and nip at it. He chuckles before continuing to kiss me and peppers my face with kisses as he moves his kisses down my neck.

“Mm-“ I moan as he starts sucking my pulse point and failed to realize my legs wrapped around his waist- chest I suppose.

“Sit up.” I demand and he immediately does so.

“Am I hurting-“

“Shut it.” I stated and sit on his lap. I used my telekinesis to place his hands on my hips and forced his neck down and feverishly kiss him again. He’s fighting himself as I feel him tremble slightly and his grip on my waist only slightly tightens and I’m mildly upset.

“Move my hips on you, do something dammit.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” He mutters.

“I’ll tell you if you’ve hurt me by screaming in pain, what I need is friction- yes- holy shit-“ I cut myself off and notice just how big his package feels.

“Did I hurt you?” He stops.

“No, you just feel- huge. Oh my Eywa is it going to fit?” I ramble and he moves me back over his lap and I grunt.

“I pray it does.” He grunts before kissing down my neck once more. His hand trails up to untie my top and I pause.

“May I take this off?” He asks so sweetly and I bite my lip and nod. He pulls the fabric tying it together and it becomes loose, I slip out of it and he goes back to kissing me and I’m disappointed in his silence.

He smiles cockily when he comes up for air and I want to punch his face but he says the sweetest thing before I can form a fist.

“I’m the luckiest man on pandora.” He kisses down my chest and takes one nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue on my nipple.

“Ao’nung,” I moan as he pinches my other nipple.

“I like when you say my name like that.” He speaks directly to me, fully unashamed, and kisses my mouth.

His fingers trail down toward my ass, he cups my cheeks with his massive hands and kneads them, in the process he’s grinding me on his dick.

“Ao’nung-“ I moan again and try to push myself away from him but he takes my mouth into his and places the tip of his tongue in my mouth playfully stroking my own and I’m wet a hell from that action alone- and partly because of that juice.

“Yes, Yawne?”

“Take it off. Now.” I grunt and stand quickly without realizing his hand had already found the string and as I stood, my loincloth was untied and fell off.

“Yeah, luckiest man on Pandora.” He repeats his statement from earlier and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“Have you ever-“ I stop myself from speaking and suddenly feel very self conscious.

“No.” He states fully and we both seem to be coming out of whatever the juice was doing to us- but only for a slight second.

“Have you?” He asks me and sits up.

“Never.” I admit and look away but feel my face being pulled back towards his in the gentlest way.

“We will learn with each other. We go as far as you want. I don’t want to pressure you to doing something you do not want.” He reassures me and kisses my lips again.

“So what now?” I asked him and he smiles.

“Lie down my sweet syulang.” He gently nudges me down and I follow his instructions. I can feel whatever flames were in my stomach before start to take over the nerves once again.

“Spread your legs.” He instructs and I follow and look up at the ceiling.

“Look at me, Yawne.” And I do. “You smell so sweet.”

“Wait, what are you-“ I ask before he licks a fat stripe on my pussy and I gasp.

He carefully wedges his tongue to spread my lips apart and I moan as he licks upward. He’s gently holding my thighs open but my hands felt empty. As if reading my mind his hands snake up to hold mine, the fists I once had were now warming up with his hands in them.

“Ao’nung rutxe, don’t st-ahh,” I’m the one letting his hands go and reach down toward his head and manage to tangle my fingers in there well enough to control his heads movements.

“You taste sweet, too.”

I now know why he’d held my thighs open earlier as I’m currently trying to suffocate him with them but the pleasure is too good and his tongue keeps circling on my clit and it all feels so good. And I feel something go in me at a gentle pace and the once building orgasm has muted as I feel it moving around.

“Ah-“ I open my eyes and look down to see he’s got one finger inside me and he’s staring me down. His finger stills but doesn’t pull out.

Does it hurt? He signs with his other hand

“N-no, just different, my fingers aren’t as thick as yours so this feels-“ I stop myself from rambling as he places a second finger in gently and I squeeze down hard.

“Ahh-“ I wince and try to withdraw but he stills my hips.

“Breathe, yawne. If I pull out now it could hurt worse, I will pull out if thats what you want but I’ve been told to tell you it gets better.”

“Told by who,”

“Is that really what you’re worried about?” He asks and I shake my head.

“It helps to forget the pain,”

“I can do that.” He immediately uses his thumb to circle my clit again and the pain subsides.

“Will it fit?” I ask again as his other hand is busy playing with my nipples.

“Yes.” He states but before I can ask if he’s sure he moves up to kiss me, and I just remembered how much bigger he was, yet he was being this gentle with me?

“Go faster my love,” I moan and connect out lips and start feeling pleasure from this experience. And he goes faster.

“Yes that spot, hit that again,” I clench my teeth at the overwhelming feeling I’m getting from his fingers and he smiles.

“Whatever you say, my love,” He smiles genuinely and it melts my heart. He leans down to kiss me again.

“Yes go faster, rutxe,”

“You don’t have to say that for me to go faster. You say and I’ll do. Always.” He says while going faster

“Kiss me.” And he kisses me.

“Again-“ He kisses me again.

“Mate with me,”

He unties his loincloth with one hand and slips out of it easily and the sight of his penis has my eyes widening. He tells me he’s going to slide his fingers out and does so but my eyes are on something else entirely.

“Theres blood on my fingers-“ He stares at his fingers in horror.

“Thats normal- for me.” I take his hand and hold it close to my chest. “On Earth, when you have sex for the first time, this happens. The custom- a long time ago- used to be to do this for the first time in your wedding night with the person you love.”

“It is a sign of loyalty?” Ao’nung questions and I nod.

“It’s like tsaheylu.”

“Then let us complete our custom.” He grabs his braid and brings it forward, his white tendrils moving in all directions.

“Are you certain?” I ask him and he smiles, giving me a peck real quick. He grabs my braid for me but before connecting looks me directly in my eyes.

“Are you certain?” He’s asking so sweetly while making sure our braids don’t connect.

“Yes.”

And the feeling itself is euphoric. My pupils are blown wide I’m sure, I could slightly feel them getting larger. I can feel how fast Ao’nung is breathing and can feel the strain of his cock as if the feeling were my own. I could feel how his heart was beating and the same warmth had settled over his own belly.

“Nga yawne lu oer,” Ao’nung states breathlessly.

“I love you, too.” I respond in english

It’s like he understood what I meant as he leans down to kiss me and manages to settle me in missionary. He lifts his head up and looks down between us and back up at me. I nod and feel him start to get nervous.

“It’s okay.” I place a hand on his cheek and gingerly stroke it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Have I screamed in pain at any point?” I ask and he smiles, kissing me again. He looks down between us and places his cock in his hands and guides it in slowly. I could feel my body clenching in anticipation and I shut my eyes harshly.

“Shit.” I grunt and squeeze harder when I feel the head sliding in slowly. The stretch burned real bad and at this point I stopped breathing.

“Breathe my love,” He gently strokes my clit after stopping just after his head had been pushed in.

“Ma’nung, you’re big.” I groan and throw my head back as the subtle sparks of him rubbing my clit start to fan the flames more.

“You’re so tight I might burst too soon.” He strains and I start to relax.

“Thats a compliment on Earth-“ I try to laugh and he slaps my thigh.

“Ahh!” I whine and he goes back to rubbing my clit and I moan immediately after.

“I’m going to keep pushing-“ He starts and as he does I can feel a sense of fullness but also his length dragging heavily on my g-spot and I moan.

“If you don’t move some more, I will cut your penis off.” I threaten and I can tell he’s confused by the sudden change of pace but I know he can feel what I feel.

“Shit, is that me?” He asks and I open my eyes to see him biting his lip, one of his fangs poking out, I look down myself and see a small bulge moving in my lower belly.

“Yes thats you-“ I moan as he’d started sliding out and his cock continues rubbing against my G-spot, it feels like the many orgasms I brought myself to happening all at once.

“Go faster-“ I whine and he does, snapping his hips at a steady pace and it feels so damn good.

“Faster-“ and he follows my command, not once questioning me.

“You’re swallowing me so easily, you feel so soft rubbing all over, and your stomach is- fuck-“ He cuts himself off and seems unsure of where to stare, at my pussy swallowing his cock or at my stomach as it plays peek-a-boo with him.

“Yawne, I’m too close-“

“I’m coming Ao’nung-“ I whine and feel myself spasm around his cock as I blubber on some stupid Na’Vi mixed with english non-sense.

Not once had he stopped thrusting his hips and the feeling of my orgasm continuously being stroked on had started what felt like the build of another one.

“Cock so good I’m coming twice-“ I groan in English and he starts whining himself. I never knew Na’vi men were vocal, and for some reason, the question can I come? Kept replaying in my head. Realizing I was still connected to Ao’nung I reach my hand up and pat his arm and he opens his eyes, lust evident on his face.

“You can come my love-“

The look of relief washed over his face but I could still feel like he was holding back. More of his thoughts flood my mind.

“Do it.” I confirm and he leans his whole body over mine, hitting spots I thought he was hitting before, quite literally fucking me so dumb I forgot my own name. His thrusts feel even more powerful at this angle and he bites the skin between my neck and my shoulder. His come washes over the both of us as I have my second orgasm and massage the spurts of come from his dick, coaxing more to come out with every wave of pleasure I felt. He lazily kisses me and pulls out, I hiss from the sting of his fat head stretching me open.

“Come here-“ Ao’nung quite literally lifts me to lay on his chest as we both catch our breath.

“I meant it.” He says while lazily stroking my back, but he didn’t have to explain, we were still connected, I already knew.

“I do too.” I sigh and lean into his chest to listen to his heart beat lulling me to sleep.

_________

I wake up and realize my body is being caged in but I felt warm and comfortable so I stayed snuggled up in what I thought was my blanket.

“Good, you’re awake.”

My eyes have never snapped open so quick after hearing that voice. His morning after voice was deep and sensual and it had me tingling. I look up to see that it was still dark.

“It’s not morning yet.” I groan and get comfortable again.

“Yes, my love, but I need some assistance.” He states as if he were straining and I turn my head to see him struggling with another boner.

“Oh my-“ I turn quickly. “- how long have you been dealing with that!” I asked and he whines.

“You’ve spent the entire time grinding me while you slept, I didn’t want to wake you, but we mate up to three times during one session.” He tries saying it in a nice way but I understood what he meant.

“Slide it in next time.”

“But you were sleeping.”

“I know, Ma’nung, but nothing better than waking up to an orgasm, or being loved on.” I stated while sliding one leg up, still laying sideways.

Ao’nung is hesitant, but we were still connected by our bond too. I was surprised.

“I forgot you have a fat head-“ I groan as he slides it in and gives me time to adjust but also feeling instant relief to be back inside me. The hand underneath my waist snakes over to rub my clit as he pumps pathetically inching in very slowly, but I could feel what he felt.

“Come inside my love-“ I moan as he comes inside for the second time tonight, letting him continue thrusting lazily while sliding across my G-spot.

“You feel so warm, so good, I can’t get enough.” He groans while continuing the same movement and I could feel him getting hard again.

“Is this why your mom is pregnant for the sixth time?” I asked and he ignores me but wraps his hands around my body, pulling me closer to him.

“Can I come again, my love?” He asks while his thrusts are becoming more powerful.

“How many more times can you come tonight?” I asked and start meeting his thrusts in the middle, feeling the familiar sensation about to snap in my belly.

“As many times as it takes to make you round with child, I can’t wait to see you waddle with my life inside of you-“

“Fill me to the brim,” I groaned as he continues thrusting while imagining myself pregnant with his children. But the mental images he was seeing began flashing in my mind and he wanted to fuck me while pregnant, pushing my body past its limits and taking me in every position.

“Come my love-“ He grunts in my ear and all I can do is squeeze around his cock and moan loudly.

_________

“You don’t want anyone to hear us, do you?” He teases while thrusting in my cunt ever so slowly while he held me against the tree.

“No,” I try to stay quiet but he only slaps his big hand over my mouth.

He’d decided to fish on the docks today instead of following a hunting party and when he’d finish casting his third net full of fish he’d told the guys he was with that he’d be back in a few. I’d been picking seashells with his mom and sister when he called me away and lead me to where we were.

“You’re such a pathetic thing, Yawne,” He glides his dick over my G spot effortlessly and I’m a mess, I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

“Eyes on me, my love, I want to see what I do to you.” He smiles cockily and I whine loud enough for him to hear.

“I want to come-“

“No.” He states firmly and slides his cock back in. “Be good for me and we’ll see if you deserve to come, my love.”

“Kiss me-“ I demand and he leans in, gently taking in the back of my neck and kissing me sweetly.

“G-go faster-“ I pant as he does and my eyes roll back.

“Come my love, come.” Ao’nung instructs me and I bite my lip as I release myself all over his cock.

“No don’t pull out,” I hold on to his hand tightly as if thats where I needed to hold him.

“We have to go back and-“

“I need you, Ma’nung,” I complain and he smirks.

“Of course, how could I have been so dumb,” He states and starts thrusting even faster.

“Ah!” I moaned and he slaps his hand over my mouth again.

“How can something so small be so loud?” He groans in my ear while he thrusts into me. My toes were curling as if they had a mind of their own and he was only holding me by my waist with one hand, he’s so fucking strong.

“How can someone so big be so big-“ I groan as he resorts to moving me up and down on his cock.

“I want to torture this orgasm out of you, my love. I want to make you the same babbling mess you were last night.” His voice was deeper and he was starting to grunt with every thrust. His hand came down from my mouth and stroked my clit lazily.

“Please let me come-“

“No.”

“Thats what you said earlier and you still let me-“ I whine and he forcefully grabs my cheeks to pull my face closer toward his.

“You cum when you only know my name and nothing else.”

I squeezed on him harder.

“You like when I’m rough with you, huh.” He places his hand on my chest and I grab it and place it on my neck without flinching and gently squeezes the sides and I could feel myself squeezing his cock once more.

“No, I w-wan- come.”

“Not dumb enough my love.”

_________

“Is anything off lim-limi- limits with y-you?” I asked as he thrusts under the water while his thick cock glides in and out of me.

“No. Never.” He groans before going faster. “You’ll be the death of me, now shut up and come.” He states while circling my clit.

“I don-don’t wanna-“ I whine but was to sensitive to hold on any longer.

“Yes you do, I can feel it. And not because we’re connected.”

_________

“Yawne please!” Ao’nung cries as I slide down further.

I’d mentioned riding once and he had been asking every single day if we could try it, but I wasn’t sure how feasable it would be, only because he’s huge and the thigh strength I’d need would need to come fro Eywa herself.

“This isn’t easy for me either!” I groan and completely slid down his cock and met his hips. Realization hits me as he hugs my body into his own.

“No you better not-“

“I’m coming~” He moans in my ear and it triggered my own orgasm.

_________

“Quiet my love.” Ao’nung shushes me.

“Please,” I beg and he thrusts harshly into me and I moan again.

“I love you-“ He states in English.

“Nga yawne lu oer-“ I whine back as he circles my clit with his thumb. He slams back in again.

“I like seeing you fucked dumb, my love.” He responds in English again and I’m going crazy.

“How bad do you want to come?” He asks in Na’vi and I can’t comprehend the question at all and babble some nonsense.

“I need you to come, sweet girl.” He coo’s and covers my mouth to muffle my sounds with his own in a deep heated kiss.

“Thats it, my love,” He coo’s as he joins me, still managing to gently caress my cheeks at his highest point of euphoria.

_________

“Have you told her it was an aphrodisiac?” Neytiri asks and Lo’ak rolls his eyes.

“Yes Ma’am.” He replies.

“Good.” Ronal states while working on cutting the fruit she had.

“Was this necessary?” Tsireya asks while sneaking a couple of the fruit pieces for herself since she was expecting.

“All the necessary, my sweet girl.” Ronal stated to her daughter.

“If not for that small lie they would not be sneaking around horribly and procreating like they are.” Neytiri points out.

“They’re sneaking around in public and doing that?” Taireya’s eyes widen In shock and Lo’ak laughs.

“Of course they are. Just the other day, Ao’nung said he couldn’t come hunting because he had to pick some tulip thorns from the tree’s for her. They grow in the ground.”

Ronal laughs at this too and shakes her head.

“Maybe she will become pregnant soon like us.” Kiri happily continues creating medicine or saves from the peels of the fruit.

“Human male and Hybrid Na’vi can procreate. Lets see if Na’vi nale and hybrid Na’vi can do the same.” Ronal smiles.

“I believe they can. Our world is changing.” Neytiri comments.

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 23<-

Part 24

Pairing: (Channie at the beginning) Hyunjin & Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Under 18 DNI! Suggestive Themes, Swearing, Threesome, Blackmailing, Petnames, explicit sexual content, deepthroating, oral (f + m receiving), public sex

Word Count: 9.2k

Note: Guess who‘s back for now. My life changed a lot during the last months and sadly I don’t have that much tine for writing anymore, even though I really want to. But somehow I managed to write another Part! Thank you to everyone who‘s still reading this story. Lmk what you think in the comments. Stay tuned 💛

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

.

When you woke up on the black couch in the backstage area, you firstly stretched to drive the tiredness from your limbs with an audible groan.

"Welcome back," you heard Changbin say and only then did you realize that your head had been resting on his lap. He stroked your hair out of your face with a smile as you pulled the blanket, which smelled familiar like home, towards you.

"How long have I been asleep?" you asked, trying to clear your head again. But tiredness kept pulling you back into a stupor, so you cuddled back into his lap.

Changbin leaned back and suddenly you saw the whole staff already walking around in the backstage. Stylists, stage technicians and make-up artists. They were all scurrying around Jeongin, Hyunjin and Felix who were were made up. Seungmin was being wired up and Han was discussing something with the sound technician.

"You were gone for almost three hours."

Stunned, you straightened up. The blanket, which you now recognized as Chan's hoodie, fell off your shoulders.

"Where's Chan?" you asked directly.

After rehearsals, you had laid down on the couch together and fallen asleep in a tight embrace. Every member of staff who had passed by had seen you bury your face against his chest and him wrapping his arms tightly around your body. Finally, Felix had carefully woken Chan up because he had to start putting on his outfit. Completely baffled, you stared at your cell phone, which showed that the concert was only 30 minutes away.

"You needed the sleep. We didn't want to wake you up," Changbin said and winked at you.

Chan finally came back into the room. He was wearing his stage outfit and it looked incredibly good. The white top was cut out at the side so that you could see his toned stomach. When he saw that you were awake, he smiled and waved as he was already being shooed towards the mirrors.

When you saw who started doing his hair there, you bit your tongue hard. Mina talked to him animatedly, taking more time than necessary as she applied hairspray to his hair, but Chan seemed distant. He replied in monosyllables, his smile polite but professional. It was strange and you couldn't stop looking in his direction as you worked through your messages on your iPad.

Finally, you rolled your eyes as she leaned forward emphatically so Chan could barely see anywhere else but the exaggerated neckline of her dress. She clung to him like a far too pink piece of chewing gum and although Chan had made it clear to you last night that he only wanted you, it stung your chest. When Chan saw your look in the mirror, he cleared his throat and held the blonde's wrist as she tried to apply a pinkish color to his lips.

"I think Lee Know and Han need your help"

Confused, she looked to the other side of the room where Jisung almost poked his eye out with the kayal as Lino kept shoving him and laughing at him.

"But I'm not finished with your..."

"That's all right. Y/N can finish it. Right?" he asked over his shoulder and when your eyes met, you realized how uncomfortable Chan was. You nodded quickly and stood up to go to him. Mina's face turned as red as a tomato as she stared at you and as she looked at Chan and the smile he gave you, she put her make-up down on the table in front of the mirror.

"Sure. I can do it."

Chan's eyes lit up at the sound of your voice and when Mina nodded and mumbled a meek "Alright...", you had to suppress a triumphant grin.

While she was still putting her things away, you picked up the brush and leaned over to Chan to pick up where Mina had left off. But Chan put a hand on your hip and, to your surprise, pulled you onto his lap in front of Mina, leaving you staring at him wide-eyed.

"It's more comfortable this way," he dismissed, his hands firmly on your hips as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Mina's nostrils quivered and she looked like she was going to burst into tears at any moment.

Chan had made it abundantly clear what he wanted, without saying a word. She hurried away and when she was out of earshot, you whispered:

"What are you doing? Everyone can see us!"

Chan leaned back, circled his thumbs over your thighs and closed his eyes, relaxed.

"So what? The staff know we're good friends.“

Stunned, you grinned and began to spread the colour on his lips.

"Friends...", you murmured with a cheeky smile.

In fact, most of the staff were unimpressed. Only some of them gave you furtive glances, but they were so busy that hardly anyone looked at you for more than a few seconds. While you concentrated on his make-up, Chan enjoyed your body against his and slipped his thumbs under the skirt of your dress. You gave him a warning glance, but he didn't seem to care in the slightest that there were other strangers in the room.

Although you were still sore in all the right places from last night, you were automatically filled with desire when you felt his strong hands firmly on your bare skin. Chan also became more restless, trying to get a little more under your dress, pinching your thighs and looking at you hungrily, as if he wanted to eat you up at any moment.

"I want you..."

"What?" you asked, unable to believe how brazen Chan was. He had thrown all caution overboard.

"I want to fuck you. Now..." he whispered in your ear and his lips brushed against your neck. Panting, you looked around, but no one in the room was paying any attention to you.

"Channie..." you hissed, barely able to push him away as he began to kiss your neck. Your hands tightened around the powder and brush in your hands. His hands traveled up your sides until they brushed your breasts.

"Channie... We're not alone."

"I don't care. I want everyone to know. They can't tell anyone else anyway."

That was true. All the staff had signed a NDA that protected the idols' privacy. They were not allowed to talk about anything that happened backstage or what they saw. It was to protect the idols and make them feel comfortable and relaxed, even if there were staff scurrying around. Overwhelmed, you tried to control your breathing and the heat in your veins as Chan continued to lavish feather-light kisses on your neck. He was wild, demanding and it took your breath away.

"You have to go on stage in a minute," you whispered, barely able to pay attention to whether anyone was watching you.

"It won't take long... Let's get out of here quickly..."

You really wanted to say yes, but reason made you hesitate. And with one look into his blazing eyes, your resistance collapsed. He also looked outrageously handsome in his stage outfit, in your defence.

But then the door suddenly opened and Felix jumped up from the couch as a group of people came into the room.

Panicked, you jumped off Chan's lap as his and Felix's family suddenly stood in the middle of the room. Hannah immediately grinned as she saw you trying to straighten your dress. Felix, meanwhile, was hugging his parents and sister, while Chan strolled casually to his parents and then hugged them too.

You grabbed your neck uneasily and it felt like his parents could only guess what you had done with a glance. But when you finally bowed, Chan's mother grabbed your arms instead and pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good to see you again, darling. You left so early this morning," she said and you hesitantly returned the hug.

"Yes, we had a lot to do," you smiled nervously and Mr Bang gave you a curt nod.

You chatted for a while and Chan put his hand on your lower back, which no one seemed to question. It was nice to see his family and Felix's parents were just as friendly as their son was.

Chan accompanied his parents to the staff who took them to their seats and Felix took advantage of this to take your hand and introduce you to his family.

But you didn't have much time left and shortly afterwards the Lee family were also taken to their seats.

Felix squeezed your hands and looked excited and yet the Aussies seemed more stressed today than ever before.

.

It was only two days later when you sank to the floor, panting, and looked up questioningly at Lee Know and Hyunjin. Hyunjin looked at the screen of his cell phone, Minho next to him, and they both watched what felt like the hundredth video you had shot today. Hours ago, you had already begun to regret accepting Hyunjin's offer to help you with your first dance cover. You finally had the time and energy to pursue your own passion and the dance leader and main dancer of Stray Kids immediately offered to help.

You started to work out a choreography together and recorded it directly on video in the dance studio.

However, the boys were perfectionists and worked in the professional manner in which they produced their own videos. Finally, after several attempts and recordings, after tons of sweat and pain, Hyunjin finally nodded and Lino also smiled with satisfaction while the last recording was playing on his cell phone.

"It turned out perfectly," said Hyunjin.

"The performance turned out hot and strong. That suits you well. You’re moving so smooth…“

You smiled with relief and drank the last of your water bottle. While your legs trembled with exertion, the dancers looked like they were on their way to a photo shoot for a sports magazine. Hyunjin's tank top was washed out, revealing sections of his well-trained upper body. Lee Know wore a black shirt that was so tight around his chest and upper arms that you could see every contraction of his muscles. Glancing at the clock, you sighed loudly. You had arrived at the gym at 12 noon and now it was 9pm. A normal day for the idols, but not at all for you. But it had been fun. Despite everything, they had been gentler and more affectionate with you than you were used to from them during practice.

"I love seeing you dance," Lino said, while focused on the recording, moving slightly to the music and it sounded sincere. Your heart skipped a beat and you smiled. Such a compliment from one of the best dancers in the industry was amazing.

"So that's why you put me in this dance studio all day?" you asked with amusement.

"I can barely feel my legs," you sighed and tried to push yourself off the floor and stand up again.

Before you could really stand upright, you suddenly felt Lino's strong arms wrapped around your stomach and you lifted off the ground. Giggling, you let yourself be carried to the couch where he let himself fall backwards so that you landed between his legs.

"You did a really great job... you really have idol potential," he said and began to massage your tense shoulders behind you. You immediately gasped out loud and leaned against his touch. He was damn skillful with his hands and a fire immediately ignited where he touched your bare skin.

"No, I'm nowhere near that far... You do this every day and I can't move after just a few hours..." you laughed softly and a whimper escaped you as he worked on a tense muscle.

This made Hyunjin look up and put the cell phone back down on the tripod. With a grin, he joined you and sat down on the floor between your legs, where he cupped your trembling thigh with his hands. You inhaled a rattling breath. Lee Know's hands massaging your back, his body heat right next to yours and now Hyunjin starting to massage your aching legs.

"You're already better than any of us at this social media thing... Your Insta account is growing every day," Hyunjin agreed, focusing on your trembling muscles.

"Well it's actually fun... I've even had a few requests... Ouch!" you gasped when Hyunjin caught a sensitive spot.

"That's normal. It'll get better soon. We'll take care of it..." he said, and the way he smiled at you made your heart skip a beat. Hyunjin's long fingers worked over every millimeter of your bare legs and you could hardly think straight.

"I like the shorts on you... Everyone will go crazy for you when they see the video," Hyunjin said and you let out a gasp as Lino pushed the straps of your sports bra off your shoulders to get better access to your back. His fingers worked wonders and apart from the muscle tension they released, heat began to ripple through your body and a familiar throbbing sensation was felt between your legs.

Lino growled softly and his fingers worked their way to your ribs.

"You're going to get tons of thirsty messages... I'm already finding it hard to hold back watching you... And that outfit..."

You sucked in a sharp breath as his hands traveled down your sides and squeezed your hips. You were only wearing a normal sports bra and black shorts. Something loose and you liked the way the shorts showed off your long legs. But what you liked even more were the looks from the boys who had been glancing at you intently all day. Even though they tried to hide it, to be respectful and not intrusive, you couldn't help but notice Hyunjin's intense stares, as well as Lee Know's suggestive comments and smirks when he gave you a hand, touched your hips or stroked your butt. But it didn't feel intrusive at all when they looked at you like that. Quite the opposite. They also looked at you like that when you were sweaty, without make-up or wearing oversized hoodies and sweatpants. You still didn't know why or what they saw in you, but it felt good to be desired.

Hyunjin kneaded your calves and the further he worked his way forward, the more restless you became.

But you closed your eyes and tried to relax and endure the intense touch of the two most attractive men you had ever met without paying any attention to the heat between your legs.

"Is that ok?" Hyunjin asked softly and when you opened your eyes and looked into his chocolate eyes, you were speechless. Part of his black hair was tied back at the back of his head, while the rest framed his face. His head between your legs, his hands firmly on your thighs, made you nod breathlessly. He was breathtakingly beautiful.

"What? I can't hear you kitten!" whispered Lee Know, his hot breath brushing your neck.

"Yes! Yes that's good... Feels good."

Satisfied, he grinned and before you could realize it, you felt his lips against your shoulder. He began to spread feather-light kisses over your heated skin and you feared you would faint when you saw Hyunjin looking at your body like that. Greedily, as if he had to restrain himself from pulling you towards him immediately.

"Lino..." you breathlessly escaped as he moved a hand to your throat and you automatically tilted your head back to give him more room. He sucked on every sensitive spot, sinking his teeth into your neck until you fell against his chest and your eyelids fluttered with arousal.

Hyunjin's fingers kept moving upwards until they were working your legs just a hand's width from your now wet core.

You were so turned on that you could hardly think straight.

Another whimper escaped you as the two exchanged a meaningful look, full of hunger, and Lino began to knead your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. "Lino... Please..." you barely managed to utter, your head already in the clouds and you couldn't believe how much your body was responding to them.

Lee Know's big hands squeezed your breasts and you could feel his grin against your neck as he elicited more and more of those desperate noises.

"We're just taking care of you... It's all good. That's what good dance teachers do," Hyunjin murmured, lightly pinching your inner thigh, eliciting a sensual sound very similar to a moan. You gasped loudly as Lee Know gripped the flesh of your breasts tightly, while you were trying to squeeze your legs together so Hyunjin wouldn't notice how wet you already were.

Your panties and shorts were probably already soaked but he reacted faster, grabbing your knees and holding them further apart.

"You don't have to hide from me, princess," he cooed and his hands were right back at your core, massaging just a little next to where you wanted to feel him. Your mind tried to remind you where you were and what you were doing here.

"We're at work... If anyone comes in," you tried, sighing between them as Lee Know kissed your jawline.

"There's no one here this late except us... and even if there was..." he muttered and gave Hyunjin a meaningful grin, which he returned.

You tried to straighten up a bit, ignoring the large hands all over your body, and felt Lino's long, hard length pressed against your back.

"You want to get caught, don't you? Is that why you wanted to help? Did you plan this?" you asked, your voice thin and breathless.

Hyunjin smirked, pressed a kiss to your inner thigh and looked up at you innocently.

"We just wanted to help you... You're just too much of a temptation..."

Lee Know's hand moved to your hip and he rubbed his center lightly against yours so that all you could think about was his massive dick pressed against your ass.

"You've been paying a lot more attention to Chan and the younger ones lately.... We want some time with you too, angel."

Lino nodded and brushed his soft lips up your neck. You could only watch, overwhelmed, and felt Lee Know slip his hand under your sports bra.

For a moment, a clear thought made it through the fog of desire and you pushed Hyunjin quite a bit away from you. With his head between your legs, his lips on your skin, you couldn't form a clear sentence.

He looked at you questioningly.

"Is that the only reason you wanted to make the video today?" you asked, looking at him scrutinizingly. His mouth opened, a damned seductive red appeared on his cheeks and he didn't even have to try to lie.

You could already read the answer in his uncertain smile.

"Jinnie... You planned this with Lee Know?"

He cleared his throat while Minho just snorted.

"No way. I didn't know anything about it."

Hyunjin stroked both hands up your thighs, and his apologetic smirk immediately wrapped you around his finger. Still, you tried to look serious. He could do whatever he wanted with that face, those hands. He could have called you an object and even with the full knowledge that he would throw you away like garbage when he had what he wanted, you would give him all he wanted and more and still thank him afterwards.

But your pride made you hide your thoughts.

"I wanted to help you, really! But you don't know what you're doing to me. When you dance... I can't think straight," he murmured, his voice raspy as he looked at your body.

It wasn't fair what power he had over you.

"Our little Jinnie is pretty desperate, huh?" Minho asked with amusement as he rested his chin on your shoulder and listened.

"Are you mad?" Hyunjin asked, looking so worried that you had to put on a serious face with all your might. His hair framed his face and you could hardly think of a word other than artwork to describe it.

You looked down at him, put your foot on his shoulder and pushed him away from you. If you didn't get an Oscar for that performance, you didn't know what real acting was.

"So you're just using me... Maybe as punishment I should just let you watch while Minho and I have fun."

The panic that entered his eyes was surprisingly refreshing.

Immediately, he inhaled in panic.

"- Please, please angel... I swear, I'm so sorry... Please, I need you..." he begged, still on his knees, your lips trembling with excitement. You could hardly hide how hot you thought Hyunjin was. Begging, desperate for your body.

The man who was so beautiful that he could lure any woman or man into his bed was begging for your attention. Minho watched the whole thing with a wry grin.

He loved your submissive nature, but this was interesting too.

"Just apologizing to get in my pants, as usual. If you're good..."

You took your foot off his chest and he immediately slid back between your legs, kissing your inner thighs, caressing them and you let out a soft sigh as the arousal threatened to suffocate you. By now you knew how much he loved your thighs and legs. He was crazy about it. His thoughts were constantly revolving around how you sqished him with your thighs, he won't mind. Heck, he wants you to do that so bad.

He's always poking them or patting them. He loves when you wear thigh high socks so he can see the material squeeze against your skin. He likes to nip and suck bruises on them, almost as if marking you as his. He can't help slapping them or holding on tight all the time.

"If you don't want to, we'll stop right now..." Lino whispered in your ear and his warm fingers dug roughly into your bare chest, causing you to shake your head in panic. Hyunjin suddenly touched your cunt with his fingers and you almost moaned out loud, but he looked at you questioningly, only then did you realize that they were waiting for an answer from you. They wanted reassurance that this was what you really wanted.

"Don't stop! Please...", you said and they both exchanged a satisfied look. Then Lino unclasped your bra and it fell carelessly to the floor.

Your gaze briefly fell on your reflection in the mirror, you half-naked between Lee Know's strong thighs, Hyunjin between your legs. You thought you were dreaming. There was no other explanation. Then your eyes met Lino's in the mirror and the lust in his eyes made you tremble. Hyunjin, on the other hand, began to massage your clit through the fabric with two fingers and a moan escaped you immediately, causing Lino to freeze behind you.

The faster Hyunjin's fingers went, the more you lost touch with reality.

"She's so wet, hyung... Even through the shorts..." Hyunjin said, and you wanted to tear the last bit of fabric from your body so that he could finally stuff you with his long fingers.

"Fuck... You're crazy..." you gasped, rolling your hips willingly against Hyunjin's hand.

"Let me take these off," he mumbled and Lino immediately helped him by lifting you up by your hips. He pulled your shorts and red panties right off and threw them to the side. You immediately got goose bumps. You could see your reflection in the mirror. Completely naked, between the two clothed men, exposed and defenceless. Nevertheless, you felt at ease and when Hyunjin looked at you as if he had found a new painting in an exhibition that inspired him, your heart almost jumped out of your chest. You would never get used to them looking at you like that. "cmon princess," he says, looking at you from below, eyes sparkling with the delight of seeing you in such a position - breasts bared, eyes blurry, mind dizzy, eyes avoiding to meet with his dark ones that gave you weakness on the knees because of how beautiful he's looking at you right now.

Hyunjin's fingers were between your legs again as you watched him, running through your folds and collecting the wetness. Lino watched, kissing your neck and holding your breasts as if he never wanted to let them go.

"Oh God!"

You gasped as Hyunjin's tongue suddenly pressed against your clit.

"He's not going to help you now," Lee Know whispered in your ear and a wicked grin spread across his face. He could feel every twitch and excitement of your body. The sight of his younger member engrossed between your legs aroused him like he had never imagined. Chan had often talked about how he liked the idea of sharing you between them, but he hadn't expected to like it that much himself. Your eyes rolled back and while Hyunjin started to eat you out, as if he was about to starve to death, Lee Know put a hand on your neck and slowly squeezed, tearing you away from reality. Then you heard him say:

"Look at him... Barely responsive, addicted to your pussy. You know, Jinnie's been talking for days about how much he'd love to choke between your legs."

You instantly felt hot and when Hyunjin raised his eyes and gave Minho a warning look, your arousal shone on his plush lips.

"Hyung!" he warned and it was obvious that Minho was having a lot of fun spilling his dirty secrets.

"Really?" you asked, a little surprised.

So they were talking about you and the sex with you after all. That made your cheeks glow and you immediately wanted to know more about the secret fantasies they seemed to have about you, but you didn't dare.

Minho kissed your neck, running his hands over your stomach and smirked as he looked at Hyunjin.

"Yeah... He gets off with the thought of you sitting on his face."

"Hyung, what the hell!"

Hyunjin's face got more red every second, just like yours, and he looked caught, but you just looked at him curiously.

"Is that true?" you asked cautiously and he gripped your thigh a little tighter.

"I was thinking about it, yes..."

From the way he bit his lip, looked at you furtively and the way Minho giggled, you knew he wasn't just thinking about it.

Without further ado, you stood up and were watched by both of them as you pushed Hyunjin by the shoulder onto the floor. The idea of his face between your thighs gave you a pleasant shiver.

He let you push him onto his back until you were kneeling over him. He watched in disbelief as you placed your knees to the right and left of his head, your cunt right in front of his face and he thought he had landed in heaven.

"Are you sure?" you asked, but he just chuckled, kissing your inner thighs, looking at your face still in a way that could make you cum without even fucking his mouth. You didn’t want to hurt him because you knew how much you wanted to do it - how much you would break and use his mouth without thinking about anything else.

"You'd better thank me, Jinnie..." said Lino, who was sitting on the couch and watching everything closely.

There was now a tent in his sweatpants and he kept running his hand over it as he watched you.

"Is that okay?" you asked as you looked down at him. He looked beautiful, gazing up at you with his chocolate eyes. He could hardly get enough of the sight of you.

"Please yes!"

He grabbed your thighs and pulled you down onto his face. Even as you tried to brace yourself a little so as not to weigh him down, he pushed you down harder until your entire weight was resting on him.

As his tongue greedily licked right through your folds, you let out a pornographic moan that made Minho clench his teeth. Hyunjin began to eat you out and seemed even greedier than before. Your whole body tingled as Hyunjin continued to penetrate your hole with his tongue. You wouldn't last long, that was obvious.

His hands dug into the flesh of your thighs and pressed you vehemently against his face.

The knot in your stomach was about to burst and as he sucked on your clit, you reached into his hair to grind your pussy against his face. As your body took on a life of its own and as you rolled your hips against his face, Minho let out a gasp from the couch.

"Fuck... Better than any porn..."

Hyunjin immediately let out a deep grumble and began to palm his rock-hard cock through his sweatpants.

Being watched by Lino was a whole new experience but you liked it. It made your blood boil and Hyunjin was sure, he would loose his mind soon. Your smell, the taste on his tongue, the way your body felt under his fingers and the desperate noises that echoed in the dance studio were beguiling for him. Your hands on his hair to pull and hold to stay still as you beg for more - close to the edge yet your face is full of heat.

"Fuck... fuck... Jinnie please I can't..." you blubbered incoherently and as your head fell back and you squinted, you suddenly felt a hand on your neck squeezing hard, turning your head so that you had to look up at Minho, who had gotten up and was now standing next to you, his pants pulled down and his cock heavy in his hand. He palmed himself and his eyes burned with lust.

"Don't you dare close your eyes! Don't look at him. Look at me, kitten! I want to see you come on Jinnie's face, do you understand?"

Breathless and with trembling eyelids, you nodded. The eye contact with Minho was intense and made you climax even faster. It was as if he could see everything. Your deepest secrets and you pulled on Hyunjin's hair as he licked deeper and deeper into your core.

"Min... I... I can't take it anymore..." you whimpered, hearing only the wet sounds of Hyunjin hitting the perfect spot with his tongue every time, feeling his fingernails in your thighs and your whole body seemed about to explode as you rode his face.

Minho tilted his head a little, looked at you closely and you could clearly see how horny he was. His tip was red, his hand was constantly sliding up and down his shaft.

"It's all right. You can come. Cream his face, kitten."

With those words, the knot in your stomach snapped and the orgasm exploded all the way to your fingertips. You moaned a mixture of the two dancers' names and Hyunjin gasped as you came all over his face. He continued to suck on your clit until you saw stars and your high was savored to the extreme. Only then did Minho let go of your neck. With rattling breaths, you tried to calm yourself down, barely able to form a word.

But Hyunjin did not stop. He immediately penetrated you again with his tongue. As if addicted and without control, he pressed you further against his face, playing with your overstimulated pussy until you whimpered and grinded against his face again. It felt too good to stop, even though your legs were already shaking.

"Open up for me, kitten!"

Everything was a blur and when you felt Minho's tip on your lip, you didn't hesitate and opened your mouth immediately. He slid his entire length into your mouth and your pink lips wrapped around his shaft, making him curse.

"So pretty... So good for us. Our little whore. Suck my dick slut!", he gasped, caught up in the frenzy of arousal and passion. You immediately started to move your head and took him so deep that he bumped into your throat and you gagged.

Then he grabbed your hair and began to thrust into your mouth incessantly while Hyunjin continued to work your pussy. You didn't know where you were anymore and your body was burning like fire, but you never wanted to feel anything else again.

Minho kept cursing as he ruthlessly abused your face and fucked your throat, and Hyunjin didn't stop until the tears ran down your cheeks and you clung to Minho's legs, overwhelmed. The sounds they tickled out of you were unholy, sinful, beautiful.

But both of them also felt the next orgasm before you realized it. Hyunjin's nose bumped against your clit and just as your body tensed, Minho pulled you off his dick and held your head by the hair so you could look him straight in the eye again. Thighs trembled around his head as he pulled another cry from you with his greedy tongue. The sight was enough to make you cum hard on his tongue, squirting all over his face.

Hyunjin licked up everything he could. He tried to catch every last drop of your sweet release, but some managed to drip down his chin and cheeks as he swallowed what fell into his mouth. He gave your pussy a few gentle licks before he let you go.

"Holy shit..." was the only thing you could say as you sank to the floor next to Hyunjin.

"Was that good, Princess?" asked Hyunjin, wiping his face clean with his tank top. You just nodded, looking at him stunned, and grabbed his face to pull him towards you, pressing your lips to his chaotically. You could still taste yourself on him and he immediately pulled you closer by the hips to return the kiss stormily.

"I'm getting impatient..." Minho said and knelt down next to you while you two made out like teenagers in heat. With wide eyes, you looked at him and then at his massive length in his hand. Your body reacted immediately and your pussy pulsated excitedly.

He leaned towards you, grabbed your face, kissed you, slipped his tongue into your mouth and grabbed your ass, which he kneaded hard before his other hand moved between your legs and penetrated you with a finger up to his knuckles. You moaned into his mouth and your tongues played rough with each other. Hyunjin grabbed your breasts, twirling your nipple between his fingers and sucking on your neck as he grinded his hard length against your ass. being squeezed between the two of them, in the middle of the dance studio, was overwhelming. You moaned Minho's name softly as he curled his finger inside you.

"I need this pussy wrapped so tight around my cock-" He groaned thinking of the sensation of your dripping cunt, milking his cock. When Minho briefly detached himself from you and pressed his forehead against yours, he said:

"Turn around!. Now!"

Your heart immediately started beating louder and you turned around to look Hyunjin in the eye again. Then Minho impatiently pushed you onto all fours and you could already feel his tip at your entrance.

Hyunjin knelt in front of you and pulled down his pants to massage his dick. He could barely stand it. He was so hard it hurt and there was already a wet spot on his pants from his precum.

Minho looked at you intensely, your ass in the air and he was sure he would never get enough. He loved your soft curves, spanked you a few times, which made you whimper loudly. He loved making your ass perk up as he railed you. He spanked you a few times until your ass was red then gently rubbed it to soothe you.

You only became painfully aware of how impatient he really was when he thrusted into you from behind without warning. The ticked-off scream that escaped you died in your throat as he grabbed your hips with both hands and, after pulling out, thrusted hard again so that the slapping of skin on skin echoed through the studio. You starred as he began to take you hard from behind and the whimpers and moans only spurred him on. Hyunjin grumbled, overwhelmed. The sight was unbelievable. You desperate, your body between them, completely defenceless and Lino watched as he sank faster and faster deep inside you. "f-fuck, Lino. your dick feels so good inside of me," you managed to speak, despite your stuttering from his hard thrusts. "yeah? you like that?" He responded to you before grabbing a fist full of your hair and tugging on it, causing your neck to snap back a little as he continued to fuck you, making you look directly at Hyunjin.

"Look at him! Show him how good I fuck you."

"Fuck... too big... Lino," you bubbled in between as he threatened to tear you apart. Meanwhile, Hyunjin fucked his hand and knelt right in front of you.

"Come on, be good and help Jinnie a little," Lee Know growled, gripping your hair tighter and pushing your head towards Hyunjin's throbbing dick. You immediately opened your mouth so he could slide between your lips and the moans Hyunjin let out were mesmerizing. With each thrust, he pushed you harder onto his dick until he was thrusting deep into your throat with every movement from Minho. You squinted your eyes as tears ran down your cheeks and Hyunjin's gasps and moans were accompanied by the naughty sounds of your wet pussy being abused by Lee Know as he sank harder into you with each hip thrust and your entire body seemed to burn. "Such a naughty little slut. Letting us fuck your holes at work..." Hyunjin gasped, rolling his hips against your face and enjoying the gurgling sound. One hand landed in your hair where he guided your head along his shaft. Lee Know gripped your ass so tightly that his fingerprints would be visible for days.

"You love it that rough, don't you? Getting fucked until you cry," Lino growled, and your body went wild, tensed with arousal as he hit just the right spots with his massive dick deep inside you. Hyunjin couldn't stop staring at your reflection in the mirror, where he saw everything clearly. How Lino fucked into your sore pussy, how you took his own dick deep until it hit your throat and how your breasts jiggled with every thrust. "Fuck you are our little slut. Letting us use your body..."

Your mouth around his dick, the desperate sounds and the sight of Lee Know thrusting into you without mercy did the rest for Hyunjin and you could feel how much the sight turned him on. Your butt cheeks slamming against Lino's thighs, balls hitting your clit from behind and his hands tangled in your hair as he came with a loud gasp and spurted his load into your mouth, trying to burn the sight into his memory forever. You greedily swallowed it all and sucked on his tip until nothing came out. He pulled his dick out of your mouth and pulled up his sweatpants, panting. Overwhelmed, he stroked your cheek with his thumb. There was sweat glistening on his face and through the mirror you saw that there was also sweat on Lino's forehead. They hadn't even been this exhausted when dancing.

Minho's thrusts were starting to become sloppy, indicating that he was coming close to his high. you could feel his cock start to pulsate inside of you as your walls tightened around him even more. "Lino, I'm so close. oh my god, don't stop. Your dick is so big. Fuck me harder.", it escaped you and those words were already enough to make Lino cum right then and there. he'd bruise your ass with slaps and squeezes, marking your waist as he tugs you to meet his ruthless thrusts. you loved when they would use you for their own pleasure. Abusing your pussy like their own personal fuck toy. Just the thought made you pussy clench harder around his dick.

"Is that all?" you moaned provocatively as you felt how much he enjoyed dominating you and how close he was to cumming. Lino just laughed throatily and Hyunjin grinned, knowing that you were conjuring up a demon. "Keep being a brat, I'll fuck you senseless." He growled back, annoyed with your teasing behavior and giving a harsh slap to your ass. But that's exactly what you wanted. He fucked you even harder and cupped your neck from behind with his big hand. Without hesitation, he pressed your face to the floor so that he had complete control over your body. You feared losing consciousness as he thrust into you so deep and hard that you could feel him in every bone.

With a few final deep thrusts, his dick pulsed violently and you came so hard without warning that your pussy almost crushed him. With a gasp, he came inside you and sank into you a few more times, savoring your high until the very last second. Only then did he let go of your neck and pulled you up against him, breathing heavily. You knelt together on the floor and he struggled to breathe as he buried his face against your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your stomach. Hyunjin brushed your hair out of your face and when your eyes met, you smiled warmly. "Thank you," he said and lifted your chin with one finger before his plush lips lingered on yours and he kissed you intensely. Satisfied and your body flooded with warmth, you buried your hands in his hair and returned the sensual kiss. Lino pressed a kiss to your shoulders and when you regained your senses a few minutes later and got dressed again, Lino hugged you tightly from behind while Hyunjin packed up his cell phone and your things.

"Babe?" he murmured and you snuggled into his arms.

"What is it?" you asked, turning around in his embrace so you could look at him. His eyes glittered with energy and his hazel hair fell down his forehead. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" he asked softly and his concern touched you deeply. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck. "I'm fine." He scrutinized you to make sure you were telling the truth, which made you smile. "Really!" you assured him. Not like all the other girls in his life so far, you didn't annoy him, let him come back to you instead, and he loved the feeling of chasing you, of always needing to prove that he was the only one to fuck you like that. He wanted, no needed to prove himself to you. Over and over again. He had no idea what that feeling was but he liked it. As well as he liked the way you looked at him. With so much adoration. Sharing you with his members made him even more happy, than he ever could have expected.

Lino was so much more sensitive and loving than he could admit to himself. You loved this side of him and it made you feel safe. Finally, he seemed to believe you and nodded.

"Alright, let's go home and I'll cook something delicious."

Pleased, Hyunjin came over to you. "That sounds like a good plan! Let's go then."

Lee Know gave you his sweater, which you gratefully pulled over your sports bra. When you had finished tidying up and switched off the light, you breathed a sigh of relief. It always felt good to be able to go home together.

You snuggled into Lee Know's sweater, smelling the collar and rolling your eyes when Hyunjin caught you doing it and raised his eyebrows. Lee Know kept glancing at you and couldn't stop grinning mischievously, and Hyunjin smirked quietly to himself as well.

What you did was indecent, beyond all the rules. Naughty and definitely unacceptable. And that's exactly what got your adrenaline pumping. It was the first time since Australia that you were with two of the members at the same time and you liked it. "Imagine someone had come in."

Lee Know said at the door and Hyunjin snorted. That seemed to be a fantasy of his and you playfully elbowed him in the side. "Then I'd be fired"

"You can still become an idol." he dismissed it and Hyunjin laughed. "Or influencer."

Just as you were about to say something back, Il-Deung came around the corner. You hadn't expected him so late. All three of you fell silent and you could see the boys' expressions change. They stared at him, transfixed. He was on his way straight to the dance studio you had been to. If only he had arrived a few minutes earlier...

"Good, you're still here!" he said, clutching the iPad in his hands.

"What's going on? I was just about to get off work," you asked and you could literally feel Lee Know rolling his eyes and Hyunjin looking disgusted.

"I have something important to discuss with you! If you have a few more minutes... You look very exhausted, what were you doing in the studio so late?" he asked, once again being too curious.

"Working out..." Hyunjin replied quickly and Lee Know couldn't help but grin. The smell of sex clung to you and it was obvious how annoyed Il-Deung was to catch you together again.

"So?" he asked emphatically.

"You can tell me quickly now, can't you?" you asked, but he just shook his head.

"I need to talk to you in private!"

Hyunjin frowned in surprise, but before either of them could say anything to make the situation even stranger, you said:

"It's okay! Go ahead, I'll catch up with you. I have to get something from my office anyway."

They both agreed and you pushed past Il-Deung, who followed you. You left the door open while you gathered your Ipad, the notepad with the numbers of the organizers of the next fan meeting and a few of the files with the stage designs. Meanwhile, Il-Deung stood in the doorway a little puzzled, obviously a little offended that you didn't offer him a seat. But you had no interest in this taking any longer. Il-Deung was pushy, unpleasant and, in your opinion, had far too much power. When he made no move to speak, you looked up from your desk and tilted your head a little.

"So. What's up?" you asked, and a message lit up on your cell phone. As you read it, he began:

"It's about your relationship with the members and the media attention on it."

You suppressed a smile as you read the group chat where Lee Know announced that he was cooking his famous seafood pasta for everyone. Directly, Changbin asked what had caused him to be in such a good mood.

"I've already talked to Mrs. Chung about this. The attention and rumors are wanted by JYP."

"Yes... A certain amount of attention and rumors, as long as it doesn't go too far and become scandals."

You didn't take any of his words seriously, after all, you had one of the highest positions in JYP on your side with Mrs. Chung. But Il-Deung looked deadly serious, pushed his glasses up his nose and put his Ipad down in front of you, which made you look up from your phone, where Chan and Jeongin were trying to guess what had happened, which even made Lino send a star emoji.

"Listen! I don't know what kind of weird relationship you have with the members, but if it threatens the company, I can't just stand by and watch. Even if you're just the whore of them..."

You returned his piercing gaze in astonishment. His brow furrowed almost aggressively and his fingers dug into the table when you didn't seem to take him seriously. You were starting to get restless. Flabbergasted you asked:

"Excuse me?"

But his attitude had changed drastically. Somehow he was threatening now with a whole new self-confidence.

"Maybe you should be more careful to not upset anyone..."

He was threatening you without a flinch, and you couldn't believe the situation yet. Were you dreaming? It was ridiculous.

"What are you talking about?"

He switched on his Ipad and started clicking pictures and turning the screen towards you.

"Pictures like that don't leave much room for speculation..." he grumbled and you tried not to let on as he scrolled through the unimaginable amount of snaps that were secretly taken of you. A cold shiver ran through you and your mouth went dry. There was a picture from Australia. You, Felix, Han on the street. Laughing, Han's arm wrapped tightly around your waist and you and Felix holding hands. There were clear red marks on your neck and reddish marks on Han's neck too. Everyone who wasn’t blind knew that these were hickeys. The next pics showed you on the beach from above. You sandwiched between them in the water. Felix hands all over your tits, Han kissing you. The next picture was taken in one of the hallways of the JYP building, where Changbin had his arms tightly wrapped around your stomach, his hands on your but and you were laughing and talking to each other with shining eyes. Another picture backstage in Japan. You could only see silhouettes. It was blurry and too far away, but you knew without a doubt that Han was kissing you on the picture before the performance. The next one made you gasp in disbelief. It wasn't very clear either. You recognized a car door. A tarnished window. Behind it, you could dimly make out two people. You recognized your profile and Jeongin's. You were on his lap, he was kissing your neck and it was clear that you weren't just having a professional conversation about work, as you could see from your shoulders that you were both no longer wearing shirts. This had to have been done after the video shoot, when you fucked in the car.

"Where the hell are they from?", you exclaimed louder than intended. Satisfied to finally have your attention, Il-Deung leaned back in the chair in front of your desk. You jumped up and scrolled through the pictures in disbelief. Your hands were freezing cold and shaking more and more.

"Does it matter?" The calculating calmness in his voice made you angrier and angrier.

"Yes! Someone is stalking us and taking creepy fucking pictures..."

There was taken in Australia. It was very zoomed in and therefore a bit blurry but you could make out Chan's family home. Chan and you were standing on the terrace in front of the white front door and he was brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Even if you had been there yourself, it was surreal to see the pictures from a third perspective. In the next picture, he was kissing you, his hands firmly on your waist and you pressed tightly against his chest. In the next picture, his family was also at the door and a cab was on the street. Chan's mother had lovingly taken your hands in hers and was talking to you. Whoever had taken the photo had been somewhere on the other side of the road. Maybe in a car... You had always been careful, always made sure that no one saw you and yet you weren't careful enough. By now you felt so sick that you had to sit down. There were so many pictures in so many private situations. The fact that someone had been watching you the whole time was scary.

"You work for a Kpop band! Paparazzi photos are normal."

Slowly, you couldn't stay calm anymore. Pointing your finger at his stalking pictures, you blurted out: "Those aren't paparazzi pictures! Someone has been to places where normal people don't have access!"

The asshole actually smiled.

"So you admit that's you in the pictures?"

Your heart pounded in your ears and you fell silent. He had you right where he wanted you. When you didn't say anything else, he leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table.

"I'm not interested in what you're doing with the members or what weird relationship you have... I just want to warn you."

His tone became dangerously calm. He looked at you like a snake, ready to snap.

"Warn me about what?" you asked, hating that he was so intimidating.

"That this could get public... That's not the case yet, but if you continue to be so careless. Ignoring me... being rude. Who knows."

Gradually, you began to realize. You shook your head in disbelief.

"If my uncle who's in the management of JYP finds out about this... He's the old type. For him, scandals are the worst thing that can happen to a company. You know what scandals like that do to idols, don't you? Not only do you lose your job. The band gets broken up... not immediately, of course. First they are all sent on an indefinite hiatus... Then at some point the public is informed that there are no more Straykids because the members have decided to go their separate ways. They will never get a contract again and all the years of training, hard work and career is gone. In the blink of an eye."

Stunned, you could only stare at the Ipad. You had given him a lot of credit of being an idiot, but this? That was a little too high up on the James Bond villain scale.

"What do you want?" was the only open question in the room. Empty and with a snorting heart, you watched as he stood up and came around the table until he was standing in front of you. He bent down to you until his face hovered in front of yours.

"I'm just worried about you. I wish you would surround yourself with your own kind. With people who value you and don't take advantage of you..."

He twirled a strand of your hair between his fingers and you wanted to throw up, you felt so sick by now.

He just wanted to demonstrate his power. He'd had you followed, secretly photographed and now he was blackmailing you.

"I want nothing but your loyalty and maybe we'll even get along."

Frozen, you returned his gaze. His closeness was suffocating. You could smell his expensive perfume, but it burned like gasoline in your nose.

"Think about it," he smiled disgustingly, pushed the strand of hair behind your ear and stroked his fingers down your neck before pulling away, taking his iPad and finally disappearing. It was only when the door slammed shut that you audibly gasped and buried your face in your hands. Despair began to eat away at you. You couldn't tell anyone about this. Chan would freak out and put his career on the line without thinking. You couldn't risk that.

So you tried not to let on. Even as you ate, chatted and laughed together back at them dorm, your worries wouldn't leave you alone. Even though you were safe in the dorm, it wouldn't let you sleep the whole night.

——————————————————————-

© Sky-yuna — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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[leascorner]

j.s. | Welcome home

Summary: After a mission, Jake gets some well deserved break at home. However the week might not turn out how he had planned.

Pairing:  Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x childhood bff!f!reader

Warnings: Angst, mention of death and near death experience, mention of break-up, probably inexact american army facts, ever most likely inexact description of Texas, mention of food, two idiots in love, happy ending

Word Count: 9.2k

A/N: I've said it before, I will say it again. The only trope that I can write/read about Jake is a childhood/best friends to lovers, don't fight me. I also see Jake as an older brother to two half-sisters his mother had with a very good man, after his father abandonned them. This is my canon.

Anyway, this is way too long and way too chaotic but I just couldn't stop writting so enjoy!

Masterlist

Y/N was literally hopping up and down with impatience - or perhaps was it the three cups of coffees she had drunk to be able to keep up with the 2-hour-long drive to the airport in the middle of the night. She was standing on the arrival floors, on her tiptoes, trying to locate the person she was picking up. The flow of travellers coming through the arrival doors was continuous, so many blond heads coming through and none of them was his.

Her childhood best friend’s flight had landed a dozen of minutes prior; 3:28 a.m. was the time she received a “be right there, see you soon” text. Ever since then, the seconds had been going past very - very - slowly and with every second passing, Y/N chest had got narrower from anticipation to the point she felt like she couldn’t breathe. It hadn’t been more than a year and a half now that they had seen each other in the flesh. Of course, there were the texts, the emails and the FaceTime calls, but it was never the same.

“Jake!”

The sea of people in front of them seemed to split in half to let them collide in one another. The said Jake let his bag fall to his feet to catch a flying Y/N, lifting her from the ground as if she weighted nothing. Her hands found the back of his neck and her head found the crook of his neck, reuniting their bodies as if they were only one mind.

“Hey sweetheart,” he sniffed her hair, intoxicating himself from her perfume.

Jake let her down reluctantly when he realized they were in the way of other people reunions. After swinging his bag over his shoulder and dragging her near a row of seats, he finally took a good look at her, dark circles under puffy red eyes and hair all other the place. He dried her tears softly and kissed the top of her head, something he was sure he hadn’t done since they were in high school and that fucker of Chad had broken up her heart - thinking of it now, it seemed like it was a lifetime away. However, he knew that in this moment there was no sadness in her tears. She was crying probably a little happiness to seeing him again, but most certainly a lot of relief to have him alive in front of her.

He took another step back to have an even greater look at her. Y/N was exactly how he last saw her one year or so ago, and exactly how she looked like even all the other times he had to leave. She did not seem to age, and he was sure that the fine smile lines she was now wearing had always been there. It brought comfort to his heart to know that whatever would happen, she would always be waiting for him. He knew it was also selfish, but he had made peace with those thoughts a long time ago. These were moments that he was collecting in his mind for when he was somewhere overseas, fighting for his life.

“My my, did you grow up a few inches?”

“Oh, shut up!” Y/N laughed and tried to nudge him in the ribs. Jake easily grabbed her right elbow to bring her closer in another embrace, so very glad to be home, even only for a little while.

Ventilation was swinging litters of hot air into the car's cabin as it was a rather chilly night for October in Texas. The full moon was lighting up all the roads in front of them, just as if it was making sure they would get home safely.

During the drive, the main discussion turned around how excited everyone would be to have him there. Y/N and her parents were the only ones to know about Jake’s surprise visit; they had only known for about three days before his flight landed that he unexpectedly got a week of leave. They would surprise his family later that day for lunch - only after they both had a rather long nap to make up for the sleepless night.

Jake had seen his family a couple more times than Y/N this past year and a half. Even if he considered Y/N to be family, this wasn’t exactly the rule of the administration. Blood family had some more privileges, like sometimes visiting for the holidays. His mother and one of his little sisters also visited him in Singapore when he was stationed there for an exercise in the Taiwan Strait; they had booked a vacation to be able to see him there. Y/N, at that time, had been unavailable - she had her own life after all.

It was what Jake found the more difficult; to keep up with her life. Most of her friends were common friends from high school. With her going to a different university and later with her different jobs, some of her friends were total strangers to him. However, they all seemed to come and go into her life, leaving more or less damage.

“I am sorry about you and Nick.”

Y/N finished getting back to the right line of the highway and removing the blinker, before glancing quickly in Jake’s direction. He was looking at her, with an expression she couldn’t quite read, but that she understood as some kind of gladness. She sighed while turning her focus back on the road.

“You can lie better than that, Jake.”

“Well, didn’t like the guy so…”

It had been a couple of months now than her longtime boyfriend Nick and she had broken up. What confused Jake the most was how this was not a topic for discussion. She hadn’t called crying; she did not seem to be angry. She just announced it to him like it was nothing and directly switched subject. He hadn’t found a way to bring it back on the table, so he asked their friends and family. They all had the same answer; she was doing fine. She seemed to have continued her life just like nothing had happened.

“Was it him-”

“It was me,” Y/N cut him off quickly abruptly, leaving Jake with an uneasy feeling. She sighed again, probably realizing how harsh her tone had been. “This wasn’t working out anyway.”

Though she could not see him, Jake nodded back acknowledging her response. He still felt like there were more to it, but he understood that now wasn’t the time to discuss it. Ever since they had known each other - and it went back to kindergarten, they hadn’t had many secrets for one another. And if they had, it was never anything major.

So, he shook off this feeling and gently grabbed her hand resting on the gearshift to squeeze it softly.

“I do am sorry, though.”

“I know.”

It was nearly six in the morning when Y/N pulled up in her parents’ driveway.

The porch light was on, welcoming them, making sure Jake knew he was expected, and it made him smile fondly. It still felt surreal somehow; after everything, he was home. Getting out of the car, he breathed the fresh air of Texas like he hadn’t breathed in years.

Y/N was already opening her trunk, getting out a duffel bag that seemed to contain some clothes for today. Jake jogged toward her before she was able to get his own khaki bag out. She rolled her eyes, smiling, when he gently slapped her hands away to take care of it.

“Mom set up a spare bed in my room,” Y/N informed him while walking to the front door. “Just like the old days.”

And nothing in the house had changed either.

The hallway was still a drive along memories with all sorts of pictures hanged upon the wall. Y/N’s parents wedding portrait. Y/N’s baby pictures. Y/N on the day of the start of her first kindergarten year - just before they met each other. A couple more of first day of school pictures - this time with him in it as well. A couple of family vacation pictures. And along with them, a couple of pictures of events he wasn’t even there to attend. Y/N’s university graduation, her parents’ thirty-year anniversary celebration party, her first promotion celebration dinner…

The kitchen was still on the right, the living room on the left and straight ahead the stairs to the bedrooms. Y/N’s bedroom still had Justin Timberlake poster hung up on the walls along with some pictures of friends and family. The teddy bear he won for her at the funfair when they were not even ten stood on her bed. Jake swore that if he opened the dresser, he would still find the shelf that was for his stuff back then.

Without many words, both of them got ready for bed. Y/N took the en-suite bathroom first and when Jake got back in his sweatpants, she was already in bed, cuddling Mister B the teddy bear. His chuckle made her look up to him with sleepy eyes and quickly look away when she realized he didn’t wear a shirt. He kissed her on her forehead before tugging her more tightly in her sheets and turning off the bedside lamp.

“Do you remember when I couldn’t sleep unless someone was holding my hand?”

Jake only hummed in answer, and even in the darkness of her room, his hand found hers instinctively. Their fingers intertwining immediately, he did just as he had promised when he was only just a kid; he never let it go.

“Son,” Y/N’s father spoke from the other side of the kitchen, “don’t worry about it.”

Jake shook his head, smiling, before proceeding with what he was already doing: loading the cup he had used to drink coffee in the dishwasher. Ever since he had been up earlier that morning, Y/N’s parents had pampered him with all their attention while also being busy preparing lunch. Every time he asked if they needed help, they would assure him he just needed to stay put in his seat.

It had always been like this, for as long as he had remembered. Whenever he had gone over when Y/N and he were still in middle school, her parents had always taken good care of him, making sure the crust of his PB&J sandwiches were cut off, putting on his favourite beddings when they were having a sleepover, drying his clothes in the air dryer when they came home soaking wet from the park. He felt loved in a different way than he did at home, where he had a hard time adjusting to his new family dynamics with his two younger step-sitters. Growing up, they continued on listening to him and caring for him. Y/N’s father was the one he went to for advice before he enrolled. Ever since, and with the little time he had with them every time he came home, it still hit him in the face how much they loved him like he was their own son.

“Do you need help with anything?” He asked once more.

This time, they did not have time to answer. Y/N appeared on the doorstep, changed out of her pyjamas, hair still wet. “The shower is all yours, Jake.”

She watched him go as if she had to make sure he remembered the way to her room. She hadn’t really realized yet that he was really here, with them, and feared that he would just disappear at any minute or that she would just wake up from whatever dream she was having. Somehow this also seemed to be all too familiar, like a play they had rehearsed a hundred time before. It broke her heart a little to know this was most likely not going to happen again before a very long time, that it could actually never happen again.

Y/N got this thought out of her head as soon as it came. She didn’t need to think about this. Not now. Not ever. She just needed to enjoy whatever time she had with him at home.

“He looks good,” her mum stated once Jake had made it to the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, he does,” Y/N spoke softly, eyes lingering to where Jake had been only a couple of seconds before, suddenly wondering if he was really as good as they thought.

When Jake got back to the kitchen the entrance clock had just struck eleven. Only sixty minutes until he would be reunited with his family. It never felt more real, but he couldn’t quite realize it. He was so used of being far away from them, totally disconnected from their realities, hearing their news after everyone else. Yet, he had always found them as he had left them, eyes watering to see him home or gone.

He joined Y/N on the vegetable preparation. Washing, peeling, cutting kept him busy while the anticipation started to build up. All while Y/N’s father asked him about what new manoeuvres he had learned. Being an aviator himself, they could talk about flying for hours to Y/N’s greatest damn; she had the biggest fear of flying - and perhaps the fact that Jake nearly crashed them while flying an old aircraft he had restored with her father when they were teenagers had something to do with it.

“These boys,” Y/N’s mother sighed playfully as Jake and Y/F/N were debating whatever solar planes were the future of aviation. Y/N smiled as she shared a knowing look with her mother, who was getting ready to lay the table in the dining room.

“Mom, hold on,” Y/N called before reaching inside the cupboard next to her, “you are missing a plate.”

“Why? Is Mark coming after all?”

Y/M/N’s face went white in only a second as she realized what she had just said. Not knowing what to do else, Y/N handed her the white plate. Looking sideways to Jake, she hoped he hadn’t heard - she didn’t want him to find out like this, when his whole family was going to be here in the next thirty minutes.

It was already too late though; Jake’s attention had of course switched to their awkward interaction. Her father was quick to step in, wiping his hands on a cloth and moving towards his wife.

“Of course he is, darling. Let me help you bring those into the dining room.”

Y/N watched them disappear before quickly turning back to the carrots she was now cutting in a Julienne, praying Jake would just drop the subject. Ever since she had learned that Jake was having a leave, she had planned their reunion to be perfect. She had purposely lied to his family, pretending to have a very big news to share with them so they all agreed to gather even if the atmosphere was not good. She had made them promise to bury the hatchet, for “her” and most absolutely for Jack. Whatever touchy topics they would have to talk about, they could do it after.

“Why wouldn’t he come?” Jake still asked and, at that moment, she knew that whatever she would tell him would never be sufficient to not draw his suspicion any further. She couldn’t lie to him even if she tried.

“Just been busing with work lately, you know how it is.”

Without letting him time to ask more questions, Y/N went for the stoves to make sure the sauce was still reducing as it should have. She could feel Jake’s eyes burning holes on her back and could only hope he would drop the subject.

“Jake, son,” Y/F/N had just gotten back from the dining room, “would you mind giving me a hand with the roast?”

After taking a last look at Y/N, still very focused on stirring the sauce, Jake turned to her father. It wasn’t until she didn’t feel his eyes on her that she turned to look at him. She watched as her father made him took out the turkey so he could put some more butter on it. Out of the corner of his eye his father gives him a reassuring wink signalling her he had got this.

The bell rang at the exact same moment Y/N put the last plate of hors d’oeuvres at the centre of the table. Shooting a look across the piece, she saw her father squeezing Jake’s shoulder in what seemed to comfort him. She smiled shyly, trying to hide her own nervousness. Thanks to her father, Jake had nearly forgotten about the earlier incident about Mark and the reason he wouldn’t have been able to make it. He hadn’t asked any other questions, and they hadn’t given away other secrets. All was well in the best of all words, or so she still tried to convince herself. It was all that mattered.

“Just like we said, you both stay here, and we’ll bring them for you.”

Y/N watched as her parents disappeared in the hall. She turned to Jake who she now realized he was close at her side - she knew from the way his lips were set in a tight smile that he was somehow nervous. When noises started coming from the hall, Y/N grabbed Jake’s hand without thinking. She needed him to know she was there, that she would always be there, just like they promised when they were younger. It would take much more than a thousand of miles and a few hiccups to take them apart. As if he was thinking the exact same thing, Jake squeezed her hand back.

Jake’s step-dad was the first to enter the dining room. Y/N saw his eyes go from herself to Jake right next to her side, his eyes lighting up in realization. Yet, he didn’t say anything, holding a finger to his lips to let them know he would stay silent while moving further into the room as if nothing had happened. He and Jake had never been particularly close; he was a good man, a good husband, and a good father to his daughters, but Jake’s fatherly figure had always been Y/N’s father.

Next to enter the room was Jake’s youngest step-sister, Sophia. She immediately spotted him, letting out a cry and running into his arms. He crushed his sister in one of those same hugs he gave Y/N when she picked him up from the airport. It warmed her heart to see them like that. Sophia was still very young when Jake had enrolled; she was only just a kid and had grown up with the lack of his older brother. She was looking up to him so much that Y/N had sometimes to remind her that he didn’t have only qualities. He was her hero in so many ways…

Sophia’s reaction got the rest of the family - his mother, Olivia, his other step-sister, and his step-brother, Mark - in the dining room quite quickly. There were a lot of “Jake!” shouted from across the room and loads of tears, happy smiles, and hugs.

“I can’t believe he is here.” Sophia cried again; this time she was in Y/N’s arms. “And I can’t believe you lied to us.”

“Sorry not sorry,” Y/N smiled, tugging a string of her hair behind her ears before bringing her in an even closer hug if it was possible. She wasn’t sure she had seen her this happy in her life, she realized.

Y/N was an only child with a very little family. Over the years, Jake’s family had grown to be her own as well. As children first, as they were always all together at either one’s house or the others. As teenagers when his step-sisters weren’t babies anymore and they had started to be able to play more with them. She remembered helping his mom getting both of his sisters ready for school, all of them celebrating Christmas at her parents or going dress shopping for Olivia’s first prom.

Ever since Jake had been deployed on the West Coast and later overseas, they had grown even closer. There were brunches on Sundays, just the three of them, where Sophia would file them up on her latest dating adventures. There were lunches at Olivia’s office after they had taken a midday yoga class. There were breakfasts with Sophia before her classes began. Y/N had always made sure they were alright, as if she had to do it for Jake.

So far, the lunch had turned out great.

Jake had told them all about his last position and this group of pilots he had been joining overseas. Everyone had started feeding him bits and pieces of what had occurred ever since the last time he’s been home. Olivia and Mark had managed not to fight, which was a miracle in itself, per Y/N’s opinion. Jake’s mom had finally stopped crying. And Sophia seemed to have forgotten about those hard choices she would have to make once she graduated from college at the end of the year.

At least, that was the case until Jake asked about it.

“So, any thoughts yet about what you’ll do next year?”

“No, not really.”

Y/N had already seen that look on Sophia’s face. It was the same one she made when she was hesitating between an avocado toast and pancakes at the place they were used to going to brunch; every time she had been making this face, she had ended up with ordering both. Sophia eyed her tentatively and Y/N immediately shook her head no, silently pleading her not to do whatever she was thinking.

Today was not the day. Jake had only gotten back from abroad hours ago, they would have enough time to discuss it in the next couple of days.

“I am thinking of enrolling,” Sophia stated abruptly.

Boom.

The bomb had landed.

Y/N sighed, mentally cursing Sophia for needing whatever validation from him. They all had talked about this extensively for months on now. Decide to enrol was one thing, accept that one of your relative would do the same was another. She knew how Jake was; he didn’t look like it at first sight, but his family was his everything. He had made the selfish decision that could result in them losing him forever, yet he wouldn’t accept that she’d do the same.

From the deathly silence that came after Sophia’s statement, Y/N rested the cutlery on the side of her plate, bracing herself for whatever had to come. Her attitude made Jake immediately turned to her. She had never seen the wrinkle between his eyebrows this deep before. She didn’t know if it was from dread, disappointment, or anger.

“You knew?”

Jaw tight, Y/N didn’t answer, and Jake huffed - of course, she knew. How could she not? She was here, with his own family, when he was thousands of miles away fighting for his country. She was here, only a ride away, when he couldn’t even remember the last time he had enough telephone network to FaceTime them. She was there, physically with them, when he was just a ghost, present for a few days a year before disappearing for months on hand.

Y/N tried to reach out for his left arm to try and calm the whole situation down, but he moved ever so slightly she couldn’t touch him. The fire in Jake’s green eyes was incandescent. He was angry, with Sophia, with her, with everyone. And to know he didn’t even know half of it…

“Let’s not start now,” his older step-sister stepped in to try and reason him.

“Why?” Jake retorted immediately. “Wanna updates me on what is going on with Mark as well?”

Olivia opened her mouth to answer and as she couldn’t seem to find something to say, she then closed it and lowered her head. She and Mark had officially announced a few weeks before Jake returned that they were going to take some time apart. They had been married for nearly three years and they were having a rough path. They had started couple therapy, trying to make things work. Y/N couldn’t count the hours Olivia had spent on her couch, crying and eating ice-creams.

Y/N knew exactly how she felt like. The deception of thinking she had found the love of her life only to realize it was more complex than this. The sadness of loving someone and it still not being enough for the two of them to be happy. The paralyzing fear of being alone, of never being well enough.

She needed a shoulder to cry onto and a lot of love, and not to be reminded of what a failure she thought she was.

“I am sorry,” Sophia mumbled. Y/N wasn’t sure to whom she was apologizing. Jake? Them?

“You can’t seriously be thinking about it?” Jake half-shouted, pointing her finger at her like he was accusing her of the worst betrayal.

“Don’t say anything you’d regret, son.”

Y/N’s father word seemed to put some sense into him as he leaned his back against his chair, folding his arms against his chest. The distress on Sophia’s face was now palpable and she was on the verge of crying from Jake’s quite violent reaction. Though she didn’t expect Jake to be totally supportive, Y/N had not expected him to reject the idea that much either. She had thought that he would’ve still listen to her reasons, maybe try to talk her out of it, but finally make peace with the idea. Just like they had. Just like they all had when he was in her shoes.

Olivia had regained her composure and wrapped an arm around her sister’ shoulders. The look she sent Jake probably refrained him from attacking again his little sister. Instead, he chose another target for his anger.

“How can anybody be cool with this?”

Before Jake’s mom could speak, Y/N called him out. “Why could you do it and not her, Jake, huh?” She wants to be like you so bad, don’t you see?

“That’s not the same thing.”

Y/N huffed and rolled her eyes.

It made her even bitter. For all the things he hadn’t told her when he had no reason to hide it from her. For him being hurt that they didn’t want to discuss as such important topics over the phone. She would have liked to be sorry to hide all this from him, yet his reaction had only comfort her on her choice.

“You’re being unfair.”

“Am I now?” he laughed. “Excuse me for putting my life at sake and not wishing for me sister to do the same.”

“Did anybody ask you to? If anything, we would all have loved to keep you by our side.”

“Oh, I see. So, this is all my fault, right?”

The daring look he offered her made her heart jump in her chest. Her stomach was in fire; consuming her from the inside. She was tired from the sleepless nights she had for the last few months. And sad about the outcome of this lunch. And disappointed in him. And quite frankly done with his attitude.

Sighing, she gave in and looked away, throwing her napkin on her plate at the same time. Whatever this was, it was too much for her to handle. “If you’d excuse me,” she announced as she moved her chair back. “I am not hungry anymore.”

“Y/N-” he called after her, grabbing her arm to make her stay. She gave him a pained look before abruptly pulling away from his grip.

“Welcome home, Jake.”

Jake’s face appeared once again on her phone screen.

Big bright smile, sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, forehead sun-kissed by the first rays of sunshine of spring. The picture had been taken one of the few times she had fly out to California to visit him. They had such a good time that Y/N used to hold all those memories close to her heart. Now, she couldn’t even look at it.

She couldn’t count the number of texts Jake had sent nor the number of messages he had left on her voice mail. She hadn’t read nor listened to any of them and had even decided to turn off her phone at some point during the night. She needed some time alone to take a breath and to swallow the disappointment that was forming a lump in her throat.

Despite the emotional roller coaster this day had been, she hadn't fallen asleep until late in the night, turning over in the sheet nonstop while thinking of all the comebacks she could have said to his face. And like every other night for months now, when she had finally managed to get some sleep, her worst nightmare had woken her up a couple of hours later.

It only made her feel worse and she cried all the tears in her body. It was like whatever emotion she had retained in the last year had come back to her like a wrecking ball. She was angry for all sorts of reasons all linked to Jake one way or another. She was also very sad of the situation she found herself into, of Jake having spoiled their reunion, of the spectacle she had given in front of her loved ones.

So, when she turned on her phone a few hours later, eyes still puffy and red from the lack of sleep and the crying, she didn’t hesitate to turn down his call when his smiley face appeared on her phone screen. At that time, she discovered the multiple texts and missed calls of her parents and Jake’s sisters. She sent them a quick group message, letting them know she was fine and that she would catch up later. Leaving her phone on the kitchen counter, she got ready for her day.

Her phone rang four more times while she was getting ready. She was now determined to let him know to leave her alone. She was still pissed, and she needed to compose herself. This was without counting on the doorbell ringing when she was about to answer her phone.

Stopping whatever she was doing, she made the few steps from the kitchen counter to her apartment door, opening it without even thinking who she would find behind. Much to her surprise it was the only person she didn’t want to see. Jake. Standing there, phone in his hand.

“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed when she nearly shut the door in his face.

He stopped it before it was fully closed and after a deep sigh, Y/N let him in without even giving him a look. She closed the door behind him, passing him - still without looking at him - and went to the living room. She leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms on her chest much like he had done during lunch just the day before.

Jake stood in the middle of the room, watching around him. It was the first time he was in her new place, the one she started rented after she broke up with her long-term boyfriend. It wasn’t much, only a one-bedroom apartment with a sanitized decor - she hadn’t had the heart to make it her own. It was close to her work and not a too long drive from her parents; it was all she really needed.

Y/N studied him in silence. He must not have had the memo about the Texas weather at that time of the year as he was only wearing a beige sweater, sleeves rolled up. It wasn’t much of a surprise he had forgotten how it was; he had spent so little time home in the last ten years.

When her eyes finally got to his face, she realized he was now staring at her. She tried reading him like she could before, but what she found in his eyes, she couldn’t interpret. Perhaps something had been broken between them. Perhaps there were only so much absence someone could handle. Perhaps they had let the miles come in between them for real this time.

She couldn’t tell how long they stayed like this before he finally spoke.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Long gone was the hope she had that he would apologize.

Jake had never been one to be wrong; he was probably even the most stubborn person she had ever met. Though she liked this confidence in him, she also knew it was hiding something much deeper. His trauma of being abandoned by his father when he was still a toddler. The fear of his loved ones realizing what a failure he was, despite everything he had already accomplished. The fear of never being enough.

He had assured her it wasn’t one of the reasons he had enrolled, and she knew he was lying to her just as much he was lying to himself. But she wasn’t her twenty-something-self; she wasn’t going to protect his feelings anymore. Now that they didn’t have an audience, she could lay her cards on the table.

“Do you mean, just like you didn’t tell us about the ejection seat accident that you had six months ago?”

She saw his face drop ever so slightly before he regained his composure back. She wasn’t the only one keeping things from him, yet contrary to him, the things she was keeping a secret weren’t really hers anyway.

“How would you know?”

“Javy called me that time,” she stated dryly, memories of the call she got in the middle of the night flowing to her head. She still had nightmares about it most nights. “He wanted me to know in case your brain injury worsened, and they had to call your family.”

This secret, she had never told anyone and had carried the weight of it on her own until now. She had smiled and assured everyone that all was fine for the days - sixteen in total - they didn’t hear from him; how could he, he had been literally in a 24h surveillance at the hospital. She had had Javy on the phone to report every little detail he had of Jake’s evolution. She hadn’t had sleep for weeks straight and had nearly cried when Jake had called him after a very busy and unexpected mission he took part in - another way for putting he had just got cleared from the hospital.

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing, Jake! You got banned from flying for six weeks. Six fucking weeks!”

“And yet, it wasn’t the first time I ended up in the hospital, nor was it the last time. You know that’s part of the job.”

Y/N snorted.

Like hell she knew. The job description went with never being in the same time zone as your loved ones, missing every single milestone in their life, putting his very own safety at risk so they could all be free and safe, and omitting all details of the national security missions to which he was taking part. She was pretty sure though there was no line in his contract about lying about his health, especially when he could have died, to his family.

For some reason, this whole situation had made his absence even worse. She realized he didn’t feel safe to let them know when things had gone bad; if this time she had known, she couldn’t even imagine all those other times Javy hadn’t been there to inform her. It had awakened a visceral (and most likely also irrational) fear in her. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him and she still wasn’t ready to accept it.

“Why is this such a big deal when you knew what was going in here and didn’t even tell me?”

If she hadn’t been this tired, Y/N would have probably walked to him to slap him. How could he compare his near-death experience to his sisters’ decisions? How could any of it be equivalent?

“This was not my truth to tell,” she only replied blankly.

Yes, she wasn’t very proud of hiding things from Jake and lying on purpose. But she wasn’t thirteen any longer and when people confided in her - when she promised she wouldn’t tell him anything - she wasn’t going to go running to her best friend to spill all the tea.

“Will you then tell me the truth about what really happened between you and the other dickhead?”

“I already told you everything,” she answered dryly, a little bit too quickly for it not to be suspicious.

“I don’t believe you.”

Y/N knew from the sound of his voice it was pure provocation. He gave her the same daring look she had just seen the day before - the same consuming flame was in his eyes - and she could see his infamous smirk dawning on his lips. She wondered why he wanted to prove just how right he was - how he was always right - so bad. It made her skin scramble how infuriating he was.

She didn’t answer right away and stared at him, arms crossed on her chest a little bit tighter to protect herself. Everything that was happening was only making her angrier towards him. He had ruined everything, and he had just decided to continue on doing so.

She had dreamt about him coming home for months and months, to have him by her side and now, she could only wish for him to go away. The anger, the pain, the animosity; it was all too much. She couldn’t keep up anymore.

“What do you want me to tell you, huh? How much of a great boyfriend and man he was, but that it still wasn’t enough? How much a horrible person I am for not being able to fall in love with a person that would devote his own life to try and make me happy?”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but closed it as the words sank in. It all made sense to him suddenly. Why she seemed to be relieved it was all over. Why she didn’t call him after he broke her heart. Why, on the rare occasion he had discussed the break-up with his sisters, they had never talked badly about her ex-boyfriend. He didn’t break her heart. He never did.

She was the one breaking his.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, this time his voice much softer.

How could she? When it all started with his accident - that she wasn’t even supposed to know of. When it took her five years of a stable relationship to realize her longtime boyfriend had never have been the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. When it took her half of her adult life to understand she had been lying to herself for almost all her life and that even now, she didn’t know her truth from her lies any more.

Knowing the truth, Jake didn’t know what to say. He wanted to feel sorry, he wanted to tell her he was. But was he really? It would be lying to say he didn’t exult when he had heard of the break-up... On the day she introduced him to Nick, they he had discussed - quite vividly - about the country actions in Afghanistan - one of the campaigns he had just come home from - and from that day, Jake had just decided he wouldn’t like the man. He hadn’t been very subtle about disliking him, but in his opinion, Nick had paid him back in his own coin: monopolizing Y/N whenever Jake had her on the phone, making her choose between the two of them when he had had the opportunity to fly her oversea. He still felt nauseous to recall how Y/N had seemed to only look at him every time Nick was in the room with them.

He made a few steps in her direction, going to comfort her, but Y/N only shook her head. She wouldn’t let any of this go so easily. It wasn’t because she had confided in him, that he now knew all the truth from her part, that everything else would be forgotten. There were still a lot of unspoken truth to uncover.

“Why are you really here, Jake?”

“What do you mean?”

“The reason you got this leave, what is it?”

They stood less than a metre away, eyes in eyes. Jake never felt so vulnerable as every time she looked at him as if she could read his soul. He knew she was looking for something. Something he couldn’t give her.

Looking away, he answered, “It’s nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Y/N slipped away before he could even react. He watched as she turned back towards the front door. She opened it without a word and looked into his eyes as she stood leaned against it.

“Goodbye, Jake.”

And this time, he didn’t even try to fight.

Javy: Hey, got Hangman on the phone today. You okay?

Y/N: Did he vent at you for calling me that one time?

Javy: Almost.

Javy: He wasn’t really angry though. Just frustrated I guess.

Y/N: I bet. Wasn’t really the nice little break he must have planned.

Javy: If there is anything to learn from all this it is that truth is better spoken from the person they apply to.

Javy: You should talk to him.

Y/N: Yeah well I’ll see about that.

Jake was very nervous, and he wasn’t very nervous a lot.

In fact, he was pretty sure the last time he was that nervous was when he had picked Y/N up for their senior prom. Just like every year since starting high school, she had been his date - though Chad nearly had taken her away from him, but this dumbass had broken up with her only a couple of weeks before prom. That year, for some reason, everything felt different. High school years were coming to an end, they were both going to different universities. Everything was about to change, and it would never be the same. Jake had dreaded taking their relationship to the next level. If only he had known that despite going to different universities, Jake enrolling and basically the two of them living their life in parallel, their relationship had made it.

More or less so... It had been three days now since the lunch at her parents, two since their other discussion - if he would call this an argument, he was still unsure - and today was the first time he was seeing her since then.

After spending time with his family, he was on his way to meet with some of their childhood friends. Normally, Y/N was one of them and she had been invited. But with the recent events, he didn’t know if she would be here. He had had time to reflect on what had been said and finally had apologized to her voice mail as she wouldn’t let his calls through. He had given her plenty of time and space, sending in only a couple of good mornings and good nights texts, just like he was used to. Yet he didn’t know what to expect.

When he spotted her already sat at the table he had booked, his heart started pounding furiously. It gave him hope not everything between them had been broken.

“Hey,” Jake greeted Y/N softly when he had gotten at her level.

Y/N only nodded, barely looking at him, before continuing her discussion with their friend, Monica, like nothing had happened. Jake swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing to greet everyone around the table.

In all those diners they had had with their friends when he had been home, she would have been sat next to him, so close but merely touching. He would have had his arm resting nonchalantly on the back of her chair. He would have whispered all sorts of things in her ears, and she would have laughed open light-heartedly at every single one of his jokes.

That night, she was sat as far as possible from him and he had difficulty focusing on the group discussion, his mind going back to her every time. He probably went the whole evening looking at her not so subtly in the hope she would like to give him a look. She did not.

“You good?” Matt, sat at his side, asked him after the main course.

“Yeah,” Jake answered though the little tremor in his voice didn’t reflect confidence.

“Just give her a little time. It’s just a lot, y’know.”

Jake only nodded.

The problem was indeed just that: time. His flight back was in two days now and she was supposed to be his ride. He knew she would be able to drop him off without speaking a word, while he sat there in the agonizing silence. He was sure he was not able to do it for a couple of hours, he couldn’t imagine what it would be to not have her speak to him every again. He couldn’t get back to combat with Y/N still mad at him. He needed to fix things. He had been able to do it with his sisters; he had to do it with Y/N.

Indeed, the lunch had finished soon after Y/N’s dramatic departure. His sisters hadn’t spoken another word to him, and Y/N’s parents had tried to maintain some semblance of a conversation. Jake had taken a quick walk to clear his mind before going to his parents.

He had sat down with Olivia first and then Sophia, so they could tell him everything that had been going on. He sat there listening to what they had to say until they were done. There had been a lot of crying on their side (only a tiny little bit on his side - most likely because he had a dust in the eye, he would say). In the end, they had hugged and laughed and remembered that they loved each other and that nothing could be more important than that.

He had realized Olivia seemed much more at peace, somehow differently but also similarly to Y/N’s. She had so many plans on her side - buying a house, planning a trip to Europe, getting a puppy – as if she had just discovered she could be a unique person outside her marriage and she genuinely was happier.

The talk with Sophia had been a little bit more sensitive. The idea of her enrolling made his blood boiling, but he had remained calm – or at least tried to - and listened to her reasons. If he was afraid to see himself in her, her reasons were solely different than his. She didn’t want this only to do like him; it was more that he had paved the way for her. He had made her promise to think some more about it - at least, graduate from college before deciding anything - and he had promised to be supportive. He would have some work on himself, but he would cross that bridge when he’d get there.

They had of course talked about Y/N and how she was carrying the whole family on her shoulders. She always made sure everyone was alright, answering her phone at 3 a.m. to pick up Sophia from a frat party gone wild, welcoming Olivia in her tiny apartment - giving her the only bed to sleep on the couch, despite her protest - the time she turned things round after Mark and she had decided to take some time apart. She even made sure their mother was alright when his step-dad was away for business, bringing her homemade meals that she only had to heat up and keeping her company.

If he always knew what an amazingly caring person she was, it only proved him right. He would be forever grateful she was the first person to have talked to him on his first day of kindergarten. He would be forever grateful for the woman she was. If he was honest with himself, it all made him love her even more.

He wasn’t ready to watch her from afar - well, from much far away than his current position - but he would do it (or at least try), should she ask him to…

After what seemed to be an eternity, the evening finally came to an end.

Jake didn’t get the opportunity to speak to Y/N though he hesitated multiple times to just call her out or walk to her and demand that they had a chat. She was currently bidding goodbye to everyone in front of the restaurant, and Jake was watching her attentively to ambush her just as soon as she was finished. He didn’t care if he would be rude to anyone by not saying thank you for coming and goodbye; he needed to talk to her.

After she hugged Monica and promised to let her know when she got home safely, she reached for her car key in her bag and made her way to her car without even looking at him. Jake took his luck and followed her. He called after her, but she refused to acknowledge him.

“Can we not?”

“Why?” she turned around suddenly. “Want me to tell you anything else?”

“Y/N, please.”

She only raised an eyebrow before turning back and continuing walking. Too bad for her, Jake wasn’t one to give up this easily. He followed her lead up to her car that she started to unlock to get in. A wave of panic got through him as he could feel her slip away from his fingers and he didn’t want that. If they didn’t have this talk now, he was not sure they would have it at all.

“I only have two days left,” he said, interposing himself between the closed door and her. “Please.”

Y/N froze at only a few centimetres away from him. She seemed to think about what options she had. Unfortunately for her, there just wasn’t much as she couldn’t make Jake move even if she wanted to. So, she chose the reasonable choice. She crossed her arms over her chest and listened.

“I-” he sighed, passing a hand on his face, frustration clearly visible on his face now. “There has been an incident. We lost two men.”

Y/N’s arms immediately dropped to her side; the mask she wore on her face cracked. She could have been angry he lied to her, yet again, but this time, it was too serious. People died. The command had given them time off because of it. It only reminded her it could end at any time. She really could lose him.

“Jake,” she sighed.

“I-”

His voice broke and Y/N didn’t hesitate to go in for a hug. Out of habits, his arms found her waist and he buried his face in her hair. He breathed her perfume in, trying to ground himself and not totally lose it. She was his rock. There were no ways he would still be here if it wasn’t for her waiting for him at home.

He couldn’t lose her.

“I can only imagine the worry I cause you all,” he muttered in her hair. “I didn’t want to add anything to it.”

Y/N grabbed his face with both her hands and forced him to look at her. She wore a small frown on her eyebrows and determination in her eyes. While she was touched he wanted to spare their feelings, not knowing what was going on was even worse. She couldn’t count the number of times she had thought he was dead when an unknown number had called her phone. In order to support him the best way they could, they needed to know.

“Getting you back in one piece is our priority,” she started, voice bold as if she wanted him to engrave her words in his head. “That’s why we are keeping things to ourselves. We don’t want you to worry about us when you should be solely focused on staying alive.”

Jake half-smiled in return, which made Y/N relax a bit. Her hands fall on his shoulder as he kept her close to him, so close that there was no space between their two bodies. They had realized they wanted the exact same thing for one another: for them to be safe and sound.

“I worry about you all, all the time. I worry about you, all the time,” he confessed, his voice still low.

Jake reached out to tuck a loose string of hair behind her ear and Y/N instinctively leaned in his touch. It was like this between them, easy and pure. It always had. Sometimes - like these last past days, they were so caught up in life they seemed to forget what they had was so unique. Every time they had found their way back to each other.

“I left you alone while I am off, living my dream.”

“Don’t say it like you could have made any other choice, Jake.”

“I don’t regret it,” he answered right back. “Yet if I had to do it all over again, there are a lot of things about you that I would do a whole lot differently.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her heart rate slightly going up. If they often shared I-love-you’s more out of habits than anything else - though they were always genuine, Jake had never really expressed out loud how he felt about her, and from the electricity in the air - totally different from the explosive tension that had built up until now, she could feel there were more to it.

“It’s never too late, they say,” he smiled softly, his hand making it to the back of her neck.

Y/N hold her breath, searching in his eyes if he was being serious and if he was really wanting to finish the conversation they had started the night of their senior prom. If he wanted to do it right here, right now in a parking lot. It was a conversation that could have totally changed their life if they had it. A conversation for which they every so often imagined what they would have said if fear hadn’t stopped them.

If there were much younger back then, nothing now had changed at all.

“I’ve always been yours,” Y/N whispered. It would be lying if relief hadn’t wash over Jake. Of course he had known - he had always known - yet, hearing it was another thing.

“I know.”

Y/N’s bright eyes saw his eyes dove down to her lips, only a dozen of centimetres away she realized now, then back to her eyes. Her cheeks were burning up from the anticipation of what was to come. Yet, lost in each other’s eyes, none of them moved.

At that moment, the world could have stopped that they wouldn’t have noticed. Nothing else but them mattered.

“Well, kiss me then.”

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 12

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, dealer!ellie, mentions of alcohol, descriptions of anxiety and anxiety attacks, allusions to toxic parents, description of murder (in a joking fashion), flashback scene, some descriptions from ellie's POV, descriptions of marijuana and marijuana usage, allusions to toxic ex-friends, slightly sexual behaviour, minors do not interact

word count: 9.2k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-if if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

“Oh, I don’t know, Abs…” 

“Hey, like I said, no pressure at all.” 

You’re sprawled out on your bed with your homework spread out on your sheets which you’ve completely abandoned as you’d spent the last half hour chatting on the phone with Abby. 

It’s been exactly four days since your night out with her and her friends at the lesbian bar, Bow and Arrow. Exactly four days since unexpectedly you ran into your ex-fling from freshman year, Adriana. Exactly four days since you drunkenly rejected Abby’s sudden and attempted kiss. Exactly four days since you visited the same alleyway where you had your first kiss with Ellie Williams. 

Being the perfect gentlemanwoman that she always was, Abby had insisted on taking you home herself that night. You’d reassured her that you could easily order a rideshare service to take you home if needed, but she argued that it was her fault that you had tequila in your system in the first place and that she’d feel much more at ease if she definitively saw you enter the front door of your apartment with her own two eyes. Her thoughtfulness and persistence won out in the end, and at around 2 A.M., she respectfully greeted you good night as you tipsily crossed the threshold of your apartment. 

As you waved her goodbye, a sinking sense of shame settled at the seat of your stomach. Despite your brush-off to her advances, Abby remained completely sweet and amicable for the rest of the night. Her demeanour didn’t seem to change, though there were no more attempts to steal another kiss from you again. The feeling of remorse soberly persisted into the following day, and you’d remorsefully texted Abby the morning after to offer lengthy sorries for your rejection. Ever a well-mannered woman of honour, she easily accepted your many apologies and, in turn, apologized for attempting to kiss you while neither of you was completely sober. Your “friendship” with Abby remained untainted, much to your relief. 

But now, exactly four days later, you’ve been once again placed in yet another uncomfortable predicament.  Abby had just invited you out to dinner with her that following Friday night at a restaurant called Orchards. Though never having actually set foot in the place, you’d seen just in passing how extravagant and fancy the establishment was. It was never a restaurant you considered ever patronizing, and as Abby attempts to persuade you to accompany her for dinner, you feel your entire body begin to react in complete hysteria. You try to convince yourself that your rapidly beating heart and extreme nausea were merely nervous reactions to being suddenly asked out on an obvious date, not at all from the fact that Orchards is a mere block and corner away from the apartment that Jesse and Ellie shared. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to!” You insist. “It’s just that… I mean, are you sure?” 

“Sure about what?” 

“I don’t know… that you wanna be asking me out on a date.” 

“Doesn’t have to be an official date if you don’t want it to be,” She says. “It can just be two friends going out on a Friday night for a nice dinner together and having a fun time.” 

“At a super fancy restaurant?” 

“Hey, I’m a really good friend.” 

You can’t help but giggle at Abby’s cheekiness. 

From experience alone, you have a gut feeling somehow that if you were to decline Abby’s invitation, she wouldn’t hold it against you. You could choose to once again remain within the sanctuary of your platonic comfort zone, a sanctuary that you’d grown far too comfortable in for the past couple of years. But Abby was genuinely sweet and so thoughtful and incredibly handsome, and she’d been so very good to you so far. Suddenly, wise words from both Dina and Jesse come back to you and echo within your mind. 

“Don’t let her stop you from enjoying your life.” 

“I also think that you deserve to be happy. And unfortunately, that means putting yourself out there.” 

Trying to hold back from letting out an audible sigh, you finally give Abby a reply. 

“Alright.” 

“Oh?” 

“Alright.” You repeat, smiling slightly. 

“Is that a yes?” Abby asks. 

“It’s a yes,” You giggle. “Now whether it’s a friend date or a real date…” 

“Hey, I’ll take whatever I can get,” Abby laughs. “You don’t have to decide now. Hell, you can even decide during dessert while we’re actually at the restaurant.” 

“You’re cute.” You chuckle. 

“Oh, I know.” You swear you can hear Abby’s cocky smirk through the phone. 

“So, Friday at 7?” You confirm. 

“If that works for you. Do you want me to come pick you up from your place?” 

You seriously consider her generous offer. A small part of you knows that there is every chance that you would end up bailing in total anxiety if you weren’t essentially escorted to the date. Part of you also begins to worry that you’d immediately look out of place if you walked in alone without Abby and her usual charm & swagger by your side. But you then remember that Abby’s apartment is only five minutes away from the restaurant and yours was fifteen and in the complete opposite direction; your unrelenting unwillingness to inconvenience her ultimately makes the decision for you. 

“Oh, it’s okay! I can just meet you there.” You exclaim. 

“You sure? I totally don’t mind coming to get you.” 

“Abby.” You say in a playfully stern manner. 

“I know, I know,” Abby chuckles. “You’re a big girl.” 

“Yes, ma’am, I am.” 

Suppressing from loudly exhaling in both relief and tension, you finally remember and notice all of the unfinished homework still laid out right in front of you. 

“Anyway, just text me all the details later. I’ve got a shit ton of homework that I’ve been procrastinating on, and you’ve kind of been sidetracking me from completing any of  it.” 

“My apologies, it was not my intention to be so distracting.” 

“Yes, it was.” 

“Okay, maybe a little.” 

You both laugh. 

“Alright, alright,” Abby complies. “I’ll let you get to it. I’ll see you in the morning?” 

“Don’t you have class at like, 8?” 

“I can skip it so I can walk you to your 9 A.M.” 

“Abigail, go to your classes.” 

“Fine,” She chuckles. “I’ll be a good student, I guess. Always so eager to be rid of me.” 

“Abby Anderson, I swear to god—“ 

“Kidding, kidding!” 

“I’ll text you later, then.” You say. 

“Sounds good. Good luck with your homework.” 

“Thanks. Good night, Abs.” 

“Good night, pretty girl.” 

You tap the red button at the bottom of your screen, subsequently ending the call. 

Sighing, you flop onto your back and stare at your prickly white ceiling. Your eyes zoom in and out of focus as your mind recaps the conversation you just had with the blonde, blue-eyed woman. 

Did I just agree to go out with Abby? 

Do I really want to do this? 

This is gonna be so, so different from the other night. We were with her friends. She’s inviting me out to be with her and only her. 

It’s going to be a date, no matter what she says. 

I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing anymore. 

Am I doing this because I want to do it? Or is it because I feel like I should? 

She doesn’t even know what she’s taking on, trying to date me. She doesn’t know what she’s getting into. She’s way too nice, too sweet for me. 

Can I really do this? 

As your internal monologue quickly fatigues both your mind and your emotions, you nearly pass out before the panic of not finishing your schoolwork jolts you awake once again. 

 “What about this one?” 

“No, it hugs my thighs really weird…” 

“First of all, it does not. Second, why do you even have it in the first place, then?!” 

“Sentimental value, D!” 

You had invited Dina over that Wednesday evening to help you settle on an outfit to wear for your date-not-a-date in two days. You’d finally relented to telling Dina about your situation with Abby and how on the fence you’ve been in regards to starting anything romantic and real with her. To your surprise, Dina was a lot less judgier than you had been anticipating and much more understanding. She was just as supportive as she was the day she came over with the cup of coffee and advice regarding your messy situation with Ellie. She even enthusiastically invited herself over, accurately predicting that you were already far too hesitant and anxious to properly plan for Friday night. 

You snatch the white dress Dina had been holding out for you from her hands and throw it onto your bed. 

“If we can’t find actually anything suitable for me to wear, maybe it’s a sign from the universe that I should cancel on Abby.” 

“The hell it is!” Dina scolds. “You are going on this date, even if I have to go out right now and buy you a whole new outfit myself!” 

“I just don’t think I actually have anything good enough for Orchards! I’m gonna go there and look like a freaking shabby peasant, and Abby will take one look at me and immediately collapse on the spot over how disgustingly and horrifically ugly I look.” You flop onto your bed next to the pile of rejects you’d adamantly denied earlier in the evening. 

“Did you really just say ‘peasant’? What are you, eighty?” Dina rolls her eyes at your dramatics. “And if Abby Anderson passes out on the spot for any reason, it’ll only be because you will be so stunning and gorgeous and ravishing and elegant that she just couldn’t consciously handle your natural beauty.” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, D!” You laugh, picking up the white dress Dina was holding previously and lobbing it at her face. 

Dina laughs as she effortlessly catches it before placing it back on top of the reject pile. She then saunters back into your walk-in closet to continue examining its contents. 

“Maybe if we build your date outfit from—” 

“Not a date.” 

“—your date outfit from an accessory or a pair of shoes or something. Do you have a pair of heels that you were thinking of wearing?” 

You give her an apprehensive look.

“What do you think, D?” 

“Of course. Be helpful for two seconds, babe.” 

“Ugh!” 

You lift your head slightly to watch her venture further into your closet from the comfort of your bed. 

“I have a whole bunch of other shoes on the top shelf over there,” You say, pointing in the direction of a wall-mounted shelf above your clothes arranged on hangers. “Some of them are still in their shoe boxes, though, so you better put them back properly after and line them up exactly the way I had them.” 

“Anal.” Dina scoffs, smiling. “Why are they still in their boxes?” 

“Some of them were stupid, impulse purchases that I immediately regretted but was too lazy to return,” You explain, dropping your head back onto your bed. “Others are a bunch of ugly and uncomfortable shoes that my mother bought me and that I have to lie about wearing regularly and that I’m definitely not allowed to get rid of, lest she murders me in cold blood with her own two hands.” 

“So when are we going to finally end the miserable existence of that horrible woman again, exactly?” 

“When I figure out exactly how to get away with murder.” 

Dina smirks as she grabs a small step stool hidden in a corner of your closet. 

“Hey, if Barbie Bear had actually come to life when I asked her to all those years ago, you would have been free from that witch’s clutches by now.” Dina huffs as she begins to peek into the shoe boxes neatly arranged on the top shelf of your closet. 

“Speaking of Barbie Bear,” You suddenly segue, still staring up at the ceiling of your apartment. “I still want her back, by the way.” 

“I told you fifty million times already that I don’t have her!” 

“Bullshit,” You counter. “I know I left her at your house summer after freshman year I came home with you guys.” 

“Babe, it’s been like, well over a year now. I promise that I don’t have her, and I seriously haven’t seen her anywhere in my house back home.” 

“I’m planning on pressing charges against you for kidnapping my child and for causing such catastrophic emotional distress as a result of the trauma of many years of motherly separation from my daughter.” 

“Such a fucking drama queen.” Dina chuckles as she continues her footwear search. 

“Dinaaaa,” You whine. “You know that Raf gave her to me—” 

“Uhhh…” Dina abruptly interrupts. “What the hell is this?” 

“What?” 

“What is this box?” Dina asks, climbing down the step stool with something in one hand. 

“Hmm?” You finally rise from your position and prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at what she was referring to. 

Dina slowly emerges from your closet holding something heavy in her hands. It looks like a shoe box at first glance; but upon further inspection, it looks quite different from the other containers that it was previously organized with. Dina reveals a dark blue memory box adorned with intricately drawn vines and flowers. On one side was a tiny strip of paper with the word “El” written in small golden ink. 

Your fingers go cold, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes widen. The absolute panicked expression on your face complements Dina’s expression of complete astonishment. 

“Oh, shit.” You mutter involuntarily. 

“Sooo…” Dina begins. “You’ve got… an Ellie box.” 

Knowing Dina very well, you figure that, at the very least, she already snuck a quick peek at its contents. You sigh, aware that lying to her face would be pointless. 

“Y-yeah. I’ve got an Ellie box.” 

Dina’s mouth drops open even further, and you groan in total embarrassment at her elated squeals of your name laced with amusement and intrigue. 

“An Ellie box!!! Oh my god! Scandalous! Outrageous! Somebody call the Vatican!” Dina exclaims happily, a shit-eating grin wide all over her face. 

“Dinaaaa…” You gripe. “Put it back right now!” 

“Absolutely not, you slut!” She excitedly cries as she plops herself down next to you on the bed, carelessly pushing your pile of discarded clothes further to the side. “This is the best day of my whole life.” 

“Dina!” You smack her arm but make no real attempts to pull the box away from her, knowing you wouldn’t win that very brief fight. 

“You’re the one who still has it!” She points out smugly. “And after you swore to me the other week that you are definitely not in love with Ellie anymore.” 

“I’m not!” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” She simply waves you off as she removes the lid. “Keep telling yourself that, babe.” 

You fall back onto your sheets, shrouding your face behind your hands in shame as Dina giggles giddily to herself. 

You try in vain to convince yourself that you’d completely forgotten you even had the memory box in the first place, that it was something you’d meant to get rid of ages ago but merely never gotten around to. It was shoved, after all, in between all the pairs of shoes you never touch, always closed and completely neglected. But the brutally honest part of your conscience knows that its continued existence in your closet is a representation of something you desperately try to keep buried deep within the corners of your mind.  

Unable to help yourself, you cautiously peek behind your hands to observe Dina’s extensive inspection of your secret Ellie box. You watch as she picks up several pieces of paper: a faded ticket stub from a show Ellie once took you to of a local band whose music she wanted to introduce you to, a receipt from the time that you and Ellie attended a limited portrait exhibition at a nearby art museum, an unfinished charcoal picture Ellie had drawn of a small field of blooming daisies you’d spotted when you’d gone with her to the woods to freely smoke in secret. 

You try to block out the images the box’s contents were involuntarily eliciting from memories you’d hidden long ago as Dina places the papers back in lieu of a stack of envelopes wrapped together with a thin piece of twine. A gentle smile appears on Dina’s face as she tenderly turns the handwritten letters back and forth between her hands. 

“You know,” She says quietly. “Ellie used to really love whenever you wrote her these letters to her. Jesse and I used to catch her rereading them all the time, even super old ones you’d written her months before.” 

You quickly feel your entire body burn hot with a sweltering sensation that you hadn’t let yourself fully feel in years. 

Fall of Freshman Year 

The university that you’d chosen to reside in for the next four years was chosen partially for its distance away from your hometown, from your parents in particular. Longing to be liberated from their tyrannical control, you applied exclusively to schools that were no less than a hundred miles away. Not a week into your freshman year, however, the guilt of choosing to be so far away from your favourite cousin ate at you every second you were apart. To give Rafael something tangible to consistently remind him of you, you’d send handwritten letters to him through the mail at least twice a month while you attended college. Though you’d chat with him regardless through texts and video on a regular basis, you enjoyed showering him with sisterly love in your own sweet and corny way.  

Ellie was sprawled out on your bed one night while you sat at your rickety, battered student desk. She was busying herself by rolling a few joints, all packed with lavender buds you’d previously provided, and placing them in her metal tin. As she placed the last one next to the others and put another in between her lips, she hopped off your bed and came to hover nosily behind you. 

“Are you really doing homework this late?” 

“Shut up and go finish rolling so we can smoke already.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Not my homework.” 

“Then what?” 

Ellie curiously leaned over your shoulder and watched the way your hand smoothly and speedily glided over your favourite piece of floral stationary, writing legibly your own blend of print and cursive. To the right of your paper was a small white envelope with both your name and Rafael’s written on the front accompanied by your respective addresses. To the left was a golden stamp seal of a sunflower and a tiny mason jar full of multicoloured wax beads. 

“Are you writing a letter? With your hands?” 

“I mean, how else are you supposed to write a letter, El?” 

“What kind of nerdy ass nonsense—” 

“Go roll our shit, Ellie Williams!” You interrupted, taking a pencil within your reach and flicking it at her. 

She chuckled, blocking it in time before it hit her directly in the face. She placed it back on your desk before picking up the sunflower seal and examining it closely. 

“You’re writing an actual letter, for real?” She asked, her lips still tight with the joint in between her lips. 

“Mhmm.” You hummed. 

“To your cousin?” 

“Yup.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I feel like it.” 

“That’s some shit that only senile, lonely grandmas do on their grandkid’s birthday when they’re sending them fifty bucks in cash.” Ellie teased as she placed the sunflower stamp back on your desk. 

“So, what?” 

“So, you’re even more of a nerd than I thought.” 

“Shut up!” 

“Hey, not my fault that you’re an old lady.” 

“Can you go finish rolling our joints so we can smoke already?” 

“I’m already done, grandma!” 

“Then go away and hush!” 

Ellie chuckled as she leaned against your desk and took out a lighter from a front pocket of her jeans. She moved to ignite the tip of the joint, but you smacked her arm and pointed towards your bed. 

“Sploof, sploof, sploof!!!” You demanded. 

“What? Tara won’t care about the smell. She smells like weed half the time herself.” 

“My RA will notice, though! I don’t wanna get kicked out in my first year of college just ‘cause you’re lazy!” 

“Thought that the whole point of your lavender shit was to mask the weed smell.” 

You didn’t reply and settled for looking at her with a stern glare. She laughed and mockingly held up both her hands in defeat. 

“Alright, alright! Stick-in-the-mud.” 

She walked over to your bed, plopping back down and reaching for the paper towel roll that she’d wrapped securely with duct tape and stuffed with several dryer sheets. After lighting the joint and taking a deep hit, she exhaled deeply into the cylindrical piece of cardboard. Her ocean green eyes remained fixated on you, fixated on concluding your letter. 

“So why are you sending Rafael snail mail? Don’t you guys talk like, almost every day?” 

“We do. But it’s just something I really love doing. Makes me feel connected with him in more than one way, you know?” 

Ellie merely hummed in acknowledgement as you continued your explanation. 

“I used to do it a lot back in high school for the friends I had at the time. Or at least I did until my parents made me stop when they complained about me using up all their stamps.” 

“Dicks.” Ellie chuckled. “Did any of your friends ever write you back?” 

“No,” You said simply. “I totally get it though. We saw each other every single day at school. It makes sense for them not to send some handwritten reply through the mail.” 

Your expression looked completely and genuinely unbothered, but Ellie frowned. 

“That was pretty rude of them.” She pointed out. 

“Oh, it’s okay. I never thought it was. I didn’t do it to get anything back from them or anything. Just did it ‘cause I really cared about my friends and wanted to show that in my way. It was sort of like my own kind of love language.” 

Ellie continued to watch you in total awe as you folded up the stationary and stuffed it into the envelope. You thoughtfully picked out a couple of wax beads from the mason jar, two violet and one silver, and placed them on a tiny spoon that you placed on top of a mahogany wax warmer. You turned around to face her, one hand held out in her direction. 

“Can I borrow your lighter, El?” You asked. 

Ellie, still mesmerized by your routine, blinked in disorientation. 

“Wh-what?” 

“Your lighter, dummy. Can I use it for a sec?” 

“O-oh, y-yeah.” 

She’d completely forgotten about the lit joint still placed between her lips. After quickly inhaling from the cigarette and exhaling into the sploof, she shoved a hand into her jean pocket once again and handed you her lighter. She ignored the subtle electricity that sparked between you when her fingertips brushed against yours. 

She observed the way you carefully lit the white tealight candle inside the wax warmer and stared at the way the beads slowly melted inside the small spoon. Clearing her throat and finally handing you the joint, she leaned back onto your pillows and tried to lighten the mood. 

“So, you’re allowed to a candle in your dorm room, but I can’t even smoke?” 

“Asshole, I’m literally smoking with you right now.” You pointed out before bringing the joint to your lips and relighting the tip. 

“I’m just saying, double standard.” Ellie shrugged. 

“Wh—double standard? Does anything you say ever make any sense?” You asked with tight lips, hysterically flapping a hand in the direction of the sploof next to her on the bed. 

She laughed and quickly handed it to you, once again ignoring that flicker of electricity at your touch. 

“I love being an enigma to all human beings.” 

“Fucking weirdo.” You replied after exhaling into the wrapped paper towel roll. 

Ellie gave you a cocky wink, and you ignored the feverish burning of your cheeks. 

“So,” She began as you suck from the joint once more. “Am I ever going to receive one of these  fancy ass letters of yours?” 

“What? What for?” 

“I don’t know; just wanna see all the fuss is about.” 

“I see you every day, El. We literally live on the same campus.” 

“So, what? I still want one.” 

“You just said it was an old lady activity.” 

“It is.” 

“You’re not helping your case by being mean to me, you know.” 

You handed the joint and sploof back to Ellie and turned your uncomfortable desk chair around to lean back into it and face her directly. 

“You wouldn’t want one, anyway. It’s almost always all corny and sentimental.” 

“I mean, I expected as much. Have you met you?” Ellie gestured to you with the joint between her fingers. 

You playfully stick your tongue at her. 

“You are a rude and blunt asshole, El. Corny and sentimental aren’t really your thing.” 

“Fine!” Ellie jokingly conceded after taking a huge hit of the joint. “I didn’t really want one, anyway!” 

You rolled your eyes at her petulant and whiny expression. Ellie finished off the rest of the joint as you delicately poured the melted wax onto the envelope and sealed it with the sunflower stamp. 

Despite having just made lighthearted fun of you for it, the small smile on Ellie’s lips contradicted her prior teasing. She adored watching you perform such a personal ritual, and she felt special to be given your natural, instinctive trust by comfortably allowing her to witness such an intimate act. 

Out of sheer stubbornness and defiance on your part, you gave Ellie her very own handwritten letter the following day. You found some time during your day to slip it underneath her door in between your classes, and you quickly scampered off before either she or Jesse came home. You were still a bit huffy over her playful teasing the previous night, and you wanted to tease her back in your own way. 

To your slight surprise, Ellie was completely amused and ecstatic by your act of indignation. She eagerly opened the small, white envelope with her name written in golden cursive on the front, carefully avoiding ripping the fancy seal you’d closed the letter with: a forest green wax seal with hints of gold, embellished with a pair of ferns that notably matched that of her forearm tattoo. 

Inside the envelope was a simple, small piece of paper with only seven words written on it: “you are so, so mean to me,”  followed by a tiny sad face. 

You would have never guessed that her silly jabs at your sentimentality would establish a special ritual between you and Ellie. You were entertained by how truly thrilled Ellie had found her first letter that, on a frequent basis, you would sneakily slip formally sealed envelopes under her door or drop them inside her designated mail slot or hide them underneath her pillow with a short handwritten letter inside written in jest. But somewhere along the way, the little inside jokes eventually turned into genuine letters of you enthusiastically talking about innermost thoughts you’d be having at the time or words of loving encouragement when you knew she was having a particularly bad day. Your little confidences only for her eyes that were hidden by different wax seals, whether it be a bumblebee or a daisy or her token ferns, brought her a sense of comfort she could never quite comprehend. 

During that summer after your freshman year, you’d continued to regularly write her letters. But as she began to pull away from you, they never reached her as you became reluctant to actually present them. She sequentially stayed ignorant of their existence after you’d broken it all off with her.

But despite how horribly heart-wrenching the end of the whole affair was, you kept the letters anyway. You’d even composed several letters in the months following as a sorry means to ease your grief, confessing all the sentiments and feelings you wished you could have fully expressed to her but never got the chance to.

Some were furious and indignant over how she had been treating you that summer; others were wistful and nostalgic over the connection you’d believed you had with her but lost completely; each just as miserable as the next. Just as you were so unhealthily attached to the letters previously written to her, you couldn’t bear to throw out these melancholy ones. You settled instead on hiding them away, never meant to be seen by anyone else.

You watch as Dina delicately runs her fingers over the different wax seals you’d used to close the envelopes, a kind but thoughtful look on her face. She sighs before speaking. 

“I really wished things worked out between the two of you, you know. Still do.” 

“I know, D.” 

She turns back to look at you, a sad smile still etched on her lips. 

“Still won’t tell me anything about what happened at the end of that summer? You still never told me and Jess. Hasn’t enough time passed?” 

“It doesn’t matter anymore, babe.” You sigh, shaking your head. 

“I guess not,” Dina says, turning back around to place the letters in the box. “Just wish you’d talk to me about it, even just a little bit.” 

Even now, you feel immense guilt over your unrelenting reluctance to reveal to Dina and Jesse what really transpired when Ellie dropped you off at home after your summer in Jackson. It had been consistently painful over the years not to confide in your closest friends, especially when you know just how badly they’ve always wanted to give you the comfort you so desired. But tarnishing the couple’s view of their childhood best friend after all this time feels pointless and immature, and you know you would never be able to forgive yourself if this subsequently caused a rift between the trio. 

 “I don’t want to have to bring it up again…” Dina asks quietly. “But I just feel like I need to ask you this once more.” 

“What is it, babe?” You reply, already aware of the question that looms obviously and ominously. 

“Do you really believe that you’re not still in love with Ellie?” She inquires. 

“I only have that box in my closet because I didn’t want to keep it at home for my parents to find and make a big fuss over. They barely know of Ellie’s existence in my life.” You respond quickly, making a deliberate attempt to avoid giving her an actual answer. 

“But why do you still even have it in the first place?” 

“Just forgot I even had it in there, you know.” You shrug, getting up from the bed to approach your walk-in closet. “Like I said, it’s stuffed in with all this other shit I never touch anyway. Literally forgot it still even existed until you brought it out just now.” 

Dina watches as you evade her probing gaze by getting up from your position on the bed to rifle through your hung clothes in the closet. She always had an uncanny way of reading people’s emotions, no matter how deeply others attempted to conceal them. Unwilling to let her delve deeper into whatever feelings you had in regards to Ellie, especially right before a date-not-a-date with Abby, you select several random articles of clothing from your closet and hold them up in front of Dina’s face to view. 

“Okay, I feel like these are good contenders for tonight. Which one do you think is classy and fancy enough for Orchards?” 

You take a nervous step through the cherry wood entrance that leads into Orchards, wearing a light purple dress with strappy, silver heels to match. You cling tightly to the tiny handbag between your hands like your life depends on it. Exhaling deeply with your old therapy breathing techniques, you approach the wooden podium stationed several feet from the doorway. 

“Hi, umm,” You utter nervously. “I-I’m still waiting for the rest of my party, but the reservation should be under ‘Anderson’ for 7 o’clock?” 

The host scans the booklet before finding Abby’s name on the list. 

“I-I can definitely wait until she gets here, though! I can hang out in the vestibule. I totally don’t mind at all—” You stammer before the host interrupts. 

“Oh, reservation for Miss Abigail Anderson? I see it right here. Your companion has actually already arrived just a few minutes ago..” 

“O-oh, okay!” You say surprised. “I-I had no idea.” 

“Not a problem, ma’am. She came not too long ago. I can show you to your table if you would like to follow me.” The host replies graciously, grabbing a menu from underneath the podium before escorting you further into the restaurant. 

You tail after him, trying desperately to keep the sound of your heels clicking to a minimum but nearly tripping in the process. 

The interior of the restaurant surpasses the quick glances you’d stolen in passing from the adjoining street. If you had been born and raised to be an upper-class socialite who frequented such fine dining establishments, you’re sure you’d have felt quite at home upon stepping into the place. The tables are all neatly set with white tablecloths and golden napkins folded precisely and neatly at the top of the plates. The maroon Fleur-de-Lis seating is all dimly lit by the modern beaded chandeliers hanging over the patrons. Servers skillfully weave throughout the place, all coordinated in their white button-down shirts and black slacks. Your tiny handbag nearly slips out of your icy grip from how slippery your fingers had gotten with sweat. 

The restless intimidation that the establishment so easily oozed is slightly soothed when you catch sight of a familiar smiling blonde woman standing next to a table by the windows. The anxiety you have been feeling since entering Orchards is then replaced with a different type of tension as your eyes meet Abby’s piercing sky blue ones. 

She’s wearing a muted green shirt with a pair of grey slacks. Her dirty blonde hair is in its usual braid, but it appears looser than it usually is. You try not to stare at the way her muscular arms bulge from her shirt, trying to avert your eyes elsewhere. 

When you reach the table and whisper a “thank you” to the host as he places your menu next to your plate before he walks away, you return Abby’s winning smile with a flustered one of your own. She holds an arm out for you to give her a small, one-armed hug in greeting. 

“Hey, Abs,” You say as you briefly embrace her. “Have you been waiting long? I thought you said we were supposed to be meeting at 7.” 

“Well, I technically made the reservation for 6:45.” Abby replies, grinning at you unapologetically. 

“What the hell, Abby!” You scold, playfully smacking her left bicep before reaching for your seat. 

“I just like being prepared and being earlier than other people.” Abby shrugs, holding her hand out to help you into your chair as she pulls it out for you. 

“Jesus,” You chuckle as you roll your eyes. “Has anyone ever told you how that’s kind of lunatic behaviour, Abigail?” 

Abby merely smirks as she pushes your chair in for you, you murmuring a thanks in response. 

“So, what do you think of the place?” Abby asks as she walks around the table to take a seat in her own chair. 

“For a date-or-not-a-date, this is very extravagant.” You point out. 

“Like I told you before, I’m a really good friend.” Abby shrugs again. “Am I not allowed to treat a friend to a nice, well-deserved dinner?” 

“Abby.” You chide. “There’s no way that I’m letting you pay the whole bill by yourself. I know that this is a pretty pricey place.” 

“Yeah, and I have the money for it. Get whatever you want, pretty girl. What’s the point of having money if you’re not going to spend it on other people?” 

You don’t say anything, settling for merely pursing your lips as you take the neatly folded golden napkin off your plate and place it on top of your lap. 

Orchards being a “four dollar sign” type of restaurant is a partial reason why you remained silent. Not coming from money as Abby does, you’d firmly decided prior to the dinner that you were going to order the cheapest appetizer on the menu as an entrée and that you’d drink nothing else but water. But knowing Abby, she’d order every single dish for you until you actually eat a proper meal, especially after her casual yet firm declaration. 

But as you open up your menu and nervously bite the inside of your cheek, Abby’s last words begin to ring inside your ears. 

“What’s the point of having money if you’re not going to spend it on other people?” 

This was a sentence and philosophy that those around Ellie knew her quite well for. Every food delivery, every coffee order, every glass of vodka cranberry was paid for with Ellie’s hefty dealer income. You didn’t bother arguing with her when it came to it, not towards the end, because it was a pointless fight she would win every time. Despite every eye roll you’d throw her way, your heart would flutter every time you’d get a glimpse of the small, secret smile Ellie donned each time she’d spend her money on someone else. As long as those she cared about were happy, Ellie was happy. 

To see the same kind of propriety in someone else disoriented you, especially someone who has been making her romantic intentions with you quite clear. It’s a trait you so admire in Abby, but a reminder of the auburn-haired woman on a date-not-a-date with another person still pierces something deep within your guts. 

Adamant on keeping your mind off of Ellie for the rest of the night, you busy yourself going through Orchards’ lavish menu. 

“Have you been here before?” You ask Abby as you scan the list of soups and salads. 

“Once,” She replies as she goes through her own menu. “My aunt and uncle brought me here last year for my birthday, and I haven’t stopped thinking about their truffle parmesan tots since.” 

“Yeah? They that good?” 

“Oh, most definitely. I was ready to make love to it right there and then on the table.” 

“Eww! Abby!!” You giggle, squinting your eyes and scrunching up your nose in simultaneous disgust and laughter. 

You and Abby spend the next few minutes on small talk as you finish deciding on your order. Abby is in the middle of telling you about how she nearly elbowed a teammate right in the jaw during her last rugby practice earlier in the week when your phone begins to vibrate from inside your tiny handbag. 

You keep your eyes focused mostly on your companion, intent on being present in the conversation, while your fingers silently fish your phone out of your purse. Your gaze briefly diverts to the lit screen, and your eyebrows furrow when you see that it’s Jesse who’s calling you. 

Quickly pushing down your power button to reject the call for now while you make a mental note to call him back later, you shove your phone back into your handbag. You lean forward further and place your hands underneath your chin to make a show of being attentive, but only a few seconds pass before your phone starts to pulsate within your purse again. 

Suppressing an obvious groan of simultaneous annoyance and concern, you attempt to ignore Jesse’s second call and instead try to listen to the rest of Abby’s story. But when her sky blue eyes distractingly fall onto your purse, you sigh dejectedly and reluctantly pull your phone out once again. 

“Sorry, sorry,” You desperately utter as you reject the call again. “It’s Jesse. Not sure why he’s calling me right now.” 

“You sure you don’t wanna pick up? Might be something important.” Abby asks, eyes full of honest concern. 

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ll just call him back after—” You begin to say as your phone vibrates for a third time, violently begging for immediate recognition in your hand. 

“Don’t worry,” Abby chuckles. “Go ahead and answer it. He’s your friend and I know he’s important to you.” 

“I’m so, so sorry, Abby,” You say, awkwardly scrambling out of your seat with your phone in your hand. “He never, ever calls me like this, so I swear that I’m just gonna see what’s up, and then I’ll come right—” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Abby interrupts, smiling. “I don’t mind at all, I promise. I’ll be right here. Take your time.” 

“You really are the best, Abs,” You sigh. “If the server comes around before I get back, could you get me the Caesar salad with Italian dressing?” 

Abby gives you another kind smile and nods. You give her a gracious look before dashing towards the direction of the restroom, purposely leaving your purse behind as an unspoken promise of your eventual return. 

You let out a heavy sigh after having swiftly glided through the restaurant and shut yourself in a unisex stall. Getting more nervous by the second, you immediately call the raven-haired man back. His delayed response begins to worry you further while you listen to seven agonizingly elongated rings before he eventually picks up. 

“Oh, hey, my dude! What’s up?” Jesse greets nonchalantly, slightly out of breath. 

“Wh-what—” You stutter, completely befuddled by his casual, unbothered tone. “Is everything all good? Are you okay? Why’d you call me?” 

“What? I didn’t call you.” 

“Jess, you called me like, fifty times just now.” 

“Wait, really? Hang on…” He mutters. “Oh, shit. Huh. I guess I did.” 

“Jesse!” 

“Sorry, dude! My fault for leaving my phone in my pocket while doing squats.” 

“Oh my g—I thought you were dying or something!” You gripe, sighing both in relief and annoyance. 

“Me? Die? Man, I’m indestructible,” Jesse proclaims. “No man can kill Jesse Chang.” 

“Jesus…” 

“Hey, I thought you were on a date, by the way?” 

“I am.” You point out, irritated. “Well, it’s not a date, but… whatever! I’m on it now!” 

“Then what are you doing calling me?” 

“You called me!” 

“Oh, yeah.” Jesse chuckles. 

“Dude!” You huff, clicking your tongue in indignation. 

“Hey, you’re listed as one of my favourite contacts. My phone was somehow compelled to communicate with you tonight for some mystical reason.” 

“I’m gonna kick your ass.” 

You suppress a chuckle at hearing Jesse’s genuine howls of laughter from his end of the line. 

“Alright, alright,” Jesse eventually says. “I’ll let you get back to it.” 

“Thanks.” 

“You’re doing alright, though?” Jesse suddenly asks, his lighthearted tone shifting to a more sincere one. “You feeling nervous?” 

“Always.” You admit. 

“You got this, man.” 

“I-I don’t know, Jess…” 

“Hey, you showed up, which means you’re halfway there already anyway.” 

“I know, I know. I just… I just can’t believe I’m on an actual date. I can’t believe that I’m actually doing this.” 

“I can. You are one foxy, amazing lady who deserves to be properly wined and dined.” 

“Okay, grandpa.” 

“There she is.” 

You allow yourself to chuckle this time, suddenly feeling grateful for Jesse’s accidental buttdials tonight. 

“Thanks, Jess. Needed that a bit, honestly.” 

“I know, bud. Call me or D afterwards? If Anderson isn’t too busy ploughing into you or whatever it is that you lesbians do in the LGBT community.” 

“Shut up!” 

Jesse cackles. 

“Yeah, I’ll call you guys right after.” You promise him. 

“Good. Now get back to your quote-unquote date and enjoy yourself.” 

“I’ll try.” 

“Do or do not. There is no—” 

“Don’t you fucking quote Star Wars to me, you nerd.” 

“Hey, but you recognized it. You’re the nerd.” 

“Whatever! I’ll call you after, grandpa!” 

“You better, young lady!” 

You and Jesse share a laugh. 

“Thanks, Jess. Have fun at movie night with D. Love you lots.” 

“Will do. Love you too, dude.” 

You murmur a farewell before ending the phone call. 

Leaning against the door of the stall and sliding down slightly, the comfort of hearing Jesse’s reassurances slowly dissipates as you think about Abby patiently awaiting your return at your table. You’d been so preoccupied with the anxiety of how the date-not-a-date itself would go that you hadn’t even spared a thought about the aftermath: how is the night going to end exactly? 

You gulp, suddenly aware of the way your silver heels are digging into your ankles. You feel guilty for even entertaining the thought of ending the night and running home to the embarrassing comfort of your bed.  

Why can’t I just fucking give in? Why am I stopping myself? Why am I so scared about how this night is going to end? 

The sound of someone else entering the restroom snaps you out of your thoughts and back into reality: the reality where you are on, what you need to admit to yourself, a date with an extremely handsome, charming woman who is willing to give you what you might just need from a romantic partner. 

A couple more minutes pass where you heavily abuse your breathing techniques before you finally find the courage to pry yourself off the door. You emerge from the stall just as your nameless powder room companion exits. 

You dare look at yourself in the mirror. Surprised to see a little bit of eyeliner smudged underneath your eyes, you quickly grab a paper towel to dab at it. 

Did I really just cry while I was on that phone call with Jesse? Christ, what the hell is wrong with me? 

You nearly poke yourself in the eye from frustration and stare at your tired reflection. The only thing that wills you to leave your restroom refuge is replaying Jesse’s supportive words of encouragement. 

He believes in me. Dina believes in me. 

With that and a heavy exhale, you finally depart the restroom. 

As you finish off the last few crunchy croutons on your plate, you watch as Abby does the same with the French dish she’d ordered that you’d never heard of and had some weird-sounding name that you can’t pronounce. 

“You sure you don’t want dessert?” She asks you, setting down her spoon. 

“Abby,” You say sternly. “You already wore me down into getting an actual entrée and a glass of Moscato. You are not getting me dessert too.” 

“Dinner is just not complete without it!” 

“That is some rich people behaviour that I will not indulge in.” 

Abby laughs as you give her a half smile. In the back of your mind, you’re relieved that Abby’s evening wasn’t spoiled by your impromptu phone call and your slight shift in attitude that followed. She thankfully hadn’t noticed your fingers fiddling with your dress in your lap or your quiet but involuntary tapping of your right foot underneath the table. The more the evening progressed, the more anxious you became about the possibility of her eventually noticing your fidgeting. 

After the dessert flan she’d ordered is placed in front of her, Abby takes a small bite and lets out a moan of satisfaction. 

“I love me a good flan.” 

“That good, huh?” 

“Fucking amazing. Here, try some.” 

“Oh, no. You already tried to feed me your weird ass French dish from earlier. Besides, I’m way too stuffed already.” 

“All you ate was a Caesar salad!” 

“It was huge! It was Olive Garden-sized!” 

“Just have a bit of the flan!” 

“You ordered it! I don’t wanna eat something that you ordered for yourself!” 

“Come on, pretty girl. Just a bite!” 

You groan at her insistence. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Miss Anderson.” 

“Completely. Now open up.” 

You lean across the table as Abby meets you halfway with a piece of flan on a fork. She delicately places it on your tongue, her sky blue eyes meeting yours. 

Your throat swells up with nervousness and you feel short of breath as your chest tightens. You move to sit down from how dizzy you’re getting, but your eyes widen as Abby’s thumb suddenly brushes against your jaw. 

“Hang on. Some of it is dripping down.” 

Abby’s tongue involuntarily sticks out as she wipes away the syrupy caramel from your chin. Your eyes widen as your lips turn a shade paler than usual. 

Oh, god. Oh god oh god oh god. 

“U-uhh, um, th-thanks, Abs.” You stutter as you clumsily take your seat. 

“No problem,” Abby says, a corner of her lip cocking up in a half-smile. “Don’t need you all sticky.” 

 Your breath catches in your throat and you feel a tingle travel from the crown of your head all the way down to your heel-strapped ankles. Abby smirks slightly as she sips from her Old Fashioned, smugly leaning back into her chair. 

Oh, god. 

Being the natural gentlemanwoman that she is, Abby holds the door open for you as you step out of Orchards and onto the street. 

“Ladies first.” She says playfully. 

“Oh, stop.” You chuckle. 

Abby grins as she gives the host by the podium a parting, thankful wave. 

Teetering back and forth on your feet and playing with the sound of clicking your heels were making, you nervously stare up at the night sky. When you had been making your way to Orchards earlier in the evening, the sun was still descending in the west and casting a beautiful, pink hue through clusters of cumulonimbus. Now, the sky is clear of any clouds, and the moon in its waning phase along with the constellations dimly light the quiet downtown area of this college town. 

Suddenly spotting a few celestial patterns that looked all too familiar from a face you’d been trying to put out of your mind all night, you tear your eyes away from the stars to meet Abby’s sky blue eyes. 

“H-hey,” You hesitatingly start. “Th-thank you for tonight. This honestly was really nice.” 

“Oh, yeah? I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” 

“I really did, Abs,” You smile. “I haven’t had a nice, ritzy night like this in a while. Actually, I don’t know if I’ve ever had a really fancy night like this before.” 

“That so? Might have to take you out on dates like this more often, if that’s the case.” She pauses for a second, the usual confident expression on her face fading to be replaced with one of uncertainty. “Or… well, not a date exactly—” 

“Abby.” You giggle. “This was clearly a date.” 

“Yeah? So you finally decided?” Abby asks, her usual swagger back. 

“We got all dressed up and went to a very nice, swanky restaurant. You insisted on paying the entire bill and everything.” 

“Hey, that’s what friends do.” 

“Are we?” You ask, turning to completely face her. 

“What?” 

“Friends? Just friends?” 

“Hmm…” Abby hums. 

She takes you by surprise as she pulls you closer towards her by the hips. You stumble on your heels, catching yourself by your hands on her sturdy chest. You look up, meeting her bright, blue eyes that contradict that of the starry, shadowy sky. Fingers involuntarily clutching at her shirt, you gulp an anxious whimper down your tight throat. 

“What do you want, pretty girl?” Abby whispers. 

Your fingertips grow cold against her chest. 

“I-I-I’m— I don’t—” 

“Oh, hang on. Hold still.” Abby suddenly says. 

Her hand comes up to your face and her long fingers gingerly brush against your nose. She pulls her hand back, clutching something in between her fingers. 

“Got a loose eyelash.” She says, holding up for you to see. “Make a wish.” 

You entertain her and firmly close your eyes. You try racking your brain for a wish worth making to immediately come to you, but no desire materializes. 

So instead, you ask the universe for a vague, ubiquitous wish: for it to divinely and kindly lead you down the right path. 

You open your eyes and softly blow the eyelash out of Abby’s fingers. You lose sight of it instantly as Abby parts her pointer and thumb to release it into the open air. 

Abby brings her hand up once more, this time to caress her fingers across your cheek. Every inch of your body suddenly goes up in flames, and you’re almost surprised that Abby hasn’t retracted her hand from the pure heat of it. 

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight.” She says seriously. 

“O-of course, Abs.” You whisper. 

“I know you’ve been hesitant about things, and I won’t pry on why—” 

“It’s really gonna nothing to do with you, Abs, I promise—“ 

“No, no, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me if you don’t want to. I don’t want to push you on it.” 

You swallow. 

“But I just want you to know,” Abby continues. “I do like you, you know. A lot. I think you’re seriously so smart and silly and so, so stunning .” 

“Abs, be serious—” 

“I am.” 

“Y-yeah?” 

“Yeah. So if you ever wanna give me a chance, I’m right here. I’m ready for anything you want.” 

You gulp. 

“I-I’m not sure… not sure if you’re ready for all this. All of me and my baggage.” 

She takes your face between both her hands. 

“I’m ready for anything, pretty girl.” 

Before you know it, Abby’s mouth is suddenly on yours, enveloping you in a kiss. It’s soft and gentle, like she’s deliberately being mindful of how she touches you. 

You’d expected this the second her skin made contact with yours, but your body still reacts in complete surprise. You don’t kiss her back just yet, everything in you completely stuck in place. Your hands have an impulse to push her away, but a voice inside you begins to cry out. 

Kiss her! Kiss her the fuck back! Kiss her now! 

Fingers finally moving from their frozen state and grasping at her chest, you begin to kiss her back with hesitant fervour. 

The second your lips begin to move with hers, her delicateness turns into zeal. Her hands fall back down to your hips, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you even closer. You can feel her heartbeat pounding next to yours, drums sounding together unsynchronized but thundering. You let out a sudden and soft moan, and Abby deepens the kiss. 

She parts her mouth slowly and you feel her tongue against your teeth. You whimper when she starts to suck on your bottom lip as a hand comes up to clutch your hair. As you wrap your arms around her neck, you open your mouth slightly to invite her in further. 

After what feels like hours of you two intimately intertwined, you break the kiss to catch a much-needed breath. 

You open your eyes to meet Abby’s sky blue ones, even brighter than they were before. Her smile is wider than you’ve ever seen it, emanating a radiant glow. 

 “Th-that was…” She began. 

“Y-y…” You try to say, but you can’t seem to find your voice. 

Her hand brushes against your cheek once more as you feel your throat begin to close up once more. 

W-wait. My throat. It’s actually— 

Before you can muster any words, you feel your breathing stop completely and the entire world suddenly goes black. 

author’s notes:

BELLE FINALLY POSTING AFTER MONTHS OF NO NCTY?! A MIRACLE

thank you for bearing with me during these past couple of months. i know many of y'all have been waiting very patiently, and i hope this chapter was worth the wait!

in true belle fashion, orchards is named after a restaurant that already exists in the games

reader's ellie box is totally not inspired exactly by the box i used to have for my ex-girlfriend, described exactly the same way and contained a whole bunch of stuff like the tickets from when we went to moma and the playbill when we went to see waitress on broadway....

mentions of daisies is because they symbolize innocence (also one of my fave students is named daisy)

ahhh sploofs. such flashbacks to when i lived with live-in ex at her dormitory in college. those were so annoying to make.

reader's love for writing handwritten letter is inspired by my own love for it. i write my friends letters all the time and seal them with cute wax seals. i have like, at least 15 different wax seals and i love them all. yes i do have a fern wax seal too. also reader has a sunflower seal bc it is my fave flower

reader's dress is purple for symbolism cause purple sometimes represents anxiety which... mood

the truffle tots are just a fun little reference to these truffle tots that my live-in ex and i get every time we go to this one gay bar, that shit is so fucking good

more of reader and ellie's relationship bc i love jesse but also i think a show of a healthy, platonic relationship between a lesbian and a straight man is important

jesse's line about never dying is a little heehee reference to the game obvi but also him saying that no man can kill him is like that lord of the rings line where eowyn says "i am no man" cause abby is obviously a woman lol

abby is eating flan bc i love flan (leche flan to be exact)

heehee leave some theories in the notes or in y'all's tags on what happened to reader at the end

love y'all so so much. chapter 13 is mostly written so stay tuned for an upcoming update very soon...

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